#i can write angst all day but tender shit??

[amomentsescape]

Hey hey! You are so amazing and I love your work so much 💜💜💜

I need a bit of angst in my life so can I please request Thomas Hewitt x reader where they got into a heated argument and Thomas signs something he regrets. With tears in their eyes, reader storms out of the house and does not return for hours. How would he react? What would he be thinking when he sees the tears running down the cheeks of his partner? What would he think when they don’t come back after hours had passed?

What Should Have Been Said

Thomas Hewitt x Reader

Summary: After becoming worried about Reader's safety, Thomas says some things he doesn't mean.

Warnings: Angst, cussing

Word Count: 1,436

Part II

A/N: Thank you so much! Writing this was definitely pretty sad on my part. I hope you enjoy the angst!

It was just a big misunderstanding. But that's how these arguments normally started, right?

As someone who wasn't able to verbally communicate his thoughts and feelings well, things were inevitably going to become misconstrued at some point. But with the strong Texas heat burning through his skin like fire, everything seemed to be fueling his present frustrations.

He had told you earlier to stay inside while he tended to the outside chores. The sun was going to be unbearable that day, and with all the sharp tools lying around, he didn't want to risk you getting hurt.

So you listened to him for a while, letting him work alone. But after several hours of not seeing him, you became worried.

He hadn't even stopped in for a quick drink of water or an update to let you know he was okay.

You finally decided that sitting around and letting these worries stew wasn't benefitting anyone. So carefully, you got up, grabbed a glass of ice water, and slipped on some shoes, heading out into the blazing sun.

A quick trip around the house told you that he wasn't there which meant that he could only be in one other place: the shed.

You snuck in carefully and were immediately hit with the sound of metal banging against wood.

You were happy to see that he wasn't spending all of his time in the sun, but the shed almost felt worse than the outdoors did. There wasn't enough ventilation in here, making the temperature feel much hotter than you deemed safe.

You rounded the corner quickly, the glass of water in your hand already dripping from the condensation.

However, when you walked past the shelf, you didn't notice the meat hook poking out from the side.

It immediately caught your arm and cut through your skin with ease, causing you to drop the glass of water on instinct and hiss.

The shattering of glass cause Thomas to spin around quickly, a sharp butcher's knife being raised up on reflex in case he saw someone unwelcomed.

And in that moment, he would have much rather seen a lowly stranger in that shed than you hunched over with a small pool of blood beginning to form near your foot.

He immediately dropped the knife and rushed over, grabbing your arm gently but forcefully, looking at how bad the wound was.

"I'm okay, Thom-"

He quickly cut you off by picking you up, taking you straight back to the house.

The next few minutes were filled with an uncomfortable silence, him working hard at cleaning your wound and getting it wrapped up.

It wasn't like Thomas to act like this. His brows were furrowed and his touch was a bit rougher than normal.

In the past, a situation like this would have evoked a tender response from him, his whole being dedicating itself to doting on you and making sure you felt safe.

However, this time the air was filled with a feeling of uncomfortableness. His gaze hadn't even attempted to meet yours since he brought you inside from the shed.

The moment he finished patching you up, he was already heading for the door, not giving you a single ounce of acknowledgement.

This not only disappointed you, but it also ignited a slight irritation in your chest. You were just badly injured, and he didn't even seem to give a shit?

"Thomas," you said a bit more sternly than you intended.

He paused in the doorway, his head slightly tilting towards you in a way to show that he was listening.

You swallowed roughly. "You haven't said a single thing to me the past 30 minutes. What's wrong?"

He turned his head back to the floor, not giving you the reaction you were hoping for. The pain in your arm mixed with the uncomfortable feeling of sweat dripping down your body seemed to only fuel the anger that was beginning to build. Why was he ignoring you?

"Are you mad?" you tried.

The tone of your voice made it sound more accusatory than concerned, but you didn't really care in that moment. You were hurt both physically and emotionally at Thomas's nonchalance, and he deserved to know that.

He finally turned all the way to face you at this, the deep creases in his forehead revealing that something was definitely bothering him, and your questioning only seemed to provoke it more.

But with a quick response, Thomas signed, "I'm fine."

You almost scoffed at this.

"Well, that's good for you. But you haven't showed a single sign of caring towards me since I went to see you. What's going on?"

He just stood there breathing heavily.

That anger began to rise even more.

"Answer me."

He irritably began signing to you again, explaining that you shouldn't have gone outside when he explicitly told you not to.

You felt your face burn at how blunt he was being towards you. This wasn't like him; he never got this angry with you.

"I was worried," you started. You could already feel that familiar burn in your throat. "You were out there for hours, and I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

"And I told you to stay inside," he signed.

He was deflecting, and this only seemed to piss you off more. You were there telling him how you were only wanting to look after him, and yet that seemed to make him angry at you? Why? What's so bad about looking out for your partner?

Your eyes were beginning to burn, and you could tell that this anger was beginning to evolve into anguish.

"I just wanted to take care of you!" you almost yelled.

And in an instant, Thomas was already signing back, "I don't need you."

And that's what did it.

The tears spilled over, and your were choking on your own sobs at this response.

One of the first things he ever said to you was that he needed you. Even before the love confession or the asking to be yours, he was telling you that all he would ever need in this life was you.

Seeing him say these words to you broke your heart more than any other rejection could have done.

With blurry eyes and a pained expression, you rushed out the back door, leaving Thomas standing there in confusion and utter shock.

By the time he gathered his bearings and ran after you, he was met with an empty yard, no sight of you within reach.

He crumbled to the ground at the revelation that you were gone. What had he done?

If only he could have expressed to you the truth behind his worries.

He told you to stay inside for your safety. He was angry not because of you, but because you got hurt. This was the most severe injury you had sustained while being with him, and that severity is what caused him to shut down so quickly.

Seeing all that blood and such a deep wound made him realize that anything could happen to you. He could lose you in an instant, and that revelation cause him to lock up.

He could never be angry at you, he was just terrified of losing you.

And he didn't mean what he said. God, he desperately needed you more than anything in his life. But he was willing to say just about anything to keep you safe in that moment. But his worried mind clouded over that fact that he was only pushing you away.

He couldn't get the image of your tear-stained face out of his mind. He had never seen you so broken before, and he certainly would have never wanted to be the reason you felt that way.

He continued to stay kneeled to that spot for minutes and then hours. He refused to move.

You were going to come back, you had to. He couldn't do this without you.

But once the sun began to set, and the moon shone it's light down on him, he felt nothing but despair.

What if something had happened to you? Should he have gone and searched for you despite not knowing which direction you went? Would you ever be able to find your way back to him if you changed your mind?

He fully collapsed to the ground at these worries. The dirt and dust below him turned to spots of mud as the moisture from his own tears collided with the soil.

He signed to whatever Gods had to be out there watching him, "please, come back."

[heartsofminds]

i'm calling just to hear you scream - part i

"She’s tried to be positive. She’s tried to be kind. She’s trying to be the peacekeeper, but all of that falls out the window when her brother is bitching out everything that fucking blinks and breathes and Richie has slung a sledgehammer into the wrong wall that needed to be knocked down." or Natalie gets fed the fuck up and hires a hospitality attorney before everything else turns to shit. 

a/n: i couldn't help myself at all and had to bite by trying my hand at writing for carmy! what can i say? i love men with trauma that need to be cuddled like newborns! please enjoy the beginning of enemies to lovers to enemies back to lovers fic with a workaholic chef and an overly empathetic attorney. angst is my brand! i hope you enjoy!

Being the peacekeeper of your family is never something anyone ever sets out to be. 

One day you’re normal and live blissfully with the rose-colored lenses of naivety tinting life shades of bashful blush and magnetic magenta. The next day you’re diffusing a spitfire scarlett dispute between your anxiety-ridden mother and impulsively crude older brother while simultaneously taming the balloon of battered blue tears your baby brother sheds who observes from the corner; scared yet somehow unaware of the emotions sucking the oxygen out of everyone. 

At first, it feels good. It feels nice to be appreciated and turned to in moments of darkness. Helpfulness defines your livelihood and gives you the nameplate of the gold star child who can never do any wrong and always finds a solution. But then you realize that is what you ever really are, and you’re both hated for your inability to let things sour and for always having an answer despite uncertainty plaguing every course of action. 

Being the peacekeeper of your family is both a Medal of Honor, worn with pride and graciousness, yet a bullet wound wielded by shame and agony. The tenderness and hurt push on it until you can hardly stand it; half expecting pus to be seeping out in pale yellow heaps because the pain feels so real. 

There are no exit wounds. There are no breaks. There is no humanity or personal identity or room for self-discovery. 

A peacemaker is all you will be and all you will ever accomplish, and you’ll never say it out loud but it’s fucking exhausting. 

Being the peacemaker is something Natalie Berzatto never fucking asked for, yet here she is, playing project manager to her haywire (and sometimes freakishly obsessive) baby brother’s blind-eyed throw of a dart that manifested itself in asking Uncle Jimmy for an eight hundred thousand dollar loan with the promise to have it completely paid back within eight months. 

She’s not one to rain on a parade, but it’s hard to keep marching when your entire life has been putting out the fires of overly ambitious business ventures during unmedicated fits of mania. She had seen it with their dad, with their mom, and with Mikey. Carmen is the last needle needed to complete the fucked up haystack that engulfs their family. 

She’s tried to be positive. She’s tried to be kind. She’s trying to be the peacekeeper, but all of that falls out the window when her brother is bitching out everything that fucking blinks and breathes and Richie has slung a sledgehammer into the wrong wall that needed to be knocked down. 

Natalie has never thought of looking into Botox until now; when her face is set in a permanent scowl and her resting heart rate nears triple digits. Pete had been telling her for the past three weeks that she was doing amazing; that this was an impossible task to complete stress-free, and that the stress was “good” because it meant that she cared. 

Sometimes she doesn’t realize that not everyone has a mom who drives the fucking car through the den during Christmas Eve dinner nor does everyone have a mom who moves all the furniture to the backyard before having to leave for their oldest brother’s high school graduation. Not everyone has an older brother who blows his head off and doesn’t leave a note and not everyone has a younger brother who would lose his head if it wasn’t attached to his body and had his mouth that was spewing hurtful insults by the dozen.

Stress does not mean that you care. Stress means that your eyes are staring at the fucking Sun trying to see where the other shoe is getting ready to drop because there’s always another disappointment and always another phone call to make to the pharmacy for more SSRIs. 

Needless to say, Richie calling Neil “lard ass” on an antagonizing loop after he had pointed out the wrong wall was being destroyed was the last straw. Well, that and the fact she found a new patch of white hairs colonizing on her hairline the other morning. Constant shouted insults, gray hairs popping up overnight, and the colossal secret of a new infant making its arrival into the chaos in October weigh heavy on her. And she absolutely cannot afford to lose her cool and become the kind of bitchy and mean she knows that she’s capable of. 

Your phone number sits inside the LED-lit text thread of a friend she had known in high school. Becca was the older sister of Claire Cantor whom her little brother may have or may have not had a pathetic crush on years ago when he was in high school. 

She feels kind of grimy doing what she is; offering up information about Carmy to Becca to give to Claire who apparently thought her baby brother was the bee's knees (which, if she saw the way he was acting right now, Natalie knows she would run the other way). She doesn’t even think Carmen has the capability to think of anything outside of the restaurant and the menu and how royally fucked they all are. 

She can feel the dull ache of guilt in her chest that comes with knowing how unlikely anything is to come from this, and how wrong she is for pretending like her telling Becca where he grocery shops or if he has a girlfriend or if he was currently looking for someone to date would somehow tether Claire to a world where her and Carmen are a “thing” (because apparently “boyfriend and girlfriend” is too permanent of a word for Chicagoan twenty-somethings to use). 

But she’s doing it for the sake of everyone else! It can’t possibly be as gross and low-lived as she feels it is. 

Becca Cantor is insufferable and can only be taken in small doses, but she’s also a big wig junior partner at one of the most lucrative law firms in Chicago. Natalie hates blowing smoke up people’s asses who don’t deserve it (and in Becca’s case certainly don’t need it), but she desperately needs help and knows that she needs to figure something out before she fucks herself in such a deep hole that she couldn’t attempt to unfuck herself if she tried. 

Your official title is “junior associate” and you had been working at Becca’s firm following your graduation from Northwestern’s Pritzker School of Law a couple of years prior. Becca had said you were amazing; freakishly smart, funny, and hardworking. She also mentioned that you were the best kind of junior associate; the ones that know when to shut the fuck up and when to get the fuck out of the way. The addition added before the text conversation ended was how you were looking to get your foot into the hospitality legal field, and how you were willing to do anything concerning that for free fucking ninety-nine if it meant you would have some experience. 

Natalie sits with her lower lip worried between her teeth and her hands one tick shy of shaking. Her heart beats erratically despite lounging on her couch with the lights off and a re-run of That 70’s Show playing softly in the background. She makes a mental note to bring up the high resting heart rate at her next OB appointment. 

It’s because she’s pregnant. Yes. It has to be because she’s pregnant. 

She shouldn’t be nervous. It would be absolutely ridiculous to be nervous. She’s not nervous. 

She already ran the idea past Sydney and she agreed that they absolutely needed a lawyer in their back pocket. With all of the tax records fucked beyond belief, new workers being hired who actually knew their worth and wouldn’t tolerate not having an actual employement contract, and the lack of permits under their belt currently, a lawyer wouldn’t hurt if getting one turned out to not be as helpful as anticipated. Besides, Becca had said you were doing it for them pro bono which in turn meant free fucking nintey-nine. 

But Natalie had lied to Carmen about how much some fluted cocktail glasses cost to ensure that they purchased the cheaper ones so that she could run the numbers and figure out a way to put you on the payroll. Pro bono or not, you’re doing them a huge favor and part of her can’t put the peacekeeping to rest. 

Her fingers type and untype a novel of characters. She can’t seem to relax her mind enough to articulate what exactly she wants to say. She has one shot to not scare you off and not lose her mind in a fit of fiery rage and not have everything turn to shit and it be her fault. She has to be perfect. 

Fuck. She is nervous. 

Hi! This is Natalie Berzatto. I’m one of Becca Cantor’s friends and she referred me to you. I’m working on opening a restaurant and would like for you to swing by and discuss some things about it if you’re open to that! Please let me know. I’m looking forward to hearing back from you soon! 

Nat’s finger hits the blue “send” arrow in the rounded box of her phone screen the same time she pushes a gag to the back of her throat. She used to work at a marketing firm for Christ’s sake. Cold contacting people isn’t anything new and she’s usually not one to shy away from reaching out to anyone in her personal life first. But she can’t help the fact that she’s never been able to swallow the artificial bubble gummy niceness of reaching out to a complete stranger for the first time. She feels stupid and knows that she sounds even stupider but tries not to think about it. 

Besides, keeping everything together is never easy and she knows that she would be selfish for letting her discomfort prevent her from doing what she knows is best. 

Her breath is stuck in her chest as she eyes the open text thread to an unsaved number; her blue text message staring at her menacingly and breeding contempt as the seconds pass. She gasps loudly whenever she sees the gray bubbles pop up beneath it. Pete pokes his head into the living room with a tea towel in his hand and one of the ceramic plates they had eaten dinner on in the other. His eyes wear concern but he knows better than to confront his wife. Natalie was anything but sugary sweet when she was stressed and the influx of hormones as of late have not been helping. 

You see the message as soon as Natalie sends it. The unknown “312” number finds its way into your notifications and your eyes read over the words in a frenzy. You know that you’re intelligent. You graduated from law school for fuck’s sake, but for some reason you absolutely cannot comprehend the text you’re reading. 

Firstly, you were sure Becca hated your fucking guts. She was a junior partner that everyone hated being assigned to because she pushed all her work onto the associates and nothing ever seemed to be good enough for her. Part of the reason you had to take work home tonight was because she sent you an email with enough passive-aggressive undertone to know that these edits needed to be done now; never mind the fact that the time she took to type out the seven and a half page report about the original report probably took up so much time that she could’ve done the task herself. But yet you replied kindly and have been working through your brain fog and finger cramps since arriving home at six in the evening five hours ago. 

Secondly, hospitality litigation was absolutely above your pay grade. You had taken one elective course on it during your 2L year and did a two-week internship before the start of 3L simply because one of your friends wanted to go on vacation and needed to find someone to cover for them. You know jack shit about hospitality law and you don’t even know why Becca Cantor, of all fucking people, would be so willing to recommend you when she couldn’t care less if you lived or died. 

But of course, you can’t say no. You can never say no, and if this Natalie person was desperate enough to reach out to you via text at 11 PM on a Wednesday, she definitely needed help and needed it now. Besides, you would tell her that you do not need to be paid and if whatever she needs proves to be way too advanced for you, you can always help her find an attorney that knows what they’re doing.

Right? 

It definitely doesn’t mean that you’ll pull an all-nighter and research every aspect of hospitality law in Illinois that you can get your hands on. . .Or look up every department dealing with food and management regulations in the state. . .Or try and look at precedent cases. Your firm gave you unlimited access to West Law. Might as well use it for something slightly more interesting than trusts, estates, and contracts. 

You’re unusually pensive for something you know you would love to do. The ongoing battle as of late has been the dispute between seeking joy and wading in practicality; happiness or falsified peace? 

You rub your eyes with a roughness that would make your optometrist cringe. You know that staring at your computer screen five hours after your contracted work hours ended was the culprit for your dry eyes, but the hours you need are not going to bill themselves. Getting up to get your eyedrops will have to wait.

Replying to Natalie cannot. 

Your fingers type and untype; the feeling of texting back an unknown number foreign and unnerving. 

Thanks so much for reaching out and thinking of me! I would love to. What dates and times work for you, and where would it be best for us to meet? 

The text stares at you on your phone screen. Why do you sound so. . . corporate? Boring? Infantile.

She could probably tell you don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about at all. The feeling of defeat rises in your throat but you ignore it and hit send instead. You’re trying to be better about that; letting your fear of uncertainty keep you from taking action. You’ve come to realize that the hard part isn’t doing the thing. It’s actually sitting in the aftermath of the “thing” and waiting for the rest of the world to catch up. 

You bite your lip so hard it begins to bleed and throbs with each pulse of watery blood that fills your mouth. The gentle suck you give it to stop the bleeding makes it partially numb. 

Fuck you, Becca. Fuck you, Becca. Fuck you, Becca. 

Natalie chirps when your text illuminates her screen. She gasps and sits up; startling Pete who had settled next to her after finishing the dishes. Her eyes curl up in the same way her lips do. 

Fucking finally. 

The world no longer feels like it’ll fall apart.

[sai-int]

uhhh I'd like to request an angsty one here. we all know trauma has two results. one of which is like you try to fix yourself and not inflict your problems which you faced and the other is...you become worse. I have seen people write Simon as someone who tries to do the former but never seen angsty Simon who can't really be gentle and is always on the edge. like some madman on the verge of explosion from little sanity that holds him. how about husband!simon who can't articulate shit and is just an asshole to his wife.

I'd like to add I'm not glorifying this behaviour but rather study it. Please don't approach the idea if you don't like it ! I don't want anyone to feel uncomfortable to write or read this

hi doll! thanks for the ask :) this was such a blast to write (despite the subject matter), a lot of ethel cain was listened to in order to bring out the feels cw: wife!reader, husband!simon, simon's pov, angst

Simon Riley had never been taught how to love—only how to endure.

He had learned survival through clenched fists and gritted teeth, through hollowed-out silences that sat so deep they became his foundation. He knew how to compartmentalize pain and push through the chaos, but gentleness? Tenderness? That had no place in the battlefield of his mind.

His wife was his sanctuary in theory. Soft and warm warm, trusting. Someone willing to put up with his silences, his coldness, his anger. But Simon? Simon wasn’t the man he wanted to be for her.

He didn’t lash out with fists, no—he was better than the man who raised him. But his words were sharp, honed and deadly, like the knives he used in battle. When he felt the walls closing in, he wielded them with precision.

“You never stop, do you?” His voice would cut through the quiet of the kitchen, bitter and sharp. “Always thinkin' you can fix things. You can’t fix me. Stop tryin'.”

It was cruel, even when he didn’t mean it. He could see the way her shoulders would slump, the way the corners of her lips would frown and twitch like she was searching for a response that wouldn’t trigger another landmine. She never yelled back. She never fought him the way he sometimes wished she would.

And that was the worst part.

Because in the moments after the rage ebbed, when the quiet returned, he hated himself more than anyone else ever could.

He’d sit on the shitty recliner in the living room, head craned to the ceiling, searching for a God he knew didn't exist. He'd replay every harsh word, every time he’d shut her out, every time he saw the light in her eyes dim just a little more. He thought about apologizing, but the words stuck in his throat, heavy and jagged. What good would it do? He’d ruin it all over again the next time the walls closed in.

The irony was that he loved her. Loved her so much it terrified him. And maybe that was the problem. He didn’t know how to hold onto something so good without destroying it. But he never could let go when something's already broken.

So, he sat in silence, waiting for the day she’d finally leave, knowing he wouldn’t blame her when she did.

“Simon, can we talk?”

“Not now,” he doesnt want her to leave.

“Simon, please. I feel like—”

“What you feel is irrelevent. ” She can't go. He turned to her, his eyes dark with exhaustion. “Why do you always push? Just let go.” He won't let her.

Her lips parted, but no words came. She stared at him for a moment, the light dimming behind her irises, before she turned and walked away.

He watched her go, like always, guilt settling in his chest like lead.

Simon Riley stared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror, his hands gripping the sink. The fluorescent light buzzed faintly above, casting harsh shadows over his face. He looked like he was barely holding it together—because he was.

The fight replayed in his mind: her soft voice, his harsh words, the look on her face when she walked away. He dragged a hand down his face, his chest tight with a hatred for himself that festered in his bones like a rot.

As he turned his head slightly, something pink in the trash can caught his eye.

He ignored it at first, turning back to the mirror. But the thought gnawed at him, whispering in the back of his mind to just look, look, until he couldn’t push it aside.

With a frustrated sigh, he crouched down and moved the crumpled tissue on top.

A white stick. Two pink lines.

Simon’s heart stopped. His breath caught in his throat as he stared at it, unmoving.

She was pregnant.

And the rot inside him lingered still. 

mlist

[cheesec4kee]

hi beautiful !! i hope you had a wonderful easter (if you celebrated) and are well. can you please write a charles x reader isnpired by colonge by beabadoobee !! maybe like a secret relationship they have to keep private

much love xxxx

hate what this song is about — CL¹⁶ ୨୧

keeping it private to respect his boundaries, but is it wrong for you to want a little more?

**warnings ! : gn reader, slightly if not very ooc Charles, angst (sorry if this wasn’t what you wanted I couldn’t help myself), mentions and acts of intimacy, unprotected sex (do not try at home!!), not proofread, slight smut, cliche writing lol

**a/n ! : we’re just going to ignore how i disappeared for like months without a single trace and how this is so rushed lol. I completely lost track what I was supposed to write about and maybe this ended up not being similar to the song at all so it’s probably weird but either way hope you enjoy this :P (reblogs very much appreciated!)

— angst (and slight smut?) under the cut

You would love if Charles could just stay for a little bit longer, a little bit more. And though it was selfish to admit, you couldn’t help the frustration bubbling up inside of you when you could barely see him, how the two of you couldn’t go out like a normal couple because of how he wants to keep you safe from the flashing cameras of the paparazzi — the microphones and the mountain of questions which would burden you. And you wished you didn’t care, wish you could just let it go, and accept the fact that he’s just trying to protect you.

But you can’t. You want him to come back home to you, to call you back in a hour and ensure you that he was fine. You want him to — shit, the list goes on.

And you wish he could leave the scent of his cologne, how you see couples wearing their significant other’s clothes, you want that to be you. And you should’ve heed his warning when he mentioned he doesn’t have a lot of availability to give you the attention you deserve, and fuck you should’ve taken it into consideration because you were struggling so much — struggling to take in the fact that he wasn’t here with you whenever you needed him, that he wasn’t here with you doing things a normal couple would, no — you felt like a hoe he would pick up on the streets to fuck.

There were nights you find yourself spiraling, swallowed by the darkness of your room bunched up in your blanket while growing dizzy at the thoughts haunting you, thoughts of how you weren’t conventionally attractive or seductive enough for him to love you. And it hurts, no matter how much he reassures you, his praises slipping past his lips and how beautiful you are, you could hardly believe it. You could hardly believe the fact that he genuinely loves you, even if it was such a mean thing to think about, how much of a terrible significant other you would be for thinking about such thing and how hurt he would be once he found out.

You hate the fact you felt like a toy during intimacy, a toy for him to use then discard so easily on the streets, and you wish you could have more than that, you want to be more than just a toy for him. One round wasn’t enough for you to feel it. To feel how much he loves and cares for you, to feel how he wants you the same way you want him. To feel satisfied. And maybe you’ve been reading too much books, because oh how badly you want him to kiss your neck and leave pretty markings, own you against your own will — you want it all.

It’s fucking toxic. The way you want him so much and all to yourself, how you could barely give a shit about anyone else if it wasn’t him. You couldn’t last a day without thinking about him, without needing the constant reassurance from him that the two of you would be fine — because he claims that your relationship will be public very soon with a tender kiss to your forehead which sends pleasant tingles down your spine, claims that soon enough, you two could be a regular couple together, out in the public — going on dates, and he promises, that you’d enjoy it.

“Please, kiss my neck.”

And the silence that follows is stomach swallowing, how you noticed the way his expression softens a little while he caresses your cheek gently, his hot breath grazing the side of your jaw gently, noticing how he whispers softly into your ear.

“You know I can’t do that, sweetheart.” and though you’ve heard it so many times, it still hurts. It still feels like a punch right in the gut. You could feel the disappointment creeping up inside your stomach, the way your arms grew slightly more tense around his neck, how a forced smile tugs the corners of your lips as you instinctively reply with, ‘it’s okay, I get it.’

But you don’t. You don’t get it. You don’t get how a simple kiss on your neck would be such a big risk, how it would be like gambling all your investments away on a double or nothing bet. You hate how you don’t feel satisfied despite the fact he was so deep inside of you, thighs wrapped around his waist, your walls clutching him tightly. You hate how you can’t focus on the feeling of desire and pleasure while having intimacy with him, having to fake your pleasure and enjoyment, you hate how cumming doesn’t feel like a wave of emotions and relief anymore, you hated it — hated it all. It’s like it was so hard to ask for, to be a normal couple. He’s done it with other people before you, so why is it so hard with you?

The sound of skin slapping and the lewd squelching noises bounces off the room, followed by the heavy breathing and soft pants slipping past from both of your lips as he rolls his hips, grunting and lost in pleasure — but you were lost in your own world, tears brimming at the corners of your eyes and slowly streaming down your cheeks, but they weren’t tears of pleasure, no. You hate how selfish you are, hate how the tears streaming down your cheeks aren’t from pleasure during intimacy right now.

You want the floor to open up and swallow you whole. You could feel the way your gummy walls drag against his cock, and you should be loving it right now, should be shuddering and moaning his name — but you weren’t. You can’t, no, not anymore. Even after he shoots his load inside of you, hot and thick ropes slowly oozing out of your hole as he pulls out, mixed with your own mess, you weren’t satisfied. You needed one more round, to ensure what you were feeling was just fake — to ensure that you were just overthinking things.

“let’s go for another round.” And you should’ve put in thought about the possibilities of his answer instead of blurting it out. You noticed the way he pulls back slightly, looking at you hesitantly — the way a forced chuckle escapes his lips as he pulls his boxers up with a small shake of his head.

“wish I could, pretty. but I got work to do,” he breathes out, chest heaving and breathing still heavy and labored from the ‘intimate’ moment the two of you had just shared seconds ago. And he notices the way you shift in the bed uncomfortably, the way disappointment creeps up into your eyes, written all over your face and it made him feel a little guilty, how your intimate moments had always been so rushed, not slow and sensual like how it should be — but he can’t afford that, no not right now. He has far better things to do, he thinks.

He leans forward, brushing the hair out of your face and pressing a soft, tender kiss against your forehead while murmuring soft praises and how he’ll be back soon which you knew was complete bullshit before pulling back and slipping his shirt back on, zipping his pants up as he packs up his stuff swiftly — walking out of your bedroom and leaving you there on the tousled, stained sheets of your bed.

‘Are you attractive?’ No, you don’t think so. It was somehow a miracle you had managed to even pull a man as gorgeous as Charles. Your thighs clench, sticky and messy with cum as you lay there, naked — chest heaving as you try to focus on anything else then him, than what had just happened. No matter how much he reassures you that you’re perfect, how he loves you for you are — you can’t find it in your heart to believe him. You were certain he was beyond annoyed by now with you constantly asking for his reassurance, and the thought made your stomach twist, how he would wake up late in the mornings to reply to you, to reassure you. You despise the fact that no matter how much you try to get yourself distracted, even in the showers, all you could think about was him. About your relationship, about the fact he denies having a partner out in the public when you’re here, hiding in his shadow.

You’ve been on and off so much lately, constantly going from confident that he indeed does love you, to back to overthinking everything and pressing the send button on your phone. You let out a sigh, cleaning up the mess between your thighs with a hot, damp towel and pulling the sheets off from your bed. You try to ignore the uncomfortable churn of your stomach, how heavy your heart feels and how your bottom lip is quivering. Your brows furrow as you feel the numbing on your arms, and maybe you’ve been hurting too much — because intimacy with Charles has just been so draining lately, no longer sensual and passionate, leaving you longing and wishing for more.

Not any amount of roses and candles lit inside your room could bring the sensual and passionate feeling anymore. Even if the room smelled pleasant, even if the room no longer smelled like his cologne which has now left you with a burdening feeling, it didn’t feel the same anymore. It was like that feeling was long gone, no longer present in the bond between you two. The once, passionate and loving bond the two of you had was long gone in your eyes, only left with the burdening feeling of being just a mere sex toy for him to use then discard, forget about, and move on.

He’s been in your head too much lately, and fuck you hate it. You hate it so much, you hate the way any simple thing could remind you of him so easily, how doing mundane tasks couldn’t be done without you thinking about him at least once. You hate the way the discomfort creeps up on you and how your shoulder tenses as soon as the thought of him comes back to haunt you, like he was always lurking at the back of your mind, like he was always there to creep up behind you and haunt your whole being until the unpleasant fate of death would soon wash upon you.

‘You’re so pretty.’ He would say, and gosh you’d explode. His praises would constantly ring in your head, the thoughts of him were always so confusing. A part of you wanted to love him, and another part of you wanted to hate him. You were conflicted — because he’s a good boyfriend if you exclude the ‘secret relationship’ and the lack of time he has for you as of late. You just wanted him to take a break from all the racing, all the paparazzi and the fame — from everything. You know it’s selfish to think of such things, but shit — you wanted, craved his attention so badly.

And you’ve been home alone, watching him race on the TV, wishing you could be there to celebrate and congratulate with him, not staying home because it was ‘too risky, and you’d be bombarded with questions.’ You constantly found yourself shifting in the couch uncomfortably, thumb hesitating to press the call button on your phone — brows furrowed in thought.

‘Won’t you just drop your shift and pick up the phone?’

Before you could stop yourself, to stop and think for a minute, you found your thumbs acting on their own — typing in its own message that they’ve been dying to type in, thumb hovering over the send button hesitantly until you ‘accidentally’ slipped and sent the message.

“I wanna break up.”

an : this is so different from the song cologne lmao but I literally don’t know anymore

[the-winter-spider]

Good Guy | S.H

Word count: 1k

Warnings: None? Angst?

A/N: Yall i havent posted in ages, im still very much active reading everyone elses writings buuut im deciding to go thru and post everything i have in my docs, maybe finally fix my master list 💀🤭 we’ll see! Enjoy

—

You were sitting on the edge of his bed, your legs dangling over as you turned to look over your shoulder at him snoring peacefully while you were holding your breath trying to savour this moment before the reality of what happened last night crushed you.

You knew what it was, it was ‘the world is most likely ending and the girl ive been in love with since high school still doesn’t love me back’ sex. Because there was no logical way Steve had feelings for you of any sort that would make him want to tear your clothes off and litter your bruised and scarred body with such tender kisses, whispering the sweetest of words in your ear, then proceed to hold you in his arms while he falls asleep.

There was no way in any world upside right or down that it was anything more than that.

You sighed, finally pushing yourself off the bed, tip-toeing around his room to gather the pieces of your clothing, ushering as quickly and quietly to his bathroom as you could. You wanted to avoid the mirror so bad, you were disgusted with yourself, not for sleeping with him, no but for letting your self think for a mere second that it was anything but sex to him. In all honesty it was probably just an itch he wanted to scratch, you were probably just a flavour of ice cream he was lingering on for a while something no one else in their right mind would pick but once you’ve tried all the other flavours you were the only one left.

Pathetic. That's all you were, you slipped off his boxers letting your tears hit the ground with them. The cotton fabric catches your salty waters as they hit the tile.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid” you whispered to yourself pulling on own clothes, before sliding out of his room and house.

The morning spring air hit you refreshingly as you closed your eyes, stopping to gather your thoughts for a brief moment, steadying yourself and the whirlwind of emotions going through your head.

You knew you had to hurry home and change to be ready to meet at the Wheeler's house for 9:00am sharp to discuss your next moves with Vecna, and arriving with Steve while you were still in yesterday’s clothes would raise suspicion, questions and leave you open for friendly banter and teasing but more importantly you didnt wanna still be at Steve’s house when he woke up, you couldn't handle seeing the pure regret in his eyes, the shame that would be radiating off of him, surely that would be your tipping point.

You looked at your watch, 9:00AM “Shit” you mumbled, downing the rest of your coffee like it was a shot at a party, you quickly tied the laces on your converse before running across the street to the Wheelers.

You let out a huff of hair, running your hand through your hair before knocking, the door whipped open revealing Robin “Oh! I'm so glad to see you” She grabbed your arm, yanking you inside, “We've been here all but maybe 10 minutes and everyone is already arguing” She threw her hands up “Can you believe that? it's too early for this!” You reached the door to the basement as Robin loudly started troting down “Y/n is finally here!”

You reached the bottom of the stairs giving a small wave and smile looking everywhere but the brown haired boy in the corner whose eyes you could feel piercing into you “Hi” your voice quiet before manurving your way to the side, far away from Steve.

You were sitting legs crossed on the wheelers couch, you could hear a buzzing surrounding you, squeezing your eyes shut, rubbing your temples you weren’t sure if at this point if it was the headache you’ve been nursing for a few days, the lack of sleep, or all the tears you cried this morning in Steve’s bathroom. All the voices of your friends overlapping one another mushing into a single sound.

tick, tick, tick, tick

“So we now know Max is one of Vecna’s targets, we just have to.…” Nancy spoke her voice trailing off as you tuned it out. Their chatter immersed into one inconvenient noise to you, the pounding in your head overpowering the conversation no one cared that you weren't taking part in. Even though you have always been more of a listener, never giving suggestions because someone always had a better one. You were just here to do as you were told and make sure no one else got hurt because they all had families, parents, people who loved them, you didn’t. And if one of your dumb ideas led to the possibility of one of them getting hurt or worse ending up dead, you would never be able to forgive yourself, so you stayed out of it.

You found picking at your pant leg was a better distraction, wasting all the energy you had on making the hole in your pants bigger than it already was, revealing a scar on your knee that you obtained last year running from russians, when for a brief moment the buzzing stopped and your sense zeroed in on the trickling cool wetness you felt on your upper lip and your eyes growing wide as you watched a single droplet of blood land on your jeans.

You moved your hand to catch the rest of the droplets when you looked up your eyes met Max’s, her eyebrows raised in shock before they softened as she watched a tear run down your cheek “Guys” she spoke, her voice could barely be heard over Steve arguing with Nancy that he didn’t want to be a babysitter anymore “GUYS!” she screamed even louder as all eyes turned to her

Steve and Nancy both turned their heads to her yelling “What?!”

Max lifted up her hand, directing her finger to point directly at you, suddenly one by one all pairs of eyes turned to you

“Holy shit” Dustin muttered “Holy shit!” He got louder as he pieced it together.

“No” Steve froze “No, no, no” He was panicking suddenly the room felt heavy, the air was leaving his lungs as he watched blood dripping from your nose.

[juniperss]

Could you write something with Joe Liebgott where maybe they are friends but he’s got a crush on the reader but refuses to acknowledge it so he tries to distance himself from her. Then maybe one night something goes wrong and she gets hurt and it causes him to admit to his feelings. Some big angst and fluff :)

this is such a cute idea! Since I'm only taking headcanon suggestions though, I'm gonna answer in that format, <3 Joe Liebgott you can run from your feelings but you cannot hide them! I wrote these with gender neutral pronouns, i hope that's alright!

Honestly the fact that he has a crush on a friend is one of the last things he feels he needs in his life during the war. It's just another series of emotions that he has to deal with now and he can't believe that he's had to go and get a crush on you, of all people. Because honestly, in his mind, there are only two ways this is gonna pan out: you're gonna tell him "aw thanks, Joe that's really sweet but I don't feel the same" or you're gonna like him too and he's gonna risk losing you in combat. No thank you, either way!

Now....is that entirely rational or true? Nope. But he doesn't want to admit that he has feelings for you and lying to himself about the outcome is certainly a way to help suppress them.

Really though he's worried that admitting a crush on his best friend is going to mean losing you, one way or another and he doesn't think he can live with that. Not now, not after everything that's happened.

Him denying his feelings results in trying to put distance between the two of you. Which is really obvious since being friends with him meant that you two were usually joined at hip. And it's sudden too, he doesn't just gradually or subtly introduce spending less time with you. Because as soon as he's hit with the realization that "OH shit, I love them", he starts the distancing. Better to nip it in the bud now.

And it hurts. You're not sure what you did to upset him and cause him to ask for a different patrol partner or for him to turn around and walk away when you approach. And if you try to bring it up, he gives some bullshit about "I'm not acting any different, what are you talking about". I can also see him starting to be a bit mean towards in an attempt to get you to stop asking him about it. Throwing rocks at the dog kind of situation.

This goes on for a few weeks and one day while he's making some rounds he hears about an ambush on the patrol just a little bit ago. The patrol that he knows you were on because he asked Muck to switch with him earlier in the day.

There's some serious injuries he hears and no one around seems to have the same answer about what happened to you. There's so much panic building up in him and a heavy sense of dread and guilt. He's booking it towards Doc Roe's station to find you.

Literally pushing past people trying to track you down and when he finds you sitting on the ground with a bandage around your upper arm he wants to throw up. So many apologies pouring out of his mouth that they jumble up and don't even make sense, but you can pick out the words "I'm sorry, I'm sorry" multiple times.

You think you can see tears in his eyes too but you don't have time to investigate because he's hugging you and you're wrapping your arms around him too. You missed your friend and you missed how good it felt to hear him speaking to you with kindness.

He explains his behavior over the last week or two as he helps you back to camp. Saying it out loud has him feeling really dumb because he can't believe he thought that would work when you're looking at him with such big eyes and a frown. He just feels like an ass.

When he finally admits that it was all because he has feelings for you, he has to look down at him feet. He can't take saying it directly to you. It's odd seeing Joe Liebgott shy and self conscious about something. He only looks at you once you've taken his hand in yours and squeezed it gently.

Ends with a tender kiss, but is quickly followed up with promises to never ignore you again. He'll spend as much time as he needs to get you to forgive him despite your acceptance of his apology.

[firenati0n]

2024 writing round up!

thank you for the tags @kiwiana-writes @cha-melodius @alasse9 :) <3

i posted 19 fics this year (whoa) ranging from 932 words to 54,284 words. wild! all were for RWRB! yay firstprince! :)

JANUARY

too scared to post shit after writing worm fic in december

FEBRUARY

An Amateur's Guide to Piping That Cream and Beating That Meat (T, 5k) henry needs to make something for alex's friendsgiving and comes across a thirst trapping headless food tiktoker. i wonder who it could be. deranged tiktok comments, friends to lovers

people ruin people, i don't wanna ruin you (M, WIP, 6.8k, 4/9 chapters) - this was posted anonymously until august) alex is a washed up singer, henry is his new pet project. and maybe something more. musician firstprince, v loose a star is born x greek mythology au, icarus!alex, collaborators to lovers

MARCH

each time we touch / i wanna take too much (M, 1.3k) alex puts his fingers in henry's mouth. mhm yep that's it.

keep me up all night / i wanna scratch your surface  (M, 1.4k) alex is so in love he could die. puts his mouth on other places. prose-y loverboy alex.

cause you're classic, and i'm reckless (T, 5.4k) alex and henry are costars, henry offers to help alex with intimacy research. actor au, kissing for practice leads to kissing for real, inspired by ryan gosling and rachel mcadams at the 2005 mtv movie awards, costars to lovers

who truly stuck the knife in first (M, 3.7k) alex and henry are spy partners. a mission goes sideways and they fight and fuck about it. sexually charged wrestling, partners to lovers

APRIL

and all i can taste is this moment, and all i can breathe is your life (T, 9999 words) angel!henry watches over lawyer!alex invisibly until one day alex sees him. now what? loose city of angels au, pining yearning longing galore, wee bit of angst with a happy ending, introspection

MAY

who would've thought that a guy like henry would double as a superstar?  (T, 6.4k) hannah montana au, crack treated seriously, henry is hannah montana and alex works at a ranch. a hot damn mess.

JUNE

busy writing and posting proposal au! :)

JULY

the full spectrum of human emotion (M, 54k) editor!henry gets assistant!alex to marry him to avoid deportation. but wait! alex hates henry! oops. the proposal (2009) au, marriage of convenience, fake dating, romantic comedy, banter and big feelings

AUGUST

you're the closest to heaven that i'll ever be (T, 7.7k) angel!henry sequel, henry learning what it means to be human, very tender and full of musings on humanity and love and the little things in life

the leaves of a silver maple (assorted, 13k) collection of short standalone prompt fics for my fic fest (some of my favorite fics ever exist in this collection and they're so buried jfalksjlf)

prompt one - wicked E | 2.6k | au, sims family, fluff laced with a little crack. as a treat. henry finds something rather...wicked on alex's laptop. prompt two - sweaters T | 1k | canon-verse, fluffy, sweet, sharing clothes alex steals henry's sweater, and henry gets back at him. prompt three -  magic T | 5.2k | kiki's delivery service (studio ghibli, 1989) au, magic au, high school au, warlock!henry, baker!alex, sweet, tender, emotional, found family a tender little exploration of love, purpose, healing, and a warlock!henry finding baker!alex.  prompt four -  comfort T | 2.6k | roommate au, sickfic, hurt/comfort, taking care of each other, mutual pining, fluff, domesticity, pride & prejudice (2005) refs, first kiss, getting together three times henry took care of alex and one time alex took care of henry. prompt five - wicked once more M | 500 words | au, sims family, cracky fluff, accidental sims mpreg alex is being a menace once again in The Sims. prompt six - apron M | 200 words | au, silly, apron shenanigans henry is wearing an apron. and nothing else.  prompt seven - goodbye T | 200 words | the good place au, bittersweet alex and henry say goodbye. prompt eight - father T | 300 words | post-canon, a tinge of grief, hope henry reflects on grief.

SEPTEMBER

i like the way you blush / i like the way you bite (M, 932) henry puts his fingers in alex's mouth

OCTOBER

flip the switch and let the cauldron bubble (T, 2.7k) kiki's delivery service au sequel, warlock!henry and baker!alex and the many potions that heal them

about to bust-elo (M, 2k) alex tries Café Bustelo Instant Espresso and has a hell of a day. inspired by my fuckass coffee habits.

feeling your heart beating, wondering what you're dreaming (M, 5.7k) five times childhood best friends alex and henry share a bed platonically, and the one time (of many) they do as something more, childhood friends to lovers, one bed, pining, fluffy and tender

from all the pain our brain has made, the game is not played alone (G, 1.4k) alex has a long day and a terrible headache, and henry comforts him

NOVEMBER

brain break

DECEMBER

london's so nice, back in your seamless rhymes (T, 7.4k) alex and henry fall in love—five days a week, four bus routes, three pseudo-dates, two holiday markets, and one red scarf of fate later. strangers to friends to lovers, meet-cute, london buses, fluffy and fun

if the city never sleeps, then that makes three (T, 1.4k) london bus meet-cute universe part 2. alex and henry have a movie night and learn some things about each other and the people they thirst over

i looked into your eyes, got such a great surprise (M, 1.6k) london bus meet-cute universe part 3. alex and henry go on a walk and do some reflecting on love and happiness. fluffy and funny and sweet.

-

and that's a wrap! what a year! so grateful for everyone who read and commented and subscribed and engaged...it means so much to me. i have really leaned on this community while navigating rough waters, and deeply love all the friends and connections i have made. sending everyone a lot of love!

xoxo roop

open tag and a few under the cut :)

@ninzied @myheartalivewrites @rmd-writes @tintagel-or-cockleshells @clottedcreamfudge

@anchoredarchangel @dumbpeachjuice @smc-27 @cricketnationrise @everwitch-magiks

@orchidscript @cheesecurdsgravyandfries @run-for-chamo-miles @onward--upward @eusuntgratie

@bigassbowlingballhead @leaves-of-laurelin @porcelainmortal @getmehighonmagic @blueeyedgrlwrites

@suseagull5914 @judasofsuburbia @seths-rogens @caterpills @violetbaudelaire-quagmire

@onthewaytosomewhere @indestructibleheart @sophie1973 @fairflowered @incalamity

@smugvillanelle @anincompletelist @wordsofhoneydew @itsmaybitheway @whimsymanaged

@miss-minnelli @zwiazdziarka @sherryvalli @msmarvelouswinchester @thesleepyskipper

@thedramasummer @priincebutt @14carrotghoul @kj-bee @welcometololaland

@miharaikko @hgejfmw-hgejhsf

[radioapple-heathen]

Lucifer disguises himself as a woman to blend into the night. Still impossibly beautiful, but unrecognizable. He carries a flask filled with something much stronger than any human alcohol since it doesn’t affect him. He needs something potent to dull his thoughts and let him loosen his inhibitions & finally let go and have fun without anyone realizing who he really is.

His nights become a pattern: slipping into bars and sleeping with strangers to satiate a deep, gnawing loneliness. He's touch-starved and haunted by self-loathing, caught in a vicious cycle of seeking comfort in the arms of others and despising himself for it afterward. He sulks for days after each encounter, sinking deeper into his own darkness.

Then one night, he steps into a smoky jazz club. The air is thick with music and sin. The place is alive, vibrant with jazz. Amidst the haze, his eyes catch on Alastor. Maybe he's there with Rosie, laughing and dancing, or perhaps he's simply enjoying the scene alone. Regardless, Lucifer is struck by how at ease Alastor seems, completely in his element, so unlike the tightly-wound radio demon he knows from the hotel.

Their eyes meet across the room, and for the first time in a long while, it's Lucifer who is enthralled by the sight of Alastor in such an informal, relaxed state. But something else happens too: Alastor sees him. Even in disguise, there’s something about Lucifer that draws him in.

Maybe they have a heated, drunken encounter, a secret neither of them is ready to admit to back at the hotel. Or maybe Lucifer keeps the affair going but never tells Alastor it’s actually him. Their interactions become a web of tension and hidden identities, with Alastor unknowingly drawn to Lucifer’s disguise, and Lucifer struggling with how long he can keep up the charade.

Part 1 of ask here.

Alright. First off.

This is an incredible premise with the potential for delightful angst, utter debauchery, and some very tender, vulnerable moments.

Second, I implore you to reconsider the notion that you are 'a godawful author'. This summary is better than 70% of content I've come across in my 20 plus years in fandom. And that's not to say that content is bad, just that the way you've written this summary is SO GOOD. Pls write this, if you love me at all LMAO. Like holy shit. I'd read this in a heartbeat.

I personally have a lineup of radioapple fics I want to write and am a slow, 1-project-at-a-time writer. So if you waited for me, it'd be like... 2027 and two more seasons of HH before I got to this, BUT YOU, MY DEAR. You can write this right now, and do the radioapple fandom a great service by adding this wonderful story to our library. PLS & THANK YOU.

[nolita-fairytale]

try a little tenderness | carmen 'carmy' berzatto x fem!reader one shot

summary: on the anniversary of mikey's death, you help carmy find a way to grieve. (set in the make my heart surrender universe, but can be read as a standalone piece)

warnings: swearing, grief, mild angst, mentions of death & suicide, second person pov, no use of y/n

wc: 2.3k

a/n: i wrote this as a way to process my own grief over the loss of a close friend to suicide. i fell so deeply in love with 'the bear' because i saw myself in so many of these characters: how they responded to losing mikey, the nature of the loss, and the ways they fought their grief. i see so much of myself in carmy in the show and this ended up being really cathartic to write, even though it's been three years now. anyways, heavy shit ahead so don't feel obligated to read but thank you if you do.

(banner made by @allthefandomstogether)

Grief is a funny thing. 

For Carmy, most days it’s something easy to ignore – like an old friend that he’s managed to cut out of his day to day. He’s stopped calling, stopped picking up the phone, eliminated any and all thought about this thing that feels so foreign yet, so familiar at the same time. 

But now he has you – and he’s never been able to bullshit you for shit. Some days, he feels like you see right through him. He knows he’s been irritable, short, impatient at the restaurant (and sometimes at home too). It’s something you handle better than he expected – better than he thinks he deserves. 

“Honey, can we take a pause from this conversation? I just don’t think either of us are in the right headspace,” you’d asked him the other day when he’d tried to pick a fight with you. Completely caught off guard, Carmy had stared at you blankly in response, as if you’d suggested you both run naked down the street.

“If you wanna fight, we can fight. I just… don’t think this is what you’re upset about,” you’d explained, before slipping into the bedroom with the book you were halfway through. 

And today, after he’d tried to pick another fight with you, you’d stopped him again, like a tornado hitting an immovable wall. 

“Carmy, I’m not going to fight you about the dishes,” you’d sighed, shooting him a sympathetic look. “I’m gonna take a walk and pick some things up at the store for dinner. Is that still something you’d like to do?”

How could he forget when he’d been making his brother’s family recipe earlier that day, setting the braciole-filled dutch oven in the fridge to be put into the oven for later? But he almost has – another symptom of how checked out he’s been all week. 

He’s not used to this. He’s used to his siblings – his mom – picking fights over the smallest things that usually escalated into a screaming match. And while you were willing to fight over things that felt worthy to go to bat for, always quick to call him out when he’s being a dick, you don’t engage in his smaller, more frivolous attempts at starting something over the smallest, nitpicky things. 

It’s a whole new pattern for him, and he’ll admit, it’s harder than you make it look. 

Earlier in the week, he knew he’d been in a trash mood. Then he looked at the calendar and saw what date was coming:

2/22/23. 

Oh. 

No wonder he’s been such an ass. 

And now wonder you’ve been such a saint.  

“Oh, um…” he stammers, as he realizes his memory has failed him again. “Uh… yeah, we can still do that.”

He’d forgotten you’d made plans for dinner in preparation for today, and truthfully, he’d been so absent-minded all week that he’s forgotten – forgotten about the plan, forgotten about what day it was, forgotten that that day was now today. Thankfully, you’d had the sense to make sure he was off that day, coordinating with the staff of The Bear to make it happen. While you knew everyone would be grieving today, you weren’t interested in a repeat of last year when the both of you were still in New York.

Sydney, the real hero of this story, had moved mountains to get everyone’s schedules nailed down for this week – knowing it’d be a hard week for everyone that knew and loved Mikey. 

“No, we do not need a repeat of last year,” Sydney had agreed, as you’d explained to her the shit show that was Carmy going into work that night, one year ago. “Don’t worry. I’ll run the kitchen. Tap as many newer staff as I can to work too.”

With the recent press about The Bear (not to mention Sydney’s official James Beard finalist status) there’d been a huge increase in applicants lately. You couldn’t thank Syd enough. 

“Okay. I love you, Carm. I’ll be back in a bit,” you reassure, before grabbing his keys and your coat.

“Yeah,” he mutters quietly, as he watches you go. 

*

After lighting up a few in the apartment, he lays down on the couch, turning on something mind-numbing to not pay attention to on the TV. He’s not sure when or how long it takes him to drift off to sleep, but one minute he’s blinking his eyes closed, and the next he can hear the sounds of pots and pans clamoring around the kitchen. 

He feels guilty: guilty for being an ass, guilty for trying to start something, guilty about what Mikey did.

You’ve told him time and time again: “I don’t think it’s fair to yourself to carry this much blame, Bear.” While normally, he’d love the way his familial nickname sounded coming from you, he’d winced at the mention – just because today, it hits a little too close to home. 

He knows it’s not fair to himself – or to you – but it’s something he’s just not ready to let go of yet. 

He can smell the braciole he’d prepared earlier that day; you’ve already put it in the oven, letting it braise slowly like it was meant to be. He recalled the conversation you both had had about this a few weeks ago. 

“Let’s make a meal he’d like,” you’d proposed, wanting to be a supportive 

“The braciole. Or maybe his spaghetti,” he’d suggested, so matter-of-factly that you could tell he was trying to mask his emotions.

“Maybe both?” you’d countered him. 

“Yeah,” he‘d agreed, quick to put himself out of the discomfort the conversation was causing him. 

“How do you feel about maybe asking some of the others to stop by, Only if they want. Only if you’re up for it,” you’d continued, cautiously. 

“Can I let you know?” he’d asked. 

“Sure,” you’d agreed, even though you knew he wouldn’t be bringing it up again. 

As Carmy sits up from the couch, his mind drifting back to the present, he sees you posted up in front of his little apartment’s stove top, working on his brother’s spaghetti sauce. Pangs of guilt fill his chest, and he feels like absolute garbage for being a dick earlier. He can’t picture doing anything else tonight and he’s glad you had the foresight to do this. Carmy rubs the sleep out of his eyes, watching you move around the kitchen. You’ve got a window open just in case that tricky little smoke alarm goes off while you’re steeping the garlic in olive oil. 

You’re busy trying to maneuver the largest saute pan Carmy owns over the burner for maximum heat exposure when he approaches. The sun’s already set, and the heat from the kitchen leaves a fog on the windows right near the stove, as you shake the saute pan by its handle. 

“Hey,” Carmy says, his voice rough with sleep. 

“Hey,” you reply, a soft smile on your lips as you turn to him. “Sleep alright?”

His unruly curls seem exceptionally messy this evening, and you can smell the remnants of the cigarettes he smoked while you were out. You hate how sexy you still find the nasty habit, even though you’ve tried your best to get him to cut back, citing lung cancer as a top reason. As much as you hate to admit it, you’re eager to taste the cigarettes on his lips, wiping your hands on your jeans because, unlike Carmy, you could care less to wear an apron at home. Framing his face with both of your hands, you place a gentle kiss on his lips, breathing him in as he kisses you back. 

“Sorry I was an ass earlier,” Carmy says, in between kisses. 

“Thanks. You’re kind of allowed to be an ass today though,” you say back. 

He can’t believe you’re letting him off the hook this easily. 

“And what about tomorrow?” he asks, taking a more playful approach this time. 

“No, definitely not. Cut off. Ass privileges? Revoked,” you’re quick to banter back, earning a dry laugh from your boyfriend. 

As you return to your post in front of the stove, Carmy slaps your butt playfully from your earlier comment, eliciting a giggle from you as he does it. He watches you work, adding salt to the tomato, onion, and butter you’re reducing in the saute pan, while the saucepan-filled olive oil/garlic/basil mixture comes up to a simmer. 

“I know you’ve always said that Mikey’s pasta was over-sauced and under seasoned… but it sounds like he just needed a little extra salt and a few little tweaks here and there,” you continue, tasting the tomato sauce. 

He’s not ready to taste the sauce just yet, even though he’d suggested you make the spaghetti in the first place. He watches as you use a spoon to check for salt levels, tasting the sauce first. You throw your head back as the salty tomato mixture hits your tongue. Carmy watches you carefully as you remove the sprig of basil with a pair of tongs, tossing it into a deli container for the trash later. Placing the deli container on the counter next to the rest of things you need to dispose of, his eyes linger on the 28 oz San Marzanos. 

Because the small ones taste better…. 

You busy yourself with straining the oil, setting it aside to add to the sauce towards the end of the process. Carmy checks his phone briefly, seeing a few texts from Richie, Syd, and Tina – all just checking in. 

“Silly question, I know. But how are you doing?” you ask him, having found a good stopping point. 

Carmy thinks about it for a second. He’s not sure how he wants to answer – how he’s supposed to answer this question. 

“I’m… I don’t know,” he managed to get out. 

You nod in acceptance, before replying with an empathetic, “That makes sense.”

“It doesn’t feel real, I guess?” he admits, taking his time as the words fall out of his mouth. 

“I can only imagine, Carm,” you sympathize. “Wanna help me out?”

“Yeah,” he replies, a half smile on his face. 

You’re so kind, so understanding, so empathetic, and he can’t picture spending this day with anyone but you. He thinks back to last year – when he got the news. It was the worst day of his life and regardless of that fact, you’d been there: caring enough to show up, to fight with him, to make sure he ate something. And then that night… the night you crossed the line, slept together even though both of you knew it was a bad idea, that there was no way you could start something real. 

He’s not sure how you got from there to here, but he thanks his lucky stars for whatever good deed he’s done in a past life that’s led to it. 

“Thank you for this,” he says intentionally, making sure you hear him as he continues with, in reference to earlier, “... and I love you too.”

You don’t expect anything from him, and he’s grateful, because he’s not sure he has anything to give. Not today. 

You give him the softest smile, something that makes him want to melt right there and then when you reply with:

“You don’t need to thank me.”

You step aside, making space for Carmy as you give him a task to do to help with dinner. You made the executive decision not to scale Michael’s recipes down, making them as written – family style. If anything, you hope to bring some of the leftovers, sharing his food in honor of his life. You wish you could’ve met Mikey, and since you didn’t get to, making his food feels like the best way to get to know the man Carmy loved and admired so much. 

You queue up a good playlist, working in perfect harmony with Carmy till dinner is ready to eat. Between the braciole and the spaghetti, you know you’ll have more than enough leftovers to feed the two of you for the next week. You let Carmy plate – something he’s truly exceptional at – watching him as he creates a perfect twirl of spaghetti before tearing a few pieces of basil for garnish. As you bring the spaghetti to Carmy’s small dining table that is only meant to seat two, he plates up the braciole on one plate for the both of you to share. You set the table, enjoying the sounds of the playlist you’ve set for the night, before sitting down to eat. 

Carmy takes his first bite of the spaghetti, knowing that it’s not going to be an easy thing for him. You watch closely as he tastes the sauce, his eyes closing and face turning a darker shade redder. 

You wait a beat, letting him settle in before asking:

“What do you think?” 

He nods his head, “It’s fire.” You can see that he’s holding back tears, not ready to lose all control just yet. “It’s actually better… than Mikey’s”

You eat your dinner quietly. It’s the good kind of quiet but the air feels heavy. Carmy may not always have the words for what he’s feeling, but he doesn’t need to right now. You try the braciole together, sharing one plate as he tells you about how Mikey refused to use raisins, even though that’s how they grew up eating the beef dish. You listen, letting him travel down memory lane, only as far as he’d like tog. 

Halfway through dinner, Carmy says something that surprises you:

“We’ve got more than enough leftovers to feed a large family of… twenty,” he states plainly. His blue eyes water as he continues with an ask. “You uh… maybe wanna pack this up and take it to the restaurant tonight?”

“Yeah, Bear. I think everyone would love that," you agree, the smallest smile on your lips. "Would you... wanna tell me a little about him? On our walk there?"

Carmy nods, "Sure. Yeah, I-. I think I can do that."

*

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[white-poppie]

I wanna be yours

Synopsis: You have had a crush on your older brother's best friend for years now, Shinichiro Sano, the biggest loser there is to exist, but he shares the same pining for you?

Pairing: S.sano x gn! reader Genre: Fluff-> Suggestive-> Angst -> Fluff, SFW TW: Age gap (4 years) smoking, crying, cursing, Waka being mean, Shin being the biggest flirt ever, sooooo much tension Phew~ WC: 2k A/N: Reader is around 18 here and Shin is 23. Before you come at me saying 'omg the age gap' shush.

Song rec: Just One Day by BTS (listened to it on rep while writing.)

You frowned at the grey clouds, meandering malevolently overhead, the moisture in the air made you sniffle as you found yourself tracing your steps to Shin's shop.

A weird dread lingered whenever you came to your brother's best friend's shop. The smell of gasoline and that crooked smile on his face, smeared with oil and dirt always sent a catastrophic spurge of butterflies in your stomach.

"Sano san," you called, entering the half-open shutter. Half-open to stop the water from entering. You were drenched from head to toe, clothes sticking uncomfortably to your skin and the cold made you shiver.

Shinichiro peeked at you from under one of the cars. His black tresses stuck to his forehead due to the sweat and humidity under the machinery, "Hey Y/N", he drawled, his eyes squinting to adjust to brightness as he saw your pathetic and soggy state, "shit, you're soaked." He said stating the obvious.

With a slight groan, he got out from under the car, his breathy voice sending shivers down your already trembling figure.

Dusting his pants he looked at you, "Got caught in the rain?" He said with his onyx eyes seemingly undressing your soul.

You bob, "Do you mind if I stay here till the rain stops? It's really cold."

Shinchiro nods as he picks up a towel to wipe his sweat with, throwing it somewhere on one of the bikes. He looks at you for an uncomfortably long time, his inky, dark eyes raking on your drenched silhouette. He has to clench his fists to stop him from staring, he sighs and walks into the storage as you stand awkwardly, soaked like a duckling in the middle of his shop.

He comes back with a jacket, his posture straight and wide shoulders pushed back as he walks. He grabs the jacket with his hand and comes close to you, you can smell his peppermint aftershave, his chest inches away from your face as he puts the jacket on your shoulders, fixes the collar, and tucks your hair that falls loose behind your ear so that it doesn't get stuck in the zipper. It takes him all humane strength to not caress your cheek and pull you close as you look up at him with those doe eyes of yours.

"Feel warm enough?" he says softly, his voice all raspy like he is thirsty for something.

You nod and flush, looking away, feeling as if you are melting from his intense gaze.

A breathy laugh escapes from his nose as he pats your head, "So cute."

You gulp as your heart thumps in your chest. You've had a crush on Shinichiro since you first met him when your older brother Wakasa brought home a kid with a funky-looking hairstyle. You were 8 at that time and Shin was 12. You were experiencing those cliched-brother's friend trope, god you have rejected so many boys just for him.

And being so close to him, even after all these years, sent a catastrophic spurge of sparks, his voice, his scent, his gaze--it was almost painful, trying to take each breath in the heavy air.

Shinichiro breathes shakily as he looks into your eyes, he seems to be in a spell-bound trance at the sight of you...and you are so close to him, his arms itching to embrace you, his fingers parched for the sensation of your skin underneath them, it was almost perverse how his desire for something so tender and non-sexual was killing him from inside.

"Sano-" you whisper breathily, eyes flickering at the taller man

"Shin," he corrects you, his fingers still resting behind your ear, “It’s Shin for you.”

You gulp and nod softly, heart muscle thumping like a jerking light bulb, spasmodically. Your hands and feet were cold, it was like adrenaline was pumping in your body, everywhere except your face, which was flushed.

"Shin," you correct yourself softly as if relishing the syllables of his name on your tongue.

“Good job,” he says, his eyes filling with something so raw, you felt undone by it, The hand that rests behind your ear now moved to rest on your cheek as he slowly closes his eyes and leans in.

Your heart speeds up at the gesture, but there is this void in the pits of your stomach that makes you move away, “stop,” you say softly.

Shin snaps out of the trance and takes a step back, “shit, Y/n I am so fucking sorry, I should’ve asked before, is ms sorry I misread your actions.” He sighs guiltily, his stomach almost dropping at the thought that he made you uncomfortable, "I am sorry, I really am, I should have been the mature one in this situation instead of getting carried away, you are still a kid.” He sighs and runs a hand through his hair.

Your heart hurts at the word thought that he still thought of you as a kid, you were an adult, what difference did it make if he was just a couple years older than you?

“ ‘S not why I moved away,” you say and look at the ground, knowing that if you look into those abysmal eyes, they would draw out the tears in yours. “Your explanation just proved that I did the right things- you feel as if that desire was impulsive, lust-fuelled.” Your voice cracks as you explain it to him, “I don’t want that, I don’t want that half-hearted kiss, without any romantic feelings just because of one day, I don’t want that Sano san.”

His throat felt dry at the pain in your voice, the crack in your words and the use of his family name, “who said to ya that it was a momentary thing?”

“Please,” you chuckle bitterly and sniffle, “you confess to every other girl, how am I different?”

“You are different,” he says sternly and takes your hand in his. His rough, calloused hands, the skin cracked at the intense work in the shop. “Yer’ special to me.”

“Bet you say that to every girl,” you say on the verge of crying, you would’ve died, take your feelings to your grave, but this was so much more painful.

“I don’t,” he says softly, the smile lines on his face lighting up his pale skin, “I’ve only said it to you, never seen anyone as perfect as ya'. I am addicted to you.” He says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

"Then why didn't you- why didn't you show any interest before? Why didn't you ever confess before?" You ask, harshly, there is a rawness in your voice, a slight desperation. You don't even try to hide your emotions anymore.

"I thought you'd be weirded out," he says and almost traps you at how close he is to you, you can hear how his heart is hammering against his slender frame, "I thought you'd be weirded out by the fact your nii-chan's best friend had taken a fancy in you."

"Shin," you say sternly and grab him by the collar of his work shirt. His breath hitches as he keeps a hand a few inches above the wall where you are standing, to prevent himself from stumbling into you. His breath is fanning on your face, a trembling arm propped over your head and face barely inches away, "do you really think I care? You are barely 4 years older than me, we are both adults, why are you hesitating?"

Shinichiro just looks at you, speechlessly, his eyes wavering between your eyes to your lips and then back at your eyes again, "dunno." He says, "been so attracted to you for the longest time, dunno why I am hesitating."

You gasp at his deceration, heartbeat speeding rapidly, he is just inches apart, you can feel his minty breath hitting your face, goosebumps erupting on your arms.

Shin leans in, as if testing the water, not quite close to your lips as his half-lidded eyes undress your soul, "maybe I am hesitating 'cause of Waka."

"Waka-nii always scared boys away from me, back in middle school, I never protested though, my heart was already on his best friend after all," you whisper out, your fingers holding the fabric of his

"Fuck, you've been waiting for that long?" he says, his breath a little unsteady at the proximity, "been' waiting that long for me? What did you even see in me, I had the shittiest hairstyle and was the biggest loser ever."

“I saw you, the real you,” you say softly, “I saw your soul, kind, compassionate and so caring. You say and wipe a small spec of grime against his porcelain and statuesque face. “I saw your resolve, that toothy grin, hands so caring they carry the weight of the worlds.”

His heart thumps at each sound that leaves your mouth, shivering at the chafed intensity of your words, he doesn’t speak. He doesn’t move.

“You are so warm, Sano san, you are warm like the sun, I can’t help but bask in your glory,” you say with a cathartic outpour of sealed devotion.

Shinichiro Sano is silent. He breathes in your words, your presence and the reality called forth, "hell, you're gonna make me cry." He says, his nose slowly brushing in a tint of delicate pink.

"You made me cry so much more," you chuckle and shake your head.

Shinichiro's eyes gloss in empathy, " I'm so sorry. You know, I guess I'm still the old stupid Shinichiro, huh? Always making dumb mistakes. But from now on… I'll change. I'm never gonna make you cry again, I promise. I'll try and give you all the happiness I never could when we were younger. I won't ever leave you unhappy, I promise."

Your heart thumps wild against your chest, eyes filling with a warmth that you can't quite control at this moment.

Shinichiro's mind runs into an overdrive at the thought of you yearning for him for so long. These past few years were hell for him but for you? You've succumbed for so long. His mind runs to think of Waka, and how he would punch his face at knowing what transpired in his mind for so long...but it would be worth it. Waka would kill him, and break his bones, but it would be worth it. You would be worth it.

And then Shinichiro inches closer, without paying heed to the consequences of his actions. His eyes flutter to your lips, begging, starving, longing for your words of agreement before he makes an advance.

"Kiss me Sano san," you say softly, your breath fanning against his raw and bitten lips.

Shinchiro smiles, boyishly, his white pearlescent teeth, glinting under the dim light of the shop. The sound of rain pattering against the metal shutter echoes, but nothing is louder than your heartbeats, "it's Shin to you."

He says and closes the distance, finally. His lips moulded against yours, hands holding your face, shoulder hunched upwards, and head leaned towards you. His long black lashes flutter in delight as you kiss back, the pace slow, sensual and full of longing.

When you pull away, you rest your head against his, and just bask in his embrace, wordlessly, as if recollecting all the memories of all the time lost.

"WHAT THE HECK IS GOING ON HERE?" you hear a piercing shout that makes you whip your head and sweatdrop to see Wakasa.

"Finally?" Takeomi peeks from behind Wakasa with an amused grin and looks back, "Oi Benkei ya gotta pay me up!"

You hear Benkei sigh and Wakasa glares at them...everyone had a lot of explaining to do.

© white-poppie 2023. all rights reserved. do not repost, modify, or translate without permission. do not claim work or layout as yours.

— TOKYO REVENGERS - Fanfictions

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PPL WHO ASKED TO BE TAGGED IN THIS FIC (temp tags, lemme know if you wanna be added to my permanent taglist): @hunterelys, @butterfl1ies, @n3zuna

psst, hey, over here! Uhm hi :) Do you like reading? If so can you please check out my first novel? I am a 15-year-old author who needs support, I assure you it won't disappoint! It's okay if you don't buy, it would be enough to share the link with someone else who might be interested! I humbly request you support my career as a child author by purchasing my book. This would help me to write more books in future. “Of Vengeance and Ashes” -> BUY NOW!!!!

Also Check out: L'appel du vide (✔️) (Synopsis: Your husband, Hanma Shuji is dead! With no memories of what transpired two days before his death, you team up with Tachibana Naoto, Chifuyu Matsuno, Ryuguji Ken and Mitsuya Takashi, you go on a journey full of betrayals and twists. Can you find out what really happened to your husband? 🌼 ☕🪐🧸🦋)

[enterwittyjokehere]

hii, i’m soz idk ur request rules i couldn’t find them 😖. if any of this is out of boundaries lmk! I was wondering if I could request an angst/comfort-> smut on Gale?

Professor!Gale with his student (afab!reader) at wizard college yk. the student is super good with the work but they get depressed and miss class. Gale is concerned bc he adores all his students! he checks up on reader and helps them into a better headspace. one thing leads to another and reader opts to “return the favor” yk.

Gale is not Mystra in this!!! College professor! The groomed does not become the groomer! everything reader does is not because Gale has sum sort of power over them. they just like him! teacher crush fr!

anyways! sorry for ranting. if I could write for shit i’d do it but ur stories are SOOO good!

Sorry it took a bit to get out, life got in the way, I'm gonna be trying to update more frequently I have two more requests to push out and ab three drafts that I've started and haven't finished.

You didn't mention what gender or pronouns to use so I assumed afab, sorry if that's incorrect. I did have some fun with this one, the more I get into my Baldur's Gate playthrough the more I adore this man lol.

So enjoy~

After Class

Professor! Gale (of waterdeep) Dekarios x Afab! reader smut

⚠️Warnings⚠️

[College professor x student]

[Mutual pining]

[Dealing with issues via self isolation]

[Hurt > comfort]

[Alluding to masturbation]

[Teasing]

[No foreplay]

[Doggy]

[Breeding press]

[Mention of aftercare]

[18+ only]

“Deep breaths, you can do it.” Your professor, Gale Dekarios, stood behind you, holding your arm up.

-He had offered to help you practice a difficult spell you've been having trouble with. After class was over you had approached his desk and explained what spell you had been struggling with. 

Like the kind man that he was he accepted, telling you that while it was a troublesome spell you had enough mettle to learn it-

You said the incantation and with the added power of your professor you successfully casted the spell you had been having a bit of a hard time with. Your eyes widened as you beamed, looking up at your professor who had a sparkle in his eye.

“See, I told you, you could do it!” he smiled down at you, you stared into his eyes and your heart raced. You enjoyed the tenderness in the moment, before a small magickal ringing gained both of your attention. It sounded from Gale’s desk, he sighed, looked past you and turning the ringing off, “Sadly, that marks the end of our after class session.”

He put a couple scrolls he had laid across his desk into a small bag, you spoke in a small voice, “it's a little early, yeah?” 

“Umm yeah.. I have a few things I need to take care of.” Gale stumbled over the question, his eyes traced up your body and gave you a small smile, “But you did wonderful, like always, you'll get it yet.” 

A smile pulled at your lips, face heating from the remark, “I hope so.”

You had turned to grab your bag, being halted by Gale's voice, “Don't leave yet, I'll walk you out.” 

You nodded your bag falling onto your shoulder, the scrolls inside ruffled as you moved. Gale finished gathering his things, wrapping a small amulet around his neck before walking up to you.

He opened the door for you, smiling as you walked through. Walking through the hallway of the college, Gale seemed on edge but made small talk well enough to hide his obscured feelings.

“You've studied for that upcoming exam, yeah?” He asked, opening a larger set of doors. 

“Yes, sir. My arcane lock is the best in the class.” You cheered, smiling up at him.

For the first time all day Gale didn't have a smile on his face, usually his tied back hair was accompanied with a goofy smile and a kind demeanor. Your heart ached, you wanted to know what was going on, your fear for your professor sprouted little seeds of worry into your mind.

Both of you arrived at the waypoint, you went your separate ways. That was the last time Gale had seen you, when the next day arrived and you weren't in class, he had shook it off to you weren't feeling good. 

Day after day, until the day of the exam, you still had not shown face. Gale was worried and you being absent the day of the exam on the best spell in your arsenal only made his fear more present.

He had asked other students if they had heard from you, all only shook their heads, meaning you've basically disappeared without a trace. 

The professor's fear only grew as days went by, you had still not returned. Gale's fear trickled into full blown paranoia as the days went on, keeping him up at night and making him sick to where he couldn't keep food down. Gale had a soft spot for all of his students, even the naughty ones, yet you were one of his prized pupils. You were older than most of the rest of the class, eager to learn and listen, good at taking criticism, Gale was by no means a divination-heavy wizard and, yet even, he could see that you would go on to achieve great feats. 

Perhaps that was why he did it, Gale just needed to rationalize what part of him initiated the idea. Here he was fully in action, knocking on your door, away from the university, in his regular clothes. His face was deep and tired, stress had begun to sink into every fiber of him.

His knuckles knocked sharply against the dark wood of your door, a deep sigh released as he nervously waited for an answer. 

Almost perking up when he heard the soft, “Just a second.” that you had yelled in response. Scattered scuttering noises sounded from inside the apartment, Gale had no idea what you were doing, but hearing your voice brought a smile to his tired face.

When the door finally creaked open, your eyes widened in shock, “Professor-?” 

You looked behind him, seeing that he was alone, “What are you doing here?” 

Gale couldn't speak for a moment, he took the sight of you in. Before he frowned and began to explain, “You've been absent from your classes, at first I assumed you had fallen ill but after a few more absences and no hide nor hare of you, I became… Worried.”

A small smile shown as your face lit up, “Well, I'm fine, just going through a ‘rough patch’.” You turned slightly, welcoming your professor into your home.

He followed suit, walking in, “I really shouldn't stay long, I've quite a lot of work to do.”

“You should at least stay for a cup, I just put the kettle on.” You followed your professor deeper into your home.

Gale glanced around the small rooms, taking in all of your decorations, finally coming to a small couch. He sat on the edge of the couch, waiting as you sat in an armchair across from him.

“Is it pointless to ask for you to come back to class?” Gale asked, leaning forward.

“... No.” The word was released in a breath, “I just can't… not right now.” 

“Why not?” Gale asked, but slowly retracted leaning backwards, “I don't mean to pry, I just want to help, your education is important to me… You are important to me.”

“It's just hard. Right now, I have a lot going on.” You said, sighing.

Gale opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by a stout whistle from the kettle, you lifted a hand, “Excuse me.”

Standing to your feet, you left Gale in the room by himself. Coming back with a small metal tray of fancy cups, setting it down on the table that separated the two of you. 

“Sugar is in here, please, take what you want.” You instructed, lifting the top off of a small ceramic container.

“Thank you.” Gale said, looking at you instead of the tea.

“We would really love to have you back in class, you can take the exam you missed and make up the work.” Gale started, ignorant to the way your heart sank as he muttered on, “with your natural talent, you'd have no issues getting back on track.”

“Yes. My Talent.. is why I'm not going back to wizard school, Professor Dekarios.” You paused from your explanations, taking a long sip of your tea, “I've recently felt like my whole world view has come crashing down around me, my whole life I've been naturally so good at spells and magick. I thought I had to be a wizard… I didn't know any other way…”

Gales eyes peered into your own, “It's not the magick you have a problem with… it's you, you think you may be…”

“A sorcerer… it's only a theory, however.”

“My class would still be open to you. I will help you grow however you see necessary and I'm sure a couple books and scrolls wouldn't hurt your newfound identity.” Gale's smug simper helped ease your pain.

Hells him just being there helped you feel immensely better, “if I was to come back to class and still go my own path, wouldn't it be like betraying the weave?”

“The weave is something we utilize, you cannot simply betray it and I'm sure the magick you hold will not mind what path you go down.” Gale said, reaching out to hold your hand.

“Thank you, professor.” You said, smiling at him. 

Gale stuck around and talked with you for a while, not all about magick, but he does have a large interest in the subject. Once the sky had turned dark purple and was littered with the freckles of stars, he thought it best to head to his own home. He chuckled as he walked out your door, turning to give you a small smile, his eyes beaming, “Thank you for having me… And thank you even more for sharing your troubles with me. The fact that I was able to help means more to me than you could ever comprehend.”

“Please, professor, I should be the one thanking you… I was really going through it…” you spoke, rubbing the back of your neck.

After your exchanged goodbye's Gale left, and once again your home was silent, you were alone. Only your thoughts to keep you company now, you thought back to how his hands fit around the small teacup he was holding. How comforting it felt when he grabbed your hand, how for once, his eyes were solely focused on you… You wished it could be like that more, how you craved him deep at night. 

But fantasies are usually just that, fantasy, fiction… fake. Tonight, however they were your comfort, you writhed beneath the covers imagining Gale giving into you. You wondered what pet names he would give you, what habits he would have when he loved you deeply. 

The next day you went back to school, sitting at your abandoned desk, your satchel fell from your shoulder and students began to whisper. Looking over at you and facing one another once again, pointing and speaking indistinctly. It was to be expected it didn't affect you in anyway… however, when Gale stepped up to his pedestal, looking straight at you and fighting to keep a smile down, then you felt something. 

The fires of the nine hells burned inside your stomach, a hand found its way to your cheek, to prop your head up and hide the reddening that quickly spread over your face. Gale went on with class like usual, teaching, talking, rambling, whatever way you chose to say it, it was always the same. You enjoyed it, being such a well learned man was attractive and the way the words rolled off his tongue like a liquid nectar made the experience much better.

Once class was over and you had tucked a couple of your scrolls into your satchel, Gale spoke up, “Ms. (Y/n)” 

You quickly turned to face him, locking eyes with him, “stay after class and we'll discuss your make ups, yeah?” 

You nodded, “Yes, sir.” 

“Wonderful.” He said, you stayed at your desk as students piled out, after the last one you stood up approaching his own desk.

“You're feeling better, I hope.” He spoke, his voice now softer, than when he was teaching.

You nodded, smiling, “Yeah, you helped me a lot, professor, I'm very thankful.”

“Please, as I stated before… I'm just glad I could help.” His large hand once again found your own, giving a reassuring squeeze. It was a kind gesture, but it was one that ignited that fire in you.

“I'll have to repay you, some day..” You spoke, smiling slightly at the thought that popped into your head.

“No, no, no need, You being here is repayment enough.” He spoke smiling, only to cock an eyebrow at the blush you now wore.

“Yes, but it would help me feel better about the whole situation…” 

Gale paused before speaking again, “what did you have in mind?” 

“I could always help you out… You know… to return the favor?” Your eyes flickering up to meet Gale's own. Your teeth latched onto your lip, pulling it into your mouth looking at his hand on your own. For a moment Gale's eyes widened before he pulled his hand away.

A myriad of  inappropriate thoughts flooded the professor’s mind, evident only by the red hue his face took on. A small smile played at his lips a sweet contrast to the simper that littered your own plush ones. Shaking his head, Gale's big brown eyes bore into you, “As much as I would absolutely adore that…” He paused, wincing at the words he was about to say, “ I cannot. If anyone found out I wo-” 

“No one has to know, Sir.” You interjected, keeping eye contact, your confident facade faltered for a moment. Beginning to move away from your teacher, you nodded slightly, “-but I understand, you do have more at stake here than I do..” 

Gale's eyes flickered through emotions at lightning speed, confusion seeped into his features followed by shock and finally he landed on regret, “W-Well. Let's not be hasty now..” 

His hand reached out to you again, as you raised an eyebrow, curiously, at your teacher, “Professor, what exactly are you getting at?” 

“If it's strictly a one time thing and no one would know then… I assume it would be okay to-” softly stumbling over his words Gale's eyes landed on your soft figure, biting his lip, praying that you understood his incessant ramblings.

You nodded slightly smiling brightly, “Just tell me when and where and I'm there, professor.”

“I have two more lectures today, you can meet me after and we can go to my tower, if you would like.” 

“Yes!” You said, loudly, your excitement causing gale to Shush you. Apologizing you still nodded, “Yes, I would love that, sir.”

The rest of your day dragged on as your mind found itself hoping for what was to come, when the time had arrived you met Gale outside of his room. Leaning against the wall, you hadn't even noticed him, you were reading a scroll and focusing on the movements it instructed. Only for gale to grab the parchment and gain your attention, “A bit of difficult Magick, right here… where'd you get this?” 

He was so close to you, leaned against the door frame, his body facing you as he glanced over the spell. Absentmindedly taking his lip between his teeth, his eyes pensively traced the scroll. Before he glanced back over at you, handing it back to you.

“A little shop near my house, just a goal I'd like to set for myself.” You explained as the two of you began your walk, tucking the parchment back into your satchel.

“I could always help you..” Gale offered.

“I would like to figure it out on my own, I think.” 

“That's understandable, when you get the hang of it you'll have to show me.”

“Of course, professor.”

“Please, for tonight, call me Gale.” Your heart skipped a beat. 

“Okay, Gale.” A small and nervous laugh left with the name.

Once the two of you arrived at his door, ending the short commute, he flicked his hand and the door swung open. The candles lining the walls all flicked to life as you walked in, it was like a fancy library, bookshelves lined the walls and little trinkets sat on top of them. You were taking the scenery in as Gale dropped his bag, it fell to the ground with a thump.

“Before we begin, I can make some tea, if you would like.” He said, “and I have some biscuits.” 

You nodded, following him into his kitchen, you sat in a small chair as he paced around the kitchen collecting small items and preparing the water. He was speaking to you about magick, but not in his usual teacher way. Now he was more like a friend indulging you in his interests, “but surely to a student as talented as you, my experiences probably seem trivial.”

“Of Course not, professor.” You said, replying without even thinking.

“What was that?” He said, stepping closer, now towering over where you were seated.

“Sorry, Gale, but it doesn't seem trivial, not in the least..” You spoke, swallowing deeply.

A simper had crawled onto his face, smirking down at you, before the whining tea kettle called for him. He quickly glanced over his shoulder before looking back at you, “Just one second, love.” 

You nodded the word ‘yeah’ ghosting on your lips, but breathlessly, no words could escape you. It felt almost as if he enjoyed teasing you, between the moment with the scroll earlier now this, blissful agony one could call it.

Gale poured water into the two cups of tea, letting them steep. He walked back over to you. A finger ghosting on your chin, lifting your chin slightly, looking in your eyes, he smiled, “ready?” 

Your heart skipped a beat, “F-For?” 

“For tea…” He spoke, placing a kiss to your lips, “what else?” 

He smiled as he brought a small tray closer to you, two tea cups and a plate of pastries sat on the tray. 

You hastily drank your tea, meanwhile Gale sipped his, watching the ways you moved around in your seat. When he drank the rest of his drink he stood to his feet clearing the dishes away, “I'm going to clean this mess up, the bedroom is through the stairs and to the right, you can't miss it, get comfortable.”

“O-okay.” You said, scampering up the stairs, you walked into his bedroom, the bed in the center was huge, you laid down on it, the plush blankets were soft and cool. You began undressing and crawled under the blankets, laying down comfortably. 

After a few moments of you laying there, the door swung open, Gale was also undressed, he crawled over the bed, laying over the blankets on top of you. 

Placing small kisses on your lips and trailing them down your neck, “Get up, and on your knees.” He growled.

You did as he said, standing on your knees, he pushed you down onto your hands and knees, getting behind you he slowly stroked himself before pressing into you. You moaned painfully, inhaling sharply, Gale did not give you time to adjust. He was driven feral by how warm and wet you felt, just for him. You were all for him and Gale was loving every part of it, his pace increased with every moan you gave him. 

Roughly pushing into you, “Yes, take it just like that, such a good pupil.” 

You moaned out beneath him, unable to form words as he ravaged you, placing kisses down your back, his hands held onto your forearms. The two of you rocking against one another, it wasn't long before your legs began to shake. 

“Gale, please.”

Your quivering voice was clouded by your ecstacy as you constricted around Gale, who groaned as he continued to pump into you. Your legs gave out, falling onto the bed, Gale lowered too, laying on top of you, “Damn, already?” 

Gale didn't stop, he milked your orgasm, rocking into you, stopping only to pull out and pat you on the leg. His hand traced your thigh. Before he rolled you over, you helped him, and Gale moved to stand up, still panting he pulled you closer to him. 

You were now on your back, Gale leaned down over you, placing your thighs on his shoulders, he placed another soft kiss to your lips.

“Is this what you think about during class?” Gale asked, pressing back into you.

“S-sometimes…” you admitted, Gale began to rock into you, “Ah-! Gale.” 

He pressed your legs to your chest, his face buried in your neck, kissing and biting at the sensitive area. The easy access to the sweet spot made your mouth water as Gale audibly moaned into the crevice of your neck.

His moans were loud and breathy, chasing his own release, his thrusts became sloppy and delayed. 

“Kiss me.” He demanded, you obliged, taking his bottom lip between your own. Kissing him as he rocked into you, “Yes, Gods, look at what you bloody do to me.” 

Finally, Gale thrusted, gripping the sheet beneath you tightly, and with a prolonged groan, he came. Chasing his orgasm, he sloppily rammed into you as your body milked him, clenching around as your orgasms met each other. Both of you gasping for air and mumbling swears beneath your breathless demeanor.

“You know, that was nice,” Gale said, pulling out and moving to lay beside you, “I appreciate it,”

Gale looked over at you, still panting, “I'll go run us a bath.” 

“Umm… sir,” you spoke up catching your professor's attention, “this was just a one time thing, right?”

Gale nodded, “yeah.” He mused as he walked into the bathroom.

It was most certainly not a one time thing.

[alicerosejensen]

Requiem

Warning: reader death; mentions of suicide; dark; angst; mentions of alcohol.

Synopsis: Leon is tired of losing those he loves. Another scar on his heart that you gave him when you decided to leave forever.

A/N: I think this is what I can write best. I just actually feel better after posting this.

It would be better to tear your heart out of your chest than to burn and rot from love.

Leon didn’t want to deal with the funeral, but it seems that no one else would have cared about it anymore. And here you are lying in front of him, surrounded by flowers whose velvet petals touch your pale skin. As tender and short-lived as you yourself. You lie in your coffin in complete silence with your arms folded on your chest and it seems that nothing can interrupt your eternal sleep.

Actually, that’s how it is.

So beautiful and calm. Death can't take that from you, but death took you from him. More precisely, you did it yourself without leaving even a short farewell note with “I’m sorry” written in careless handwriting. You left him nothing but bitter memories of the last months.

Leon looks at you without saying a single word. Without you, there is too much Emptiness here, but as you know, the most painful daggers are stabbed in the back by loved ones. Why couldn't you just talk to him when his heart was always open to you? Now he has nowhere to hide from the pain, and Leon would gladly dig himself a second grave next to you or lie down in the same coffin with you - a cruel traitor who so callously trampled on his love, sneakily escaping to another world, and anger really splashes inside him, bursting out with tears.

Claire carefully puts her hand on his shoulder and it seems that he is hunched over from the weight lying on him. Your death... your voluntary departure from life hit him harder than a tombstone. After all, you ran away from him, from this world, into your dreams and into some other world of your own that is so strikingly different from this one. Leon even wonders if you did it? Tears flow down his cheeks against his will, Leon has no strength to restrain them, just like the day he found you there on the bed.

A day that he will curse for the rest of his life...

He knew that it was hard for you, that there were days when you just couldn't get out of bed and put yourself in order. Sometimes he sat you down in front of him and untangled your hair that you hadn't combed for too long, and even took up scissors when combing couldn't cope with tangled strands. He knew that it was difficult for you and made sure that you took your medications, but it seems that everything turned out to be complete shit, because if the treatment would have been useful, then you would be lying on the bed or the couch right now.

Not in a wooden box that costs a lot of money.

Endless suffering that was worse than death for you and you gave up by stopping the fight. Leon hates that day.

In particular, when he realized that you were not breathing.

When opening the door of your small apartment, the prickly evening air hit him in the face with a strong stream blowing from the open window. Then he looked at the lowered window, thinking that you were just sleeping, and did not immediately notice the empty pill bottle on the floor. You were already as pale as you are now, with blue lips, but Leon thought it was just from the cold... not from death. He lay down next to you, gently hugging you, kissing you on the cheek, trying to warm you with the warmth of his body, rubbing your icy palms and whispering various tender words in your ear, trying to gently wake you up. What a fool! Leon has seen so many deaths, but when you lay in front of him, it took him a few minutes for his heart to break forever.

"Princess?" The agitated voice was filled with notes of panic and fear. In the end, he turned pale himself when he turned your silent body.

Humble silence and a damn rude voice. Leon shook you by the shoulders, slapped your cheeks with his palms, trying to force you to open your eyes, but you left without saying the last goodbye. The whole world was like one big sand castle collapsed right in his hands and your body was just a reminder of what connected you to each other. The sound of crying did not subside for a long time in the four walls. Leon continued to hold you in his arms, pressing you to his chest, rocking you as if cradling a small child and warm drops of salty tears fell on your face and lips. Until at some point a hole formed inside him that allowed him to focus his vision on the ill-fated empty pill bottle that caused your death.

His head was lying on top of your head, but Leon just watched and waited without knowing what, because who better than him to know that miracles do not happen.

Like every living soul, you have been fighting for life for a long time, forever stumbling and once falling into such a deep hole that there is no strength left to get out of there. Despair has clung to you from all sides, turning you into a kind of ghost that even pills could not help you find new colors of happiness for later life. In the end, you ended your life path prematurely considering that death is also a medicine.

That's just not necessary to self-medicate.

Perhaps after you die, you decide to wait for Leon on the border of life and death, afraid to cross the final line alone forever. But if this line exists, will he forgive you?

After all, you didn't watch how he drowned his pain in bottles of alcohol, and then organized a funeral, denying Hannigan and Claire help, because they just knew that he was tearing apart and that a loaded gun had long been in his apartment with the safety off. It was worth pulling the trigger once, but then who will take care of you? Leon has not believed in God for a long time and now it's even good because despite your act, the thought that you will suffer after death scares him even more. However, if so, then he was ready to go down to Hell to you.

Leon still has a lot of pain left. He was so tired of losing loved ones. Probably one day he will go through all five stages of grief and accept your departure, leaving himself a slight melancholy and happy memories of which he will be reminded of your things. But it won't be soon. This bleeding wound on his soul will torment him for a long time and only time will turn it into another scar on his heart.

Meanwhile, he listens to the serene memorial service and, just like you, drowns in these gloomy thoughts, because now, despite the hellish training and zombie outbreaks, Leon does not know how to live on without you, so he begs you to just wait for him on the other side.

[reds-writings]

Hi😊

I love how you write and since you were asking for writing requests I have one (for 2012 Rust ofc):

It's possible a combination of 2 prompts?

If it is then:

1-Angst prompt(keeping things from the other to spare their feelings)

And 8- soft kissing prompts ( kissing them while cleaning their wounds)

Thank you so much for writing for us and don't feel pressured to write this if you don't want to!

( by the way have you heard Experience from Ludovico Einaudi? I think it's perfect for the jj series and for TD in general)

“I didn’t know for days.”

“I-”

“Days, Rust.” You cut him off, voice cracking jaggedly as you took in his appearance. Never had he looked so beaten and small, so physically fragile. 

Every part of your nervous system felt as if it was breaking down. You hated being in hospitals more than anything and you were due to crumble any minute now. 

What a fucked couple of weeks. 

“I’ve done enough. Couldn’t bother to ask you here…” He rasped. It was a weak as shit excuse and you both knew it. The scoff you offered in reply was a harsh lashing to his already feeble resolve, 

“You say that yet here you are. Always doin' more and botherin' me more than I can put into words.” 

That was mean. He deserved it. 

Partly. 

You pushed down the rising bile soured with devastation in your throat. You weren’t here to fight, even if that's all you knew how to do now.

“I don’t know if it’ll breach your thick skull but…when Maggie called me about what happened…my heart just about gave out. I mean that.” You said solemnly, shaking hands starting to bunch at your sides.

God, you didn’t know the last time you cried over this man but you remember just how easy he made it.

“Maggie called?” It was almost funny how bad he was at tampering down his shock at that information.

“Yeah. Imagine that.” You huffed dryly, wrapping your arms around yourself as you took a seat in the flimsy chair opposite his hospital bed. You continued,

“I almost didn’t answer. But I figured she wouldn’t call after all this time for nothin’. I made sure of that years ago…” You looked anywhere but him. His window seemed like a portal to nothingness with how dark it was outside. Like reality didn’t exist beyond these four walls. 

Clearing your throat you shifted back toward him, 

“Marty said you need a place to stay so I set up a room for you.”

“No that won’t-”

“I wasn’t askin’.” 

Rust makes no move to speak further.

“Plus if I get sick of you fast enough…I’ll just hand you off back to Marty. Just figured you’d want more breathin’ room than his bachelor pad.”

That gets a wry wheeze out of him, though he looks on the verge of breaking. Marty mentioned something being different now. That something within Rust had shifted during this whole experience that couldn’t quite be explained. 

You’d keep your questions for later.

Sitting in a charged bubble of silence for what felt like forever, taking each other in to the fullest extent, you break it to reach for a clean rag and soak it in a basin that rested close by in the room. 

The care you took in dotting at his marred, tender skin could’ve had him worshipping you at your feet but he wouldn't ruin this with words. A feeling of warmth and hope he hadn’t known in over a decade encased him at your gentle action, leaving him feeling like an exposed livewire.

There was no telling where you’d end up. If things would ever be as they were before. 

But with a barely there kiss to his hairline, it felt like a start to the repairment of a soul tie left buried too long ago. 

[ponderingmoonlight]

Can I request geto suguru with prompt 29. After the last angst u wrote, I figured I want to be hurt more, maybe y/n confronts him again and tries to get him back (fails miserably) 😭😭 keep writing, ur writing is really good 👍

Thank you so much for that request, I just had to write that immediately! Hope I shatter your soul in a good way love, enjoy and let me know what you think ♡

Dying ray of sunshine Part ll

Pairing: Geto x fem!reader

Word Count: 2,5k

Synopsis: After searching for your former boyfriend Suguru for 10 years, he finally shows himself again at the Night Parade. You try your best to convince him back into your open arms, but it seems like the man you love is gone forever.

Warnings: hurt (obviously), injury, lanuage, death

It’s been a while since you last saw him. 10 years, 6 months and 9 days to be exact. Somehow you managed to carry on, found a job in the center of Tokyo, cut your hair a little shorter, met up with Satoru from time to time. You’re a grown woman now, absolutely stunning as some might say. On the surface, everything is going great for you. Expect for the fact that you never let a single man touch your soul after Suguru.

Sorry, just doesn’t work I guess.

You block the number of the random man you’ve met last night without balling an eye and straighten your posture. No one seems to mesmerize you like Suguru did. Along with Satoru, you searched for him over the last years, still eager to find him and talk everything out. You know that he has a tender heart, that even after all this time you will manage to get him back, your Suguru. The promise you made will come true. Sooner or later, you will track down the traces of horror he leaves behind. Deep down you know that he would never hurt or let alone kill you. Just a few words, that’s all you need.

The ringing of your phone disturbs your peace rudely. A look at the screen reveals that in fact Satoru is calling.

“You know I have to leave for work soon, don’t you?”

“(y/n), he was here”, Satoro breathes out.

Immediately you jump out of your chair, blood rushing through your ears as your heart nearly pounds out of your chest. You know exactly who he’s talking about. Suguru was at Jujutsu High? Why? Maybe he wanted to sort things out, maybe he had a conversation with Satoru, maybe…Maybe he asked about you.

“What did he say? Is he still with you? Why was he there? Were you able to convince him to come back to us? How is he? Does he look fine?”, you babble out, mind racing faster than your mouth can follow.

“(y/n)…I think you should pay me a visit. Don’t expect anything positive though…”

Your heart sinks immediately, a wave of disappointment and foreboding rushes over you just like ten years ago. Nothing positive means something really bad must have happened. But still, this is the first personal contact the two of you had with Suguru since he left that day. This has to be a good sign, right?   

“I’m coming right now”, you response hastily, put on your high heels and sprint down the halls with your car keys tinkling in your hand.

Jujutsu High isn’t far away from your home, but still the empty road feels like an eternity this day. You press your foot on the gas, don’t give a shit about the rain that starts to poor and the bad sight. He was there. Suguru was finally seen again, alive and speaking. You can’t help but shed a tear of joy while cruising down the street with enormous tempo. At some point you thought about giving him up, to stop searching for someone who doesn’t want to be found and who last told you that he wants to see you dead. But you never had the heart to call it quit, to simply throw all the time you’ve had together into the trash. This is your chance.

“Satoru!”, you cry out, dashing down the wet sidewalk into the center of Jujutsu High.

There he stands along with his students, all of them wearing thoughtful, anxious and competitive expressions. You are alarmed immediately. Satoru warned you, it is written on their faces that something pretty bad has happened.

“What’s going on?”, you breathlessly inquire, trembling hands pressed against your figure in order to stop you from shivering.

Your whole body seems to be electrified, still in absolute shock at this sudden opportunity.

“He was here. Suguru was here to announce war”, Satoru explains briefly, his gaze pinned to the grey sky above him.

“War?”

You can’t believe your ears. Is that the only reason he came here? To proclaim that he is going to take other innocent lives? You feel like fading, suddenly a breath-taking nausea overcomes you. This is not the Suguru you know, he’d never do that. Absolutely impossible.

“This has to be a misunderstanding, we both know that-“

“Sorry (y/n), it wasn’t. Apparently he doesn’t even stop at jujutsu sorcerers anymore…”

“B-But…This means he’ll come back, right? I will talk to him, I’m sure there’s a way to convince him to stop. After all, I was his girlfriend for so many years! I’m sure he’ll listen to me!”, you desperately try to convince Satoru.

“Ain’t no way I’ll take you to the battlefield. Forget that, (y/n). You’ll stay here, at Jujutsu High. I will talk to him first. Only when I can be sure that he won’t hurt you I will come and get you, understood? As a non-jujutsu sorcerer, you are completely at his mercy. I won’t lose you too.”

You can feel Satoru’s tense gaze eyeing you up and down while you urgently try to hold back tears. Of course he’s right, you know all too well that Suguru’s heart is clouded by grief and rage. He could kill you in a heartbeat before even recognizing that it’s you. But still, the thought of sitting here and waiting for Satoru’s call while your boyfriend is out there slaughters you from the inside. You waited 10 fucking years for this moment. How long do you have to wait until you can finally embrace him in your arms again, until you are reunited and get your well-deserved happy ending? It is so frustrating – hunting down the shell of the person you love most in this entire word and then not being able to talk this out.

“Did he ask about me?”

Your voice is a fade whisper, close to breaking like the finest glass. There is nothing you want more than to embrace him into your arms again, to feel his broad chest against your fingertips and let his delicious scent tingle your nose. Satoru’s heart breaks at the way you stare into the ground, the tears you try to hold back so badly glistering in your eyes. He can’t help but pull you into his arms, gently caressing your back just like he did on that fateful day that took your spark away.

“He asked me if you’re still around. I told him that you are searching for him”, Satoru whispers into your ear, making your heart shudder in hopefulness.

So he does care about you. After all the things that happened after the night ten years ago, you are still on his mind. Yes, this is a good sign. That means that he does in fact remember his feelings towards you, the beautiful moments you both shared.

“I will bring him back, Satoru.”

______________________________________________________________

“See ya, watch out for the little ones, (y/n)!”

“You’ll probably have to watch out for me, I’m no use when it comes to curses. Hopefully I’m not in your way”, you admit towards Maki and Yuta.

The boy in front of you smiles kindly at you while shaking his head.

“Oh please, don’t be so hard on yourself! You are a very impressive and strong woman, Gojo-sensei talks only positively about you!”

“I’m not able to see curses either, don’t let that stop or bring you down.”

A kind smile is plastered on your face, heart warmed by their kind words. It seems like Satoru is doing his job very well, apparently. You definitely need to tell him that when all of this is over.

“I’ll go back inside”, the girl named Maki announces, turns on her heels and leaves.

“Do you want to join?”, Yuta asks friendly towards you.

“Oh no, thank you. I will wait here.”

And with that, you are alone. Only you and the soft breeze that strokes your hair on this quiet cold day like every other. You can’t keep your mind still, everything revolves around Suguru and the prospect of seeing him. How will it go? Will he even recognize you? Your curves got a little rounder, jawline a little sharper and hair a little shorter. But your eyes. He should be able to tell that it’s you by your eyes. After all, he spent hours getting lost in their sight. Oh, the beautiful old days. Waking up next to him still sleeping, letting your needy hands wander around his muscular body, caress every inch of his delicate skin. Suguru is your blessing of a lifetime and he told you over and over that you are his ray of sunshine. Surely it’s not too late. It is never too late to change your path.

“Who do we have here?”, a voice behind you jeers.

You quickly get up on your feet, courageous gaze set in the direction of the unknown male.

But he isn’t unknown. You’d be able to recognize his long black hair and mesmerizing orbs anywhere. It’s him. God, Suguru is here. Still as breathtaking as ten years ago, face matured in the most delicate way. And that striking smile that is plastered on his face.

“Is that really you, Suguru?”

Ten years, ten whole years of your life you’ve been searching for him. Ten years without letting any man touch you in the way he did, ten years of constantly thinking about him and the unconditional love you hold for him deep within your heart. And now he’s finally here. Standing right in front of you, only about ten feet away.

His eyes examine you up and down. Can this really be true? He thought he’d never see you again. After all, he told you to run away this one time, he spared your life once. Suguru never expected to set is eyes on you alive.

“(y/n)”

His voice grew stronger and sounds a little deeper than you remembered. Oh, how badly you want to bury your face in his arms, beg him to come with you and forget about this madness. Maybe you’ll be able to laugh about what happened in a few years together.

“Over the past 10 years I searched you everywhere. Remember that promise that I made? I told you I’ll come back. And now we’re finally able to talk this out.”

Your voice is shaking. It feels like a far away dream to see him standing there, safe and sound right in front of your very own eyes. The horror of the last few years isn’t noticeable on his lovely face. You can’t help but close the distance between your bodies, every step feels like a victory. Yes, you can do this. You will convert him back to his normal self, to the sweet and loving Suguru everyone knows and loves.

“Wow, you actually managed to grow up even though you are nothing but a defenseless monkey. Congrats, (y/n).”

The sound of his stone cold voice and venomous words makes the world around you turn black. He called you a monkey again. Just like he did back then. You shake your head, determination plastered on your surface. No, you won’t give up so easily. This isn’t him.

“Suguru, this isn’t you. I know you better than that. You are the gentlest, most caring and loving soul I know, a man that would never hurt an innocent soul. You don’t have to do this. Please, let me help you out of this vicious circle, let me give you the attention you needed ten years ago. We can still fix this. I never stopped loving you.”

“But I did, (y/n). You are nothing but a stranger I share memories with for me. I forgot about you a long time ago”, he replies dryly, cold gaze staring right through your soul.

You swallow heavily when his words hit you like a bullet. It’s like you never knew him, disgust is plastered on his face. No…no, it can’t be! Your heartbeat picks up, hands balling into fist while your whole body hardens in agony. You didn’t threw your life away for him to stab you in the back like this. You didn’t love him for noting all these years. This just can’t be true. He just doesn’t want to let you too close, a coping mechanism to defend his current way.

“Kill me right now then, I dare you!”

Your blood-curling scream hangs heavy in the thick air between both of you, waiting for any reaction, any words, any twitches. Only to be greeted by a small grin and his eyes filled with so much hatred that it leaves you completely motionless.

“Your wish is my command.”

In the split of a second you are torn into the hard ground beneath, multiple bones in your body cracking at the invisible force that seems to burry you alive. Your lungs are out of air, all you can do is stare at the grey sky above, heart completely shattered by the love of your life all over again. Salty tears mix with your blood, plastering your sight in crimson.

“You’re just fucking hilarious, don’t you think? Mark my words before you die, you mean absolutely nothing to me. (y/n), you are nothing but an insignificant shadow and embarrassment of my past, a freaking monkey that has no place in this world, not worth my time. And that is exactly how you will die today. I won’t give you another chance to escape.”

His words seem to slowly fade away. Every time you woke up you reached for him, but he was never there. You want to tell yourself that there’s still hope, that there’s a small chance to convince him to return back into your open arms.

But it’s too late.

He will never be the Suguru that loved you so dearly ten years ago. He will never be the Suguru that held you in his arms all night, that told you over and over again how much he loves every inch of your body. He will never be the Suguru that came home to you after an exhausting mission with a bouquet of flowers in his hands and a tired smile on his face. He will never be the Suguru you wanted so badly to bring back. No, this version of Suguru is dead. The man who’s bending over you right now with a satisfying grin decorating his features is a stranger, the shell of the man you used to know and love.

With a single tear escaping your eye, you steal one last glance of him and your past, present and future glistering in his emotionless orbs.

You failed him. And he will never be the same man again.

[wannaeatramyeon]

Pls more jake x fem reader w tension 😏

Thanks for the ask! I attempted to write something twice before actually realising you're not asking for angst lol. Have some sorta tension 😁

Jake Kim x Reader: Cuddling... to a bit more hc

Nothing Jake likes more after a long day than being held in your arms

It's during these moments that he is ever quiet. He's always commanding the crew, or just chatting shit that even he enjoys the peace

You lie next to each other in bed, your bodies are completely intertwined. It's his safe space. His head is tucked into your neck, eyes are closed, and he completely relaxes just breathing in the scent of you

When he finally unwinds, becoming just 'Jake Kim' instead of 'Jake Kim: Big Deal Boss', he looks at you and gives you his trademark grin and wink

You're a sucker for him, the cheesiness never fails to make you melt

(Being this close, your eyes are always drawn to his scars. Even though you don't love the way he got them, you do love how they make him look sexier and dangerous. You know Jake, and his reputation, but he's so soft for you that you can only see him as a sweetheart)

He then gives you the softest, most tender kiss. It's a sign that most of the tension from the day has lifted, or at least he's ready to focus the rest of the day on you and him

Neither of you can leave it just there though. Your lips part, and his tongue chases yours

The kiss evolves into a make out session, and you always draw the hottest sighs from this man. He purrs like a kitten

His hands start to wander. You can feel every hard-earned callous and it only endears him more to you

Jake knows your body better than you do. He finds exactly the right spots to stroke and palm and run his fingers along that changes the mood of your session from loving and comforting to needy and wanting

Not one to unnecessarily rush, he returns to nuzzle your neck, now finding the sensitive spot beneath your ear and kisses and suckles

Murmurs sweet nothings and praise. You can never tire of him telling you how beautiful you are, how perfect for him, how thankful he is for you, how much you turn him on

(From your first time together you know this man can do no wrong in bed. Even with cuddling and kissing, he is unbelievably attentive to you and your reactions)

The mood turns more sexual as he rolls you on top of him

He trusts you explicitly and happily relinquishes control. Besides, it's nice to have someone else take the lead for once

More than that though, he loves the view - seeing the way your face glows, how the light frames you and makes you look like an angel

Jake adores the intimacy and intensity of eye contact. In this position, there's nowhere else to look but at each other. It feels like he can see into your soul and you into his

Feeling the weight and heat of you as you straddle him is a massive turn on too

The movement and rhythm of his hips drive you both crazy. His growing excitement is easy to tell. He can't hold back the groans and grunts as you grind against him

When it all gets too much, he sits up and begins undressing you, kissing each new part of you he unveils

Here, when you are both bare, he always takes a moment to slow down and hold you against him, chest to chest. It feels like your hearts are beating as one

Where the rest of the night takes you depends on both your moods:

Jake can be unbelievably loving and gentle as he slowly takes you apart

Or you can continue to take control, if you want

Or his rough and dominant side comes out. He's more heavy handed but it's still Jake. He takes care of you and your pleasure comes first

Either way, he plans to spend all his nights with you and wants to explore it all with you too

[tom-whore-dleston]

Have you thought about doing A-Z fluff with Adam Warlock? I would love to see it! <3

Pairing ▹ Adam Warlock x f. reader

Genre ▹ fluff

This fic contains ▹ gotg vol. 3 spoilers!, fluff, some angst, jealousy, break-up, mentions of Adam pre-Guardians, lots of domestic shit, Adam being down bad for you, Eros/Starfox from The Eternals makes a guest appearance, lightly beta-ed

Word Count ▹ 2.6k

Notes ▹ I normally don't take requests but I thought this would be a nice exercise to get me back into writing bc it's been a hot minute. Plus, Will Poulter is currently invading my head space after the sexy dream I had of him. Remember to reblog and comment if you enjoyed! 😊

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?) If you could rate how affectionate Adam was on a scale from one to ten, the scale would be broken. He was always hugging, kissing, and holding you. Adam’s love language is physical touch so he’d probably perish if you weren’t in his embrace.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?) Adam was the first friend you made after arriving at Knowhere. While celebrating the destruction of Counter-Earth and the fall of the High Evolutionary, you found Adam watching you dance. You were drawn to him like a magnet so it felt natural that you approached him, introduced yourself, and pulled him into a dance. He was hesitant because he was unfamiliar with the art of dancing, but fortunately, you were a dancer on your old planet so you taught him how to move to the music.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?) Of course, Adam is a cuddler! He enjoys being big and little spoons equally, just as long as you were pressed against his body in any kind of way. Cuddles are perfect when Blurp is nestled in the space between your and Adam’s legs.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?) He is the most domestic partner you have ever dated, hence why you both work so well together. He loved cooking and cleaning and doing other chores with you. Being next to you and doing mundane things together was one of his favorite things to do with you. Even though he loves the Guardians, Adam pictured what life would be like with just the two of you in your own living space. He wouldn’t bring up the idea until later down the line because he wants to be there for the team as much as he can.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?) Adam would write you a long, heartfelt letter describing his feelings and why he is ending your relationship. You’d find dried-up tear stains that smeared on the ink from his pen, causing some words to be smudged. You would add to the paper with your own set of tears as you read about all the beautiful memories the two of you made together.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quickly would they want to get married?) Adam would be head over heels for you so he is 100% down to be committed to you and only you. If it were up to him, he’d want to marry you as soon as possible. However, you told him you wanted to wait a little longer before getting married. Adam respected your wishes but he often gets lost daydreaming about how perfect your wedding day would be.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?) Adam is the definition of a gentle giant. Everyone was initially intimidated by him because of how powerful and destructive he once was. However, once you encouraged the others to give Adam a chance, they realized how gentle and kind he was. Adam knows that you are capable of handling your own and don’t need to be treated so delicately. Yet, that doesn’t stop him from being tender and soft with you. He just doesn’t want to hurt anyone again the way he once did.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?) Adam doesn’t like hugs. He LOVES them! He will hug you every chance he gets and you are there to reciprocate. His favorite kind of hugs are ones with you and Blurp atop his bed right before you all fall asleep together. All the children from Counter-Earth run up to Adam to give him a hug because he is like a giant teddy bear to them.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?) Adam would most likely confess his love for you after a month of being together. When he began developing these feelings for you, he sought advice from the Guardians, both former and new. Nebula suggested that he gift you the heart of your worst enemy. After a collection of cringes from the group, Drax advised him to just pull her into a kiss on the battlefield because “she will never see it coming.” The Guardians began shouting and arguing amongst each other over what was the best way Adam should tell you he loves you. Finally, Groot, who was the most silent of the group, told Adam that the best way to win your heart is just to be yourself and let it come out naturally. Rocket almost shed a tear with how proud he was of his friend. Of course, Adam took Groot’s advice and let the words flow naturally. As you both shared a kiss, the Guardians watched you both with warm hearts and smiles on their faces.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?) Adam doesn’t get jealous often, but when he does, he does a poor job of hiding it. After he confessed his love for you, Starfox, an Eternal, stopped by for a visit. Starfox, also known as Eros, was a long-time friend of yours and it got to Adam’s head how close you were to him. You reassured Adam that there was nothing to worry about, but the Eternal’s handsome features and flirty ways made Adam consider otherwise. Adam isolated from you for an entire day, until Eros found him setting a pile of trash on fire. The two Celestials had a heart-to-heart about you and Eros revealed to Adam how enamored you were with Adam.

“Yeah, she talks about you all the time. I’ve never seen her with such joy in the time I have known her.”

“Oh.” Adam felt a pinch of guilt for being so angry with Eros. “I’m sorry for being jealous of you. I’d like for us to be friends if that’s possible.”

“All is forgiven, mate,” Eros grinned, holding his hand out to Adam. “You obviously make her happy so you’re already taken Pip’s spot as my best friend.” With that, Adam shook his hand, beginning the start to another friendship.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?) Kissing Adam feels like the flowers blooming in the springtime and the leaves falling in the autumn. Every kiss with him is as amazing as the first time. His lips melt against yours like the universe created you both to do so. He loves stooping down to your level to peck you on the forehead or nose. Meanwhile, you love kissing him on his shoulder or his collarbone because it’s the easiest for you to reach. Adam’s favorite way to be kissed by you is on his hand while your fingers are interlaced with his. You would bring your locked hands to your lips before pressing a kiss atop his hand and then nuzzling your cheek against it.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?) Considering the number of kids that reside on Knowhere, he basically treats them as his younger siblings. You love watching the kids play and climb all over Adam as he bursts into fits of laughter. When the children start fighting or crying, he immediately steps in to comfort them or help solve their problems. Seeing how great he is with them makes you think about how amazing of a dad he would be in the future.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?) Usually, you wake up before he does with your head pressed against his chest. You’d wake him up by peppering kisses over his face and stroking his soft blonde hair. Adam would return the favor with groggy eyes and then do the same to Blurp, who was typically the last to wake up. Your morning routine together always began by turning on some 80s music because it was upbeat and energetic. You would wash your face and brush your teeth before changing into your clothes for the day. After that, you would help yourselves to breakfast. Sometimes, Blurp would need to be fed first otherwise he would beg for the food you were cooking for yourselves.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?) If you aren’t on missions across the galaxy, your night routine would be enjoying dinner on a rooftop to admire the stars and planets in the sky. A playlist of love songs would be playing in the background as you conversed and ate. Then, you would share a bath or shower, depending on how tired you both were. Sometimes, you would lose track of time and fall asleep under the night sky with a blanket draped over your body. The Guardians have made attempts to get you back into your beds but gave up when you tossed around and cuddled closer to one another.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?) Adam doesn’t have much life experience so he shares everything with you all at once. Normally, it would bother you if a partner was an open book right off the bat, but you understood that Adam was a different case. If anything, it made you love him more knowing that you get to grow with him and show him the beauties of the universe.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?) Adam can be easily angered, depending on the situation. He will never get angry with you and he avoids getting angry in front of you. Yet, you tend to be the one to find him when he is alone and letting out his anger on abandoned items in a secluded area of Knowhere. Conversely, he can easily calm down with you when your hand touches his. You help him with deep breaths and affirmations and his anger is gone.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?) Adam remembers everything from your mother’s name to your favorite color. On the flip side, he will forget anything that Rocket will tell him, even if it was something important. The Guardians say he has a selective hearing for you because he is so wrapped up in his love for you. Sometimes, you will have to repeat what Rocket says back to Adam because he is more likely to remember important things if you are the one exchanging information with him.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?) His favorite memory with you is when you first met. Adam couldn’t help but watch you dance to Florence and the Machine. Even when you laid eyes on him, his gaze was still locked on you. He was grateful you were confident enough to introduce yourself to him and ask him to dance. He was nervous and tripped over his own feet and words, but you didn’t seem bothered at all by it. Having your body against his ignited a fire inside him that he did not know could exist. Little did he know that you were feeling the same exact thing as him.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?) Adam is sooooo protective. Not just of you, but with the Guardians and the citizens of Knowhere. He wasn’t able to protect his mother from her untimely death and he is still haunted by it. So he goes to extreme lengths to protect everyone he loves. He isn’t all that concerned about his own safety because he knows he is powerful enough to protect himself. Adam is the type to make sacrifices for the better of everyone else even if it means getting hurt in the process. At least you are there to tend to his wounds when he is done protecting everyone.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?) Adam puts a lot of effort into his relationship with you. He is always the first one to sing “Happy Birthday” to you on your birthday and make it a special day for you. The Sovereign will get assistance from Mantis and Drax to set up dates, parties, and gifts for you. This usually leads to Mantis and Drax bickering over what Adam should write on cards or if he should get you candy or stuffed animals. Sometimes, their bickering would be so loud that Adam’s surprises for you would get spoiled because you would be eavesdropping on their conversations. At the end of it all, you loved the lengths Adam went through to make you happy and loved. But you still suggested that Adam seek help from someone other than Mantis and Drax if he wants the surprises to be successful.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?) At first, it was cute when Adam had selective hearing/memory for you, but after a while, it became a little concerning. Especially when he would forget stuff regarding missions. You confronted Adam in a gentle way and he agreed to work on his listening skills. He has improved in listening to Rocket, but he still struggles to remember Rocket’s favorite song.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?) Adam isn’t too concerned with his looks. Perhaps the reason being his young mind hasn’t allowed him to be self-aware of his looks. Either way, he is content with how he looks because appearance doesn’t change how people view him.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?) As mentioned previously, he would perish without you by his side.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.) Peter Quill returned to Knowhere for a short visit. He showered everyone with gifts, Adam receiving a Polaroid. Quill taught him how to use the camera and even took a selfie with him. Adam was so excited to show you his gift that he ran up to you and took a picture of you admiring the ballet slippers Quill gifted you with. Now, Adam’s room is covered in Polaroids of you and him, but he cherishes the photo of you smiling down at the slippers you loved dancing in.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?) He would not be fond of self-deprecating behaviors from himself or a partner. Adam understood that everyone has their flaws, but it makes him sad when he sees others put themselves down because he believes that anyone can be redeemed. He is a prime example of second chances. That being said, he would have zero tolerance for anyone who picks on you or his friends. Adam has no problem putting bullies in their places.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habit of theirs?) Adam sleeps better when you and Blurp are sharing the bed with him. When either one of you is missing, his sleep gets disrupted. And when he isn’t fully rested, it affects his mood and performance on missions and everyday tasks. Something that helps when you are away is listening to songs that remind him of you and looking at Polaroids of you.

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