#I’m ashamed of myself I truly am

[wool-string]

I’m ngl to you guys, I saw fan art of Mizuki lactating and another short comic of him getting pregnant and I just… I haven’t been able to think of anything else.. I need more of it 😭

[starkeynation]

I love you, I’m sorry

A letter from reader to Rafe

Content: Angst, like PURE sad, the lamp looks weird, based on the song I love you, I’m sorry by Gracie Abrams (may or may not be accurate)

A/N: about that cliffhanger and happy ending, I changed my mind… also ignore any writing mistakes if there’s any and this was kinda rushed so I hope it still turns out good

Masterlist

dividers from @anitalenia

Rafe,

It is Saturday night. I should be out doing something, partying or whatever to enjoy myself, yet here i am, pen in hand, finding myself writing to you again. I know this letter will never reach you- it’ll end up crumpled at the bottom of my drawer or burned to ashes. Still, I can’t seem to stop myself.

It has been exactly two august ago since everything fell apart. I remember the way I laid it all out, raw, I wanted to be real, hoping that honesty would mend us. We weren’t perfect. Hell, we were far from it. We fought like fire and gasoline, burning everything we touched. Jealousy leads us to mistrust each other but even then, I didn’t think it would end the way it did. I never thought that fight would be the last..the final, devastating blow before you ghosted me and blocked me everywhere.

I swear it wasn’t my intention to break up with you, I thought by exposing the cracks, we could patch them together. Instead, the truth just ended up pushing you away. When you drove off in your Benz and left me standing at my gate, it felt like everything had stopped. The time, the world, my heart…everything froze. I couldn’t breathe. I wanted to scream, I wanted to stop you, beg you to stay, to tell you that we could still save us but you didn’t look back, and i was too late.

Now, i watch you from a distance as you become successful, helping your dad doing business, running Cameron’s development like you were born to do it. I heard your name whispered in admiration at the club where I work, how you charm people the way you trained for. And you know what? I’m so so proud of you Rafe. I always knew you had it in you. I’ll be rooting for you always, even from the shadows.

Maybe two summers from now we’ll be talking again at some point, exchange smiles, our lives untangled and we’re cool again. I can picture you’ll be in your family’s jet, travelling, and me, on my boat moving on with our own lives. By then, i hope..im actually ready to move on. I know you’ve already moved on- I mean, why wouldn’t you? Still, there’s part of me wish that you wouldn’t yet, and maybe, just maybe, you would take me back.

But that’s just selfish isn’t it? I was selfish when we were together too. I made everything about me, i was inconsiderate, I turn something small into raging battles. I didn’t listen, didn’t see you for who you were. I’m ashamed of the person I was, of the mistakes I made. After everything i did, I’m surprised you haven’t send someone to kill me yet.

Lately I find myself sitting on the porch, watching sunsets like we used to, with a glass of something strong in my hand. I laugh at myself, at the crash I made, because what else can I do? It’s a twisted kind of coping—laughing at my own heartbreak. It doesn’t feel real and it’s really hard to let go but i guess that’s just the way life goes.

I know i was a dick, Rafe. I had too many flaws to count but as sick as it sounds, I loved you first. You’ll always be my first love. You were the best and the worst thing that ever happened to me, a storm that left me shattered but alive. Your love had impact me deeply, it is carved in my soul. No matter where we are, i want you to know that I’ll carry the past and the weight of my mistakes with me. Trust me, it will always, haunt me.

I regret every second for not treating you well, for not being the person you needed. Lastly, i want you to know that I still, truly, deeply, love you, I’m sorry.

*Ding* you heard the bell rings. You rush downstairs to answer the door.

“Pizza delivery”, says the delivery boy standing in front of you. You almost forgot you ordered one, an hour ago. You take your prepaid alfredo chicken pizza and thank him. It was Rafe’s favourite pizza, you’re not sure if it’s still his favourite though. After shutting the door, you walk to your kitchen.

Just two seconds later, *ding* the bell rings again. Did the delivery boy forget anything? You thought.

You open the door, “yes-“ you pause. You couldn’t believe it, standing right in front of you,

“Topper?”

“Topper what are you doing here?” you ask, your voice laced with confusion.

He then steps aside and reveals a man behind him, lying on the steps of your porch- a man whose silhouette you’d recognize anywhere. “Rafe,” you whisper.

“Shit I’m sorry to bother you but this dumbass got into an accident for driving while he’s high,” Topper blurts out, panickly.

Your brow furrowing and your confusion deepens. You walk closer to Rafe and spot the blood dripping from his head, “Accident? What? Then why do you bring him here instead of the hospital?” You ask, your voice sharp, slicing through the chaos of the moment.

“He won’t let me. He insisted I bring him here to see you,” Topper explains.

“Y/n,” Rafe speaks up, his voice low and strained.

Your heart skips a beat. It’s like the universe has stopped spinning again. This is the first time you hear him calling your name after two whole years.

“Hey Rafe, you’re bleeding,” you say, your voice mix with feelings.

“I’m fine,” he says, giving a soft, disarming smile while trying to sit up.

You instruct Topper to go find some cloth to stop the bleeding. As he dissapears, you sit on your knees facing to Rafe, “Rafe, what happened? Why are you here?” you ask, still have no clue of what’s going on here.

“I wanted to see you,” he replies, putting on that damn smile again, the one that’s always managed to unravel you. “I miss you, y/n.”

Your face goes pale, your eyes widens, the words hang in the hair, heavy and unexpected. “Rafe, you’re drunk,” you accuse, trying to make sense of what’s happening right now.

“No, I’m not, i swear I’m very conscious right now,” he insists, his voice firm. You’re still not sure if he’s telling the truth or not. “I really miss you, y/n,” he continues, his voice low but still clear for you to hear it.

Your heart aches, torn between disbelief and the undeniable pull of his words. “How hard did you hit your head? God, you’re still bleeding. We need to see a doctor,” you say, trying to stand up, but he grabs your hand, pulling you back down.

“Stop it, I’m fine i swear…this is nothing,” he says waving off the concern. Just then, Topper returns with a towel in his hand. He hands the towel to you and says, “dude, are you sure you’re okay? When i saw your car there were smokes everywhere. Looks like you hit that tree pretty hard,” his voice fill with concern.

“I’m fine Top, just go. I need to talk to y/n,” Rafe says with a dismissive wave. Topper hesitates, he looks at you for confirmation as if you’re the one in charge here. You nod at him, signalling an approval, “s’okay Top i can handle this.”

“Okay, just call me if anything happens,” he says. “Thank you,” you mutter softly to Topper as he’s leaving towards his car.

With Topper gone, you shift your focus back to Rafe. You take the towel and start dabbing on the blood on his forehead, “we still need to get this stitched up,” you say. Rafe then grabs your wrist, his grip firm but not forceful, “look at me,” he demands.

You look at him straight in the eyes, drowning in his blue eyes. It’s overwhelming- staring at the man that you love but no longer yours.

“I do mean what i said, i miss you y/n and i wanted to see you,” he says, his tone steady and sure.

“But why now?” You ask, your voice breaking under the weight of the question.

“Sar..Sarah told me tonight that you’ve been writing letters about me. She found them stashed under your bed,” he says, hesitantly.

Your stomach drops and you shake your head in disbelief, “God…i knew it there was something wrong. She was acting so weird when she left this morning,” you mutter.

“So it’s true? You’ve been writing about me?”

Your face is turning red, you’re struggling to find the words. “I- yes…I’ve been writing letters. Pretending like I’m gonna send it to you but i never do,” you stutter.

“Why didn’t you just send them?” He presses, his voice low, almost pleading.

“You know why Rafe…you’ve moved on. You blocked me few months after we broke up. You’re thriving now with your job, you got your whole life together, and I- I was the reason why we broke up. I can’t just crawl my way back into your life like nothing happened,” you shatter, your voice breaking as you’re struggling to control your tears.

Rafe shakes his head. He brushes his thumb over your knuckles and kisses it. “You’re wrong y/n, you’re absolutely wrong. I’ve been doing nothing over the past two years except than trying to forget about you. That’s why I’ve been doing all these jobs, thinking it could distract me, but no,” he shakes his head again. “Nothing could make me stop thinking about you.”

His confession leaves you breathless, your tears streaming down your face as he continues. “About the blocking and disappearing, I’m really sorry, I was a coward. The truth is, that day i came to your house to apologize. Then, as I stood outside, i saw you were laughing with jj through your window. I knew you guys were not together cause after jj left, I may or may not have confronted him…” he then mouthed sorry. “But then, I remember the way you looked so happy when you’re with him. At that time, I knew I had to let you go cause you deserve someone better and you deserve to be happy so that’s why I blocked you..as if that makes any difference.”

You idiot,” you scoff. “I never wanted anyone else, only you Rafe, only you. You’re the only one who could truly make me happy.”

His eyes glisten, his smile soft and hesitant. “Please forgive me y/n, I swear I’m a better person now and I love- I love you, so much. I still do.”

You reach up, caress his cheek and pull him in for a kiss. “I love you too Rafe,” you whisper. He cups your face and returns the kiss. The kiss is passionate, slow and tender. His lip is so soft and only god knows how much you miss this. The world fades around you, leaving only the two of you, two broken pieces finding their way back to each other.

You pull away from his face and let out a giggle. “Why are you laughing?” He asks, can’t help but let out a soft giggle too.

“Before you came I was actually writing another letter for you,” you admit, a shy smile appears on your face.

“Oh really? Tell me about it baby,” he smirks. Your smile widens at the sound of the nickname that rolls out from his mouth. “Mm I miss that. You, calling me baby. Anyways, it’s in my room, wanna come in?” You ask.

He shakes his head, pulling you closer as he leans back against the stairs railing. “Hmm in a bit sweetheart, you can tell me here while we stargaze. I missed your porch- and mostly you, of course,” he replies with a faint smile.

So you do. You talk to him about the letter while your head rest on his shoulder and your fingers intertwined. “Lastly I wrote, I love you, I’m sorry,” you say, explaining the last content of the letter. But then, you realise he has gone quiet. His stillness unsettling. You glance up to him, “Rafe?” He’s not responding. You check his pulse but there is none. Panic sets in as you shake him, calling his name.

“Rafe”

“Rafe, wake up”

“Wake up!”

“Wake up!”

“Y/n”

“Y/n”

“Y/n, wake up”

You gasp, your heart is pounding like a drum. You’re sweating all over your body as reality crashes down. It was a nightmare.

“Hey..baby you okay?” You turn your head to your right and realise it’s Rafe. He’s okay, he’s alive and he’s sitting on the bed next to you. Relief floods through you like a tidal wave.

“Is it the nightmare again?” He asks. You nod, signalling him that he’s right.

“It’s okay baby I got you. Here, come back to sleep,” he says, gently pulling you into his arms. You smile and cuddle him, clinging to the illusion of safety his embrace provides. You close your eyes again trying to fall back to sleep till your alarm suddenly rings.

You wake up with a tear running down your cheek. You hit the snooze button and realise that was a dream and this time, it’s the true reality. You look to the other side of your bed, it’s empty. It always has been for quite a while now. The truth is, that night after Rafe collapsed, you called for an ambulance. On the way to the hospital, they try everything to make his heart beat again, but nothing works. It was too late. He had lost too many blood before that you weren’t aware of and that same night, Rafe had died in your arms.

It’s been 3 years since the tragic. You keep having the same dream almost every night. Part of you is grateful that you and Rafe had ended in good terms but another part of you knows that the truth is you’ll never get the chance to redeem yourself and be a better partner. There’s nothing remaining other than the memories that will haunt you forever.

Rafe, if you’re hearing this, I love you, I’m sorry.

Like and reblog if you want to kys after reading this😇☺️

[briseroyawritingsblog]

Okay I indulged again…

May I just say.. that I am absolutely ashamed of myself never re-watching it after I’ve seen it years ago? Well today I did and I am telling you that I bawled my eyes out. 😭 I TRULY adore the way he cared and loved for her even though she was from a different time. I want my Leopold. Don’t we all want one for ourselves? 🤍🥺😭😭 we want care and love, and the simplicity of love. I’m rambling now.. and I’m sorry. If you’re a romantic by heart like me please watch. 🤍🤍🤍

[sarahreesbrennan]

Thank you for writing Long Live Evil.

I'm no cancer survivor, so I haven't been through the horror that that must've been, congratulations to enduring and surviving, and my sincere condolences that you had to go through it.

But I am chronically ill (cystic fibrosis, genetic defect) and have so far lived for 5 years longer than my prognosis allowed. My health's been good and stabile for a long time now, but I remember times where I couldn't walk alone, had a 18/6 nasal cannula and a 24-hour IV drip instead of school or a future.

Now I'm working at university, an archaeologist, chipping away at writing stories for years and years, and incredibly glad and privileged to see the world. All this to say that seeing how hurt Rae was in the beginning (and again throughout the story, while also never truly forgetting her true roots and motives) and how she grew around it like a gnarled tree, was like catharsis for me. Having miraculously given a second chance, no matter how hard the fight to keep it will be; I haven't ever read any story talking about this in a way that made me feel seen and understood like this. Thank you also lots and lots for taking the time to mention Rae's appreciation for Rahela's curves — it's been the same for me, since I've managed to get out of the underweight-trap. It means a lot to me, and I guess to many others in similar situations, including you of course. Thank you for sharing this with us, it must've been hard to touch on a deeply personal experience like this in writing that's simultaneously removed from oneself through fiction (at least that's what I'm imagining).

Thank you, and I wish you nothing but the best, health, and lots of good days to come. Deeply curious to see how Rae's story will continue!

Thank you so much for this.

I am so glad you are alive. Thank you for that, too - for living on even when you couldn’t see a way forward and everything was helpless despair.

I haven’t been through what you’ve been through, either, but it’s a privilege to have shared adjoining experiences trapped in darkness, and to share gladness and the wide world with you now. I’m so sorry it happened, and so happy you have archaeology and stories, and the world has you.

I will be totally honest and say it has been hard sharing Long Live Evil with the world, and I’m so grateful to you for knowing that, and for sending this message because you knew. This book is highly personal to me, but it’s also meant to be a wild celebration of messiness, escapism, and finding humour in art and darkness. And that means to some it’s just a joke, and in the words of Joanna Russ, ‘she’s not really an artist and it’s not really art.’ And so it gets dismissed, and it does hurt to see my most important story dismissed sometimes.

I was with other writers in a public space at one point and they were talking about how their books were about serious issues while ‘Sarah’s book is just for fun, and that’s fine too!’ (I had to take a minute before I could lean into my microphone and say ‘My book is about cancer’ in a cheery tone.) I’ve seen readers saying ‘this book’s just fluff, just silly, I’m ashamed of myself for reading it, there’s nothing to it’ about the book I wrote about almost dying.

My Rae, while of course she has bits of me in her (every character I’ve ever written does), and evil queens I’ve loved, and characters with wild hubris going on in the Greek plays I mention often in the book, and readers I’ve seen and I’ve been who are blithely confident they know what’s going on without doing more than surface reading and while forgetting key details… she’s also bits of women and girls I’ve mentored, been mentored by, befriended. And some of them are dead. So seeing the bits that were them particularly scorned or judged, seeing her pain dismissed or the discussion of her body sneered at…

That has been hard.

But.

In the end I believe I am really an artist and this book is really art, and art is there for the wide world to judge - to be mocked and dismissed, yes, as a price that comes with the opportunity to also be truly seen and appreciated, to get to influence real people’s real lives. Art is the gold that comes from the crucible in which we put all our pain and all our love and all our joys. I believe it deepens and transforms.

I wrote this book about how deeply unsympathetic people actually are to sufferers of illness, chronic or otherwise, and especially to women expressing pain. How the world villainises imperfect victims—which means all victims. How the world villainises bodies, and robs us of our joy in them—even when there’s horror in a body, too. I did know that by putting this book out into this world, that attitude would be reflected back by the world onto the book. And that attitude has hurt me in the past, and hurts me when I see it now.

I still think it’s worth calling out that attitude, even if it means getting more of that attitude reflected back onto me - because it means readers like you see it, and know others have been through this, and it was never okay, and you were never alone. While I know there will also be readers with chronic illnesses and/or cancer whose experience doesn’t overlap with mine at all, that only means there need to be more stories. So everyone who needs it gets the map into fantasy lands.

And I do hope some able-bodied readers read it, and think twice about adopting the world’s attitude to the people in their lives who are already going through enough. Some readers have told me the book helped them sympathise with and understand the cancer sufferers in their family and friend circles, and that’s meant a great deal. What do we write for, if not to learn to love each other better?

Long Live Evil has also given me my life back, as truly as chemo did, in a way that makes the pain worthwhile - I think I would have kept telling stories in some form, but Long Live Evil was my last throw, for as far ahead as I could see. Now since the book’s done well so far I’m hoping I can write more books, and my life can be the storytelling shape I always wanted it to be.

I read your message and I regretted nothing. I remember the pain and the way so many of us laughed or tried to laugh our way through it, and I know this was my way. Jokes, like stories, are the golden thread we follow through the dark labyrinth of our own agony and incomprehension.

It really has been hard, and it’ll stay hard. But like living, it’s worth it.

Please know two things.

I am so happy I wrote this book. Ultimately more than any other feeling I had so, so much fun writing it, and I’m having even more fun seeing the book be read by the people it was meant for.

2. This book was written for you.

[rachelsfav-queer]

Wednesday: I really don’t see what this all has to do with the bouquet of flowers you offered me, Enid. Quite frankly, you seem to be acting stra-

Enid: *fed up* I LIKE YOU!! THAT’S WHAT IT HAS TO DO WITH IT! I LIKE YOU WEDNESDAY AND I WANT TO KISS YOU!! I WANT TO KISS YOU ALL OVER YOUR STUPID, SHARP FACE! THIS! IS! A DATE!!

Enid: I’VE BEEN TRYING TO ASK YOU TO BE MY GIRLFRIEND BUT YOU’RE THE MOST CLUELESS PERSON ON EARTH AND THAT’S SAYING SOMETHING BECAUSE I EXIST!!

Enid: I WANNA BE YOUR FRICKING GIRLFRIEND!!!

Enid is left panting from screaming so much and Wednesday is left flabbergasted, mouth wide open and her face bright red. As literal months of missed flirting and misinterpreted gestures pass by her eyes in less than a second, Wednesday realizes how true Enid’s statement was, as harsh as it may have been. She truly was the most clueless person on earth, perhaps even on the astral plane as well. Just as Enid is about to storm off, Wednesday speaks.

Wednesday: Enid. I apologize for unwittingly putting you through this torture of trying to get through my admittedly thick skull and confess your feelings towards me. I’m ashamed to share any trait in common with that socially inept gorgon you call an ex boyfriend…

Enid: *interrupting sadly* Wends… I didn’t mean that whole, clueless thing. I just… my emotions got a bit ahead of me, I’m sorry. You’re not-

Wednesday: But I am, am I not? I’ve been completely clueless to your advances and looking back, it’s certainly not from a lack of trying on your part. I wish I could’ve noticed your affections earlier, so that I may have told you that they are returned in full by me.

Enid: *starstruck* Wow… well, I’m super glad that you feel the same way about me, Wends. And just for the record, trying to court you has been like, a thousand times more enjoyable than it was with Ajax. At least you were aware enough to go along with everything I had us do, he was barely aware I was even talking to him half the time. Again, he’s cute, but very clueless.

Wednesday was caught on one part of Enid’s sentence.

Wednesday: Court me? You want to court me, Enid?

Enid: *smirks and giggles* Of course, silly! I would absolutely love to get the chance to sweep you off your feet! Just like you deserve, cutie! *winks*

Wednesday: *blushes, smiles* Oh, mi loba. I would love nothing more than to be swept away by your affections. What a fitting proposal for an Addams, being courted by such a beautifully deadly creature as you, Enid.

Enid: *extends her hand* Well then, mi luna, will you allow me to court you? Prove myself worthy of your divine beauty?

Wednesday: *takes her hand* As if you haven’t already proven it by saving my life. But yes, please woo me, Enid.

On the other side of the graveyard, Yoko and Divina are watching the interaction, eating popcorn and drinking soda.

Yoko: Wow, that was literally the gayest shit I’ve ever seen.

Divina: Yeah, that was harder to watch than you trying to be flirty with me before we started dating, baby.

Yoko: *spluttering* I- you- you said! But-

Divina cuts her off with a kiss.

Divina: Shh, you’re cuter when you’re quiet. *winks*

Yoko somehow blushes bright red.

End <3

(Note: Sorry this was so damn long lol. I just couldn’t get the idea out of my head of Enid courting Wednesday, so I had to add some plot to it. Hope y’all enjoyed!)

[scarlethexelove]

Am I Worthless

Pairing: Kate Bishop x Reader

Word Count: 1224

Warnings: Depression, ⚠️ Self Harm, Angst ⚠️, Fluff, Soft Kate.

A/n: I was borderline in tears writing this. I'm learning that when I am depressed I write the comfort I'm searching for by using my feelings. So please enjoy my breakdown and hopefully it can bring you some comfort.

NO ONE IS PERMITTED TO STEAL, COPY, OR REBLOG MY WORK AS THEIR OWN

The phone rings against your ear as your breath comes out jagged. The call is picked up with a bout of silence only the sound of your breathing could be heard. “Hello?” A groggy Kate answers the phone. “Katie.” You whimper. You can hear her shifting quickly at the sound of your voice. “Y/n what’s wrong baby?” Her voice is laced with concern.

Your mind spirals out of control, spewing harsh words into your ears. Unspoken words by loved ones that aren’t actually true but your mind tells you that it is. You’re a burden too messed up for someone to love. You’ve somehow done something wrong when you haven’t done anything at all and maybe that is the problem. You’re the problem and no one should have to deal with how messed up you are. 

A sob rips from your throat, your mind's unspoken truth breaking you down. Kate’s heart breaks concern flooding her every thought. “Baby please.” She pleads with you. “What’s wrong?” You shake your head unable to find words, regret filling you for waking her in the middle of the night with how worthless you are. “I’m coming over.” You hear more shuffling as Kate gets out of bed and puts on a shirt. “I-I’m sorry, I-I shouldn’t have called. I’m sorry.” Your hand trembles slightly as you start to pull the phone away. “No baby please stay on the phone with me. I’m heading over right now.” Kate exits her apartment, running down the stairs and getting in her car. 

“I’m sorry.” You mumble out before ending the call. “No, no, no, no, no.” Kate mutters as the line goes dead. She tosses her phone in the seat and races to your place. She knows that you struggle with depression and anxiety but she has never heard you like this and she is truly scared. What is normally a 15 minute drive turns into 5 as she barely shuts the car off before running up the stairs to your apartment. She is thankful that she has a key as she lets herself in. 

There you are sitting on the couch, the glow of the tv barely illuminating your face. It’s just enough Kate can see your tear stained face and the fresh tears falling. You're sitting in a ball, a blanket draped over your head, your right hand in a tight fist. “Oh Y/n/n.” Kate rushes over to you but you don’t meet her gaze, ashamed of yourself. She cups your face in her hands but your eyes don’t meet hers. She looks you over until her gaze stops on your clenched fist. A trickle of blood peeking from under your fingers as it trails down towards your wrist. 

Kate gently takes your hand in hers and you reluctantly open your fist. She gasps slightly seeing the razor blade nestled in your hand and digging lines into the palm of your hand. “I-I’m sorry. I wanted to use it so bad. I tried to stop myself. I tried b-but I couldn’t.” You sob finally meeting her gaze, but it’s not what you expected. Her face is soft and comforting. She leans in, placing a soft kiss on your forehead.

“You did amazing Y/n/n.” Kate gently takes the bloodied razor from your hand, placing it on the coffee table making a mental note to get rid of it later after she has helped you. You shake your head at her words. “Yes you did princess.” You look at her as more tears fall. “How?” Your voice is small but Kate just gives you a soft smile. “You could have done so much more but you held onto it. You didn’t let the urge fully take over.” You look down at your bloodied hand, a few straight cuts line the middle of your palm from when the blade shifted. 

It could have been worse. You let those words play in your head. Kate is right, you could have easily sliced up your arms or thighs but instead you held the blade stopping yourself from doing more. You look back to Kate. She’s here and she hasn’t run away. A reassuring smile on her face to show you that she is here and she isn’t going anywhere. She came when she didn’t have to come. Maybe she does really love you.

“Let’s get you cleaned up baby.” Kate breaks you out of your thoughts. You just give her a small nod. She leads you to your bathroom where she sits you on the counter before she goes into your bathroom cabinet and brings out a first aid kit. She gently cleans your hand and checks on you throughout. Once she cleans all the blood away she applies some antibiotic ointment, placing a sterile gauze patch on the area before wrapping it up. When she is done she lifts your hand gently kissing the bandage before she leans in and kisses you softly. 

You don’t think you deserve all of this softness and empathy but Kate makes you feel safe and loved. She feels like home. A few more tears slip from your eyes. “Thank you.” You say softly not even sure she could hear you but she does. Kate lifts you off the counter, having you wrap your legs around her waist. You bury your head in her neck and breathe in her familiar scent. “I love you so much.” Kate kisses the side of your head as she carries you into your bedroom and places you down on the bed. She goes to the other side climbing into the bed with you. You immediately snuggle into her side as she wraps her arms around you. 

The room is silent for a while. The only sounds you hear are your soft breathing and the beating of Kate’s heart. “Why?” You mumble looking up at Kate. She tilts her head slightly. “Why what princess?” A genuine look takes over Kate’s features. “W-why didn’t you just leave? You deserve so much better than me.” Your voice shakes with your words scared of her response. Kate’s heart breaks more for you. “I love you so much princess and would do anything to make you happy. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Be here for you through your best days and your worst. You are my everything and I want to give you the world if you let me.” 

Your tears turn from sad to happy as you lean up and kiss Kate. She smiles against your lips before you pull away. “I love you too. I don’t deserve you.” You lay your head back on her chest. “You deserve the world princess and I will give it to you.” You can’t help the light pink dusting that covers your cheeks and a soft smile. “I want you to have everything too.” She leans down and kisses you again. 

You didn’t expect the night to end like this but you're so glad now that you called your girlfriend. You may not be ok right now but with Kate’s help you will heal and when you fall down again she will be there to pick you back up. If she falls you will be right there with her to give her everything that she has given you.

[senualothbrok]

Come What May

Summary: On what Gale believes is his last night alive, you cannot give him your body. But there are countless ways to declare love, and infinite ways to express it.

An alternative act 2 romance scene, featuring a Tav who is a cleric of Ilmater. "Come What May" is a song from "Moulin Rouge".

AO3 link

Non-18+. Angst with a happy ending.

Trigger warnings: references to prostitution (Tav's mother), sexual trauma, grief/bereavement, graphic depictions of illness, Gale's suicidal ideation.

A/N: This fic is a response to the anon who requested an alternative act 2 romance scene between Gale and a Tav who wants to save intimacy for after marriage. I feel that I should apologise because I am clearly incapable of writing a straightforwardly sweet/romantic piece which does not involve trauma and angst of some sort. I have no idea why this happened, please forgive me.

Please note the trigger warnings and exercise self-care. It is, however, angst with a happy ending.

I highly recommend listening to "Come What May" from Moulin Rouge during/after you read this.

I deliberated over whether to post this. It feels like my weakest work, and I feel slightly ashamed about it. I'm still not sure if it's good enough to post, but decided to bite the bullet because I wanted to give it to the anon who reached out. I really hope it does bring some comfort and enjoyment to someone out there.

I cannot thank my dear friends @inglorionamy-ammy and @dekariosclan enough for being truly wonderful beta readers and helping me with some major edits on this piece. Thank you and I am forever grateful for your kind hearts and keen minds.

“I’m in love with you.”

There is anguish in Gale’s eyes. His voice trembles with fear and urgency. You feel it all, a sunbeam shooting through the blue-green haze he has conjured around you. For you. 

You gaze at him, breathless. Nothing compares, not even the beauty and wonder of his creation. When Gale looks at you, you do not feel dread, that ancient squirming beneath your skin. He is not the lumbering colossus of your nightmares, leaving a trail of whimpering bruises on your mother’s flesh. When he is near, you feel a yearning to draw closer, not away. You had never thought that possible with a man.

In that moment, you are possessed by a wild terror. An agonising thought that he will slip through your fingers, as though he never was. His last night alive. 

Your heart surges, and you cannot stop it. You answer without thinking.

“I’m in love with you too.”

Panic seizes you. Your admission is a sacred boundary crossed. A bulwark broken. You have the urge to bolt before all is lost.

But then Gale’s face lifts. It radiates with a smile, and all at once, you are beaming with the knowledge that you are the cause. Fleetingly, you let yourself imagine the miracle of seeing that smile again and again for the rest of your days. It is not a leering grin from which you flee, nor a repulsed grimace from which you hide. Sometimes, in his presence, there is something about solitude that no longer feels like safety, but loss. It bewilders you.

He huffs out a laugh, and you are mesmerised by the curl of his eyelashes, delicate as butterfly wings. 

“That’s a relief. It’d be a shame to spend my final hours making an ass of myself.”

There is a flame in his eyes that sets you alight. You cannot look away. You do not want to. Something swollen simmers in the space between you, just as it had that night when the Weave had made you one. 

He dips towards you. You are drifting towards him, dizzy from his scent. It is like nothing you have breathed before. There is no trace of sourness, no stale grease. It is sandalwood and leather, scrolls and soap. You are entranced by the plump curve of Gale’s lips, the soft earth of his eyes. In your mind, you see the smooth curve of his shoulders, broad and welcoming. His feather light fingers turning a page, like a sculptor’s touch on setting clay. 

The glaring marks on your mother’s neck, withering into wounds. The blood of her scabs, pooling in her navel.

You flinch.

Confusion flits across his features. You shift away.

“I'm sorry,” you manage. “I can't.”

You are winded by his spasm of hurt, a storm of despair, rejection, doubt. Part of you wishes you did not have this gift, this curse of Ilmater - to read others’ pain, to feel others' suffering so deeply it becomes your own. And you know, as you reel from the chains you cannot shed, that you should say no more. But you cannot bear it. You cannot let him suffer from a lie.

“I love you,” you choke. “But I can't.”

His brows steeple. He is silent. The thought that he does not believe you is a torment. You cannot be another loss, another reason for him to believe his life means nothing. To convince himself there is no one who would mourn his death. 

The words spill out as though you are clutching, searching. 

“I made a vow.” 

He sucks in a sharp breath. “A vow.” His gaze darkens. “You're promised to another.”

“No.” You jerk your head, frantic. “No. It’s not that…” 

He stiffens, as though he is braced for a blow. That he would expect harm from you is devastating.

“I made a promise to Ilmater,” you confess. “I can't be… intimate with anyone. Not like that.”

His eyes widen. You notice that there are flecks of gold in the brown of his irises, flaring with surprise. You fumble for proof, excuses, anything to skirt around the edge of it. The scar inside you that no one but Brother Rogier has seen. Your burden, your wound. Yours and yours alone.

“It keeps me safe.” You sound frenetic. “So that I can heal. I can't be charmed, or harmed by phantasm. Ilmater protects me from–”

It is ridiculous. You feel it as you speak. To suggest that such feeble protections would keep you from the magnitude of his love, when he is certain he will soon be dust and ash. Insulting. You are ashamed.

Disbelief curdles in the tight line of his lips. 

“Please. There’s no need for that.” He looks away. “You have a compassionate heart. That much is clear. But there's no need to go to such lengths to spare what remains of my pride.”

You stare at him, bereft. “Gale–”

“I understand perfectly.” His voice is broken glass. “And I would never force my heart on someone who doesn't reciprocate my affections, no matter how pitiful I may appear.”

He turns his back to you. You can no longer see his face. This is the right thing, you tell yourself. The good thing. He will walk away, and you will remain intact. Safe. You will endure. 

But a frenzy has come over you. As you watch the sagging of his shoulders, the clenching of his hands, you realise that you do not want it. You do not want this sacrifice, this secret. 

You want him.

You have never wanted anything so much.

You lurch forward. He spins around at the desperate questing of your fingers, lacing into his. You fall to your knees, pressing his hand to your heart. Recognition sparks in his eyes as your tadpole brushes against his.

“Please,” you whisper. “Let me show you.”

****

She used to be beautiful, you thought, kneeling there beside her. You stared at the welts marring her olive skin, her scarlet hair flaking to rust. There was a sore on your mother's thigh, weeping with pus, and you looked away when Brother Rogier pressed on it, ashamed at your squeamishness. 

You had seen far worse, waiting in dark alleyways and side streets while she heaved, clamped against the wall by some hooded giant, or kneeling as a grunting shadow loomed over her. You had never felt disgust or shock, only vague impatience, as you watched her finish and rearrange her skirts. Coins jangled in her pockets as she took your hand, bounding towards the promise of candlelight in the distance.  Later on those nights, she would hold you close in a warm bed, lulling you to sleep with whispered songs. With a full stomach and a formless hope, you ignored the greasy stench of strangers’ sweat which she could never shed.

It angered you, how nauseous you felt, as you listened to the bubbling crackle of your mother's breathing. You were only ten, but you were no longer a child, and you knew her moments were numbered. To feel disgust as she lay there, leaking into a peeling pallet, a guttering flame - it was the greatest betrayal. A sin you could never forgive. When Brother Rogier covered your mother's modesty with his usual gentleness, you started to cry. 

You had been suspicious of him at first, stooped and shrouded in his tattered grey robe. You had never met a priest of Ilmater. All you could see was his bald head, so shiny it looked wet, and the backs of his calloused hands, hairy as a beast’s. When he first took hold of your mother after her collapse, you screamed.

But he did not scold or strike you. He spoke to you softly, as an equal, not a child. 

“I want nothing from your mother, or from you,” he said. “I have sworn a vow of chastity.”

He had crouched to look you in the eye. It was a dignity you had never been given before, as the ugly runt of a streetwalker. It made you feel like he truly saw you, in a way that no one but your mother did.

“It means I will never take a woman or a man. She is safe with me. And so are you.”

And you were. With him, you felt safe. He was the only other person who would touch her, when  the sickness ravaged her body and her mind.  He tended to her in the temple with poultices and prayers, giving you food, water and shelter. She was well beyond thanking him by then, all speech and thought swallowed up in decay. Yet when her fire was snuffed out, he was the one who stood with you, cleaning her for burial. He was the one who anointed her so carefully, so reverently, for a return to Ilmater’s embrace.

“Ilmater sees you,” Brother Rogier had said. “He bears your suffering.”

And as you wept into your mother's cold, hard hands, with Brother Rogier steadfast beside you, you thought of every stranger who sucked and thrust your mother's beauty out of her. You thought of their relentless claws in the darkness, and Brother Rogier’s tender fingers in the light. You thought of your life, broken and empty, but for Ilmater's unexpected kindness.

And you made a promise. You promised you would never give your body as your mother had. All that you were, all that you had, you vowed to give to the Crying, Broken God, the one who stood with you and endured.

****

There is a tiny scar near his temple, framed by a dew drop of a mole. You had never noticed them before. As you lie facing him, cocooned in the illusion of the lush grass beneath and the boundless night above, you drink in every pore of his bronze-kissed face, every shadow that lifts as his gaze roams over you. You feel it like a caress, drifting over the patches and blemishes marring your skin, and for the first time in your life, you do not feel the need to hide them. 

“Tav.” His voice is so low, you strain to hear it. “I’m so sorry.”

He draws closer. He has seen the gaping hole inside you, and he remains. You can feel his longing to comfort, his desire to heal. It is a familiar urge, your second nature. It would be a gift, if you could accept his reassurance. If you could rest in his embrace. If only.

He senses your hesitation. Abruptly, he pauses, his fingers hovering above yours.

“Is this… alright?” Worry twists his features. “Are you comfortable with–”

“It’s alright.” 

He gestures between you. “Because if it makes you feel uncomfortable, I can–”

“It doesn’t.” 

He frowns, questioning, fretting. 

“I'm sorry.” You look down. “I'm sorry I can't…”

He jolts. Your breath hitches as his fingers find the point of your chin, tilting your face up to meet his.

“I love you.” His brow quivers. “There are countless ways to declare love. Infinite ways to express it. The joining of bodies, the pleasures of the flesh…they're but one stitch in a vast tapestry. My love for you goes far deeper, burns far brighter.”

You gaze at him, motionless. When you speak again, your voice is torn.

“I want to. With you. One day, when I’m not...” 

You grimace as the images flash through your mind. The weeping scratches on your mother’s breast. The oily sheen on her calloused skin. You try to blink them away.

“When I can, I want to.”

He nods slowly, firmly. He shines, as though there are no more shadows between you. That there never could be.

“It’s different with you.” You try to explain. “When I’m with you, I don’t have to hide. When I’m close to you, I feel…safe.”

You know it is not enough, but it is all you have. You can only give him the truth, no more, no less.

“You’re not like the others,” you say finally. “I… want to be with you. To…touch you.”

You clasp his hand. There is the faintest glow of lavender that trails down the muscles of his neck, a glinting sliver of his chest through the opening of his robe. You look at him with concern. He grimaces slightly. You think you see a trace of embarrassment, but you are not sure. 

“I - ah –” 

His mouth opens, closes. He struggles for words.

“Is it hurting?” You wince. “We can try that poultice again, I have some in my–”

“I’m alright,” he huffs. “I’m quite alright, Tav.”

“Are you in pain?”

“Not…quite.” He shakes his head. “Not now. It’s–”

He bites his lip. There is a strange silence, as though you have reached a frontier you cannot pass. And yet, the intensity of his gaze draws you, like a thread tethering your soul to his. Your fingers follow its path, hovering over the dark ring at his centre. He tilts his head, and almost imperceptibly, he nods.

His eyelids flutter at your touch. The lines of the orb feel like a scar, a stitch sinking into his skin. There is a coldness to the purple pulse under your fingers. You notice that Gale has stopped breathing. You draw back.

“Am I hurting you?”

“No,” he answers immediately. His lips are parted. You catch the wet glimmer of his tongue. “Not at all.”

He clears his throat. You swallow. For a moment, you cannot look at each other. He runs his hand through his hair, while you fuss at your tunic. A hushed heat falls over you, and as if on cue, you both roll onto your backs, fixing your gazes on the celestial canvas. 

It is quiet for a long time. And then your hand returns to his, as if it belongs there. You trace the grooves on his palm, as he caresses the callouses of your knuckles.

“I would wait an eternity for you.” His voice is rough, fractured. “If only I could…but the orb, the fate Mystra demands of me–”

“You don’t deserve this,” you choke.

He scoffs, a burst of anger and disgust. “I was foolish. Selfish. It was unconscionable. I endangered everyone around me–”

You spin back to him. “You don’t deserve this, Gale. Not this. Not her abandonment and punishment. Not any of it.”

He stares at you. There is both a hardening and a softening in him as he wrestles with your words. You understand. You know how it feels to grapple with a burden, haunted by whether you can ever lay it down. Plagued by whether you should.

A tangle of hair falls into your eyes. Slowly, tentatively, he reaches up to tuck it behind your ear. Your skin tingles from the ghost of his touch.

“I could never tire of looking at your face,” he breathes. “Hearing your voice, seeing you smile. Watching you laugh. Being with you, basking in the miracle of your presence.” He closes his eyes, as if committing you to memory. “When the time comes, this is what I’ll picture. Only you.”

The sorrow of his smile floods you. The resolution, the resignation in it. All at once, you are drowning. He gasps, flinching forwards. 

“Please.” His thumb draws gentle circles on your cheek, brushing away your falling tears. “My love, please don't cry.”

He speaks with a tortured awe, as though no one has ever wept from his pain. 

“I would never want to bring you grief. Only joy. Beauty. Happiness and wonder.”

“Then don't do it.” You try to stifle your sobs. “We can work this out together. You don’t have to die.”

You cup his flickering hand against your skin. 

“Any goddess who would ask you to do this isn’t worthy of your love. You're worth more than any mistakes you’ve made. So much more than this cruel forgiveness. You’re… everything.”

Ilmater would never ask this. He would see Gale, his regrets, his triumphs, his goodness and kindness. His love. Ilmater would bear his suffering as his own. He would walk with Gale through the roses and the thorns. You wish you could make him see.

But he does not see it. “Please don't cry,” is all he says, as he wipes away your tears. 

***

“What's your happiest memory?” 

It feels like a deflection at first. A misguided focus on your sorrow instead of his own. You do not want to back down. You want to convince him that Mystra is wrong, that he deserves to live, that he should endure. But there is a plea in his question, a ragged insistence, and you cannot refuse him.

You close your eyes as you consider. 

“My mother loved to sing,” you start. “When she sang, it was like time stood still. Her voice was so beautiful… I can’t describe it, but I remember it. Everything about her was beautiful… until she got sick.”

You feel your mother’s crimson waves, wrapped like a veil around you. The cradle of her arms, so thin and willowy, yet strong as spider silk. 

“Just before she got sick, my mother took me to a tavern to see Red Millie. A singer - you won’t have heard of her, but she was a celebrity around our parts. The barkeep took one look at us and tried to throw us out, but we managed to hide away at the back.”

You remember your glee, sneaking with your mother through the gaps in the crowd, shrouded in shadows. There was a whimsy, a spirit within your mother that no amount of degradation and destitution could ever kill. Not until the very end.

Gale’s jaw clenches. “Blind prejudice. Needless cruelty, to deny such simple pleasures to a woman and her child. What I wouldn’t do to give that fool a piece of my mind.” 

A tide of tenderness washes over you. You squeeze his hand. 

“It wouldn’t have changed anything. But thank you.” 

Reluctantly, he eases. His anger moves you in a way you cannot describe. You are reminded of how Brother Rogier chased off the boys that spat and threw stones at you, as though there was nothing that mattered more than your dignity. 

“It was incredible, anyway,” you go on. “My first time at a real show. It was the only time I saw my mother’s face light up like that. Red Millie had red hair just like hers, and a voice that could bring warriors to their knees. And that night, she sang this song, a song I’ll never forget.”

It takes you unawares, how clearly you can still hear it. How it echoes inside you like a temple bell.

“Afterwards, my mother looked at me like she’d never done before. She was smiling, and there were tears in her eyes, and she held me so tightly I thought she would never let me go.”

Your chest heaves. She is a bottomless ache. You struggle to find your breath.

“What was the song?” Gale asks softly. 

The grasp of his hand stills you. No one but Brother Rogier has ever heard you sing. You have always thought your song fragile, brittle, like thawing ice. It has always been a secret part of yourself, set aside for your mother and Ilmater alone. But when Gale asks, it is a foregone conclusion. Something you give him freely and without reservation.

And so, with your tears mirrored in his eyes, you sing him your mother’s song.

“Suddenly the world seems such a perfect place

Suddenly it moves with such a perfect grace

Suddenly my life doesn't seem such a waste

It all revolves around you

And there's no mountain too high

No river too wide

Sing out this song and I'll be there by your side

Storm clouds may gather

And stars may collide

But I love you

Until the end of time

Come what may

I will love you

Until my dying day”

****

“Come.” He stands suddenly, lithe with determination. “I want to show you something.”

He reaches down to you, and when you take his hand, the world around you dissolves into a whirl of blinding light. You stumble, but with his fingers intertwined in yours, there is no space inside you for trepidation. There is only wonder.

He strides forward. You gasp as a vista of oak, marble, and vellum streams from his free hand. Not for the first time, you are enthralled by Gale in his element, working miracles from the Weave. You marvel at the sculptures and paintings that appear around you, the plush seats and ornate walls enlivened by the spines of a thousand books.  Within this sanctuary of deep reds and gilded greens, open tomes and scribbled notes gleam in the glow of the fireplace. All you see and feel and smell is Gale.

“This is my home in Waterdeep. The centre of my universe.”

You stand speechless, taking it all in - the gift of Gale’s trust, the purity of his love as he bears his soul to you. With a flourish, Gale leads you towards an intricately carved piano that waits in the corner of the room. 

“This is beautiful, Gale.”

You are referring to all of it - Gale's art, his home and haven, Gale himself. But Gale beams down at the piano with a special focus.

“It was my mother's.” 

His thumb grazes its elaborate markings. There is such a delicacy in the gesture. An act of worship.

“She gave it to me, when I finally got my act together and moved into my own place. What a day of joy and mourning that was.” 

He chuckles, brimming with memories. You wish you could see them all.

“She was a marvellous pianist, back in the day, when her fingers were nimbler. Truly exceptional. She was no wizard, but to hear her play–”

His hands dance, fervent with admiration.

“She played with such passion, such unparalleled mastery, that her music had a magic of its own.”

He gestures to the bench in front of the piano. As you sit, your thigh brushes against his. His fingers trail idly over the keys.

“It was always a treat as a child, to perch here beside her and watch her play. No matter how much of a menace I'd been, how exhausted she was from the endless havoc I wreaked and all the questions about the universe I demanded she answer. No matter how incandescent she was with me for burning this or summoning that…” 

He gives a huff of affection. 

“She would still invite me to sit beside her and listen. Every time.”

Gale's smile illuminates every part of him. It is a smile like no other, a fixed star in an endless night. 

“She sounds like a wonderful woman.”

He bobs his head. “Indeed. Formidable, and fearsome, and wonderful. You would like her. And she would adore you.”

There is an instant before he holds your gaze - a flurry of his fingers, a low murmur. And then, the piano bursts into life with a familiar song that shatters your heart into a thousand pieces before restoring them one by one, sealed in gold.

You are shaking. “Gale,” you whisper through tears. “The song–”

He takes your hand and presses it against his cheek. You feel it all - the roughness, the smoothness, the swelling storm, the steady sea. There is so much more you want to tell each other, things that spill over the seams of speech, lapping at the edges of all your empty spaces. In this moment, you do not need it. You simply listen.

****

You are sitting on the balcony. Framed by golden shafts of sunlight, he looks like a vision from your dreams, real and unreal at the same time. You know everything around you is an illusion, a haze of yearning and remembrance. Yet it is truer than anything you have ever seen or felt, greater than all your nightmares, the spectres of the past. It is his world, melting into yours, making you one.

“My favourite spot.” 

He pats the velvet seat beneath you. Dust motes shimmer in the rising air.

“Many times, evening turned to night and back to daybreak once more while I sat here, lost in words.”

He looks out into the horizon, the shifting waves and seagulls soaring overhead. You are reminded that he has created all of this from memory. The undulations of the arches before you, the chiselled grooves of the stone floor beneath you. The bustling docks and well worn buildings of Waterdeep in the distance. The empty wine glasses on the table, reflecting the setting sun. You feel the love and longing in his creation. You see the mourning in his frown, the dark determination in the twisting of his mouth. A farewell. 

“You'll come back here,” you tell him. “When this is all over. You'll be back.”

He turns back to you. There is a faltering, a crack in his conviction. You hope, with every ardent prayer within you, that it is enough.

Your hand seeks his. “What's your happiest memory?”

A fleeting surprise passes over his features, but there is no hesitation. 

“This,” he says. “Now. Being here with you.”

You are taken aback by the force of his sincerity, the gratitude that glistens in his gaze. Of all his accolades, all his many accomplishments and adventures, of all the people he has loved and lain with, this is what he cherishes most. You, bruised and battered as you are. Only you.

“And for you, I’ll wait.” He clasps both of your hands in his. “I'll wait for as long as it takes. A thousand years could pass, and I'd still be here, waiting.” His lips curl. “If you'll still have me, that is.”

You cannot help but laugh at his unexpected pun, and the hint of pride in it. Your cheeks flush with the implication of his smirk. It takes you a beat to register what he has said. When you do, you halt.

“Is that a promise?”

He freezes. Desperately, you search his face.

“It's a promise.” You surge forward. “You're going to wait till the day I can give myself to you completely, mind, body and soul. You're going to live.”

He looks down at his hands, wrapped up in yours. You can feel the roiling inside him, the relentless battle between hope and sacrifice. And when his eyes meet yours again, you are overcome by a love that blazes through everything hidden and broken within you. 

There is the ghost of a nod, and his hair skims your neck as you reach for him. When your lips find his, he trembles, his hands questing, coming to rest at the small of your back. You cup his cheeks, and the caress of his tongue against yours is a prayer answered. A vow.

In the warmth of his embrace, you watch the weary sun take its dive into the sea. He holds you close, and as the piano whispers your mother’s song, you let the gentle rhythm of his breaths lull you into sleep.

******************************

Liked this fic? Check out my other work.

[fatkish]

If you’re up too it can you write some mitsuri x

Obanai x reader with maybe a chubby reader ^^!! If not ignore this wish you well

Mitsuri & Obanai x Chubby Reader

Insecurities

(Trigger warning: self deprecation, self body shaming, negative self talk/image. [this is mostly my thoughts that I’ve had towards myself and based on my experience])

You had always been insecure about your body. Compared to Mitsuri and Obanai, you felt ashamed of yourself. You never ate as much as Mitsuri but you ate more than Obanai. You hadn’t always been chubby. You remembered that you were skinny as a child, so much so you were called a twig. You don’t really know what changed, but eventually you found yourself having gained weight. Originally you struggled to maintain a healthy weight and now it seemed like no matter what you did, you couldn’t get rid of your fat.

You couldn’t even look yourself in the mirror. You hated yourself. You made sure to hide this from Mitsuri and Obanai. You don’t know what they see in you. Maybe they only want you around because…. Because why? Why are you here. Both Mitsuri and Obanai are so pretty and they make such a beautiful couple, they’re both strong, but where do you fit in? What could you possibly do for them that they can’t already do? You shouldn’t be here, you shouldn’t even be aliv… tears. You’re crying. You hate yourself so much, you cover your eyes and sob.

Unknown to you, Obanai stood outside the room, listening to your sobs. Mitsuri had been coming around the corner and was about to greet him when he turned to her with a finger over where his mouth was, his other hand pointing at the door. Mitsuri walked over and heard your sobs. With tears in her own eyes she covered her mouth and looked at Obanai. “You stupid, fucking pig! Look at yourself, you might as well have a curly tail cause you’re fat like a goddamn pig…. I’m so fucking ugly” they heard you say to yourself. Obanai had a look of shock and Mitsuri one of horror.

“I shouldn’t even be alive! Why the hell am I even alive” You yelled as you sobbed, not aware of the two people listening. Mitsuri couldn’t take it anymore and ran into the room and wrapped her arms around you. “Wahhh! I’m so sorry! I didn’t know you felt this way! I’m so sorry, please don’t say such things, they hurt my heart!” Mitsuri wailed as she hugged you.

“Mitsuri is right. You shouldn’t say such horrible things about yourself. You want to know why you’re alive? You’re alive because we love you. You’re the one thing we know will always be here for us. Mitsuri and I could die at any time fighting demons, but knowing that you’re here, that we have such a wonderful person at home waiting for us. It makes us fight that much harder to come home.” Obanai said as he sat down beside you and rubbed your back.

“Obanai’s right! We absolutely love you and you’re the one constant in our lives that we can depend on. You take such good care of us, you always cook me such yummy food! How could we ever not love you?” Mitsuri cried as she squeezed you tight.

You wiped your eyes and looked at them. They both looked at you with such love filled eyes. They truly adored you. “Why didn’t you tell us you were feeling this way?” Mitsuri asked. “I didn’t want to be a burden on you guys, you both risk your lives and my worries are selfish compared to what you guys see and deal with” you replied. “Nonsense, you’re feelings are important to us, don’t you dare ever hold them back from us. If something is bothering you, tell us.” Obanai demanded. He wiped the tears from your eyes and looked at you so softly. “We love you, don’t you dare ever question it, understand?” He looked you straight in the eye. “Yes” you replied.

Obanai grabbed your hand and held it to his mouth before giving it a gentle kiss through his bandages. “You’re ours, understand. It’s our job to take care of you, just as it is your job to care for us, if I see you trying to hide your feelings from us again there will be consequences understand?” Obanai threatened. “What kind of consequences?” You asked. Mitsuri smiled and hugged you as Obanai blushed as his face turned red. “We-we’ll make you love yourself, we’ll force you to be kind to yourself!” Mitsuri cheered. “And if that doesn’t work, we’ll force you to endure endless pleasure until you learn to be kind to yourself.” Obanai threatened.

You smiled and hugged them both, “I love you both so much. Thank you” you thanked them as they hugged you back. “Now c’mon. Let’s go make dinner. I’m so hungry and food always makes me feel better!” Mitsuri tugged you with her and led you towards the kitchen as Obanai followed. You smiled and held Mitsuri’s hand. You feel so loved, they love you so much, guess you are worth something after all. Why else would you be loved so deeply by these guys.

[khristie16]

The fast and forbidden

Charles is a famous F1 driver with everything one could want: fame, fortune, and fans. But he is missing one thing. Being his new personal assistant changes everything for both of them.

— chapter 4 Both are conflicted after their intimate experience. What Charles’s jealousy makes him act in a way is wasn't recognized even from his friends

warnings: 18+, masturbating, jealousy, angst

.........................................................................

That night was wild. As i went back to my room I felt embarrassment linger on my insides and I pushed my back to the right apartment door as I shut them behind me as if that would stop me from being hunted just by what happened. It never ever crossed my mind that literally my boss would have seen me naked under any circumstances. The cold shower did not help me from overthinking practically anything, it felt like I’m not even in control of my thoughts. I groaned in displeasure and went to my bedroom. Staying quiet to perhaps hear something from his room and cursing myself for even doing that after what has happened. Getting in my bed didn’t quite help me, it made my feelings for Charles even worse.

The next day I wake up with sweat covering my body, I hold my chest as if something has convinced me this body is no longer mine because it wasn’t when was Charles touching me. His fingers laced on my hot skin and my legs trembling as if he is the owner of my body and my body is no longer mine. His sinful eyes full of uncertainty of what’s to come and I believe I’m going to shatter right at the spot I was sitting on my bed here in a hotel. His touch was getting lost in my soft skin, and I swear I felt something inside of me, something that was growing and when I looked down it was him, entering me again and again until I screamed and woke up from this dream.

I thought I’m going to be sick. This is a lot to take, and I cannot function like that on daily basis. If there is one thing that I’d love, is to be able leave this dream pass but it feels like I took the most out of the dream. And I seem to cannot go back.

A sound coming from my phone startled me till I jumped on the seat still covered in sheets. I stand up with a hold of breath to look of who is it. Part of me was scared it might be Charles and I would have to approach him. But instead, a little disappointment filled my body when I saw the guy from yesterday has messaged me. What was his name again? Ah yes, Patrick.

His comforting questions about my well being made me pause for a sec and made my body to relax. But it was soon replaced with anxiety. What am I supposed to do with this man now? I cannot shake the feeling of the..., dream, perhaps nightmare, I cannot say. I still have the perfect image of Charles on top of me doing all of those…. In and out movements. It makes me sick, and ashamed. God damn, I shouldn’t be dreaming about such things. But I shouldn’t be hard on myself that much, it’s enough that Charles was hard on me…literally.

I shake my head to somewhat shake the thought off and I finally saw clearly the words typed down on my phone again.

Hey! Yeah, I slept well.

I toss the phone on the couch again and make my way to a bathroom. In the mirror reflection I see flushed cheeks and dirty hair. How can someone have passionate sex and look good meanwhile? It was just a dream and yet I look like if I had truly experienced that. Maybe it is because it felt like that.

Charles’s POV

Charles couldn’t sleep immediately after YN has left. He didn’t understand why he was wide awake, but he caught himself afterwards he is still going back to the image of YN being naked in front of him in his bedroom. It made him feel some shivers running down his spine and he couldn’t judge if it is good or not. All his awareness was filled with her and after staring blanky on the ceiling he gave up on sleeping and went to bathroom to jerk himself off. He tried hard to not make it obvious to him that he had a certain image in front of his eyes in his mind, but he couldn’t hide it that well. He knew this delusional act and pretending wouldn’t last long. So, as he fell to his bed again, he felt a sudden emptiness in his body, and he fell asleep with the last thought of YN in the blank space he fell in his stomach.

Charles now has found himself in a cafeteria lobby with his friend Joris. As they were casually talking about tonight’s upcoming night out, he finally felt good about being able to think just about anything else but her. But it didn’t stay that long. As if Joris knew since the beginning there is something of with Charles related to YN, he took a good look at Charles before speaking up. Joris knew Charles has changed and that is why he even offered for a personal assistant position to take place, but his cold demeanor to her was something everyone saw. Either if it was Carla or Andrea. Everyone saw through him that it was a weird thing to watch at. And as so for Joris as one of his best friends, he wanted to push Charles to his limits.

‘I saw YN yesterday.’

Charles stuck a little in his movement before trying to smooth his behavior to a more relaxed one. Good for Joris he has and excellent eye for a detail and it didn’t run from his attention.

‘Okay. So what?’

Joris chuckled rather quietly and liked this game already. Pushing your best friend about a topic his friend is clearly passionate about was something thrilling. To be honest, there is a very fine line between passion and hate. And with hate there comes anger or resentment.

‘She was with a man. A fine man, luxurious car and stuff’

Charles stuck in his movement again but swiftly get back to his previous position. Now the chuckle left Joris’s lips. He was met with a furious gaze from his best friend as he asked.

‘What?!’

Joris laughed and tried so hard to hide it but failed. He put his fist in front of his mouth to mask it with a cough, but his eyes couldn’t lie.

‘Nothing, just nothing’

Charles didn’t like what was Joris doing. He is not dumb, he knew. But he wasn’t mad at Joris, he was frustrated with himself.

‘Well, she can do whatever she wants.’

Joris eyes went high on his forehead as he couldn’t believe Charles let himself be this obvious.

‘Something happened Charles?’

An awkward silence filled the space as a waitress approached their table to refill their drinks. Both acted as if nothing happened and Joris was getting curious if there was something more in this situation between those two. As the waiter left their table Joris made it clear what his intentions are with a loud cough and gesturing for Charles to talk.

Charles refused to give in and acted like a little bitch.

‘Nothing happened!’

He reached for his refilled drink just to spill it on his jeans and grunted in pure discomfort. Not just about jeans, but about his best friend pushing him. He took his mobile phone and went upstairs, leaving Joris in awe.

During the day Charles focused on trainings and both acted like the other didn’t exist. But as much as Charles has tried to forget about what is happening inside of him, the more he lingered back in thoughts to her.

YN POV

It made me sad to be in such a position. The last thing I thought was that Charles would be acting so cold towards me. On one side I get it that it’s for the best, because of what had happened, but I remember fondly his remark from the evening. What a shame you’re leaving. I really don’t know what to make out of that. It looked like he was toying with me. And I don’t like that. But at the same time, I am the ‘victim in here’. I was put in a vulnerable position and even though Charles has nothing to do with how badly I took this experience, he didn’t have to be so cold towards me. Not more then before. I wasn’t well aware why I feel this way, but I definitely didn’t like it. That is why I shift my focus on Patrick. I deducted since Charles is completely ignoring me, I will be free tonight, as the same as yesterday, what won’t be the same is my naïve brain leading me to his apartment.

I’ll pick you up at seven;)

As I was preparing the beautiful dress for tonight’s event with Patrick, I added some light blush on my cheeks that matched with my red lipstick going well with long gown dress, perfect for a night out in a luxurious restaurant with a handsome man. For the first time this day, I smiled softly to myself and put on high heels. With all the pain conflicting inside of me I forgot the pain of wearing heals. At least I gained something from this fiasco with Charles. Or whatever it is.

I reach for the door to head out and with the swift of air brushing my hair I see Charles with his fist in the eye level to knock, I suppose. I stay still and watch him in confusion.

‘Hi’

He made an awkward presence with his greeting; this was another level of confusion. How can one act to cold and then when they open their mouth, they sound like a lost tad?

‘You’re heading somewhere?’

I stopped the thinking cycle happening again in my head and composure well.

‘Well… yes? I was planning to head out, I assumed you don’t need me today.’

He titled his head and furrowed his eyebrows as If I had said the dumbest thing ever. I scoff internally.

‘And why did you assume that?’

That’s where he got me. I didn’t ask, He didn’t tell me. I was naïve again to think that. Or more of so it was his fault he did not say a thing. But I am under him and If I want to pursue my dreams, I need to have this job. At least to keep it for a month or two.

‘I’m sorry, I interpreted the message wrong. You need me for today’s evening I suppose?’

He just nodded and start with his eyes looking at me closely from head to toe. It was hot suddenly. *gulp*

‘I see you are ready already. Let me change and we can go,’

‘Where?’

He gave me a wink and left me speechless on the mid way from my room to the corridor. I was getting more and more mad at him. I gritted through my teeth and went inside to sit down and write a message to Patrick. I was sad at one point that I’m going to miss on this date.

Hey Patrick, I’m sorry, but work came into my plan for this evening. I would love to dismiss such obligation, but I cannot unfortunately:( xoxo.

Left with my thoughts, Charles opened his door and came out in full tux. He looked hot. And my mouth agreed since I had to fight it hard to not gape. Put yourself together.

‘Let’s go’

That’s all he said and there was just silence between us. I didn’t know where he is taking me, but I really didn't have much of a choice so instead I stayed silent till the full ride to the destination.

Another boring event. A lot of people, too many champagnes and too much obnoxious talk. Or am I just hateful? I couldn’t care less right now. All I wanted to be spared of this, but I guess I have some job to do here as Charles’s personal assistant, which I couldn’t quite put the finger on the reason for bringing me here.

As we stayed by side and observing what’s happening around us, some old man approached us. The next thing boiled my blood. Charles’s hand landed on my waist on the back and pushed me closer to him, just a little but it was known to me. I was too lost in confusion to say anything about it, plus I didn’t want to make a scene. Not because of Charles, but because of me. I prefer peace rather than conflicts. So, I obeyed and acted however I was supposed to do in this moment. It is not like anyone expected me to talk so I wandered around the room to see a familiar face. Patrick.

My eyes almost fell out and the anxiety that numbed my limbs was almost too much to bear. Patrick was clearly confused and did not understand. I started shaking my head as a try to tell him it is not what it looks like. He stayed looking at me but then took his focus on Charles. He eyed him up and down. I don’t’ know what I wanted in that moment, but I was clearly just stuck. My mind and my body.

‘Hey YN’

I turn my head around to see Joris. The anxiety level rose high, and I scarred looked on Patrick again, but he was fortunately not looking at my direction now.

‘Are you alright?’

I turned again to talk to Joris. Charles was aware Joris came in and he left the embrace on my back. I took this opportunity to escape to Joris instead.

‘Hi, sorry. I’m just overwhelmed.’

His eyes went straight to my back, looking straight through my middle and right back up.

‘I can see that.’

I shook my head and excused myself to go to the lady’s room.

*inhale* *exhale* again and again

Did it help? Temporarily. I escaped now but I cannot keep running from myself. I should have said something before. In the car on our way here. I should have said more to Patrick so this situation wouldn’t escalate to something bigger than it is. But what I know? I don’t know what Patrick thinks.

‘Whatever’

I got fed up with the same second and opened the doors to walk back, yet again, the same pair of green eyes hunting me everywhere.

‘What happened YN?’

At this moment I was feeling sorry for Charles. Because I was furious. And I raised my voice. At my boss.

‘What happened? You are asking me?’ I scoffed so hard it was visible for anyone to know how furious I am, ‘You’re the one who should be answering that question! What was that about huh? The touching? Holding my waist?’

Charles’s eyes showed conflict and fear as he didn’t know how to react. This was the first time I saw him not knowing what to do or say, his confidence far away from him now.

‘I- ‘

‘WHAT’

He shut his mouth immediately and looked mad. I exhaled and let my shoulders to fall to relax.

‘I’m sorry for raising my voice at you.’

Charles was still silent, but no in his mind. There was clearly something happening. He opened his mouth but shut it again.

‘YN?’

We both turned our gaze to the right to see Patrick. In the field of my eyes, I saw Charles’s composure to stiffen, and his face hardened.

‘And you are doing what exactly?’

A visible mockery in his voice lingered its way to Patrick who stopped walking towards me, confusion transformed to disgust and took a defensive composure.

God help me.

[calliesmemes]

PERIOD DRAMA QUOTES

ASSORTED ASKBOX PROMPTS featuring the dialogue of films and literature in the PERIOD DRAMA genre, including the works of Jane Austen, Little Women (2019), The Great (2020), Anne With An E (2017), Enola Holmes, and more!

CHANGE gendered words and in-universe phrases as needed

SPECIFY muse for multimuses.

❛ A young woman should be free to follow her heart. ❜

❛ Either we escape tonight or we say goodbye forever. ❜

❛ Your life is still in danger. ❜

❛ You bewitched me from the very first moment we met. ❜

❛ I too have known heartache and betrayal. ❜

❛ My dear girl, don’t you know that I’m in love with you? ❜

❛ You don’t know what it is to be without power. ❜

❛ Actually, for once, I think that there is some small value in what you say. ❜

❛ If I changed at all, it was because of you. ❜

❛ Sometimes, I think you couldn’t possibly be real. ❜

❛ I just can’t live without you. ❜

❛ Just because my dreams are different than yours does not mean that they’re unimportant. ❜

❛ I cannot stop thinking of you. ❜

❛ I am yours; I have always been yours. ❜

❛ A man with charm is an entertaining thing. ❜

❛ It’s alright to have anger, but you can’t let that be the ruling factor over your life. ❜

❛ You deserve everything your heart desires. ❜

❛ Night and day, I dream of you. ❜

❛ Dancing is a trust; it is a union. ❜

❛ Did you admire me for my impertinence? ❜

❛ It is you I cannot sacrifice. ❜

❛ I love crying over a good book, don’t you? ❜

❛ I love you. Most ardently. ❜

❛ There is no charm equal to tenderness of heart. ❜

❛ When I have a house of my own, I shall be miserable if I don’t have an excellent library. ❜

❛ Caring deeply will always be the right thing. ❜

❛ I don’t need friends. I have my own company. ❜

❛ Evil to some is always good to others. ❜

❛ Have a little compassion on my nerves! You tear them to pieces! ❜

❛ No man on earth cares for me. ❜

❛ I forgive what you have done to me. ❜

❛ I do not find it easy to talk to people I don’t know. ❜

❛ Men of sense do not want silly wives. ❜

❛ I have crossed oceans of time to find you. ❜

❛ How I love being a woman. ❜

❛ You are a wish come true I never knew I was making. ❜

❛ Sometimes, you just have to let people love you. ❜

❛ If you want to be heard, you have to make some noise. ❜

❛ I’m so sick of people saying that love is just all that a woman is meant for. ❜

❛ You’re being emotional. It’s understandable, but unnecessary. ❜

❛ I want things to go back to the way they used to be! ❜

❛ Wait, they didn’t teach you that in finishing school? ❜

❛ Whatever society may claim, they can’t control you. ❜

❛ You’re not rid of me yet. ❜

❛ You have no interest in changing a world that suits you so well. ❜

❛ I’ve always known that I would marry you. Why should I feel ashamed of that? ❜

❛ I don’t want to leave you. ❜

❛ No one should be alone all the time. ❜

❛ Marriage is both a joy and a place where you will be dealt unbearable griefs. ❜

❛ I can’t risk losing anyone else I love. ❜

❛ You don’t believe in me. I’ve spent my whole life trying to get you to … and you just don’t! ❜

❛ You are a befuddling, strange creature. Everything you are saying is ridiculous. ❜

❛ Have you been hiding from me? ❜

❛ If anything were to happen to you, I would never be able to live with myself. ❜

❛ It’s pretty obvious now that for us to stay sane, we have to stay together. ❜

❛ The world is hard on ambitious girls. ❜

❛ Do you truly have feelings for me? ❜

❛ I don’t think there’s any place for me in this world. ❜

❛ How do I look? Do I look alright? ❜

❛ I want a home. And a family. ❜

❛ An I talking too much? People are always telling me that I do, and it seems to cause no end of aggravation. ❜

❛ Oh, isn’t it a beautiful morning? ❜

❛ It would surely be much more rational if conversation instead of dancing were made the order of they day. ❜

❛ You don’t annoy me; you make me nervous. ❜

❛ You are an unexpectedly dark character. ❜

❛ I have been unpardonably vain and insufferably arrogant. ❜

❛ You have to watch your tongue. ❜

❛ I’m so sorry; I don’t understand what you are saying. ❜

❛ I don’t understand why you’re being so kind to me. ❜

❛ Don’t be defeatist, dear. It’s very middle class. ❜

❛ What is a weekend? ❜

❛ We should see more of each other. ❜

❛ I look like a prized calf trussed up for auction. ❜

❛ Your reputation precedes you. ❜

❛ Ever since I was a child, I felt like greatness was in store for me. ❜

❛ You don’t look as though you’re struggling. You look … radiant. ❜

❛ I will love you until time has lost all meaning. ❜

❛ There are many versions of you, and you know that I’m the only one who sees them all. ❜

❛ You aim to rile me. I like it. ❜

❛ Will you join me for dinner? ❜

[weemietime]

Okay okay, I’d like to preface this by saying that I’m already deeply ashamed and embarrassed of myself for my behaviour and all, so if you think I don’t feel guilty and am bandwagoning, I’m not, I’m genuinely upset about what I did and there’s no one who could possibly hate myself more than me. And also, I’m not Jewish myself, but you could probably tell by what I’m about to say next.

So I was one of the many people who was a radical supporter of whatever has become of the pro Palestine movement (yes, I know, embarrassing behaviour) and I was perpetuating a lot of antisemitic things and would get super defensive about it because I truly didn’t think that what I was saying and/or doing was antisemitism and I also thought that I was genuinely helping people by being so… radical about things. A few months ago, I took a break from social media and on that break I sort of realised how much I don’t know about the harmful radical movement I was supporting and the Jewish and Israeli people that I was actually hurting by not listening to, and I truly am sorry and I do wish to become an ally, a good ally at that, but I do wonder if I’ve done too much damage already, I probably have. So yeah, I guess I was just wondering how I could possibly do better. I probably shouldn’t even be asking you this, you can totally block me if you want, I swear I’m not trolling or anything, but yeahhhh

The best thing that you can do for yourself and your community is to be honest about your perspective! How it happened, how you got radicalized, the things you said and why you said them. Some people won't be ready to forgive you and that's ultimately their prerogative. But people like you are the reason I am here, because I believe it is possible to form a bridge between our people and find a way to dialogue and call people back in from the extremism they've been indoctrinated into.

I'm fairly open about my history on here, but when I was a child I got indoctrinated into a violent gang. I adopted a lot of extreme beliefs and engaged in horrible, violent acts both under duress and of my own volition. So when I talk about indoctrination I am talking about something I have personal experience with. The people who I victimized to this day probably still have legitimate hate for me, and that's their right. I don't need to convince them I'm a good person or a changed person or whatever, you can't really undo harm or make up for harm like that, that's not how it works.

Once you put that out there, that's it. But at the same time, kind acts and good acts stand on their own, too. So I try and do outreach like this, to share my perspectives, to educate people on how extremism and radicalism and appetitive aggression work because I can't fix what I broke. All I can do is serve as a warning beacon for others going down a bad path, and I don't have any ability to know if that makes me a cosmically good or bad person.

Baruch dayen ha'emet. It's what we say when people die: G-d is the true judge. Only G-d knows those answers and I just have to have faith that G-d will judge me with compassion and understanding, and allow me to state my case. It's an ongoing conversation, you aren't ever just one thing or another thing. You grow, and learn, and that slowly changes the landscape.

I hope this helps in some manner! And I appreciate you sending this, we need to keep these avenues open, we have to build these bridges or else nothing will change. It's that simple.

[alittlebitofloveliness]

hiii idk if ur still taking requests or not but if u are literally any kind of darry angst would be amazing 🤗🤗

Hi anon! This is a bit more Curtis brothers angst but Darry centric exploring what might have happened if the Curtis parents died two years earlier. Please lmk what you think!

***********

“Please” Darry begs, “I’ll be eighteen in a month. A month! I swear I can take care of them. Please don’t do this.”

“I’m sorry,” the social worker says, and to her credit she does sound like she means it, “Since you're almost eighteen and because you’ve provided me with adequate proof you can support yourself I’m going to allow you to remain here at this time, but Sodapop is only fourteen and Ponyboy just turned twelve. They need a real guardian.”

“I can be their guardian,” Darry vows. It’s wrong they’re even having this conversation. His college acceptance letter sits on his desk, his football trophies on the shelf and yet he’d give all of it away in a heartbeat for this crackpot old woman to see sense, to understand that he’s just lost both of his parents and he cannot lose his brothers too. Why doesn’t she understand that? “You said it yourself, I can support myself. I can support them too. The lawyer said Mom and dad left me the house. I can officially claim it in a month, and I can cover bills until then. I already got three offers for another job, and I know how to cook and clean and drive-”

“Darrel,” the social worker cuts him off firmly but kindly, “this has nothing to do with whether or not you are capable. In fact, from what I’ve seen, and the frankly remarkable job you’ve done holding your family together I’d be more than happy to help you petition for guardianship of your brothers at a later time, if it’s still something you feel strongly about doing, but the fact of the matter is that almost eighteen is not the same as eighteen. You are not a legal adult, and you cannot be your brothers’ legal guardian until you are. It doesn’t matter how responsible or adult you are right now. It can’t happen.”

“Please,” Darry implores, “you can’t take them. We just lost mom and dad, I can’t lose them too.”

“I really am sorry,” she says, “and I mean it when I say I will help you try and get guardianship in a month. But I can’t let them stay with you right now, and honestly? Maybe it’s a good thing. I know you love your brothers but guardianship would mean putting your life on hold until Ponyboy turns eighteen- eight years from now. You couldn’t go to college, travel, do much of anything really. This month will give you time to think that over, decide if it’s something you’re truly prepared to do.”

Anger, bright and hot as a supernova bursts in his chest.

“I would do anything to keep them. Anything. I don’t want college or sports or nothing if it means they’d be stuck in some foster home with people who don’t care anything about them.”

“We make sure all our foster parents are vetted very carefully-”

“Yeah, sure,” Darry scoffs, “I know a dozen kids who grew up in the foster system. I’m sure all those bruises were just from kids being kids, especially the handprints. With all due respect, I think you’ve forgotten what part of town you're in. East side kids never end up in the good homes.”

“I’m sorry you feel that way.”

“Save your apologies,” Darry chokes, ashamed to feel hot tears start to prick his eyes, “it’s clear your mind is made up and ain’t nothing I can do to change it.”

“I promise you, I will help you try and get them back. As soon as you're eighteen.”

“I’ll call you the minute the clock hits midnight on my birthday,” Darry threatens, “see if I won’t.”

“That’s fair,” the social worker smiles but Darry refuses to smile back. He hates her, for all she is trying to be as kind and helpful as she can. She’s going to take his brothers away. To him, she can only ever be a villain, “you guys can stay together here one more night while I sort out placements for Ponyboy and Sodapop. I’ll be back at ten tomorrow morning. Do you want to tell your brothers or should I?”

Well Darry sure as hell isn’t going to break their hearts, and Ms. Summers has done a good enough job already of shattering what remained of his own.

“You do it,” he spits, “I ain’t gonna ruin their lives.”

Her sympathy has run deep enough that pity now reigns on her face and she ignores his attitude, the way she has ignored all his attitude so far. It’s more than he probably deserves. He still hates her for it.

“No,” Soda says before Ms. Summers has even finished explaining, his brown eyes shining with a primal sort of fear that puts another crack in Darry’s already broken heart. Soda was made to be grinning, not meant to ever look so terrified, “no you ain’t puttin’ me in no foster house. Me’n my brothers are stayin’ right here, together, thank you very much.”

“I’m afraid I wasn’t asking,” Ms. Summers says, still talking in that infuriatingly gentle tone. 

Soda- easygoing, sweet Sodapop, who called ladies ma’am without fail, who everyone adored- glares at her, backing away the way a cornered animal might.

“I ain’t going! I ain’t! And you ain't taking Pony neither! Darry ain’t gonna let you take us, right Dar?”

He looks at him, brown eyes wide and desperate in his face, and Darry knows things will never be the same after this because it’s his job to protect Soda and Pony, always has been and always will be, and yet right now he is failing to do just that and Soda may never forgive him for it.

“Soda…”

“No!” He’s crying now, tears running freely down his face as he clutches Ponyboy close to his side, arm falling protectively around their baby brother’s tiny shoulders because Pony- whose eyes are the same sort of haunted they’ve been since mom and dad died, and whose face shows nothing but terrified resignation- hasn’t hit his growth spurt yet. Because he’s twelve. Only twelve.

“I know this is hard for you” Ms Summers continues, “and I’m going to do my best to make sure you and Ponyboy get placed together, but you can’t stay with Darry right now.”

“Why not? He’s good at bein’ a guardian. Shit, I’ve eaten more vegetables in the last week than I ever did when mom and Dad were alive-

“Because Darry isn’t eighteen.” Ms. Summers cuts him off, “and you need to be at least eighteen for the government to consider granting guardianship.”

“I’m gonna get you back,” Darry promises, ignoring the social worker and instead locking eyes with his brothers, first Soda, then Pony, “I swear it, as soon as I turn eighteen I’m gonna get you back and you can come home and we’ll all be together again. But we gotta behave if I’m gonna have any chance at all, so please stop arguin’. I don’t like this any more than you do but we gotta-” he clears his throat, “we gotta play ball, ok kiddo? We gotta do what we’re told.”

Soda gives the social worker one more murderous glance, but pulls himself together, a mask of eerie calm overtaking his features. “Fine.”

“Ill see you all tomorrow then. I can show myself out.” Ms Summers offers them one last pitying smile as she shuts the door behind her. 

As soon as she’s gone Soda is on top of him, crying so hard he can hardly breathe,. Pony is clutching his other side so hard he might have bruises, and Darry wraps them both in his arms, wishing he could keep them here forever where they would be safe and he could help them relearn how to be happy. It’s somehow the worst and best moment of his life. On the one hand they’re still blissfully here with him. On the other hand, they won’t be for long.

“I’m sorry,” belatedly Darry realizes he’s crying too, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I tried everything, she wouldn't let me keep you, I tried, I tried.”

Pony just hugs him harder, burying his face in his chest and Soda wails.

Eventually they all stop crying, but the mood in the house is somber. The gang comes around, moods dampening one by one as they hear the news, and Darry makes chocolate cake for dinner since there’s no point in making healthy food if the social workers are taking the boys anyway. In the end it doesn’t matter- none of them have much of an appetite, even for cake.

He walks in on Steve and Soda plotting to run away together before the social worker comes. Talks them out of it by reminding them that he’ll never get guardianship if Soda goes truant while still technically in his care. Eventually, the gang leaves and the it’s the three of them once more, crowded together on the living room couch in an unspoken agreement. None of them want to sleep, unwilling to miss even a second that they have left together.

“Darry?” Pony whispers, his head resting on Darry’s shoulder.

“Yeah, bud?”

“I’m scared.”

“I know,” Darry says, heat clenching, “I’m scared too.”

A few minutes later Pony’s weight drops a little more against him and he starts to snore, out cold. Darry pulls him a little closer, plants a kiss on the top of his wild hair. 

“Soda?” Darry says softly a few minutes later, careful not to wake Pony.

“Hmm,” Soda blinks at him sleepily, “yeah Dar?’

“Promise me you’ll take care of him,” he glances down at Ponyboy’s peaceful face. Asleep like this he looks downright childlike, “and yourself too, savvy? I’m sorry- I’m sorry I can’t do it myself, but you gotta be strong for me, alright? Just for a month or two until I get you back.”

“I promise,” Soda vows, “he’ll be safe with me, I’ll make sure of it. No matter where they put us.”

“I know you will, little buddy.”  Darry sighs. 

Soda sniffs. “I’m really gonna miss you, Dar. it ain’t right, takin’ me from my big brother when we just lost our folks. It ain’t right.”

“I’ll get you back,” Darry promises again, because what else is there to say, really? “I’ll talk to the president himself if I have to but I swear I’ll get you back.”

“I know you will,” Soda tells him, eyes shining. 

They don’t talk for the rest of the night.

The morning dawns with a sunrise that mocks them with it’s beauty and a buttery sunshine that illuminates the sorrow on all their faces when Mrs. Summers shows up and they all have to say goodbye. The gangs around, everyone but Dallas who got jailed two days ago, and Pony and Soda take their time with their goodbyes. When Soda reaches Darry, he hugs him tight for a second, and gets chocked up trying to say something three times before he gives up. Pony hugs Darry with a strength he rarely sees from the kid, and Darry tells him over and over that he loves him because when things get tough that’s the sort of thing Ponyboy forgets.

Then they leave, Mrs. Summers' blue Toyota rounding the corner, and a big part of Darry’s heart goes with them.

He goes back inside. Steve and Two-bit both follow him, casting him concerned looks, but he can’t deal with their worry right now. He has twenty eight days before his birthday to compile an airtight case as to why he’s the perfect guardian for a teenager and a preteen boy, and three job offers on his desk that can make that case a lot more airtight than it currently is.

It’s time to get to work.

[randomprose]

no use i just do

he may not understand it, but Sakura will always love Sasuke —for ssmonth24 day 24: confessions

Haruno Sakura loves Uchiha Sasuke. She loves him in all the ways that matter despite everything and anything. 

It’s just a fact of life—a universal truth. The sky is blue, water is wet, Naruto wants to be Hokage, and Haruno Sakura has always loved Uchiha Sasuke. 

Sakura doesn’t say it or throw around the phrase as much as she used to, but she radiates it. In every look she sends his way, in every word she speaks to him, the way her eyes always find his even in a crowded room or across a sea of people, the way she gravitates to him even without meaning to, and even the way she breathes when she’s around him. Everything about her speaks of her love for him. Her very existence itself is an expression of that unyielding and unconditional love.

To this, all Sasuke could ask is, "Still? After all this time?"

Sakura just shrugs, not even bothering to defend herself. Not like there’s anything to anyhow. Sakura has never been ashamed of her love. 

"Why?" Sasuke continues to prod, truly baffled. "There's nothing—I’m not—I’m just—” I have nothing to offer. “What do you even see in me?"

“You,” Sakura answers easily without missing a beat as if that’s enough of an explanation. “Just you.”

“And that is enough for you?”

“Well,” Sakura looks considering, hands clasped behind her and expression wholly open, always open when she’s with him. “It’s not like I didn’t try to stop. I did try to talk myself into some sense, you know?” Tried to make herself see reason and consider focusing her affections on Naruto instead—strong, dependable, steady, and safe Naruto who would never hurt or make her cry. At least not knowingly. There were other candidates too, of course. Sakura has long since passed that phase of self-doubt and insecurity, has gained confidence in herself and her skills, and knows full well of her worth. “I’m fully aware that I am a catch, Sasuke-kun. Even if you’re not aware of the fact.”

“No, I am,” Sasuke replies because he is, in fact, very aware.

“Good.”

“What happened then?” If she knows she could do better—so much better—how come it’s still him she chooses? “Why haven’t you stopped?”

“What can I say? I just couldn’t,” she shrugs again and her smile is lighthearted as she says, “Looking back, it all seems so silly. I tried to stop and I just couldn’t and after some time I just gave up trying to not love you. Sure, I hated you at times,  but that’s not the opposite of love, is it? Besides,” here her smile turns rueful, “I could never truly hate you, Sasuke-kun.” 

“Why?” he asks again, a tinge of desperation seeping at the word. How can she not hate him after everything? “How can you—What’s there to love?”

"What's not to love?” 

“Don’t answer my question with another.”

“Don’t ask stupid questions,” she retorts. “What’s there to love you ask? Everything. All of you. The good and the bad and everything in between.”

“Tch,” Sasuke shakes his head. “There really is no accounting for taste.”

“That there isn’t,” Sakura laughs, then she sighs. "It's no use, Sasuke-kun. I just love you."

It is in Sasuke’s nature as an Uchiha to self-destruct. It is also in his nature to be selfish and to take without giving, but for the life of him, Sasuke could never be selfish enough when it comes to Sakura. Because everything the Uchiha touches seems to get tainted and doomed to a life of loss, destruction, and heartache, but despite everything he has taken from her—and will continue to take from her—Sasuke cannot bring himself to damn her to a similar fate. 

“You should try again. To stop,” Sasuke says, looking at her imploringly with his mismatched eyes. "I'm broken, Sakura. Beyond repair.” He doesn’t know if he’s doing her a kindness by trying to make her see sense—because maybe she’ll listen to him if her own logic fails her—but Sasuke goes on to make his case against himself anyway. “There's no use trying to fix me. I can't be fixed."

"Is that what you think I've been trying to do all this time? Fix you?” Sakura says, throwing him a funny look before rolling her eyes. "Idiot. I've always known. Even when we were genin, I knew I couldn't fix you. That's not what I was or am trying to do. It never was."

"Then what is it that you want from me."

"Nothing! I just want to love you.” And it’s the truth too. It always was. Once she realizes what she feels for Sasuke is more than just childish infatuation and passing fancy, Sakura has never asked for anything in return for her affections. “The least you could do after everything is to let me."

Sasuke meets Sakura’s gentle gaze and considers her words. 

He supposes that, despite everything, he’s always known that it was always going to be Sakura for him, that it was always going to be them in the end, even when he didn’t allow himself to think about those things.

In the lofty years of his youth, he had often thought of returning to Konoha after settling the score with his brother and finding Sakura waiting for him. He had argued to himself that she was a logical choice and the reason his mind conjured her as a first—and only—choice was because she was his closest female companion being his teammate and somewhat friend. Not to mention, he found her the least annoying of the girls who used to fawn over him, never mind why he never questioned why he found it so.

And in the rare times that Sasuke has allowed himself to think of a future for himself after accomplishing his goals—misguided as they were—and beyond the battles and the tragedies he’s faced, it is Sakura who is a constant in those musings and the only one he sees himself with, be it settling down and continuing his other goal of restoring his clan or even just simple companionship for however long the fates shall allow Sasuke’s wretched life to go on. 

The fact of the matter is, Sasuke is to his bare bones a selfish bastard who has always thought of Sakura as his—just as much as he has always been hers as he has come to realize. 

(It does not cross his mind that Sakura is as selfish and as greedy as he is, maybe even more, in the way she loves him—how she would let Konoha burn rather than hurt him, forsake her duties if it meant she could be by his side, defend him to the death against those who speak ill of him.)

"Okay," Sasuke sighs in surrender, but it is of the sweet kind. “Okay.”

"Okay?” Sakura asks, peering up at him as if in confirmation.

"Yes."

Yes, you may love me and this time I will allow myself to be loved and reciprocate in the ways I know how. This is an act of selfishness as much as it is a kindness. For both of us. 

"Good."

The smile on her face is pleased and Sasuke lets the pleasant feeling wash over him with the knowledge that he is the cause of that.

“Sakura,” he calls to her, and her name almost sounds holy as he rolls off his tongue. Reverent like a prayer or benediction. Heavy with meaning and all the things that Sasuke cannot form the words to say.

Sasuke takes his hand and moves to close the gap between them. Sakura feels herself rooted on the spot, tensing when he steps into her space and loops his arm around her in an embrace. It takes her a second to relax and her arms to come up and wound around his waist to return the embrace. A memory comes to her unbidden and she pinches the skin on his back in warning.

"If you knock me out and leave me on some godforsaken bench again, Uchiha Sasuke, I swear to all your ancestors I will—”

Sasuke chuckles and squeezes her to him to stop her tirade.

"I already apologized for that."

“Tch.” Sakura puffs her cheeks and pouts, even as she lets him hold her against him and buries her face into his chest. "Whatever."

"I'm sorry. And thank you.” Two things that have never been easy for Uchiha Sasuke to say, but no one else has ever been more deserving to hear from him as much as Haruno Sakura. “For loving me. Even after all these years. Even when I'm—” 

"Batshit insane completely off your rockers and out of control?"

"Tch." Sasuke lightly tugs at the ends of her hair in annoyance, to which Sakura only snickers. He's trying to be sincere and maybe a little romantic here dammit and there she goes and ruins it. "So annoying."

"Ehh, you love me." She looks up at him with a teasing look and a cheeky grin before catching herself. "I mean—”

Eyes never leaving hers, Sasuke takes Sakura’s hand and puts it over his chest where his heart beats for her, hoping it’s enough for her to know even when he can’t find the words and the courage to say them yet.

I do. With all my heart and soul and everything that I am in my wretchedness, I do love you.

[igotanidea]

Teachable student : J.T x fem!reader

Summary: The idea for the story was here.

Warnings: SMUT MINORS DNI!, insecurities, sex talk, mentions of trauma

special thanks go to @gone-batty-fics, @lightwing-s, @elimonia @geekynerdfinallyhada-name and @dolliezxo for giving me a piece of their mind on the matter :D

***

„I’m sorry” he whispered, being at the verge of tears. Jason and Y/N were tangled in between the sheets their naked bodies pressed closed together but the situation they found themselves in was far from intimate and blissful.

He was trying. He really was trying to control himself this time. To hold his own excitement back, to take care of her first, but he just couldn’t. He came early without taking her pleasure into any consideration. He simply couldn’t please her. And now, he was lying on his back, completely naked, embarrassed, ashamed, unable to even glance at his unsatisfied girlfriend, who, despite everything, put her head on his chest in a trusting, loving motion.

Jason literally felt like crying, but settled on staring at the ceiling, his body turning numb. This was not how it was supposed to go. Not this time.

“I’m sorry” he repeated, hiding his face in hands to cover that stupid reddened cheeks and teary eyes.

“Hey…..” she soothed him, tracing gentle patterns all over his chest, careful not to prickle the autopsy scar “It’s ok, Jaybrid. I’m ok. You’re ok. It’s all fine.”

“The hell it is!” He yelled and the sudden movement made his chest rise and Y/N jumped with it “It’s not” he said again sighing deeply, a bit calmer, but still sad “I’m.. I’m supposed to…..”

“You’re not supposed to anything, Jace” she propped herself on the elbow and cupped his cheek and he immediately leaned into her  touch “if I can make you feel this good, it’s a compliment for me, truly.” Her smile could literally light up the whole room, and Jason was sure he did not deserve her. Her love, her care, her attention “I love you, Jay. Besides, it’s not like it happened the first….”

“WHAT?!” Now he jolted up, eyeing her with the most hurt gaze imaginable.

“Fuck….” She hissed, cursing her stupid big mouth.

“You’ve never….? I’ve never…..? Like…. never?”  he stuttered “Holy fuck…..” Jason broke free of her touch and sat on the edge of the bed, his back to her, shoulders slouched.

“Jason…..” her voice broke a little as she tried to come closer to him. “Please….” Her warm hand landed on his shoulder from behind, massaging the tensed muscles here and he shuddered under that simple gesture.

“I’m a fuckup.” He mumbled, not turning around to face her. He just couldn’t.

“No, you’re not.”

“Fuck! Of course I am!” he spun around, making her hand drop, eyeing her with a mix of fury, desperation and animal hunger. How was it even possible that he always wanted her, was always hard for her, yet never could make her come. HOW?! “Princess, I am a failure.”

“That is bullshit!”

“Really?” he smiled sadly “Bet it never happened to Grayson.”

“Jason.” she sighed “I don’t give a fuck about Dick. I don’t even give a fuck about orgasm, all right? I care about you.”

“And I let you down. Fuck, I’m used to hating myself on so many levels, but this? This is a whole new one. I don’t think I can ever recover from it.”

“You are being awfully dramatic now.”

“Am I?” he scoffed “Just because I want to make you feel good?”

“You do, Jason. I promise I do feel good with you. Sex is not the only thing….”

“But it’s important. How can I know you….. you’re not gonna leave me because I…. because I can’t…..”

“Stop it, Jace. I’m serious, stop it now. Just come here” she patted a spot next to her, motioning him to lay down “I know how hard it is for you, and I want you to know I’m glad you open up to me. I’m not leaving, all right? Not now, not ever. We can work through this. But don’t  close up on me. Don’t get lost in that head of yours. You hear me?” he muttered something incoherent, but it was enough. “Good. Now, just hold me like this” she snuggled closer to him and felt his arms wrap around her. “I gotta get to work soon.”

***

It’s been a hell of a strange day at work. Somewhere around nine she got a first text from Jason.

J: How are you feeling?

Y/N: Exhausted. It’s a hectic day. Too much to do.

J: That is not what I meant.

Y/N: Are we back on this whole sex thing again?

J: I told you. I can never get over it.

Y/N: And I told you it’s ok.

J: Y/n, baby, I am so sorry.

Y/N: Jason, seriously, stop it. 

J: I’m sorry…… I won’t bother you anymore.

Y/N: That’s not what I meant!

               Read

A couple hours later, all the workers in the office noticed a courier, walking through, carrying the biggest lilac bouquet anyone ever seen.

“Miss Y/N Y/L/N?” the guy asked and Y/n raised her shaking hand. What was happening.

“That’s one for you. Where should I put the rest?”

“The…. The rest?”

“Yes. I got a whole van filled with flowers for you.”

“But….  But…..”

“I would read the scribble if I were you.”

“Oh, yes, right!” her eyes went wide as she reached for the piece of paper hidden between the flowers.

I know it does not make me less guilty, but hopefully this will make you smile today.

“A secret admirer?” one of her work friends peeked behind Y/N shoulder and the girl quickly covered the sentence

“more like not-so-secret , self-conscious boyfriend.”

“ Oh, that is just so cute!” the other girl, inhaled the lilac “if you don’t want them I’ll take it. I have no idea what he did to try to make up for it in such way, but …..”

“that’s the whole point” Y/N sighed “he did absolutely nothing wrong.

***

Those little signs of affection and apologies followed Y/N for the whole day and she quickly realized that there was only one way to make Jason feel better. On the way from work she dropped by in a very specific shop and bought  a little thing for the evening. Hopefully this will do the trick.

Luckily, when she entered the apartment Jason was nowhere in sight so she had some time for a quick preparation.

***

This day was a shit, to say the least. Despite all her assurances and smiles and jokes, he felt like a scumbag. What kind of man does that to his girl. That, in this case, being leaving her high and dry. He tried everything to make up for it, but still felt the regret and shame burning inside. What was even worse, now that he learned he failed every time they had sex, trauma was heading his way with a speed of light. He was starting to get worried that getting intimate with Y/n would turn to be impossible with the knowledge he had.

For the last hour he was walking around the streets, kicking every stone on his way, throwing glances left and right, acting like a Red hood without a helmet, rather than like Jason Todd. But at some point, he had to go back to apartment. It was slowly getting dark, and he did not want Y/n to worry about him more than usual. She knew about his night work, but the ritual was to at least kiss her goodbye and promise to come back to her in one piece. He just couldn’t skip that. Not after everything.

The second he opened the door, he knew something was off. Maybe it was the darkness or silence or that weird smell, but his instincts made him shut up, instead of calling her name and walk silently into the bedroom.

He did not expect the view that came into his eyes.

Y/N was spread in the middle of the bed in some new red, lacy lingerie that covered barely anything, surrounded only by the scented candles, the light coming from them making her look like a sex goddess. Jason’s felt his mouth going bone dry and his pants getting tight.

“Jason…..” she moaned tentatively, making him shiver in lust “what took you so long?” fuck, she knew exactly what she was doing to him now, turning him hot and needy.

“I….. I….”

“Come to me.” She order and almost like hypnotized he approached the bed, sitting on the edge “Closer, you silly one. I need you.” she reached toward him and he hovered over her body, lips almost touching

“Baby….” He whimpered “I don’t…. I can’t …..”

“Shh….” She put a finger on his mouth “I’ll teach you. I’ll show you everything you need to know, but first….” her fingers started playing with the hem of his jacket and t-shirt “take it off for me baby. You are seriously overdressed.”

Jason wasn’t even trying to hide his desperation when he discarded all his clothes except the boxers. Needing her, wanting her, craving her, ready to do everything  she would ask of him. His single purpose to please her, to love her right.

“what do you need me to do?” he whispered, his breath fanning over her face and she smiled mischievously.

“Kiss me.” She commanded and damn, he followed her lead, grabbing her waist, touching that smooth skin, playing with the string of her red underwear, causing her body to melt into him immediately. Her hands travelled to his back, one tangling in his hair, the other resting on his shoulder blade, pressing him closer. “Now, lower, baby.” He pushed his head towards her neck and collarbone whimpering in pleasure his soft lips caused her “Mhmmm, so good, Jace, you’re doing so good.”

“Am I?” he reached behind her back, searching for the zip of the bra but she just chuckled

‘Not there, baby.” Her fingers intertwined with his, guiding them forwards.

“Oh, you little tease….” He whined realizing her little game, exposing her breast and nibbling on the soft skin, causing shiver all over her body, her nipples pebbling instantly.

“Jason….” she arched her back to him “Please….”

“Tell me what you need, princess. I’ll do anything you want, I want to make you feel good, just tell me how.”

“Lower…..” once again she pushed his head towards her belly “mhmm, lower.”

“Here?” he brushed his index finger on her panty line.

“Take those off.” She whined “Now!”

“Whatever you command me, princess.”  He didn’t just take them off. He completely ripped them apart.

“HEY! Those were expensive.”

“I’ll buy a dozen new of those. Now tell me what to do next, and you better do it fast, cause I … I….” he stuttered, afraid he was going to fail her again, bad memories creeping in his mind.

“No.” she cupped his face, making him look at her “don’t think about it, focus on me.”

“Believe me, I do.”

“Good. Now let me take some action.” One of her hands travelled down his chest and stomach, reaching for the button of his jeans, slowly unzipping them and freeing his throbbing cock. “You’re so big and strong and all mine.” She raised her body a bit to connect their lips stroking him a couple times.

“Baby, please, I won’t hold it if….” He whined.

“You will, Jason. You will hold it, for me. I’m sure you can do it, baby. For me?”

“Yes. Yes, please, just let me inside.” He closed his eyes, focusing on not cumming too soon.

“I need you.” she spread her legs wider invitingly “come home to me. Come now.”

She was so wet it only took one swift motion for him to bottom out making them both moan at the feeling. No matter the result, Jason was so afraid of, being so close together always felt good, emotional and touching. Fuck, he wanted her so much. Wanted to make her feel good, but instead of moving just froze in place, completely paralyzed.

“Jay….” She whimpered under him, awaiting any action “Please, move.”

“I….”

“I’ll guide you.” she whispered, grabbing onto his shoulders and bucking her hips into him, slowly at first, just to make sure of the right angle, helping him out for a moment before he caught up on what and where she needed. “Yes, yes, mhm, that’s it. Just like that. AH!” her hips raised involuntarily when he hit her g-spot “That;s it, Jason! There you, baby” she clawed on his back, leaving red marks and that stinging pain only spur him on more.

“Does this feel good?” he groaned kissing her hungrily, emotions and sensations overflowing him “Am I making you feel good?”

“Ah, yes, yes! So good! Jace…..”

“Better than before?” some crazy instinct made him put his hand on her clit and started stimulating her there, feeling her body slowly give in to everything he was doing.

“Better than ever.”

“Are you close?” he picked up the pace, feeling his own orgasm coming, a bit of fear showing up in his head “please, tell me you are close.” His thrust became harsher, faster, deeper, hitting her most sensitive part every time, her answers limited to loud moans of his name and those sexy whimpers as she started moving with him.

“Oh.. Jace… I ….” She didn’t even get to finish when her orgasm hit her like a tidal wave with the force neither Jason nor her were expecting. Maybe it was the first time charm or maybe he was just that good and just discovered all his potential but Y/N was completely spend, clinging onto him, her hands and legs wrapping around his toned body, not ready to let him go yet.  Not until he rode her high with her. Not until she felt him coming inside her.  Which was not really long after.

“Jason….” she panted when they both came down “God, thank you.”

“No, thank you baby.’ He kissed her deeply, lovingly, hair plastered to his forehead, eyes glistening with happiness “did I really made you come? Was I good?”

“The best. It turns out you are a very teachable student.” She smiled

“I had the best teacher.”

“Oh, babe, I have a lot more to teach you.”

“Do you want to start those private lessons now?” he smirked and she could not find any reason why not.

[mykoreanlove]

Unsent, Unheard 💌

“Hyunjin, are you coming out with us tonight?” The dark-haired boy shook his head impatiently. “Can’t. Got plans”, he mumbled. “Plans? I thought you didn’t have a date for Valentine’s?”, his friend asked confused. “It’s not a date per-se…” “Then what is it?”, his friend pressed for an answer.

Redemption. Salvation. A return to … wholeness?

“You’ll see”, he shrugged it off and left the room. Hyunjin came up with this plan weeks ago after reflecting on all his wrong doings in the past. Nearly all of them were about love and relationships, so he figured today would be the perfect night to ask for forgiveness. To clean his slate and ease his soul. He locked the room and lit some candles, easing into the mood of facing his misdeeds. He took out the luxurious parchment he had once bought in Europe and started writing to each girl he had ever wronged.

Dear y/n, I am sorry I was your first kiss. I’m sure this horrendous moment is burnt into your soul, just like my guilt about it is. I was so into you, so in love with you. I couldn’t wait for it to finally happen and then it did. I drank so much to gather the courage to press my lips onto your pink, shiny ones. And when I did? Marvelous. Sweet. Innocent. But I was also very drunk and once you turned around to talk to your best friend, I moved on to the other girl. I don’t even remember what it felt like kissing her; I don’t even remember her name.   But I remember the look in your eyes when you came back and saw me kissing her. Your pained eyes, which were covered in thick tears haunted me for a long time. Back then I probably didn’t apologize the right way because I was too stubborn, too prideful. When in fact I was ashamed. Of what I did. Of me. I don’t ask for your forgiveness, but I want you to know that I am sorry. I am sorry I ruined your first kiss like that.

Hyunjin remembered the aftermath of his actions. He started dating the other girl, pretending not to want you anymore even though you were occupying his every thought. Your peers pitied you, saw you as a rejected loser whereas he was the one all the girls wanted to be with. He let out a deep breath and grabbed the next sheet of paper.

Dear y/n, I am sorry I was your first fuck. I know it was a special moment for you, one that would never come back. And I ruined it. I remember you shaking from nerves. Did I make you that uncomfortable? Was it because of my mean jokes? Was it me teasing you because no one had touched you before? I’m sorry I took your virginity without thinking of you. How you felt, how it felt. Were you in pain? I’m sorry I never made sure you had a good time. I’m sorry I teased you for bleeding all over my sheets. I’m sorry I fucked you again hours later, while you were wincing from pain. I wasn’t thinking straight. Or at all. I am sorry I made your first time so miserable, that was not the kind of unforgettable I was going for. I hope I didn’t ruin sex for you forever, I hope you can enjoy it to the fullest now.

He sighed deeply, as all of this was coming back to him. Images of him bragging about taking your cherry flooded his mind. Everyone was applauding him like he won a scholarship, when all he did was stick his dick into you in the most mediocre way. He was treated like a winner, whereas you got treated as someone that was, well, fucked. Heavy emotions started to rise in his chest, remnants of the past he had hidden away carefully. But now, it was time to unpack them all.

Dear y/n, I am sorry I was your first real boyfriend. Truth is, I loved you. I truly did. But I couldn’t love you the way you deserved to be loved. Fully, deeply, soundly. I wasn’t as attentive or caring. In fact, I was selfish. All I ever thought about was myself, all you ever thought about was adapting to me. I never cared about your feelings that much but I’m sure you already knew that. I am sorry I put you through all those challenging situations. Like being best friends with my ex, my first great love. I’m sorry I called her when I got good news instead of calling you. I’m sorry I left you on your birthday to go home and see her. I’m sorry I invited her to my birthday even though you told me not to. I saw you struggle; I saw your tears. But I didn’t care. And when it was all too much I decided to leave, like a coward. I’m not sure whether you remember the exact words I sent you in that breakup text, but I do. They are imprinted in my brain. I didn’t have the courage to face you – after everything I put you through, I wasn’t even able to give you a proper goodbye. Or an explanation. I am sorry I was your first great love. I am sorry I couldn’t live up to your expectations.

Hyunjin remembered how your dad had reached out to him, asking if he could at least talk to his daughter. According to him you had been so heartbroken, not eating for days, not smiling for weeks, not living for months. But he chose to ignore those requests. He couldn't handle them. Hyunjin wiped away a tear. He didn’t think it would bring up so many memories, each one more daunting than the one before. He never thought about his actions, nor the consequences as it was too painful. Too shameful. But now he decided it was time to. If he wanted to be better and deserving of true love, he had to own his mistakes. One by one.

Dear y/n, I am sorry I was your first real one-night stand. Or rather, two night-stand? When I came to your city for work, I was a lost cause. A soul astray. Someone that gave up on love and only indulged in pleasure. That’s exactly what I used you for. Notice my words? Used. I am sorry I treated you like that. I only needed you for sex. I really liked you, though, and everything I shared with you was true. The story about my dead grandmother’s spirit? True. The story about how I got cheated on? True. My compliments about your unique beauty? True. Me thinking about a future with you? True. But that all fell into pieces as I realized that I was nowhere near you, not even close to your level. You deserve someone that is open to love, not someone like me that’s rotten. And that’s why I pushed you away. I used you for my ego, only to push you away like your feelings didn’t matter. They didn’t. That’s why I blocked you without a word. Once again, I behaved like a coward. I am deeply sorry that I got your hopes up only to crush them like childish dreams. I am sorry I evoked a love within you that I never intended to keep.

Memories of you reaching out to him on other platforms flooded his mind. You begged him for an explanation, you begged to see him one more time. Back then he continued to block you there, too. Hyunjin sighed heavily. Those were only four letters – four memories in which he acted like the biggest dickhead. He felt horrible. Facing these things felt atrocious. “Nah, fuck this”, he mumbled annoyed as he pushed the letters into his wooden drawer, leaving it half-open whilst exiting. “I never intended to send them anyways”, he mumbled as he grabbed his coat and rushed past his roommate, eager to flee from his mistakes. “Where are you-?”, Jeongin asked confused. He saw his friend leave in a hurry and wondered what had gotten into him. Curiously, he entered Hyunjin’s room and scanned the premise – there was nothing suspicious apart from the very expensive stationery and ink on his desk. “Was he writing a letter?”, he mumbled as he rummaged through Hyunjin’s stuff. Jeongin slammed his knee on the half-opened drawer and winced in pain, cursing Hyunjin for being so reckless with his things. “Wait, what are those?” He took out the letters and scanned through them, eyes widening in shock as he realized what he had found…

Happy valentine's - I am eternally grateful for everyone reading and sharing ❤️

[save-the-villainous-cat]

I have voluntarily thrown myself into the horny jail. Therefore I am here to request for a severely hurt villain who shows up at the hero's doorstep nearly passed out. Then villain wakes up a few hours later with hero flirting with them but the villain just does not care because they've been wanting this since forever. And then they have a big ol' make out scene-

“What are you doing?” The villain’s eyes were closed but the smell of hot coffee and cooked bacon wasn’t something they could ignore.

“I made you breakfast,” the hero answered softly and the villain opened their eyes laboriously to find a sleepy hero sitting and yawning on the bed.

“Hotel service?” The villain smiled and closed their eyes again, already exhausted from opening them. Everything hurt, not as bad as yesterday, but every muscle, every bone, every tendon tugged them apart.

God, it was like their whole body wanted to tear at them until there was nothing left.

“Pff, dream on.” The villain looked at them again and to their surprise, the hero laid down next to them, head on their pillows. As their messy hair fell over the bedding, the villain was almost certain an angel was getting comfortable next to them. Something, the villain didn’t know what but something about the hero killed their anxiety. The villain was an anxious person, always had been. Restless and a stranger to peace. However, the hero made them believe in something very close to serenity. “How are you feeling?”

“Drained,” the villain said. They studied the hero’s face as so often. Why them? Always them.

As if the hero was the only language the villain could speak. As if the hero was the answer to everything. As if the hero was the only thing that kept them alive.

Somehow, that was the truth.

“Ugh, poor villain. Thank god I know how to take care of you.” The hero stretched out their arm and let their fingers go over the villain’s cheek. It was impossibly soft. “Always getting in trouble.”

“You’re always there to take care of me, so I’m not worried.” Sometimes, the villain would lose themselves in their anger and anxiousness, smashing things and freaking out like a child. It made them feel weak and they were ashamed of it. But sometimes, they’d think of their hero, would think about how simple they made their life look. That worked. That made everything easier.

“I could take care of you in many different ways,” the hero said suddenly and grinned.

Christ. The villain wanted to forget about the pain. They wanted to forget about last night. But that wasn’t easy when just existing was enough to hurt. When everything had to be considered, when everything was a threat, an attack, a possible enemy.

“Could you?” they asked, sitting up in bed. Apparently, the hero hadn’t quite realised what they’d said. Their eyes widened and just like the villain, they sat up in bed.

“Oh my god, sorry, that was so inappropriate.” All the villain could focus on was the blush and the gentle cracking of the hero’s voice. They were embarrassed and the villain couldn’t help but find it intriguing. “I wasn’t thinking, I’m sorry.”

“I don’t care,” the villain whispered, much too distracted by the hero’s lips. It astonished them how sweet the hero was. How they had stitched the villain’s wounds, made them breakfast. Their soft touches and their kind words…the villain certainly didn’t deserve it and yet, the hero gave it to them.

“What?”

“I don’t care. Get on top.” And then, softly. “Please. Please, sit on my hips.”

For a moment, the hero didn’t move and the villain was truly afraid they’d asked for too much, had demanded without thinking about it. But in the next moment, the hero got up and sat down, looking at their stomach and doing their best not to touch any wounds.

“Are you alright?” the hero asked. They were clearly worried but the villain couldn’t give them a satisfying answer. All they could feel was their heart pumping in their chest as the hero’s hand slipped under their shirt.

“Yes, I’m…actually, I don’t know. I’ve never been this close to dying. I feel like all I do is waste my life.” And I’m trying to ignore the only good thing in it. I’m trying to distance myself from you because that is easier, because it hurts but it hurts more to lose you.

The villain didn’t say that, they were too much of a coward.

“Hey, it’s alright.” The hero put a hand on the villain’s chest, right where their heart was, and the many thoughts liquified, became unimportant and made the villain calm down. “You survived. We can take it easy. Nothing needs to be rushed. All we have to focus on is healing right now, understood?”

The villain nodded.

What if this was it?

What if the hero was their person? What if they were made for each other? And what if the villain continued to avoid them? Would they grow resentful? Would they continue to treat them kindly? Would they turn against each other again?

The villain swallowed. Why on earth did the hero make it so easy to feel loved?

“Can I kiss you?”

“Huh?” The villain looked at them, more than a little shocked.

“You look stressed and every time I touch you, your muscles relax. So, can I please kiss you? I feel like you need to stop thinking for a second.”

“Yes.” The villain didn’t hesitate. “Yes, please do that.”

Please save me from myself.

And the hero did exactly that. They saved them very softly, every day a little more.