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poppy-metal · 2 months

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augh grovelling loser married artashi.... i got really really carried away im so sorry

they want you back - they want you back so fucking bad. it haunts them every minute of every damn day. the memory of you hangs between them like a death sentence. art hates it. art's guilty over it. art remembers too well the feeling of fucking you, and he did fuck you, didn't "make love" to you the way he does with tashi. he fucked you, good and proper, like the whore you were. he dressed you in fancy clothes and pretended you didn't exist. he fucked you in hotel rooms and changed the sheets before tashi came back. every which way he wanted: rough, dirty, messy. bent over or on your knees or on your back. he spat on you, covered you in his cum, slapped you around, and the worst part of it all was you liked it. told him, "yeah, daddy, feels so good, daddy, more--"

tashi can close her eyes and conjure up that night she caught you two with painful ease. the night she made art "love" you, let you have that one nice thing before she turned you out. the night she reduced him to a crying, whimpering, begging mess, much to your shock, because that was what you looked like beneath him. and then that was it, it was over. you lost possibly the best fuck you'd ever had, and a few thousands you could have had in clothes, and you tried to move on.

they didn't. they lost the most passion and interest their bedroom life has had in ages. there was a sick connection there, between them, over you. through you, maybe. it felt good for tashi and art to have you, use you, own you. they liked it. they had been good together for you. what the fuck were they supposed to do now, when the ghost of you whispers through everything they do? a forgotten set of lingerie delivered to them, something tashi would never wear. a faint trace of cheap vanilla perfume, girlish and slightly floral, lingers on one of art's shirts. a photo resurfaces in an encrypted, secret camera folder of a dripping cunt squeezing around art's cock. you're everywhere, and you're gone.

art wants to go running back, but it takes a lot more effort for tashi duncan to grovel. to beg. but you were good for them. you might even be good for art's game, if he can have you with permission. so she relents. at first, it's gifts. with notes. expensive gifts - you know they could have only come from one place. shoes in your size. clothes to your measurements. a perfume, a lipstick, a giant arrangement of flowers. and you're trying to move on, really, you are, get a boyfriend your age who isn't married, but it's hard when you get to stare at the elegant, looping handwriting on all the expensive, cream-coloured stationary: come back. let us love you. let us take care of you. we love you. let us treat you like we should. a.d & t.d. and then you start to relent. coffee, at first. then brunches, dinners. a movie premiere, a concert for a band you like. you let them befriend you. you let art know you in a way he didn't before - your favourite foods and colours, the music you listen to, the nicknames your friends call you as inside jokes - and you let tashi meet you for the first time. how you take your coffee and how you like to dress. the car you drive and the way you eat your food.

god, and when they finally have you for the first time? well, they really, really want to show you how sorry they are. tashi eats you out with a meticulous precision - she's so good at it, and she hasn't gotten to eat a girl out in so fucking long. they spend ages with you, pressing kisses to every inch of your skin, telling you how beautiful you are, how well you behave for mommy and daddy. art mouths at your tits and your shoulders and your neck. they lavish you, worship you, revere you, because they're just so, so sorry. tashi preps you well for art's big cock. she plays with your clit while he fucks you - no, while he makes love to you.

you tell them you might need a few more apologies before you take them back.

KITTTTTTT

groveling artashi...... them buying you expensive gifts.... getting them to admit that you're the something missing from their marriage and they need you back to feed that spark - but they hurt you so bad. you felt used and discarded by them, always a second choice for art, just a toy for tashi to manipulate. it takes alot more than just pretty expensive gifts for you to consider falling back into their bed -

it's hard to keep your cool, though when art asks, with his expressive blue eyes and prince charming disposition - "be my girlfriend. please? i miss you." and it isn't lost on you that he doesn't include tashi in that statement, he's making it known he wants you on his own - and it's hard not to fold into his arms.

it's even harder when tashi asks. you didn't even know that was an option for her - that she desired you more than a sexual object. takes you on an expensive dinner date and slides close to you in the booth as she buys you wine. buys your whole meal, actually. "this could be all the time. if you let me take care of you - I know you want that. girls like you shouldn't be independent." stroking her finger down your arm. "you need a mommy." her hands on your knee now, sliding up the dress she'd had sent to your apartment specifically for tonight. the one you put on, despite everything. "and a daddy." you can't help but spread your thighs. you tell yourself it's fine because you haven't verbally given in yet, you haven't said the words. even if you let her slip a hand into your panties and stroke your cunt.

you don't say yes, even when she brings you to a hotel after and slips your dress off and lays you out and presses her slick pussy against yours - you don't say yes, but you do whine so pretty for her - you do spread your legs and let her fuck you, you do moan when she tells you she's going to ride art later and tell him about this - about your slick little pussy under hers - and how he's going to cum thinking about fucking you himself.

"he misses you so much. you're killing him - keeping this tight cunt to yourself. you know it belongs to daddy, baby. you know you're going to let us have you again and again and again, whenever we fucking want. keep making us work for it - it's just going to make it so much fucking better when you're back in our bed."

#ask #frens <3 #RAHHHHHHH #artashi x reader

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starlightsuffered · 1 month

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Possessive

Info - mommy kink, possessive sub, jealousy, knife kink, cutting body (not as SH), branding, dry humping, breast suckling, blood licking, cumming in pants, pain kink, a little baby talk

“You want this don’t you baby boy?” I asked him. He looked so nervous. His dark hair was damp with sweat. His long pale fingers were shaking as they held the switch blade.

This was a heady experience. I was under him. He held a sharpened dagger, and I had every bit of the power.

I caressed his sharp angles. He turned his head so he kissed my palm. He nuzzled into it like a cat. He was such a sweet boy, but I also liked the dark possessive side he had. I knew I could bring it out with a little bit of coaxing.

“Don’t you remember how those boys were looking at me at your Quidditch match?” I cooed. His face instantly twisted. He looked angry.

I smirked at him. He was holding his weapon more steadily now. He bit his bottom lip.

“You’re not theirs,” he said in a low voice.

“No I'm not,” I said in a coo. “But they were looking at me quite a lot.”

“Mmmm,” he nearly growled. His cock twitched though both of us were clothed other than my shirt that laid on the dormitory floor.

“You loved that outfit, remember Reggie?” I asked him. I ran my hand down his tanned arm. Some of him was more golden now that it was qudditch season. He remained wiry but there was something muscle here and there.

“I do,” he shuddered, the bulge in his pants growing ever so slightly. He was so damn easy.

“The colours of your house. Those small, itty bitty green and silver triangles covering mommy’s hard nipples. Those tiny little black shorts that showed off my bum. The one you love to bury your face in and feast.”

“Ohhhh mommy,” he moaned. He let himself close his eyes and hump a little between my legs. All the while I rubbed his thighs.

“But all those boys were looking at allll my mommy parts,” I reminded him. His hips stopped jerking and his eyes flew open.

“No! Tu es ma maman, seulement la mienne!” He nearly shouted. He always turned to French in frustration.

“Then make it Offcial angel boy,” I hummed. “Mark mommy as yours.”

“You sure?” He panted. His eyes were glowing and wild.

“I look good in red dont I?” I chuckled.

“Sooooo good mommy,” he melted. “You look beautiful in everything though mon amour.”

“Thank you baby, now do what you want please. Claim your mommy. Mark me as yours and only yours. I know you want mommy forever. If you brand me, I’ll never forget who my subby baby is,” I explained.

“Right,” he nodded with determination.

He took the knife and placed it to an area just under my breasts. He began to carve the words I’d instructed him to write. “Mommy of R.A.B”

It stung a little but the sensation was mostly pleasurable. I felt my baby boy’s cock absolutely straining and throbbing as he marked me. He knew the scar would make everyone at his Quidditch match wide eyed with disbelief. He would thrill at the idea of me being so claimed, and so his.

“It’s bleeding,” he mumbled anxiously.

“Lick up your mess then,” I told him, grabbing the hair on the back of his head and guiding him. He gasped with lust at the taste of me.

“This is so…. So intimate mommy. I’m so leaky,” he admitted.

“I know baby, you’re doing so well. You can suckle and lick my scar whenever you want. I know you love having a mommy all for you,” I soothed his worried thoughts of me leaving him one day.

I palmed him over his pants as he finished his job. I looked down and saw the bloody letter that were upside down to me. Regulus dipped to lap up blood again.

He looked sexy with his lips swollen from biting and dark red staining them. His hair fell in front of his eyes and he looked pitiful. However, he was also excited because he knew what came next. If he was possessive I was doubly so, and I wasn’t going to let him get away without his own brand.

He laid against me. He took a deep inhale of my skin. Finally, he took off my bra, releasing my breasts. A muffled noise of need escaped him. His lips wrapped around my hard nipple. He relaxed into me and began to suck.

I would be writing “mommy’s property” on his back between his collar bones. I hoped I wouldn’t hurt too much. I wanted to mark him, but I didn’t want it to be hurtful and not arousing. He was still rock hard against me so I assumed he was good.

He was still eagerly suckling and melting fully into me. He was always his happiest on my breast. I set the sharp tip against his soft skin.

“This is it baby boy. I’ll really own you now, I have a permanent mark on your skin. You’re all mine forever. I’m going to brand you, and everyone will know you’re a sweet little mommy’s boy.”

“Ohhhhh, mommy,” he said in a muffled voice.

I began to carve into his skin. I made the first line of the capital M and something unexpected but amazing happened. Regulus groaned in the most high pitched whine I’d ever heard. He humped forward, and I felt warmth begin to spread on his crotch. He bucked and whimpered throughout the unexpected orgasm.

“Awwww, baby, did you make cummies without meaning to?” I asked, petting his hair.

“Sorry mommy,” he sniffed. “I liked the pain more than I thought.”

@pmak2002 @softhecreator @plutoispurplw @sp1deyyf4ngz @seungcheol17daddy @jesschalamet t @vvsdreaming

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signedeclipse · 2 years

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gyutaro, douma and gyokko going to an uppermoon meeting full of lipstick stain and hickeys. - 💀

Douma

Normally he has all long sleeves and a high collar shirt, so a lot of his skin is hidden

Specifically wears something more revealing so they all show

Epitome of "See? Someone loves ME and not YOU."

Totally has this eat-shit grin about it too, because he knows being in his position its not like many would retaliate against him other than Muzan

And Muzan does not care, really

It only adds to his dislike-ability of the second rank

Most the kisses and marks are on his hands and arms because you seem to love his hands so damned much

So he flails them a little more than usual just to shove it in others face a little more

He will never not be proud of you

Besides, you are in a worse state than him, he barely left an inch of skin untouched

Gyokko

He loves the pattern your lipstick marks leave on him, enough that he's probably made pots that mimic the shape of your lips exactly because they are just so inspiring

You always wear a pale pink lipstick that looks so dull next to all his extravagant colours, but it still appears nicely on his white skin

All over his face, his chest, his back

It was hard to imagine how exactly they got in some places, and the others at the meeting kept their eyes far away from him

They could have been from days ago, he didn't remove them on purpose- in fact, i'm sure he is able to preserve them as actual patterns on his skin alongside his scales

His blush matches the colour exactly, that dull pink

He's always smiling but this time even more so

I can't imagine the state of you, he has twice the number of mouths to kiss with but also that bright green lipstick

You are probably covered in them from head to toe and still at home trying to wipe it off

Lipstick is hard to remove

Gyutaro

Any hickeys kind of just blend in with his skin blemishes from a far away glance but the cherry red lips do not hide on his pale complexion

Most are centred on his face, at the corner of his lips and all over his cheeks before trailing down his neck

And what is he going to do, hide them? He never really wears clothes so it'd look like he's hiding something

Fortunately the only person in an upper moon meeting that would say anything is Douma and the only one that looks at him is Muzan

Muzan couldn't care less what his demons do so long as they are on task, maybe scoffs

Douma would ask so many questions but we all know Gyu would wave him off and kind of just walk away

The only person he would be scared of noticing is Daki

Because upper moon meetings are usually uncalled for he didn't expect to be taken right from your loving arms and tossed here

Authors Note - Requesting Gyokko is how you get +1 admiration point from me, I love this prompt too! Clearly you've been stocking them up lol

#demon slayer #demon slayer x reader #kny #kny headcanons #headcanons #demon slayer headcanons #x reader #reader insert #douma x reader #douma #gyokko x reader #gyokko #gyutaro #gyutaro x reader

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 16 days

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Rock, Meet Hard Place 2

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: your boss makes a deal that proves less than beneficial for you.

Characters: Nick Fowler, Lloyd Hansen

Author’s Note: This is what you asked for so don’t even.

Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself 💜

“Nick the dick. How’s it hanging? Little to the left? I’m a bit to the right myself,” Hansen strides into the room

His arrival isn’t a quiet one. Fowler’s men put up the alert at their approach and their fearless leader spent several minutes fidgeting in agitated anticipation. As his adversary turned ally walks in, Fowler is already standing, coolly sipping from his whiskey. You’re glad he got it together. You don’t need him cracking right now.

“Hansen,” Fowler lowers the glass. “Safe travels?”

“Ah, ya know, got here with my foreskin on,” the mustached man chortles.

You stare at him. Somehow, you’re not surprised by the trim along his upper lip. He would be the type. You stand quietly by the wall, observing.

“And this must be the viper,” Hansen points as he turns to face you, “don’t think I didn’t notice you over there, sugar lips. Mm, a bit older than I expected but I don’t mind a vintage.”

“Hansen,” Fowler girds.

“Say, got enough of that to go around,” he flicks his index in Fowler’s direction, “I could use a drink about now.”

“Help yourself,” Fowler remains by the unlit fireplace as he nods to the decanter and an empty glass.

“You know what, you’re not too bad either. Got them Sinatra eyes,” Hansen grabs the crystal bottle and tumbler and pours messily, dripping some down the side. He sets down the decanter and switches hands, shaking off his fingers. He brings his knuckles up to suck off the excess. “Hard to tell when you’re behind a barrel, you know?”

Fowler’s eyes wander over to you. You nod and turn your attention to the visitor. He drink sloppily and lets out a belch.

“Damn,” he glances at you again, “you get anything done around her with her just standing there? Sweetheart, why don’t you do a spin? Bet you’re fine from all angles.”

“Leave her alone,” Fowler grits. “You know this isn’t chummy. This is business.”

“Ha, come on, loosen up,” Hansen insists, “finally, the two of us, together. Nothing in this world could stop us--” He pauses and his eyes drift over again. “Can you tell her not to look at me like that? I swear, I just retracted half an inch.”

He reaches down to adjust the front of his cream-coloured pants. You roll your eyes. Fowler sighs loudly.

“Damn, baby,” Hansen struts towards you, “do that again. I like that. You got the kinda eyes I want looking up at me--”

“Don’t come any closer,” you warn.

“Or what, mistress? Where’s the whip--”

“Listen to her,” Fowler warns.

“Ah, come on, we both know who the dangerous one is,” Hansen chuckles as he reaches to touch your cheek. You catch his hand and bend his fingers back. He yowls like a wet cat and recoils. You twist before you let him go.

“I told you,” Fowler laughs, his first show of ease.

“Fuck me,” Hansen presses his hand to his stomach. “Vicious. Oh, kitty, kitty, I like that.”

“I won’t stop her.”

“I don’t need you to,” Hansen winks. “Let me tell ya, the balls dropped again. Their fucking heavy. I got an idea how to drain them--”

“Stroke your ego a little harder,” you retort.

“Oof,” he wiggles excitedly. “How is she in the sack? You a bottom Nicky boy or--”

Your knuckles crack across his cheekbone and send him stumbling. It’s not the worst you could do but enough to get the message across. Fowler laughs louder than before.

“I did warn you--”

“Shhhhitttttttt,” Hansen snarls as he cradles his face. “Hell of a left hook. I thought you were a righty.”

“I’m a professional, Hansen, so when you address me, it’s not sweet tits or baby or--”

“Juicy jugs?” He adds.

You lift your fist to examine your throbbing knuckles and he flinches away, “alright, ma’am. Mistress? Madame? Tell me what you want and I’ll take it like a good boy.”

“You like to suffer, huh?” Fowler scoffs.

“Not much else to do in this life,” Hansen retreats and drains what’s left of the liquor. “So, do I get the grand tour or the two of you leave the dungeon in shambles?”

You shake your head as Fowler wrinkles his brow. He doesn’t answer right away. You feel like you should say something but no better than to take Hansen’s bait.

“Guess I can take you around,” Fowler utters flatly.

“I’ll put this away,” you volunteer as you stride forward and cap the decanter.

“Oh, oh, Nicky, wait,” Hansen smirks as he leers in your direction, “damn, look at that walk. You ever let her step on you?”

Fowler’s fingers flutter at his side and his nostrils flair, “as I was saying, this way.”

“No fucking fun,” Hansen grumbles and rubs his reddening cheek, poking out the tick of his tongue at you. “Sweet-- Ma’am, why don’t you do a shot and come join us. Maybe it’ll make us a little less... strangers.”

“I have work to do.”

“Work?” Hansen echoes and glances at Fowler, “is that what she calls you?”

Fowler’s jaw squares. Hansen chuckles and turns to strut up to the other man. He swings his arm back and slaps his ass, giving a squeeze, “relax, I’m having some fun. Not much chance to beat the meat in a convoy full of trigger-happy dudes.”

You almost laugh at Fowler’s reaction. He recoils and shoves the other man away. He slaps his shoulder and coughs, flabbergasted by the assault.

“Fuck,” Fowler exclaims.

“What kinda glute workout you do? Those are tight.” Hansen says.

“What the...” Fowler mutters then sends you a look. He gestures to you. Better you go. “Hands to yourself.”

“Fine,” Hansen raises his palms and splays his fingers wide. “Goddamn, what’s a guy gotta do to get off around here?”

#lloyd hansen #nick fowler #dark nick fowler #dark lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #nick fowler x reader #dark!nick fowler #dark!lloyd hansen #the 355 #the gray man #au #drabble #series #rock meet hard place

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agroupiewhore · 7 months

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Some random headcanons about what it would be like to date Enzo and a little imagine with him. I haven't wrote anything in ages so apologies if this is shite. Please no hate but let me know if you like this etc. I am always welcome to feedback/ thoughts/ comments/ concerns. Sorry in advance for grammar and spelling and punctuation

🐟🐳🐙🔵🪱

(THIS MANS JAWLINE IS MORE STRUCTURED THAN MY LIFE)

*Disclaimer: This is my own work and my own self-indulgent ideas, none of this is based in reality. And warnings for making out etc, nothing too explicit (PG-13)

✨️ There is no way you ever have to carry your own bag. This man is rushing in to help you. Whether that's your handbag on date night or all of the shopping bags after your weekly grocery shop run. And yes, he refuses to make 2 trips to the car.

✨️ Speaking of weekly shops runs, Enzo is that boyfriend who always pushes the trolley/ cart.

✨️ Matching Adidas trackies. Never quite knowing whose joggers/ t shirts/ jackets that belonged to.

✨️ Wearing his boxers after sex to go down and make a fresh batch of coffee.

✨️ Is always entertaining you with unusual facts and information about Uruguay and is keen for you to learn and embrace his culture and he is keen to learn more about yours.

✨️ Matching your nail varnish to his bow tie/ tie/ shirt colour etc.

✨️ Midnight beach walks where you tell eachother all your hopes and dreams and desires, all the 'deep stuff' you feel you can't tell eachother when it's daylight as it seems to real.

✨️ This man can dance. He has so much natural rhythm and is such a natural. He'll always be the first one up on the dance floor at parties and cast parties and would much rather spend the time on the dance floor with you rather than talking. Also at home will put on whatever dance music he wants and will just start dancing with you.

✨️ Dressing up as Kylo Ren and Rey for Halloween. "Well I mean... I think we should go as them, it would look good" "Fine"

A Perfect Day

You went to open the fridge to find the pouring cream for your iced coffees but were distracted by the note attached to the front, wrote in Enzo's beautiful cursive handwriting. You smiled to yourself as you read it. He always left the most beautiful love notes and this one was no exception. It simply read "You're my happy place". You took the note off the fridge and folded it neatly and placed it in your dressing gown pocket. You were saving them all, for what you weren't sure, but you pictured a future for you and enzo, maybe one day sticking all the notes down into a scrap book and passing it onto your daughter. To show her how much she should be loved by another. You smiled at the thought and opened the fridge, finally, to find the pouring cream. After Enzo had finished filming, touring and surving the awards season the two of you finally had some time and moved in together. The first thing he had done was gone out and found the most fanciest coffee machine. You guys hadn't even bought a bed yet at that point. You finished making your drinks and went back upstairs. Enzo was sat up in bed, shirtless.

"Well damn, it's hot this morning." You laughed as you sat back in bed next to him, being careful not to spill anything. "Here my angel." You passed him the iced coffee. He carefully took it from you and took that first heavenly sip.

"Hmm, perfecto." He said closing his eyes with a satisfied smile on his face. "I do not know how I survived without having you around, only you can make my coffee right."

"I'm sure there is someone else who could, I could always teach them, it's not too hard. There aren't any crazy secret ingredients." You replied "I just make it with love, I think that's why it's so good." Enzo leaned over and kissed you. "I love you so much, mi amor." He said as he took your hand. "What would you like to do today?"

"We need to go shopping to get a couple things and I was thinking maybe we could have a go at making our own pizzas for dinner?" You suggested, admiring him.

"You always have the best ideas, I have a couple more things to add to the list so please don't let me forget my love." Enzo said as he got out of bed. It would never get old seeing how beautiful he was. It was like he had been sculpted by the world's most incredible artist whose attention to detail no one was able to match. You felt so lucky to not only be with one so handsome but to also have discovered someone with a soul that was equally as beautiful. Enzo gave all of his love and time to you. He was always there, his strength and resilience gave you strength. He was so honoured and humbled to have been given such an important role in the film and the sincerity in which he handled his part was inspiring to you. He never got angry when you would call him in the middle of the night due to the time differences or when he had come home to see that you had used his entire bottle of his most expensive cologne. You had missed him a lot while he was away filming so decided one night to spray a little of it on to the pillow next to you, then a little onto your wrist; just to make it seem like he was there with you, however next thing you knew you'd unintentionally sprayed the entire bottle around the house and it was now empty. Enzo found it to be a most romantic gesture and when he left again to complete filming took a pot of your lip balm to apply each night so it could feel like you'd just kissed him. You heard the shower turn on and got up from the bed again to decide what to wear for today. It was a simple errand day so you grabbed a pair of Adidas joggers and a black long sleeved top.

"Wow, you look so beautiful." He said staring at you.

"What? These?" You laughed. "It's a step up from pajamas."

"You look perfect, I love it so much I will also wear mine." He said as he began looking in the wardrobe.

"Maybe one day you could surprise everyone and wear Nike." You laughed. You admired him once again as he got dressed and then you both finished your coffees. Ofcourse Enzo insisted on driving and you sat in the passenger seat and played DJ. Enzo was a cautious driver, especially whilst you were in the car. He could never understand men who drove dangerously to try and impress their partners. How could he risk your life? He couldn't live with himself if anything happened to you, especially if he was the cause of it. You thought is was sweet how he was always so gentle and careful with you. He parked up outside the supermarket.

"I can get my door." You said quickly, opening it as soon as he turned off the ignition. A few times Enzo had managed to run around to open your car door whilst you rummaged around for your handbag or wallet. He was always the gentleman.

"You know I love opening it for you." He said sweetly as he linked his hand with yours. "I'll push the cart."

"I wasn't even going to try." You laughed. Enzo had to push the trolley. He just had to, it wasn't an option for you ever. It made him feel helpful and supportive. You took the list out of your pocket as you walked in with him and began looking down the aisles.

"We have to get these crisps, you'll love them." You said, standing on your tip toes.

"I got it baby." Enzo said, barely having to extend his arm to grab the pack. There were times when his height came in handy and this was certainly one of them. One time the two of you had a fight that had started off as a result of something so small and petty and then seemingly didn't stop and just kept getting worse and worse. It was the first night the two of you went to bed without apologies or saying how much you loved one another. The next day you didn't say a word to him, you'd returned from work and Enzo had moved all of your favourite snacks and drinks to the top shelves so you had no choice but to talk to him.

"And can you get those ones as well, my love. That flavour looks good too." You said pointing to the packet next to it.

"Anything for you." He said, grabbing everything you asked for. You carried on walking through the supermarket getting everything you needed to make pizza later.

"I'll get this." You said, putting your card on the card reader first.

"No, no!" Enzo insisted. "Baby, we talked about this".

"I'll pay." You said "It's fine honey". Enzo muttered in Spanish about how he should be the one paying. The two of you walked back to the car and together loaded the shopping into the back of the car and drove back.

"Are you going to let me carry any of the shopping?" You asked.

"Not a chance." Enzo laughed and leaned over to kiss you. You kissed him back and gently tugged on the back of his hair to be able to kiss down his beautifully structured jawline.

"I love you so much." You said, between kisses.

"I love you so much more." He said. He kissed the tip of your nose and rested his forehead against yours. His soft eyelashes gently brushing your skin. "I got the shopping, don't worry." You got out of the car and opened the door for him. Enzo grabbed all the bags and followed you in.

"Baby, one day all the bags are going to break and I don't know what you will do." You said as you began putting everything away. "Leave the pizza ingredients out, my love."

"Anything for you, I will cut mine in to a heart shape." He said, doing as you asked him. You smiled at him.

"I might try and do a star or something, I don't know." You said. "Maybe the shape of a coffee bean."

"You know me so well." He said smiling as the last of the shopping was put away. The sun was beginning to set and the sky was turning a beautiful pink colour. You went out onto the balcony and looked out. The view was beautiful, just like your life now. You heard the doors slide open and Enzo stepped outside. You continued to look out as you felt his strong arms wrap around your waist and pull you closer. He kissed your neck gingerly taking in the smell of your perfume and moisturiser. The two of you fitting together perfectly, the final missing piece of the jigsaw to your life.

#lsdln #the society of the snow #enzo vogrincic x reader #enzo vogrincic #imagine

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uglypastels · 1 month

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Hello love!! Your #1 fan back again with another request 😋

Was wondering if you could do a Logan x Gothic reader where the reader is apart of the team but not liked all that much due to their closed off manner. Not being receptive to any sort of communication or touch with anyone. But that’s due to her not wanting to have a meltdown and hurting others. Her and Logan are in a secret relationship cause obviously they’re the same in terms of personality and past traumas. I’d love it if reader could have slight reality warping powers, so she wears gloves to keep from accidentally touching someone and hurting them.

There’s this party going on inside the mansion. Some sort of holiday or something (whatever you’d like!) but reader isn’t a huge fan of social gatherings so she goes outside, finding Logan on his bike. She talks to him about feeling bad for not trying harder to be more open but he reassures her that she didn’t need to change for anyone to like her. Especially not him. The night could end with them heading back to her room and doing who knows what lool

(You don’t have to write anything you’re not comfortable with!! Thanks again for reading tho! Take care 💚😙)

ahhh i love this. hope you like what i made of it <3

warnings: social anxiety, overstimulation (lights and sounds, get your head out of the gutter).

~ X-Men requests are Open ~ Masterlist ~

The mansion was buzzing with excitement. The school had suddenly turned into a sort of nightclub with music blasting from the speakers. The lights were swinging and crisscrossing in colourful beams. Mutants, intoxicated with excitement as well as alcohol, danced all around you, singing along to any song to come up. Before had even started, it had become too much for you. The loud noises, the smells, the lights. But you had also promised Rogue to show up and at least try to have a good time.

Well, you weren’t. No matter how hard you tried, these things just weren’t for you. Like you promised, you had stayed out on the floor for a bit. Tried to let the music move you and dance a bit, but it was so crowded. With each bump on the arm or back, you just kept getting flashes of the people’s minds. And who knows what they saw when they touched you?

It was all a waste of time. You were just being a burden on those who simply wanted to let loose and have fun.

So, as the rest partied, you slipped out. No one would miss you. The one person who maybe would wasn’t even there. Or so you thought.

‘Logan?’ you asked as you saw his silhouette shift through the corridors. He didn’t look up at the sound of his name, but it was clear he didn’t hear you above the volume of the party.

‘Logan.’ you called again, picking up your page as you went after him. Through the corridors, the main hall, out the large oaken doors. He was just sitting down on his motorcycle as you reached him. ‘Where are you going?’

‘Out to get some milk.’ He grumbled, adjusting his grip on the handles.

‘You’re kidding me.’ you scoffed, rolling your eyes at his excuse. ‘You might be an old man, but not that kind.’

‘Watch it, bub.’ He warned you with a stern glare. ‘I just… had to get away from—

‘All of that?’ you finished the sentence, ‘Yeah, I get it.’ Neither of you was the social type, and perhaps that’s what brought you together in the first place. The quiet on the outskirts of chaos drew you closer.

He must have seen the sadness on your face, as not much later, he said, ‘care to escape with me, sugar?’

And as much as you immediately want to hop on that damned motorcycle of his and run away into the sunset with him, instead, you took a step back, wrapping your bare arms over yourself. ‘I— I don’t think that’s a good idea, Lo.’ You nearly whispered. ‘What if I accidentally give you some kind of vision and you drive us off a cliff.’

‘Give me some credit, sweets.’ He chuckled. ‘I can drive a bike.’

‘Even when,’ you gently touched his forearm, ‘the road looks like this.’ For a moment, the driveway of the mansion turned into a sunny beach in front of your eyes. Logan squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. You knew it wouldn’t do any good, but you let go of him and shut the hallucination off.

Most of the time, you could control your powers, but it was still something you had to learn. The quirks and kinks were hard to get out. For example, make sure you don’t accidentally give people hallucinations when you come into contact with them.

‘We should get out there sometime,’ Logan said. You looked up at him in confusion as to what he meant, and so he clarified. ‘To the beach. For a getaway. Just you and me. What’ya say, hun.’

‘You’d want to go to the beach? With me?’ never had you expected Logan to suggest something like that. You tried to imagine him in a pair of swimming shorts, sun-kissed skin and water dripping— you blinked quickly, erasing the images from your mind before they’d take over. Still, even if it was a joke, the idea of Logan taking you away for a holiday filled your body with fluttering butterflies.

Logan huffed out a smile as he got off his motorbike. ‘I’d take you anywhere you’d like.’ His hand found its way around your waist, and he pulled you closer. ‘Just say the word, sugar, and hop on.’

Your mind immediately went into a mode of protest, apprehension and fear taking over, but he silenced all of that with a kiss. When he held and touched you, all the voices and lights went quiet. It was just you and him.

the end.

thank you for reading 💗

if you enjoyed the fic, please consider reblogging and leaving a comment. or send a message via my inbox. requests are also more than welcome. 💗

#logan howlett #logan howlett fanfiction #wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #wolverine fanfiction #logan howlett x reader #x-men fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #angst #fluff #imagine #request #logan howlett fanfic #wolverine #wolverine fanfic #x men #x men fanfiction

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unformula1 · 4 months

Text

i miss you. (LS2 x OP81)

logan reflects. w/c: 622 day 42 of loscar posts until we get a loscar podium…! (series masterlist) masterlist a/n: im sorry for lack of posts lol, im pretty unmotivated and tired. happy monaco gp!

Hey! It’s Oscar. I’m probably really busy or something, drop me a message, I’ll get back to you.

The monotonous voice of Oscar rings through the phone and into Logan’s ears.

Voicemail. Again.

Oscar hadn’t changed his voicemail in many years, the voice in the recording was him a few years back.

Back when Oscar was still like a child.

Back when things were easier, and definitely more fun.

Back when Oscar still bothered texting full sentences.

Back when Logan was actually praised.

Logan sighs, shuts off his phone and places the phone back into his pocket. He leans back on the bench, fiddling with the bottom of his shirt. The exact shirt Oscar had gotten Logan for his birthday, it was just a basic graphic tee of a koala but it was to never forget Oscar.

Especially in times like these.

But did Oscar remember Logan?

He should’ve gotten him a damn shirt, one with an eagle on it or something.

Logan keeps his head down, staring at the koala on his shirt.

Why did things have to change?

Why did everything have to get so complicated?

Logan stares out into the beach, the orange sunset paralleling the papaya colours of McLaren. It’s almost ironic, how Logan would wait until the sky turned dark for Oscar to show up.

—

“You are absolutely insufferable!” Oscar says, throwing a pillow into Logan’s chest.

“Hey! Rude.” Logan scoffs, catching the pillow.

Oscar lies down on the cushioned bench of the drivers’ room, “I hate you so much.”

“No you don’t!” Logan feigns offence.

“Asshole.”

Logan chuckles, sitting down on the floor.

“I hate it when you’re such a nice person.”

Oscar flashes that polite cat smile.

Logan hates it so much, he’s weak for it.

“That doesn’t make sense!” Logan chuckles.

“Because it makes me feel like I don’t deserve you.” Oscar explains.

“Right… but you do.” Logan affirms.

“Thanks.”

“Always.”

—

Logan kicks his feet onto the bench, just staring into the ocean as the tides ebb and flow.

Funny how things changed so much, Logan used to think him and Oscar were inseparable.

Guess some things have to move on, guess time took its toll on them.

Everything had changed.

But he’ll wait. Logan will wait for Oscar to show up.

Nothing hurts more than losing someone you thought would be forever. There isn’t despair without hope.

Logan hoped that Oscar would stay, keep his word.

Oscar didn’t.

Then came the despair.

But Logan will wait, as long as it takes.

Logan continues fiddling with the shirt and tracing over the outline of the koala, wiping away his tears.

It shouldn’t be this complicated.

It shouldn’t have to be this complicated.

Logan waits a few minutes before taking his phone out and opening Oscar’s chat.

What does he even text now?

His fingers hover over the message buttons, growing numb from just floating slightly above the keyboard.

It’s absolutely infuriating, Logan doesn’t even know what to say anymore.

They used to be able to share anything and everything, like their little safe bubble. Logan could drop his facade in front of Oscar, he could tell him anything.

Yet here he was, thinking too hard about what to say so Oscar would at least open the chats, putting up the happy facade he used to be able to drop in front of Oscar.

He lets his tears flow down his cheeks, blurring his vision.

Logan should’ve done better.

Logan should’ve been better.

Logan should’ve succeeded.

Maybe then Oscar would bother looking in his direction.

Logan swings his legs back onto the floor as he wipes his tears off with the sleeve of the shirt.

It all comes back to Oscar.

Logan: i miss you.

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lvlyynim · 1 year

Text

bestfriend!mark who’d remember your usual drink and pastry order so he’d have an excuse to crash your study session in the library.

bestfriend!mark who always has a spare charger in his bag whenever your phone is running low.

bestfriend!mark who would lull you to sleep with a few plucks from his guitar and soft singing.

bestfriend!mark who keeps small gifts you gave him and stores them in a cupboard box, calling it his memories box. (from the first movie ticket you two went together to the polariods of you and him)

bestfriend!mark who has a crush on you ever since 9th grade, you skipped school to take care of him when he was sick.

“don’t you have that very important history test? the one you spent weeks studying for”

“oh shush, you’re more important than that stupid test. now shut it and drink this”

bestfriend!mark who has a drawer full of his shit in your closet cause he’s constantly over at your place.

bestfriend!mark who would stay up all night stargazing with you from the small balcony.

bestfriend!mark who nearly burned down your kitchen, trying to make a sunny side up.

“you are never ever entering my kitchen again. at this point mark, you’re setting yourself up everytime you grab a pan”

“at least this one is better than the rest-”

“THAT’S NOT THE POINT”

bestfriend!mark who always know when something is wrong and shows up with your favourite snacks and his hoodie.

bestfriend!mark who sents you sunset pics daily saying it reminds him of you. he’s also your personal weather forecaster.

bestfriend!mark who orders fast food and eats them with you in his car, in an empty parking lot.

bestfriend!mark who holds your hand in crowded places out of fear of losing you in a sea of people. (also your hands will stay interlocked for the whole day)

bestfriend!mark who’s your biggest supporter and constantly encourages to face your fears, reminding it’ll always work out in the end.

bestfriend!mark who dyed his hair blue after losing his bet with haechan (and it was probably the best thing to happen cause it suits him, to the point where you can’t stop staring at him)

“you look great with blue hair”

“hm? dang really?”

“mhm probably my favourite colour out of the all other ones”

“damn you liked it that much huh? is that why you keep staring at me?”

“shut up and finish your food”

bestfriend!mark who rubs his hand up and down your back whenever you two hug.

bestfriend!mark who stays sober if you two go out for drinks or during parties so he could take care of you in case you do too many shots.

bonus nsfw cuts

bestfriend!mark who jerks off to a photo of you almost every night before being consumed by guilt and shame. (and does it again the next night)

bestfriend!mark who shamelessly checks out anytime you wear something a tad bit revealing. (his favourite : you in skirts)

bestfriend!mark who finally had the chance to pour his feelings out to you and fuck you senseless afterwards.

“you have no fucking clue how long i’ve wanted this” you let a broken sob, feeling as if his cock is gonna split you in half with how deep he is. how big he is.

mark just chuckled at your disheveled state, legs pinned to your body, eyes rolled back in euphoria, body littered with his mouthwork.

“taking me so good baby, so fucking good” he’s losing it by the second. with how you’re clenching around him, he’s not gonna last long. your high pitched moans is a telltale sign you’re in the same boat as well.

mark was a gone man when you wrapped your legs around his waist and pushed him deeper into your dripping cunt. leaning a whine of your name, he came hard. you took advantage and pushed him onto his back, straddling him.

wind knocked out of mark’s lungs seeing you bouncing on his cock, desperate for your own release. mark was choking on his sobs, his cock overstimulated to the point where he could cry any moment now.

“ba-baby please ngh please come please”

“fuck mark, i-i’m cumming”

it didn’t take long for the knot in your stomach to snap, orgasm washing over your body with a long whine of mark’s name.

#mark lee smut #nct mark smut #mark lee #nct dream mark #nct dream smut #lvlyworks #mark lee scenarios #mark lee imagines #markie

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light-yaers · 1 year

Text

tangerine. | part one [carmen berzatto x reader]

Fic Masterpost | AO3

Carmen shows up at your diner after five years, and everything comes flooding back like it was only yesterday.

Warnings: swearing, angst, mature themes [discussions about drugs, workplace abuse, family problems]

Word count: 5.2k

PART ONE

“What is the point of this entire trip if you’re not going to tell me the restaurants in advance?” Sydney whittled off, trying to keep up with the storming legs of her partner. “Carmen, are you even listening to me, right now?”

“Of course, I’m listening,” he said, peering back at her as his legs kept up their pace.

He slalomed through people on the sidewalk of 8th Street and St. Marks Place, with Syd close on his tail. She didn’t know these streets like he did. His prior positions in the city were prestigious, ranging from sous chef roles all over the damn city, before he finally made chef de cuisine at Union Square Cafe. As the time had passed, understanding came with it, but she still wouldn’t ever wrap her head around him leaving NY for The Beef.

She knew Michael meant a lot to him, to the family, but dropping it all for a sandwich shop in Chicago would always be something she’d secretly question. Syd tried not to think about it too much; the fear of him leaving, or bailing, and the like; because at the end of the day she’d bled herself dry for this.

A restaurant. A place. Somewhere her dad used to love, and would love after the renovation. The Beef was gone, it was true, but in its place would be The Bear. The product of all of Carmen’s and her hard work.

Syd sped up to a jog, until she finally wrapped her fingers around Carmen’s forearm. She tugged him back, and used it as an opportunity to catch her breath. “You’re not listening. I don’t even know where we’re fucking going, Carm.”

He gently tugged his arm from her grasp. “This is a last minute addition,” he said, before he placed his hands on his hips. “I just wanted to get it over with. Sorry for rushing.”

Sydney nodded at him, listening. “Okay. So, let me in, dude. Tell me about this place so I’m less confused, and you’re less… whatever the fuck this is,” she said, gesturing to his erratic behaviour.

Carmen shuffled on the sidewalk, peering around at shop fronts, and the abundance of restaurants that lined up outside Tompkins Square Park. This was an area he knew like the back of his hand, but one he hadn’t visited since long before he’d left New York.

“The first place I ever worked in the city. It’s not fine dining, or Michelin starred, or any of that shit,” he started, and despite the abrupt way Syd’s eyes widened from annoyance, she still let him continue. “The vibe of it, though,” he said, and chuckled the words out of his mouth in surprise. “Just, come on.” He gently placed a hand on Syd’s shoulder, leading her forward so they were on the same page.

From the outside, Lucky Strike Diner didn’t look like anything special. It was a small unit, placed betwixt two taller apartment buildings, to the North of Tompkins Square Park. Syd looked up at it, grimacing slightly, but she tried to keep an open mind. She’d been around her fair share back alley barbeques and hidden gems to know you should never judge a book by its cover.

When she glanced over to Carmen, he looked practically childlike. There was a glint in his eyes that she hadn’t seen since they’d first decided to bin off The Beef and bring in The Bear That wonder, that craving for something new, and excitement of something unknown. Nostalgia danced over every feature of his face, and she watched as he sucked in a sharp breath, before entering the diner.

Inside, the decor was minimalist, but homely. Black and white photos lined the walls, pictures of families, of friends, of celebrations. Cream and red colours graced the walls, and the booths looked comforting and inviting. Despite the drab appearance outside, inside was bustling. Practically every table was full, and the old style bar was inviting. Through the kitchen window, sparks and fire shot up whenever something burned, or flambed, on the grill.

This vibe, the one Carmen had mentioned; Sydney felt it all immediately. That warmth, like you were stepping into a family function instead of something elitist. Businessmen sat with their laptops, next to mothers with their babies, and grandfathers on their own. This was a place for everyone, and that was clear to see.

As servers scattered over the busy restaurant floor, one of them stuck out to Sydney. You scuttled, slaloming through tables with ease, as you made your way to the host stand by the door.

Saturday rushes were always hardcore, but you’d grown accustomed to them. You grabbed two menus before you even looked the two new customers in the eye, and let out a simple “Welcome to Lucky Strike Diner, table for two–?”

You stopped when your brain finally computed his face; a face you hadn’t seen in a long time. Carmen Berzatto was standing in your fucking restaurant. “Carmy.” His name slipped out easily, and along with it came a sickly feeling in your gut.

He cleared his throat. “Table for two, yes. Please.”

You glanced at the second member of his party, quickly, and shot her a smile. You didn’t particularly have anything to smile about, but it wasn’t her fault that she’d just been planted into the middle of this inevitable shitstorm. That smile disappeared instantly, as soon as you looked back at Carmen.

“Great,” you said plainly. Even disappearing assholes like Carmen wouldn’t stop you from being professional and civil at work. You loved this place too much, had been here too long, to do that. “This way, please.”

You steamed forward as you picked out a table in the corner, furthest away from the host stand. You didn’t want him in the middle of the room, where he could easily find you in the crowd of servers. Why he was here and what he was doing didn’t cross your mind until you seated them, dropping the menus down on their respective settings.

Carmen scooted his chair in, and peered up at you. “It’s been a long time–”

“So, have you guys ever been here before?” you cut over him, and mostly looked at his partner. She shot you a clearly awkward smile, but nevertheless shook her head politely. Carmen stayed silent, and bit upon his tongue. “Okay, so I’ll lay down the lingo for you,” you said, as you quickly went through the menu with her. “You need anything, just wave one of us down and we’ll be happy to help, all good?”

“Yeah, thank you,” Sydney said with a smile, before she looked over at Carmen. That smile quickly turned to a small frown.

“Fantastic,” you said. “Can I get you guys some drinks to start?”

“Um, I’ll take the lemonade, thanks,” Sydney ordered, as she attempted to hold this entire interaction together by the skin of her teeth.

“Great choice, it was made fresh this morning like always.” You turned to Carmen. “And for you, sir?”

A vein had popped out on Carmen’s forehead very noticeably. It was one that Sydney knew well, when he was either under insane amounts of stress in the kitchen, or fighting against the urge to yell. Maybe both meant the same thing, but still– she could see from a mile off that this was not the way he’d wanted this reunion to go.

“Surprise me,” he said, as he looked up and caught your eye.

You clenched your jaw. “I’m no good at surprises, so I’ll just bring you some tap water until you decide,” you said, trying and failing to keep things light. “I’ll be back with those drinks in just a few minutes.” You went to leave quickly.

“Hey, just–” Carmen reached out for you as fast as he could, but as his fingers grazed your wrist, you managed to snap your arm away from him just in time. He gave up when disappeared through the doors to the back, and dropped himself back into his chair.

Sydney leant forward immediately. “Okay, dude. What the fuck was that?”

“It’s nothing,” Carmen said bluntly.

Sydney started laughing breathily. “Yeah, sure, that was nothing. Don’t test me, Carm.”

“I– fuck,” he spluttered. “Just pick your fucking food, please.”

Sydney was a pro at telling Carmen to calm the fuck down, but this interaction had her stumped for a solution. “What do you recommend?” she said, switching her tune.

Carmen met her eye in some kind of silent apology. “Uhh, the eggs. The eggs are fantastic. And the french toast, that’s the restaurant’s best.” As the subject changed, Carmen delved into the menu alongside Syd. They talked about their menu ideas, and paralleled them with the dishes they saw here.

Maybe bringing a diner styled meal to a (soon to be) Michelin menu wasn’t so much of a bad idea. It fit the theme. The homeliness, paired with the decadence of the chaos menu they’d been discussing priorly.

In the back, you quickly punched in their drink order, before you slalomed through the kitchen. “Behind!” you yelled, as you made your way through each station. The chefs all shot you concerned looks, as it became apparent where you were heading.

“Is today really a walk-in day?” One of them, Paulie, said as you raced by. He’d known you for years now, and knew when something was fucking wrong.

“Yep!” you exclaimed back at him, tugging open the handle of the walk-in swiftly.

“What the fuck happened?” he boomed, but you slammed the door shut before you could muster up a reply.

Inside, you breathed alongside the ingredients. The vegetables, the homemade sauces, the fresh smoked salmon. It was cold, but not too cold that you couldn’t stand it. The cool air made everything feel calm, like you had somehow been transported to some Icelandic lake in the summertime. The air was crisp, and noise was muffled through the door, like the solace you felt by locking yourself in the upstairs bathroom at a house party.

Carmen Berzatto showing up out of the blue had been something you’d long stopped indulging in. He’d made himself clear, the last time you’d seen him, that he had no intention of continuing the working relationship or friendship you’d once had. It was only then that you realised how fast the time had gone.

You were twenty when you met him, the same age as each other. Both of you tried to navigate life together as you stumbled and fell, and got yourselves up again. You were on par with each other, both in intelligence and maturity. Paulie had liked Carm as soon as he’d walked through the door for his interview, and pretty soon after being hired, he’d turned Lucky Strike around like it was no skin off his back.

He was a refreshing change for the life you’d found yourself in. He’d made this place great, and you’d taught each other some life lessons. You’d always known he was destined for more, and you’d always been the first person to sing his praises.

Before his abrupt switch in personality, you’d thought fondly of your time here together. The same old grind of opening up the diner together in the morning. While he prepped for service in the kitchen, you did so on the restaurant floor. It was a collaborative effort, and without both of you together at that point in time, the diner would have gone under. That’s what made it sting even more, when you thought of your life now– you wouldn’t be in this position if he hadn’t come along. It was like rubbing extra salt in your already open wound.

You sucked in a deep, cold breath, and let it out slowly. The cold invigorated your lungs, and gave you the strength to continue with your day. Lunch service was on the brink of its lull, anyway, but having him there, sat outside, with his fucking face that he used to look at you so fondly with, you could hardly stand it.

A gentle knock sounded from the walk-in door, and you quickly wiped a few spots of sweat from your forehead. “Yeah!” you yelled.

“Come on out, sweetheart,” Paulie urged you, and you hadn’t been able to refuse him for the time you’d been working at the diner– so that wasn’t going to start now.

You pushed open the door and sealed it shut behind you, before you allowed yourself to peer up at him. He was a burly guy, but soft around the edges. You had no idea if he was in his forties or sixties, since he had one of those faces that were sort of stuck in time. He spoke like a character straight out of Taxi Driver.

“What the hell happened, huh?” he asked gently, patting you on your shoulders sturdily.

You sighed. “Carmen. He’s in the restaurant,” you said.

“Carmy’s here?” Paulie exclaimed, as he frantically looked around the kitchen. “Guys, Carmy’s here!” he yelled. A few of the chefs, who’d been employed here for time, started muttering loudly.

Paulie’s joy only made you feel worse, but you didn’t hold it against him. Carm had been a staple here all those years before, and had taught a lot of the guys all that they knew about their role. Literally. “Table twenty,” you said. “Knock yourselves out.”

Service stopped momentarily as Paulie and two other chefs made their way out to the restaurant. You stayed back, and peered through the kitchen window. Beyond the bar, you saw Paulie exclaim as Carmen stood up and shook his hand. They hugged like bears, and he introduced Sydney to them all.

Paulie’s voice was one that carried, so it was impossible not to hear every note of their conversation from where you were. “We’ll whip you up your old favourites. You still like salmon?” Paulie went on, and Carmen nodded and smiled in appreciation the entire time.

You composed yourself as best as you could, before you left the kitchen. You grabbed their drinks, already prepared, on the bar, and gently shoved yourself through to their table.

“Aye, aye, aye– we have hungry people waiting, Paulie!” you said, allowing yourself to don a small smile as you gently set down their drinks. “Come on now, back to work, chefs!”

Paulie squeezed Carmen’s shoulder, before he gestured to you. “She’s practically the boss around here now, Carmy. The big boss,” he said. Carmen gently met your eye, but you looked away as fast as you could.

“Alright, alright. Big boss says three orders of french toast on the fly, chef,” you said, grinning as Paulie held up his hands defensively.

“I’m going, I’m going,” he said, as he started treading back towards the kitchen. “Good to see you, Carmy!” he boomed.

“You too, Paulie,” Carmen said, before he awkwardly sat back down and tucked himself in.

You caught your breath again, as you cleared your throat. “So, it seems our chef has already picked your order for you. Can I get you guys anything else that he didn’t mention?”

“Uh, yeah,” Sydney said, pointing to the menu. “What is this exactly?”

You read the words just above her fingertip, and your gut dropped. Tangerine salade. You were torn between wanting to laugh maniacally, or leave and never return to the diner. Carmen’s eyes widened in realisation at Sydney’s request.

“Oh, it’s–”

“It’s–”

You and Carmen stopped talking when you heard the other start. You’d both gone to explain the dish– if it could even be called a dish. You held your breath abruptly and took a small step back. Part of you wondered if he remembered the entire meaning, but you weren’t about to explain it all in great detail. Not when it didn’t feel as special anymore.

“I’m sorry, you tell us. Please.” Carmen shut his mouth and sat back, as if he was on best behaviour.

“It’s exactly what it says,” you said. “Tangerine salad. Two fresh tangerines, cut into slices like big oranges, instead of peeled and segmented.”

Sydney smiled, amused. “Where did that come from?”

It came from Carmen. You had a habit of stealing fruit from the walk-in, when you realised you hadn’t eaten on a shift. Tangerines were always ordered, but hardly ever used, so there was always an abundance of them, destined to rot.

Carmen caught you everytime, eating them like orange slices, just so they were quicker and easier to scoff down during a rush. The juice didn’t get on your hands as much, and you enjoyed the vibrant colour they produced over the white pith that covered their segments when peeled. Carmen had taken it upon himself to add a new item during a menu refresh in the early days. Tangerine salade was born, and neither you, nor Paulie, had ever thought to get rid of it. Even after all this time.

“Why did you call it that?” you asked Carmen, gobsmacked to see it on the menu for the first time, all those years before.

“Salad didn’t sound as good as salade,” he explained.

“You chefs and your obsession with French words, huh?” you joked, as you rounded his station and dropped the menu down upon the pristine surface. “This is sweet, Carmy. Sweet, but unnecessary.”

“Not true,” he countered, bashing his shoulder into yours playfully. “Now that it’s on the menu, it’s got a button on the system. Whenever you need a tangerine just punch it through, and we’ll have two of ‘em, waiting for you when you get a moment to fucking breathe.”

You felt Carmen’s stare on you at Sydney’s question, and forced yourself to suck in a breath and come back to reality. “Tangerine salad is our version of McDonalds apple slice bags. For the kids,” you lied, but nevertheless kept a smile stamped on your face. Carmen looked positively pale at your response. “They’re good fucking tangerines, though,” you added, and Sydney chuckled in surprise.

“Okay, I need to try these tangerines,” she said.

“One order of tangerine salade, on top of all the rest, sure.” You made a quick note on your order slip, even though you didn’t need to. It was just a way to avoid Carmen’s stare even further.

For the rest of the lunch rush, you pretended like he wasn’t there. You did the rounds, topping up cups of coffee, and rushing fresh dishes and dirty plates to and from the kitchen. You stayed on top of admin when you got a spare moment at the host stand, and scrolled through invoices from suppliers.

Without meaning to, you’d stayed at Lucky Strike Diner for seven years. It was life for you now. You lived a few blocks away, through the park, but having an apartment felt like a waste when you practically lived in the restaurant.

You and Carmen had talked about so much, when you’d both been confined to these walls. What lay beyond for both of you. His dream to cook in top restaurants, and eventually build his own restaurant from the ground up. You didn’t really have any dreams, just the security and stability of a good life, and good people around you, but you indulged whenever he mentioned his own place.

“Well, if you ever need a front of house manager, you know where to find me,” you joked, as you wiped down the bar at the end of the day. Carmen poked his head through the kitchen window.

“Why don’t we do it, then?” he asked abruptly. You stopped wiping the surfaces, and turned around to face him. “Open our own restaurant.”

“Oh, man, I don’t know. Money, taxes, insurance, money,” you listed off, and he tossed a wet cloth at your face. You dodged it, and watched it crash onto one of the restaurant tables. “Hey!” You turned back, shooting him an amused grin.

“You’re too much of a fucking realist,” he said, as he made his way out of the kitchen and into the restaurant.

“And you’re too much of a fucking dreamer. These things take time, Carmy.”

“I know that,” he said, as he grabbed the cloth he’d thrown. He approached the bar, and leaned over it, bridging the gap between your faces. “We could still do it, though. Have our own place. Cook our own menu.”

You smiled at his words, and rearranged the napkin holders next to him. “Can’t do that when you’re about to join the big leagues,” you said, and Carmen slid off the bar.

“You’re gonna fucking jinx it!” he wailed.

“It’s called manifesting!” you exclaimed. “You’re gonna get the fucking job, Carm.” He pulled out a chair from one of the tables and dropped into it melodramatically.

“Yeah, yeah, we’ll see,” he muttered. “You think Paulie will still talk to me if I leave?”

You were the one to throw your cloth at him now, and it hit him square in his face with a slap sound. You smacked your hands over your mouth in surprise, before you tried and failed to stop chuckles from cascading out of your mouth.

“I’m sorry–” you started, rounding the bar.

Carmen slid the cloth off his face. “You’re fucking funny,” he said sarcastically.

“I’m sorry, Carmy, really,” you said through chuckles, as you dropped yourself into the chair opposite him. You took the cloth from his hands, and gently squeezed his hand in apology.

A comfortable silence, one that you’d grown accustomed to over the past eight months, descended upon the two of you. All you could hear was the playful pounding of your hearts and the soft way he breathed. It was a relaxing sound.

“You’re gonna get it,” you said again, and Carmen only had eyes for you then. “And when you do, I can’t wait to go and eat the best meal of my fucking life.”

Carmen smiled. He’d always been shy, always quiet, unless he was in the kitchen. “My brother has a restaurant, back in Chicago. When I finished culinary school, I really thought he’d let me join him, you know? It could be a family restaurant. We could run it together, or something,” he said. You hooked onto his every word. “But, he told me no. Said he didn’t want me anywhere near it, and– I don’t know. I think that’s why I came here.”

You bit your lip, inhaling his words. “Family will always be our harshest critics,” you said.

Carmen scoffed, rubbing his tired eyes with his hands. “You can fucking say that again.”

“You know, my sister lives in Chicago,” you said.

Carmen leant forward. “Really?”

You hummed. “Has for a few years now. My mom didn’t like it when she told us she was moving, but.” You shrugged. “That’s just because my mom has never lived anywhere else than here.”

“Yeah, my own wasn’t thrilled about me coming to New York, either,” Carmen said, before he huffed in dark amusement. “It’s funny. She hates us, my brother and sister and I, when we’re around, when we complain, when we do anything– but she also hates it when we all wanna get the fuck out because of it.”

You smiled at him softly, in understanding. “They fuck you up, don’t they?”

Carmen flicked his gaze over your features. “You don’t seem fucked up to me,” he said gently.

“Give it time,” you said. Smiles slowly appeared on both of your faces, until laughter trickled from your mouths like drops from a tap. “One day you’ll realise just how messed up I am,” you joked.

“Is that a challenge?” Carmen questioned.

You scoffed, and raised your hands up defensively. “Fuck no. I don’t want to tempt fate when it comes to how fucked up chefs can be.”

Carmen pointed at you abruptly, sternly, but there was amusement all over his face. “That is an untrue stereotype,” he said. “Not all of us snort coke.”

“All?” you asked.

“Well.” He leaned closer to you, stretching his arms across the table. “Not me.”

You regarded him softly. You hardly got the chance to do this during service; just look at him. Hold his gaze, feel him close. You would never admit it, but having Carmen around was a constant over the past months that comforted you. You liked having him near, liked seeing him practically everyday, and it was clear that you got on enough to talk bullshit with each other.

When you got home that evening, way past midnight, you opened up your laptop and went to the Union Square Cafe website. You hovered your mouse over the reservations tab, thinking something crazy.

Carmen hadn’t heard back from the restaurant yet, but he’d only applied as the CDC there a number of days before. You knew he was going to get it, and felt it deep within your soul. That feeling is what lead you to book yourself a solo dinner, for the first available date you could possibly find– a years’ time.

You knew that, by the time that year was up and you were sitting at your table, Carmen would be in the kitchen, cooking your meal. You didn’t tell him about it either, but kept it to yourself for the remainder of his time at the diner.

You’d been right, when within a month, he’d gone through a rigorous interview process and landed the position and USC. Paulie had faked being mad, but it was clear to see the immense admiration he had for the young Carmen Berzatto. When his last shift approached, you had secretly arranged a goodbye celebration. At the end of a long Saturday, as you and Carmen shut up the diner and headed out, you were ambushed by the servers and chefs as you tread through the park.

Drinks and laughs were shared at your apartment across the way. It was the most you’d seen Carmen socialise in the time you’d known him, but he didn’t look uncomfortable once. He knew he had a support system behind him from the diner– and from you, predominantly. When the moon shone down onto your building, you found yourself out on your fire escape with a beer bottle in your hand. You looked up at the stars, and only looked away when someone shuffled out of the window and sat next to you.

Carmen crossed his legs next to you, and gulped down his own beer contentedly. You turned to him and smiled fully, overly excited for him to start his new endeavour.

He huffed at you softly. “You didn’t have to do this, you know,” he said.

“I know,” you replied. “Doesn’t mean I didn’t want to.”

Carmen shuffled awkwardly next to you. “I know, I know, it’s just–”

“For once, you need to be okay with being the centre of attention, okay? Deal with it.” You hit back, and laughed when you saw the way his eyes widened at your tenacity. “We’re so excited for you, Carm.”

Carmen nodded, and allowed himself to accept all of your praise, just this once. “I’m excited, too,” he whispered. “I can’t believe I got it.”

“I can,” you said. “If you don’t get some type of chef award in the next year then I’ll be surprised.”

Carmen laughed. “Chef award?”

“You know, like ‘Best New Chef On The Block’, or ‘Shyest Chef In The Business’, or–”

“Enough, enough,” he let out, chuckling. You weren’t done yet, however.

“Or the James Beard award.”

He scoffed. “Bullshit.”

“It’s called mani–”

“Manifesting!” Carmen finished your sentence for you, imitating your past words. You leaned against the wall in awe at his playfulness.

“So, you do listen to me sometimes, huh?”

“I guess I do,” he said, and shot you a knowing smile. You held his gaze when he gave it to you, because it was somewhat of a rare thing.

Maybe you’d always been too out there for Carmen, but he’d learned to live alongside you despite it. You were glad about that. You enjoyed his company more than you’d ever say to his face, and despite being so happy for him to leave the diner, part of you was aching at the thought of his absence.

You flicked your gaze over his face, taking in his features. He had a strong nose, and the kind of cheekbones that they talked about in women’s magazines. His eyes, though– God, his eyes– they were so blue that they looked artificial in some lights. Like the kind of blue food colouring you put in cake icing. Alarming, but also impossible to shy away from when he was properly looking at you.

He swallowed, and his Adam’s apple shifted in his throat. “I’m gonna miss you,” he said, almost croaking out the words. Your heart melted. Your brows furrowed softly. Your chest compressed. You let out a shaking breath through your nose.

“I’m gonna miss you, too, Carmy,” you let out. It felt like the best and worst kind of goodbye.

You hadn’t thought about that day in years. The last time you had, it was after your reservation at USC the year after. Coincidentally, that was the last time you’d seen Carmen Berzatto too, until he showed up at the diner and plummeted you back to those thoughts from those previous years.

As the lunch rush died down, you wiped the bar down from lack of what else to do. In the corner, Carmen and Sydney were finishing up their meal. Sydney had made an abundance of notes in a small notebook, while Carmen talked in hushed tones and spilled all the old diner secrets. With his hands clasped on the table before him, used napkin to his left, plates practically licked clean, he turned himself around to glance around the restaurant.

You sucked in a sharp breath when his eyes hit yours. You almost froze, but remembered yourself as much as you could. You tensed, and looked away first quickly. You smacked your hands down on the counter when you looked to the kitchen, and caught Paulie’s eyes. “I’m going for a smoke!” you announced, before you slipped off your apron quickly.

“Those things will kill you!” Paulie exclaimed back, his voice booming across the restaurant floor.

“Maybe that’s the point,” you muttered to yourself, as you headed towards the back door of the diner. You slipped a cigarette between your lips on the way.

Carmen’s gaze followed you as you disappeared through the door. Sydney saw it all as she sat opposite him, and had the strangest urge to give him guidance.

“So, shall we get outta here?” she asked. Carmen’s attention was still on the door.

“Uh, yeah,” he said, but his mind was still elsewhere. “Just– give me one second,” he said, as he stood up from the table. He started towards the door, and Sydney grabbed his wrist abruptly. Carmen froze, and looked down at her.

“Don’t push her,” Sydney said suddenly. “I don’t know what shit you guys have going on, but I’m good at reading faces. Just don’t push her too hard, Carm.”

Carmen regarded her thoughtfully. He nodded. Then, he was gone.

PART TWO

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stardust1122334455 · 7 months

Text

Valentine's Day

—–———–————–———–———————

☆• contains: grinding, swearing, breasts suckling, love bites.

Note: Hello! Also I'm sorry that I was gone for a long time since I had a lot of work to do at home and at my job. Hope you enjoy this one since it's a Valentine's Day specialty!..

Contains- Female Y/N and Sekido.

—–———–————–———–———————

It was Valentine's Day, and your husband Sekido wanted to make something special for today. It was your anniversary as well since you two made it official at Valentine's Day. Therefore, Sekido planned an amazing surprise for you.

"Hm.. she does like (Y/n's favourite colour) so maybe I'll buy some earrings in that colour.."

He thought to himself while at work, typing a document at how the investment has grown. In whilst typing the document, his coworker came up to him and asked something.

"Hey, sekido! Are you doing something tonight since I and a few others are going out for drinks."

They asked in a slightly jolly tone while seeing Sekido's face darken in irritation because his peace just had been interrupted by her annoying coworker. Sekido then soon answered them with a slight angry tone in his voice.

"I'm busy tonight. It's my anniversary with my wife."

After his answer, the coworkers stared at him in shock before it quickly turned into annoyance from the answer sekido said before rolling their eyes and walking back to their desk. Now sekido has his peace again, no more distress..

After he is clocking in his shift and going back home to you while imagining all the things you two can do together, such as cuddling, baking, and maybe even kissing. Though Sekido has to buy groceries for dinner, he's preparing for you, as well as the earrings he's buying for you.

You are at home, just chilling and having some wine for yourself since it's Valentine's Day. Though you missed sekido with his muscular and veiny arms wrapped around you.. After that, you decided to surprise him as well with something special.. You went to your closet and pulled out a light pink bra and a long gown to hide it in plain sight.

While with sekido, he started to pack his things up and leave for home since work had ended. He walked up to his car and drove away. Some time later, he finally got home and unlocked the door. You quickly saw him and ran up to him and hugged each other while his eyebrows furrowed in anger.

"I missed you! Why the hell did you get home late?.."

Sekido sighs and holds his nosebridge in irritation since his job is unbearable to deal with sometimes.

"Sweetheart, I had extra papers to write and check up on with the boss.. Now leave me alone."

He quickly put you to the side and opened the freezer before getting a cold beer. He looked around the place before kissing your cheek and sat on the sofa while beginning to watch TV.

You quickly got a little sad from his attitude after work, even on valentines Day, He's cranky and angry! You narrowed your eyes before walking over to him and sitting down on his lap to get this attention.

"HEY!- What the fuck are you doing.. Also are you wearing those slutty bras?"

Sekido said, his tone tired and angry. You pouted and gently unbuckled his black belt in a slow tact. He slightly groaned at your hands, nearly stroking his manhood. As the belt came off, you moved your underwear to the side and moved the chest part of the gown so your breasts and bra would be visible to his eyes.

"Shit.. I've never felt this damn good in a while."

Sekido said while roughly latching his mouth onto your nipple and starting to give love bites on your breasts. Whilst you strongly unzipped his pants and pulled the front on his boxers down, showing his hard dick spring up. Sekido groaned and wrapped his arms around your waist for support during this.

"Don't worry.. I'll go gentle, sekido.."

You said before kissing his cheek and placing his tip into you, which quickly made you whine since he was girthy down there. As you started panting and quietly put it deeper inside of you before starting to gently rock against him with love.

"O-Oh, sekido.. fuck!.."

You said before continuing to fuck his dick hard before cumming on his cock. He grunted and pulled you close to a cuddle..

"I'm sorry, sweetheart... I've should've been nice to you."

Sekido said while stroking your hair and kissing your forehead.

(Let me know if y'all want a series of this ❗️😈)

#hantengu clones #sekido #demon slayer #sekido x y/n #kny

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steveshairychest · 1 year

Text

Eddie has been gone for a month.

His touch lingers on Steve’s skin, it burns him, the feel of invisible fingers ghosting over his body keeping him awake at night. Some nights he traces over all the places he can still feel the echoes of those cold fingers; his arms, hands, the small of his back. Eddie's fingers were always gentle, if Steve hadn't been so hyperaware of Eddie he probably wouldn’t have even noticed the feather light graze of Eddie's fingers against his back when he passed Steve by.

Now, it feels as though every single one of those touches are seared onto his skin.

He hates that he let Eddie get under his skin.

He’d tried to keep him at arms length; ignored the obvious flirting, the small secret smiles they shared, the brush of Eddie’s fingers over his own so clearly asking if he could hold his hand. Steve had pulled his hand away and tried to ignore the disappointed frown on Eddie’s face.

He hadn’t been ready to bare his heart again, to be vulnerable, especially not while he needed to keep everyone safe.

Maybe afterwards, he’d told himself. Maybe they could see where things go after they’ve had time to recuperate and Steve has had time to actually process what he felt.

With that thought in mind, he’d bumped Eddie’s shoulder with his own and smiled, wishing he could tell Eddie to just wait for him, to give him time, to not be sad because Steve really did want to hold hands but he wanted to do it when they weren’t fighting for their lives. He wanted to pick Eddie up in his car and hold his hand on the way to their first date, he wanted to hold his hand and never let go.

Now, laying in his bed for the fourth day in a row, he wishes he’d tried harder to push Eddie away because the ache in his heart is unbearable. He wishes he’d shoved Eddie’s gentle touches away to protect his fragile heart but he also wishes he’d just gone for it, wishes he hadn’t been so scared and just held his god damn hand.

His fingers flex around nothing, aching to know how Eddie’s hand would have felt in his own.

He questions why he feels so strongly for someone he barely knew, he doesn’t even know Eddie’s favourite colour or if he liked coffee or what he wanted to do when he finally graduated. All Steve knows is that Eddie had sunk his chipped black nails into him and made a home in his heart, he’d flicked on all the lights inside him, drawn on the walls of his heart and left his mark everywhere, something Steve failed to notice until it was too late.

He sits on the floor in his room, a box of tapes spilled out in front of him as he tries to figure out which ones Eddie clearly loved the most. He’s desperately trying to fill the gaping hole in his chest with the things Eddie loved. Which is hard because Dustin isn’t ready to talk about Eddie yet. The second Steve tries to bring him up, Dustin shakes his head and changes the conversation. Eddie’s friends weren’t of much help either, they don’t know or trust Steve, well, they did know Steve but that version of him isn’t who he is anymore.

This version of himself just wants to know Eddie, wants to feel close to him.

So, he’s left to figure out Eddie on his own. He’s piecing all the small puzzle pieces of Eddie he has together, hoping to eventually see a clear picture of the man that has left him sobbing into his pillow for a month straight.

He listens to all the tapes that have scuff marks and obvious signs of wear and tear on the cases, cataloguing them as ones Eddie must have played the most.

He tries to guess which songs might have been Eddie’s favourite. He pretends that Eddie is actually sitting right beside him, showing Steve which tapes he liked, which ones he hated. He tries to imagine how he would have sounded singing along to the loud music, he imagines him head banging and doing air guitar solos next to him.

Steve pushes stop on his player, his face is stained with new tears and his heart squeezes painfully in his chest.

He wishes he didn’t have to play pretend.

#found this in the drafts #throws it at you and runs away #tw mentions of character death #steddie #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #st4 vol2 #steveddie

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save-the-villainous-cat · 2 years

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Hi!! I absolutely love your writing!

So... today happens to be my birthday. Could I pretty please get something fluffy as a present?

Five days.

The villain had stayed five days at the hero’s apartment, recovering slowly with the help of their nemesis. It turned out that the hero wasn’t a terrible roommate, they were the exact opposite: doing the dishes seemed more like a hobby than a chore, cleaning the room and decorating the whole place neatly was one of their favourite activities.

Nearly motionless, the villain had watched them rearrange a bouquet of flowers, humming to themselves a content tune that would haunt the villain’s thoughts for the rest of the day. The hero was diligent and careful, making sure the colours in their home could coexist in harmony with every new element they found.

The villain tried to stay as quiet as possible most of the time, hoping the hero would forget about them eventually. Hoping they could turn invisible and be less of a burden. With all the mess they were causing, they didn’t fit into this picturesque world the hero tried to create.

But the hero didn’t forget. Due to their injuries, the villain slept a lot, being out by eight, getting pleasant twelve hours of rest. They were stationed on the comically huge couch, even though the hero had offered them their bed. However, healthy sleeping patterns were unknown to the hero who suffered from a little less than four hours a night. It explained the many naps the hero took on the couch, right next to the villain.

But no matter how many hours the hero slept, they always made sure to eat together with the villain. Every meal, regardless of their grogginess, they sat down next to their enemy and talked about their newest idea to help the city.

“Dunno why I’m telling you,” they said one day while having lunch, spaghetti filling their mouth, “but I really like this new project. Growing more plants in the city?! Love it.”

“Until there’s a villain who can control plants.” The hero’s tired eyes widened as they practically inhaled their lunch. Focus settled on the villain who was trying to eat as gracefully as possible. Once again, they were like a mirror that showed the exact opposite.

“Nonsense. No one can control plants,” they said, bolting the rest of their noodles and meatballs.

“Have seen one,” the villain answered calmly. Damn, the food wasn’t even bad.

“You’re kidding.”

“Am not.” The villain stared at the hero and their poor overworked soul. For days, they’d been rambling about projects and work and on top of that they managed to do the chores and nurse the villain. No wonder they were sleeping every second they allowed themselves to.

“I’ve seen one,” the villain said hastily, getting their thoughts back on track. “South America, somewhere. She’s very old though, so don’t expect her to take over the world.”

The hero’s plate was empty already.

“I didn’t know I could be jealous of some old lady. You travel lots?”

“When I’m not getting shot at, sure.” Something in the hero’s gaze softened, blurring the line between relaxed and hurt. Their eyes dropped to the ground, their shoulders tensed. Fuck. “I like getting shot when it’s you, though.”

What. Oh god, the villain wished they could sink into the ground. I like getting shot when it’s you, what a stupid thing to say. They felt the horrible blush creep up their neck, so they grabbed their tea and gulped it down.

Christ, why were conversations so hard to have?

The hero giggled nervously.

“Well, uh…”

“You need more sleep.” The villain’s face was burning, so they tried to deflect. “You always look tired and sleep throughout the day. What do you do at night?”

Getting the hero’s attention was easy, getting them to talk about important stuff wasn’t. Their nice projects were fun to listen to but when it came to the hero’s desires, to their morals and their longings, the villain didn’t get anything.

“It’s a long story, really,” the hero said. “Did you put that blanket on me yesterday?”

“Yeah, you almost rolled off the couch, too. Gave me nearly a heart attack,” the villain mumbled and it was true. It had made their heart skip for more than one beat. “You don’t have to leave that much space between us.”

“You sure?”

“I’d rather cuddle with you than have you fall off the couch.”

Now it was the hero’s turn to blush.

#FINE #OKAY GOOD THIS IS FINE #tchaikovsky i am begging you why WHY #happy belated birthday #!!!#sowwy uwu #writing snippet #heroxvillain prompt #heroxvillain snippet #heroes and villains #hero #villain #hero x villain #heroxvillain #an answer for an ask #request #fluff

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deceitful-darlings · 1 year

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I have an idea for you if you accept it... Have you heard about Welcome Home? Well, there's Wally as well as Sunny Day Jack is the protagonist of a children's show, the only difference is that Wally is a factoche (a curiosity: he eats when he blinks, very scary). Well it is if the reader finds Wally's tapes when he is with Jack. Now the poor reader has been teleported through the world of Welcome Home along with Jack, with Wally being a yandere for the reader as well, only Wally never releases the reader into the real world.

I’ve done a little research into Welcome Home, and gotta say I’m not clear on the creator’s stance on...well, anything like this. They said they don’t like ‘objectionable’ content. What does ‘objectionable’ mean? So I’m going SFW because I have no idea what they think is ok and I’m not risking writing something they don’t want posted. If anyone can link me to statements from them about a more concise view of what they do and do not want written, please do because I’m confused.

Now, Jack knows there’s something wrong with those tapes the moment he gets near them, which shouldn’t be a surprise considering he comes from one himself. He can feel that it’s not a normal tape, and he will try he best to persuade you to just get rid of them, they turned up suspiciously, can you really trust it? And you nearly do listen to him, let’s face it after how you met him you’re really not sure you want to be dealing with more supernatural entities, but when you go to throw them away or take them to a charity shop you just...can’t. Physically you can’t, like your body is being held in place, and it’s not like Jack can help since he can only touch you, so the two of you have to settle on the agreement of not ever watching them, because frankly one ghost man is more than enough for you to be dealing with.

And you mean to keep that promise, you literally have no reason to not keep it. Even if you possibly had been curious, with Jack having entered your life is similar circumstances it’s fairly easy to fight said curiosity because who knows what could happen. But...there’s something about those tapes drawing you in. Jack notices, he can see your eyes wander to them when you lose focus. He does his best to distract you and draw your eyes away from them, to keep you focused on the here and now, on him. He wants to regain as much presence as he can so that he can take those tapes away, but unfortunately he isn’t quick enough.

He goes to sort breakfast for the morning, but his gut tells him something isn’t right, and he isn’t going to ignore his instincts. That damn tape is already in the VCR, and he only just manages to grab hold of you before the world fades to black.

He’s on high alert the moment he opens his eyes, which he doesn’t show to you of course, so when you wake up and inevitably freak out over being...wherever this brightly coloured place is, he comforts you. Hugging you, telling you it’s ok and that it isn’t your fault as you realise what happened and begin to blame yourself. Did you want to put the tape in? No? Exactly! Why would he be angry at you for that? Something effected you and made you do it, it’s not your fault Sunshine! He’s just happy that he got there in time so that he’s here to keep you safe!

And it’s while he’s finishing calming you down that Wally appears, welcoming you to the neighbourhood with his ever present smile, his eyes only flash to Jack and they seem briefly shadowed, so briefly you miss it. You don’t really understand why you’re here? That’s ok! They’ll always welcome a new...he means multiple new neighbours!

Hmmmm giving you somewhere to stay is going to be hard for now, there are only so many houses in the neighbourhood after all, but don’t worry! Home will be very happy to have other occupants, he’s sure of it! It’s ok, until you settle down find a way home, you can stay with them! And they could even build you your own house-. Come inside and tell him what happened, he’ll show you around, and of course he’ll listen to you! He loves that voice of yours after all, it quickly becomes his favourite sound.

Jack, of course, goes along with you. The two are smiles and sunshine personalities at each other, neither letting their masks drop, but there’s no denying the tension between the two. The two will be subtly at odds the whole time. Wally’s happy to have a new friend? Well, you’re Jack’s ONLY friend, a very dear person to him! Jack wants the two of you to go home? It’s ok, there are lots of lovely people here who would like to meet you too, there’s no need to rush! The neighbourhood is nice? Indeed it is, but facing responsibility is part of life, and it’s ok because if you can’t face it out there then Jack can be there for you and one day be the responsible one! Of course responsibilities are important, but here responsibilities are different, and everyone is kind, surely isn’t that better for you? Maybe, but you need someone who can truly express that kindness for you, someone who clearly shows you they loves you! It’s ok, while he may not be able to show it in his face and voice, he’ll still be there for you, hug you, talk to you when you need it, just because he can’t express it well it doesn’t mean he’ll never feel it! The bickering is endless, and it’s only your presence there that means they don’t harm each other. How long that lasts, who knows, they’re a ticking time bomb.

Now here’s where things get difficult, with both the game and ARG in their early development stages, we don’t actually know the abilities of either nor their true strength and capabilities. How much control over the neighbourhood does Wally actually have? How much does Home control? What are his actual motives so why would he be particularly smitten? What are the neighbours actually like, and how would they react to a new neighbour? Of the power he has, how much control would Jack be able to exert over the neighbourhood? What even are the extent of his capabilities? Does he have his own tape that he could pull you into, thus his own world that would mean he would be more likely to want to leave than if he didn’t? Are Wally and Home actually a threat to your life?

But it’s safe the say, the two most certainly wouldn’t get along. Wally wants you to stay, Jack probably wants to leave, to be in control. But I would say while Wally has the home field advantage so he probably has more actual power in the scenario. Jack has the advantages of being able to actually express emotions sincerely and be a true comfort to you, which Wally and his lack of understanding emotion would find a serious hurdle, and that he has simply known you longer ergo has more of a connection to you, so if something happened to him, it would be difficult for Wally to play off. After all, who are you more likely to trust, the kind, sympathetic host you have known and seems to genuinely care for you, or can Wally convince you even with his dead eyes and emotional misunderstanding that he’s the more trustworthy of the two?

#yandere #yandere male #anon asks #something’s wrong with sunny day jack #swwsdj #sunny day jack #yandere sunny day jack #welcome home #yandere swwsdj #yandere welcome home #yandere wally darling

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