#I read those descriptions and it was like it said

[im-a-broken-jar]

[Video Description:

Sasha Allen, a transgender man and musician, sitting in front of the camera with a guitar. He says, "for context I'm transgender." Before beginning to sing;

"My grandma grew up in the thirties, she's a Catholic through and through. I would have understood if she had been abrasive and confused. She could have turned away and simply washed her hands of it. Instead she's bragging to her friends how great her grandson is. It makes me wonder, would it all change if we just sat down to speak? I'm not upset with you for fearing something that you've never seen. When people painted you a picture of who i am supposedly. It's not surprising that you're trying to not get too close to me. I'm not an act of revolution that you're watching on the news. I bet you'd like me if we talked, i bet you wouldn't have a clue. And when the swords are to the side and when the army finally falls, you'll see we're just two human beings, not too different after all."

First Image Description:

A screenshot of the comment section from the tiktok. George comments, "my eighty five year old grandma gifted me half the money for top surgery and then sharped tips for recovery as she had to get a mastectomy for cancer." Eve 🏳️‍⚧️ comments, "my ninety four year old grandma couldn't remember who i was, but i got the privilege of her saying how stunning quote 'that woman' unquote is and accepting me over and over every time it was explained."

Second Image Description:

A comment by Cranky Old Bear that reads, "my granny was born in nineteen sixteen. In the nineteen eighties when i was a teen, she told me about her gay friend from the fifties. When i finally came out she said she told me those stories so i would feel safe telling her."

Third Image Description:

A comment by jdezplaz that reads, "my grandmothers first question was quote 'but are you happy?' she's lived in Louisiana her whole life... It's not about time, or the place, it's about the heart. 🏳️‍⚧️"

/End I.D.]

[stardustrebels]

A Heart Like That- A Joel Miller x f!reader one shot

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader Rating: E/ 18+ MDNI WC: 2.7k

Summary: I really wanted to write a Joel Miller Valentine’s Day story, but couldn’t decide between naughty or nice so I wrote both.

Tags: No Outbreak!AU, established relationship, Joel Miller x f!reader, unprotected PIV, oral sex (f receiving) pet names (darlin’, sugar, baby) soft!Joel for days, fluff & gentle sex. A little bit of worship, a whole lot of care. Minimal descriptions of reader, no use of y/n. 

A/N: A little Valentine’s story with a very tired, very soft and very domesticated Joel Miller. PWP but make it sweet. If love isn’t like this, I don’t want it, tbh. 2/2 of my Joel Miller Valentine’s day naughty & nice one shots. Enjoy! 

You could say that you had gotten used to it- the way Joel Miller loved you- but that would be a lie. 

He was a man of few words, but you didn’t need to hear many. His care for you shone through in his actions; in little gestures that you were sure would have fallen by the wayside the longer you dated him, but after nearly a year together they hadn’t. 

He would leave your clothes on the heater for you on cold mornings and set up the coffee machine so that all you had to do was turn it on when you woke up. He kept a mental list of things that you liked, or mentioned in passing; your favourite seasonal flowers, what type of snacks you preferred, books you wanted to read, places you wanted to go. He would surprise you with little trinkets he’d found in your favourite colour, or candles for his place in scents that you loved to make you feel more at home there. He always rested a steadying hand on the small of your back when you walked together and hold you close when you climbed in to bed with him after a long day, lulling you to sleep with kind words whispered in to your hair. He would sometimes wake you in the fresh hours of dawn before he left for work, murmuring those same things into the soft skin of your thigh as he pleasured you with a devotion that you had previously never known.

“I gotta treat my girl right” was all he would say with a shrug and a coy smile whenever you brought it up.

You were perfectly capable of taking care of yourself, of course. You both knew that. You had for years before you’d welcomed him in to your life. It was one of the first things that made him fall for you, your independence, but Joel revelled in making life just a little bit easier for you, even when it made things more difficult for himself. 

So today, you decided that you wanted to make things easy for him. You weren’t the overly domestic type, but he’d had a long week and you wanted to do something nice. You left work early and stopped by the grocery store on your way to his place to pick up a cute Valentine’s day card and the ingredients to make dinner for him.

You started on dinner as soon as you made it to Joel’s and changed in to some comfy clothes as soon as it was in the oven. The sight of your clothes nestled in against his in the dresser made your heart swoop. You tidied round a little, set the table and set one of Joel’s prized vintage records on the turntable as you waited for him to get home. 

You called a hello over the music when you heard the front door close, and he appeared in the threshold of the kitchen with a bouquet of pink roses in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other. His face broke in to a wide smile when he saw you, but it wasn’t quite enough to cover the weariness that sat heavy on his features. 

“Hey, baby,” he said, leaning in to kiss you when you padded over to him. “Didn’t think you’d beat me here. Wanted to surprise you with these.” 

“Left work early,” you said, accepting the flowers with a smile as he set the wine on the counter. “These are so gorgeous, Joel. Thank you.” 

“Gorgeous flowers for my gorgeous lady,” he murmured, winking at you. You beamed up at him before moving to put the flowers in some water.

“Smells good in here,” Joel said, shrugging off his jacket.

“Made us dinner,” you explained, reaching up to the cupboard for some wine glasses. “It’s pretty much ready, I think.”

“You didn’t have to do that, sweetheart, we coulda just ordered takeout or somethin’,” Joel said, watching you fondly. 

You shrugged and gestured for him to sit, before turning your attention to the dish in the oven. 

“I wanted to do something nice- you do nice things for me all the time.” 

Joel shifted awkwardly where he stood and flexed his hands against the back of the chair, but kept his eyes fixed on you. You missed the expression that crossed his face. “That’s different,” 

You turned to him with a hand on your hip. “It’s really not. Would you just sit down, Miller? Let me take care of you.” 

“Yes ma’am,” he replied, shooting you a lopsided grin before he did as he was told. 

Dinner was nice, and you were overjoyed to spend some time with Joel like this. He looked relaxed. Happy. The music from the record player floated through from the other room as a sweet soundtrack to your meal. Joel was as tactile as he always was, his knee bumping against yours affectionately under the table as he complimented your cooking. You both sat and talked for a long while after the food was finished, and only moved when Joel yawned so widely his hand didn’t even cover it. 

You cleaned up together, despite your assurances that he could get in to bed and leave you to sort out the mess. Joel had refused and started washing up before you could stop him. 

As you dried the last dish, Joel moved to stand behind you, arms caging you in as he peppered kisses to the side of your neck. 

“I really love comin’ home to you, y’know.” He said between kisses. 

“Oh yeah?” You said, leaning in to his chest. 

“Yeah.” He breathed against your ear. 

Your stomach flipped as you turned and leaned back against the counter to get a good look at him. His eyes didn’t meet yours- he looked at the floor and took a steadying breath before he spoke again. 

“I wondered if… if you’d maybe wanna move in here with me?” He murmured, throwing you an awkward, lopsided smile. “Or find someplace new together? I wanna come home to you every night, darlin’.” 

You stared at him, lips parted in surprise. Not because you hadn’t thought about it before. You had. A lot. But you’d never voiced your desires to him, you weren’t sure if he’d felt the same way, and you hadn’t wanted to fuck anything up by asking him. 

Hearing Joel say it, seeing how tense he was, bracing himself for your response, made something bloom deep within your chest. Your silence must have stretched on a little too long- Joel exhaled sharply, and his arms dropped to his side giving you a chance to move away if you wanted to. 

“Look, I don’t wanna rush anythin’,” he said, the words scraping their way out of his throat, rough under the effort of hiding his disappointment. “Just thought since we’ve been doin’ this a while, and I think you like it here. I figured-”

You cupped his face in your hands, gently tracing your thumbs over the scruff on his jaw, and lifted his head to make him look at you. “Joel.”

The look on his face when his eyes finally met yours made it feel like something was squeezing your heart.  

“I’d love to,” you said, smiling up at him so that there was no room for any doubt. 

His breath hitched, a sweet little sound you’d only ever heard him make when you were in bed together. “You would?”

You nodded, your smile widening. “Yeah.”

Relief washed over his face, and before you could say anything else, he was kissing you. His hands splayed over your hips, pulling you even closer. Your fingers slid in to the short curls at the nape of his neck, and as you deepened the kiss you felt his shoulders drop as the last of his tension melted away.

The realisation filled you with a sudden yearning. You wanted him to feel it, to understand just how much you wanted this- wanted him. 

You tightened your fingers in his hair and he let out a low moan, his fingers sliding down to squeeze the backs of your thighs. You pulled back just enough to catch your breath and rested your forehead against his. He looked so beautiful; dark eyes blown with desire and his lips swollen from your kisses. 

“Let’s go to bed, handsome,” you said, taking his hand.   

As soon as you’d closed the bedroom door, Joel was on you. He tugged at your clothes, pulling them off with a fervour that suggested he’d suddenly forgotten how tired he was. 

When he’d stripped of everything except your underwear, he sat you down on the edge of the bed and stayed close, kneeling between your parted knees and sliding his hands up your thighs, thumbs pressing gentle circles in to your soft skin. He looked up at you from his spot on the floor with an expression so full of adoration it made your head spin. 

“You gonna let me take care of you now, sugar?” The want in his voice caused it to crack, and you heard the plea laced through the words.

You nodded, unable to find your own voice as your fingers threaded through his hair again, guiding him down to where he longed to be. He trailed soft open-mouthed kisses up your thigh, pulling a contented sigh from you. 

Joel took his time, as he always did when he had you like this. The soft scratch of his beard left a tingling warmth on your skin, and his hands pressed firmly against your legs, holding you open as he nosed against the damp fabric between them, breathing you in like he was savouring something precious. 

“You’re so fuckin’ sweet,” he murmured, pressing a kiss over the damp patch before hooking his fingers into the waistband of your underwear and dragging them down your legs.

You barely had time to let out a whimper before he was settling between your thighs pressing his tongue against your aching heat. He groaned at the first taste of you, and it vibrated against your clit so deliciously that you had no choice but to fall back on to the bed, your fingers leaving his hair to clutch at the comforter. 

You gasped his name, thighs beginning to tremble in anticipation of his licks. He dragged his tongue over every sensitive spot he knew by heart, fingers digging in to your skin when your hips raised toward his face in a silent request for more. 

It was almost unbearable- when he took you apart like this- when he made you feel like nothing else in the world existed except you and him and the pleasure that shot through you, building with every moment. 

You bucked your hips again and he groaned against you, pressing his face closer to nudge his nose against your clit as he eased two fingers inside you, curling them just right. 

“Fuck- Joel,” you gasped, chest heaving, 

“I got you, darlin’. It’s alright, I got you.” He murmured before moving his tongue to flick right over your clit. 

He knew exactly how to take you apart. At this point, you’d call him an expert at it with no hint of irony, and as always, it wasn’t long before you were clenching down on his fingers, moaning loudly to the heavens as you came. He hummed against you, a sweet satisfied sound, as he coaxed you through the aftershocks. 

“Joel,” you whined, breath catching. 

His movements stilled slowly and then he was moving, pressing one last lingering kiss against your thigh before shifting to stand, pulling off his clothes before sliding up your body. His hands bracketed your face as he hovered above you. His eyes were dark and hazy with want, his lips glistening, his breathing uneven.

“Yeah?” He murmured, head tilted in appreciation as he looked down at you . “Need me, sweetheart?”

You nodded, wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling at him until your lips brushed against his, tasting yourself on him. “Always,” you whispered. 

A groan rumbled from his chest and he pressed his body flush against yours. You could feel his length hot and heavy, pressing in to your hip as you arched up in to him, desperate for him to be inside you. He pulled back just enough to met your gaze, thumb stroking along your cheek. 

And then he was guiding himself to your entrance, sinking in to you with a slow, deliberate thrust, filling you completely. 

“Jesus,” he rasped, voice tight as if he was holding on to his control by a thread. “You feel so good, darlin’.”

You let out a low, breathy moan against his jaw, wrapping your legs around his waist to keep him as close as possible. He was so deep, so warm and solid above you, surrounding you, overwhelming every one of your senses. His hand moved to cup the back of your head, tucking it against his shoulder gently as he thrust in to you. He was all around you, all that you could feel and see- overwhelming in the most intoxicating way. 

He started to move, rocking his hips slowly, dragging his cock against the spot inside you that made you weak, that left you unable to do anything except press crescent shapes in to his back with your fingernails. He kept his pace unhurried, murmuring words of praise that you could hardly hear over your building moans of pleasure. When you came again it was blinding; the pleasure wracked through you like a wild thing, twitching and clenching at your insides before it subsided in to a rolling wave of fuzziness, rippling through to your toes like TV static. Joel let out a string of curses at how hard you clenched around him, and only increased the speed of his movements when you let out a couple of whimpers as the residual spasms of your orgasm rolled through you. 

Joel’s breathing grew heavier, his rhythm faltering somewhat as he chased his own release. He let go of the back of your head to press a rough kiss to your temple as his body started to tremble above you. The way you clenched around him, still pulsing with aftershocks, made his jaw go slack, a deep, broken moan spilling from his lips. 

He buried himself deep with a rough, shuddering exhale, body tensing as he came. His face pressed against your neck, breath hot against your skin as he let himself fall apart in you. You could feel the way he softened, how his hold on you turned from something desperate to something grounding, like he needed you there with him more than anything. 

Joel shifted just enough to press a soft kiss to your shoulder, his hands smoothing over your body, slow and careful. He never pulled away too fast, never left you feeling empty. Instead, he cupped your cheek, guiding your mouth in to a kiss that was soft and lingering as he pulled out of you. 

“You okay, baby?” He murmured, lips brushing against yours as he spoke. 

You hummed, nodding sleepily, and he smiled, tracing his thumb along your cheekbone. 

“You’re so perfect,” he whispered, pressing another kiss to the side of your face before shifting to pull you against his chest. 

You nestled in as he pulled blankets around you both. He always did that, always made sure that you were warm, safe, cared for. 

His fingers traced slow, absentminded patterns along your back, his breath deep and steady against the top of your head. The quiet stretched between you, comfortable and warm in your post-orgasm bliss. 

“Love you,” you muttered, pressing a soft kiss against his chest.  Joel’s arms tightened around you, and when he spoke, his voice was thick with emotion. “Love you too, sweetheart.”  His hand found yours beneath the blanket, fingers slotting together with yours in a practised, effortless way. As sleep began to pull you under, you felt it- how deeply he meant it, the depth of your own love for him, and how you didn’t want to spend another day where you didn’t sleep and wake beside him. He was home, and so were you. 

[leonkennedybreedingkink]

BREATHPLAY

ex!leon kennedy x fem!reader

notes: this year has been a lot so far LOL but part of this fic is based on my meditations after a breakup from a long term relationship so enjoy. descriptions of a rocky relationship, maybe a makeup? drunk sex (both lol), sub!leon and dom!reader, some religious tones. also shoutout to @vaaaaaiolet for safe when i fall i think i got inspired by that one :).

Leon and you never really meshed. Rough edges against other rough edges doesn’t mean sanding down so you’ll fit together nicely.

He’s uniquely good at pissing you off. He leaves the toilet seat up (you put it down), he doesn’t like cooking (“I have cereal,” he says, but muscles like those in his arms don’t live off cereal), he refuses to leave his shoes by the door and tracks in mud/dirt/snow/slush/leaves on the floor and your heart (no matter how many times you make him mop up his mess), he’s contrarian for the sake of having something to argue about (read: talk about).

Sheepish schoolboy through and through, no matter how old or grizzled he gets.

The one thing you two could agree on was always the bedroom, he was much easier to bear when he just shut the fuck up for once and put his mouth to better uses. He was always happy to worship at your altar, anyway.

You, oh, you. Leon loves you to bits, you’re his favorite mule. On one hand, stubbornness got you almost everything you wanted, him included. On the other, you’re almost impossible to deal with when you get in a certain way.

Leon likes to feel manly every once in a while, you know?

You also don’t tell him when you’re pissed, you just shut the hell up and shut him out until you’re ready to talk to him, practically scrubbing the dishes until the nonstick coating comes off.

Something you two implicitly agreed on was to hang on—and, boy, was that a mistake. People always say that you should stick it out, a rough patch is just that, you’ll come out stronger together.

What they don’t tell you is that some things are past the salvageable point and it’s better to know when to quit.

There was a lot of yelling that night before Leon packed up his shit and finally left.

You’d had a while of peace, it felt good, organic even, to get Leon out of your system in all the ways that could be meant.

Story of your fucking life that nobody else could get you off the way Leon can. It doesn’t even come down to skill, it just comes down to good old capacity to give a shit—but that’s what you get when you fuck a guy or three after your ex, who you were with for a handful of years, who had the opportunity to learn what makes you break open.

To you, this breakup felt like swimming to the surface after a few years under water.

Leon had the opposite sort of idea. He didn’t want to touch anyone else, he didn’t want to look at any other woman but you. He deleted your nudes off his phone in a drunken haze, so it’s only memories that get him off when he’s drunk—that is, if whiskey dick hasn’t struck him yet again.

(Another one of your complaints.)

Every time you said you’d go to your friends, they discouraged you from ever talking to him again. They went so far as to take your phone and change the contact name to DON’T EVER FUCKING CALL, changing the profile picture from Leon giving you bunny ears in a mirror selfie to a red stop sign.

You kinda miss Leon the way you miss a bruise, pressing on it a little longer for the hurt and for it to stay. Oh, the love was there too, and you two still yelled at one another or gave the silent treatment until someone (him) broke, walking to you on his knees.

Half a year goes by without you thinking about Leon as much as you could perhaps be. You came real close to breaking after about month two without freshly mopped floors because someone was so excited to be home with you that he forgot to take off his shoes, your friends saved you at the last second.

Month seven is when things get a little rocky. Spring’s coming again, even if the ground’s a little frosty still. Leon texts you first around eleven-fifty at night, when you’re scrolling on your phone in bed.

Hey.

What the fuck? You have to stare at the screen unseeingly for a moment, then blink, squeezing your eyes shut and opening them again to a simple greeting. You can almost imagine the tone he’s taking—he takes that one with you after he starts an argument with you just to talk to you about something.

God, back. Get a fucking hold of yourself.

Oh, hell. He’s texting.

I miss you.

Fuck.

Sluggish thumbs pause and hover over the screen.

Do you?

Like a limb. Is his immediate response. The next, a blurry pic of him raking his hand through his hair, gold chain glinting in the flash.

Christ on a cracker.

You can almost feel the chain in your hand the longer you look at it. The pleasantly surprised look on Leon’s face when you first grabbed the chain to carefully tug him closer is still burned in your mind, that’s what gets you off some days. Well, that and the other things you two did.

Come over? Startles you out of your reverie. Baby Christ in the manger with the sheep. Is this really you? Are you the type of bitch to go back to your ex, even for a night? Would future you be disappointed?

Yeah. Be there in ten. Future you is gonna be well-dicked, if and when she beats you up about this.

All Leon sends is his address as you kick off the covers and dress hurriedly, practically running out of your apartment.

You got there in seven. You take care to look nonchalant as you get out of your car, shutting it with a hip and locking it. You shove your keys into your pocket and scope out the apartment numbers as you get up onto the curb, then the sidewalk.

Your foot skids on a stair and you curse, glad you had a hand on the railing as you pause before continuing your ascension.

You barely finish knocking before the door opens, Lazarus fresh from the tomb in all his disheveled glory before you. Your heart’s in your throat. “Hey.”

“Hey.” Leon twists to the side, allowing you in.

Talk about a bachelor pad. You scope out the place as you toe off your shoes, leaned halfway against the wall.

TV’s on, he’s watching something. There’s vodka bottles littering the coffee table and only one light on in a corner of the room.

The door latches behind you and Leon stifles a hiccup into a fist. “You got here quick.” He says, sidestepping you fluidly and going over to the couch. He sits back down, swallowing some more vodka.

Your face goes hot. “I was overcompensating to not fall asleep at the wheel.” You shrug off your jacket, revealing your baggy shirt. There’s nowhere to hang it, so you drop it on the floor and walk over to the couch, plopping down. Ew, it’s pleather.

Leon snorts into his drink and you try not to gawk at his biceps. “Right.” He agrees solemnly, swallowing a little more vodka before he gets up, getting you a tumbler. He looks fucking delicious. “One or two.”

You hate straight vodka. “One.” Why the fuck not? That’s the flinch, isn’t it?

Leon pours you a shot and clinks your glasses together, passing it to you with his finger inside the rim.

You down it without tasting it, and so does he. You lean forward and pour another, swallowing it down with a burn lingering in your nose. When you have about four shots in your system, Leon speaks up.

“You know, people were right when they said that love is not enough.” He muses, swirling his glass around. Some sloshes over his hand and he slurps it up loudly. “Wasn’t for us.”

Your tongue feels heavy. Despite that, you don’t disagree.

When you’re silent for a little while, buzzed mind attempting to work, he scoffs. “Stop clamming up. It’s me.”

“That’s why I’m clamming up.” You snap after a moment, offense cutting through your buzz. “Because it’s you.”

Leon looks a little less pleased, pink mouth twisting and dipping at the corners. He downs a shot and pours another. You follow, plucking at your shirt to cool down as you sit back against the pleather upholstery.

“We were good, though, right?”

You watch the light play off his face, the blue light and shadows sharpening his features. “Sometimes.” You muster after a while, looking down at your shot glass. “When it was bad, it was bad.”

“Rough patches.” Leon mutters back, though he doesn’t seem to really agree. He sets his empty shot glass on the coffee table and sits back, lacing his fingers together behind his head as he watches the muted TV.

That v-line, he always made such pretty noises when you got to that. “Seems like the patches were the relationship.” You take another shot.

Leon shrugs without looking at you. Prick.

Another shot, more silence before you break it, feeling hot all over. “Did you call me over just to drink?”

Leon’s eyes flick over to you, skating over your features. He loved you, maybe. Loves? “Not really.”

Right. You always come when called.

“I just needed you close to me. Even for a moment.” He admits, eyes dropping from the TV to the coffee table.

He stinks of vodka and sweat when you crawl into his lap, ultraviolet eyes flashing wide for a moment before his hands settle on your hips, thumbs swiping over your bunny pajama pants. Muscle memory.

“You know what they say.” You lean in, eyes flicking between his eyes and his mouth, “Drunk words—“

“Are sober thoughts.” Leon finishes for you, chin tipping up as his eyes lid halfway. “You really are a broken record.”

“Fuck you.”

“You will.” Leon tastes like vodka and iron when he closes the distance between you, his lips slightly chapped. Nervous habit of his, he bites his lips.

It’s a little like being able to breathe. Maybe. It just feels really fucking good.

Leon pulls off your pants somehow, landing a smack to your ass to see the offended look you give him. You scratch him a little in return when you tug down his pants, he turns redder than his alcohol flush and dick jumping behind his boxers.

“Missed these most, fuckin’ hell.” Leon squeezes your tits when he gets your shirt off, leaving a kiss on the right side.

“Did mommy not breastfeed you?” You mock him as you tug his boxers down, rising up on your knees as he leaves you to struggle with his clothes. That vodka left you a little wetter than usual, it seems.

Leon leaves a half-gentle bite and you hiss, digging your nails into his thigh. “Dunno—“ You cut him off with a slow descent, back straightening as you hold in what could be a very incriminating noise. “You wanna try?” He says behind gritted teeth, eyes falling shut with a relieved expression.

You give a strained scoff, digging your nose into his cheek as you lace your arms around his neck, rolling your hips against his.

Leon whines behind a closed mouth, pressing his cheek against yours as his hands wander up and down your sides. You get to watch his eyes roll back when you lace your fingers in his hair and tug. His blunt nails dig into your skin, another louder whine leaving him.

Hitting all his weak spots coupled with the first time with you in a few months has him hurtling over the edge sooner than expected. Honestly, you too.

“In?” Leon pants, eyes opening behind his sweaty bangs, hips jumping to meet yours midway. “Out? How do you want me?”

Thank God, your thighs are beginning to burn. “In.” You leave a wet kiss on his cheek, reaching down with your other hand to fumble with your clit.

He comes right before you do, a pathetic sounding whine leaving him as he spills inside you. You collapse against him, panting for breath and sated in a way you haven’t been for a while.

While you collect yourselves and your dignity, Leon’s hands keep moving up and down your back and sides, soft puffs of breath blowing your hair.

It’s dead silent in the apartment, save only for your breaths. Sweat sticks you two together, you grimace as you peel yourself off him, flopping off to his side and making a mess (what a waste).

Silence reigns for a while longer as you pick at Leon’s fake leather upholstery, a million and one things on your mind. “We can’t be friends.” You mutter after a while.

Leon watches you, sweaty hair sticking up at every angle. “No.” He agrees after a silent moment, not bothering to slap your hand away as you keep picking at his fake leather couch. “I don’t think we ever could be.”

You shake your head, eyes on the patchy upholstery. “And we aren’t lovers.”

Leon shoves his hand beneath yours and holds it so you stop picking at the upholstery. “We could be.”

“Maybe.” But you know him and his soft heart. Beneath it, your heart’s soft too. “We’ll fight, though.”

Leon’s finger runs across your palm. “I like our fights.”

You close and open your hand around his finger. “And we only ever seem to communicate when you’re inside me.”

Leon shrugs. “We should just be physical.”

Round and round in circles we go.

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

you're so right about harlivy and can i be honest? the way the riddler story made him a shy virgin who doesn't know what flirting is was so boring too? it felt weirdly infantilizing to me (not being a virgin per se, ofc, but the way it was written) and like it also tried to erase the character's edges (no care for personal boundaries, too forward, the whole canon masochist fequenter of bdsm clubs thing) just like the harlivy story in favor of doing the played out awkward virgin nerd thing? also no 'canon' bisexuality acknowledgement but that was expected

the way that the story was going I genuinely thought they were building up to Eddie having a very special episode moment where he learns about demisexuality or being aroace or something, but it wasn't even that? he just annoys two women (couldn't even pull off a rule of three???) and then goes "oh well! at least I have my true love, Gotham City!"

which is like. okay. historically the Riddler's exact motivations and personality fluctuate as much as any other character, sure, but he's generally not in the game for a love of Gotham??? like he does this because he wants attention and money and to feel like smartest specialist little boy. if he's juvenile it's generally in the way he's self-centered and overconfident and prone to tantrums when he doesn't get his way, not because he's a sixth grader who's just learning that the other kids have crushes for the first time.

and like you alluded to, yeah, there are MULTIPLE iterations of the Riddler where he has clear Issues With Women not in the "uwu Eddie can't talk to girls because he's shy and awkward" way but in the "Eddie can't talk to girls because he's a fucking creep" way. particularly in recent years, several writers have been a very deliberate choice to give him traits lifted straight from pickup artist and incel circles to emphasize the their take on the character sucks in a way that's inseparable from misogyny.

which isn't to say every Riddler is on reddit crytyping about looksmaxing, of course, but those ones are certainly indicative of a persistent trend.

a couple of people had sent me asks about this story to ask if I'd read it, known Riddler enjoyer that I am, and included a quick description. I replied to one and said, mostly as a joke, that this is blowback from DC editorial against a valentine's story by Ram V published a few years ago, in which Eddie sends Batman on a valentine's-themed chase that introduced Batman to several of Eddie's past crushes and romances—including a male friend from college, which is presented as being as straightforward and unsurprising as any of the others. the story ends how you think it does: Batman lured to a romantic rooftop dinner with the Riddler, who complains about being unable to approach an attractive woman but is still very much on a date with Batman after casually peppering in that he's bisexual. I don't this there's ACTUALLY any kind of editorial mandate to quash the notion that the Riddler has a messy romantic history and maybe fucks guys sometimes, but man. how far we've fallen in just a few years.

[flowery-mess]

THE FIRE WITHIN

chapter 1 (series masterlist)

Pairing: fire fighter Noah x female reader (Tess Monroe)

Warnings: 18+ MDNI! / fire / explosion / death /death of firefighters / description of dead fire fighters / complicated call / description of fire and explosion / being affected by the call / therapy / let me know of anything else!

Words: 3k

Author's note: Finally! I'm so excited for this! I know this chapter may come off as boring, because there's not really any interactiom between Noah and reader, but that will change in the one. I appreciate feedback in any form! Hope you like it♥️

Be aware you're reading this at your own decision, it contains sensitive topics, so please think twice before reading as I wouldn't want to cause anyone any discomfort while reading my work!

Hungry for action, determined to be the best. That’s how you could describe Lt. Noah Sebastian.

It was never his dream to be a firefighter, until he started the job. After high school, he didn’t have any direction in his life, until his buddy who joined the LA Fire department year earlier than Noah, told him about it.

Noah got into the academy, finished it as one of the best and got sent to a station 25.

He likes the life of a fire fighter. He works 24 hour shift, then has two days off. On those days off he usually goes to the gym, hangs out with his friends and then flirts with girls at his local bar. Because being a fire fighter is the ultimate pick up line, isn’t it.

If you’d ask his colleagues, they would say Noah is disciplined, but still a funny guy. He’s young, so he brings fresh air to the station. He’s full of jokes, making their shifts go by faster.

On calls he’s focused on the work that needs to be done. He follows orders, does his job properly and leaves every shift with gratitude that he can come home alive.

Noah lives alone in two room apartment just 20 minute drive from the station. His house is small, but it’s nice. He’s not big on decorations and stuff, but it’s cosy and home for him. He has made the bigger room into kitchen and living room area, the smaller one into his bedroom.

Noah drives black Range rover that he’s very proud and careful of, because he bought that car himself. His upbringing wasn’t bad, but not perfect. He’s an only child. His parents lived in LA long before he was born, but few years ago they decided to move somewhere more quiet. Noah stayed in his hometown with some money from his parents to take care of himself, he used the money to buy his apartment and then had to make money for himself. He bought the car with his and only his money and that’s why he’s so proud about getting it. His mom texts him like once a week to see if he’s doing okay and he calls his dad once a month to catch up on life, but that’s it. He's grateful for everything they’ve done for him but feels pretty much alone now.

So he really appreciates the fire department and guys on his shift, because they feel like a family. They joke together, play games or do make friendly pranks against each other, but when they’re on a call they know they have each other’s backs. They trust each other, because without trust you can’t do this job properly. So when they start doubting Noah’s trust on calls, that’s when things start to get a bit uncomfortable.

*40 days ago*

“Man I hope we can get more than 5 minutes of sleep.” Nick said when him and Noah entered their bunk.

“Don’t say shit like this or the exact opposite is gonna happen.”

“I hope not, I need to sleep.”

Nick is Noah’s best friend who got him into this job. They didn’t start at the same station, but Nick got sent to 25 just a few months ago.

Noah had to agree that tonight’s shift was a busy one. They had two car accidents, one house fire and two false alarms behind them. With only 5 more hours of their shift remaining, Nick and Noah laid in their beds and fell asleep from exhaustion. Little did they know the shift was not going to be over in 5 hours.

Just an hour of sleep later Noah, Nick and the rest of the shift were woken up by the alarm and announcement “Ladder 25, Engine 25, Aid car 25. Structure fire reported at Hoover street. Heavy fire and smoke visible on arrival. Possible hazardous materials on site. Evacuation in progress. Multiple alarms requested.”

“Fuck.” Nick was first to react as him and Noah made their way down to get into their vehicles and leave the station.

“Sounds big.” Noah responded before he started with his gear, putting it on, making sure he has everything he needs on him and then jumping in the back of big vehicle with “Ladder 25” on its side.

As they were approaching the site, they could already see and smell the smoke from streets away. Blue and red lights already at the place, the number of fire cars on site signalizing that it was a big call.

Everyone got to their job immediately, taking in captain’s orders.

Noah’s job on this call was to go inside and extinguish the fires on his way to the fire centre. One rule they always follow: fire fighter is never alone, they work in pairs. Noah’s colleague followed closely behind him as they run into the building.

Others were already running out to get a new oxygen tanks or with workers from the factory in their arms. When they entered the building, Noah already felt something was off. He couldn’t tell what, but something wasn’t right.

They followed instructions on where to go, extinguishing small fires along the way until they reached the big hall where they couldn’t see the other end, because of the smoke and fire.

“Fuck, this bitch is big.” Noah heard his mate and had to agree. He hadn’t seen fire like this before.

“Sebastian to Captain 25. Starting the attack now, requesting additional units. The fire’s big. Copy.” Noah said through his radio to update his captain who was outside giving orders.

They immediately started what they call “the attack” and tried to contain as much fire as possible. He saw Nick along with another Lieutenant run inside and start the same thing.

“Our tanks are running out Noah, we need to leave soon.” Noah just nodded his head and heard the familiar beeping of their tanks when they start to run out of oxygen.

They turned around and started running towards the exit. Once they were outside, they went to get a new tank and update the commander on the situation outside.

The fire didn’t seem to get any smaller when the two of them returned back inside and started the attack again. To Noah it felt like eternity. He was looking into the fire with hose in his hands, trying to find the source like if he could aim the hose at one particular spot and the fire would be over.

Noah’s concentration was interrupted by voice in his radio “Command to all units, there are gas tanks hidden under the main hall. Everyone get out. This is a high risk situation, I repeat evacuate, evacuate, evacute!”

That was the last thing Noah heard before loud explosion went off at the other side of the hall. He saw the fire lit up the whole way to the ceiling, the smoke extended and even through his mask he could smell the gasoline.

When the tanks blew up, the explosion was strong enough to lift fire fighters from the ground and threw them metres away from where they were standing. Noah only felt the ground vibrate and moved few steps back, but what he saw he will never forget.

For a moment after the explosion it was like if everything around him stopped, before going fully into motion again. Some of the guys stayed laying on the floor, some were moving and yelling from the pain and then guys like Noah, who were still capable of doing their job, ran to help those who couldn’t leave that hall on their own.

But not Noah. Noah stood still at the same place and watched everything happen in front of him. He saw the panic in everyone’s eyes. He saw Nick lifting another man in full gear and run towards the exit. He saw others checking pulses of those who were laying still and move to another when they realised the pulse was not there. He saw someone was talking to him, but he couldn’t hear anything.

He saw one of the older guys at his station laying on the ground, not moving. He saw his face, lifeless. It was like Noah was watching the worst they were warned about and trained to handle those situations. But all he could do was stand there and not move.

He was literally facing death in front of him and that was scary as fuck.

He felt someone’s hand grab his arm and drag him away from the spot he was standing at. He realised that the someone was leading a way out for them both, he knew he was alive, but didn’t feel like that.

When they reached the outside the panic didn’t stop, in fact the lights and ambulances and blood and bodies and injuries were even more chaotic than the scene inside.

Someone sat him on the ground and took his mask and helmet off and immediately got him on oxygen. Noah was like a robot, just nodding his head “yes” or “no” when asked questions, his eyes still following the chaos that went on.

It was like a switch inside his body when he realised he didn’t do anything to help inside. He stood up and tried to put his full gear on saying “I need to help them.” and “They’re still inside I need to get them.”

It took three people to stop him from running inside and it took one look at Nick who was sitting in an ambulance with a mask on his mouth that made Noah break down.

He fell to his knees and started crying. He felt overwhelmed by everything and everyone, he tried to protect his ears with his hands, but it still couldn’t stop the noise.

Nick saw his best friend and gathered all of his strength to get up and walk to him. Nick was fine, just smoke inhalation, but one look at him in that ambulance and thoughts of what could have happen to him just broke Noah.

“Hey Noah, it’s me.” Nick said when he knelt next to Noah and put his arm around him. “Just breathe, we’re okay.”

Nick continued to talk Noah through his break down and then helped him inside the same ambulance he was just a minutes ago to get checked up.

The fire was extinguished from inside by additional units, everyone who needed medical help was transferred to the hospital and coroner took care of bodies who lost their lifes as heroes on that call.

When Noah and his crew made it back to station it was already 3 hours after their shift ended. Crisis briefing was ordered at the beginning of their next shift.

Noah didn’t waste time with shower or changing into clean clothes, he started his car and took off.

---

When he came home he threw his bag on the floor and immediately went for the shower. He stood still under the shower for good 20 minutes before he broke down again.

It wasn’t that he didn’t know those calls can happen, he just never really thought it would happen to him and his station. He wished he’d never come across death, but that’s impossible with his job.

He leaned his head on the shower wall and just let his emotions out.

He didn’t go to gym or reach out to anyone, he stayed in bed until it was time to go back to work again.

---

“Good morning everyone, thank you for coming today.” you said as you started the briefing at Station 25. You had the whole shift in the conference room sitting around big table. “My name is Theresa, but you can call me Tess. I’m therapist for the fire department and today I’ll lead this sitting. This here is my colleague, John.” you introduced yourself and John as positively as it was possible in that situation.

“We know things like this are not comfortable for everyone, so we’re not going to push anyone today. But it’s important to go over what happened and come to a conclusion you did everything you could.” John started the speech and you scanned the men sitting in front of you. Some of them were looking fine, mostly the older ones who have been through similar stuff before.

Your eyes couldn’t miss Noah. He was beautiful, you thought, until his eyes met yours. It was just for a second, because he moved his gaze to the ground, but even the second was all you needed to know that he was for sure not okay. He had dark circles under his eyes, so he probably didn’t sleep much since the call. His eyes screamed “tired” at you and his whole appearance just gave him away. But it wasn’t just him, few more guys seemed to have the same feelings like Noah did.

“I heard you lost your colleagues that night. I’m sorry, that is always the hardest part.” you saw wave of emotions go though the room after you said that. “How about we start with how was the shift before the last call. Anyone wants to tell me?”

There was a moment of silence, but one of the older guys broke it. “It was shit of day honestly. It was busy shift for all of us, I think I can speak for everyone that when we went to sleep before the last call we just really wished that the sleep is gonna be at least until the end of the shift.” and you saw few of them nod their heads in agreement, which was great start.

“Oh really? What were your other calls?” you asked.

Another man started talking “Just a regular calls I’d say, car accidents, but nothing serious. Then two false alarms which is always annoying, but one of them was in school, so we at least had some fun with the kids.”

As you and John navigated the discussion towards the last call, you noticed Noah and two other guys were not really present. When everyone was nodding or laughing along, they didn’t. But you knew those reactions are okay too, everyone handles their emotions differently.

When John finally asked about the call the mood in the room shifted, but everyone was still talking with you and John.

“It was horrible. I was not even inside when the explosion happened, but hearing it outside and not knowing what’s going on was scary.” was the first confession of feelings and then it was easier for everyone else to speak up.

“I saw him fly like two metres above the ground before he fell. I knew he’s not gonna make it when I saw his body on the ground. I didn’t want to go check on him, but I had to.” guy with a mustache talked about seeing one of his colleagues lose his life.

Those sessions don’t have particular time stop, unless there’s nothing more to talk about, you’re leading the discussion.

At the end you always ask everyone to promise you they don’t have anything else they need to talk about and that they know they did everything they could. Everyone always does, but you know not everyone means it. Just like you know Noah didn’t mean a single letter when he muttered ‘I’m okay.’ in the end.

“Captain I think it was mostly successful briefing, but keep an eye on them. You can call me or John anytime you need us.” you shook your hand with the captain and made your way to your car.

Before you left the station, you saw Noah cleaning the front of their Ladder and took that as a chance to speak to him.

“Hi. You don’t have to tell me anything, I know everyone handles their emotions differently. But I can see that you’re tired and maybe overwhelmed by the situation. Don’t be scared to reach out if you need.”

“Yeah whatever.” was Noah’s answer, but he still took your card and put it in his pocket.

------

But since the tragic call Noah couldn’t get back on track at the job. He felt better, but still not good enough to give his job 100%.

“That’s enough Sebastian. You’re going to see the department’s therapist or you’re on desk duty.”

“What?” Noah faced his captain next to the vehicle they just used to extinguish small garden fire.

“You’re not yourself since the call Noah, you need help.” Captain said as gentle as possible. He didn’t blame Noah for being affected by the call, but it was dangerous for him and for his crew.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, I don’t need any help.”

“You yelled at a kid today Noah.”

“But that was for his own safety.”

“Really? Didn’t have to anything with the gas bomb they had close to the fire? Or what about last week’s call to the clothes factory when you demanded to know if they have any gas or another explosive things in there? Or week before that when you went for safety check up and yelled at a woman for not having a fire system installed?”

Noah didn’t have any answer, because he knew all of his reactions were because he became extremely nervous after that call. He always hated when people didn’t think about their safety enough, but he never yelled at someone because of it.

“I want you to see a therapist or you’ll sit behind the desk. I want the first session this week and I want a paper that says you’re able to do the job while going to therapy. We’re short on people Noah I don’t want you to sit behind a desk and wait for months to have your papers signed, so please, help both you and me and do something.”

----

When Noah came home after that shift, he grabbed the small paper that was on his table since the briefing and texted you “Hi, are you free this week for a therapy?”

---

This story is a work of fiction, with the plot and characters entirely made up. The appearance and name of the main male character are inspired by Noah Sebastian Davis, but the storyline bears no connection to the real person. Please do not steal or repost this work on other platforms without permission.

----

Tag list: @lacy1986 @concretejunglefm @chey-h @xmads-omensx @blade-dressed-in-red @respectfulrebel @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @mrscevans

If you want to be tagged click here

[lokisprettygirl]

Come As You Are (Eric Draven! Bill Skarsgard's Version x Female Reader) (18+) (Slight Au)

Read chapter 4 here

Chapter 5

Summary : You and Eric take turns taking care of each other. You let out a secret.

Warning: 18+, dirty sexual thoughts, smut in later chapters, Description of self harm, Eric is a past drug addict with suicidal tendencies, self harm, use of cuss words, description of claustrophobia, reader is in her early thirties, mention of sexual assault, death and murder, Consumption of alcohol and weed, periods

The next morning when Eric woke up, you were still asleep in his arms so he placed you on the bed as gently as he could before he propped himself on his elbow and looked at you. Admiring you would have been a more befitting term though. Your boobs were about to slip out of your tank top so he closed his eyes and fixed the strap before he leaned down to kiss your cheek.

Good god he could definitely get used to this.

He looked down and the lower half of your body was so completely pressed up against him, your legs tangled around his own while your thigh clung to his waist.

He was hard, so hard for you.

His cock ached and throbbed uncomfortably. You just looked so beautiful like this with your body wrapped around him, his hands itched to run between the valley of your breasts but he controlled himself, he didn't want to ruin this but he wondered how you'd look if he took you in this position, his cock pumping in and out of you slowly while you'd moan and writhe and look at him with those pretty, soft eyes of yours, chanting his name like a mantra.

The way you said his name so tenderly always got him but he couldn't even imagine how sensuous his name would sound when you're saying it amidst the throes of passion.

Before you'd wake up to witness his rock and hard embarrassment he untangled himself from you begrudgingly. He then slowly began pulling you in the center of the bed as he got up, he was afraid you'd fall down on the floor in your sleep.

“Mmmmm” you let out a cat like noise as he moved you so he stopped for a moment and just caressed your head.

“Shhhhhh shhh.. go back to sleep” he held you like that so you'd drift off again, you still had time in your shift and he didn't want your sleep disrupted because of him again.

As he got off the bed he pulled the duvet over you, wrote a small note and placed it on the side table next to the lamp so you'd not think he just upped and left after you had been so impossibly precious to him last night.

An hour later when you woke up, you woke up with a smile on your face, you had a dream about him, a naughty dream that had you dripping, you were lucky he wasn't there anymore, you probably would have touched him so inappropriately if he was next to you right now. You wanted to do more than just touch him, you wanted to lick every inch of his tatted skin if he'd let you.

“Ughhh” you groaned as the tingling sensation between your legs began to bother you.

You weren't really expecting to find a note but you were starting to pick up on the fact that he loved writing them. So old school, you weren't sure he even had a cell phone and that was something that mystified you.

'Thanks for everything. I mean it. Really. I do. Didn't want to disrupt your sleep again so I'm leaving this here as I'd be gone all day. See you at dinner tonight? Be safe out there, don't forget to take the taser. Leaving the breakfast on the kitchen counter. Waffles with extra whipped cream. Eat it before you go?

Eric :)'

You couldn't stop smiling after that, you read his little scribbled writing at least ten more times before you got out of bed to get ready for the day. He never really told you where he was going, who he was meeting, who he was beating up today or worse. He wanted to keep you out of that part of his life and you didn't want to push him again, he had been opening up to you and you were content with it.

At least for now.

Later that night when Eric returned drenched in blood again, he was excited to just shower and then knock on your door like he usually did, he was expecting to smell your delicious cooking from the elevator itself but he got none of that. As he approached his door he found a note so he picked it up immediately.

'Rain check on the dinner tonight? Cheryl got a promotion so she wants to celebrate, will be back soon.

P.s You need a phone. Eat something healthy.. see you soon <3'

He gulped as he read the note, he looked at the time and it was 9:30 at night, you were a grown woman, you had survived so far on your own but he couldn't stop worrying about your safety especially after that incident. You didn't even tell him where you were going, if he knew he would have gone there to keep a safe watch from a distance.

As he entered his apartment, he couldn't stop pacing back and forth in worry, he had that nightmare last night and now you were out at such late hours and he didn't know where you were and what if something happened to you? He'd never be able to forgive himself for this, he didn't even think he was even capable of losing you anymore, losing one more person who despite his numerous flaws wanted to be around him.

As the clock hit 11, he opened his door to go look for you, wherever you were in this big city, he was going to find you but then he heard the sound of the elevator whirring and he halted on his doorstep.

As you stepped out of the elevator you saw him, standing on his doorway, the blood splatters were all over his face and clothes, not as bad as the other times but they were there.

“Hey did you just return?” You asked him as you walked towards him but he didn't answer you, he was just staring at you, as if trying to make sure that you were perfectly safe from head to toe, that there wasn't one single scratch on your precious body, the black flowy dress you had worn made you look so gorgeous and he'd have admired it more if he wasn't so wrecked at the moment.

“Eric?” You mumbled as you walked closer, for once he didn't smell perfect, he had a long day and he had spent the past two hours sweating profusely in stress and anxiety.

“You know you could have just mentioned where you were going” he said as he crossed his arms so you nodded before you stepped closer to him and placed your hand on his forearm but he pulled away like a petulant child throwing a tantrum

“Eric-” you spoke again but he interrupted you.

“I was so..it's ..fuck .. it's 11 at night..it's not safe out there you know that, there are awful people just waiting to-”

“Eric” you interrupted his train of thoughts but he kept going..he was going to freak out, this was a sign that you had come to recognise in the past four months.

That's what started the downfall of his relationship with Melody, he was always so paranoid and afraid of her being hurt again, so much so that every time she went out without him he spent every half hour calling and texting her, making sure whether she needed him to be there for her or if she was in danger. It had gotten so bad that she broke his phone in anger once after he picked an argument over her not responding to his calls. He didn't blame her for feeling so suffocated with him, she had a bright future, big dreams and he was just holding her back.

“Did your friends even drop you home or they just left you outside somewhere-” he continued so you said his name a little louder this time.

“Eric?” You walked closer and cupped his cheeks, your fingers rubbed over the dried blood on his skin as you made him look you in the eyes.

“Look at me okay? I'm safe, I'm okay, I'm here” you mumbled, your voice gentle as you pulled him closer and embraced him, it took him a few moments before he wrapped his arms around your waist in a tight grip. You were safe, you were safe and in his arms and he could feel you and touch you.

After a while you pulled away from the hug but didn't step away completely. You knew he spent the last few hours worrying his mind over you and he must not have eaten so you really wanted to feed him.

“Take a shower, I will fix you a sandwich, okay? You want something to drink?” You asked him so he shook his head before he lowered his neck to place his head down on your shoulder. He breathed in your scent for a moment before he cupped your cheeks, his thumbs ran over your skin gently

“Don't go anywhere now okay?” He said to you so you nodded in response. The way he was being so protective of you made your heart flutter so fast you feared it would burst out of your chest. Nobody has made you feel so important before, nobody cared enough to treat you as if you were someone they needed to protect so fiercely.

“I'll be back, I smell like a sewer rat”

Well at least he was aware.

You chuckled as he turned around to go into his apartment but he kept his door open for you, you had to make that sandwich and you knew you'd find nothing in his kitchen so you entered your apartment, quickly fixed him two chicken sandwiches and then you made your way into his apartment.

When he came out of his bedroom next he seemed clean and he smelled divine like always. You tapped the spot next to you on the couch so he sat down and turned his head to look at you, he then flicked his fingers over your cheek.

“You look beautiful”

So did he you thought.

“Thank you”

As he picked up the sandwich he offered you a bite so you took it even though you were full to the brim from the dinner you had with your friends. As you placed your head down on his shoulder he turned his neck to look at you,

“Tired?”

“Mmm i just hate that i have to work tomorrow again” you groaned and he couldn't help but smile at the whiny tone of your voice.

“Take a day off”

“Mm no I'm saving it for my periods”

Well it was something men didn't have to worry about, like ever.

Once he was done eating he got up and grabbed a heavy chained metal lock before stepping out of his apartment so you followed behind him to see what he was up to, he was locking the grill door of the elevator.

When he saw you looking at him he spoke to clarify “Just for the nights, there's no security in this shitty building..you want a key?”

He asked you, even though he was hoping you'd not use the key to sneak out at nights and even if you did he hoped you'd tell him where exactly you were going. God he sounded absolutely manic as he heard his own thoughts.

“Mmm no..I'll come to you if I need it” your voice was soft, almost seductive as you said it, even though he knew you didn't know the S of Seduction.

He looked at you a bit surprised, you were going to feed into his paranoia weren't you? Instead of making him feel so fucking deranged about it you were going to massage his borderline creepy behavior with you and take pleasure in it.

As he walked past you he grabbed your arm and dragged you back into his apartment before he closed the door behind him.

“Eric, why don't you have a phone?” You asked him as you got into his bed as if it was the most natural thing to do in the world for you.

“Don't need it” he answered as he looked at you, the sight of you flailing out in his bed rushed the blood to his cock, you were in his bed, in that dress, he could just climb on top of you, kiss you and then run his hands all over you, touching you in places he desperately wanted to and he had a feeling you won't stop him either, you seemed so eager and desperate to him, he felt it, the way you touched him, the way you couldn't keep your hands off him when he was close to you, you were as eager and as desperate as he was for you.

To hide the evidence of his arousal he approached the bed and quickly laid down next to you.

“You don't need it? How do your ..ummm work folks contact you for the.. assignments you get?” you asked softly. He had no one he wanted to speak with? That saddened you to the core, not one person, no friends, no distant family members, Not even an ex or something.

“Don't need a phone for that..I'll get one tomorrow though, just for you, learned a lesson tonight”

You smiled as he said that. Well it wouldn't hurt to be able to chat with him and hear his voice whenever you wanted.

“Need to sleep?” He asked you so you turned on your side and hummed in response before your arm flung around his waist.

“Eric?”

He turned his head to look at you and hummed as you called out his name, your eyes were closed so he stared at your face as much as he wanted, you were so close to him.

“Something bad and weird happened to me a few months ago”

You mumbled and his smile faded, he knew exactly what had happened and he wasn't sure if he was ready to talk about it just yet.

He didn't want you to know he was the one to bring you back home that night.

“What happened?” He asked as he turned to his side, propping himself up on his elbow to face you so you opened your eyes.

You sighed before you told him everything that had happened that night, all from the moment when those men had cornered you to the fact that you had given up and how you were back home when you had regained consciousness.

“I don't know if that even happened or it was a dream or I made it all up, I feel crazy when I think about that night” he ran his fingers through your hair to comfort you, the way you often did for him.

He didn't want you to feel so confused about that night but he wasn't ready to tell you the truth either, he didn't want you to think he had done any sort of favour to you or perhaps you'd think he was a creep for not taking an unconscious woman to the hospital.

He went through your purse afterall which took him a while, it was a mess, he looked for id, and address and your keys before he lifted you up tarzan style and brought you home and put you down on your bed. It was just shock from fear and exhaustion so he wasn't worried about your health being in imminent danger.

He should have disappeared out of your life after that but as soon as he saw the list of vacancies for the 11th floor he couldn't help himself, he wanted to be around you and keep you safe from all the bad things in this world. He felt a rush that night he hadn't felt in years, a sense of purpose in his vacant existence so he latched onto you like a leech.

But you didn't need to know that.

“You're not crazy sweetheart, I'm just glad you're safe and I promise I'll never let anyone hurt you again alright?” he mumbled softly as he kissed your forehead, the gesture made your heart flutter again, god you just wanted to keep touching him when he was around you.

“Okay” your arm curled around his waist as you scooted closer to him with your nose pressed up into the crook of his neck. His scent was comforting as always, comforting and arousing at the same time.

“Eric?” you mumbled, your voice sounded muffled and it made him gulp.

“Yeah?”

“Can you unclasp my bra, I can't sleep with it on”

Now how was he supposed to do that?

“Yeah uh..sure”

He mumbled as he flung his arm around your back and pulled the zipper down a little so he could reach the clasp. You had your eyes closed so he glanced at your beautiful face for a moment, you breathed in deeply as your chest was finally released from the confinement.

“Thank you” you mumbled as you clapped his cheek lightly twice. He was starting to see how effortlessly sexy you were, so naturally sexy, you didn't have to pout or use a seductive fake voice, you just did things in your usual manner and that always stirred the arousal in the deepest pit of his stomach.

He laid down on his back and his breath hitched as you proceeded to place your thigh over his waist, right over his crotch.

Did you want him to flip you underneath him and take you? He couldn't really tell, he enjoyed the proximity and if this was all you wanted to give him he'd take it.

“Good night” you murmured softly so he hummed in response.

How was he supposed to sleep like this?

In the middle of the night you woke up suddenly as you felt that familiar churning in your stomach and slight wetness in your underwear..Eric rubbed his eyes as he looked at you.

“What's wrong?”

“Gotta go” you said as you climbed on top of him before jumping out of his bed, he was shocked for a moment but then followed you into your apartment and then your bedroom.

He watched as you grabbed something from your closet and he put two and two together.

It's been a while since he has been around a …menstruating woman. Melody often liked being alone when she had her cramps, she didn't enjoy being touched or taken care of, she just wanted him to leave her alone especially during the last few months they had spent together.

As you came out of the bathroom your face was contorted in grimacing pain.

“Hey. I'll go get it for you okay? Do you need anything else?” He asked so you shook your head.

“Do you have any ibuprofen? I ran out, i should have bought it” you asked him so he shook his head, he didn't really require any types of pills anymore. “Oh god I'm going to die” you mumbled as you crawled into your bed, he couldn't help but chuckle.

“No.. I don't want you to go at such late hours” he chuckled again at the concern. Gods you were adorable to him.

“I promise I can take care of myself..now do you need something else?” He asked you again so you sighed.

“Just pass me my hot bag please..it's in the closet..right drawer” he nodded as you said that before he reached into your closet and opened the drawer, he saw the drawing he had given you that night to apologize and it made him smile.

“I'll be back soon..use this until then” he said as he charged the bag and gave it to you as it was hot enough to offer some semblance of comfort. He truly wished he was able to take away your pain, he would trade places with you immediately but it wasn't possible.

“Well at least you don't have to work tomorrow” he said as he leaned down to kiss your temple and it made you smile even though the cramp was progressively getting worse.

Yeah well that was a positive side to having your periods.

“Thank you Eric.. love you” you mumbled under your breath but he heard you, it wasn't what you said that made him giddy but how you said it so casually..

Fifteen minutes later he was back with your pain killer, as you sat up he placed the pill in your mouth and made you drink water before he placed the glass on the side table. When he looked in your eyes they were teary so he cupped your cheeks.

“That bad huh? You'll feel better soon, okay? What else can I do? Tell me”

He thought you were tearing up because of pain? No, not right now at least, it was him that made you so emotional, you had never been treated so gently before.

“It's not the pain..I'm just happy you're here” he let out a breath as you said that, he wasn't the only one suffering from the lack of haptic communication in his life it seemed, you had no one either, no boyfriend, no best friend and you have never spoken much of your family either. Besides he was more than willing to be here with you, he just wanted to take care of you, give you something in return for all the ways you took care of him.

“You need a bigger bed sweetheart” he said as he climbed in and pulled you in his arms.

“Mmm bigger and longer since you're so long” He smiled as he caressed your back in the hope that you'd fall asleep as the medicine would kick in and you almost did as well but then you said something that kept him up all night.

“Eric?”

“Mmm”

“I have a secret” he chuckled as you said that.

“What is it?”

“Promise me you won't judge me?" You asked him.

“Never”

He didn't judge you, ofcourse not but your answer made him want to distance himself from you, not because he wanted to but because he felt as if he had to, or he'd end up ruining you completely, he feared he'd taint your pure perfect self with his ugliness.

“I'm a virgin”

👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀

Taglist: @m-riaa @erebus-et-eigengrau @peachychyy @enchantresss97

[love-byers]

Hi, I first want to say that I absolutely enjoy reading all your analysis! About Mike's monologue, I'm kinda playing the devil's advocate here, the actual line in the script is: "And I knew somehow then -- in that moment -- that I loved you." That's definitely better than "I knew right there and then", this was actually Finn paraphrasing, and yes they chose to keep it, but I don't think we should analyze that line that much when it's not even what the writers initially wrote.

I'm a Byler who believes Mike truly loved El, but this is a story of learning to let go of your first love. And Finn kinda confirmed that to me in his recent answers. It's a first love vs right love story.

Also, another interesting thing I found. The script says "But I am scared…that one day, you'll realize -- you don’t really need me." He says it like it's a fact: El doesn't really need him, that's not even a question. Mike is not scared of the eventuality of El not needing him, he's scared of her realizing that she doesn't. He knows deep down this love isn't right. Just like he said in the initial van scene script: "She's already beginning to understand she doesn't need me. I saw it -- I saw it in her eyes, that last time we talked."

To me, Mike has to learn to let go of his first love, El, in order to let in the right love, Will.

thank you!! :)

i don't rlly see how those lines are any different, the wording and addition of "somehow" doesn't change anything or make it better. it's still a statement, not a hyperbole, and a lie. the "in that moment" is the nail in the coffin. it pin points his realization on that moment specifically, so there is no way around it being untrue. if anything, the "somehow' makes it come off more like mike is acknowledging how outlandish it would be to know he loves her 2 seconds after seeing her for the first time in the woods in a rain storm, but claiming its the truth anyways. removing "somehow" makes it more so that mike is really leaning into it and pushing that its the truth, desperately wanting her to believe him. it would make sense that he wouldn't preface that with acknowledgement of how crazy it is, because he wants to seem assured and confident that its the truth, giving el no reason to doubt him.

i definitely think mike had romantic feelings for el, but i just don't think that ever crossed the line into true romantic love. he definitely grew to love el and appreciate her and care for her, but that was never tied to his romantic feelings for her. his true love for her is just not romantic. their relationship is built off of insecurity and attachment, which is why they stayed together for so long. i just don't think he was ever in love with her, nor was she in love with him. i don't argue with ppl who say it was a first love situation, because thats accurate enough. but i think a better description is puppy love. just like stancy vs jancy. stancy was immature, teenage puppy love built on physicality and a desire to feel normal. jancy was true love, built on natural chemistry, trust, respect, and emotional connection.

i just cant get behind saying mike fell out of love with el, cause i really don't think thats the case. i think they rlly highlight this in s3 with the mlvn breakup and byler fight. mike says el is the "most important thing to him in the world'. but, after she breaks up with him he does nothing. he goofs off with his friends in his basement and complains. he doesn't go after her or try to stop her, he doesn't go to her house to apologize, nothing. he does, however, do all those things when he and will fight and will leaves. i think its clearly implying who is more important to mike, just in the sense that one is true love and one is not. mike can't stand the idea of will being upset with him and potentially losing him because of it, it eats at him and he wants to make things right immediately. meanwhile he doesn't take his breakup wth el seriously at all. there is just no way mike is in love with her in these scenarios. and im sorry, but there's no way you can be in love with someone after knowing them for five days. i really just think he never was, he only thought he was.

and yesssss about the script!! mike states it as fact, like he has not a shadow of a doubt that its true. and we never see el soothe this insecurity of his after she finds out. we don't even see them speak. will is the only one who has ever addressed mikes insecurities and made him feel better. he is the only one who considers mike's feelings and stands up for him (And he doesn't deserve that.)

[yuwuta]

Is this a safe enough space to talk about how often fanfics are very white centered? cause I know it's been talked about before, but really... everything is face flushing and blushing and turning red and ears red too now 🥲

ok yes bc this has always been an issue but i do feel like recently the… lack of sensitivity for—when it comes to physical things like that specifically—nonbrown/nonblack audiences is at an all time high again. and yes, people can write and post “whatever they want” and people who want to see specific tropes or examples could “write their own fics” but i don’t think it’s obscene to say that if you are writing and posting something intended to be x reader, then you have to care about the potential reader lol and i don’t think it’s much of a burden to consider people of darker complexions or different hair textures. and the whole thing sucks so bad if you’re of a darker complexion or non-straight hair texture and have constant reminders that even in your escapism or self-indulgent media, you’re not the intended audience ://

[spock-adoodledoo]

oh my god i just finished the dark forest finally. 7/10 i suppose, i went through the first half or so of the book being really annoyed by luo ji but also enjoying the chapters where he shows up because unfortunately he was entertaining. still don't understand the imaginary girlfriend thing, it just feels like he needs someone to protect from the world which like ??? ok sure i guess, it just rubs me the wrong way personally. for the second half and especially the end i became luo ji's number one defender it's fine. for the rest, holy crap—the droplet, the microcosm of the universe on those runaway ships, the wallfacer project, luo ji drawing from rey diaz's plan, the attitude of the world towards him, the entire theory... wow

[wundrousarts]

Yesterday I watched Cartoon Saloon’s short “Screecher’s Reach”, and thought Daal’s hair was almost exactly like how I envision Mathilde Lachance’s hair, so I decided to try and draw her. Today I stopped cleaning up the sketch after about an hour because I got bored, so it’s going here.

[seiwas]

andie you have made me yearn for this man with a want so deeply rooted into my being 🥲😭🥲

i maxxed the tags but just wanted to add this one more thing — that he is soooo acts of service here its driving me insane. to be loved is to be known, that saying 🥲 my chest ached at the bookstore, at when he said that everything that’s his is rdr’s oh my goooood literally HOW TO GET A HE. HOW TO GET A HE i’m losing it. thank u for writing this I SWEAR

𝑤𝘩𝑒𝑛 𝑖 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑒 : 𝑡𝑜𝑑𝑜𝑟𝑜𝑘𝑖 𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑡𝑜 𝑥 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟 : 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝑖𝑣

𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦: In order to placate your anxious mother, you agree to return to your hometown to participate in a mating run—knowing full well that betas rarely get chased, never mind betas nearly old enough to age out of the practice. You’ve decided to treat it like a vacation, a chance to visit with your childhood friends, the mating run itself a nice relaxing hike.All in all it’s a solid plan—until alpha Todoroki Shouto, your best friend's little brother,steps in and blows it all to pieces. 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑡: omegaverse, no quirks au, alpha!shouto, beta!reader, mating rituals, age gap, best friend’s little brother, older reader, afab reader, some class differences, aged up characters, semi-public sex, slight small town romance vibes, background implied dabihawks for some reason, smut, knotting, 18+; mdni! 𝑙𝑒𝑛𝑔𝑡ℎ: 7.6k | chapter 4 of 4

Then

“Shouto duty,” was the first thing Touya grumbled as he emerged from his house.

A little shadow with red and white hair peered out from behind him, big eyes staring up at you. Shouto was dressed in a periwinkle t-shirt and khaki shorts in the late spring heat, and he was nearly vibrating with excitement. You reached out reflexively to pat that fluff of hair, and Shouto seemed to lean into your touch like a cat, probably starved of affection from his fussy older brother.

“My lucky day,” you said, grinning at the way it made Touya roll his eyes.

Shouto nearly launched himself off the steps, looking quietly thrilled to be tagging along. He shoved himself in between you and Touya as you walked, as if unable to bear Touya’s proximity to you, making Touya bark out an annoyed, “Oi, watch it.”

Shouto ignored him, turning to you. “Y/N, I have something to tell you.”

You looked down at him curiously. “What?”

“I lost a tooth,” he said, staring up at you seriously. You laughed, knowing most kids would have smiled to show off their tooth gap, but Shouto had always been a little bit more withdrawn, though he was fairly open around you.

“When?” you asked, ignoring Touya’s scoff. “Did the tooth fairy come?”

Shouto nodded. “Last night. I am adding the money to my inheritance for you.”

That made you laugh again, and you bumped his shoulder. “You’re a good kid, Shouto. I think you should buy yourself something with it though. Especially in this weather—it’s good popsicle weather.”

Shouto looked like he was seriously considering this. “Do you like popsicles?”

You nodded. “Definitely.”

He seemed to pocket that information, and you hid a fond smile. That kid was too sweet for his own good, when it came to you. You wondered when his little case of older-brother’s-friend worship would end. You hoped not for another few years, at least.

“Fucking finally,” Touya said when he caught sight of Rumi and Keigo at the end of his neighborhood, his booted steps growing faster, as if eager to get away from the two of you.

You didn’t mind—Shouto was easy company.

“Oi!” Keigo called out to you, waving a skinny arm. You accompanied Shouto over, watching with a little bit of self-satisfaction when Shouto ducked a hair ruffle from Rumi, the look on his face almost reminiscent of Touya.

You were still his favorite, it seemed.

The usual round of arguments commenced about what to play now that all of you were united, Touya snottily vetoing everyone’s suggestions—except, notably, Keigo’s. Eventually you settled on hide and seek, something Shouto could participate in too, since it didn’t involve convoluted rules, and established a set distance you could go.

Finally Shouto was dubbed the first seeker, and the rest of you took off into the surrounding neighborhood.

You immediately beelined for the sprawling oak at the edge of the neighborhood, its thick, leafy branches the perfect place to conceal yourself. Touya, Keigo, and Rumi had long caught on to the fact that you were almost always to be found up a tree, but Shouto hadn’t played this game with you before.

Thirty seconds and one bark-scraped palm later had you settled in your hiding place, just as you caught Shouto’s shout from afar, “Ready or not, here I come!”

You quieted your breath, listening for the sound of his approach. This late in spring, the cicadas were already roaring. The leaves rustled around you in the breeze and you could hear some other band of kids shrieking and laughing, far in the distance.

It was nearing ten minutes on by the time you heard the thump of Shouto’s sneakers approaching, and you could just make out that distinct mop of bright hair through the branches. He poked around behind bushes, peering at eye level, but didn’t seem to think to look up for you. You watched him hunt through the surrounding area, then dash off when you heard a distinctly Keigo squawk not too far away.

You were nearly asleep on your tree branch when you heard his return, and you sat up quietly to watch him again. You were impressed that he seemed to know you were somewhere nearby.

As you watched him rifle around, you wondered if you should drop a hint, just because he’d been so sweet to you earlier. He’d been so adorable insisting he’d save you his tooth money.

You deliberately rustled a branch, leaning on it so it made a loud creak.

Immediately, Shouto’s head snapped up. Two mismatched eyes narrowed in on you, and his face seemed to brighten when he saw you. A small smile quirked the corner of his mouth.

“Caught you,” he called up to you.

You stuck a leg down tauntingly. “Not yet.”

Something passed over Shouto’s face, and his gaze seemed to sharpen. “I have, too.” You could almost hear a foot stamp in his voice.

You grinned. “Not until I get down.”

A determined look settled across Shouto’s features, and he prowled over to the tree. You watched him jump for a lower branch, catching it securely before hefting himself up. His arms were skinny, but his movements were sure, intent. In no time at all you were helping lever him onto your own branch, pulling him up alongside you.

“I caught you,” Shouto repeated, settling a proprietary hand on your arm. His hand was warm, and his fingers caught your wrist tightly.

You smiled. “I let you catch me by making all that noise, you mean.”

A tiny frown pulled at Shouto’s mouth. “I knew you were around here,” he said, something almost like a pout in his voice.

You laughed. “I did notice you came back. Those are some good tracking skills—although don’t forget to look up. I’m usually always up a tree, when it comes to hide and seek, and Touya and the others I think have caught on too. They’re probably up their own trees somewhere.”

“I do not care about finding them,” Shouto said. His straightforward tone startled a laugh out of you.

You settled back against the branch, Shouto still gripping your arm firmly. “Should we let them wait, then?” you asked, grinning. “I bet Rumi will come out on her own pretty soon, she’s so impatient.”

Shouto nodded. “I will stay here with you.”

The sincerity of the statement warmed you, the way Shouto’s serious little proclamations always did. He was too sweet for this earth. “Then shall we discuss which popsicle you’re going to get later? I have some recommendations.”

Shouto nodded seriously, and you launched into your nonsense, pleased. The leaves rustled around you, the breeze cool and pleasant against your skin. It felt like time stretched out around you, thick like taffy, slow and lazy and easy in the late spring breeze.

You thought absently that wished you could have a million more moments, Shouto the easiest company beside you, just like this.

Now

The morning of the run dawned warm and dry, sunny with a light breeze.

It was perfect hiking weather, and that was the only thing that kept you in good spirits. You tried not to think about Shouto—about how he was going after someone today, how you’d possibly seen him for the last time before he did. He’d said he’d find your tree, but there was really no guarantee his omega was going to run in the same direction as you.

You ate breakfast on the couch with your mother, listening to her excitedly chatter about your prospects today. You hammed it up a little bit, pretending you had any interest in being chased by an alpha, so that you could milk it later and avoid promises to commit to next year’s run. You hoped it would be enough of a deterrent for her—every year you grew older without a mate, she seemed more desperate to find you one.

You repacked your bags, readying yourself to board your train back to the city tomorrow, feeling mournful. Then you spent the rest of the morning finishing up the small things your mother had let go while you were gone, YouTubing your way through a door knob repair, and some weather stripping replacements. You lifted her air-conditioning into the window, swearing and sweating the whole time and wishing you had even a fraction of Shouto’s easy alpha strength.

After everything was finished, you packed up for the run, placing all your snacks and the sandwich Shouto had helped assemble into a small backpack, stuffing in a water and a book after. Then you scrounged around in your clean laundry for some hiking clothes, settling on leggings and a tee-shirt, no reason to try to impress anyone.

It was late morning by the time you ducked out of your house and started the trek to the preserve on the edge of town. Throngs of people were already gathered when you got there, alphas and omegas alike crowding the entrance. An overwhelming mixture of scents washed over you, the sweetness and florals of the omegas, the tang and spice of the alphas, even the small muted underwash of a few betas.

The overstimulation was nostalgic, and brought to mind your first few runs—the anticipatory hope you felt, the determination not to get caught for some one-time mating with an alpha who wouldn’t prove to be your life mate. It had been years, and you knew the outcome already this time, but some small thrill of anticipation thrummed in your veins regardless.

You kept to the edge of the crowd, sprawling out on the grass until the organizers called for the omegas and running betas to come forward to their starting mark. The alphas and remaining betas would be called to the mark a half hour later, to follow their intended targets into the preserve.

Then the whistle was being blown, and the crowd of omegas around you surged into the forest.

The first hundred meters of the preserve were a tangle of wild trees and overgrowth—omegas typically stayed on the trails until the forest opened up, several paths intersecting and leading away into hills and towards a pond, with the last one stretching towards the coast. This was your usual route and you followed it until the trees thinned out, then stepped off the path to tromp through the woods in the direction of the coastline.

You kept a brisk pace, wanting to get as far in as you could before the alphas were let in. Eventually the spruces and firs gave way to mostly coastal scrub pines amid tall grass, and you could smell the ocean through the trees, hear the crash of the waves against the rocky outcroppings.

You stepped out of the woods along a small coastal path that stretched for miles, and followed it a few minutes more until it flattened out. There was a small meadow laid into the coastline, spanning several square meters of pale seagrass and flowering bushes, shaded by an enormous willow tree—your target.

The meadow had a beautiful view of the shining blue waves through the barren scrub trees, but more importantly it was out of the way, little known to people who did not frequent the coastline trails. The willow was the perfect cover, its trailing fingers and dense greenery more than enough to hide one disinterested beta.

You ducked through the leaves, latching onto one of the lower branches and heaving yourself up. It had been years since you’d climbed anything—the city not exactly chalk-full of great climbing trees—but you were pleased to find it just as satisfying. You scrambled up into the canopy, testing your weight against your designated branch, finding it still held you easily.

Perfect.

You immediately rewarded yourself with a granola bar, settling onto your branch and chewing contentedly, pleased with the temperature. The sun was hot, but in the shade of the leaves and the salty breeze drifting in off the sea, it was perfectly comfortable.

You’d just gotten out your book to read, flipping to the spot you’d last left off at, when the chirp of nearby birds stopped. The meadow seemed to grow quiet around you.

You sat up, alert, at the soft tread of a bootfall close by. Your breath froze in your lungs. An omega, looking for a place to hide? Or some alpha?

Except then a long-fingered hand parted the hanging tendrils of the willow, and a familiar head of scarlet and white hair was ducking inside the canopy.

Embarrassingly, your heart swelled. Shouto had made time to stop in before finding his omega.

“Shouto!” you shouted down, pleased.

Shouto’s face tipped up to you, a tiny smile on his mouth. He looked especially good today, you thought, a navy tee shirt stretched across his broad shoulders, baring the flesh of his biceps, a flush on his cheeks from the warm spring sun. He looked a little taken apart, windswept like he’d run here, and you furiously stamped down on the flash of heat in your tummy.

Nope. No.

“Y/N,” Shouto intoned quietly, his eyes glittering up at you. “Caught you.”

You were momentarily taken aback by the sound of something unfamiliar in his tone, some strange intensity in his voice and expression. It sounded almost like it meant something to find you here, something more than a momentary pitstop on his way to his omega—but of course that was ridiculous.

You waved down at him, smiling and sticking a leg down tauntingly like when you were kids. “Not yet.”

Shouto’s eyes narrowed, a flash of something predatory tinging his handsome features.

In the blink of an eye, he crossed to the tree, dense muscle coiling and pulling beneath his tee shirt as he pulled himself up. This time he needed none of your help, moving with a panther-like grace. He pulled himself onto the branch immediately below yours, close enough that it put him at eye level with the bottom of your chin.

Then he reached out and snared your ankle in one large, warm hand, a smug sort of glint in his eye. The follow up caught you went unspoken.

Another laugh bubbled up out of you. “Alright alright, this time you got me,” you agreed, flexing your ankle in his hold.

Shouto’s mouth turned up, clearly pleased, but he did not let go. A thumb stroked softly along the hollow beneath your ankle bone. A surprised shiver caught you, sliding up your spine.

“You, um, got here so quick,” you said, trying to think past the sudden fuzz of static in your brain. You hoped your voice sounded impressed and not embarrassingly breathy. “Did you at least note which way your life mate went?”

Shouto’s head tilted, his bangs falling into his eyes as his thumb petted across your skin again. “I did.”

You nodded approvingly, tensing against another shudder. “Did they come out this way? You’re probably the first alpha to make it out here but you won’t want to waste too much time.”

Shouto’s mouth twitched, those heterochromatic eyes trailing down your face. “No time spent with you is a waste.”

That made your face warm. You tried to prod him with your foot, but Shouto’s grip was firm. “You’re going to want to save the charm for your life mate, mister.”

“I am,” he said simply, tone sincere.

You felt your brow furrow—now what was that supposed to mean?—when suddenly Shouto leaned forward, abandoning his grip on your ankle. His hands found the branch at either side of your hip, trapping you inside his reach. You stared down at him, stunned with his sudden proximity.

You felt suddenly a little caged in, your breath pulling up short. What was he—?

“Will you come down to me?” Shouto asked, eyes intent on yours.

The ask felt significant, though you had no idea how. And he was so close, so focused on you.

But you had no clue exactly what he would need you to come down for. Maybe he wanted to split lunch or something? You had your sandwich in your bag, and it would be easier on the ground, you supposed.

Although Shouto probably shouldn’t go running around on too full a stomach, especially if he—with his omega, after—if they…

You found you couldn’t think it, your mind shying away like you’d prodded a nerve.

Really, Shouto should be going soon, before any ranging alphas made it this far out and sniped his life mate before he got to them.

With that thought, however, some selfish thing recoiled inside of you. You desperately craved just a few more minutes with him—this achingly familiar boy, this mind-numbingly beautiful man—before he wasn’t really yours to think of anymore. These were the last few moments you’d get to spend with him before everything changed. It took less than a second to make up your mind.

“Yeah,” you said, smiling. “I’ll come down.”

You shifted, gathering your backpack and maneuvering off your branch carefully. Shouto gave you just enough space to get down, a hand finding your waist as you steadied yourself. He shadowed you down, close at your back to make sure you didn’t slip.

He was acting the consummate gentleman—but there was a strange tension about him, something about the way he moved and the intensity with which he was trailing you. There was something expectant about it, something almost impatient.

Maybe he needed you to hurry up so he could get going. That was probably it.

You turned to your backpack as soon as he guided you safely to the ground. You’d barely gotten it unzipped, however, when Shouto suddenly crowded into your space, startling you.

You stumbled a reflexive step back, breath whooshing out of you when your back connected with the trunk of the willow. Shouto followed, still watching you with that unnerving intensity.

His fingers dipped under your chin, softly turning your face up to his. His gaze was serious—more solemn than you had ever seen him. You went still in his grasp, heartbeat rabbiting in your chest.

What was with him today?

“Shouto,” you said slowly. “Are you… alright?”

Shouto leaned down, pressing his forehead to yours. His slow exhale ghosted over your mouth, thumb stroking across your jaw. It sent a swarm of shudders down your spine, and you suddenly weren’t breathing at all.

“I have dreamed of this moment a thousand times,” Shouto said, his tone reverent. It was almost a whisper.

His tone implied there was something incredibly significant about this moment, but you could not for the life of you think of what. Especially not with his face so close, clouding up your thoughts.

You felt your brow furrow against his, and you opened your mouth to ask him what on earth he could be talking about.

Except before you could, Shouto’s hands took either side of your face. And then he bent his head—and pressed his mouth to yours.

All higher thought immediately evacuated your brain, leaving only a sudden zing of panic and the horrible, wonderful excitement of Shouto’s mouth on yours, of Shouto’s strong body so close to yours. Rough bark scraped against your back as Shouto’s front slotted warm and firm against your chest, and the feeling of all that strength pressed so tightly to you made you dizzy.

“Sho–-? Whuh—?” you said, slightly muffled into his mouth.

But Shouto only took the opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth, soft and wet and so unbelievably hot your brain short circuited. Every single nerve ending in your body lit up as you realized Todoroki Shouto had his tongue in your mouth, and that he was kissing you so thoroughly and meticulously it felt as though this was the last kiss he’d ever be allowed. You heard yourself let out a gasp that turned into an embarrassing moan as he pressed harder against you, pinning you between himself and the tree.

Your mind felt like it was melting, Shouto’s mouth doing terrible things to your thoughts’ coherence. Your hands went to his shoulders, and you found yourself opening up to him, every inch of your skin hot. Every flick of his tongue, every brush of his lips felt better than you could have ever imagined, and you were helpless to do anything but let him have you.

Your thoughts were a puddle when Shouto finally let your mouth free. All you could do was stare up at him, shocked.

“Y/N,” Shouto said, his eyes searching your face. “You came down for me.”

His handsome face wore an expression you hadn’t ever seen before as he regarded you, something almost—possessive? His hands had slid to your waist, his touch hot through the material of your shirt.

Your brain swam. Words, what were words? “I—? Uh, yes—?”

Shouto seemed to understand you weren’t getting his point. “‘If I’m not an alpha, and I have to hide somewhere, I’m going to find the best tree in the preserve and go up it and not come down until I find my life mate,’” he said.

It sounded like a quote, and it took you an embarrassingly long moment to realize it was something you had said, years and years and years ago, when you were both kids.

Was he saying—? But that was absurd. No, there was no way. You hadn’t—he wasn’t—

“But you’re Shouto,” you groped around your thoughts for logic and reasoning. “You’re Shouto.”

Shouto watched you patiently, a white eyebrow raising slightly.

“You can’t mean—?” you sputtered. “No. You’re Touya’s baby brother. I’m too old for you. The first time I held you, you were a baby.”

Shouto pressed impossibly closer to you, a long-fingered hand winding its way into yours. “I am not a child, Y/N. And you are not that much older than I.”

You struggled to think through the feeling of his body pressed to yours. You knew it. You knew he wasn’t a child. But all the same, you’d spent long enough telling yourself he’d been meant for someone else. Long enough convinced that you were too old for him.

Long enough that you were absolutely certain this had to be a mistake.

“You’re off limits,” you told him, trying to press him back. Shouto did not budge, however, as solid as stone under your hand.

“You are my life mate,” he said. He raised your joined hands to his mouth, kissing over your knuckles. An electric jolt went through you at the feeling of that mouth on you again, firm and warm. “I have known my whole life. I am off limits to all but you.”

A storm of emotion churned in your gut, everything from guilt to disbelief to pleasure to relief. To hear it said so plainly, after all this time—you are my life mate—by a man who was already so beloved to you. By a boy you’d loved as a friend, a man who you wanted to love as more.

But you couldn’t—he had to deserve better.

“I won’t take advantage of you,” you insisted.

A small smile pulled at Shouto’s mouth. “I am not a child. And I am an alpha besides. Your alpha.”

You fought down a furious flush.

“But Shouto there’s so many things–!” you insisted. Beyond being older than him, beyond being a staple in his life since he was young. You were quickly realizing so many of the promises he’d made when he was younger, he actually meant.

“Your inheritance—I never meant to accept that from you for real. And your family, they would not like that I—”

The rest of your words were muffled in Shouto’s mouth, as he bent his head and kissed you again. A flick of his tongue turned even that into a muffled squeak instead. Why was he so good at this?

“Much of my family understands what it means to pursue something singularly,” Shouto said against your lips. “What it means to give everything you have in service of pursuit.”

Your stomach flipped. The Todoroki single-mindedness that you had been convinced had skipped right over Shouto. Suddenly years of solemn watchfulness over you, years of following you like a shadow, years of sharing all his toys and his thoughts and promising to take care of you—it all made a terrible, perfect sort of sense.

Single-mindedness. But not as destruction, as Enji’s and Touya’s had been. As devotion—as thoughtfulness, something so uniquely Shouto you wanted to cry.

God how had you missed this?

You rallied yourself for one last defense.

“Shouto. At the very least you need to consider if you’re making a mistake. Alpha-beta couplings are nontraditional—maybe your senses are off here. Maybe because I’m a beta and I was around when your brain was still forming and you liked me then it feels like there’s something but—”

Shouto’s grip on you flexed, and suddenly his determined expression flickered, a crease forming between those perfect brows.

“Do you see me as a child still?” he asked.

You shook your head. Not since you’d seen him prowl across the Todoroki kitchen, miles of sleek muscle flexing, that perfect campfire scent fogging your brain, tall and gorgeous and unmistakably alpha. And especially not since you’d come to understand the expanse of his life—the home he’d made, the job he had, the goals he’d taken.

“Then do you… not want me?” he asked.

Your heart immediately sank, aching with the soft flicker of hurt that crept across his features.

Your hands had shot out to hold his face before you knew what you were doing.

“Shouto, of course I want you,” you found yourself saying. “Who wouldn’t want you? You are perfect. You are so kind and have always been so good. You are sweet and funny and so beautiful it hurts to look at. Of course I want you. But I don’t want to hurt you—”

“Then say yes,” Shouto insisted.

God you wanted to. You wanted to. You had been so jealous this whole week, you realized, of whoever his life mate was going to be.

The realization crashed into you like a wave, knocking you off balance. You wanted all of Shouto’s time, all of his attention, wanted to curl up in his apartment on that plush couch with him and all but bodily fuse to him, never to come apart again. You wanted to spend a million afternoons cooking in that kitchen, running lunches to him at the firehouse, kissing him, laughing with him, indulging in him—in how kind and sweet and good he’d always been.

Your face must have said it all, because Shouto was crowding back into you.

“I am going to be so good to you, Y/N,” he promised, his mouth drawing closer.

You shivered. Some part of you still felt like you needed to resist him, needed to make him see. But the other part of you, the largest part, wanted to melt in his embrace. Wanted to let him kiss you and kiss him back, wanted to thread your fingers in that fluff of hair and sink into the relief of his companionship.

Shouto hammered the final nail into your coffin with the unerring precision of a boy who’d known you for twenty years.

“Trust me to take good care of you,” he said, his voice dipping to a low whisper.

And that was it—the refrain from all those years ago, before you’d ever understood what he was promising you. Even if you were uncertain about everything else, you would always be certain about Shouto’s care. Shouto’s inherent goodness.

Surrendering, you let yourself fall.

“I do,” you told him. “I trust you. I—always will.”

Then you closed your eyes and let him kiss you.

You could feel Shouto’s soft smile against your mouth, feel a renewed intensity in the way he poured himself into you with his next kiss. You almost sagged against him in sheer relief—the relief of knowing, against all odds, that your life mate had found you even across the years that had threatened to separate you.

Shouto kissed you with a startling vigor, leaving you breathless against the willow when he moved down to your neck, pulling your tee shirt wide to suck several very insistent markings into the hollow of your throat.

You leaned into the rough bark as he mapped his way lower, and lower, only startling when he dropped to his knees before you, pressing his face into the crease of your hip.

Your heart shot into your mouth, a shock of heat licking up your spine. “Shouto!” you stammered.

Shouto only uttered your name into the fabric of your leggings, the material thin enough that you could feel the heat of his exhalation on your skin. One of his hands came up to take your calf, the other creeping up into the band of your leggings, carefully pulling it down.

You watched him as he did, stomach fluttering.

He gently helped you step out of your leggings and panties, leaving you bare and vulnerable to him. You would have been more embarrassed if it wasn’t for the way his eyelashes fluttered appreciatively, and the immediate way he ducked his head to press his mouth right to your core.

You muffled a moan into your palm, thunking your head against the tree trunk.

You could feel Shouto’s slow smile as he hefted your thigh over his shoulder, hands grasping your waist. “Mine,” you heard him utter, soft and low, before licking right over you, possessive and deliberate. It made every inch of your skin flush hot, every nerve ending come to life under his mouth.

You could still hardly believe what was happening, even as you muffled more sounds into your palm as Shouto worked you, with the attentive diligence he’d always done everything when it came to you. You could feel those mismatched eyes on you, cataloging your every reaction to what he did.

He learned all too quickly exactly what you liked, and you were a writhing mess within minutes. Shouto pinned you to the tree with an iron arm across your stomach as you arched and screamed, not letting up until you’d come against his mouth, chanting his name like an oath.

He looked very pleased with himself when you were done, his hair ruffled from your hand, face flushed.

He looked too good to be real.

“I want—Shouto, please—” you said, nearly incoherent but apparently utterly shameless now that he’d had you.

Shouto got to his feet to kiss you again and you flushed when you could taste yourself on his mouth. “Come home with me,” he murmured, tone low.

“You don’t want—?” you said.

Shouto shook his head. “Not here. I’ve imagined this a thousand times, how I wanted it to happen. I’ve thought about what you deserve. I’ve thought about how I will not want to separate, after, not even to take you back home. Come home with me first.”

Fire spread across your cheeks at the idea of Shouto imagining it with you, over and over again. The way he said home, like it was both of yours.

“Okay. Okay yes,” you said, breathless.

Shouto helped you back into your leggings and gathered up your abandoned pack, which you’d apparently dropped and forgotten entirely the moment he’d kissed you. He held your hand in his the whole way back through the woods, occasionally cocking his head or scenting the air, and then taking a long detour around some place, like he didn’t want to share your presence with whoever else was in the woods.

The walk was long, but so easy in Shouto’s company, even with this new dimension of your relationship settling itself between you two. It was frighteningly easy, in fact, after everything.

You talked about everything and nothing, reliving the entire week together, Shouto sharing that he’d hoped you’d see him as a man, had taken the time right up until the run to try to be sure. Ears flaming, you’d shared that you’d been gone for him the moment you’d seen him in the doorway of the kitchen. Shouto’s smug look immediately mopped up any of the reflexive embarrassment you felt sharing that.

By the time you made it to Shouto’s you’d also managed to shoot a text off to your mother, and an emergency extension of your time off to your workplace.

Shouto was on you as soon as the door shut behind you, catching your noise of surprise in his mouth.

Your arms came around him, and he walked you back to his couch, following you down onto it and laying himself out over you. The weight of him made you shiver again, the heaviness of all that muscle anchoring you down.

Shouto kissed you absolutely boneless into the cushions of his couch, hands wandering everywhere, skimming under your shirt, calluses catching on the fabric of your leggings. Everywhere he touched felt like it was on fire, your nerves singing with pleasure. Shouto seemed to be trying to take his time with you, but you could sense something underneath that, his usual layers of patience eroded.

Feeling brave, you let your hands wander to the buttons of his pants, working them open. Shouto’s breath left him in a hiss as you wrapped your hand around him, feeling him hard and hot and velvet smooth in your palm.

“Ah… fffuck, love,” he muttered into your neck. He chased it with the soft scrape of his teeth, groaning when it made your grip tighten on him reflexively.

His hips flexed, sliding him through your fingers, flush and full. Butterflies fluttered to life in your stomach, and a hot streak of arousal licked up your spine. Your own hips shifted, lifting up into him, and you realized with a sudden desperation that you wanted him inside you, didn’t want to wait another second.

“Shouto please, please, please,” you found yourself babbling, stroking firmly down the shaft of him.

Shouto’s eyes were dark when they found yours again. “Anything, I would give you anything,” he said, his voice tight.

“I want you inside of me, please,” you said, your face burning with the admission.

The sheer elation flashing across his handsome face quelled any more embarrassment. In what felt like barely a breath, Shouto had you bare to him once more, flinging your leggings and shirt somewhere towards his kitchen. He covered you again, fitting himself between your thighs with another appreciative groan before pressing in.

You were so wild with want that he slid home easily, despite his impressive size. His skin burned hot against yours, and he felt so perfectly right over you, inside of you, that you had to fight down something like a sob.

Shouto looked equally as overwhelmed, staring at your face rapturously. “I have loved you my whole life,” he said, his tone wondering. “You are finally mine.”

Your entire body went hot with his declaration. You had not realized until today that you loved him too. But now that you did, it felt like everything made sense, that all was finally right.

You managed to gasp out as much between Shouto’s thrusts, as his hips bucked into yours, slowly at first, and then faster, more sure. He kissed you everywhere—your face, your neck, your shoulders, layering in soft bites like he could not help himself.

“Say it,” he groaned, mouthing at the underside of your jaw. “Please say it.”

“I love you,” you said. A yelp escaped you when Shouto suddenly seized you around the waist, rolling you on top of him and holding you to him as he levered the two of you upright. The position in his lap only made him sink deeper inside of you, and you hissed with the feeling, your fingernails digging into his back.

“Ah, fuck—Shouto!” you cried.

Shouto’s hands on your waist guided you with an easy strength—your head spun with the reminder of his power, the reminder that you had an alpha—your alpha—inside of you.

“Going to take good care of you,” he panted into your hair, pausing to kiss the shell of your ear even as the snap of his hips undid you. “Going to take such good care of you.”

Your fingers flexed on him, and you could feel your toes curl. You did not know what to do with all of the emotion welling up inside you, the well of your pleasure almost overflowing. He ground up into you, making your eyes nearly roll back in your head, and you fought down a scream when the pad of his thumb pressed to your clit, heightening every sensation.

“Oh Shouto, please—” was all you could manage.

Shouto looked enraptured, drinking in every change in your expression. As you squirmed and writhed under his touch, you felt him start to swell inside of you.

Both apprehension and arousal swirled inside of you, a beta’s body a little less adapted to knotting than an omega’s. But the firm circle Shouto’s thumb was drawing on your clit, and the low murmur of his voice in your ear, began to drown out any other thought.

“I have you, love,” Shouto said. His mouth dragged across your throat, leaving a sucking bruise along the column. Your nails scrabbled at his back as he swelled even further inside of you, starting to catch on your walls and make it harder to press back down on him.

“I have you,” Shouto said again, his voice rough with pleasure. The reassurance that he did, and the knowledge that he was barely managing his own pleasure struck you like a bolt of lightning. Something inside you unraveled and came loose, and you muffled a cry into Shouto’s broad shoulder as your orgasm slammed into you like a tidal wave.

A low swear escaped Shouto, and his knot swelled even further. His hands suddenly seized tight on either side of your waist, holding you down on him as he thrust up into you. You felt a sort of pressure you’d never anticipated, so overwhelming it was nearly painful—but then Shouto’s knot slid into you.

Shouto groaned into your neck, biting down hard. You writhed over him, your pleasure wringing you out until finally you slumped against him, shivering. Shouto eased back, propping himself up on the arm of the couch, you stuck to his chest like a sweat-slicked barnacle.

“That was—so much more intense than I ever imagined,” you said, when you’d recovered your faculty for human language.

You could feel the curve of Shouto’s smile against your neck. “For I, as well,” he said. “Though I had imagined it a great many times—we still have many other fantasies I intend to live out.”

You were embarrassed to feel yourself tighten around him. Shouto hissed, leaning back to pin you with a look—then looked more smug than you’d ever seen him.

“Like that, do you, love?” he asked.

The pet name made your ears heat, and you couldn’t help but pinch him. “You used to be so sweet, when did you get this fresh?” you demanded.

“Fresh is the least of what I intend to get with you,” Shouto informed you seriously. “I take my duties as a child bride very seriously.”

Your jaw dropped open, and you pressed back from him, gasping when it shifted him inside you. “You—! You heard—?”

Shouto’s smile was far too handsome and self-satisfied to be allowed. “That is when I knew I stood a chance.”

Your face burned. You couldn’t believe him. “You’re a menace.”

Shouto leaned into a press a kiss over where he’d sunk his teeth into you, butterfly-light. The touch of his mouth was warm and his campfire scent washed over you, fuzzing your thoughts. His mouth moved up to catch yours, and you let him kiss you until you realized you’d started to squirm in his lap again.

Several minutes later he had you coming on his knot again, locked against him and muffling the sounds of your pleasure into his neck.

He looked, if possible, even more satisfied, and you lifted a hand to thread through the strands of his hair, silky and damp.

“I can’t believe this is real,” you said, several orgasms having made you loose-tongued. You rubbed a strand of his hair between the pads of your fingers.

Shouto turned his head to drop a kiss to the base of your palm. “We have time enough to make you believe it, love.”

Another butterfly took wing in your stomach at the pet name. You wondered if you’d ever get used to hearing him say it.

“I’ll have to figure out my work—I don’t know if they’d let me work remotely all the way from here?” you said, thoughts suddenly shifting. You sort of doubted your company would make the exception for you, and a pang shot through your heart at the idea that you might have to leave Shouto to work in the city on weekdays. At least until you found another job, which might take months to arrange.

You did not want to be separated from him, now that you’d let yourself have him.

A hand caught your chin, thumb smoothing along your jaw. “I do not think you will have enough time,” Shouto said, a slim brow raising slightly. “What with the bookstore opening.”

You stared at him, wondering if you’d just had some sort of auditory hallucination.

“The—what?” you asked.

“The bookstore opening,” Shouto said. His mouth made the shape of the words exactly, and so it could not be that you’d hallucinated. But—

“What bookstore?” you asked.

Shouto’s mouth pressed into a deliberately flat line like he was trying not to smile.

“Yours. Downstairs,” he clarified—which did not clarify at all.

Your mouth dropped open against his fingers, your eyebrows shooting for the moon. “My—? Downstairs—?”

Your mind scanned back over the events of the last twenty-four hours, the first time you’d caught sight of the shop downstairs again as you’d followed Shouto home. The way it seemed so well-maintained, the windows glinting crystal-clear in the soft evening light. Your eyes reflexively dipped to the blonde wood of Shouto’s floor, the very same that had been installed across the floor of the shop, and an understanding suddenly dawned on you.

“I remember everything you have ever told me,” Shouto had said when you mentioned you’d been in love with the shop downstairs.

“No way,” was what left your mouth as you glanced back up at Shouto, disbelief rising.

Shouto was watching you carefully, his handsome face serious. “Your name is on the deed.”

A wellspring of emotion rose up inside you like a geyser, and you slammed yourself back into Shouto, throwing your arms around his shoulders. “Shouto—I. You didn’t need to—there’s no way I can accept—this is incredible, you’re incredible—but I’d be taking advantage—I can’t—”

A warm, long-fingered hand slid up your spine to rest on the back of your head, holding you against him. “I have always been yours,” Shouto murmured. “Everything I have has always been yours. If it is too much now, we can wait. But I, and everything I have, will always be yours.”

You blinked, embarrassed to realize you’d started dripping tears into Shouto’s shoulder. Shouto didn’t say anything, fingers petting through your hair as you tried to fight the emotion down.

“I promised to take good care of you, and I intend to,” he said. Pressed against him, you could feel the way the words rumbled in his chest.

You closed your eyes and shoved your face in his neck, letting him hold you to him. Everything about today felt too good to be true, but you knew with absolute certainty that Shouto had always been too good to be true, himself. And yet you’d told him you trusted it, when he said he’d take care of you.

And you did—you realized you would always trust it, trust the beautiful boy you’d known all your life.

“I’ll need to pay you back on your investment,” you said some minutes later, when you finally found your voice again. You leaned back to look Shouto in the face, trying not to be embarrassed about the drying tear tracks.

“There is no need,” he said, eyes finding yours.

You realized you were still in his lap, though his knot had softened, and you thought you might be able to separate now.

But now you had other plans—and an investment you wanted to enthusiastically return.

“I insist,” you said, leaning forward to mouth at Shouto’s neck.

You caught the flash of his eyes widening, and his head fell back as a sharp breath left him. “I—see,” he said, his voice growing rough as you sucked a careful mark into the skin of his shoulder.

You smiled against his skin. “You will,” you promised, feeling bolder than ever. It felt like you were daring to believe it, that you’d found your life mate, that you really got to have him, that he’d loved you as long as he’d lived.

You wanted to return all those years of love, now that you loved him too.

“I’m going to take good care of you too,” you informed Shouto, hips already flexing over his.

You felt him start to grow hard inside of you again, and he turned his head to catch your mouth. You could feel his smile against your lips.

“I trust it,” he said, his voice dropping low.

You smiled too, grinning against your lifemate’s mouth, intent on proving yourself worthy of that trust.

Though perhaps that could wait until you’d delivered some of the many fantasies it sounded like he’d stored up. There was no reason to rush.

You had the rest of your life together, after all.

[wannaliveattheholidayinn]

oscillating wildly between i NEED to draw monique blue hawk fanart and the hatak witches is uh... well... um,,, hm.

[dashiellqvverty]

obviously the best way to become a better writer is to read real books but there’s so many things that annoy me in fic that i feel like should be able to be addressed by simply READING MORE FANFICTION. i’m going to be mean here but so often i will see things like the way people use commas (or more accurately, don’t use them), or calling characters “the blond” “the younger man” etc, or idk those are the main examples on my mind at the moment but other shit like that. and i’m like surely even if you don’t read books you read other fanfic right??? do you not think it sounds bad when other fic reads like this???

[dreadheadmadi]

“Reader has black hair and blue eyes-“

THEN ITS NOT AN X READER!!???

Edit below cut

Hey guys, so when I made this post, I was extremely frustrated and annoyed. Now that I’m way more mellowed out and had the chance to read a lot of reactions and responses, let me act my age and actually clarify some things.

First, I want to apologize to those who were deeply upset by my post. My post overall was towards those who claim they don’t write for a specific audience, and yet put specific descriptions in their work. There is absolutely NOTHING wrong with adding certain details to your reader, such as gender or body type. The issue comes in when you don’t properly title and tag it as so, or completely ignore it altogether.

If you see my post as an eye opener and want to change up your work, then you have every right to do so, but please do not think that this is an attack or jive directed at you. It’s just that some of us readers want exactly as promised. Like for example, imagine if someone asked if you wanted some fresh fruit they grew themselves. You agree, and when they show up, instead of handing you fruit, they give you a carton of eggs. Now, you might not mind eating eggs, but you were promised fresh fruit, not eggs.

I know some writers have said that they want to be more inclusive in response to my criticism. If that is what you truly want, then by all means, but I cannot stress enough: write what YOU want to write. Do not feel as though you’re being pressured to change what you put out; it’s just a means of how you categorize it.

Thank you to everyone who took the time to read, respond, and engage with my original post. I truly appreciate the perspectives shared, they’ve helped me see things more clearly and refine my thoughts.

[seiwas]

i maxxed the tags (what did i expect) but!!

what a soft piece ari 🥺 thank you for sharing this hurt/comfort piece w us!! i think satoru will always be a figure of strength—but i think it’s in part because that’s how he brands himself to be around the people he cares about. he’ll never truly share how he thinks and feels about things, will almost always downplay it really. but he’s always worrying, always aware and cautious, overthinking 🥺 and i felt that loads here!!

there’s a shipwreck stuck between your ribs ; satoru gojo

synopsis; three times satoru sees you cry, and the understanding you gain of each other from it.

word count; 4.6k

contents; satoru gojo/reader, gn!reader, the synopsis speaks for itself i think, copious amounts of hurt/comfort, i just think he’d be so good at comforting u :ccc, also fluff!!, he’s addicted to calling u ”baby,” satoru gojo vs human emotion (he loses)

a/n; pls ignore the fact that 90% of my gojo fics are hurt/comfort ok we dont need to get into that <33 the writing in this one might be a lil rusty but im pretty fond of this gojo :’3

dim lights, buttery popcorn, and boredom.

the senses invading his mind are mellow, coaxing, a little tedious. all he can see are the buzzing lights before him, all he can hear is the insistent chewing of the people around him, and all he can feel is just that:

boredom.

satoru stifles a yawn, resting his cheek on the heel of his palm. he’s trying to pay attention — really, he is. trying to pay attention to the movie he picked out himself, after thoughtful consideration, one he’s been looking forward to watching with you all week. he’s trying his best. but, gosh, it’s just so boring.

or maybe he just doesn’t have it in him today — with all these too-dim lights, too-loud popcorn-chewers, and the too-convoluted plot playing on the big screen in front of him. he has no idea what’s happening, anymore, what scene this is supposed to be. some sob-story? he clocked out a while ago.

so, with nothing better to do — satoru decides to savour another view.

that’s how it always goes. no matter the movie, no matter the snacks, whether you’re watching at home on the couch or a nearby movie theatre — eventually, when his eyelids begin to grow heavy, or when his attention span begins to falter, that blue-soaked gaze of his shifts. a moth to a flame, following his instincts. constantly looking over to see what kind of face you're making. 

after all, your reactions are far more entertaining than any movie could ever hope to be. little sighs of exasperation, jolts and shivers down your spine, or a laughter so bubbly he can’t resist leaning in for a kiss or ten — he loves it. adores it. lives and dies by it. 

so satoru turns his head, and looks at you, knowing you’ll save him from the boredom clutching at his subconscious. 

and something in his chest constricts.

at first, he doesn’t notice it. hungrily lapping over the expanse of your jaw, to your cheekbones, his gaze drinking in everything he can see. scanning your eyes for a hint of emotion; and he finds it. he finds it in something that glimmers in the dim lighting of the theatre, something that has his breath drawing back to the depths of his throat.

tears.

crystalline, dew-drawn, a fresh set of tears clinging to the edge of your lash line. they’ve yet to fall, but satoru sees them — he sees them and he doesn’t know what to do. 

tears. 

tears?

you’re crying.

in the depths of your glassy eyes, he sees a fractured scene — playing against the scope of your iris, as the movie reflects off your pupils. there’s a turmoil there, a sadness, one that has you covering your mouth with the front of your knuckle. and you’re crying.

satoru wants to tease you. he wants to lean over and purr against the shell of your ear, poke fun at you for being so emotional. such a little baby. what else is he supposed to do?

the tricky part is that he can’t. he can’t move, can’t shape his voice into a purr, can’t even speak. he’s frozen in place like a bug trapped in amber, stuck to his seat, unable to do anything but blink at you in what he thinks might be bewilderment.

his breath hitches — and that’s all. 

something about the sight of you makes him falter, makes him stop in his tracks. catches him off guard. he doesn’t know what to do, doesn’t recognize the feeling stirred deep within his chest, something discomforting and foreign. doesn’t understand why his heart feels so itchy, all of a sudden.

then your eyes meet.

and you blink. once, then twice. eyes just a little wide, an embarrassed kind of surprise. he thinks you must be flustered, and he’s proven right when your gaze flees from his.

a mingle of words clog up at the base of his throat. say something, say something, say something. but he doesn’t know what. 

he wets his lips, preparing to part them, but before he can get the first syllable out you're leaning in. close. close enough that he feels your breath ghost against the shell of his ear, close enough that his heart starts skipping the way it always does when you press yourself against him like that’s where you belong.

a whisper. it’s small, hushed, a little frail. but there’s something else, too, laced together with the vowels — amusement. 

”you didn’t tell me this was a sad movie.”

a pout plays at your lips, as you murmur your grievances. but then there’s that amusement; it’s there when you pull back, in the crinkle of your sparkling eyes, the curve of your smile. 

and satoru’s shoulders relax. stiffened bones melting. he exhales a breath he had no idea he was holding, and his heart feels at ease. a grin finds it’s way to his lips, wide, teasing, cheshire and sweet. 

he leans a little closer, bumping his head against yours. gently. ”i think you’re just sensitive, baby.”

his teasing is rewarded with a little huff, as your elbow meets his side. soft. everything you do is soft. 

”oh, shut up,” you scoff. smiling. he’s so relieved that you’re smiling. 

a moth to a flame, following his instincts, satoru brings you closer. an arm around your waist, pulling you into his orbit, until you’re practically sharing seats. searching for your hand — and he finds it, intertwining his long fingers with yours, just to give it a little squeeze.

(for some reason, he feels more protective than usual.)

he feels your gaze. questioning, maybe. but you melt into him quickly, with your head slumped against his shoulder, and his heart settles back into a sleepy rhythm. just watching the movie pass you by.

the dim lighting of the theatre casts a hazy shadow over your face, a tender desaturation, and his eyes stay glued to it when you aren’t looking. the smell of popcorn hangs heavy in the air, salty and buttery, warm and sweet, and he’s almost grateful to feel that familiar boredom tug at his veins.

anything is fine. anything is better than that discomfort, that irritating itch. 

satoru watches the movie flicker by, scene by scene, whispering commentary into your ear and stealing your popcorn with a satisfied hum. chuckling when you whisper-shout at him to cut it out!

he tries not to think of the glittering tears at your lash line, and almost succeeds.

rain clouds, cups of chamomile, and frustration.

it seeps out into the open air, engulfing your living room in a feverish haze. thick and suffocating; the scent of heavy rain, lukewarm tea, and that ugly, ugly feeling underneath his skin.

it pulses. it itches. and oh, how it aches.

satoru hates it. he hates feeling angry, feeling upset — hates when either of those emotions are in connection to you. hates it, hates it, hates it more than anything.

he does everything he possibly can to avoid it; his eyes are keen, always have been, and he can see when that thin line he shouldn’t cross crawls a little too close for comfort. when the rubber band of your patience just snaps. he sees all your buttons, knows which ones not to push. he knows you.

and, more importantly, more than anything — nothing you do could ever make him angry at you. 

(well, at least that’s what he thought.) 

satoru’s anger is a fickle thing, controlled, kept under wraps. it’s a slow process; it simmers, boils, a cup of chamomile brewed too long. and then it all but invades his senses. it never gets the best of him, never, but right now he can feel it — little pinpricks against his skin, a frustration that stirs his guts and has his eyes going cold.

satoru towers over you, like this. full height on display. not slouching or draping himself over furniture, but standing tall, and proud, and menacing. he isn’t smiling, and that’s all you need to know that he’s upset with you. his eyes are layered over with discontentment. 

a sigh spills from his lips, a little gruff, unmistakably annoyed. it slices the silence of the room in half, and a shiver travels down your spine. he doesn’t notice it. his voice has a rough edge to it, something firm. something that doesn’t sound like it could come out of his mouth at all.

”don’t act like such a child.”

a flinch. or maybe more like a jolt; this time, he notices, but it’s too late. he’s in too deep, boiled water licking at his ankles, pulling him down. frustration nips at his skin, and he can’t quite seem to push it away.

and you’re just so, so unaccustomed to it. unaccustomed to seeing him wear anything but a smile, unaccustomed to that cold gaze, usually nothing but warm and fond when it meets your own. this isn’t like him.

it’s not like him at all.

swallowing thickly, you do your best to calm down. but before you can make any attempt to contain it, wetness begins to gather in the corners of your eyes. pooling, little droplets yearning to fall.

satoru notices them instantly. he sees that sad glimmer, framed by the murky darkness seeping in from beyond the curtains, accompanied by the symphony of pitter patter against the windowpane. tears, much like the rain beating down outside.

and his chest goes cold.

a tiny sniffle pushes past your lips, and the dam inside you begins to break — tears tripping over your lash line, rolling down your cheeks. cascading across your pretty face. the air fills with a sense of dread, and both of you seem to be thinking the exact same thing.

(oh, fuck.)

satoru notices, belatedly, that his throat has gone dry. that his heart feels itchy, again. it itches and itches but he can’t do anything to soothe it, and your tears continue to fall. 

his heart begins to crack. right down the middle, like a gash in the reflection of a puddle, right across his chest. it hurts.

an inhale, then an exhale. you’re still trying to keep it all together, grasping for control over your emotions, but it’s not going too well. the little breaths that escape your throat are shaky at best, hands trembling as you wipe the tears away with the front of your wrists. and your voice sounds a little like it’s about to crumble away. 

”sorry,” you squeak, taking a step back. there’s a silent panic in the gesture, one that makes satoru want to get down on his knees. ”i’ll just — i’ll leave —”

he wants to stop you. he needs to stop you. but he does nothing, nothing at all, even as you stumble out. leaving the haunting echo of tiny sniffles and tear-stained cheeks behind you. 

satoru just stands there. once again, the sight of your tears seems to render him completely helpless. useless.

and he's frustrated, honestly. frustrated by the argument, by your tears, by his own guilt. he’s so frustrated he wants to claw his eyes out. he scratches at his forearm, but it does no good. all he can think of is your frightened little expression.

(he scared you.)

satoru slumps down on the couch, head in his hands, running rough fingers through his soft hair. it’s unruly by the time he’s done, and his bottom lip is bruised with teeth marks, and everything in the world feels so meaningless. so out of tune.

(he made you cry.)

a sigh. drawn out, tinged with exhaustion, bitter and battered like the swing of a baseball bat. he feels a little like he could throw up. it’s foreign, this emotion, suffocating. how long has it been since he genuinely felt this kind of shame?

the crack in his heart grows deeper, while you’re gone. more severe. every moment you spend outside of his vision makes him falter more and more, makes his desperation grow. desperate to plead for your forgiveness, to convince you not to leave. to wipe the tears away from your cheeks, delicately, the way you deserve. but he can do nothing but sit there, useless, repeating the same old phrase inside his mind.

he’ll make it up to you.

and when you finally come back, having calmed down a bit, he does just that. you’re embarrassed, he can tell, a little meek. it makes him feel that discomforting emotion, again, that ache. the crack that only ever seems to deepen.

but he covers it all up with a smile. a little sheepish, more than a little forced, but he hopes you understand. hopes you can see his remorse, see a man who loves you, because he does. 

so satoru takes you into his arms, softly, hands finding the small of your back. delicate, protective. a little whisper spilling from his lips. 

”’m sorry, baby. i didn’t mean it.”

and it’s not enough. he knows it isn’t. but he does what he can — even when it just ends up clumsy, teasing, bordering on something that most would interpret as insincere. all he can do is coddle you. shower you in hugs and kisses, gifts and praises. he hands it out like candy, eager hands finding yours, everything spilling out of his chest all at once. 

there’s a desperation to it that isn’t lost on you.

but it works. he’ll make it up to you; he swears. and he dotes on you until you’re too embarrassed to be sad anymore, apologizes until his throat runs dry. until he’s sure you believe him. 

he brews you another cup of chamomile, stirred to perfection, warm enough to make up for the shiver he sent down your spine. the rain beating down on your windows serves as a constant reminder of his failure, and satoru does his best to ignore it. swallowing what’s left of his frustration, focusing on you.

anything to see you smile again. anything to wash away the red tint to your eyes, the puffy skin beneath them. anything to hear you laugh, to get you to feel safe around him again. 

(anything to make him forget the sight of those tears rolling down your cheeks.)

panic, panic, panic.

it’s all he can feel, all he can think, the only emotion his muddled mind can cling to. he’s in pure, sincere, genuine panic, and you aren’t saying a thing. can’t bring yourself to.

arms wrapped around his waist, tightly, you hide away in the crook of his neck. clutching the fabric of his shirt, burrowing your face deeper into his warmth — and you’re not just crying.

you’re downright sobbing.

satoru knew something was off the moment you fell into his embrace, suddenly, tackling him into a hug so desperate it left him reeling. a kind of desperation he isn’t used to, from you.

he knew something was wrong. 

he knew even before he heard it; your choking sobs, those shaky, heaving breaths. muffled into the cotton of his shirt, his uncertain arms around you.

they break his heart.

”hey, hey…” there’s a soothing lilt to his voice, awfully delicate. sweet like molten honey, almost enough to hide the panic. ”what’s wrong?”

satoru holds you to his chest, safe and secure, cradling you protectively. as if shielding you from the world — from whatever or whoever got you like this. as if you’d crumble into dust, otherwise.

he tries to calm down, but his mind is spinning like a broken clock, and your silence doesn’t help. you’re trying to respond; he knows you are, but you just can’t get the words out. any attempts only make you cry harder.

a shake of your head is all he gets — and it’s not much, but satoru’s learned to make a lot out of a little. 

so he continues to hold you, hiding his worry, tucking his anxiety away somewhere you won’t be able to see. he curses, inwardly, grasping blindly for conclusions — for some divine guidance. how is he supposed to deal with this?

(how long has it been since he felt so very useless?)

gentle. that’s the approach he takes, finally, hiding his nervosity. he rocks you back and forth, just a little, like he’s lulling you to sleep; his warm hands finding the small of your back, the back of your head. cradling you so close you hear his rapid heartbeat by your ear.

soothing whispers. murmured into your hair, so soft they seem to melt once they slip from his tongue, all honey and devotion. affection so palpable you taste it in the air, from the breaths he exhales. 

”it’s fine. i’m here, i’m here… i’ve got you.”

he doesn’t know what he’s doing, not really, but it seems to work. because you calm down, after a while, just sniffling into his neck and letting him soothe you. sobs and unstable heaves, turning into whimpers and shaky breaths. clinging to him all the while; so desperate for comfort, for him.

it makes him feel so, so desperate to protect you, to wash every single one of your worries away.

it’s unbearable, this aching desire. like a great, insatiable, unnamed something deep within the caverns of his chest, clawing at his ribcage, snarling and hissing, itching to break out so it can open its maw and devour you both.

(it’s ugly. it’s grotesque. it wants to keep you safe so badly it might kill him for it.)

a coo. sad, dripping with care, a comforting tone that he hopes you’ll find soothing. he smooths his palm down the back of your head, heavy, doting. it hurts so much to see you hurt.

”my baby….” satoru exhales, a little shaky. but he smiles, and he hopes you can hear it, hopes it’ll help mend the pain in your chest. ”what’s got you this upset, hm? you're worrying me, here…”

a broken sniffle. the guilt eats at you, gnaws at your bones, and all you can do is hide away in the crook of his neck. apologizing, your voice no more than a tremor of a breath.

”’m sorry…”

and satoru thinks his heart shatters. he can practically hear the crash, feel the broken, useless little pieces dig into his skin.

his arms travel down to your hips, steady, and he lifts you up. just for a second, just so he can plop down on the floor with you in tow — keeping you snuggled into his neck. seated on his lap with your legs around his waist, like you’re his baby koala.

”shh, it's okay,” he soothes, a grounding rumble of his chest right by your ear. he’s got you enveloped, wrapped up in his buzzing warmth, and all you can feel is him. ”you’re okay. no matter what it is, i'll take care of it, alright? you can rely on me.”

a moment passes. 

satoru clears his throat. nervous, suddenly. ”you know that, right?”

all you can give him is a shaky nod, but it’s enough. he sighs, in palpable relief, still rubbing circles into your back. ”okay,” he sneaks a hand underneath your shirt, tracing little shapes into your bare skin. ”good.”

he isn’t sure how long you spend there, on the floor, entirely focused on comforting you. washing away all your sadness, with every gentle caress, every soothing murmur of there, there… every little stutter of his heartbeat next to yours.

and when you’ve finally calmed down, melting under his touch and into his skin, arms going lax around his neck — satoru takes a breath. collecting himself, so you don’t have to. acting like his heart isn’t still a mess of crushed glass.

”you okay now?” he coos, drawing absentminded hearts into the skin of your back. his voice is teasing, but warm, spilling from his tongue and into your ear. deep and smooth. ”almost gave me a heart attack, baby.”

he feels the way your grip around him tightens, just a smidge, and he hears the weak little breath you draw in. your voice is still shaky, and it makes him want to rearrange the world, stitch those broken vowels back together. 

(he doesn’t like how irrational it is, this insatiable something. how it makes him want to bend the rules of the universe, just to see you smile. a dangerous temptation.)

”i’m sorry,” you croak, clinging to him like a shipwreck to a shore. ”it’s not — not a big deal, ’m just…” 

satoru pulls back. just a little bit, making sure your arms and legs stay in their rightful place, curled around his neck and waist. making sure the two of you stay connected.

then he pinches your cheek.

”don’t apologize,” he quips, a playful frown on his face. soft, a vague furrow of his brows. like he’s scolding you. 

it makes you wince, your eyes downcast. you look so meek. a little like a kicked puppy, glassy eyes glancing up at him in search of comfort.

satoru clicks his tongue. ”and don’t look at me like that, either.” 

he boops your nose, playful, doting, and you exhale weakly. it’s small, more breath than a real laugh, but you’re almost smiling, and —

it’s a start. it’s something.

satoru coos, voice dripping with warmth, sickeningly sweet. it seeps from his fingertips when he cradles your cheek in his palm, rubbing circles into the puffy skin beneath your eyes. there’s a mirth in his own, crinkled at the edges, tucked into that blue shade, something glazed over with pure adoration.

”there’s that smile.” 

he leans forward, closer, to press a kiss against the bridge of your nose, eyelashes fluttering. tickling your skin. you fall further into his embrace and he makes no move to resist, wouldn’t do it even if he physically could. even if he had the strength to let you go.

then he broaches the subject. hesitant. tactful, careful, delicate — he tries to remember how it works. how to handle something fragile. he thinks of those boxes you carried last week, little porcelain cups. heavy in his arms. he thinks of the way you jab his side with your elbow; gentle, always gentle, even though there’s never any need.

he thinks of you, and it all comes easy. that’s how it always goes.

”wanna talk about it?” he asks, softly. fingers treading through your hair, scratching softly at your scalp. it makes you melt, a little. clearing your throat.

”it’s nothing, really,” you mumble, tiny, seeking respite in the warmth that seeps from his body. speaking with a raspy voice, a hoarse throat, all tired out after crying. ”nothing big, anyway…” 

a moment passes, before you continue. ”i guess it's just been a rough week,” you admit, a sigh slipping from your lips, tinged with pure exhaustion. ”just little things piling up. ’m okay now.” 

a hum. satoru clears his throat.

”anything i can do?”

(please let me help.)

but you only shake your head. ”you’ve already done enough,” you assure him, leaning into his touch. ”think i just needed to get it all out, y’know?”

a beat. an itch. satoru holds you tight, a little tighter than he should. gentle, he reminds himself. but he needs you close enough to feel the flutter of your heartbeat, close enough to delude himself that you’ve merged together. closer isn’t close enough.

he gnaws at his bottom lip, teeth sinking into the flesh. pulling words out from the back of his throat, uncertain. ”i’m always here,” he settles on. ”if there’s anything you need, come straight to me. okay?”

a frown plays at your lips. you’re silent, for a while, until he hears you mumble beneath your breath.

”i don’t want to bother you so much, though…”

”— it’s not a bother.”

the words spill into the air, a little more firm than he meant to sound. but he means them.

”i’m serious. if you ever need help, with anything, come find me. i’m yours,” satoru inhales, deep, his chest moving in tune with the breath. you’re carried along with it, as if being lulled to sleep, following the steady pattern of his lungs. 

then he exhales. in, and out, and with it comes a promise. ”if anyone makes you cry, i’ll get rid of them.”

he says it casually, so casually that you assume it’s a joke, a bout of breathless giggles pushing past your lips. the sound has his own curling up, and he doesn’t have the heart to correct you. has enough tact to know that this might not be the best moment to let you know that he’s honestly a little terrified of how far he’d be willing to go to keep you safe and happy. 

but you’re smiling, finally, laughing. and that matters more than anything. when he closes his eyes, he thinks he can even feel the telltale signs that his heart is picking itself back up, gluing jagged shards into a shape that resembles you.

"that's scary!” you gasp, amusement bubbling up inside your throat. ”you’d go to jail for me?”

satoru huffs. ”bold of you to assume i’d get caught,” he tuts, a smug smile on his face. it makes you giggle, again, and he feels like a god.

”okay, okay,”  you nose at his neck, breathing him in, strawberry lotion and laundry detergent filling your senses. ”please don’t kill anyone on my behalf, though.”

”no promises.”

”satoru…”

slowly, steadily, his heart begins to stitch itself together. it helps that you’re there, he thinks. helps that you’re pressed up against him, that you’re holding him, like he’s the safest thing in the world. like you trust him.

(the word tastes like molten honey and luscious berries, sickly-sweet on his tongue. he gulps it down hungrily.)

it’s healing. the weight of your arms around him, the breaths that brush against his neck. he holds you to keep you together, intact, to keep himself together. a shipwreck and a shore — he just isn’t sure which one of you is which. but your jagged edges fit just right with his own.

”i don’t like seeing you cry.”

you blink. gazing up at him, with a contemplative look in your eyes. it melts into something a little too close to guilt for his liking. shame.

”— but i still want you to let me see you like that.” satoru smiles, with a tilt of his head. snowy tufts of hair falling across his face. ”is that weird?”

a moment passes. then you hum.

”no,” you exhale, a little breathless. smiling, somewhat weak, but still enough to have his heart skipping a beat. ”i love that about you, satoru.”

”huh?” he gapes at you — blinking dumbly. ”love what? that i want to see you sob into my chest?”

”that you try,” you stifle a yawn, sleepily nuzzling into him, all tuckered out from crying. ”even when it makes you a little uncomfortable.”

satoru stills. 

silence fills the space between you. there’s nothing more to say. his tongue isn’t really cooperating with him, anyhow — all tied up. so he leaves a kiss on the top of your head, and doesn’t say a word about the tremor running through his chest. 

he hates seeing you cry. hates how powerless it makes him feel, how useless. hates the fact that he can’t always protect you from the world, from himself.

but you let him see you like that.

he thinks of your tears, crystalline and glassy, like translucent marbles on a summer shore — and sees the trust instead of the sorrow. he thinks of your tearstained face, meek and feeble, and knows it’ll always be enough to break his heart to pieces. 

he thinks of you, and tells himself that it’s worth it; just as long as he gets to bring that pretty little smile back to life. 

[xyywrites]

Overused Words in Writing & How to Avoid Them

We’ve all got our comfort words—those trusty adjectives, verbs, or phrases we lean on like a crutch. But when certain words show up too often, they lose their impact, leaving your writing feeling repetitive or uninspired.

1. “Very” and Its Cousins

Why It’s Overused: It’s easy to tack on “very” for emphasis, but it’s vague and doesn’t pull its weight.

Instead of: “She was very tired.” Try: “She was exhausted.” / “She dragged her feet like lead weights.”

💡 Tip: Use precise, vivid descriptions rather than vague intensifiers.

2. “Looked” and “Saw”

Why It’s Overused: It’s functional but flat, and it often tells instead of shows.

Instead of: “He looked at her in disbelief.” Try: “His eyebrows shot up, his lips parting as if words had failed him.”

💡 Tip: Focus on body language or sensory details instead of relying on generic verbs.

3. “Suddenly”

Why It’s Overused: It’s often used to create surprise, but it tells readers how to feel instead of letting the scene deliver the shock.

Instead of: “Suddenly, the door slammed shut.” Try: “The door slammed shut, the sound ricocheting through the empty room.”

💡 Tip: Let the action or pacing create urgency without needing to announce it.

4. “Said” (When Overdone or Misused)

Why It’s Overused: While “said” is often invisible and functional, using it in every dialogue tag can feel robotic.

Instead of: “I can’t believe it,” she said. “Me neither,” he said. Try: Replace with an action: “I can’t believe it.” She ran a hand through her hair, pacing. “Me neither.” He leaned against the counter, arms crossed.

💡 Tip: Don’t ditch “said” entirely; just mix it up with context clues or action beats.

5. “Felt”

Why It’s Overused: It’s a shortcut that tells instead of showing emotions.

Instead of: “She felt nervous.” Try: “Her palms slicked with sweat, and she couldn’t stop her leg from bouncing.”

💡 Tip: Let readers infer emotions through sensory details or behavior.

6. “Really” and “Actually”

Why It’s Overused: They add little to your sentences and can dilute the impact of stronger words.

Instead of: “I really don’t think that’s a good idea.” Try: “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

💡 Tip: If a sentence works without these words, cut them.

7. “Walked” or “Ran”

Why It’s Overused: These are go-to movement words, but they can feel bland when used repeatedly.

Instead of: “He walked into the room.” Try: “He strolled in like he owned the place.” / “He shuffled in, avoiding everyone’s eyes.”

💡 Tip: Use verbs that convey mood, speed, or attitude.

8. “Just”

Why It’s Overused: It sneaks into sentences unnecessarily, weakening your prose.

Instead of: “I just wanted to say I’m sorry.” Try: “I wanted to say I’m sorry.”

💡 Tip: Delete “just” unless it adds essential nuance.

9. “Thought”

Why It’s Overused: It tells readers what a character is thinking instead of showing it through internal dialogue or action.

Instead of: “She thought he might be lying.” Try: “His story didn’t add up. The timelines didn’t match, and he wouldn’t meet her eyes.”

💡 Tip: Immerse readers in the character’s perspective without announcing their thoughts.

10. “Nice” and Other Vague Adjectives

Why It’s Overused: It’s generic and doesn’t give readers a clear picture.

Instead of: “He was a nice guy.” Try: “He always remembered her coffee order and held the door open, even when his arms were full.”

💡 Tip: Show qualities through actions instead of relying on vague descriptors.

Final Tips for Avoiding Overused Words:

1. Use a thesaurus wisely: Swap overused words for synonyms, but stay true to your character’s voice and the scene’s tone.

2. Read your work aloud: You’ll catch repetitive patterns and clunky phrases more easily.

3. Edit in layers: Focus on eliminating overused words during your second or third pass, not your first draft.