#so sorry for clogging with sadness

[xo8ball]

Cigarette Thoughts.

Cw for smoking, cigars, self destructive behaviors/thoughts, intrusive thoughts, death mention

Tired of feeling compulsive

I just need to smoke a cigar

I need to blow smoke into my virgin lungs

Fill them up in black poison

My heart starting to beat slowly as i die in my cancer

Having lived a life of regret, what more is a single bad mistake?

It will be for eternity that my teeth rot and my voice fades

Tired of feeling sad and angsty

It's my teenage years, I should fuck it up

I need to light just one and get fixed by the heat of a cigarette

I just need a cigar

I need to smoke one

I need to fall in a cycle

I need to contaminate my unfixable heart

Rotting is not enough, I need to contribute

Make a hole in my soul from burning it without remorse

As I die I smile and cry

Have I lived to my wishes? Did I die by my guilt?

Only time will say

And time will come

Time will tell me to grab my father's box

Time will tell me to grab the lighter from the kitchen

Time will tell me to hide in the backyard

Time will tell me to hold it to my lips

As only time watches me smoke a cig.

[stankworth]

Forget you ever saw me at my best

[sleepy-crypt1d]

massive collection of COF/AOM hcs i guess idk lol:

edit: i am putting it under the cut because i got carried away and this post is actually massive and i cannot do that to you i am so sorry

Trigger warnings:

suicide mention, cult mention, drug mention, stalking and obsession mention, abuse mention, hanging as punishment mention. general warning for standard COF/AOM stuff.

Sophie:

19 - she/her - bi

into taxidermy and entomology - specifically the art of it, wants to make art out of animal bones and bugs rather than simply preserving them. thinks of them as memorial pieces, making beauty out of tragedy.

is an older sister to a brother still in middle school/about to go to high school. she tutors him after her classes and before her parents get home.

works at her parents convenience store off and on when they need it. its just down the street from the college and they live above it, keeping her out of student housing.

studying to either be a professional taxidermist/bone artist or mortician. her mom wants her to be an artist while her dad insists she gets a 'real job'.

likes to knit. loves making gifts for people and learning how to make her own clothes. she makes gloves for simon in the winter and knit a sweater for her cat once. he hated it.

has an old senior tabby cat she lovingly named beef stroganoff.

has several spots in the woods where she checks for dead animals to preserve/collects bones from. simon always goes with her under the guise of 'making sure she's safe', she thinks it's just because he wants an excuse to get out of the house. the first few times he hated the sight of them but has since gotten used to it. david has not.

struggles with depression and anxiety just as simon does, it's something they bonded over when they met.

her and simon met in high school. her and david met later on at a party when simon introduced them.

her room is always messy but very cozy- each wall covered in framed photos, posters, art projects and random decor she finds at thrift shops.

she's close with her family but hasn't told them any of the things simon has done. she doesn't want them to worry about who she's hanging out with, or trying to stop her. she also doesn't mention david's past when they eventually meet him and start asking questions.

likes going out to parties and concerts and big get togethers but she doesn't have the chance to go very often. she has a group of friends outside of simon and david but she doesn't see them nearly as much as she would like to.

loves deer. has a stuffed animal deer she's had since she was a kid that she never sleeps without.

lives off peppermint hot chocolate. it's a problem.

has a collage on her wall of all the photos simon has taken of her and him together. some are of just her and others are of spots that are important to them. she thought about taking it down after his confession but decided to keep it up after he started to get better.

doesn't smoke but never cares when simon does. he tries not to around her and she always has to remind him that she doesn't care.

she's the one who got simon into urban exploring. once breaking a window with a rock and simply saying 'whoops' before climbing in where in he chased after her terrified of her getting hurt.

loves her studies but hates being at the school. gets picked on a lot and doesn't like being stuck there for hours. she's gotten better at standing up for herself but would rather fade into the background most days.

has thought about moving away before but feels stuck on where she'd go and what she'd do. doesn't want to leave her friends or family but feels stagnant in Stockholm.

loves wearing bracelets and necklaces and rings- has made a lot of them herself in her ceramics class and by picking up bead work from her grandpa.

struggles with depersonalization and derealization causing a lot of her days to blend together, hours, days, weeks of her life feeling like she never lived them. she fills out planners and calendars and journals in an attempt to hold onto the memories but most of the time she doesn't even recognize her handwriting. her brother helps ground her, something to focus on, a way to remember what day it is and where she needs to be, same with her projects. it's not a perfect solution, but it's all she has.

fucking adores Christmas it is her favorite time of year. she is insanely prepared every year and has perfected the act of gift giving to an unsettling degree.

Purnell is a therapist she was recommended when she went to the school counselor after a particularly bad episode, she didn't end up going but later passed his name to simon. she doesn't know if he ever went either. she hopes he did.

has a lot of nightmares. she wakes up from them frantic and convinced something is wrong- either with herself or her family, and gets anxiety sick around them. she has trouble sleeping and has made a lot of late night concoctions from recipes off the internet to get herself to pass out.

gamer but casually. except for that one time she stayed up for a solid 26 hours grinding in a game and then missed school for three days. enjoys simulator games and cozy mystery stuff. was introduced to silent hill by simon and she's been hooked to horror since though.

Simon:

19 - he/him - bi

loves photography and wants to be a either a photographer or a filmmaker. he loves movies and talks about them constantly.

single child. it's only him and his mom and sometimes his aunt who visits from a few towns over every few months.

his dad died when he was younger- this is where he gets his switchblade from. it was a gift that he cant seem to let go of.

his moms is so worried about him partly because of his dad's death and due to his suicide attempt when he was 16. she's overprotective and constantly wanting updates on where he is and who he's with. he's never liked it but knows it's coming from a place of love so he always responds.

adores horror. reads a lot of horror books and binges horror movies. has a top ten list that he will recommend to anyone who will listen. his taste is kind of ass but his friends love him for it.

favorite color is red and buys Everything in said color. phone? red. jewelry for his piercings? red. pajamas and casual wear? red. lighter? red.

likes going out for really late walks when no one else is awake. it calms him down and makes him feel like he can breathe. he sneaks out a lot and comes home once the sun comes up before his mom wakes up.

his mom works two jobs to keep them afloat so he's alone a lot of the time. after his dad died they had to move into a smaller house and she had to work more hours to pay for his school. he tries helping out when he can.

he works at a movie rental store and hates every customer with a passion. sophie and david come to pester him most days and they're the only thing that keeps his attention on what he's doing. unless someone asks him for a recommendation. then he won't shut up.

has a cat named molly. she's a long-haired calico he found as a stray in his neighborhood that he couldn't help but bring home. david told him to name her LSD. he took sophie's suggestion of molly instead. he still hasn't realized she also suggested a drug name yet.

he feeds the stray cats in his neighborhood outside his bedroom window. even after his mom got on his ass about stopping doing that since it was attracting so many of them. he ignored her, obviously.

has an extensive music collection that he rarely shares with anyone else. sophie has gotten a peak at it once but he keeps it very close to his chest. she isn't sure why.

he likes drawing and painting. he doesn't do it very often, not having the money for expensive materials or the space but he still enjoys his art class at school and keeps a sketchbook in his bag when he leaves the house.

his phone is constantly out of storage due to the amount of pictures he takes. he fights with it daily to keep the ones that are 'super important'.

cuts his own hair and doesn't really care what it looks like, just that it's There. he wears his hood most of the time anyways so he barely pays it any mind.

likes taking photos of his friends and his family. he likes reminders of when things are good, physical things he can look at and hold when his depression gets bad.

struggles with depression, anxiety, and paranoid hallucinations. he doesn't know what causes them and tends to hide them when he has them, not telling anyone except for sophie, who attempts to comfort him but has a hard time doing so.

got over his crush on sophie after realizing how much he had scared her. how much he had hurt her accidentally and how sick it made him feel when he realized who he was turning into. he isolated himself a lot during this and has only started to get better after opening up to purnell- who sophie insisted he see- and david, who lets him rant as long as he wants when they smoke together.

he met david downtown when he nearly ran into him and they got into a fist fight before sitting on the curb together and smoking with broken noses and shitty lives to talk about. he was nervous about introducing his friends to each other because he didn't want sophie to be worried and he didn't want david rubbing off on her.

knows how to use so many guns because his dad used to take him hunting. he didn't learn a lot and his use of firearms is rusty but it's enough.

keeps to himself in school and doesn't really talk to anyone unless spoken to first, and even then he's really awkward. he's got anger issues and has a hard time not defaulting to aggression but he's working on it. he's trying to, at least.

wears mismatched socks everyday like it's a competition

UNBELIEVABLY messy eater- a lunch tray hates to see this man coming. it's gotten so bad to the point he just washes all his own dishes because he cannot eat without a mess to save his life. also a fast metabolism so he's constantly snacking or stealing food from his friend's houses

has an old laptop that he's had since middle school. it was his only Christmas present one year and he has drug it everywhere with him since. it's screen has a crack across it and the keyboard is dented in on one side. its loved, is always what he says.

gamer but doesn't really mention it to people. has an unhealthy amount of hours in the games he enjoys and makes a point to 100% everything he does. has weird niche knowledge about the development of his favorite games and has a really hard time not spoiling twists for people when he's excited. has on more than one occasional completely ruined the experience for sophie and she has never forgiven him. enjoys story driven games and horror/stealth based stuff- would adore the first outlast. he plays shooters but has a hard time focusing on them and loses interest pretty fast.

love/hate relationship with his photography professor. he's one of his best students and his teacher loves his work, praising it's ability to capture 'melancholic normalcy' he calls it, but simon also has a horrible time turning things in on time and thinks his teacher's assignments are lackluster, constantly pushing the boundaries of what he's allowed to turn in. he knows simon has a talent, he just isn't using it properly. not in class at least.

earbud user. constantly has them on him and has had to replace them an embarrassing amount of times, he wants to use headphones but he hates how they feel over his hood and under his hood so he sucks it up and uses earbuds.

Always has bandages on his fingers from picking at his nails until they bleed and from frequent paper cuts from his journal- namely from ripping it's pages out- so he goes through boxes upon boxes of them on small scrapes and cuts. The same treatment is applied to his sneakers, of which he's had since high school, that are held together with duct tape and love.

David:

23 - he/him - gay? he doesn't know but like, he has a hunch

oldest brother to two younger sisters. one of which he still talks to and one he hasn't seen since he was a kid.

doesn't talk to his parents. occasionally gets a call from his mom that lasts for hours but then doesn't hear from her for months. he and his dad don't get along.

out of rehab and working at a diner in Stockholm as a cook. he makes good enough pay to have an okay apartment and a car but doesn't have a lot of stuff. he's getting there.

moved to Stockholm after the events of AOM and needing a new start. he wanted somewhere to start fresh. more or else that's what he's getting.

knows a lot about mythology and different religions, going on tangents about the topic when he's high or sleep deprived, always startling sophie and simon with just How Much he knows. they always ask about it and he brushes them off.

he was raised in a cult. his parents extremely religious and overbearing as he was growing up, leading to his desperation to dissociate. this is why he and his dad don't get along, and why he cherishes the small connection his mom still attempts to make with him. his sister he still talks to got out sometime after he did, but the youngest didn't, and neither of them know where she is. he always tries to ask, his mom never has an answer.

still struggles with his addiction. he's doing better, but some days are worse than others when all he wants is to go back. those days he usually picks up more shifts at work or calls simon to see if he's free to go break shit in the woods.

he experiences hallucinations. voices and images and things that aren't there a common part of his day to day that he's surprised simon can relate to. they don't talk about them much, but both have a silent understanding whenever the other just wants to sit and let the world pass.

clicked with sophie really fast when they met- she reminds him of his youngest sister, and he sorta treats her as such. she noticed but hasn't brought any attention to it, enjoying the experience of having an annoying older brother who she can pester.

he likes to play guitar, wanted to be a professional guitarist but never had the chance. his sister keeps telling him to go for it again, that there's still time, but he can't see it going anywhere. he refuses to play for anyone else, only letting her hear what he's working on or what he's relearned to do after so long without touching the thing.

watches a LOT of drama shows and trash reality TV. has frequent noise complaints from shouting at his TV.

has a roommate named lydia who he has a tense relationship with. she's constantly on his ass about the mess and general upkeep of his own room and he's on her all the time about the shitty friends she brings around and how much noise she makes when he's trying to sleep. he's been kicked out enough times to know he needs to find another place he just doesn't know where to look.

wants to get a dog but has a hard time finding apartments that are pet friendly. wants to rescue one from a pound or shelter since it reminds him of the dog his family rescued when he was a kid.

isn't Swedish but is slowly learning the language to better familiarize himself with the city- simon and sophie help out and he's always embarrassed about how much he messes up or how he needs help from- in his words- 'a bunch of loser teenagers'

has a beat up old flip phone that has survived through many different moves, a trip to rehab, several breakups, a mid-life crisis, and getting run over like three times. it is stronger than any of us.

gives simon rides to class when he doesn't want to take the bus and each time simon has a new CD to add to his already bursting case that can barely fit in his glovebox. he never tells him no. he sometimes wishes he would though, the kid's taste in music is unbelievably depressing. one time david told him so and the next time simon got in his car he chucked a kids bop CD at him to prove a point. david played the entire thing in front of him for a week.

only shaves if forced at gunpoint- usually by his sister or coworkers.

terrified of hospitals and hates going if he doesn't have to. was once stabbed and begged lydia not to take him and to just deal with it there. the wound didn't heal right and the scar is mangled across the side of his stomach.

always makes sure his car and/or apartment is full of snacks and easy to make meals because he knows half the time he won't feel up to cooking or he'll toss them at sophie and simon because he knows they barely feed themselves.

the first time simon and sophie saw him in just his turtleneck without his hoodie over it they thought he was a different guy.

he likes writing music in his free time, random lyrics and meanings and thoughts written in the margins of his notepad or scrambled in his phone on break, he gets a lot of inspiration when walking around town or hanging out at the old abandoned mental hospital in the woods that sophie and simon always drag him to.

the scar under his eye is from an accident when he was a kid, tripping down a flight of stairs and hitting into a bookcase that knocked out one of his teeth as well.

really likes birds, knows a lot about them and is able to easily identify most of them. he has a lot of weird knowledge that he can pull out at random about all sorts of things.

gamer and is the worst about it. claims his taste is above everyone elses and he just, plays shooters and a lot of zombie games. gets bored of dialogue heavy games and simon has had to- on more than one occasion- smother him so that he doesn't talk through an important cutscene. has an insane amount of hours in farming simulator.

The reason he wears a turtleneck, other than constantly being cold, is to hide severe scarring on his throat from repeatedly being hanged as a child. It was a common punishment in the cult he grew up in as a sort of "use your breathe wisely or else we will take it from you". It was an extreme form of silence punishment for "talking back" to his parents or the leaders. This left him unable to walk or eat properly for days or weeks at a time, which is why to this day his voice is very hoarse and gruff, his vocal cords never really recovered.

[albino-parakeet]

so is anyone else thinking about Yoshiki having pictures he took of Hikaru (actual Hikaru, not "Hikaru") and being sad about that or is it just me.

[lighthouseas]

so uh

[marielschism]

i got prequalifying examinations tomorrow so i can keep being a psych major and if i don't pass those four specific 100 item exams i am not a real psych major and i deserve to get burnt at the stake for my crimes 😀 also i have to repeat the exam if i fail or i'll be forced to shift courses so thats like 3 years of suffering down the drain.

but also i have a confession: i haven't studied at all. so failing is a Very Real Thing bc i foolishly thought id be lucid enough to study during the last week and i am not. i dealt with a good case of summertime sadness (i have depression), spent my summer talking to people on dating apps and crying and going to the movies and playing sims 4 😀 i'm just. failure is very real and very corporeal for me. wish me luck?

[eorzeashan]

saw that ETL post about needing to have respect for your enemy to both loathe and love them, and sat there for awhile thinking about it in Eight's terms because when do I not have thoughts about him, lol.

Eight gives as much respect as he can to whoever he kills, but he can never despise them, unless they truly are someone who has fallen into depravity and cowardice (i.e. Valkorion). Even for someone like Arcann who effectively stole 5 years of his life away and hurt countless lives in pursuit of a rather close-minded goal, he could only judge him on what he saw of him on the battlefield in their private duels-- and that was Senya's son who fought every single time to destroy Valkorion. A conviction that he was unafraid to die for. Even "judging" is a loose term when it comes to his enemies because he cannot actually judge based on any morality: he can only see the full extent of their devotion to their own cause no matter how small and their lives in the few minutes before it is cut away.

People tend to show their true selves to him when they know these are their final moments, so he understands the full weight of taking that life. There is nothing glorious nor honorable about it. In fact, it only reaffirms that war is truly hell- where even the most fulfilling of lives can be struck down the same as the most insignificant ones. To that end, he believes true warriors should understand this: taking anything more from your enemy after taking their life is abominable; no killer should find peace or satisfaction from murder. An odd statement from one who does nothing but kill, but he despises the thought that killing is anything other than the act itself no matter how you dress it up. It can be for a worthy cause, but it should be seen for what it truly is at the end of the day.

That's also why he seems to bide his time waiting for the penultimate battle that barely lasts 10 minutes the entirety of a war. Everything else is just steps leading up to that. He conceals and holds back everything until he can meet his enemy face to face, which is why he essentially got...bored waiting to strike at Ardun Kothe, since it took forever to get to him with a bunch of menial tasks. He's a guy who does everything 0 to 100. It was the same with Hunter.

The real tragedy of Hunter was that they both knew they were very nearly the exact same-- only that Hunter could not stand up to him martially and once caught, was as good as dead. Eight just barely came out on top because of his doggedness and the fact that Watcher 2 and Keeper acted as his tactical minds. I think he wished Hunter could've met him on the same level in battle, but the way both of them fought was too different, despite the way they lived being extremely similar.

I guess the end point of this analysis is that Eight devotes his entire being to the fine point of a blade because it carries all the meaning in the world and none at all when it comes to those he meets and inevitably kills. You can attribute it partially to being Echani as yet another culture that thrives off war, but killing itself means nothing. It has no honor. It is yet another duty only he can carry out because of his detachment and dedication to it that surpasses everything. To his dear enemy that he meets for the first time on the battlefield, he'll give them his entire life- a meaningless thing designed to cut theirs.

[fivefeetfangirl]

'Babe are you okay you haven't done your 91w posting today'

HSJDHSJDH NOO 😭😭😭😭😭

my phone shut down and wont work so i spent the whole day in the car NOT reading 91w like i wanted to. im not kidding i spent almost 10 hours in a car WITHOUT 91W!!! my hands are shaking i need to read

[blczin-gunwicldcr]

😔

[sugarsweets9987]

If you like Lear fan content, you should look at the blog ask-characters. They have asks open for Lear and have done a lot of posts for him!

Maybe I should! It'll definitely be a fun scroll to check out what they've posted prior! Thank you for making me aware of this blog :)

[daenysx]

lovely Hii

Can i get poly!marauders x fem reader where maybe she has been exhausted and busy lately and maybe they’re giving her some space cause they dont know if she wants affection now but she sees them all lovey dovey with eachother all the time and she feels sad cause she wants to join but feels too shy to ask so she tries to discreetly slip back and one of them notices?

Im sorry if that is a bunch of gibberish but i have been awake for over a day now and my brain is fried (i hate uni)

thank you for requesting, i hope you enjoy <333

(comments are always appreciated and i literally need to see what you think to keep writing, angels. of course i can't force you to send me anything but it would be amazing if you take two seconds to tell me what you think. it's not always easy to keep doing something without getting any feedback about it ♡)

poly!marauders x fem!reader

the relationship between james and remus has always been somewhat chaotic.

they have huge chemistry, maybe something like opposites attract situation. remus is calm when james is bubbling with excitement, remus loves with silent kisses when james loses his breath as he makes love, remus likes rationality when james swims deep in his emotions.

you watch them flirt as they sit on the couch. you're at the table across them in the living room, staring at your laptop screen with exhausted eyes. it probably would be easier to complete what you've been writing if you could have more energy, but sadly you sit all tense and cold at your place. your arms get the chills, you avoid looking at your lovers.

if you leave the table to join them, james and remus would welcome you with open arms. the mere thought of james's lips against your forehead and remus's fingers rubbing your neck makes you want to cry loudly. it's just torturing yourself, but you don't think you're strong enough to ask for love. you need to get this done. you need to think about the classes you gotta pass.

james kisses a line on his boyfriend's cheek, so warm, remus practically loses his mind. "where's sirius?" james asks, remembering sirius leave for the kitchen minutes ago. "is he burning up our kitchen, do you think?"

"we would've notice."

"no, we wouldn't." james whispers. "you're too damn distracting."

remus melts. autumn always brings starvation for touch and loving, two things james is the best at giving. he looks at your way briefly, your droopy eyes worry him.

"she seems so tired." remus says, his lips kiss james's knuckles mindlessly. "should we say something to make her give a break?"

"she said the essay has a deadline, moons." james answers. "i mean, she clearly needs a break, but i'm not sure if we should interrupt her."

it's hard to decide because you get nervous with breaks sometimes. you complain about not controlling the time good enough when you're spending your free minutes with them and being unable to finish stuff at time. you say most of this teasingly, but the boys know there's always some truth in it.

sirius walks into the room with a big mug in his hands. he carries it carefully to your table. james and remus watch the scene, their hands together and legs tangled.

"here it is." sirius puts the mug on the table. "a perfect cup of hot chocolate for my gorgeous girl."

you look at him with the widest eyes. you can't cry. fuck, he's so sweet. he smiles, he looks so handsome with his old t-shirt and messed up hair. you close your laptop, curve your lips to stop yourself from crying.

"this is so nice, siri." you say to him, unshed tears clog your throat. "thank you."

"um- can i get a kiss? i spend fifteen minutes for this."

you nod with a smile, he leans down for you. you only mean to kiss his cheek, but he smells so good and he's so kind- your hand shakes as it touches his shoulder. it doesn't take sirius long to understand what's going on. he manages to hug you before you start crying.

"oh, baby, no-" he says with a sad voice. he attempts to make a joke. "you can't cry for hot chocolate- i'm sure it doesn't even taste that good."

james and remus sit straight with worry. "dove?" remus leaves the couch. "what's wrong?"

"are you okay?"

you nod, they probably won't believe it. you hold onto sirius, he lifts you up from the chair. it's a proper hug now, your skin tingles with the sensation. it feels so good to be touched.

"it's okay." sirius kisses your head. "you're just overwhelmed. you're okay."

you keep your head on sirius's chest. he's warm and his arms are strong, he supports your body to help you stay on your feet. remus brings his hand on your waist, his thumb gently draws a circle.

"can we go to bed?" you ask. separating yourself from sirius is hard, but it's harder to stay vertical. james extends a hand to you, you hold it greedily. they are all thinking the same thing, you'll calm down but you need to feel safe enough with your surroundings to do that. even though they'd like to keep you stuck in their arms, this might not be the best idea.

the bed is cold. it will pass in a few minutes. remus takes you under the blanket, james adjusts the pillows. sirius has a wrinkle between his eyebrows, he gets behind you on bed and wraps his arm around your shoulder. you sniffle softly, suddenly embarrassed by all the attention.

"sorry." you offer, your voice sounds sincerely sorry. "i don't know what came over me."

"i think we should be sorry." remus says. "jamie and i were talking about whether we should tell you to take a break but- we didn't wanna distract you. we should've distract you."

"it's not your fault that i can't manage my time doing stuff i've been doing for years." you say, weakly. "i'm just sick of being tired. i guess i- missed you."

sirius gives you a generous kiss on the side of your head. "you can jump on us any time you want, you know that, gorgeous."

"i think my head doesn't work like that when i'm exhausted."

"it doesn't have to." james says. his voice is like honey. "you don't have to ask for anything. we should be giving you everything before you even have to ask."

"he's right." remus agrees. "it should be like this for all of us, i think."

you nod. your eyes have a grateful look in them, they are undeniably tired, but still pretty to your boys. the bed is warmer. you force yourself to stop counting down the minutes for deadlines. james puts his head on your chest, hugs you as your back touches the bed, his arms are tight around you like you'll run away.

it's good to be touched. it's amazing to have contact with their hands, safe and secure, you can do anything you want if you always feel like this. remus kisses your fingers. his eyes are gentle. they are all so gentle, kind with you, you feel like you'll never break as long as you have them.

sirius's kisses help you fall asleep at the end. he's always bold with his affections, this time he manages to be softer with his lips and more tender with his hands. long fingers in your hair, chapped lips on your skin. he whispers how much he adores you, the tone of his voice hits your mind so well. you are okay. you think you'll be okay, and that's a nice beginning to get things done.

[luveline]

Hi Jade! I absolutely love your writing, especially when you write for Eddie or Steve. Love these two. I was wondering if you could write about an insucure reader who has been rejected a lot and doesn't believe it when someone actually starts loving her for who she is. I'd love this with either Eddie or Steve . You can choose who you want to write for. If you don't wanna write something like this, that's fine too. Just know that I love your writing!

ty for requesting!! —you have a hard time believing eddie loves you, but he does. fem, 1.1k

“Oh my god.” 

Eddie freaks you out when he talks like that. His voice turns hoarse, almost grainy, like he’s in shock, or he can’t get a grip. 

“That’s what you’re wearing?” he asks. 

“It’s not alright?” you ask, looking down at your outfit. It’s just jeans and a chunky cardigan. He sounds like he loves it, but your brain goes straight to worry anyhow. 

“No, not alright.” He leans back against your pillows, his arms behind his head and his biceps doing something cruel against his shirt sleeves. “Not alright at all. Do a spin?” 

You shake your head severely. 

“Doll,” he says, pouting gently. “Please?” 

“No, if it looks bad, I’ll change,” you say. 

“It doesn’t look bad! I’m kidding. You look the opposite of bad, so do a spin!” 

You love his voice and the way he talks, and you love him —though of course he doesn’t know it— so you end up doing a slow spin for him in your bedroom. You’ve buttoned the top button of your cardigan and it’s a very static movement, but he oohs, ahs, and sits up quickly. 

“Yeah, you look fucking beautiful.” 

“Boo,” you mumble. 

“Just as I suspected you would.” He gestures you forward. “Wait, come over here a second.” 

Eddie says wait as an act of persuasion, or a white lie; he makes it sound as though there’s something urgent afoot, but there never is. He grabs your arm when you’re close enough, then your back, looking up into your face imploringly. “I just wanted to look at you.” Being held like this warms you from the inside out. His hand scrunches your cardigan and shirt, the other bringing your arm to his chest. “But you guessed that.” 

“No, I…” You smile in a flat line. “You’re sure I look good?” 

“Of course I am. I was kidding,” he says, softer now. “You know? I was being sarcastic, because you look that good it’s crazy to imply you look bad. I promise.” 

You sit down on the bed beside him. 

“You look so pretty,” he says. 

You nod as a strange ache blossoms in your throat. “Sorry,” you say, wishing you could explain it to him. You weren’t always scared of what people are thinking, but past dismissal has left you off kilter, and now he’s paying the price. 

“For what, angel?” he asks, though he’s not waiting for an answer. “You’re…you do look beautiful, you do, I’m not messing around. Well, I was. But I’m not now, so don’t be sorry, and don’t worry. I love this stuff, I fucking love the jeans, you have nice thighs,” —he laughs at your tired sigh— “and I love buttons. These buttons are great.” 

You let your cheek rest gently on his arm, still laughing. He’s such a sweetheart when he wants to be, but he’s not half as cool as he thinks he is. He’s too earnest to be a bad boy. “Thank you.” 

“I love you.” 

You shake your head. Eddie’s wrapping his arms around you, pulling you closer, face encouraged into his neck. “I do,” he says gently. “I’ve told you before, haven’t I?” 

“Yes.” 

He brings his hand to the back of your neck. “Mm. And have I given you any reason to think I’m lying?” 

“I don’t think you’re lying, I just think that… that I… you know.”

“I know. Doesn’t make it true.” He sounds a peculiar mixture of sad and happy at once. Find concern, perhaps, or loving derision. “I love you, and I’d love it if you walked around in bobbly sweaters and clogs. I don’t care what you wear, ‘cos it’s you.” 

“There’s nothing even that good about me to feel that way for.” 

“You don’t think so, but I do.” He turns his face down to you and presses the bridge of his nose to your temple. 

His t-shirt smells like clary soap. You curl your hand into the front of it, the soft wall of his abdomen underneath a familiar comfort. He hugs you tighter still. Eddie’s told you he loves you a few times, and you’d thought that when a guy finally felt the same way about you, everything would be fixed, you could say it back and live happily ever after, but it hasn’t worked out that way so far. Every time he tells you he loves you, you’re paralysed by the idea that he can’t. But then he holds you like this and you start to wonder if he’s telling the truth. 

He kisses the side of your face. “You okay?” he asks, kissing you again to punctuate. 

“Yes. Yeah.” You work your arms behind his back and squeeze him. 

Eddie encourages your head back carefully. He meets your eyes; all you can see is his irises, deeply brown, and his long lashes where they tent together. You’re too close to see his lips, but you can sense that he’s smiling from the warmth in his eyes and the slight droop of his eyelids. 

“Kiss?” he murmurs. 

You hum a yes. Eddie nudges your nose with his until there’s space to kiss you, your lips pressed tight and then less so, a dance of sweet kisses. You relax under his touch, the physical evidence of his affection, so totally that your back clicks. He smiles into your mouth but pulls away, too tempted by the opportunity to make a joke. 

“You need a masseuse,” he says, bringing his hand to your cheek. 

“No, I don’t.” You can practically see the steam radiating off of your cheeks. 

“You totally do. I could give you a massage, babe. I’m really good.” 

“No… we’re going to the movies.” 

“See, that sounds like you do want one. I can give you one later.” 

You look at him for too long, his brows pulling together in concern, but it’s nothing he has to worry about. “Love you,” you say quickly, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him in for another hug. 

His arm stutters at your side. “I love you,” you correct. The ‘I’ is important, especially when he’s never heard it from you before. It’s easy to love someone so patient, and so funny. 

He hugs you tight and sudden. “Yeah,” he says, “I love you too.” His watch digs into your spine. You don’t tell him. It’ll probably bruise, but you just don’t care. It’s nice to be loved fiercely. 

[dadsbongos]

megumi x airhead fluff please don’t let gege get u again 😔

iehjejeueueh

GASP this has been in my drafts so long and i totally forgot about it, i am sooo sorry nonny :')

761 words no big warnings just fluff n idiots pining, not super proofread

the ghost of gege has been cleansed from my soul!!! ~~~

“Do you really think that?”

Megumi stiffly avoids your gaze, soon after shrugging, “Yeah. What of it?”

You frown, and it could be how attuned he is to your mood but Megumi swears the sudden shift actually overhauls the entire room’s energy. Something morose and slithering around the darkness, somehow the gloominess only thickens in the areas sparsely lit by Megumi’s lamp.

“That’s sad,” you lean up from your sit and onto your knees, fingertips just barely pressing into the springs below, “You’re not a bad person, ‘gumi.”

“I don’t think I’m the devil,” he turns his whole head to avoid your piercing stare, “Just not a good person.”

“That’s sad!” now you’ve flung your hands up on his shoulders, squeezing down his arms as if a heartbroken widow clutching her poor, dead husband, “‘gumi you’re the best guy I know!”

Scrunching away from you, Megumi presses his back into the headboard of his bed, swallowing harshly and continuously dodging your stare, “Yeah, sure.”

“Hey,” you whine, now squishing his hands between yours, “You are! You’re super nice all the time, and you’re way smart.”

The accusation of kindness pulls a little chuckle from Megumi, especially considering how often Yuuji and Nobara curse his nasty attitude. He cannot comprehend why you’d marvel over him this way, or in any other way for that fact. Megumi’s eyes flutter shut, he soaks up the warmth of your hands on his, and your face by his cheek. If he dared lean up, he’d easily be able to kiss you (he’s not so bold, he thinks he’d rather die actually).

“And you’re so pretty,” you tack on, as if you can sense the worst possible thing to say right now.

Though, Megumi knows better -- you’re soft and mellow, his opposite if anything. The knowledge of your earnesty in the compliment does nothing to calm his racing heart, or the raging red slathering his face.

“Whatever…” Megumi sinks down until he’s laid back on his mattress. He sucks in air slowly, boring holes into the ceiling rather than your face, “You’re pretty, too. And you’re nicer than me,” he cringes, “If you’re still sure I’m nice.”

“You are,” you lay beside him, petting a hand over the bunches and wrinkles in his sleep shirt, “You’re being nice now! You let me come over after my nightmare.”

“You sounded scared,” he tries to shrug off the praise, but your words are clinging to his brain stubbornly, “Why would I make you sleep alone after that?”

“Exactly,” you’re bolder than Megumi, bold enough to spike your chin onto his chest, “You’d be a great boyfriend.”

“You don’t say,” he chokes out, heat clogging his cheeks and red burning into a deep crimson. He prays the dim light emitting from his nightstand doesn’t expose the sight to you. 

A melodic knock on Megumi’s door makes the duo flinch, and despite logic telling him nothing is wrong Megumi lets his arm come around your waist protectively. When its Satoru that pokes his head in, the boy grumbles.

“Hey, problem children,” Satoru coos, “if you’re gonna break rules, at least move apart when your teacher comes to scold you.”

“They had a nightmare,” Megumi’s hold on you tightens, “they didn’t wanna be alone.”

“Is that right?” Satoru’s blindfold is still snug around his face, but Megumi can feel his teacher’s stare pointed at where your head lays on his chest.

You nod viciously, “It was so scary! I thought I died for real, so ‘gumi let me stay with him so I don’t have another one.”

“Well how sweet,” Satoru taps the doorframe, “But c’mon, time for everyone to go to their own rooms.”

“Huh, no way!” you cry in protest, rocketing up straight.

“No way,” Megumi parrots.

Raising a brow, Satoru grins at his student’s sudden audacity, “You want me to stay in here with you both, then?”

“You want me to tell Yaga about the secret number in your phone?” Megumi glares, “The one you know by heart.”

Satoru grimaces down at the boy, then sighing and back out of the room, “Don’t do anything to make Yaga yell at me.”

“Wow, ‘gumi, you really got him.”

“He’s easy to wrangle, like training a big, stupid dog,” Megumi feels his heart thundering in his chest the longer you go without saying anything, simply sitting there and grinning at him, “What?”

“You stood up for me.”

“Duh.”

“That was really nice of you.”

He rolls his eyes, grabbing you by the arm and pulling you back onto him, “Yeah, whatever.”

[kaciebello]

Us before you and me

Masterlist Luke Castellan x Hades! reader (implied, fem) Summary: Luke and the readers’ relationship before they became a couple. Luke is an absolute loser when it comes to crushes. Warning: no use of y/n, luke is a total looser author note: English is not my first language so I am sorry for any mistakes beforehand. Proofread by me and me only (Ｔ▽Ｔ) word count: 1,3k

Luke Castellan was 14 when he came to the camp, and he was sad. Not only did he just lose a friend that turned into a tree, but he had to pretend to like his dad.

Now that he was 15, his mind was somewhere else, his friends to be exact. He tried to make friends with everyone. But these two in the Hermes cabin just caught his eye. They argued all the time, it was almost unbearable, and yet they refused to sleep anywhere but next to each other. It has been a few months since they got here, and somehow their banter has extended to him.

So now that he and Chris were watching the Aphrodite girlies, Chris had dragged him out. He was talking about something Luke did not care about. He only started to pay attention when he slapped him. Luke gave him a confused look.

“You're not even looking man,” Cris says.

“Because it's creepy!” Luke argues back. It was creepy, they disguised themself as resting campers next to the Aphrodite cabin. To him, and everyone else, it looked like Cris just discovered what a woman is. Granted, they just turned 15, so he is certain that was the case. Luke couldn't bring himself to care. When he thought about girls only one face came to his mind, and he was not about to confess that to his friend.

“Don't you see them! They look good!” Chri says back. 

“I like someone already.” Chris looks at him with a deadpaned look. Absolute silence. Maybe Luke really should not have said anything. According to Chris, Luke could have anyone in the camp. Even crowing him as the heartthrob of the camp.  Luke tried to move on as fast as he could from this conversation, however, Chris's attention was sparked, and would not let go of the conversation.

They kept going back and forth and none of them noticed a familiar girl come their way.

“ Stop spying on the aphrodite cabin like they are some prey!” She says, effectively tearing them out of their argument.

“ Prey?? What are we? Animas?” Luke was quick to defend himself. He didn't even want to be here.

“ Not you, you raging virgin,”  Chris says and gives him a side-eye. The girl just rolls her eyes. 

“I'm not a virgin!” Luke's voice cracked, not something he wanted to happen while defending his honor. His eyes snap to the girl, hoping that she would believe him. But she looked like she wouldn't even believe he had hair on his head. Luke signs defeat. There is no winning in this. He just has to come to terms with the fact that his crush thinks he's a total loser.

–

When Luke turned 16 he realized he wanted to look ripped. And he wanted to get girls, well a specific one but he will not say that aloud. He will tell you he just wants to be a better hero with glory and all that. However Luke was 16, and he had no better idea than to practice in front of his crush.

He was nervous. Sweating. He couldn't tell if it was from the sword fighting or her. She was just sitting down and looking at him. His heart was beating way too fast for his liking. So he was very glad when his opponent called it quits and he could rest.

He went and sat down next to the girl. She smiled and handed him a towel and cold water. He rolled his sleeves up his shoulders to feel some of the cold air. The girl had to do a double-take at him. He could see her in the corner of his eye looking at him. He flexed his arms just a little.

“ Exposing your biceps like that? What a slut.” She says. His eyes widen for a second before he composes himself. He turns to her with a smirk on his face.

“ You like that don't you.”  That stopped her in the tracks. He could practically see the clogs turn in her head.

“Maybe I do.” She says, her eyes fixated on his arms. Luke went red and looked away. He could feel her arm on him as she studied his mussels. He let her arm wander, they were seemingly in their world.  Her arms slip to his chest. He looked down and then back to her.

“ I know my pecs are big but can you stop objectifying me?” The girl stopped in her tracks and looked him dead in the eyes.

“Nah.” With that, she just continued to feel him up. He just let her.

—

Luke was 17 when one of his closest friends was claimed by Hades and had to move out of the cabin into a small room above the medical storage unit. He helped her move the stuff, not that she had much but still. When he walked into the room he saw her standing with Chris, who upon seeing him gave him a smirk. Luke sat the bag down and turned around to see Crish walking out giving him a wink.

Luke turned to the girl with a confused look. She just shrugged and thanked him for bringing the bag. He could feel the tension in the air. Luke looked around the room. It wasn't big, but it was something, and first and foremost it was private. Not something he could say about his bed. He looked at the girl again. She was not sporting a black camp shirt instead of an orange one. Fitting for a Hades kid. 

When his eyes got to her face his heart jumped to her throat for a bit. She was looking at him with a sheepish smile. 

“So Chris said-” Right then and there he knew. He knew his friend had said something he shouldn't.

“Don't believe Chris !” He yelped and grabbed her hand. Silently he begged her to forget whatever the boy told her. She raised her eyebrows at him.

“ So you don't get a major ‘love boner’ every time you see me?” A whine leaves Luke's lips.

“Why did he have to put it like that.” He says his voice high-pitched. The girl just let out a laugh.

—

Luke was 18 when he confessed. He was 18 when she confessed back. And he was 18 when he kissed his crush of 4 years.  He was 18 now lying in the Hermes cabin looking at the ceiling dreamingly. He could only remember what her hands and lips felt on him. The other 3 boys were taking none of that.

“He's a mess. Like mess mess.” Says Connor looking at his counsellor with a weird look, before turning to his brother who wore a similar expression.

“ Mess in distress but still the best dressed?” Answered Travis. He has been cursed by one of the Apollo kids to say things that rhyme but not really.  It's been going on for a week now with no sign of going away.

“He's definitely not best dressed, I can tell you that.” Says Chris sitting at the foot of Luke's bed cleaning his nails.

Lukes wasn't paying them attention. He finally achieved what he wanted since 15.  He could handle the teasing if it meant he could sneak into her room after calling lights out. One of the twins poked him in the ribs but he just swatted them away.

He could hear them say he was gone, but the only thing he could think about was his girlfriend. 

It was a year later when he was 19 and risked everything.

[writtenbymoonflower]

Book Blues

Your book is sad and Remus is sweet. fem!reader

800 words

cw: crying, brief mention of smut at the very end (if you blink you'll miss it)

It was far too late to be this awake and reading. In your defense, Remus was still awake too. He was downstairs finishing some report for work and you were upstairs, finishing your book. You didn’t have much left, and you were hoping to finish by the time Remus came up for bed. It made you happy that you and Remus could do your own things but still be as connected as ever at the end of the night. 

Still smiling to yourself, you returned to your book. You were right at the climax and you were scraping your eyes excitedly over the words. You could feel the tension of the scene building, and building, and building, until it all came crashing down. 

Something awful happened. 

As you continued to read you could feel tears well up in your eyes and your sinuses clog with sadness. It may be overdramatic to get this upset, but you loved this book! You felt like you knew these characters themselves and their tragedy affected you greatly. You stayed in the same hunched-over position until you finally reached the end through the blur of salty water in your eyes. You leaned against the headboard, hugging the traitorous book tight to your chest, finally allowing yourself to break down. 

It was a lot of tears for something that wasn’t real, but you couldn't help it! The story resonated with you. You choked out soft sobs, sniffling and hiccupping Through your sobs you couldn’t hear Remus’ gentle ascension up the stairs to your shared room. You couldn’t even hear the creak of your old door as he stepped in. You just kept sobbing. It wasn’t a full-on come apart, but it was clear you were very upset. In your curled position Remus couldn’t see the book in your arms, all he could see was your stained face and shaking shoulders. His heart wrenched, he wondered what had made you so sad.

He wondered what he would have to do if it was someone who made you this upset.

He wondered why you didn't come find him when you started crying.

“Hey Dove, what’s going on?” He tried to keep his voice even to not scare you, but you startled anyway. 

“Mm, ‘s nothing.” You reached one hand up to quickly wipe your damp face. He was obviously very nervous, and you felt bad about scaring your boyfriend. But, you still were processing your book and even if you could talk, he might tease you and your heart couldn’t take that right now. 

“If it was nothing I feel like you wouldn’t be crying this hard, Sweet Girl.” He made the short distance from the door to the bed in two long strides before sitting next to you and rubbing your back soothingly. “Come on, out with it.” He was growing more worried and impatient by the second. 

Physical affection wasn’t something Remus required all the time. He loved it, it just wasn’t a constant thing between the two of you, but he felt like right now called for it. He made quick work of uncurling your arms and turning to face you. He started to pull you into a proper hug but he was stopped by the foreign object in your lap. He pulled away to look down.

“Dove, what’ve you got?” He asked, confused. You looked at him with a sheepish smile. He picked up the book in your lap, recognizing it as the one you had been keeping on your bedside table the past few days. His brows furrowed and he looked confused, before realization fell over his features. “Is this what’s got you so upset?” His brown eyes found yours, looking for confirmation. 

“Yes,” You replied, slightly ashamed and ducking to avoid his eyeline.

“You worry me, poor girl.” He gently chided. His mouth was unturned in a teasing smile. “Was your book sad?” He quickly turned sympathetic, wiping your wet cheeks and nose with his sweater sleeve.

“It was so sad, Remmy.” You played hard into his pity. Your hand came up to wrap around his slim wrist and hold his palm against your face. 

“I’m sorry,” He pouted at you, teasing still flickering in his eyes. “Anything I can do to make you less sad?”

“Yes,” You said grimly, lashes wet with tears. “You can buy me another book.” Your face lit up as you finished the sentence.

“Cheeky,” He pulled your face to his chest, wanting to scold you but he was too endeared. 

“You asked, I was just honest.” You quipped, playful.

“Fair enough, I’ll just have to find you one that’s sadder. You’re a lot sweeter when you’re crying, you know?” 

“You didn’t think so earlier, you were scared.” 

“Well, I’ll just have to have you crying for me in another way.” Your cheeks flamed at the comment. “How does that sound, Dovey?”

[spidernuggets]

could you pretty please, if you have any request spaces left open, do a little something where y/n is like a ball of sunshine type character and nothing ever seems to break her or get her hopes down, but one day jason is suuupper pissed off about smth and he verbally takes it out on her and it makes her cry, and he feels bad immediately but won't admit to that just yet because he's in his asshole era (maybe this would fit titans jay better), and he just doubles down like why the hell are you crying that he's seen her handle waayy worse than this and still manage to stay upbeat, and she's like forcing herself to stop crying and pull herself together and she tells him it's cuz it's him and hes like oh of course you'd cry over me cuz I'm just so awful and she's like actually no cuz it hurts to be on the receiving end of his anger because she's a little bit in love with him. Angst is my absolute fav so that's why I'm asking for sadness 💔😢

Jason Todd x Sunshine!Fem!Reader

Note: Yayyy angst! 🥳����

"Oh, oh, of course it's me! Blame Jason Todd once again for being such a prick and an asshole!"

"Hey, Jay! Wanna train together?" You came skipping into the training room, seeing Jason already throwing a couple of strikes to a punching bag.

"Not today." He replies, refusing to look at you and continuing to hit the bag, quickly wiping the sweat dripping from his forhead.

"C'mon, just one quick sparring match, hm? Please! You said you'd show me how to do that cool headlock thingy," you kept your upbeat attitude, missing the memo that Jason was not having it today.

"Jesus, I said no! Would you fuck off, I'm busy," he raises his voice at you.

He was in a mood because just a few hours ago, Dick threatened to bench him if Jason couldn't keep in line. If Jason won't stop disobeying orders, Dick wouldn't think twice about taking the mask and cape away from him.

But when Jason raised his voice, your smile quivered. "Oh.. I'm sorry. Maybe later, yeah? I know sparring makes you feel better!-"

You were cut off by Jason, fully yelling at you this time. "For fuck's sake, can you not take a hint or are you really that fucking dense? I don't wanna fucking spar right now, and I don't wanna spar with you! So how 'bout you get this through your thick skull, and fuck off!" He didn't mean to say any of that. He mentally punched himself for ever opening his mouth.

He knows you just wanted to make him feel better, but his stupid brain made him take his anger out on you. He always admired your happy and positive attitude. He doesn't know how you keep it up. Every time you walked into the room, it was like an angel came in with a glowing aura accompanying you. And his heart always swelled at the fantasy that you shared that aura with him every time you spoke a word to him, every compliment you gave him, every smile you sent his way. He wanted to apologise, but his thick pride got in the way.

"I..." You could barely get a word out. Jason has never talked to you like that before. Hell, he never even raised his voice to you before. You hiccuped, your throat getting clogged up, and you felt like you needed to hurl whike your chest ached.

It was too late before you noticed the salty tears travelling down your reddened cheeks. And it was too late before Jason noticed his mouth talking faster than his brain could think.

"Fuck, now you're crying?" He scoffed, rolling his eyes. "There's literally nothing to cry over, and I shouldn't even need to tell you twice to leave me alone!" What the fuck, why won't he stop talking?

You tried to wipe away your tears and tug your lips upward to show at least half a smile, but a choked out whine escaped instead.

"Honestly, stop crying, would you?" He really couldn't stop himself. Words just kept vomiting out his mouth like that time he drank one brew too many last time he kicked some villain's ass. He liked that memory. Granted, he was throwing up buckets, but you were behind him as he was hunched over the toilet seat. You thought he'd forgotten the next morning, but he clearly remembered how you were right behind him, rubbing his back in comfort, telling him you'd stay with him as long as he wanted. He also remembered the way you supported him up while walking him back to his room. He remembered you tucking him into bed, placing a trash can beside it, making sure he's sleeping on his side. He remembered you quietly reminding him about the water bottle you left on his nightstand. He also remembered that bold and cheeky peck you left in the soft curls of his head while telling him to get some good rest.

"You literally got stabbed and had a near death experience, and you were smiling the whole time you were recovering! Now you're crying? And for what?!"

"You- You're being mean," you sniffled.

He scoffs again and lets out a sarcastic laugh. "Oh, oh, of course it's me! Blame Jason Todd once again for being such a prick and an asshole!"

You tried holding in your sobs, but that led to you almost choking on your held breath, your chest feeling full, and your head feeling sore. Jason wanted nothing more for you to slap him, hit him, shut him up. He wanted to tell you he didn't mean it, that he was sorry. He wanted to run up to you, hug you in a tight embrace, and tell you not to cry because he actually is a prick and an asshole.

"Literally, why the hell are you still even here! Get lost, I'm not gonna say it again!" He yells for the final time before going back to the punching bag. And after the few seconds he got back to it, he glanced at where you were standing and saw you were already gone.

He curled over, leaning his hands over his knees, panting furiously. He wasn't sure if the tiredness came from the punches or the yelling. Maybe both. But picturing the broken look on your face pissed him off even more. Not because you were sad. Because he was the one who made you sad. This made him hate himself even more.

He tore the boxing gloves off his hands, projecting them off somewhere in the room, and yelled out in anger. He didn't even notice he started crying himself.

It's been another couple of hours. Your cheeks were long dried, but that didn't stop your shallow breaths from shaking continuously.

You then heard light knocks coming from your door. You took 3 deep and calm breaths before going towards it to see who it was.

Jason was pretty much the last person you'd expect to be standing on the other side. Furthermore, him holding a small bouquet of flowers in his trembling hands was the last thing you'd expect him to present to you. But you were scared to make the wrong move that might tick him off again.

"Jason, can we talk later I-" You said slowly in a whisper, looking at the ground while shaking your head, trying to close the door on him.

"Y/n, please," he holds the door, leaving a little gap open between you and him. "I'm sorry. I- I shouldn't have yelled, and I-"

"No, Jason, stop. It's my fault. I shouldn't have pushed you, and I'm sor-"

"Don't you dare apologise." This time, when Jason raised his voice, it was different. It was softer. "It's not your fault. I was just angry, and I took it out on you. The only thing I was right about was that I am a prick and an asshole. And- and I took your gorgeous smile away from you, and-" He started to word vomit again, but this time, it made your lips tug upwards. "And I don't want you to fuck off or get lost. I never want you to get lost because your so amazing and."

He continued his rambles and didn't notice that you opened the door wider. He tore his gaze away from the ground, and his heart raced when he felt your hands cupped around his own that were holding the flowers.

"The flowers are really pretty, Jay," you smiled at him.

Your happiness was so magnetising that he mirrored your smile. But it faltered. "I'm sorry," he repeats. "You shouldn't have cried over me because of how much of an asshole I am.."

You sighed, taking the flowers from his grasp and holding them close to your chest, your finger gently gliding over some of the petals. "Let's be real, Jason, you're always an asshole. But... I was crying because you've never been so angry at me before. I was crying because I hated knowing that I was the one who pissed who off."

"Shit, oh, sweet thing, no," he quietly replied, holding both your shoulders, making you look at him. Your face warmed at the nickname. "You- You didn't piss me off. I was already pissed off before that. It was just bad timing, and me being a hot head- you can never make me angry."

Neither of you realised how the two of you were in such close proximity.

"Well... you can make it up to me?" You say, your spark of sunshine and optimism coming back.

"Yeah- yes, how, I'l do anything," Jason quickly replied.

You step back, walking to your desk, pulling an empty vase to put the flowers in. "There's a cute cafe that opened downtown," you started, admiring the arrangement of flowers. "Go with me?" You shyly ask, back still facing him.

Jason smiled wider, thinking that alone time with you would count as a date. "Of course, sugar. Anything else?"

You giggled and turned around and crossed your arms. "Yes. You're paying, obviously," you walked up to him.

"Obviously," he copied.

"And I want this to be a date." This was a new, bold side to you. You've never been this straightforward before.

Jason glances up to the ceiling for a few seconds, pretending to think. "Yeah," he places his his hands on your waist, your own resting on his chest. "I think that could be arranged."