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

[burymagdalene]

Chateau Lobby #4 - S. Reid x Reader

Whilst trying to navigate romantic relationships after prison, Spencer finds himself in love and caught in an all-too-serious non-relationship with reader. Wanting to break this streak, he asks to spend Valentine's Day properly with a real date. Afterward, they find themselves desperate with trying to express their love for each other.

pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader genre: Smut (18+ pls pls), fluff, and maybe a bit of angst at the start tags: switch!Spencer, blowjob, fingering, a bit of munch!Spencer, pinv sex, age gap (not explicit, but I was foaming at the mouth thinking about it while writing), praise, riding, creampie, lots of teasing and love… all that jazz. wc: 6.9k ;-) a/n: Happy Valentine's Day! I had to name this one after essentially the best love song ever. I kiss all of you!

Work is grueling as usual, couples flooded the diner you work at for their pre- Valentine’s Day festivities with flowers in hand and shit eating grins plastered to stay.

Yet, you’re off soon and you can taste your freedom just like the stale coffee you’ve been throwing back all day as the bell to the front door jingles with more fervor than usual,

“I want to take you out. Properly. Friday. It’ll be a good, proper, date. Yeah.”

You blink in bewilderment, apron tied around your waist as Spencer proposes your first actual date at the kitschy restaurant you work at. 

After Spencer got out of prison, his perceptions around a genuine connection in a relationship seemed to be as distant a reality as the person who he was before prison. Upon meeting you, a small radiant glow around you at all times as you poured him his coffee during his lunch breaks beckoned him into this altercation he’s in now with you.

The dull incessant nagging on his shoulder at all times whispering his new inadequacies in relationships has steered him into a solitude state he has never experienced before. You couldn’t possibly stoop so low to fall for an ex-convict? Would he even call himself that? Would you? 

Most importantly, he had no idea how to steer a relationship before this complete 180 in his life, and now he’s even more lost to the tenderness he’s craving so deeply it hurts to even give himself a taste of optimism within the relationship he’s developed with you.

Spencer has somehow held himself back from you in all these months in such a critical way that it has resulted in a bond which the concept of he’s priorly abhorred. You only have sex. 

Well, that’s kind of impossible for him. Only sex. But every time he’s seen you, been with you alone, it has led to sweat mingling and his dry whining. You two can’t help but to talk about your lives, your passions, can’t help but give each other sickening support and kindness that makes him nervously chew the skin of his thumbnail. 

Despite how much he thinks about something genuine between you two, in reality, he just gets scared. Simply put. He has seen and been through unimaginable horrors, it scares him to bare that to another person, to someone who brings aid to him. Pushing you away in any sort is not something he can handle, so instead he’s managed to come up with a only slightly agonizing set up for the both of you.

It’s better than confessing completely and inevitably driving you away with his damages. 

Except, this clearly hasn’t worked out. It’s February, he’s been seeing you every weekend for months and Spencer cannot bear the thought of taking all of your time like this and you getting nothing on Valentine’s Day. It sickens him, it strikes him one night. If you told him that some other guy you were seeing had put you in the exact situation he’s put you in, and you’re not even receiving flowers and an all expenses paid dinner on Valentine’s Day, he’d personally show up to his apartment and kill him.

 So he’s finally stepped up.

A sweep of bravery flooded his senses on his lunch break, and he was up on his feet walking to where he knows you are at this time without even thinking.

Your manager, however, was not as excited about this distracting public confession, and grumbled out a prompt for you to leave early before causing a further hindrance, and now you two are sitting next to each other on the curb outside. 

Spencer is staring holes into the side of your smiling face as you pick a loose string from your jeans.

“I can’t believe you asked me out at work,” you giggle and shift your gaze at him for a split second “didn’t really know if you even liked me.”

“What? Of course I like you, you’re the only person I spend time with.”

“Hm. Yeah, it’s just confusing sometimes. I really like you, but usually when guys like you back they want to take you out, ha.”

You end your sentence with a dry laugh that explains to Spencer how you’ve been feeling throughout the time you’ve been sleeping together. 

“I’m so sorry. I just- I thought it would be easier on you. Than for you to actually be with me. Why didn’t you mention anything?”

You sniff, like knowing that what you’re about to say is probably a bit too mean to say to someone who just asked you to be his valentine.

“Why should it be on me to say something, you don’t tell me anything. Nothing about how you feel about me, apparently. I never said anything because I was going to put up with whatever until you dropped me because I care about seeing you too much.”

That makes Spencer shift his gaze to his own knees in front of him.

“Yeah, I’m unfair. I guess I just assumed that because you’re more confrontational than I am.”

“Am I though?”

Spencer sighs, with how many times you’ve dogged on him for certain things he’s said or done, yes. But you’ve never really mentioned how the relationship was impacting you, it’s easier for you to bring up menial topics to him, he guesses. 

“No, you’re not.” He finalizes.

You huff out a laugh and place a kiss on his blazer-clad shoulder– a peace offering. Grabbing his arm, you pull his jacket sleeve up to check the time. 

“I’m gonna drive home before you have to go back to work. I’m sorry I was mean. I’m really excited to go on a date with you friday. I’ve never had a Valentine’s Day date.” 

Standing up, you brush off your concrete imprinted palms on the back of your jeans before tilting up Spencer’s chin (he’s remained utterly still sitting on the curb) to meet your gaze. He looks away slightly to your shoes and rests his forehead against your stomach, a wordless apology as he nods against you. 

Again, you place your palms to his cheeks to look at you, he’s always had a problem with maintaining eye contact for long periods of time.

“And…you mr. gentleman, are you excited to wine and dine me?”

Spencer’s kicked-puppy look dissipates as his love-struck smile takes its place.

“Yes. I actually think it’s going to be the best night I’ve had since… maybe since I’ve met you.”

Smiling, you’re satisfied.

“That’s right. Okay, Spencer. Thank you. I’ll see you Friday.”

You try to suppress your grin as you spin away on your heels, but Spencer catches it before you turn and it heats his frigid body from sitting outside for so long. How has he been so dumb all this time? Somehow it being easy with you, painfully easy to be treated tenderly by you, since the beginning has slipped his mind. Of course, an actual relationship with you would come as naturally as it has since you started. 

He’s never been so sure of it. 

✵

Spencers looking at himself in the bathroom mirror as the bouquet he picked up for you and the personally annotated book he’s giving you sit on his kitchen table, awaiting his arrival to put their still existence into motion. 

He knows you well, he’s intently stored away every single piece of information you have given him. He knows everything you’ve been through, the best day of your life, what turns you on so much you get embarrassed… so on and so forth. Yet, he’s staring at his pre-date reflection right now seeing how his face has drained of all color. 

The restaurant he picked has been mentioned by Rossi a few times as a favorite. Fancy, Italian, expensive, and Spencer was able to get a reservation by the skin of his teeth for Valentine’s Day because he (regrettably) had to pull a “I know David Rossi, yeah..” on the phone a few days ago. 

So he should be rather prepared, he knows where you’re going, he’s been on a date before, sure. Yet…

Spencer flicks off the light in his bathroom to force himself away from the mirror, agonizing over his face isn’t productive in the least. You already know what he looks like. 

He drives in complete silence to your apartment, he’s already anxious as ever and he has to be behind the wheel, which is not his forte. But the thought of seeing you in the passenger seat glowing after a fancy meal appeals to him so greatly his stomach swirls.

Spencer’s early, of course. He couldn’t not be. He was probably ready for the date 3 hours before the time he said he would pick you up at. With this day off he’s been able to sit and pace and freak out for hours. Great. 

When he knocks with the fist holding the book for you he hears frantic scrambling for thirty seconds or so before you swing the door open– 

“Spencer!” You gasp belatedly when you see the flowers, “oh my god! Come in, I need to put my shoes on and I’m good to go.”

“Happy Valentine’s Day, so pretty…” Spencer mumbles against the top of your head when you pull him into a greeting hug.

“Mmm. Happy Valentine’s Day. You smell good.”

You can’t help yourself, wrapping your arms around Spencer’s neck and pulling him into a kiss immediately. All too easy, you’re used to your mouths working furiously together. It's like another language for you.

But Spencer is pulling away slightly, speaking against your lips, “I'm trying to take you on a date first.”

Groaning lightly you start kissing him again, resulting in his hands placed on your waist slowly peeling you off him. Spencer's hands and lips have a mind of their own though, his hands are firmly pushing you off as his lips chase yours as you separate.

Laughing, you tilt your head to one side to inspect him, “So after the date you’ll get me home by 8:00 and give me a chaste kiss goodnight?”

Spencer chuckles and shakes his head at your toying. 

“If you’ll let me, I’ll fuck you after the date. But, sure I’ll also give you a chaste goodnight kiss, though it’s 7:30 so you can rule out being home by 8:00. Sorry.” He pulls in his lips and raises his eyebrows as if to say, that’s that. 

“If I’ll let you?”

“Right.”

“Mmkay.”

“And… if you like it I can do that again and again,” he chuckles and rubs his forehead with his palm, “and then I’ll take you on a second date.”

You avert your eyes to hide the tell tale signs of you flustered, hating whenever he gets the upper hand in flirting because you can not take it as well as Spencer can when you dish it out.

“Whatever-” whipping your head around trying to locate your shoes Spencer giggles under his breath, your presence has totally eased his nerves. He watches you pick up your heeled boots and he kneels slowly in front of you to place them on your feet.

“You’re sweet,” at your words Spencer smiles to himself and zips up the sides of your boots. “I’m so excited for the rest of the night if this is gonna be my treatment.”

“What? Princess treatment? You should be excited, I’m going to be cutting your food and feeding it to you.”

“Ooh. Waving me with a big leaf and feeding me grapes?”

“Something like that. Yeah.” He smiles and stands up, grasping your hands to help you up. “Very pretty. You look beautiful.”

“You look beautiful too,” you poke his side, “I love this maroon tie. I wish you would let me kiss you.”

Spencer sighs at your dramatics and cups your face for a soft kiss. You sigh into it and he kisses your neck once in finality. 

“Better?”

Smiling bashfully, you nod. 

✵

The looks of the restaurant struck you immediately, and there is a nervous prickling at your spine that happens when you’re in fancier places than you think you deserve– a feeling of being a persona non grata. 

To hide your insecurity, you grasp Spencer’s hand as he tells the hostess the reservation name and whistle lowly below your breath at the long draping lace curtains around the room and the barely-there candlelight illuminating the entirety of the restaurant. 

Sitting down, you immediately start the date with a joke that falls flat, “So, do you take all your ladies here on the first date?”

Either Spencer thought the joke was distasteful or he didn’t get it, either way he furrowed his brows and shifted his eyes to the side for a moment like he’s looking around for a translation from a bystander.

“No?”

“I’m just- yeah, I’m kidding. Sorry. I’m nervous.”

“I was really nervous before getting you tonight, my hair… I don’t know.”

“Ha, seriously?” Unbelievable you think, his hair is slightly wind ruffled and his curls look ringlet-y, you never could wrap your head around the tales of the plain mean teasing over his looks he’s lived through. “You’re extremely handsome, I tell you that.”

“You do. I wanted to impress you.”

“You do.” 

The whole dinner fills your stomach with butterflies that mixes extraordinarily well with whatever red wine Spencer ordered for the two of you. It has you leaning forward when you laugh, has you running your foot up and down the inside of his calf, causing his voice to spike up two octaves whenever you trail up slowly.

Spencer halts your movements quickly though, grabbing lightly at your ankle to stop its ministrations, making you hum around your fork and him roll his eyes light heartedly. 

The night was going very well once your romantic jitters melted away into a comfortability you felt you could only possess when around Spencer, something nobody else has given you before. 

It was utterly ridiculous, feeling so lovey dovey, you can see how the holiday has some emotional merit to it and isn’t just a capitalist money grab to drain the pockets of couples and make single women feel unworthy. Though maybe you’re just feeling that because you’re not on the victims end of the money grab, regardless…

On the other side of the booth, Spencer has been spiralling into a clusterfuck of thoughts around how much more deeply invested he is in you than he thought. You’re here though, you didn’t turn down his proposal and you kept mentioning how excited you are.

Still, every exhale out of his lungs is a shudder in fear of a looming rejection of an inquisition he’s not even sure he’s going to ask, or if it’s already set in place. Are you dating? 

“Hey, are you okay?”

“Um, ahh, um, are we dating?’

What an idiot!

You burst out laughing. Jesus, he must’ve been sick mulling over the aftermath of the date going back to your former dynamic of who even knows what. You couldn’t possibly live with the idea either, but are probably more keen on living in the moment than Spencer.

“You wanna date me? Be my boyfriend?” Your laughter is trailing off, but you have a smile as you say it from giddiness rather than mocking.

A gust of air then, “More than anything.”

The chilly air outside that was previously cooling both of your anxieties upon entering the restaurant meets the same warm cheeks for an opposing reason now. Hand in hand, you walk with full bellies back to Spencer’s car.

Filled with the first secure sense of trust and vulnerability in your life, hand in hand you swing your arms together like a lovesick teenager. 

All hesitation around what you could do or say to drive Spencer away flies out into the abrasive February air and off with the wind, so you ask, 

“When, if you know, did you first realize that you.. like-liked me?”

“Like-like huh? Haven’t heard that one in a while.” Spencer opens the passenger side door for you and guides you in with a palm on your lower back. He watches you buckle yourself in and leans his arms against the top of the car, looking down at where you’re seated he contemplates his answer seriously.

“I knew I like-liked you once I first saw you brushing your teeth in my bathroom the first night you stayed over. Hm. Yeah, I was watching from the doorway in awe, and seeing you do something so… banal, and it tearing me open. I wanted to see it every night.” He shuts the door and walks to his side as you sit staring out the window where he once was.

Spencer turns his car key, putting on your seat warmer before his own, and rubs your cheek with his thumb. “I really enjoyed myself tonight.”

“I first knew I loved you when you picked me up from work when it was raining. I’m not even sure what, but seeing your wet hair and maybe that getting your suit wet didn’t matter at all to you… I just felt so… I went home and stared at my hands all wet for like an hour. Then I woke up the next day with a cold, ha. I’m… so, yeah.”

You know what you said, you’re not shocked it came out and you didn’t want to really avoid it anymore with frivolous watered-down terms. 

Spencer laughs and places his forehead against the wheel at a stoplight. “You’re perfect. I can’t believe it, I’m so lucky and you’re so perfect and I realized I love you now in the same way I realized I did when you were in my bathroom. It feels the same.”

✵

Now you’re back at Spencer’s apartment. Head tilted up and pressed against his front door as he’s fumbling with taking off your coat while simultaneously kissing away your lipstick, it rubbing on his chin in a smudged crimson streak.

Your thumbs are looped through the belt hoops in his trousers as you’re pulling his hips against your own.

Spencer always has a way of kissing you that feels all consuming, and you think you cannot possibly kiss anyone else in your life without implementing everything you’ve learned about kissing Spencer. Every kiss in your future would be executed to roll Spencer Reid’s eyes back, you can’t possibly kiss anyone ever again.

Sucking on your top lip, he flings your coat to the ground and wraps his greedy arms around your waist as he pulls you impossibly closer to him. 

It’s almost a grounding exercise within itself to make out with Spencer, you can’t possibly hear, feel, see or taste anything other than him when he’s this way. The universe exists solely between your lips and the way your overactive brains become a fuzzy-soft blend of peace when you’re passing your tongues between mouths is placating.

Still puppeteering Spencer through his belt hoops, you move him towards his worn leather couch you’ve associated his scent with. Spencer is sat with his legs spread open in a lazy manspread as you stand and look down at him.

“Should I sit?” You poke teasingly, knowing by the dick print shining through his trousers that he could beg for it pretty easily. Spencer nods slowly, pulling his hands from his sides to grab onto your hips to pull you down.

You stop him though, arm placed firmly on his shoulder, halting yourself from falling onto him. You would like to hear how badly he wants it. 

“Woah, tiger. I think I asked you something, no?” you’re laughing plainly at the grovelling face he makes that you know he doesn’t realize he’s making. Ever the overreaction. 

“Yes. You should sit.” He grumbles.

“Why?”

“Because I know how much you like to feel yourself against me when you’re needy like this, and…I want to do everything for you. Because if I don’t have you against me soon I’m going to fall apart.”

Sounds good enough.

Humming happily you straddle Spencer’s lap and reattach your lips onto his, welcoming the inevitable swollen look with no complaint. Without hesitation, you wiggle your hips contentedly against his crotch. Spencer's sharp inhale of pleasure never gets old. 

 Cupping your jaw into his warm hands he whispers against your lips, “This a good enough reason, or should I give you one more?”

Gasping lightly against the friction you’re creating you respond, “Sounds like you want to give me another reason anyway.”

“I can always feel the way you tighten your legs around my hips. It happens almost instantly every time… like you have to brace yourself to feel me against you. I can always tell how badly you want it.”

He’s mumbling against your neck as he says it, partly because he can feel your pulse race against his lips and partly to hide how red he gets when he feels brave enough to talk this dirty to you.

Once he starts sucking a mark onto the sensitive part of your neck, every nerve in your body is on high alert to each move he makes and you need to part, if only briefly, to regain your composure, you’re all too frazzled, a live wire.

“Spence, can I suck you off?”

The pained half-groan half-laugh Spencer lets out is exactly what you expected to hear as you crawl down on the floor between his legs, rubbing his thighs up and down with open palms. 

“Y-yeah. Um. Why should you, I mean, why should I let you?”

He’s failing miserably at trying to make a call back to your prior teasing, too impacted by the visual of you between his thighs to make a coherent, taunting remark. 

“Because I’m supposed to be getting the princess treatment.” You unzip his pants slowly while looking into his half-lidded eyes.

Your heart always flutters at this part. Before you find your usual rhythm you always assume that you’re going to forget everything you’ve learned about sucking dick and ruin the atmosphere, the pressure of caring is almost always crushing.

Still, you find yourself eagerly pulling his dick out of his underwear, and shuffling towards him more till your arms are overtop his upper thighs and the top of your head is brushing his lower stomach, which curls inward when you place kisses up his length.

“Woah-” Spencer whispers out as you continue to kiss him lightly. Instead of crudely grabbing your hair or face, his hands find themselves behind his head as he lengthens his body out like a cat sunbathing. 

Running the tip of your tongue across his frenulum, Spencer twists his hips to the side, trying to run away from the pleasure and as a result his cock wipes against your cheek. You grab the base now, keeping it steady so it’s not like you’re working on a moving canvas and take the tip into your mouth.

You place your tongue out, covering your bottom teeth enough so you’re comforted in knowing you’re not going to scrape him, and suck lightly while moving your tongue that's against the bottom of his tip in circles. 

“That’s! That’s enough, okay. Jesus.” Spencer says a bit too loud and jolts your system, which was just falling into a methodological pace.

Pulling back, you lick your lips and pull them into your mouth, tasting him even when he’s not in your mouth anymore and look at him expectantly.

“S-sorry. I didn’t mean that. I was going to cum. You can keep going… only if you want.” He tries to save his little oversensitive outburst from mere seconds ago. 

Wordless, you move back to what you were doing. You want to listen to him a bit though, as a treat, so you take more of him into your mouth instead of focusing all of your energy on the most sensitive part of him. Spencer hums in content and his head falls back against the couch. 

A small trickle of your spit is slipping out and running down his cock, you always feel so embarrassed when it gets messy, you don’t know why, you don’t feel awkward at all when Spencer is going down on you so enthusiastically that you can feel his saliva running down your inner legs. 

Now you’re thinking about how good it feels when he’s going down on you. You whine softly around him and put a hand that was resting on his thigh to rub over your tights and underwear from where you reach under your dress.

Spencer was already close earlier, watching you try to touch yourself as you give him head is simply too much again. 

“Angel, d-done, I’m…okay-”

You pull off of him with a pop and the trail of saliva connecting your bottom lip to his dick stretches and breaks as you talk.

“Can we go to your bedroom please?” it's hoarse and rough but you can’t bring yourself to care. 

“Come ‘ere.” Spencer stretches out his hands to you so he can pull you up from his carpet. Tucking himself back into his underwear for some semblance of modesty, you two walk the short trip to his bedroom as you hold onto his arm.

Like it's your own, you jump and land on your back onto his comforter which all but swallows you whole as you relax against it, excitement thrumming through your veins as if your cells are chanting “my turn, my turn!”

Spencer lithely crawls on top of you, sitting on his knees as his thighs cage yours in. 

“You looked so pretty tonight, I’m almost mourning having to take all this off.”

“Almost, though.”

“Yeah, I know I’ll probably cheer up pretty quickly when I do, huh?”

You laugh and cover your face with your hands, it’s so stupid but he always makes you feel like you're melting all over when he’s being corny. 

Soon enough, Spencer is peeling your tights down with your underwear, and you’re squirming along with him while trying to help and shimmy out of your dress and bra. For a small second, Spencer pulls away to take off his blazer and roll up the sleeves of his dress shirt.

Leaning down on one forearm by your head, he begins kissing you again. Your mouths work together as his other hand trails his fingertips incredibly light against your inner thigh. Biting down softly on his bottom lip, a plea. Spencer uses his middle and ring finger to gather your wetness up to your clit.

The circles he’s rubbing against you leave you moaning and whining against his open mouth as he kisses you through it, maybe throwing in a few “aw’s” or hums in approval as he continues to work his fingers against you.

You both know exactly where this is leading to, and he always has to thoroughly prep you so that you can painlessly take all of him. Those same fingers move against your opening now, Spencer places the middle finger against you and is met with little resistence, so he begins fucking you slowly with it.

Back arching up so your chests brush against each other, Spencer take’s your opportunity of bliss to slip in another finger, scissoring you open as wet sounds emanate between your thighs. 

With two of his fingers in you now, his efforts to kiss your lips have become harder than ever as you become more and more nonverbal and increasingly whiny. 

“Where’d all your teasing go? What happened to calling the shots?” Murmured at your chin as your jaw opens with a whimper. You shake your head, you can’t entertain this, he’s kicking you while you’re down and it’s not right!

Looking down, Spencer see’s your toes curling in and slowly pulls his fingers out of you, a loud suction-y noise following his absence. You blink your eyes open blearily, trying to refocus yourself and reorient yourself into this living plane.

Spencer has stealthily moved down to where your legs are spread open and he’s looking at you exposed with so much adoration in his eyes that even though you’re blinking away tears, you can see it clearly. He’s in love with you.

“Oh, please.” You gasp out, trying to cut to the chase before Spencer asks if he can eat you out. He smiles, and asks anyway to frustrate you good naturedly. 

“Do you want me to return the favor, my valentine?” he swoons.

“Yeah, uhhuh, please.”

“I saw you touching yourself when you were using your mouth on me earlier,” he moves his head between its rightful home in between your thighs, “were you thinking about how good it feels to be in that position?”

“Mm. Yeah.”

“Lucky you then, huh?”

“M-mhm!”

He’s tired of hearing himself talking now, he just wants to be nestled into your pussy and let his tongue work you up in a more productive way than pitiful teasing.

With the palm of his hand flat against your very lower belly, Spencer simultaneously pushes down and up, exposing more of your clit to him and adding pressure to your stomach. He kisses your clit and pokes his tongue out as you lightly circle it as your hips squirm.

Intermittently, Spencer suctions your clit, pulls away completely, and goes back in to repeat the pattern. You’re smeared over his lips and chin and half convinced that he keeps pulling back to see your strings of come stick to his lips.

He changes methods, using his tongue to lick and suck at the source of your slick, nose prodding at your clit. You take it into your own hands to increase the stimulation on your clit as you rock your hips against his nose, Spencer muffles a moan into you.

Recognizing this, Spencer pulls back up to attach his lips back to your needy clit. Through his lips he’s running his tongue against you and the pleasure is unrelenting and intense. The exact stuff that makes you come.

“P-please stay there.” You manage to whimper out, the thought of him changing positions or rhythm is too scary for you to stay silent when you’re this close to finishing. You can feel him smile against you as he stays where you want him to.

Your hands reach for his hair as you thread it between your fingers, the silky stands grounding you to the bed before you prepare to come and fly out to wherever in the space-time-continuum Spencer takes you whenever he goes down on you.

Eventually, the pleasure gets to be too much for you to stifle and savor off much longer, you’re too greedy to ask him to edge you too. You don’t have enough willpower to put this off, you can ask him to eat you out for hours and hours some other day.

With one last suction, stars dance behind your eyelids as Spencer holds your hips down to suck off every last bit of come you have for him, trying his best to lick you clean when you finish all over his face. 

There’s nothing to do but take a slow deep breath in and a long deep breath out as you put the pieces of your brain back together. Once you do, Spencer is up by your face again as he was earlier while fingering you, and he’s palming himself over his underwear.

“Okay?” He asks through pleasure filled furrowed brows.

Nodding, you laugh, you can still feel yourself throbbing for Christ’s sake. Spencer nuzzles his nose against your cheek and kisses your jaw. You let your eyes close again, the feeling of his lips against your skin calming down your racing heart.

It’s a completely silent and peaceful atmosphere of Spencer kissing where he can as you come down until you feel his curious fingers swipe at your clit again. Immediately, your eyes snap open.

“I can’t- I can’t.” You bargain like your life is on the line.

Spencer pulls his fingers away for a moment, looking into your eyes and rubbing it once more as you gasp so hard a strand of hair in Spencer’s face blows to the side, he leaves you alone then.

You cannot fathom how Spencer is almost fully clothed right now. With shaky, malleable limbs, you pull him a bit closer to you and slowly pop each button of his top open. He’s watching your fingers work against his shirt as he continues to rub himself over his underwear gently.

Laying flat beside you know, Spencer lifts his hips up to pull his underwear down finally. Like a moth to a flame, you sit up and take him into your hand again, missing the feel of him hard against you, you note that you want to ride him more than anything. 

“Spencer, darling, can I ride you?”

For a moment he has an unreadable face, but you know that gears are turning in his head at such a rate that he can’t compute them into a response yet.

“Tonight was supposed to be about you.”

You roll your eyes.

“Spencer, darling, can I ride you for a bit?”

“Yes.” 

He responds just as you finish your sentence, eagerly pulling your wrist so you can straddle him again for the second time tonight.

Sitting right below where is cock is hard, you wrap your hands around him and place him up to your stomach, displaying how deep he’s going to be inside of you once you’re fully settled on him, at his dazed face you tease, “deep, huh?”

Spencer shuts his eyes in embarrassment, but his dick twitches and you smile down at it like it’s giving you Spencer’s insider secrets that he can’t say out loud. 

Lifting yourself up, you shakily rub him over your entrance a few times before sitting down slowly on his head. You both whine as you start, Spencer's hand on your hip rubbing circles while his eyes are still closed.

You want him to watch so badly. You sink down further, almost all the way with a small squeal that has Spencer’s eyes opening and his stomach tightening, checking to see if you’re in any pain. 

“M’ okay. Fucking big, can’t get used to it.” You trail off.

A light pink blush appears on his cheeks like your compliment had come from a sweeter, more innocent place in your heart. You place your palms on his chest as you take a deep breath in and sink down all the way. 

“Fuck- perfect. You okay?” Spencer speaks through his teeth at your whining as you accommodate him.

Again you laugh to take the fiery attention completely off of you, “So much dick.”

“Stopp.” Spencer whines. He feels so much like a dude when you compliment him like this, his ego doesn’t even know what to do with these extremely filthy compliments. He assumes you feel the same way when he’s fingering you and won’t shut up about how you feel and sound. 

Starting with small circles, it feels like Spencer is churning you as deliciously as humanly possible. The more small movements you give the deeper the need to actually ride him is, you stop holding back and start picking up your hips against his as your nails dig indents into his chest. 

Spencer’s singing out soft uh’s with each pass of your hips and you’re (unfortunately) not able to match his sweet pleads as you’re holding back full and embodied moans that slip out when you angle him perfectly inside you. 

You want to swindle it so that Spencer forgets about your prior compromise and lets you ride him till he’s coming inside of you, but when your hips stutter briefly with exhaustion, he notices immediately.

“Flip over.”

Pretending to be mad, you roll your eyes and lay flat on your back, the stretch of removing yourself from him making you suck in air between your teeth.

“Felt so good, did so good for me, please let me do that for you.” Spencer whispers into your ear as he positions you onto your side.

One of his arms from behind you is holding up your thigh closest to him, inadvertently spreading you open for him to be inside you once again. With one of his hands on your thigh and the other propping himself up for a good angle, you take matters into your own hands, lining him up with yourself again.

As easy as ever, Spencer pushes his hips slowly as he enters you from the side and your head falls to the pillow, allowing Spencer access to your ear and side of your neck.

When he finds his rhythm, he gets more confident, gaining his voice to mutter praises and filth into your ear as he fucks you.

“What’d I say? Told you I was gonna fuck you, jus’ had to be patient. Jesus, always so patient for me, with me. I’m sorry…”

You can tell he’s not exactly referring to his act of fucking you right now, moreso the push and pull he’s put you through for months. But it feels good to hear, Spencer's emotions are spilling out since he’s put out everything he’s felt for you on the table.

“Mmf. Would wa-wait forever-” You’re trying to be comforting, you’re getting your brains fucked out. The angle on your side has Spencer’s cock dragging along the front of your vagina, every single toe-curling spot is being rubbed relentlessly.

“Perfect. Perfect.”

The open mouthed kisses Spencer’s leaving on your cheek are wet and sloppy, but wholeheartedly welcome. With his face so close to yours his stubble is rubbing against you, making you whine.

Picking up on the way Spencer’s breathing becomes more shallow, you assume he’s pretty close. All night he’s been starving himself of this and you almost get excited for him, you’re too in deep.

Realizing he’s close after you have realized it, Spencer moves his hand from your inner thigh and starts rubbing your tender clit with his fingers again. Moaning loudly through a closed mouth, you let him this time.

You have to trust him to put you back together to your normal self after this though, you’re expecting a hard second orgasm and after how much the first one took you out, you have to brace yourself as you feel it brewing in the bottom of your belly.

Noticing how you’ve buried your face a bit more into the pillow and are trying to work on steadying your breathing, Spencer picks up quickly how you’re feeling. 

“I got you, you’re okay, you’re okay. I know…” He kisses along your cheek and with a squeak that makes Spencer’s own orgasm arrive, you throb around him and twitch in his arms as you come. 

He’s pressing his body into you as though he’s a weighted blanket, soothing the aftershocks that are thrumming through your entire body with his own. Spencer places his hand against your heart to gauge how you’re doing and begins peppering your skin with kisses.

“Do you feel good?” Spencer’s begun massaging your side and back softly, preventing any sore muscles from developing there before tomorrow hits you.

You come to yourself, before you had panicked, not sure how to trust Spencer completely with the vulnerability you were about to experience, but you’re fine. You’re happy. Coming harder than you have before is not scary because that’s exactly what Spencer wanted from you.

“Yes. I could cry.”

“Baby…”

Slowly you flip over to face him, a little teary but nothing streaming down your face as you plant a kiss on his lips. And then again.

There’s still a small lipstick stain on his jaw from when you were sitting above him on the couch earlier. You trace over it with your finger.

“You’re going to be finding hidden lipstick marks all over your body for weeks…” you smile and close your eyes.

“I hope,” he replies softly and earnestly, “I really like them. I really like you.”

✵

You’re both clean now. Showered and fresh as a daisy, you smell like all the products in Spencer’s shower and you’re standing behind him, arms wrapped around his waist as he dries off his hair in front of the mirror.

You can see his skin is tinged pink from the hot water, creating a sweet blush over his back and shoulders where you press your cheek against. With your skin soft and warm now, you think about the small snow flurries falling outside, how they mean nothing to the warmth coming off you and from inside you.

Spencer moves away from the mirror, allowing you your turn to get fully ready for bed. Taking out the “spare” toothbrush he has that’s essentially yours, you begin brushing your teeth. Feeling eyes looking at you from your side you turn to where Spencer is leaning against the wall and watching you.

Suddenly, you remember what he said earlier in the car, how he realized he loved you. You slow your brushing down and meet his gaze, sure that if someone else were in here to describe your looks it would be a cheesy “eyes shaped like hearts” moment. 

Your heart fills, the toothbrush clatters in his sink as you drop it and run over into his arms, placing kisses all over his lips and face, leaving small streaks of toothpaste behind. 

Through similar frantic kisses Spencer speaks in giggles,

“I still want to see this every night. I need to.”

[lc-birdie]

hello love, hope you're doing well <3

can I ask for angst #8, but that the one that collapses is Dr. Abott, maybe after a really difficult case...

Please and thank you <3 (sorry for my horrible english)

"caressing their face, unable to know what to say or do but whispering, 'Let me hold you through this all. It's okay to cry, my love..' and they completely shatter. "

TW: patient deaths, angst

A/N: I took a couple days off from writing bc exams and shit but i'm good and I hope you're well too!

It had been a night. Slow, almost painfully so. Followed by a wall of trauma. It was like being hit by a bus.

Perhaps that was too on the nose because that's what happened. An overworked driver fell asleep behind the wheel and took out a family's minivan. It was the worst case scenario and no one was going to forget it anytime soon.

Jack especially.

He saw an alternate you. An alternate relationship. Him. You. Two kids. The happy normal family that could have been.

Gone.

Proxy him killed on impact. Proxy kids up in surgery. Proxy you... he stayed overtime coding "you". Every stop was pulled. Round after round of CPR. Massive transfusion protocol. Everything.

As every minute ticked by sweat dripped down his temples. But that was the only thing keeping him grounded in addition to the aching in his muscles. Numbness seeping into his bones. Transported to a different world where back in the warzones of his past. Only the war he fights now is his own mind as all he can see is your face on the body laying in the stretcher before him. All he can see is the stillness. All he can feel is the nagging, unshakable reality that they aren't coming back. "You" aren't coming back.

Another loss. Another great love that he will never get to hold again. Kiss again. Stare into those eyes with life staring back at him.

Like her.

Widowed again.

Alone again.

Dissociation is the only comfort he can find after time of death is called. He can only buy his time until dayshift gets there; until he can break. He doesn't even remember hand-off. The drive home. The walk into the house straight to the shower. He doesn't feel again until he makes it to where he is know.

Sitting on the edge of the bed in his, yall's, home with you still deep asleep, the picture of tranquility. Then the world came crashing down. Finally the sense of calm done the dam of sanity and he broke. Curling into himself, sobs racked his body. Chest against his thighs. Eyes clenched shut as hard as he can. Hands fisted up next to his temples pushing in to feel something.

Images flash through his mind. The coffin. The suit. The cold skin. The stillness of an unbeating heart. A sick twisted slideshow of his past grief only taking new forms, morphed with images of you. Spiraling is the only resort, pain a slight reprieve as his pushes the butts of his hands into his eyes trying to scrub the images away.

A hand lands softly on his back. The stark contrast of it to his current position startles him. He lifts his head to find you looking at him sleep still evident in your features along with unfiltered understanding and tenderness. No words are spoken before you are wrapped up in his arms, held in a vice grip. He's scared that if he were to left go maybe that other reality would become his, that he would lose you for real.

One of your hands run gently up and down his back as the other finds its way into his still wet curls. Words can't seem to reach you, soothing and calming sayings feel like cheap cliches, useless platitudes that carry no weight. It'll be okay. There's no guarantee of that. You're okay. He's not, not with the weight of saving the world that he carries on his shoulders. Not with the weight of keeping you untouched by the world.

You pull back from him slightly only letting go to rest your hands on his cheeks, leaning your forehead against his. "Let me hold you through this all. I know you had a hard night. I can't imagine what it is you feel now but it's okay to cry, my love..," you say as you press a soft kiss to his lips, nuzzling your nose against his. "I'm here. I'm here."

[rose24207]

Heyyy, i’ve got an idea for a Lando x reader fic!

Basically Lando and the reader have been friends their whole life since their parents are good friends and they go on vacations together all that shit. And the reader has had a crush on Lando for some time now and what she doesn’t know is that Lando likes her too and one night they’re celebrating midsummers (or whatever) and he tells her he likes her and they kiss and talk all night and cuddle and stuff like that, but the next day Lando is ignoring the reader and pretends like nothing happened and goes on to ignore her for like a good year or two until one night they talk and he says he’s sorry for all that and they have their happy ending. Super angsty and sad but fluff at the end!

Don’t feel obligated to write this if you don’t want to, it’s just something i came up with and could never write myself (i can’t write to save my life) but i really like your fics and thought you could!

I‘ve missed this

Summary: Lando confesses his love on midsummer night but pushes you away for years before finally apologizing and winning you back.

Genre: angst, fluff

Lando x f!reader

TW: None!

A/N: DW girl I got your back!! again sorry that you had to wait! School is kicking my ass and I’m about to crash out because of my driver license (that shit is expensive af) English is not my first language. I hope you enjoy it though! Requests are open and welcome!

Masterlist pt. 2

The golden glow of the midsummer sun bathed the lawn in a warm, ethereal light. Strings of fairy lights crisscrossed overhead, and laughter filled the air as family and friends celebrated another year of togetherness.

You sat at the edge of the garden, the sound of the waves from the nearby lake mingling with the music. Your eyes scanned the crowd until they landed on him—Lando Norris.

He stood by the fire pit, laughing with a group of friends, the amber glow highlighting his cheekbones and the soft curls that framed his face. You’d known him your entire life, thanks to your parents’ friendship. Vacations, holidays, birthdays—he’d always been there, your constant companion.

And somewhere along the way, you’d fallen for him.

It wasn’t just his boyish charm or his crooked smile that made your heart race. It was the way he made you laugh when you wanted to cry, the way he always seemed to know what you needed without you having to say it.

But he didn’t know how you felt. And you weren’t sure he ever would.

“Why are you sitting here alone?”

His voice startled you, and you turned to see him standing there, hands shoved in his pockets. He tilted his head, a playful grin tugging at his lips.

“Just… thinking,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady.

“Thinking, huh?” He dropped down onto the grass beside you, his knee brushing yours. “Care to share?”

You hesitated, glancing down at your hands. “It’s nothing important.”

He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Come on, you can tell me anything.”

You looked up at him, your heart skipping a beat at the way his eyes sparkled in the fading light.

“Alright,” you said, forcing a smile. “I was just thinking about how much has changed since we were kids.”

His expression softened, and he nodded. “Yeah. Feels like yesterday we were building sandcastles and arguing over who got the last popsicle.”

You laughed, the memory warming your chest. “You always took it, by the way.”

“Only because you let me,” he teased, nudging you gently.

Silence settled between you, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. The sounds of the celebration faded into the background as you both stared at the lake, its surface shimmering like molten gold.

“I’ve missed this,” he said suddenly, his voice quiet.

“Missed what?”

“Us.” He turned to you, his eyes searching yours. “It feels like we’ve both been so busy with life lately. I hate that we don’t get to spend as much time together anymore.”

Your chest tightened, his words hitting a tender spot in your heart. “Me too.”

He reached out, his hand brushing yours. The simple touch sent a jolt of electricity through you, and you had to fight to keep your composure.

“There’s something I need to tell you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your breath hitched, your heart pounding so loudly you were sure he could hear it. “What is it?”

He hesitated, his gaze dropping to your intertwined hands. “I’ve been trying to find the right moment to say this, but… I like you, Y/N. More than a friend should.”

The world seemed to stand still, his words hanging in the air.

“You… what?” you managed to say, your voice shaking.

He smiled nervously, his fingers tightening around yours. “I like you. I have for a while now. I just—”

You didn’t let him finish. Before you could overthink it, you leaned forward and pressed your lips to his.

For a moment, he froze, and you thought you’d made a terrible mistake. But then his hands cupped your face, pulling you closer as he kissed you back with a fervor that made your head spin.

When you finally pulled away, both of you breathless, he rested his forehead against yours.

“Wow,” he murmured, a soft laugh escaping him.

You smiled, your cheeks burning. “Wow.”

That night, the two of you talked for hours, sharing secrets and dreams you’d never spoken aloud. When the celebration wound down, you ended up curled in his arms under the stars, your heart feeling fuller than it had in years.

The next morning, you woke up with a smile, memories of the night replaying in your mind. You couldn’t wait to see Lando, to talk about what this meant for you both.

But when you went to find him, he was distant.

At breakfast, he barely met your gaze. Throughout the day, he kept conversations short, avoiding any moment that might leave you alone together.

By the end of the week, he was gone, leaving you with a hollow ache in your chest.

The weeks turned into months, and the months stretched into years. Lando’s career in Formula 1 took off, and you watched from afar as he became a household name.

He texted occasionally, but it was never personal. Just polite pleasantries, as if you were mere acquaintances. The memory of that midsummer night haunted you, the unanswered questions gnawing at your heart.

Why had he pulled away?

It wasn’t until two years later, during another midsummer celebration, that you saw him again.

He was standing by the same fire pit, his posture tense as he stared into the flames. Your heart ached at the sight of him, the familiar longing resurfacing like a wave crashing over you.

Before you could stop yourself, you approached him.

“Lando.”

He turned, his eyes widening slightly at the sight of you. “Y/N.”

The sound of your name on his lips sent a shiver down your spine.

“Can we talk?” you asked, your voice steadier than you felt.

He hesitated but then nodded, leading you away from the crowd to a quieter spot by the lake.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The tension between you was palpable, years of unspoken words hanging heavy in the air.

“I’m sorry,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your throat tightened, and you looked away. “Why, Lando? Why did you pull away? After everything that happened… I thought—”

“I was scared,” he admitted, cutting you off. “That night… it meant everything to me. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized how much I had to lose if I screwed things up between us. You’re my best friend, Y/N. I couldn’t risk losing you.”

Tears welled in your eyes, his words both a balm and a dagger to your heart. “So you thought ignoring me for two years was the better option?”

“I thought it would be easier for both of us if I put distance between us,” he said, his voice thick with regret. “But I was wrong. God, I was so wrong.”

You wiped at your eyes, the weight of his apology sinking in. “Lando… do you have any idea how much that hurt me? How much I missed you?”

He stepped closer, his hands trembling as he reached for yours. “I missed you too. Every single day. And I hated myself for what I did. But I was stupid and scared, and I didn’t know how to fix it.”

Your heart ached at the vulnerability in his voice. Despite everything, you still loved him.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his forehead resting against yours. “I’m so, so sorry.”

You closed your eyes, your tears mingling with his. “You really hurt me, Lando.”

“I know,” he said, his voice breaking. “But I swear, I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you if you’ll let me.”

For a moment, you hesitated. But then you thought of the boy who’d been your rock for so many years, the boy who’d held your hand when you were scared and made you laugh when you wanted to cry.

“I missed you,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

He pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly as if afraid you might disappear. “I missed you too.”

That night, as you sat by the lake with his arms around you, the pain of the past began to fade.

For the first time in years, you felt whole again.

Thank you for reading!

Taglist: @ipushhimback, @ladyoflynx, @lewishamiltonismybf, @cmleitora, @hmma3 , @same1995, @amatswimming, @llando4norris

[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

[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."

[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.

[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. 

[roxoxoxoxy]

Includes: Angst, a situationship(?) (the suffering does not end, even in fiction), unrequited love, cheating, Not smut but there are multiple mentions of sex.

I always write these when I'm sleep deprived so there WILL be typos as always.

Also not happy with how this turned out but I'm gonna post it anyway

This was the best feeling in the world. The afterglow, laying down on Seunghan's bed as he uses a warm towel to wipe you clean. Listening to the ceiling fan lulling you to sleep as you feel his warm, soft hands touching you tenderly, gently applying ointment to the bruises on your behind.

His voice gently praising you as you come down from your high, the pleasure filled fog in your brain clearing. He leans up to give you a small peck, a kiss so tender it felt like you were his lover.

You can't enjoy it for long though because you know it's coming, he's gonna say it...you know he will, he does every time. Still, you hope he won't, that he'll let you stay in this moment of softness just this once.

"I'll go get you something to eat. You can rest but make sure to leave before morning, she's coming over in the morning and I don't want her seeing you" he turns to look at you, pretending to be sympathetic when you know he's anything but "You know it's nothing personal."

Now this, this is the worst feeling in the world. You have half the mind to tell him that it sure did feel personal when he was deep in your guts calling you his favourite slut but you hold your tongue, you don't have the energy to argue right now, you're not even sure you have the right to, you agreed to this after all.

The she in question is the girl he's actually in love with, the one he takes on dates and buys flowers for, the one who he wants to marry one day, he's head over heels for her. He loves her so much it makes you sick. You understand why, she's beautiful, she's smart, she's so so sweet. So nice that you almost feel bad that you're here....almost.

It makes you wonder why he's here with you if she's so perfect? The thing is his girlfriend is way too vanilla for his taste, missionary with the lights off type, she isn't into all the depraved shit seunghan gets off to. he thought he could put his sexual desires to the side for her but as more time went on the more frustrated he became.

It all came to a head when you two got way too drunk together on a Friday night and started talking about your romantic life, which led into talking about your sex life. One thing led to another and you ended up in bed. He made it clear after the fact that he was only looking for something casual on the side, you pretended to be fine with it.

You've had feeling for him for ages but always pushed them down for the sake of not ruining your friendship. Maybe if you had said something before you'd be the one he was pining after, not just his fuck buddy. God it would be so much easier if he was actually an asshole, a shitty Dom just in it to get his rocks off and nothing else, but he's anything but that.

Seunghan is considerate and kind it makes you fall for him even more, always makes sure to take care of you, to be kind to you. He cleans you up after the fact, always insures you had a good time and makes you drink water. He bring you a snack, treats you with a delicacy only few people have. You wish you had just told him, all those years ago, you wish he was yours to have forever. That his soft hands were yours to hold and his warm smile was yours to kiss but now it's too late, and this is all you have of him.

Seunghan comes back with a bag of saltines and a glass of water, setting them down on the side table. He picks up your clothes off the floor, setting them beside you so you can put them on. You ignore the sinking feeling in your gut as you get dressed, it's honestly impressive how Seunghan can make you feel like the most gorgeous woman on earth when he's fucking you, praising how perfect you are for him, only to make you feel like gum under his shoe after the fact.

He doesn't say anything as you walk out of the room, doesn't even say goodbye when you reach the front door. You turn back to look at him but he's glued to his phone, no doubt texting her, talking all lovey dovey to her. You put your hand on the handle and a thousand thoughts run through your mind. You should confess your feelings, you should tell his girlfriend, you should leave for good, you should cuss him out...but you don't do any of that, because you know you aren't strong enough to actually leave him, to actually live without his touch.

You'll be back, you know you will.

I've been rewatching some old Riize interviews with Seunghan, SIGH I MISS HIM SM

[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.

[valeisaslut]

Valentina, I retract my previous statements condemning you for the the angst you’ve written, I truly deeply must apologize.

They found each other again, I didn’t even know that would be a possibility for them, though no one can expect a thing. Miracles happen, that’s why they’re called that.

People can wonder, people can echo their own thoughts into an abyss and then allow them to die down into a pit, yet your words flourish, they flicker like a flame getting to close to flesh, and it’s beautiful.

I needed this so much, and if I’m honest, I was full of tremor daring to even read it as like I once previously stated, your words fill my mind and choose my fate.

I’ve been in a rut, something of rot if you will, and honestly whenever you write, I get filled with this vigor, whether bad or good is unprecedented.

I’m second guessing what to even say, nothing could truly dictate my reaction upon it, I loved it so much, they’re finally happy, but also, they’re happy. There’s nothing that can remain in the end if they’re just, living, so they have to be happy.

You’re truly something, in a good way, and in a bad way.

That feels mean I am so sorry 😭

Dude I was in the middle of cleaning my room and I saw that so I continued on with my room obviously because I know the SHIT your writing puts me through and boy was I right

“Well don’t read it if you have such a reaction” no. Nuh uh. ZIP IT. I DONT GIVE A FUCK. YET I ALSO GIVE AN APPARENT FUCK. WHAT IS THIS.

JOEL DINA JESSE OMG MELODYDDBJDJDKDKEKDJDJEJEJEJ😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

IM BAWLING RN MOOTIE WHAT

But like I previously stated, I retract my words of well, whatever, when I was dealing with your angst. I deeply apologize, please continue to write, love you,

no because i’m actually devastated in the most tender way possible. like. what the fuck am i supposed to say to this??? how do you just drop this holy, poetic, unhinged, profoundly romantic piece of text in my inbox and expect me to move on with my day????

you started with "they found each other again" and i was already clutching my heart like a widow. but then you hit me with “miracles happen, that’s why they’re called that” and i swear to god i left my body. you understand these characters in a way that makes me feel seen as a writer. you understand the ache. the yearning. the fact that it shouldn’t have worked out… and somehow, it did. and that’s what makes it holy.

and “your words fill my mind and choose my fate”??? okay. okay. so you’re just gonna casually change my entire brain chemistry like that. not even a warning. just spiritual whiplash.

but also:

“you’re truly something, in a good way, and in a bad way.”

no. that’s not mean. that’s exactly right. that’s literally collide. it’s beautiful and painful and inconvenient and healing and wrong and right all at once. it’s what love feels like when it’s too real to be pretty.

and the fact that you were just minding your business, cleaning your room, knowing damn well i’d emotionally detonate you the second you opened this chapter — and you still did it anyway??? ICON. you knew the cost. you paid it. you wept.

also the “WELL DON’T READ IT IF IT HURTS YOU SO MUCH” NO. NUH UH. ZIP IT” had me CACKLING. like yes. exactly. suffer with me. you chose this. we’re in it together now.

joel. dina. jesse. melody. the family they built. the love they crawled back to. the peace they earned. it was always gonna be messy. it was always gonna hurt. but i’m so glad you stayed until it got soft again.

thank you for this. for the apology (i forgive you lmao), for the poetry, for the unfiltered emotion, for everything. i love you back. so much. 🩷🩷🩷

now go finish cleaning your room.

[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.