#i lost track bc i wrote so much

[a-kaash-me-outside]

˚₊‧ ᴡɪʟʟ ɪᴛ ʙᴇ ᴄᴀsᴜᴀʟ ɴᴏᴡ? ‧₊˚

♡ ft. geto, toji, gojo, higuruma, nanami ♡ total wc: 10.9k // nsfw minors dni! // ♡ contents: ౨ৎ 𝑎 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑢𝑡𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 ౨ৎ, afab reader she/her pronouns, no smut in gojos or tojis im sorry, emotionally stunted men kinda but they grow isnt that nice (not talking abt higuruma and nanami god no), the aftermath of fwb caught feelings, consolation, emotional aftercare ig, lotta domestic fluff for higuruma and nanami's!!!! (everyone say ty @noosayog for nanami's bc she is the only reason i wrote his) ♡ listen along: casual by chappell roan ♡

- ᡣ𐭩 time passes and people change, and just because you fell first doesn't mean you don't get a happy ending + bonus continuation of higuruma's and nanami's ᡣ𐭩 -

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ɢᴇᴛᴏ [ 3 ʏᴇᴀʀs ]

on the list of people that you thought you’d see tonight, geto isn’t even in the top 100, not because of probability or likelihood, but solely based on the fact that you have not thought about this man in years. if you were asked the question from your future self, “holy shit, guess who we saw tonight?” you would’ve listed old friends, distant relatives, exes, minor celebrities, other flings, teachers from high school, people from stories you’ve only heard of, and then geto. 

after that night, you really didn’t see barely any of him. a few posts on your feed: one 2 weeks after and another 2 months after that one when you remembered that you forgot to unfollow him. once on campus: him across a million tables getting lunch with some girl too long after your little thing for you to care about who she was to him at all. once at a mutual (though you didn’t know was mutual at the time) friend’s party close to graduation: you ran into him grabbing a drink from the cooler and neither of you said a single word to each other, just exchanged a very knowing glance.

fast forward a handful of years, with geto not on your mind during a single one of them, and you’re stunned, nearly speechless, as you recognize him across the bar. the track of which your mind is racing takes you stop after stop to thoughts and feelings you didn’t really ask to experience. they follow a curving roadmap in your mind of: why is he here? ↝ wow, he looks great ↝ does he live nearby still? ↝ that’s weird ↝ no, it isn’t weird, i still live here ↝ then what are the fucking chances that he’s here ↝ no, seriously he looks so good

he looks different though, you realize about 3 minutes into sneaking glances in his direction, in some way that you just can’t put your finger on right now. in your slightly tipsy state, you barely stop to ask yourself how you even clocked that it was him so quickly, how there was no hesitance in the recognition or questioning in the placing. he looks really fucking good.

in fact, now that all of the obligatory thoughts have come to a heed, that’s really the only thing that you can think about. how good he looks.

the events that happened that ended your situationship all of those years ago are nothing but outlines now; whatever you said or he said just sounds like underwater conversations. you can see the way that you left and you remember being dumbfounded, but everything else has lost its sting, like a story you’d recall to a friend of a friend in a setting much like the one you’re in. time has handled the memory the way that time does and as a result, when the two of you finally make eye contact after what feels like an hour of missed mutual glances, you offer a small wave. a wave that says, “i remember only knowing you in past tense. we are such different people now, i wonder what it would’ve been like if we met now instead.”

the wave was the first step, technically, sure, but he makes the literal first step. he departs from the conversation he’s been enthralled with for as long as you’ve been stealing glances and he weaves between people in the middle of their own stories before ending up in front of you. 

when he does, he asks, as if he’s just randomly bumped into you rather than intentionally coming over, “shit… is that you?” he puts his hand on the back of your chair, thumb brushing your shoulder.

the friend that you’re with cocks their head, furrows their eyebrows, has no idea who this is or their connection to you, the timelines of their interactions with you spaced too far apart for one to know the other. geto notices this look, addresses it. “we used to…,” he pauses, “see each other? for a little bit.”

you can’t help the laugh that bubbles up from your chest at the way he describes it. “yes, yes we did,” you nod. “back in college,” you explain a little further, “been a while.”

the interaction quiets, the two of you exchanging soft smiles instead of words, and your friend knows where this thing is going before either of you even do, so they bow their head, offer their seat to geto, and take their leave in the name of some bullshit excuse. he takes it without a second thought, asking you how you’ve been, laughing about the time that you saw each other at that party, and after an hour of just talking he says, “yeah, i actually thought about you the other day.”

you nearly choke on the drink he’s bought you. you rush to put it down. “you did?” you ask.

he nods. “i don’t even remember what prompted it. i think, maybe, i saw a photo of myself from college and how different i looked and how different i feel now and then just, out of nowhere, remembered how shitty i was to you.” 

you don’t say anything in return, running your finger around the lip of your glass as you stare at him. you don’t know how to say that you don’t care anymore, that you haven’t thought of those days in years, that the surprise that you displayed a few seconds ago was completely genuine, because you were so convinced that neither of you had. it comes out something like a shrug and, “we were practically kids.”

he answers so quickly, “well, kids or not, i’m sorry.”

you laugh, gently so he won’t think you’re laughing at his apology. really, you’re laughing at the notion of apologizing for an act that no longer warrants forgiveness. you laugh at the thought of giving it anyways. you place your hand on top of his on the edge of the bar. “thank you,” you nod. he nods back. 

when you let him take you back to his place for old times sake, you’re half-expecting the same person from the ghosts of memories from years ago, like all of the things he said at the bar were just a last ditch effort to usher the night in the exact direction that it’s heading in. 

but he’s different now, just like he said he was before he apologized, and you can feel it in his movements and his actions. more confident, more intentional. he kisses you first and it doesn’t taste selfish. it doesn’t feel rushed to get to the main event. he savors it, holds your head in his hands, and doesn’t touch a single other inch of your body until he’s found the right combination of fingertip pressure and tongue that has you melting into his palm.

your mind flickers to the notion that these actions might be pre planned because they feel so meticulous and thought out, but that impression quickly dissolves when he sinks inside of you, slowly, keeping his eyes locked on yours as he does, his hand reaching down to cup your cheek, fingers nearly trembling against your jaw when he presses his hips completely against the insides of your thighs. 

“shit,” he hisses, hands moving down to your waist, fingers light like feathers practically crawling against your skin, as if each print was so grateful it got to make contact with the softness below. when he grips into the fat of your hips, he’s careful, intentional or not, pressing his thumbs into the bone, but not letting his nails leave a single mark. it’s pressured, but comfortable. 

he holds you in place, slowly pulling his hips back and he can’t help but look down between your legs, watching himself disappear inside of you, a creamy mess at the base, shallow breaths recycled in his chest. 

“hey,” you say, eyes locked on the tenseness of his jaw and the way that he stops himself with sharp inhales. he finds your gaze in a second. “don’t hold out on me here.” you rest your arm on his bicep, fingers curling around wherever they can reach.

you can feel it under your palm, his muscle tensing as his pace picks up, rhythm consistent, but unrelenting. the breaths come out of you quickly and you’re unable to hold any sort of facade. “ah- shit, f-fuck,” you cry, “holy shit.” you squeeze your eyes shut, swallowing harshly as strangled noises leave you without vetting a single one.

“n-no,” you shake your head, regretting it instantly as he slows down in response. you shake your head harder, “no, don’t stop, but- ah,” you groan, “your- you were- i meant,” you exhale a laugh, “let me hear you.”

his eyes widen slightly as he processes what you want from him, and then he listens. he leans down to kiss your lips and then your cheek and then your jaw and then your ear. yes, he’s fucking you better than you’ve ever been fucked in your entire life, but that’s not what makes you crumble. no, it’s his grunts and pants and breathy groans pressed right up against your skin. 

you thread your fingers into his hair, twirling the ends of the locks between the tips, raking your nails down the base of his neck to the front, and then smoothing them down his chest. “more,” you mumble against him, and you’re not sure exactly what you mean, but he gives it to you, whatever it is. you’re certain he’d give you anything in the world right now if you just asked for it.

there’s a moment after when you’re lying there with him, shoulder pressed up against his, chest heaving, barely recovered, that you find yourself back in that college dorm. you don’t know why the tightness is rising in the hollow below your sternum, but it is. you remind yourself that you weren’t expecting anything from this anyway, so it doesn’t matter, but it does. you’re not sure if you just don’t want to be treated like that again or if it has something to do with geto being the one lying beside you. 

when you turn your head to face him, he’s already looking at you. he doesn’t shy away in embarrassment, like it’s wrong that he’d be gazing at you after all of that. his features are steady, confident, strong. he smiles softly, brings his hand up to cup your cheek. “should we get breakfast in the morning?”

in the morning, you repeat in your head. you wait a beat, trying to come up with something to say, to proceed with caution or to discern his intentions or to at least not sound desperate, but all that comes out is, “in the morning?” 

he nods, turning on his side so he can stare at you without his neck getting sore. he inches closer to you, kissing the top of your shoulder and then your temple. he drapes his arm over your stomach. “if that’s okay with you,” he says and then kisses you again.

“okay,” you nod back, lazy smile on your lips, eyelids heavy at the warmth surrounding you now as he pulls you closer to him. “yeah, sure,” you affirm, voice so soft and airy that the tightness in your chest is lifted away with the words, all that’s left is a hope you feel comfortable letting stick around.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ᴛᴏᴊɪ [ 3 ᴍᴏɴᴛʜs ]

you are not expecting anyone. you have resigned yourself to a nice pair of pajamas and comfy socks and a warm cup of tea and a spot in the living room that you will only leave for a refill and bathroom breaks. you are tucked into the corner of your couch, back pressed up against the sturdy arm, legs crossed, and a throw blanket over your lap.

you are not expecting anyone, so the sound at the door should have felt a lot more jarring. well, it is jarring for a second, a few seconds actually, the echoing disruption bouncing off of the walls of your living room and back to you, but then the noises repeat themselves, like they’re on a looping track, and you realize that-

you know that knock. heavy-handed with a tight fist, back of the knuckles, not the tops. almost pittering out by the end of the three successions, like the first one is direct and assured, but the second and third don’t really bother keeping up. that knock almost makes you run to the door. if it were 3 months ago, you’d be skipping to the door. 

but you hesitate for a few reasons. firstly because when the connection hits that you know that knock very well, you remind yourself to proceed with caution. secondly because it sounds the same but with a difference as small as a hairline fracture. you heard that knock far too many times during the span of a year and a half, and this one sounds almost completely identical, but there’s a half second pause between the first knock and the second knock and the raps feel less impatient. 

you don’t have to look through the peephole to know who’s standing on the other side of the door, but you’re glad you do anyway. if for nothing else, it gives you a slight edge, you’re convinced, like you’ve seen him first, you have the upperhand now. at least, that’s what you tell yourself. 

toji hadn’t contacted you since he left that day. no texts. no calls. no showing up at your apartment at 3 am. nothing. you kept telling yourself that you’d hear from him. when that didn’t happen, you started telling yourself that you didn’t care if you heard from him. you’ve actually been waiting for this moment, replaying what it would look like if he came back, the things you’d say to him and how you’d say them.

now, looking out at him just standing there, you’re frozen. every scenario you’ve replayed in your head, all of the emotional venting and blow out screaming that you’ve rehearsed and you can’t recall a single scene. you think about leaving him out there, about telling him to go away through the door or just pretending like you’re not home.

“i can see the shadow of your feet under the door,” toji calls out, muffled by the barrier between you guys, and yet it still rings out through your entire body. 

you slowly open the door. though, even if it took an entire hour to open the door, you’re not sure it would’ve mattered. you don’t think time is something that could’ve prepared you for seeing him. seeing him didn’t even prepare you for seeing him. you don’t know what to say, so you don’t say anything, folding your arms over your chest. you just wait. 

“i-,” he starts, but then immediately stops, half sighs/half scoffs as he leans his chest forward, eyes scanning the inside of your apartment, for what exactly you’re not sure. 

“what, toji?” you ask, voice stronger- and more annoyed- than you anticipate it being. you’re grateful for that. “why are you here?”

“shit, this is already hard enough for me t-,” he says, shaking his head, corner of his mouth tugging upward in frustration. 

you narrow your eyes, cutting him off, “sorry, this is hard for you?” you feel like laughing or strangling him more than you do crying, which is a desired outcome in this situation, you suppose. “you know that you haven’t talked to me in three months, right? you haven’t talked to me?” you ask, and you can feel your pulse in your wrist and your chest now, because the lines are coming back to you slowly, one by one, circling your brain, fueling your confidence. 

“yeah, no, of course i know that,” he combats, like you’re the one that’s being an asshole right now. 

you smooth your fingertips against your eyes, blocking the sight of him out for just a second before gesturing with your hand as you ask, “are you going to answer my question or…?”

“look, i said that this is hard enough as it is for me to just be here,” he snaps, and if you were a little less annoyed, if he hadn’t come at this whole thing exactly how he was, you might’ve clocked the desperation in his voice or the uncertainty in his pupils. 

“do you know how fucking stupid you sound right now?” you ask. it’s a rhetorical question. 

one week after he left, you were certain he was going to come back. you and toji had gone a week without seeing each other or even speaking. you had even gone two weeks. sure, the conversation felt much more serious and, sure, really deep down you knew this time was different, but still, you held out dumb hope. 

one month after he left and you realized this was not just him being weird and distant. this was something brand new that you had never had to deal with before. you were still trying to figure out how to navigate it when the two month realization hit: that maybe he wasn’t coming back at all, ever, maybe you had done something wrong. if he had shown back up on your doorstep during that time this conversation would’ve gone very differently you think. 

but he didn’t. he showed up at month three when your reaction to random memories of toji were no longer tears and guilt, but laughter and bitterness. there weren’t many things that toji could say right now that would warrant anything more than you standing in your doorway for 4 minutes or less. 

“i-,” he starts, but then sighs. he looks left, down the hallway of your building, eyes shifting from object to object out of your view. 

“please don’t waste anymore of my time,” you reply and it’s softer than you intend. you thought it’d come out angrier. that seems like a theme for you tonight: everything sounding different in your head. when he doesn’t reply, you start a countdown, promising yourself that when you make it to 15, you’ll close the door in his face. you only make it to 13.

“i’m not here to waste your time,” he says, with no air of disgust or annoyance, the first halfway decent thing he’s said to you tonight. “i-,” he huffs again, “i’m here to say sorry. and-,” he hesitates. 

you wait, just listening. the longer that he hesitates, the more time you have to think about what he might say and how you’re standing with your door open for the entire floor to hear your conversation. you’re not sure what’s worse, having this conversation in the confines of familiar grounds or the openness of neutrality.

“and ask… are you already seeing someone else?” he finishes. 

you’re dumbfounded, blinking at him slowly before responding in the only way you can think of right now, “goodnight, toji.” you shake your head, cursing yourself for expecting anything more.

“no,” he rushes to say and then stumbles over the rest, “i- i tried to see somebody else, quite a bit of other people actually…”

you scoff, squinting at him, saying more sternly this time, with an added attestation of closing the door in his face, “goodnight, toji.”

he reaches out with a quick reflex, grabbing the door before you’ve barely even moved it. “wait, no, i- fuck,” he mutters, scrambling, “can i just come in?”

“so that was your plan then?” you drop your hand from the door. “to come back here unannounced, be shitty to me, ask if i’m sleeping with anyone, tell me that you’ve slept with lots of people, and then ask if you can come inside?” you ask.

“i didn’t have a plan-,” he replies.

“clearly,” you interject.

“but i’m trying,” he finishes, and you’re waiting for there to be more, to explain exactly how this constitutes as trying, because you don’t really see that here.

“fucking christ, toji, you’re going to have to try harder than whatever the fuck this is,” you sneer. 

“we- we had a good thing,” he tries again. you don’t understand how every time he opens his mouth it gets worse and worse. why are you even entertaining this anymore?

“fuck you, man,” you scoff, and it feels like all of the anger has left your body, and in the void where it once was present is nothing but disinterest. 

“no, not like that,” he backpedals. maybe if he would say more than four words at a time, or four better words at a time, then you wouldn’t have to keep filling in the blanks or being pissed off or- “for the last six months of our relationship, i didn’t sleep with anyone else,” he admits like it’s the answer to all of your problems. the word relationship burns at the forefront of your mind so hard that you don’t realize what he’s said for 10 whole seconds.

“i, so what?” your voice is unconvincing even to your own ears. you had slept with other people even 2 months before that last day. that wasn’t the issue. you guys were allowed to sleep with other people. you had an explicit conversation about the fact that you could sleep with other people, something along the lines of, hey, we can see other people right? yeah, we’re not fucking dating. okay, just checking.

the so what, you had already answered for yourself, inner voice replying to your own question, screaming, you guys were exclusive, unknowingly to each other, for 2 whole months before you confessed and he left. 

his answer is much different. he says, “so nothing really. i just- i needed you to know that.”

“well, what the fuck do you want me to do with that?” you ask, and it comes out bitter and discouraged, but what you really mean is, please tell me what you want, please, can you just tell me that you missed me. 

“whatever you want,” he answers instead.

you take a deep breath, a million emotions coursing through your veins and up your throat. “you know what?” you say, and it doesn’t sound angry, it sounds playful, “no, seriously,” you smile and then you laugh, “fuck you, toji.” you close your mouth like you’re done talking, like that’s all you needed to say, but your heart disagrees, forces more words out into the air no matter how hard your jaw is clenched shut.

“you show up here and you’re an asshole and then you’re decent and then you say shit like that and then- then i ask you what you fucking want from this, what you’re trying to play at here and you tell me whatever i want?” you say, exasperated. 

“what i wanted was for you not to leave me three fucking months ago. that’s what i wanted,” you spit, “i wanted you to tell me this shit three fucking months ago before i sat alone, by myself, sad and then angry, and the entire time, fucking missing you, you fucking asshole. that’s what i wanted.”

and then it’s there, out in the open, airing for the two of you to witness and to face, and no matter what happens, you know you’ve done everything and said everything that you’ve needed to. he’s quiet for a few moments and you let him be, not tapping your foot or rolling your eyes or being pissed off, but just letting it play out. if this is the last time you ever see toji, why not just let it play out?

“okay,” he says, and it’s soft in a way you’ve only ever heard from him one time in your entire relationship. “i’m sorry.” he pauses. “i really don’t know how to do this,” he admits and you believe him. it feels different from when he told you something along those lines earlier, but you have a feeling that this is what he was trying to say all along. 

“do what?” you push, because your mind is making assumptions, but if he’s going to prove anything to you, he needs to start now. 

“ask for forgiveness?” he says, like he’s thinking out loud, “apologize? date someone?” you don’t say anything. you’re looking for something more concrete than that. it takes a handful of uncomfortable seconds before he says, “actually care about someone.”

“and do you?” you ask.

his lips press into a thin line, his eyes shift from left to right again. you can feel him getting antsy with the conversation and he’s barely said one vulnerable thing. you look at him, eyes soft and pleading, silently begging him that if he’s grown from this, you’ll let him back in, you swear, but you’ve been hurt before and you know what you’re worth, so you’re going to need some sort of evidence as collateral. “yeah,” he mumbles, but it’s audible. “you,” he says like it isn’t obvious, and it’s quiet and daunted, but you really appreciate the effort.

“okay,” you say, and that’s all you say.

“okay?” he questions, confused. “that’s it?” 

“yup,” you say, but your small smile and the fact that you’re not slamming the door in his face again gives away a bit more than that. 

“can i… come in?” he asks, hesitant, like he’s still being tested.

you shake your head, hand gripped onto the edge of the door. “no,” you say, scrunching up your nose and furrowing your eyebrows. “because if you come in here, we’re going to have sex,” you admit, half because it’s the truth and half just to see the look on his face. (it’s worth it.)

“wait,” he says, placing his palm flat against your door, but not moving it. his hand is now inside of your apartment, the only part of his body that’s made it past this invisible barrier of hallway and your place. “that sounds like a great thing. why am i not allowed in?”

“because this is me having self-control,” you explain, placing a hand on his shoulder and pushing the small portion of him that’s crossed the division back into the hallway. when you feel his skin against your pinky, soft fabric of that familiar shirt underneath your palm, you almost make a fool of yourself right after you say the word self-control, but you remind yourself what’s at stake here, what you really want. 

“i came all the way out here to see you-,” he starts, but he doesn’t make a move to replace his hand on your door, letting his arm fall back to his side. it’s for the better, too, because you’re not sure how much more self-control you have already, no matter how much you tell yourself about longevity and whatever. 

“if you really care,” you interrupt him, using his few vulnerable words against him, “and you weren't just trying to sleep with me tonight,” you pause, letting those words sink in, “you will go home and you will call me tomorrow morning and we will get breakfast- the least sexy meal of them all- and then maybe coffee if i enjoy hanging out with you outside of just having sex with you, and then we will go from there.”

“i-,” he starts to protest, but you cock your head. the truth is, if he said another word, reached out and touched your cheek or your hip or really anywhere on your body, if he kissed you, or just walked inside of your apartment and sat down on your couch, you wouldn’t have stopped him. you might even have gotten breakfast with him anyways. he doesn’t know that, you don’t think, but even if he does, he doesn’t act on it. he bows his head slightly, conceding, and says, “okay. i will just… talk to you… tomorrow… then.”

you nod. “goodnight, toji,” you say, hand on the door, closing it as slowly as you opened it. 

“uh, yea, night,” he says back. you won’t tell anyone, and neither will he, about the stupidest small smile you see on his lips as he leaves your apartment that night or the fact that he wakes up extra early the next morning, muttering under his breath about how ridiculous dating is before he calls you at 9:30 on the dot.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ɢᴏᴊᴏ [ 3 ᴡᴇᴇᴋs ]

being away from ɢᴏᴊᴏ feels like detoxing. not from like hard drugs or alcohol, but… coffee. 

like you know it’s not necessarily good for you, drinking it every day, but it’s a habit you’ve had for a while now and you just can’t seem to break it. it’s not really hurting anything in your day-to-day and you’ve been doing it for so long that it’s probably fine to just keep doing it.

but out of nowhere it hits you that maybe drinking coffee as much as you do is a waste of money and even if you don’t feel the negative effects constantly in your daily routine, you remind yourself of the times where you could distinctly feel the thump of your heart and the unsteady of your hands. you recall the time that you stayed up all night for the promise of a cup of coffee to get you through the day. in every memory that you’ve ever had in your entire college career, you’re holding a cup of coffee.

so one day you make the choice to stop. you stop buying coffee from coffee shops and pods for your coffee maker and cups from diners and accepting free ones from friends. you don’t really need a good cup of coffee as badly as you think you do. and it’s stupid, you think, because it’s just coffee. it doesn’t mean anything. just because you’ve been drinking it consistently for quite awhile doesn’t mean it has any sort of hold over you. it’s just coffee. 

but then the headaches come and the irritation sets in and nights are hard, but for some reason mornings are unbearable, and you feel antsy all the time and you haven’t left your room in the past three days and the only thing you want is a cup of fucking coffee and you can’t relapse with coffee; it’s fucking coffee. 

yeah, being away from gojo feels a lot like detoxing from coffee. 

you try to just not see him. it’ll be easier for you if you just don’t see him, you tell yourself. you go out of your way to avoid his walking path on campus and you refuse to leave your dorm when you don’t absolutely need to in fear of bumping into him or worse, just seeing him from afar, and god forbid you even come within three streets of the corner where his apartment resides. you block his number and you delete social media off of your phone for the time being, too many mutual friends to make casualties, and you do not let yourself think about him. not falling asleep, not when you wake up, not while you’re doing homework, not in your dreams or in the shower, not when something reminds you of him, not when you see his favorite show on your recently watched, not when you really need a good cup of coffee. 

and it works for a while.

but not forever.

three weeks into your detox and you’re doing such a good job at not thinking about gojo that you mix up his monday schedule with his tuesday schedule and on your way back to your dorm, you see him. if you keep walking at the same pace that you’re walking, you will collide with him. if neither of you do anything, one of you will get hurt. 

you look down at your phone, hoping, in the forefront of your mind, that he didn’t see it was you. (in the back of your mind, you’re hoping that he’s the one to break the longest bout of silence the two of you have had since you met.) when you sneak a glance, he’s already almost reached you, jogging to catch up with you. “hey,” he calls out, just in case you haven’t seen him.

“hi,” you say, stopping in place and letting him approach you.

“i’ve been trying to get ahold of you,” he offers, like you wouldn’t have known that.

“oh, sorry, haven’t been on my phone,” you lie. he knows that you’re lying. he can tell that you’re lying, so you don’t really know why you lie in the first place. maybe to prove a point. maybe to make him feel bad.

“look, about…,” he trails off, trying to remember how long he’s been without you, “about that… day…,” he opts for instead. 

you put your hand up, waving the topic off. you mean to say something like, don’t worry about it, see you later, but it comes out like, “we don’t have to talk about that here.” here. fucking here. if you would’ve left those four letters out, it would’ve been a perfect line to walk away with, but you don’t. your stupid coffee-craving brain tacks it on, hopeful. 

“right,” he says, nodding, “should we get coffee maybe, then, or?”

it’s not out of the ordinary, or it didn’t used to be, but now it feels taboo. you want to snap and ask him if he’s sure, because coffee sounds a bit too much like a date for people that aren’t together, but you realize very quickly that the irritation from your coffee detox is maybe a little bit too much to hold in without any closure. “sure,” you agree, “i just got done with class so we cou-.”

“i know,” he says, because three weeks hasn’t erased your schedule from his brain either. 

you order an iced tea. you’re still convinced you’re done with coffee for good. he looks surprised at your choice, like he’s never seen you order an iced tea before, because he hasn’t, but he doesn’t say anything. you sip on it throughout unpleasant pleasantries and it’s refreshing, but it’s lacking something. in fact, the longer that you drink this stupid drink that has caffeine anyways and isn’t as good, the irritation bubbles higher and higher until- “can i start?” you ask, tapping your fingers against the table in rhythmic succession. 

“yeah, sure,” he says, bringing his coffee to his lips and taking a sip.

“if at any point in this conversation your answer to anything i have to say is that we weren’t together, i don’t think we should have this conversation,” you reason, and you mean it, but his reaction takes you aback. you notice the smallest flinch when you say weren’t.

“i wasn’t-,” he shakes his head, sighing, “no, i wasn’t going to say that.”

“okay,” you say, dragging your fingertips along the condensation on the side of your glass. “then what were you going to say?”

he thinks for a minute, like he didn’t assume that he’d get this far when he brought up the idea of coffee. “i wanted to stop you from leaving,” he says.

“but you didn’t,” you rebuttal.

“i didn’t,” he affirms. it’s quiet again. you can hear the scrape of the cups against the table as they’re picked up, drank from, and put back down. the chatter in the coffee shop drones over the sounds of hesitance and nerves. “i’m sorry,” he says after a while.

“so, do you think we were together?” you ask, “and be honest. i’ll know if you lie.” you search his face as he answers, and the only thing that comes up is another flinch when you talk in past tense again.

“yeah,” he says, honest. “being apart from you these past three weeks has been one of the shittiest things i’ve ever been through.”

“ever?” you ask, quirking your eyebrow, as if it isn’t somewhat true for you too. 

he nods in response, continuing, “it’s been hard.” he pauses. “i’m sorry i was so shitty.”

“pretty shitty, yeah,” you agree, but you can’t hide how nice it feels to just talk with him again, to call him shitty and to sit across from him at a coffee shop table. “i’m sorry i ghosted you these past few weeks,” because it deserves to be said too. 

“i really missed you,” he says, and he doesn’t hide from it. he looks you directly in your eyes and you can tell that he wants to reach across the table and hold your hand. you want that too. 

“me or just, like, sleeping with me?” you ask, somewhat terrified of the answer, scanning his face for the truth once again. 

he laughs softly and, try as you might, you can’t stop the fluttering in your stomach or the warmth in your cheeks hearing that for the first time in too long. “please, i haven’t thought about sleeping with you once,” he jokes.

“oh, no? not at all?” you ask, scoffing lightly, a tiny smirk threatening to break.

he forces a thoughtful frown, shakes his head dramatically and says, “can’t say that i have.” you’re laughing now, but through smile-squinted eyes you can still tell that he’s actually being genuine. “not really,” he says. 

“so just me then?” you ask to make sure.

“just you,” he affirms. “a lot of just you.” you hum, content with his answer, but he gives you even more than thought he ever could, “i don’t want to just go back to the way things were. i don’t think that’s enough for me anymore.”

even though you’re sure a response like this would’ve sent waves of shock through your entire body, it doesn’t. it just feels right. you reply quickly, “good. i don’t think it’s enough for me either.” you reach across the table. the back of your hand brushes against his, and then past it. you wrap your fingers around the handle of his coffee cup and bring it to your lips. 

he doesn’t protest or snatch it away from you or make a snarky comment. he places his chin in the palm of his hand, elbow against the surface of the table, and smiles at you. you take a sip from his mug, warmth spreading through every bit of your body. 

why would you deprive yourself of coffee when it brings you so much comfort?

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ʙᴏɴᴜs! ʜɪɢᴜʀᴜᴍᴀ [ ɴ/ᴀ ]

you’re not exactly sure how many times something has to happen before it becomes a theme. 

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

“do you -huff- want to -huff- have kids someday?” higuruma asks from beneath you, palms resting on the tops of your knees, thumbs massaging up to the insides of your thighs. 

you slow your bounces and then you stop them completely. you blink at him once and then twice. “that is a really wild thing to ask while you’re inside of someone,” you scoff, searching his face for any kind of tone indicator. is he being serious? is he just saying something to get a rise out of you? is this a kink thing?

he smirks, placing his hands on your hips, coaxing you to continue your movements, and you do. you lift yourself off of him, slowly at first, but then picking up speed as you chase the feeling you lost when he asked the question. you’re breathless when he asks again, the repeated question no longer stilling you. the second time around it feels almost normal. “do you?” he asks on his exhale.

you shake your head and then tilt it side to side, closing your eyes so all of the conflicting fast paced movements don’t dizzy you. “i- don’t- know-,” you huff, “maybe- conversation- for- a- different- setting.” each word is punctuated by the slap of your thighs against his hips. he nods, completely okay with that answer, and then just drops it.

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

“shit,” you say in realization, hips circling, fingers combing through his hair. you pull your head away from his shoulder, pushing yourself up to look him in the eyes. “wait, how did your meeting go today?” you ask, and this time neither of you miss a beat. 

when he slows to think about it, you pick up his slack, rolling your hips, feeling the drag of him inside of you, a breathy moan floating up your chest. he answers over your noises, “really good actually.”

“everything as planned?” you ask further, genuinely just as invested in this as you are in the act. 

he nods, smiling. “yeah, to a t,” he says, wrapping his arms around your lower back and pulling you against his chest. he kisses the side of your temple, holding you in place with a tight grip as he lifts his hips off of the bed, thrusting into you. “surprised you didn’t ask as soon as i came through the door.”

you shake your head against his shoulder, placing a soft kiss against his collarbone. “was thinking about it all day,” you explain. he fucks into you faster in response and it feels like a reward for caring about the things that are important to him. “but when- shit- when you got home…,” you grunt, “it completely- ah, fuck- completely slipped my- ah- mind, s-sorry.”

“ts alright, pretty.” he nudges his nose against your cheek, peeling your attention to his face. your cheek rests against his shoulder and you blink at him, focus dipping from the topic at hand as you feel that familiar tightening in your core. he can see it written all over your face, so he drops his head to kiss you, silently communicating that you don’t have to worry about finishing the conversation right now. he’ll bring it up again in a bit.

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

“should we get married?” he asks, back up against the headboard, looking you directly in your eyes, gaze following yours as you rise and fall. 

“you are not proposing to me while i’m riding you,” you say, shaking your head, but you don’t still or slow. conversations like this in a setting like this just don’t phase you anymore. honestly, it wouldn’t surprise you if he did propose right now. you’re not even sure you’d say no.

the corner of his lip tugs upward and he exhales a laugh as he leans forward the smallest bit to kiss you. “i’m not, i’m not,” he assures, “why? would you say no?” 

you’re quiet for a minute, not because you don’t know the answer, but to keep him on his toes. you won’t lie to him, you don’t think, but you don’t want to come right out and say it. his questions are rhetorical anyways, half-jokes that he’s not expecting serious answers to; you’ve known higuruma well enough and long enough to be confident of that. you could’ve replied with an eye roll and a scoff and nothing else and he would’ve dropped it. instead, however, you answer, “course not. i’d say yes in a second.”

he nearly comes inside of you right there.

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

maybe it becomes a theme when someone points it out. 

you can’t tell if it’s intentional or not, the way that the two of you keep having these serious conversations during sex. you know that you don’t do it on purpose; things will just hit you during the repetitive motions and you worry you’ll forget them and you know that higuruma won’t judge you for just saying them, so you do. whether this is the case for him, you’re not sure. 

but the interruptions just keep getting more casual. it starts with big conversations: weddings and promotions and thoughtful decisions, and then it’s like you just start remembering things in this position: work drama and mundane did you knows. it’s almost as if starting with big topics just made it seem so easy to talk about anything like this. 

it didn’t help, you think, that it’s just always easy to talk about anything with higuruma. you guys have been together, officially together, for over four years now, and conversation, no matter the topic or severity or setting, is something you’ve never struggled with. you continue to not struggle with it, inside of the bedroom and out. 

you’re not sure what about the position and the moment makes you so susceptible to remembering little things that you want to tell higuruma when he’s not around, and vice versa. in fact, you’re not even convinced that it’s something about the action that jogs your memory anyway, it’s probably just a really weird and common coincidence.

and then one night you can’t find your keys. 

you’ve searched everywhere for them, in your car, in your bag, every nook of your room, the places where they normally are, higuruma’s coat pocket just in case, and then everywhere else in your guys’ apartment. they’re nowhere to be seen. 

when higuruma walks through the front door, even from where you’re searching in the kitchen, you hear him let out an elongated, “woah.”

you pop your head into the doorway, “don’t say anything about the mess.” you can see his eyes resting on the overturned couch cushions and then on the various opened drawers. “hey,” you warn, pointing towards him as you walk quickly into the living room. you throw your arms around him tightly and give him a small greeting peck. it’s routine at this point; if you don’t do it your whole night feels off. “i said don’t say anything.”

he lets you hang off of his neck as he puts both hands up in surrender. “i didn’t say shit,” he says, pressing a kiss into the side of your neck, then moving his hands to your waist, “the fuck happened here though?” he laughs against your skin and you can feel the vibrations travel to your fingers and toes. 

you pull away from him, shaking your head. now that you’re back in the living room, it’s like you have to start this room’s search over too. you start checking under the couch and in the hall closet. “lost my fucking keys,” you grumble, smoothing your palms over your face, “i swear i’ve looked everywhere. i just can’t remember where i left them when i got home.”

“did you check th-,” he asks, walking into the kitchen, grateful that you’re not in there with him or he knows you’d yell at him for the way his eyes go wide at the clutter and chaos everywhere. 

you cut him off, “wherever you’re about to say, probably yes, ughhh. i’ve retraced my steps, i’ve looked in places that are fucking stupid to look in like every pair of shoes we own and in the fucking guest bedroom pillowcases. i’ve looked everywhere.”

from where he’s stood in the kitchen now, he can see you scrambling as you vent. he leans against the wall, “well, not everywhere or you would’ve found it by now.”

“i’ll kill you,” you say, eyes snapping up to meet his to show how serious you are.

he just laughs, “i’ve got a pretty good lawyer, you might not want to do that.”

“good legal can’t help you when you’re dead,” you snap, almost completely joking. he meets you back in the living room, helping you check all the places you’ve already checked. 

15 minutes pass and then 35 and then he stops abruptly. “oh my god, i have an idea,” he says, and you look at him, hopeful. “you know when you usually remember things?” 

your first reaction is joking annoyance, picking up a throw pillow and sending it his way. he catches it and sets it back down on the couch. “i’m serious!” he yell-laughs. 

you throw another pillow at him as your second reaction sets in. “that’s not going to fucking work,” you say.

“how do you know?” he asks.

“because,” you say, trying to come up with a good answer other than just blind doubt, “because i don’t remember things while i’m riding you. it’s not a fucking superpower.”

“you don’t know that,” he jokes back and braces to be hit with another pillow. “okay, okay, but i’m being serious! besides, what’s the worst thing that can happen? you don’t remember and we’ve had sex, how horrible,” he reasons.

you let your arms fall, pillow in your hands resting against the tops of your thighs. you look at him, thinking, which, in hindsight, was a dumb thing to do, because higuruma can see the contemplation on your face. 

eight minutes later and he’s inside of you and you’re the most embarrassed you’ve ever been.

“this is so stupid,” you mumble. you haven’t moved an inch after slowly lowering yourself onto him. you’re fully seated against his hips, hands smoothing over your face and then lingering there, covering. 

he reaches up, fingers soft and kind as he wraps them around your wrists, pulling them away from your face. “ts not stupid,” he reassures, but you’re not convinced. you groan, turning to look away from him, but that just won’t do. he reaches up again, soft grip on your chin coaxing your gaze back to his. “hey,” he says softly, “just focus here, angel.”

you listen, somewhat, mind still flickering back to why you’re even riding him in the first place. “just enjoy yourself, okay,” he tries again, rolling his hips upwards, pressing himself inside of you as deep as he can. you close your eyes, and it’s quite easy to just focus on the feeling of being as full as you are right now. “good,” he whispers, “just like that.”

it doesn’t take long for you to lose yourself completely, moving on your own, letting the whimpers and whines take over any other thought you might think to say, chasing that feeling rather than worrying about whatever you’ve lost. 

it all kinda clicks at once: where your keys are and why you always remember shit when you’re like this.

in the midst of everyday noise, so many things get lost: important and unimportant thoughts alike. but now you’re not worried about anything else. you don’t care about anything else right now. you don’t have to. you don’t want to. and in this state of letting everything go, mindless and blissful, some things slip back through the cracks.

you collapse onto higuruma’s chest, spent and happily aware of this new revelation that you have not, for once, shared in the middle of sex, but kept quiet as a come down surprise. you hum softly as he rubs up and down your back, hum again as he presses a kiss into your forehead. “m sorry it didn’t work, angel,” he murmurs. 

you turn your head, ear pressed right against his heart as you gaze up at him. “i left them in the fridge,” you reveal, and he knits his eyebrows together. 

you assume that he’s going to say something about how did you leave them in the fridge? or why are they there? but instead he questions, “what? and you didn’t tell me until now?” like you’ve harbored a life long secret. you laugh softly, snaking your hands up and scratching your nails against his scalp, playing with the ends of his hair. “don’t think this is going to get you out of it,” he says, “‘ts my favorite thing when you just blurt shit while you’re on me.”

you can feel the warmth in your cheeks and your chest as you breathe a laugh. “you’ve never told me that before,” you murmur. 

“think it’s cute when you just can’t wait to tell me things,” he says, “feels more intimate than being inside of you.”

“ew,” you say, scrunching up your nose, even though you weirdly agree. 

he just laughs in response. a few seconds of quiet comfort pass before he backtracks, “wait, why the fuck are your keys in the fridge?” 

and you tell him all about it, about the day that you’ve had and how you remembered you hadn’t drank enough water so you were refilling your bottle from the pitcher in the fridge as soon as you got home from work, but your hands were full so you set your keys on top of the leftovers from yesterday, but then you had to go and set everything down and the fridge closed and by the time you left the kitchen you remembered you needed to do something else… and it just keeps going.

you tell him as you’re taking a shower and as you’re eating dinner together and as he’s brushing his teeth and you’re washing your face and laying in bed and setting your alarms. every room in the house is a mess, but you’ll deal with that later, you decide. you rest your chin on his shoulder. “and how was your day?” you ask, even though the clock reads much later than it should for how much sleep you both should get before you’re up early for work tomorrow. 

nevermind that, he decides, and tells you all about it anyways.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ʙᴏɴᴜs! ɴᴀɴᴀᴍɪ [ ɴ/ᴀ ]

“can i ask you something and when i ask you, you’ll know i don’t mean anything bad by it at all because i love you more than everything in the world?” you ask, putting down your phone only after you’ve finished your sentence. 

you wait a few seconds for nanami to take in what you’ve asked. he reaches over to the night stand for his bookmark and sticks it between the pages. he shuts it with an audible shuffling of paper and a sharp thump. 

nanami has been with you long enough to not typically be surprised by your out of the blue… questions. (dronings? is there a word like droning but the connotation is more positive? like you talk at him a lot and he loves to hear the ramblings in your brain, but sometimes he is just trying to read his book before bed. whatever that word is.)

he places the book on his lap and then turns his chest towards you completely. you now have his full attention. “is that a yes?” you ask. 

he inhales deeply, “if i say no, will you still ask it?”

you think on the answer to that question, really mulling it over before shaking your head. “no, i don’t think so.”

“then yes,” he smirks, “i suppose i have to say yes then.”

“great,” you say, tossing your phone onto your bedside table with a clunk. you sit up straighter, rocking forward to fully adjust your position on your side of the bed. you put your hand on his thigh and cross your legs, letting your knee rest on the side of his comforter covered hip. “do you ever regret not dating more?”

it definitely takes him by surprise. he thought you might drop another weirdly specific hypothetical about would he love you if… or request a glass of water even though you already told him tonight when he was getting into bed and he asked if you wanted one, that you did not. 

now he’s the one mulling over your question and despite how nerve wracking it could be to wait for an answer to a what if that involves not you, you’re not anxious in the slightest. you’re quiet, just waiting for his answer, and when he finally speaks, you know exactly why you weren’t scared in the first place, “i’ve honestly never thought about it since i met you.”

“really?” you ask, and you’re mostly feeling very lucky that nanami is yours and you are his, but there is an underlying feeling of guilt that he’s unintentionally caused with this statement. 

he nods. “sounds like you have though,” he says, and it’s not even a little bit judgmental. it sounds like he’s imploring you to keep talking, like he wants to hear exactly what you’re thinking, why you brought it up in the first place.

“i wouldn’t trade this security, this love, exactly what we have, you for anything in the world,” you start to explain, and it’s nothing but the truth, “but sometimes i just think about that first night when we were in that bar. the flirting, the risks, that feeling of not knowing where the night is going to end up. sometimes i think about that a little bit.”

he hums, thinking about that night, and after a few seconds of silence, he speaks up again, “first date nerves,” he nods, “now that i think about it, i miss those.”

you cock your head at him. that’s a weird part of dating to miss, you think, but then he explains further, “like when we went out on our first date and i didn’t know what you were going to wear or if you liked the restaurant i picked or if you’d let me pay for your food.”

“or if i’d take you back to mine,” you joke, raising your eyebrows at him, but really you’re burning inside. your cheeks feel warm just hearing about these feelings he’s never mentioned to you before. 

“yeah, that too,” he laughs, getting back on track, “like, i’m still finding out new things about you all the time, but back then i was discovering who you were every second we were together, and that- that felt like…”

“like finding out soulmates were real?” you ask, because that’s what it felt like to you, that same exact phenomenon he’s describing. he smiles at you warmly, like you’ve just put to words what he felt he could only experience. “i know what you mean,” you smile. 

he leans forward, cupping your cheek with his hand and guiding you towards him. he kisses you softly, placing his other hand on your other cheek and kissing you harder. “should we go on a first date again?” he asks against your lips, barely pulling away to speak. 

you laugh, but when you pull away, you can tell he’s not joking. “what?” you ask, “what do you mean?” you’re already blushing though, already feeling the exact first date nerves he was just talking about. 

“let’s go on a first date,” he repeats himself. “i’ll pick you up at your front door and i’ll choose the restaurant and it’ll be a surprise and i’ll ask you questions that i’d ask you on a first date even if i know the answers to all of them and more at this point.”

you’re smiling so big that your cheeks are sore as you nod fervently at the concept. “okay, yeah,” you agree. 

“right, so we probably shouldn’t kiss or make out or sleep with each other until then to really play into the whole thing?” he teases, and you roll your eyes in response. 

“you’re very funny, kento,” you say, leaning in, brushing your nose against his. he doesn’t even last a second, closing the gap with a small peck and then another and then another and then a much longer one and then he’s putting the book on his nightstand so he can pull you into his lap. 

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

you get a text 5 minutes before 7 that nanami is going to be 3 minutes late picking you up. the text looks a little weird underneath a thread of:

>> nami <3 >> how’s work baby

<< read << if you love me you’ll come and pull the fire alarm to get me out of here early :) :) :)

>> nami <3 >> fine but that’s a class four felony in some cases. will you be providing legal assistance or should i look elsewhere????

<< read << how do u know that?? nerd!!!

>> nami <3 >> google tbh. 

<< read << wow. first i have to stay at work all day alone and sad and now i get to know my bf isn’t sexy and off the dome smart about everything. :(

>> nami <3 >> goodbye.

<< read << :(

>> nami <3 >> i love you

<< read << :)

you bite back the urge to reply with something you’d say to him after knowing him for years. rereading the text and thinking back to your first date, it makes you giggle. actually, it makes you kinda nervous. you text back a polite no worries! take your time! and he replies with a heart and you truly feel like you’re dating for the first time again. you feel honest to god giddy. 

arriving to the restaurant, you are genuinely surprised. you thought after knowing him as long as you have and having gone to as many restaurants with him as you have, you’d go back to somewhere nice you’ve already been. but that isn’t the case. 

he drives you to a pop-up restaurant 20 minutes out of town that you’ve never even heard of, but is the cutest place you’ve ever been, and the entire time he can’t stop sneaking respectful glances at you. he won’t stop telling you how nice you look. he even apologizes for it by the sixth time, pushing your chair in at the restaurant saying, “i know i keep mentioning it, and i’m sorry, but if i said it every time i thought it, it’d be a never ending string.”

if he keeps this up, you’re going to feel like you’re cheating. this seriously feels like a first date, like you’ve been in a relationship for over 5 years and you’re also going on a first date and it’s really messing with your head, but you never want it to stop. 

he stays true to his word, asking you questions he already knows the answers to, but hearing them again, they sound brand new. he doesn’t know if he’s just forgotten some of them or if the testaments of time have weathered your answers just enough to sound unfamiliar, but either way, he’s hanging on to every word. 

by the end of the night, you’ve truly convinced yourself that there are stakes to this date, like if you play your cards wrong, you won’t get to keep seeing this incredible guy. he pays the whole bill, even though you insist on getting your meal or at the very least dessert. he says, “you can try next time too.” and you can’t breathe, you feel so lucky. 

“i’m sorry if this seems forward, but i’d really like to keep seeing you tonight,” you say as the waiter takes away the paid bill, and your heart is thumping so violently against your chest, you swear he can feel it too. 

he shakes his head, “perfectly forward,” he smiles, “your place or mine?” you break character for the first time tonight, giggling at the reality of the question, hiding behind your hand as you do. “what’s so funny?” he asks, but he’s grinning just as big as you are. 

“just thinking about how dreary my life would be if i hadn’t gone on this first date,” you say, and it’s a little too meta, but he’ll let it slide, because he’s a bit flustered at the sentiment. “mine is great,” you answer, placing your hand on his, rubbing the tips of your fingers against his knuckles. 

everything about the rest of the night feels like a first too. it feels like your first kiss in front of your front door. it feels like he’s seeing “your” apartment for the first time. it feels like you’re making out on your couch for the first time. 

it feels like the first time he’s ever been inside of you. 

when he pushes deeper into you, eyes on yours shut tight, you tell yourself that you want to pretend you’re on a first date every single day of your life. you can’t stop whimpering, pleading for him to never stop fucking you ever, please don’t stop, please never fucking stop. 

you break character for the second time when you’re right on the edge. he keeps looking down at you with so much love in his eyes and his hands all over you feel like they know every inch of you, and you can’t stop yourself. you grab his face in your hands, “kento, baby, please, ‘m gonna- ‘m sorry, i- fuck, please. i love you, fuck,” you whine, and he can’t stop himself either, hips stuttering, head falling against your shoulder as he feels you clenching around him as he empties himself inside of you, murmuring how much he loves you right back. 

the way you’ve been feeling all night: blissful and coy, it’s not because it’s a first date, it’s because he’s nanami. it’s because he’s orchestrated the entire night and no matter how “new” everything feels, the underlying foundation of that newness, and the reason everything feels so good, is familiarity and safety. 

“i’m sorry that i-,” you breathe, but he stops you, reaching his hand up to drag his fingertips against your lips, and you laugh, pressing a soft kiss into them. “okay, okay,” you say, and he places his hand back down by his side. “done with the first date stuff, just want to be yours again,” you murmur. 

he scoffs, light, and you can hear his smile in it. he falls over onto his back, pulling you into his chest and kissing the top of your head. “never weren’t,” he mumbles against your hair. “always will be,” he mumbles again, holding you tighter. 

“good,” you say back, settling into his arms like that’s the only thing you know to be true in the entire world. you wouldn’t trade that truth for a million first dates. 

sure, holding your breath at quick witted flirts and stolen glances is nice, but it’s a lot nicer just knowing that you will never be loved better and you will never love harder. 

♡ ʀᴇʙʟᴏɢs ᴀɴᴅ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴs ᴍᴇᴀɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ♡ no bc the yelling really worked very well idk yell at me more to write a continuation for toji (maybe also gojo bc hes the only one i havent written even an inkling of smut for) idk i'm just thinking of so many scenes idk throw hcs at me in my inbox IDK! toji dating for the first time? got me fucked UP

ᡣ𐭩 ᴛᴀɢs ᡣ𐭩 @igocrazyeveryday @vernasce-blogs @minty86 @abrielletargaryen @pompompompompompompom @mysticrays @lilolpotato @thisisew @pnkoo @optimisticsandwichgladiator @ryumurin @cisseadven @multi-fandom-fanfic @noosayog @anxious-chick @mintleafwrites @(tried to tag some other folks but couldnt!!)

[matchadobo]

hi idk if this is an odd request but could you write a shanks x reader where she uses her safeword bc she’s starting to feel bad and he how he comforts her after <3 tysm 🫶

SHANKS; safeword

wc: 834

warning/s: nsfw 🔞, p0rnp0rnp0rn, fluff in the end, afab reader, wrote this in one sitting whabshabah

you tried clawing at his chest as a sign to tell him to stop, but it seemed as if he took it as a compliment. your cunt felt so numb. you already came and you lost track how many times. shanks loves overstimulating you, that hazy look of lust in your eyes gets him going even more. but you love it too of course, it’s just that, it’s different now. he looks too feral, too hungry, too scary.

“what’s got you so quiet, princess? don’t give up on me now, yeah? you’re taking all of me so well.” he tucked a hair that was starting to stick on your forehead. “already tired, eh?” a smirk made its way to his lips, he loved what he saw. flushed face, parted, drooling lips, and the half-lidded look of sex in your eyes.

the view of him slowly losing himself by the warmth of your folds. it feels so sticky and wet and his cock was throbbing at the clench of your sopping crevice. he loved how red and used your core looked. he’d throw his head back and slick back his sweaty hair, brutally pounding into you. each thrust hitting your cervix that it started choking you.

“t-too much…” you meekly let out, but it was unintelligible to him. he was too lost in the ecstasy of you. your lower half was aching by the minute, like it was going to bleed because of his pace and size.

“s-shanks too much…!” you tried a little louder this time. you couldn’t bellow it out clearly though, your stomach was so heavy. yet he still couldn’t hear it. soon enough, tears formed in your eyes, precariously cascading down your cheeks.

“roses.”

it only took the wetness of your cheeks and the weak sobs of the safeword for the emperor to stop. that flower that filled the fields on where he met you made him remember how delicate you are and how you should be treated. he stiffened up immediately, taking his hand off your throat. his hand immediately clutched your cheek, thumbs wiping off the tears. “oh fuck- baby, sweetheart i’m so sorry.” he pulled you up into his embracd, the look in his eyes much kinder this time. your voice sobering him up instantly. “d-did i squeeze your throat too much? did i bite too hard? t-tell me.”

“are you- where does it hurt?” he pulled away, searching for any noticeable sign of hurt on your body and eyes. he was still in you though, he figured it’d hurt more if he pulled out right away.

“just my cunt that you abused.” you sarcastically remarked, laughing meekly through teary eyes.

“jesus, i’m so sorry. i was- i'm fucking stupid. you just felt so good, and i’m so tired, and i needed you. i’m just- sorry i went too far, darling.” he panicked. suddenly, the big, scary emperor was now pouting before you. “y-yeah, let’s stop here.” he lied you down, slowly pulling out while carefully watching if your face contorted in any pain.

aaand the goofy shanks you fell in love to was now back, not that cunt hungry motherfucker earlier (but that works too, sometimes 😝). he soon ran a cold bath for you, cleaning you up. he distracted you with his funny stories, reveling on how you smile and how your cries fade away.

he’d usually take you out by the deck, let you clung on his arm to help you walk. you two’d settle by the edge of the ship, he’ll grab a pillow for you to sit on while your feet hang loosely above the flowing current, and he’d have a protective arm around your waist. the comforting blues and the salty air would relax the both of you, he’d place his chin on your shoulders and revel in your fragrant body wash and natural scent.

“i’m really sorry, love.” he mumbled, bashfully looking down. “have i really not hurt you?” the look of pure concern in his ruby eyes made you remember why you fell in love with him again.

“just a little but, that’s why we have a safe word, right? i understand, love. don’t worry about it.” you tuck a hair hanging by the side of his face on his ear.

“i-i’ll take you to hongo later.”

you couldn’t help but play it off with a nod as your fingers softly brush by his scarred cheek. during the visit with hongo, shanks had his head hung low with his hand behind him sheepishly when hongo confirmed that you were just overfucked and you were totally fine.

so i got sick again fml buuuut to the person who requested this, i aM SO SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG LMFAO 🥺 like i said, i don't want to release shit half-baked and tonight was the only night i felt the mood with this man 😏 sooo i hope this makes you happy 😩 even tho it's so short!!

[nicksbestie]

Hiii could i request a Johnnie Guilbert x gn reader where johnnie has a giant crush on reader and reader flirts w him and flusters him

Yes!!! This was so fun to write bc it's my first fic for this fanbase, so pls give me feedback!! and send in more reqs!! <3

Hallway Crush

word count : 1909

no warnings!

pairing : johnnie guilbert x reader

enjoy! <3

School had never really been Johnnie’s thing.

It wasn’t that he wasn’t good enough to pursue an incredible education, it was just that he didn’t normally have the motivation. He wasn’t dumb, he was incredibly intelligent, but he just didn’t have the energy to push to show it most days. He was the kid who always passed, very average but not stellar grades, but every now and then shocked his teachers and classmates with pulling out a top of the class grade. He would laugh and call it his magic trick if you ever asked him about it. However, music was his thing, and because of that, he took every musical arts related class that he could during his years in high school. 

He was a quieter kid, with a much more alternative style of dress, and because of both of these factors, he was a bit of a loner. He wasn’t disliked, per say, but he wasn’t popular, and he didn’t go out of his way to attempt to gain a large group of friends. He had a few friends his age who went to other schools that he saw quite often, and those were good enough for him. He didn’t see a point in trying to put himself out there, so to speak, when he was quite comfortable where he was. Quality over quantity, right? That, of course, didn’t mean that there weren’t times in his life where he wished that more people adored him like they do for a lot of the popular teenagers. 

Sometimes it helped to be more on the outcast-y side. He could get away with silent observation, learning things that nobody had any idea that he knew about. He was a kid people talked so much around, but not to. They weren’t worried that their secrets would be spilled or spread around in any sort of way because they didn’t believe that he had anyone to tell them to, or that anyone would believe him in the first place. But other times, he wished he had more of the school, or at least his grade’s, support. Like now, when he had a massive crush on the most popular student in the entire school. Maybe, if he did, he would have more of a chance. 

He tried not to think about it a whole lot. It wasn’t good for him to dwell on things, as he had learned early in life. It caused his mental health to struggle if he stewed on a specific negative topic for too long, and even though the topic of a crush isn’t inherently negative, the fact that he didn’t feel like it would ever go anywhere was. Being that he didn’t have a lot of friends at the school he was at, he wasn’t a stranger to staring looks and laughing sometimes. He wasn’t exactly bullied or picked on, but when people ran out of new, fresh, drama to talk about, it was easy for them to turn to the kid who was never really speaking to many people. 

He used music to escape his own head, and he always had. It had been a coping mechanism of his for so many years, before he was even old enough to realize what it was, or what had caused him to need it more and more. He was incredibly musically gifted, a natural talent within the dexterity of his fingers for guitar, and it was always a calming thing for him to partake in. Sometimes he wrote his own music, but most times when he just needed a quick release, he would pick a song that he had been resonating with lately and strum through it a couple times. He would get lost in the feeling of the music and the feeling of the strings underneath his fingertips. It was always a thing that caused him to completely lose track of time, and he loved it. It was always a perfect thing to enjoy something you were also so good at. It kept that passion for it alive.

The music room was where he went during his free time. He couldn’t drive, and luckily, his free periods lined up with the music free periods, so he could always be found in that room, playing something on his guitar in the back corner. He also went there during lunch, preferring to spend the time doing something productive for his music. He really wanted to go into a career in music, and he was working so hard to achieve that despite many of the struggles he was facing at the same time. He poured his heart and soul into every song, every piece, that he wrote, and even when he didn’t like the music very much, he was proud of his ability to be vulnerable and put it onto the pages. That had taken a lot of personal growth for him to realize that to put good songs and things that he was proud of into the world, he would have to bare parts of himself for view.

It was during this part of his day, lunch time, when he was sitting in the music room, playing on his guitar. He was the only one in the room, and like usual, he was sitting in the back, not wanting to disturb anyone who could potentially choose to walk in. And after about ten minutes of the lunch period going by, there was someone who walked in, and Johnnie wanted to curse all ancestors before him for this type of bad luck. It would be the one person that he wanted to see more than anyone else in the school, but at the same time, he wouldn’t have been able to really talk to without humiliating himself. Only his luck. 

He didn’t speak to you when you walked in, but he did offer a kind smile when you looked up and made eye contact, before looking back down at his guitar and continuing to work on his own music. You had stopped by the music room because you had a music project that had to be completed, but you weren’t very musically inclined, so you felt very grateful that you didn’t have to present it, only had to turn it in. However, you did still have to make an effort, but you didn’t have a guitar at home, so you were stopping by to use the ones in the music room. You only knew a couple of chords, but it was the most that you knew on any instrument, so it was your best option. All you had to do was come up with a simple melody, a short strumming pattern, and that would pretty much be it, but for someone who wasn’t great at music, that was harder than it sounded. 

And it sounded pretty bad. Johnnie would never have said that directly to your face, but if you had turned around and watched him in the back corner, you would have been able to see him slightly grimacing whenever a chord sounded particularly bad. He wasn’t judging, necessarily, he remembered very well when he had been playing the exact same way, and if he felt anything, it would just be sorry for you because he could see on your face how frustrating the chords sounding incorrect were for you. After about ten more minutes of this, he stopped playing his own guitar, quietly watching and listening to the chords you were attempting to play. He listened to a couple shaky renditions of them, and attempted to play them on his own instrument. 

As soon as he did, you turned around, noticing how he froze as soon as your eyes were on him. 

“No, go on. Please. That’s exactly what I wanted it to sound like. How did you do that?” 

Taking a leap of faith, he got up to move across the room, pulling a chair up next to you and reaching his hands out. 

“May I?” 

You handed him the guitar, nodding, intently watching the way that he adjusted it on his lap before beginning to play it again. 

“You’re not pushing the strings down hard enough, and your fingers are too far away from the fret. That’s why it sounds so… that’s what you need to fix for it to sound a lot better.” 

You laughed, gently taking the guitar back. 

“Sounds so bad, it’s okay, you can say it.” 

He smiled, a blush gently dusting his face. 

“I wasn’t going to say bad. I was going to say buzzy but I felt that might be slightly insulting.” 

You shook your head, taking his advice and focusing on repositioning your fingers the way he had instructed. Strumming downwards, a smile broke out on your face when the first chord sounded so much better. Confidence boosted, you moved to the next one, wincing when it sounded worse than the original. His kind expression didn’t disappear, and instead he moved closer, a question in his eyes before he spoke it. You attempted to hand the guitar back to him, assuming he was going to ask to hold it again for a demonstration, but he quickly cut you off.

“No, keep everything where you are. Can I touch you?” 

You couldn’t deny the fact that your heart was racing. Despite your opposite styles and aesthetics, you had always found the style that Johnnie wore incredibly attractive. It wouldn’t fit you the way that it did him, but it looked so damn good on him, and apparently, he was oblivious to that fact. You wouldn’t have called it a crush at first assumption, but maybe that’s exactly what it was. You hide those feelings, throwing on a cocky look and smiling at him. 

“What exactly are you asking for?” 

He stammered in defense before noticing that you were smiling at him, and the dusty pink that had been on his face now turned a much darker red, and he just shook his head, looking back down at the guitar, refocusing. However, you thought if you were going to be getting closer to finishing this project, you were at least going to have a little fun while you were at it, especially with such a pretty boy right in front of you. 

“Don’t worry, I’m just messing with you. I’d say yes regardless, though.” 

His head snapped back up, an unbelieving laugh slipping out of his lips. 

“You can’t just say things like that.” 

You smiled at him, motioning for him to continue what he was doing, and he did. He moved around behind you to adjust his arm on the guitar as well, and gently moved and applied pressure to your fingertips before telling you to try strumming it now. 

“Why not?” 

He shook his head, instructing you to test out the chord again before replying. 

“You just can’t.” 

The chord sounded wonderful in comparison to what it had sounded like thirty minutes prior, and you were so grateful for all of Johnnie’s help. His head was right next to yours, a gentle smile on his face, a little bit of pride, and a lot of blushing prompted your next question.

“Can I kiss you instead?” 

He turned his head to stare at you, nearly wide-eyed, shocked with the realization that this wasn’t a dream, it was actually happening. This time, he didn’t hesitate to reply. 

“Yes. That you can do.”

[pumpkinbxtch]

“la gata bajo la lluvia” blurb

—leo valdez x mortal!reader

summary: you met leo by chance, you didn't think he would get into your bones that way but you knew it couldn't last.

warnings: sexual insinuations, language, angst.

a/n: ok, i hope you can forgive me bc i was kind of laughing while wrote this for my mexican ass just showing off. this took me just the morning after i listened this song.

“mi suerte ya estaba echada, ya lo sé...”

(my fate was already sealed, I know it... )

Demigods used to have something in common with their divine parents; children often forget that there's a current reality out there and tend to abandon it because their lives depend on something else all too often. One of those many things can be people.

Leo never meant to hurt you, but the mark on your heart had already been made.

“lo nuestro solo fué casualidad... ”

(ours was just a coincidence...)

You remember when he came in totally soaked from the rain outside, the bell tinkled, and he ran towards you. You thought the worst, that he was crazy, drunk, or that you were sitting in his favorite spot in that diner. But he stopped, his mouth slightly open, giving you the impression that he wanted something.

"He's handsome, I wish he wanted me," you thought instead.

— The sauce, pass it to me — he said, pointing to the Tabasco sauce bottle. "Wow, a Tabasco sauce thief," you thought. You looked at him more closely, noticing his greasy shirt, a multitool belt that seemed to be empty. "He must have had a rough day," you assumed, and rolled the bottle towards him. You wouldn't give trouble to a guy with that appearance, no matter how handsome he seemed to you.

He caught it right at the edge of your table.

— I owe you one — he said, and ran off. "Things that happen," you said to yourself, thinking you wouldn't see him again.

“La misma hora, el mismo boulevard”

(Same time, same boulevard...)

You loved the fries there; they were great, nothing better than enjoying them after work. The weather was still terrible. And the bell announced a new customer. As you were eating a piece of steak, you denied in your thoughts, "who goes out to eat with this rain?"

— hey — you raised your gaze and struggled not to choke on your food. The guy from last time! Soaked by the rain like last time, but his shirt was clean and his curls tangled by the moisture. "He's handsome," you thought again.

You lost track of how much time you spent talking and flirting with each other. Leo was funny, intelligent, and stupidly handsome. "God, I have to stop thinking about this or I don't know what I'll do."

What you ended up doing was finishing with him in a bathroom stall at the diner; it was already night, and the place was very sparsely populated. The moans echoed, and the small taps against metal reverberated as you twisted against each other's touch. Leo had his fingers roaming under your shirt while kissing your neck effusively, leaving a trail of wet kisses and nibbles that would have to be covered with makeup. He pressed you against the stall, and your hands desperately sought something better to do than clenching every time he kissed a perfect spot, which was difficult because he had been at it for half an hour. Your fingertips played with the buckle of his belt, and you felt the smile he formed against your lips.

— So that's where we were heading— he murmured in your ear with a raspy voice; a kiss on the collarbone made you tighten your grip on the metal piece.

That time it was in that place; the other times were in your apartment. The hours passed with you entwined with each other, giving each other the warmth that the weather outside couldn't provide while Leo whispered sweet things to you. You prayed it would never end, but you knew it wasn't possible; "how it begins, it ends," you thought.

You walked on the wet street. You covered your damp hair from the air to avoid catching a cold with the hood of your hoodie. Your hands brushed during the walk, and you tried to hook your pinky with his, you succeeded but Leo didn't make any gesture that pleased you, no other than the usual one. That uncomfortable smile with tired eyes.

That night would end, you knew it.

He wouldn't explain why, you knew it.

You wouldn't see him again, and you knew it.

Shit, you knew it.

“Tú te vas y yo me quedo aquí...”

(you leave and i stay here)

You let go of his finger; he didn't try to stop it.

Stopped walking, and he leaned in to give you a kiss.

— see you — he murmured before pressing his lips on yours as he had done hundreds of times before.

You nodded and gave him another small kiss. You heard that phrase for a whole month, but tonight seemed different.

He walked away, leaving you there, and you never dared to ask why he always headed towards the same rooftop of an abandoned house with the Tabasco sauce bottle in his hand. He held onto that sauce tighter than he ever held you to keep you from leaving or to stay a little longer. Before he entered that house, you turned around and walked straight home.

The drops falling from your wet hair mingled with the drizzle that started, and then those drops of water mixed with your tears.

“lloverá y ya no seré tuya, seré la gata bajo la lluvia...”

(It will rain, and I won't be yours anymore, I'll be the cat in the rain...)

[milkywaydrabbles]

12 and 10 fluff with Alucard 🥺 he is feeling insecure about his scars, and about his own being, considering himself to be a monster, and then reader calms him down

A/N: Me pouting the entire time I wrote this bc I love alucard sm and I hate thinking of him sad lmao. I hope this one is okay and that you like it, I'm not sure if it's my best work ): mwuah

"Hold me" "I wish you could see how I see you" x Alucard

Some days are easy. Some days are nice walks in the park, getting free loaves of freshly baked bread because the village people are so grateful for everything he’s done. Some days are sweet, simple, enjoying the day with the love of his life. Other days?

Other days are hard. Terribly so. 

Today was a hard day. A mental rain cloud had been brewing over Alucard for the last few hours, starting when he saw himself fresh out of the bath, scars seared into his skin from what could be one of the most terrible nights of his life. The traumatic events flashed in his mind, rendering him still with fear. Fear that it’d happen again, with you, fear that he’d be useless in the face of danger if someone came for you, fear that he even had the capacity of thinking you capable of such wickedness. His hands trembled, staring at himself in the mirror, a tear escaping from his eye before turning away from the mirror, dressing quickly and getting on with his duties for the day. He didn’t want to think about it anymore.

But the fear had latched onto him, growing and festering into an ugly cycle of feeling self conscious and not good enough, hating the way the scars look, hating the way the scar his father left behind looked. His body marred with imperfect skin, showing the world his weaknesses. The rain cloud had split open and a thunderstorm loomed over him, retiring much earlier from his chores than intended. He threw himself into his studies in hopes that he would forget the sick feeling in his stomach. 

“Adrian, honey?” Your sweet voice called out to him, and it broke him out of his stupor. He forgot about dinner. A dinner that he insisted on helping you with. And he left you there to finish it all by yourself. Alucard felt miserable. He’d been brewing in his own misery; he had been ignoring not only his duties to the village but to you. You must hate him, you must think he’s so selfish, and lazy, and no good, and-- “Ah, there you are!” You smiled, skipping over to him before noticing how rotten he looked. “Adrian? Are you okay?” You worried, bringing a hand up to his forehead. He tried his best to put on a brave face, shaking his head. “I’m fine, love, don’t worry about me. I’m sorry I lost track of him, I left you to prepare dinner alone.” He stood, ready to put on a facade for the rest of the night, lest you think something awful of him. 

But you knew him better than anyone. 

“Dinner can wait, why don’t we just go to the room for a bit?” He wanted more than anything to stay distracted and not think of the burning his skin felt today. But he knew you wouldn’t let him continue to wallow. Alucard sighed, saying nothing and heading into your shared room. You gave him space, sitting across from him. You didn’t ask any specifics, not needing them. All you needed to know is that Alucard wasn’t feeling his best, and that you would do anything for him. “Adrian, sweet boy...what can I do to help?” Your soft voice nearly ruined him, a broken sob escaping without his consent. The palms of his hands pressed into his eyes, hating more than anything in the world this was happening. Now was not the time to look weak. But he needed you, needed to feel grounded. So he broke. “Can you...can you hold me? Please?” He let out a shaky breath, and silently you moved to him, cradling his head in your hands and bringing him closer to your chest, Your legs wrapped around his torso, trying to cover as much of him as possible with yourself, hoping that whatever was tormenting him would slip away with your presence. 

“I’m sorry--I’m sorry love, I fucked up and I missed dinner. I didn’t mean to, I lost track of time and--” You hushed him mid sentence, rocking him gently back and forth in your arms. “Tell me what’s really going on, this isn’t about dinner.” Alucard steadied himself, releasing a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. “I can’t stand looking at myself. Not with these disgusting scars.” Your heart shattered hearing how awful he talked about himself. You cursed the world for ever hurting your sweet boy like this. “Adrian, light of my life, fire in my veins, my handsome man--you’re perfect.” You kissed his temple, running a hand over his hair. “The scars are a reminder that you persevered. That you survived.” You gently reminded him, and another kiss. “I wish you could see how I see you. I love every detail about you, I’m so sorry you’ve endured the life you have, but I am so grateful that it has brought you to me.” Slowly, you untangled yourself from him and sat on your knees before him. You took his hands that had loosened from his eyes, kissing each wrist. You pushed the sleeve of his shirt up, kissing the patches of scar tissue that showed through. You moved to his chest, kissing the scarring that showed through the shirt, and mirrored your actions to his other arm. You let go of his arms, wiping away the remaining tears that stained his cheeks and kissed his eyelids, before pressing your forehead to his. 

“You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever met in my life, inside and out. And that includes the scars. Never doubt yourself, or my love for you. I’ll be here with you, until the ends of the Earth.”

[linisiane]

I’ve seen that post on here that’s like “What did they put in this game to make us all Like That,” and I think we’re all Like That about Disco Elysium bc we’re all hyperfixating on it because it surprisingly speaks to the chaos of living with ADHD. And we SEE that and feel seen.

- First of all, Harry Du Bois Adhd headcanons pop off hard, especially with the whole “I do speed to do detective work,” aka I need stimulants to focus, aka unintentional self-medication. Also the poor impulse control, emotional disregulation. And the voices remind me of the way my brain jumps topic to topic so I have like 4 ongoing topics going at once. Stereo investigations, thoughts in the thought cabinet, if you will.

- Additionally, a lot of interactions surrounding Harry’s memory loss even feel very ADHD. ADHD is a problem with working memory (attention/focus), which cascades into causing problems with encoding memories for long term storage. You can’t remember what you never even focused on. Because of this, being forgetful of things that seemed basic or obvious or easy to remember for other people is a staple problem for people with ADHD, and while the game is obviously much more extreme with total retrograde amnesia, I find that the game’s demonstration of “the people being frustrated or confused by basic things you’ve forgotten or misplaced” (and this being taken seriously as a Big Issue affecting your life, even if the others don’t take it seriously/brush it off) is very relatable and almost cathartic. Even if the only reason why it’s taken so seriously in the game is because you’ve just literally lost all your memory… and your gun lol

- Harry doing buck wild things to get results based on the conversations going on inside his head, which don’t get read to the outside world, is very relatable. Again, my brain jumps topic to topic so much that it’s almost hard to track the logical thread connecting the thoughts internally, much less explain them to another person at the same time. The “how did we get here, what exactly brought you to this course of action? This seems unrelated, detective” is very much a conversation I experience on the daily, whether with myself or the people around me.

- Kim Kitsuragi is the ADHD fantasy. @snowberry-pie’s got in one. He’s perfect for fighting off that executive dysfunction by helping you actually get shit done while not being suffocating/controlling/shaming about it. He sorta takes responsibility of you to help you take responsibility of yourself. He’s a body double, your partner in it with you. Lets you go on your barely related stereo investigations and indulges your inexplicable actions instead of controlling you, trusting that it’s part of the process lol. Offers positive reinforcement instead of using shame (like calling Harry a burden) to get Harry to focus on the case.

Disco Elysium has lots to say about how disability is exacerbated/unsupported by the system for a lot of characters, including Harry. Adhd fits right into that, especially with the ways an ADHD!Harry interpretation would highlight the understandable nature of his drug addiction (not only was it a way to cope with chronic pain that no one was treating him for, but also a way to cope with unmedicated ADHD).

Anyways I wrote this instead of writing my paper.

[underdark-dreams]

Hey idk if you only write Tav x character but I am STARVED!!! Starved I say! For Karach x Dammon content. It just makes so much sense and as someone who remained platonic with Karlach I still wanted her to get some action and seeing how Dammon was RIGHT! FUCKING! THERE! It makes sense that they could maybe hook up and he’s been invested in helping her too and huuuuuuuUUUUUUUUH.

I know you like writing about them tieflings so if eventually if you are able you could write the two of them going at it like the touch starved babies they both are (Karlach for obvious reasons and Dammon bc he’s probably focused on his work most of the time).

I’m still shook over your Rolan x Tav fanfic you wrote and I can’t wait to see what you write in the future!

Dammon x Karlach [Explicit]

Touchable

"Damn I'm good. And you, you're...very touchable." An infernal blacksmith and a Blood War veteran walk into a bar. Who would have guessed that Dammon is a natural when it comes to handling fire?

Tags: Explicit Sexual Content, Gentle Angst, Sweet/Hot

Word Count: 3,460 [Read on AO3]

“Of course, you’ll need to install it yourself.”

"Of course, of course—can’t touch the giant flaming woman," Karlach grinned at him. 

Dammon often noticed that Karlach smiled when things made her sad. He remembered the moment well, remembered each time he'd been given an opportunity to help tune that engine of hers.

Their most recent conversation stuck out with particular pain in his mind.

He'd spent many late nights burning the candles down in his room as he sketched and diagrammed and theorized. No matter how many sheets of parchment he filled, Dammon kept arriving at the same awful conclusion.

Even with his niche skills, he was all out of options for Karlach. She could either return to the sustaining fires of Avernus, or live on this plane however long she could manage before her engine was snuffed out.

Dammon couldn't even calculate whether she had years left or only months. Somehow, that made it so much more terrible.

Karlach took the news with superhuman optimism, the way she approached most things. She thanked him with tears in her eyes for at least giving her back the chance to touch and be touched. For that, her first hug in ten years was his. 

Hopefully it wouldn't be the last, Dammon found himself thinking, as her warm body pressed up firmly against him. She wasn't the only one who was long overdue for some physical affection.

Dammon had always thought of her now and then as he worked in his forge. Usually it was idle and passing, wondering whether her infernal parts were giving her any trouble. 

But lately, it was hard to shake her from his mind at all. Had she found someone to finally take to bed yet? Surely so, with how many years she'd be confined to unwilling celibacy. 

It embarrassed him to admit, but he fervently wished it could've been him. He wasn't much more than a humble smith, and she was practically the city’s hero at this point. How many times had she saved his own life? He'd lost track.

All these thoughts ran through Dammon's mind from where he sat at the bar of the Blushing Mermaid. As he surfaced from his reflection, the din and noise of the place pressed against his ears again.

Not as reputable as the Elfsong, perhaps, but it was closer to his forge. And it was easier to be left to yourself when all the other patrons were already piss-drunk.

"Hey, soldier!"

A friendly hand clapped his back, causing Dammon to nearly choke on his pint as Karlach slid into the seat beside him.

"Sorry," she said with a grimace, but her eyes were sparkling. "Gods, am I glad to see you."

Dammon wiped his mouth in surprise as she swung her very large mug up on the table. "You too, Karlach," he said with a genuine smile. It was like the very strength of his thoughts had conjured her. She looked better than ever.

"I didn't expect to see you here," he admitted. "I thought you'd be out enjoying the new you."

"Fucking someone's brains out, you mean?" Karlach finished for him. Dammon found her bluntness unbelievably attractive.

"To be honest that's why I'm here," she admitted, and rubbed her neck with a hand. "Camp's a bit awkward at the moment. I may have made a pass at Wyll that wasn't, er…enthusiastically received. Think I scared him off a bit," she finished ruefully.

Very much Wyll's loss, Dammon thought to himself. What he wouldn't give.

"Well, you picked the right place for drowning sorrows," he told her aloud. As if on cue, there was a loud chorus of booing as an empty glass went hurtling across the room to land on the low stage, where the half-orc lute player promptly lobbed it back into the crowd with a shattering crash. Dammon raised his arm out in demonstration of his point; Karlach was already cracking up.

"Fucking missed this city," she laughed, wiping a tear of mirth from her eye. They each took a generous drink of ale.

But Karlach wasn't distracted for long. "I just wish, you know?" She sighed. "I wish I could be with someone who understands a little bit. Sex is fabulous on its own, but I want everything, all of it."

"What's stopping you?" Dammon asked her, wondering what it would take for her to see him as a very viable option.

"So many things," she said. "I appreciate what you've done for me Dammon, please believe that I do, but…I still feel more machine than Karlach." 

"I'm pretty handy with mechanics, you know." Dammon was flirting with her despite himself. He couldn't help it; she was so radiant and lovely as she sat there close beside him.

Karlach finally glanced over at him, and he saw in her eyes that she'd caught it. 

"You must know I like you," she said, her voice low but intense. "Dammon, I like you so much. But you're so lovely, and I'm—" She gestured a hand down her front. "—This. Wild, unstable. What if I end up, I don't know, hurting you somehow?” She looked at him with a pained expression. “A guy like you deserves someone tender, and I'm not sure that's me."

All traces of joking were gone; the air between them had grown serious in a second. Dammon's heart thrummed strong against his ribs, and he reached for her fingers before he could stop himself.

"Maybe forget what you think I deserve, and listen to what I’m saying." He shook his head at her. "Karlach, you talk like you're some kind of monster. So you've got an infernal engine in your chest. And sure, you're tall as hell. But I mean, you've got plenty of—you're not short on any of the—" He was casting around for a gentlemanly way to describe her curves and realizing that it probably didn’t exist.

"Spit it out," Karlach teased him. But her expectant expression made his face grow warm.

"I just wish you wouldn't talk down about yourself like that," Dammon explained. "You're very womanly, and plenty desirable."

"Oh," she said, taken aback. Her free hand fiddled with the handle of her mug. "That's…no one's ever said something like that to me before."

What a damn shame that was. Dammon watched the doubt and confusion work over her features. How long had she thought of herself as nothing more than a tin soldier? He'd fixed what parts of her his hands could tend, but something in the way she saw herself was still broken. 

Dammon squeezed her fingers under his. "Karlach, there's so much about you to love. That I love. You are…an incredibly beautiful woman. Don't you know that?"

Karlach stared at him with wide eyes; her face looked somehow younger and softer. For a person so sure of everyone else's worth, she seemed so blind and unsure of her own.

"I am?" She asked, so quietly it broke his heart a little.

Dammon could only think of answering with a kiss. He leaned in with a careful tilt of the head, eyes on her mouth—in the last second he was elated to feel her lean forward to close the distance.

He would've honestly, truly believed that there were sparks between them. There was the fiery warmth of her skin, but Dammon also felt a tingling jolt between their lips that had nothing to do with her heat. His insides sung at the feeling of her lips moving over his with just as much urgency as he felt.

Dammon pulled her face deeper to him with a hand at the back of her neck. As his tongue explored her mouth and sought hers, he felt one of Karlach’s palms rest against his thigh. He could have choked on the desire that rose in his throat at her touch.

They both pulled away at the same instant.

"Your place?" She prompted, breathless.

"Mine," Dammon agreed. It was only a few minutes away, and though his bed was cramped even for one, he expected they wouldn't be sleeping much.

Dammon dumped some coin on the bar in a rush before they made their way outside. The cool breeze through the streets made him realize just how flushed and heated his skin was. His arm sought Karlach's waist beside him as they walked, and a thrill went through him at how lovely it was to finally hold her close. She seemed to feel the same.

"Gods, I can't wait to ride you," she said huskily. Dammon tried to keep a grip on his composure; her brazen eagerness made it very difficult. He settled for pulling her into a quick, heated kiss as they continued on. 

The two of them practically stumbled over the dark cobblestones of the entryway in their haze, both buzzing with impatience and expectation. By the time his nervous fingers had finally made work of the lock to his quarters, they were on each other before the door had latched behind them.

Karlach's leg hitched up over his hip as she devoured his mouth. Dammon's hand gripped behind her knee at once, holding their bodies steady against each other, kissing her back with sheer years of pent-up enthusiasm.

"You're strong," Karlach said as she surfaced, sounding pleased and surprised at once.

"'I'd hope so, after throwing around that hammer so long."

"You can throw me around." After a pause she added, "That's an invitation."

"I got that," Dammon grinned, absolutely smitten with her, and captured her lips again.

He guided them both toward the far end of his room and tumbled over her when they reached the mattress. His hands grazed the edge of her shirt, desire muddling his understanding of how to undo the many buckles and straps.

She took more pity on him than he deserved. Almost before he could blink she had freed herself of all her clothing, laying back naked before him on his bed. Pale, dim moonlight from the window illuminated her figure.

She was extraordinary.

Dammon quickly tugged his shirt past his snagging horns, wishing to feel her skin against his as soon as possible. Even before his head was free, he felt Karlach’s fingers helping with his pants, tugging them down past his hips and sliding them off onto the floor.

He hovered over her as they gazed at each other. The promise of bare flesh against flesh was almost overwhelming, now they were here. Dammon leaned down to place a tender kiss on her lips and then descended to explore her neck. 

Karlach’s arms clutched him eagerly as he kissed along her soft, warm skin. When he made his way down to her chest, he placed lips tenderly above her breast where the soft ticking of machinery resounded. It may not be a flesh and blood heart, but its rhythm was no less dear to him. She let out a soft, low hum.

Dammon wished he had more patience to linger. But instead he pushed his body down between her thighs, glancing up to check in on her for just a moment. Karlach watched him with a pained expression, lips parted—as if afraid he might not follow through with what his movements suggested. 

He wouldn't be teasing her for one second tonight. Dammon leaned down and ran the warm flat of his tongue up over her center.

His head was jerked slightly to the side as she grabbed at one of his horns with a moan. He didn't break from her, only licked at her steadily, smoothing and spreading her wetness up and over her soft folds. 

Even after all the work he'd done to cool her, she was still molten hot under his tongue—he thanked every god in the universe for his natural resistance. His lips closed firmly over her clit, sucking the spot as his tongue rolled her side to side in an achingly slow rhythm.

"Holy fuck," she panted from somewhere above him. "Holy fuck, Dammon—"

He curled one arm under and around her thigh, used thumb and index finger to spread her better for his mouth. He released his lips’ suction with an obscenely wet sound, replacing it with the circling pad of his thumb. She was delicious, but he sought to taste her deeper.

Dammon's tongue plunged deep into her cunt, so far that his nose pressed against where his fingers worked against her clit. 

Karlach cried out and squirmed violently under his mouth. Dammon's arms held her firm, angling her hips up and open against his searching mouth. His tongue thrust over and over unto her unbelievable heat as he tasted the sweet center of her, felt her satin walls constrict around him with each nudge of his tongue.

By now his own erection pressed painfully into the bed under him. He only shifted a little and continued on. She had so much more time to make up for, and Dammon was determined to be the one to satisfy her.

It wasn't long before Karlach's thighs were trembling against his ears. "Please," she whimpered desperately, nails clutching his hair to hold his face against her, as if begging him not to stop. He wouldn't have dreamed of it. His mouth worked her over with more enthusiasm than ever, swirling and sucking against her hot folds.

When she came around his tongue, the rush of her heat burst against his mouth and gushed out from her core. Dammon thought he might come just from the way her legs clenched desperately to keep his mouth working over her. He lapped up her sweet release faithfully with his tongue, even as his ears took in the far sweeter sounds of her shuddering, gasping moans.

Only once the twitching waves of her climax were receding under his lips did he glance up over her to see her face. 

Karlach’s eyes were closed, an expression of transcendent bliss painting her features. As he watched her pant through parted lips, her eyes opened slightly to look down at him where he still hovered between her thighs. He knew the lower half of his face must be dripping with her climax.

With a guttural sound, Karlach’s legs gripped around his middle to pull him just to where her arms could take over and guide him up over her. Dammon gathered himself just in time to land with palms braced on either side of her.

“Wait—” Dammon started, wishing to clean himself up first, but she was already pulling him into a kiss. She licked across his lips, tasting herself on him, before her tongue demanded entry into his mouth. He yielded more than willingly.

His painfully hard cock grazed her thigh as he moved over her. Karlach groaned into his mouth; the vibration of her lips against his sent yet another rush of blood to his throbbing length.

She broke away with a fresh glint of arousal already building behind her eyes. “Inside,” she directed him. “Right fucking now.”

Dammon needed no more encouragement. With fingers grasping under her back, he firmly lifted her body up and over his lap. The way she landed over him pressed her still-dripping heat against the underside of his cock. A trembling groan escaped him at the sensation. Nevertheless, he gathered himself enough to scoot back against the headboard for support.

Before he could fully prepare himself, Karlach’s hand had guided his tip between her folds. In the next motion, she descended down around his whole length at once.

“Fuck,” Dammon gasped. He wished he could find something more eloquent or romantic to describe the feeling, but his mind was wholly overwhelmed by the fiery warmth that gripped all around his cock. He could even feel her walls still fluttering against him from her recent climax. His fingertips dug into the flesh of her hips.

They crossed glances as she sat still to take him for a moment. Karlach’s eyes shone with desire and excitement, and something almost like love. One of Dammon’s hands slid up along her spine, dipping her neck down, capturing her lips in a tender kiss. He felt his mouth shaking slightly against hers.

“Every time alone, I imagined this,” Karlach breathed against him as they parted. 

Dammon thought he might unravel completely at her words. He leaned back against the hard wood behind him, eyes taking in every beautiful inch of her flesh, inviting her to do whatever she wanted with him.

She accepted the offer wordlessly. As her fingers clasped behind his neck, Karlach rocked her hips up and down over his length. He felt his jaw go slack at the feel of her heat surrounding him, taking him, over and over and over—

Dammon’s grip dug into her hips to add more force with each of her rhythmic thrusts down onto him. He gazed up at her with pure adoration as she took him. The feel of her warm skin against his lit a fire in his chest; his cock throbbed against the hot, squeezing silk of her walls.

“You’re so beautiful,” Dammon gasped before he could think. It was the truth, and she deserved to be told it—she deserved everything. He held her tight on his lap as took him, chasing her next release. Karlach’s hips faltered for a moment, and he realized she was already close.

Dammon felt her thighs trembling against him and pushed his back up straight to hold her closer as she rode his length. His palms pressed against her back, strong forearms circling and supporting her as she started to come apart yet again.

And she did—with a shuddering quake, Karlach grabbed his shoulders and let out a jumbled cry that was some mix of obscenities and his name.

She was incredible. Dammon watched the agony and ecstasy on her face as long as he could bear, as she rode out her second orgasm onto him, as her tight heat gripped and pulsed relentlessly around his cock. In the next moment his eyes squeezed shut as he was thrown wide to the delayed force of his own release, his hands spasming against her back as stars burst bright behind his eyelids.

After a long moment filled with nothing but the sounds of them keening and panting against each other, her chin dropped over his shoulder. Dammon felt her arms circle to grip around him tight.

As he listened to her breathing slow, she began to shake against him again. 

This time it was from the quiet sobs that heaved up from her chest. He held her head against the crook of his shoulder and stroked her hair as her tears flowed, feeling the droplets splash against and roll down his back.

Karlach cried from joy, blessed relief, aching sadness…from the pain of so much lost time and the knowledge of her limited future. It wasn't fair, none of it, and Dammon didn't know a single thing to say that might ease her burdened heart. 

Engine or no, she had more heart than anyone he'd ever known. He could only hold her to him tight as could be.

Seeking to comfort her further, Dammon worked his hips down the bed with her seated on him and tipped their connected bodies gently backwards. She collapsed without resistance on top of and against him. At least he could support her for a while, even if it was just with his silent body. 

After a little while, Karlach raised her head to look at him. Her face was streaked with tear tracks, but she was trying to smile through trembling lips. "I'm s-sorry," she choked out.

Dammon’s heart couldn’t bear it. He silenced her at once with a kiss. "Don't apologize to me," he whispered to her as he broke away, "or to anyone, ever."

He gathered her back up in his arms immediately. Karlach didn’t protest, only rested her cheek against his chest with a shuddering sigh. Dammon was vaguely aware of the sheen of sweat cooling all over his bare skin, but with her warm body nestled back up against him, he was more than comfortable.

Dammon pressed his lips to the skin of her forehead. He closed his eyes to focus on the way his heart beat against her chest; the steady hum of her body reverberated against him in response. Despite everything, the sound was dearer to him than he thought possible.

“Ready to go again?” Karlach asked suddenly. 

Dammon chuckled low in his chest, feeling the delayed ache in his limbs and realizing a bit late that the night’s exertions had only just begun.

“Give me a few minutes,” he requested with a lazy smile. “We’ve got time.”

[svnflower-writes]

i wanna find out

part one. ao3 | series masterlist

description: james is confused, but no less confused as he was when he was a high school student and denying his infatuation with his best friend's brother. now, regulus is a regular at the cafe he works in, and james doesn't know what to do.

warnings: none it's fluffy james is so cute

note: (reblog and comment please please please i need the validation) HI HELLO I AM BACK OKAY SO i heard the new gracie song and i went insane bc its so jegulus and wrote this in one hour in english class and its unedited. anyway this is a series, the masterlist is linked at the top. this chapter has been on ao3 since yesterday but i didn't get around to posting it here. lowkey think this is terrible but oh wellll

taglist: (i included the people on my marauders taglist so lmk if you don't wanna be on this one) @thestarslittleking @chaserofstars11 @gu1lty-as-sin @dandelions-fly-in-summer-skies @a-beautiful-fool @optimizedchaos @star-ch4ser @qwerty-keysmash @lost-in-reveriie @tulips-best @nqds

Upon his first week at high school, James Potter had come to the conclusion that he would end up with Lily Evans if it was the last thing he did. She was exactly the kind of girl he liked, she was pretty and opinionated and she seemed like the sweetest person he’d ever met. Remus had chuckled at his lovesick pining, not having the heart to tell the messy haired boy that your crush when you’re eleven years old is never your soulmate.

He pined after Lily for two years, with no clear progression other than Lily awkwardly smiling at him each time they passed in the hallways. Safe to say, James’ feelings were not reciprocated, and Marelne had grown a habit of snickering at the way his eyes followed her down the hall.

A few students at school had thought he was overdoing it slightly, but he really wasn’t. He wasn’t overly pushy, and he had only asked her out once or twice. He was clear about his feelings, but wasn't going to make her uncomfortable. James Potter was a gentleman in the truest sense of the word, but that didn’t mean he didn’t feel an undeniable feeling of heartache when she walked past and ignored his presence.

Now, however, James was in university. He was as over Lily as he had ever been, and he had escaped the inherent unpleasantries that come with being a teen going through the heartache of growing up. He felt undeniably free, and not to mention his psychology course was helping him understand himself better than ever. He was happier than ever, saying otherwise would be a blatant understatement. He was living in a flat with Sirius, Remus, and Peter, which had been his dream since primary school.

Lily was now one of his closest friends, and she worked at the flower shop that had a door into the coffee shop James worked in. Lily’s law degree and James’ psychology one made them a perfect pair, and much to Remus’ surprise, the two studied together regularly. The fact that James’ attention span and motivation had changed since high school was something no one had expected, and although he still struggled, he had his tactics to get back on track.

Some things never change, though, and James still hated quiet, slow paced days more than death itself. He could deal with stressful, busy days, but the mundane was his greatest oppressor, the repetitiveness of a quiet day driving him to the edge of his sanity. Today happened to be one of those days, he sat behind the counter at the small coffee shop he worked in as customers filtered in once every half an hour.

He sat, watching the slow ticking of the clock as the time went by as slow as it possibly could. It was 12:38pm, and 12:20 felt like hours ago. Blankly staring at the wall, the coffee he’d made himself had been discarded on the counter next to him and he didn’t bother picking it up, knowing that after half an hour of it sitting there, it would surely be cold. Each time someone walked past the door of the shop, James perked up—only to sigh as they walked past without a second thought. James’ tendency to romanticise everything that life had to offer often left him disappointed.

Finally, he heard the bell signalling that someone had opened the door sound, and his head snapped up in relief. ‘ My saviour, love of my life, thank god you’re here.’ his brain sung as he sprung up from his seated position, standing at the counter within seconds of the boy walking into the shop. His signature smile appeared on his face, “hi, how’s your day going?”

The boy seemed to falter, as if his carefully planned interaction of simply ordering what he wanted and leaving had been disrupted by a simple question. His dull blue eyes widened, and his lips fell open in a dumbfounded expression before he picked himself up and showed James a tight lipped smile. “Uh, I’m good.”

James noticed that this small interaction had absolutely foiled his carefully planned coffee order, and the boy had entirely forgotten to say what he wanted. James smiled softly, chuckling in his head. He always thought it was interesting how common these interactions seemed to be when you worked in a coffee shop. The psychology major in him couldn’t help but psychoanalyse these interactions, which made working in hospitality both intriguing and perplexing. He found that you could get a pretty good idea of someone’s mindset and what their day to day life is like by doing this, and it almost acted as revision for his upcoming exam.

“What can I get you today?”

Embarrassment flushed over the dark haired boy’s face, and he automatically sent another tight lipped smile to try and compensate for his forgetfulness. A strand of his soft black curls fell over his eyes, and James could tell just by his body language and the look in his eyes that it annoyed him to no end. “A black coffee, please.”

That was fitting, James thought. With the tidy (almost obnoxiously so) outfit and the carefully styled short black hair, a black coffee was the only thing that really made sense for him.

“And can I have a name for that?”

Stupid boy, you know his name.

“Regulus.”

James knew how to spell it.

He knew how to spell it and he hated that. Regulus was his best friend’s brother, and things between Sirius and his younger brother were rough. They got along until they didn’t. Sirius had spent more evenings than James could count frantically ranting about him on evenings at James’ house after school. When Sirius had left for high school, Regulus had distanced himself from Sirius more than he ever had before. Regulus had always been detatched, and James knew this from Sirius’ extensive complaints.

James he knew he shouldn’t have been so enamoured with Regulus in his high school years as he was, but when James fell for someone he fell for them. He fell for them intensly and irreversably and everyone he had ever loved lived in his heart for eternity. It may seem like James was feeling too insensely, but for him to not love so deeply and fully would mean he was not James Potter. He could not be in any sort of relationship without loving them to the end of the earth. His mother had always told him to cherish this, that his way of loving was incredibly pure and a love that many people would give anything to be the recipient of. But based off his past relationships, his love was not something to be cherished.

“Alright, I’ll have that ready for you soon.”

While he was making the coffee, James allowed himself to watch Regulus, noticing the way his hair was slightly more inclined to falling to the right side of his forehead, the way his greyish-blue eyes fixed on one spot of the wall and didn’t seem to move. He watched as his hands anxiously clasped together in his lap and his foot tapped.

James was a master of the art of noticing, and he tended to read into what people did, more so than was probably helpful. But James had always been observant, even as a toddler he had had an integral interest in people. He understood when people said that the human race was done for, but he was compelled to disagree. He had a sense of optimism that many thought was overbearing, but in the same way, James sometimes found their pessimism slightly disheartening.

Regulus intrigued him, although the boy was made of very few words and made him fiddle with his hands behind the counter and cause his eyes to flutter around the room to look anywhere other than his eyes. Regulus was pretty. He was the definition of pretty, with his wavy black hair and his grey eyes that shone with something James couldn’t quite place. James felt an intense urge to sink into the ground and never reappear. Unsure of what this was, he played it off as simply nervousness around someone new—not that it was common for James to ever feel nervous around new people. Regulus had this aura about him, one that James couldn’t figure out. It was undeniable that Regulus made James shy, but James would deny the reason for this nervousness for as long as he possibly could—and longer. This was merely a customer that would show up to the coffee shop once and never again—after all, he hadn’t seen Regulus in the shop at all earlier in the year.

For a reason James couldn’t quite place, there was a hint of awkwardness between him and Regulus. They respected each other, sure, but when they were alone, without Sirius or Remus, James felt an intense urge to sink into the ground and never reappear. He played it off as simply nervousness around someone new—not that it was common for James to ever feel nervous around new people. Regulus had this aura about him, one that James couldn’t quite place. It was undeniable that Regulus made James nervous, but James would deny the reason for this nervousness for as long as he possibly could—and longer. Regulus didn’t speak much, and James tried but failed to match this. The silence felt awkward, and he couldn’t go for long sitting in silence with him until he overshared, making the situation more awkward than it had been beforehand.

“Long black for Regulus?”

He says his name, although there is no one else in the shop to mistake the coffee as their own. But James likes the way his name sounds on his lips, as horrifically cheesy as that may sound.

Stop it. Stop it, stop it, stop it. He’s off-limits and you know that.

Looking up, Regulus looked up and flashed a small, awkward smile, walking to the counter and reaching for the coffee. As his fingers wrapped around the cup, they brushed James’ fingers, and his grey eyes flickered up to meet James’ deep brown ones. “Thank you,” he looked away quickly and was out of the shop before James could even respond.

Okay, James thought, okay, this is okay. He just has to make it out of the shop and then I’ll never see him again.

But then Regulus stops halfway out of the door, sending James a wonky smile and a soft “I’ll see you around.” His eyes are twinkling with something unrecognisable, and once he leaves James allows himself to breathe and forces the dorky smile off his face as he swears under his breath.

Stupid, stupid boy.

[sweetly-yours-and-mine]

Hi! I’m so glad you’re taking requests because I absolutely love the way you write. If you have time, please may I request ‘kissing while sitting in your lovers lap’ or ‘kisses while cuddling’ with marc spector if thanks okay? thank you!❤️

Pairing: Marc Spector x Reader

Word Count: 560ish

A/N: Don't be fooled by the photo this is just sweetness. Wrote this in half an hour because I wanted to challenge myself.

Warnings: fluffy, a little smutty but no smut, everyone is kinda in love, kissing, no editing bc author suffers from BDE, probably too many ocean references

Marc is cupping your jaw as if your skin were made of silk. 

His lips glide against yours like tectonic plates shifting. 

They speak of a darker desire he has for you, one that you’re sure will inevitably unleash when you’re both alone for the first time during this long, long, day of too many emotions. 

Marc always kissed you like his life depended on it. Like he’s satisfied with the world and a half of suffering he’s gone through in his life, his body and soul scarred alike, because it led him to you at the end of it. 

Right now is no different. 

He holds you in his lap and makes sure your feet stay off the ground because your shoes had started to pinch a while back and now they're laying beside you two on the bench.

And he kisses you, smearing your lipstick over his mouth like a footprint in wet concrete, of love, of lust. 

“Marc,” you pull back for only a moment to murmur it against his lips. He lets you exhale his name like the flap of a bird’s wing before he’s pressing back up against you insistently. 

It makes the thoughts flutter out of your head and leaves you with instinct which tells you to curl your hands through his hair and you’re already doing it before you’ve thought of it. 

It’s the beat of your heart, the exhale of your lungs, the rush of blood through your body. 

Marc is bound to you in so many ways that you’ve lost track of them, the same way you’d lose track of counting the waves in the ocean, rocks on the mountains. 

He lets out a soft grunt underneath your touch and it makes you come to. 

“Marc,” you pull back just enough to press your forehead against his and trail your finger down his neck to touch the curve of his unbuttoned dress shirt. It’s an olive green he’s bought specifically for tonight. “They’re gonna ask where we’ve been.” It matches the accents on your shoes.

You start to wipe away at the stains around his mouth, and he tsks and pushes your hands away, instead taking them to rest on his chest. 

You mean to scold him but the words can’t come to you. The lava heat of them dries into rock and crumbles into dust, swept away by the cool breeze of the night that shuffles the white fabric of your dress against Marc’s leg. 

He pulls you down again with such urgency it feels the both of you were just a pair of lungs sharing just one heart and mind. 

His hands wander this time, to the curve of your hip, back up to your collarbone and jaw. He trails his fingers around the seashell of your ear and exhales a tide of a breath against you as he takes a moment to catch his breath. 

His ring is cool and foreign against the side of your face but you revel in it.

“Let them wait, honey.” 

Like a seagull he swoops and dives. He wraps his arms around you and turns you so that you feel you’re floating in air, untethered to anything but Marc. 

From outside, the sounds of the reception are drowned out. Marc’s leg bumps into one of your shoes and it falls down from the bench and onto the ground with a soft clatter. 

To you, they make just as much sound as a pebble would, falling into uncharted Atlantic waters.

Thanks for reading, if you liked it, please consider leaving some feedback! I don't usually respond, but I obsess and re-read reblogs and comments constantly.

Masterlist here, requests here.

[just-another-author-i-guess]

Hi!

i just wanted to know if your requests are open and if they are i wanted to request something with Judd birch x GN!reader like their in highschool together and known each other for years because of leah (your her bestfriend) and he kinda falls in love with the reader and only soft and fluffy around them, all fluff x

-Markus

Hi <3 my requests are open, I’m just bad at getting through them lol

Tags: Judd Birch x gn! Reader, very cute, very fluffy, Judd is emotionally constipated, sex references, this is a big mouth fanfic cmon, I also still don’t know how to write hormone monster dialogue, talk and mentions of masturbating? Idek man, I didn’t edit it through bc I’m lazy, I wrote this at 2 am

Authors note: hello! I hope you like this <3 I realized that I always write with fem! Readers in mind so this was a nice change, I hope it’s readable (: see you at the bottom lol

Word count: 1,8k words

Judd Birch is a simp:

It just sorta happened one day, like BAM he had fallen for you. Hard.

I mean, he saw you around all the time, at school or hanging out with Leah at his house so it took him a pretty long time to realize he liked you

Of course Maury had been by his side the whole time, telling him to do all sorts of lewd things to you but he never really took it seriously

To him you were still just the quiet little 12-year-old Leah befriended in 8th grade

Until you suddenly became so much more

Maury had been going on about how cute you were for a long time, but it wasn’t until your junior year that Judd started agreeing with his hormone monster

You had always annoyed him significantly less than all of his siblings other friends, so he tolerated having you around

You also never bothered him at school, unless Leah wanted him to drive the two of you home

It was the day after summer break, the start of yours and Leah’s junior year and Judd’s senior

He drove Leah to school and as soon as he parked, she basically threw herself out the van and ran towards someone

He slowly followed her across the parking lot, somewhat curious to see where she was going

She threw herself at someone, and it took him an embarrassingly long time to realize that it was you

But when he did, he was absolutely stunned. I mean, he straight up stopped in his tracks, mouth hanging slightly open

You had grown over the summer, seemingly both physically and mentally

You seemed so much more confident in yourself, and it seemed like you had found your own style too

He would never admit it in a million years, but he thought you looked really nice in your new clothes

‘Judd likes y/n! Judd likes y/n!’ Maury appeared behind him, mockingly singing about Judd’s newfound crush

Judd’s face morphed into a scowl, as he continued to ignore his hormone monster

‘C’mon man! I can see your little heart-boner from here! It’s obvious.’ Maury chuckled, pulling out a stethoscope and placing it over Judd’s heart, feeling his slightly increased heartbeat

“Oh, Judd! I’m surprised you actually showed up today,” You called to him, suddenly turning all your attention to the older teen

He quickly recovered from his shock, shoving Maury aside and putting on his usual stone-faced expression

The wind blew your hair out of your face as you walked towards him, and he had to admit.. you were quite easy on the eyes, and your voice sounded nice calling his name and-

He lost track of his thoughts when suddenly you were in front of him. ‘Here’s the plan. Ditch school, throw them into your van and plow them till you’re shooting blanks!’ Maury said, grabbing Judd’s arm and tucking him towards the van

Judd exhaled through clenched teeth, not even realizing he had been holding his breath as you walked up to him, Leah in tow

“Fuck off.” He scoffed, looking anywhere but your eyes. “Don’t you have to go help Leah with her gay ass theater group, or some shit?”

You grinned, unfazed by his foul attitude. “Alright, mr grumpy pants. I hope you had a nice summer though, it sucks I didn’t get to see you much.”

‘FUCK YEAH! THEY MISSED YOU?’ Maury yelled in victory, throwing a bottle of whiskey to the ground, shattering it loudly. ‘Hear that, judder-butter? My dick tells me you have a good chance with them,’ he purred.

Judd didn’t even notice Maury, face slowly flushing as he took in your words. Judd Birch was not one to blush, never had he been known to look anything but murderous, but suddenly his whole facade melted and turned bright red

He coughed. “Uh. Sure. It’s not like I have time to hang out with dumb ass kids anyways,” he muttered, painfully aware how both his ears and face was now bright pink

You crossed your arms over your chest. “You’re only a year older than me, dipshit.”

Despite the flush on his face, he still managed to look somewhat intimidating as he rolled his eyes and gave a low grunt. Just before he could clumsily come up with an answer, Leah pulled your arm

“C’mon y/n, we gotta go meet Daniel in the assembly hall,” she whined, causing Judd to finally pay attention to his younger sister and break his trance

“Go piss off to your gross theater group. I won’t pick you up, walk home nutsacks.” And with that, he walked off, leaving you and Leah in the parking lot

He finally relaxed as he rounded a corner, out of sight from you and Leah

‘NOOO! What was that? Get back over there and show them a better fucking time than whatever gangbang they’ve got going on in their theater group!’ Maury pleaded, throwing himself dramatically on the ground

‘Look! My little penis was so excited!’ Maury pulled a tiny penis out and held it in his hand, the creature giving Judd a disappointed sigh

Judd stopped walking, leaning against the brick wall he was walking past “Shut the fuck up.” He grunted, sending Maury a glare.

The hormone monster simply chuckled, unfazed by his anger. ‘But loook! How can you say no to such a cute little thing? He’s so sad, he’s getting all soft..” Maury stood up, shoving the little penis in Judd’s face. Sure enough, it was crying

Judd sighed deeply, thoughts of you flooding his brain. He leaned his head back against the walls, closing his eyes for a moment. “Fine.” He snapped. “Let’s go Jack off.”

Maury roared in victory, giving Judd’s shoulder a firm squeeze. “And this is why you’re my favorite, kid.”

After that, Judd started showing up to school significantly more

He started letting you sit in the front seat when he picked you and Leah up, actually leaving his room when you came over, going out of his way to do you small favors, ect

Let’s just say Leah caught on real quick

“You know Judd is totally into you, right?” She said one day, while you were sitting in her room, getting ready for a party

“Huh?” You said, too focused on smoothing out your clothes in the mirror to pay attention

“Judd. My brother. The psychopath. Future serial killer, he likes you.”

You paused, turning to look at her. She was lying on her back on the bed, head hanging down the side as she stared at you upside down. “No way. Judd hates everyone,” you said, searching her face for any signs that she was joking

She looked completely serious as she said: “Yes way. He’s a total simp. It’s almost cute, actually, like, in a deranged creepy kinda way,”

You scrunched up your nose, thinking back to your latest interaction with Judd. He didn’t seem that different, did he? There was that one time he got you free weed, multiple times were his raccoons escorted you places to make sure you were safe, not to mention all the car rides and-

“Oh my god.” You said, looking bewildered at Leah. She grinned, rolling around to lay on her stomach. “You know, I’ve never seen him not make threats at someone. You really did a number on him,” she giggled

Slowly, your face started to heat up and you turned away from your friend with a hand clasped over your mouth. “I mean, he’s always been nice to me- I just- I didn’t think it was a big deal?”

Leah got up off the bed. “Of course it’s a big deal! You even like all the same stuff! Have you seen the way he looks at you when you talk about horror movies? Or when he offered to lend you that one, uh, what’s it called? The game with zombies or something. But anyways, that’s, like the biggest deal ever!”

You hid your face in your hands, trying to conceal the large grin that spread across your face.

“But,” Leah continued and even if you weren’t looking at her, you could tell she was grinning too. “If you’re going to date, it better not interfere with the theater rehearsals,”

You huffed out a laugh, turning back to look at her. “I wouldn’t miss those hours of watching you flirt with Daniel for anything!”

Now it was Leah’s turn to blush, the conversation quickly moving on as she went into detail about whatever Daniel had done that day

After that, you finally started noticing Judd’s odd behavior

What he called flirting, some people would probably call kinda creepy, but you didn’t mind

You liked the stolen glances, how he got angry when he blushed, the quick touches and the long talks you would have about music and movies when Leah was doing something else

You also thought it quite funny how he could go from growling at his family, to looking at you with big puppy-dog eyes in mere seconds

He’s literally only like that to you, would never be soft in public either

You started having lots of movie nights, the guy always has a new low-budget gore-fest up his sleeve

But oh my god, he’ll get so soft if you fall asleep during a movie

Like, gently tucking you in under the blanket and cuddling up to you, he even trades his scowl in for a cute little content expression

Even if he just thinks you’re asleep, he’ll sometimes mutter a bunch of lovey-dovey stuff, don’t ever ask him about it tho bc he will deny it

I think I’ve said this in a previous hc, but high Judd is soft Judd

If you’re high and the mood is right, you could coax almost anything out of him

He’ll quietly say stuff like “you know I love you, right?” Or “I’m sorry I called you fuckface, I didn’t mean it. I actually really like looking at your face.”

On very, very rare occasions his family has caught him being soft

Like, you’re cuddling on the couch or something when Nick gets home from school

Or Leah catches him softly whisper to you while you sleep

She totally filmed it and uses it as blackmail.

“Drive me to rehearsals or everyone’s gonna see you being a simp for y/n” is the only threat that ever works on Judd

Anyways, he’s a good boyfriend but don’t expect him to be soft all the time

He is most of the time, but he also has quite the temper. If he ever says something truly mean to you, he’ll feel so bad about it though

He will beg Leah to talk to you if you’re mad at him

Don’t get fooled by his attitude, he’s so whipped for you

This was so cute (,: I love Judd

I also want to thank everyone for a 1000 followers! I’m really not that active and I honestly didn’t expect to reach a 1000 lmao

But I’m really grateful, thank you all so much for reading <3

I hope you enjoyed this too, tysm for requesting!

If you want to request more Judd stuff, or anything else please go to my profile.

Love, author

[wrongcaitlyn]

Do you have any headcanons for the canon pjoverse???

oh my GOD DO I?? I HAVE SO MANY it's hard to even keep track of them all bc tbh i forget which ones are canon or not canon

in general i've put a *lot* of my hc's into my fics, specifically my because i'm a mirrorball series which is basically my version of will's backstory (even though a large amount of it was disproved by tsats... i'm just ignoring that bc it's already engrained in my head even though i did enjoy tsats)

i also think i share quite a few of the popular hc's of the fandom, just because i'm actually pretty new to it (read the pjo series in like september of 2022 i think? and then hoo and toa immediately after) and i consume fandom content to an unhealthy extent

HOWEVER here are some things i feel very strongly about

will is a swiftie. i think this is canon bc rick mentioned it during the tsats book tour i think?? or maybe cotg?? not sure but i DO think he said it at some point

and also his favorite album is fearless like he's that album's number one stan im sorry there's no other answer

nico can cook like rlly well

LEO NICO AND WILL FRIENDSHIP i know that leo lives at the waystation now. but. BUT. i'd like to think that he'd visit chb every once in a while and they'd be pretty good friends

adding on to that, aroace leo. caleo what? nope. leo is aroace and he was in denial and i actually wrote a whole fic about it because i just feel very VERY strongly about this

i just love the idea that even before toa, apollo was more present in his kids' lives than other gods. like, showing up in dreams and stuff. even if it came from a different purpose, like wanting to show off his poetry or music or whatever, he wasn't completely absent from their lives

i very much like the idea of will and nico sort of stepping up to be the "leaders"-ish of chb once percabeth leave for new rome. i mean, will already sort of is one with him being the head medic and also having seniority over a lot of the campers, and nico being a child of the big three like percy

percabeth returning to chb to create a sort of new rome type place for older demigods to live!! so they do not feel like they're going to die young immediately when arriving!!! bc they are children!! and deserve to live long lives!!!

i have a *lot* of thoughts about will and his trauma, but one of the main things i believe about him is that his fatal flaw is putting others before him and overworking himself. i think that being pushed into the head medic position from such a young age sort of emphasized this, though i also think (from my ideas of his childhood) that he was kind of always taught to put other people and other jobs at a higher priority than himself

nico dies first. i know i was just talking about them living long lives and i think that ends up being true, but also nico is a demigod child of hades and i think around his 30s would already be way longer than anyone would expect. anyway, i think that he dies first, simply because i cannot put that boy through any more, and i know i could say the same thing about will after having lost so much as well, but i think that the idea of nico being right at the entrance of the underworld by the river styx to welcome will once he dies (bc nico's the ghost king/prince of the underworld and isn't confined to elysium) is a very comforting thought

those are the main things i can think of right now just off the top of my head, but if there's any specific parts of canonverse that you'd like my thoughts about, feel free to ask! this didn't really cover a lot of like the general pjo/hoo timeline and it was mainly solangelo centric but likeee these are just things i thought of first! thank u for the ask!!

[bellaramseysgf]

Home Late (E.M)

Warning(s); Smut 18+ only!, slight dub/noncon,controlling!eddie,spanking,mentions of his rings,praise kink,Eddie covers readers mouth with his hand,brief mention of drugging,insinuated to readers mom being a cougar,one threat of using a paddle.

Pairing(s); Stepdad!Eddie Munson x Afab!Stepdaughter!Reader.

Summary; You come home late and your stepdad take it upon himself to punish you.

A/n; this is the longest Fic I’ve wrote in awhile. It’s also very dear to my heart bc of how much effort I put into it. Please enjoy!!💕

You weren’t one to not follow rules. Whatever your mom said you did. Don’t talk to strangers, don’t eat ice cream for breakfast, make sure you do your chores. It was easy stuff to follow,really that was until he came along.

It was definitely weird seeing your mom date someone less then 5 years older then you. However,she was happy and that was the end of it you assumed. Until this dumbass asked her to marry him and decided to come in and reck your whole life.

He set new rules,changed your garage into some dnd meeting place,wouldn’t let your younger siblings watch tv past 7 and now you had a curfew of 11pm.

It pissed you off how your mom was just okay with it,she just let him come in a rule your world. Now,you were 21 and still living at home.

You still saw yourself as an adult, you work, you help pay for groceries or bills if need be,you were apart of this household. Yet he makes all the rules end of discussion.

You were doing this just to spite him really, just to see that stupid look on his face when he realizes you came home late.

Both Eddie and your mom always went to bed around 11:30, so you coming back at 1am should be just enough time that they’re both sound asleep.

You pushed your key in the lock and turned it as quietly as you could. You stopped to pull your heels off as well so that they wouldn’t clack on the floor.

The house was quiet,no lights on. You made your way to the stairs before a light flicked on and you jumped.

“Just where the hell were you?” You knew before you even turned around it wasn’t your mom who was waiting on you. “None ya.” You stated plainly turning to look at him. “2 hours past curfew, just what were you thinking?” You shrugged “I just lost track of time. I’ll clean something tomorrow to apologize.” “No, I think this needs to be handled a different way.” You raised your brow at him.

Eddie knew you were doing it to upset him, just because it took the man 3 years to finish highschool doesn’t make him stupid. You knew exactly what you were doing.

Eddie beckoned you over with his finger “what” you said annoyed and you walked to meet him in the living room.

You let out a gasp when you were thrown over his legs. “Eddie what the fuck” you were met with his hand pressing over your mouth. “Shut the fuck up. For once.” His open hand bunched your dress up until he saw your cute little cherry printed panties. “You’re so damn annoying.” He said and you gasped when a smack landed on your ass.

You mumbled curses into his hand and started to squirm. “Stay still before I get my paddle” his tone sent delicate shivers through your body. You stopped your squirming and were met with a “good girl” you choked back the whine that wanted to come out at his praise.

“You never want listen.” Smack. “Just so bitchy” smack. “You’re so disrespectful” smack. “You never listen to any rules” smack. “You think you can get away with it?” Smack. “No, you can’t.” Smack. “I’m so tired of your attitude” smack. “Someone needed to remind you of your place.” Smack.

You were in tears. The rings in his fingers leaving defined outlines more then likely. Your ass stung and you wanted to get up and run away before he could realize how wet you’d gotten.

“I bet I know something that’ll help with that attitude.” He said and used his open hand to undo his belt. “If I move my hand you be Fucking quiet.” He demanded and you nodded. He let you up as he worked his pants and boxers off. He wasn’t fully hard but he was almost there, the size of him made your pussy clinch around nothing.

“Panties, give them.” He held out his hand and waited patiently until you handed him the fabric. “You’re gonna sit still until I decide” he informed as he tugged you into his lap. “What..what about my mom?” Youvasked and he chuckled “don’t worry, I made sure she’d stay asleep.” You shivered.

Was he insane? Did he actually drug your mom? Why did that turn you on even more.

Eddie lifted your hips and lined himself up before bottoming out inside you. “Stay still and be a good girl.” He said and you nodded.

After long your eyes got heavy from the nights events. All the dancing you’d done catching up on you’re body,the aches sat in and your eyes became heavy. You let your body slump down into Eddie’s chest.”

“Sleepy?” He asked and you nodded “now you know why I’ve you come home.” He smarted off and you just nodded not having the brain capacity to snap back. “Wanna go to bed?” He asked and you shook your head. “No? Why not?” He asked and you answered with a roll of your hips which wasn’t a good idea, you were met with a slap on your ass afterwords.

“Use your words.” His tone was scolding and you let out a shaky breath “what about this?” You whispered and Eddie chuckled.

“Darling,when did I say I was gonna fuck you?”

[anatrik]

First thoughts TTPD:

What a lana x folklore girlie win this issss!

1.Fortnight is about matty?? HAHAHAHA also why did this make me think of when holt was going running with the ladies when he was in witness protection??? Crying. Fav line has to be they were supposed to take me away but they forgot to come and get me. So sad but also so cool in relation to her cancellation/return. 10/10

2. TTPD- not so hahahaha anymore IS THIS ACTUALLY A FUCKING MATTY HEALY ALBUM??? There was a typewriter at the 1975 show she performed anti-hero at? Unless its somehow about harry? Who else is tattooed on her roster??? Or is this about herself? Kinda feel like modern idiots/who’s going to decode is directed at us lol😂 9/10?

3.My boy only breaks his favourite toys- went in expecting mad woman rage. Pleasantly surprised. king of my heart to queen of sandcastles he destroys….DESTROYED ME. Are you fucking kidding me rn? Im caling it. Best song. Im crying at 7.30 am this is not funny anymore. Also THANK YOU FOR NOT SLANDERING DAD. I knew you wouldnt let us down like that. Also the chorus sounds like long story short😭 oh this is so sad. Once i fix me hes going to miss me? He was my best friend?😭 he runs because he loves me? Stopp😭😭 1000000/10

4.Down bad- ….aaaand we’re back to MATTY AGAIN? He does not deserve this spotlight but why are all the song so goood😭😭😭 is this why artists love to date problematic men? It unlocks some extraordinary potential? Crazy crazy girl😭 also stay down (bad) 🤌🏾 shes done it again 10/10 also for personal reasons i will be believing this is about joe in that Tom/Joe/met gala overlap period when she was photographed going to the gym a lot and that this is about all that yearning please let it be about that plesplesplesplesplesples also down bad waking up in blood staring at the sky…like i lost a twin is giving bigger than the whole sky🥺

5. So long, london- so so long long, lon-don DONE? ok miss girl😭 the hoax parallels😭 dont be undoing the song i was going to play at my weddddding what is wrong with you😭 my only one my smoking gun to two graves one gun youll find someone??? Also reminds me of la la land :/ how much sad did you think I had in me? You wrote hoax so a lot ok leave us alone. crying again. 10000000000000000/10 oh lol its a track 5 ofc it is😂

6. But daddy I love him- she really said if you ever liked, shared or even LOOKED at the ‘vivaa las vegas’ memes you cant come to the wedding and shes so real for it. Lfgggg. Ubothered unhinged uhmazing. Growing up precocious sometimes means you still hold on to that princess/quarterback wattpad fantasy AS IS YOUR RIGHT QUEEN GO THE FUCK OFF🥳 100000/10 calling out toxic fandom for the first time and we love to see it🫡 this is suchhhh a happy songggg you deserve ALL the chaos and revelry.

7. Fresh out the slammer- god she gets it. Like sure he was great and he is still my biological father and everything but as a decidedly melancholy person myself who has constantly had atleast one close friend in a deep depression I can see how all that heavy lifting can just get heavy at some point especially when youre a partner and their sole lighthouse in wtv storms be out there buffeting their mental health. Its not for everyone and thats so fair and so valid but so sad as well. 10/10 for the honesty.

8. Florida- she really said girlrot summer🫡 this is the lanaest song ever. So lucky one/nothing new coded. This will be the First song I repeat and then so long london. Aaaghhh how i love a self aware melancholic anxious little superstar. 90283749292/10 thank you for giving florence an entire verse whew. Little did you know your home’s really only a town you’re just a guest in is soooo going on my body forever

9. Guilty as sin?- honestly just fuck if it means we dont have to hear about how desirable ratty healy is man ffs. IThe only reason he looks so hot is bc hes forbidden. You have to trust me on this. He’s sooo mid JESUS. U cant be writing hozier lyrics about a man that hasn’t met a shower😭 1000000/10 writing. -16392992/10 content. Unrequited love/lust truly is the greatest weapon in a poets arsenal bc where is this energy in the joe songs binch?😭 this is such a teen in love with a 26 yo creep who called me so mature for my age mom you just dont get ittt anthem😂😂

10. Who’s afraid of little old me?- is a warning 😂 im so here for it. Like yes I still hate matty with all my heart and soul but yes I agree fans should not be allowed so much of an opinion on another persons life and yes I should be afraid (I am). She said aight love letter era over I AM WRITING YOU ALL HATE MAIL AND I’M HAND DELIVERING IT. Shes sooo done pretending to be the relatable girl next door when she’s anything but and is now reminding us of it and yes yes yessss girl OWN ITTTTTTTT. I’ve been saying for agesssss that there is a darkness under all that sunshine from where she clawed her way to the top and this is sooo vindicating. 10000000000000/10 favourite song ever. Mad woman wishes she was who’s afraid of little old me. I am unwell. I am in love. This is the Taylor Swift i stan. The marketing genius the calculating business woman the puppet master with narcotics in her songs thats why we sing along🫡 she so can handle a dangerous man

11. I can fix him (no really I can)- you cant.

12. loml- ofc. OFC. Its the saddest song of all time. OFC. Fuck offf ughhhh. 😭😭😭😭😭 its giving happiness. Its giving divorce. i am a child of a broken home now and my parents still love each other and hold so much regret still. What do i do with thissss? Im just a little girl taylorrr! 1002380292011010101/10 soo so gooood.

13. I can do it with a broken heart- first of all track 13. Love it. Second of all the upbeat barbieness of it all. Third of all I FINALLY PLACED IT. Shes in her unrelatable era. She is not your girl next door. You will never understand her life. She is as much a phenomenon as a person and we literally only see as much as she allows us to and honestly if i have to get put in my place theres noooo better way to have it done. Im having such a great time actually. 10 BILLION TRILLION OUT OF 10 you tellll em girl you FUCKING TELL EM.

14. Smallest man who ever lived- not going to speculate on who it is bc they clearly had a serious problem and its not a joke but damn :/ thats so sad :/ hope they get help? Didnt expect this to be what the song was about at all?

15. The alchemy- she said TRAVIS IS MY BOY WITH HER WHOLE CHEST😌 10/10

16. Clara bow- did she just name drop herself ? I was so right about unrelatable era. Also the Subtle nod to olivia/sabrina noted and appreciated. Lucky one/castles crumbling (mature version) fr fr. Solid legacy song.

17. The black dog- shared your secrets with and location is the same whiplash as a red rose grew up out of ice frozen ground with no one around to tweet it🤌🏾 joe songs hit so so different 😭😭😭 1000000000/10

18. imgonnagetyouback- the valiant roar was not so valiant and more of a mew i guess. 7/10

19. The albatross- oh this is the ONE. The album defining song for sureeee. Mad woman on coke. A rose by any other name is a scandal???? Thats my religion right there. Little last great American dynasty twist there at the end! Fuck yea. She does reallly try to warn the men in her life have to give her that. One gazillion/10

20. Clearly god has favourites and they are the ppl called chloe or sam or sophia or marcus😭 ALSO this song is about joe for sure. The internet starlet hasss to be delaney rowe!!!! It HAS TO BE. 10/10

21. How did it end?- shes back for the fans😂 plot twist the breakup is with yall🤌🏾 but yesss say it louder! One gasp and then how did it end. So good. 100/10

22. So high school- lmao aristotle grand theft auto ONLYY taylor swift man😭😂 you know what you want and boy you got her🫡🫡 11/10

23. I hate it here- mother’s having a mental breakdown kids yk the drill🤌🏾 10/10

24. ThanK you aIMiee- what better way to say fuck you to a hater than to thank her for jumpstarting your legacy my god!!! She is insane for this. The capitalisation is a bit petty tho ngl. 8/10

25. I look in peoples windows- once again I thank you for the kindness and respect shown to joe. Never doubted you but thank you nevertheless. 10/10 short as nice to have a friend but it didnt need to be longer.

26. The prophecy- its so sad and humbling to see even a woman at where she is having to beg for love bc that literally is the nature of love. Something humiliating, to have to beg for 🤷‍♀️ cards playing out like fools in a fable cursed like eve got bitten. No one writes like her damn. 10/10

27. Cassandra- very madeline miller on this one. Love love loveee modern takes on tragic greek women. 100/10

28. Peter- ah fuck. This one is going to hurt (it did). 1000000/10 my ribs get the feeling she did😭 all her joe related aches are so bone deeeep ugh. Promises oceans deep but never to keep😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 oh god it hurtsss it hurts it hurtss

29. The bolter- curious child ever reviled except by her father wow.

30. Robin- OMG! I needed this song growing up sooo bad. That way to go tiger felt so so warm like running into a kitchen after a day of being in the mud and u tell ur mum the silly things u did and shes genuinely interested and impressed by your smol victories. A bajillion/10

31. The manuscript- postmortem of every ex ever🤌🏾 love it.

[thana-topsy]

If you're up for sharing more writing tips, how can I tell if what I've written is actually any good? With writing I get stuck in a cycle of feeling like I'm the next Shakespeare while writing but then I'll look over my work a few days later and absolutely hate everything and think it's the most cringe shit ever, then I'll leave it a bit longer and think eh it's not as bad as I thought but still not great and so on. I feel like being forced to write for a grade during school and having everything be marked and assessed and assigned a particular value has robbed me of the ability to critically analyse my own work in a way that's objective and accurate but also fair and realistic. I can analyse other peoples' stuff till the cows come home but I lose all rational thought when it comes to my own stuff

Adding onto that, how do I get to the point where I can stop looking back at my old work and hating everything and wanting to delete it all? Realistically I know finding fault with my old stuff is good bc it means I've grown and improved from where I once was etc but at the same time I wanna enjoy stuff I've made in the past without cringing every time I read it

Hey there Nony, I wanted to let this one percolate a little bit before answering because I've been where you are. And it's a rough time for sure. But aside from my own experiences, I also wanted to get the opinions of some of my writerly friends in the fandom, too, since everyone is a little font of wisdom in their own right.

So I'm going to share their advice alongside my own, because this is kind of a complicated string of questions you're asking. Long post ahead!

@paraparadigm says to Keep Writing: "Write more. Write so much (and so many different things) that eventually the sheer volume bulldozes over self-devouring ego, comparison twitches, or feeling lost, because you don't yet know your own baseline. Coupled with "read more, read everything, read things you enjoy and things you don't, read for the craft as much as the entertainment." And: "I'd add that when revisiting old writing, it's helpful for me to differentiate between "ew the writing is not as technically solid as it is now" and "ah that's interesting, I guess that's where I was at then, emotionally and psychologically". Old writing is also a sort of archaeological record of your younger self, and that can, in fact, be a bit itchy to revisit, so learning to cherish that without passing judgement can be really helpful. I try to treat it like those little marks one puts on the door jamb to track a kid's height."

@mareenavee says "Part of it is writing more, as Para said and I will always second that. Another part is, honestly, the hardest part. It's to try very hard to get out of the habit of negative self-talk.... There's so much work involved with this but normalizing being proud of your work and having some grace with yourself is part of that answer."

@archangelsunited says "Early on, instead of going “this has to be a masterpiece” I would tell myself my only job was to tell a story. I couldn’t tell a story if I was deleting it. Also, talking about your work helps. The less ashamed I was of my writing, the more people wanted to read it. There is a need to hide your work, and that can lead to a downward spiral all its own. And, 90% of the time, you have to suck at something to learn to be good at something. The work you already wrote shouldn’t be the sum of all your skill, it should be one of those measuring sticks for the moment. Despite previous thought, you won’t be stuck at the same level forever."

@polypolymorph says "In addition to accumulating experience via reading and writing, you also have to be willing to reinvent the wheel. Unfortunately the Process™️ is unique to everyone, and even when you are deliberately mimicking a voice as, say, a ghost writer, you can't expect that 2+2=4 for you. Your process might look more like a Lotka-Volterra equation for the same type of work and that's okay. Trial and error is the best way to figure out what advice actually works for you--and if it doesn't, it doesn't mean you're wrong. Don't get stuck on pop writing advice like a sad roomba does on an upturned rug. Learn when to throw it out."

So there's some advice from some other excellent writers! I hope you've been able to find some value in their advice, because it certainly kicked me in the pants a few times.

As for me, I think, having been where you are, my biggest piece of advice is: Find joy in the craft. Get curious instead of critical. An artist shouldn't down themselves over a rough sketch when they're working out a drawing, so why would a writer do such a thing? Everything you write is practice. Everything you make has value because it builds up to the next thing you make.

At the end of the day, you are the only one who is capable of telling the stories that are in your head. This fact alone gives whatever you put onto paper value, regardless of quality. You are creating magic, in the most literal sense! Creating something out of nothing, conjuring images into someone else's mind from hundreds of thousands of miles away, transcending space and time. It's amazing!

Lastly, my final piece of advice is to just write for fun. Write things nobody else will ever see just because you wanted to get words onto paper. You have to unlearn what was drilled into you in school. You are more than a content creation machine. You are an artist, a wordsmith. And just know that there will never be a day when you look at your own work and say "That's it, I have achieved perfection."

Writing is a life-long journey. Just enjoy the ride!

[jovenshires]

Hey so remember that band au

Do you have any brainrot scraps I could eat

i dont have anything like Publishable but yeah absolutely i got some scraps!! here is the tag for anyone seeing this and is like. What is she Talking about LNDFNFNLK

here is a quick social media edit for the chosen that i ended up not using in the overall edit

i dont think i've revealed who explicitly is in what band yet so have a fun lil guessing game as i give you a sneak peak at ftc's tracklist ! (easy mode xoxo)

and as a bonus some random headcanons under the cut bc why not:

courtney and spencer are long-time childhood friends, and they've been making music together since they were like. 7 and 11 respectively. spencer met shayne and damien in college and they've been in a band ever since!!

if you walk into any of the dressing rooms of every member of the chosen, they are listening to such different music to get ready it would actually make your heads spin. out of their botb fellow contestants, damien is most likely to listen to conventry (bc he's literally never been wrong), courtney is bumping kolivition, spencer is playing some classic smosh, and shayne is listening to ftc!!

i have in my brain what all of the songs are like. About ya know. so for example damien did the backing vocals for augustus and i have this idea in my brain that like. augustus IS this universe's manifestation of the character augustus. so like i think all of the chosen has a hand in writing the songs and damien co-wrote this one and it's just like. about a lonely lost kid who's awkward and doesn't fit in. like obviously it's a much less joking interpretation and more of a serious one but anyway it's still about him. is this making sense? i have No idea anymore!

courtney has also done some co-/backing vocals, and is the most likely to be featured on a track! she's featured on nuclear rain, and she also does a fun lil harmony for 'shoot dood.' shayne is the only one that has not sung and their fans keep begging but he REFUSES

'down bad' is their first like... love song? although it's technically just about how embarrassing being vulnerable and being in love are. smth smth the overwhelming ordeal of loving someone.

anyway it also opens with a snippet of a voicemail from kiana to spencer (probably from like years ago not about anything relevant) telling him to 'get up girl'. kiana is Not here for the fame, in fact she would rather no one knew who she was but unfortunately life be like this. after the ep drops the media goes fucking Nuts with rumors of whether or not they're dating.

they have fans who love the whole band but the amount of damien girls is of course insane. the other three mock him relentlessly for it. there is an entire instagram dedicated to updates about his hair.

lisa has put spencer on twitter timeout several times especially from the band's twitter bc he is Terrible for publicity. the order of worst to best for tweeting are: spencer, shayne, courtney, and damien

courtney takes selfies at EVERY live show they do; they have a collage of them as their phone background!!

as soon as courtney hears jackie is gonna be one of the judges for botb. hyperventilating. she loses her god damn mind. THE jacklyn uweh? famous recording artist? that's her shower sing-along playlist. lisa has explicitly banned them from any fangirling until the battle is Over

"up & coming" is like a netflix reality show about small bands really trying to make it, and they were featured after kiana got in contact with the showrunner. it basically followed them as they made their third ep and interviewed them and people they know. it's very much a 'before they were famous moment.'

damien bet shayne $20 that he wouldn't stare into the camera in every single shot. shayne committed to the bit. no one said anything and they kept every single shot in and NO ONE knows why.

[remedyturtles]

death wish facts/stats

entirely complied for my own amusement lol

first of all, this is how long i was actually working on death wish, saved in 5k increments:

now i didn't track my stats for the whole time but here's an example of how much that translates to daily writing. this is some of july:

here's the final count from my word doc. i do my final edit in the ao3 browser so i guess some got cut:

here's the stats of my planning doc:

whatever you're imagining my planning doc to look like, it's probably not that. it's kinda a huge mess, actually. i've shuffled things around constantly bc i boot the 'used' plot points into a giant pile and they get all messed up. it's a shame i didn't save more versions of this honestly bc it probably would've been fascinating. behold the inside of my brain:

to go even further back, mid-may i was left alone at work for like two hours to do a course and ended up scribbling the FIRST ideas i had for death wish on a piece of paper. whited out are unused/irrelevant things:

wild to me to realize which of those lines were literally from my absolute first thoughts of this fic LMAO

at one point i had to track how many days it had been in-story since the invasion bc i lost count. by the end of the fic i believe it had been 25 days, with 10 days at the beginning of leo being not-present. so 155k for 15 days hahahahahaha

i made a death wish playlist at one point and listened to it non-stop while writing. here it is:

it's all so incredibly loud and rosyln were on repeat for the iconic chapter 29 and it makes me so emotional

however then for chapter 30 for some reason my brain only wanted the kim possible theme song on repeat. you know how it is.

when i first decided on most plot points and began writing i said to someone it would probably be like 100-150k. i was right, though i'm surprised to be on the top end for sure. i would not expect this again, it was definitely a perfect storm. i normally do like ~40-80k.

i knew exactly how the fic would end before i wrote a single word. as much as i love and there is a place for wish fulfillment (eg future!donnie gets to come back, sensei gets his own body) my thing was that i knew people reading it would relate to the story. and i want to have... hopeful realism? like, if you have experienced grief and you related to sensei, i don't want to say 'haha your loved ones are actually alive!!!' ... i want to say, bad things happen, you will find other reasons to live. and for anyone who related to sensei and leo's situation (eg DID) i felt like magically giving sensei a body wouldn't be fair, bc that won't happen. instead they can work together and get through. if that makes sense LMAO

i have three side fics planned atm. two of them will be probably 2-5k each, the third will be like... idk. 15k? i haven't started yet i promise i'm still taking a rest hahahaha

thanks for reading hah