#better than that?? you can’t WRITE better than that????? i don’t know what to say

[luveline]

carmy! i have a request, it’s so basic but everything you write is golden. him and r are pining coworkers, and maybe someone else yells at her or upsets her or whatever and he’s like but i’m the only one allowed to shout at you and he hugs her (because you know… arms 👀)

—Carmy tries to make you feel better after a customer upsets you. fem, 1.5k 

“Fucking asshole,” Richie mutters as the door swings closed. 

Carmy would cringe if he had the energy, or a lack of self-awareness —it’s not as though he doesn’t swear like a starved sailor every other sentence. 

“Who’s the asshole?” he asks, feeling down his side for the bump of a box of cigarettes he doesn’t find. 

He’s taken to hiding them in the office. He’d love to pretend it was an act of lent, but in actuality, he never told Ritchie that the box of cigarettes left near the burner, that gave them their C-army rating, wasn’t Richie’s at all, but Carmy’s. He isn’t ever planning on having that conversation, so he’s trying not to carry a box around and leave it somewhere stupid again. 

“Fucking– you didn’t just hear that guy?” Richie asks, scowling. 

Carmy scowls back. “Yeah, that’s why I’m asking. What the fuck do you think?” 

It’s slightly too much aggression off the cuff, but Richie brings it out of him. “Some asshole just came in here and started shouting like a motherfucker because he forgot his stupid napkins. I thought Sunshine was gonna cry her eyes out.” 

Carmy clocks back in fully. “What?” 

Sunshine is the mildly sarcastic nickname Richie gave you before Carmy ever step foot in The Beef. It’s not that you’re moody, but you’re always tired, and you give these little shy smiles out to anyone who asks how you are. I’m fine, you say every time, followed by something deflective like, I’m just tired. Lack of vitamin D from working in this place. 

“Where do scumbags get off, making girls cry like that?” 

Carmy's eyes widen. “She’s crying?” 

Richie is capable of seriousness, despite himself. “Yeah,” he says, his anger swapped out for a low remorse, “I told her to go sit in the office until she’s feeling better.” 

Carmy pauses. “Should I go look in?” he asks. 

“Duh, Carmen. You’re the only one who can make her feel better. Which I resent!” He brings a rag end from his shoulder to wipe his forehead, which is gross, but whatever. “I’m fucking excellent at being a shoulder to cry on.” 

Carmy doesn’t know what that means. Richie says it like it’s obvious, but since when is Carmy the only person who can make you feel better? You’ve known everybody here far longer than you’ve known him, and sometimes Carmy thinks you probably don’t want a thing to do with him, does anybody in the kitchen? You’re smart, and you’ve been working here as long as anybody, started when you were genuinely too young and learning everything you know from the other. You have potential, like everybody here. You just didn’t get the right training, and you’re defensive (again, like everybody here). 

Carmy’s almost positive you’re gonna tell him to fuck off when he knocks the office door. He doesn’t know why he does it, nobody knocks in this shithole, but he does. Maybe he’s buying time; you’ll be feeling better when he pushes the door fully open, and he won’t have to navigate the treacherous depths of his feelings for you while he’s so busy trying to work himself out.

You sniff, muffled, like  a sleeve is held over your face. “Hello?” you ask. 

Carmy gets a burst of energy and doesn’t ask before stepping into the room. You can’t say no if he doesn’t ask, and you don’t, looking at him from the rickety office chair with distrust, and then sheepishness. 

“Sorry, I shouldn’t be in here.” 

“No, no, you can come in here,” he says. He has a bad habit of pausing too long and looking too close, hands clenched in front of himself. “You can come in here. Some asshole made you cry?” 

You shake your head with tears still wet on your cheek. You’re at home in the office, all the chaos and posters and paper trails a match for you dishevelled appearance. You’ve pulled your foot onto the chair, showcasing a shoe that’s falling apart and two pairs of socks pulled to uneven heights. Your hands are a riot, none of your jewellery but a mismatch of different coloured band-aids over a multitude of wounds. And your face glows with tears, shitty light of the desk lamp casting yellow onto your teary cheeks, your lips bitten raw. 

“I’m fine,” you say. 

Carmy doesn’t know what he was expecting, but he was hoping for a better confession. “Over napkins?” 

“Said I’m s’posed to put napkins in the bag,” you say, a monotony to your voice that’s forced and weak at once. “‘Cos I’m a fucking idiot, right, who doesn’t put napkins in the bag?” You sniffle. “Whatever. Richie said he can’t come back.” 

“He can’t,” Carmy says quickly. 

He fails to follow it up. There’s an idiot in the office, for sure, and it’s not you. 

Your mouth crumples and you look away from him, something achy about you as another tear falls down your cheek to curve into the skin above your top lip, making a home at your cupid’s bow. “I’m fine.” 

“You can be upset,” he says. “This job’s… hard enough, without people making you feel like shit for shit you didn’t do.”

You respond to his warm(ish) tone with a small smile. Your tear slips down your lip. Carmy wants to wipe it off. 

“What can I do?” he asks finally.

He wishes he could make you feel better without asking, and there are parts of him that want to turn tail and run, too, but Carmy stays standing in front of the half-open door watching as tears make their way to your chin. He doesn’t know why you’re still crying. 

Maybe he does. Carmy doesn’t usually cry. He just watches things go wrong without stopping them, or keels over in the alley for long, too fast minutes as his heart pumps a bruising rhythm against his ribs. 

“I’m fine, Carmy,” you say, wiping your face roughly as you stand from the chair.  

He scratches a hand through his hair. “Tell me what to do and I’ll do it.” 

“You don’t have to anything.” 

“Richie said I’m the only person who can make you feel better.” 

“You’re just the only guy who ever shouts at me,” you tease, sniffling softly as you do. 

Carmy shouldn’t yell at anyone, but he does. You’ve never cried. He wouldn’t yell at anybody if he thought it would make them upset like that, it’s just that yelling’s like talking where he comes from, and the kitchen doesn’t help. 

“So what? Am I supposed to beat that guy up?” Carmy asks. 

You laugh through what he hopes to be the last of your tears, scrubbing at your cheeks ineffectually. “Like you could beat somebody up. You’re all bark and no bite, Berzatto.” 

Sure. And he’s a loser, he’s more than aware of it; Carmy knows fifty seven different ways to prepare corn for eating and he doesn’t know a single way to make girls feel better, so he tries something he saw on TV. 

“Come here,” he says, holding his arm out insistently. “C’mere.” 

He leans in to grab you. You hold your arms out, but you still when he touches you like you're shocked. He’s a little shocked too. 

“Richie knew the guy, right?” Carmy asks. 

“He said he’s banned for life.” 

“Okay, great.” Carmy feels up your back slowly. Your arms are hesitant behind him. He’s the braver one for once, feeling at the dips and slopes of you with a greedy hand.

You smell… really good. He has a good sense of smell, can pick apart a meal's ingredients by scent alone if he’s awake enough, so he can tell you’re wearing that little solid perfume you keep in your cubby, gentle enough to not bother anybody in the kitchen, ever so slightly milky and sweet. He can also smell the salt on your cheeks. So weird to be able to smell your tears. 

Carmy pats your back and leans away. Your hands fall to your side. 

He wipes your face hesitantly, pinky to your soft cheek, until your tear stains are dry and you’re looking at him steadily.

“That was really weird,” you say. 

He panics, stepping away from you, “Fuck. Fuck, sorry.” 

You shake your head. “No, I’m just kidding. Thanks, Carmy.” 

“Dick,” he says. 

You smile brightly. Okay, his heart fell into his ass when you said it was weird, but you can tease him all day if it makes you feel better. 

“I better go tell Richie I’m okay,” you say. “Don’t you have a stock to reduce?” 

“Oh, you mean your stock?” he asks. 

Your smile makes him wanna grab your wrist, and it makes him wanna chase after you. You slink out of the office, waving a quick goodbye with your fingers, and Carmy stares at the place you’d been sitting while you cried for a couple of seconds to get a grip.  

He puts his hand on his chest and feels his pulse racing. 

“Fucking asshole,” he mutters, not sure if he means the customer or himself.

[velariscalling]

Morally Grey - An Azriel Imagine

Characters: Azriel x Archeron!Reader

Word Count: 3.4k

Summary: Cassian drags the IC to his new obsession: open mic night at Rita's, and much to his delight, Azriel has been paired up to sing with the Reader.

Warnings: Alcohol, suggestive language.

A/N: My first ever imagine is HERE!! Honestly I've been so nervous to put this out as it's all very new to me, but I really hope you guys enjoy it! I'm really looking forward to see how my writing develops as I post more, but for now, I hope you enjoy my first post! It's just a load of silly fun tbh. And finally, thank you so much to @sarawritestories for helping me out with the ending, you're the best! <3

Soundtrack: 'Morally Grey' by April Jai feat. Nation Haven

Disclaimer: GIF isn't mine - credit to whoever it belongs to.

Rita’s was bustling.

As it always was on a Friday night, really. They probably should have known better than to come on a weekend, but the welcoming vibrancy of the bar was a welcome reprieve from a long week’s work. Y/N took a deep breath as the music hit her, exhaling as she let any remaining stress seep from her body and into the night.

Before she could think too much about the busy days she’s had as of recently, a hand grabbed each of hers - one perfectly manicured, one covered in swirls of black ink - and pulled her in the direction of the bar. Mor flagged down a barman who recognised them immediately - it wasn’t a rare occurrence for the Night Court’s Inner Circle to make an appearance here.

After a moment, she handed her a shot glass filled with bright green liquid. “Bottoms up, you’re gonna need it tonight,” she grinned, already having necked her own. Feyre giggled as Y/N raised a questioning eyebrow at the blonde, throwing back her shot anyway and wincing at the tangy liquid.

“And why is that, exactly?” Y/N cocked her head at her friend, who’s brown eyes danced with excitement.

“Oh come on,” she rolled her eyes playfully, already flagging down the barman for yet another shot, just for herself this time. “You really think Cassian’s going to let us miss out on tonight? He’s been preparing his song with Rhys for days.”

It’s true - Cassian’s favourite night of the week was their newest tradition, open mic night at Rita’s. Four songs, four duos, randomly selected. Or so he says, anyway. He probably matched himself with Rhysand so he could convince him to sing Mysterious Girl together.

Feyre gripped Y/N’s hand from her other side, clearly trying her hardest to hold back a squeal of excitement. “How are you feeling?” She knew that there was more to that question than meets the eye. It wasn’t a secret that Cassian’s little game had paired her up with Azriel, much to his delight.

She put on her mask of indifference that she had mastered over the months of knowing the shadowsinger, refusing to give any details away of her incessant feelings for him that prodded at her constantly. “I am feeling absolutely fine, High Lady,” she smiled, eyes shining, but a scoff from her left interrupted her.

“Please,” Mor drawled, looking at her with a face that said, don’t even try. “You literally can’t fool anyone, especially not us, so drop the act.”

Okay, so maybe she hadn’t mastered her mask as well as she had initially thought, her twin’s nod of agreement cementing that conclusion. “Okay fine, but what do I have to be nervous about? You are all the ones who should be nervous when we out-sing you.” She smirked at them, but they shared a knowing look.

“There it is, changing the subject,” Feyre chuckled, nursing her drink in her hand. Y/N scowled at her, but she could never actually be mad at her. Frankly, she was more irritated by the fact that she knew her so well. “What? Y/N, this is what happens every time we bring him up.”

She opened her mouth to argue, when an arm was slung over her shoulder, and Feyre’s. “Ladies,” Rhysand’s melodic voice sounded over the music as he appeared between the sisters. He nodded at Mor with a grin, who was already on her… third, or fourth shot? Who knows. “Cass will have a temper tantrum if I don’t drag you all over to the stage right now.”

Feyre rolled her eyes with a laugh and allowed her mate to spin her into his arms, and they both made their way over to the Inner Circle’s area of the bar. Y/N’s heart warmed at the sight of them, knowing that her twin, her double in every way, had found her happiness. Mor looped her arm through hers as they walked behind them, her eyes following Y/N’s gaze. “You’ll have that soon, you know.”

Y/N looked over at her. She was so breathtaking, her brown eyes contrasting her golden hair, and her signature red dress hugging her flawless body in all the right places. Any male or female in this room would be lucky to get her, and yet, she didn’t care. Next to her, though, Y/N felt like nothing. As if Mor could sense her thoughts, she squeezed her arm affectionately. “Come on. Tonight’s the night you’re going to show that other side of you- oh don’t give me that look, I know it’s there.”

Y/N huffed, a lighthearted sound, and shook her head softly. “I wish I had your confidence,” She murmured, a dry joke.

“Babe, you’re sexy. When are you going to realise that?” The sheer certainty in Mor’s voice had Y/N raising her eyebrows at her friend, who simply nodded, as if agreeing with herself. “Channel it tonight. I’ll be watching.” She winked, and released her arm as they arrived at their own table right in front of the stage.

Rhys and Feyre had already taken their seats at the centre, High Lord and Lady looking elegant as ever. Cassian sat to Rhys’s right, his excitement akin to a golden retriever, as Amren, who was sat next to him, clearly tried her hardest not to throttle him. Next to Feyre sat Azriel, his looming shadows making the already dark bar appear pitch black in his presence. There were two empty chairs to his left, and finally Nesta sat at the end of the table, clearly trying to make the most of as much peace and quiet as she could get before the night’s shenanigans unfolded. Mor was quick to take the seat next to her, leaving Y/N between her and Azriel. He gave her a short smile as she sat down, ever the emotionless. “Are you ready?”

The low, icy voice of the shadowsinger never failed to take her by surprise. If the living embodiment of darkness could talk, it would sound like him. She looked at him, his hazel eyes glowing even in the darkness, and replied, “Are you?”

Before Azriel could respond, a flute of sparkly champagne slid from Y/N’s left into view. She turned to see Nesta, wordlessly handing her the drink, with grey-blue eyes that told her that she, too, thought she needed an extra little liquid confidence tonight. She noticed Mor biting her lip so hard she looked as though she may explode, and she rolled her eyes, a smile playing on her lips as she turned back to Azriel. To her surprise, it appeared as though a similar grin was tugging on those lips as well.

He merely raised his glass to hers, eyes shining with a grin that he wouldn’t let fully show on his face. She picked up her own glass and clinked it against his, matching his honey gold gaze.

Let the night begin.

It’s safe to say that the performances of the night were… well, entertaining. Cassian was a little too excited dragging Rhys up to perform their number first, giving major boyband energy up on that stage. Feyre was in fits of laughter, but Nesta looked like she wanted to claw her eyes out… but perhaps secretly enjoyed it behind that mask of disgust. Y/N’s two sisters were up next with a rendition of Love Story in which Nesta was surprisingly involved, followed by Amren and Mor’s take on Lady Marmalade, which was frankly the worst thing anyone had ever heard. If the monster lurking beneath Amren’s skin was anything like her singing voice, then Mother help us all.

It wasn’t long before her friends were cheering and whooping as Y/N stood from her seat - the final song. “Get him girl,” Mor whispered as she passed her, Azriel on her heels. She felt the shadows licking at her ankles as she ascended the steps to the stage, gripping the microphone that had been handed to her on the way.

As Azriel situated himself to her left, she stole a quick glance at him. He was looking at the floor, uncharacteristically tense under the gazes of all their friends. It was no secret that Azriel had the most beautiful voice you’d ever heard, a gift from the Cauldron itself, but it occurred to her now that maybe no one else had heard it before. Aside from her, at the couple of short practices they  had done. Even then, she didn’t think he was giving his all.

Y/N faced the front and prepared for the music to play - she was more of a seasoned performer than Azriel. She had played her fair share of gigs around Velaris, a good handful of which on this very stage. If she was showing some confidence, she hoped that it would spark some inside of him. She steeled herself, breathing in deeply as she raised the microphone to her lips, and the music began.

“He’s got gold eyes, crooked smile, knows that he drives me wild,”

She felt the heat of the spotlight on her as she let her voice ring through the bar. It was soft, to begin with, giving the song room to breathe, to build. She looked over at the man she was sharing the stage with, noticing tension already lost from his shoulders at the sound of her voice. His eyebrows were raised ever so slightly, and she knew then that he’d realised how she’d changed the lyrics to fit him, those perfect golden eyes.

“Can’t help myself, no I’m not in denial,”

The smile she sent his way was telling, it spoke a hundred words. But it wasn’t just her grin that conveyed the message she sent: you’re okay, you’re with me, move with me. There was something between them, an invisible thread connecting the two of them, body and soul and mind. Certain thoughts, certain feelings - she could feel his, and he could feel hers. A bond like this had meaning, they both knew this, but neither of them were bold enough to explore it, acknowledge it. Across that bond, she beckoned him: Azriel, you’re with me, and I’m with you… play with me.

“I know he’s no good for me,”

There was a flicker of something in the shadowsinger’s eyes, as if his mind had decided to pull him down an alternative route to the one he was prepared to go down, the one where he’d back out and run. A shadow of a smirk lingered on his lips, as his own shadows danced around him excitedly, egging him on. The weaving tendrils were clearly more than satisfied with the idea that flashed through their master’s mind, whatever images Y/N’s words had conjured up. Azriel, play with me.

“But when he gets down on his knees,”

The spark in his eyes only seemed to brighten as he brought the lyrics to life, sinking slowly down onto his knees before her. The shit-eating smirk he wore on his face in response to her evident surprise could have sent her to her own knees as she beheld him, kneeling, for her. Mother spare her. A quick glance to her right at the others confirmed that they had all had the same reaction she had, and she feared that the bar staff may have to assist in picking their jaws up from the floor. Azriel’s face was challenging, knowing, yet almost the picture of innocence as she felt his response in her mind: You told me to play with you. She sent one word back at him: Bastard.

If he was going to play dirty, so was she.

“He’s so eager to please, knows the right frequencies,”

He reached a hand out as if to touch her - where, she wasn’t sure - but she grabbed it before he could make any contact. Scars felt rough against her soft skin as she walked slowly, teasingly around him and she sang the chorus, her heeled boots tugging her posture upright so her body curved in all the right places. She caught Feyre’s eye as she circled Azriel, still knelt on the floor and looking as though he was more than content to stay there forever. Y/N’s sister looked like her eyes were about to bulge out of her head, her smile growing so big that Y/N thought it would be too big for her face. Next to her, Rhysand simply winked, an encouraging smirk boosting her confidence.

“They say he’s morally grey, what can I say? Grey’s my favourite colour,”

As she made her way back to the front of Azriel’s view, still gripping his hand as he held it upright for her to use, she slowly lowered herself down to a squat in front of him as she sang the line. From this angle, she was now much closer to his face than before, and she noticed the subtle sheen of lust glazing over his eyes. It almost made her lose balance - almost. She brought his hand gently to her lips, placing a chaste kiss onto his marred knuckles, and he took in a sharp breath. Most people flinch when they see his hands, or grimace, or turn away. Not Y/N. No, she thinks Azriel’s scars are part of his story. The backstory to a warrior, a survivor. Scars are not the memory of what happened, but a testament to who you have become.

“Morally grey, what can I say? Grey’s my favourite…”

She rose to her feet, prepared to give Azriel some space to begin his verse, remembering the nerves that clung to him barely a minute ago. As she began to turn, taking the first step away from him, something cold slithered around her ankle, and one around her waist. The shadows pulled her straight back to where she was as the music lowered, and held her in place, as if they knew that hearing his voice would send her to the floor. And Mother above, they knew her well.

“What can I say? No I don’t pray, but for your body, I’ll worship,”

She could have sworn her knees buckled, but she couldn’t tell from the shadows holding her still. Azriel’s voice was like silk, so soft and pure, yet it lit her insides on fire in a way that she’d never felt, burning her up like a beautiful, dying star. If his voice was to be the thing to send her to her death, then so be it. She would die very, very happy. He reached out once again, and this time she did not stop him as he ran his hand up her thigh all the way to her waist from his position on the floor. Even kneeling, his Illyrian frame was intimidatingly large, her body standing not too much taller than his. His eyes watched his hand intently as it traced the curve of her side, as if they didn’t have an audience, one that was most definitely gaping at Azriel’s sudden brazenness.

“Girl don’t be afraid, my love’s a grenade, just be a good girl, you can take it,”

Like an angel rising from the ashes of war, Azriel stood slowly, wings flaring as he rose to his full height. His gaze was already intense when she was the one looking down at him, but now that he was the one towering over her, the darkness in his eyes shot electricity straight through her body and into her core, her head reeling with thoughts so sinful that nothing could save her. His hand on her waist squeezed on the words good girl, and she was forced to bite her lip hard to stop herself from reacting in a way that would later be incredibly embarrassing. His eyes tracked the movement, lingering on her bottom lip as she released it from her teeth with a pop.

“Call me insane but for you, I was made, I’d burn the world down if it’d make you feel safe,”

The fire in Azriel’s eyes blazed as he took one step toward her, and another, and another, closer and closer. The upper hand that Y/N had held up until now had slipped, yielding step after step backward, her control completely faltering. She had always known that doing this with Azriel would likely create some… tension between the two of them, and he must have known, but Cauldron, this was unlike anything she had ever expected. Azriel was so close that she felt his body heat, felt her face warming, likely for everyone to see under the harsh glare of the spotlights.

“It’s you that I crave, and nothing compares to your taste,”

Y/N couldn’t help but feel like Azriel meant every single word he was singing. No, he didn’t write the lyrics himself of course, but the way his eyes burned with such feeling, and… what looked to be desperation, told her there was much more to this than meets the eye. And Gods… the way his voice cracked ever so slightly with a primal need as those final words left his mouth had her praying to whatever higher powers she could to forgive her for the damning shivers he was sending straight to the very heart of that taste he craved so badly.

As the chorus rolled around once more, their voices finally blended as one, and nothing had ever sounded so right. Azriel’s shadows danced freely around the two of them, creating a tornado of darkness, of intimacy, where they were right in the eye of the storm. The song continued, and the pull between the two of them was magnetic, almost hypnotic as they completely forgot about the audience they had; their family who were most definitely gaping like fish out of water. Y/N could feel Azriel’s warm breath on her face as he sang, his angelic voice whispering less-than-angelic promises that only she could hear in the way it trembled.

Y/N honestly didn’t think that Azriel could get any closer - what she failed to consider was that the shadowsinger was in so deep that he wasn’t planning on stopping until there was absolutely no space left between them. As the song once again softened, Azriel took his chance and leaned impossibly closer, abandoning his vocals in favour of a different use of that mouth. Y/N inhaled sharply as Azriel’s lips brushed against hers, gently, experimentally. Some instinctive part of her that knew this was right pushed her forward to press her lips a little harsher against his, earning a shiver from the shadowsinger. She heard a soft rustle coming from behind him as his wings twitched from the anticipation.

As he pulled away, Azriel heard a shaky exhale escape her lips, caused only by the feeling of him, the heat of two bodies pressed close together, the rush of meeting the lips of the person who, deep down, you know is made for you. Your partner. Your mate. That shiver he elicited from Y/N was the final straw - the last thing he needed to cement his plans for the night. His face still inches from hers, he whispered with a voice so low he wasn’t sure it had even come from him, “You’re mine tonight.”

One moment, the IC were watching dumbfounded at the scene playing out in front of them, some wondering if they really should be averting their eyes (apart from Cassian, who sat with a shit-eating grin on his face). The next moment, the stage was empty, a whisper of shadows the only thing left standing in their wake. Azriel had disappeared in a flash, winnowed to who knows where, taking Y/N with him.

“Goddamn, Az,” Rhys chuckled into his drink after a beat of shocked silence. “Nicely done.”

“No! But they didn’t even finish their song!” Cassian pouted, gesturing wildly at the empty stage as the music still played from the speakers.

“Somehow I don’t think that’s their priority right now, Cass,” Mor giggled, practically vibrating from excitement and pride, exploding with glee at what had taken place since her little pep talk earlier.

Rhys set his glass down on the table in favour of throwing an arm over the top of Feyre’s chair. “It’s about time those two did something about the obvious, right?”

As Feyre’s eyes sparkled with delight for her twin, she giggled at his words, overjoyed at the knowledge that Y/N may at last feel the happiness of having a mate. A partner for all eternity.  “Yeah… finally.”

[caramiea]

Hello hello! Can you write twisted wonderland perfect + lilia if that's not to much– with gn reader similar to frieren?? (⁠◕⁠ᴗ⁠◕⁠✿⁠)

i’ll choose a life where my hand never leaves yours

syn. wise old elf, basically.

gn!yuu + frieren!yuu , no use of y/n, you’re referred to as yuu.

book 7 spoilers . not proofread

RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS

as someone who works hard to make sure his magic meets expectations and above, seeing you flawlessly just do and perform spells perfectly makes you someone he’s willing to admire.

(though your somewhat lazy nature confuses him a tad.)

he is someone who rushes things, especially before his overblot.

when the parties need to be perfect, when your students need to be exemplary, and when you need to be a perfect example, it’s hard not to rush things.

you, being a long-lived elf, having lived longer than even diasomnia’s vice housewarden, know very well that taking it slow helps. a lot.

“Riddle,” you start, reaching down and resting your hand on his shoulder. The tension rushing through the redheads body lessens when your hand finds its way to him, and he- subtly but clear to your eyes, leans into your touch and slightly melts into his chair.

Riddle turns his head and looks down to meet your eyes, putting his hand on yours on his shoulder, tugging it down gently and intertwining your fingers. “Mh?” He hummed, a bit too preoccupied with all the papers on his table.

He had the Heartslabyul students’ grade reports, the plans for the unbirthday party coming up, letters from his mother, letters from che’nya, a half-written request to the headmaster for funding for further unbirthday parties, and—

“Take it easy,” you say, rubbing small circles onto the back of his hand, and the thoughts about all the work he had to do, even if only for a moment, rushed out of his mind with a sigh.

LEONA KINGSCHOLAR

you probably remind him of malleus- it doesn’t mean he hates you, he just.. feels some mild dislike for you sometimes.

in what situation would you two even encounter each other?

probably in the botanical garden, actually.

or somewhere outside, which is most likely where he is, considering he isn’t in classes.. at all, basically.

he’d appreciate how slow you take life in.

it’s calming, he doesn’t know how or why.

it just feels nice to be around you, he guesses.

“Ugh!” Leona groans, immediately sitting up from his laying position on the ground of the botanical garden. 

Who the *🐭* stepped on his tail?

By pure instinct, he took a sniff of the air, and—

It wasn’t a smell he recognized. Some parts of it were familiar to him, but he didn’t recognize even the species of this audacious person.

… What the *🐭*

He looked up to see someone who didn’t look a day above 14 or so, but also happened to have a trait common with fae folk- pointed ears.

So, it’s some fae who decided to step on his tail and not look where they were going, huh?

He’d deal with this promptly.

(After getting terribly humbled by your magical prowess, he’s decided that no, he did not deal with it promptly.)

AZUL ASHENGROTTO

best believe he is desperate for your magic.

he sees you use a spell that only Lilia Vanrouge himself can vaguely recognize, and he realizes your knowledge is something he needs.

you can never know too much, isn’t that true?

(you’d like to disagree.)

a subtle sharing of your wisdom teaches him that there is much he doesn’t know, but also much he’d better not know.

just like riddle, azul struggles with pacing his, well, life.

tell him to take it easy. there’s no rush, especially considering you both have higher lifespans than regular humans.

what do jade and floyd think about you?

…

it’s for the better that you don’t know.

KALIM AL-ASIM

now that i’m writing this, i realize that a lot of the housewardens can’t give theirself a break.

is kalim one of those housewardens?

.. i guess we’ll never know.

it’s not that he’s stressing himself out, he’s just a bit.. energetic.

again, again, you calm him down.

slowly, slightly. but as time passes, the change becomes obvious.

in more ways than one.

“.. Oh my Sevens?” Jamil lets out with a gasp, looking at..

Looking at the Kalim Al-Asim… sweeping the floor. After a party. Half of the room was clean. And Jamil hadn’t even gotten his broom out.

Is this what Cater meant when he said he ‘experienced culture shock’?. Because, oh, boy, Jamil is shocked.

“Kalim-” He didn’t even get to finish the sentence he wanted to say. ‘Kalim, who told you to do this?’. Yeah, Jamil would sometimes daydream about Kalim doing all the work, but it’s not like he actually expected Kalim to do work.

Kalim, grinning as if he didn’t just rock Jamil’s world, said, “Yuu told me that hard work after relaxation and vice versa is the best! I’m doing hard work! It’s fun!”

Fun? Jamil incredulously thinks before getting his wrist grabbed by Kalim.

Did Kalim only think it was fun because he hadn’t done it before? Yes. Is it fun? To Kalim! And that’s enough!

VIL SCHOENHEIT

imagine being able to look so incredibly young when you’re much older than even Leona, the oldest student disregarding the fae, hah.

haha.

is vil jealous?

…

yeah.

forever youth, and even heightened magical prowess. vil thought he’d gotten used to it with the fae, but finding out there was yet another species similar?

it kind of lowkey makes his blood boil. why isn’t it him that gets to be born like that?

anyways. vil’s someone who, finally, knows how to pace himself.

so, you can finally show another side of yourself.

the lazy side of you.

okay, lazy is a strong word.

It was a well known fact to all that Vil Schoenheit had a good morning routine. The first step was to wake up early.

He usually woke up at around 5:00, 5:25 if he was feeling a bit tired. Maybe even 5:30 if he was feeling bold.

Today, he woke up at 6:00. 

Six in the morning. Much later than usual. The only question he has right now is how? His body clock had already been adjusted to waking up at 5:00, it’d been like that for a long time.

He, sitting up on his bed, looks beside him to see the small frame of another person, still asleep and long hair askew.

Oh, he thinks briefly, that’s why.

IDIA SHROUD

genuinely, i’m so sorry.

he has knowledge of elves, which surprised you greatly. and when you asked where he found out..

what is an ‘ahn-eh-mei’ supposed to be? why did shroud like it so much? and how is it, aside from old scriptures created by fae that may no longer even be alive, have some of the only mentions of elves you’ve seen at all in this world?

you knew the elf race was dwindling and may even go extinct, but darn.

when you asked him to show you what those cute little cartoons showed elves as..

for some reason, his face- and hair!- went pink.

.. huh. weird.

i mean, it can’t be that bad. right?

‘Oh my,’ you think internally, ‘it is that bad.’. Idia, hair and face pink, holds his phone and points the screen in your direction. On it’s screen displays a.. big.. breasted, blonde haired, in- in such scandalous clothing.. a woman like that.

And she had pointed ears, just like yours. A bit smaller than yours, though.

Is this really what people in this realm think of elves? It’s.. Well, you can’t speak for all elves, you barely even know if more elves exist even in your own realm, but.. uh.

What you saw on the screen was a.. really interesting interpretation!

You don’t even know any person this… lustful, in your own realm. And you especially don’t know any elves like that. It’s.. Odd.

MALLEUS DRACONIA

he is shocked. his world is shaken, he’s trembling in his boots, even.

someone older than even lilia.. really? truly? 

the moment he makes it onto ramshackle the first time you’d arrived, he’d sensed a familiar presence.

familiar not in the sense that he knew the person behind it, but familiar as in it felt like someone old, wise.

it felt like a presence he’d felt before he hatched in the egg.

he wanted to rush to that presence, but..

he didn’t want to scare you. especially not when your.. essence..? your essence made him want to lay his head on your lap, or cry on your shoulder, or share a cake with you knowing he wasn’t alone.

not when your presence felt like a lullaby he remembers only vaguely.

LILIA VANROUGE

he is this emoji: 😱.

if he’s old, then what are you? a relic?

the him from the past might’ve felt threatened, concerned what someone of your age would want with him and his people.

now? of course, he’s still concerned at what you’d want with his family, but when he sees you talking calmly with his sons- even befriending malleus, he starts to appreciate you.

he kind of wanted to cry in joy after he saw malleus in the courtyard, having lunch with a friend!

he’d.. also.. sigh, appreciate you teaching him spells. 😔..

he simply has to know the spell that makes a field of flowers! imagine the sleeping spots that silver would get to have!

[noxturnalpascal]

Devotion 🖤 Epilogue

CultLeader!Joel x OFC!Reader

Series Summary: When is it enough? When is it too much? When does Devotion become Obsession?

Visit the Series Masterlist for series warnings, cult info, timeline info, and HCs on ages. Reader has a nickname and some minor physical descriptions - is an OFC from Reader POV.

Thank you all SO MUCH for reading. Thank you to everyone who supported me and listened to me babble about this series since December. Thank you to all the readers who messaged me, commented, liked, reblogged, etc. I see every single one of you and I appreciate you so much. I injected a LOT of my own experiences and trauma directly into this story, and it meant a lot to me to be able to share it with you all. Whatever you're going through or whatever you've been through - you are a survivor, you are enough, and you can save yourself. Writing this has been such a journey and it wasn't always easy, but it was always worth it. xoxo

PREVIOUS

Epilogue

Some Summer Sunday (900) Sunday service is a regular occurrence for you and Joel, and the church gets more crowded every week. You've been noticing the building filling up with people of all faiths, packing in the pews until there’s only standing room left, and then lining the walls. Joel tells you residents from all over The Valley make the trek into town every weekend to see you but you’re pretty sure he’s just being complimentary. Guys say all kinds of shit when they’re trying to get in your pants so when he acts like everyone thinks you’re the holy madonna you just chalk it up to that. 

He’s asked you to wear a nice outfit today in preparation for a big announcement, so you’re wearing a flowy yellow gown with a little too much tulle in the skirt and feeling like a tragically awkward beauty queen. You’re worried he’s going to make a big deal of the greenhouse plans and you’re going to have to stand there while everyone - including Isaac - stares at you, waiting for you to make some kind of speech like you just won a humanitarian award. 

You don’t want to be raised aloft like some kind of goddess, that was where Joel made his mistake. You think it’s more effective to meet people on their level, to just act human and blend in with the group. People like having something to believe in but as long as they’re being taken care of and heard, they work better as a collective. Plus, when something goes wrong there’s not someone risen above everyone else for them to direct blame at, instead everyone just works together towards a solution to the problem.

But what Joel does on this day is even worse than you could have imagined. He asks you to join him in the thick, sweltering summer heat, standing in front of the maxed-out congregation and then, holding your hand in his, he gets down on one knee. Your brows knit in confusion and you’re honestly about to ask him if he’s okay until he pulls something out of his pocket. A ring. A fucking ring. Several women in the crowd gasp and squeal, and a smattering of clapping makes the rounds. 

You can’t believe he’s doing this to you right now.

“I want to give you everything I have, to share everything with you.”

You’re going to die of embarrassment.

“I want your partnership, your company, and your sage wisdom.”

No, he’s going to die. You’re going to kill him.

“I want your mind, your heart, and your body.”

Jesus fuck-, in a church, Joel? 

“I will spend the rest of my life loving, honoring, and obeying you.”

Did he just say-

“Baby,” he winks. “Marry me.”

That wasn’t even a question. He just ordered you to-

The crowd erupts in applause as Joel rises and places the ring on your finger, grabbing both sides of your face and kissing your mouth.

“I didn’t say yes,” you murmur against his lips.

“But you will. You know we’re perfect for each other” he says, looking deep into your eyes. He whispers your name. “I’m so in love with you.”

Words that you once wanted to hear so badly still carry an edge to them, a phantom sting in your gut from an old wound he made.

“You just said you’d obey me in front of everyone,” you say, your voice a whisper.

“I know,” he hums. “And I will.”

This is a lot. You let your guard down at the house, when you’re all alone. You let him hold you and kiss you and fuck you on every surface... but in public? You raise your walls back up, barely letting him touch you. Now he’s proposing marriage - marriage - and practically submitting to you in front of the whole Valley.

“What if I still don’t trust you?” you ask, your voice even quieter.

“That’s one of the things I love most about you.”

This is so fucked up. You know this, you know how fucked up this is. This is so fucked up that you should push him away and tell everyone exactly what kind of man he is, create a mob to distract him while you run away and leave this valley permanently. Tess would probably even help you this time. But the most fucked up thing of all is that you don’t want to do that, you don’t want to leave him. Part of you might hate him but there’s a part of you that loves him too. 

Not the way you loved him before, of course, when you were willfully ignorant of who he was. There’s a part of you that loves the Joel you now know he is. The anger, the power, the obsession. It rolls off him in waves that you can taste and smell, like a thick incense it fills your nostrils, intoxicating you. It makes you crave his violent nature, makes you want to sick him on your enemies like a junkyard dog, makes you want to climb him like a tree and howl at the moon. It makes you feel… exalted. 

“Marry me,” he says again. Just as much a command as it was the first time.

You look him in his dark eyes and nod slightly, watching his devilish smile grow.

You’re not going anywhere. You’re exactly where you belong… at his side.

🖤

THE END

Thank you SO MUCH to Bug for stepping in and helping me when I needed it, you are always fucking there when I need you and your friendship means so much to me I can't even put it into words. I love you I love you I love you. TY Beef for helping me in this process and for your amazing suggestions, encouragement, and absolute hyping up along the way. I am SO grateful for your friendship, you are such a ray of sunshine. I love you so so SO much. 🖤Cult Joel (CJ) would not be what he came to be without both of your help.🖤

no taglists going forward - follow @nox-notifs & turn on notifs🫶

TAGLIST @strang3lov3 @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @covetyou @iamasaddie @sr-lrn @clawdee @theywhowriteandknowthings @beefrobeefcal @merz-8 @pinkypromisepascal @alltheseperfectimperfections @survivingandenduring @afraidtofear @millennial-teenybopper @missladym1981 @xdaddysprincessxx @lumoverheaven @ghoulettesinspace @brittmb115 @wintersquirrel @obscurexsorrows @littlevenicebitch69 @lulawantmula @pedroswife69 @joeldjarin @heimtathurss @untamedheart81 @pixielou5 @feel1n-h1gh @elegantduckturtle @koshkaj-blog @vickie5446 @lilipads @macaroni676

[sapphichotmess]

All I Do Is Dream of You

Ellie Williams x plus size!f!reader (not really specified, but that’s what I write)

Name inspired by Dodie’s song All I Do Is Dream of You

Even though this is not 18+, I am an 18+ blog, mdni

continuation of this

Warnings/Tags: horrendous writing with very little dialogue (bc idk how to human), fluff, reader wears makeup, reader is able-bodied, reader is right-handed

PLS COMMENT & RB FOR ME PLS

thanks for reading this for me babe @les4elliewilliams u deserve to be fucked so good <3

It has been several days since you were literally knocked off of your feet by one Ellie Williams. And every day since then has been better than the last. You two have been texting non-stop, giddily giggling into your phones with warm cheeks at all hours of the day. 

All it took was one meeting, and you were utterly captivated by the adorably dog-like auburn-haired woman, her presence—even if only by phone—filling your heart with a warmth you couldn't explain. 

You can’t get the woman out of your head, always seeing her pale green eyes piercing into you when you close yours. And don’t get you started on her adorable smile, her lips quirking up and parting, showcasing a slight bit of white teeth. You groan, staring into the mirror on your desk, right hand holding eyeliner up though doing nothing to put any on. All you can think of is the way her cheeks flushed adorably, highlighting the smattering of freckles on her face. You want to trace them—learn the pattern to a T. Learn everything about her, really. 

Your daydreaming is disrupted by the buzzing of your phone which is sat face-down on your bedspread, music blaring from it’s tiny-but-mighty speakers. You drop the eyeliner you were using to make the wing on your eye, drawing a black line down your cheek in your haste. Socked feet making gentle thudding on the hardwood floor, you reach your bed in record time. With your heart racing, you swiftly pick up your phone and flip it over to see the notification. It's another message from Ellie; the sight of her name sends a wave of excitement through you, your heart dropping from your chest out of your ass and a warm flush tickling your cheeks. With trembling fingers, you open the message, eager to see what she has to say. 

Ellie's message pops up on your screen, and you can't help but grin as you read her words:

heyyy you! just wanted to say hi and see how your day is going. i've been thinking about you bunches today. craving one of those bomb cupcakes you whip up... you know, those red ones with the fucking insane frosting? the one i had the other day?

Not bothering to wait more than a few seconds, you quickly type out a response, unable to hide your own excitement:

hi ellie! literally made my day hearing from you fr ❤️ 

you send one text, instantly starting on another:

oh, the red velvet ones? i won’t be making those in the shop for a bit… BUT i can totally open the bakery on an off day and make a batch for you?

Happy with your words, you go to sit down your phone again, butterflies swooping around aggressively in your stomach, but before you do, it’s vibrating in your hand. 

It was Ellie reacting to your first message with a heart. She must have been waiting for your reply—or you were being a horrible loser and texting back too fast. Shaking your head at that thought, you watch as the texting bubble appears, heart racing as you wait for her reply. 

You can't help but feel a surge of excitement at the thought of Ellie's response. Was she as eager to continue the conversation as you were? Or perhaps she had something else in mind? With bated breath, you wait for her message to come through, the seconds feeling like an eternity as your mind races with all the possibilities of what she might say. The anticipation only adds to the butterflies swirling in your stomach, but you wouldn't have it any other way. Finally, Ellie's response comes through, and you eagerly read her message:

DUDE, no way! opening the bakery just for us? that's fucking awesome! i'm so down to hang out with you, especially if it means i get to devour those bomb-ass cupcakes. hit me up whenever you're free!

A grin spreads across your face as you read her words, your heart soaring with happiness. It seems Ellie is just as excited about the idea as you are, and the thought of spending time together fills you with warmth. It would be the first time you guys would meet face-to-face since your first encounter. 

Fuck you couldn't wait to bask in the magnificence of her; her being in your space, filling her lungs with the very same air you breathe. 

You are in trouble if these thoughts are an indication of anything. 

Quickly typing out your reply, you suggest a few possible dates and times for your cupcake date, hoping that one of them will work for both of you. Positively beaming, eyes glimmering with youthful mirth, you finally set down your phone and turn on your sock-clad heels to head back toward your vanity. You make it halfway before you remember what day it is.

The bakery is closed. 

You could see Ellie today. 

Then, you’re slipping against the hardwood, trying to get back to the bed as quick as possible. You finally get your footing after sliding around and almost ending up on your ass, practically flying toward your bed and divebombing onto the soft mattress. Your phone bounces with the impact as you scramble to get to your knees and grab it from mid-air. Somehow, you end up on your back with your phone smashed onto your nose. 

Ouch. That's definitely going to leave a mark.

You grab your phone, scrubbing a hand at your sore nose. After the shock of the hit has left, you regain your urgentness, unlocking your phone, bringing up the messages app, and clicking on your and Ellie’s chat. 

Your fingers move at what seems like the speed of light as you type out a new message: 

so, um, funny thing... i was thinking, and why wait for your cupcakes when you could have them today? how about you swing by the bakery this afternoon?

Thinking for a second, you quickly send a second text:

we can even bake them together! how does that sound?

Nausea creeps up on you as you wait, heart racing and dry eyes staring at your messages to Ellie for several minutes without a text bubble. 

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, a bubble appears on the screen, only to disappear just as quickly. This pattern repeats a few times, leaving you on edge.

But then, finally, Ellie's response lights up your screen:

i'm so down for a baking session at the bakery. what time should i be there? 

A wave of relief washes over you as you read Ellie's enthusiastic reply—though you are confused as to why it took her so long to come up with this response. With a wide grin, you quickly type back the details, feeling excitement building in the pit of your stomach. 

Finally having that done, you put your phone back on the bed—hopefully for the last time for a while. Then, you finally sit back down at your vanity, ready to finish your makeup for the day. When you look in the mirror, your smile falters and your mouth hangs open in disbelief. 

There is a long, thick black line running across your cheek. 

“Fuck.” 

***

You’re just setting up everything you need for red velvet cupcakes when you hear the front doorbell ring. Your head snaps up so fast you’re surprised you don’t break your neck. However, any pain is worth seeing Ellie walk into your bakery looking so damn fine. 

The olive-skinned girl is wearing a pair of blue jeans that fit her ass nicely, a grey t-shirt, and a burnt-red flannel that looks well-loved with tearing seams and fading colors. Her shoulder-length auburn hair is pulled into a half-up, half-down look, with some stray hairs framing her face. Your hands itch to push them behind her ears, even standing at the distance you are. 

Shaking yourself out of your reverie, you set the pan you had in your hands onto the counter with a clatter, causing Ellie to start. Making your way towards the front of the store where Ellie stands with hands in her pockets, you call out her name.  

"Ellie!" You greet her with a wide grin, unable to contain your excitement at seeing her—even if it was planned just short of an hour ago. 

“Ah, uh… Hey!” the freckled girl stutters out. “I… it’s good to see you?” 

“Was that a question?” you ask, hiding your smile behind your hand. 

“Uh, no?” Ellie says before realizing that she phrased her response as a question, too. “I mean, no. No, it wasn’t a question. I, um, I am excited to see you.” 

You can't help but find Ellie's nervousness adorable as she stumbles over her words. Suppressing a giggle, you offer her a reassuring smile, eyes crinkling on the edges. "Well, I'm excited to see you too," you reply warmly, noting the faint blush creeping up on her cheeks.

As Ellie's gaze drifts somewhere behind you and she nervously swipes her hand over her nose, you realize just how nervous she must be feeling. Wanting to ease her discomfort, you gently reach out and place a hand on her arm—holy shit, you didn’t realize she was strong, but you can feel her muscles under her flannel. "Hey, it's okay. No need to be nervous," you say softly, trying to ignore your thoughts about what she could do with that strength. "We're just here to have fun and bake some delicious cupcakes together."

Ellie’s green eyes finally meet yours again, though a crease forms between her eyebrows as she does. “I just, ah… you’re, like, stupidly pretty. And, you know, it’s really distracting.” Ellie's cheeks flush a deeper shade of red as she confesses, her final words coming out in a rush.

Your heart skips a beat at Ellie's unexpected compliment, and a warm flush of pleasure spreads through you. "Wow, thank you," you reply. "You're not so bad yourself, you know."

Ellie’s eyes widen in surprise at your compliment, her right hand coming back up to shuffle across her nose. “Ah, thank you?” 

Giggling at her utter lack of words or charm, you grab her hand as it falls from in front of her face. “C’mon! We have so much to do. I’m so excited to teach you how to bake!” you say in a high-pitched voice, obviously excited. 

Pulling her by the—fucking giant—hand to the back of the bakery where you do all the… well, baking, you continue, “I’m almost done setting up everything for us. There are a few ingredients I have to pull out since I wasn’t gonna be using them, but it shouldn’t be too long until we can start.” 

“I—oh,” Ellie lets out a strangled breath as she is suddenly dragged by you into the back room. “That’s okay. I’m just, uh, really excited for the cupcakes.” 

As you lead Ellie towards the back of the bakery, you can't help but chuckle at her adorable awkwardness. "Don't worry, I promise it'll be fun," you reassure her, looking behind you with a warm smile. "And don't worry about being nervous. Baking is all about having a good time and enjoying the process."

Ellie nods once, her cheeks still flushed with embarrassment. "Yeah, I'm sure it'll be great," she says, her voice tinged with uncertainty.

Reaching the back room, you release Ellie's hand and gesture towards the kitchen area. "Here we are," you say, motioning for her to take a seat on one of the chairs you pulled back here from the dining room. "Make yourself comfortable while I grab the rest of the ingredients."

As you rummage through the cabinets and pull out the remaining ingredients needed for the cupcakes, you can't help but feel a surge of excitement at the thought of teaching Ellie how to bake. Getting to spend any time with the adorably awkward, puppy-like freckle-faced girl was a blessing, but getting to do your favorite thing with her? It’s a dream come true. 

Returning to the counter with an armful of ingredients, you grin at Ellie. "Alright, let's get started," you say eagerly. “First up, we have to… turn on the oven,” you stumble in the middle of your sentence as you get lost looking at Ellie’s tanned face, trying to memorize the placement of her paint-splattered freckles so that you could imagine her going do—that isn’t what today is about.

Ellie nods once, standing to her feet. “Sounds easy enough.” 

As Ellie stands up, hands on her knees to help her get up, you can't help but admire the way her eyes sparkle with a mixture of excitement and nervousness as she looks at you. Holy shit, she’s looking at you. "Great!" you exclaim, shaking off your momentary distraction—for the hundredth time—and focusing on the task at hand. "Let's get this show on the road."

Together, you and the freckle-faced girl move towards the oven, your hands brushing against each other as you reach for the knob. Heat crawling up your neck and over the apples of your cheeks, you quickly move your hand and turn the knob to 350 degrees Fahrenheit, the soft hum of the oven heating up filling the air.

Still hot in the face, you turn toward Ellie, "Okay, next step, cupcake pans," you say, gesturing toward the neatly lined trays on the counter. With Ellie by your side, arms brushing, you grab the pans and place them on the counter, ready to put the liners in. 

As you work, you steal glances at Ellie, admiring her focused expression as she carefully places each cupcake liner in its designated spot like it’s some kind of science experiment that could go wrong. Her tongue slightly sticking out of her plump lips in concentration is definitely cuter than it should be. 

What you weren’t ready for was to have the auburn-haired girl turn her head and look at you as you distractedly stared at her, unable to shake the image of her soft, freckled cheeks, long, slender fingers, and strong arms from your mind. 

Caught off guard by Ellie's piercing green gaze, you feel your heart skip a beat as you quickly avert your eyes. Clearing your throat, you focus on the task at hand, determined to maintain composure.

"Um, so, uh, yeah," you stammer, trying to regain your train of thought. "Looks like we're all set with the cupcake pans." You can practically feel the heat radiating from your cheeks as you turn back to the task, hoping to distract yourself from the intensity of Ellie's gaze.

With a shaky hand, you reach for the extra cupcake liners, trying to steady your nerves as you carefully place them back in a stack, ready for you to put away later. 

When you're done—and your hands aren’t shaking anymore—you finally drag your gaze back to Ellie. Your breath catches in your throat as you realize she is still looking at you. Her green gaze—what you can only describe as a moss-covered forest bathed in warm, sparkling sunlight—feels like taking a knife to the heart, her head tilt—so dog-like—a sucker punch to the gut. You want her eyes on you forever—to bask in the warmth of her eyes and bathe in the depths of her soul—you realize as your heart tries to beat out of your chest. 

Somehow, you find it within yourself to tear your eyes away from Ellie’s; it’s one of the hardest things you’ve ever done, and you run a bakery by yourself. Clearing your throat and staring at the prepped pans, you say, “Ah, um, we can start making the batter now, I guess.” 

Ellie doesn’t hold in her laugh at your obvious discomfort, her melodic laughter filling the room with a warmth that soothes your frayed nerves. Despite the embarrassment of being caught in a moment of vulnerability, you can't help but feel a sense of relief wash over you at the sound of her laughter.

"Yeah, let's get started on that batter," Ellie says, her voice laced with amusement as she reaches for the ingredients on the counter. “What do we start with, pretty girl?”

“I–uh, holy shit…”

The freckled girl laughs even harder at your stunned expression, mouth hanging open and eyebrows raised. “Close your mouth, or you’ll catch flies,” she says, lips quirked up as she nudges your chin with her hand. 

Her hand on you gets your mind racing in all different directions before you remember where you are. Snapping your gaping mouth shut, teeth clacking together, you gather yourself. “Uh yeah… we have to, ah… start with the dry ingredients.” 

Ellie hums a “Mhmm” out, mouth still curved in a cocky smile as she tilts her head again—her stupidly pretty auburn hair catching the midday light filtering in from the window—leaning her hip against the counter. 

“We have to shift the flour, sugar, cocoa powder, baking powder, and baking soda together into… this large bowl.” you point at every ingredient when you name them, picking up the stainless steel bowl when you find it.

“Sounds easy enough.” 

This time, it’s you who hums an answer as you put the bowl down and grab the ingredients to start measuring. “If I measure, would you shift, Ellie?” 

“Yes, ma’am.” she gives you a little salute. 

So, as you hand over every measured dry ingredient, Ellie shifts it into the bowl. Her tongue makes another appearance as she focuses on getting every ingredient into the bowl with no spillage, causing you to overfill the ¼ teaspoon of baking soda. You quickly get the right amount into the teaspoon and clean up your mess, wiping your hands on your apron. 

“Okay, now that’s done, we have to add the salt and whisk everything together.” 

Ellie reaches for the salt, adding it to the bowl as you grab the whisk. She slides the bowl over to you, watching intently as you whisk. It’s one of the most mundane, boring parts of the baking process, yet she looks so entranced by the whisk circling the bowl, mixing the ingredients together. 

Once everything is thoroughly mixed, you tap the whisk on the bowl and set it aside, putting your hands on your hips and turning towards the girl leaning casually on your counter. “Can I trust you with a knife?” 

“Wh–I–Yes!” She splutters, eyebrows raised. 

Giggling quietly to yourself, hand over your mouth, you shake your head. Dropping your hand, you say, “Sorry, I just had to ask. I need you to cut the butter if you could, please.”

“How could I say no to those puppy dog eyes, hmm?” 

This time, it’s you who splutters, caught off guard. Instead of deigning the tease with a response, you turn your back to Ellie, hiding your burning face and grabbing the stand mixer you equipped with a paddle attachment. When that’s set up, and you can feel the burning embarrassment leave your face, you turn to Ellie, who is wielding a knife, cutting the room-temperature butter into uneven pieces. 

“Babe, it’s gotta be more uniform than that.”

Ellie’s head snaps up, eyebrows furrowed, pupils blown wide, and knife almost cutting into her fingers. “Wh–what did you just call me?”

Caught in a moment of panic, you freeze, your heart pounding in your chest as you try to come up with a plausible explanation. The air feels thick with tension, every second stretching out into an eternity as you search for the right words to say. You hadn’t even realized you said it; it came so naturally, calling the auburn-haired girl babe. “I… nothing, nothing at all,” you spit out quickly, eyes going wide. 

“Nah-uh, you called me ‘babe.’” A loud clattering sound makes you startle, your eyes moving from Ellie’s piercing greens to the knife that just hit the countertop. 

"I… I didn't mean to," you stammer, your voice barely above a whisper. "It just… slipped out."

Ellie's gaze remains fixed on you, you can feel it like a weight on your skin, pinning you in place as you struggle to regain your composure.

“Look at me,” she demands. You follow her directions immediately, your gaze taking in her expression. She looked almost dazed with a quizzical brow as she scratched her head.

"I'm sorry," you continue, your words tumbling out in a rush. "It was just a slip of the tongue. I didn't mean anything by it, I swear."

For a moment, the silence hangs heavy between you, broken only by the sound of your own rapid breathing. And then, without warning, Ellie's features soften, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips.

"It's okay," she says softly, her voice like a soothing balm to your frayed nerves. 

As Ellie's soft smile spreads across her face, her pearly whites making an appearance, a sense of relief washes over you like a warm embrace. Your shoulders drop from where they had taken a place beside your ears, and tension leaks out of you like butter in a baking croissant. The weight that had been pressing down on you lifted away like a heavy fog dispersing in the morning sun.

"Thanks," you murmur, gratitude lacing your words as you meet Ellie's gaze once more. Her eyes hold a warmth that makes your heart flutter, a silent reassurance that everything is okay between you.

With a playful glint in her eye, Ellie leans closer, her voice a soft whisper falling from her plump lips that sends shivers down your spine. "You know," she says, her tone teasing, "I don't mind being called babe."

Your heart skips a beat at her words.

A soft chuckle escapes your lips as you lean in, unable to resist the magnetic pull of Ellie's presence. "Good to know," you reply, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "I'll try to remember that for next time."

As the last of the tension melts away like butter as it’s baked into the delicious treats you make, you and Ellie dive into the joyful task of baking red velvet cupcakes together. With each step of the recipe, you find yourselves falling into a comfortable rhythm, working seamlessly together as if you've been doing this for years.

The scent of cocoa and vanilla fills the air as you and Ellie chat and laugh, exchanging stories and getting to know each other on a deeper level. From childhood memories to dreams for the future, you two open your hearts and minds to each other. 

As the cupcakes bake in the oven, you steal glances at Ellie, admiring the way her eyes light up when she talks about her passions and the infectious laughter that bubbles up from within her. 

And when the cupcakes are finally cooled and ready, their red tops gleaming with perfection, you and Ellie decorate the cupcakes with swirls of cream cheese frosting and a sprinkle of red velvet crumbs together, playfully bumping shoulders and laughing at Ellie’s attempts at decorating. 

As you sit down to enjoy the fruits of your labor, savoring each bite of the moist, decadent cupcakes, you realize that this is just the beginning of a beautiful friendship—and perhaps something more. 

[angstywaifu]

Wrong Advice - Garrick x Sawyer X Reader

As a thank you for hitting 300 followers I decided to write you guys a little smutty threesome. This is my first time writing something like this and for Sawyer, so it might be a little rough. Sawyer decides it's a good idea to take sex advice from Ridoc instead of Garrick, which promptly backfires on him. While regretting his decisions over lunch with Garrick and Reader, Garrick comes up with something that might help you all. Warnings: NSWF. No spoilers. Smut... Lots and lots of smut. 18+. Oral f and m receiving. Threesome. Pet names. Unprotected PIV. Masterlist

“Do I want to know what happened?” I ask as I take my seat across from Sawyer who has his head buried in his hands.

The only response I get is a groan before Sawyer rests his head on the table with a loud thump, Garrick laughing menacingly at him while carving an apple with his knife.

“Sawyer here decided it would be a great idea to take advice from Ridoc didn’t he.” Garrick says with a pointed stare at Sawyer who groans again.

“I said I was sorry ok!” Sawyer exclaims as he lifts his head from the table. “He can be convincing when he wants to be that cheeky bastard.”

Garrick rolls his eyes and shakes his head before carving another piece from his apple. “And you should know better than anyone else here that he has no experience in what he was offering advice on.”

“I know. But he sounded like he knew what he was talking about. Like he’d actually tried it. Now I look like the idiot!” Sawyer burying his face in his hands again.

“Serves you right for taking that advice.” Garrick’s eyes narrowing at the boy in front of us even though he can’t see.

I look between the two confused. “What the hell are you two going on about?” I ask finally.

Garrick chuckles. “Sawyer here decided to take sex advice from Ridoc over me” He teases. “How did that go for you Sawyer?”

Sawyer parts his fingers to look at us, a red tinge of embarrassment evident on the more exposed skin of his face.

“She…. She told me to stop.” He blurts out.

“And what else?” Amusement clear in Garrick’s voice as he leans back in his chair, arm draping over the back of mine.

Sawyers skin flushes a deeper shade of red. So red I’m surprised he hasn’t turned into a tomato.

“She walked out on me.” He mumbles out.

I drop my fork, eyes going wide at Sawyers words. I’d never been with Sawyer, but I knew from Rhiannon he wasn’t bad. She’d been satisfied the time she had hooked up with him after threshing. And I’d seen a handful of girls here and there over the last two years leave his room the morning after. So to hear he had been walked out on…. Well it was surprising. Especially if he’d ben getting advice from Garrick. Another person whose bed I had not ended up in despite our flirtatious banter. But the way the girls talked, I knew whatever advice he had given would not have lead to a girl walking out on Sawyer.

“She walked out on you? What the hell did you do?” I ask, leaning forward on the table.

Sawyers eyes go wide before leaning back in his chair and fidgeting with his fingers.

“It’s not important. You don’t need to hear this.” He says, not wanting to meet my eyes.

“No you can’t just leave me hanging like that. What did you do?” I push, Garrick chuckling next to me.

“He told me to try this position and claimed it always got a girl to finish in seconds. Clearly it didn’t.” He huffs out.

“I don’t blame the girl. You pretty much had her doing a handstand as you thrusted down into her. Definitely not how to get a girl to finish in seconds.” Garrick states bluntly.

“Handstand? What… I don’t even want to know what you were trying to do. But never take advice from Ridoc.” I tell his as I gesture towards Garrick with my fork. “Listen to him. Pretty much every girl in this quadrant wants to be with him or can’t stop talking about how good he is.”

I catch Garrick looking very smug out of the corner of my eye. “Good to know I’ve got a reputation amongst you girls. Even then ones I haven’t taken to my bed.” He says as he pulls my chair towards his, voice dripping ever so slightly.

I can’t help the blush that starts to creep onto my face at his words, the smug look on his face only intensifying.

“Don’t let it get to your head Tavis.” i say sternly, a slight shake to my voice I know he picks up on.

Garrick’s eyes flicker between Sawyer and I. A mischievous glint in his eyes as he smirks wider.

“What the hell are you thinking?” Sawyer asks nervously as he notes Garrick’s look.

“I have a proposition. One that might…. Benefit all of us. But mainly you two.” He stated with a shrug.

Sawyer looks at him confused, but my mind puts the pieces together instantly.

“You can’t be serious?!” I exclaim causing Garrick to chuckle.

“Deadly serious.”

Sawyer looks between us, still not catching on to what Garrick is hinting about. I couldn’t deny I’d wanted to know if Garrick was as good as the other girls said. Hell I found him insanely attractive. But Garrick was one to approach the girls he wanted. And not once had he approached me. Till now.

“Do you two want to clue me in as to what’s going on?” Sawyer asks as he leans forward.

“We’re going to kill two birds with one stone. I’m going to show you how it’s done. And Y/N here is going find out if all that talk about me is true.” Garrick states as if this is normal every day conversation.

A strangled coughing sound comes from Sawyer who had tried to eat some food as Garrick laid out his idea. His eyes flicking to me and going wide, his cheeks that had started to go back to a normal colour returning to the deep read from earlier.

“Well if no one has any objections I will see both of you at my room tonight.” Garrick states as he stands from his chair before leaving Sawyer and I to stare at each other in silence.

“You ready sweetheart?” Garrick asks as he steps forward, pulling me against him as he grasps my chin between his fingers.

He chuckles as I let out a shaky breath. Once we started there was no going back. But in some strange way that excited me.

I feel Sawyer’s eyes on me as I nod. Knowing he’s just as nervous as I am. “Yes.”

Garrick leans in as if he wants to kiss me, my breath catching in my throat. But at the last second he swerves and looks Sawyer in the eye.

”You can start. Undress her.” Garrick’s tone commanding as he pushes me towards Sawyer.

He still looks scared, but there’s something new in Sawyer’s eyes when he looks at me. He reaches out, grasping my hand in his as he pulls me to him.

“You ready sweetheart?” Garrick asks as he steps forward, pulling me against him as he grasps my chin between his fingers.

He chuckles as I let out a shaky breath. Once we started there was no going back. But in some strange way that excited me.

I feel Sawyer’s eyes on me as I nod. Knowing he’s just as nervous as I am. “Yes.”

Garrick leans in as if he wants to kiss me, my breath catching in my throat. But at the last second he swerves and looks Sawyer in the eye.

”You can start. Undress her.” Garrick’s tone commanding as he pushes me towards Sawyer.

He still looks scared, but there’s something new in Sawyer’s eyes when he looks at me. He reaches out, grasping my hand in his as he pulls me to him.

His fingers tremble slightly as he reaches for the hem of my shirt, his gaze seeking approval in my eyes. I nod encouragingly, and he slowly lifts the fabric, breaking the barrier of apprehension that hangs in the air. As the material slides over my head, I'm left standing in just my pants and bra. There's a moment of silence, then Garrick's approving hum fills the room. "Continue," he prompts, his voice low but undeniably commanding as he leans against his desk. I can tell he’s holding back. The slight twitch of his hand as if he wants to reach out and take over, the lust and desire in his eyes. Sawyer’s hands caress my bare skin, drawing my eyes back to him as his hands move to the ties on my pants.

He hesitates for a moment before slowly untying the ties, his fingers brushing against my skin in the process. His actions are slow, careful, as if he's afraid to make a wrong move. But with every second, he seems to grow more confident, encouraged by the approving look in Garrick's eyes.

As Sawyer loosens the ties, another pair of hands starts to pull them down from behind along with my underwear. Their lips kissing down my back as they kneel to pull my pants off. I turn around as I step out of them, to see Garrick now shirtless and standing behind me. Clearly his want to be involved took over trying to sit back and watch.

His hands reach behind my back, undoing the clasp of my bra and pushing the straps down my arms. Leaving me bare before him and Sawyer. Sawyer whose hands now rest on my hips, his thumb rubbing circles into my skin. I shudder and go to jolt into Garrick as Sawyer places light kisses across my back, his hands tightening to keep me in place. Despite the cooler temperature and being naked, I felt flustered and warm, wedged between their bodies.

“Sit down and pull her into your lap.” Garrick says to Sawyer.

Sawyer immediately complies. Walking us backwards to the bed, and pulling me down into his lap as he sits. Pushing my legs open to rest either side of his, his cock pushing into my back. It’s then I realise he’s also taken advantage of Garrick distracting me, and has stripped down. I Turn my head towards Sawyer, pulling his head towards mine before pulling him into a kiss. His hands tighten on my hips, before one roams up to my breast, cupping and needing in in his palm. Garrick hums in approval as I moan at Sawyers touch, craving and wanting more of it as I do my best to push back onto him.

”Such a needy girl.” A hint of mischief in Garrick’s voice as I feel his presence in front of me.

I look over to see Garrick kneeling in front of me, eyes glazed over with lust as he takes me in spread bare before him. I shiver under his stare, as Sawyer kisses my neck as I clench around nothing. These two already had me on edge and they had barely done anything. Clearly Sawyer had learnt at least something from Garrick before taking on Ridoc’s advice. Garrick reaches out, I gasp and squirm in Sawyer’s grip as his fingers run up my centre. His fingers teasing my entrance before lightly tracing my clit.

“Garrick. Please.” I mew, my eyes fluttering shut as he repeats his movements.

”Please what?” His voice dropping to barely above a whisper.

”Need your fingers inside me. Please.” I beg as my hips jut forward.

“Good girl using your manners. How can I say no to you?” His cocky smirk on full display as his fingers slowly makes it’s way to my entrance. “Make sure you have a good hold on her.”

”Wait wh-”

Garrick wastes no time, immediately inserting two of his very large fingers inside of me. My hips immediately bucking out of Sawyer’s grip, who quickly adjust his grip and secures me in his lap. Garrick merely chuckles as he pumps his fingers in and out, curling at just the right time to hit the perfect spot. My head falls back onto Sawyer’s shoulder as I whimper and squirm against his hold.

”Relax darling.” Sawyer whispers in my ear as he continues to kneed my breast in his hand. “We’re nowhere near being done with you yet.”

I clench around Garrick’s fingers at his words, hearing Garrick’s hum of approval. “He’s right sweetheart, this is only the beginning. Think you can take more?”

”Y-yes.” I whimper out as Garrick curls his fingers inside me again.

Garrick’s eyes move from mine to something behind me before nodding. I turn to look at Sawyer who use’s both hands to grip my hips, holding me tightly against him. My words die on my lips, replaced by a loud moan as Garrick’s lips lock around my clit. His tongue lazily circling the bundle of nerves. Mixed with the perfectly timed curl of his fingers on that special spot, I could feel the pressure building quickly between my legs. My hips wanting to break free of Sawyer’s hands to grind on Garrick’s face.

“You getting close darling?” Sawyer mutters in my ear.

I nod my head eagerly. “Yes, please let me cum.” I pant as I nuzzle into his neck.

Garrick sucks harder on my clit, inserting another finger inside of me. I don’t know if either of them said I could finish or not, but there was no stopping the waves of pleasure that wracked my body. I vaguely register Sawyer rushing to tighten his grip on me as my back arches off him, my hips grinding further onto Garrick’s face. Garrick whose moan vibrates through me as I do so, adding to the pleasure. Garrick removes his mouth from me, his fingers slowly pumping in and out as he removes one at a time. Sawyer loosens his grip on my hips as I slump back into him, his fingers lazily tracing patters on my hip.

”You still alive sweetheart?” Garrick asks, a teasing tone to his voice.

I nod slowly, trying to catch me breath. Which I quickly fail at as I open my eyes, to Garrick fully bare in front of me. His hand lazily pumping his very erect cock. Holy shit. My eyes must go wide as both boys chuckle at my silence.

”Seems that woke you up.” Sawyer teases as he pushes me up from his lap.

I stumble, my legs still not fully recovered from the ordeal Garrick had put me through. Garrick’s hands grasps my hips, steadying me before I can fall to the ground. My eyes lock with Garrick as he backs us up towards his bed, spinning me around to face Sawyer who is kneeling on the bed waiting.

”Think you can take both of us sweetheart?” Garrick growls in my ear kisses just below my ear, sending a shiver down my spine.

Sawyer smiles as I nod eagerly at Garrick’s words. “God’s yes.”

”Good. On your hands and knees facing Sawyer.” Garrick instructs, his usual commanding tone slipping in.

Sawyer opens his mouth to object, but Garrick must give him a look to shut up as he quickly shuts his mouth and nods. Garrick was in control here. What he said went. Especially after Sawyer had taken Ridoc’s advice over his. This was his punishment. Only Garrick would get to properly fuck me tonight.

I crawl onto the bed towards Sawyer, Garrick quickly behind me as the mattress sinks under his weight. His hands resting on my hips as he settles behind me, his top sliding easily through my folds, coating himself in my arousal. I shudder as he slowly rocks back and forth, his tip nudging my clit. I reach out and grasp Sawyer’s cock in my hand, slowly moving my hand up and down, my thumb rolling over the tip as Sawyer’s head rolls back as he mumbles words I can’t make out. His hips jolting forward as slightly tighten my hand.

“Go on pretty girl, show us what you can do with that mouth of yours.” Garrick purrs in my ear as he leans over me.

”Bloody hell!” Sawyer moans as I lick up the underside of his cock before circling the tip with my tongue.

A string of curses fall from his lips, his breathing becoming uneven as I wrap my mouth around his cock, my hand working the rest of him. Slowly he starts to rock his hips back and forth in time with my movements. I’d nearly forgotten about Garrick till he uses the distraction to sheathe himself inside my fully. My scream muffled by Sawyer’s cock in my mouth.

”That’s it Y/N. Taking both of us so well.” Garrick praises from behind me as he starts to thrust back and forth.

Sawyer’s and Garrick fall into a rhythm, matching their thrusts perfectly as I become a moaning mess between them. I couldn’t have prepared myself for the pleasure of taking them both at once. The force of Garrick’s thrust already had me clenching and spasming around his cock. While Sawyer tangles his hand in my hair to desperately chase his own release. Sawyer is the first to tip over the edge, his cum spilling down my throat as he holds in place against his hips as Garrick fucks me onto him.

As soon as Sawyer’s grip on my head loosens, Garrick wraps an arm around my waist, pulling me flush against his chest, his fingers rolling my nipple between his fingers. ”You’re not done yet Henrick. Put those fingers to use. She’s close, aren’t you darling?”

Sawyer complies immediately, shuffling forward on the bed till he’s right in front of me, sandwiching me between them. His hands taking place on my clit, rubbing slow, torturous circles around it. Luckily Garrick is holding me up, my body becoming liquid with the amount of pleasure these two are giving me.

”P-please.” I moan out, head rolling back onto Garrick’s shoulder.

”Please what darling?” Sawyer coos at me.

”I-I need t-t c-cum.” I stutter out as Garrick nips at my neck.

”You’ve been such a good girl. Cum for us darling.” Garrick whispers in my ear.

Garrick thrusts up into me so hard I fall forward into Sawyer, who catches me with his free arm while still playing with my clit. With in seconds I cum undone, screaming out both their names as I writher in Sawyer’s arms. Seconds later Garrick pulls my hips flush against him as he moans loudly. For a moment all of us are still. Sawyer holding me in his arms, while Garrick stays buried inside me, head resting on my shoulder. All of us trying to catch our breath, and also come to terms with what we’ve just done. As I push my self upright, I’m immediately met with Sawyer’s smile. And I know, just like me he doesn’t regret this in the slightest. Garrick moves behind me, slowly pulling out of me as I shudder at the loss of him inside me.

”So, whose advice are we no longer taking?” Garrick teases as we all burst into fits of laughter.

”I mean I won’t complain if he does if it leads to this again.” I say in what I mean to be a joke, but gods I wanted this again.

Garrick chuckles behind me. “So, same time next week?”

[ariseur]

OKAY SO I SAW YOURE ALSO A LATINA AND , WANT REQUESTS; IVE ALWAYS HAD THIS THOUGT, what if Satoru and Suguru were BOTH dating a foreign reader (Mexican if you wanna be specific) idk I just though it’d be kinda funny when they remember the reader has an entirely culture than them!!

((btw that “BOTH” was about a poly relationship with satosugu, which you obv don’t have to do!!))

FOREIGN LOVE - SATORU GOJO

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི₊ ⊹ notes - decided to change up my formatting a little bit, just experimenting lol. but!! unfortunately i don’t write for suguru ( yet, i’m still trying to get a better sense on his personality n his character since i’m almost done w/ s2!! ) and i dont write polyamorous pieces!! so i just decided to write about gojo for now 🫶

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི₊ ⊹ warnings - intended lowercase, mentions of japanese culture that i’m not educated on so lmk if there’s more common stuff i could mention instead, lmk if i missed any warnings!!

✧˖° SATORU GOJO dating a foreign reader would actually be a pretty cool dynamic to experience — anon i like your way of thinking about how gojo ( and geto ) would sometimes forget how their foreigner significant reader has an entirely culture from them because .. they probably would lol

✧˖° if you’re not that well versed in japanese / asian culture and traditions, i feel like he would just like casually bring up certain things or events that go on in japan like obon or setsubun or maybe you’re unsure of certain common etiquette, so he’s confused when you’re like “???”

✧˖° but!! if you’re interested in learning stuff about japanese culture then he’ll be like “you’ve come to the right person” and i can just imagine GOJO making that one tiktok emoji face— like the [proud] one lol. he’d love to tell you all about it though, he thinks you wanting to learn more about his culture is just another sign that you love him, and he wants to know more about you too!! he’s willing to sit with you for hours on end and ask you questions about what you do for your culture.

✧˖° if you’re new to japan and you’re unfamiliar with certain places around town and stuff, i think one of the best things that GOJO likes to show you is the food around town. i dunno about you guys but i literally love takoyaki and yakitori and that’s not even relevant to the headcanon i just felt like sharing that for no reason it’s so good to me. but of courseeee!! we can’t forget about kikufuku, a small daifuku with mochi and we all know how SATORU recommends the edamame or cream flavor, so lord forbid you don’t like it — he’ll be so dramatic 😭

✧˖° howeveerrrrr—!! since anon mentioned about shedding light on reader possibly being a latina or mexican, let’s talk about a hispanic!reader with GOJO, yeah??

✧˖° i love the idea that he can’t handle spice, and i dont even know where it came from and i feel like he probably could handle somewhat spicy foods? but i just love envisioning GOJO freaking out over like a tiny lil poblano chilé or something like that. i’m sure he’d love the food but i feel like he’d be so confused watching you make foods from your culture. like, tres leches??? why are you just soaking cake in milk???

✧˖° i’d say SATORU is a somewhat good dancer .. when it comes to certain songs 😭.. he’s not the worst when there’s some spanish music in the back but he will def try to improvise and will make both of you trip. i think he’d like dancing norteñas but i can just see him doing all these unnecessary dips in the middle of the song because he’s just seen it somewhere. he might even give you a kiss when he dips down a little lower, usually towards the end of the song. and when you call him out on it, he’s just like, “what? i can’t give my baby a kiss?” like the bastard he is ugh i need him rn

✧˖° don’t even get me started on him speaking spanish. he swears he’s suddenly this suavé latin genius once he surprises you with a few words. i think he’d be like that with any language though honestly except i’m pretty sure he knows a little bit of english since someone said he traveled abroad?? but with certain languages, he’ll definitely butcher them a lot lol. in the end, you praise him for trying and that alone results in him giving himself a pat on the back.

✧˖° i dunno about you guys in hispanic households, but growing up the way to shush someone or like a baby or something would be like “ya”. it could also be used in like “ya callaté” which is like “shut up already,”? i’m not sure if there’s a direct translation in english but i think like the closest thing to it in english is kinda like, “enough”, in that context?? so im just imagining you saying it to a dog barking or a baby crying and he’s just confused all “wdym ya ya, are they a horse??”

✧˖° i think you and him would really bond when learning about each other’s cultures, though. it’s a learning experience for the both of you and you unlock a new topic in which you guys can both learn about. you can count on your tour guide, SATORU GOJO—!

𐙚 join my taglist here !!

𐙚 requests are open — june thirteenth, 2024

[ighnari]

───・ ・ ・ ✦ 011

letter to my past self | wanderer

PAIR: wanderer / reader

NOTE: trying a long-sentence writing style for fun.

WORDS: 1.2k

────────── ・・・ ✦

when you fell asleep, face planted on a shallow stack of brownish papers borrowed from the akademiya (with no regards to how the fresh ink will stain your cheeks), you did not expect anyone to feel as bothered by your slumber like this one particular student did. his stare is so intense that he sends nightmares in your direction, hence why you jolt awake after enduring a harsh scolding by your parents in your subconscious, and your head swings towards the figure behind you like a predator, greeting him with narrowed eyebrows heavy with accusation, expression further decorated with a frown highlighting your displeasure at noticing his presence.

he has the gall to sit beside you nonchalantly, as if he isn’t the perpetuator of the meanest crime in the akademiya that is disturbing your nap. he knows better than anyone that your opportunities to close your eyes are few and far between, and only a foolish person willingly puts you in such a bad mood, but he likes to do the impossible considering his unique (and frankly concerning) lifestyle, including but not limited to writing 10 papers a night before it’s due date.

(does this guy not need any sleep? it angers you that he got it done without a sweat and still did well while you’re squandering your time away with the unnecessary necessities! you’ve tried all methods to reveal his secret such as buying dinner, trying to hold a proper conversation with any topic that come to mind, and more but he’s lip tight.)

“what are you writing?” he asks, leaning towards you as you fumble to cover as much of the paper’s contents with your arms. he clicks his tongue at your vain attempt to hide things from him before he crosses his arms and harbours a smirk so wide it is comparable to his ego. “don’t try to lie and say it’s your notes. no one starts their study notes with ‘dear diary’.”

you look down at the papers underneath your hands. the word “dear” is well covered by your index finger, but in an attempt to spread your limb’s effect, the space between your index and your middle finger betrays you in revealing you are very well writing a diary entry. perhaps that is one reason why despite having coffee by your side—brewed to perfection—you let your hand focus on writing whatever thoughts pop in your head than reaching for a sip that might have saved you from not preparing for this embarrassing encounter.

“what do you know about diaries, hat guy? i bet you’ve never self reflected in your life,” you jab with a complimentary eye roll, gathering the papers like they’re sheep to rear and levelling them on the table. you’re certain you have not finished your entry, and normally you’re stubborn enough to complete it even under the scrutiny of others as writing a diary is not a shameful act, but this isn’t any normal “dear diary” page.

it is a letter for your past self—the one who had an innocence to believe a person named ‘hat guy’ was approachable. it is a letter of warnings littered with understanding (for it feels weird to belittle your choices when you are not an idiot, unlike what hat guy claims), and unlike your normal diary where you write entertaining the idea it might be found by strangers for reading in the future, what you’re writing now has a recipient. therefore, only the recipient can read it.

“you jest but your ugly tongue turns everything into mucus for my ears.” to convey his words, he digs his ears, irritating you more than you want.

“i’m not here to entertain you. can’t you see i want you gone?”

throughout the minutes you were packing your things to leave, since you knew he would not be an easy rock to move so you might as well take that responsibility, he has been carelessly leaning his back against the chair’s backrest, like a bored student (and you’re slightly offended but you hold your tongue knowing you’re guilty of this in history class). however, at your words he sits upright, eyes gleaning with interest.

you blanch, moving back to create distance so you have space to think. it should be impossible that he’s here with you—if you think about it—since you specifically chose this time slot to write your letter knowing he will never skip his favourite class that is social politics. you’ve given up on getting a good grade once you saw your marks compared with the average on the previous assignment, so you’re spared from the obligation to be present in the lecture hall. on the other hand, what was his reason?

“you’ve never chased me away before. you’re not writing a normal journey entry are you?” he stretches to grab your pile of paper, and you defensively kick his chair away from yours, causing it to screech against the polished floor of the library and turning glares in your direction. in that moment of distraction as you grapple with the reality that you’ve unfortunately angered a large portion of the akademiya, some of them having faces you recognise that possibly remembers yours too, hat guy swipes in expertly, as if he has thievery in his skill set.

“h-hey! you got to be kidding me. do you not know privacy?”

(note to self: add into the letters, if possible, that hat guy is rude, rivaling his moments of charm.)

“you never hide anything from me since you can’t ever shut up. this must be about me then, and don’t i have the right to know?”

“it’s not for your eyes even if it’s about you,” you counter, trying your best to reclaim what’s rightfully yours, except you’re too embarrassed at the close contact to put in much effort. you’ve managed to transfer some ink stains on your cheeks to his clothes, which you hope isn’t permanent or else you’ll never hear the end of it.

perhaps him reading your letter is a good thing you should permit, saving you trouble in the future from him plucking your nerves like a musical instrument, your torment turning into a tune he enjoys. writing all bad things about him is powerful enough to make you feel less of a kind person, so it should be good enough to hurt his pride. but, you didn’t just note horrible, irredeemable points of his personality. no. in fact, the very reason you’re writing this letter is to complain to the you of the past for even trying. inevitably you’ve fallen into a trap.

he reads your letter and his body relaxes, giving you a clear path to extract your true feelings from his palm, but his expression strikes you worse than lighting. a dread—possibly from the lack of sleep—spreads across your senses that you’re numb and unable to speak.

it must have been mercy that he shifts such that his hat covers his face from you.

when he stands and passes (or throws) your papers back, you close your eyes and tell yourself this is for the better. you can’t hide forever, even if you wish you can, for he does somehow finds a way to know things—much to your chagrin that he does it with such ease and confidence.

still.

you can’t bear to see the way his back shrinks while he walks towards the exit of the library, and the breath you’re holding grows too big with regret that you have to let it out.

what a strange way for you to indirectly confess.

how are you going to face hat guy—your project partner for the upcoming history lesson—now?

[its-storminghere]

Carcar accidental baby acquisition where Carlos ends up taking in a baby and Oscar is the one to help him out

Okay so this trope can be really hard for me because for the life of me I don’t know how they get that baby but I’m doing this for you!! Sorry it’s actually about a toddler not a baby

Okay so Lando is hosting a big family event not related to F1, maybe his wedding (you can pick your own adventure on this one) Some F1 people are there including Oscar and Carlos but it’s a big group of people. Oscar and Carlos make some small talk at a couple of points but really they’re just mingling and enjoying the afternoon.

The children in lando’s family l o v e Carlos sooo much. He’s just the ideal of what a cool race car driver should be (as opposed to Lando who is just uncle Lando who likes to play video games and play golf with the adults, sorry Lando), but even better than that he’s FUN and he plays GAMES with them and he brings his DOG!! He’s been around enough over the years that the kids are devoted to him and obviously he loves being loved and he loves family

So plot plot plot, dialogue dialogue dialogue, Oscar is chatting with Lando and Carlos is near them getting a toddler game of footie going. Of course all the moms (and some of the dads) are all gooey-eyed about how good carlos is with the kids. Truly my own ovaries are screaming as I write this

And Oscar is seeing this and internally rolling his eyes because ohhh yes isn’t Carlos just the greatest, he’s so perfect with his hair and his driving like an asshole and his sexy voice - He hears enough about that at work, and now that they’ve been running into each other on the track all of his interviews mention Carlos too. But, he thinks, whatever, I’m here to support Lando in this unspecified special event

But then!!! The few security guys Lando hired are telling everyone to get inside because apparently there’s INTRUDERS who broke in that want to cause people harm!!! (Idk man)

So in the shuffle and the chaos one of the little kids attaches herself to Carlos and won’t let go!! Because her parents always told her to stay with trustworthy adults and she trusts Carlos!! He let her play footie even though she’s younger than the other kids!!

And someone the two of them end up with Oscar smushed into a small bathroom. And they’re trying to be quiet but the little girl is scared!! And Carlos sees that and he brushes her hair off her face and hushes her. It can be like a game!! He tells her. We’ll play with Oscar. I have to hide and you have to find me! The little girl’s sniffling stops and she looks up at them. Carlos looks at Oscar like back me up here man.

What’s Oscar gonna do but go along?? So he shows her how to cover her eyes with her hands and they count to 5 very slowly together so Carlos can “hide.” When they open their eyes the little girl immediately starts giggling because look Os-cah!!! Mr. Carlos is right there!! He’s hiding behind the shower curtain!!

And Oscar and Carlos make such a big deal about her winning and they tell her how smart she is. But now the game is over and they still haven’t gotten the ok to leave. So, Oscar says it’s his turn to hide, and while Carlos and the little girl count, he crouches behind Carlos’s broad back. He’s eye level with the hair just curling down Carlos’s muscular neck.

Before he knows it the 5 seconds are up and the little one is looking for him. Carlos looks at her very seriously, points behind himself, and winks. Then he turns and dives onto Oscar, wrapping his arms around Oscar’s torso and pulling him around so the girl can see him. And as Oscar feels Carlos’s big hands holding him, he’s like. Woah. Okay. Maybe Carlos is that great

And then the little girl hides and both guys pretend they can’t find her until they get the okay to go back outside. And they bring the girl back to her parents and she immediately informs them that Mr Carlos and Mr os-cah are her new best friends forever and they all need to have a playdate right now. Oscar is looking over at Carlos and thinking, yeah, maybe the two of us do need to have a playdate

[jeons-catalyst]

The way this Jikook anti fandom makes up its own rules regarding Jikook's enlistment, yet they don't do that with any other members enlistments. Interesting. I've seen so much misinformation, its unbelievable and Karmy have really tried to get them to understand, but as usual, they get overlooked cause I-Army being pressed and dismissing them, thinking they run these Korean men and know them better than their own people. I saw people saying JK and Jimin were saying goodbye to Jin and not because they were seeing him for the first time in a long time. Do they even realize Jikook are no where stationed near Jin? They were at the training camp kinda close to him for the first 5 weeks, but since then they were moved to an isolated Artillery unit which is nowhere near Jin, in the middle of nowhere. So yeah, this would be the first time they probably seen him since they got there. Also lying saying Jikook get their days off based on how well they do, which may be true or not for individually enlisted soldiers, which Jikook are NOT. But its not true for Jikook who are companion soldiers and companion soldiers vacations days are shared together and days taken at the same time, regardless if one does better then the other. That is the whole point of the system, so they are always together. I'm actually going based on what discharged buddy soldiers have said. Just like the cook/gunner buddy soldiers who confirmed they shared a living space and bed til discharge. For the crowd saying JK was moved to the cook area far away from Jimin and you have real buddy soldiers where one was a cook, telling you he was still bed sharing with his buddy who was not a cook, in the same place. Once again, JK is not an individually enlisted soldier. He has a buddy/jimin and he is cooking and stationed where his buddy/Jimin is. Jk doesn't cook for the whole damn camp, like they're saying either. He cooks where Jimin is. Also confirmed by discharged soldiers. Homophobic solos and Jikook antis have rewritten the entire buddy system. Even kmedia confirmed Jikook's unit being the same and them together. They were the first one who leaked it. They calling them a liar too? Their jobs were already established when Jimin updated and him and JK and he made it clear they were together, twice. Guess people forgot that. You got big tk accounts who wanted the buddy program for their favs, pissed at JK & keep setting him up as if he wants away from Jimin to get him attacked, all because they're mad he ain't with Tae and painting him like he's a monster who hates Jimin. I guess Jk writing nice things about Jimin being with him on private military message boards doesn't count, because he's not saying it public.

I just know that "I wanted to do special forces" eats away at them at night because he didn't do it and instead went with Jimin instead, which was a bigger priority for him. Its not even what Tae is doing either but they don't care, it was just the thought of him being away from Jimin & now they can't spin his words to make it fit TK. Man sacrificed what he wanted to do, just to be with Jimin, when their fav didn't sacrifice what he wanted to do, to be with JK and enlist with him (if he could prove he's close enough to JK to do it that is, since you do have to prove that). And if tattoos or skill was an issue, what was stopping Tae joining JK? In fact Tae said he was happy to be enlisting away from everyone. LMFAO ouch. He said sorry, I'm good enlisting alone, I can live without Jk for 2 years. lol

People always rewrite the rules when it comes to Jimin and Jungkook together. The buddy system isn’t the first time and it definitely wouldn’t be the last.

I don’t know the details about how vacations are given to them so I can’t confirm or deny what you stated about that.

All this mental gymnastics people are doing with Jikook enlisting together wouldn’t have happened if it were any other pair. All we would have heard would hv been talks about how close xyz people are or how their bond is precious but since it is jikook, we hv people fighting tooth and nail to prove that they didn’t have a choice, it didn’t mean much to them or someone was forced to do it. What is new?

[livefastwritetrash]

Excerpt from something that I keep writing and rewriting because I literally can’t tell if it’s any good.

—

“I just mean that you're my best mate, Edwin. Even when you’re being a right pain in the arse.” Edwin bristled, but the affection in his tone somewhat softened the blow, “And I keep thinking. That I have known you better and longer than anyone. We have been to literal hell and back together, and somehow…I don’t even know what it’s like to shake your hand.”

“But you’re shaking my hand right now.”

Charles sighed. How were the smartest people he ever met also always the densest?

“Sure. And what does that feel like to you?”

Edwin contemplated the heavy emptiness in his palm, the vague sense of pressure and static where they touched. Just two souls colliding in air, lacking the tools to distill all their complexity into sensation. This is what touch had been for him for ages. Was it really so different from mortal senses? He couldn’t recall.

“...Normal? ” he hedged anyway. Charles nodded, but his eyes turned sad and dropped away, and he wondered if he’d answered wrongly somehow.

“Right. Normal.”

When Charles looked back to him, there was a weight to it that was nearly as tangible as their clasped hands.

“Do you ever think that maybe this feels normal, because it’s all we’ve ever had? We’ve only ever been ghosts to each other, Edwin. But it used to be different, before, didn’t it? Can you even remember what that was like, to feel real?”

“I suppose…no. I can’t.” Edwin was troubled to learn that was true even as the words left him.

Charles nodded and dropped his gaze to their hands. He readjusted his grip, prickles sliding between their palms, and a heartbeat kicked up in the nebulous area of Edwin’s chest. A word for anticipation that his soul sometimes remembered to speak, even though the language of the living had long been severed from him at the root.

“At some point,” Charles was saying softly, “Both of us touched someone real for the last time. And we didn’t even know it. It probably wasn’t family, or a best friend, or even anyone important to us. We went around thinking we’d have that forever, then it was just…gone.”

—

Help.

[uwuyangeppie]

hello! can you please do gepard spanking (name) as a punishment, i don’t have a clue whether you do nsfw or not but it doesn’t have to be!! thank you! hope ya have a nice night/morning/evening. :3

i don’t think this is nsfw, but it’s my first time writing spanking so i could be wrong (let me know if it is). anyway i think it turned out alright in the end…

cw: non-consensual spanking (please let me know if there's any other warnings i should add!)

you are terrified.

you can’t help it. you imagine this is what it’s like for every kidnapping victim, although you can’t say for sure if you’ve met any others. gepard has been nothing but nice to you, but the fact remains that nobody knows where you are and he has no intentions of letting you out.

he was quite forward in telling you all this on the day you woke up, which was…

you don’t know how long it’s been. you’ve lost count. definitely more than a week, at least? you’re only allowed out of your “room” (the basement) when he’s home, and it’s quite hard to get a grasp on how much time is passing when you barely get a chance to look out the window.

there’s a very real chance that he’s doing that on purpose.

as kind as he is, it’s a miracle that you can trust him at all (even if it’s just a drop in an empty bucket). if the captain of the silvermane guards can break the law so easily, then you have no idea what’s in store for you, no matter what he spews out.

today, he says he’s coming home late. how late is late? you ask, feigning interest, sensing an opportunity. after all, he never ties you up, worried about your wrists. it’s only ever the door that gets locked.

“probably… hmm, maybe an hour later than normal? i’ll cook a bigger dinner tonight to make up for my absence. i promise it’ll be worth it.” he kisses the top of your head before he leaves- and you almost immediately start trying to break down that damn door once he’s gone.

and you succeed. the fresh air is like a slice of heaven. you never thought you’d be so grateful for something so simple. still, your first goal is to run, run, run, to hide, to tell someone, anyone, everyone what happened to you.

and you do run.

"darling, i'm disappointed. to think i was even going to let you out of the house."

…right into gepard’s chest.

you stare up at him. he was going to let you out…? you didn’t need to go to all this effort…? you- you ruined your chance at freedom with your own two hands?

gepard guides you back to his house, away from prying eyes, apparently done with his work. ah, maybe you’re more important to him than a couple of meetings. in the end, you never did get that far. despair starts to settle in your heart.

he briefly examines the state of your room, but doesn’t say a word about it. you decide to stay quiet about it too.

"i suppose i should nip this in the bud before it becomes a habit for you."

back upstairs, it’s all you can do but tilt your head in confusion. even when he pulls out a chair, your mind doesn’t connect the dots. after all, gepard’s been nothing but nice.

it only begins to click when he bends you over his knee and pulls down your pants with ease. you’re getting punished.

“remember,” he says, voice stern, “this is your fault.”

his hands are rough from the years and the nature of his work. to be honest though, you don’t even notice. you’re too fixated on the sting of your ass. the reality of your situation starts to sink in, and you suddenly feel very vulnerable.

perhaps he notices this. “your fault,” he croons, like this repetition makes a difference to you. he does not tell you to count to a number like some of your other friends have talked about, and you get the awful feeling that he’s going to spank you until he feels like it’s enough.

the next one is harder, in the same spot as the first. you yelp, but for better or for worse, he doesn't react. they gradually get faster and faster, each in the same spot with the precision that only the captain of the silvermane guards could manage. even though you haven’t been asked to count, you lose track of them quickly, just like you’ve lost track of everything else.

“i’m sorry,” you sob, the pain too much for you. “i’m sorry, gepard!”

you're trembling. this experience has well and truly uprooted everything else you thought you knew about gepard, with your cheeks stained with tears, hands gripping the chair legs, and gaze glued to the ground. you brace yourself, waiting for the next hit. it doesn’t come.

“sorry for what?”

“i shoul- should’ve stayed here,” you hiccup. “i never should have left.”

silence. he’s waiting for you to continue. you don’t dare try to pull yourself off his lap, although you’re not sure you have the strength for that anyway.

“i’ll never ru- leave again,” you whimper, tears still streaming down your face. it hurts. it hurts. please don’t start again.

“that’s what i like to hear.” effortlessly, he pulls you up into a sitting position. it only worsens the pain, but when you finally meet his eyes, they’re filled with the same warmth that you’ve always known them to have. your uncertainty about what lies beneath, though, taints them.

"don't cry, darling. i'm sorry, i didn't mean to be so rough." is that really true, though? he leans in to kiss your tears away, and you reflexively lurch back, anxiety temporarily snatching control of your body.

something flickers across his face, but it's gone in an instant. he makes a noise that sounds a lot like "hmmm". now that fear’s holding the reins, though, you don’t notice. you’re too busy scrambling off his lap and pulling up your pants again, still in quite a bit of pain.

after a little bit of thinking, gepard stands up and brushes himself off. it’s almost time to make dinner. you probably won't try to run off again any time soon, especially not after his little lie about how he was planning on letting you out of the house. still, he should probably say something to remind you where you belong.

“oh, you destroyed your door, didn’t you? well, i suppose you’ll just have to sleep with me tonight.”

[fingertipsmp3]

Reading an actual published book that is really, confidently bad gives me more confidence in my writing than just about anything actually

[figofswords]

anybody remember the stephanie brown essay I was working on under a research grant fully last summer? yeah it’s not done yet it super needs to be done and I’ve been avoiding working on it for weeks. someone tell me to just do it already

[that-was-anticlimactic]

one of the worst feelings ever is wanting to write but your hands hurt too much or the words just don’t want to work so you just sit there staring at a half finished doc with tears in your eyes bc you want to write and you need to write but everything is telling you that you can’t

[scionshtola]

there is something so annoying to me about people reading a poem and then deciding it’s bad because it doesn’t match their personal experience or because for some reason they think all poems are autobiographical