#<- I'm not the type to want to fill every tag ever

[corseque]

WIP whenever day tagged by @sky-kiss (;o;) I'm too shy to tag anyone back, so if you want to share a wip, please take this as your excuse my wip snippet is Renoir fic, so 100% SPOILERS for everything that happens in Clair Obscur. You can't write fic about this character without spoiling the whole game, unfortunately. So please refrain from reading it if you haven't played.

Once upon a time, a long time ago, fair Lumière knew only peace.

Aline Dessendre lived there in those days, together with her husband and three children. Famed Madame Dessendre, the former ballerina and shining star of the city of light, who led them all to victory through the siege, the famine, the war against… 

…their world had never known war, and nothing but joy had ever happened to their city, never mind the Grandis who claimed their city had not always been there, or the elders who felt a shadow on their hearts. Whatever the shadow may have been, it was too long ago to remember, in a world far away from their fair Lumière.

For Lumière was the only city in the world, and in the heart of the city rested Madame Dessendre’s beautiful manor house, glowing with light from every window. And the streets of the city of light were always strewn with the white flowers of peace, and no one there had ever starved.

And there was once a man named Renoir Dessendre who lived in fair Lumière with his wife and his three children, but all was not well in his heart because he knew his wife was ill.

Her illness was not obvious to others, but Renoir knew his wife with a precious intimacy. He was a careful student of her graceful movements, the sound of her voice and the light of her eyes, the curve of her cheek. This study had filled the years of his life with beauty and love. Now that very study made worry grow in his heart.

“Aline,” he said from the doorway.

Stillness from their bed was his only answer. It was midday, and for all their lives, she had woken in his arms each dawn. This morning, nothing he had tried could stir her to real movement. 

The light was terrible, the hues muddy. The dark quagmire shades would be difficult to mix using his usual bright oil colors, and nor would he want to.

When he opened the curtains, she still did not stir.

A hesitation took him, looking down at her in sleep, disturbed by the thought that he did not know what he would do if she never decided to get up again. He knelt by her side and measured her temperature with his palm, her skin so soft. She did not react to his touch. She had no fever or chill, at least.

Renoir wished he knew how to help her.

“The day is running away from you,” he said softly. 

This time, her eyes opened, but they did not reflect the light from the window with joy. They were dull and focused somewhere beyond him.

He stroked his fingers through her hair. In the new light, it was now a soft brown he might mix from perhaps alizarin crimson and chrome yellow, muted by cobalt.

“I will fetch the doctor,” he murmured.

Aline’s hand caught his. She only shook her head, still not looking at him.

Renoir knew that no stranger may ever come inside their home, not even a doctor.

“Aline,” he repeated, becoming frustrated. 

“You push me even here,” she finally said. “Even you.”

Though her voice was a weak void, she was at least speaking to him. She was touching his hand. His frustration ebbed.

“I am trying to tempt you, not push you. Clea wanted to show you her latest work. She claims you can have nothing to critique.” 

Aline closed her eyes again, removing her touch. 

He cast about for something more to say.

“Alicia…” Well, there was never much to report about Alicia. “I heard her up late last night, typing away. She is making good use of the typewriter.”

Aline turned her face away from him. “Go away, Renoir.”

He retreated by one surprised, hurt step. A full stubborn minute passed. For lack of anything else, Renoir finally said, “I see Verso in the yard.”

That, strangely, did the trick.

“Verso?” Aline asked, her head even lifting from the pillow.

Renoir’s heart stirred with hope. “He is throwing a ball for Monoco.”

Aline rose from her bed and flew to Renoir’s side. “Oh, he is. He is. I thought… but I must have dreamt it. It was a nightmare.”

In the light of the window, his wife was gaunt, but Renoir felt a profoundly grateful inspiration to paint her, to capture her focused, clear eyes and her viridian robe against her throat.

Aline turned to him, and this time, she truly looked at him, tears of joy in her eyes. “But he should stay in the manor. Outside is too… you must make sure he is safe.”

“Of course.”

Verso was a grown man, old enough to marry, who could defend himself and even help defend their family if something happened to their peaceful city, and yet… Renoir knew that his wife was right. 

Renoir knew, above all else, that he must protect his wife and his children, and allow no one to come inside their home. He guarded their door as the statue of the lion in their garden did, unyielding as stone and ever watchful. He must never put down his guard, never relax, and never trust anyone outside their family. He must never be far away from Aline.

He must never break her heart.

Then his beautiful wife reached for him and pulled him down for a long kiss. Her lips were salty from tears, but she was smiling and bright again.

---

Once upon a time, Renoir Dessendre lived in Paris in the shell of the house that still remained standing after the murder of his only son.

He lived there with his two still-living children, his youngest a broken ghost and his eldest consumed by revenge. His wife remained in their house in body, but not spirit. She had stopped speaking to him, and finally abandoned him completely, and her children as well, to drown herself in madness.

And Renoir lived, and he knew greater pain than he ever knew existed.

The longer the madness went on, the more difficult it would be to extricate Aline. A gentle terror ruled his days, a silent roar incrementally gaining volume with every passing hour. It would be different if he were as skilled or powerful as his wife. If he could simply pluck her from danger the way she had once done for him, how much simpler life would be.

(end of excerpt.... it is just a wip.....)

[pedgito]

𝐀𝐂𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐒 | Harry Castillo x reader

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summary | Five years of being his assistant and five years of failed attempts at finding love with your help, but maybe the obvious answer has been there the entire time. Alternatively, you fucked your boss? Uh-oh.

author's note | harry...randy...who knows. i'll change it if needed but given the name tag, this is what i'm sticking with for now. skip the lecture about not writing until the movie is out, this isn't hurting anyone so don't bother me about it, xo. the horny demons always win. i listened to this song i repeat while i wrote, felt fitting.

content warning | 18+ MDNI, power imbalance (boss/assistant), work wife/work husband type beat, mentions of failed dating, being superficial, mentions of sugar daddy things, expensive gifts, reader is a godly assistant with a will stronger than mine, he smokes, they drink, sex while inebriated, he's down so bad, also oral!, tense morning after, open-ended

word count — 4.5k

You knew him better than anyone.

From his breakfast order down to his specific choice of underwear, like you weren’t making the weekly purchases and filling up his rarely used fridge in the apartment that was way out your price range, arranging his schedule down to the minute, booking his flights, packing his bag.

Really, Harry should just marry you.

…it was more of a joke, but you’ve teased him about it once or twice.

He called you his work wife anyways, but in reality, you were just his assistant.

He did trust you with his life, though.

More importantly, his love life.

“Kim flaked,” he tells you over coffee, perched at his kitchen island as you typed away on your laptop, looking up briefly with eyes that begged for him to explain, he does and makes a show about, mimicking a more feminine voice as he relays the message she gave him, “same song and dance—you’re great and fun but I can’t do anything serious right now,”

“Were you nice?” you ask curiously.

Harry rolls his eyes at that, like it was a stupid question to ask. But, eventually he nods.

“Did you ask questions?” you continue, fingers folding over the screen of your laptop to close it.

“Plenty, she works in finance, loves the color blue, wants to travel,” he could go on and on, throwing his hands up in defeat before they slump to his side, “maybe I should try out a real matchmaker—not that you’re bad at it—”

“You think I’m bad at it,” you smile knowingly, “don’t you?”

“No,” you’re unconvinced, “besides—you’re my assistant, I never meant for that type of responsibility to fall on you, you know?”

“I’m doing both of us a favor,” you remind him, “I think…it just takes time.”

And fortunately, all you had was time.

It felt pointless for Harry to spend a chunk of cash to have someone pair him up with the supposed love of his life, though you knew that money wasn’t a problem, you felt a weird responsibility to protect him, unsure how quickly someone would take advantage of his kindness.

“There’s a gala,” you tell him offhandedly, “next week. I already cleared your schedule for it. I think…maybe you should just peruse this time.”

“Peruse?” he chuckles, eyes creasing in amusement, his crow’s feet deepening with the emotion, “You’re a control freak, you sure about that?”

“That’s just mean,” you retort, “you’re paying me anyways—if you didn’t like it you’d fire me.”

He knew you were right, sipping quietly at his coffee in response.

He was frustrating, predictable, and painfully superficial. 

Every date was an exercise in appearances—perfectly tailored suits, dinner at the most exclusive places, charm turned up to eleven. And yet, none of it ever stuck. He was overcompensating and you weren’t sure why.

He was a good guy, down to his core, and in the five years you had worked with him there was never a moment you thought he didn’t deserve love, he was perfect. Too perfect.

That was the problem.

“You know, you’re like prime age to be a sugar daddy,” you tease him, knowing how he felt about the topic, “there’s plenty of apps that I can—”

“You’re relentless,” he grumbles, “if you ever did that, I’m firing you on the spot.”

“You wouldn’t,” it was a gentle challenge, smirk flashing across your face as he returned it with fondness, “without me you would crash and burn, Mr. Castillo.”

And he knows it.

–

The gala is a bust.

So, as a bandaid to his wounded ego, you order takeout and keep him company in his big, lavish apartment—it wasn’t the first time, it wouldn’t be the last.

You knew what the issue was, but there was a sinking feeling in your stomach that told you he wouldn’t receive the information well.

It was after every failed date, every expensive dinner.

They saw him at the surface, the charming man with an easy, warm smile.

You saw the man who kicked his shoes off and stripped himself of his suit jacket the second he walked through the door, who couldn’t resist a late-night binge of his newest streaming obsession, someone who insisted on stirring his coffee counterclockwise because it made it taste better, a man would text you pictures of squirrels in the park that he would feed on his way home.

It wasn’t that you were pining over him. You just knew him better than anyone.

“Why are you so dead set on marriage?” you ask him over dinner, turned toward him on the couch as he reaches for the remote to pause the show on screen.

He’s had this conversation before, but he’s never asked you any questions on the matter.

“What’s your opinion on it?” he’s avoiding, clearly, but you’ll bite.

“I don’t date, I’m not interested, signing a piece of paper isn’t going to signify my feelings toward someone if it came down to that,” you admit, “I’m not cynical, marriage is fine, but this stuff takes time,”

“Well, I’m not getting any younger,” Harry gripes, arms reaching over the back of the couch as he mirrors your position.

“Oh, please,” you scoff, “you’re forty-nine.”

“Almost fifty,” he corrects, “I’m ancient.”

“O-kay,” you sigh, “do you want honesty?”

“I’d hope you were being honest with me all the time.”

“No,” you laugh softly, “like…brutal fucking honesty?”

He’s silent, but attentive. 

“You keep choosing women who treat you like they’re next getaway vacation and you fall for it every time,” his forehead creases at the words, looking hurt by your words, “I see your bank payments every month, the activity—”

“It’s not like money is an issue,” he defends, causing you to sigh dramatically and fall back against the arm of the couch in faux distress.

“This is impossible,” you groan, staring up at the ceiling before you feel his hand circle around your wrist, tugging gently,

“Okay, I’m listening,” Harry says softly, pulling you upright, “I’m sorry—I am.”

“You want it to work so bad,” you tell him, “I see it—every time you approach someone you put on that smile and it works, but you’re giving so much and yeah, maybe some of them like that, but I’m sure a few would just enjoy a nice dinner here, or something simple. I think you forget to realize that someone can just be interested in you, for you, not for what you are or have,”

It’s profound, the way his face softens at your words, his touch still lingering around your wrist.

You’ve never even considered or entertained the idea that you might find Harry attractive or even attainable—for one, you had signed a contract that agreed to a professional work relationship, as a benefit for both of you, not that he ever had any intention to begin with.

You’ve been with him for so long, it feels, a fresh and young mind to help keep him active and busy, constantly refreshing ideas and helping him not feel like he was stuck, and you were damn good at taking care of him when he’s often tended to neglect himself.

The only thing you know is that he’s never looked at you like that.

Like you could see straight through him, all his flaws on display.

But, that was because you knew all of them.

You knew everything about him, even the worse bits.

His bad habits, his self-inflicting ones, everything that he refused to bring to the surface.

Harry’s fingers still lingered around your wrist, the weight of your words sinking in. 

But then, just like he always did, he broke the tension with a huff of laughter and frowns as he brushed you off.

“You just think I’m a sucker, don’t you?”

You shook your head with a faint smile, returning your arm to your lap.

“No—I think you like to see the good in people. So much good that you’re willing to ignore red flags.”

“Jeez,” he chuckled, clutching his stomach like you had physically wounded him, “that hurt.”

You shrugged and reached for the remote to resume the picture on screen, “You’ll survive.”

–

It was your day off—Sunday, the one day.

“Have you seen my cufflinks laying around?” he asked over the video call, “Shit—my tie, too. I can’t find it anywhere. I thought you said you laid it out for me.”

“No, I said I had it hung up and for you to lay it out before you showered,” you correct him, laying tiredly on your couch as you watched him search around frantically, hair damp and his bare shoulders on display, only catching the briefest glimpses of the towel around his waist as he turned the camera around, “Waitwait—go back!”

“There’s no fucking way you saw it,” Harry argues, “I’ve been looking for the last ten minutes—”

“In the pocket of your suit, the tie is there,” you tell him, “and given that you probably tossed the suit on the bed like you always do, the cufflinks are probably somewhere hiding under the blanket,”

He tosses you against the mattress, your screen succumbing to darkness as you wait, some shifting of the sheets before you hear him make a sound before he appears again, cufflinks pinched between his fingers and a look of defeat on his face.

“What would you do without me?” you ask with a cocky grin, finger hovering over the end call button as he shakes his head.

“What was this for again?” Harry asks curiously, laying you down upright as you caught a glimpse of his bare chest as he shrugged the crisp, white button down over his shoulders.

“It’s a charity auction, your favorite,” you chirp, “and you’re flying solo, so—don’t do anything stupid or…crass,”

“If I paid you double a day of work would you go?” Harry asks after a long pause, glancing down at the screen, “Triple?”

“Triple?!” you gawk, “see—you’re insane, this is what I’m talking about,”

He chuckles despite your response, “You’re good at keeping the sharks away,”

There were particular hawking businessmen who made it their mission to hunt Harry down at events and keep him occupied, eager to do business, whatever it may be—you were the unspoken master of redirection, as much as he refused to admit it.

“Can we grab dinner on the way?” 

“Burgers?” Harry asks, perking up slightly.

It was a constant go-to for you and him.

You nod through the screen, “Don’t even bother with the tie either, I’ll do it.”

–

“I can’t believe you roped me into this on my day off,” you whisper at his side, earning a half-smirk from him.

The charity auction was as lavish as you’d expected.

Crystal chandeliers, gold accents, and far too much champagne and hors d'oeuvres. 

Harry’s hand found the small of your back the moment you arrived, steering you through a sea of designer gowns and tuxedos, feeling uncomfortable in the tight dress and stilettos that you only wore on rare occasions, biting at your heels.

“You’ll survive,” he grins, grabbing you both a glass of champagne and pressing it into your waiting fingers, “I’m gonna…peruse, alright?”

“Don’t say it—that just makes you sound like a creep,” your face scrunches up in disgust as you sip at the alcohol, “just go—go, I’ll…handle everything else.”

The evening passed in a blur of small talk and polite smiles, but somewhere between the endless speeches and bidding wars, you found yourself on the balcony, the cool night air a welcome relief in the stuffy ballroom.

You smell him before you see him, the thick and rich scent of his cologne so familiar you swear you could find him on that alone, turning over your shoulder to see him closing the door quietly, cigarette pack tucked in his palm as he approached with a neutral expression.

“You okay?” you ask, leaning against the railing of the balcony.

Harry sighed, rubbing the back of his neck and then plucking a single cigarette from the box, “Honestly? I’m just tired of it.”

“The auctions? Charity?” you inquire, a small smile tugging at your face.

“All of it.” He looked at you, his gaze lingering as he lit the tobacco, “The events, the dates, searching for—I don’t even fucking know at this point,”

“The offer stands…” you say jokingly, though he knows exactly where this is heading.

“If I wanted a sugar baby I’d find one.”

Your eyes roam over his figure as he puffs at the cigarette, pulling a deep laugh from his chest before you’re pushing him away playfully.

“Let’s go,” he tells you with a deep sigh, stubbing out the end of the cigarette and tucking it away for later, tossing his arm over your shoulder as he readied to guide you through the crowd, always protective in spaces like this, another thing that was special to him.

–

The ride home is quiet, like it always is, both of you sitting in the backseat with the partition up, watching as he looked through his phone with a scowl, occasional typing and sending a message.

Eventually, he looks at you.

“Thank you,” He says with a soft tone, “I know this isn’t your favorite thing to do.”

You tilted your head into the headrest and smiled, crossing one thigh over the other as you worked at your heels to remove them, “Oh, it wasn’t that bad—the free alcohol is always a plus.”

He chuckled at that, silently helping you remove your shoes with a soft squeeze to your foot.

That was normal—but, it forces you to pause.

His natural instinct to help, to touch, to comfort you.

Your brow furrows at the gesture before you shake it away, blaming it on the buzz of alcohol in your system, watching as he continues the gesture with the other foot.

“Having you there makes it bearable, is all,” he explains, looking up at you briefly as he undid the tie around your ankle, “you…calm me, I guess.”

You swallowed. Hard.

The warmth of his words lingering in your chest, in his touch against your ankle, “You’d do the same for me.”

And he would—if you ever needed anything, anything, Harry was there.

“Yeah,” he agreed quietly, “without question.”

The sincerity caught you off guard. 

You turned to study him, the familiar slope of his nose, the line of his jaw. There was something about the way he looked tonight—tired, maybe, but softer. 

And he keeps looking at you, checking.

The car moved smoothly through the dimly lit streets, the city blurring past in streaks of gold and blues and reds. The hum of the engine was steady, the faint sound of music barely audible from the front, through the glass, the back lit up dimly by the trim of lights on the roof and door.

Harry leaned back, one hand moved against the seat, his other hand dragging slowly over his thigh—restless. 

Instinctually, without thinking, you reached for his hand.

It wasn’t purposeful. Just a simple act of absentmindedness.

You’ve done it a hundred times before. 

Tugged at his sleeves to fix his cufflinks, brushed lint from his lapel or pants, adjusted the collar of his shirts. Constantly fixed his hair, touching him wasn’t new.

His skin was warm. Not hot, not cold.

You felt the slight twitch of his hand, like he was debating whether to move. Instead, his fingers shifted, just a fraction, enough that the edge of his thumbnail brushed over the inside of your wrist.

The contact was thoughtless, nothing.

But, in the same moment, it felt like everything.

The way his eyes watched the movement, roamed your body like they had before but with a different implication, his eyes half-lidded and relaxed, wondering how much alcohol he had consumed himself—this wasn’t friendly.

And it definitely wasn’t professional.

Harry’s gaze was on you now, your face, as you couldn’t tear your eyes away from his hand.

Then his thumb moved. 

Up. 

Barely. 

A soft drag along your pulse.

It was half a decade of avoidance, defeat in his heart and mind, and fear in your own.

Broken, by the car rolling to a stop outside of Harry’s apartment building.

“We’re here, Mr. Castillo,” the voice of the driver came from the front, a nod of acknowledgement as his hand slipped from yours.

“Oh, hold on,” you were scooting aside to let him out, readied for the next stop as he cocks his head toward the building, “I’ve got something for you—I’ll drive you home, don’t worry,”

“Harry,” you stress, looking down at his hand that waves you toward him, extending out for you to grab, insistently as his fingers wiggle in wait.

Turns out, he wasn’t totally lying.

That something was accompanied by a seven thousand dollar bottle of Leroz Aux Brulees—you knew that because you had purchased it during his trip to France, the supposed city of love.

“I’m going to murder you,” you tell him as he places the bottle on the counter and keeps the closed case of mystery at his side, “hide your body, flee country—I hate surprises, you know that.”

“I think you’ll like this one,” he grins, popping the cork on the bottle and pouring two hefty glasses, eyeing the deep red as it glugged into the glass.

“You know, if you wanted company you could have just asked,” you tell him, “I get it, you’re lonely,”

He knows you’re only teasing but it stings nonetheless, both of you taking a long and heavy sip as his fingers swirl over the velvet casing before he’s pushing it over quickly, tapping it with his fingers, “Open it,” he encourages, eyeing you over the rim.

You place your glass down and pry it open slowly, carefully, like you were deconstructing a bomb, but as the piece inside comes into view you find yourself at a loss for words or thoughts.

Your eyes are wide, staring up at him with parted lips that tingled from the lingering alcohol, knowing you should have cut yourself off at one glass of champagne and refused to come inside, that you should have just went home and enjoyed what little bit of the day you had left to yourself.

Now, you were looking back at a necklace so delicate you were afraid to stare at it too long, embedded with a cluster of diamonds and nearly two years of your rent if you were doing the math correctly in your mind.

Always about the numbers, Harry constantly teased.

“I saw how you looked at it the other day,” he admits, “and I owe you a hell of a lot more, but it…I’m trying to say thank you for…being you,”

“I’m not taking that,” you refuse with a laugh of disbelief, sliding back over to him gently, downing the rest of your wine in one go to forget how fast your heart was beating in your chest.

“You are,” Harry insists, “consider it a bonus—Christmas is in a couple months, too.”

“You know…this is exactly that kind of stuff a sugar da—”

Harry makes a noise, shaking his head.

You bite your lip in thought, ignoring his subtle annoyance at your comment.

It was fucking beautiful, really.

You sigh, using one finger to turn the case back toward you, examining it closely.

Quietly, Harry presses his glass into the counter and rounds the edge toward you, his chest at your shoulder as he reaches for the jewelry, working carefully at the clasp before he’s motioning for you to relax your shoulders.

It wasn’t the stillness of the moment, but his touch, again.

He’s methodical in the way he touches you, dragging his hand around your neck as he fits the necklace into place, his fingertips pressing against the column of your throat in a way that tickles slightly, shifting uncomfortably until you hear the faint click and he breathes behind you, hands resting at your shoulders.

You’re not sure why he hasn’t moved, but you find yourself turning to speak.

“I’m just going to call an uber,” you tell him, “probably shouldn’t drive since we’ve both been drinking,”

“Yeah,” he agrees, but it sounds hollow, his eyes not following you as you move.

You hop from the chair and bend down to grab your shoes, but his hand is curling around your bicep and pulling you up and he’s staring again, the charge of his touch sending a jolt through your body as freeze,

“Come here,” he beckons, too natural.

And you listen.

He’s soft, every part of him. Skin, clothes, hair, lips.

He’s kissing you gently, like you might break, but you can tell he wants more.

Needs more.

“Are you going to regret this tomorrow?” you find yourself asking as he parts from you, licking at his lips as you both take a breath, letting the moment settle.

He shakes his head, “Are you?”

“Maybe,” you answer honestly, “maybe…not—fuck, I don’t know,”

“It doesn’t have to mean anything,” he promises, but you knew that was a lie.

Still, you nod in understanding.

–

He’s so tender with his touch, slipping you out of the dress in the dim light of his room.

Even softer as he guides you to your back and spreads himself on his belly between your legs, fingers interlocked with his at your hips as he buries his nose between your folds, his tongue splitting your cunt open in a sharp gasp that has you throwing your head back. His lips traced a slow, deliberate path down your body, igniting sparks along every inch of your skin. 

He kissed along the curve of your thighs, teasing, tasting, until the tension was unbearable and with each flick of his tongue, each gentle suck, it pulled you deeper into a haze of heady desire. 

This was reckless, dangerous, but neither of you found the moment to pause and think.

You wonder if things had been building to this for a while—if it was always supposed to happen this way or if he was acting off of greed; lust and companionship, even if just for a night.

You know you can ask him to stop at any point and he would, but even as his tongue brings you to your first orgasm of the night and he’s guiding you to your stomach, reaching blindly into his bedside table for a foil wrapping the crinkles loudly in the silence, you want this.

It was embarrassing how badly you wanted this.

He fucks you slow, too. 

It was torturous, his chest flat against your back as he palms his cock and feeds it into you.

You don’t talk, neither does he.

But, his low moans and stuttering breaths speak for him.

If you could see him, you’d know how furrowed his brow would be, a hand sliding over the curve of your ass until he can reach your thigh, beckoning for you to raise it without speaking.

You oblige, the angle of his thrusts changing on a dime.

“I can’t believe you’re real sometimes,” he admits like he’s confessing a sin.

“Please,” you plead—please stop talking, please keep going, please fuck me.

You couldn’t decide.

You feel him nod where his forehead is pressed between your shoulder blades as his fist curls into the sheet beside your head.

“Another, gimme another,” he pleads, the fingers on his other hand curling under your neck to life your chin, not expecting to meet his eyes as he leans over you.

The expression on his face so raw it makes you flutter around him, his lips parting in a deep, guttural groan, “I know you can,” he nods hurriedly.

And damn, does the praise work.

Your whimper breaks him, breathing out shakily as you locked eyes when he comes, slow and forceful thrusts until you’re nothing but an exhausted pile of tangled limbs.

“Greedy girl,” he comments through the haze, a weak giggle bubbling from your chest.

He pulls out slowly, a low grunt as he does so.

You’re not sure when you fall asleep, but you wake to a startling amount of weight over your stomach, an arm splayed possessively, the faint outline of a ring as you drag your hand over the limb.

It’s only as your eyes pry open that reality hits you, stumbling out of bed quickly.

No…nononono, where the fuck were your clothes? Jesus.

You stumble around half awake, searching for the silk dress on the floor, feeling accomplished when you find it and hastily redressing yourself as Harry stirs in bed, encouraging you to hurry, to slip out before he can say anything.

Your shoes are already on and you’re reaching for the doorknob when the voice comes, the weight of the necklace that still remained on your neck, two empty glasses of wine on the counter, a night of hasty choices and urgency laid out like a crime scene as his voice rings out from behind you, pleading.

“Don’t—don’t go,” Harry begs, “You don’t have to go,”

So much of this was wrong—it complicated everything.

Your life, your job, your relationship with him.

He can see you slipping, fingers inching toward the knob as he approaches you in a hurry, barefoot and shirtless, the kind of scene you shouldn’t be comforted with, like this was all normal to the both of you.

You’ve seen him like this a thousand times, but not when he’s looking at you so vulnerable, heart tore open and stapled to his chest, beating against your own as his hands splayed out over your cheeks.

“I don’t regret it,” he assures you again, “so please—stay, okay?”

“What changed?” you ask, voice trembling, “Five years, Harry. Five.”

“I’ve been running in circles this entire time,” he admits, “you know it—I know it.”

You had been there the entire time, learning every part of him without judgement, cataloging his flaws and skills, learning how he ticked and what motivated him. You had never quite settled on the ideal person to fit in his life as his partner, it surely wasn’t you.

It couldn’t be you.

“Please, don’t go,” Harry echoed once more.

The sick, cruel joke of it all was that this was your job. 

You had nowhere to go. If it was any other morning, you would just be arriving, leaving his breakfast in the kitchen and starting your day.

You nod solemnly, “Of course, Mr. Castillo.”

It was painstaking, forcing the mask back on.

But, you couldn’t deal with this now.

Or ever, even.

Harry looks at you with a confused sadness, thumbs rubbing at your cheekbones before his hands fall to his side.

You’d figure this out, you always did.

[clarkeybabey]

❝ i need you to fill the void ❞

# summary; someone spoils your secret

# playlist; void, the neighbourhood, nothing's gonna hurt you baby, cigarettes after sex.

# word count; 1.2k

# note; freya, faith, and talia cameo, I didn't proofread and I hate this oops.

Have a wedding they said, it'll be fun they said. You can't name a time when you've been this stressed out and anxious in all your years of living. To make it even worse, the one person who could help you breathe through all of this wasn't going to able to see you for another three and a half hours.

Last night, for the sake of tradition, you slept without George for the first time in more than a year. He texted you about a thousand times after you finally fell asleep about how he couldn't wait to be tied to you for the rest of your lives, which meant you woke up in the best of moods despite the lack of his presence.

Keeping everything a secret wasn't hard, since everyone had done it before for Simon and Talia. Unfortunately, some people you thought you could trust with an invitation weren't the most reliable. Your friends were sat off to the side some snapping pictures of you and themselves, others scrolling social media. Freya gasps, she's unable to control the way her lips purse, and brows crease as she turns the volume of her phone down as quick as possible.

You're sat in a chair, your makeup artist hard at work. "Something wrong?" In the blink of an eye, the girls are all standing around Freya, staring at the screen in disbelief.

Talia chews at her bottom lip before speaking, "Y/N, sweetheart, I'm gonna show you something, but I want you to try not to freak out."

You swear you feel your throat begin to close at the slight waver in her voice, now it's your turn for your brows to knit together, "I'll try," you mumble, absentmindedly picking at your manicure.

She makes her way to you as slow as ever with Freya in tow with her phone, which she hands off to you after turning the volume back up, swiping up and back to the video to restart it. You recognize the username as a girl George had introduced you to a few months ago at the sidemen's anniversary party, you don't recall sending her an invitation...

The video begins with a screech from her, "Hi, guys! This get-ready with me is extra special, this time my friend George is getting married," you feel your stomach drop, cheeks warming as she talks about only being a plus one to someone whose name goes in one ear and straight out the other.

"This better be a fuckin' joke," bile begins to rise in your throat and tears threaten to melt away every bit of the 45 minutes spent on your nearly Pinterest-perfect makeup. When you click on the comments you notice there are some from mere seconds ago and steadily continue to pour in, you shake your head hoping someone will pinch you and wake you from this atrocious nightmare, "God, I really wish this was a joke," you whisper, your bottom lip trembling uncontrollably.

You look up at the girls around you as you slowly start to crumble under the weight of it all. Faith is typing away furiously, jamming her fingers against her phone screen, you hand Freya her phone back, wordlessly reaching for your own that was laying screen down on the vanity.

When the screen comes to life you see messages, notifications from dms, posts, and tweets you've been tagged in. Nothing really catches your eye aside from two missed calls from George and a few texts just under them.

my fiance 😝😈: call me when you see this please, darling

And you did exactly that. He answers on the first ring, his soft, accented voice filling your ear ripping another sob from your throat, "Y'alright, love?" He asks knowing the answer, hoping to god you weren't on tiktok to see what he'd seen a few minutes ago, but as you cry into the speaker he understands you have.

You shake your head, before remembering that he can't see your actions, "No," you croak, making him sigh and shake his head. This is your day and somehow someone's managed to ruin it for you.

To be completely honest, George couldn't care less about everything being secret, but all you wanted through the whole planning process was privacy, no huge party after the ceremony, nothing.

You didn't want to post anything until you were boarding the plane for your well-deserved nearly three-week honeymoon. And your fiance was more than happy to oblige.

"Can you come here? Please, I couldn't give two fucks about tradition, we're fuckin' tiktokers for god's sake." you pause a second until you hear shuffling on his end, followed by a snort. "I'm already outside, baby," you hear the smile in his voice, you keep your phone pressed to your ear with your shoulder.

When the door swings open, he's standing there looking so damn good in the suit you picked out together so many months ago and it makes you cry even harder, knowing how much of a snotty mess you probably look now all because everything not going the way you imagined.

He wraps you into his arms before you're able to say anything, breathing you in. "You look beautiful," he steps back from you keeping a comforting hand on your hip as he looks you up in down, "this satin?" He asks pinching at the material of your dressing gown, to which you simply nod, your throat still feeling tight.

Of course, he notices how much everything's eating you alive, "I handled it, sweetheart. I figured out who invited her, they know we don't think its a good idea for her to come," he gives you a reassuring squeeze, watching your face closely for any change of expression.

You pursed your lips taking a deep breath through your nose, "Thank you, I missed you so much," he smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling, instead of responding immediately, he chose to envelope you into his arms. Your ear is pressed against his chest so close you can hear his heart thumping against his ribcage, "Missed you more, could hardly sleep without you."

This time when he pulls away, his hands cup your face, and his lips meet yours in what you swear is the best kiss you've ever had, he doesn't keep you like that for as long as you'd like, leaving you chasing after the feeling. He rests his forehead against yours and his hand slips from your cheek to your neck where he feels your pulse quicken.

He breathes you in, this time stepping back for real knowing the girls are waiting for you, "Now go get in the dress I've been hearing about for months, wanna hurry up and make you mine for life."

You smile, the first real one you've worn since reading his messages this morning, "So impatient," you mutter and he shakes his head, swatting at your bum, "I can show you impatient," he quirks a brow, his voice is laced with suggestiveness that's unmistakable

"Later," he raises his hands in surrender as you turn back to the door that's ajar, his hand catches your wrist, turning you around quicker than you could let a gasp escape you. His lips find yours once more and you exhale out of your nose, relaxing against him as he smiles against your mouth. "Now you're free to go," your fingers dance along your now tingling lips, as you watch him disappear down the hallway,

When you return to the girls you almost have forgotten the original situation at hand aside from the fact that maybe every little thing about him is the best.

[kazefiend]

Tags: NSFW 18+, p in v, post op trans man, fucked up dynamics, murder, blood, death, spoilers for Ronin's killer chat route, pov, second person, be nice to me I haven't written in this perspective before, female reader, afab anatomy on reader.

Synopsis: After he returns from his murder his favourite thing to do is you

Word Count: 1731

He told you not to wait up for him, but you did - because what type of girlfriend wouldn't, right?

You'd written a few thousand words today, cleaned the apartment, made dinner, and fixed him a plate that now waited in the fridge for when he got home. Now you lay in bed, watching true crime YouTube videos about your boyfriend and your other friends from the server.

A blonde woman with a cat on her lap spoke about The Butcher like she had it all figured out. Her details were wrong, of course. She guessed he was in his forties and "got no bitches." You couldn't help but laugh - he was much younger and absolutely did get bitches. You being the bitches... the bitch? Whatever. You squinted in thought, wondering how Ronin had never left any DNA behind. Maybe you'd ask about his process to put in your next book.

You yawned as the hours rolled by without texts or calls. You reassured yourself that it hadn't been long enough to feel anxious yet. He was fine, just busy. The various 'what ifs' started to play in your head like a river of woe threatening to drown you. Your logical brain kicked in to stop you from having a heart attack. He'd probably told you not to wait up because he planned to be very late. Everything was going according to plan.

Taking a deep breath, you slowly exhaled, grounding yourself. You closed your eyes and let yourself drift off, feeling peace and safety in the bed of a man who tried his best to embody the Antichrist. You'd packed all your belongings up a few months ago, and he had absorbed you into his space. You were obsessed with this man, ever since he'd fucked your brains out in Purgatory.

No, that was a lie - it was months before that.

You dreamed of when you first saw his Cheshire grin on your computer screen. You found yourself struck by how gorgeous he was, laughed at how funny he was, and became enamoured with his hidden depths. Cupid had loosed an arrow into your chest, the bleeding wound being filled by Ronin's prying fingers. He wished to remake you in his corrupt image. That's what was best for you. He knew best.

The door slamming shut startled you awake. His shadow approaching from the hallway put you at ease. Through the darkness, you called out, "Baby!"

You couldn't see his face, but you knew there was a smile on it. "Did a pretty little thing wait up for me?" You heard him take off his backpack, dropping it with a heavy thud - his crowbar adding the extra weight.  The weight of his crowbar-laden backpack held secrets better left in shadow. But you'd drink in every detail, store them away to feed your own growing appetite for chaos. You were no longer just witness to his madness - you were its willing apprentice.

"How was work?" you asked, having not seen him all day.

"Which work, darlin'? Be specific for me." Oh, he was in a mood. You knew what he wanted you to ask.

"Breaking people," you responded. "Fixing cars was probably less interesting."

The duality of Ronin: breaking people and fixing cars.

He tossed his clothes in a pile, save for his shirt and boxers. "I got a few people to open up to me today, really got inside their heads. You know me, baby - I'm a people person."

You giggled and snorted at the stupid puns. "The devil has jokes."

"Life's a joke, sweetheart. Ya just gotta be the one laughing." He was at your side of the bed now, his imposing height would be intimidating if you weren't used to his scary bullshit by now.

Crawling onto the bed, he loomed over you, hands planted on either side of your head. Finally, you got a good look at him in the darkness. Blood splattered across his face, dry and cracking in spots, sticking bits of his hair together. His eyes looked wild, adrenaline still beating hot through his veins. The absolute thrill of murder firing through his synapses. He was crazy, he was beautiful, he was yours.

He was heroin, alcohol, everything bad for you that you couldn't live without. You didn't plan to live without him - your life had been nothing until he drew you in. Empty. Devoid of kin. Without a home.

You'd found your missing piece in a man who collected souls like others collected coins. His corruption completed you, his chaos called you home.

You were hopelessly in love, and he loved you too. You could tell by the way his dark eyes lingered on your body in his moment of need. The magnetic pull between you transcended physical attraction. It was a recognition of kindred broken pieces, jagged edges that fit together in a mosaic of beautiful destruction. His violence called to something primal in you, while your devotion fed his need to possess, to corrupt, to transform. 

He needed you like he needed air right now.

You reached out, locking your arms around his neck, pulling him down onto you to kiss his lips. You tasted iron initially, but it faded as you swallowed the blood you licked off his skin. He shuddered at the action, biting down on your bottom lip and tugging. He was all teeth, biting and nipping at your lips. You moaned against his smile, and he caught your tongue first with his teeth before letting go. You felt his tongue in your mouth, metal piercing dragging across your tongue, sometimes hitting your teeth with a clack. He was going to break your fucking teeth one day.

Your hands threaded through his bloody hair, grabbing a handful and pulling. He groaned so lovely into your mouth. You wished you could suck the air from his lungs to sustain yourself forever. He responded by grabbing a handful of your ass and squeezing hard.

Ronin sat up, eyes half-lidded, watching the rise and fall of your chest as you caught your breath. "Legs up, darlin'," his voice low and dark as he commanded, and you obliged. Your legs now up on his shoulders, he bit your calf before pulling your underwear off your body and tossing them into the dark void of the bedroom floor.

His fingers glided through your soaked folds, catching your clit between two fingers, rolling it back and forth. "You're fuckin' drenched, babe," a vulgar observation but a true one. "All ready for the butcher to fuck you."

"All for youuu~" you cooed, being enticingly adorable with your legs in the air. He laughed darkly in response.

"Gimme a minute to get all ready for ya." He prepared himself as fast as he could manage, pulling down his boxers to free his now hard cock.

"Is that for me?" you echoed his earlier comment with your own. You tried to mimic his cadence but couldn't talk that deep.

He didn't answer, just grinned back at you. Leaning down, basically folding you in half - there was no goddamn way you could keep your legs on his shoulders comfortably. You lowered them to rest at his hips instead.

He teased you, nibbling at your neck and sucking deep bruises into your skin. Purple and red flowers bloomed beneath his lips. A garden of his affection. Every bite mark was a promise, every scar a love letter. You wore his brand of ownership like crown jewels, proud to be the monster's chosen consort. There would be no fairytale ending, no redemption arc, no return to the light. You'd rather reign beside him in hell than serve alone in heaven.

He lines the tip up with your sodden entrance, pushing forward only for it to slip and drag on your clit once more.  He tries again using his hand to guide him and you feel him sink into you.  It feels incredible, he slowly hilts and you take a satisfied breath.

He starts to pound you with hard deep thrusts.  The kind that jostles your body each time his hips slap against your ass.  The softer parts of you jiggle from the impact.  One hand holds a handful of hair and the other bunches the fabric of his shirt in a fist.

He breathes hard against your neck, “s’ hot an’ tight fuck babe” he whines as he rolls his hips.  You can't help but squeeze him to coax out more delicious sounds “pussy’s gonna kill me darlin’” he chokes out.

You moan his name like a prayer, each time his hips connect you lose yourself.  He's pulling a fistful of your hair and biting your throat, feeling your heartbeat hammer through your arteries.  You beg for him to crush you in his jaws, tear out your throat and fuck you until you bleed out.  The pace is knocking the air from your lungs, cock carving his way through your guts.  It would be beautiful romance if he fucked you to death, tore through your body and ate your heart.  

You pull his head off your neck and kiss his lips as you experience your little death.  Ronin swallows your moans and keeps you grounded on earth as you shake and squeeze around him.  You're never going to see the light of heaven and you're fine with that.

The blood of his victims mix with his sweat and drip onto you, you're a gore stained mess; rotted and beautiful just as he made you.

His thrusts become sloppy, uncoordinated and animalistic.  He dies for you, his beautiful rot goddess.  Spilling his decay within you. 

He hungrily caught his breath, head buried in the junction of your neck and shoulder. His grin returned and his grip on your hair loosened into a gentle caress. His weight on top of you felt comfortable; you never wanted him to leave you, and if you had any say in it, he wouldn't.

Your love was a murder ballad written in bruises and blood, a symphony of savagery and sweetness

There was no escaping this gravity well of mutual destruction. You'd tied your fates together with crimson ribbons, knowing the path led straight to hell. But heaven was never your destination anyway. This was your choice - to love the devil, to become his equal in darkness, to find salvation in damnation.

Till death do you part.

[winwintea]

my apology letter

PAIRING ↬ boyfriend!zhong chenle x fem!reader

TAGS ↬ heavy angst. some fluff. no happy ending this is a breakup fic you have been warned

SUMMARY ↬ Chenle always thought that love truly wins all. Your relationship with him was filled with joy and connection. But lately, cracks have begun form. Between small misunderstandings, unspoken frustrations, and the growing sense that he’s not enough for you, Chenle begins to doubt his theory. Is love enough to bridge the gaps between you or is letting go the ultimate act of love?

WORD COUNT ↬ 3.0k+

AUTHOR’S NOTE ↬ i'm sorry in advance !!!! not really. suffer. happy birthday chenle. i hate (love) you so. very. very. much. title and fic based on my apology letter by kim yeon woo!

PLAYLIST ↬ my apology letter - kim yeon woo, who - lauv (feat. bts), lie with you - ten, line without a hook - ricky montgomery, the scientist - coldplay

CHENLE SITS DOWN, AND BEGINS WRITING HIS LETTER.

He’s lost track of how many times he’s sat in this exact seat. It used to be different. So different. At first it was nice. You were beautiful in every way possible. Kind, patient, and thoughtful. You always made him feel like the most important person in the world, even while surrounded by others. This table was a place of warmth, laughter, and love. Now the mood was only as tense as ever. 

He takes a deep breath, letting his thoughts consume him as he begins to write. 

I miss your laugh. I miss making you laugh. I miss that joyous echo of good times I could feel around the apartment, and I swear to god it was my favorite sound ever. I miss that. I miss us. 

He remembers how the mornings would go. You’d both sit at the table, sharing a simple warm breakfast that you or him had prepared. All that really seemed to matter was the two of you in that moment of time.  

He looked at you, the sunlight reflecting off of your face. You were always smiling at your phone, lips quirking as your fingers began typing. You placed your phone against your chest after hitting send, waiting for him to react. 

As Chenle was absentmindedly scrolling through the news, he noticed a notification pop up on his screen.

My Love: “You okay? You’ve been quiet today.”

Quiet, huh? You always enjoyed texting him to get his attention. Thought it was funny. He looked up to see you smiling at him with a concerned expression. Not wanting you to worry too much Chenle smiled and shook his head, but did not say anything else.

The two of you continued eating in silence. 

Chenle sets down the pen, this burden in his chest growing heavier. Where did it all go wrong with you two?

The two of you used to be inseparable. Days consisted of stolen glances, shared jokes, silly photos and videos, small moments that brought this intimacy together. Now, you barely interact with each other, barely talk to each other. His mind drifts to details of last night. 

You sat on the floor, folding the laundry in front of the TV. Your movements were slow and graceful, thoughtfully folding every article of clothing. Chenle sat on the couch behind you, staring mindlessly at the TV, playing some show he couldn’t care less about. He didn’t look at you, you didn’t look at him.

The silence was tense and deafening, yet neither of you made moves to break it.

Chenle picks up the pen again with a stronger grip.

I don’t know how we got here. I don’t know how to fix it. Actually, that’s a lie. I do. But maybe I’m not cut out for that. I know I’m losing you, and it feels like I’m losing myself too.

Chenle’s mind drifts to a day where everything seemed perfect, but always something tugging at the back of his mind.

The amusement park date. Your laughter was vibrant and warm, eyes sparked with determination as you tossed beanbags, threw balls at cans, aimed darts, always determined to best him. The two of you definitely had a competitive streak, but Chenle always made the sacrifice for you. You ended up winning a small stuffed dolphin, holding it high above your head like a trophy.

Chenle mock pouted, and laughed, “Guess I’ll stick to basketball.” He pulled you into his arms, the dolphin nearly squished between you as he pecked your cheek, while the two of you broke out into fits of giggles. 

But even in the moment of happiness and joy, there was still something eating at him from inside. 

Chenle grips his pen tighter as he recalls those fleeting moments of joy, moments that now feel bittersweet. He lets the ink flow on the paper again, writing some more.

I think about how happy we’ve been, and yet there’s always this weight, this worry I can’t stop thinking about. Even in our brightest moments, something felt... off. It’s not because of you, but because of me. It's slowly destroying me.

Later that evening, the two of you had dinner at your favorite restaurant. Chenle thinks about the way your face lit up when the waiter placed your meal in front of you. He could never get over these small things that you did that make his heart feel giddy as well. 

You slipped out your phone and took a photo of the meal, sending it to him with a caption to the photo.

My Love: [Photo Attached]

My Love: "We should make this at home sometime! You’re practically a chef. 😊"

Chenle chuckled, replying out loud, “Only if you clean it up afterwards.”

You smirked and rolled your eyes, ignoring him as you dove into your meal. For a while, everything felt easy, like it used to.

But then you got home.

It started with something small. Just a simple misunderstanding about weekend plans. Chenle couldn’t even remember the exact details now, only how frustrated he felt when his words seemed to fall short. He’d tried to explain, stumbling over his thoughts, but the look on your face never changed. You remained calm, patient, nodding along as if you understood every word.

You always did that—nodded and smiled. But had you really understood him?

Chenle sets the pen down again, and stares at the words he just wrote on the page.

"You always tried to meet me where I was, even when I couldn’t meet you halfway. I see that now. And I hate that I didn’t see it sooner."

He swallows hard, glancing toward the bedroom door. The stuffed dolphin you won that day lay peacefully tucked away in the closet. It reminds you of the time when things were simpler, or maybe just felt that way.

He stares at the words, hoping they’ll somehow fix what’s broken. But words alone aren’t enough.

They never have been.

Chenle’s been so lost in his memories and thoughts that he hasn’t noticed how much time has passed. He lifts his head and sees you standing in the kitchen. You’ve been here the whole time.

Preparing a lunch for the two of you, you move quietly, chopping the vegetables and stirring a pot on the stove. He barely hears your movements, soft and careful. He wonders if you feel the tension between you two as acutely as he does.

And for that moment, he just watches you. Your posture is relaxed, your head tilted slightly as if you’re caught in your own world. You seem so at peace, and it breaks him.

Chenle wants to reach out to you. To stop this moment from becoming what he knows it has to be. He wants to take your hand, to hold on to you just a little longer. But he knows that’s selfish. This cannot wait.

He swallows hard, his throat tightening as he tears his gaze away from you. His hands clenched into fists on the table, fingers trembling slightly. This is it. 

Taking a deep breath, Chenle forces himself to speak. His voice is low, almost breaking, the words that come out of his mouth are barely audible.

“Y/N, let’s break up.”

Chenle had been distant lately, but you didn’t press him. He always had this quiet side to him, and you figured he’d come around when he was ready. You trusted him.

Lunch was extra special today. You were making tteok-bokki—Chenle’s favorite. It wasn’t a particularly hard dish, but he appreciated the effort you put in for it. You focused on the ingredients, the soft sizzle of the stove and the aroma that filled the kitchen. Smells like these made everything feel brighter.

You lost yourself in the rhythm of cooking, chopping vegetables and stirring the sauce until it thickened just right. He had taught you how to make the dish originally, cooking it to perfection until you got it just the way he liked it.

You glanced over your shoulder at him briefly. He was at the dining table, hunched over something. A notebook? His phone? You couldn’t tell. He didn’t look up.

It wasn’t like him to be so withdrawn. He’d always try—he’d send funny memes or silly videos to make you smile. Lately, though, his texts had seemed less and less. You told yourself he was just busy, and would make time as usual to make it up to you.

When the food was nearly ready, you began washing the dishes in the sink, suddenly remembering something you’d been meaning to ask. You turned around, leaning slightly on the counter, and smiled.

“Chenle,” you said, your voice soft but clear. “Take off early for work today and let’s go out to eat dinner together, alright?”

Your hands begin to move, signing something quickly as you mouthed the words out, the gestures being full of emotion to convey your thoughts and feelings. It was your way of making sure he understood. He didn’t know a lot of sign language, but he always made the effort to try and guess.

He initially looked at you with a serious face, his lips in a tight thin line. His eyes were conflicted. Why he looked so pained for some reason, you had no idea. But as soon as you started signing his lips curved into a smile once more, a familiar smile that you loved looking at all day long. 

Eventually after no reaction, Chenle seemed to process your words and nodded his head. He held his hand up in a ‘ok’ position to ensure that he had understood and got the memo. 

Pleased with his response, you turned back around and finished up your task in the kitchen. 

Chenle had asked you to prepare him lunch. You suggested his favorite. He needed this moment to himself, to let the words leave his mouth and test the weight of them in the air.

“Let’s break up,” he had whispered while your back was turned. The words had tasted bitter, like ash on his tongue, their weight heavier than he could have anticipated.

But you hadn’t heard him.

You’d been deaf since the moment he met you. He could still remember your first conversation. It was brief and awkward, with you typing out sentences on your phone and holding the screen in front of him. He’d smiled at how patient you were. A patience you still had today. From that moment, he was hooked.

Yet now, after all this time, he hated himself for how little he’d tried to understand you better.

Chenle leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling. The guilt felt like a heavy weight, weighing his shoulders down.

He loved you. God, he loved you so much. But it wasn’t enough. Love alone wasn’t enough to bridge the gap of happiness between the two of you.

He thought about all the times you had signed something to him, your gestures full of emotion, but he could only guess their meaning. You never scolded him for not understanding, never grew angry when he needed you to repeat yourself or resort to texting instead. You were always kind and understanding. Patient and calm. 

But you shouldn’t have to be patient. You shouldn’t have to wait for him to change. You shouldn’t have to wait this long. 

He had taken advantage of your patience, convincing himself that things would work out eventually. He would catch on quickly. Or so he thought. 

He had barely scratched the surface of learning sign language, and didn’t put in as much effort as he should’ve. 

He wasn’t enough for her. His mind flooded with these thoughts and revelations. These words were sharp and seemed to pierce his heart, filling him with immense pain.

The gap between his hearing and your not hearing had grown too large, too large to ignore. At first, he had thought together you could leap over it, that your love would be enough. But he was wrong.

You deserved someone who would dive into that gap and build a bridge, piece by piece, brick by brick. Someone who would work to understand every gesture, every look you made, every unspoken word.

He wasn’t that person. He would never be that person.

Chenle glanced at the letter on the table, the words he had written laid out before his own eyes. He wanted to say goodbye, but he couldn’t find a way to do it face to face. Not properly. Not without him breaking down. 

Maybe he wasn’t strong enough to say the words. Call him a coward. He couldn’t face you. He couldn’t even say he wanted to break up with you outright. Yet he wasn’t brave enough to stay and keep letting you down.

He heard you call his name again, your voice soft and light, the way you always spoke just for him. Your hands moved as you spoke, signing the words with ease, your face glowing after looking at him. 

And in that moment, he realized: no matter who he met in the future, he would never love anyone the way he loved you.

But that love wasn’t enough.

The apartment felt emptier than ever when you walked in one day after work. 

You’d noticed the change the moment you opened the door: the subtle shift in the air, the absence of his shoes by the entrance, the way the quiet seemed louder than usual, some space seemed emptier than you remembered. Your chest tightened as you stepped further inside looking around the living room.

That’s when you saw it.

A neatly folded envelope sat on the table, your name written on it in Chenle’s familiar handwriting. Beside it, the small dolphin you’d won at the amusement park laid out next to the letter on the table, its glossy black eyes staring back up at you.

You took a deep breath and swallowed, your hands trembling as you picked up the envelope. You didn’t open it right away. Instead, you stood there, staring at the letter, trying to steady your breathing for a bit. You knew this was coming. You tried to ignore the signs, but you were correct.

When you finally sat down, it was in the same chair Chenle always used. You never sat in it, since it always seemed like his spot. The cushion still felt warm somehow, as though he had been there just moments ago. You placed the envelope on the table in front of you, staring at it for what felt like an eternity before you finally gathered enough courage to open it.

The letter was written in his careful handwriting, each word deliberate, each line heavy with emotion. As you began to read, tears blurred your vision.

My dearest Y/N,

By the time you’re reading this, I’ll be gone. I know you probably saw it coming—I’ve been distant for a while now. And I know you deserve more than this. A goodbye in words rather than on a page. But this is the only way I could say everything I need to. 

From the moment I met you, you were the brightest part of my life. You lit up every room you walked into. You taught me so much about patience, about kindness, about love.

And I failed you.

Things have been different, haven’t you noticed? I miss your laugh. I miss making you laugh. I miss that joyous echo of good times I could feel around the apartment, and I swear to god it was my favorite sound ever. I miss that. I miss us. 

I don’t know how we got here. I don’t know how to fix it. Actually, that’s a lie. I do. But maybe I’m not cut out for that. I know I’m losing you, and it feels like I’m losing myself too.

I’ve tried to convince myself that our love would be enough to bridge the gap between us, that I could make up for my shortcomings. But the truth is, I haven’t. I’ve barely tried to learn about you and your world. You’ve carried so much of the burden, of the weight of our relationship, and I just let you.

You deserve someone who won’t let you do that. Someone who will learn every gesture, every sign there is in the vocabulary of sign language, who will work tirelessly to meet you where you are.

That someone isn’t me.

I hate myself for not being enough for you. I hate that I couldn’t give you what you deserve. And I hate that my love for you isn’t enough to fix this.

You always tried to meet me where I was, even when I couldn’t meet you halfway. I see that now. And I hate that I didn’t see it sooner.

I think about how happy we’ve been, and yet there’s always this weight, this worry I can’t stop thinking about. Even in our brightest moments, something felt... off. It’s not because of you, but because of me. It's slowly destroying me.

I hope that someday, you find someone who will love you the way you deserve to be loved. Someone who will put in the effort I didn’t, someone who will never let you feel alone.

I’ll never stop loving you, Y/N. I just hope that letting you go gives you the chance to find the happiness I couldn’t give you.

I’m so sorry.

- Chenle

Your hands trembled, shaking the letter slightly, your tears dripping onto the paper and smudging the ink. You pressed your lips together, trying to stifle the sobs threatening to escape, but it was no use.

The dolphin on the table stared back at you as if it held all the memories you’d shared—the laughter, the quiet moments, the love.

You folded the letter carefully, placing it back in the envelope as your tears continued to fall. Sitting there in the silence, you felt the weight of his absence settle around you.

And yet, even through the pain, you couldn’t bring yourself to blame him.

Because you understood. And that hurt the most.

TAGLIST ↬ @lyvhie @aquaphoenixz @galacticnct @ldh0000 @polarisjisung @peterm4rker @sleepyvic @chenlesfavorite (u too pookie)

[subbyboysgalore]

movie date <33

a/n: continuation of this thirst post. I'm a little afraid it's ooc but fuck it I've done too many character analyzations for him anyways

summary: yamato is comfortably seated on your lap, the both of you wrapped in a blanket and watching a shitty movie. romantic isn't it, what else could you ever want? well, your cute boyfriend really wants you to stop fucking him so damn slow under the blankets, that's what. but nooo, he has to pay attention to the stupid movie.

tags: cockwarming, edging

type: oneshot, 1,306 words

˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡

This.. truly was a shitty movie.

The lighting was horrible, far too dark on important scenes. The (plastic?) props looked oversaturated. Even the main character drawled out his lines like he was bored. It's kinda impressive that a movie could be so mediocre.

Every once in a while, it got so bad that you couldn't help but think about how Yamato could do the job so much better. Your talented boyfriend was so amazing, and you watched every movie of his. When you told him about that, he looked away, uncharacteristically shy. All the more reason to keep telling him about it, over and over again!

Honestly, you were grateful that both you and Yamato didn't personally know any of the actors. Especially if it were Yuki, that would be horribly embarrassing to look him in the eye next time you saw him. After all, this was a special kind of date.

You adjusted your position, unintentionally shifting your hips around. At that, Yamato let out a shaky sigh against your neck. His once lax grip on your sweater tightened a little, the only reaction he offered.

"Are you even watching the movie?" You asked, words unintentionally filled with exasperation. With the way you were fucking him under the blanket, it wasn't surprising his attention was somewhere else. How cute.

'Not.. Not worth it.." His grey eyes were still passively watching though, a little unfocused, but still there. He leaned his cheek against your shoulder, slumping.

Y'know, he never really liked fancy dates. The spotless tablecloths at high end restaurants stressed him out. Crisp and itchy suits reminded him of work and his childhood, and that really wasn't the best thing to remember during a date.

Cuddled against your body like this, and your blanket draped over the both of you? Holding on close like a teddy bear, your body heat enveloped him. This was the dream. Yamato's head looked to the side to watch the (horribly filmed) movie.

“I could do better.” He muttered out.

“That's exactly what I thought too.” You replied, a bit too chipper than what he would have liked. It was like you weren't even affected at all! Here he was, biting down on his lip to hold back a whimper and you were all.. like this! Frustration bubbled up in his stomach, right next to the steadily burning pleasure. How dare you sit there, unaffected when you burned his skin with your touch?!

To be honest, he would have fallen straight to sleep if not for that.. problem.

Despite the cold air of the room, his body couldn't help but flush horribly. Why did he ever bring this date idea up.. maybe he was a bit of a masochist because this felt like torture.

It was supposed to only be a passing thought, only a kink he would entertain for a day or two. But no, fate had other plans. As soon as Yamato causally brought up cockwarming the other day to you, it's like you took it and ran. Your eyes sparkled in excitement, and he couldn't say no to that! God, you looked like a child in a toy store then, as if you weren't just given another opportunity to fuck your boyfriend in another perverted way.

“You're.. such a pervert..!” Yamato groaned out. His sentence ended with a strangled gasp as you leaned forward and kissed the spot between his shoulder and neck. At this point, the tiniest stimulation set him off, skin buzzing with hot electricity.

“Never thought I'd hear that coming from you of all people. Pervert.” Mumbling against his neck, you let your hot breath fan across it. “Shh.. let me watch the movie. You're being too loud, I can't hear what they're saying.”

The blanket wrapping around the both of you made him feel like Yamato wasn't supposed to be doing this, wasn't supposed to feel so filled up. Against his common sense, it shot a thrill of adrenaline through his tense body. Damn his body and the things he was into.

Casually, like you were just stretching, you held his body closer and bucked your hips a few more times. Holding him by the hips to control his movements, you pushed up impossibly deeper. A string of curses burst out of his mouth before he could stop it.

“Fuck you, fuck you, fuck y-you- mmh..”

“Well I'm doing that to you right now so-” your words were interrupted by an annoyed grumble of words from Yamato. His glasses almost fell off from the way he crashed his head into the crook of your neck. Teasing him like this really was the best thing ever. “No, I won't shut up if that's what you want me to do, Yama-san.”

Gritting his teeth, he tried to move his hips forward, to at least soothe the burning heat in his stomach. His whole body felt like a rubber band on the verge of snapping.

“Hey. Stop.”

This time, he couldn't keep his whine back as you held his hips still. Of course, he could keep going if he really wanted to, Yamato wasn't physically weak by any means. But.. the way your assertive and soft command touched his ear did something to him. If he were standing, honestly his legs might've given out a little. He hoped you didn't- never noticed.

“Pay attention to the movie pretty boy.”

“S-stop calling me that.”

You only hummed in reply, too fixated on the way his body twitched when you shifted inside him. After at least an hour of this treatment, he was so sensitive to the tiniest of touches. His ruffled hair flew everywhere, a result of the both of you running your fingers through it. Resisting the urge to coo in cuteness aggression, you opted to kiss his neck again.

“Come on, the movie's almost done, you can hold on for a little longer right?”

“I'll.. I'll break, you won't even let me touch myself, and you won't touch me- gh- so mean..”

You smiled, lips against his shoulder. “You'll be fine, stop being so dramatic.”

He just whined a little more to complain, mind pleasurably blank.

For the remaining twenty minutes of the movie, it actually got a bit more interesting. The (shittily made) mystery unravelled better than you thought it would.. Fortunately for you, the acting got an upgrade. Unfortunately for Yamato, that meant you were paying more attention to the TV than him. Maybe he was a little bit of an attention whore. Only for you though.

Taking advantage of your shifted focus, he ground his hips down, desperate for any kind of stimulation. Fuck, fuck, fuck-

As calmly as ever, you placed your hands on his hips, keeping them still.

“One more minute okay?”

Your tone was a mix of mocking and soothing, and on top of all that, your eyes never left the TV screen. How mean, after all this time you knew that he could get off on your attention. How mean.

“Please, I need to- need to finish please.. p-please touch me- fuck me properly-!”

At that, he clapped a hand over his mouth, his sentence ending in a choked noise. He was just so cute like this, how could you not? Finally, you touched his cock under the blankets, his entire body jerking. He was so pent up and wet, it was a wonder how he didn't start crying at this point.

“Damn..” Your eyes widened a bit. This was probably the first time he'd ever been edged for so long. “You did so well, I think you should have a reward after all this, hmm?”

The movie already ended a few minutes ago, but Yamato didn't seem to care, or notice at all. He's put up with all your antics, why not give him what he wants? After all, he does look cuter fucked out.. maybe you should take a picture.

[sakurocha]

what is going grocery shopping with you favorite bachelors like? <3

hi anon!!! thank you so much for the ask, this was so fun to write! :D <3

grocery shopping with your bf !

featuring sam, sebastian, alex ♡

⊹₊⟡ sam

growing up, he hated being dragged to the grocery store with his mom, trudging up and down aisles filled with wheat-bran something and green-bean blah

working at jojamart certainly didn't help things either, being constantly surrounded by stockrooms filled with corporate glop

but ever since he's started dating you, and the two of you went on your first official grocery trip™ as a couple, he has gone off the RAILS

always throws something random into the cart, every single trip, without fail

you have to wrangle him around sometimes as he tends to wander off whenever something catches his eye

you're browsing an assortment of breads when he suddenly gasps loudly, nearly scaring the living daylights out of you as he runs over to a precarious-looking display

"cactus fruit joja cola?! that's a thing now??!"

yes, you obviously had to buy a pack. you spoil him too much.

he's always happy to be there, even through the "boring" parts

as you ponder over what kind of sugar to buy ("there's more than one type of sugar? are they all yummy?") he does his best to be helpful

"this one looks... strange, but i feel like we should try something new!"

"that looks like it fits your energy. your vibe, if you will. i'm sensing good vibrations from it."

"think i can pop a wheelie on the cart?" "what the hell, sam, no—" "LOOKKK! i'm doin' it!"

he always feels comfortable to let out his inner child around you, and you love him for it <3

⊹₊⟡ sebastian

just there to help you out <3

he honestly isn't in love with the thought of going out and dragging a cart around for an hour, especially since he doesn't have much preference for foods, but he'll do anything to help you

very efficient—not to end your quality time early, but so your trip can be as quick and easy as possible

"you keep getting stuck in the sweets aisle, love," he says, an amused smile on his face. "come on, let's pick one out then go get the things on our list."

watches you intently as you move up and down the aisles, making a mental note of your preferences

he's gotten it down to a science, so much so that he even takes the initiative to go shopping by himself some days to give you a chance to rest

and when you see him finally return, arms full of bags brimming with your favorite produce and snacks, your heart feels so, so full

it grows on him, the mundane, familiar domesticity of it all

to the point where he automatically tags along, walking just a step behind you as he reminds you of small items you forget from time to time

he now looks forward to spending time with his love; running simple errands with you allows him to take his mind off of the hectic outside world and his brewing inner thoughts, and he so appreciates you for it :,)

⊹₊⟡ alex

he knows what he likes and makes a beeline for it

milk, eggs, a nice ribeye... the regular protein-packed stuff

"this body doesn't maintain itself, y'know!"

he is your personal cart pusher and product grabber, even with the smallest things

and i mean SMALLEST

like he saw you eyeing a box of cereal that was just above eye-level for you, and he swooped in and threw it in the cart

he loves showing off for you, especially when the older folks passing by swoon at his heroism

but he genuinely just wants to help you out!

"don't let the praise from the grannies go to your head," you warn teasingly as he hands you the jam that you had been struggling to reach on the top shelf

he presses a quick, soft kiss to the corner of your lips at that before pulling back with a wink. "i won't, not unless it's from you."

as the two of you wait in line, he's always got his hands on you in some small way

wrapping his arm subtly around your waist, giving your temple a soft peck

or resting his elbow on your shoulder as he browses the various knick knacks on display in the checkout line

"do people still drink five-hour energies?" "i don't know, but i think you definitely shouldn't."

"aren't kinder eggs, like, illegal or somethin'?" "you down to test that?"

it's always so chaotic all around, but it's never boring, you'll give it that :)

thank you so much for reading! requests are always open~ ♡

[raeinyourdreams]

'call it what you want.' | l.h x reader

pairings: logan howlett x sway!reader

tags: fluff, no established relationship but.. there's something there, mutant!reader (they call her sway due to her mutation.. i love her i wanna talk ab her someone PLEASE ASK AB HER), AFAB reader, she/her pronouns used for reader, no specific petnames for reader (just bub and her hero name.. gets called kid like twice), no use of y/n, written with x1/x2 logan in mind... sigh... save me x2 logan.. anyway, he gives reader his dog tags before a mission in case he.. you know.. so maybe angst? but only til the very end.

wc: 2k!!

a/n: OKAY SO BOOM! this is my first actual work that's not a drabble and i'm so anxious to post AAHHH, i got the inspo from a post i saw a while ago while fried as fuck from someone requesting a fic ab logan giving reader his dog tags, pref fluffy and angsty so i hope i did ur vision justice OP!! tysm for inspo, my reqs are always open 🫶🏻 also i know this is a very burnt card but if something in the wording is off lmk PLEASEE english isn't my first language 😭 anyway enough yapping plz enjoy!! any type of interaction is appreciated

'just know these are yours now.'

you've never seen him without his dog tags, he never took them off, not ever since the first time he came into the mansion. you'd been there the first time, you were a teacher in the school, and you'd seen him occasionally roam the halls and stay by the door, listening in on your class, quietly. but very rarely interacted otherwise, just a simple nod or a 'good morning' that he'd return out of good manners, but he'd mostly keep to himself.

you're a teacher. you're the fun teacher. at least that's what your coworkers seemed to agree upon, seeing how your students appeared to leave your classroom more cheerful than they entered. you'd be lying if you said you didn't use your mutation as an advantage in this situation, being able to read your students' moods every day, how they were feeling and why came insanely handy, especially when it came to giving each student the type of care they needed. which is why you were also a student counselor.

on the days you didn't teach, you'd put that psych degree to work and counsel. in your classroom filled with drawings and fairy lights and stained glass that looked straight from a fairytale, and a door you'd lock for privacy as a student came to confide in you.

obviously despite your title, it wasn't only students who'd come to your office to let a feeling go, teachers too, needed a space to blow off some steam, cry a little sometimes, because they knew you'd soothe them in the end, touch your hand feel the pain dissipate, make it seem as if they'd never felt that way.

up until now, only teachers and students seemed to come to you for help. teachers. and students.

so it did surprise you when the wolverine started showing up in your office after coming back.

"must be tiring. to handle others' emotions like your own all day." he'd say, sitting down on a chair, to which you'd playfully roll your eyes and shake your head. "i don't treat them as my own, i just do what i have to do so they feel better." you'd reply, walking towards the door to lock it out of policy. figured that he was here for counseling as well.

"you treat everyone with so much care it seems like it." he said, which made you stop in your tracks, turning heel to face him, your hair cascading on your shoulders and moving ever so softly as you spun. before you could speak, stunned, he asked again.

"don't you get tired? i mean mentally. it must take a toll on you to be around so many emotions all the time." the way he seemed to read you stunned you, he seemed like a very gruff, cold person from the brief interactions you'd had with him before. truth be told, this was the closest you'd been to logan since he came back to the mansion. it's what other people thought of him, anyway.

but you weren't other people, you were different.

the feeling in your body when you perceive others emotions is strange. you could never put it into words. your mutation was mostly contact based, a small brush of the hand was enough to let you know that person's feelings, the reason behind them, what they needed to feel better and it made it easier to help everyone. you could, however, see and feel the emotions, sometimes even smell them if they were too strong, no need for contact necessary.

with logan, you almost didn't need to be in the same room as him to feel the amount of physical, mental, emotional strain he was constantly under, his superhuman body subconsciously tuning it out, making him oblivious to it. once, after a very dangerous mission, he isolated himself in his room for days, his expression cold and unfazed, but every time you'd walk past an area he was in, the emotions hit you like a truck. so strong you even cried over pain that wasn't yours, a life you hadn't lived.

you looked at him sympathetically, taking a deep breath to concentrate less on the seemingly invisible fog around you two as you sat on the chair, your expression calm and collected. "i'm okay, i promise. thank you, logan."

"like hell you are." "neither are you."

he stays quiet at your retaliation, a weak smile forming on his lips, letting you understand that you were right, not that you needed confirmation.

sometimes, when emotions overpower you, you feel compelled to speak, give words of reassurance, even if you didn't quite know if they'd help or not. "logan, you should let people into your heart, stop living in fear.." you blurted out, unsure of why you were telling him this, but you'd learned to not question it and just speak, because it helped to just hear the words sometimes. it certainly did get you a reaction from logan, as the overbearing feelings you were perceiving faded.. briefly, before they slowly crept back into vision.

it was the faintest of reactions, but a reaction at least.

he nodded, taking in the words silently, as if he were contemplating. you remained stoic, analyzing his demeanor out of pure habit. "did.. you come here for counseling?" you asked, suddenly aware that you were still working, and you weren't even sure if he was here for another reason, or if he did need your help. instead, he shook his head, looking at you as if he were conducting an analysis of his own.

"nah, just came to see you.. sway."

a knock on the door interrupted the brewing tension, a gloomy, childlike presence behind the door, to which you looked at logan apologetically. "i'm sorry logan, i have a student to attend.. but think about what i said." you spoke softly, your warm voice reverberating in his ears like a hug.. something he longed for but couldn't bring himself to ask.

you started seeing him around the classroom more, or rather, he started seeking you out more. in between breaks, before his training, during counseling. it got to a point where your children started greeting him hello and goodbye if he was in the classroom, interacting with him, playing with his hair, always styled like kitty ears. the way he just smiled and let them made something in you bloom, a feeling you couldn't recognize in yourself, but it was pink and warm and fuzzy all over. you couldn't help but wonder if he felt about you this way, too.

slowly, you noticed how, little by little, the gloomy cloud surrounding him would go away when he entered the classroom, how it would be replaced with a pink haze when he looked into your eyes, or made you laugh.. it would quickly fade away, but you'd notice, and noticed how much it resembled that feeling inside you: pink and warm and fuzzy all over.

as time went by, you got used to seeing him around, swinging by your classroom as if it was his haven, a small break from the world he knew, because you were in it. you'd be lying if you said he didn't make you day too, the gloomy atmosphere that once came along with him every time he entered your classroom slowly changing into a lilac haze.

one day, he showed up as the kids were leaving for the day, no colored cloud, but something seemed off. you invited him to sit down as he locked the door after getting in, his expression serene. before you could even speak his hands were on you, pulling you close to him in a hug, and you swore you could feel him shaking slightly. the realization hits you like a bucket of cold water and you just hold him tighter to you, since it feels like the only correct thing to do.

"you're scared."

"no one gets to see me like this, so feel special." said he, almost as if he was confiding a secret in you, which he was.

"oh, trust me, i feel quite special." you replied jokingly, which caused him to let out a chuckle, though it was dull and almost no feeling was tied to it.

you two let go and you asked him what was wrong, and he opened up like it was routine.

"i leave tomorrow. there's a mission out of state and they're asking me to go.. might be off the grid after that for a while." he explained, his voice remained calm but his eyes seemed to reveal to you more of how he was actually feeling.

"i dunno.. thought someone should've known in case.. things go south." your expression changed at that, and logan noticed. "ah, c'mon bub, change that frown, it's just reality. sure, i might be a piece of work to kill but it doesn't mean i can't die."

the silence that fell upon the classroom as you two finished speaking made the words fall with more weight into your heart, it did little to nothing to comfort you as you came to terms with what he said. it shouldn't have been hard - he was just stating a fact -, but it didn't mean that it didn't cut deep for you. you opened your mouth to speak, unsure of what you were even going to say, but he quickly cut you off.

"logan-" "listen, bub, you told me to start letting people into my heart.. i'm letting you in."

slowly, his hands went to unclasp the chain that always dangled on his neck, dog tags adorning his neck with his names, his identities. you looked in awe as he held them out to you. "gimme your hand, kid." and surprisingly, you did as you were told, holding your hand out as he placed the piece on your hand, feeling the cold metal clink softly as it fell and heat up under the temperature of your palm. you looked up at him, unsure of what it meant, of what this changed between you two, but it felt undeniable, even if unspoken.

“now, these.. they’re very special, bub. a reminder of everything that happened that led to here.. and it’s leading me to you right now.” he explained. “feels right for you to have them, i guess.. keep them safe, kid.”

the silence that fell between you two again was more comfortable, filled with a newfound tension that left much to question, but it didn’t feel right to interrupt with all that noise yet. the only sound filling the room was the breathing and a faint humming of the white noise machine you kept in your room, next by the door. you opened up your mouth again, your mind utterly blank and filled with thoughts and questions at the same time, unsure of which one was going to breach through your mind to materialize out in the cold, tense air.

“.. why me? trust me, i’m flattered, but i’m no one special, logan..” you questioned, and it made him frown.

“you are special. you're special to me.” your eyes widened at the confession and you watched as a soft smile settled on his face, one that made your heart flutter with the sheer tenderness he held in his gaze. “call it what you want.. just know these are yours now.” he said it so calmly, you wouldn't have tought he was handing you his heart, placing it in soft, tender hands and pleading you to not break it, not change it, and instead embrace it and accept it as it came, rough around the edges.

with that, he stood up from the chair, took your hand to squeeze it briefly, and walked out of the room, not before looking back at you one last time, the heaviness that he carried as he entered the room seemingly gone, all that you could perceive was a haze, all too familiar, one that left as quick as it came as his eyes met yours.

pink, warm, and fuzzy all over.

additional author's note: BOOM SHAKALAKA I POSTED FINALLY!! i think it's a little rushed BUT!! it's cause i have a (smutty) part 2 planned for this HEHEJEHE i don't like writing (or reading) series bcs i get sad when they end but i just might.... hehehe... anyway pls lmk what u think!! or i kill off logan 🥰🥰 your choice 🥰🥰

taglist: @allen-444

[milliesfishes]

hii same anon again! feel free to ignore if you don’t want to do this ofc - but a perfect lake day with coryo but then you can tell something’s off. he then finally tells you about how he was reassigned to district two and doesn’t have any choice but to go and you two are both so heartbroken. and then maybe having to actually say goodbye? :’) guess i want to cry lol

⋆౨ৎpeacekeeper coryo breaks up with you⋆౨ৎ fem reader x coriolanus snow

Coriolanus’ lips found your fingers clasped with his hand, and you smiled slow and soft like sunlight. His other arm was resting lazily over your hips, the weight a comforting thing as his chest supported your back. It was perfect. Everything about it was perfect.

Truthfully, you loved every allotted day off he spent with you. It was a treasure amidst a sea of mundane days filled with labor and exhaustion. He smoothed every rough spot for you, made every ordinary trouble melt away.

Turning in his arms, you let your cheek fall against his chest, the metal of his dog tags cool from your time in the lake. Many a time you had fallen asleep with the rectangles pressed to your skin and awoken with his blood type imprinted there.

He let you move against him, quiet and stoic as always. Today in particular he'd been reserved but you assumed it was stress, not minding the lack of talk. Only when you were settled did he adjust his arms, one large hand splaying over your bare back. You hadn’t bothered to redress, and nor did he.

It was funny- a month ago he would have had his clothes on immediately after drying off, wary of the surroundings of nature he was so unfamiliar with. Now he sat upright, not against the tree like anyone from town would have done, but it didn’t matter. As long as you fit between his arms nothing else mattered.

Picking at the blanket underneath, you murmured, “I hope it can always be like this.” A bird’s whistle carried from the trees, flung out into the expanse of the glassy lake. His fingers stilled where they had been roving up and down, causing you to look up at him, meet his stormy blue eyes.

Right now, they were filled with thunderclouds of oceanic magnitude, and you sat up straight, brow knitting. Was he upset? Worried about something? "Coryo?"

The lake lapped calmly at the pebbly shore, the opposite of the mass of dread circulating and hardening in your chest. It was a buildup; you knew it was. He kept your fingers laced with his when he murmured, "I'm being transferred."

It felt as though someone had shoved you off the edge of something dark and looming, and now your body was flailing helplessly, plummeting to the jagged rocks of the unknown. Hovering clouds darkened the spot of sunshine you'd been lying in, and goosebumps rippled over your arms.

"Transferred?" You could only manage the single word, trying to leave out the accompanying emotions. Your efforts were in vain.

He gave a single nod, and you let out a little breath, looking away. The only that could have shocked you more than meeting was him leaving you. He'd looked so out of place that first night at the Hob, as if he didn't know what to do with himself.

It was hardly the same man staring back at you now, the lines of his face stiffened.

You sat all the way up, moving closer to him, knees pushing his thighs further apart. He took your hips again, trying to get you to stay still, but you refused, determined as ever. Framing his face with your palms, you searched him desperately. "What do you mean by transferred?"

"I took the advancement test. I passed. Now they want to send me to Two."

Your poor heart began to ache all over again. Every word from his mouth was eating at it like sugar to a rotting tooth. "Two."

"Sweetheart." He gently held your wrists, pulling your hands away from his cheeks. The more you looked at him the more you hurt. But you'd never been able to tear yourself from him yet. Though your time with him had been brief, Coriolanus had quickly become your favorite person, the only one you wanted to be with. You wanted a sea of endless nights cuddled to his chest, or under his arm at the Hob. Gent's girl is what the other Peacekeepers called you, lifting their bottles and grinning.

Tears began to prick your eyes. "You never even told me you took the test."

"I didn't know they would ship me out," he said with an edge, swallowing. "I thought maybe I'd be promoted here and get to stay. But they want me somewhere else."

"You're leaving me." It felt so selfish to say it that way. The man you loved was escaping the mousetrap of District Twelve and you were condemning for it. In all honesty, this was a chance you knew you would have jumped at had it been you.

Coriolanus breathed out through his nose, and you suppressed a chill both from the temperature and the look on his face. He didn't reach for you, letting you have your space as you tried not to cry. It was only when the first crystal drop leaked from your eye that his hands found your waist, pulling you back into his chest.

Your tears soaked his chest, and you took in sharp breaths, trying not to go hysterical. It was bad enough that he was comforting you when you were supposed to be excited for him.

All you could think of were the things you would miss. The barely-there lilt of his lips whenever you said something sweet or funny, The feel of his hands on you. Soft confessions he made when it was dark in your small home save for a candle, kissing your forehead when he left to get back in time for curfew. The way he kissed- like he'd been hungry his entire life and only you could satiate him.

A choked little sob bubbled up and darted past your lips when you realized exactly how alone you'd be when he was gone. Family long passed, being with him had been the closest you'd felt to home in a long while. Where do you go when your home is a million miles away?

To the bed he'd held you in, you gathered. To the places he used to be. It would be a measly substitute for what you really wanted.

"I'll write you," he promised, adjusting the daisy he'd plucked and put in your hair earlier. His body was growing taut, and you knew he was fighting internally as much as you were. "We'll...it'll be okay."

Maybe somehow you had always known he wouldn't be here forever. Given his origins somewhere that may as well have been universes away, you knew he wasn't destined for life in a place like this. With the simplicities you had learned to make enough.

You could almost see the path the future embroidered before you. Crinkled letters under your pillow because that was the closest you'd get to holding him again, hours emptied of his presence. It drained you like a rainy day, and you slid your arms around his torso. His chin dropped to your hair, one hand at your waist and the other fingering the strap of your damp crocheted undershirt.

A plea for him to stay nearly rose on your lips, and you lifted your head, wishing you were brave enough to say it. But you knew nothing could stop it now. The echoes of your desire were fading into the background as he breathed in through his nose, pressing his forehead down onto your head.

The way he held you spoke volumes, and you mentally penned it to remember for late. Your wet hair had been sticking to his chest like seaweed, and he brushed it behind your shoulder. "I...I'll miss you." Though his voice was steady, you could hear the cracks in the foundation. "I love you," he was really saying.

You allowed yourself one final sniffle before lifting your head, cupping his cheek and pressing your lips to his. His warm fingers found the nape of your neck over your hair, just holding you there until you pulled back. "I'll miss you too," you breathed, twin tears trickling from your eyes.

Ever since you knew him, you had watched the mask he'd worn as a young man from the Capitol chink and crumble away. Perhaps he had realized he didn't need it here. Not where humanity was in its barest bones, the natural world a pure comfort. In a romantic way you knew it was you too. You gave him all you had in the way of love, unearthing the undeniable fact that he cared for you that way too.

Coriolanus' hands found your cheeks, and he kissed you once more in a way full of longing. He searched your eyes, letting his forehead lean against yours. In that moment he looked almost desperate, matching you. Without closing his eyes, his lips pressed to yours in the tiniest of pecks. "I love you."

Maybe that would keep you warm at night when he was nothing but memory.

[justwinginglife]

I've been deepdiving the hoshina tag and you are definitely one of my favourites to read from with the way you portray him 😭😭😭 so I'm wondering how it'd be with him and a reader that's always portrayed as the elegant and forward type... (kind of like shinobu kocho? if you're familiar with her) and on a rough mission he finds her like... heavily injured and he's thinking that it's the first time he's seen her so different from how she usually acts

this is my first time requesting ever.... so if there's some kind or etiquette I'm missing please don't hesitate to tell...........

THANK YOU SO MUCH! This means a lot to me! And, my dude, I just portray what I think of him- that he's the biggest freaking green flag EVER lol. And don't even worry about requesting etiquette, I just joined tumblr a couple weeks ago so you're totally fine, I wouldn't even know either. I'm just glad I could be your first request! Hope I do it justice, thanks again for your support. Also sorry for the wait. Also there were so many different ways I could've gone with this prompt so I hope the one I chose turns out okay.

Honest

There was always a line out the door of officers looking to train with you and today was no different.

Besides the fact that your technique was utterly flawless and you made combat look as graceful as ballet, you were also just stunningly gorgeous. Any man would die just to get a glimpse of you, let alone spar with you. Taking a punch to the face or a kick to the abdomen was an honor if it was from you.

And you were always the same with every man, you never showed any favoritism. You'd give them the same small smile, giving your honest advice when asked, but nothing more than that. You never even blinked at someone longer than you usually did with anyone else.

But even though it seemed like no one had caught (or could catch) your particular attention, there was in fact one man that you had to actively try to subdue your feelings for. You were thankful that no one had noticed that every time a certain Vice Captain walked into the room, your eyes always somehow wandered in the opposite direction of him. And when you'd hear him laugh or even just give out orders, your teeth would clench together to keep from smiling at his voice.

You weren't one to give away parts of yourself easily, having lost all of your family, but one day you'd suddenly found that it was much harder for you to not want to just give everything to him. Especially when you had realized that he was into you too. No matter where you were on campus, he'd make it his mission to find you, to be near you. He'd tell you his best jokes, trying to get you to crack more than just your usual small smile. He'd fight all out with you during training sessions, trying to get you to break a sweat for once, claiming that it did something to him watching you all worked up. It had become quite the strain on you, trying to treat him the same as everyone else when you were dying to just push him up against a wall and kiss him. You'd settle for even just holding his hand or brushing your shoulder up against his. But this wasn't like you- to want such immature, naive things.

You were someone who was wanted, you did not want. You were someone who was needed, you did not need. In fact, you were so hesitant to rely on anything, that if you could've figured out a way to live without oxygen you would've so as to not be indebted to the air filling your lungs.

Your skill and your independence were your swords and you wielded them with grace, distancing yourself from the crowds, but making yourself into a pretty show for them to watch. You were fine if they watched you, as long as that was all that they did. You couldn't imagine someone actually courting you, touching you, loving you.

But you did imagine Hoshina- it was more often than you'd like to admit and it irked you. You thought about just flat out ignoring him, turning down his requests to spar with you. But then he'd be different than everyone else. He'd be someone who spurred enough emotion in you to warrant unnatural behavior. And you refused to give in to emotion, especially emotion so childish and needy as something like love.

So you spent the day the way you always did, giving every officer a proper amount of time to train with you, and ending each session with a curt smile and a nod, gesturing for the next combatant to approach.

But then the alarm went off, signaling a kaiju attack. You thought you'd handle this the way you always did, no mess, no fuss, just efficient and effortless. But this was no ordinary kaiju and tonight was no ordinary night.

You had let all the lower ranking officers handle yoju duty and you had gone straight for the daikaiju. That was not abnormal behavior, you were always confident in your skills and they always served you well. But not tonight.

Tonight, you were humbled in the most brutal way possible.

Your fight had drawn you away from the rest of the squad, and now you were glad it had because you were ashamed to be in such a sorry, gruesome state. You had sustained heavy damage and for the first time in your life, you genuinely considered you might die here.

You thought of all the friends and family that you'd lost to war, kaiju, sickness. You wondered if you were ready to join them. It would be easier to let go.

"But I'm not done yet... I haven't..." You spit up blood, and shakily rise to your feet, groaning at the effort. I haven't even told him how I felt yet, damnit, you think to yourself, unable to speak the words aloud. Without meaning to, you being to cry. You don't have a free hand to wipe the tears away, as one clutches your dripping abdomen trying to stop the flow of blood, and one clings to your gun, aching as you attempt to raise it again. You fire a weak shot but your combat power is high enough that it distracts the kaiju for a moment.

And a moment is all that you need.

"Hey there, princess. You look like you could use a little saving. Don't worry, I won't tell the guys."

Right before your eyes, the beast suddenly splits into little dissected pieces and they rain down on the pavement, pelting the ground.

For the first time in years, you smile a real genuine smile as the Vice Captain holds his hand out to you. You're relieved to be alive to make it to another day, and you're shocked at how relieved you are. You don't remember when life began to feel so precious to you.

Maybe it was when you'd accidentally overheard a conversation where Hoshina was telling another officer that you'd be the one to bring hope to future generations.

Maybe it was when you'd forgotten your lunch one day and he'd sacrificed his lunch to leave it in your locker for you to find when your growling stomach had sent you hungrily ravaging through it for any snack you might've left behind.

Or maybe... maybe it was when your last living relative died and everyone whispered to each other about how cold you were for not shedding a tear and keeping your chin up when all you wanted to do was curl up and cry, but he alone told you in passing (not wanting to make a scene) that it was okay to grieve in whichever way you pleased.

And now he was holding a hand out to you. And you thought if you took it you might never let go. You might want to know where this led, what your feelings felt like when you let them roam wild, what he felt like in your arms.

Before you can decide if you truly want to take that terrifying step, his hand clasps yours and he pulls you in for a hug.

"You did good." He whispers in your ear.

You shake your head but you don't pull away from him. "I didn't. I almost died. You had to save me. I wasn't good enough."

"You're enough. You did well." He repeats, firmer this time.

You sigh against him, exhaling every pent up feeling you'd been holding on to. "Th-thank you, Vice Captain."

He pulls back a little and grins at you. "It's Soshiro, actually."

You bite your lip, trying to force down the warmth that's started to flood into your cheeks.

"You know I've never seen you like this before. It's a good look on you." He teases.

"Shut up, Soshiro."

He grins even wider at you using his first name so soon. "You get your butt kicked for the first time, you actually blush, and then you raise your voice at me? What is going on with you today?" He chuckles, nudging you playfully.

"I think... I think I might want to try something. Something different." You say finally.

He raises a curious eyebrow at you. "And what's that, princess?"

"Being honest with myself for once."

And with that, you pull him in and kiss him.

[deezee112]

The worst ending 3 : Shattered Perfection

The worst ending 2 | The worst ending 4

Yandere!Deuce Spade x GN!Reader

A/N : I'm back!! I'm sorry for posting so late, I just got back from camp which was so torturous😭 And I'm writing chapter 5, the draft is almost done. I've been feeling quite inspired to write lately.

My inspiration came just a few weeks ago...

Warning : This story contains themes of emotional dependency , accidental death , intense guilt , and grief , The narrative explores a tragic , It doesn't have any yandere content but it's so sad. I'm sorry, little one 😭😔

Tags :

@iris-arcadia

If you want me to tag you please tell me.

English is not my first language.

You stared at the lifelike doll before you, its glassy eyes a mirror of uncertainty, as if reflecting the internal debate waging within you. Crowley's words echoed in you head " Raise this child, and you may find purpose in your mundane life! "

It wasn't purpose you sought—your always been a driven individual. But something about this child, sitting there so quietly, had tugged at you heartstrings in a way you couldn't explain. You stern, sarcastic nature wavered for just a moment.

Finally, you sighed. “ Alright, fine. I’ll do it. ” you muttered. “ But don’t expect me to be some doting mother figure. ”

As you reached out to the doll , it blinked , startling you. It was alive in every sense of the word. The doll no the boy—looked at your with wide, curious eyes , as though silently asking, What now?

“ I’ll name you...Deuce. ” you said finally. The name felt fitting somehow simple, yet strong.

Raising Deuce wasn’t easy. From the moment he began to walk and talk, it became evident that his emotions often got the better of him. His anger flared like a wildfire over the smallest inconveniences: a misplaced toy, a frustrating lesson, or even you own sarcastic quips.

“ Deuce, I said no! You can’t have ice cream for breakfast. ” You said one morning, you tone sharp but not unkind.

“ But why not?! ” Deuce shouted, stomping his foot. His cheeks flushed red, and his tiny fists clenched at his sides.

“ Because I said so. ” you crossed you arms, you calm demeanor masking you frustration.

Deuce glared at your, his temper simmering just beneath the surface. For a moment, you thought he might lash out physically. Instead, he stormed off to his room, slamming the door behind him.

Later, he returned, his head bowed and his small hands clutching the hem of his shirt. “ I’m sorry, Y/n.. ” he said softly. “ I didn’t mean to get mad. ”

You crouched down to his level, placing a hand on his shoulder. “ It’s okay, Deuce. But you need to learn to control that temper of yours. You can’t let your emotions get the best of you. ”

“ I’ll try. ” he promised, his big, earnest eyes filled with determination.

“ Good ” you said, rubbing his head.

Despite the challenges, You and Deuce formed a bond stronger than you ever anticipated. You saw past his outbursts to the kind hearted boy beneath. He tried so hard to be good, often scribbling little apology notes after his tantrums or offering to help with chores.

One evening, after a particularly rough day, Deuce came to you holding a small bouquet of wildflowers he’d picked from the park. “ These are for you. ” he said shy, his cheeks tinged pink.

You raised an eyebrow but couldn’t suppress the smile tugging at your lips. “ Flowers, huh? Trying to butter me up so I’ll forget you broke my coffee mug this morning? ”

Deuce looked down, fidgeting with the stems. “ I just...wanted to make you happy... ”

You heart softened. “ Thanks, Deuce. They’re beautiful. ”

In moments like these, you forgot he was just a doll a creation meant to mimic life. To you, he was simply Deuce, the boy who wanted so desperately to do right by you.

It was a stormy afternoon when everything went wrong. you had been working from home, typing away on you laptop while Deuce played with his toys in the living room. The thunder rumbled ominously outside, and rain lashed against the windows.

“ Deuce, be careful with that ” You called, noticing him swinging a wooden sword dangerously close to the lamp.

“ I’m a knight! I have to protect the kingdom! ” he declared, oblivious to you warning.

“ Deuce, I mean it— ”

Before you could finish, the lamp toppled over, shattering on the floor.

You sighed, pinching the bridge of you nose. “ Deuce! What did I just say? ”

His face crumpled, anger and guilt warring within him. “ I didn’t mean to! It’s not my fault! ”

“ Deuce, calm down— ”

“ I’m not a bad kid!! ” he yelled, tears streaming down his face. He lashed out, kicking at the shards of glass in frustration.

“ Stop! ” You shouted, grabbing his arm to pull him back.

But in his flurry of emotions, Deuce twisted away from you grip, flinging his arm out and that’s when it happened.

The sharp edge of a broken shard sliced through the air, catching you across you neck.

Your eyes widened in shock as you stumbled backward, your hands instinctively flying to you throat. Blood seeped through you fingers, dark and warm.

Deuce froze, his anger evaporating in an instant. “ y/n..? ” he whispered, his voice trembling.

You sank to the floor, you vision blurring. “ It’s...okay, Deuce... ” you managed to choke out, though you voice was barely audible.

“ No! No, no, no! ” He dropped to his knees beside you, frantically trying to stop the bleeding with his small hands. “ I didn’t mean to! I didn’t mean to hurt you! Please don’t go! ”

The minutes stretched into eternity as Deuce sobbed beside you lifeless body. His hands were stained with you blood, and his mind raced with a thousand regrets.

“ I didn’t mean to... ” he kept repeating, rocking back and forth. “ I didn’t mean to hurt you... ”

The house felt unbearably silent without you presence. Deuce wandered from room to room, clutching the wildflowers he’d given you days ago. They were wilted now, their petals falling apart, but he couldn’t bear to let them go.

He replayed their last conversation over and over in his mind. If only he had listened. If only he had controlled his temper. If only...

One evening, Deuce sat at the dining table, staring at a crumpled piece of paper. It was one of the notes he’d written for you, a simple “ I’m sorry... ” scribbled in childish handwriting.

“ I’ll be better. ” he whispered, as though she could still hear him. “ I’ll be good...I promise.. ”

He placed the note on you empty chair, along with the last flower from the bouquet.

“ I’m sorry, y/n.. ” he said softly, tears streaming down his face. “ I’ll never forget you.. ”

[tokkiwrites]

FAWN HEART, PART ONE : The night's desire.

dark!joel miller x f!reader

part one | part two | part three | more coming soon.

summary: After a few months of being together, you move in with your boyfriend, 'Adam'. His landlord, Joel Miller, takes a special liking to you.

tags: murder, stalking, spying, mention of abuse, mention of blood, violence, age gap, vulnerable reader, stalker joel, mentions of abusive relationship, pet names, she/her pronouns (let me know if i missed anything.)

ㅤ↪ㅤtokki's ۫ 𐑺 𝚜𝚞ׂ𝚐𝚊𝚛 ࣭ note ˑ ⌕ ࣭ ּ ➭ staring my first series ever !! of course, I will continue it only if this first part does well ( so no spice for now!! ). for now, we're starting off a bit mild, & I'm leaning more on the double storylines . this is short with only 1.5k words, but it's a little gift since i was gone for so long. sorry if it sucks! remember, requests are opened, and your feedback matters the most to me 🐰

【commencing】 : a heart as soft as the embrace of spring. She welcomed everyone with open arms, seeing the best in people, and never turned anyone away, no matter the pain. Her kindness boundlessㅡ she gave without expecting anything in return. But this gentle nature often left her defenseless. she continued to believe in the goodness of others, her fawn heart resilient and unwavering, oblivious to those trampling on it. her fawn heart, her weakness.

「may 04th ㅡ O2:08 AM」

he didn't know her. didn't deserve her. the nerve he had saying he loved her when he doesn't know what love is...he doesn't know what kind of love she needed.

so when he left for work every night, her true love would sneak in. Joel wasn't the romantic type, but for her, he'd do it all. he'd sit there, watching her sleep, staring as her soft lips puffed out when she took her shallow breaths as she slept - how her lashes laid so perfectly onto her cheeks.. that's all he could do - stare. no touching. It killed him. how that asshole could do all that he pleased to her and how she would accept almost nothing in return.

she was sweet. bitterly. her soft, gaze a testament to the trials she's been through. she could've had so much more, yet she chose this moron. Joel couldn't understand why? not just why she chose that - but why everything when it came to her. why? everything about her, she was an enigma. when Joel first set eyes on her, that's all he could think of. why? and how? how could he have lived so long without his angel by his side.

that was 6 months ago. Tonight, it's a little less cold outside- its may, and the summer smell fills the air, as branches sway next to the window in a tireless dance. cars sound in the distance, as late night chatter of the streets fill Joel's ears and her scent his nose. drowning - suffocating him in the anticipation that maybe for one night he'd have her. he never wanted to scare her - to hurt her. she's precious, a porcelain statuette he had to have. Joel was adamant. kissing her only with his gaze, he got up only as the moon kissed the sun goodbye, and the chickadees started their long-awaited song.

「june17th ㅡ O8:42 PM」

late again. he's always late, letting her wait with no sign for hours. it was his birthday, not that Joel cared, but the thin walls provided him with utmost soundㅡ any and all sounds.

she was crying, and he didn't want to budge in making it weird for her, but his heart twisted when he knew she wasted tears on a shit-head like Adam.

but he let his heart get the best of him, and maybe, just maybe, this was the moment when he let his heart dictate, and she finally realizes that she's better than that. better than Adam. Better for Joel. He makes his way to the apartment next door, thinking if he should be honest with her or make up a lame excuse like late payment on utilities or donations for a new front door. He knocked twice, his palms sweaty. This girl made him feel all giddy like a teenager again, heart racing, his dreams full of her. The door cracks open, revealing just half of her red, puffy face with make-up pushed around.

"Y-yesㅡ"

"Hey, there, Iㅡ is everything alright, fawn darling?" his eyes furrow, a weight settling down in his stomach. he couldn't stand seeing her like this. her eyes finally reach his, a glint of gratitude glimmering within them. "hi, Mr.Miller. I'm fine justㅡ" she sighs. "Adam bailed on me.. again!" she tries to laugh it off, wave it as a joke, but the pain in her spirit is apparent. "Sorry if i was, you know... crying too loud. I'll keep it down -"

"fawn...darlin', you know-" Joel's gaze softened "you know you can always come to me if you ever need a shoulder to cry on. As corny as that sounds, 'm all here for ya." looking down at her, he dares not break eye contact.

"Thank you, Mr.Miller.."

"I told you to call me Joel, didn't I?" he tsks, straightening his back. "I feel too old when you call me mister.." Joel admits, in a playful manner. "Got it. Joel." How it rolls off her tongue like honey. how he wants to lick off every drop and indulge into her like the powerful drug she is, so deeply coursing through his being, wishing he'd hear her scream his name underneath him one day. "Right, so- if you ever want anythin'.." he scratches his rough beard. "I'm one door away."

"Thank you, Joel." she steps out barefoot, throwing herself into Joel's arms, hugging him whilst her sweet perfume envelopes them both. Joel breathes inㅡ so close. At last, the hug is broken, and she scurries back inside, leaving Joel stuck in his fantasy.

"My sweet fawn."

「july 3rd ㅡ OO:35 AM」

"Why so hostile, little bird? I thought you liked it when i touched you like this.. a little rough." he rasped, voice scratching at her chest like a knife. "Adam, you're drunk. let's justㅡ get inside." she manages to huff out as her palms lay flat on Adam's chest, pushing him away. "Baby- c'mon, be a doll."

"stop, Adamㅡ stop!" you could hear the frustration in her voice, and the tears that were brimming at the corners of her eyes, threatening to fall.

he couldn't just stand there and witness this. he'd regret it forever, unquestionably. " 's everything alright here?" Joel tries to play it cool. He doesn't want to let off too much. He doesn't want it to escalateㅡ for her to get hurt.

" Mr.Millerㅡ"

"Yeah, none of your business, man. Just leave, okay?" Adam scoffs, staring down the hallway where he heard Joel's voice, thinking to himself, 'what this old geezer was doing up so late'. "careful, boy. don't want ya to hurt your pretty lady, ok? just makin' sure everything is -"

"yeah, i fucking said everything is alright, so mind your fucking business, dude!" he spat "Jesus, man." Joel does nothing but smile. Does this Adam guy know what he has gotten himself into? Surely not.

He stretches his neck, making it crack as he takes one step closer to where the couple was. By this time, she was already starting to panic, soft pleads leaving her mouth as that jerk held onto her frame, shaking it up whilst he threw rude remarks towards Joel.

"Let go of her, boy."

"Fuck outta here, old ass. Don't make me come to you, I'm not nice when I'm drunk."

"Oh, I know." Joel promptly comes closer so that only a part of his face is visible by the light of the moon shining through the large window.

"Adam, let's just -"

"Quiet, bitch!" With a swift turn, Adam managed to deliver a harsh backhanded slap to her head, the pounding pain sending her a few steps back, right into the wall. "See, if you weren't here I would've gotten some pussy tonight. But you had to show up." Adam laughs, shaking his hand to recover from the hit. "You a knight in shining armor, or what?"

"You apologize to her, before I rip your fucking legs off and shove them up your sorry ass." Joel was calm. he tried his hardest to not run towards her, embrace her in his tight armsㅡ but he had other plans for now.

"Spare me the threats, old man. one wrong move, and your whole body dislocates." Adam laughs hungrily, shoving joel. or at least attempting. " I don't even know why you care so much. This bitch was onto me the whole night, but when its time to finally get the dick she shys away." he raises his arm again, oblivious to the knife Joel had aimed straight to his jugular, all this time, impatiently thirsting over the thought of Adam's blood gushing onto him. At first Adam is confused, but as he catches a glimpse of Joel's dark grin in the moonlight he finally realizes― he'd been stabbed.

with one palm over his mouth, joel grabs Adam closer, the knife slitting further into his flesh, now reaching his ear.

"You gotta know how to respect your elders, boy." Joel sucks a sharp breath through his teeth, staring deep into Adams eyes as he retracts the knife and promptly shoves it right between his eyes, with enough force that you could hear a faint 'crunch' sound. "ㅡand your lady." In a failed attempt to reach for the girl that was frozen in place, Adams pathetically tries to grab onto her dress as he collapses to the ground.

everything is silent for a moment.

So she stood there, watching as the blood from the splayed body pooled at her feet, the only sounds bouncing off the walls that bathed in darkness were her short breaths and slow steps approaching to where she practically turned to stone.

"'s alright, baby fawn . he can't hurt you no more. i promise."

[summer-of-bad-batch]

SUMMER OF BAD BATCH 2024 HAS COME TO AN END…TUNE IN NEXT YEAR FOR SUMMER OF BAD BATCH 2025!!

2024 Participants, Completionists & Overachievers!

SUMMER OF BAD BATCH 2024: POST CREDITS (Ao3 Collection)

EVENT BADGES

PARTICIPANT FORM

☀️GENERAL INFORMATION BELOW THE CUT☀️

Bad Batch Would You Rather Game Suggestions

FREE EVENT BANNERS AND DIVIDERS

Summer of Bad Batch 2024 Prompt List

***Fill prompts all summer! No deadlines! See below cut for more details 😎***

200 Followers Celebration Bonus Prompt:

Bonus Alternate Prompt: "Can you braid my hair?"

300 Followers Celebration Bonus Prompt:

Bonus Alternate Prompt: Light in the Darkness

Week 1

Main Prompt: Water Gun Fight

Alt. Prompt: “It’s not what you think.”

Week 2

Main Prompt: Injured

Alt. Prompt: Comfort Zone

Week 3

Main Prompt: “It’s just a scratch.”

Alt. Prompt: “Forget I asked.”

Week 4

Main Prompt: Cadets

Alt. Prompt: "You really think you're going without me? Not going to happen."

Week 5

Main Prompt: “You’re a bad liar.”

Alt. Prompt: “Need a hand?”

Week 6

Main Prompt: Battle Scars

Alt. Prompt: “Get out of my room!”

Week 7

Main Prompt: “Don’t avoid the question.”

Alt. Prompt: Getting a Haircut

Week 8

Main Prompt: Swimming Lessons

Alt. Prompt: Lula

Week of 9

Main Prompt: “Hold still.”

Alt. Prompt: Stargazing

Week 10

Main Prompt: Hugs

Alt. Prompt: “Just when were you planning on telling us that?”

Week 11

Main Prompt: “I didn’t think I would get this far.”

Alt. Prompt: “Yeah, kid, we’re fine.”

Week 12

Main Prompt: Nightmares

Alt. Prompt: Radio Silence

Week 13

Main Prompt: “Stop touching me!” // “I’m not touching you!”

Alt. Prompt: Crashing Hard

🥳🥳That’s the end of the Summer of Bad Batch 2024 prompt list…feel free to use all prompts and tags forever and ever🥳🥳

You can find the Ao3 collection HERE!

And I know that sometimes, it can be a pain to figure out how to add to collections (please tell me I'm not the ONLY one who has struggled with this 😭), so here's a step by step!

STEP ONE: Post a New Work OR Edit an existing work.

STEP TWO: Under the Associations category, you’ll see “Post to Collections / Challenges”

STEP THREE: Type summerofbadbatch2024 (no spaces)

STEP FOUR: This is where it gets tricky...the collection may or may not auto populate. If it doesn't, that's okay. Just leave summerofbadbatch2024 in there as is, and save the post (you can even save it as a draft and see if it worked!) It should add it to the collection even if it didn't auto populate 🤓

Q: What is Summer of Bad Batch??

A: Summer of Bad Batch is a laidback, summer prompt challenge from June 1st-August 31st. Every Sunday (12am CST), a prompt and alternative prompt will be released to inspire creativity in the Star Wars: The Bad Batch fandom! By filling prompts by August 31st, you can qualify as a:

Participant (completed 1-12 prompts)

Completionist (completed 13+ prompts)

Overachiever (completed 13 main prompts + the 13 alternative prompts)

At the end of the challenge, there will be a form for participants to fill out to let me know what category of completion they fall into. A post will be made for each category giving a shoutout and (if you’d like) a link to your Master List of completed prompt fills.

Q: What can I do to fill a prompt?

A: Anything you want! Fanfic, fan art, drabbles, doodles, cartoons, poetry...the possibilities are endless! The only real criteria is that it has to be based on Star Wars: The Bad Batch.

Q: Will you reblog prompt fills?

A: Yes! However, since I am keeping this blog PG, I will only reblog prompt fills that fit within that criteria. Basically, if it could be in the literal show itself, it could be reblogged here ☺️

(That said, I won’t reblog any clone x clone content simply because it is one of my main squicks 😅)

Also, make sure you tag your prompt fills! That's the only way I'll be able to find them in the wide world of Tumblr! So, tag your prompt fills with #summerofbadbatch2024 so I (and anyone else who is looking for Summer of Bad Batch goodness!) can find your posts!

(And everything is welcome on the Ao3 Summer of Bad Batch 2024 Collection — so make sure to add to it if you’re on Ao3!)

Q: When will prompts be released?

A: Every Sunday (with the exception of Week 1, which will have a special release date of Saturday, June 1st) at 12am CST.

Q: What if I don’t understand a prompt?

A: Send me a message or an ask! I’d be happy to help!

Q: What if I don’t like the weekly prompt?

A: Every week will have an alternate prompt available! And alternate prompts can be swapped out for any main prompt, regardless of which week!

Q: Where can I post my prompt fills?

A: Anywhere you'd like! Personally, I'm only on Ao3 and Tumblr...but I know that this fandom is literally all over the internet, so wherever you feel comfortable posting, do it!!

Q: What if I don't finish filling the prompt within the week?

A: One of my favorite parts of this prompt challenge is that there are no deadlines! If you want to be a Completionist or an Overachiever, you just have to have the prompts complete by August 31st!

Finished week 2 during week 5? Great!

Finished weeks 1-13 during week 13?? 😅 That works!

Q: Do I have to post/publish my prompt fills to be considered a participant/completionist/overachiever?

A: Nope! I know not to everyone feels comfortable sharing their work, and that’s totally fine!

You don’t have to post/publish a single thing to qualify. At the end of the challenge, I’ll link a form for anyone who participated to fill out. This is all based on the honor system…so if you say you completed “such and such”…I’ll take your word for it 😊 If you want, you can still be given a shout out for whatever level of participation you said you completed. Just let me know!

Q: Can I combine prompts?

A: Yes! Mash up those prompts and make a custom, super prompt if your heart so desires!

Q: But can I combine prompts with other challenges?

A: Absolutely! If the other challenge allows it, feel free to combine Summer of Bad Batch as you see fit ✨

Q: Can I apply prompts to works I've already completed/posted?

A: Prompts should not be applied to already completed works.

But if you have a WIP that's been gathering dust that would fit the occasion, that would be fine!

Have a story that you're adding chapters to? You can apply prompts to new chapters! That's fine too!

Q: Will there be a complete prompt list available?

A: Not until after the event, since prompts will be posted weekly 😘

Q: Can I use the prompts even after the event has ended?

A: Absolutely!

You didn’t find your question here?? Send me an ask, I’d be happy to help!

[thegeekproblem]

okay, so there's no way i can actually write this fic, it's maybe too angsty for me? i just know i've been dissociating hard just thinking about it so let's purge the idea of my head. everyone feel free to write this fic, just tag me so i can go and read it. and who knows, maybe i will write it if i feel like i can get my ideas in order.

ANYWAY (timeline? what timeline?)

jason todd, after gotham war, with an implant in his head that makes him feel fear every time his adrenaline spikes, can't live in gotham anymore. once the criminal world in gotham find out about it he's hunted down like an animal, his normal nightmares just wake him up to more nightmares, there's no escape, no place safe. he runs from gotham, from the country. he leaves everything behind to go underground, as far away as he can manage. he returns to the all caste to hide from the world and as a way to at least be safe inside his head he erases all of his memories. everything. there's no bruce, no joker, no sheila, no catherine, no willis.

bruce notices the red hood is gone. he tries to search for him but there's no trace of him, he's just gone. damian says that talia helped him leave but he doesn't know where he is or if he'll ever come back. every once in a while bruce tries to look for him to no avail. barbara has a notification for a face scan world wide, tim has alarms in case he ever returns to gotham. still, jason is gone and life goes back to normal.

years pass and the world is under attack of the untitled and they have no idea how to save it. talia appears telling them the only way it can be saved is working with the all caste, there's a seer inside the caste that has seen what's going to happen and she needs to take them there. talia takes bruce to the chambers of all, even when all she wants to do is see gotham burn.

they arrive and ducra is waiting for them. (ducra knows who bruce is, who he is to jason but it's no longer important, she doesn't tell bruce any of this) ducra takes them to the seer but warns them that he's not completely here, that his mind has lived in the past-present-future and everything that could-would-will happen that he's kinda gone, that he paid the price with his memories so it doesn't matter. bruce doesn't care because he only wants to save the world and has no attachment to this seer.

they go to the chamber of the seer.

it's jason.

god, imagine jason, no memories, frustrated with the world and what it did to him, angry and unable to do anything about it looking at bruce and being like: i'm disappointed. i always wondered what type of person would do this to me? what did i do to make someone hate me this much? but i see you're just a normal human man.

A/N: if i ever get what the plot of this fic is actually about instead of just, you know, jus angst porn, i will write it. i love making jason suffer, but i also love bruce suffering the consequences of his own actions, and amnesia fics are just my jam, i fucking love them! i don't know where everyone else is in this fic, maybe dick and damian go with bruce to the chambers of all while tim and barbara man the fort back in gotham and dick goes all angsty-brother-filled-with-guilt at seeing seer!jason. and maybe jason is still a stubborn pice of shit, he still gets angry even if he doesn't understand why, he still holds grudges even when he no longer has memories. maybe seer!jason knows what's supposed to happen and joins them in gotham. also, imagine seer!jason sacrificing himself for people he doesn't remember because he knows that's what's supposed to happen. also, is there anyway to add jaydick to this fic??? i just love them so much.

[mahalkitamully]

a piece of cake 𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚

: grumpy ! L lawliet x sunshine ! reader oneshot

꩜ tags !! : @xdwoll , @cocomilaa

includes !! : readers referred to as 'detective,' L is 'ryuzaki,' i don't proofread my things when im done ...

i've never written for L before so sorry if it's inaccurate !! also it's 3 am, i've spent the whole day taking care of kids so i'm sorry if this is bad!!!

ー

to say L hated you was an understatementー at least, you thought he did. the way he brushes you off, his blunt corrections that left your palms sweaty and your cheeks hot, and the way he always seemed to be eyeing you while you worked. his gaze unblinking was kinda scary. not to you though. something about him was so endearing. the way he was so smart yet lacked every social cue was kinda sweet. that, L never understood. why did you like him so much?

"L!!" your voice rang through the small hotel room, a wide smile across your face as you walked in with plastic bags of strawberry shortcake. he sat on a sofa chair and was sipping on a cup of tea only to flinch at your volume. "..please refer to me as ryuzaki, detective." his gaze flicked from his laptop, before locking on the plastic bags you so cheerfully placed on the table. "is that cake?"

as he ate the slice you gave him, he tilted his head and pointed the fork at you. "is there any specific reason you bought this for me detective? although cake is a sweet and preferable treat to snack on while working, i can't think of any other reason as to why you'd get this for me." you giggled, sitting on the chair next to him. "well, i just wanted to treat you!"

his gaze was somewhat suspicious, his fork resting between his lips before he sighed. "your enthusiasm is unnecessary-.. and if you'll excuse me detective i still have to work on this case. speaking of which- do you have the-"

you cut him off by placing the files on his lap, grinning proudly at your hard work. "i have all the info on everything, from other potential suspects, to even things i found suspicious from when we were watching chief yagami's son!" he huffed, taking the files between his index and thumb with a grumble. "did you have to place it on me in such a manner? you could've just handed it to me." he paused, before taking a strawberry into his mouth. ''..but.. thank you detective."

his reluctant tone made you giggle, your hands folded in your lap. "anytime ryuzaki!"

your voice was so cheery and filled with light, such a contrast compared to L's flat and sometimes brooding one.

he seemed to grumble at your giggle, his eyes glued onto his laptop screen. "....quit that."

"oh- sorry-!" at the silence, he seemed even more irritated. what was going on inside his head?

"..well, don't be quiet. it's... unnatural and unsettling."

"oh- ok-! sorry-..??"

"...you know detective, you're very distracting." he spoke up suddenly, his gaze never lifting from the computer. "honestly, it's a hassle. whenever you're in the room, i can't help but stare at you. it's kind of irritating."

your smile faded as your jaw dropped, cheeks flushed at his words. he was so blunt and straightforward you couldn't help but be taken aback. your thoughts were overlapping and running all around your head while he's thinking about how good the cake was.

"detective, sorry in advance for being too casual, but have you ever had a partner before? a romantic one, i mean." he broke you out of your thoughts, still a bit dumbfounded.

"uh- no i've- never had a partner.. why-?" he hummed. "no reason."

"have you, ryuzaki?" you raised a brow, your voice playful and teasing. he tensed a bit, only to keep typing away at the laptop. "no. i'm far too busy in my work to keep a romantic partner entertained."

"oh c'mon, not even a crush???"

"honestly i've found plenty of cases on things such as romance, but i've never thought too deeply on it."

"what?? surely you've had that special person, the one you can't keep your eyes off, who makes your palms sweat and your cheeks flush. surely!!"

he paused, your words sinking in. he thought for a moment. had he ever had a person who made him feel butterflies? the more he thought, the worse it got. he glanced at youー your eager smile, the excitement coloring your faceー the way you made him feel pissed him off. he could never fully comprehend the feeling of love. he was silent for a while, before clearing his throat.

"well- uhm-. thank you detective for the cake. it's.. raining tonight. do you have an umbrella?" he spoke, his tone nonchalant but honestly he was anything but. "or if you'd prefer i could have watari drop you off."

"no- no ryuzaki that's perfectly fine.." you smiled, your cheeks still warm as you stood up as well. "thank you ryuzaki."

"...thank you detective. get- home safe."

as you left the hotel he let out a sigh and sat back down on the couch, sinking into it. "are you alright?" watari spoke as L sighed, gazing at the now empty cake container you had bought for him. "seems to me something sweet has caught your eye?" L caught his implication, his gaze tilted to him.

"who asked you, watari?"

. . .

again sorry if this is bad i lowk had no idea where it was gonna go other than just hint at L completely crushing for reader 💔 sorry for edging y'all i'll make a pt 2 or smth later trust

[subbyboysgalore]

First off good fucking god the oral hcs for Gaku had me going feral those were soooo good! I was doing the horny grip meme irl while reading those

Now… how about Yamato crying during sex? Be it because of overstimulation, because Feelings TM, or some other reason of your choice, I think crying during sex could be good enrichment for him (and you)

- 💫 (you probs know who I am alr but I wanna stay in anon bdhdjdkd)

a/n: HII??? ehehhe im so happy you enjoyed gaku!! gfhhh i had to also do the horny grip meme with that yamato prompt, that's so tasty THANK YOU

tags: orgasm denial, edging, bondage, vibrators

type: minific, 583 words

🔞🔞

˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡

“Come on baby, you can keep going right? Of course you can..”

Okay maybe you were being a bit too mean. It's been what, an hour? Yeah, it's been an hour ever since you started teasing your cute, cute boyfriend like this. Yamato sat on your bed, leaning his entire weight back against a pile of pillows. The shakiness of his body made him look limp and tense at the same time, like an overwhelmed doll. His legs were spread, and his arms were tied behind his back, muscles occasionally flexing and straining against it.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever just.. hurry up.. fuck-”

“Stop being so impatient. Calm down.”

“How can I be calm when you're like this-!”

The end of Yamato's sentence cut itself off with a gasp as he threw his head back a bit. The tiny, pink vibrator was pushed against his cock for what felt like the thousandth time, held by his cute, but mischievous partner.

You circled it around his tip, watching the way his face would contort with pleasure with the intensity of the buzzing. The settings were perfect, not slow enough that he would get bored, and not fast enough to actually get him to come properly. This way, you could play with him for such a long time, and every single time he would come close to the edge, you'd pull away, both yourself and the vibrator. From personal experience you knew even your presence could help him come, so.. there's that.

Speaking of which..

While you were pondering a bit, your boyfriend’s thighs started shaking, and his whines heightened in pitch. So many nights with him helped you learn the way his body worked, and this was a telltale sign that he was right on the edge. Again. How cute..

Sighing like a disappointed teacher, you backed off, depriving him of the warmth of your body heat and the buzzing of the toy. The disappointment was exaggerated, and you both knew that, but the way his face twisted in humiliation and need was just so cute.

“Can't come until I say so, ‘kay?”

He opened his mouth to complain, to retort with some snarky comeback, but you shut him up with a kiss. He really shouldn't be complaining, this was one of the.. nicer methods of shutting him up. Sneakily you pressed the vibrator back on his dick, cutting the kiss off as he jerked back.

“F-fuck you.. I.. hnn..”

All Yamato could do was helplessly twitch his hips back and forth, trying his best to get his wrists out of the ribbons they were tied with. Earlier, he couldn't help but touch himself, and now, as a punishment, his hands were stuck behind his back. His entire body felt like a bowstring about to snap, filled with electric tension to the brim.

“Yamato.. you're so adorable- oh?”

He didn't even realize he was tearing up until you paused and looked at him like that. Huffing in embarrassment, he looked away, trying to steady his breathing.

“..Are you good there?”

“Yes, yes, yeah, I'm.. I'll be fine if you just let me come, please...!”

Honestly this might be the cutest you've ever seen him. His eyes were wide with desperation, shiny and filled with tears. His flushed face and messy hair was the cherry on top, and his whines were steadily turning into little sobs.

“..Okay fine I'll give you what you want. Get over here.”

How could he make crying look so damn adorable?!