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unbearableblog · 5 months

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My Christmas gift for you.

Messages (Carmen Berzatto x reader)

Summary Carmy’s actions towards the reader might eventually lead to consequences.

Word count ~2,8k

Warnings 18+, No use of Y/N (there is rarely a name but it’s just for aesthetics, you are welcome to insert your own name), action set in S2 so possible spoilers, cursing, angst, relationship problems, possible mentions of smut

A/N God this took a lot from me! Legit flew to Copenhagen haha. I am very grateful to each and every one of you who read, liked, commented or reposted and supported this! I would never think that this would happen. I hope you’re not going to crucify me over the plot. Thank you so much for waiting!

Merry Christmas everyone!

Chapter 1 (the one with departure, Denmark, and desserts)

Things were a little different at the Beef lately.

“Richie, shut the fuck up!”

“You first, child!”

Well, maybe not so different. But they certainly were different with you. Amongst the neverending screaming, cursing, and fighting, you somehow survived getting shot at, losing the power, dealing with the IRS, and everything else that constantly went wrong with this cursed place. The amount of experience you had in this short amount of time has topped anything you've done before. You couldn't catch your breath. But that's what you do for the ones you love, right?

It's been some time since you started helping Carmen with the Beef - serving the customers on a particularly busy day, calming down Carmen, sometimes giving Richie a pep talk when he needed to keep his shit together. But mostly you just chatted with Sydney and sat in the kitchen, doing your college assignments while watching Carmen work. You could never get tired of it - he looked so professional and smart. It was his element. Well, when everything was going well.

The entire time, you were there, talking to Carmen as he prepped for the day, giving him a smile and getting one back, just watching him go on about his day and move so swiftly like a well-oiled machine. Seeing him in an apron drove you wild. You'd have to stop yourself from going up to him and touching his god-given curls or rubbing his back through his white T-shirt (but more often you failed to do so). Most of the days you patiently waited to go home and show him everything that was on your mind all day.

One time he caught you staring, mind far away from the Beef. His voice brought you back.

“Are you thinking about my fingers again?” He said while putting his arms at his hips, almost offended.

You bit your lip and looked at him with a guilty smile.

His hand went up to brush through his curls.

“You’re not gonna get any work done if you keep thinking about that. And with the way you look at me, can say the same thing about myself.”

You whine and playfully pout, not wanting to keep studying.

“Come on, princess,” he comes closer to you and whispers in your ear so that his whole voice goes through your body and his lips brush your ear “And when we get home you can tell me all about it while you sit on my ‘pretty’ cock”

Sometimes he would explain what he was doing or why things weren't going the way they were supposed to, sometimes you would share something you found fascinating in your assignment. He would always listen, even if he didn't fully understand, but you knew he was trying to. It made you feel so special - you got the whole attention of this hot 3 Michelin star chef, covered in tattoos and buff, but he looked at you with such care and softness. His muscular arms touched and wrapped around you with strong tenderness and appreciation. Sometimes you saw the same attention to the details in the food he was making - he really cared.

Everything changed after the Beef closed down.

Carmen was a little taken aback when you told him you were going to Copenhagen with Marcus. You were at the restaurant, like any other day, figuring out a thousand things that were wrong before the opening, when you heard Denmark being mentioned amongst the guys.

“Someone's going to Denmark?” you asked, turning around on your chair.

“Marcus is,” Carmen brushed off, and continued having his conversation with him.

“Wait, to Copenhagen? Why?” you felt ignored.

“Uhh, to learn everything about desserts,” Marcus answered. Carmen didn't even look in your direction.

“When? Why didn't you tell me?” you sounded excited because you were, but your heart felt like it was placed into an iron cage. Carmen knew how much that city meant to you, and to not even mention that your friend was going there felt neglectful. But maybe you were overreacting - he was probably busy, he doesn't have to tell you everything, and it surely wasn't for long anyway.

Berzatto shrugged his shoulders. “Why? It's just for some time.”

“I was actually thinking about going there too. I haven't seen my sister in a while. Maybe we could fly together? I know everything there,” you were ready to help Marcus as a bonus. You really appreciated him as a friend, and returning the favor for all those delicious pastries he made at your request would be terrific. You could also use a fucking break from Chiberia.

“For real? That would be awesome!” Marcus exclaimed with his arms, his smile releasing your heart from its prison.

“Uhh… yeah-yeah, sure, I guess,” Carmen squinted his eyes and rubbed his forehead. “I- uhhh, have to go out for a minute. Umm,” he swallowed “-meet that rep for me, yeah?”

An entire work shift of flying has gone by the time you started seeing the bronze-roofed houses sprinkled like decorations on a Red Velvet cake. You made Marcus promise you not to judge the country by its airport, as it usually was surprisingly dirty. Nevertheless, there were hints of what life there was like - a burst of energy, culture, and flavour. You walked what seemed like forever through the endless white halls with blue sections, wondering how many times Carmen had been here and whether you ever crossed paths. You kind of wished he was there. Your excitement rubbed off on your friend - Marcus was beaming with happiness, anticipating your time there. He knew it was going to be life-changing.

The moment you went outside felt like you could breathe again. The weight of The Beef, Carmen, stress, problems problems problems dropped off, was left behind, and never got on the plane. Your chest wasn't encircled by snakes that only pushed until you suffocated. Your mind was clear.

You helped Marcus settle in his awesome boat, and after reading the owner's note to "keep the water in Coco's bowl", searched for the cat for like 20 minutes. Unfortunately, your efforts were fruitless.

Marcus only let you go back alone because you assured him of your safety (you gave him a speech about how it wasn't like Chicago) and experience. Still, he made you text him when you got to your sister's. The two of you were always trying to make your relationship work, but the distance didn't make it easy. That did not mean that you were going to give up - you were used to making a lot of effort for the people you love. She was ecstatic and grateful to see her little sister. The rest of the evening was spent eating, sharing your lives, and talking about your mysterious boyfriend.

“I don’t know, he’s just so… distant. He always leaves somewhere, does god knows what when he knows we don’t have much time! Sometimes it feels like I care about the restaurant more than him. Which is so weird because he was so into it before! He planned the whole thing! And I am so fucking stressed from it all! I never even wanted to work in a restaurant but I was there for him!” you expressed your pain very loudly.

“Have you thought of… breaking up with him?”

You exhale and almost completely give up mentally.

“I don’t know… it feels like we don’t have much of a relationship at all anymore. We don’t go out, all the time is spent on the opening. I swear sometimes I’m there just for our friends and his sister, I can’t just leave them without help while he’s wandering somewhere”.

You couldn’t sleep because being in bed without Carmy by your side felt plain wrong. You were also jetlagged which meant that the peaceful world of Morpheus was avoiding you like a plague. The same thing happened to Marcus, so you both were just texting about what you were doing.

“idk, i gave up and went to get some tea” you typed, a warm mug in your hand as you cozied up on the couch with a blanket.

“yeah, same shit here. bout time to get ready anyway”

Your whole house was asleep, and probably would be so for a while. It was too dark to go out for your liking. Boredom kind of crept in.

“what is it exactly u're gonna do there?”

“uhhh i wish i knew. make some things from the pics i showed u i guess”

“can i watch?” Was it too much of a request? Who even knows if you'll be allowed there?

“yeah i think so. i'd love to not have to do this alone”

You smile, finish your tea, and get up to find some clothes.

You finally reached the place and were met by a tall man in an apron. He introduced himself as Luca, and you heard a very sultry voice softened by an accent. You wondered where he was from.

“I'm Chef Marcus. That's Liv. Is it cool if she just hangs around and watches me?”

“Hi,” you smile at him.

“Hello. You could also join in. What kind of a chef are you?”

“Oh I'm not, I'm -”

“Well, with the amount of time Liv spends in our kitchen listening to every word of the CDC, I'd say she might as well be a chef by now,” Marcus only half-jokes. You give him a look anyway.

Luca prepared everything and soon he and Marcus were working. You were sitting on the other side of the table, able to see everything. Only now you were starting to notice how strong he was, you have to be, you thought, if you stay on your feet all day. His arms were also covered in tattoos that didn't seem to make sense, like Carmy's.

“So who are you?” Luca's question doesn't sound rude, just curious.

“I'm his boss' girlfriend,” you nod as you speak.

“Wow,” he seems to be thinking something, but maybe it's just him being focused on putting the peanuts on dessert, “What are you doing here?”

“Uhh, visiting my sister? It was time and I thought Marcus here could use someone to show him around. As for here, I was really jetlagged and bored.”

Luca was amazing. The way he coached Marcus even when he made mistakes was consistently calm, stern, and leading. Not once did any of you feel berated or hear his voice go louder, all you knew was to just try again. His entire presence excreted stability and equilibrium.

After an extensive lesson, it was Marcus' turn to try. All of you leaned closer to the dessert in hopes of seeing more. You held your breath as you watched Marcus carefully place a tiny piece in the clockwise direction of the dessert when in the blurred background of your vision you felt something change. Instinctively, you looked up from the dish, and your eyes met the gaze of your friend's teacher. There he was, almost lying on the table, looking at you. As if he wasn't busy right now. As if the dessert didn't matter. Hypnotized. “Got it!” Marcus smiled and stood straight up. “Great job, chef,” Luca switched back to Marcus.

Suddenly a firework of spice embraced you in its scent, making your head go round from the all-encompassing desire to taste it.

“Oh my god, are those cinnamon buns?” you had to put your hands on the counter to keep yourself up. “Yeah,” Luca stood straight. “You like them?” “They smell amazing!” you could swear you saw a quick prideful smile brush Luca's lips.

“They are her favourite. And she's very specific about'em too,” Marcus threw you under the bus.

Luca seems interested. “In what way?”

“I'm not, okay? I just believe that cinnamon buns should have a lot of sugar and cinnamon, or else they're just buns. There was this place near the park, and the pastry they sold was like 90% dough. I didn't like that at all” you defend yourself, and Marcus scoffs, having heard you rant about it many times at The Beef.

“Abomination,” Luca shakes his head.

“Exactly! I love it when there is so much sugar that it's oozing out, that's how it'd supposed to be.”

Your lighthearted banter somehow led to Luca opening up and talking about his life and experience. He also shared a couple of stories about determination, his acceptance of not being the best, and some of his failures. Soon all of you were joking around and laughing at your pasts. You felt your heart warm up to him and thought that leaving the house was a good idea.

Marcus stepped outside to check on his mom. He called her sitter as often as he could, and every time you hoped that everything would be alright. Luca was silently doing his work, kneading some dough. It was a demanding process, but so meditative, and you couldn't help but float away watching his big hands grab and squeeze the smooth dough, throwing it back onto the table occasionally, his long fingers dug into it, leaving an impression. “So where is he now?” you ask. “Who?” “The chef who was better than you. Where is he now?” you wondered if Carmen knew him or told you about him. “Well, you tell me. Apparently, opening up a new restaurant,” the chef said, as he threw a careless nod in your direction. Huh? Your heart drops. What? You let out a nervous scoff. “You're saying it was… Carmen??” Your question was met with a simple nod as he kept working. “Carmen Berzatto, the chef that was better than you at everything?” you almost spell out. Luca just takes his eyes off the dough and watches your reaction. He is also confused. “God, he really is the best?” the question sounds more like an exhale. “People keep saying it, but I guess I didn't realize” you sit down, defeated, and stare off. Your mind keeps pacing - what happened to Carmen? How did he go from being the best to being a yelling mess of chaos? Why is someone who looked up to him so calm and collected but still successful? Why can't he be like that? “You sound surprised. What, he doesn't feel like it?” He asks while kneading the dough, this time slower and a little softer. You look at him, then shake your head away and look down. You want to tell him everything about the way Carmen treats you, and how different that is from what your beginning used to be, how he doesn't appreciate you even though you spent so much time in and on The Beef, and how unfair that is, and have his deep voice tell you the answer, but you can't. That would be weird. Luca notices your hesitation. “You know, when we worked together, he would often be… difficult,” there is a pause after he says it because he is reading your face, trying to understand if he's walking on thin ice. He isn't, so he continues. “Partly why I didn't become better than him was because he wouldn't let me.” “Yeah, he shared something like that.” His brows went a little higher, and his grip on the dough hardened and stayed there. “My point is, being with a person like that can't be easy. Man, we only worked together and I already wanted to smother him, can't imagine being in a bloody relationship,” his smile makes you laugh and for a second you forget every bad thing in the world.

Later that day you wanted to call Carmen. “Carm, you free?” You wished to tell him everything - how much you loved the city, how nice his friend was, the fun you were having, and how good this was for you. Kinda wanted to beat his ass for being so mean to Luca too. “not rn, Liv, busy”

Of course.

“Olivia! Come here!” your sister screamed to get your attention. You noticed she was standing at the door, talking to somebody, so you got up and approached her. “What's up?” you asked. She closed the door and turned to you, holding something in her hands. “It's a gift from your boyfriend,” she said in a teasing tone, and you could swear that the last time you saw her that giddy was in high school. “What? How do you know?” A drop of hope celebrated its birth in your chest. “The delivery guy said it's from a chef,” the last word she playfully stretched out, so it came out a little funny, like Tina says it. You couldn't believe it. There it was, a white box carefully tied with a red ribbon. Finally Carmen realised how distracted he was and decided to apologize. Obviously, you were gone, so he missed you. Your heart filled with warmth and you smiled to yourself - you knew things would get better. You take the hefty precious gift from your sister's hands, sit on the couch, and open it with anticipation. Inside, 9 breathtaking gourmet cinnamon rolls with caramelized sugar barely fitting, leaking out of the mouthwatering, well-kneaded dough. And a note.

"You deserve all the best in the world - Luca"

I hope you enjoyed it! Part 2 might come quicker if you comment how you liked it

Snippet from the next chapters

🏷️ Tagged everyone in the comments! If you want to be excluded, just let me know♥️ @carma-fanficaddict @eternallyvenus @sia2raw @helloheyhihowdyheya @soursopsista @m1dnightsnackz @custarrds

Dividers by @saradika

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papergirllife · 6 months

Text

Jeong Jaehyun

CEO!Jaehyun x Secretary!reader

Synopsis:

You and Jaehyun take a trip to Florence and things get interesting on a boat with a surprise at the end :)))

warnings: public s*x (kinda), unprotected s*x, ch*king, br**ding kink, c*ck warming, strength kink, brief sub drop, tooth rotting fluff.

a/n: sorry i can't make it in time for a halloween fic, that would probably come out a bit later than expected :((, so here's a little treat instead to keep you guys sated :)))

The summer breeze feels freeing against your skin, the salt air is something you don't want to forget, the sea is a sparkling teal, you could really get used to this.

"What's on your mind, love?" Jaehyun asks, his big arms wrapped around your waist, his chin perched on your shoulder, you can feel his breath tickling your ears.

"That I'm gonna miss this very much when we're back in Seoul," you say with a longing sigh at the beautiful view.

Jaehyun hums in agreement, watching you swirl your glass of white wine before taking a long sip, you're taking in the beautiful view of Florence's sea view while he takes in his view, you, your hair blowing by, his prada sunglasses perched on the beautiful slope of your nose, your lips shining from the latest lip oil he's splurged on you after he's seen you watching numerous tiktoks of it.

"We can come here again, you know," Jaehyun proposes, his cheek brushing against yours, nuzzling into your warmth.

"One, you have a company to run. Two, it's too expensive to do this again," you chide, it's been days already and still you never miss to mention the fact that Jaehyun dropped a bomb to plan this trip and book a whole yacht for the two of you, including a league of staff at your beck and call, the chef himself is from some really popular restaurant, his fresh pasta is to die for, you're sure the price for his services is deadly as well.

"I told you this before, I'd give you the whole world if you want," Jaehyun reminds you with a playful nudge of his head at yours, getting a laugh out of you.

"And how many times do I have to remind you? You as your own person is the equivalent of my world, not Jeong Jaehyun the CEO of a huge company, and not the benefits that come with your financial position," you say with a huff, you just know this trip is at least a year's worth of your salary, that he keeps adding for no reason mind you, what's the use of money when this man doesn't let you spend a cent of your own coin when he's around?

"I know, sweetheart, I just like spoiling you, treat it as a kink of mine, that I have this obsession with giving you princess treatment," Jaehyun says, trying to explain himself into your good books again.

"Whatever, I'm still not letting you spend a cent on groceries though," you argue, that was the deal when you moved in with him and found out that he paid for everything, utilities, necessities, your wardrobe; it was almost impossible to get him to agree to let you spend on groceries, that and whatever you manage to pick up on your way back when he works later than you, like that robot vacuum and mop hybrid you splurged on, and spending more on better quality groceries, including wine, which got a huff out of your mostly patient boyfriend.

"Wine is wine," he argued, hands on his waist, his brows furrowed, but you see right through him, he could never get mad at you.

"I put wine in pasta, and it's sold in the grocer, so it's considered as groceries," you say with a smug tone, and at that moment, Jaehyun thinks you look borderline cunning.

"Fine…"

"When we're married, I'm going to have to reevaluate our terms," Jaehyun says with a chuckle, kissing your temple.

"That's not going to be soon anyways," you say with a huff before finishing your glass of pricey wine.

"That can be changed," Jaehyun says, snatching the empty glass out of your hands, passing it to the staff before he tells her to dismiss everyone below deck.

"Right, as if you want to be tied down this quickly," you say, turning from the railing to face Jaehyun, slapping his chest playfully.

"Why? You don't think I love you enough to be tied down to you?" Jaehyun asks, the mirth disappearing in his eyes, catching you off guard.

"You're still very young, men don't like settling down so quickly," you say, cupping his cheeks, patting his cheeks, you love his mochi cheeks.

"I'm 26, not 16, I know what I want, and that's loving you, for eternity," Jaehyun mumbles, talking despite his cheeks being squished by you, which he's quick to change, grasping your hands in his, placing them on his sturdy shoulders, "I'll prove my love to you," Jaehyun says before he slams his lips to yours, catching you off guard.

After 3 years of being with him, you still get light headed from the way he kisses you, and he knows, manoeuvring you to the big L shaped sofa.

"I'm going to prove to you now, that my love for you is as endless as the skies and the seas," Jaehyun promises after his lips part from yours.

You quickly peel your clothes off of you, savouring Jaehyun's lustful eyes on you.

"You're a sight to behold," Jaehyun mutters before he reconnects his lips with yours.

He just can't get enough of you today, how sweet you taste, your lip oil, the taste of bitter grape on your tongue, he's a fiend and you're his drug.

He shudders when he feels your hands make a quick work of getting rid of his clothes, your soft hands trailing through the arms that he's trained very hard for, grasping onto his biceps, Jaehyun smiles at the action, you've always been a fan of his muscles, spending your free time reading while Jaehyun works out in his personal gym, not a page turned.

Jaehyun breaks the kiss, looking at you with love drunk eyes.

"Get on fours for me, facing the ocean, let the world see how I worship my baby," Jaehyun says with mirth, eyes shining like a boy on Christmas day.

"As you wish, boss," you say before breaking out laughing when you see your boyfriend's deadpan expression.

"Very funny," Jaehyun muses before he gets distracted by the sight of your ass, a hand outstretched to smack one of your cheeks lightly, his cock growing hard at the sight of your cheek jiggling in his hold.

Jaehyun gets comfortable on the sofa before he bends down to get a quick taste, adjusting your body to his height, or he'd get a neck cramp and an earful from you later.

Jaehyun groans when he gets an actual taste, and with one taste, he's hooked, tongue going from kitten licks to sinking his tongue deep inside your cunt, a hand grasping your cheeks open while his other hand makes its way to your sweet bundle of nerves, rotating your clit in slow circles, sending shocks down where Jaehyun's situated, drenching his mouth with your sweet juices, dripping down his chin, and the sounds you make, calling out to his name with that airy high pitched tone that only he gets to hear, if there's one thing that Jaehyun would never try in bed with you is gagging, god forbid him cockblocking himself from an eargasm, not even his favourite artists could compare to this personal melody only he gets to listens to.

You’re not the type to be super loud or something, in fact, Jaehyun often needs to remind you to be as loud as you want to be, and now with the staff being dismissed, you still fear that you’d be heard by anyone lingering nearby, but Jaeyhyun’s skillful tongue has your inhibitions down, his tongue and fingers strumming your body like a guitar, and he can tell you’re close, with the way you’ve drenched his hand, hips unconsciously pushing back to meet his touch, when his hands meet your swollen bundle of nerves, gasps of his name reach Jaehyun’s ears before he feels your juices drip down his hand.

Jaehyun has that smirk that you always tease for looking like an evil character in the dramas you always watch, the one where his face makes unconsciously, usually when he manages to get you flustered or at times like these, when Jaehyun makes a mess out of you just from his sheer dedication and familiarity of your body that he had studied obsessively.

“You need a rest, sweetheart?” Jaehyun asks when he helps you turn to face him again.

“I’m ready, we need to hurry up, I don’t want the staff to think we’re having sex right now,” you say before swivelling your hips on his length, he’s already hard and it’s just from pleasuring you, the thought has flowers blooming in your heart.

“But we are fucking right now,” Jaehyun said before he bellows out a full on laugh, which led to you shushing him with the palm of your hand.

“Exactly, that’s why we need to hurry up,” you said before you give Jaehyun back his ability to talk, positioning yourself away from Jaehyun, and suddenly, Jaehyun’s second favourite sight comes into view, the only ‘human’ peach he desires.

“So romantic of you,” Jaehyun jokes, lightly smacking your butt, he could never get bored of doing that.

“I want to enjoy the view,” you say with a huff, finally settling into a spot where the cushion feels comfortable under your elbows and knees.

“See how the horizon looks endless? My love for you is as deep as the sea, and as limitless as the sky,” Jaehyun says by your ear before he crouches over you to kiss you, he always does that, sealing his affirmations for you with a kiss.

Just a quick one, then he traces your back with his lips, the soft kisses tracing your arched spine, way down till your tailbone before he rises up again, his warm palms spreading you open gently, the sea breeze hitting your most intimate parts of you, the cool feeling quickly fading when you feel Jaehyun’s length sinking inside you, the stretch so familiar, comforting even, as the pleasure that only Jaehyun could give you once again dance through your nerves, and the feeling of being so full, so complete, you don’t think you’d want to live a world without Jaehyun, not when you’re an addict for this man you call your lover, the power he holds over you is stronger than any temptation this world has to offer.

Your eyes go cross when Jaehyun finally deems you ready for him to pick up the pace, he locates your sweet spot with the blunt of his tip, and you lose some of your composure, Jaehyun’s name escaping your lips, his name broken in parts of two and three, depending on the rhythm of his hips, and soon the beautiful view in front of you is distorted from your lust altered vision, the horizon blurring into one, just like you and Jaehyun, bodies smudged into one being, fused together by the love the two of you share.

“Ready to fall apart again, my love?” Jaehyun asks, his voice laboured from his movements, at first you didn’t know what he was saying, that is, until you feel his fingertips grazing your clit again, your hips jerking at the touch, still sensitive from before, but Jaehyun, being the service dom he is, he never wants to push you into a quick succession without your permission, hence he waits for the quick nod of your head and the breathless yes you barely managed to utter before he draws figure eights onto your sensitive bundle of nerves, he reads your body like an open book, the way you’re slumped forward, arms supporting your body instead of your elbows now, he just knows he’s going to get complaints about how he tires your body out every time you guys have sex.

Jaehyun’s spare hand winds around the base of your neck, pulling you up with a gasp of your lips, his lips touching yours, his nose digging into your cheek, the feeling so domestic, so distracting that you didn’t even notice his hand leaving your neck before you feel one of your nipples pinched between his fingers, and that’s what pushes you over the edge, your body already high strung from just his cock inside you, but his pace stutters before you feel the warmth of his seed paint your walls, the feeling sending a shudder down your back.

Jaehyun rides out your high with slow and deep thrusts, and when he starts picking up the pace again, you indulge him, just as much as he indulges in you, he knows you love a little bit of pain, sending your body into another wave of pleasurable crescendo with a cry of his name and tears prickling at the corner of your eyes, and then he stops, pulling out of you gently while he whispers of how good you were for him amongst other praises that ground you after a heavier session like that.

“You with me baby?” Jaehyun asks while he manoeuvres you on your back, palms cradling your cheeks as if he’s trying to pull you back to the right headspace, and after a few blinks to clear your head, you remember who you are and most importantly, where you are.

“Oh my god, we need to hurry and get dressed,” you say, your eyes frantically scanning around to find your clothes.

“Hey, no rush, I’ll find your clothes and dress you, you just sit here and catch your breath, okay?” Jaehyun assures you before he quickly fetches your clothes and dresses you, giving you a quick peck on the forehead before he dresses himself and retrieves the pitcher of water to fill your glass for you, handing it to you, you didn’t realise how thirsty you were until you finished it.

“Feeling better now?” Jaehyun asks after draining his own glass.

“Yeah, would’ve liked having you stay inside me for a bit longer though, but this is definitely not the place to do so,” you say with a chuckle.

“Let’s retire back to our cabin then, I want cuddles anyways,” Jaehyun suggests before he sweeps you off the couch, carrying you bridal style down back to your room.

When the two of you wake, it’s evening and the chef is preparing your dinner on deck, the scent of pasta sauce making your stomach rumble after what Jaehyun put you through.

“Are you excited to go to Milan tomorrow? It’s fashion week after all,” Jaehyun says, he used the excuse of his artists’ brand endorsement to travel all the way here, not that he needed one, but the board’s old men are sometimes very…demanding.

“Yeah, I’m excited to see the Galleria, it always looks so pretty in photos,” you say, when Jaehyun first announced the two of you would be going to Italy, you quickly looked up what's famous there, other than the leaning tower and the colosseum.

“We can go there right after we rest up, and the fashion show doesn’t take all that long, business meetings are the day after the show, so we’ll have plenty of time together,” Jaehyun promises, he’s always been so accommodating to you, always trying his best to balance his work and you, and for that, you’ll always be grateful.

“You’re sure it’s not getting in the way of your work?” you ask, but Jaehyun is quick to shake his head no, before the chef announces that dinner is served.

Dinner was brief, both of you were starving from today’s strenuous activity, and now you and Jaehyun are once again seated on the sofa, planning to take a walk around town for dessert after your dinner digests.

“There’s something I need to do before we dock,” Jaehyun says before he sees the staff once again retreating down below deck, glad that they remember his request for them to do so.

“What is it?” you ask, quickly assuming that he needs to take a call from Seoul or something, he tries not to, but you know it’s a given with his job and you respect it.

Then, Jaehyun gets down on one knee, his hand reaching into his pant’s pocket to reach for something bulky, and when you see the velvet material, your heart drops.

“I remember what you said this afternoon, about men my age not willing to settle down so soon, but I’m here, down on one knee, to prove to you that I’m willing to settle down young, If you give me the chance, I’d love if you gave me the chance to be truly yours, I know I’m a busy man, and that I have moments where I don’t give you enough of my time and attention,” Jaehyun says with melancholy swimming in his eyes, and immediately you shake your head, but before you could open your mouth to protest, Jaehyun continues his speech, “I spent three years with you now, lived together for two, but I want to spend every life with you if given the chance, so in this life, would I be able to have the honour to officially call you mine? You can finally be Mrs Jeong,” Jaehyun says with utmost sincerity, even the little inside joke he tacked on is a goal of his.

“Jaehyun, I’d be a dumbass to not say no,” you say before squatting down to his level, tackling him against the sofa with a big fat kiss, your weight crashing down on him, the air getting pushed out of his lungs from your sheer force, but Jaehyun would let you do it over and over again if it means he gets to see you smile this wide, everyday of his life.

“Thank you, sweetheart, I love you, more than you’d ever imagine, Mrs Jeong.”

“I love you too, Mr Jeong.”

#nct smut #nct fluff #jaehyun #jaehyun smut #jeong jaehyun #nct fanfiction #nct fanfic #nct x reader #jung jaehyun #jaehyun imagines #nct imagines #jaehuyn fluff #nct 127

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wing-ed-thing · 9 months

Text

Konoha 12 Domestic/Spousal Headcanons

Tags/Warnings: No Reader Pronouns, Boruto Doesn't Exist, No Mentions of Children/Adoption

Completed versions of these headcanons will be linked on the character's name.

𓆃 Choji

THE BEST COOK ON THIS LIST NO ONE CAN COMPARE

Loves bonding over cooking and baking— whatever you like! If there's anything you're ever craving, Choji is taking to the kitchen to make you a gourmet meal as good as any professional chef!

Prime rib, lamb, tartare, croissants, macarons, soups! It doesn't matter your allergies or preferences, Choji can and will make you any food your heart desires.

Offers excellent cuddles. 11/10 squishy and soft.

Is very understanding, a fantastic listener, and naturally positive.

Never lets the romance l die, and after a hard day at work, will feed you ice cream while you rant about your day.

𓆃 Hinata

Traditional wife who has always wanted to be a traditional wife since she was a kid.

Content with cooking, doing laundry, and other domestic work.

Although, because of the society and the way she was brought up, she might feel insecure transitioning out of shinobi life.

While being made to feel weak isn't something Hinata is a stranger to, she is sensitive to comments from others about her domestic life.

Be sure to give her lot of reassurance and validate her work around the house.

𓆃 Ino

Also wanted to be a wife growing up, but the stay-at-home life is clearly not for her.

She'll try it for a period of time after your wedding or union, but she's far too restless for cooking and cleaning.

You supposed that she thought it would be relaxing and aesthetic, but if anything, she's getting frustrated and throwing the potato across the kitchen as soon as it slips out of her hand.

Ino will eventually find important work to do, come home to complain about it over dinner, and buy you something nice in a half-brag about how much more money she's making.

This is, of course, not to say she's bad at housework or doesn't do her share. She's perfectly good at domestic work and does the bulk of it, but the moment you expect it from her is the moment she stops.

𓆃 Kiba

A slob who, if allowed, will live in heaps of trash.

For the bulk of his 20s, he'll be super unsure of the whole settling down thing. You could make a whole bingo chart out of the cliche bachelor lines he spouts.

I'm not really a marriage kinda guy. I don't wanna tie myself down to a ball and chain. I just wanna meet people. I'm looking for someone who doesn't take themselves too seriously. Nah, I'm not looking for a relationship.

That is... until one day he wakes up and desperately wants a family of his own. To an extreme extent. Like his expectations are absolutely insane.

As a husband, you'll need to reevaluate those and have a nice long chat because at the beginning of your relationship he will certainly not be pulling his weight.

𓆃 Lee

Sweet, clingy, loving and sincere man.

Ah, you are the sun, the moon, and the world to Lee. He is constantly thinking of or doing the sweetest possible thing he possibly could for you at any given hour of the day.

Is his execution great? You'd give it a 50/50. Does he ever take a break? NO.

Whether it's breakfast in bed or going on a grocery run to get it off your plate, you're sure to have to put out one fire and learn how to use 20 carrots in your meal prep for the week.

He really tries his best, he just gets a little excited.

𓆃 Naruto

Another slob, although well intended.

Naruto never had a formal family growing up, and so he has little ideas of what's expected.

Much of his idea of what a partnership should be comes from media or stupid things that Shikamaru probably told him on the playground growing up, so you'll have to work together as a team to set expectations.

A lot of what he does for you is in his language (you have to learn that him making you both ramen cups is indeed a romantic gesture for him), but he loves exploring things that you like!

Naruto explores your likes and hobbies in a very genuine and non-performative way. Sharing things you enjoy together will be the foundation of your relationship.

𓆃 Neji

You'll spend your first year of marriage focused heavily on strict boundaries, expectations, and other couples work.

The way Neji was brought up completely fractured his sense of family. Not to mention, no matter what you're like Neji will certainly have to fight with his family in a silent battle over clan politics.

Because even though the Hyuga clan has stopped certain practices, doesn't mean that everyone in the clan is in mutual agreement or share similar attitudes with each other.

This will be a marriage built on structure and meaningful confrontation. Neji is determined to break the cycles of his family to make a healthy life with you.

𓆃 Sakura

Wasn't sure if she'd end up with a partner. She really wanted it, but with everything that happened in her life, she had her doubts.

Most definitely too hard on herself. Sakura pushes herself to almost fall over you to ensure you're pleased. Whether it's housework or cooking, there's a part of her that feels the need to prove her work ethic.

It's the small things with Sakura. Even after a long day at work, she'll still bring you your favorite home for dinner, even if the place is out of the way. She'll stay up an hour later to spend time with you even if she has an early morning.

𓆃 Sasuke

An ironic mix between Naruto and Sakura.

As a kid, Sasuke 100% wanted to be a husband when he grew up. 100% wanted to have a spouse to provide for and had similar dreams that some kids often do when they think about families.

But after the Uchiha Tragedy, much of Sasuke's outlook about his future has been skewed. Any relationship will start off as rather unstable and you can almost count on Sasuke being emotionally distant

It's about how the two of you work through his baggage and his willingness to be vulnerable.

𓆃 Shikamaru

Surprisingly well-adjusted?

He knows how to do basic life skills. Pulls his weight and sometimes even does your tasks. Shikamaru is generally clean and organized.

Where's the problem? He's terrified of commitment.

Most of the relationships in the Nara clan seem to consist of passive Nara men with verbose spouses who have no issue bossing their partners around.

But at the same time, Shikamaru doesn't mind this dynamic. He wants to laze, but he's also almost seemingly afraid of dynamics that allow him to laze.

He'll be just fine around the house, just a bit dramatic if you ever ask him to do anything. He'll get over it.

𓆃 Shino

Great husband and great family to marry into.

Just overall very balanced, if not quiet. The Aburame clan is close, but respectful of each other. You'll never have to deal with nagging in-laws because Shibi has already taken you in as one of his own.

Enjoy fresh meals of produce expertly tended to from the garden.

While Shino has his more talkative side when it comes to people he's close to, he's still quiet by nature. Don't expect that to change just because you've gotten married.

The obvious con is the massive amount of insects that will constantly be around you. You're not allowed to trap them or kill them.

You will have to get used to bugs crawling on you.

𓆃 Tenten

You're always doing something crazy.

You don't think any of the other Konoha 12 ever expected that Tenten would have the most exciting marriage, but look at her now.

You're always innovating, making new things for her business, and taking spontaneous trips to check out crafting techniques.

Anything and everything you set your mind to, you support each other in. There are ten million projects scattered around your home.

You roll up to get-togethers (when they seldom happen), being the most traveled and bringing the most unique gifts.

No one knows what you're going to be up to next.

Thank you to all who liked, reblogged, followed, and supported. Your support means so much and is greatly appreciated.

Notes: I apparently had a lot more opinions on all of these characters than I expected. When I make multi-character posts, I like to keep each section sort of short, so if you are interested in more in-depth hcs, tap the underlined name or visit my blog for more.

Sakura, Lee, Choji, Tenten and Sasuke are done at the current moment.

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jeonqkooks · 7 months

Note

First of all - I love obs so fcking much 🥹 Your writing is truly just.. chefs kiss!!

But I would really like to see how they handled their first big argument/fight (if they had one ofc), after they started dating

our beloved summer; a drabble

You fucked up.

You know it. Jungkook knows it. Taehyung, Jimin and Hoseok know it.

You fucked up.

You were scared, and so naturally, that made you stupid.

Now here you stand, in front of his door, wondering whether you should knock or leave. Patch things up or make things worse. You don’t know if this is one of those times where you should let him cool off and everything will be okay again in the morning, or if it’ll blow up if you let him simmer for too long.

You’ve been dating for almost a year, and not once has your boyfriend looked so dejected.

Hurt.

Because of what you said, and in front of all your friends, no less.

It’s not like you and Jungkook have never fought before, because god knows you have. But it’s different this time. What you said was clearly out of line. The words didn’t feel right even as they were sitting on the tip of your tongue, but they jumped out anyway.

The whole group was supposed to spend a cute night together at Taehyung and Jimin’s place, eating cheap pizza and drinking even cheaper liquor. For the most part, it was a nice evening, until Hoseok asked what everybody was doing for Christmas.

You were already chewing on your lip when Jungkook mentioned that he'd be going back to Busan to see his family, because you had a good feeling of what he was teeing up to. By the time he asked if you would come with him to spend the holidays there, your stomach was in knots.

In response, you attempted a joke. A royally disastrous joke.

Because that's what you do. You hide behind nonchalance when big feelings are involved. It’s so easy to fall back into bad habits.

"Are you sure you want to introduce your parents to a girl who might not even be here for that much longer?"

Thinking back, you don't even know what you wanted the punchline to be. You meant it as a dig at yourself, but it didn't quite land that way. The way the guys went completely still, told you that nobody found it funny.

Your friends all stared at you - a question mark etched onto all three faces - then at Jungkook to gauge his reaction.

He blinked, and the hopeful smile from seconds before faltered. "Why is that supposed to mean?”

"I'm just saying, who knows what'll happen.” You shrugged. “There's a very real possibility that I might not spend the next Christmas with you. Hell, we might even break up tomorro-..." you trailed off when you caught Taehyung's eye, who subtly shook his head for you to stop before you could dig an even deeper hole for yourself.

The silence that embraced the room was chilling. Nobody said a word after that, because it was obviously not Taehyung, Jimin, or Hoseok’s place to comment. You watched as your boyfriend’s face fell, as he made himself small, and when you tried to reach for his hand, he stood up. Your fingers grazed his shirt before he slipped away entirely.

“That’s not what I mea-”

“‘Kay.” The single word was directed at you even though Jungkook’s body was facing the guys. "Sorry, uhm..." he said, turning toward the door despite you calling out his name. "I think I'm just gonna head home early."

Then he left, without even looking at you.

You touch the textured surface of his door, still not sure what you should say if you do decide to knock. Jungkook has been nothing but patient with you all this time, and you’ve been nothing but a coward. What you said tonight... You might as well have flat out told him that you didn't believe in this relationship.

You move away from the door to pace around for the millionth time in the past hour, but you jump when the barrier cracks open, revealing a tired-looking Jungkook on the other side.

“Don’t just stand there anymore,” he says, already retreating back into his home without looking at you. “It’s cold.”

You follow him inside, and close the door quietly behind you. “How did you know I was out there?”

“I could hear you pacing,” he says. For a brief moment, you’re flushed with embarrassment for thinking that you were so stealthy when in fact, he was listening to you the entire time. “And the guys texted asking if you got here okay. Why didn’t you let Tae walk you? It’s late.”

I can take care of myself, you think, but you bite back your default response. Instead, you tell him, “Okay. I won’t do that again.”

“Next time, let them walk with you.”

When Jungkook goes to sit down on the couch, you do the same. But something unfamiliar is there - an invisible wall that is the space between his end of the couch and yours. You don’t dare cross it, not with the way he refuses to turn his head in your direction.

It feels a lot like being shut out, and there isn’t a single part of you that enjoys it. He’s never distant when it’s only the two of you.

Is this how he feels whenever he’s with you? Every time he says I love you and you swerve the sentiment with a much milder and non-committal response, does his heart sink? Even though you love him, and you kiss him like you mean it, does he still feel cold right down to his bones?

It’s not a question of if you love him, but a question of if you’ll say it.

“Why can’t you walk with me next time?” you ask.

He shrugs. “I’m just saying.”

”Are we fighting?” The question comes out with a chuckle in an attempt to brush off the tension, even though this is no laughing matter.

“I don’t know.” He mutters, more deflated than you expected him to be. “What are we fighting about?”

"I'm sorry," you say, because you don't know how else to start, but you mean it. "I'm really sorry."

“Okay.”

You bite your lip, then fumble with your fingers in your lap, twitching with the urge to reach out and touch him. He’s right there but he’s not here. His head is somewhere else, somewhere far away from you. “I didn’t mean it like that. You of all people should know that.”

Jungkook lets you sit in silence for a short while. Two minutes stretch out like two hundred days, excruciatingly endless, and you’re just stuck in the middle of it with no way out. There’s a thought that pops up in the back of your mind, a thought that makes your stomach roll with anxiety.

Is this a countdown?

He finally sighs, the exhale of a deep breath that somehow makes him feel even heavier.

"I know. I do know that. I know you love me too even if you don’t say it in those exact words. But that’s what it sounded like tonight. Sometimes I feel like all you think about is leaving when all I think about is a future with you.”

It turns you inside out, that look on his face. His eyes twinkle sadly, and you feel like shit for being the reason why he looks so dejected.

“I don’t want to say that you’re breaking my heart, because that would mean admitting I love you enough to let you keep doing it.”

Then he breathes in, like he’s bracing himself.

“But I do.”

Even the silence between his words is poignant.

“And you are.”

You don’t know what to say. You’re not good at this.

You’re not sure how Jungkook interprets your stillness, your lack of a verbal response, but he sighs again, quieter this time. Just as you open your mouth - not to speak because you’re still hunting for the right words - he stands up.

Actually, you know what the right words are.

“You know what, we can talk about this in the morning. I’m tired. Let’s just… sleep on it. Take my bed. I’ll take the couch,” he says, then he seems to realize something, like he could read your mind. “But if you want to leave, I won’t force you to stay.”

It means so much more than just that. He knows you understand it.

A way out.

But all it does is make you panic.

When he moves past you, you catch his wrist. “No,” you tell him, “let’s talk about it now.” You don’t know what expression you’re wearing, but it dilutes his anger, softens his hurt.

He looks at you, resigned, but he sits back down. This time, he sits right next to you and that makes you feel better, just by a fraction.

It’s always Jungkook who holds a hand out for you, waiting and wanting but never pushing. When the world is cold and you close in on yourself little by little, he’s always there by your side. You don’t want to admit that you’ve started taking him for granted somewhere along the way, but maybe you have. You get used to hearing those three words but not saying them back.

Thinking that he’ll continue to show up and be here and you won’t have to commit to anything. Thinking that if you don’t seal your fate, then it won’t hurt if it ends.

When it ends.

“I’m sorry,” you repeat. It makes you feel stupid that you're just echoing this for a third time. “I didn’t mean it like that. I want to spend Christmas with you and your parents.”

“You don’t have to do it just because you think I’m upset.”

“I want to spend Christmas with your family, I promise.”

It’s weak, and you hate how you’re all too aware of just how weak of a reassurance it is.

He pokes a tongue into his cheek, eyes still sad, features still gloomy. “It’s okay, you know,” he says. “It’s okay if you want to leave. I’m not going to hold it against you.”

How do you make him understand that you don’t want to leave? That leaving him couldn’t be the furthest thing from your mind?

This isn’t playful banter. This isn’t a silly argument where one of you is shooting daggers from your eyes because the other pissed you off over something stupid and trivial. This is real, and you can’t weasel your way out of this one with finger guns and empty bravado.

As terrifying as it is to tell him those three words, to solidify how you feel, it’s nothing compared to losing him. The mere thought makes your stomach hurt, makes you want to drop to your knees.

You’re frustrated, because they’re sitting right there on the tip of your tongue but they’re stubborn and you’re afraid.

Suddenly, you crawl into his lap like a child and cling to his warmth koala-style, with your face hidden in the crook of his neck. He’s hesitant at first, a tiny bit startled, but then his hands are on your waist, your hips, drawing soothing patterns into your skin over your clothes. Now it feels like you’re the one who needs to be comforted.

You hug him close to your body like you could die if he were to let you go.

You run the words over in your head three times, because once they’re out there, you can’t ever take them back. They’ll be his to keep, for as long as he wants them. Isn’t it scary to think that your heart could belong to someone else, forever?

But he loves you and he tells you just as much. And you love him too. The only difference is you’re a coward.

It’s always the scariest right before you take the leap, right?

His gentle fingers are still soothing you. It feels nice.

Okay, here goes nothing.

For someone who’s highly uninterested in drama, you sure are dramatic.

“I love you.”

The very second you say those words, Jungkook goes still, his hands stopping their ministrations like you’ve frozen him completely. The one thing that isn’t motionless is his heart, hammering against his ribcage which you can feel where your chests are practically pressed together.

You swallow hard, then pull back slowly to gauge his reaction. His eyes well up, and you could probably make fun of him for it if you yourself weren’t on the verge of tears too. Crybaby, that’s what you’d tell him.

“Please mean it,” he says.

“You know I wouldn’t say it unless I mean it, and I mean it. I love you. You know I do.”

He looks at you for a few seconds longer to see if this is real, or if you’re just trying to appease him. There’s no trace of the latter.

He kisses you then, his tears spilling over and now you’re both crying as he picks you up with your body still wrapped around his and carries you blindly to where his bedroom is, clumsily knocking against some furniture on the way. He’s still emotional - in a good way, of course - as he lays you on his bed, as he helps you take off your clothes, as he fucks you nice and slow, like you’re the only thing he worships. When you come undone, you look him in the eye but tonight is the first time that he unravels with your soft voice whispering to him what he’s always dreamed of.

I love you. A third time.

The more you say it, the more you love him, and the more you want to keep saying it.

No, the fall isn’t scary. Not when he’s there to catch you in the end. You don’t know how much time you’ve wasted trying to convince yourself otherwise.

Even when you both gravitate toward each other’s warmth under the covers, you don’t tell him goodnight. You tell him you love him.

“Can you say it again in the morning?” he asks.

You kiss him like it’s a promise you intend to keep, because it is.

“I will.”

#jungkook x reader #jungkook fluff #jungkook smut #jungkook angst #jungkook x you #jungkook fanfic #jungkook imagines #bts x reader #bts x you #bts fluff #bts smut #bts angst #bts scenarios #bts imagines #fic: our beloved summer #jungkook

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icallhimjoey · 5 months

Note

request: we have a panic attack and joe's there

MMM chefs kiss this is how to do a request, i fucking LOVE this, because, yes, we can have a panic attack and yes, joe can be there, but you know what ????? joe doesn't know how to fucking help at ALL (bcos useless clueless idiot) thanks for requesting! Wordcount: 2.1K

---

Heartbeats All Chaos

Joe had never seen an actual panic attack up close.

He’d heard of people having them, someone not making it to whatever was planned because they’d had a panic attack earlier and everyone would always frown and nod and be so very understanding.

Once at school, he’d heard a girl cry and then was later told she was having a panic attack. It had just looked like crying to him, but what did he know?

Well, he knew technically what they were, knew that people who had them felt like they were actively dying.

And he knew what being panicked felt like.

But when he got out of the shower and found you sat on the edge of bed, unresponsive to how he shook his hair like a dog when he walked past you, that was...

Unusual. To say the least.

His own smile turned into a frown, looking back at you over his shoulder as he opened the wardrobe.

“Hey,”

You just stared ahead, chest heaving, nostrils flared.

“Hey are you all right?”

Just... nothing.

You had a weird relationship with panic. You knew it liked you a bit too much, and when you were younger, you’d been forced to become acquainted with it. Had to learn the tell-tale signs of when it would try to grab hold of you. Had to learn how to prevent an attack, avoid whatever could potentially trigger it. Had to learn what to do when its long, cold arms still managed to wrap themselves around your ribcage where it would squeeze you tightly.

You knew how to pull yourself through an attack.

You’d learnt breathing techniques.

You’d learnt how to mentally ground yourself.

You’d learnt where to take your mind and how to keep your focus there.

Joe walking past in just a towel wrapped around his hips, bending slightly towards you and shaking his head to get little droplets of water on you broke that focus.

You could feel pressure build in your chest as the ringing in your ears got louder. Joe’d asked you a question. You’d heard him fine. It just took a little longer to answer.

Joe took the silence to mean you were upset.

He pulled a T-shirt out of the wardrobe after stepping into a fresh pair of boxer briefs and let his mind wander, trying to figure out what he’d done wrong.

“Did I do something wrong? Did I, oh shit, did I forget– what day is it? I forgot something important, didn’t I?”

With every passing second, your lungs allowed you less and less oxygen and your peripheral vision got smaller and smaller. Shrunk away from the sides and made you feel like your balance was off.

You gasped for air.

“Hey, are you crying? I’m– I fucked up, didn’t I? What did I do?”

You held an arm out, eyes on the floor where you could see your feet touch the carpet, and you shook your head.

Mistake.

Instantly made you feel dizzy, and nausea introduced itself thickly in your throat.

“No, it’s,” you winced, because, yes you were crying. It was just that the crying was a side-effect of the uneasy sensation of fear that tried to swallow you whole. You knew there was no external reason for it, just something that tricked your body into activating its fight-or-flight response. Made your heart rate pick up until it felt like it was going to break your ribs and escape from your chest. Made your muscles tense up enough to have you shaking all over.

Scared.

You were really fucking scared.

You felt how Joe took hold of the hand you held out for him, and were quick to squeeze.

“Oh my– hey, calm down,”

“Panic,” you managed to squeeze from your throat, hiccuping and gasping through breaths.

What were the techniques?

Think of the techniques.

Breathe in through nose, out through mouth. Focus attention outside of your own body. Think of three things you can see. You can hear. You can smell. Sit and let the symptoms pass on their own. They will pass. This is uncomfortable but not life-threatening. Uncomfortable but not life-threatening. Uncomfortable but not–

Yea, nothing was working.

“Are you having a panic attack?”

You were just going to have to ride this one out.

And Joe was just... he was just useless.

He didn’t know what to do, and so he kind of just... stood there. Got a bit closer as he held the hand that you were currently digging your nails into.

Your eyes found him before they squeezed shut, and you felt how his other hand grabbed onto your bicep. Kneaded the muscles there, squeezed and moved his hand down a bit to squeeze once more.

“Yea, you’re having a panic attack. Right now. Jesus, you’re having a pani– what do I do? What do you– do you need–”

Joe panicked. Did exactly what you didn’t need him doing.

You were still on the up-climb, and everything got steadily worse. Muscles tightening. Vision narrowing still. Heart rate increasing still. You needed... you needed... a parent? Someone to take over, someone who you trusted would know what to do.

“Arms up,” Joe suddenly said, voice a little steadier than before, like he was glad he’d thought of something that would help, that would make breathing a little easier for you.

“Come on, up, over your head.”

He took hold of you by the elbows and pushed both your arms up, which, yes, you knew technically that really should’ve made breathing easier. But your muscles were tensed up, and it hurt your chest, and all your body wanted to do was to curl up into a ball so your face could hide and cry into your knees.

Joe had a hard time fighting your arms that were desperately pulling down, and said, “Slow breaths, slow deep breaths...” whilst trying to demonstrate.

It was of no use.

You were choking on gulps of air.

“Hey. Relax!” Joe made eye-contact, eyebrows raised, like getting a little stern would shock the system into relaxing.

“No,” you sobbed weakly, eyes squeezed firmly shut as you shook your head from side to side. Telling you to relax when you literally couldn’t was the exact opposite of helping.

“No?” Joe immediately went soft again as he let go of your arms, his own eyes wet now too. That same unsure tremor found his voice again as he kneeled in front of you and said, “What do you need? How do you– oh my God, you have to breathe, baby.”

You gestured around wordlessly, gasping through stuttered inhales, and you saw Joe look, frown at it, thinking, deciphering.

“Sit?”

“Hmm,” you nodded, and started shifting, turning on the bed, but Joe’s hands squeezed your thighs and pushed them into the mattress as he got up. He climbed onto the bed, hands not leaving your body once and moved to sit behind you, legs around your hips, arms around your front.

Your hands immediately found his arm to grab and dig nails into, and the added warmth to your back made you let out a short soft hum that almost sounded like a whimper.

“Lean back, I got you,” Joe whispered, his head now resting on your own as he pulled you closer. With your back pressed against his chest, head firmly slotted into place underneath his chin, you could feel your shoulders slump down a little bit.

“Good. Yea, that’s good.” Joe cooed before he softly shushed you, stopping when he heard your throat make a noise.

“Can you,” you start through a shuddering breath, “Squeeze?”

Joe didn’t need asking twice, arms slowly wrapping around further, tentative and careful in case it was all too much, squeezing your ribcage right against his.

It made you sigh.

Feeling pressure from an actual outside source made it easier to accept the constriction of your chest. Made it make sense a little more.

“There you go,” Joe muttered as you sagged into him, your head falling forward for a moment as a small sigh escaped you. “This good? Or do you want it tighter?”

You squeezed fingers into his forearm by ways of answering, heartbeat all chaos.

“Here, pull your knees up, get them in here,” Joe said, reaching, leaning back for a second and taking you with him. You managed to plant both feet onto the mattress, knees drawing up to your chest and Joe reached both arms around, pulling you into him fully.

Yes.

Curled up and hidden.

Compressed into warmth.

This helped.

You sat like that for a while, locked into Joe completely. His grip didn’t waver once, until you’d slowly stopped crying. But even then, Joe wasn’t just going to let go of you easily. He’d let go once he’d be told to do so.

Joe tilted his head to look at you when you started sliding your hands over Joe’s forearms, running slowly up to the hems of the sleeves of his T-shirt where they played with the soft fabric. He could barely see you at all, but he was able to catch the tear stains, the worry-lines, the rosy cheeks.

Made him hug you tighter, squeezing you once more as his face buried into your neck on the side.

“You OK?”

You nodded, small little up and down movements of your head, mostly because you didn’t want to test if your throat felt normal again when you spoke.

“I know you said,” Joe started, softly whispering, not needing to speak any louder, you were so close. “You said you sometimes got unprovoked, what’d you call them? Freak outs?”

You nodded again, breathing slowly, using fingernails to trace lines over the back of Joe’s hand.

“We never talked about what I should do to help when you have one...”

You spasmed on a deeper inhale, before you said, “I know, maybe we should have,” and you tried thinking of what you would’ve told him. What would you have said for Joe to do? Asking him to compress you the way you’d only just managed to do this time was a spur of the moment thing that ended up helping a lot. However, you wouldn’t have known that beforehand.

You noticed Joe had started swaying, rocking back and forth with you.

“This OK?”

“Yea,”

“Is this... was this how it usually goes?”

“Hmm, they normally last longer,”

Your faces were so close, you were fine murmuring in your softest whispers. With Joe’s chin digging into your shoulder now, you exhaled and let your legs fall down, knees over the edge of the bed again. Joe took the moment to shift and get a proper look at your face and you might as well have slapped him right across his.

There was practically nothing left of you.

Tiny.

So fucking small.

“You sure you’re all right?” he asked, entirely unconvinced that you were.

“Tired,”

Yea, Joe could imagine. Look at you.

“Are you all right?” you asked, and Joe had to really try to not pinch you in the side at the sound of your smile seeping through.

“No, that was fucking terrifying,”

You chuckled softly, immediately winced at how sore your muscles felt.

“Sorry,”

“No don’t,” Joe took a sharp breath as he watched his own hand find yours over your front to intertwine fingers together. “Don’t apologise. Just tell me what to do.”

“This was good.”

“Yea?”

“Hmm.”

Joe did so good.

“I think it’s why this one didn’t take so long,” you said quietly, and you felt Joe squeeze your hand as he hugged tighter once more as he actively tried to keep his own tears at bay. Realising that you’d struggled through panic attacks on your own without someone to hold you more often than not, was stupidly heart-breaking.

He thought back to that girl he’d seen cry at school when he was 14 and felt guilty over his lack of empathy then.

“Hey,” you whispered, feeling how Joe was holding his breath, feeling his heartbeat slowly stumble in chaos of its own now.

“Relax,” you repeated Joe from before, same tone of voice, but way softer. It instantly got a huff of laughter from him before he groaned softly and pressed his head against yours.

“Don’t apologise,” you said, full on grinning now, turning your head to look at him. “Just tell me what to do.”

Joe looked at you a second, happy to see you smile, overwhelmed with how you managed to fill his insides with all things soft so strongly.

Fingers took hold of you by the chin and pulled you in closer for a kiss that you hummed into. When Joe was about to pull back, you got him by the neck and lengthened it. Made Joe hum into your mouth in return, until you finally broke and gave each other dopey smiles.

“This was good.” Joe said, mimicking you now.

“Yea?”

All chaos gone.

“Hmm.”

So good.

---

The Taglisted

@adoreyouusugar, @alana4610, @ali-in-w0nderland, @alwayslindie, @babybluebex, @barfightzanddiscolightz, @bettyfrommars, @cancankiki, @capricornrisingsstuff, @chaoticgood-munson, @chrissymjstan, @choke-me-eddie, @demonsanddemogorgons, @did-it-work, @dirtyeddietini, @dylanmunson, @eddies-puppet, @electricmunson, @emma77645, @emmamooney, @everythinghasafacee, @figmentofquinn, @frootvelvet, @ghost-proofbaby, @ghostinthebackofyourhead, @harringtonfan4, @haylaansmi, @jasminearondottir, @jewellethief, @joesquinns, @kellyxo1, @kennedy-brooke, @lovelyblueness, @manda-panda-monium, @miserybeans, @nadixq, @notverywise, @pepperstories, @phyllosilicate-s, @roosterisdaddy36, @sherrylyn628, @sidthedollface2, @thebellenouvelle, @thewondernanazombie, @tlclick73, @werepartnersnow, @winterwakesthewolf, @witchwolflea, @yelyahcardella, @yunirgo

taglist currently full, sorry

#Joe Quinn #Joseph Quinn #Joe Quinn x You #Joseph Quinn x You #Joe Quinn x Reader #Joseph Quinn x Reader #Joe Quinn Fanfic #Joe Quinn fanfiction #Joseph Quinn Fanfic #Joseph Quinn Fanfiction #joe quinn x y/n #joseph quinn x y/n #icallhimjoey #heartbeats all chaos

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psiithirisma · 1 year

Text

AU where Phil is a single father of 3 and also owns a restaurant. Meets Kristin and falls in love but doesn't know how to "charm her" and neapolitrio (his kids) tries to help but they're little kids so it's all silly and cute.

Phil invites Kristin to a date in his restaurant after closing hours, she accepts. Then it's all just a nervous Phil + neapolitrio trying to create a romantic atmosphere and also one of them being the chef, one helping, and one the waiter.

He questions many /many/ times why he accepted to go with his boys' idea

Also, the 3 of them get Phil's instinctive dad side to show through the whole night by accident

little Tommy is the waiter and when he goes to ask them for their orders and is about to write them down he realizes he doesn't know how, so he asks Phil, who only sighs fondly and takes Tommy's notepad and pen and writes it for him. Kristin finds it adorable.

Tho the illusion is soon broken after Tommy thanks his dad and checks the notepad, frowns, and says out loud "dad I can't read this, your handwriting is shit!"

Phil, immediately: Tommy! Don't say that!

Tommy: what? Is true! You told us not to lie

Phil: no-

Tommy: am I not allowed to say bad things abt you in front of your girlfriend?

Phil: I meant don't curse.

Tommy: aw, that's not fair! you get to do it all the time.

Tommy: and Techno and Wilbur do it all the time when you aren't near!

Wilbur, from the kitchen: DON'T SNITCH YOU RAT!

Phil, whispering while he covers his red face: for fucks sake...

Tommy: see!!!

Tommy goes back to the kitchen shouting "Wiill, what does it says here? dad's handwriting is dog poop!" which only gets more giggles from Kristin and for Phil to press his hands harder against his face.

That embarrassing bit over, Kristin and Phil move on and keep talking. But then you can hear from the speakers a young voice (Wilbur) whispering "it's this on? [Louder] Hello, dadza and Kristin! we made our own cool song for you lovebirds, wink".

It's followed by a song with really bad quality audio, bc none of them could figure out how to put a song properly so they just kept the speaker open meanwhile Wilbur leave the song playing through his cellphone.

This song is just some cover from an already existent one except for some parts being changed to Phil's and Kristin's name to, y'know, make it more romantic.

Phil considers death would be a kind fate at this point for him.

When the song ends, quick steps can be heard and the next second Wilbur is at their table, smiling wildly and asking Phil if he liked the song

Dad mode kicks in and all previous embarrassment almost seems like it never existed from the start

Phil: you have been improving a lot, well done, I loved it

Wilbur, beaming with joy: I learned it all by myself too!

Phil: wait all by yourself?

Wilbur: (intense nodding)

Phil: aw, mate! I'm so proud of you

Wilbur goes to the kitchen, celebrating after Phil's compliments.

Phil and Kristin go back to chatting, this time a little more at ease and without many interruptions, soft sounds emanating from the kitchen.

That's it until Techno shouts Phil's name and Wilbur is at the kitchen's entrance calling for Phil at the same time with a panicking expression.

Phil excuses himself and gets up from his seat at the speed of light to the kitchen. His ears are met by the sound of sniffles.

There, in the kitchen, he can see Techno kneeling in front of Tommy trying to calm him down while he holds Tommy's little hands gently.

Wilbur explains that Tommy was helping them cook by peeling potatoes but cut himself accidentally and now he's bleeding and they didn't know what to do nor where are the band-aids

Phil, being the only man ever, sorts the situation easily. Telling the twins where the medical kit is while he takes Tommy in his arms and washes the blood away with cold sink water, cradling him to console his youngest's sobs.

Soon enough Tommy it's all patched up (they only cleaned the cut and put a band-aid on it) but doesn't let go of his dad so Phil just kinda accepts this is his new lifestyle.

He's about to come back with the little blonde to his and Kristin's table but then realizes the woman admiring the scene from behind the counter. Phil is halfway mouthing an apology until Kristin seems to land on something and alerts them about the smoke coming from the stove.

They turn to look at it and oh yeah there's smoke coming from the stove oven...

When they open it, the family are met with more smoke that only gets Techno coughing and his face tainted with gray and the entire kitchen clouded. Oh there's also fire.

Kristin is this time who handles the situation, taking the emergency fire extinguisher from a wall near and putting out the fire, telling the twins to open the windows to clear the place of smoke.

After that Techno is already apologizing, embarrassed that he forgot about the chicken in the oven and also miscalculated the temperature.

But Phil just hugs him (the best he can without squeezing Tommy between them) and reassures him it's okay, that he appreciates that Techno tried and the only thing he cares about is that all 3 of them are okay.

Techno seems still unsure but any uncertainty he had is washed off when he feels Tommy's little hand giving him some comforting pats on the top of his head.

Wilbur breaks the tender moment by saying "unlike you pair of losers I did everything right so I think I just deserve a hug for awesomeness” which makes Phil laugh and both, Techno and Tommy, flip him off.

Tommy also shows him his tongue, y'know, for a double offense.

They get scolded (“kids, don't flip your brother off”) and Wilbur joins the hug, against Tommy and Techno's wishes.

Phil (with Tommy still in his arms) and Kristin return to their table, followed by two tired twins who just pull some chairs near them, sitting next to Phil, each on each side.

Kristin and Phil look at each other in silence, both tired but smiling.

“Pizza?”.

“Pizza”.

#long post #sbi au #sleepy bois inc #sbi #tommyinnit #technoblade #wilbur soot #philza #kristin trixtin #sbi family au #sbi family dynamic #fluff

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tatasoom · 4 months

Text

Never have I thought... Last Twilight turned out to be that good that I would like to write not prediction and not bl-related things, but about a thing we all know so damn well - family.

There're two types of comments that makes me sad:

about Day's mother not understanding Day and his love

about Day hating Night too much

I've already written about my parents getting divorced at the same age of mine as Day was. But what if I told you that I also have an older brother, stories of father cheating on mother and a mother always busy with work?..

Take a seat, dear readers, thank you for your attention, I'll try to make it easy to read and maybe put some pictures. I'll tell you what's real in this series and why my heart hurts for all of them!

First of all let me tell you why Day's father hasn't become a problem and later Day even talked to him nicely. I mean REALLY NICELY. The answer is lack of feelings in Day. You can't hate person you barely able to love. You can't be hurt enough by someone you barely remember.

That man cheated on their mother, that man didn't provide his own two children even with food, but all of this exists as a story once told to Day. He loves the idea of being kinda loved by his biological parent, because we all want to be wanted and needed, but the father we've seen in that last two episodes is a stranger we're all getting to know with Day.

Let's leave this man living his life full of regrets and talk about Day's mother. She is THE MOTHER. As we know she discovered being cheated when Day was three (or maybe earlier?), left her propably hometown and spent another two years dealing with a need to divorce. Night was around ten or even less that time. She was maybe thirty. No food, no money and only three of them as she mentioned when giving Mhok a house tour.

And Day's mother actually survived and even succeed. I like the actress chosen for this role. She's beautiful. She looks gorgeous every time we see her. She also must be smart and charismatic to be a famous chef. And still there're only three of them. After around fifteen years (or even more) this absolutely stunning woman is still a single mother of two.

This woman made a fortress that supposed to keep safe from any heartbreak. And this fortress has it's rules.

Have you heard anything about Night's girlfriends? He's already mature enough to have a girlfriend or even a wife. And do you understand now why I think that the fear in Day's eyes everytime Mhok flirts with him at home probably has very little with a sexual orientation?..

The whole family has TRUST ISSUES. Their mother is their leader of course.

So you say that the mother with her trust issues (and social status and financial stability) should understand that Mhok loves her son. Okay, Mhok for her:

Young man, something around the age of her older son. Spent a year in prison. Has no relatives. Is an employee in her house. Didn't talk to him much.

Now tell this woman she needs to be happy her younger blind son is dating Mhok. And wants to be with him. Live together, have his own family. After all these tough years when there're only three of them and the reason for that was her being cheated by someone she loved. Tell her to trust in love. Tell her she needs to trust Mhok.

You can tell this woman to get therapy and then talk to her son(s) and you will be absolutely right. However people usually don't act right when dealing with their strongest emotions and I can't imagine this woman being less than heartbroken in the next episode.

Also need to say that being a single mother of two sounds like a choice between spending time with children and spending time making money for these children. And it's true. I also blamed my mother for not being in my life when dealing with different sh*t.

I was being bullied for a year and all my mother did was making me to change school after the year ended. She never been there when I was coming home with eyes full of tears. Oh, and before that year I even had an accidental (not car accident) eye trauma. Yeah, really, I'm not lying. My eye never recovered fully and I spent a week with a vision similar to Day's one. But it's okay now. I was around twelve back then.

So what about Night? Don't you think Day hates him too much? It's not a big deal to use Night to get to Songkhla and just not speak to him there at all, right? Why being so dramatic?

I remember a couple years ago my older brother was asked by my mother to help me with some renovations in the apartment I live in. That night we argued that hard that I left my only home in the whole big city and refused to come back until he left it. It was around 5AM. I spent that night in a park.

So if you think Day can't be mad at Night after that car accident without more valid reason, you need to ask yourself what Day felt for Night before the accident. And the simplified answer is love.

It's only the closest ones that can hurt you the most.

It would be really nice to know more about Day and Night's childhood, teen years. I'm sure mother always told them they need to be together and help each other and be kind to each other. The boys for sure was annoyed, but they care of each other so damn much. The goldfish "Little Day" is still alive after all.

After such a betrayal from a man mother can only trust her sons she raised herself. She taught them to trust her, to trust each other. That's why Night used to be the main caregiver for Day. He was the only person the mother could trust as much as she trusts herself.

Meanwhile Day learned that the only way to have some mother's time is to be the better son. Maybe his mother can't be with him regularly, but she wil definitely come to see him playing, right? Day and Night managed to compete for mother's time and attention without even realizing it.

I actually tend to tell everyone that my mother loves my brother more, even though I try to be less troublesome and more mature. I even complained to my friends about the need to take care of my older brother like he's the younger one.

I feel something like grief looking at Day's family. Their relationships and their personalities are like an aftershock of something happened years ago. And maybe it's not even a divorce.

Time actually heals. For Day and Mhok and Day's mother's relationship this time will start the moment she will be told about them. For Day and Night's relationship this time will start the moment Day get a stable zero vision and start learning to live in a new reality. I also hope we won't get eye donation from father/brother/mother/Mhok or I won't trust screenwriters ever again.

The family needs to see each other. And for that they actually don't need eyes.

If you're reading this you're my hero!

Thank you so much for reading this brainrot. I questioned myself whether all of this needs to be written, but decided to spit my thoughts out. Sometimes these writings help to analyse not only the characters, but myself. That's good.

#last twilight the series #last twilight #sea tawinan #mark pakin #jimmy jitaraphol #gmmtv series

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whispering-about-the-tmnt · 3 months

Note

I know Leo is your favorite. I am curious what’s your opinion on Raph?

I love him! I actually love all the guys pretty much equally, it's just that I love Leo a tiny bit more.

The thing about Raph, though, is in some of the iterations he is reduced down to a base "angry guy" personality; and I prefer it when the writers tell us why he is angry, and show more aspects of who he is.

For example, the "why" being, as Splinter put it in my story "Something Wicked", when Raph got angry and punches things after... well, that's a spoiler:

"I am sorry if someone has hurt you in their anger," he said, placing his touch on the teen's arm. "But I swear to you that Raphael would never do so. He is first and foremost a protector, and he believes at this moment that he has failed in that charge. Would you feel any different, if one person you loved was missing, and two others unwell?"

He wants to protect people; that is his primary personality trait, not "angry guy". That is doubtless why he became Nightwatcher in the 2007 movie. It wasn't because he wanted to go out there bashing heads in (that was just a bonus), it was because he wanted to protect people, and when Leo left they stopped doing that. Interestingly, the things that Leo found distasteful about the Nightwatcher were very much the same things that Leo himself was doing in the jungle in South America, but it seems that Raph was actually more conscious of not killing anyone in the process (you can't tell me that Leo let that guy in the Jeep actually live... not with that blood-curdling scream).

But, yeah, Raph and Leo are actually very much alike in that they are protectors of others, except that Leo goes about it very differently. The jungle example notwithstanding, in most versions Leo is the big brother that goes to his younger sibling's bullies and gives them a calm warning; Raph is the big brother that goes to his younger sibling's bullies and pushes them against the wall and tells them to back the hell off or deal with him... then he goes home and smacks the younger sibling across the head.

He can be very soft when he wants to be, though, so those soft moments have much more of an impact. Like in Tales Of Leo in 2k3, when he was the only one to cry when he told his story; or in both Bayverse and MM when he confessed his love for his brothers when he thought they were all going to die; or how well he got along with little Yoshi in TMNT 3; or when, in the 2007 movie, he told Splinter about Leo getting taken; or in Batman Vs. TMNT when he lectured Batman about the importance of family. But one of the most heart-wrenching moments had to be in Same As It Never Was when he was dying and used his last ounces of strength to crawl to Leo's side.

And as I said, I love it when his other interests are put on display. Like when he is shown knitting and carving in Bayverse, or working on his bike in 2k3, or playing video games with the guys in whatever iteration. In the future world of the TMNT Archie run, he is shown to be married and runs a restaurant where he is the chef. And though it is not an interest, knowing that he is afraid of insects makes him seem more down-to-earth and less of just the tough turtle.

Some of his "traits", I must admit, are simply headcanons to me. Because of his protective nature, I like to think of him as a gifted medic (albeit one whose bedside manner could use some working on), whose medical knowledge is second only to Don's. Also, I picture him being able to speak Spanish, which he learned by hanging out with people in the Bronx (also where he picked up his distinct-in-the-family accent). Both of those things, again, I wrote into "Something Wicked", which even has a whole chapter about Raph called "The Protector".

So, yeah, I think Raph is awesome! I just wish we could see more of it onscreen, you know? I am really looking forward to how Tales Of The TMNT utilizes him!

Anyways, thank you for the ask! Sorry the answer was so long!

#tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #ninja turtles #raphael #raphael hamato #raphael splinterson #tmnt bayverse #tmnt 2003 #tmnt mm #tottmnt #rottmnt #tmnt 2007 #ask #answered

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dudadragneel · 3 months

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Hey guys! It's me!

How are you?

So I'm done with another request. I'm not sure I like this one because I'm in the middle of a writer's block but I hope you'll enjoy it 😅

This one is from @lizaloveslino

Okay so I keep having thoughts of stubborn Hyunjin with a sensitive stomach who eats something he doesn’t like at a restaurant because his usual order isn’t on the menu. Him being a picky eater and you warning him that he isn’t going to like it, but he’s hungry so he eats it anyway. He keeps complaining that he didn’t like it and it’s not sitting well in his stomach so he tells you that he’s just going to throw it up. You tell him he’s being dramatic and a baby about things and think he’s just joking, but then you hear him start gagging when he goes to the bathroom and realize he was being serious and hold his hair back for him.

PICKY EATER

You and Hyunjin decided to go to a nearby restaurant that had become the it spot for casual dates since it wasn't expensive and neither too far from where you both lived. The food there was delicious, it had the concept of home-made food and you both loved it and made sure to always compliment the chefs.

Despite how delicious the food was, Hyunjin could be a very picky eater sometimes and this particular restaurant had a specific dish that he would always order, just like a kid would do.

However, unlucky him, that dish was out of order on that day, and he decided to order something else.

- I'll have this.

He said pointing towards a dish you usually ordered it was a rather heavy dish in terms of flavor and overall ingredients. A dish someone with a more sensitive stomach, like Hyunjin, wouldn't exactly like, despite it being a delicious dish. And it had happened before, not with this one, but another dish gave him some really hard cramps.

- Are you sure, Hyune?

You said looking up from the menu and raising an eyebrow at him.

- Yes. I'm really hungry and it's the one standing out to me now.

- I don't think you're gonna like it...I mean, one bite you would but the whole dish? I think it's too heavy...

- but I'm really hungry.

- Okay, then. You do you. I'm not gonna argue.

As the chefs prepared the food, you both talked about your day, how things were going, schedules, and everything. And then the food was finally ready, and the two hungry beasts, you and him, couldn't be happier.

At first, the food tasted good for Hyunjin, given how hungry he was but as he ate, his stomach got fuller and fuller, and he was sure he was bloated. It sat so heavy on his stomach, that he felt like he had eaten three full servings of it, when in reality he barely managed to finish one. He tried eating a little more but a cramp that made his insides burn and send cold chills down his spine forced him to stop.

He miserably waited for you to finish your food, while every ounce of his being just wanted to go home and the bathroom.

When you were leaving, he still made sure to compliment and thank the chefs for the food.

And on the walk back home, things started to get bad for the poor stubborn boy.

- I really didn't like it, babe...

He whined hugging his middle and leaning on you.

- I told you baby...that dish is really heavy. You're not used to it.

- I know but what I wanted was out of order and it looked good...I was really hungry...but now it's just not sitting well...

- Oh baby...you'll feel better soon. It'll just take longer to digest but you'll be okay.

You said hugging him.

When you got home, you got him a glass of water, which he gladly accepted and cuddled on the couch. It was a cold evening, so you were wearing one of his hoodies and he was lying down on your lap, curled up like a ball while you stroked his long blonde hair.

He really should've listened to you because that food wasn't sitting well at all. He felt bloated, his stomach churned as if he had eaten pure pepper, and that awful nausea lingering around, telling him he needed to get that out.

- babe....I feel awful...the food is not sitting well, and my stomach is churning

- Oh Hyune...next time listen to me. Don't try eating something you're not used to.

- I know...it's just...my stomach is churning.

- Here, drink some water.

He did as you said, knowing damn well water wouldn't solve anything and in fact would just add to the bloated feeling.

And it indeed made everything feel worse because he already felt full, so the amount of water he had seemed like it didn't even reach his stomach and was somewhere in between. He couldn't take it anymore, he needed to get that out of his system.

- babe, I'm gonna throw up.

He said hugging his middle and curling even more.

- I know you didn't like the food but do you really need to throw up? Aren't you making it a storm in a teacup?

Part of you just didn't want to believe that the food was so bad, to the point where he needed to vomit.

- I don't know. I'm gonna go to the bathroom.

He said leaving with a rather annoyed and sad expression on his face because you were not believing him.

You thought he was just being dramatic, as usual, and just continued to watch TV and surf through the channels.

Hyunjin who felt like dying, bent over the toilet, hands on the edges for support. He felt his mouth watering so he just left it open, spitting out thick saliva. Then his stomach twisted and contracted making him gag harshly but much to his bad luck, it was unproductive. He tried to take a deep breath only to be cut off by another harsh gag, and a rather loud one, that only brought up a thin stream of saliva.

And it was loud enough for you to hear from the living room. You were immediately overcome with guilt for not believing him when he said he felt bad and rushed to the bathroom.

- Hyune? Can I come in?

You said knocking on the door, knowing that you had probably hurt his feelings, barging into the bathroom might not be a good idea.

- Y-yes-

He managed to say before he was cut off by another harsh gag that contracted his stomach arching his back painfully and bringing up a thick stream of chunky vomit that ended up getting on the edge of the toilet.

You rushed to his side just in time to hold his hair back before it caught vomit on it.

- I'm sorry baby...

You said as you started rubbing his back up and down. The poor boy didn't even have time to catch his breath before another thick stream gushed out of him with such force, that it came out of his nose. And since it hadn't been long since he ate, the food was partially digested which was making it hard to come out and the texture just made him feel even more nauseous.

After this bout, he spat out and straightened his back a bit, squeezing his eyes and trying to catch his breath

- How are you feeling now?

You said, still gently rubbing his back.

- Sick...

- Babe, I'm so sorry...I should've believed you.

- You don't need to apologize, honey.

- I'm sorry...

You said hugging him and he hugged you back but then he felt a strong wave of nausea wash over his body once more.

- I wanna vomit again...

He said already bending over the toilet, grabbing the edges as you held his hair and pat his back.

He gagged once, back arching and nothing but saliva came out. His stomach contracted, making him gag again and still nothing came out.

You tried rubbing his back from his lower back to his shoulder blades to see if it would stimulate him and still no result, just an empty gag and more saliva.

- shit- nothing's coming up

He said annoyed and spitting out thick saliva. He knew there was still something that needed to get out but it just wasn't happening.

- Babe? Can I try something?

- please...

You kept holding his hair and changed your approach. You moved your free hand from his back to his stomach, rubbing circles on it a few times and then gently pressing down on it and it seemed to have worked.

As soon as you pressed it, Hyunjin gagged and a wet burp brought out another thick wave of chunky vomit, coming out of his nose as well. He barely had time to blow it before another violent stream gushed out of him, mixing with the putrid mess with a sickening sound.

You started rubbing and patting his back as he vomited one more time before he was left dry heaving.

- Babe? I think you're done. You'll only hurt your throat. Come on, straighten your back and take deep breaths with me.

He did as you told him, while you still rubbed his back.

- Feeling better?

- Yeah.

- I'm sorry for not believing you. I didn't think you'd feel like this after eating that.

- It's not your fault. I didn't know either.

- Let's rinse your mouth.

You helped him rinse his mouth and then structured him to take a bath so he'd feel refreshed and stood by the door in case something happened.

You then went back to the couch, he lay down on your lap again and you left a bucket nearby just in case.

You turned on the TV and stroked his long hair until he was fast asleep.

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fairy-eclipse · 2 years

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AHHHHHHHHH invisible string was so good! Your writing is absolutely divine *chefs kiss*. Would you ever try to make a part two for "Devil's Sweet Demise"? IDK I love the grumpy/sunshine trope. It's completely fine if you don't want to!

Devil’s Sweet Demise II

Pairing: Tom Riddle x Reader

A/N: due to my inability to shut up this thing is LONG and it’s not even finished yet :’] editing was so painful you don’t understand i’m sobbing on the floor ahhdshaj. what do you mean it’s been three months 😒😒

anyway here’s 5k words of tom being a total jerk in denial, thank you anon and thank you to @sociomoon for the original idea !!

Part 1

Disdain on their faces. Cold creeping up his skin.

The day Tom had known happiness was off the table was the day they shunned him, left him standing there in his oversized, threadbare shirt—he’d watched in silent resentment as their game of Hopscotch played out on the concrete. It had hurt only a little to realize that despite his best efforts to acclimate to their mob mentality, the place would never be home. And company would come in the form of twisted thoughts and talking snakes until hell froze over.

Even when the memories have been blotted out, buried in the depths of his mind and left to stew over in the hush of night, every now and then Tom can't help but remember. Remember that unlike the anger and hatred that runs through his veins forevermore, happiness will never be a familiar feeling.

Until in comes the most frustrating little badger he’s ever met, lugging rainbows and sunshine and unwelcome feelings by the boatload.

And Tom, with his knack for persuasion, can proudly say he can elude blame for most things. It’s not his fault everyone falls for his carefully-crafted smiles and well-woven lies, or intimidation works wonders on the student body. Or that fountain pens are more convenient than quills.

But as much as he wishes he could, he just can't find any rhyme or reason to the fact that your presence is…an antidote.

A strange remedy for the jagged pieces of his heart.

"You know,” your gentle voice carries from above, and Tom is pulled from his reverie to the sound of lush grass rustling under your feet. “You really have a thing for secluded places."

In a vast courtyard teeming with dense crowds and lone studiers, of course it’s you who finds him.

Tom raises a derisive brow. “Perhaps it’s to get away from you.”

He sees to it that you don’t miss the way he shifts in some semblance of an invitation.

Laughing, you step out of the June sun to plop down beside him against the trunk of an old elm tree. Going on a few thousand years, if Tom has to guess. Its winding, leaf-coated branches cast dancing shadows across the ground.

“Classes drained the soul out of me.” You let out a muffled yawn.

Like a kitten.

Tom frowns.

He’s no stranger to intrusive thoughts, but lately they’ve been odd. Unpredictable. Not to mention it’s only when you’re near that they seem to materialize, and, well, he isn’t so sure what that could spell. To analyze a yawn, for Merlin’s sake…

But you’ve always been a bit of a distraction, haven’t you?

The rhythmic drumming of your fingers on your lap can attest to that.

He watches as a faint smile pushes at the corners of your lips and a dreamlike quality glazes over your irises—both tell-tale signs that you’ve come bearing good news.

Not that he cares or anything. It’s none of his business, none at all because honestly what does it matter if you—

"You’ll never guess what happened today.” You declare, triumphant when you meet his eyes.

Tom’s breath catches in his throat. “Hm?”

Maybe the earth can swallow him whole.

You beam. “Professor read over the report from my tutor this morning. He told me that at the rate I’m going I’ll be caught up in no time!” You clasp your hands together. “On top of that, I passed my practical exam with soaring colors, so things are going swimmingly."

Tom had forgotten about your struggles in Charms—arguably the easiest subject Hogwarts has to offer. He can sympathize with needing a little assistance in Arithmancy, maybe even Runes to some extent. That is where the average student has their pitfalls, after all. Charms, though?

It certainly isn’t common, to say the least.

But he really wishes you’d quit looking at him like that. He wishes the radiant twinkle in your eyes wasn't so adorable and you’d stop grinning expectantly like his acknowledgment would make your entire month.

Yes, nobody should be behind in Charms. Tom decides he doesn’t particularly care.

"That's a decent amount of progress in just a few weeks.”

There’s a moment of peace, a second of placidity before Tom’s brain turns into turmoil.

Why did he say it?

To make you happy? For the sake of something so trivial as your feelings, with nothing to gain for himself? Impossible. He’d never stoop to such—

“Thank you!”

Your infectious smile boasts only sweetness and light, but to Tom’s absolute horror it’s in that instant that you decided to inch closer—he has no time to prepare himself before he’s falling into a heaven comprised of the fragrant smell of your shampoo and the softness of your gaze, an erratic tha-thump reverberating throughout his chest all the while.

Distantly, he sees your mouth moving, knows you have to be talking, but God has breathing always been such a laborious task?

Well, the world can burn for all he cares because nothing else matters save for the heat radiating off your shoulder. Nothing else compares to the bliss.

“—om?” Concern seeps into your tone.

No, no, no. It has to be wrong, all of it.

He fights desperately at the haze for his bearings, wills his focus to trickle back in and reins to be found again. All too slowly the stupor relinquishes control and the feeling of repulsion emerges from the fog, shame not far behind. Tom closes his fist around a tuft of grass.

He sees it now, in all its foul glory. He has it muddled up—the point where wanting ends and doing begins—and if there ever is a master of self control it’s him. The patient, composed, self-restrained student extraordinaire. It’s degrading that a mind of his caliber could simply stop functioning. Frozen, reduced to nothing, like a used parchment purged of its contents.

Could he be possessed? Insane?

Tom knows he’s insane, has to be for the plans he’ll carry out and unspeakable things he’ll do in the coming years. But this is a different kind of insane. It’s the kind that challenges all he’s taken to be set-in-stone, that threatens his beautiful, tragic world of black and white and red.

It's the kind that could sever the rope between mere life and immortality.

And yet Tom can’t decide whether it’s a curse or a blessing when you cast your eyes away in lieu of foraging through your satchel.

He’ll have to…look more into this matter. He’ll tear up the library in his wrath; he’ll search all over, high and low and in every nook and cranny until the thirst is satiated—

“Tom, Tom, Tom. Tomato. Tomfoolery. Oh, there you are!” You find his eyes once more, completely oblivious to the pathetic feeling closing in on him. “This is for you.”

A book flaunting loose threads sits on your lap, worn and flimsy.

Tom knows it’s one of those muggle stories you like to read, ones with the plotlines he can never understand and messages he can never grasp. It isn’t that he doesn’t want to—he’s tried at one point, and he does indulge in muggle literature on occasion (it’s not his fault they’re informative)—it’s just…well, he doesn’t think he can.

"I wouldn't have picked it for you if I didn't think you'd enjoy it," you assure him matter-of-factly.

He blinks. By no means are you adept at reading him, but it is strangely pleasant that someone should see past the anger and ire into his quieter, rarer emotions.

"A little broken, I know." An amused chuckle escapes him at that. You grin sheepishly. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t love it.”

Sincerity on your face. Warmth hugging his skin.

Your fingers brush against his as you press it into his hands.

But how can he dare dream of anything more when darkness is a constant in his life? He has never wished to see the rainbow, has never found any appeal in a kaleidoscopic world until you stumbled into his life. You ebbed away at the corners of his concrete barriers until little by little the light shone through the cracks.

And Salazar. He wants to do something to you right then. Something way out of line, something that goes beyond his protective urges and against everything he believes in.

Regardless, he can always break away, can't he? When the time comes, he’d toss you into the pile of people who served their use and then he'd never have to deal with that stupid fluttery feeling in his chest again.

Yes. That is what he'd do.

So things are good, wonderful even; they’ve never been better and Tom has never been happier, at least he thinks that’s what it has to be. For once it’s not the promise of power or the vow of eradication that get him up in the wee hours of the morning.

And things are good.

Right up until they aren’t.

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“My Lord.” Mulciber fidgets nervously in the gold candlelight. Clears his throat. Once. Twice. “Do you think...will there be enough time to find the chamber before vacation commences?” He grips the rim of the table with ring-clad fingers until his knuckles turn a pasty white.

Tom bites back a sneer. Coward.

"You fret for nothing. While you incompetent fools were lazing around, I was scouring every inch of this castle. I'm quite certain I've found the very place Salazar Slytherin built his foundation on."

Tom bathes in the outbreak of gasps and elated cries before silencing them with a hand.

"I will not be disclosing the location; I alone will find a way to open it, though I doubt any of you would have proven to be of help anyway."

Tom watches them deflate, like he’s pierced their spirit with a needle. Perhaps this way they’ll learn that with him, making an impression takes more than a feeble attempt or two. Besides, he has yet to discern the loyal from the fainthearted and with so many things that can go wrong, there is no room for mistakes.

He holds everyone’s gaze for a few tense seconds (most of which end in rather pitiful quivering on their part) before continuing on.

“As I have discussed previously, our years at Hogwarts are drawing to a close. We have time, of course, some of us more than others, but we must plan every move meticulously.” Tom allows himself a satisfied smile. He’s been so painstakingly careful, so thorough in drawing up the plans and in due time every ounce of his hard work will be recognized. "The infiltration of the Ministry plays a pivotal role in my—our success, thus each of you must ensure your positions are secured—”

"You're infatuated with that Hufflepuff."

A sharp intake of breath, and then silence befalls the room. All eyes flick to Avery; some with disbelief, some with poorly concealed excitement, but he pays them no mind.

"That's what's taking you so long, isn't it?” The boy hisses vehemently. “Ever since you met that poor excuse of a student, you've been putting off the purge. You’ve known about the Chamber’s whereabouts, haven’t you? Why is it that you haven’t acted by now?”

He pauses to feign contemplation, a slender finger tapping at his chin. “I’ll take a wild guess; it’s because that little mudblood is sufficient enough for you.”

And just like that the stillness is back, though this time it is an illusion; it can’t exist, not when the unmistakable buzz of fear and apprehension crackles in the air.

No one rushes to Avery’s defense, but Tom doesn’t need legilimency to know—he can see it clear as day—that it’s a unanimous agreement.

Red swirls in his vision.

An audacious Avery leans back in his seat as if accepting a major victory, boastful smirk intact. He lets his accusation sink in before he adds, like salt to injury, like an arrow piercing right through Tom's heart:

"You know what I think? I think you've gone soft."

Jaws drop and eyes widen, but Tom only smirks back, nauseating and sickly sweet.

He could torture him right now. He could turn his skin inside out and make him feel pain in all the worst places. He could reanimate the darkest stages of his trauma and dangle him by the ankles like a marionette until he begs for death's cold embrace.

And what’s stopping him? It’s nothing he hasn’t thought about before. Nothing he hasn’t come close to doing.

Would you be afraid of him if you found out?

Tom sputters.

Who are you to come up in his thoughts at a time like this? How dare you traipse over every line he’s ever created and exist there as if you’ve always belonged?

He suppresses his flaring, burning rage and tries, unsuccessfully, to even his breathing. No, it's hardly worth getting his hands bloody over. Besides, he'd rather not have to clean up the mess.

"Leave. All of you. Now." He manages to choke out.

It’s a scramble for the door.

Good. Fear is good.

His last follower has barely bolted before he’s pointing his wand at the long teakwood table and thundering out an Incendio. With each careless flick of his wrist, searing flames consume the conference space and it’s not until dark, ashy smoke obscures his vision that he takes his leave.

The door to the secret room clicks shut behind him, but the release has done little to assuage his fury.

He paces the length of the hallway outside.

The nerve. How could he suggest something so preposterous?

Everyone involved in his cause knows to never bite the hand that feeds them. And Avery has been feeding out of his palm ever since he took him in and gave purpose to his otherwise meaningless life.

Tom should tail him right now, really. Find him. Curse some sense into him. Who does that dull, privileged snob think he is? That daft, good for nothing—

But he's right.

Avery is right. Dead on, nail-on-the-head right.

He’s fallen for you; hook, line, and sinker.

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Tom isn't at the library the next afternoon.

You tell yourself he's busy, that he probably has a million duties to carry out and the world isn’t going to cave if he doesn’t show for one day—still, the little tug on your heart speaks for itself. Call it sentimental, but the study sessions have become something of a tradition.

And Tom’s usually a stickler for tradition.

“Looks like it's just you and me,” you tell the waiting pile of homework on the table.

You can practically hear his exasperated whisper in your ear. For Pete’s sake, stop conversing with inanimate objects as if they’ll miraculously bestow upon you the solutions or so help me. You grin.

It appears you’ve come to rely quite a bit on his forceful encouragement, because twenty minutes later your parchment is emptier than the porcelain flatware in the Great Hall after dessert, and only one thought reigns supreme on your mind.

“So much for productivity,” you mutter sullenly.

It hits you right then that Tom Riddle is taking up all your headspace.

When you had met him in this exact spot on that fateful night, you never would’ve guessed that he’d be so drawn to you. So adamant on getting to know you. You share no common ground with his other friends—egotistical, haughty, you’re-so-beneath-me blood purists who command the open-mindedness of jellyfish.

But despite what your confidantes claim, you truly think you’ve seen a side of him no one else has. Because when he’s with you, he sheds the rigid golden boy demeanor for something relaxed and content and dare you say it, warm.

Of course you had plummeted headfirst into your emotions. How could you not? Your affections for him have been growing by the day, and you doubt this is some silly old crush that’ll peter out with the last of summer.

No, the feeling extends way past friendship, you’re afraid.

You entertain the idea, play around with it and roll it over the edges of your brain, let it circle through before reluctantly storing it away for next time.

For the guilt, it’s always there; overbearing and unshakable and clawing at you. Surely it’s immoral to think of a good friend in such a way, especially when it seems good friends are all you’ll ever be—you’re no fool to neglect his detachment towards the whole topic of romance.

You groan. You’ll have time to dwell on it later, but for now there are more pressing matters to at hand. For starters, the conference with your D.A.D.A professor that starts in approximately…fifteen minutes.

You bid the librarian goodbye and wave to the old, regal portraits on your way down the long marble staircase, unceremoniously scouting for vanishing steps.

“Safe and sound,” you sigh when your feet reach hard ground.

Sunlight spills through arched windows into the ever-majestic halls, which are empty save for the occasional wandering student. With the early summer weather, everyone must be congregating outdoors again.

Tap tap tap!

Rushed footsteps and a sudden blur of motion at the end of the corridor bring an abrupt end to your solitude. You halt in your step, just managing to catch the barest glimpse of an outline before it rounds the corner in one swift turn.

Curiosity killed the cat.

A grin breaks over your face. But satisfaction brought it back.

And quick as a fox you’re trailing after the shadow, only a little ashamed that the promise of a distraction outweighs any sense of responsibility you might have. An instant later, a pair of spotless dress shoes accompanied by pristine, ironed robes come into view.

Why, you’d recognize that statuesque figure anywhere.

"Tom!" The prefect freezes mid-step, tension written in every line of his body as he reaches into his pocket and shuffles to his side ever so slightly and right ahead of him stands...

The girl's lavatory?

He swivels around as you approach, wand in hand. "Tom! There you are—"

Except he doesn't look very much like Tom.

There's something manic in his eyes, a ferocity in the way he peers down at you that sets your fight or flight instincts ablaze. His fingers curl restlessly at his sides and you have the horrible impression that you’ve just interrupted something very important.

Tom scowls, regarding you with a coldness so foreign, so unfamiliar you almost recoil under the scrutiny.

But everything your body tells you pales in comparison to the concern that overtakes you.

“Are you alright?” You place a tender hand on his arm, your initial excitement dimming at his state. “You seem ill. Should I escort you to the nurse?”

Tom stares at you, unblinking with those glacial eyes.

Ouch. You tear your gaze away and push down the fears that threaten to surface. There are a million different possibilities, but it'd do you no good to ruminate over any of them right now.

“Come on.” You tighten your grip and steer him toward the stairwell, mindful to take slow steps—you know it’s a fragile peace when eggshells are what you’re treading on.

Still, you’re thoroughly unprepared for the force that wrenches the arm out of your grasp.

The shock registers slowly. It’s a colossal punch to the gut, but all the same you try to keep the woundedness off your face.

“I am not in need of your assistance.”

His voice is low, devoid of its usual silkiness. Chills form a serpentine path up your arms and down your back, raising goosebumps all over your skin until you’re shivering.

Indignance claws its way past the alarm. “Is that why you didn’t show up?” You retort. “You’re normally awfully insistent on cramming as much studying as you can. Vital lucubration, or whatever you call it. I figured you might’ve needed to—”

Tom cuts you off with a scoff, all scorn and vitriol.

“That,” he enunciates slowly, “is none of your concern. I am not quite certain when such brazenness entered the picture, but it is not appreciated."

You blink owlishly before taking a much needed breath. “I don’t understand. Could you start from the beginning? I’m certain we can figure this out, it’s just the story is a little convoluted right now and—well, actually, I don’t even know what the story is.”

“This is a waste of time,” Tom chides. “I’ll make one thing clear: we are not friends.” The crazed stare has vanished, replaced by something eerily vacant. You’ve always wondered how he does that so quickly. “And I believe you’ve helped enough as it is, so if you’ll excuse me I’ll be seeing to my duties now.”

But he doesn’t leave, just crosses his arms and waits expectantly for you to turn away. To go.

You’ve helped enough as it is.

You have the sinking feeling that if you walk away now, you’ll be walking out of his life forever.

We are not friends.

Your pulse races. How can he say all those joy-filled hours you so often look back on amount to nothing? How can he brush you off like you’re just another speck of dirt on his clothes?

Maybe, when it all comes down to it, he’s no different from the rest of them.

“What part of your duties, pray tell, consists of going into the girl’s washroom?” You demand incredulously, voice shaking and mind reeling because Merlin there is no way this was all a ruse and you fell right into it like a blindsided, delusional moron in lo—

Tom stiffens, and you watch, mystified, as the mask of calm falls off. His nostrils flare in anger and he takes a step closer to you, only this time it doesn’t feel anything like the afternoon under the tree. Only this time it’s threatening.

“Fine. I’ll spare you, is that what you want?” He laughs mirthlessly, long fingers running through raven curls. “Since you’re so insistent on pretending to care for me? Fine. It won’t touch you. You have my word.”

Your vision blurs, though from the exasperation or tears you can’t be sure.

“Spare me what?” Your books drop to the floor with a resounding thud. “My concern for you has never been a pretense. That’s ludicrous! You’ll never begin to comprehend how much I care for you. As a matter of fact, I...”

You can’t say it.

His eyes are on you, curious and searching and scathing, but all you can do is helplessly stare back at him. You dig half crescents into your palms.

This time when he speaks, you’re prepared for the flames that come with it.

“I don’t know what you’ve done to me,” Tom all but spits, and you’re wishing for the quiet to blanket you once again. He pauses, if only for a second, tone turning subdued. “The lightness in my chest, the nerves spiraling out of control, the…the…” He gestures wildly. “Floating feeling whenever you’re near.”

“I was satisfied with my perception of the world, so sure and unwavering in my decisions until you came along. You’ve turned all I’ve known upside down.”

Your blood freezes inside your veins.

Tom frowns at his hands. “I’m suffering the consequences, even when you’re not near. Every waking moment is you running through my thoughts and I am not dramatizing when I say it is driving. Me. Insane. I’ve had enough. This ends now.”

Your despair falters just enough for a sliver of hope to take hold. “It doesn't have to end.”

“It must.”

It pains you, it does, but you say it anyway.

“If that’s what you really want.”

The rigidity on Tom’s face lets up slightly, though you could’ve sworn you caught a flicker of something akin to regret.

You squeeze your eyes shut and inhale. “Just...about what you said. I know feelings are daunting, but I promise whatever you’re experiencing is perfectly reasonable.” You think back to the memories you share, as if that’ll make saying the next part any easier. “In fact, Tom I think I—”

“Stop,” he whispers, dangerously calm, yet somehow you know the fury has returned tenfold.

Your heart plummets.

“Get out of my way.”

And is it bad that you sense the undercurrent of something dark in his words? His intentions?

It doesn’t feel of your own accord when you rush to block his way back.

Tom levels you with a death glare, and you have only a second to ponder over whether you should be six feet under before his eyes are flashing a horrifying crimson. You give ground for every stride he takes towards you until a thump indicates that you’ve backpedaled to the lavatory entrance.

You watch in dread as Tom turns his attention to the inside, yearning written all over his features and for one harrowing second, you think he’s going to hurt you to get there.

But then he’s stepping away, away, and in the blink of an eye he’s gone.

And for the first time, you think there's more merit to your friends' warnings than you gave credit for.

You slump onto the floor. You wish you were in any condition to make sense of what transpired, but all you know is that it feels like your spirit has been zapped away. The strain on your chest persists even as you push it down, and then you feel a crushing snap before it all comes undone—caged sobs wrangle free from your throat and salty tears rain down upon where your smile had held just moments ago.

Has it really only been a week since you and Tom had that conversation in the courtyard? Since you lent him that book?

You wish you could retrace your footsteps, find where it all went astray.

“Waaah!”

You almost jump out of your skin.

“Waaaaah!” The sound, high-pitched and lamenting, can only be coming from inside.

You rise to your feet.

“Hello?” You venture from the doorway. Your voice ricochets off the stone walls. The place is well-kept, complete with four shiny sinks situated below a mirror and a row of wooden stall doors left fairly unchipped.

“GO AWAY!”

You may or may not be one stone’s leap away from hysterics (who’s to say?), but you think you’ve had enough scares in a day for the whole of Hogwarts. Besides, no one should be howling like their life is ending, and smiles make the world go round.

“Would you like to talk?” You goad gently, taking note of the leather shoes peeking out from under the far stall. "You can say the word again and I’ll leave you be.”

You cross your fingers behind your back, pray with all your being that this one won’t end in a full-blown lash-out session.

To your relief, the wooden door swings open a few moments later and a pale girl with long brown pigtails, round glasses and a blue tie steps out to face you. No older than fourteen, from the looks of it.

“Olive Hornby made fun of my glasseeeees,” she wails, and the noise grates against your ear. You wince.

“I’m sorry.” You place a comforting hand on her shoulder. “I, for one, am of the opinion that your glasses look just fine.” She flushes at that. “Although if this is a recurring thing, I’d like to talk to her for you—only if you assent, of course, but it’d give me peace of mind.”

Her puffy, bloodshot eyes light up and suddenly it’s as if she were five years younger, a hopeful child with stars in her eyes. “R-Really?”

You nod. “Really.”

Her sobs subside to sniffles and the pout on her face morphs into something bashful. “Thanks…”

“What’s your name?”

“Myrtle. Myrtle Warren.” She takes off her glasses and wipes at the fogged-over lenses with the fabric of her clothes.

“He comes in here often, you know.” She peeks at you from under her lashes. “Taps on surfaces and makes these strange hissing noises, like it’s a language he’s fluent in." Her tone turns wistful. "I stay silent and listen because it’s all so mesmerizing…”

“Who does?” You frown.

“You know who.”

“Wait. Don’t tell me...”

But Myrtle only giggles, brows lifting in amusement. “Good luck on your boy problems.”

Then she’s off.

You stare after her in shock.

You catalog the new information, an onslaught of burning questions and what-ifs invading your mind in a trice.

One sticks out in particular. It’s afflicting and unnerving and you don’t want to consider it, but it prods and pushes at you until you’re forced to cave.

What exactly would’ve happened if Tom had gone in there today?

Nothing good, that’s for sure.

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The note comes a week—dense with radio silence and carefully averted glances—later, tied by a silken ribbon (high-end, no doubt about it) to the leg of a beautiful owl with raven feathers.

Now it rests, protrusive and unbidden in your lap as the root of your apprehension for the past half hour.

You pick it up and set it down again. Fidgeting in your beanbag chair has only fueled your restlessness, but now that the adrenaline’s gone you’re really out of options.

And if you’re being completely honest, not knowing is killing you more than anything.

You slouch in resignation and raise the letter to your face.

“Helga help me,” you whisper to the portrait above the mantelpiece.

It reads something about how he’s been awfully occupied with responsibilities and how he’d like to have a chance to make up for lost time and would you be so inclined as to accompany him to Hogsmeade tomorrow afternoon.

There’s a palpable, gaping hole in the place where an apology or explanation should be—or an acknowledgement of anything that went down, for that matter. You don’t know what you were expecting.

A week ago, you would’ve been delighted at the prospect of going on a date with the Tom Riddle. Squealing in ecstasy and bouncing on the balls of your feet. Now all that’s running through your head is maybe the rose-colored glasses you see with have only made you blind in the end.

Crackling orange embers engulf the parchment with a satisfying hiss.

You’ve never been one to hold a grudge, but If he wants your forgiveness—he’ll have to try much harder than that.

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵

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katsune-nya · 1 year

Text

Tokyo Revengers Romantic and Sexual Orientation Headcanons.

Part 2.

Contains: Michi, Mikey, Draken, Baji, Tora, Fuyu, Taka, Hakkai, Pah and Peh, Hina Emma, Yuzuha, Senju, Sanzu, Ran Rindo, Koko, Inui, South, Taiju, Shin, Benkei, Waka and Omi.

Takemichi:

He's so Straight it's actually sad, like i've never seen a straighter man. He actually doesn't have too much of a sexual attraction, but he's not in the ace spectrum either.

Edit: I change my mind, he's a bi king.

Mikey:

AroAce. He's in the spectrum and honestly doesn't really see the charm on relationships, he would get in one with the right person but doesn't look for it AT ALL. (He's the biggest simp when he falls tho).

Draken:

Straight Ally. The kinda ally that literally doesn't give a fuck. Would kiss a dude, doesn't care. He grew up in a fucking brothel, literally nothing about sex makes him raise a brow.

Edit: Remembered this.

That's such a weird thing for a straight guy to say, man. WHAT DID YOU MEAN??!!?!? Do you like Emma 'cause she kinda looks like Mikey?

Keisuke:

AROACE AROACE AROACE AROACE. He's so in the AroAce Spec it's not even a secret. Experimented with boys and girls, just doesn't really do much to him. Doesn't look for a relationship but if it happens he'll be surprised. No gender or sex prefference.

Kazutora:

Actually, i think he's Bi. The Homophobic Gay kind. He was so in denial until he was an adult and came out to Chifuyu and Kei in such a nonchallant way in the middle of a random convo at breakfast.

Right. In front. Of their salads.

Chifuyu:

Either the Straightest one can be or Pan. He's a romantic but doesn't get in a relationship easily, has literally zero experience but when imagining kissing in the rain suddently he realised the gender of the other person was changing??? The first person he came out to was Peke J and then Keisuke who gave him a thumbs up and kept walking like nothing.

Takashi:

I'm so sorry to the fangirls but this man came personally to me and told me he's a Fully Fledged Homosexual. He's so gay, oh my fucking God. Gay gay gay gay gay homo gay.

He has so much experience too and loves girls (could be bi) but men are just *chefs kiss*.

Gay and pissed about it but 'cause he's a Misandristic Man.

Edit: I realised I was wrong, he's actually the only straight character in this whole manga, he's just unrealistically perfect and that made me not see that he is a cishet.

Hakkai:

He's so fucking Bi for fucks sake. He realised he liked boys before he liked girls and he felt SO guilty about it. He literally doesn't know what the fuck he feels for Takashi. Is it Platonic or Romantic Love? He decided it didn't matter 'cause he just loves him and that's enough.

Pah and Peh:

Both Straight but both experimented with different kinds of people. They genuinly don't care and will be your biggest suporters whatever you are. Literal definition of Love Is Love. Will beat up a Bigot for you and enjoy it.

Hina:

Bi Bi Bi (actually Pan). She had only one or two crushes in girls but she fell in love with Michi at such a young age she never really cared. She has fucking queer merch but the aesthetic ones. She is the violent gay, Be Gay, Do Crime.

Emma:

... I wish she was gay... She's so Straight. She found being queer weird at first but only 'cause she never saw it 'round. Once Hina came out to her in a casual "boys" convo she was just like: "Oh... Well, that makes sense." And moved on. Got a cute lil pin with her pronouns and put it on her bag.

Yuzuha:

GAY. She's a Pan queen. She has crushes VERY rarely, like, once every 80 years, but it never matters what gender they are. She has a "Beat a Right Wing" sticker. She is gay with a PURPOSE, the purpose is to make her brother mad. She got over her crush on Michi just to develop one on Hina... Give this girl a break.

Senju:

A romantic. Probably Pan. She falls in love every Tuesday, Waka and Omi have to deal with her talking their ears off about her latest crush "I'm telling you, they're the one!". Probably the most into Non-Binary people, she thinks it's badass and cool.

Haruchiyo:

He HAS to be Gay. Bi at most. He just likes men. He likes men. Have i said he likes men? First crush was OBVIOUSLY Mikey. Whenever he gets drunk he starts saying the gayest shit (specially towards Rindo) and the Haitani brothers just have to listen to him and pray for him to get tired and shut the fuck up. "Listen, if i wasn't into [name] rn, i'd probably fuck you too". Ok, they don't care, go to bed.

Ran:

Pan. A hole is a hole. No but fr. He doesn't care, he literally has no prefference, but actually, 'till he was like 20 he had NO PULL. NOTHING. NADA. Hit him up and he'll fold.

Rindo:

Bi. He likes boys, he likes girls, he has liked the random nonbinary cutie down the street. He just kinda goes with the flow but he has prefferences so he doesn't really call himself pan, he likes men the most, especially if they are smaller than him, he thinks it's cute. Another one with no fucking game, probably kissed Sanzu and regretted it instantly because why Sanzu?!?!?! He was drunk, let him forget it.

Hajime:

... Come on, he HAS to be Pan. He likes pretty people, whatever they are. He likes looking at people as if they were art pieces but he doesn't get crushes. Once he falls in love, it's for LIFE.

Seishu:

Probably Bi or the best Straight Ally. He likes people rougher than him and people energetic/extroverted/chaotic/talkative. Doesn't really think about his prefference so he doesn't put a label on himself. Whoever he likes, he likes. In the Ace Spectrum.

South:

... Listen. Ok. Listen to me. I swear i have a point just liSTEN TO ME.

...

He's gay. He's fully homosexual. And he has no real prefference about it bUT, he likes femenine men a lot. Or men shorter or skinnier than him. Or... Honestly. He just... Likes men.

Taiju:

Pfffft. He's actually Bi or Pan but so in denial, in the closet, a closet guarded by Cerberus himself and a thousand locks with a pond around it filled with crocodiles. He likes strong people who can tell him to shut the fuck up and encourage him to do better. He dreams of getting married and having a family. Ew.

Shinichiro:

He's Pan. He has an obsession with women but he gets just as down bad with men, or enbys. He likes people smarter than him. He preffers people smaller than him 'cause he gets too flustered with people bigger, but ohohoho, he LOVES heavier people.

Benkei:

I swear i can't decide. It switches every time. I think his sexuality is fluid and he's unlabelled. AroAce Spec tho, doesn't really get crushes.

Wakasa:

AroAce Spec, but he has TOO MUCH GAME. He pulls without trying. He is mostly uninterested in people and relationships. You have to be an EXTRAORDINARY person to catch his attention (I have this headcanon that he's lowkey into Shin but that's for another day). Once he falls, you are not getting rid of him.

Takeomi:

Probably fully Aro. His true love is money. If he got into a relationship it would be a VERY slow and robotic process, until he relaxes and is like... Huh... This is nice. Then a switch flips.

• Will do more in some time about the rest of the characters. I had no more space in the tags lmao.

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