#me running from the angst i could be writing too rn

[floraisunwell]

Promise | s.r

who? post-prison!reid x ex gf reader (she's a nurse)

category: angst (bold move ig)

summary: Spencer left you 5 months ago without a word for undisclosed reasons but he comes teary eyed to your door after seeing a girl that looks a little too much like you.

based on (very loosely lol): promise by laufey. the fic does not follow the events of the song at all but i love the "if it weren't for the sight of a boy who looked just like you standing out on Melrose avenue" part right at the end so it's all on that line.

word count: 1.6k

a/n: my first fic ahhhhhhh, i'm so nervous and happy rn, this is my baby and ik there's a lot of space for improvement but i'm proud of my writing, this comunnity is full of amazing people and if it wasn't such a lovely space i would have never posted this. shoutout to @lilacsandlavenderhaze for being the first to hear my idea and telling me i should go ahead and write it; @spencersbabymama for telling me to cut the bullshit and self deprecation and post this; and to @esote-rika for being my first readerrrr. love y'all <3

dividers by @aquazero

English is not my first language pls tell me about any spelling and grammatical mistakes. enjoyy!

The air was cold and crisp, a light drizzle could be felt dampening the streets – a scene typical for this time of the year in Washington. Spencer had gone out with the team to get some drinks after a hard but successful case, he was happy, of course, the fact that they had caught the killer pleased him but everything inside the building felt overwhelming: the voices, and the drunk conversations, all the limbs touching a little too much, the overly loud music. He was out of it and to be honest he had been out of it for quite some time now, actually some months, everyone noticed how the breakup made him feel.

Funny, because he was the one to leave.

After you came back from a long shift at the hospital excited to cuddle with the love of your life (or so you thought) but the only remnant of him you found was a sticky note placed on the cover of a book you were reading at the time:

"I'm sorry, I can't do this anymore"

That was all he said before destroying everything you two had built over 3 years, 3 years of love, pain, and learning, 3 years of giving everything for each other, destroyed in less than 24 hours like nothing.

He hadn't been the same for a long time, though—not since prison. You didn't blame him; you tried to understand him, give him space, time, and everything one could need to heal. He was not the same, of course. You weren't expecting the same Spencer to come back, sure, but you also were not expecting whoever he had become: some cold and distant version of the person you used to know.

Your relationship with Spencer is divided into two eras: Before Millburn and After Millburn.

Before Millburn, you guys were somewhat happy. Both of you were overworked and stressed but happy. You would tell him about your work, and he would tell you about his. In the rare times, he got a day off work, he would hug you whenever he could, like he was making sure you wouldn't slip away.

After Millburn, you didn't talk much, not unless it was necessary, he didn't hug you a lot anymore, in fact, the last time he hugged you was when you went to pick him up at the correctional facility, all the emotions running high, you remember thinking he looked and smelled different, you didn't know he would be so different when you wrapped him in your arms, placed a kiss on his shoulder and whispered that everything would be fine. But everything was not fine. It was all so not fine and everyone around you two could tell. Yet you could have never imagined that Spencer, the man who made the hopeless romantic in you thrive would leave in such a disheartening way.

Back at O’Keeffe’s, the team was still at it. The count of how many rounds of drinks Rossi had paid long lost, Emily and JJ leaning suspiciously close to each other, Rossi nursing some unnecessarily extravagant drink, Garcia and Morgan somewhere on the dance floor and Hotch nowhere to be seen. Spencer had gone outside, hoping the sensory overload would ease with the fresh air, it did slightly but the agglomerate of people was no better than the one inside, so many people, reeking of alcohol, walking like zombies, and saying nonsensical things. As he was standing near the entrance, hands stuffed into his pockets, the soft rain dampening his hair, Spencer let his mind wander and it ended up where it always does: him contemplating if leaving was the right decision.

He was so deep in this thought that didn't even notice the man approaching until it happened- a hard shoulder bump that took him away from his thoughts.

"Sorry dude" the man muttered not even caring to glance back as he moved past. Spencer blinked, shocked as he watched the man move swiftly toward a small group of people nearby. A group that included you.

His heart jumped to his mouth. No - not you. But she looked like you, uncannily so. She even acted like you, the way she threw her back when she laughed or how she scrunched her nose in an attempt to put her sliding glasses in place - he could've sworn it was you.

For a fraction of a minute, he actually thought it was you. His breath caught in his throat and he took a step forward before reality sank in and he retreated. It wasn't you; it was never you.

But as he watched her wrapping her arms around the man's neck, as his hands almost automatically moved to her waist, and they both smiled like idiots in love. He couldn't help but feel like he had been stabbed and the knife was being twisted inside him. Was this some type of fucked up joke by the universe? "This could be you, bad thing you lost her" The thing is, he didn't lose you- he gave up on you which was worse because maybe if he had stayed, and tried a little harder, you would still be together.

He staggered back a few steps, and if he hadn't reached the wall, he would've fallen considering he already felt his knees buckle as all the bottled-up emotions from the past five months came crashing onto him; he was overwhelmed by his own feelings, eyes blurry with tears as a lump formed in his throat and the weight on his chest got heavier.

Blindly, almost unconsciously, he reached for his phone in the inside pocket of his jacket. His thumb hovered above your name in the contacts list. The message he typed was brief:

"Are you home?"

He didn't get a reply, he wasn't waiting for one. The moment he hit send his legs were already moving, practically running towards the street to hail a cab. He gave the driver your address, and it came out of his mouth easily, as if he had never stopped saying it.

You were in the shower when his message came through, you didn't pay the loud notification much attention, not even caring to glance at the device when you heard the familiar ding. You prioritized the small occasions you got to take care of yourself when your job is to take care of others.

Now freshly showered and in the kitchen making tea- the next step on your little routine- you hear a knock on the door, a distinct knock, a knock you could never forget, not even a billion years from now. Your heart stopped for a moment, heartbeat pounding in your ears, you didn't quite register you were moving towards the door until it was open and he was standing there, his brown eyes open wide once he registered your presence, reacting as though you opening the door was the last thing he expected. You just stood there for a few seconds, staring at each other until Spencer wrapped you in his arms like he used to, his nostrils flooding with the smell of your shampoo and body wash, smells he recognized all too well, smells that felt like home.

You pushed him away, shattering the brief feeling of happiness he had started to feel.

"What are you doing here?" You asked almost a little too loud in an attempt to hide the hurt in your voice

"I miss you" he replied eyes searching for yours.

You stood there, arms folded, trying to hide how weak those words made you feel. He had no right to miss you, not after leaving the way he did.

Why should I care? You thought to yourself. He made it clear that he didn’t care about you, but you cared, you cared so deeply that it made your heart ache.

You were not going to let him in.

"You can't just stop talking to me and then come here like nothing happened, Spence." You couldn't help using the nickname, your voice falsely steady, trying to hide the pain.

"I know, I just-can I come in?" No reply "Please"

You hesitated, gripping the door handle tighter as a tornado of emotions swirled on your chest. Anger. Hurt. Loneliness. You wanted to slam the door in his face, make him feel a small fraction of what you felt over the past 5 months. But buried beneath all these harsh feelings, there was something softer, something you felt ashamed to acknowledge: the echo of all the nights you stayed up worrying about him and what could happen in his work, all the mornings you woke up without the smell of coffee lingering through the apartment.

You let him in.

You tried to convince yourself that letting him in was about answers- you deserved an explanation, some sort of closure at least. But as you stepped aside and watched him walk past you knew that wasn’t the whole truth.

Because no matter how much he’d hurt you, part of you still longed for the man he used to be.

“This doesn’t change anything.” You muttered, as much to yourself as to him. He gave a slight nod in reply, eyes watering. Damn him and his big brown eyes.

 As you were turning around after closing the door behind you, he captured you in a hug again and you couldn't help but wrap your arms around him too.

★

Somehow, he ended up asleep in your bed and as you gaze at his peaceful resting face, your mind tells you to wake him up, tell him to go home and never come back, tell him that he doesn't get to leave and reappear whenever it suits him, tell him that he can fuck off for breaking your heart like that. Yet, you don't do any of that, because your heart tells you not to.

tysm for reading, likes and reblogs are always deeply appreciated

@angellic4l it's finally here bestieee!

[inkoherentwriting]

WIP WEDNES-MAY!!!

Tagged back by @hannah-heartstrings ! (low pressure) Tagging @hannah-heartstrings back-back ( >:D ) , @thequeenofthewinter, @sylvienerevarine , @gwilin-stay-winnin , @dirty-bosmer , @azures-grace , @druidx , @avantegarda , @archangelsammy , and YOU dear tumblr-er!!

I don't want to share more match fit (even though I'm excited for it!) so I'll share more fluff. going into that silly dancing fic i half percolated last year

under the cut we go! no content warnings just unabashed post main game fluff between two idiots!!!

Guilbert laughed. "I know you think your brother is good at everything, but I don't--"

He stopped dancing and thus, so did Miraina. Guilbert then blinked, facing a peculiar sensation of his current thoughts stopping mid-sentence.

It wasn't something that happened to him often.

"You don't what?"

She looked at him not unlike a shadow of the frightful bandit that he had once feared her as. Looking back into her intense gaze, Guilbert blinked slowly again. She remained staring. Guilbert kept wondering what to do with the peculiar sensation. It was not unpleasant by any means but it grew stranger the longer he lingered on it. Finally though, he said--

"I don't want to dance with your brother anyway."

He watched but did not quite register as her face warmed to a red palette of color. "Y-yeah.... of course not..." Miraina stammered. "My brother ain't the hero of Cyrodiil. Champion. Whatever. Don't care about that."

"You should." Guilbert's voice softened. "You went from ransacking people's homes to saving all of Tamriel. Really, you could dance with anyone you wanted."

Miraina looked shy and tense. Guilbert felt strange again.

"And yet... you wanted to dance with me. That's why I will go to this party with you. You remembered me."

"I never forgot you." Miraina's voice, just as soft, felt like stones hitting Guilbert in the chest as she spoke.

[bluebeary-jay]

A promise softly sung

Astarion x f!Reader/Tav

Summary: before the battle that will decide his fate, Astarion is terrified of losing you to Cazador. you comfort him after a nightmare. (set at the beginning of act 3)

Tags: hurt/comfort, BIG angst and some fluff, poor boy doesn't believe he's deserving of love :( let's hold him until he changes his mind

Warnings: mentions of trauma, self-deprecating thoughts, memories of past abuse and torture, c*zador, being unable to move (briefly), tadpoles mention (idk if that's a trigger)

Word count: 2.1k

A/N: hiiiiiiiii my darlings <33 soo this is something else from what i usually write but i finished bg3 recently and i LOVED IT but i'm on a trip rn so in the absence of my pc i found some inner inspiration to write something again. honestly i missed writing very much but i had the biggest block for almost a year now but maybe it'll get better now that my classes are starting again and i'll be needing a distraction lmao. anyway comments and reblogs are always greatly appreciated and don't be shy to send in a request! and as always, happy reading!!! <3

He was there again.

Astarion loathed those hard, stone walls as much as he feared them. It was here that he once spent an entire night, having infernal script meticulously carved into his skin. It was here that he was punished every time he disappointed his master, every time he didn’t do well enough on his mission. It was here that he was reminded time and time again how worthless, pathetic and meaningless his existence was. It was here he returned in almost all of his nightmares.

But now you were here, too.

Astarion couldn’t believe this, but no matter how much he blinked or willed himself to wake up, the view before his eyes didn’t change. It was you, chained by the wrists to the ceiling where he was hanging so many times before, your toes just barely scraping the ground that was already splattered with your blood. Your clothes were ripped to shreds and cuts and bruises covered almost every inch of your skin. Astarion wanted to run up to you, to get you somewhere safe and far away from this place, but he found that he was unable to move. It wasn’t shock seizing up his limbs, but magical paralysis which he had experienced a couple of times during combat. Even though he knew it was a spell that was holding him in place, he still fought against it with all the strength he could muster – but to no avail.

Your eyes, full of tears and fear, met his briefly before you looked past him at someone else.

“Ah, my sweet, insolent boy,” whispered a voice straight from Astarion’s deepest, darkest nightmares, causing him to tense up in terror. A hand – pale, all too familiar in its deceptive tenderness – brushed his jaw from behind before grabbing his hair roughly. The vampire spawn could do nothing but watch as his head was tilted back and he came face to face with his master.

No, it can’t be… How was Cazador here? How were you here?!

“You’ve been a very bad boy, Astarion,” Cazador tutted, shaking his head. “Running away like that, not returning home for months… It’s no way to treat family, isn’t it?” Astarion felt a sharp sting of his master’s quarterstaff at his back, digging into the scars made by the same hand, but he couldn’t move, couldn’t even scream. “But I’ll forgive you… eventually. After all, you brought me this delectable treat…”

Both him and Cazador looked up at you when Astarion realized what – or rather, who – that bastard was talking about. He tried shaking his head, tried begging for him not to hurt you, but he still couldn’t move, his voice was still stuck past his throat and no word or sound came out. In the meantime, Cazador stood up, walking around his spawn to stand in front of you.

“His own survival was always the most important thing to him,” Cazador said almost pitifully, and only after a moment Astarion realized that this time, he was speaking to you. “He’s a selfish, contemptuous creature, after all. Say, did he tell you he loved you before he lured you here like so many others before you? Did he lie, swearing how much you mean to him?”

“Yes, he… he did.”

Astarion prayed to any higher being that it was just the power of another spell compelling you to say that, and not what you were really thinking. He tried to struggle against his own magical restraints, but whatever scroll or verbal command was used, it was far too powerful for the vampire to beat it with sheer willpower alone. He was helpless again – but worse than that, he was forced to watch you being at Cazador’s mercy, too, all while he couldn’t do anything to save you.

“I honestly didn’t think poor Astarion had it in him,” Cazador continued calmly, gliding gracefully around you and disappearing behind your back. Your own eyes, now full of hurt and betrayal, were trained on Astarion’s. He couldn’t turn away, but in the corner of his vision the elf saw a flash of a blade against your bare skin. “To give away one person who, for some strange reason, saw good in a filthy worm like him… But I’m so very proud of you, sweetling.” Cazador looked at him over your shoulder and licked his lips, so, so dangerously close to your neck. “You’ll live to serve me for centuries to come, and you can watch your lover take your place in my ritual… You did well, Astarion.”

No, Astarion cried in the prison of his own body, unable to reach you or to even stop Cazador from spilling lies into your ears. Not her, no, no, please–

“No!”

Cazador smiled widely and sank his teeth into your fragile neck, and you screamed, still looking at Astarion with this horrible hatred in your eyes…

“No, no, please! Take me, please, just don’t–”

“My love, it’s alright, you’re safe…”

“Stop! Please, just–!”

His body suddenly jerked painfully and his eyes shot open, darting around in confusion and trying to figure out where he was. Astarion wasn’t feeling the cold frigid air of the kennels anymore – instead his skin was almost hot, and damp from sweat, but there was something smooth and soft under his back… the sheets. He was in a bed, at an inn. Still panting heavily, he looked around, noting the details in his surroundings: the crooked chandelier, a little window with curtains drawn shut, his shirt hung neatly over the back of the chair… and your shoes right next to it.

At the memory of your battered and tortured body in Cazador’s dungeon, Astarion shot up with a belated sob, almost knocking you over in the process. Only when your warm hand left his cheek did he notice your presence. You were kneeling next to him on the mattress, expression worried and sorrowful, with the last traces of sleep just leaving the edge of your vision. His red eyes scanned your body, but there were no bruises, no cuts made by Cazador’s wretched blade, no burns on your wrists from the manacles he saw you in mere moments ago.

And there was no hatred in your gaze. Only love and care he didn’t deserve.

Astarion’s eyes filled with tears, but before he could run out of the room or hide under the bed, you opened your arms, gently offering him the solace within. And he, being the selfish, contemptuous creature that he was, didn’t deny himself what he wasn’t worthy of.

“It’s okay,” you whispered, petting his hair softly, while the other hand was – as always – mindful of the scars on his back. “It was a dream, my love. You’re safe here with us.”

His body shook with quiet sobs as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling the soothing scent of your skin and your blood singing to him just beneath. He saw again before his eyes the way Cazador looked at him before he bit you, right in this place he was now so close to…

To give away one person who, for some strange reason, saw good in a filthy worm like him…

“I’m sorry,” Astarion choked out, finding his voice at last, which made you pause in your ministrations. “I’m so sorry f-for not doing anything… He…”

You were quiet for a couple of seconds, but then Astarion felt the most tender touch of your lips on the crown of his head, and he buried his face more into your chest.

“I’m here, darling,” you whispered. “Whatever you saw, it wasn’t real.”

He didn’t answer, instead lifting his arm and tentatively brushing his fingers just underneath your shirt. He didn’t feel any scars mirroring his own, but could still see the blood flowing from your back and down your legs, could still hear your painful scream… It brought fresh tears to his eyes again.

“I… I swear, I would never do that,” he attempted to explain himself, but his words came out in a pathetic sob, and he shook his head again, curling in on himself. “He– he was lying. I’d never…”

A fresh wave of tears wetted your shirt, but you didn’t seem to mind as you gently rocked him back and forth, cradling him safe in your arms. Old Astarion would probably scoff at the condescending action of being treated like an infant, but he knew better now. He still found it difficult, but with you at his side he was learning what true care and affection looked like, and how to accept it. You were always so patient with him, so gentle, never rushing or angry when he couldn’t give you the closeness and intimacy you deserved. Astarion loved that about you – even if he wasn’t ready to say it out loud just yet.

“My star…” you hesitated, but ultimately asked, “what did you dream about?”

The vampire took a shaky breath, unable to open his eyes or speak about what he saw. Instead, he called on the tadpole in his brain and nudged your mind with it, wordlessly asking for permission, which you immediately granted. There was at least one thing the tadpole was good for, he thought as you lived through the nightmare his weak, broken mind had conjured. If by the gods’ grace all of them managed to get rid of the tadpoles and survive this whole ordeal… and if by some miracle you still wanted to stay with him after all was done… Astarion knew he would have to learn how to communicate his feelings on his own. But not tonight. Not tonight.

You didn’t say anything for a long while, only continuing to hold him close to your chest. In this position he could hear the soothing beat of your heart, proving that he didn’t lead you to Cazador, that he didn’t turn you into a monster like him…

“We’re gonna kill him,” you finally said with your throat tight from emotions. “I promise you, as soon as we get to the Baldur’s Gate, we’ll find him and end him for good.”

Astarion knew what he should say – he should agree, or maybe jest that this is the most romantic thing you’ve ever said, or even argue that it’s not going to be that easy.

But all he could do right now was to continue clinging to you like a child, too afraid to face you.

“I’d never give you away,” he breathed, so quietly that he wasn’t sure you heard it, but he didn’t care. “Even if I had to suffer another two hundred years. I’d never–”

“I know, my darling,” you whispered back, and Astarion felt your own tears disappearing in his white locks. He still couldn’t believe why someone like you would waste your tears on him of all people, and it caused a new kind of pain to bloom in his chest. “And you’re not those things he told you. You’re… you’re everything to me, Astarion. Everything.”

Astarion wondered if he’d ever believe that. You proved to him time and time again that you can make anything possible, even change the worldview of someone like him… but with Cazador’s threat still looming, he didn’t have it in him to try and convince himself of your words.

Maybe after the bastard's dead, he concluded. Maybe then it’ll get easier and he can finally start becoming someone deserving of you.

You stirred slightly, breaking him out of his musings. Astarion hugged you tighter, sharply stopping you from moving away.

“Please. Don’t go.”

You just leaned back on the pillow and kissed his head gently again. Astarion felt the tension in his body melting away just a little, but the tears welled up again in his eyes.

“I won’t. Promise.”

And you kept your promise. Astarion didn’t fall asleep again, but your constant heartbeat under his cheek brought him some semblance of peace as he waited for the sun to rise. It didn’t feel right to let you care for him so much, to gift and envelop him with your love that he didn’t deserve… But it’d be even more wrong to take that choice away from you. He knew all about that, after all, and he'll be damned if he ever treats you the way he was treated.

So Astarion decided that he will let you love him and he will love you in return, for as long as you allow it.

Because, truth be told, he was nothing if not a selfish, contemptuous creature.

[taintedcigs]

i slept with someone from corroded coffin and all i got was this stupid song written about me.

ROCKSTAR!FBOY!EDDIE X READER

summary: fooling around with a famous rockstar who's a notorious playboy sounds perfect on paper, until you catch feelings for him. that's why you decide to end things, to not get your feelings get hurt, and its all going perfectly, until eddie releases a song, written all about you.

warnings: smut, p in v, MINORS DNI!!!!, pet names, praising?, lovey dovey, kinda angst and arguments, drgs & alcohol mention, swearing? idk this is kinda cheesy n cute with a mix of fluff sprinkled honestly!

author's note: the indented parts are texts between steve and reader and thenn reader and eddie. they look confusing as fuck im sorry i just wanted to make them look unique but they look stupid. also yes. i patted myself in the back after i found this title (thank you fob). and yes the lyrics are inspired by i don't care im on a fob kick sue me! and ofc fboy!eddie isn't actually that much of a fboy bc if i can't write lovesick eddie ill die. this is super cheesy so i still struggled a lot but UGH. not proof-read ignore all mistakes

also credits to @dumplingsjinson for the prompts! (i changed them but still!) and @saradika for the dividers! pls like + rb + interact w me in anyway to support my writings!! ty!!

DINGUS sent you a spotify link. did you listen to this? yeah. its kinda romantic. no. the lyrics are insane. n all about u okay? are u at the party rn? yeah. u comin? soon he’s there too u already knew that, didn’t u?  false accusations r rude, steve.

You click your phone off with a groan, but he was right. You couldn’t stay away from him, and maybe, just maybe, this was your way of running into him, accidentally. 

Because ever since he released the song, the tabloids had gone crazy with it, half of the lyrics screamed you and all of the old headlines pointed at you, the mystery girl Eddie used to be seen with, and you really were growing tired of seeing your name next to “Munson’s new girl.” 

Because you weren’t his new girl, you weren’t his anything. He was a cocky asshole who was good with a guitar and was even better at fucking. And that was something both of you could relate to, the only thing you had in common with him. Or, so you thought. 

But of course, as with everything else, the things between you changed, you started staying over, he started staying over, and the two of you even went on fucking dates, disguising them under ‘we were just hungry, is all.’ 

You tried to keep up the cool girl act, like you could fuck someone and not catch feelings. Every inch of you itched not to care, to act like it was all fine, but it was all fucking bullshit, you cared, so fucking much that your chest ached. The more you got to know him, the more you fell for him, and the more you fell for him, the more you realized there was no fucking way this would work. 

Cocky rockstar who spent more time doing drugs than sleeping, with girls all over him? The imaginary red flag bells rang in your ear, even now. He wasn’t looking for a relationship and you knew that. That’s why you ended it two months ago. Or at least, you started ignoring him two months ago. 

Yet, he had been calling and texting you, wanting to meet up, drunken slurs of nonsense, gibberish voicemails, and yet you never answered, because if you did, you knew you’d be back to pathetically swooning over him.

Until today, just because of that stupid song, like it meant anything. That douchebag probably wrote songs about every girl he fucked. 

You weren’t special. 

Another ding sound from your phone almost startled you, the contact name made you groan even louder. “don’t FUCKING answer.” That didn’t mean shit. It was just something stupid to make you feel better that you couldn’t stay away from him, because you knew, deep down that if you really didn’t want him to contact you, you would’ve deleted his number, and blocked him. You were too chicken shit to do that, and still desperately wanted to hear from him. 

So you settled on that contact name. Like it made a difference, like it changed anything. 

DONT FUCKING ANSWER did you listen to the song?

Don’t fucking answer. The contact name should be enough to convince yourself that.

Too late.

                                                                   no. don’t lie to me, sweetheart.                                                                            why would i lie?

You sink into the couch, a much quieter corner of the party, not even bothering to socialize. Your brows furrow, index finger flying to your lips anxiously, as you chew on it to patiently wait for an answer.

You sip on your drink with a nervous gaze on your screen, barely noticing the way the couch sink further when someone else took a seat next to you. 

“Hi.” The gravelly voice pulls your attention away from the screen, making you set your drink aside as you look up, finding yourself face-to-face with him. 

Shaggy bangs cascade onto his forehead, and with your exaggeration, it looks longer than the last time you saw him. Black jeans cladded with chains. A graphic tee messily thrown over his heavily tatted chest, that you could still imagine right about now—pathetic. He looked just about the same, the deep dimple adorning his soft cheeks had seemed to disappear, wearing a scowl instead, that tiny voice in your head told you that was your doing, that maybe he was just as miserable as you. Maybe your feelings weren’t fully one-sided. ��

Shit. 

“Eddie?” Squeaky, and annoying, you were sure that’s how your tone sounded, yet he didn’t seem to comment on it.

“‘m glad you remember my name, sweetheart,” he scoffs sarcastically, leaning further into the plush couch, elbow propped at the side, eyeing you with frustration. 

“W—what the hell are you doing here?” You stutter as if you weren’t expecting to run into him. Full of bullshit. 

“Did ya really think you could ignore me forever, huh?” He tilts his head slightly, almost expectedly, earning an eye roll from you. 

“I wasn’t ignoring yo—”

Eddie tuts quickly, his gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that cuts through the ambient noise of the party, “I thought we said no more lies, huh?” 

With a huff, “Why are you here, Eddie?” you mumble.

“Am I not allowed to party?” He banters, brows slightly raised, making you huff out an exasperated breath, your eyes bore into him, almost to signal him ‘Take this seriously.’

“I wanted to know what you thought.” He shrugs like it was normal to just come running after everything just to know what you thought of the song. 

“The song?” He nods in confirmation.

“Didn’t like it,” you confess, avoiding his gaze, but your brows betray you, lifting ever so slightly.

He tsks, shutting you off quickly, “You see that little quirk your brow did? That only happens when you lie, you can’t help it. You do that when I ask you if you ate the last pizza slice, or when I ask if you watched the next episode of the show we were supposed to watch together, or when you—” 

“Fine, fine! I liked it,” you groan, interrupting him and suddenly standing up from the comfort of the couch, being so face-to-face with him immediately making your nerves bubble.

“Just liked?” He tilts his head slightly, a smirk curving on his lips. 

A deep sigh of breath, “what do you want, Munson?”

He stands up with you, making you back away from him with a heavy footstep, the entire party was too loud and crowded, yet, in this stupid corner, it was just the two of you. “For you to admit that you loooved the song, and how much you missed me,” he sing-songs, taking a step closer to you, musky smell invading your senses, making you take a deep breath.

Both of you stand near the wall, and it should be awkward, it should be enough to make you leave, but all it does is draw you closer to him.

“You’re annoying.” 

“Is that why you’ve been avoiding me?”

“I wasn’t avoiding—” He tuts, with his stupid index finger up, rejecting your lie.

“I—I don’t know what you expected.” You shrug, so nonchalantly that his gaze narrows, chest aching with the implications of your words.

“We both knew this wouldn’t last forever, didn’t we?” You chew the inside of your lip to stop those tears that had been begging to flow ever since you listened to the song, wiping off that smirk on Eddie’s lips. 

“Would’ve been nice if I got a reminder, and not have been just fully ghosted, huh?” The brunette grumbles with a downturn of his lips, shaking his head in disbelief. 

“Oh, don’t act all high and mighty, isn’t that what you do all the fucking time?” you snap, gaze narrowed, and arms crossed against your chest. 

“Fuck girls and then leave them? Did it crush your ego this fucking much that I did before you could?” 

“What the fuck does that mean?” He retaliates. 

“It means I was smart enough to pull myself away from your bullshit,” you rasp, disdain written all over your face.The room seems to shrink as the distance between you decreases. 

Another step closer to you, and you didn’t realize your back had hit the wall now. “My bullshit? God, that’s fucking rich, if I seem to recall correctly sweetheart, you were in this as much as I fucking was!”

“Oh, was I?” You bark out a chuckle, cruel, mocking, “I don’t remember being okay with you fucking half the city.” Realization of how bitter and jealous that sounds, dawns on you much later than the words leave your lips, and thankfully, Eddie’s too fucking immersed to realize the double meaning of your words. 

“Are you fucking kidding? No strings attached! Non-exclusive! That’s what you fuckin’ signed up for!” His voice echoes, mirroring his frustration, and you open your mouth.

But he doesn’t let you speak further, cutting you off sharply. “Is this all because of that new guy you’re seein’?” 

“What? What guy?” 

“The one who was all over you earlier,” he bites out, jaw clenched, and you can almost taste his bitterness in the air.  

“The same one you fucked at Jeff’s party.”

“Are you stalking me, Munson?” 

“Did you just want an excuse to end things? Are the two of you serious or somethin’?” His voice wavered between anger and desperation, gaze pathetically searching for yours, to gauge your reaction.

You scoff. Did he really think you’d end things because of a stupid fling you had which in the first place occurred just so you could forget him? He was so goddamn clueless it drove you insane. 

But what you didn’t realize was that you were just as clueless, if not more, because why would he write a song all about you, if this was just about sex? Because who would get so jealous of someone they didn’t care about? 

Say my name and his in the same breath.

I dare you to say they taste the same. 

The lyrics from his stupid song swirled your thoughts, yet you were still too stupid to see it, weren’t you?

Another step closer to you, a dangerous game the two of you liked to play. He smelled alluring, a fucked up mix of nicotine, his musky cologne, and that damn leather jacket. “Do you really think, he could compare to me, sweetheart?” 

Say my name and his in the same breath.

“Tell me he’s fucking better, and he’s actually what you want, and I’ll fucking leave, I’ll bury all the other songs I wrote, tell me, and I’ll be out of your hair forever.”

I dare you to say they taste the same. 

And just like that, all the defenses you put up, all the times you ignored him, they are cracked, disappearing into thin air. You hate it, you hate that he has this effect on you, you can feel your mind getting hazier, eyes blinking rapidly to process what the fuck is going on, and his face is mere inches away from yours. You knew their names didn’t taste the same. And you knew he could never ever compare to Eddie.

“Tell me,” he encourages, dares you to. You fail to notice how much emotion his gaze carries, how the corners of his lips twitch, just at the thought of you finally admitting you don’t want him. His stomach turns at the thought, this is his last chance, he knows that, and he can’t fucking lose you. He can’t. 

And you don’t know any of that, but you knew, know that no one else could compare to him. And you hate yourself for thinking that, you hate yourself for falling for him, the world stops rotating on its axis when he’s in your peripheral vision, and it’s fucking disgusting. Pathetic. Stupid. Because you know the two of you have no chance. But here you are. 

“H—he is b—” Of course, your brow quirks up almost immediately, betraying you quicker than you can even attempt to lie. 

That dawning smirk appears on his lips again, it’s mocking, and just as much smug. You want to wipe it off of his stupidly pretty face. “Tell me,” he dares you, again. This time much cockier and confident, and you suddenly realize how small you feel under him.

“He isn’t,” your meek voice is barely audible.

And you don’t register the shaky breath he draws when the words leave your lips, giving him the confirmation he needs. You wanted him, he had no fucking clue why you ghosted him, yet you still wanted him. Just as much as he wanted you. 

Both of his hands were placed on the wall now, towering over you, making your breath get caught up in your throat. “Speak up.”

“No, fuck! You know he’s not, you know he could never fucking compare to you, you fucking know tha—” He shuts you up with a rough kiss, lips pressed against yours messily, letting the petty comments die down your throat. Because this is all he wanted, needed to hear anyway. 

“Up,” he grunts into the kiss, tapping your thighs, hoisting you up from your waist to help you wrap your legs around him, tight, he wants you at his mercy, locked to him. 

You wrap your legs around him, barely, the melty sensation in your knees making you so shaky that he barks out a laugh into your lips, holding you close, firm, the butterflies in your stomach traveling all across your body.

He lifts you up as if you are weightless, arms wrapped around you strongly as he carries you to the nearest empty bedroom, impressively without hitting your back anywhere, so roughly that your core throbs at the feeling of his arms around you.

“Baby,” he mutters as he lowers you down on the bed swiftly, smooth, gaze darkened and pupils blown wide, all the pent up desire waiting to explode. 

“Eddie,” you beg, shaky voice sounding purely angelic to his ears once he got rid of his shirt, shrugging it off with a huff, his fingertips grazing against your top, feeling your hardened nipples, causing gasps out of you, he’s quick to pull it over your head while you run your fingers up the grooves of his stomach, the tip of your fingertips almost burns everywhere you touch. 

He groans at the sight of your bare breasts, “missed thi-you,” he corrects himself, because that’s all he wanted anyways, you. 

He nips at your nipples, tongue good at giving attention to both of them, all wet and warm, making you squirm under his touch, you’re quick to get rid of everything else, leaving you in your panties, making him grunt. 

The pad of his thumb rubs against your left nipple, leaving goosebumps in its wake, while his other hand travels down your chest, then your stomach, finally drawing circles when it stops between your thighs, ghosting over your panties before he tugs them down your legs, spreading them apart with a slight hum, pupils blown so wide that you can’t admire those chocolate hues anymore. 

He visually drinks in that sight of you, laid down on the couch, eyes squeezed shut, back arched, and he hasn’t even touched you yet. You’re completely at his mercy and his chest aches with need. “So pretty like this f’me,” he coos into your chest, pushing his middle finger inside of you. Making you feel so good that you can’t stop the gasps coming out of your lips.   

Pleasure shivers through everywhere he sucks and touches, his finger eases into you when he adds another one, a moan escaping you quickly. “Need to be in here, sweetheart, d’ya have any idea how much I missed this?” 

You don’t. You don’t know about the sleepless nights, the drunken ones, the drug-induced ones in an attempt to recreate the high you gave him. It’s fucked up, it’s insanely toxic. Yet, he can’t get enough of you. 

His gaze upon you is dangerous, maybe it’s because he had missed you so goddamn much, or maybe because he didn’t know where this would lead, but it felt fucking sentimental, different somehow, and he could feel you, everywhere on his skin.

Your hips start rocking up against him when the pad of his thumb flicks over your clit, making you arch your back, whines, mumbles leaving your lips. And all he can muster is, “so goddamn beautiful, look at you whining for me.”

You can feel his bulge rub against your thigh every now and then, it’s distracting, almost agonizing. You desperately need it inside of you, you had missed him, missed his touch, missed the feeling of him filling you to the brim, you missed seeing his face contort in pleasure when he was inside of you, you wanted him to never forget you again. 

That’s why you feel so numb, can barely speak, and of course, Eddie notices, how unusually quiet you are, and he wants to make this unforgettable, just so you have another reason to come back to him. Just so you don’t leave him, just so you stay forever. 

“Gone too quiet on me, honey, tell me what you need,” he coos down at you, thumb still caressing your pussy, and all you can fucking do is chew down on your bottom lips, eyeing his bulge that was begging to get out. And he barks out a goddamn chuckle, “P—please, Eddie.” Pathetically leaves your lips. 

And normally he would make you beg, tease further, but he reaches to tug down his pants quickly, because fuck, he had missed you. And he can’t bear the thought of not being inside of you any longer. 

Thinking is not your strongest suit right now either, your brain is mushy, all the nights and days spent thinking about him, about this explodes into your body. Your pussy aches when you finally see his cock again, a sound of need leaving your lips as you eye his length, so big that pleasure ripples through you, especially when you see his gushy tip, glistening with pre-cum. 

You want every fucking inch inside of you, and Eddie’s more than ready to oblige, “What do you need, baby? Tell me.”

“Need you, Eddie,” you moan, all fucked out, his fingers slip in and out of you still, but it isn’t enough for him. He needs more, he craves your validation like he never has before. 

“God, you’re soakin’ my fingers, princess,” he grunts, wedging himself between your thighs, weeping cock drips onto your inner thighs, making you moan breathlessly. “Tell me exactly what you fuckin’ want, honey.”

“Eddie.” His name sounds like silk, even when it’s so lewd, Eddie decides, and it makes him let out an impatient huff. “P—please. Need you to fuck me.” It’s so goddamn desperate that you can feel heat rise to your cheeks, but it’s everything to him.

“Want you to fuck me like you mean it.”

“Oh, that’s easy, sweetheart,” he grunts, lining his cock through your entrance, coating himself in your slick, enjoying your mewls before he doesn’t hesitate to push his cock inside of you, inch by inch, relishing the way you cry out for him. 

Greedily, you rock your hips into him, making him let out a frustrated groan. “Have no fuckin’ idea how much I missed this greedy cunt, sweetheart, shit.” He thrusts in a few more inches, and breathless moans and babbles of his name fill the air.

“Suckin’ me right in, baby, fuck, you’re so pretty like this, mhmm.” His cock moves inside of you, and your hands are wrapped around his back, desperately clawing at it, the fullness making you want more, “you like that, baby, like bein’ full of me?” A heavy sound leaves his lips, pathetic and you pulse around him. 

“S’so good Eddie, and s’big,” you barely manage to let out, and he watches you with that burning amber gaze, thrusting all the way in without hesitation. Those plushy lips that hang open, that filthy mouth, the prettiest fucking features—you, were going to be the death of him. 

Maybe it’s because you had missed him, or maybe because you hadn’t experienced this in a long time, or fuck, maybe, just maybe that the song had created a new type of need between the two of you. Using sex as a sort of connection that the both of you desperately needed. But, shit, was it this different this time. 

He felt different—his lips, touch, skin as it slapped against yours, it was different. 

Full. You feel so fucking full that your back involuntarily arches against him, fingers clenching desperately, your screams and cries filling the room the more he plunges inside of you, deeper, hungry, and just as greedy as you. 

“Yeah, better than that asshole?” It rolls off his lips so bitter and jealous that you can barely register it. Not being used to this possessive side of him, and it’s glorious, especially when he’s pounding his frustrations and insecurities into you. 

“Mhmm, so much better.” You clawed at his back, every thrust of his hip making you feel higher and higher, mind filled with nothing but him. 

“So pretty like this when you say my name, sweetheart… so goddamn beautiful, and all mine, yea?” He wants a confirmation, and wants to hear you say it, his head ducking between your breasts again to kiss, taste, suckle them. Make sure he never forgets it. 

“Wanna hear you say it.” He hums, the vibrations reverberating through your chest straight into your core, cock plowed so deep inside of you that you can barely speak through your cries, hitting that sweet spot that every other asshole misses. 

You’re too scared to give him what he wants. But you feel him, everywhere, and you still want more, of course, you’re his. That’s all you fucking wanted anyway. Plushy lips shake as you gaze up at him, his amber hues are so sticky-sweet that you still struggle to process it, words come out in a ramble “All yours, Eddie.”

His mouth crashes onto yours roughly, desire coursing through both of your bodies, almost interconnected. “Shit, fuckin’ hell sweetheart, ‘m not gonna last long.” His thrusts are getting sloppier, yet you feel the ravaging desire coursing through your veins. 

“So perfect,” he murmurs, the kiss he lays on your lips just as relentless, not letting you breathe or think for a goddamn second, you’re so goddamn close.

And you wonder, how the fuck did you even go two months without this? Without him?

“Eddie!” You cry out once you feel the pad of his thumb rubbing against your clit, eyes squeezed shut as your orgasm washes over you. Pure bliss overtakes you while you claw at his back, his body tenses, and cock flexes as he cums inside of you, groans and curses left in your hair. 

Minutes pass of you lying next to each other, breathless, processing everything that just transpired. And you should feel guilty, embarrassed, and should run to the hills for doing this with him again. 

But you’re obsessed, addicted. He’s like an excitement that you’re sure you’ve never felt before, running through your veins, like a fucking drug. 

Both of you get dressed in silence, the party booming outside is quick to bring the two of you back to reality, and out of the trance that he pulled you in. 

He breaks your bewilderment with a slight “Fuck.” Standing on the opposite side of the bed before he fully turns to you. “This wasn’t—I was supposed to talk to you.” He mutters, fingertips anxiously running through his tousled hair.

Caught off guard and awfully curious, you mumble, “About what?”

“The song…”

“I told you I liked it.”

His brow furrows deeper, and he shakes his head in frustration. “No, that’s not it—uh, did you not listen to the lyrics?”

“I did.”

“And?”

Your face searches his for some clarity, you take a step closer to him, the distance between the two of you was still awfully much according to him. “What are you asking of me, Eddie? Did you really think one song would just solve everything?”

“You don’t get it, do you?”

“W—what am I supposed to get Eddie? You wanna have your cake and eat it too! And I just can’t fucking do that, not anymore.”

“That’s—that’s not it!” His voice wavers, with urgency, and desperation in his tone. He takes a step forward, attempting to bridge the emotional gap, feeling so fucking frustrated that he wants to rip his hair out.

“Then fucking explain it to me!” You plead. 

“You want an explanation, fine! Fucking fine!” His frustration echoed through the room, pacing back and forth, making you take a deep breath. 

Was he… actually gonna do this? 

“You wanna know what the fuck I’ve been doing ever since you ghosted me?” He ran a hand through his hair, scared, gaze all mellow and vulnerable in a way you have never seen before. It makes your shoulders slump when you nod. 

“I go to those stupid Hollywood parties, meet asshole rockstars—the most interesting shit, yet somehow someway the thought of you will pop up in my mind, uncalled for, might I add, and then I can’t stop thinking about it, can’t stop thinking about you the whole fucking day.” Your eyes widen, trying to absorb his revelation, yet he won’t stop rambling and you feel your chest tighten with each word, fuck, he’s finally doing it.

“I—I never—shit! I never thought myself capable of feeling things like this, but fuck, you came along, with that goddamn smile, throwing a manicured middle finger right in my face, a—and just put up with my bullshit.” His voice softened, and he couldn’t help but trace the contours of your face, to desperately know if you were on the same boat, and you look at him with such glistened eyes that his heart leaps to his stomach. 

“My world flipped upside down, and you have proven me, so goddamn wrong that I don’t even know who the fuck I am anymore!” The tears almost welled in your eyes, because, fuck, there was no way this was real.  

You reached out instinctively, the corner of your mouth twitching uncontrollably. “E—Eddie, please… please stop saying things you don’t fucking mean.” 

“Things I don’t mean?” He gives you a breathy chuckle, ironic, and nowhere near funny. His eyes bore into yours, intense and searching. “Do you think I like feeling whatever the hell this is? I fucking don’t, you have me acting like someone I’m so unfamiliar with, to the point where it scares me. All I can think about is you, you, you, because you occupy every single space of my mind.” Your eyes soften, the room seemingly pulsing with his emotions, making you feel hot everywhere on your body. 

He felt the same way.

Eddie felt the same way. 

“B—but fuck I’m scared, honey, I’m so goddamn scared,” He admits, the vulnerability in his voice cutting through the tension before he’s at your side, calloused hands grabbing you by the shoulder, so softly that you melt into him.

“Because what if—what if all of this comes crashing down one day?” His voice trembles, gaze avoiding yours, he was scared, so goddamn scared of losing you. Forever. He doesn’t want that, he couldn’t afford that. 

“Just two months away from you fucking sucked. I didn’t—I don’t wanna feel these things, but you make it so hard not to.”  His forehead rests against yours, making you suck in a deep breath, it’s all so fucking sentimental, and all you wanna do this kiss him, tell him you feel the exact same way. Tell him about your fears. 

“And now I can’t fucking stop, fuck,” He confesses, admission punctuated by a frustrated sigh. 

“I wrote you a song,” he gently caresses your cheek, and you’re so scared to look up at him, to meet his tender gaze, because you know you can’t hold yourself back. 

“I came over to this party in a frenzy when I found out you’d be here,” he continued, his fingers tracing a delicate pattern along your jawline. “I—I just I haven’t even been able to touch another girl.” Your eyes snap open, you’re sure they’re almost heart-shaped now, with the adoration you look at him.

“And, do you actually fucking think I'd write songs for just anyone—” His question lingers in the air before you shut him up with a kiss, rough, sweet, and making Eddie feel dizzy all over, his head struggles to comprehend it all, breathless but he manages to react just in time.

The booming music becoming a mere background noise when he had you, mind swirling with all the possibilities and mouth begging to never stop tasting you. He wants to let you completely engulf him, feel you everywhere.

Everything he wanted and more.

He fucking hates himself for doing this, but he pulls away, mesmerized, eyes so wide that you can’t believe this is Eddie, he’s all flustered, salmon pink. And it makes a wider grin sit on your lips. “So… you—uh, what does this mean?”

You smile at him, lips widely stretching into a grin, as you shrug. “It means I feel the same, Eddie.” you admit, tone a tender reassurance. “That’s why I tried to shut you out… to try to move on, because I was scared—fuck, but I feel the same way.”

“So, does that mean we're dating now?”

“We can take things slow, figure everything out?” you mutter with a shy gaze, lips itching to twitch into a smile, again. “But I—uh—I like you, I really, really like you.”

“Gone soft on me already, sweetheart?” he mumbles with a stupid grin, making you elbow him softly, with an exaggerated playful huff. 

He’s quick to flinch, rubbing his arm as if you even delivered a powerful blow. “Ow—what the hell is wrong with you?”

“You think I’m going soft? You’re the one who wrote his feelings as an exaggerated love song!” 

He leans further slightly, his grin widening when you gave him those adorable eyes, finding you both equally amusing and endearing. “Oh… just you wait.”

You arched a brow, curiosity piqued, “What the hell does that mean?”

“The album is coming out soon, sweetheart. If you think this was an exaggeration, you should hear the whole fucking thing.”

That glint re-appears in your eyes just as quickly, gaze softening as you melt into his embrace.

“You’re an idiot, Eddie Munson.” You tease, scrunching your nose at him, so adorably that he leans down and presses a gentle kiss onto your hair.

He's an idiot, a total complete fucking idiot, but he's all yours.

[msmk11]

Heyyy, I just saw that you were taking requests for Tangerine x Readers, and I was wondering if you could write something like Tangerine and reader being fwb before the whole bullet train thingy, and she catches feelings but he's super distant (bro has serious attachment issues) so he pushes her away and is a bitchy manchild about it (LOTS AND LOTS OF ANGST but it has a fluffy ending) (smutty too if ur comfortable with it) ofc u can ignore this request if u don't want to, and I'd write it myself but I have zero motivation rn and I js wanna cry and then giggle😭🫶

And I Have To Live With It, For the Rest of My Life

Tangerine x fem!reader

WC: 3.4k

CW: HEAVY ANGST; slut shaming; booze/being drunk; fighting; cursing; lack of aftercare; mentions of sex; Tangerine is a HUGE asshole. Tiny fluff ending.

A/n: Hi love! Thanks for requesting! Sorry this took so long I just needed to find inspo. I’m also sorry for the lack of smut (and fluff tbh,) I just don’t take smut requests. As for fluff, I did want a “happy ending” but it felt cheap to try and go from ANGST to “everything is perfect again” in such few words. Maybe I’m just traumatized, but I have a hard time forgiving quickly lol and I think that shows here.

Everything was really, really good.

So of course you had to go and ruin it.

People say you can’t control matters of the heart and you think that it’s a load of bullcrap. Why not? Why couldn’t you have control over your heart?

And why did you have to catch feelings for Tangerine?

It isn’t part of the deal. Tangerine is a business partner. An acquaintance. A friend. A friend you occasionally fuck.

Your relationship with Tangerine was always supposed to be casual. No strings attached- business was simply business and fucking simply fucking. But then your heart got involved.

What’s one supposed to do?

Certainly not keep going back to the captor of one’s heart.

So of course that’s exactly what you do.

You’re laying in your hotel bed, completely naked, covers pooled around your waist. You and Tangerine just finished having sex and he’s already up and moving about, throwing on his clothes that had been discarded on the floor somewhere in your flurry of lust. Instead of saying anything, you just watch him in all his glory. You admire his tousled post-sex hair, curls askew, the way his back muscles ripple as he bends down to sweep his shirt up off the ground, and the way his fingers deftly button up his shirt.

“Got a meeting to head off to?” You ask casually.

Translation: Please don’t run off so soon if you don’t have to. Stay.

Tangerine’s eyes flit to yours briefly before he bends down to tie his shoes, “something like that.”

“Mhmm.”

You pull the covers up to your neck, suddenly feeling very vulnerable so bare and exposed to Tangerine who’s nearly fully dressed.

“You got a comb?” the brunette asks you gruffly as he straightens his suit jacket.

You nod towards the bathroom, “yeah, in there.”

He gives you no reply, only walking into the bathroom and shutting the door with a resounding thud.

Your stomach clenches painfully and your heart aches. The indifference with which Tangerine treats you hurts so badly. You’d rather him hate you then act like this. At least you’d know that he felt something, anything.

Is it too early for a drink?

The bathroom door opens again and Tangerine walks out, looking as though nothing ever happened. To him, nothing probably has. Nothing of consequence, at least.

“Well, I’m heading out. See you for our debrief tonight at nine.”

Tangerine begins to walk towards the door.

“Wait!” you call out.

You stop him just in time, his hand frozen on the handle. You swear he visibly tenses at your words, “what?”

“Could- could you at least get me a towel? Please?”

He doesn’t even look at you before nodding, “Yeah.”

He disappears into the bathroom for a moment before reappearing with a towel in hand. Tangerine, it seems, doesn’t even have the decency to walk the towel over to you. Instead, he tosses it across the room, almost hitting you in the face.

“Thanks.”

Shame pools in your stomach and you keep your gaze on the towel in your hands.

Tangerine grumbles a reply and then makes for the door so quickly that there’s no chance for you to say anything more.

Your heart sinks at the possibility that Tangerine might know you have feelings for him.

*****

You’ve already found a secluded spot in the hotel lounge and have a drink in hand when the twins appear downstairs. They take a seat across from you wordlessly and Tangerine lifts his hand in the air gracefully, motioning for a cocktail waitress to come take his order. Lemon and him order their drinks, and you ask for a second. It bothers you severely when you catch Tangerine winking at the waitress out of the corner of your eye.

You down the rest of your drink in one gulp and ignore how it burns your throat.

“Right, so the job’s done. When are we getting out of here?” Lemon asks tiredly.

“We,” Tangerine says, pointing between him and his brother, “are out of here first thing in the morning, “I’ve booked our tickets for a 5 am flight.”

“And her?” Lemon responds, pointing to you.

Tangerine barely glances at you, but you can see his jaw tense, “the job’s done. Figured she’s a fucking big girl who can handle getting herself home. Isn’t that right, love?”

Condescension drips from Tangerine’s words and it makes your stomach drop. You refrain from saying what you really want to and instead assume a relaxed persona, “mhmm, always right you are. I arranged for my travel last night.”

You, luckily, weren’t lying, though you had ordered a car big enough for three. More room for you, you guess.

The waitress comes back with your drinks and you eagerly take yours. When she asks if you need anything else, you can tell that she’s really only talking to Tangerine. Still, you tell her yes, asking for a third drink.

Lemon eyes you, “you haven’t even touched your second drink and now you’re ordering a third?”

You shrug your shoulders nonchalantly and lean back in your chair, “I’ve got the money to spend on it now that we each just made what, nearly 12,000 pounds?”

Lemon smirks in celebration and holds out his drink to you, “cheers.”

You clink glasses but Tangerine doesn’t join in, a perpetual frown gracing his face.

“Ya really wanna get fucking sloshed before ya travel tomorrow?” the brunette suddenly chimes in- rather judgmentally, you might add.

“Who said anything about sloshed, Tangerine? I can hold more than you think.”

While your answer is confident, even combative, on the inside, your heart leaps into your throat and pounds desperately. You think you might explode.

“Still, ya certainly don’t have any self-control. Not over ya drinks, your mouth, and most importantly….” Tangerine’s eyes narrow at you, “not over ya emotions.”

Your heart sinks in your chest.

So Tangerine did know about your feelings. Worse? He’s being a right fucking prick about it too. There’s no emotional sensitivity, no respect for privacy, nothing. Serves you right for fucking a cold-blooded assassin.

Unfortunately for you, tears spring to your eyes despite the fury boiling in your stomach, “you wanna talk about control, Tangerine? Let’s talk about how you have so little control over your own feelings that you lash out at others and make them feel like shit, even your own brother, so that you feel better. Let’s talk about how you can’t keep your dick in your pants because you’d rather fuck anything that looks at you than deal with anything real. Let’s talk about how what’s happened between us has made you feel so out of control that you’re willing to go low enough to hash this out in fucking public. You’re a walking disaster, Tangerine, and I feel right fucking sorry for you, I really do.”

You stand up harshly and purposely knock his drink onto his expensive suit. You start to walk away and then turn back, batting your eyelashes innocently, “oh wait, should I get you a fucking towel to clean up? Or would you rather beg me for it?”

You don’t wait for a response and grab a dry towel off a random cleaning rack, throwing it right in his fucking face.

*****

Tangerine glares after you as you storm off.

“What the bloody fuck was that all about?” Lemon protests.

Tangerine ignores Lemon and instead curses loudly before chasing after you. He could not let you have the last fucking word. He catches you right in time, hand stopping the doors of the elevator you’re in.

You look up at him startled, and your shocked expression is quickly replaced with an angry one.

“What the fuck, Tangerine? Get out of here!”

“Ya don’t get to fucking talk to me like that and spill my drink all over me and then just walk away.”

“Why not,” you scoff, “you ran away as soon as you were done using me to jack off. It only seems fair.”

The elevator doors slide shut and the car begins to move upwards slowly.

“Yeah, well that’s usually what happens when ya casually fuck someone. But I don’t think ya have a casual bone in your body- always stomping around being a dramatic attention-whore.”

Tangerine watches your eyes narrow and jaw harden, “there’s a difference between being causal and being a huge dick, Tangerine. I should’ve known you’d be the latter.”

“And I should’ve known not to mess around with a fucking slut like you.”

Your eyes widen in shock and even Tangerine knows that he’s taken things a little too far. While your effort to fight back your tears is valiant, it’s fruitless, and they begin to stream down your face.

“Fuck you, Tangerine. You know, I never expected you to return my feelings, and I’m sorry I crossed a line by falling for you. Swear to fucking god I wish I didn’t. But you- you’ve just crossed an unforgivable line, and I never want to see you again. Have a fucking nice life.”

The elevator doors slide open and you scurry out. This time, Tangerine doesn’t follow you.

*****

After everything that happened with Tangerine on your last mission, you decided to take an indefinite hiatus from work and just focus on yourself.

One of your goals? Fuck your feelings for Tangerine out of you. So of course, you’d been spending a lot of nights out at the bars, seducing all the eligible bachelors of the city into your bed.

You hope that it’s working.

Tonight is no different from the rest- you dressed up in one of your sexy outfits sitting at the bar of some new local pub. You’ve already eyed a muscular blonde about your age from across the bar and motion for him to come over.

He complies and makes his way to you, a cocky smirk on his face.

“Hey gorgeous,” you tease, looking him up and down.

The man takes a seat next to you, “Hullo, love. What’s a pretty girl like you doing sitting at the bar all by herself?”

You shrug nonchalantly, “looking for a handsome man. Like you, I suppose.”

He cocks his eyebrow at you, “you suppose?”

“Always hard to tell in this type of lighting.”

The blonde bites his lip and eyes you, “I can promise you I’m handsome.”

“We’ll see.”

“I’m Matt,” he says, extending his hand.

You respond with your name and grasp his hand. You’re expecting a handshake, but instead he brings your knuckles to his lips and kisses them softly.

“Pleasure to meet you.”

Damn this man is smooth.

“Really, the pleasure is all mine, Matt,” you respond, trying not to appear too flustered.

“Can I get you a drink?”

“Yeah, sure. Surprise me though.”

Matt orders the two of you drinks and you take the time to ogle him. He’s perfect.

But not as per-

Nope.

No, you don’t have time to think about him.

Matt hands you the mysterious concoction and you eye him, “what is it?”

“Just drink,” he nods, “promise it’s good.”

You take a small sip and it’s sweet. It’s yummy, and you take another, larger sip.

“Oh shit, this is good.”

“Told you.”

“Can I know what it is now?”

“No way. Need to hold this above you so you keep coming back to me to ask for another.”

You chuckle and look down, “okay Mr. Smooth-Talker. That was pretty good.”

“I can do a lot more than that,” he says seductively. His hand slides out casually and finds a home on your thigh.

You inhale sharply in pleasant surprise and lean towards him, “oh really?”

Matt leans in towards you too, “yeah, like-“

Just as you’re about to kiss him you hear a loud shout.

“Hey, get your hands off her!”

You startle at the sound and turn to see who could possibly be yelling like a maniac inside this bar. You’re also curious to know who’s the one getting yelled at.

Your stomach drops when you realize that you’re the target. And the yeller?

Tangerine.

“Oh my fucking God,” you curse, resting your forehead in your hands.

Tangerine comes stalking towards you.

“Uh, who the fuck is that?” Matt asks warily.

“My ex….fuck-buddy? Friend-with-benefits? I don’t know, it was complicated. But a piece of shit- that’s what he is.”

“What the fuck are you doing, mate?” Tangerine yells at Matt when he approaches you two. His words slur together and you can tell he’s really, really drunk.

“I could ask you the same thing,” Matt says gruffly.

“I’m not the one getting handsy with someone else’s girl,” the brunette snarls.

You scoff loudly, “Your girl? That’s rich Tangerine. Last I recall I was just a slut you fucked.”

Tangerine’s expression softens just the slightest and you almost think you clock regret in his eyes.

“Look, mate, you’re drunk. So get your ass out of here before I hand it to you,” Matt threatens.

Tangerine is sent back into his rage and steps toward Matt menacingly, “you little fucking,”

“Okay,” you shout, stepping in between them and putting a hand on each of their chests, “that’s enough.”

“Tangerine, go. home,” you growl.

“Yeah fucking right I-“

“Just let me take him,” Matt interrupts.

You scan his tense body, “Look, I appreciate it, but you’re not gonna win. Tangerine here is, well, trained. And I don’t want anything to happen to your pretty face. I’ll take care of him.”

“But he’s definitely stronger than you,” Matt protests.

You side eye Tangerine, “he won’t hurt me.”

The blonde’s eyes narrow.

“Physically, at least.”

Matt finally sighs and steps back, “I’ll be waiting here for you.”

You send him a half smile and then turn to the brunette with a glare, “Let’s. Go.”

Then, you literally grab him by the ear and drag him outside the bar. Tangerine lets out a string of curses and tries to fight back a little before he finally gives up.

When you get outside you let go of his ear and shove him, “What the fuck was that, Tangerine?”

“I was trying to protect you from that git,” he slurs.

“Tangerine, you’re the git. You’re the one that hurt me. It’s you I need protection from.”

Tangerine’s tough guy facade crumbles right before your eyes into one of remorse. He suddenly looks years beyond his age and crumples down onto the sidewalk, back pressed to the wall.

You look down at him with disgust. His hair is all over the place, his clothes are a complete mess, and he reeks of booze.

“I’m calling Lemon.”

With shaky hands you dial his number.

He picks up rather quickly and you can hear the confusion in his voice when he answers, “uh, hello?”

“Lemon, come get your fucking brother.”

*****

Although Matt was everything you could’ve hoped for, your night was ruined after Tangerine left. Luckily, Matt was understanding, and you’d exchanged numbers to meet up another day.

When you’d gotten home from the bar, you’d broken down completely. All of the anger, betrayal, frustration and sadness that had been pent up within you for weeks burst forth like a raging storm. You’d sobbed and screamed and even pitched a picture frame of you, Tangerine, and Lemon across the room, shattering it. The broken glass was a problem for later-you, and you’d ended up falling asleep on your couch, still in your bar clothes.

Loud bangs are what startle you awake hours later, and you curse as you flail off the couch. You hit the floor with a thud and groan. Now, not only is your head pounding, but your back will be all beat up too.

The pounding on your door continues and you curse whoever is making a ruckus this early.

You yank the door open, “what the fuck do you want?”

The last person you expect to see is on the other side.

Tangerine.

“Fuck off,” you spit before swinging the door shut resoundly.

Except the door doesn’t close because Tangerine’s foot catches it.

“Fuck me,” he groans in pain.

The brunette shoves the door back open and you smirk, “that’s what you get for being in places you don’t belong. Now get the hell out of my apartment.”

“Wait, wait. Please, just give me a chance to talk to ya. And then, if ya want, you never have to fucking see my face again.”

You don’t reward him with a response and instead just walk away, sighing.

Tangerine takes this as an invitation and walks inside your apartment, letting the door shut gently behind him. You beeline straight to where you left off on the couch, paying him no mind.

The idiot must not be paying attention because you hear the crackle of glass beneath his shoes and a quiet curse.

Tangerine goes silent and you stiffen, listening closely. You hear the pings of shattered glass being sifted through and then his footsteps as he nears your spot on the couch.

“I forgot about this picture,” he rasps.

“Well you can fucking have it. I don’t want it anymore.”

“Can I- can I sit?”

You briefly glance over at Tangerine and look him up and down. You don’t respond, only nodding.

Though he, like you, is still in his clothes from last night, he looks ten times worse. The purple bags under his eyes are heavy and dark, his hair and mustache aren’t groomed, his button up is missing a few buttons, and his shoes are untied. Maybe it’s bad to say, but you revel in how miserable and pathetic he looks.

“You look fucking awful,” you remark, venom heavy in your tone.

“And ya look like you’ve been crying.”

“Well no shit, Tangerine. Sort of happens when someone you thought was your friend turns out to be a big fucking prick. “

He looks down at his feet and shuffles awkwardly, “I know. I’ve uh, that’s why I came here to talk to ya. To apologize.”

You scoff and look at him with disbelief, “okay now you want to apologize? Only when you’ve fucking hit rock bottom you wanna mend things?”

“Love, no I, I’ve been wanting to since that night in the fucking elevator I-“

“Don’t call me that,” you whisper angrily, lip wobbling in spite of yourself.

“I’m not your love, I’m not your friend, I’m not your anything anymore. We’re done Tangerine, this is over.”

It’s then that the boy you’ve known for almost five years does something you never would have imagined.

He grovels.

He literally gets on his knees before you and grabs your hands tightly, looking up at you with pleading eyes.

“Just listen to me for a second. Please. I want ya to know how fucking sorry I am. Not just for last night, but for everything. I’m sorry I called ya a slut. I’m sorry I was rude, and distant, and an asshole. I’m sorry for fucking you like some piece of meat and then just leaving you behind with no aftercare, no attention, nothing. I’m sorry for being a terrible friend and I’m sorry for not telling you that I love you sooner.”

Tears shine in Tangerine’s blue eyes and he chokes on his next words, “Christ, I love ya so fucking much. And I know I’ve gone and fucked things up now, and that it’s too late. And I have to accept every day for the rest of my life that it’s my fault. I have to live with that. And I will, even though it could kill me. But I don’t know what I would’ve done if I couldn’t tell ya at least once.”

Tangerine’s forehead falls to your knees and his body begins to shake in quiet sobs.

He inhales sharply through his nose, trying to hold back more tears, and looks up at you so sadly. “You’re the best girl out there, and you deserve the best. You deserve to find that with someone. Someone who isn’t me.”

Tears of your own begin to drip from your face and your heart throbs in your chest.

You reach out and cup Tangerine’s jaw so gently it’s as if he could crumble under your fingertips at any second.

“Tangerine,” you whisper.

You search his eyes for any sign of insincerity, of some sign that he’s going to break your heart again. But all you see is true, genuine adoration and vulnerability. Consciously or not, your heart returns to the hands of the one who holds and you pull him in, kissing him softly.

The kiss is sloppy, and salty and wet, but you don’t care, because every peck and sigh and bite is punctuated by what you both know- I love you. I love you. I love you.

[take-it-on-the-run]

The End

Wally Clark x Reader

Two people died on September 23rd, 1983. One laid out on a football field before hundreds of people, and the other left behind on the cold floor of the boy's locker room.

Word Count: 1.7k

Tags: Sexual assault, semi-graphic depictions of SA, including: almost direct aftermath, reader is naked in the beginning, mentions of blood, and implied loss of virginity via SA, flashback to SA; death, reader's death is overlooked, ANGST

Characters: Wally Clark, Reader, Dalton (OC)

Read it on AO3!

A/N: The Doors title. Hey ya'll. I cannot believe the love I've been getting on this page, and it's driving me past my writer's block more than anything. With school starting, I can feel the academic anxiety kicking in, but I use my writing as a coping method when I can. This story has very intense topics (as stated in the tags) and is not meant to idealize any topics in any way. This was inspired by @general-fanfiction's Hopes and Fears series (GO READ IT RN), and @whoopsyeahokay's October Sun series (ALSO GO READ IT RN). If this story is well received, or I just feel the urge to, I'll probably turn it into a series (bc this sucks as a one-shot). As always, please heed the warnings, and read only if you're comfortable.

Part 1 | Part 2

Wally Clark Masterlist | School Spirits Masterlist | Main Page Masterlist

Blood was everywhere.

It slid down your legs and dribbled onto the cold floor of the locker room. Every inch of your skin felt like it was too tight for your bones, and all you wanted to do was reach down your throat and rip out your heart.

Copper flooded your mouth. The tang brushed against the back of your chattering teeth, and all you could think about was how you wanted to crawl to the nearby shower and let it run until one of the coaches found you and dragged you out.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

Move. You told yourself. All of your limbs ached. Nothing felt real.

You didn’t want this to be real.

It was supposed to be kind. Gentle. An act out of pure love.

Standing up proved to be hard, and it was like no one was able to hear you screaming out for help. Filtered out by the people flooding the halls, hustling to the big homecoming game going on that night.

The tiled walls provided little help as you brought yourself to a standing position, walking slowly as you felt your feet brush against the pile of your shoes, pants, and underwear on the floor. The touch stopped your heart, breaking a new tier of hate and regret across your body.

He said he loved me.

You turned on the shower, cranking the knob to the hottest setting, knowing that the water wouldn’t get anywhere near warm. Water slid harshly over your body, and you felt it pelt against spots of dried blood on your thighs.

You wished you never come to this stupid football game.

You wished you weren’t as ignorant, or as gullible, or as love-blind as you had been in the past three months.

You wished you never met him.

His face felt bitter and sharp in your head, poking and prodding, as if trying to stick the memory of his hands on you for eternity.

Time passed irregularly, no one came in or out of the locker room, and you were sure that the football game had to have reached its end by all of the cheering and yelling you heard outside.

After using all of the hot water in the gym wing, you slowly walked to the lines of lockers, trying even glimpsing in the direction of your clothes. tried to open every locker until one popped open, revealing a pair of grey sweatpants, a sweatshirt, a muscle tank, blue gym shorts, and a matching varsity jacket with #57 stitched on the arm.

You grabbed the matching sweatsuit, balling it in your arms and silently apologizing to the boy you’d never return the clothing to.

He probably won’t even notice, you told yourself.

You turned the corner around a line of lockers and you could swear you were going crazy. A bare foot poked out from behind the last line of lockers, limply tilted against your pile of clothes, painted a chipped wine red.

You blinked hard, looking down at your own chipped wine-red toes, and you clutched the clothing you stole to your naked body. The cotton was soft compared to the cold tile bracing against your feet, and you brought your eyes to look back to the pile of clothing on the floor.

Bile pooled at the back of your mouth as you hesitantly stepped closer to the foot that hadn’t disappeared. You’re going crazy, you told yourself, but the more and more you stared at the limp, pale body - your limp, pale body - whose features were more of a brutal mass than a face, the less it was going away.

You barely made it past the urinals and into an open stall before you dry-heaved into a toilet.

You were dead.

You couldn’t be.

As you zipped up the stolen hoodie and sweatpants, you tried to remember it all. Kissing under the bleachers before the game, him asking you to come with him while he grabbed something from his gym locker.

Every agonizing second you asked him to stop, to stop pressing you into the lockers because one of the locks was digging into your back; his decrepit hands sliding at your waistline, pushing and prodding past the fabric of your clothes.

Nothing would come up from your stomach.

Could ghosts vomit? You asked yourself, slowly standing to your feet and walking back over to your dead body.

Conversations started to flood the hallway, every muscle in your body coming briefly to attention before you flew out the door and screamed into the rushing crowd of students.

“Hello?” You called out, reaching your arm into the crowd, only to watch it get run through like something out of Star Wars.

Your body became hot, and even though you knew deep down that no one could see you, you pushed your tears back down your choking throat and felt your cheeks heat up with shame.

You walked into the crowd, who was thinning out the further you got from the hallway. Your body tensed for a moment, seeing the lights of police cars and ambulances pulling up to the school. Expecting to see the paramedics rushing toward your body, you waited for them to split the crowd, to start heading toward the school, but they were bolting the other way.

Straight toward the football field.

This school has to be fucking cursed.

One of the players was splayed out on the field, his head gently being lifted as paramedics were tugging his helmet off his head. The football team from whatever school yours was playing against was sitting on the bench, whispering and pointing to another one of their players who was talking to a police officer further down the field.

57.

The number sewn on the jacket hanging among the clothes you stole stood out against the dark blue of the player’s helmet. People gasped and a woman cried out as the paramedic set the helmet aside, revealing the face of the school’s resident golden boy; a dark bruise crawled up his neck, and his mouth guard slid between his lips as his limp head hung unnaturally over his shoulder.

You walked closer, straight through the forming line of police officers, and looked into the field. At the edge of the bleachers, waving his arms around and yelling into a silent group of people, stood Wally Clark.

Wally Clark is dead.

Just like I am.

You took off running, the activity coming easier to you when you were alive.

Alive.

“Wally!” You called out, and the football player snapped his body to your voice, his eyes wide and seeming relieved that someone was talking to him.

You stopped, resting your hands on your hips as he hopped down from the bleachers.

“What’s happening? Why- why is no one talking to me? What did I do?” He asked, skipping the formalities. He came to stand on the field before you, the football gear he was wearing sending a rush of debilitating shame through your body.

You faltered for a moment, his face flashing in your eyes before you rubbed your face back to reality.

“You didn’t do anything, Wally.” You managed to push out, pushing your eyes anywhere but on him.

“Then what is happening? I feel like I’m going crazy, one minute I’m running with the ball, and boom- I’m at the bleachers, trying to get my mother to talk to me and she won’t even look up at me. I know she’s pissed at me about going on the bench, but I mean I got back in the game, and now I’m guessing coach is pissed at me on insisting to get back in and-”

“You’re dead.” You cut off his rambling, forcing yourself to meet his face without looking away after a second, “I mean, I think we’re both dead.”

First, he smiled. Like what you said was some kind of joke. After you said nothing, he started toward the sidewalk, where his mother was now alongside a stretcher being lifted into an ambulance. You could see the tears on her face from where you were, each step you followed Wally, the easier it was to see her sorrow.

Then, as he was following his mother, he suddenly was gone, like he was plucked off the Earth by God himself.

That was until you turned to see him standing on the football field, right where his body was previously lying, tugging at the roots of his hair.

You hovered your foot, leveraging that if you stood on the sidewalk, you would be slingshotted back to the men’s locker room.

You decided to trust your gut and instead talked to Wally.

“I can’t be dead, I mean, that would mean you’re dead, and I literally saw you in the hallway this morning,” Wally said as he paced in a small area before you, “and I know for sure that I saw you because you were hanging around Dalton’s locker, which was weird because everyone on the team thought he had some college girl or something he was hanging out with-”

You didn’t register some of the words he was saying, instead you tried to control your thoughts from ripping you back to your last moments on earth at his name.

“-I mean, do you even know how crazy this sounds?”

You took in a shaky breath, wiping your hands over your face to poorly conceal any emotions that unwillingly spread onto your features, “Yeah, but that’s the thing, Wally. I am dead.”

Saying you were dead for the first time out loud was a lot heavier than you thought it would be.

You’re pretty sure that if the insanity of Wally being killed hadn’t overridden your brain, you would be somewhere huddled up and screaming for some greater power to give you eternal rest.

“What? That’s not possible, I mean, the people you were here with would’ve noticed you were gone. Dalton would’ve noticed you were gone.”

You didn’t want to give his name as much power as you did, but your body tightened up hearing it. You didn’t correct him, instead opting to stare at the dark woods on the far end of the field, your eyes burning once more.

“Y/N,” you were a little surprised that he knew your name, and even more when he stood in front of you with the most gentle expression you’d ever seen, “what happened after school? How did you die?”

[biting-miguel-ohara]

Period, pt 1 - Logan Howlett x ftm!Reader

A/N: okay, I know it’s not hot and heavy smut, but that’s coz I have a part two planned. I just really need a nap rn so I’m gonna write it later lol

Written for this request

CW: angst, puppy hybrid!Reader, bad period cramps, nudity, bathing, fingering, smut, explicit sexual content, soft sex, lazy sex, slightly abrupt ending, soft!Logan, maybe ooc Logan

752 words

You hear Logan’s footsteps only moments before the bed dips.

“Hey, pup.” He speaks quietly, but he could be yelling for all you care. It’s hard to focus on his words, pain thrumming through your veins.

It feels like your stomach is twisted into knots, your intestines as gnarled and prickled as a thorn bush. You can’t think, it hurts so much. You want to vomit, you want to cry, but you can only lie there. Numb. Hurting. Bleeding

Logan rests a hand on your side, gently rubbing until you uncurl a little. He presses a light kiss to your temple, sliding his rough palm under your shirt to knead your abdomen. It helps a little and you take a breath.

“Hurts,” you whisper. He nuzzles your neck and you can smell the worry on him. Thick and pungent, momentarily blocking out the scent of your own blood. It makes bile rise in your throat but you swallow it down.

“Let’s get you to the tub.” His concern makes him curt, but he’s so gentle as he picks you up. Cradling you against his body as he carries you from the bedroom to the bathroom.

You let him undress you, too achy and nauseous to help. Removing your binder helps, and you focus on the feel of his hands against your skin to fight the itch of dysphoria.

He slips off your shorts and boxers and the bitter scent of blood grows much stronger. You don’t look, already knowing your boxers are spotted with blood.

Logan doesn’t say anything. He just settles you in the tub and starts the water running.

Halfway through your bath, your cramps finally fade. You uncurl, relaxing into the hot water.

Logan’s hand stills on your abdomen, pausing his kneading. “Feeling better?”

You nod and let out a long breath. “Yeah.”

He rubs your skin a few more times before giving you a look. Eyebrow raised just a bit. “You want me to…”

You take a moment to consider before nodding. “I think the cramps have gone down enough. Just… be gentle.”

Logan chuckles and leans in to kiss your neck. “When am I ever not gentle?”

You huff and playfully bite the air. “All the time.”

He rumbles softly, but you can feel him smiling against your skin. His scent is smoother now, more musky and playful. It relaxes you further and you settle into the water a little more.

Logan gives you a moment before moving. His fingers slipping lower until he’s gently teasing your dick with his fingertips. Pleasure sparks and eases through your abdomen, chasing off the lingering aches of your cramps.

You let out a soft sigh, resting your head back and closing your eyes. It’s become a routine now; using sex to ease your period cramps. You could definitely do without the pain, but the gentleness Logan shows you is always nice.

His fingers move lower, circling your hole for a moment before he slides a finger in. Curling it just right to make your breath hitch. He adds another finger, giving you only a moment to appreciate just how thick his fingers are before he starts to fuck you with them.

It’s lazy and slow and entirely focused on making you feel good. He knows your body all too well, from the way his thumb rubs at your dick to the way he brushes that one spot inside you. You can’t keep your moans and whines in for long, soon giving in to the heady heat building in your veins.

Your orgasm turns you to mush, pleasure making your thoughts as thick and oozy as honey. You just melt, panting softly as Logan eases his fingers out.

He cleans them off in the water and you raise an eyebrow. Silently curious. He catches your look and smirks. “Don’t worry. I’m planning on tasting you plenty later on.”

Your cheeks heat and you bite down a smile. Feeling your tail wiggle a little underneath you. He knows you too well. “Why wait?”

Logan chuckles and stands to grab a towel for you. You stretch for a moment before getting up, grateful for the way he quickly covers you up. You lean in for a quick kiss before tugging him towards the bedroom.

“Eager pup,” he rumbles, but his eyes betray him, dark and hungry.

You give him a smirk, tail wagging behind you as you push the bedroom door open. “Hell yeah I am.”

He just chuckles and follows you in.

[linoveins]

hi sweetie, how are u? i luv ur writings ^^

could you write a fic about lino's tummy scar? i'm so soft about it, wanna worship him 🥺

a/n: hi!! i'm really stressed with uni rn :( i finally found time to write this though! it's just simple and short i hope u like it!! i felt all warm and fuzzy writing this. i adore minho sm i wanna worship him toooo (also have you seen the latest pics of him he looks so buff like DAMN)

+-+-+-+-+

idol!minho is really busy and tired from work lately. reader misses him and takes matters into their own hands.

genre: smut, fluff, some angst

warnings: MDNI! oral m!receiving, body worship, mentions of dom minho, dirty talk.

w.c.: 1.6k

minho had been busy lately from all the comeback preparations. you knew how hectic his schedule was so you don't blame him for the lack of quality time between you two.

you know how physically and mentally exhausting it is for him, waking up at 6 in the morning and often coming home past midnight.

you have been together for multiple comebacks now. you knew the drill. both of you did. and still you can't get used to it. but you didn't wanna add onto the things he was thinking, and all of this was really out of both your control, so you just made the most of what you had. but you still miss him.

sure, whenever he comes home, he lays on his side of the bed and pulls you closer to him from behind. sometimes he leaves a trail of soft kisses on your shoulder before passing out.

but you miss more of him. so when he came home a little bit earlier tonight, just an hour before midnight, you can't help but tackle the man in bed and hug him tight. you were practically squeezing and grabbing his skin while you buried your face on the crook of his neck.

you inhale him in.

you latch onto his figure, your body on top of him hugging impossibly tighter, and you all but melt.

he smells so good. so familiar and warm and just... good. you nuzzle your head deeper into his neck as you hear him chuckle and wrap his arms around you.

"you missed me, jagi?" minho says softly while running his hand down your back with the other, petting your hair.

you hum in agreement while licking his neck, just smelling him not enough anymore.

"smell so good, min." you mumble against his skin in between soft kisses.

minho coos at your actions. you're too adorable right now.

soon enough you started biting and sucking on his neck. you wanted to swallow him. you haven't felt him for so long you thought you were gonna lose your mind.

"mmh.. you want something, baby?" minho says, his breathing a bit labored. he missed you so fucking much too.

you remove yourself from the comfort of his neck to really look at him.

his eyes were gazing up at you tiredly, but still full of love and longing. you can see him trying to fight his eyes from closing.

"i just want you. but you're tired-"

"it's okay, i want you too. just give me a moment-"

"shh." you kiss his lips softly. and then his nose, and then leaving a bunch of kisses on his temple. "can i take over for now? wanna make you feel good. wanna take care of you this time."

you say it so sweetly with pleading eyes. how can he deny you, really?

"okay, baby."

you smile brightly at that, and minho feels like his heart is about to burst.

his sweet angel. the sweetest. what did he ever do to deserve you?

noticing the furrow on his brow, you planted a kiss to it.

"don't worry. just relax. it's okay if you fall asleep. my baby has been working so hard..."

your hands start to run over his chest, and you notice how big he's gotten. you gave one of his pecs a squeeze and he laughs.

"yah, stop playing."

"okay, okay. help me take this off." you tug on his shirt. "wanna kiss all of you."

"yeah?" minho says with a teasing smile before helping you get his shirt off.

and holy fuck.

his PT sessions really did one on him. his chest had gotten bigger and firmer. not just that. you can tell he's getting more buff all over.

"jagi." minho says, pulling you out of your trance.

"min, holy shit! so beautiful.." your soft hands run all over his exposed body and he can't help but shiver at the contrast of your warmth from the chill of the room.

"you like it?" he teases, obviously already knowing the answer.

you answer with a lick on his pecs and you can feel him stiffen beneath you. you're groping and squeezing all over and minho can't help the huffs slipping past his pretty lips.

"jagiya, don't tease." he warns.

"but you're so pretty." you whine while kissing his skin. "your arms have gotten bigger..."

you gave them a firm squeeze.

"so strong." you feel minho's cock twitch at the praise. "you could easily take me. any way you want."

your voice is dizzying. your words are sending him to heaven. you're regularly not this vocal. well, not with coherent words coming out of your mouth. but usually, it's him doing the talking. so this is new. he feels like he's floating.

"and these." you squeezed his pecs again. "you always complain about working out. but you did it. im so proud of you."

you leave a bunch of wet kisses down his torso until you reach his scar. you know minho wasn't the type to show off his body. he thought his scar isn't exactly something people would like to see.

when you both first had sex, the lights were all off as per your wishes. what you didn't know was that minho wanted that too for his own concerns since he didn't want to let you see him that time.

once you two got more comfortable with each other, you assured him the scar looked "sexy as fuck", which made him laugh.

and it really was. minho thought you just said that cause you loved him, and since the scar was on him, your love would naturally extend to that. but no, even just the scar on him is really hot. he still didn't believe you so you told him "it's like toji fushiguro with his scar". he kinda got it after that.

you kissed the permanent mark on his body, whispering out a little "pretty".

minho was incredibly horny at this point but his heart also felt heavy from the overwhelming emotions you're pulling out of him.

you lick the length of the scar, and his cock pokes at you from within his sleep shorts.

"baby-"

"i got you." you whisper softly while trailing more wet kisses down his belly until you reach the hem of his shorts.

minho hisses as you pull the material down, his heavy dick springing up.

your soft hand grips the shaft and he clenches his jaw hard.

"always so hard and pretty for me." you say with gentle strokes. "so big..."

minho can't help the little whimper escaping his throat.

you're driving him insane.

"love hearing you, min." you swipe your thumb on the tip and give it a gentle squeeze. "i always cum so hard when you're panting in my ear."

minho moans loudly at your words. his sweet baby is talking so dirty. all his.

his cock looks fucking good in your hand right now, all red, and hard, and fucking leaking. you lick the head for a taste and it takes everything out of minho not to cum fast.

it's been so long. but you're here again, all pretty and enchanting with his cock in your mouth.

soon enough, you started sucking him off, trying to take as much as you can in your mouth and gripping the rest of what you can't fit with your hand. you're minding your teeth, swirling your tongue just how he likes it, and drooling on it.

the squelches are driving both of you crazy. he tried his best to open his eyes and he starts gripping the sheets hard so he wouldn't use them to hold your head and just fuck up into it.

minho wasn't really a man of spirituality and religion but this? you deserved all of his devotion. your eyebrows are scrunched in focus, eyes a bit teary and hazed from taking his cock just how he likes it– just how he taught you, and your fucking mouth. your pretty fucking lips wrapped around him, your hot, and wet tongue- it's too fucking much.

and you're moaning. you're moaning on his cock as if you're the one getting the most pleasure out of it. his sweet messy fucking angel.

after a couple of squeezes from your hand and swirls from your tongue, you could feel him tightening, and you look up right into his eyes.

he cums hard, moaning your name coupled with strings of praises. you keep licking and swallowing all he could offer. your personal fucking God.

minho is breathing heavily, still trying to calm down from the intense orgasm. he's long gone but it's okay. you clean up the other mess and take care of him like you said you would and like he always does.

"thank you, jagi." minho smiles as he kisses you on the lips. he tries to escalate it further, pushing his tongue past your mouth, but you break the kiss.

"mmh- you should sleep. you have an early day tomorrow." you say while minho groans.

"but you-"

"some other time. you're barely awake!" you giggle while minho tries to grab you. you can't believe you're getting away with interrupting him multiple times tonight. you bet his half-asleep brain can't even register that right now. you laugh softly at his cuteness.

he eventually just cuddles you, his breathing now even and his eyes closed.

"i love you, y/n. m'sorry for not being here a lot." he says sleepily, whispering into your ear.

"i love you too. and don't worry. i'll keep being here when u get home."

"miss you... a lot. wanna make it up to you" minho mumbles while pulling you closer.

"you will." you melt into his embrace. "but sleep for now, hm?. i miss you too. so much..."

[tokyo-1842]

Heyo, could you write a oneshot with Sanji and a reader who he thinks is a man? Reader actually dressed like a man and deepens their voice, they used to do it as a defense mechanism on their home island but they've made it a habit and haven't found the right time to break the news to their friends. Maybe after a rough fight, Reader has very bad injuries and Sanji has to take her to Chopper and realizes Reader is a woman,, you can add whatever storyline you want after that, I'm so sorry my brain ain't braining rn and I really liked your Luffy one shot with the kitsune reader 🫶🏽

(AINT GOTTA TELL ME TWICEEEE)

Sanji x F!Reader

——————————————————————————

Sanji x F!Reader who dresses like a boy!, a little suggestive, reader gets hurt, smallll Angst, THATSS ALL FOLKS.

——————————————————————————

Long ago before joining the Strawhat Pirates. You dressed up as a man to stay safe on your island. Slowly became a habit. It kept you safe from horrible people but over time it just…became a part of you.

That habit affected your life on the seas. You see, the crew had different awareness’s and opinions of your Identity.

Some just didn’t care, like Luffy and Chopper because you’re one of the straw-hats who cares about gender! (Aww). Some knew like Nami and Robin. But one didn’t know at all which was Sanji.

To be frank you didn’t really care and only got a little jealous of the princess treatment the other ladies get from time to time.

Ok you really cared because it wasn’t fair they got ice cream while you’re working your BUTT OFF. But not to the point where it caused you to reveal your self as a woman.

So now all of the unfair treatment brings us to here.

“We are going on a trip with our favorite cool looking ship! Zooming through the seas!” Usopp and Luffy sung together, hold each other’s shoulders. They laughed and made up songs. Making your trip to the market place of the island insufferable. “Ughhhhhh….” You groaned rubbing your face. “Why did I have to come…” you muttered. “Because it’s your guy’s turn to restock! Maybe control your pal Luffy because eventually, we’ll go so hungry the ship will be eaten.”

The cook inhaled smoke from a cigarette and exhaled. “Speaking of restock, we are going to spilt up. First of all” “Sanji.” “Not now Y/N, Usopp and Luffy will get essentials-“ “Sanjiii…” “Me and you will get food-“

“SANJI THEYRE GONE!” You shouted.

…

“shit.”

“Dammit! We can never have a normal day with those two!” Sanji gritted his teeth as you two wandered around a marketplace. “Maybe they are at a food stall.” You said. “They better fucking be or else I’ll-“ “language!” You shouted.

BOOM!

“The marines! Pirates!” A woman shouted as she ran. “Hurry!” A man screamed. Many people ran and stores were being closed.

You and Sanji stood and watched the chaos. “I guess we gotta cut the shopping trip short..ugh..”

“Take their heads DONT let them get away!”A marine officer headed straight for the pair.

The fight was pretty easy. Just when the last few men stood Sanji dropped some items when blocking a hit. “Leave it!” You yelled annoyed. “No way! This is for Nami-Swan!”

He turned around to pick it up, now the cook was in the open and a marine soilder swung.

“SANJI!”

SLICE

Silence fell as you landed on the ground. Sanji turned in horror as he looked at you bloodied body on the floor. “Y/N..”

You were too tired to see what had happened but you know those marines regretted it. Sanji was carrying you back to Chopper. His heart was pounding, thoughts running through is head. The blonde reached Chopper’s infirmary and demanded immediate attention.

Luckily the injuries weren’t that bad and you only passed out from shock. It was a cut right under your chest.(I couldn’t write on your chest bc i felt the pain😭) The crew was relieved, you were told to stay in bed by Chopper since the wound could reopen. Everyone visited then Sanji came in to bring you food last.

“Y/N dinners here.” The cook muttered and place it on the table next to you.

The blankets moved as you stirred awake and sat up, showing the bandages on your body. They covered the upper half of your torso and wrapped nicely around your (tatas🤯)

Sanji jaw dropped as he gawked at your features, eyes going lower and lower. Your eyes, your facial shape, your (melons), your waist. “Y/N-chan, you’re a GIRL!! So HOT!” You blushed, his eyes turned into hearts as he swirled.

“But that means…oh…IM SO SORRY Y/N-SWANN! HOW COULD I TREAT YOU LIKE SUCH A MONSTER IM SO SORRY I ASSUMED YOU WERE A-“ Bonk! “CAN IT MORON!” Nami screamed. “but!-“ Bonk! “Y/N! Are you really ok with him knowing?” The orange hair woman asked concerned. “It’s fine with me…” “I WANNA KNOW WHATS UNDERNEATH!” “shut UP!” Bonk!

After a good beating from the Navigator you were chatting with the cook at around 11pm.

“Say..Y/N swan, why do you dress up as a man? You’re so beautiful this way!” He inquired. “Well, it’s just a habit. I did this a lot for safety in my home island” You answered. “Who could make my precious Y/N swan feel unsafe to the point of hiding her beauty!? I’ll kill-“ “It fine Sanji!” You giggled and he melted into a dumb love sick smile.

“Im so sorry for letting my guard down back there! I should have thought first.” Vinsmoke held your hands and stared into your eyes with sorrow. A gentle hand was placed on his cheek. “It’s ok I mean, im alive aren’t I? That’s all that matters.” He blushed.

“Now I think we should come up with a punishment for Usopp and Luffy for causing this mess right?” You smirked devilishly.

“OH Y/N-SWAN YOUR SO CUTE WHEN YOU MISCHIEVOUS!~~~” The cook yelled at the top of his lungs.

“GET A ROOM!” Zoro shouted from the Crows nest.

“SHUT UP!” Nami screamed.

“FOOD!?” Luffy shrieked.

“SUPPPPERRRRRR!!!!” Franky bellowed.

“This calls for a song YOHOHO!” Brooked howled

“NOOO!!” Nami yelled in anger and disbelief.

——————————————————————————

I WASNT SURE IF U WANTED IT TO BE ACTUALLY DATING LOWKEY SOO- PHEW THAT WAS A LOAD I JUST KEPT ON WRITING AND WRITING TY FOR THE REQUEST ASK AGAIN ANYTIME!!!!

some gifs :)

HAVE A GOOD DAY/NIGHT :3

[strwbrryeyes]

Hiii, I love your writing sm, idk if you're taking asks rn so if you're not im so sorry 😭😭 BUTTT if you are can you Nishinoya Headcanons for female reader who is taller than him like by 6-7 inches and she plays volleyball too and he's got a huuugeee crush on her?

𖦹°｡⋆ Nishinoya having a crush on a taller girl

⟡ cw: sad noya :(, taller reader, tiny bits of angst, lmk if i missed anything

⟡ an: bahhh kind of shorter than i would like but i hope this is good enough im bad at these kind of headcanons so im sorry if it isn't what you wanted exactly</3

Nishinoya has been utterly in love you ever since he watched the girls volleyball team practice.

You and Nishinoya were put in the same class your second year of highschool but never really talked until you came up to him after watching the boys volleyball team play against aoba johsai in a practice match. He was elated that such a pretty girl was talking to him, let alone complimenting him, but he was even more happy and excited when you invited him to come watch your practice.

From then on, Nishinoya has never let his own team know peace because he was always gushing over you and your amazing volleyball skills

“You should have seen the way she spiked the ball! It was like Hinata’s spike but better!” He would exclaim causing a whine from Hinata who was clearly offended.

He would also make it a point to come to any practice he could make it to as his schedule with volleyball was just as busy with yours.

“Nishinoya! You’re here a again!” You ran up to him with only one of your volleyball shoes on and the other on your hand making him laugh a bit before he nodded and handed you a sports drink.

“Yeah! I had so much fun watching you all play the other day that I thought I could stop by again whenever I can!” He explains, smiling as you take a sip of the energy drink.

After a while, you started watching his practices whenever you could as well as going to any big games he had which only made him melt because it just meant he got to show off how super cool he was.

“Oh! [name]! Did you need something?” Nishinoya runs to you as soon as he sees you walk through the gymnasium door.

“Nope! Just thought I’d come by and watch you practice as a sort of returning the favor type deal since you come and support me so often” You softly say before you remember something and open your backpack to take out the protein bar and sports drink you brought for him making the butterflies in his stomach flutter like crazy.

Nishinoya genuinely thought he had a chance with you and was talking to Tanaka about how he was going to finally make a move on you and properly ask you out but that was all shattered when Tsukishima overheard them and chuckled saying “You really think [name] is going to go out with someone who is shorter than her?”

“Bro, don’t listen to him, you know how Tsukishima is.” Tanaka tries to reassure him but Nishinoya just shakes his head and sighs.

“No, he’s right this time.” Nishinoya drops to the floor and lays down to look at the ceiling “she would never go out with someone who is like what, 6? 7? Inches shorter than her? I have to face it, I have no chance with her.”

Nishinoya then distanced himself from you because he didn’t want to face the fact you could never like someone like him. However, this didn’t go unnoticed by you.

You hadn’t had a chance tot alk to Nishinoya in a few days and at first you thought it was just because he was busy so you didn’t think too much of it until one day school was let out early meaning there were no after school activities so you thought of this as you chance to go talk to him.

You had found him at his locker getting ready to leave, Tanaka next to him. As you walked closer, you could see Tanaka look at you then back at Nishinoya to tell him you were coming making him turn his head a little to see you but quickly walked away once he realized you were actually coming his way leaving Tanaka alone and disappointed and leaving yourself confused and a little hurt.

“Hey Tanaka…” You greet the wing spiker before looking over his shoulder before you continue “Is Nishinoya mad at me? Did I do something wrong? He hasn’t walked to me in days.” you pout with your eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

“He’s not mad at you, [name].” Tanaka puts his hand on you shoulder as he sighs “Noya just- he’s just in his head about something but it isn’t my place to tell you about what just try to talk to him? Please?” Tanaka says and asks making you nod in response before he walks away.

You think about what Tanaka says and become determined to talk Nishinoya even more than before so one day at lunch time, you quietly follow Nishinoya to the rooftop where you found out he’s been going since he stopped talking to you. Once you reached the rooftop, you watched as he went to where he would look over the school’s courtyard from the holes of the wired fence and took this as your chance to corner him.

“Why are you ignoring me?” You blurt out making Nishinoya jump out of terror and shock.

Once calmed a bit, Nishinoya turns to look at you, up at you and he sighs before going back to looking at the rooftop view. “I’m not ignoring you.” He says flatly hoping its enough for you to leave him alone but of course, it isn’t enough and you grab his shoulder to force him to look at you.

“Yes you are! Everytime I call out for you you run away or say you’re busy!” you shout with a slight pain in your voice but after a second you take a deep breath and regain your composure “Tanaka said something’s been bugging you but he wouldn’t tell me what it was and considering that you’ve been distant, I guess it has to do with me. So spill.”

Nishinoya looks into your eyes, thinking of what to say but nothing is coming to mind leaving you both in dead silence with only the distant sound of laughter and chatter of students enjoying their lunch.

A minute passes and you sigh and look at the ground before turning to look back at Nishinoya’s face. “Okay fine. You don’t want to talk to me? Then don’t. I’m leaving.” you say as you grab your bag that at some point fell on the ground and turn to walk away but are stopped when you feel a hand on your arm.

“I like you, [name]. I have since the moment I first saw you play volleyball.” Nishinoya starts as he pulls you closer to him, making you look at him again. “And everyday since, I have fallen harder for you. Whenever you automatically take a sip of the drink I bring you, everytime you come give me snacks at my practice, when you hit my head to wake me up when im sleeping in class. I am always finding more things to love about you but it hurts. It hurts knowing you’ll never feel the same way about me.” Nishinoya croaks out his feelings, leaving you shocked and speechless. Nishinoya waits for a reply but when he doesn’t get one, he lets go of your arm and sighs “So yeah, forgive me if I want to distance myself from you before I get hurt by you not liking me back.”

“Who said I didn’t like you back?” You finally say, a serious tone taking over.

It was now Nishinoya’s turn to be shocked. “You like me back?” he asks and you nod in response. “But I’m shorter than you how could you like me ba-”

“What does you being shorter than me have to do with any of this?” you interrupt his rambling with a look of genuine confusion and all Nishinoya can do is blush.

“Well, I don’t know really it’s just that Tsukishima said that someone like you would never go out with a shorter guy.” he looks down in embarrassment as he explains what Tsukishima had told him.

“That tall blondie? Now why would you ever listen him?” you ask Nishinoya and all he can do is shrug and you just shake your head before pulling Nishinoya in for a quick hug before looking at him again “I don’t care how tall you are, if you're shorter than me or taller than me. I like you for who you are. Your personality is one of the brightest ones I have ever seen. Your dedication to volleyball is amazing and I admire how you play on the court all the time. Everything about you is perfect, Nishinoya. Nothing can change my mind. Not you, not Tsukishima, not anyone.” You tell Nishinoya all the things you love about him and you can see his face get a little redder. “So does that mean you’ll go on a date with me?” he finally asks (more like blurts) causing you to giggle before grabbing his hand and nodding.

“I would love to go on a date with you, Noya.” you accept his invitation and then smirk “but first let’s go tell Tsukishima that he was stupid and that you’re all I could ask for.” you suggest going to look for the person slash reason Noya didn’t talk to you and ask you out sooner and he agrees and jumps in joy because he finally has the girl of his dreams.

[ilovechuuy4]

if you are not taking requests at the moment please ignore this (aside from how much I adore your writing and how I need it in my veins)

if you're taking requests, then could I request Chuuya and Dazai (separately and with a gn! reader) when they cheat on the reader and how they get back together? angst to fluff. my heart could never handle your angst, your writing is too good and it would genuinely wound me in ways I would never recover from.

love you :)

I Told My Friends I Hate You, but I Love You Just the Same✯*٭˙∘

Chuuya/Dazai x Gn!Reader (seperate)

Warnings; Thick tension / Angst

Description; They cheat but then want to get back together with you.

A/N; HAI SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG I FEEL SO BAD BUT I HAVENT HAD MUCH MOTIVATION TO WRITE ANYTHING. PONDERING SO MUCH RN. SORRY FOR THE RANDOM FANFIC DISAPPEARANCE AND I HOPE YOU ENJOY!!!!

🐟Dazai ೃ⁀➷

⋆·˚ He intentionally cheated on you, the night you caught him with another person in the bed y'all shared TOGETHER.

It was a late night when you arrived 'home' or the place you thought was home. You shuffled inside the eerily quiet apartment, but something was off, usually your boyfriend was home waiting for you on the couch but today wasn't the same as you heard distant moaning from your bedroom. You skittered to the bedroom, swinging open the door a loud thud and then a recoil of the door. Your eyes widening at the sight of Dazai in bed with another. 'Why?' is all you said you couldn't find any other words to say as tears pierced your eyes and trickled down your face that was already a red hue from frustration.

The brunette couldn't even say a word before you stormed out the entire complex. Running down the empty streets of Yokohama tears streaming down your reddened face. You weren't sure where to go other than Yosano's house it was your best bet. When you arrive, you were already heavily breathing as you rang the doorbell. It was already pretty late so you weren't sure if she was up or not but to your luck, she was. As she opened the door, her eyes snapped open at your tear-streaked face.

"Oh Y/N what happened.?" She asked, gently pulling you into the house and closing the door. She wrapped you in a gentle hug, her hand rubbing your back as she listened to you explain what exactly happened. Yosano was astonished, it was obvious Dazai would do a thing like that cause he's well, dazai. But in the bed y'all shared together is an entirely different step. 'Cmon lets just go get you some change of clothes and get you to bed." Yosano says as she guides you to her bedroom.

Once you had taken a shower and borrowed some of Yosano's clothes, the two of you rest on the couch for the remainder of the night watching different dramas, romances, actions etc. When you woke up in the morning, your phone had multiple of missed calls and messages from Dazai himself. You read through some of the messages; “Im sorry” “Hey, please answer me.” “Baby, please.” They were all simple messages but as you read further down, they got more urgent and desperate even. “Hey i know you’re getting the calls, answer me.” “Please im SO sorry, Y/N, please text me.” and so on. You bite your lip as you read through the messages you felt worried, if that was the right way to put it. You let out a staggered breath as you sought up the courage to call your boyfriend.

As you sit there on the soft sofa, listening the rings echoing in your ear, you eventually here the soft ‘click’ of the call being answered and on the other line, an urgent and distressed tone. “Babe? Hey where are you?! You didn’t answer any of my calls or messages! What happened!” His breathing was loud as you heard the shaky breathes, he let out. “Fuck, i know i messed up and im sorry. That thing i done, i know it was fucked up and im sorry! Please forgive me it won't happen again!” He explained through the phone, on his side he was biting his nails.

You hadn’t heard him this distressed since missions he had for the agency. “Dazai, calm down.” You mutter through the phone, you didnt know what to say there really wasnt much. “I just need you to calm down. Im fine, just meet me at Yosano’s house i guess.” You said fidgeting with the strings of the shorts. You couldn't lie to yourself, you missed him. Maybe it was hard to forgive what he did but you really did miss him.

Rubbing your temples, you slowly stand up going to the kitchen and grabbing a bottle of water. You sip on it slowly, waiting for your boyfriend to arrive. Thirty minutes go by before you hear knocking on the door. You sit up from where you were leaning against the counter before you slowly shuffle your way to the front door, Yosano wasn't home, she had left a note that said she went out and she'll be back later.

You knew that it was Dazai, not only because he told you he'd be there soon but the urgent knocking on the door. You opened the steel door, the hinges creaking. You stare at the taller figure, his eyes seemed to be "shaking" as he stared at you before hugging you tightly. You could feel his body trembling against your own, you couldn't fully forgive him for what he did, you knew it would take time and he knew that too.

You let out a staggered breath before resting your head on dazai, forehead pressed firmly against his shoulder. You could feel the brunette slowly massaging your hips, the other cupping the nape of your neck. "I'm sorry." You heard him say beneath his breath, you knew he wasn't all too big on apologies so for now this was okay. The hug meant a lot to you.

"It's alright, you already know I can't forgive you though. We can work around all the flaws, nobody is prefect." You tell him, but deep down you knew you'd slowly end up forgiving him, you loved him, you always would. You felt him gently grip your chin, pulling it to make you look at him.

"I mean it. I'm sorry. I'll never do it again, I truely do love you." The bandaged man spoke, he was sincere, you knew he was. The way he looked deeply into your eyes, forehead pressed against your own as leaned in to slowly kiss you, lips colliding in a tender kiss. "I love you, I dont want anything changing that." He managed to mutter out, slowly pulling away with a smile, tears pooling in his eyes, things were going to be okay.

🍷Chuuyaೃ⁀➷

⋆·˚ You misinterpreted EVERYTHING. the thing you saw wasn't the story behind any of it, he didnt enjoy seeing you like that.

You, the pretty joyful person that was going out with a "scary" port mafia executive? Maybe opposites really DO attract. But that didn't seem to be how things work out today. You wanted to surprise him, bringing him some lunch and a new wine you found, you had everything planned for a nice lunch date. You had taken time out of your day to refrigerate the wine so it was still cold when arrived, to go get food not gourmet or anything but food nonetheless.

Did that mean nothing to Chuuya? The love and affection? The time you spent doing everything to make him the happiest man alive, it meant nothing? When you had arrived in the corridor to Chuuya's office, there he stood with another, that same person kissing the man you love. Chuuya's eyes we're wide, he didn't see you but they we're wide but you didn't care about that, you cared that he didn't automatically push her away.

You could feel the paper bag with the wine inside slip from your hand, shattering on the ground with a loud crash. It echoed through your own ears and the ears of others that were nearby. You watch as Chuuya snaps back to reality, his mind and body know fully processing that his colleague kiss him, in front of you. He heard the loud shatter of the glass, his head snapping over to wear you stood, tears flowing down your face that was erased from any other emotion other than sadness.

You feel yourself stumble back before sprinting out the large building, not even giving yourself a chance to rethink your decisions. Tears kept pouring down your face they wouldn't stop, no way. He wouldn't actually cheat, right? The image only rolled through your head like a record on repeat. You could hear heavy steps chasing behind, laboring breathes as there was deep, staggering, almost terrified yells of your name.

"Y/N!! Just give me a damn minute to explain!" Chuuya yells, his voice trembling with every word. He didn't want to use his ability in this type of situation, he didn't want it to seem like he ruled over you cause of an ability he wasn't even born with but that wasn't the point. He kept sprinting right behind you, no matter how hard it was to breath, he just needed you to stop.

You didn't want to turn back, you couldn't. He couldn't see you like this. Broken, if you'd have to describe it yourself. You just ran. Ran and ran and ran until you were unable to anymore. You were letting out deep gasps of air as you could quite literally feel Chuuya staring into your back. "Darlin' would you just give me a chance to explain what happened?" The ginger spoke, gently sitting down on the ground next to your out of breath form.

You didn't have the energy to argue back as you just give him a small nod. Chuuya pulls you close, letting your head rest on his shoulder. "You know I didn't cheat right? It was a big 'ol misunderstanding, I didn't kiss my colleague I wouldn't ever do that to you in a life time." Chuuya told you, he was sincere when he told you this as he reached down, interlocking the both of yall's fingers together.

You glance at him worrily, you wanted to trust him you really did but there were so many questions. "Then why didn't you automatically push her away?" You ask, your breathing now back to normal as you trace your thumb on the lines in chuuya's hand. "I wasn't expecting anyone to kiss me, it took me a moment to process anything. Im sorry darlin', how can I make this big ordeal up to you?" The blue eyed male asked you, glancing over at you with eyes that begged for all your forgiveness.

You had a blank stare on your face for a moment as Chuuya was practically begging for your forgiveness with his piercing blue eyes. You exhale with a soft smile, you couldn't stay mad at him even if you wanted. "Just a kiss then." You answered, it was always an "apology" Chuuya enjoyed even if he always asked multiple times more if there was "anything else you needed" cause a simple kiss didn't seem like a good apology.

Chuuya let out a soft huff, he knew it! He knew you were going to say a kiss, he had a love, hate relationship with this sort of an apology, but he leaned in and kissed you anyways. It was slow and tender and full of silent love that sometimes neither of you shown. You let out a content hum as y'all kiss before pulling away, this was enough for now you knew that you'd pester him later though. It was a silly misunderstanding on your end and you're up to admit it too.

"I'm sorry again, doll. It won't happen again. Hell of you want I'll try to dress unattractive?" Chuuya teased, his hand running up your thigh as the two of you sit on the curb of the side walk. "How could you, of all people, dress unattracively?" You ask, letting out a soft laugh under your breath. "Well I'm not sure, sweetheart. But I could sure try for you."

[7s3ven]

hello! ur writing is so fun and rahhhh i heart it. idk if ur taking cato reqs but i love him bro its an issue. anyhow, childhood friend!tribute!reader and him coming to terms with the fact that both of them cant win. could be platonic or romantic whatever u like<3

I’m literally in love with Cato.

( master list )

DANCING WITH UR GHOST. cato hadley

IN WHICH… Cato Hadley and Y/N L/N accept there can only be one winner. The Capitol watches as one falls and the other leaves the arena with a furious heart, never quite moving on.

Warnings : not proof-read, a little bit of angst, some gore (it’s the hunger games)

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THG TAG LIST : No one rn 💀

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It was a hot and sunny day when the Capitol chose to announce the tributes. Small beads of sweat rolled down Y/N’s forehead as she clasped her hands behind her back. The sun was relentlessly beating down on the large group of teenagers crowded in front of the stage, organised by age and all eagerly waiting.

Y/N wasn’t like the rest of her District. She had seen how the effects of the Hunger Games weighed down on the tributes. Haymitch had turned to drinking after the slaughter of his family. Y/N couldn’t imagine returning home to see the people you held dear gruesomely bloodied on the floor.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Cato. He stood out from the boys, being one of the tallest and towering over them. He had his jaw clenched and he was impatiently tapping his foot, waiting until he could leap onto the stage.

His head turned and they locked eyes. Y/N was the first to break into an amused smile and he returned it, his pale lips curving upwards.

Y/N paid no attention to the video playing on the screen in front of her. They showed it every year and she had practically memorised the voice lines by now. Her mind flashed back to yesterday, the day where Cato had suggested the unthinkable.

“What if we run away?” He questioned, making Y/N pause. She grasped the handle of her ax tightly as she spun around to face her childhood friend.

“What?” She needed to make sure that she had heard him right. It’s not like Y/N hadn’t thought of it before but for Cato Hadley of all people to ask was outrageous. He was Two’s greatest candidate. They were all counting on him.

“You heard me. What if we ran away? Away from all this and away from the games? I wouldn’t have to worry about being a peacekeeper. We could do it, you and me.”

Y/N has full faith in her axe skills and Cato’s strength but the idea was almost too crazy to pull off. She shook her head, “They’d find us.” She whispered. Y/N was glad nobody else was in the gym because this could be considered treason.

Y/N subtly shook her head. If only leaving District Two was that easy. They would surely notice if their strongest candidate and his axe-throwing friend went missing.

Her attention was caught by the lady, Kikoro, walking towards the microphone in a hideously bright yellow skirt. Beside her, Y/N heard Clove laugh.

Clove was a good friend of Cato’s and by default she was a friend of Y/N’s too. She was shorter than both of them but that didn’t stop her from snapping at people left and right. Her skills with throwing knives were amazing and Y/N often felt a little jealous. Surely the knives were lighter compared to lugging around a wooden stick with a blade attached to it.

“Now, I must warn you, there’s a new little rule. No volunteering this year.” Kikoro uttered into the microphone, her lips covered in yellow lipstick curling into an unsettling smile. She ignored the disappointed jeers from the teenagers as she reached into the first bowl. “Ladies first. It’s only polite.”

Everybody watched with bated breath as Kikoro unfolded the piece of paper painfully slow. Clove was practically shaking with excitement.

Kiroko cleared her throat before she leaned forward, glancing at the crumbled paper. “Y/N L/N.” She said.

Y/N clicked her tongue, thinking it was all a sick joke. She wasn’t scared shitless like the tributes in the paper districts were but she was disappointed. Why her and not somebody who actually wanted to compete?

Y/N begrudgingly stepped onto stage after being dragged by a peacekeeper. “Let go of me.” She hissed, yanking her arm out of the man’s grip.

“What’s your name, dear?” Kiroko asked, gesturing Y/N to step forward to the microphone. The H/C-nette stared at the Capitol citizen in confusion.

“You just said my name… Y/N L/N.”

Kikoro paused before she burst into a fit of light laughter. “Ah, sorry dear. I’m so used to volunteers. Next up, the boys.”

Y/N hoped her District partner would be someone useful who she could discard later. Someone strong but not too strong as to overpower her.

As Y/N rocked back and forth on her heels, she glanced over at Kikoro who was now unfolding the second paper. She read text written in black ink before grasping the microphone.

Hearing her own name getting called didn’t frighten Y/N but as Kikoro declared the male tribute, her heart dropped so fast that she may as well collapsed. It was the one person she wished hadn’t been chosen.

“Cato Hadley.”

The train ride was silent. Enobaria had tried talking to the pair but they never replied. Eventually, she gave up and went to a different compartment.

“We should’ve run away.” Y/N quietly muttered, suddenly regretting not putting the absurd plan into action. Across from her, Cato chuckled.

“Yeah…” He paused, refusing to believe that this was really happening. That he’d have to kill his best friend if he wanted to survive. He was brought back to the harsh reality as the train bumped along the tracks.

“You should’ve played dead… or something.” Y/N stirred the spoon around in her cup of coffee, having no intentions of actually tasting the bitter drink. She licked her dry lips. “What happens if we’re the last ones left?”

Cato didn’t have the courage to answer. He pushed his food around with his fork for a few moments before finally lifting his head. “May the best win.” He uttered.

Y/N glanced out the window, staring at the tall buildings of the Capitol in the distance. She took a deep breath as the train quickly approached the large city and their impending doom.

The days in the Capitol were limited. And they passed by fast. One minute Y/N was standing in front of the dummy targets, skilfully throwing axes as their heads then the next she was in front of a crowd in a glittery gold gown.

“You’re a fan favourite, Y/N. How does that make you feel?” Caesar, with his crazy blue hair and matching suit, said as he widely grinned.

“I guess I’m just that charming.” Y/N smiled as she leaned back in her seat, gracefully crossing one leg over the other.

“Our time is almost up but may I ask the question that everyone has been wondering? What on earth is going on between you and Cato?”

The Capitol had caught wind of the small stolen glances and borderline flirtatious kisses on the knuckles. Y/N shifted in her seat as she recalled the event before this very interview.

“You look…” Cato entered the room, practically starstruck as Y/N stood on a small platform. “Wow.” She frowned as she adjusted the tight bodice of her dress.

“Really? Because right now, I can’t really breathe.” Y/N let out a small laugh but she felt her corset suffocate her lungs.

“Does this look like a face that would lie to you?” Cato grasped Y/N’s hands and helped her off the platform. “I mean it. You look stunning… almost makes me wish we were getting ready for a ball instead of this.” Cato’s face was so close. Y/N couldn’t help but let her eyes dart to his lips.

“You look handsome too.” She playfully grinned as she straightened Cato’s tie. “Blue suits you.”

“We’re just friends.” Y/N repeated that overused phrase while the Capitol citizens groaned in frustration. “I don’t know what you want me to admit… Cato is handsome but I can’t imagine dating someone I’ve known since childhood… his face is getting a little annoying.”

Y/N’s cheeky remark earned her a few laughs.

“If given the chance, I probably would’ve liked to kiss him once, you know?” Y/N’s confidence grew and she forgot all about how Cato could hear her words through the small screen in the waiting room. She folded her arms over her chest just as the timer buzzed.

“Y/N L/N, everybody!” Caesar declared.

She stepped off the stage and back into the shadows, away from the piercing lights. Glimmer and Marvel had already returned to their rooms and Y/N was about to do the same before Cato came into view.

She saw him wave enthusiastically at the crowd but his eyes were on her. She shrank back, suddenly aware of what she had said during the interview.

Y/N scurried off before Caesar could even ask Cato one question. She stormed into the room assigned to District Two. Enobaria was sitting on the couch, clicking the TV remote buttons.

“Need help getting out of that dress?” The sharp-toothed woman asked. Y/N silently nodded.

“Thank you.” Y/N said, finally able to breathe properly again. She would never take oxygen for granted again.

Y/N was only dressed in a black singlet and shorts when Cato burst through her personal room door. “What was that?” He demanded, slamming the door behind him. “If given the chance? I’m giving you the damn chance, Y/N!”

Y/N let out a squeak of surprise when he grabbed her face and pulled her forward, swiftly kissing her like he had been waiting to do so for years. With how his hands trailed down to tightly grip her waist, Y/N wouldn’t be surprised if Cato had been dreaming of this moment.

Cato pulled away, resting his forehead on Y/N’s. “How’s that for a given chance?”

The sun in the arena felt different. Its heat was blistering and Y/N felt her body burning up underneath her heavy jacket. She wanted to discard the warm piece of clothing but it would come in handy at night.

The Careers had already made their allies clear. Y/N glanced at Cato who was already staring at her as usual.

To Y/N’s left was Glimmer, who was impatiently tapping her foot as the countdown began. Y/N stared at the decreasing numbers until it reached five and she had no choice but to get ready to run.

This was no mere dream, it was a reality that Y/N wish she didn’t exist in, for Cato’s sake.

To no one’s surprise, Cato was the first to react as the countdown finished. He leaped off his podium, immediately making a run for a silver sword. Some tributes turned tail and ran but those who joined the mess in the middle were gruesomely stabbed by Cato.

Y/N grasped a pack of throwing knives, tossing the sharp objects at anything that moved. She managed to cut Katniss’ cheek and the ravenette was not pleased about that. The District Twelve girl shot an arrow Y/N’s way but she ducked and avoided it.

“Y/N, here!” Cato tossed a fancy looking axe her way. She easily caught it, swinging it at a foolish boy who thought he could beat her.

The bloodbath didn’t last long thanks to Cato. He either killed or drove off any of the remaining tributes. “I’m feeling pretty good about this.” He grinned down at Y/N as they waltzed around the Cornucopia. He twirled his heavy sword in his hand.

“You’re in a good mood.” Y/N muttered. The hunger for bloodshed had clouded Cato’s mind, causing him to forget that Y/N would have to die in order for him to emerge victorious. She said nothing about it, though, not wanting to spoil his cheerful mood.

“I’ll be in a better mood after this.” Cato chuckled to himself as he pecked Y/N’s lips. He held her close, burying his face in her neck.

Y/N stood still, awaiting the moment where they would be forced to turn on each other. Out of the pair, Y/N had always been the rational realist.

Glimmer was dead, filled with toxin after Katniss sabotaged the Careers’ camp.

Marvel was next. Katniss skewered him like a kebab with her arrow. He died on the forest floor, joining Glimmer in Katniss’ kill count.

And then there were two. Y/N had narrowly avoided being bashed in the head with a stone by Thresh. The side of her head was still bleeding, the crimson liquid staining the green grass below.

Y/N groaned as she collapsed beside Cato, leaning against the large tree trunk. “Who’s left?” She rasped. She had heard a canon go off but she had no idea who it was.

“The boy from Eleven, the pair from two, and us.” Cato replied, his shoulder brushing against Y/N’s. He pulled out a small tin bottle, handing it over to Y/N. She gratefully took a large gulp of cold water. “Don’t worry, we’ll get home.” He whispered, “You and me forever.” After Y/N’s near death experience, Cato realized that the Capitol had played him as a fool. But he was happy about the announcement that said two victors could win if they originated from the same District.

Y/N leaned her head on Cato’s shoulder and closed her eyes, deeply sighing. She didn’t know when she dozed off or how long she was asleep but she cracked open one eye to see Cato hurriedly shaking her.

Night time, the Careers’ prime time to hunt, had already past. When Y/N’s eyes finally adjusted to the light, she furrowed her eyebrows. She was in a cave yet she remembered falling asleep on the forest floor. And Cato was covered in bites and gruesome grazes and blood. So much blood.

“Cato…” Y/N breathed, quickly leaning forward, “What happened to you?”

“I killed Katniss and Peeta… and the mutts killed Thresh. It’s you and me left, Y/N.” His sounded sounded so weak and he sluggishly cupped her face, panting heavily. For once, he was covered in his own blood rather than the blood of his victims.

“You drugged me…” Y/N’s heart fell to her stomach as she realized what had happened. Cato had slipped sleeping pills into the water and while she was knocked out, he put her in a cave and went to hunt down the three other tributes. She furrowed her brows. “How could you? Cato… you could’ve died.”

He let out a quiet laugh. “Yeah… I know. That was kind of the point. While you were asleep, they revoked the two victors rule. There can only be one again.”

That was enough for tears to well up in Y/N’s eyes. “Don’t leave me… please.” She cried as she held Cato, her childhood friend and her first true crush. His blood stained her muddy clothes but she didn’t care. “Please…” She trailed off as Cato wheezed.

“The mutts did a good job on me.” He muttered, finding it harder to stay awake. Y/N’s eyes widened.

“No. Cato. Don’t leave me. Don’t leave me here!” She immediately noticed how his pulse slowed down. “Stay awake, Cato! I can fix this! Please.”

Y/N had already come to terms that there could only be one victor but she had yet to accept that fact that she had to lose Cato to walk out.

“You can’t give up now… we came this far. We can sort something out.” Y/N uttered as she shook Cato in a fruitless attempt to convince him.

“I love you, Y/N.” He grasped her hand, squeezing it tightly. “I always have. Ever since we became friends. Ever since you were the first to find the courage to talk to me. I don’t know what I would have done with you.”

Y/N laughed as a sob bubbled up in her throat. “I love you too. If only your name wasn’t called. I could’ve won the games and come back to you.” She shakily sighed as she leaned down to kiss Cato’s cold lips. She placed her hand on his neck and when she felt no pulse, she pulled back in a panic.

“Cato?” She shook him once. Then again. “Cato?!” She repeated, this time louder. “No… no… no! Don’t leave me here! Cato!”

She screamed so loud that the sound echoed around the forest, scaring the birds and causing them to flee.

“Cato!”

Y/N walked out of the arena a free woman. Not quite since Snow would still have full control over her but she liked to think she was free to a certain extent.

The Capitol workers had tried to discard of the necklace she held so tightly in her left hand but she refused to let them take it away. It was the only remaining memory she had of Cato.

Anger swirled around in her heart like a monster, threatening to burst free and reign terror over anyone that came in contact with her.

Only now was Y/N realising why the victors never looked genuinely happy despite having everything they wanted. It was because Snow tore their deepest desires away, always holding it near but never within their reach.

Enobaria had wanted to be a mother.

Gloss wanted a peaceful life with his sister.

Cashmere wanted nothing more than to take care of the children in District One.

Brutus craved freedom from Snow’s cruel clutches.

And poor Y/N dreamt of becoming a bride but as she watched the light drift from Cato’s eyes, her wish was swept away with it.

Now, Snow had nothing to take away from her because the person she loved the most was already gone.

[jasmines-library]

I just discovered your blog yesterday and I am INHALING your work! I love your writing, it feels like a movie being played in my head. Oh and the ANGST - JUST ajfhahaskh *Screaming in my pillow rn*.Would you be willing to write a second part of the self harm batfam x reader fic?

~ 🦑

Save Me When I Drown

I'm so glad you like my work hearing that means so much to me. as requested, here is a part 2; sorry it took me a billion years to get to it.

Part 1: Catch Me if I Fall

Warnings: Very nearly self harm, depressive thoughts, relapse. Please read with caution.

Word count: 1.3K

⛤ BATFAM MASTERLIST ⛤

Things had been getting better. Slowly but surely they had. It was a slow process, that of course had not been easy. There were days where you felt like you could run a hundred miles, but there were also days where you couldn’t bring yourself to move. When the urge became too much. And although your brothers were there to help you… today was one of those days. 

The five of you were gathered around the table. Eating together at least once a week had become a tradition, and each of your brothers made a big effort to attend them, though it was rare to make it this far into the meal without being interrupted by Gotham’s infamous residents. And you were trying so hard to keep focused; to enjoy Alfred’s cooking as it melted on your tongue but you just couldn’t. And you hated yourself for it. 

You had to keep your eyes on your plate as you pushed your food aimlessly around the china. Your appetite had gone nearly as soon as you sat down, but you couldn’t look up because you knew as soon as you did you would feel guilty again. Dick sat across from you. A dark bruise had blossomed over his skin, turning it dark shades of maroon and indigo. He had a small laceration on his cheek below the bruise over his eye. It hadn’t needed stitches, but the sight still made you grimace. Beside him, Damian was also bloodied. They were all injured in some way. A stitch here, a sprain there. 

You should have been bothered by them. Injuries were a given in your line of work. But the thing that was tipping you over the edge was the fact that you were completely unscathed. There wasn’t a single hair on your head that was out of place. And it made your skin crawl. The five of them had run into a bit of a predicament with Bane; a particularly grisly fight that had ended with the majority of them spending a day or two on bedrest or in the infirmary. 

You should have been there. You should have been helping them but instead you were sitting in the safety of the manor, watching them on the monitors. Guilt washed over you like an ocean drowning you in your own thoughts. If only you had been quicker to direct them. If only you had pushed Bruce more to let you help out. Surely with an extra pair of hands the risk of injury would have been lowered. You would have had to ask Tim for the exact statistics, but you were sure enough that it would have made a difference. 

Bouncing your thigh leg up and down, you felt as though your skin was burning. Itching. As those thoughts weaselled their way back into your conscience. You picked at the skin around your thumb. Sometimes that helped the urge. But not this time. You had been too slow. Again. Everything was your fault and-

“Y/N?” It was Dick’s voice that broke you out of your trance. It was gentle and he reached out to place a hand on your restless leg under the table. He was ever the observer. The way he looked at you made you want to cry like a fragile child. Soft blue eyes downturned as he raised his eyebrow a fraction with the tilt of his head. “Are you alright?”

You wanted to scream. You wanted to tell him everything. But you kept it bottled up. You didn’t want them to pity you. Besides, you were getting better. That was what you had told yourself. That is what had been happening and it made you so frustrated that you were beginning to feel this way again. 

“Y/N?” Someone else called your name again with the same solemn tone when you refused to reply. You didn’t register who it was because your head was too foggy. Frankly, you didn’t care. You needed to leave.

“ ‘scuse me.” Scraping your chair against the floor, you abandoned your food and made a beeline for the exit. 

You think someone called after you, but you couldn’t focus on anything but the thumping of your heart as you hounded up the stairs and into your room. Shutting the door rather too harshly and locking it behind you, you sank to your knees. Fat tears rolled down your cheeks as your mask fell and you slumped against the ground. You felt so stupid. You were supposed to be getting better. This wasn’t supposed to be happening. You were supposed to be fine and you were supposed to be downstairs eating with the others. God, that made you feel even worse. You sank a little deeper into that ocean of thoughts. They had all made such an effort to be there and you had just fled like a child to their mother. 

Do it. Your mind was barking orders at you again. Old ones that you had fought so hard to forget.

Restlessly you pushed yourself up and made your way over to your closet. Shakily you dug through the draws until your fingers wrapped around the frayed leather. Silent, you turned it over in your palms. Your whole body seemed to tremble as you moved to perch on the edge of the bed. 

Someone was knocking on the door. You could hear them on the other side begging to be let in. begging for you to just answer them. 

You placed the blade against your skin and screwed your eyes up tight. The silver was cool against your skin. 

“Little Bat…please open the door.” Bruce had never sounded more vulnerable as he stood helplessly outside the door. You could almost picture his face: eyebrows downturned and eyes wide as he waited anxiously for you to either open the door or from Tim to return with the spare key to your room. Just in case. 

Trembling, your whole body was wracked by waves of tears each one gripped you tight and was accompanied by a thousand thoughts trying to burn away at the surface of your skin. Your eyes flickered to the knife. One swipe and it would all be gone. One swipe and you would get what you felt like you deserved. But then Bruce’s voice broke through the door. 

“I know you’re scared, Kiddo.”

Your head snapped toward the door. You paused with a shuddering breath.

“And that’s okay. That’s normal.” He continued. “I get scared too. We all do.”

At that moment you knew that your brothers were standing behind the door too, waiting with anxious anticipation that made their fingertips itch. You heard a shuffling, and then Jason’s voice came, muffled by the door. You weren’t entirely sure if he was planning to break it down or not, but his voice was calm. 

“Please open the door Little Wing…” Jason pleaded. “...We love you…and we’re scared.”

And you broke. The dagger clattered to the floor with another bout of tears and you unlocked the door. 

Bruce wrapped you up in his arms the second the door was wide enough to reveal you. He let out a heavy sigh of relief. 

“S-sorry…” You spluttered. “I’m sorry…”

“Shh.” He cupped the back of your head with his hand and you felt one of your brothers place a hand on your shoulder. “You have nothing to be sorry for, Little Wing. You’ve done nothing wrong.”

“But I-”

“Shh.” Tim hushed. “It’s okay.”

“I thought I was getting better.” You sniffled.

Damian frowned. “You are. And we are so proud of how for you have come, sister. This is part of the process, Little Wing.”

“You’ve come so far, Kid.” Dick told you. “And we’re sorry that we didn’t notice how you were feeling until now. But it’s okay, because healing isn’t a linear process. And we’re going to be there with you every step of the way. Through the good and the bad just like we promised.”

You nodded. 

“This is just one of the bad days, Wing.” Tim hummed. “Things will get better, I promise.” 

“And we will love you the entire way.”

Taglist:

@aestheticdaisies

@hell-o-kittys

@xxrougefangxx

@mamapucket

@hearts4robs

[yelenasdiary]

Yes sorry. So if it’s going to be adhd maybe in a meeting reader doesn’t catch up with the explanation of the mission and it fails?? So the commander (make it an OC so we don’t hate anyone) is disappointed and blames reader and punishment (yk) later her girlfriend(s) and the avengers (or the ones that know you can choose) defend her and comfort her? I don’t know I’m not very inspired rn so if you want to save this request for later it’s completely fine.❤️❤️❤️

-🐚

We're a Team, A Family!

Pairing: WandaNat x ADHD! Reader

Summary: After a mission goes wrong, you are blamed and punished for it, leaving your girlfriends to take care of you for a little misunderstanding. 

Angst | Fluff | Comfort | Light Language Warning | 1.5K | 

Translation: moya lyubov (my love), 

OG Ask: Yayyy tomorrow I will congratulate you! And for a request i loved your wanda x adhd!reader so if you could do another neurodivergent reader with Wanda/Nat/Wandanat (you choose) and really angsty but happy ending? ❤️❤️

AC: So sorry it took me a while to get around to this request, please remember that I do not have ADHD myself so I can never fully understand the struggles that come with having it. I write this based of research and if I have said anything wrong or misunderstood anything, please let me know. I hope you enjoy this x 

You racked your brain for what exactly your boss, Michael or, Mick for short, was basically yelling at you for. A mission that only now made sense to you, failed. A simple job, in an out kind of mission that during the mission run down just simply just went over your head. It was your fault, all you can remember is that your mind was running what felt like a million miles per second and was clouded with the excitement of going on a movie date with your girlfriends, Wanda and Natasha. 

"You're suspending from any missions for two weeks!" Mick snapped, you swore you could see the vein in the middle of his forehead, he was mad. "But sir!" you tried to plead, "I'm sorry, it won't happen again, I promise!" you added but the man shook his head, "once is one too many times! What happens is something more serious happened? What if somebody died?! What if you died?!" He looked at you, dead in the eyes. "I won't risk it. Two weeks of desk duty, that's final!" he added. 

You left his office with a sigh, trying to hold back your tears as you made your way back to your room. Mick had only been on the team as the new leader for a few months and you couldn't help but feel that he didn't understand that sometimes things can be a little tricky for you. He knew you had ADHD but still, he refused to make sure that you were okay and instead it's like that detail about you slipped his mind. 

Wanda walked into the room with a soft smile, she had just gotten back from a shopping trip with Maria to get groceries for the compound when she saw you under the covers sobbing quietly to yourself. 

"Honey, what's wrong?" Wanda asked in a soft tone, gently pulling the covers back to see that you'd been crying for longer than 5 minutes. "Oh, love" she added when you looked at her, tears soaking your face as you sat up. Wanda wasted no time in shuffling next to you and wrapping her arms around you, placing a soft kiss on your temple. "What's going on?" she asked in a gentle tone. 

"It's mick. He's put me on desk duty for the mission that south" you replied just as Natasha walked into the room, her happy expression quickly turning to concern the moment she saw you in tears wrapped in Wanda's arms. Instantly, she doesn't care whatever was on her mind as she joined Wanda and sat on the other side beside you. 

"What's with the tears darling?" she asked, gently taking one of your hands and stroking your knuckles with her thumb. 

"Mick is pissed with me because of the last mission, my mind was everywhere during the mission rundown, and I didn't catch everything that was said. Because of that and the mission failing, he's put me on desk duty for two weeks!" you explained, tears of anger quickly filled your eyes once more as Wanda gently stroked you back for comfort. 

This wasn't the first time Mick had brought tears to your eyes and Natasha had had enough of the new leader's harshness towards you. Nat sent a look to Wanda as to say she was going to have her own set of words with the man while Wanda would stay and look after you. 

"It'll be okay moya lyubov" Natasha placed a kiss on the top of your hand, "I'm going to go get some of your favourite snacks, is there anything you would like?" she asked. She knew if she told you what she was really going off to do that you would stop her and tell her you didn't need her to fight your battles for you. "Some ice cream? Please?" You looked at your girlfriend who just smiled softly and nodded before making her way out of the room. 

Nat made her way to the compounds living room where Tony, Steve, Bucky, Thor and Bruce sat around talking about things the red head didn't care about. "We've got to talk to Michael!" she announced, nothing but the need to protect you filled her mind. 

"What's he done now?" Bruce asked. 

Natasha explained the situation from what you had told her and instantly the men's moods switched. They weren't happy with the way Mick had treated you and agreed with Natasha that something had to change. Not another minute was wasted before the six avengers made their way down the hall to Micks office. 

Meanwhile, Wanda was made to get your tears to come to a stop as she kept you close to her, stroking your back and telling you sweet nothings while you waited for Natasha to return with your comfort food. "I just wish he would be a little more understanding" you sighed as Wanda gently wiped the tears from your cheeks. "I know sweetheart, he will, trust me" she replied with a soft smile. 

"Mick, we need to talk!" Natasha spoke with sternness as she and the others welcomed themselves into the leader's office. The man looked up from the documents in front of him and placed his pen down. "I don't want to hear it Natasha" he spoke. 

"I don't care. You will hear it. You need to back off on Y/n! They're doing their best, they're a great avenger, they help keep this team together! You upset them, you upset us, all of us! Now, I know you've only been here for a short amount of time, but this is a family. We don't treat one another like crap, we understand each other, and we help on another. So whatever you have against Y/n stops now!"

"Natasha, you need to understand that without punishment, nobody around here is going to learn. Y/n messed up big time and I refuse to have somebody on this team die because they are incapable of listening to some important information!" Michael rose from his seat, looking Natasha in the eyes. 

"And you need to understand that you're not like us" Tony stepped forward, "you don't understand what it is we do. Shield sent you to watch over us and I get that but none of us like you, none of us want you here. Truth be told, none of us listen to you, we make our own plans, we work as a team. One too many times have you upset Y/n and we are all over it" he adds. 

Michael's eyes scanned the room as he saw there was no winning, he hated his job, less drama the better the thought. "Fine, but if this happens again, I'm speaking to nick!" He slumped himself down in his seat in defeat. 

"Considering Nick saved Y/n and brought them to us; I don't think he's going to side you either" Natasha smirked before leaning slightly forward to make sure Michael was listening to her next words. "If you upset my girlfriend or anybody else on this team again, I promise you that you won't make it home to your pathetic little life. Do I make myself clear" 

With a sigh and defeated nod, Michael understood and made a mental promise to himself to get a transfer before it was too late. The others left his office proud of themselves, after months of wanting to get rid of him, they believe they finally did it. 

"Is Y/n okay?" Steve asked as they walked back to the living room. 

"After I get them some ice cream, I think they'll be okay" Natasha smiled softly.

----

Later that night you were in bed, cuddled up closely to your girlfriends while picking at the takeout that was ordered while the three of you watched trashy movies that made you forget how upset you were today. Wanda twirled with your hair while Natasha drew random shapes on your shoulder. 

Usually, you would be the first to fall asleep but to both you and Natasha's surprise, it was Wanda. Her soft snores made you and Nat smile softly to one another before Nat made sure the three of you were covered by the covers. "Thank you, Nat" you spoke ever so softly, not wanting to wake Wanda. 

"For what cutie?" Nat smiled softly, placing a kiss on your forehead. 

"You know what" you playfully raised a brow at her, "for talking to Mick" you added.

Natasha gently brushed her thumb over your cheek, "nobody has the right to make you feel the way you did today, nobody. Mistakes happen and I know you would never intentionally put any of us in danger. I think Mick will be gone before the end of the week and if not, if he ever upsets my love ever again, he knows what's to come. Get some rest, we'll do something fun tomorrow to really help forget about today" she smiled softly once more at you before gently pressing her lips against yours.

Taglist: @itsmv3 | @katiemay-025 | @romanoffs-widow | @maria-403 | @boredandneedfanfics | @wandamaximoffspuppup | 

[amymbona]

if you need challengers ideas I have A LOT but rn my mind is clouded with some angsty Patrick stuff?

like it could be enemies to lover or fwb but then you get distant cuz you feel like you're falling in love and then patrick just do anything in his power to not lose you, truly anything as long as we get an ANGRY LOVE CONFESSION FROM HIM PLS <333

Honestlyyy this took me like a week to write this and I don't really like it. I feel like this topic could make up for a whole fanfic, not just a one shot. But I hope you'll like it :)

Warnings: angst, cursing,

Word count: 3,2 K

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

You and Patrick were never that close. Mostly, you were Tashi's best friend and he was Art's best friend. There were some shots and awkward hugs shared when Patrick would come to visit his girlfriend and best friend at Stanford, being introduced to one another. At first, you weren't particularly fond of his habits - mainly smoking - and the foul language. But soon, you came to understand his special bond with Art (who you've managed to grow pretty close to as a result of him always hanging out with you and Tashi) and learned to respect him as your best friend's boyfriend. All in all, he turned out to be a pretty chill guy.

Eventually, you'd got to discover what kind of a person Patrick Zweig is. Overly confident and sure of his actions but rolling eyes with offense the second someone questions his choices. Loud, a bit more touchy for your liking and definitely a bit too comfortable sharing his sexual fantasies, but above all, a person driven entirely in the direction where his heart beats.

Initially, Patrick was the person to light the first cigarette between your lips and convince you to have pity for Art's puppy eyes and show him your tits. He had played the role of a perfect matchmaker, for god knows however reason. You two would exchange phone numbers and wish each other merry Christmas a happy birthday. He became your friend. 

After the complete disaster following Tashi's knee injury, the two of you ended up kicked away like two stray dogs, portrayed as the biggest pieces of shit. Patrick, you could understand. Because some time after that, you came to discover he only set you up with Art because he knew that his best friend was after his girlfriend. But in the end, the only person who had the right to yell at him for being such an asshole was you. Not Tashi, nor Art. And you, for reasons still unexplained (perhaps for not abandoning your friendship with Patrick) were tilted a traitor by your former best friend. This was the very end of your four way friendship. 

Fast forward, college was over. You went your way, pursuing your career. Patrick's number remained in your phone and, again, you'd only text each other for important anniversaries. However, all of that changed when he called you one random evening, evidently with too much alcohol running through his veins.

"I miss you." he hiccuped, the distinct chatter on his side of the line making it harder for you to hear what he was saying. 

"Patrick." you sighed, knowing damn well he's simply drunk and thought he must have dialed a wrong number. 

But the ever so persistent individual, he kept talking. "I think about you a lot, y'know, from time to time."

"You're drunk, Patrick." another sigh escaped your pursed lips, gaze focused on applying another coat of red polish to your toenail. "Where are you?" 

"Where the fuck would I be, Y/N? 'm getting wasted." Patrick's words were followed by a fit of laughter, not sure if his own or anyone else's. "Trynna forget about everyone. Not you, though." 

"Not me?"

"Just those two fuckers."

Of course. Ever since the painful split, Patrick had his own way of dealing with things, and that would mainly include getting totally wasted and babbling crap about being so deeply betrayed as if he was Jesus on the cross. 

That night, Patrick ended up at your place, upon you picking him up from the place which was, coincidentally, not too far from your current home. To put it simply, the two of you ended up in the world's messiest and smelliest make out session, Patrick's alcohol breath enveloping you from all directions. It was a vague attempt to get him out of the skinny pair of his jeans that he mistook for you wanting to suck his dick. Almost teary eyed, he begged you to let him fuck you, that it would make everything better for both of you. That it would have been a perfect revenge on Tashi and Art for breaking both of your hearts, even though they would had no way of discovering it. 

To this day, the revenge mindset continues corrupting both of your minds, or perhaps, it just gives you an excuse to keep fucking with each other. Patrick Zweig is a frequent visitor at your apartment, occupying your bed and drinking from your favourite tea cups while spitting some lines along "That nightie looks fucking sexy, but you should take it off," or "I could bend you over that counter." 

Your encounters basically spin around Patrick tearing off whatever you're wearing and covering your whole body with kisses. He whispers surprisingly sweet nothings into your ear while his hands rediscover the curves of your body. He eats you out like there's no tomorrow, making love to your pussy with his mouth. His tongue reaches places, drinking in your sweet nectar and making your back arch and hips grind against his face. He relishes the feeling of your thighs squeezing his head until he's certain his skills might burst soon, and that is all worth it. For Patrick, everything is worth it, if, by the end of it, he gets you to cum all over his face.

"Pat I- 'm close." your voice gets broken mid sentence, hips buckling up to meet Patrick's mouth. 

"Good, baby, good," he coddles, words muffled against your warm skin, tongue circling around your clit as his pointer and middle finger keep pumping in and out. "Just let go honey." 

And you do, moaning his name, hands tightening where they are tangled in his hair. Both of you are on cloud nine - your, from the heavenly orgasm and Patrick, from the sweet delight in your strained voice.

He remains in the bed next to you for a while, holding you and stroking your hair, while the conversation slowly dies. But the moment Patrick attempts to settle under the sheets, you kick him off, insisting on having to get up early in the morning. 

"I don't get it, Y/N," Patrick huffs as he buttons up his pants, eyes roaming up and down over your bare figure while you reach for your nightie. "I make you cum so loud you might wake up the whole street and now you're kicking me out." 

"I'm not kicking you out Patrick." you mumble, sliding into your slippers. 

But Patrick doesn't buy your bullshit. "You are. And it's not the first time you're doing it." 

He seems to see right through you, to know that you're perfectly capable of getting up early and performing your whole morning routine with him occupying your bed. No. There is more to that, much more that you're not telling him. And he wants so bad to have you tell him the truth. 

"You could just let me stay here, y'know. I'm not a thief or something." Patrick continues, a half ironic smile on his face as he moves closer towards you. His hands find place on your hips and he pulls your back into his chest. "You're not afraid of me, are you?" 

Afraid? That is the lightest way to put it. Actually, you are beyond terrified, completely spooked by the idea of opening up to someone who used to be your best friend's boyfriend. To someone who's dick you're taking into your mouth multiple nights per week. And that is exactly where it has to end, that is where you have to set a clear boundary for Patrick to cross.

"Where was I ever afraid of you, Patrick?" you scoff, turning around in Patrick's arms. It almost breaks your heart when you are met with an unusually soft smile on his face, knowing damn well Patrick is interpreting this in a completely different way. 

It's not that you don't want to love Patrick, no, quite the opposite. But you know the two of you wouldn't be able to last. Despite allowing to discover each other's gentle side and showing one another unusual forms of comfort that both of you clearly needed, you two are still so incredibly different.

Patrick Zweig is the epitome of chaos. While he's all heart, he has little to no sense of understanding in some situations that are important to you. In stark contrast to your gentle life, Patrick is reckless and hazards in various ways. Perhaps it fills his need for adrenaline, for being seen by large groups of people and adored for that big bad wolf persona he's built up during his years of tennis. 

You, on the other hand, strive for a more gentle life. After all that you've experienced at your young age, you already feel burnt out, and can't really imagine the idea of shaking your ass at bars and clubs to loud music and getting wasted. What you need is comfort and someone who's on the same emotional level with you. And while Patrick can provide what you need, from time to time, you're afraid it won't be able to last. Hence the cold shoulder. 

"Then why are you pushing me away constantly?" he presses, a small pout on his lips. His gaze drops to your own, desiring to taste you once again. "Can I kiss you?" 

It pains you to refuse him. "Just go." 

Over the next few days, Patrick sends you various messages, even attempts to call you. Your phone keeps beeping and vibrating, but you keep ignoring every single attempt of his, reminding yourself that it's for the better. Patrick will be alright, you're sure of it, he always is. He'll find a new girl - in a pub, on Tinder, anywhere - who he'll fall into and he'll reciprocate his feelings. 

It comes off as a surprise when you bump into him one day in the grocery store, thinking he might be out of the city. After all, he rarely stays there, usually just coming to visit you specifically, staying for the night and then being gone for a few days. 

"Y/N." a small smile tugs onto Patrick's lips as he sees you, eyes roaming over your form and groceries filled arms. "Need some help?" 

"No, no, I'm good." with a shake of your head, you reject his advances and move forward, shoulder mildly bumping into his. Better to keep it simple. 

"What the hell's your deal?" Patrick retorts, immediately moving after you. His voice rises, earning a glance from some people in the aisle, but that doesn't concern him.

You just shrug, an expression of indifference on your face. "Nothing." 

A hand on your arm stops you and you're pulled back against Patrick. He manages to keep himself casual, the touch moving onto your lower back, so as not to draw any suspicion and he even swiftly catches a packaging of toast bread that slips from your hold. "Don't bullshit me, Y/N. You've been ignoring me for like two weeks. That's not like you." 

"I'm not ignoring you." your eyes roll and you snatch the toast bread from his hands. 

"You are, Y/N." he presses, gaze roaming all over your gruff expression. "Can't you just tell me what's wrong?" 

"Nothing's wrong Patrick, my god, just mind your own business." 

You leave him in there, standing in the middle of the aisle, surrounded by strangers and his own miserable thoughts. Poor Patrick is clueless, unable to understand what the hell he has done to you for you to suddenly cross his name out like that.

The calls and messages get even worse, he's sending you one almost every minute there is a phone in his hands, eager for every form of contact. 

Patrick: Y/N

Patrick: c'mon... 

Patrick: don't ignore me bby

Patrick: i miss u

Patrick: ur my only girl

Patrick: ... 

Patrick: i love you

He's an idiot. Probably drunk, you think when you reread the message for the hundredth time during one particular evening, eyes welling in your eyes the longer you stare at it. He surely can't mean it. 

Patrick: fuck

Patrick: ignore that

Patrick: can i call u? 

Patrick: text me pls

Patrick: i wanna see u

Patrick: :(

He's really getting desperate, considering just breaking the door to your apartment and pushing you against the nearest surface, forcing you to listen to whatever he has to tell you. And he actually went to your place, to the apartment you live in, but never went further than standing by the door. Oh, how he wanted to knock each time he was there. How much he wanted to see your face and hear your voice. 

But you never respond, never react, trying to convince yourself you're doing what's best for you both. Perhaps you are naive, a bit too much, and in reality, your treatment only results in hurting both of you. 

And Patrick can't fucking bear it anymore, so he actually musters up all his remaining courage and travels to your place once again. Marching up with determined footsteps, he approaches your apartment and knocks and knocks and knocks on the door until you eventually open it, half asleep.

"Patrick?" 

"Y/N." 

Your swift attempt to close the door ends in vain as Patrick basically pushes himself into your apartment, refusing to be shut down once again. 

"We need to talk." 

"Piss off." you respond with a mumble, voice coming out more hostile than you actually planned. With a shudder, you abandon him, not feeling like facing him at the moment. Because whatever is about to happen, it's bound to end up as a tragedy. 

"Don't you dare talk to me like that." Patrick hisses in an aggrieved manner, following you to the living room. "You owe me at least an explanation." 

You know you do. But you can't bring yourself to give him any. "I don't owe you anything, Patrick." 

"You know damn well that you do. At least look me in the eyes when I'm talking to you." he's genuinely getting pissed off by your attitude. You always used to be so adamant on honesty, believing everyone deserves some form of a gentle treatment, and mainly to be told the truth. In your own words, people don't deserve to just be shut off. But here you are, doing the exact same thing you stand against. 

When you refuse to listen to him, Patrick gets fed up. His hands grab your arms tightly - for the first time not attempting to be cautious or gentle - and just yanks you towards himself. Finally, his eyes meet yours, fully, both of you wearing equally tired expressions. It's no secret this has been tough for both of you. 

"Can you listen to me for once?" he speaks softly, a glimpse of hope, accompanied by a light squeeze of your arms to keep your attention on himself. 

"This is stupid, Patrick." you retort, eyes rolling in an attempt to ignore the sudden closeness of his presence. "Just stop. Go home or go fuck someone. Just go and be happy." 

Patrick's expression drops upon hearing your words, mentally attempting to put one and one together to fully understand what you're attempting to convey. "Why are you pushing me away?" 

His hold on your arms eases, allowing you to slip them out of his hold and step away. Almost on instinct, your palms come up to rub those two spots, not that they're sore or hurt, but you wish to wipe his touch away. "Cause it's better for both of us." 

Finally, you admit to it, wanting to, slowly but surely, erase Patrick from your presence, from your life perhaps, as you've convinced yourself it shall ease the worries of both of you. 

"What the fuck?" he scoffs, stepping closer once again. "How would that be better?" 

"Because we can't continue with this, for fuck's sake. Patrick, we can't just fuck because we feel like it and-" 

"Why not?" 

"What?" 

"Why can't we just fuck?" Patrick insists, approaching you fully. He corners you against the windowsill and rests his hands on it, caging you in. 

You stare him in the eyes, lips parting as you search for an answer. Why couldn't the two of you just fuck? You're both single, no responsibilities and no people to remain loyal to. And you both enjoy the frequency of your encounters, knowing each other's bodies like the backs of your own hands, knowing exactly what the other person loves and despises. Your main priorities are to satisfy the other one, to make sure each one of you feels equally loved and accepted and comfortable in whatever this is. So why can't you just fuck? 

"I wanna fuck you, Y/N." he presses further, leaning into your personal space, so close that the top of his nose brushes against yours. "I wanna fuck you and then I wanna hold you. I don't want you to push me away and just let me stay with you, even when you're all sweaty and messy." 

"Patrick-" 

"Don't. Just listen to me for once and shut up. Stop worrying for a goddamn minute and listen to me, hear me out when I tell you that I want to be with you every second of my life, that I want you in my arms, kissing me, looking at me and paying attention only to me. Not any other man."

"There's no other man." you interfere, eyes flicking between Patrick's to search for any hint of rationality. 

"But there's no me either." he protests, voice raising. Fat from gentle, far from soft, there's not even that playful edge in his voice anymore. There is a hint of something dangerous hidden behind his blue eyes. "And I want there to be. Are you really that stupid to not see that I love you? That I wanna be with you and be your boyfriend? Want you to be my girl?" 

"Patrick, I-" again, you attempt to say something, anything, but no words leave your mouth. Your whole mind is clouded by the sudden confession. He loves you? But... 

It all connects all of a sudden, realising what he messaged you was intentional, was nothing but the sheer truth. All the little signs and hints. All the times he held onto you, clutched your bare body against his and desired to remain buried under the sheets with you. All the pouts and protests when you wouldn't let him stay, when you wouldn't engage in normal couple-ish activities that he wished so hard for. All the subtle touches, on your back, shoulders, face, stroking your cheeks and scratches on your back. These and so much more were visible, at least Patrick thought so. These were the hints Patrick was giving you, desperately hoping you'd pick up on it and notice how smitten he is with you. 

"I love you, Y/N." he whispers, hands grabbing your face, too afraid you're gonna disappear from his grasp if he doesn't hold you tight enough. His thumbs graze your cheeks. "And I need to know if you love me too." 

But do you? Can you afford to love Patrick, the man who was initially your best friend's boyfriend, the man you first fucked out of spite and in symbolic revenge and then found yourself caring too deeply for? Are you willing to be in a messy relationship that would undoubtedly completely alter the direction of your life? 

"I don't know, Patrick." 

"You don't know or you just don't wanna answer?" 

He can see right through you, it's insane. It pains you that you've no idea how to decide, what to say, what to tell him. So you just shudder, attempting to cast a smile and ease Patrick's worries at least somehow. "I don't want us to get hurt."

"We won't." he promises, adamant on keeping it. 

"How can you be so sure about it?" it's obvious you are doubting your possible relationship, knowing what kinds of people the two of you are.

"Because I love you." 

[6sixx6sexual6]

Can u do nikki x fem reader angst please im dying for some angst rn PLEASE

SORRY IVE BEEN SLACKING ON REQUESTS AND THIS IS MY FIRST TIME WRITING ANGST REALLY AND I WAS ALSO HIGH SO IT PROBABLY SUCKS.

word count: 1,301

warnings: drugs, alcohol, thats kinda it, mentions of sex once.

Nikki was starting to realize he was an addict. He didn't wanna spend 5,000 dollars a day on drugs. He didn't wanna shoot up every 30 minutes and nod off. he even missed his grandmas funeral because he chose to get high. A while back he and his girlfriend of well over a couple of years (not counting the numerous breakups) argued, she doesn't come around to their house as much, and Nikki hadn't talked to Vince, Tommy, or Mick in weeks and Nikki felt like he had nobody. he had another “girlfriend” who was just his drug buddy and used the excuse of being together just to shoot up. they didn't even have sex at all.

Nikki and the chick were on the couch. Nikki was either passed out or bearly awake. there were needles and spoons around them, Nikki still had the blue band around his arm as he was laid out on the couch.

you stumbled in the house for the first time in maybe 2 weeks. the house was still a mess from all the parties thrown but that was weeks ago. you went to find him and saw him in the living room with that girl and they both looked awful, you almost didn't know it was Nikki. you leaned against the archway with a bottle of liquor in your hand. "I'm going to Vegas." you told him. why? because you felt like going

Nikki could vaguely hear a familiar voice through the fog in his brain. He attempted to sit up against the arm of the couch, his eyes slowly opening as much as they could.

“What..?” he mumbled, his eyes glancing over at you as he slowly registered your presence. he couldn’t remember the last time he saw you.

"I'm going to Vegas." you repeated. Nikki looked awful. if you had seen him like this a couple of years ago you would've taken care of him making sure he was good as new. but you've done that for years and Nikki took it for granted. you got tired of taking care of him so you stopped when he needed it most.

Nikki watched you, his eyes barely open. he tried to gather his thoughts to say something to you, but his brain wasn’t working fast enough. a couple of years ago, if you had said the same thing he would’ve jumped up and asked why, worried that something was wrong. this time he just stayed where he was on the couch, watching you and slurring his words. “For how long..?” he mumbled, running a hand through his hair.

"I dunno." you answered. "til I feel like coming back." you said and took a swing from your bottle. not your first bottle of the night.

He tried to process what you said, but his mind felt muddled. He couldn’t remember the last time you had been around months ago. The last time he had seen you, you guys had ended up in a big fight.

“Don’t..you…” he trailed off, not even knowing what he was about to say. he ran a hand along his face again, trying to brush away the fog. “You’re ditching me…” he muttered.

"I'll be back." you mumbled and closed your eyes as you messed with your hair "You'll be fine.. m' not your mommy." you mumbled again little just from being drunk.

That made him scoff quietly, and he opened his eyes a little wider at that. He would’ve argued with you if his mind was clear. he would’ve said things like “I never said you were.” or “I don’t need you to be.” he would’ve said those things and fought with you like usual. But not right now. he was too out of it. “What if I want you to be..?” he mumbled into his hand.

you opened your eyes and looked at him for a few seconds. "then you're a few months too late." you said quietly. not softly, but quieter. it wasn't like him to ask something like that and it wasn't like you to answer like that, but we're changing and drifting apart. the whole band was. Tommy was married to Heather, no one spoke to Vince in prison, so he didn't speak to them, and no one ever knew where Mick was.

He frowned at your words and slowly sat up all the way, his eyes looking over at you. He hated hearing that from you, but he couldn’t bring himself to argue right now. not when he really wanted to. “A couple months too late..” he thought to himself. Had things really gotten this bad?

he looked down at his arms, the needle marks and old track marks were on full display. he then glanced back up at you. “I miss you..” he muttered.

you hum and looked at the ground while you were against the archway. you missed him too. a lot. but you've tried and tried for years taking care of him, loving him through everything, and he didn't do anything. you got sick of the one-way treatment. "yeah." you answered quietly.

He sighed and shut his eyes again, feeling a wave of guilt wash over him like it did every time he thought of you. he knew he hadn’t treated you like you deserved. not always. how many times had he gotten so high and said hurtful things that he didn’t mean? how many times had he gotten drunk and ignored you in favor of a party? He couldn’t even count on two hands the amount of times he caused you to cry. “I’m sorry..” he mumbled.

you felt a pang of guilt in your chest but you didn't say anything. you looked down at the bottle of liquor in your hand. what were you supposed to say? he knows you've forgiven him each time so what's this time gonna mean? "I have to pack." you told him.

Nikki stared at you, feeling a sense of hopelessness wash over him. he couldn’t blame you for leaving and had a feeling that you weren’t gonna come back. he had pushed you away so many times that he couldn’t expect you to come back.

he was silent for a few moments, not knowing what to say. a part of him wanted to ask you not to go, to beg you to stay and not leave him. but he didn’t say anything. he wasn’t in the right state of mind to.

when he didn't say anything you started walking to the stairs, your heeled boots clicked against the tile but were muted to a thud when you walked on the carpet stairs as his eyes followed you. He watched you disappear and head upstairs to your shared room, feeling an empty sort of pain in his chest. he stared down at his hands before he looked over at the girl sitting next to him. She just sat there in a daze, completely lost in a high. He wanted to get up and go up and stop you, to beg you to stay. his mouth opened like he was going to speak, but he didn’t say anything.

you went to your room that he was sharing with his drug buddy, the room was littered with needles and all kinds of things. it was a mess. you went into the closet, got a suitcase and threw whatever you had left in the closet in the suitcase and what his girlfriend hadn't taken. you took the suitcase downstairs.

you walked with the suitcase trailing behind you. and you looked back at the living room to tell Nikki goodbye, but when you looked at him he was already passed out with a needle in his arm. you looked at him for a couple more seconds before walking to the front door and leaving.