#''what's the least angsty song i can use''

[hxlxnaaa]

𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐬

★ synopsis: unrequited love manifests itself as a beautiful disease

★ character: zayne

★ cw: first-person pov, university au, hanahaki disease, ANGST

★ word count: 2k

★ a/n: zayne my angsty king. who needs happy endings am i right??? (i'm so sorry)

Google Search: Why am I throwing up flowers??????

Hanahaki Disease (花吐き病 (Japanese); 하나하키병 (Korean); 花吐病 (Chinese)) is a disease in which the victim coughs up flower petals when they suffer from one-sided love. It ends when the beloved returns their feelings, or when the victim dies. The flowers can now be surgically removed, but all feelings towards the beloved will dissipate.

I already knew what it was. Everyone does. From the first tulip petal I coughed out while working on my essay, to the bouquet that came up from my lungs, covered in blood, just days later.

It was progressing rapidly as the days went on, and everytime I took a breath my lungs would constrict; the vines curling around them, crushing my breathing ability, and my heart.

At first, I tried to ignore it. I’d go out with friends and attempt to go to class, but I felt embarrassed. Ashamed, even. I could feel their eyes on me, watching as I tried to smother my chokes in the middle of a lecture, only to have to dismiss myself to throw up a rose in the hallway.

It’s not like I could go through campus and see him, the one who gave me this. I ignored his calls, ignored his texts. Not that they came often anyways.

‘Are you okay?’

No, Zayne, do I look like I’m okay? I’m sitting in a pile of flower petals and my own blood on my bathroom floor.

Zayne. He was my childhood best friend, and growing up it always felt like I had to fight for an ounce of his attention. He was top of the class in highschool, popular with all the girls for being smart, stoic, and undeniably sexy. Not once did he entertain any of them, and it made them want him so much more. I was excited for college, thinking I could finally have him to myself, without feeling like I was sharing him with the whole school and his extra curriculars. I knew realistically he’d still lack the time for me, studying biology to go to med school, become a doctor, follow his dreams; and I would never be one to step in the way of that. I knew my place. I was just his best friend. I was aware there were boundaries I shouldn’t cross.

At least, until now.

I remember the moment it hit me.

After days, weeks of begging him, I had finally convinced the introverted, brooding nerd to go to a stupid frat party. For the laughs, I had said, follow the college stereotypes. ‘You only live once, Zayne!’ He humored me, I’ll be grateful for that. Giving it barely an hour (and a few free drinks), he quickly got sick of everything, inviting me outside. We sat outside on the driveway, the cool air a breath of freshness compared to the stuffy, sweat smell from inside.

A dumb rap song played inside, and Zayne looked over to me.

“Slow dance with me.”

I smiled and rolled my eyes, knowing it was the alcohol talking and not him. He’d regret this in the morning, and I’d get a stern talking to.

He stood, reaching his hand out, narrowing his eyes. I took his hand, figuring the least I could do was indulge in this moment. For once, his attention was fully on me.

I laughed as we swayed together, a muffled remix of a shitty rap song as our only background music. Looking up at him, I questioned when he had grown up so much. His once round, soft face with chubby baby cheeks had matured into a sharp jawline and high cheekbones I thought about grazing my hand over. Behind his eyes wasn’t a childish glint anymore, and I wondered how long ago that disappeared.

Pressing my face into his chest, I only felt us. One of his arms around my waist, the other holding my hand that was pressed against his shoulder. My free hand clutched his black jacket, like he would disappear into thin air, and my grasp was the only thing keeping him here.

To a passerby, it would’ve looked like a movie; two college kids dancing together outside of a frat party, holding onto each other like it’s the end of a world. In the movie, the two best friends would confess to each other the next day. The boy would rush to the girl's door, with a bouquet of flowers, gasping for air, saying “I love you, I love you, I love you, I never realized that I did.”

But only I realized. Only I realized I loved him.

Zayne never showed up on my doorstep the day after he walked me home that night. The only flowers I got were the ones that filled my lungs.

I refused to speak to him. I wasn’t mad at him, why would I be? It was my fault for forgetting my boundaries. For forgetting the rules. For thinking I had a chance since all the little highschool girls no longer followed him around like lost dogs. For once thinking that I was no longer his side character, for thinking maybe I could be his love interest in his story.

What would I say to him if we did speak? I couldn’t hide what was growing inside my chest. I couldn't hide my split lips from the thorns, or my scratchy voice. The dark circles under my eyes from lack of sleep, too busy catching up on work from missed classes and not getting a break from coughing or vomiting. Tell him I was sick? He’d scold me for not taking care of myself, that I need to rest and eat properly. I didn’t want to hear it, scolding me for something he caused. His concern would only grow when I would accidentally cough up a flower in front of him.

Would he ask who I loved? Or would he just look right through me and tell me I needed to get the surgery to fix all of this. ‘Nobody is worth that kind of illness’ He’d say bluntly.

I knew I couldn’t face him. Not knowing if he even cares, yet knowing that the way I look at his face is different from the way he looks at mine. How he sees his future with someone who isn’t me.

“What are you going to do?” I was hanging out with a friend from one of my classes, Tara. She was the only person I felt like I could confide in about all of this.

We were hanging out at one of the campus coffee shops when I told her. It was a good day for my lungs, after almost overdosing on decongestants and ibuprofen.

“I’m not sure.” Twirling my spoon in my cup, I avoided her eyes. “It’s not like I can get the surgery. I can’t afford it.”

She looked me up and down, and I felt as if she could see into my soul. She did, Tara was like that.

“Can your pockets not afford it, or can you not afford it?”

Tara was right. I could afford the surgery, my university healthcare covered the surgery since students caught the disease so often;

But my heart couldn’t afford it.

It had gotten so used to loving Zayne, it would feel empty without the compassion for him. I feared I may act differently, lacking all love for him. Would he even notice?

I quickly made up my mind, looking out the window - seeing the person I dreaded the most.

Zayne sat outside in a car on the other side of the street, and I could only tell it was him if I stared hard enough. He was holding the hands of a girl I had seen around campus. Zayne had briefly mentioned her a few times, talking about the assignments they’d work on together, and I never thought too much of it.

He brought their hands up to his mouth, kissing the back of her hand, and each of her knuckles. His face was gentle, a look I had never seen on him before. She giggled, and I wondered what it would be like to be her. To have him stare at me with all the love in the world, to be able to feel his soft pink lips I had stared at so many times, wishing to just touch, to just feel. To be on the receiving side of his care, his compassion, no more blunt harsh responses and stern looks.

“Hey-”

I turned back to Tara, and coughed up a flower on the table, and I choked back a sob. Tears threatened to poor, but I couldn’t embarrass myself more than I had with the bloody peony in front of me. She came around the table and hugged me, and I mumbled through quivering lips, “Can you take me home please?”

That night the girl had made it official that she and Zayne were dating. All the pictures on social media, the hearts that their friends commented on each other's posts. A disgruntled feeling made my chest spasm, any time I’d post a picture of Zayne he’d make me take it down immediately.

The morning of my surgery, I got up and put on my favorite sweater Zayne had gotten me for my sixteenth birthday.

“I got it for you last month when you stared at it in the shop’s window.” He smiled when he saw my excitement, one of the rare moments I could see his lips turn upward.

On my walk to the bus stop, I saw him sitting there. Once he looked up and saw me, he stood.

“Where have you been?” Zayne looked at me and frowned. I suppressed the immediate urge to roll my eyes.

“I never see you around campus. You’re never in your usual spots, and I texted you. I was supposed to help you study. Are you still attending your classes?” Even after not seeing each other for weeks, he still found a way to shame me. His eyes hard, lips pressed together into a tight line, I wasn’t even sure he was happy to see me.

The bus pulled up.

“Are you going to take the bus?” I asked him, avoiding his gaze.

He shook his head, “No, I’m waiting for-”

“Yeah, okay. I have to go.”

“Wait,” I turned around to him. It had begun to snow, so the small flakes sparkled on his head in the early morning light like glitter. He always loved winter, the snow.

He stared at me for a few seconds before shaking his head, changing his mind.

I nodded. “I’ll see you, Zayne.” Saying his name felt like acid on my tongue.

Turning around without taking another look at him, I boarded the bus.

Two days later, when I finally came home from my surgery, the only difference I could tell at first was that my chest didn’t hurt anymore. I could finally breathe again without feeling like I was choking on air. The doctors gave me a bag of all the flowers that they collected out of me, and at first I refused to look at them.

Yet as soon as I got home, I felt compelled to sit on my floor and sort through them.

I made piles of each flower, twirling them in my fingers before placing them in their designated places. Some had long vines that I used to tie them together into a crown.

After I finished, I spotted a jacket under my bed. I pulled it out to see it was the black jacket he wore the night we danced together outside that stupid party.

I took a deep breath of it, wishing I would feel the same way I did that night;

But I felt nothing.

It was now just a jacket. He was now just Zayne.

I put it on, wrapping it tightly around my body. I nestled the flowers along my head like a crown of thorns.

Looking at the girl in the mirror, staring at her with her blood stained flower crown, I broke down.

(divider by cafekitsune)

[jamminvroomvroom]

Hey girlll I love your blog so so so much! Congrats on the 4k bc you absolutely deserve it🫶🏼

I just had a little angsty request for Charles lando or Oscar (you can pick any you’re feeling more atm, I eat up anything ab my boys)

I saw this prompt maybe you could use - - "I can be there when you need me!" "But I did, and you weren't."

late night talking.

op x fem norris!reader

in which lando’s little sister has been sneaking around with his teammate, but it’s starting to have its challenges…

hiiiii thank u sm anon! love this request love you MWAH! so appreciative of this request and all of the others and that y’all trust me to bring your ideas to life!! i hope this hits the way you wanted it to! let me know what you think, big love 🤍

songs to set the mood: late night talking by harry styles, i love you by billie eilish, over my head by james marriott, if these walls could talk by 5sos

warnings: 18+!! minors dni!! smut, angst, fluff, a bit of hurt/comfort, secret relationship, brothers teammate trope (r is lando’s sister), fingering, morning sex, angsty needy sex, lando being an embarrassing little shit

4.1k words

sex and talking. sex and talking. sex and talking.

that’s what you do, oscar and you.

you watch him all weekend, eyes trailing his lean frame, the way his body moves under papaya fabric. then, when your brother finally leaves you alone, you sneak into oscar’s arms, room, bed, whatever’s closest.

you have your way with one another, nothing untouched, unexplored, and then you talk and talk until your lips hurt from stretched out grins and a satisfying ache sets into your spent limbs. you sneak out when the sun comes up the next day and join lando for breakfast in whatever hotel you’re in that weekend.

rinse, repeat.

you can remember the first time you saw him in real life, way back in early 2023, clear as day. you were in bahrain with your brother for testing, the sun in your eyes, and there he was. awkward, stocky, hands buried deep in his mclaren administered slacks. he was littered with moles, mousey brown hair catching the rays of light, chocolate eyes conveying cool confidence that didn’t at all match up with his uncomfortable stance. you could kiss over those moles like a game of dot to dot, tug on his strands that looked like smooth chocolate frosting, sink into his brown irises until you drowned.

lando had caught you staring, sending his elbow into your ribs, and when you turned to glare at him, cuss him out, you saw a look of warning. his eyes said: don’t you fucking dare.

and you didn’t dare, not for a while at least.

-

“o-osc.” you whine, panting through the waves of eye-watering pleasure.

he’s got you laid out across his massage table, two fingers scissoring into your sodden cunt as his thumb bumps your clit in messy circles.

it’s rare that you sneak away so brazenly like this during a race weekend.

“you gotta be quiet.” oscar shushes you, eyes flitting between your own watery pair and his fingers where they’re working you open.

“trying.” you breathe, slapping your own hand over your mouth when your belly tightens one last time. one wrong move and the entirety of the hospitality suite will know. lando will know. perhaps all of china will know. that’s how good he fucking feels.

you sob into your palm, bucking your hips wildly as you fall apart, spilling all around his relentless fingers. he fucks you through it, grinning coyly as your muffled cries subside.

“c’mere.” oscar lulls, pulling you back towards him. he kisses you deeply, smiling against your lips.

“i should go.” you mumble, pushing his hair back and raking your fingers through his hair.

oscar nods apathetically, reserved all of the sudden. you frown, stealing another quick kiss. you stumble to your feet fixing your underwear and your skirt, and grab your bag from the small sofa.

“we need to be more careful.” his words make your blood run cold.

“more careful?”

you sneak in and out of hotel rooms under the cover of night, you have his name disguised in your phone, you never speak to him in public.

“this was risky.” oscar shrugs. he looks antsy, his entire demeanour changing in a matter of minutes, the ecstasy of watching you writhe all for him worn off.

“this- i- you’re the one who dragged me in here, piastri.” you accuse. ‘piastri’ is reserved for when you’re pissed off, a cagey step back from the affection ‘osc’ that you usually called him. “whatever, i’ve got to go.”

“i’ll see you later?” he poses it as a question, uncertain that you’ll show. he has never been uncertain before, not with you, not with a lot of things. bile rises in your throat, and you scoff.

you can’t reply. the door slams behind you.

-

“where’ve you been?” lando ruffles your hair, a single eyebrow raised suspiciously.

“got bored with watching you look at data so i went for a walk.” you reply nonchalantly, pushing his hand away.

he hums in response, nodding slowly. it’s like he doesn’t quite believe you but he quickly moves on.

“you coming out with us after the race tomorrow?” lando asks.

“depends on who ‘us’ is.” you reply curtly. you don’t wanna look at oscar’s stupid, handsome face for a second longer than you have to. a familiar sadness sinks into your bones.

“couple of the drivers, alex, carlos, oh and oscar might even be swayed.” you grit your teeth, suddenly frustrated. “anyway, since when do you have beef with drivers? little miss sunshine fallen out with someone?” lando sounds confused, accusatory.

you stay silent, walking into the back of the garage, praying someone will come and steal your brother away.

“hey, you gonna tell me what the problem i-?”

“lando, we need you to look at this.” your brother gets cut off by a frantic engineer, your prayers answered, and is quickly lost to the chaos of the garage.

a pair of warm eyes burn into the side of your head. you turn to see oscar watching you, his eyebrows furrowed as if he’s studying you. he’s fidgeting, playing with his fingers, something strange for the man as cool as a cucumber. you look away as quickly as you can, managing to tear your eyes away from him, a lump forming in your throat which you swallow down.

it’s painful, really. sex and talking, it’s not enough, never has been for even a second. oscar piastri, australian f1 driver, number 81, quickly became your oscar, somewhat against your will.

-

somewhere in hungary, about 8 months ago

“are we really doing this, piastri?” you giggle, throwing your head back as his lips work your neck.

“need you.” he groans into your skin, low and needy. you’ve never heard him sound so disheveled, so desperate, a far cry from his usual, monotonous self.

“want you, osc.” you pant when his lips find your sweet spot, the feeling of him so delicious on your body.

“have me.” he whispers, falling into bed with you in his lap.

you lay there basking in stunned silence afterwards, a layer of sweat coating your knackered body. your shoulder is pressed flush with oscar’s, not an inch of space between you while you both stare at the ceiling, sporting matching lazy grins.

“i can’t believe we did that.” oscar mutters, a layer of disbelief in his voice.

“i think we should do it again.” you tease, except you are deadly serious.

“agreed.” he breathes.

“this stays between us, right?” you whisper, shyly.

“always.”

-

always makes your skin crawl now. you’re sick of having him in the dark, of having to avoid him in public for fear of turning into a lovesick fool. it’s embarrassing, really, unrequited love.

you can barely follow qualifying, staring blankly at the empty space in the garage where oscar’s car resides. you manage to catch the radio message through the headset you have on, the one where oscar’s muttering about a stupid mistake that’s just knocked him out. he’s limping back to the pits, licking his wounds.

you feel a pang in your chest, sympathetic and disappointed for him. you wonder what his mistake was, where his mind was. you’ll wait for the right moment, swallow the ache in your heart and your pride, and you’ll comfort him. he gets led away by frustrated engineers immediately, studying lines of data with furrowed eyebrows. you watch from afar, but then your heart sinks to your feet when four words sound through your headphones.

“lando, are you okay?”

will sounds stressed, repeating the four words that make your world stop spinning on its axis. everyone in the garage is staring at the tv screen, breaths held, stomachs tight.

your brothers car sits in tatters, carbon fibre littering the track. you can see the fluorescents of his helmet burrowed in the cockpit, still. your mouth hangs open, one hand clutching your chest, the other covering your quivering lips. you’re numb.

that feeling returns, the one of eyes burning into your weathered features. your wide eyes flit to the australian boy watching you from across the garage, and you beg silently for him to just come to you, pull you close, tell you that lando is okay and that he loves you back.

and lando is okay, his winded voice reassuring you over the radio.

but you stand there alone.

just like always.

-

somewhere in brazil, about 5 months ago

“what’s your favourite colour?” oscar mumbles lazily, lips bumping your cheekbone.

you’re curled up on his lap watching the sunset from his balcony. he was well behind lando after qualifying, and he’d craved a moment alone with you all day.

the air was thick, humid, the hot orange sun sinking far off in the horizon. you turn to face him, his features illuminated by the hazy glow. the sunlight makes his chocolate eyes sparkle warmly, so pretty.

“brown.” you whisper, scanning his face.

he laughs lowly, his chest rumbling.

“brown?” he questions teasingly.

“yep.” you grin, pecking his lips softly.

“why?”

“go look at those pretty eyes of yours in the mirror.” you retort smoothly, threading your fingers through his shower-damp strands.

“you flirting with me?”

“you bet i am.”

you twist back around, facing the view once more, moulding into his body. he kisses over your shoulder, resting his chin. you stay there content until the sun is gone and the stars twinkle.

-

the air in the room is thick, awkwardly silent.

he stands leaning against the desk, opposite where you sit on your bed. the lights are low in your hotel room, the imprint of your body still fresh against the mattress. you’d been crying when he knocked, eyes rimmed red, skin flushed raw.

“you just stood there.” you croak.

“love, i-“

“don’t call me that. please.”

hurt flashes across his features, but like he knows it’s not fair of him to complain, he buries it immediately.

“i just… will you hear me out?” oscar pleads quietly.

you nod feebly.

“it’s impossible. this, us. i wanted to go to you but i- i couldn’t, i didn’t know how that would look and i didn’t want to jeopardise this.”

“but you did.” you whisper. his face shatters, falling fast.

“no, no, i can be there when you need me-“

“but you weren’t!” you cry, your body physically sinking, your shoulders drooping.

“i can fix this, i will.”

“i think we need to stop this, osc. it’s too painful for me. i’ve tried to move past the hurt but after today…” your voice shakes and you crumble, the first tear falling.

“i’m not trying to hurt you.” he crosses the space between you in two rushed steps, collapsing to his knees before you.

“that’s not good enough.” you bite back. “i’m not going to be some guys dirty little secret. i won’t do it anymore oscar.”

“i was trying to protect you… this.” he gestures between you desperately

“i know, oscar. i know! but i never asked you to do that. i can’t love you in a hotel room for the rest of my life.” the words slip from your tongue, abrasive and messy, before your brain can catch up.

you grimace, biting your tongue, but oscar’s reaction couldn’t be further from your own. his watery eyes widen, pink lips pulling into a boyish grin.

“i don’t want to love you in a hotel room for the rest of my life either.” oscar whispers, tentatively taking your hands. you stare down at your slowly intertwining fingers, a familiar warmth oozing through your body. “i wanna love you everywhere.”

“show me.” you murmur through shaky breath.

“i will.” he leans in, leaning in to kiss your shoulder. “for as long as you let me, i will.”

“just come here.” your fingers find the hairs at the nape of his neck, pulling him into a kiss, one born of frustration, and longing, and a year of late night talking about everything except how much you love each other.

oscar pushes you back onto the bed, crawling over you, starving. you pull him flush against you, leaving no room between your bodies. you crave the feel of his entire weight pressing you into the mattress and as he does, you feel at home. when you pull apart, catching your breaths, he says it properly, for the first time, and the world gets lighter.

“i love you.” oscar cups your jaw, those chocolate eyes boring into yours, the intensity of it knocking you for six. “always.” he adds.

the meaning of the word changes. always doesn’t mean a shameful, taboo secret anymore. life is breathed into the six lettered word; always means you and him, together, finally out of the shadows.

“i love you, osc.” you whisper.

he’s smiling when he kisses you again, unbuttoning your blouse like he’ll die if he doesn’t get the offending item off of your frame. you retaliate by shoving his t-shirt up his back, tugging greedily at it to strip him bare. the material comes off easily and as he sits up to throw it away, you shrug off your blouse and it meets his shirt on the floor. his hands smooth over your curves, brushing the pudge of your belly as he finds the zip of your skirt, ruining the fasten in his state of haste. you barely notice the way he’s ruined the item of clothing, urgently unbuttoning his jeans. your underwear is gone too, nothing separating you but your bra, restless hands on heated skin.

“we need to be quiet.” you breathe. “lando’s next door.” oscar giggles, tinged pink.

“get on top, love.” he drawls, flipping onto his back and taking you with him.

he sits up with you in his lap, nothing anchoring either of you in the middle of the bed. the imprint of your devastated form is gone, replaced by the shape of him. you can feel the head of his cock nudging through your folds, slicking him up so that he can slide nice and deep. he trails his fingers between your legs, thumbing at your clit in deft circles, just the way he knows you like it. you’re mewling in his lap, grinding down on the pad of his thumb; it’s so good but it’s not enough.

“please, osc.” you pant, urging him to let you sink down on his cock. you can see how red it is, feel the way it throbs for you, and the need to be full of him is almost paralysing.

“come on, pretty girl. fill yourself up.” oscar mutters against the shell of your ear.

he kisses down your throat as you slide down on him, dropping your hips firm against his.

“fuck.” you cry, your forehead falling against his shoulder.

“you okay, sweetheart? feel so good for me.” oscar coos, his fingertips digging hard into your hips.

“so good, baby.” your head rolls back, feeling him hit that spot tucked away within your walls.

your breaths mingle, your breasts flush against his chest, and as if he realises that he never stripped you of your pesky bra, he grunts, unclasping the black lace and flinging it somewhere far away. he gently mumbles an awestruck “fuck”, as if he hasn’t seen your tits a million and one times before, and latches onto your nipple. his tongue works in slow circles, matching the pace of your hips working languidly on his cock, and you keen further into his body.

“prettiest girl for me.” oscar grits out, his eyes squeezing shut when you clamp down on him, hard.

you’re both trying so hard to be quiet, overwhelmed by touch and taste, love. you’re growing tired, hurtling towards a desperate release, and oscar can sense it, the feel of your quivering thighs tightening around his hips spurring him on. he grinds up into you, maintaining your pace, but he’s fucking you harder now, the anticipation of your release sending shivers down his spine.

“you gonna cum for me?” oscar grunts, holding your hips down against him. you can’t move, his hold too tight and your body too tired, all you can do is wait for your orgasm to hit like a ton of bricks. you nod frantically.

“yes, oscar, please baby.” you beg for it, and like the true gentleman he is, the calloused pad of his pointer finger finds its home on your clit, sending you into an upwards spiral.

it’s as if you’re levitating when you let go, in a dreamlike state, your teeth sinking hard into his pale shoulder to muffle a surefire whine of his name. he’s rutting into you, prolonging the bliss.

“cum inside of me.” you urge, voice barely above a whisper. well, you’ve certainly never done this before.

oscar’s eyes roll into the back of his head, tears pricking his lash line. a guttural gasp of your name spills from his lips when he lets go, painting your insides warm and white. you stare at the tiny indents your teeth had left on his thick shoulder, his breath hitting the crook of your neck warm and wet as he comes down.

“‘m yours, and i’m here. i’m always gonna be here, i promise.” oscar speaks so quietly that you wonder if you’ve imagined it.

-

“when i made that mistake today, i was thinking about you.”

you’ve been laying there in silence for a while now, tucked under his arm when he speaks. you turn to look at him, perplexed.

“what?”

“i felt so awful about what i said after we, you know. you looked so upset with me, and i don’t blame you.” oscar sighs.

“i just don’t want to feel like a shameful secret, osc.” you tell him quietly, the words heavy on your tongue.

“you won’t, not anymore. ‘m so sorry, sweetheart.” he lulls, kissing over your hairline.

“how do we make this work? and how are we ever gonna explain this to-“

“lando.” oscar cuts you off, shifting uncomfortable. “he’s going to murder me and my entire bloodline.” he chuckles nervously.

“he won’t murder you. he might put you in a gravel trap, though.” you roll onto your side, smiling teasingly up at him and he rolls his eyes.

“i’ll take the heat. you’re worth it.”

-

“promise me.” you pant, his hips grinding into you. you’re curled into his chest, still spooning and barely awake. he’d woken up needy, and you were even needier, the faint glow of early morning sunshine washing over you through a crack in the beige curtains.

“anything.” oscar stutters, his breath warm against the back of your neck. his nose bumps your skin, teeth scraping the shell of your ear.

you stop meeting his thrusts. he whines low, wordlessly pleading for you to resume. he ruts his hips against your ass, chasing friction.

“tell me it’s all gonna be different now.”

“i already told you, i-“ oscar grunts.

“promise me.” you purposely clamp down on him, a hiss sounding from between his gritted teeth.

“promise, i promise, i love you.”

you giggle, rocking your hips again, fucking yourself onto him once more.

“i know.”

“you gonna let me off the hook?” oscar pants in your ear, tugging on your earlobe with his teeth.

“still gotta prove yourself, piastri.” you moan.

he feels deeper like this and he knows it, revelling in the way he’s filled you up so perfectly. he rolls into you slowly, sliding against each and every spot that makes you squirm. you drop your guard, going limp in his arms to let him finish you off.

“you nearly there, sweetheart? you gonna cum for me, love?” his accents thickens in the mornings, husky and intoxicating. you fall apart, then, and he stays buried inside of you, the only sounds in the room your matching heavy breathing.

“i need you to get dressed.” oscar kisses your cheek.

“kicking me out already?” you feign offence, looking at him over your shoulder.

his fingers come to cup your chin, his forehead resting against yours.

“there’s something we gotta do.”

-

you’re wearing your skirt from the day before, the waistband rolled over to make up for the oscar-destroyed zipper. his hoodie that you’ve stolen almost completely covers the short skirt, and your messy hair and poorly removed makeup don’t do much to convince anyone that you’d actually slept in your own room last night.

still rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you don’t really comprehend where oscar is leading you, but when the elevator dings, signalling that you’ve reached the restaurant floor, you’re suddenly painfully awake. time seems to move in slow motion, your tummy twisting as you realise what’s about to happen.

ahead of you, tucked into the corner of the restaurant is your brother, jon, and ashley. lando is already draped in team kit, the papaya of his hoodie blaring obnoxiously for once, a warning sign.

“oscar, what-“

“i’m doing this.” he affirms, speeding up his stride.

oh my god oh my god oh my fucking god.

your heart speeds up, dropping to the pit in your belly when lando notices you, eyebrows furrowed, jaw clenched, eyes taking in the bewildering sight before him. his baby sister, disheveled and wide-eyed, and his teammate holding her hand, on a mission.

“what the fuck am i looking at?” lando doesn’t sound angry, per say, more perplexed than anything. there is an edge to his voice that you don’t particularly like, but he hasn’t started swinging yet, you suppose.

“i’m in love with your sister. like, for real. you deserve to know that.” oscar says confidently, somewhat monotonously.

lando opens his mouth, closes it. opens it again, closes it. he repeats the process a few more times, going through the motions of an emotional rollercoaster.

but then, he sighs deeply, a grin of disbelief stretching across his face. jon bangs on the table excitedly, and ash is shaking his head.

“you owe us so much money.” jon laughs, his head tipping back.

“pay up, boss.” ash sticks his hand out expectantly, smirking across the table.

“what… what?” you exclaim, narrowing your eyes in confusion.

“i didn’t wanna believe them.” lando shrugs.

“don’t blame you.” oscar chimes in, and you stare between the two mclaren drivers in bewilderment.

“are you okay with this?” you question, staring your brother in the eyes, still a bit disoriented by the entire situation. his face softens, a genuine smile lingering small on his lips.

“if you’re happy, i’ll make my peace with it.” lando’s eyes flit between you and oscar.

all of the sudden, a look of horror crosses his face, and his voice turns stern.

“but,” he inhales shakily. “if i ever, ever, hear again what i think i heard last night,” he glares at oscar, pointing one firm finger at the australian, who stands up a bit straighter. “you’re dead, piastri.”

jon and ash bite back giggles at the empty threat, and you take it upon yourself to put an end to the situation before it gets any more awkward.

“well, on that note!” you sing-song, dragging oscar away.

“and make sure you’re using protection!” lando calls out, panic stricken, big brother mode activated.

“oh my god.” you blush dark pink, speeding up, the elevator in your sights.

“that went well.” oscar quips sarcastically. he looks rather happy with himself.

you kiss him as soon as the metal doors shut.

-

you do go out after the race, but for once it’s not to drink away the memories of a weekend in oscar’s arms. this time, it’s to celebrate the fact that you can love him out loud, and he’ll do the same right back.

you’re dancing in his arms, bright lights in shades of blues and purples streaming over your bodies. oscar holds you close, keeps you wrapped in his arms, despite the shock on the faces of others at the sight of lando norris’s baby sister publicly besotted with his teammate.

when oscar kisses you deep, smiling against your lips that taste like cherry liquor, you know that this last year of your life wasn’t in vain.

you and oscar, you’re built to last.

-

“how did you not see it, mate?” charles beams, crinkles by his eyes from the wide smile he’s sporting. he’s clearly drunk, but lando is too.

it appears he’s clocked the brits sister and her australian suitor on the dance floor.

the monagasque has rocked up to the bar with alex and pierre in tow, the three of them slapping lando on the back as they arrive.

“i guess there were signs.” lando shrugs, dragging his finger over the rim of the crystal glass.

“signs? mate it was obvious.” pierre chuckles, pushing lando’s shoulder.

“wait, you all knew?” lando splutters.

yeah. duh. come on, man.

“why didn’t you tell me?”

“it’s funnier.” charles… winks? it’s hard to tell with him.

lando finds you in the crowd, grinning up at oscar like he hung the stars in the sky. the younger mclaren driver returns your look, and it sparks warmth in lando’s chest.

you’re gonna be okay.

-

hehe

-

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[gay-dorito-dust]

Are your requests open? If not feel free to ignore this. If so you can also still ignore this but I wanted to ask, could you write how the batboys/batfam would react to a vigilante reader who left Gotham but came back a year or so later?

I don't know if you listen to Noah Kahan but maybe something along the lines of the song “Your Gonna Go Far”? It's just a good song that makes me think of them for some reason IDK 😂

Damian’s was a little angsty but eh. I held this ask off for long enough.

Dick would tease that the reason you came back was because you missed him too much, when in actuality it was more or less the opposite, he missed his fighting crime alongside his vigilante buddy.

‘Fuck off.’ You’d scoff and go to playfully push him, only for him to take it a step further and willingly fall from the rooftop you were hanging out on, and you immediately stood up. ‘Dick?’ You’d call as you peered over the ledge for him. ‘This isn’t funny!’ You shouted in attempt to hide the fact that you were incredibly fearful of the state you’d find him in.

However Dick reappears doing a handstand with a shit eating grin on his face as he used his hands to move towards you, much to your chagrin.

‘I’ll leave again.’ You threatened, crossing your arms over your chest.

‘No you won’t.’ Dick grunts as he got to his feet, still smiling as he got stepped close to you. ‘If you were hellbent on leaving Gotham forever then you wouldn’t have dared tempt the idea of coming back.’

As much as you hated to admit it but he was right, you wouldn’t leave again and even if you did originally want out of Gotham, there was too much work that had to be done here then anywhere else. You were more pretty much done with the whole leaving thing as that didn’t necessarily work out, considering just how fast you abandoned your original plan just to came back to Gotham.

‘I hate it when you’re right.’ You murmured under your breath as Dick chuckles, happy to have you back home, back to him and picking up where you both left off as though nothing had ever happened.

‘So that being all the time, right?’ He asks as he slings an arm over your shoulder, pulling you into his side as you made a face. ‘You’d fucking like for that was the case don’t you.’ You scoffed as you looked at him, one to see him looking back at you with a soft look in his eyes, which was something new even for you seeing as yours and Dick’s relationship consisted of witty back and forth and making lightheartedly fun out of each other.

‘Only if you stay long enough to admit it.’ He says without an ounce of his usual teasing as a silence befell you both as you stared at one another, wondering where life was going to take you now you were back in Gotham.

Jason

‘I was rooting for you to stay away.’ He said upon seeing you kick one of Penguin’s goons in the head.

You shrugged. ‘Hate to disappoint but the grass wasn’t greener on the other side.’ You told him, kicking the goon’s switchblade over the rooftop and into the streets below when noticing his hand itching towards it.

‘It must’ve been at least somewhat greener considering how long you stayed there before coming home.’ Jason sassed, joining in by kicking the goon in the ribs for good measure and you groaned. ‘Don’t tell me you’re still pissed at me for leaving are you?’

Jason scoffs. ‘Noooo, why would I be possibly mad at the fact that you had done it. You managed to escape Gotham and instead of staying out of Gotham and building yourself a future where coming back wasn’t an option, you came back?! Why?! What made you think that was a smart idea?!’ He exclaims and you dropped low to perform a sweeping kick to his feet -taking advantage of his irritation- knocking him flat on his back, grabbing the lapels of his brown jacket.

‘For you DUMBASS! I came back to Gotham for you! I wasn’t about to let you rot in this shit hole without at least knowing someone gave a shit about you! Is that such a fucking hard concept to grasp?!’ You yelled at him but just before you let go of his jacket, Jason was quick to catch your wrists in one of his hands and managed to pin you to the floor as he hovered over you. ‘I don’t believe I ever once asked you to do anything for me, other than staying out of Gotham once you found an outing for yourself.’ He said in a low voice.

‘You didn’t need to.’ You told him, easily envisioning the look of frustration Jason must have on his face under the red helmet. ‘That’s was all my own doing and I don’t regret any of it.’ You grunted. ‘Not even a little. I couldn’t afford to build a future out there because there was no future for me to build when I knew I had a better chance of doing that here with you than anywhere else.’

Jason sighed, ‘you’re insufferable.’ He huffed before letting you of your wrists and standing up to his feet as he holds a hand out to you to take.

‘And you’re still a dickhead.’ You retorted smiling as you eagerly grabbed his hand, allowing him to pull you up to your feet before bringing you into his arms, holding you tightly where you melted into his body warmth.

‘Your dickhead you mean.’ He murmurs against your head.

‘yeah, my dickhead.’ You smile, knowing that evening was going to be okay from here on out.

Damian

‘I thought you skipped town.’ Damian said as he sheathed his sword.

‘You don’t sound surprised to see me.’ You replied, putting away your twin batons on your back.

Damian shrugs before looking over at you. ‘Why should I be surprised, I did say on the day you left that you’d come back home sooner or later.’ He reminds you as you both over looked the city you both once swore to protect. ‘No one leaves Gotham for long, this city has a way of pulling people back in whether they liked it or not.’

You clenched your fists at your side out of frustration because you knew that he was right, he was always right and you hated it because when you had gotten out of Gotham, it didn’t feel as though you were needed as much to protect the streets. It made you realised that being born and raised in Gotham and learning go hone the skills required to survive had became a vital part of you, a part of you that you couldn’t escape no matter has far away you go from the vile city and make a name for yourself elsewhere.

It ended up not working out and soon you found yourself going back to the place you swore you’d never go back to.

‘You didn’t miss me? Not once?’ You asked all of a sudden.

‘No. You were barely on my mind as I was busy clearing the streets you left behind.’ Damian said but even you could tell that he was lying to himself somewhat.

‘Are you sure I didn’t come to mind? Not even when you’re standing in the locations we regularly rendezvous for missions?’ You asked again.

Damian remains silent this time. Of course he missed you, there wasn’t a day that went by where he didn’t resent you for leaving Gotham, for leaving him behind when you both swore to keep Gotham safe together. Admittedly he hated you for a brief time after you left, he tried to burn every memory he had of you to prove that his hatred and resentment towards you was true, and not as an act of heartbreak and abandonment.

However Damian found himself unable to keep that facade up after three month anniversary of your departure, where found himself on the very rooftop he was now, and ironically it was the very same rooftop where you told him you were leaving Gotham indefinitely; looking up to the stars and wishing for your health and well-being whether you were.

‘No.’ Damian snipped, leaving you in a very similar to the way you had left him long ago, alone and conflicted with emotions.

[wonustars]

𝘋𝘰𝘯𝘵 𝘔𝘰𝘷𝘦, 𝘏𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘺

Soobin vers. | Beomgyu vers.

txt as 5sos songs: you look so perfect.

Summary: yeonjun is a well known, attractive, and respected. you two are total opposites. the last thing that you would expect is for him to take interest in you. first meeting you at a coffee shop, he beomes a regular. constantly coming back to visit, but not just for the iced americanos.

Reposts are always appreciated/encouraged!! Tumblr works on reblogs not likes, Thank you for your support :)

Tags: nonidol!yj, popular!yj, campuscrush!yj, shy!asocial!reader, total opposites, opposites attract, yeonjun is so sweet and gives lots of reassurance, reader is a little angsty but still a lovely mc!

SMUT! MDNI 18+ only!

Warnings: dom!yeonjun, sub!reader, afab!reader, virgin!reader, unprotected sex, oral (f. receiving), fingering, mating press, creampie, bigdick!yeonjun,this one is more on the vanilla side.

Word count: 5k words

Note: this story contains smut so minors pls DNI! I mean it, if I see you interacting i will be blocking you. hellowwww!! a lot of people really liked the preview so, heres the full thing hehe. i like half assed with the proof read so let me know if i've missed any typos, tags or warnings!! my lovely Taehyun will be after this one :)

happy reading ~

All your life you had been the one in the shadows. There are no major plot points or no “y/n moments” that people would use to describe Wattpad-like events. You weren’t upset about this though, the life you live is content, happy enough. 

A normal day-to-day for you consists only of two things, school, and working at the cafe across campus. Your life isn’t appealing to others, but you like how quiet it is. A quiet life with no disturbances, no drama, and no feelings of stress. It's a peculiar feeling to want something that seems so lonely.

The last time you witnessed a major disturbance in your life had to be the event that took place within the confines of your part-time job. Two men were trying to win the heart of a girl. Two attractive men at that. The whole time the three were quarrelling you wondered what it would feel like knowing someone wanted you that bad, that they would fight someone else to have you. 

It left an odd taste in your mouth, and a stinging feeling behind your eyes. 

“Hey… are you guys still taking orders?” a voice brings you out of your internal tangent. You perk up from the relaxed position you were in. Shamefully, you nod. Not wanting to make eye contact you head towards the register. 

“What can I get for you?” you ask, eyes trained on the ordering screen. 

“A large iced americano please, that’s all.” 

“And the name of the order?” you ask, a stupid question. No one else was in the cafe except you and this random guy. The music feels louder than it usually does, the embarrassment causes your ears to turn red. 

“Yeonjun.” 

..̇·𓏲 would you wanna run away too?

Yeonjun found himself coming to the cafe across campus more often now. The girl behind the counter piqued his interest, more than anyone he’s ever come across before. The energy you gave off, the fact that you were so shy? He couldn’t get you out of his head. So much so that he caught himself visiting you for his iced americano at least once a day. 

Yeonjun was never on the shy side, he had always been popular at school, living a life filled with social interaction. Everyone at school always adored him, not only for his looks but his charming personality. Which only made the fact that not being able to talk to you is a weird, new feeling for him. 

As much as he wanted to talk to you, he just didn’t know what to say. Where to start, how the conversation should come about. He was overthinking, and he also felt like it was wrong to only visit the cafe as an excuse to see you, like a stalker, although this is just some innocent crush. 

“A large iced americano please,” Yeonjun asks, giving you his sweetest smile. You glance up at him and give a slight nod. He has been coming to the cafe more often lately, you weren’t sure why but you weren’t complaining. A handsome customer becoming a regular was something that caused you to look forward to your shifts. 

“Is that all?” you ask, looking up to glance at his features again. Fuck he was so attractive. 

“Actually, there’s something else I wanted to ask.” Yeonjun declares, his face covered with a layer of determination. You don’t say anything, the feeling of anticipation bubbling in your stomach. “Can I also get your number?” 

Your eyes almost fell out of their sockets. Not in a million years could you have predicted that the handsome regular would ask for your number. 

“U-um yeah sure it’s  _” you're stuttering, no one ever asked for your number before. Is this the “y/n moment” so many people on the internet talk about? 

..̇·𓏲 you look so perfect standing there

As soon as you get home from your shift a notification lights up your screen. It was a foreign feeling to see your phone light up from a notification, let alone a message. Of course, you had friends, but they preferred to hang out in person rather than text. 

You already knew who it could be from, your cheeks heating up at the thought, and possibilities of what this notification might contain. Getting ready for bed quickly, you envelope yourself in your comforter. The light from your phone screen lights up your dark room. 

unknown number: hey, is this y/n? its yeonjun. from the cafe. 

you: Yes this is y/n :) 

yeonjun: hi! you got home safely, im glad. 

you: Yes I did, and so did you. I’m also glad. 

yeonjun: lol ya i hope i didn’t come off too strong earlier. i just want to get to know you more. 

you: No you didn’t, Its ok. I didn’t think you would even want my number. It was kind of a surprise. 

yeonjun: what ofc i would want your number, i think you’re really pretty. and you make good americanos

you: Thank you, it just wasn’t what i was expecting. Americanos arent rocket science tho, its literally water and espresso lol 

yeonjun: yeah ik but they taste so much better when you make them :)

It’s only been a few minutes since you and Yeonjun started talking over text, but your face has already turned into a deep shade of crimson. Throwing your phone across your bed, you shove your face into your pillow letting out a scream. The sound of your feet hitting your bed as you kick them and giggle like a mad woman. As you come back to your senses, you quickly remember that you have yet to reply. 

you: You flatter me Yj, you should keep coming back for them if you like them so much. 

yeonjun: yj? even my nickname sounds sweeter coming from you, but the Americanos weren’t the only thing i was coming back for. 

The smile on your face hurts your cheeks. Never has anyone made you feel like Yeonjun did as he texted you. The blatant flirting and numerous compliments realized how much you were missing out on while living your mundane student life. 

It had only been a few hours of texting each other back and forth, but you started to grow fond of the person Yeonjun is. He’s so handsome, not just in the face, but also with the way he carried himself. The impression he gives off is insanely attractive. The way he made you feel wanted, liked, and cherished over the simplest things reeled you in. 

..̇·𓏲 your lipstick stain is a work of art 

It’s been a few weeks since you and Yeonjun started talking but it has started to become a part of your daily routine. You’ve become accustomed to the many good morning and goodnight texts, the late night Facetime calls, and the blatant flirting from Yeonjun. 

He still comes into the cafe daily to grab his iced americano which you look forward to every shift. 

“Hey y/n!” a voice coming from the entrance grabs your attention. 

You’re working the lunch rush and have been trying to restock the pastries in the glass display. To your dismay they weren’t cooperating with you, leaving you frustrated and tired. A sigh of defeat leaves your lips and you turn your head over to the person calling your name. 

It’s him. The one person who makes your whole shift a little better. He looked so good walking through the door. His dark blue hair appeared more vibrant than usual, and the sun was hitting his face in the most heavenly way. Your heart was pumping hard, the flow of blood running to your ears and cheeks. 

Yeonjun walks up to you, and you notice someone following close behind him. Your eyes shift between the two of them. Assuming thoughts filling your head quickly. 

She is really pretty, you thought. 

They walk up to the counter together, laughing about something amongst themselves. It made your heart sink to the floor. The feeling in itself made you want to throw up. 

Quickly, you push it aside. You were not wanting your feelings to get in the way of your professionalism, especially at work. 

“Oh, hey Yeonjun and friend. What can I get for you guys?” you ask, smiling a little too hard, trying hard to act normal.

“Two americanos pleasee,” he answers, prolonging the ‘please’ with a little pout. If not for your current situation you would’ve found Yeonjun adorable. Your heart can only feel a stinging sensation at the view of the two in front of you. 

“Sounds good. They’ll be at the end of the counter for you guys,” you mumbled, not really making eye contact with Yeonjun. 

He senses your change in mood but didn’t want to make a fuss with a line slowly forming behind him. It’s the lunch rush after all, so he brushes it off for the time being. Leaving you to work, making a mental note to ask you about it when you’re off. 

..̇·𓏲 got your name tattooed in an arrow heart

Your shift felt longer than usual, probably due to the fact that you couldn’t get Yeonjun off your mind. The feeling in your chest still hasn’t subsided. Who are you to feel jealous about him hanging around other girls? Especially knowing that the two of you aren’t even together. With that tidbit of information circling your mind, you felt even more guilt for letting jealousy get the better of you. 

Not bothering to even check your phone, you focus on getting home quickly, wanting to take a shower as soon as you got back. Walking down the sidewalk your legs felt like jelly, thankfully you didn’t live that far from work. It was already past sunset and the light summer breeze whistled with every step you took. Five minutes and you’re already standing in front of your building. A sigh of relief leaves your lips as you stare up at the brown bricks towering over you, imagining your bed and the comfort it brings you. 

As you come closer to your building you see a figure leaning against the wall near the entrance. Your senses are heightened considering there usually aren’t many suspicious people who tend to hang around your building. The distance between you and this stranger has gotten smaller, revealing their identity. All the while your heart drops once again, but in relief. 

“Y/n! Hey sorry if I freaked you out. You weren’t answering my texts I thought something bad happened to you.” Yeonjun explained, coming closer to you. His scent fills your senses, calming you down in just a blink of an eye. Thank god it was just him and not some stalker. 

“Hi Junnie, sorry I didn’t answer you. I didn’t check my phone after I got off. How do you know where I live?” You asked, raising an eyebrow at him, pretending to be suspicious of his actions. Your arms are crossed as you face towards him, his eyes are round as a globe. 

“U-uh sorry if I seem like a creep y/n-” he chuckles nervously as he scratches the back of his head “-I asked one of your friends because you usually shoot me text when you’re off work.” 

“Oh ok, and no I don’t think your creepy. We’ve known eachother long enough to know these types of things anyways.” You comfort him, patting his back as you tilt your head towards the entrance. Silently asking if he wanted to come upstairs with you. 

As if it didn’t exist in the first place, the feeling of jealousy brewing in your stomach disappeared. The only thing left was the warmth Yeonjun brought you, even though your relationship has been undefined. Unlabelled. He felt like a new world you had yet to explore. New experiences that you’re waiting to try. Although he was popular, especially with the women around campus, he was a total green flag. 

Yeonjun nods his head, giving you his signature heart stopper smile as you lead him up to your apartment.

The familiar air of the building envelopes you, both of your footsteps echoing as you slowly ascend up the stairs. It wasn’t too long of a trip since you live on the second floor. 

A warm hand intertwines with yours, causing the hair on your arms to stand. The chills running through your body like an electric shock. If you weren’t quick enough, you would’ve tripped on the next step; taking Yeonjun down with you. But you relax, squeezing his hand reassuringly as you allow him to continue to follow you. 

What felt like an eternity, was in reality only a minute or two. You and Yeonjun finally made it up to the front door of your home. Your hands staying intertwined even when you fetch your keys from the bottom of your bag. As you unlock the door, your shoulders instantly relax. This is what you’ve been dreaming of since the moment you clocked into work. 

“Well, this is me.” you turn to him, shyly smiling. It wasn’t much but you were happy here. 

He chuckles. “Its cute. It suits your vibe.” 

You can’t help but smile as you continue to drag him through the rest of your living space. He follows you obediently, taking in everything little by little. The whole place felt warm, cozy, familiar. Which is exactly how Yeonjun feels about you. 

“Im gonna take a shower and change. You can watch something while you wait if you’d like.” You beam up at him with his hand still glued to yours, both sets of eyes twinkling against the ambient lighting. In this specific lighting you found Yeonjun to be so pretty. The dim lighting accentuating his features; the pink tint to his lips, the sharpness of his nose, the admiration in his eyes. 

Distracted by your beauty, Yeonjun can only smile and nod. 

..̇·𓏲 dont move, honey

As you leave your room, you see Yeonjun sitting on your couch. Looks like he’s made himself at home, you thought. Giggling quietly to yourself, you close the door shut. The sound causing Yeonjun to move his eyes over to you. His eyes are stuck on your figure, he didn’t expect you to walk out in such little clothing. The lump in his throat gets harder to swallow as you make your way to him. 

Your definition of comfortable clothing is a oversized shirt and some sleep shorts. Yeonjun doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t want to be rude and keep staring but he just can’t tear his eyes off you. The way your wet hair is causing your shirt to dampen; giving a sneak peak at your breasts. Or the factt that your shorts barely covered any part of you, it almost looked like you weren’t wearing any at all. God, he felt like a pervert, you looked so good he couldn’t help but feel-

“Whatcha watching?” you inquire, sitting down beside him, dangerously close. 

“Hmm just some random youtube video I stumbled upon.” he shrugs, trying to look non-chalant, but in reality, he was screaming at himself for being so turned on right now. 

“Oh ok.” You turn your attention towards the TV, your body stiff as you think about the proximity between you and Yeonjun right now. It’s the frist time he’s been over, and it’s also the first time you’ve spent alone time in person. At this moment you can only wonder if he feels the same way you do. 

With that thought, the memory of the girl who accompanied him to the cafe ressurfaces. You wonder if she was something more to him, of if they are just friends. Silently you pray its the latter. The feelings you’ve grown for Yeonjun seems to strengthen with everyday and night that you two talk. Although its a sad thought, he has every right to talk to other people; especially since neither of you stated that you would be exclusive. You aren’t really an expert in these types of situations anyways. 

Ever since you were young, the only relationships you’ve experienced were through media or reading. Some of your friends would tell you about their dating experiences, but you had no stories of your own to share. You were never as outgoing as they were, and you also didn’t like the idea of going out as often as they did. Funnily enough you still ended up in a job where you had to talk to strangers. All of that had lead you to believe that you were better off living the single life, as sad as it sounds; it was true for a good portion of your life. 

Until Yeonjun. 

“H-hey can I ask you something?” you turn over to face your body towards Yeonjun, your eyes flashing with clear nervousness. He pauses the video turning towards you with curious eyes. 

“Yeah of course, anything.” He smiles at you, his hand patting your bare thigh reassuringly. The action causing your cheeks heat up almost instantly. 

“Who was that girl you were with earlier? I know it’s not my place to ask considering we’re just friends but I’ve been thinking about it all day. Obviously if you’re not comfy you do-,” He cuts you off, a giggle leaving his lips. 

“Shes just a friend. She’s dating Soobin so you don’t need to worry.” he reassures, his hand coming back to your thigh again, squeezing it lightly, but this time he keeps it there. Your heartbeat is now in your throat as you look down at his hand. The veins running along his arms were prominent; the fact that his whole hand could grip more than half your thigh caused an unfamiliar heat to flow down to your lower body. 

“O-oh, ok just pretend I didn’t ask that then,” you mumble, your eyes still focused on the way he was no rubbing your thigh. It felt good to experience this type of skinship with him, even if it wasn’t all that much. It still has you stumbling over your words. 

“I thought you knew I liked you already y/n. I thought you knew from the moment I asked for your number.” he whispered, his face coming closer to yours. 

Your breath hitched not being able to move your eyes away from his lips. 

“U-um I didn’t know. No ones ever shown interest in me.” you confess, your head now turned down towards your hands as you play with them nervously. 

“Thats ok baby, I’m interested in you. I like you.” Yeonjun states firmly. His finger carefully placed under your chin, forcing your gaze to meet his. The look in his eyes sent a chill down your spine. This is the first time you’ve seen Yeonjun look so serious. You couldn’t help but gulp. 

“I like you too Junnie.” you whisper, your eyes locked on his. Smiling, Yeonjun strokes your cheek with his thumb. The warmth of his hand still burning onto your thigh. 

“Fuck y/n It’s so hard for me to hold back when you call me that.” His tone is low. Staring at your lips, he begins to trace their outline. 

“What? Junnie?” you provoke, matching his tone. A groan almost leaves his lips but instead his grip on your thigh only tightens. 

“May I kiss you y/n?” Yeonjun’s polite words are a stark contracts as to all the thoughts brewing in his head. You seem to have lost your voice, only nodding as you slowly try to close the gap. 

With Yeonjun’s lips on yours he grips your waist pulling you onto his lap in a swift motion. You can’t help but yelp at how easily he can move you around. It was like you were his own personal ragdoll. Wrapping your arms around his neck, he deepens the kiss.

This is your first time kissing someone but you’re glad your first is Yeonjun. Not only do you have feelings for him, but he tasted so good. It felt so wrong but right at the exact same time. 

The two of you continue to kiss passionately, and you feel yourself naturally move with the flow. Your hips starting to move back and forth slightly as Yeonjun guides you with his large hands. A tiny gasp escapes your lips as you feel something hard rub against your core. Although this was all new to you, it was like you already knew what to do. Yeonjun takes the opportunity to allow his tongue to enter your mouth. This surprises you, pulling away you say,

“Junnie I-i’ve never done anything like this before.” you squeaked, burying your face into his neck. He rubs his hands up and down the sides of your thighs, soothing you. 

“Thats alright princess, I can show you how. Will you let me?” he asks, his hands moving to take your face away from the space between his shoulder and neck. Brushing the hair out of your face, he tucks the strands behind your ear. The action in itself can only cause your cheeks to burn a deep red. Everything Yeonjun did always had you feeling like the most cherished girl in the world. You can only nod as his actions have left you speechless. 

“With your words princess.” he demands, a hand snakes down to your hips giving you an encouraging squeeze. 

“Yes Junnie, please show me how,” you murmur. Steadily, you move closer to him wanting to close the gap between you two again. You want to feel the same way you did when your bodies were pressed up against eachother. 

“Alright darling, just let me know if it gets too much for you ok? I’ll only go as far as you let me.” 

“Yes Junnie.”

“Good girl.” his hands are back on your hips, his lips back on yours. The wet sounds coming from both your mouths have you riled up. Yeonjuns back to moving your hips back and forth, desperately wanting to increase the friction. The sensation of his hard dick rubbing against you was addicting. Your thin shorts not really leaving anything up to imagination. 

Yeonjun can only groan, the feeling of your warm cunt against his cock is driving his crazy. He can only wonder how it must feel to be inside you. 

“F-feel’s good Jun.” you moan into the kiss, your hips now moving on their own accord. 

“You like that princess?” he chuckles, peppering kisses along your neck and collarbone, leaving love bites in his tracks. Slowly his hands creep up under your shirt. It lifts ups as his hands move higher. They almost hit your bare breasts, but before he proceeds he looks up to you for approval. You can only nod, dazed from all your senses going into overdrive. 

Yeonjun doesn’t waste any time and removes your shirt. You’re left bare in front of him, the blush on your cheeks still noticeable in the dim lighting. 

“You’re beautiful love,” he assures, going back to his ministrations. Kissing up and down your neck until he reaches your breasts. He takes one in his hand and the other one in his mouth. You can only moan, your head lolling back from the pleasure. Hands gripping onto his hair for some type of balance. 

Yeonjun is rock hard under you, the pulse in his dick only getting more noticable the more he pleasures you. He wants to show you how much he wants you, to show you how much you deserved to be cherished. 

Tongue swirling around your nipple, your moans become less shy, the feeling of being pleasured taking over you. Yeonjuns mouth moving onto the other nipple as he picks you up. You yelp from the sudden movement but wrap your legs around his waist anyways. 

His feet padding towards your bedroom, he opens the door. Gently he places you on your mattress, situating himself between your legs.

“Are you still doing ok over there sweetheart?” he inquires. 

“Really ok Junnie, please keep going. Want more.” you whimper, your elbows stablizing you as you get a good view of him. He begins to remove your shorts, your pussy glistening from how wet he’s gotten you. A groan bubbles up in Yeonjuns throat; just looking at you in this light could make him cum. 

He makes himself comfortable with his head between your thighs. Taking things slow, he uses one finger to play with your entrance. Rubbing you all over, collecting your wetness before he finally pushes a finger in. 

You moan, your elbows collapsing from the pleasure. You grip your sheets as he pumps his finger in and out of you. The lewd sounds of your soaking core bouncing off the walls. After a few more pumps he adds in another finger, the stretch burning so good.

He looks up at you to see you whimpering for him, his name leaving your mouth in what sounded like a sweet melody. The way your brows scrunch with his every moves turns him on even more. Watching you coming undone on his fingers is a sight he wants to see everyday if he could.

“Let me taste you baby.” Yeonjun says with a deep tone to his voice. Every word coming out of his mouth is dripping with lust. With that warning he places a kiss on your clit, your hands moving from your sheets to grip his hair. He continues to kitten lick and suck on your sensitive bud, the pleasure sending you to another universe. 

“O-oh Junnie, it feels so good.” you squeak out. He places your legs over his shoulders, delving into you more. He’s properly eating you out now, his fingers pumping in and out of your wet heat while licking you all at the same time. As he goes on, an unfamiliar feeling starts to brew in your stomach; growing stronger as more time passed. 

“I can feel your pussy gripping my fingers baby, cum for me. I know you can do it, just let go.” Yeonjun purrs, his words of encouragement is your last straw before your orgasm. 

“Good girl, so good for me. You’re doing so well my love.” he’s praising you as he moves back up to your face. Hes smirking at you as he hovers over your naked body. His own body still in between your legs, the lower half of his face glistening with your juices. 

“Can I fuck you princess?” he asks.

The vulgar words spewing from his mouth, the way he asks so nicely, the way he calls you such sweet names; the polarity of it all gives you whiplash. 

“Yes please, wanna feel you inside me.” you mumble and you press kissing all along his face, moving down towards his neck. You found it so attractive how he always asks for your consent. 

He quickly undresses, both your clothes randomly thrown around the room. Situating himself between your legs once again, he sits himself on his heels. Pumping his length a few times he then rubs the tip up and down your slit, collecting your juices. The squelching sound of your lips rubbing against his him is like music to his ears. 

Yeonjun finally enters you, causing your back to arch with every inch he slowly puts in. You’ve only heard about sex through friends, but being able to experience it yourself is on another level. The stretch of his cock pushing inside you stings more than when he was fucking you with his fingers. 

“Mmm Junnie I think you’re too big,” you whimper while hes pressing kisses all over your face to soothe you. 

“It’s ok love, it’ll feel better as it goes on ok?” Yeonjun groans, as he keeps pushing into you. He continues till hes dick is buried deep inside you. Stilling for a moment, he lets you get used to the feeling. The scrunched up look on your face begins to relax, giving him a signal to start thrusting into you. 

“Fuck baby you feel so good around me.” he whispers. 

At first hes slow, but the sound of your wet pussy getting fucked by his dick starts to fog his thoughts. Your moans increase in volume, his name falling off your lips repeatedly. 

“Junnie, hmmm it feels so good. Faster please.” you beg as your wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him down for another kiss. Who is he to deny you? 

He fucks into you faster, this time you can hear the slapping sounds as his length goes in and out of you. One of his hands moving between the two of you to rub your clit and his thrusts to turn sloppy. 

Your eyes are rolling to the back of your head the more Yeonjun pumps his dick into you. You could feel his length kiss your cervix with every thrust. This is all so new to you, and the only thing you could do is keep moaning and telling him how good it felt.

“This pussy was made for me. Isn’t it baby?” he states rather than asks.

“Y-yes Jun.” you’re a stuttering mess, you could barely answer him as it is.

“Taking me so well princess. I wanna fuck you like this all the time now.” he praises again, taking your thighs and pressing them towards your stomach. The new angle causes you to whimper, you can feel him so much deeper. Your gummy walls are practically suctioning him.

You moan in response. He’s fucked you dumb at this point, cock drunk with every move he makes inside your wet cunt.

“Can I cum inside you baby?” he asks in between kisses. 

“Please Junnie, wanna feel you cum in me.” you moan, the feeling of your clit being stimualted as he fucks you is causing you to see stars. You cum around him, gripping his dick as you ride out your second orgasm. As if on queue Yeonjun relases his cum inside you, halting his thrusts. He continues to kiss you making sure you feel loved and wanted, his member still buried inside you. 

“You were amazing for your first time princess.” he praises you once again, you kiss him in response. 

“Lets do it again please.” you giggle. 

Yeonjun kisses up your neck, his cock still rock hard. 

“Whatever you want love.” he responds, thrusting into you again. 

© wonustars

[mypoisonedvine]

100 random dialogue prompts

truly random, there's a mix of angsty and smutty and fluffy in here. as a result it's nsfw and 18+ :)

"who did this to you?"

"where are you going dressed like that?"

"this isn't enough anymore. I need more of you-- all of you."

"I'm not angry, I just get tired of watching you get hurt."

"don't say stuff like that, it gets me all... confused."

"just lie to me, okay? just this once."

"I never said I didn't feel the same way."

"you should go... before someone sees."

"I hate how you make it impossible to hate you."

"too good for you? don't be ridiculous-- they don't deserve you."

"fuck, do that again... please."

"you promise you're going to behave this time?"

"oh please, you knew what you were doing... you wanted to drive me crazy."

"no, it's not over. it's never over."

"so you're saying even if we were the last people on Earth--?" "nope."

"sooo... is everything supposed to just go back to normal after that?"

"you can't ignore me. not anymore."

"it's not what it looks like!" "is that a picture of me?!"

"you really didn't notice that I was falling in love with you?"

"is this really the last time?"

"I'm sorry, I swear I tried, but I just can't get over you."

"do you really think that toy can replace me?"

"don't tell me how to feel."

"forgive me, but I'm not feeling very patient right now."

"you could do so much better than me."

"what would they think if they saw you right now?"

"I didn't know you could be so obedient."

"you can take it."

"you were never my fallback-- I always wanted you."

"yeah, I want to, but... wouldn't it be weird?"

"don't act like you never thought about it before."

"I wish they could all know about us."

"you're the best mistake I ever made."

"no, I don't hate you... I'm angry, but I don't think I could ever really hate you."

"let's just stop now before anybody's feelings get hurt."

"don't get my hopes up if you're just gonna leave like everyone else."

"I can't let it end like this."

"if you do what you're told, you'll get a reward."

"what's gotten into you? you're being so... naughty."

"I think we're on a first name basis by now."

"don't do that... don't act like you don't feel this too."

"it was never just sex."

"I wish I'd met you sooner."

"you can tell me anything."

"why do we have to get out of bed again?"

"I think this is my favorite way to wake up."

"I was already yours."

"there's no way that was just a one-night thing."

"if you can look me in the eye and tell me you want me to go, I'll go."

"has anybody else ever made you feel like this?"

"it feels like we were made for each other."

"I just wanted to say I'm sorry, and I miss you."

"I have an idea to make them jealous."

"just one more kiss?"

"do you really expect me to believe this is what you want?"

"if you say you're happy with them, I'll believe you. or at least I'll try to."

"I can think of a more fun way you can thank me."

"no, I'm in charge tonight, remember?"

"if you keep doing that, this might end a little too soon."

"hey, you lost the bet, fair and square."

"stop imagining it!" "I'm sorry, but I can't get it out of my head!"

"it's too bad we never did. we would've been great together."

"I never thought I'd hear you talk like that."

"oh, fuck me--" "okay." "what? it's just a figure of speech..."

"were you joking? I wasn't joking."

"admit it: you had a crush on me!"

"I just need you to hold me right now."

"friends can cuddle, right?"

"I wouldn't have picked this for movie night if I'd known it had so many sex scenes..."

"they're great but... they're not you."

"I always thought it would be me and you in the end."

"you're not actually trying to convince me that was a friendly kiss, are you?"

"if you hate me so much, how come you keep coming back?"

"do you remember getting drunk and calling me last night?"

"I'm free tonight if you still need a date for that thing you're going to."

"I'd do anything for you."

"I think I finally get what all those love songs are about."

"it's weird being here again... so many memories."

"I wish you'd give me a chance."

"I never meant to hurt you."

"just come to dinner with me. it doesn't have to be weird."

"seeing you with them made me realize you should be with me."

"just ask yourself for once: what do you want?"

"okay, okay, I'll leave-- as soon as I can find my pants."

"we need to be more careful next time."

"wait, why are you in my bed? did we...?"

"I took you for granted, I know. but I want to treat you right this time."

"kiss me like you mean it."

"keep the lights on, I want to see you."

"is it just me, or does your celebrity crush look a lot like me?"

"we promised we wouldn't let this affect our friendship."

"no, don't cry-- if you start crying, I'll start crying!"

"I want to see my marks on you tomorrow."

"don't act innocent, it's not going to work with me."

"is this really turning you on? I'm not even doing anything."

"come look at the stars with me."

"I lov--" "no, don't say anything. you'll kill the moment."

"what happens next in your fantasy?"

"I probably shouldn't tell you this but... you were in my dream last night."

"why do you still wear the hoodie I left at your place?"

[natlovesls2]

Romeo and Juliet

Oscar Piastri x Fem!Reader

*ੈ✩‧₊˚warnings: no use of y/n, set some time in the 19th century, angsty fluff or fluffy angst?, shit post/ rushed, let me know if i missed anything, Part 1 of 2, not proofread

*ੈ✩‧₊˚word count: 1.2k

*ੈ✩‧₊˚summary: You and Oscar love each other despite not being allowed to even interact with one another. Or just a forbidden romance trope fanfic.

part two

•*´¨`*•.¸¸.•*´¨`*•.¸¸.•*´¨`*•.¸¸.•*•*´¨`*•.¸¸.•*´¨`*•.¸¸.•*´¨`*•.¸¸.•*

You stood at the edge of the ballroom looking out at the dance pairs twirling around the dance floor, glancing down at your nearly empty dance card– your father's presence no doubt contributing to that lack of young men approaching you. 

“Would you happen to have any space left in your dance card? Perhaps you could pencil me in,” a voice said, from beside you, snapping you out of your entranced state. 

You couldn’t even begin to formulate a thought before your father intervened, “She cannot,” he replied for you, his voice full of contempt for the young man who stood in front of you. 

The young man frowned slightly, quickly regaining control over himself and smiling again, “What a shame,” he said, giving you and your father a curt nod before walking off. 

You turned to your father, your exasperation and frustration clearly present in your expression. How could he turn away such a fine-looking gentleman when you had only danced with two men? All he did was shake his head at you disapprovingly, turning to speak to your mother. You would find a way to dance with that gentleman one way or another. 

Your opportunity to slip away from your father's attentive, hawk-like supervision came when an old friend of his had him engaged in conversation. Your mother gave you a slight nod, signaling that it was the perfect opportunity to proceed with your plan— you did just that, wasting no time to escape your tyrant of a father. 

“You’re a bit of a rebel, aren’t you?” Said a slightly familiar voice as you scanned the ballroom for the gentleman who had asked you to dance, causing you to startle. 

“It’s you.”

“You were looking for me?” He asked slightly amused. 

“Yes, I wanted to dance— only if you would still like to,” you nervously stumbled over your words. 

“Of course, it would be an honor to dance with such a beautiful lady,” he extended his hand to you, taking your gloved hand in his own, leading you towards the dance floor. 

“What's your name?”

“Oscar, and what might your name be?” 

You danced for what seemed like an eternity, song after song after song. No doubt turning heads at such an inappropriate scene, though you couldn’t have cared less. 

“Will I see you again?” you asked as you finally parted ways. 

“If you will allow me the pleasure.” Of course, you would let him see you again, as many times as he wanted. You had, so many times, scoffed at the idea of love at first sight but you finally understood. It was as if the stars had aligned and brought Oscar to you. 

The content sigh you let was short-lived as your father approached you with a stern look. You couldn’t help the gasp you let out as he pulled away towards the exit of the ballroom, your mother trailing behind.

⊹˚₊‧───────────‧₊˚⊹

You continued to meet in secret, your lady's maid guarding your secret love with her life– it was nice knowing that at least someone was on your side. She often snuck in and out the letters you both wrote to each other. 

Your father clenched the letter he had intercepted, glaring at you, his anger rising as you reached out for the letter. 

“You cannot do this— tell him he can’t, mother… it’s unfair,” you desperately watched as he tore the letter into pieces.

“You do not tell me what I can and cannot do! I am your father, I know what is best for you!”

“Perhaps you’re overreacting, dear,” your mother attempted to calm your father. 

“She deserves better than him, better than a man of such… a dishonorable family” your father scolded both you and your mother, continuing to voice his disdain for Oscar and his family. 

“I deserve what I very damn please!” You say, challenging your fathers words, to his face, for the first time in your life. 

“Who do you think you’re speaking to with that tone, young lady? Mm? Have you lost your mind?” 

⊹˚₊‧───────────‧₊˚⊹

The cold night air bit at your skin as you stalked through the empty streets in search of your lover. 

“I knew you’d make it” he said as he saw your figure approach the alley in which he was hidden. 

“I almost didn’t. My father knows, he intercepted the latest letter you sent.”

“It was purposeful.”

“Purposeful?” you ask, brows furrowed in confusion, squinting your eyes at Oscar to catch a glimpse of him with the dim light of the moon. 

“I need him to know about us” he began to explain, his hands reaching out to grasp your own.

“Why?”

“I love you,” he began again, “You are the stars of my night sky. The center of my universe. My beginning and end. You are all that has been and will ever be. Without you… I cease to be, love. Don’t you get it?” 

“My father will never let us be,” you tried to reason, knowing it would be of no use. There was no changing his mind; he was set on loving you. 

“We could run away. Forget about your father– forget about who they want us to be. It could just be us. Just the two of us, happy and in love forever.”

“Oscar,” you futilely attempted to interrupt him.

"Can’t you see that I am a fool– blinded by the most dangerous weapon we as humans have ever created, love," he whispered into your hands, placing small kisses on them, “Please, tell me you love me. Tell me you feel the same as I do— that you feel that undeniable urge to destroy everything we’ve ever known to have the privilege of loving each other.”

“You cannot say such words, Oscar. You know the implication, it’s not as easy as we want to make it seem,” you whispered, attempting to pull your hands from his to no avail.

“I know, you’re right, but you have irrevocably marked my being with your presence– and I find that I cannot live without you. You have bewitched me: mind, body, and soul. You, my beloved, hold my heart in the palm of your hand. I feel as though I am suffocating without you. You are the very air that brings life to me," Oscar said, pulling you closer, searching your eyes for any sign that you loved him just as much as he loved you. 

“I– we… cannot be. You know this–”

“No, I will not take that as an answer,” his grip on your hands tightened, eyes blown out wide and wildly scanning over your face with a hint of betrayal. He was sure that you would immediately reciprocate his all-consuming love, but you had failed to confess as he had done, “I love you–”

“As do I,” you whispered, resting your forehead against his own. 

“Then let's go, tomorrow night.”

“Alright.”

⊹˚₊‧───────────‧₊˚⊹

“Can you believe it, Mary– He loves me and tomorrow night we shall finally be together,” You sighed longingly as you spoke to your lady's maid of your night with Oscar. 

“You’re so lucky to have each other” she helped you into your nightgown before slipping out of your room. 

She made her way towards your fathers study, knocking softly, waiting for permission to enter before slipping into the room. “Sir, I have some news that you might find interesting.”

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*ੈ✩‧₊˚ Note: I was going to write more but my classes have been kicking my ass. I'll probably make a second part. I just wanted to post something since I haven't posted in so long.

[hereforthehitsbaby]

Silver Lining | DP&W!Logan Howlett x F!Reader

Synopsis: Logan was too familiar with depressive episodes, spending years stuck in his own. He never wanted you to feel the way he did, he wanted to take your pain away. 

Warnings: ANGST, like no joke this is just straight up angst/whump with a somewhat happy ending, not character angst but reader angst – or at least that is what I think it would classify as?, mentions of mania, mentions of mental illness, reader screams at everyone and tries hard to make people hate her because she thinks she deserves it, mentions of depression, reader has a depressive episode, crying, self-doubt, mentions of unavailing oneself, language,

Rating: M

Word Count: 3.9K

Author’s Note: You know, at times when there are things you cannot tell anyone about, you write. This happened to be that moment for me. Also I know I said this was going to be angsty but I don't think I did the angst justice enough. I'm not used to writing it so I apologize if it's not full blown whump.

Tagging(?): @battermyheart @plagued-kitty @cxrrodedcoffin @babygorewhore @strangererotica

Hugh Jackman Taglist Sign Up

“I fucking hate you, leave me alone!” You scream at your apartment door, hearing Wade on the other end banging harder. You didn’t mean any of the words, you wanted to take them all back, you wanted to say you’re sorry and move on. Your hands reach out to tangle in your hair, pulling roughly at the root. Growls of agony and pain tear from your throat as you drop to your knees on the plush carpet, rocking back and forth. “Let me go, please let me go!” None of your words made sense, they felt foreign on your tongue as the pounding got louder, as the screams turned sour. The world faded to black as your head hit the carpet, your throat raw – straining against your sorrows. Footsteps echoed like snow on a winter’s night; The silence was not comforting. Bloodied fists fell beside your face, and Laura’s soft words lulled you to sleep. “We will be here when you’re ready. Please, take care of yourself.”

No one expected that a day full of laughing and bonding would take a hard left turn. No one knew what hid beneath your surface, they never realized how bad it was getting. All they saw was smiles and sunshine radiating off of you, never knowing they were caused by pain. You thought you were getting better, that you weren’t faking it this time – unfortunately your brain never got the memo. None of your words held any meaning; You knew that but you were worried your friends might not. Then again, day one you did tell Wade to not get attached – that was for his own sake when one day you were no longer here. It was an unspoken song in your head – it never rang true but certain times felt like it would, that it may.

Peter’s party was supposed to be fun, celebrating his anniversary of a year with B-15. A full day planned by Wade and Laura. Logan and you were made to keep them both busy for a while, while Al complained about the constant smell of latex balloons. A day you had been looking forward to for weeks; Spending time with Logan while also not feeling pressured into anything. Wade’s constant comments about you two shacking up held some tension between the two of you, sometimes making it awkward to even say hi to him. But this was supposed to be a turning point for the best, the manic episodes a thing of the past. You were finally healing, so you thought. Alas nothing stays the same forever; A little chaos thrown into a beautiful painting can sometimes turn the colors muddy.

Thirteen days it has been since you left your apartment, almost a full two weeks since you spoke to anyone. Text messages gone unanswered, calls gone silent. Knocks at the door becoming few and far in between as the days grew longer. The care packages dwindling down to one every other day than ever four hours. They did care, it wasn’t a bullshit excuse your mind made up, deep down you fucking knew and yet? It didn’t feel right. It was foreign of a concept; A group of people looking out for you because they care. You had been in with every wrong group possible that it ruined any singular chance of trusting their actions. Happy endings were not in your card, so you had convinced yourself. Episodes like this became your only friend, constantly reliving the worst moments over and over until you couldn’t cry anymore. The utter pain on Wade’s face as he cried for you, as Laura tried to help you, as Al reassured you, as Logan held you, were too much to constantly see. The distance was necessary. But never, never would they give up on you.

Over the last two weeks Wade has come by and sat outside your door, recounting missions and how they went to reading the newest Booktok craze in graphic detail, never spearing a moment to see if he could hear you laugh. Instead all he heard was sobs, self-hatred, and pain. It gave you the time to process your rage, to understand it cannot be pointed towards others who were only trying to help, to figure out a way to explain how sorry you are. But you never needed to, because Logan did – and they made sure they let you know. Out of everyone, Logan was rooting for you the most. Looking out for you, making sure no one came to disturb you when he heard your wails of sorrow, letting you feel rather than cause any discomfort. It killed him silently to hear you like this, not to be able to hold you through it, he wanted to do so much more.

Every text that you stomached to read from Logan was always reassuring, never condescending or jokey. Between small quotes he heard over his life of resilience to funny memes he stole from Wade, he was your cheerleader in every way. It helped you to know, even if you didn’t respond. It gave you the confidence to finally get up and take a deep breath, to understand what you were going to say. That was your plan for today and nothing was going to stop you. As soon as you realized in the early afternoon, you spent the rest of the time cleaning up your apartment, taking a shower, and getting your best comfy clothes on to have a sit down chat with everyone. It felt like everything was going to be okay – you felt like you had control over your emotions; This time it would be easy to convey what sparked your episode. Taking a deep breath you opened your apartment door as walked across the hall to Wade’s, keeping your hand steady as you knocked.

The controlled, hard thuds rang through your wrist as you heard a groan come from the other side, inaudible mumbles coming from Althea. A small smirk played across your lips as you heard her rambles, knowing how feisty the older woman is. The door to Wade’s apartment opened quickly as she stood facing you. Seeing Al after a few weeks of going MIA made your throat dry up, only hearing her words of reassurance as you had a breakdown. Instead of speaking you stared at the woman, fingers slightly trembling. Al let out a sad breath, her shoulders slumping slightly. ‘Oh honey, come on in.” How she knew that it was you wasn’t even a question in your mind, just her gentle nature of feeling you made your eyes misty. Al left a decent gap between her and the door as you crossed over the threshold, staring into the comfortable space.

You could tell that Wade and Laura weren’t around, considering how the pull-out mattress wasn’t out still and Wade’s door was wide open. But you knew he was here. As Al closed the door behind the two of you, the third door of the right opened quickly, the wood creaking against the hinges. Standing in the doorway with warm eyes and a stoic stance was Logan, staring at you like he was in disbelief. He didn’t move, he didn’t blink, instead he kept his eyes on your face. Your hair was tucked behind your ears and away from your features; Logan’s eyes trailed over each part with a soft smile on his lips, relief coursing through his veins. “How are you doing?” he asked calmly, not moving a muscle as he gauged your response. The tranquil state you were previously in started to crumble at those four words, your eyes growing tight and blurry as you stared into Logan’s hazel eyes. Your fingers began to shake as your heart raced, a sob threatening to tear from your throat without warning. All you could do was shake your head at Logan’s question, blinking your tears away. Without a thought, you moved fast into Logan as you wrapped your arms around him, pressing your face into his flannel. Everything you had been holding onto for two weeks was already coming out; The dame officially breaking as he held you. “I got you, sshh – you’re okay,” Logan responded as he rubbed your back, tightening his hold on you as you cried.

Logan slowly shuffled you backwards into his bedroom, letting the heavy door shut on its own as he held you the entire way. Due to how lost you were in his sweet embrace, you didn’t realize that you were now in Logan’s room or better yet, laying with him on his bed. Positioning you to face him, Logan never let you go as he pulled you close to him, letting your face press into his neck as he pulled the comforter over the two of you. Short, sweet hums left his lips as he rested his cheek against the top of your head, letting your subconsciously link his thick legs with yours. “I’m proud of you for coming over, you know that?” Those words warmed your chest as you felt your body shiver, the praise meaning everything to you. Pushing your face deeper against the crook of Logan’s neck, you belted out a wail as you gripped his shirt, just knowing it was starting to soak with the runoff of your tears. You shook your head against his chest, slightly digging your nails through his shirt.

Over the last year you watched Logan transform from gruff and rugged emotionally to happy and prideful. Though that hardened shell of his would never leave, he seemed to be a lot lighter mentally. After he became the new anchor being, new resident of Earth-10005, and the new friend of Wade, which all still was confusing to your human brain, he realized that life was so much more than reliving your past – and learning to move forward from it. It was a slow journey for him but, he found solace in the understanding and knowing. Which is why he didn’t hesitate to grab you and pull you close, knowing this only mirrored what you did for him all those months ago. Being on the receiving end of it felt bizarre for you, but it felt like home. You didn’t want to believe it, but it was true. “You shouldn’t,” a low whispered escaped through your sob as Logan trailed his fingers over your back, drawing small shapes against your hoodie.

“But I am, it’s a big first step.” It was true in a way, the first step was always the acknowledgement. Just leaving your apartment was a great first attempt, and now you were really making strides. “We love you so much, I love you, sweetheart.” Hearing Logan say that caused your heart to clench; The game of cat and mouse of feelings you two have been ping-ponging over the last year reached its peak quickly during this whole time, realizing you two were in silent cahoots – there never needed to be a talk about labels when it happened to naturally. Neither one of you would admit it but, you were together way before any of this went down. Swallowing down the smartass retort wanting to slip off your tongue, you sank your nails a bit deeper into his shirt, feeling his hiss come out. “Don’t say shit you don’t mean, Lo. Do you know how to love?”

You hated yourself for those words, knowing you didn’t mean it but let it go anyways. A typical defense tactic to push people away. Logan knew it too which is why he never responded, only snickered at your persistence. He knew exactly how you would react, knowing from your past conversations about your previous episodes. Running his beard across the side of your cheek, Logan nodded against your face as he spoke, “I love Wade. I love Laura. I love Al. And most importantly, I love you.” Hearing him say again that he loved you should’ve been one of the happiest moments, knowing you both were making great strides in your relationship, yet it left a burning hole of lies in your chest. You scoff at Logan’s declaration, a fresh wave of warm tears cascading down your cheeks as you push your face further into his burly chest. You tried so hard to mask your cry with a cough but, Logan knew better. The words holding their true meaning, the truth snaking its way through your brain. Shaking your head against his pecs, you inhale a deeply, smelling his shower gel and natural musk flooding your nose. “You don’t love me, you barely know me.”

Logan smiles softly above you, trying not to roll his eyes at your clear avoidance of the talk you were about to have. He found your stubbornness endearing, seeing a bit of himself within you. He was the same way after all, never acknowledging or wanting to accept but always question, always avoid. Hiding and not accepting the truth was easier than healing at times. Logan placed his lips to the top of your head as he kisses it gently, rubbing his large hand up and down your back. He never let his lips pull back your head as you let out his words, wanting the warmth of his breath to sink in, hoping that would help you to understand the truth over the lies your mind was telling. “Then give me a chance to.” It slipped out between his lips so naturally you had no time to adjust, hitting you like a ton of bricks.

You stop in the moment; Your breathing, your crying, your whole body. Logan’s words sank deep within your soul, causing a bloom of emotion to burst within your chest. The truth was burning your nerves one by one, every fiber alight and refusing to be put out with your self-doubt. Every stage of grief you could possibly feel ran through your with cold fingers, awakening you for what felt like centuries. Trembling hands grip tighter at his flannel tighter, pulling him close and pushing him away at the same time. Your brows furrow as you scan the darkness within, trying to find a reason why he shouldn’t. All you could find was positive after positive with Logan, remembering how he tried to do the same to you and you refused to give up on him. Now it was your turn, but stepping into the unknown scared you more than anything else. Opening yourself up to him, was terrifying. “Don’t push me away, please.” Logan whispered into your hairline, feeling his own soul hurt for you. 

“That’s all I know how to do.” It wasn’t a lie persay, but it wasn’t the whole truth. You never pushed away the gang, not ever. Anytime you were mildly upset you made sure to be with them, and they stayed with you through it all. Even the times you got annoyed with them, you never gave up on that friendship. You knew deep down you’d never push them away, in fact it was funny to you how you even thought that. As Wade had one said, we are like herpes – we never leave, sweet cheeks. “Let me help you break that cycle.” You wanted to believe Logan, trust his words and actions of the man you love. But it was fear inducing to do so, because every what if made its way out of the wood works, chiming in their two cents. What if he leaves you? What if he moves on? What if he is saying this just to make you happy? What if he doesn’t mean it? What if he just feels sorry for you?

The offer to help you break the cycle was what set you off, tearing yourself away from Logan. Sitting up roughly on his bed, you bunched the comforter down at your hips, placing your head in your hands. The fresh wave of tears was threatening to spill over as you shook your head, your knees trembling with every inhale. “What if it can’t be broken, Logan?” You pan your eyes up at him, your bottom lip quivering. “What if that’s all I’m ever going to be destined for? Healing others while I hurt myself. I don’t know if I can be fixed, or changed or-“ Logan abruptly stopped your spiel as he reached for you, holding your face within his hands. The gentle flecks of golds and emeralds swimming in his irises caused your heart to flutter, his natural beauty causing your cheeks to warm. He stared at you like a man in love, needing you to know just how precious you are.

“I said the same thing about myself, for fucking years. I refused to believe I could be happy, in a better place mentally, I didn’t want to be happy. I wanted to hurt, knowing what I did to cause pain to others. I believed I deserved it. Not a day goes by where I sometimes slip into my old routine. But I remember that people do appreciate me, they do love me - even if I don’t want to believe it.” You noticed how Logan wasn’t aware he was crying with you, his tears slowly falling from the inner corner of his eyes as he spoke. The hold he had on your face growing harder, not in a painful way but in a comforting one. Every word he spoke he wanted to sink in, to show you if it wasn’t the end for him – it wasn’t for you either. “But-“ you chimed, trying to find a reasoning but coming up short. “No buts, just feel. What do you want, sweetheart?”

The question held a lot of meaning, a lot of endless possibilities that you weren’t able to explore in your lifetime. For the first time in so long, you felt like you finally had a choice over your own decisions, not your mental health. The way you stared at Logan, with admiration and hesitance caused his heart rate to speed up, his palms growing clammy at what you may say. He could smell your fear, hear your heart pumping at an abnormal rate. Placing his wide palm against your calf, he rubbed over your leggings with languid strokes, helping to coax your answer out. The feelings finally setting in, everything hitting its peak, knowing you were not going to be hitting rock bottom again. “I want to be happy.” It didn’t sound real coming from your mouth, foreign against your tongue as Logan painted his face with a slow smile, admiring your strength and truth to wanting to be happy, instead of staying in that darkened space.

“Louder, darlin.” Logan coaxed with a gentle smile, pressing his lips to your temple as he took a deep inhale. He liked to believe that was his way of ridding you of this pain, inhaling it so he could hold onto it – so you could feel at peace. A small grin made its way upon your lips as you closed your eyes, sinking into his touch deeper. His arms came to hold you against his chest, peppering kisses along the left side of your face as you exhaled. “I want to be happy, Logan.” This time it felt real, felt right coming from you. Your tears dried up quickly, the sticky residue still on your cheeks as you started to get back on your metaphorical feet. His kisses caused your stomach to burn with love and passion. Grabbing at his right hand, you pulled it to your lips as you kissed over where his claws would come out, showing him how even something so deadly deserves care.

“Give yourself permission to.” Logan smiles genuinely as he cups your cheek, running the pad of his thumb over your skin. Reveling in his touch was the only thing you could do, watching him with hearts in your eyes as you smiled. Having someone like Logan be so patient with you, caring for you like no one before has, made you feel safe. It made you feel like things were really going to get better, and now they were. He was right, you needed to give yourself over to your own happiness, and welcome it in. It was a scary thing to adjust to but, you deserved it. The torment you had been putting yourself through, dealing with crisis after crisis and believing every mean word to be true, you deserved this much needed break and acceptance. Logan pressed his forehead against yours as he closed his eyes, wanting you to take in every word deep within your soul. “I’ll be with you, every step of the way. I won’t give up on you.” 

That was all you needed for the tears to start again, this time though – they were different. They were sweet this time around, not sour and hateful like earlier. This time they were cool to the touch, not scalding hot. Hearing the love of your life say that, meant the world was healing. You were silently giving yourself over to Logan fully, letting him help you instead of shutting him out. Welcoming him in during your time of need was what the world gave you, and you were never going to take it for granted. Sighing out into his touch, you sniffed back a few tears as you cleared your throat, knowing another cry would slip out sooner. “No one’s ever told me that.”

It broke Logan’s heart to hear that, knowing people gave up on you too easily during your time of need. He couldn’t bear the thought of you alone in the world, dealing with the demons on your own; He needed you to know he would make sure you never fell down that path again. Leaning into you, Logan pressed his plush lips against yours, letting the slow hum of the central air drown out the loud voices in his mind. Just like that the world stood still, in this moment it was just you and Logan – no one else, no other thing. Time stopped to let you both take this all in, to realize two souls were converging into one, and the path ahead was twisting together for the two of you. The soft nature of the kiss felt like it could heal all of your wounds, and deep down you believed that it did. Logan was stitching together every slice in your being, healing those jagged scars, stitching your soul into one again. “Good thing I’m not no one,” Logan smiled against your lips, stealing a few sweet kisses as he nudging his nose to yours, making you look up at him. “I’m someone to you.”

[confiaenanaa]

Can I request an angsty one where the reader and Marshall/Em/Slim (whichever you prefer) they have an argument and at one point he tells her he doesn't need her, he can have whoever he wants and they won't complain about anything like she does. And obviously she feels hurt bc it's always been an insecurity of hers that he could have anyone. And he just confirmed her fear. Hopefully with a happy ending tho🙏🏻❤️ please and thank you! Sorry it's so long lol.

needed - eminem

fem!y/n x Marshall Mathers

masterlist

synopsis: Marshall says he doesn't need her, but what does he do when he doesn't have her?

warnings: cursing, drinking

A/N: loved this request! very fun to write. if you guys want anything written, my asks are open. hope you enjoy!

-Fuck you! 

-Oh, piss off!

Shouts could be heard from the Mathers residence that night. Y/N and Marshall were arguing over something stupid, again. They seemed to be having these arguments more and more often these days. This time, however, they were arguing over Marshall’s lack of communication. He’d have a bad day, be rude to Y/N, and when she’d ask what was wrong he’d blow up at her without telling her what bothered him. Today it seemed like he’d had an extra bad day. 

…

He got home from the studio later than usual. Y/N was reasonably worried, and when she called, he wouldn’t answer. So, once he got home, she asked him a ton of questions; questions like “where were you?” “what happened?” “are you alright?”. This angered him to no end since he hates explaining himself to people.

He refused to answer questions. Y/N knew he’d probably just had a rough day so she decided to make him his favorite home-cooked meal and some hot cocoa and treat him to a lovely night at home. But, when she brought him his food and drink, he just told her he wasn’t hungry, even after seeing all the effort she was putting in for him. 

That’s when something inside of her just snapped. She set the plate and mug on the table fecklessly, spilling some cocoa in the process. Marshall seemed a bit startled, knowing Y/N doesn’t usually throw fits like this and she usually keeps her temper in check. 

-God, Marsh! Would it kill you to at least give me a thank you? I’ve tried so hard to find out what’s wrong, and you won’t tell me! What happened to me being your #1 and your best friend? And come on! Look at this meal I made for you! Can’t you see how badly I want you to let me help you? 

-Fuck! I’m sorry I’m not living up to your boyfriend standards, Y/N! But, clearly, I had a rough day so just drop it! 

-You know what Marshall? I have bad days too! But you don’t see me bitching about it and acting like a little kid every time something doesn’t go my way! And even when I do feel upset, I tell you what’s wrong! Because I actually care about your feelings and I wouldn’t want you to worry!

- Oh, so, now I don’t care?! All I ever do is care about you Y/N! I write songs about you, I buy you everything you look at to make you happy, not to mention I make you feel pretty damn good!

- It’s not about that Marsh! God, are you even listening to me?! I don’t care that you’re upset, or that you’re in a bad mood or feeling mean; I just want you to tell me! I want you to communicate with me! I want us to work through our problems calmly, without me having to shout to get your attention!

-You always say that, but you never actually do it! Whenever you’re upset you just stay quiet! So don’t go telling me how to deal with my problems because you sure as hell don’t know how to deal with yours!

-Fuck you!

-Oh, piss off!

-Fuck, Marsh! This isn’t about me! We can work through what I do, but you seriously need to stop! 

-Stop it, Y/N! Stop already! If everything I do is so terrible and wrong, then why not just break up with me already? 

-Because I love you! I care so much about you and I just wish you could see it.

-You’re just saying that because you know I don’t need your ass. You know I can get with whoever the hell I want and they won't criticize me or complain about everything I do half as much as you do!

Y/N stayed silent for a bit. Her heart dropped and she could feel the lump develop in her throat. All this time she was with Marshall, she’d had her insecurities. But, he helped her work through them slowly. He helped her make sure she knew he’d never hurt her like that.

But, now, all that hard work was out the window. With those simple words. The tears began to prick her eyes and she looked down at the floor to try and conceal it. She felt like a little girl being yelled at. She felt helpless, and small. The man who was supposed to love her the most, to protect her, had failed her. He made her feel alone.

Marshall instantly felt a wave of regret wash over him. He felt it surge from his mind up to the tips of his ears down to the points of his toes. He looked at the girl he loves, knowing how badly he just hurt her. He opened his mouth to apologize, knowing he’d gone too far and he didn’t mean it; but, before he could, she had walked past him and into their bedroom. He quickly turned on his heels to follow her. 

Y/N was grabbing a few of her things: a hoodie, her phone charger, some gum, her earbuds, and some shoes. He once again tried to apologize but she wouldn’t hear it. He followed her all the way down to the garage and watched as she hopped in her car and sped off. He wasn’t sure where she was going, and, to be honest, neither was she. 

She hated herself for complaining and she hated him for being so mean to her. But, deep down, she knew she loved him more than anything and everything. She gripped her steering wheel harder, and turned up the volume of the song she was listening to. 

She pulled into the parking lot for some random bar she heard of from one of her friends. Her friend said it was the best place to go if you’re feeling sad or having a rough night. 

When she walked in, the bar looked exactly how she felt. It was dimly lit, the room reeking of alcohol and cigarette smoke. There were barely enough people to call a crowd in there, all sitting far apart with a drink in hand. Everyone looked glum in there, so she’d blend right in. She sat at the bar and ordered herself a few shots of rum. She downed them quickly, not feeling much different. She then ordered herself a vodka, which she kept refilling until the bartender just gave her the bottle. 

She kept feeling her phone buzz in her pocket. She assumed it was Marshall. She didn’t really want to respond, but she still looked, just in case. It was actually a text from her best friend asking what happened. Of course. Marshall texted her friend to see if Y/N was okay (since she usually goes to her best friend in times of need). Y/N decided not to answer, she was in more of a “fuck the world” kind of mood.

She set her phone down on the counter, finally feeling the effects of the alcohol. She wasn’t sure how she was going to get home or if she was going to get home at all. Before she could continue that thought, she saw a series of texts, making her phone buzz repeatedly. 

The contact name read “marsh :)”. She truly didn’t want to speak to him at the moment. She wasn’t sure why what he said affected her this way, but it did, and he knew that. She knew she was probably just being sensitive, but she couldn’t help but feel attacked. 

She looked at her phone again and saw Marshall’s concerned text chain.

“hello?”

“babyyy??”

“look baby i’m so sorry i know i messed up big time. please call me back so i can fix this.”

She didn’t bother reading the rest. She got more texts from him and her best friend. They seemed really concerned now. It was unlike Y/N, not answering the phone. It was cold, far too cold for someone of her character. However, Y/N wasn’t in the mood or the headspace to care about her character. She was too busy trying to keep her head upright as her vision blurred a bit from the effects of the white russian she was creating in her stomach at the moment. From that point forward, she couldn’t really recollect anything that had happened. The next thing she knew, she felt a pair of strong arms lifting her up by the waist and into their arms bridal-style. 

…

The next day, Y/N woke up in her bed alongside a snoring Marshall that had his arms wrapped around her tightly. She slowly shimmied out of his embrace, head beginning to pound when she stood up. She went downstairs and sat at the kitchen table with a small tonic for hangovers in hand. 

As she was washing the cup she was just using, Y/N heard a set of booming footsteps as they pounded against the wooden staircase. She turned around to look at Marshall. He looked incredible. His hair was a bit tousled and his eyes and lips were puffy. He came down and approached her without a second thought. The first thing he did was put his lips against hers. The kiss was warm, brilliant. 

Y/N crumpled under his touch. He pulled back and smiled slightly at her. His heart grew seeing her in front of him. He smiled even wider when he saw her smile back; however, he knew he wasn’t forgiven just yet. 

-Wait, look, I gotcha something.

He quickly walked into the living room and grabbed a small box and turned to the kitchen.

-I bought this a while ago. I wanted to give it to you somewhere better but this seemed like the right time.

Y/N opened the little box gingerly, a little nervous to see its contents. Her jaw dropped a tad when she saw it. 

A small ring, diamond encrusted and the exact type of metal she wears. It was perfectly tailored to her tastes. She looked up at him, eyebrow slightly raised.

-It’s a promise ring. I know what I said last night was fucked up but I didn’t mean it at all. I love you more than anything and you know that. I could never be with anyone else knowing that you’re out there in the world. 

He took the ring out of the box and secured it onto her finger. He then kissed her hand softly. She smiled taking in the view.

Then, she knew, more than anything, that she was truly loved.

[alisonwritesimagines]

You're Losing Me ~Simon Riley Imagine~

Summary: Simon falls in love with Johnny, only to unintentionally hurt you in the process.

Author's Note: This was inspired by @houseofoddballs trauma bond fic they made which got me listening to sad, angsty songs while writing this at work. Also, please let me know if ya'll want a part two for this.

Reader's Pronouns: She/Her

Warnings: MAJOR ANGST, like gut wrenching angst, cheating, unexpected pregnancy, slight happy ending for reader in the end in a way

Side Note: This is a secondary blog. If you comment a question down below, I will not answer since this is not the main blog. Please send the question to my inbox if you want a response back!

Do not repost this anywhere!

He was your Simon. No one else's. You two had met when he was on leave and fell in love. So by definition, he was yours first. It sounds selfish but when you barely get to see him due to him going on missions on months on end, you'd understand why you want to hold onto him as much as you can.

You watched as your Simon walk in together with Soap once again. This was the third time this week where he had claimed he was busy only to be seen with Soap afterwards.

"Sorry I kept him long, bonnie," Johnny apologized again.

"It's okay. Glad you two had fun," you tell him.

You liked Soap. He was a good guy and he understood what your Simon had to go through during their time in the military. There was nothing wrong with him. Until he and your Simon got closer and closer. You noticed it from the way they interacted with each other.

But you would never say anything to them. You loved Simon. He was everything to you. You trusted him. But you began to notice something between the two. It was obvious even if they were trying to hide it. So if keeping your Simon meant that you had to stay silent, so be it.

“I’m going out,” Simon told you exactly at 5pm. You noticed each time he told you he was going out, it was always at 5pm.

“Again? Simon, I was hoping we can have a date night?” You tell him with a small frown. You couldn’t remember the last time you two had gone on a proper date with each other.

“Sorry love. I already got plans. How about I make it up to you tomorrow yeah? Just the two of us and we can do whatever you want,” Simon offers.

“Okay. That’s fine,” you nodded with a small smile.

“Don’t need to wait up on me,” Simon tells you. You nodded once again before he put on his coat to head out.

“I love you, Simon,” you tell him. Simon stared at you a little with a soft smile. But there was something else in that smile.

“I love you too,” Simon tells you before leaving your shared apartment.

Simon felt guilty. Leaving you alone for a night with Soap. He loved you both but he didn’t know if you’d be okay in getting into a relationship with both him and Soap. Had had to think of you first since you were there for him first before Soap.

“You okay, Lt?” Johnny asked. The two sat in the back of a bar at a booth, sitting next to each other.

“I just feel guilty,” Simon tells him.

“About?”

“I feel like I’m lying to Y/n,” Simon tells him.

“Simon-“

“But as much as I want her, I want you too. I need you both.”

“I’m here for you Simon. And you know she loves you too. I don’t want to hurt her either. She’s a good woman and you both need each other in a way,” Johnny said.

Johnny could at least acknowledge that even though he and Simon loved each other, he didn’t want to hurt you. You were kind and caring. Not to mention you were there first before Johnny.

Simon felt guilty, the more he began to drink with Johnny the guilt began to go away a little. The next thing he knew, he’s waking up next to Johnny naked in Johnny’s bed at four in the morning. Now he was more guilty and had dug his grave.

——

The next day, you knew what he did. And Simon knew that you knew. It wasn’t the fact he came home in the early morning or the silence that made him know that you knew. It was the hickeys on his neck that he didn’t hide. He was too busy to get back home to you first to even look at the hickeies Johnny gave him.

You lied in your bed crying as your heart was broken. Simon sat on the other side of the door, listening to your crying. It broke him or hear you cry. He never meant to hurt you but he did. The mental pain was far worse than the physical pain and he knew it.

“Love, can we talk?” Simon you.

“Ghost, leave me alone please,” you tell him. Simon got up the moment you used his code name. He didn’t want you to see him as Ghost. He was your Simon. Your Simon that you love. He wanted you to know that you didn’t loose him. He was here with you and begging for your forgiveness.

“Love. Please. Don’t call me that. Open the door please,” Simon begged as he tried to open the door.

“Ghost, I need a moment. Please. Just go to Soap if you need to,” you tell him, still hurt from what you saw this morning.

Simon’s heart broke from your words. Yes he was in love with Johnny but he didn’t want to run to Johnny whenever you two had a problem. Even before Johnny you two were able to work things out whenever you had a fight. But this was different. You didn’t use his code name in anger like you would do.

You used his code name as if you didn’t recognize him anymore.

“I’m not going anywhere. I’ll stay here until you’re ready to talk,” Simon tells you before walking to the living room.

You didn’t come out of the room till 9pm. When you walked out, you saw Simon sitting on the couch with red eyes. He looked over at you as you looked worse than he did. He got up before getting on his knees in front of you. You had never seen him this vulnerable before.

“Love, I’m sorry. Please, I’m sorry. I’ll do anything. Please,” Simon begged. He couldn’t let you leave him. He needed you. Although, he wasn't sure if he could say the same thing about you needing him.

“What do you want me to say, Ghost?” You asked him.

“Don’t call me that. I’m Simon. I’m your Simon,” he tells you as he stood up. He held your hands in his before kissing them. Trying to cling onto you as much as he could before you could slip away from his fingers any more than you already had.

“Are you?” You asked him.

“Yes. I’ll do anything to prove it to you,” Simon begged. You stayed quiet before walking to the kitchen to grab something to eat.

“Let me, love,” Simon said before going into the kitchen to make you something. You lied on the couch until Simon had food ready for you.

It was going well for you both for a month before Simon had to go on a mission. He spent his last couple of days, letting you know how much he loved you in the bed to remind you that he loved you and how much he needed you.

“I love you so much, Y/n,” Simon tells you.

“I love you too, Simon,” you tell him.

——

The moment Simon had told you that he was coming back, you were excited. You had news to tell him that you hoped he would choose you. It was selfish yes but you were human. It was a natural thing. And you hoped that your news would bring you two closer.

But the moment Simon came home, you knew something was wrong. Instead of giving you a kiss that would eventually lead into the bedroom like how he used to do, he kissed your cheek and told you he had to shower.

He had left his phone on his stand while he showered. You weren’t the type to look through his phone but you had to know. You unlocked his phone to see the messages he had sent to Johnny.

Simon 5:00pm: I miss you.

Simon 10:45pm: Can I see you Johnny?

Johnny 10:46pm: Are you sure?

Simon 10:47pm: I need you right now.

Simon 11:34pm: I need you. Can I come over?

Simon 1:05pm: I can pick you up before we head back to base.

Johnny 1:07pm: Sounds good.

Simon 3:08pm: Just got home. I love you.

Johnny 3:10pm: I love you too. Let me know when you want to meet up again.

You noticed the dates and times. They were all while you and Simon were supposedly patching things up before he had to go on a mission. How many times has he snuck off to see Johnny? How many times did he tell you that he loved you that now felt like lies? Were they together intimately when they were on their mission? The last text being more recent with Simon telling Johnny that he loved him hurt the most.

You were a fool. A goddamn beautiful and forgiving fool. But this was the pushing point.

———

The flat felt colder and somehow smaller. Simon noticed all of your little things were gone the moment he came back from the gym. He knew something was wrong. He rushed to the bedroom to find it tidied up but empty.

Your nightstand no longer had your stuff on or in it. Your side of the closet was empty. All his hoodies and shirts that you had taken from him was hung or neatly folded and put away. It was as if you were never here.

Simon noticed a letter on his nightstand making him walk over and sit on his side of the bed. He took the letter in his hand before opening it up.

Simon,

I know you choosing between me and Johnny will be hard on you. So let me make the decision for you, go ahead and choose him. I don’t think I can continue fighting for your love even though I would’ve done anything and everything for you. I love you Simon. But I can’t face anymore emotional neglect and keep waiting for you to return the love I’ve been giving you.

Am I hurt? Yes. Am I surprised you fell for Johnny? No. He can understand you in many ways I would never be able to understand. I just wished I was enough for you.

Please do not contact me or find me. I think it’s best for me to move on and let myself heal. I know it seems selfish but I need this.

Goodbye Simon.

- Y/n

Simon took out his phone and quickly called you. Maybe it wasn’t too late?

“We're sorry you have reached a number that has been disconnected or is no longer in service.”

His worse fear has come true due to his selfishness. You were gone from his life.

———

Five years have gone since Simon last heard you. He had told Johnny he needed some time before continuing their relationship together the moment you left him. Five years since you left him but not a day had gone by without Simon thinking about you.

Were you doing okay? Were you in a safe place? Have you moved on officially?

It was now his and Johnny ‘s leave and they had to grab some groceries for the week. While Simon had gone to grab a couple of stuff, Johnny made his way to another aisle before feeling someone bump into his legs. Soap looked down at the small child in front of him. His eyes widen as he saw the small boy who looked exactly like Simon minus his hair color.

“Sorry sir,” the little boy said as he backed up.

“You okay lad?” Soap asked him.

“Yes. I’m just trying to get those cookies,” the little boy said as he pointed at the package that was on a shelf higher than him.

“Oh uh. Here,” Soap tells him as he handed him the cookies.

“Thank you!” The little boy smiled before running off to a man who had appeared from the other end of the aisle.

“You ready, Johnny?” Simon asked him as he walked over to him. He put the food he grabbed into the cart before looking at Johnny.

“Get this Lt. I just met a kid who looked exactly like you,” Soap tells him.

“Doubt it,” Simon scoffed unconvinced.

“I swear it!”

Simon shook his head before his eyes landed on someone familiar. His eyes widen, making Johnny look over to see who he was staring at.

You stood at the end of the aisle with the man and the child that Johnny had helped out not too long ago. You were glowing in more ways than one. You looked happier and healthier than the last time the two men saw you.

Not to mention, you were pregnant and had a ring on your finger. Simon couldn’t help but grew jealous and angry. You should’ve been like that with him.

“Simon? Johnny?” You asked confused as you finally saw them. You and your family walked over to the two who stood at the other end of the aisle.

“Hey bonnie. You're looking good,” Johnny said surprised. Simon looked over at the small boy who did look exactly like him.

Simon didn’t know wether to be angry, sad, or disappointed in himself.

“Hi. Thanks. Are you two on leave?” You asked.

“At the moment yes,” Johnny said.

“That’s good. Simon, Johnny, this is my husband Mitch. Mitch, this is Simon and Johnny,” you introduce them. Simon looked at you heartbroken. He had selfishly hoped that one day you would come back to him or at least he would be able to see you and beg for your forgiveness.

“Nice to meet you both,” Mitch smiled as he offered a handshake. Simon and Johnny both shook his hand out of politeness.

“Is this lad yours?” Johnny asked you.

“Yes. This is my son, Levi. Levi, sweetie, these are two of mommy’s old friends. Can you say hi?” You asked him.

“Hi Mr. Johnny. Hi, Mr. Simon,” Levi said.

“How old are you?” Simon asked him. You frowned at his question. There was no doubt that Levi was his. Mitch rubbed your back a little to help calm you down.

“Five,” Levi tells him shyly.

“He’s five?” Simon asked you with sadden eyes. How long were you alone before Mitch came into your life?

“Yes. We need to get going. We’re on vacation here,” you tell him before taking Levi’s hand.

“Bye Johnny. Bye Simon,” you tell the two.

“Wait, Y/n,” Simon said as he quickly held your hand with your wedding ring on it. He let go the moment he felt the ring.

“Can we talk sometime?” Simon asked you.

“Simon-“

“Please.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. I’m sorry. Come on, Levi,” you tell your son as you lead him to the check out.

Mitch stayed behind before looking over at Simon.

“If you have any questions about Levi, here’s my number. Just message me and I can talk to you,” Mitch told Simon as he handed him a card.

“He’s not yours?” Simon asked for confirmation.

“She’s mentioned you both before and told me what happened. You have the right to know about your son,” Mitch told him before walking away from the two.

“Simon?” Johnny softly said to get his attention.

“Let’s go.” Johnny’s Simon tells him before walking away.

——

It took some convincing from your husband but just before you three left to go back home in America, you met with Simon at a café close to the airport.

“Thank you for meeting with me,” Simon smiled a little as you sat across from him.

“Yeah,” you tell him awkwardly.

“How have you been?”

“Better. From what you saw, I got a husband and my kids,” you tell him, placing your hand on your stomach.

“Have you told Levi that he’s my son?”

“No. And I can wait to tell him when he’s older to understand,” you say. Simon nodded, knowing it would be too much for the poor kid to understand.

“I want to apologize to you.”

“Simon-“

“No. I hurt you. I told you that I would never hurt you and I did. I love you, Y/n. And I’m happy you moved on but I really did love you. I’m so sorry and I’m begging for your forgiveness,” Simon tells you.

“Simon, I forgive you. I can accept on who you are but it just hurt when I watched you fall in love with someone else after everything we’ve been through. I stayed here for you. I wanted to be there for you but it felt like I lost you,” you tell him.

“I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay now. I’ve healed and I have a family now who I love,” you tell him.

“You deserve it. You deserve everything good in this world,” Simon tells you. You smiled softly before handing him an address and a phone number.

“That’s our address and my phone number. If you want to visit Levi, you can. He is your son. I’ll let you know when I tell him that your his dad,” you tell him. Simon stared down at the address and phone number before looking at you. You were still beautiful in his eyes and the guilt of letting you slip away began to creep up on him.

“We could’ve had a good family right?”

“Yeah.”

“You were a wonderful experience,” Simon tells you.

“And you were everything,” you tell him before standing up and heading out the door.

[lafortezaboy]

the most wonderful time of the year

request: "can you write something cute with daniela from katseye. like maybe her and the reader being cute around the other girls. i just read an angsty one with her and i need to recover :("

warnings/triggers: fluff, established relationship, gender neutral reader

it didn't come as a surprise to you that daniela was a festive person. she hadn't stopped gushing about the gifts (yes, plural) she'd gotten you, and she'd been the one who bought the two of you matching christmas sweaters – not ugly sweaters, she wouldn't have either of you looking anything less than amazing. but as festive as she was, it had taken one little debate with manon over beyonce songs for your girlfriend to leave you alone to put up the christmas tree so they could settle it like real adults – by having a snowball fight. thankfully for you, yoonchae had seen what you were doing and decided to join in, so it wasn't all on you.

which – of course you'd been ropped into putting up the tree. you had come over with your laptop and snacks, fully intending to make daniela watch a new anime with you, but her pout as she asked you to help her put up the tree had made you putty in her hands. until, of course, manon had asked you if you preferred love on top or crazy in love as shevwas putting together a playlist and you were in their shared bedroom as much as they were, and before you could answer daniela had picked crazy in love, starting the debate that escalated quickly.

you were in the middle of placing ornaments on the tree with yoonchae when you felt arms circle around your waist, and a head press against your shoulder. it was no question who it was, your hand reached down to squeeze daniela's that was resting on your stomach. she was cold to the touch, and you placed the ornament on the tree before turning, your arms wrapping around her to pull her in closer.

"my poor baby, you're so cold," you spoke as she hid her face in your neck, rubbing your hands up and down her back until a squeal escaping you as she pressed her cold nose against your skin. the laugh she let out had you beginning to pull away, but her hold tightened on you and she didn't let you go. "no no, i'm sorry, let me steal your body heat." at least she was being honest about using you for your warmth. you couldn't resist the urge to tease her for it though.

"you know, maybe if you had let me answer, manon wouldn't have had to turn you into a dani-sicle," you said, even though your lips pressed against her temple as you did. she let out a huff, pouting up at you. you couldnt help but press a soft kiss yo her lips then. "did you at least win?" you asked once you pulled away, and laughed when the pout worsened in response. "gosh, you're gonna bring my reputation down with yours baby."

"what reputation? you were a dork way before i met you," daniela said, and you raised your eyebrows slightly. "you better be nice to me if you want to keep stealing my warmth," you responded, but made no effort to move out of her grasp.

it was then that manon came into the room, having gone to change out of her wet clothes, and the sight of daniela in your arms made her let out a scoff full of amusement. "that's not fair, if i lost i wouldn't have anyone to baby me, you two need to stop being so cute."

a little huff escaped daniela again as her grip tightened on you, and you met manon's eyes with a grin on your face. "don't worry manz, i would've babied you too. because you're right, love on top is better."

the indignant yell daniela let out was almost as loud as the laugh manon let out, and the blonde pulled back from you to leave a light swat on your shoulder. "no way! you're my space heater, not hers! she can get her own, you're mine." you just laughed as you pulled her back into your arms.

next to you, yoonchae stared at the two of you for a moment, as if trying to find the words she wanted to say. "you wouldn't be as cute with manon," she finally said, and you smiled a little as you rested your chin on daniela's shoulder. "you were supposed to be cute with her, not anyone else."

a warmth you couldn't quite explain filled you at yoonchae's words, but you knew she was right. there was no way you could've been with anyone else, not when daniela existed. you hadn't believed in soulmates until you'd met her, but you hadn't ever really felt complete until you'd held daniela in your arms, either. so maybe yoonchae was right, and you simply were meant to be cute with daniela.

[rottiens]

✫ AUGURIO┊ You hear him before you feel him, like the flash of lightning that warns of the arrival of a furious thunderclap. His deep voice breaks the silence and it seems that everything, even the dust particles stop for an instant.

word count. 13K

tags. (18+) — explicit content. maid!reader, reader with female anatomy (she/her), toji calls the reader kid/kiddo several times (sorry, can't stop using it), toji is a gentleman (not really) (he tries to be, I swear), toji canonical story, age gap (reader is 25+, toji is in his mid 30s), cw violence, reader is/was harassed by the Zenin clan, reader has family trauma (ofc), references to Christian religion, slow burn, soft toji, angsty, mutual masturbation, dirty talk.

notes. i love toji but i had never written anything official for him, at least something not so long. i didn't expect to write so much, in fact the first scene i started it with the idea of making a drabble but... oops. i got carried away (i love him sm), i hope you guys enjoy it as much as i did because despite being long i enjoyed writing every scene heh. divider creds: cafekitsune.

✫ title inspired by the song augurio by rosalía. read on ao3.

You hear him before you feel him, like the flash of lightning that warns of the arrival of a furious thunderclap. His deep voice breaks the silence and it seems that everything, even the dust particles stop for an instant.

Your body jerks at being taken by surprise, shivers run down your lower back and stop behind the back of your neck, ruffling the hair in that area. Afraid to turn around you remain static for a long second, thinking that maybe that way he would go away and ignore your presence, though to your misfortune that never happened.

"Are you deaf or something?" he asks reluctantly. 

You imagine him scratching the back of his neck as he says that, you wonder if he still has that habit.

"I'm fine," you say dryly, answering that and his previous question which had been 'Do you need help?' — Your hands are still frozen, stretched above your head with the edge of the heavy box barely touching your fingertips, pressing down.

Toji growls and ignoring your clear disinterest in his help, he takes a few short steps forward which send alerts to your head, putting you in a run or fight state. His footsteps are long and firm warning you that someone heavy is coming, and they stop right behind you where you can clearly feel the heat of his body burning through your clothes, the only sign that tells you along with a growl that he really was there and that this was not a figment of your vivid imagination.

Toji stretches his arms above your body taking advantage of his height to grab the box you are struggling so hard to reach and easily pulls it down from the cabinet, dropping it to the floor and the various cursed weapons inside slam against each other.

You don't know what to do or say, but you especially don't know what he wants. After having helped you against your will, in a task you were sure you could have completed alone, Toji adds nothing more. There is no sound, complaint or comment to let you know he is still there.

If it weren't for the warmth of his body you couldn't be sure there was another person next to you in that room. Toji, without his cursed energy to give him away was far worse than a ghost, there was no trace that he existed or ever existed unless you looked him in the face and made sure he was really there.

And after thinking about it and soaking in an awkward silence, you think you guess what he wants from you.

"Hm. Thank you." Though your words bounce off the walls with some degree of insecurity, you think you have pleased him, that he was looking for perhaps a bit of your gratitude, yet he says nothing until after an extended silence.

"Turn around."

You're used to following orders. "Pick that up." "Clean that up." "Shut your mouth." So the command doesn't surprise you; what does, instead, is who the words come from.

Toji Zenin left the clan years ago. Never officially, just one day you woke up and he wasn't there, there was one less dish to put on the table, there were fewer orders to follow and the same thing happened the next day and the next.

No one ever heard from him again, all you knew was from the rumors you heard from your masters. That the man had left the country, that he was now working for the mafia, that they found his body dumped in a dirty alley in Okinawa, so having him here, coming back to order you around as if he returned to the clan after so long fills you with uncertainty.

However you do it, you turn on your heels without making a single noise; credit to the years you have had to learn to be silent and go unnoticed all so as not to disturb and inconvenience the people you serve. You are in front of him and the first thing that strikes you is the sight of his chest, unlike how he used to dress when he lived here he wears a blue striped kimono which makes him look more formal and adult, which however baggy it is, shows how changed his body is now: more mature and bigger.

You raise your head a few inches to find his serious face staring back at you, his longer, somewhat disheveled hair partially covering his gaze and those blue eyes are as expressionless as ever.

You've never seen the scar on his lip so close, the memories of that day make you shudder but you swallow them in your throat like a hard pain pill.

You take the hem of your dress and raise the corners at the same time as you bend your knees in reverence, all this without moving too much because an unplanned movement would lead you straight to touch him.

"Sir. You’re back." You greet him, keeping a neutral tone in your voice. "Welcome home." It's the kindness you're forced to give to every single member of the clan, even if they're defectors who return without explanation. You were no one to ask questions, so you're left only to accept silently.

"I remember you," Toji says, maintaining eye contact. Confused, you frown and allow him to elaborate. "You were that girl."

There have been many girls, sir. That's what you want to say but you bite your tongue. Many of them ran away, many are gone and many were not strong enough to withstand the mistreatment. 

"I'm afraid you're wrong..." 

"Nah." Toji interrupts you by clicking his tongue, then he reaches out and seeing you squirm at the action, the attempt at a wicked smile peeks out of the corners of his mouth. "Easy there." His words accompany his thumb that lands on top of your eyebrow, caressing a small scar that you normally forget is there. His touch is rough, his skin is calloused, but the way he approaches you doesn't feel violent to you so you allow him to carve the skin some more. "You're that girl..., my cousin threw that crystal glass in your face."

His words trigger wild and violent memories that force you to turn your face away from him, Toji's hand hovering in the air as he slowly returns it to the sides of his legs. It was your first week serving the Zenin clan, you were around fifteen when your family sold you in exchange for your servitude. Painful memories come back to you, you remember how you fought, how you spat curses in front of the Zenin family and the more rebellious you were the worse they treated you, the scar on your eyebrow is just one of many.

You look at him again, unable to contain the rage that injects itself into your veins and ends up in your hands making you clench your fists tightly.

"I had wondered where all that anger had gone." Toji looks you up and down. "I guess it was just asleep."

"I have to take that box to the training room, I've already taken too long," you say, giving the box a sidelong glance.

All that anger you had swallowed until you became the good servant they wanted. That reduced the mistreatment, the yelling, the hitting, it served to make your stay here a less torturous one but seeing Toji back in front of you, with his inappropriate comments made that trunk full of pent up emotions open up.

Toji was the only one who treated you like another person. The only one who respected you and said Please and Thank you. The only one who stopped his cousin when he was not satisfied with the glass he had blown on your forehead, he took a glass to pounce on you, getting Toji a scar on his face that he shares with you.

He suffered almost the same fate as yours, only his family never sold him, on the contrary, they decided to keep him and use him as a pet to abuse and make fun of, until one day it stopped, until one day Toji never showed his face in his clan again until now.

You hated it.

You hated the fact that he could be free.

"So they finally broke you," Toji adds before you leave, just as your foot pushes on the door to help you open it.

"Why did you come back?" You ask without turning to look at him. 

"I stopped by to borrow a couple of tools," he says with a teasing tone. 

"Are you going to leave again?"

"Yes," he replies flatly. "Are you going to tell them I was here?"

Your fingers squeeze the box full of heavy weapons and you have to push it up closer to your chest so it doesn't slip.

"Have a good trip." That's all you say before you leave and venture out into the hallway.

The warm sun streams through the glass windows, dusk a few minutes away. Your feet grow heavier, you drag them under the floor, your fingers dig hard into the cardboard— You were jealous, irritated that Toji was lucky enough to come and go as he pleased, that no one knew when he was in or when he was leaving, that no one could guess what his next move was going to be. You envied his freedom.

The door to the training room bedroom hits the wall thanks to your kick, causing the three men in the center to scowl at you. The brunette one rushes at you to snatch the box from your hands, whispering a mumbled "Useless" that has your fingers clenching tighter.

"You may leave." Orders the older of them, but you don't move.

It was the first time you saw his face. He was a man of short stature and gray hair, he had wrinkles on his forehead, cheeks and neck and a long beard that reached to his collarbone. The other two were at least your age, you knew them well, they grew up with you but you had always been hidden under your fear that you never looked up beyond their bare feet or their shoes and now that you were soaking in their features and age difference, the idea that you could fight him for your freedom and beat him flashed in front of you.

"I-"

"Are you deaf? Leave the room."

The white-haired man walks towards you with the katana in one hand, his whole countenance indicating danger. His cursed energy spills all over the place making you feel insignificant. You have never taken a weapon in your hands before other than to clean them, you never fought, you didn't know what your limits or your strengths were but right now you are so high from the adrenaline rush buzzing in your bloodstream that you are sure you can stand up to him.

The old man stops in front of you with the tip of the sword grazing your throat.

"What will be one less maid?" He says and his apprentices laugh at a cruel and unfunny joke. 

You laugh with them, filled with a numbing peace. The old man pushes the tip closer, breaking the skin, tearing flesh and the warm liquid spills down your neck staining your white uniform and the pain makes you smile even more. You want to run away but your knees tremble, your feet don't respond. You have never been so close to freedom before so you succumb to that desire closing your eyelids and waiting with your arms at the end of your destiny, when the old man pushes the blade of the sword a little more there is not even pain, only euphoria for tasting the freedom you have longed for so much.

"Hey." Your eyes snap open and turn shakily to God's voice coming from the hallway. He's leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed and you hadn't realized you were crying until the salty taste numbs your tongue. "What are you guys doing?" He casually asks the men, though in reality his eyes are on you.

Your breathing becomes a whirlwind as you see him enter the room, you can't feel him, so it's as if it's all part of a vivid dream or a horrible nightmare. 

"Oh, look who's back!" Laughs one man.

"You're not welcome here," the other shouts as he spits on the floor and Toji moves into the space as if he owns the place. 

In the blink of an eye he knocks out the brown-haired man and leaves him spitting blood on the floor, then he pounces on the green-eyed blond and after an exchange of punches breaks his neck and drops his body on the floor with a crack of the wood that receives his body with a soft bounce.

Then he turns to the old man who, moving the katana away from you, wields it in Toji's direction. Without being able to blink you appreciate the difference in power between the men: between Toji, the younger ones and the old man, the latter being the one who gives Toji the most fight to defeat but after a while Toji leaves him lying on the ground, holding the wound that he had given the old man in the abdomen with his same sword.

When Toji approaches you you can't speak. 

“Are you all right?" He questions you but you can't stop shaking. Toji tears a piece of cloth from his kimono to tie it around your neck to stop the bleeding, the piece of cloth despite getting soaked right away manages to do its job successfully. "It's not going to help much. But it should hold until you can put something better on.” Then he adds, "Good luck."

And how if he never came, he leaves the room at a slow pace, leaving you with a massacre in front of you, blood under your feet, on your neck and staining the carpet.

And in the midst of the mist that was your life at that moment, a ray of light illuminated it, giving you the answer. He was your Savior.

Still in a state of stupor you put your hand to your neck and the feeling that you are in the present and in real life returns little by little, the wound starts to hurt, it hurts to swallow, it hurts to open and close your jaw. You leave the room holding your throat, looking for the trace of the man who had played the hero without knowing what you would do after having him in front of you.

"Zenin!" you shout, but your voice is barely more than a whisper and his huge body had crossed the hallway and turned right.

You move in his direction, you run shortening the distance and joining your destinies. You find him again a little closer to the gate, where to your surprise there were no guards guarding the entrance. The gigantic doors of the entrance to the Clan were wide open, unlike how you had imagined so many times in your dreams, savoring your escape, there was no wind, no noise, on the contrary. There was a silence in the scene that was almost uncomfortable, something different from how you had imagined the scene would be when escaping from your hell.

Toji's loud footsteps on the stones is all you can hear.

"Zenin!" you shout again, reminding your feet that they should keep moving forward.

Thanks to the quietness of the scene, Toji manages to hear you, turning to face you.

"Don't follow me," he warns. And you decide to ignore him completely, taking another unsure step forward as your body lurches slightly forward.

"You saved me." 

He scratches the back of his neck, indifferent to your words. "And I would have let you die there if I'd known you'd become a nuisance."

His cruel words provoke nothing in you, create no emotion in you. You don't stop, you don't stop looking at him as you feel the scar open up more each time you speak.

"But you didn't. Let me come with you." "That won't work. Go back inside." 

"Zenin, please."

Toji looked like an angel. The colors around him blended into a beautiful watercolor of whites and shades of green. Around him gave off a heavenly aura, it was the first time you could see his cursed energy and it was beautiful, a smile full of hope is drawn on your face.

"I go by Fushiguro now."

It's the last thing you hear, your fingers reach out to touch him but your hand is suspended in the air, held in time and it's all you remember before Toji turns his back on you and walks away from you and everything around you shatters. The bright lights go out, your knees falter and a cold annoying sweat settles on your palms and the back of your neck.

You can't see anything when your body hits the ground, everything is dark but you can feel it. The floor is neither warm nor safe, so Toji must have held you once more before you collapsed on the stones.

— / / / 

When you wake up it takes you a couple of extra minutes to open your eyes. Your whole body feels heavy like never before, you were used to physical labor but now it felt like you would collapse if you tried to stand up. The second thing you notice is that it is cold, but your body is warm so you drag your eyes until you notice the warm crimson red blanket tucking your body in a delicate way, it is at that moment that your eyes venture further to check where you are.

It was a room, you were in a bed that could hold at least two adults. With a soft blanket over you and a dim light coming from the left side. 

"You're awake." You are startled by the voice coming from the right, your heart flutters at the stranger whom it doesn't take you long to recognize. His appearance had now changed, he has his wet hair slicked back giving you a glimpse of his forehead. He had also changed his clothes, now wearing a black sweater that matches his pants of the same color. Toji is sitting on the edge of the bed staring at you, holding his jaw in a fist as his lips form an involuntary half pout. "You need to leave." Then he says, taking you by surprise.

Your mouth opens but only a whimper of pain comes out of it, your fingers search for your wound but you stumble over a bandage that you assume he had placed while you slept and suddenly you were very aware of it, of its texture against your skin and how tightly it squeezed your neck, so much so that it was hard for you to swallow.

You look at him with wide eyes and he clicks his tongue.

"You didn't lose much blood but I did what I could." You tilt your face in his direction, close your eyes briefly trying to ignore the pain. "Don't talk for now. You were sleeping all day but I need you to get out of here tomorrow, you'll be well enough in the morning."

Your eyes expand at the statement, you try to speak, create sentences, but your throat hurts and you have no choice but to be silent as you stir in the sheets and watch him stand up without you being able to interfere, stretching his back and arms until his muscles groan and thunder in a grunt of exhaustion vibrates his throat.

Ignoring your gaze that begs for him to stay a little longer, Toji leaves the room, turning on a night light next to the bedside table. Soon the floor is illuminated with a navy blue halo that runs along the bottom of the wall and you realize you are alone again as soon as you hear the door close with a soft knock. 

You are alone again. It's the thought that comes back into your head and rumbles against your skull. Of course this wasn't like when you were at the Zenin's house and were forced to sleep with other servants in a room smaller than this one, but even though the lighting gives you some peace of mind the darkness clings to your skin in a terrifying way. You are ten years old again when you believed there were monsters under your bed except this time you knew they were real but they were not fantasies, they were flesh and blood men who would probably be looking for you as they blamed you for slaughtering their men, even though they made sure you never had the strength to do it.

Suddenly it is all too much. The bandage on your neck seems to have hands and steals your oxygen squeezing against your throat, your lungs expand but don't bring air back with them and the light coming in from the street through the glass window gives way to shadows that form sinister figures on the wood of the floor. You bring your trembling fingers to your face and cover your eyes, your ears ringing from the blood that suddenly starts pumping your body uncontrollably, all this frenzy of panic drives you to push the blanket away from your body and makes you put your feet on the floor.

You're grateful to be on solid ground, to have something real under your feet. Crawling you flip the switch on and then fling open the door to face reality. 

Outside you become a little more familiar with the place you are in. Your eyes quickly scanning the place you realize you are in an apartment, one that carries the same vibes of the room you came from (a wooden floor covered in a rare carpet, walls with minimalist decor and by minimalist you mean non-existent), there is a murmur coming from somewhere so you lean your face forward letting yourself be guided by the muffled conversation.

Your path is lit by the dull light of a lamp that is not bright enough to illuminate the whole room, and not to mention the conversation going on somewhere in the apartment which doesn't seem to fit the scene, everything is so quiet that you can hear your own heart pumping, it doesn't seem like Toji left you behind just a couple of minutes ago, it seems as if he has disappeared, as if he has never been there and this was all a nightmare.

You walk cautiously around the apartment, taking an overview of something you could take to defend yourself in case you need it. Near the couch you find an empty beer bottle and grab it from the tip in the direction away from your body, as if it were a baseball bat.

You are afraid to call his name and there is someone else lurking among the darkness. Questions such as, did someone come in and hurt Toji and then come for you are formulated one after another in your head, creating a dozen scenarios in which you could die at the hand of a clan member tonight. 

Your ears guide you to a room in the background where you hear murmuring that is muffled by the noise of a television that as you step closer becomes clearer. Light escapes through a crack in a half-open door, you wet your lips before continuing and with your bare feet you push open the door, still holding the bottle and ready to strike.

"I can't have another person here!" 

"She’ll be gone in the morning!"

The pair of men who seemed to be carrying on an angry conversation fall silent at the groan of the door. Eyes fall on you and how ridiculous you must look with a bottle as a weapon that would be useless if they really wanted to attack you. One of them is Toji, you recognize him instantly. The other is wearing a brown suit and has a lit cigarette trapped between his fingers, the same build (maybe a little thinner) and height as Toji.

"What are you doing out of bed?" Toji scolds you wrinkling his nose, paying little attention to his friend who seems to be mentally choking him.

"Fear," you reply hoarsely.

Toji exchanges glances with the man and then turns back to you with a sigh. His footsteps go in your direction and you cling to the bottle raising it higher in a trembling grip, ready to throw it if necessary, however, Toji disarms you in a matter of seconds, your fingers remaining raised at his chest as you blink in humiliation.

In a second Toji takes your body and throws it over his shoulders along with a grunt as if it were a simple sack of potatoes, and walks with you all the way you had to walk towards him back to the room where he told you to stay.

He closes the door behind you with one foot and drops your body unkindly onto the mattress which bounces gently with your weight.

"Just tell me if you want to go out on the street tonight and I'll carry you myself and throw you out." You stare at him silently with deer eyes, your heart pounding with the same intensity as one and wishing you could be recovered so you could talk and explain to him everything that's going through your head. Faced with your state he sighs, brushing a couple of wild locks from his face, and sits back down where he was before, on the edge of the mattress. "Listen, kid, don't get us both kicked out. Just be good, okay?" 

You nod and realize his intentions as he is ready to leave as soon as he finishes speaking, but your hand comes forward and you stop him by clinging to his forearm.

"Stay," you beg. He shakes his head, turning away from your eyes. "Fear. Please."

There is desperation in your words, pain comes out of them followed by despair at not being able to speak as you normally would and advocate for your situation. Toji sighs resignedly and stands up to remove his shoes, then grabs the material of his sweater and pulls it off until his chest is exposed. Even with the little help from the light and battling the shadows you soak in his naked body, how worked his torso is and the few scars that the bluish hue of the lights reveal.

"Move aside," Toji says reluctantly and without complaint you do so, while burning with shame inside.

As soon as he settles in as best he can, you pull the covers back to cover you both. Toji holds his head with one hand and lets the other rest on his chest, you can't help but glance at him out of the corner of your eye.

"Man. Who?" you ask, seeking to hear him speak once more as Toji's voice brought you assurance.

"A friend." Toji responds dryly and reluctantly. You try to move closer to his warmth but he whines again, making the sound of a non-domestic animal. "No snuggling. Stay on your side." 

After a while where no one says anything else and where you can't fall asleep because if you do you are sure you will wake up there again, inside those four walls, you mumble a, "Thank you." To which Toji doesn't respond.

At some point you could no longer fight against the exhausting sleep or the heaviness of your muscles and ended up losing the battle of the watch. Light particles get trapped in your eyelashes which makes you blink rapidly welcoming a new day. The first thing you notice is how dry your throat is, the second is a pair of strong arms holding you prisoner, adrenaline shoots through your body before you can process what was happening.

Memories come flashing back to you. You remember what had happened a couple of hours ago and remember Toji telling you to stay on the side of the bed, which you did! Yet somehow your bodies end up entangled with each other, his arms holding you very close to him preventing you from escaping. His grip is strong, he encircles your waist and holds you close to his chest, one hand on your abdomen and the other near your collarbones and chest, his lower body is very close to you, so much so that as soon as you realize you can feel how hard he is a hot steam starts on your cheeks and spreads all over your face. 

You take a deep breath, then swallow saliva in a poor quest to hydrate your throat. Your fingers tap his arm near your neck.

"Zenin." You call out to him, something louder than a whisper, saying his name for some reason makes you feel warmer inside. "Toji?" you repeat his name and his face descends to your neck, his hot breath stumbles against your ear and a heavy sigh catches in your throat.

Toji lies there breathing, in a kind of trance that prevents him from waking up and his hand which was lying on your collarbone goes up to your neck where it takes hold of your throat and gently exerts pressure. You call his name again moaning from the pain, he grunts.

"What?" You never thought he could sound more morose than he already was, but apparently you were wrong. Morning Toji was a different being.

"No snuggling." You remind him with your eyes wide open, there was no way you could be asleep in the situation you were in. "You said." Your voice is still hurting, you sound hoarse. 

"I said you couldn't cuddle me," Toji protests, clinging tighter to your body. "I didn't say anything about me not being able to." As soon as he finishes speaking his face scrunches against the side of your throat and the strands of his hair tickle you, your shoulders shrug instinctively and he laughs as your abdomen tightens. "How did you sleep?" he asks, still with his face hidden. 

"Better." 

"Good." That's all he says before suddenly walking away from you. You don't move from your spot, your eyes fixed on the rocking chair in the corner that keeps a teddy bear on it, your heart beating a mile a minute as you listen to him wander into the room behind you. "I was serious when I said you had to go." He reminds you, which causes you to sit up in bed slowly creating a misshapen arch with your back.

"I have nowhere to go." Your voice sounds broken, but you can form longer sentences than yesterday without feeling like the wound is going to open at any moment.

Toji already knows and probably doesn't care, he took a lot of trouble getting you out of that prison so now you were on your own. But the idea of surviving on your own in a world you barely had any knowledge of is terrifying, all you've worried about for years is that the food wouldn't get cold before it reached the table and indulging the whims of each of the clan members.

An idea suddenly strikes you, a light bulb would appear above your head if it were in a cartoon. "I can cook," you say, just as Toji is walking in the direction of the exit.

"We don't need a maid."

His words hit you with a stark reality check. Being a servant is all you knew how to do, if you no longer had someone to serve, then what was your purpose?

The door opens and you dart out of bed straight to Toji's feet, your arms do a bear hug around one of his legs and you look up at him from below with messy hair and pleading eyes. 

"Please."

He groans, squeezing his eyes with his fingers, clearly frustrated with the situation, those same fingers cling to your forearms and help you to your feet. 

"I don't want to see you on your knees begging anyone ever again, you are free now." With that, he drags you out of the room and your feet can barely keep up with his strength, in the same hallway you walked down earlier you see the man in the same suit from last night eating something in the kitchen and waving at you, a greeting you would return if you weren't too busy.

Toji stops in front of a door and with an open palm pushes it open to reveal a bathroom.

"Wait here." He leaves you in the middle of the small bathroom, as you stare confusedly at the tiles. Toji soon returns with things in his hand which he pushes into your chest and you are forced to hold them so you don't drop them. "Get changed and take a shower, we don't have warm water." That's all he says to then turn his back on you and leave you to your fate.

At the edge of the bathtub there were only two things: a three-in-one shampoo with a white label and a mint essence liquid soap and after checking what you had in your hands you realized that they were Toji's things: A purple t-shirt with the name of some brand on the chest that you were sure you were going to outgrow and some dark shorts along with a pair of boxers of the same shade, this was way more than you would have gotten on your own (and it's not like you really love the uniform you're wearing) so you feel grateful because this was his way of showing you kindness.

The very cold water washed away the sweat and dirt from the previous disastrous day. You also took the opportunity to remove the bandage and wash your hair with the shampoo you had appropriated without permission. The wound in your throat had begun to heal since it was not so deep after all, but you had to be very careful not to hurt it since it still hurt when you moved too much. 

In the absence of a toothbrush you took two swigs of the mint mouthwash on top of the sink and walked out smelling like Toji which somehow filled you with tranquility. It doesn't take you long to find him, he was in the kitchen watching the news and spooning a spoonful of cereal into his mouth when he paused at the sight of you, a smile stretching his lips.

"You look weird." You didn't look weird. You looked like a female version of him but you decided to swallow the comment that would point this out and laugh softly instead. Toji pats the empty stool next to him which prompts you to move closer to him, a bowl of cereal was placed in front of the chair you now occupy of which you begin to eat from resting your eyes on the television and the grizzled gentleman reporting live on an accident that happened in the harbor.

All of this felt comforting but at the same time it was out of place. You? Eating cereal on a Sunday morning as if you were a normal young girl? You never had the chance to enjoy your teenage years or even have free time, you never knew what it was like to own a phone, go out to the park with friends, have a pet or even what it was like to have a crush on someone. All you have ever done is serve others, you dreamed of this day so much that one day you stopped wishing for it and accepted your destiny, you accepted that you would serve the Zenin clan until they didn't need you anymore, until your hair lost its color and they threw you out on the street.

But now you were here and you could go anywhere if you wanted to, although for some reason you were still there. And for some reason, Toji hadn't kicked you out.

Still in disbelief you stare at Toji, you see him chewing carelessly on his cereal while his eyes are fixed on the TV. His eyelashes are long, his lips thin and they were moist from the milk, dripping slightly, the scar moved every time he chewed. The features of his face were mature and indicative of how tired he is, dark circles under his eyes and a frown— all you saw was someone tired.

“What?" Toji wasn't looking at you, but of course he knew you were looking at him. You don't even stop to admire him the moment you answer him.

"What have you made of your life? Fushiguro? Is it official?"

"I got married, I had a son." Surprise is painted on your face, your eyelids twitch slowly but Toji doesn't give you time to speak. "She died some time later, I stuck to what I do best." His neck turns, leaving the gray-haired gentleman's voice as a way of softening what he will say next. "You want to know what I do for a living? I kill people… sorcerers." The last comes with intentions to scare you.

You don't move a muscle when he finishes his speech, on his face is drawn a macabre smile that tells you that you should be afraid of him but you are not.

"Your son?" you ask instead, spooning another spoonful of cereal into your mouth as you hold his gaze.

"He's fine." Toji replies simply, downplaying it, and you decide not to probe further for now, grateful that he's opened up a bit about his past with you.

Before you knew it you had finished eating, you had emptied your bowl almost completely, chewing and swallowing automatically.

Toji next to you leaves his stool to walk to the sink, undisguised you soak yourself in him cooling his face with the flow of water, running his wet hands through his hair and then with a towel that was nearby he dries his hands.

"I'm leaving."

"Work?"

"Yeah."

"Can I come with you?"

"Nope." You ignored him anyway and walked behind him. "Stop following me."

Still, you didn't. Because where else could you go? At least today would be the last day of your life where you could enjoy the present without worrying about what you have to do tomorrow.

Toji didn't do anything to stop you either, he let you down the stairs behind him and let you ride shotgun in an old blue car that was parked behind the building.

"This is your car?" your eyes examine the dashboard, your curious fingers didn't hold back from touching the radio and Toji tapped them gently getting your attention back to him.

"Don't touch." He was smiling, the scar was unbearably attractive. Your hands folded in your lap obediently. "Sometimes it is," he continued speaking, turning the steering wheel with one hand to take the corner.

For a couple of seconds all you hear on the radio is an annoying static noise, which from time to time quiets down to give way to a female voice that doesn't last long before it is shut off again by the annoying static.

The window pane is down and your face is outside the window, holding onto your own arms as the sun warms your face and the breeze ruffles your hair which is starting to dry. There are many people on the streets, some carrying ice cream in their hands and others walking their dogs which makes you smile once again as you contemplate every little detail in awe.

"Glass up and head in," complains Toji next to you. You move away from the window to examine him. 

"Will you ever stop being so grumpy?"

"Ugh?" Toji genuinely looks offended, raising an eyebrow as he exchanges glances with you and the road. You laugh.

"I don't think you know the word fun."

"And you do?" For that moment he looked at you longer than someone behind the wheel should.

"Aren't you ashamed that a maid knows how to have more fun than you?"

"I can't believe I'm seeing with my own eyes the life of the party. What were you doing, falling asleep at ten and playing with brooms?" you laugh against your will, your lips stretching until it hurts.

"Oh! So you do know how to make jokes."

"Shut up."

"Sir get your feet off the table, don't take your head out of the window, get out of my house."

"I would never say take your feet off the table because I don't care." 

“You don't clean?"

"Nah. That's Shiu's doing." So that was his name.

"That's why you need a maid," you tried to persuade him in a gentle tone.

"You're not going back to that house, kiddo. We'll only get in trouble," Toji warns earnestly as he drives around another of the city's numerous corners.

"Stop calling me that! I'm an adult, you know!" you protest, raising your voice.

"Really? I hadn't noticed," Toji replies sarcastically as he parks under the shade of a leafy tree and you realize you were in front of a school. "I need you to do something for me."

 "What do you want?"

Outside the school, children were walking out hand in hand with their parents as a teacher enthusiastically waved them off. You turned to face Toji, who peered through your window. You raised a skeptical eyebrow.

"No," you reply firmly, crossing your arms and sinking them into the breadth of your T-shirt. 

"Huh?" Toji arches an eyebrow.

"Are you thinking of kidnapping a child?" you ask indignantly, full of question marks in your voice.

Toji burst out laughing, laughing at a joke that you didn't think was funny at all.

"What?" His eyes narrowed until they were barely visible, and dramatically, he wiped an imaginary tear from one of his eyes. "No. Do you see the boy over there?" he pointed a long finger out into the street, and you followed his gaze.

"The one in the green T-shirt?" you asked, watching a chubby blond boy picking his nose.

"The one next to him," Toji corrected, pointing to another boy who was looking at the blond boy with a frown, clutching his backpack. You turned your neck to Toji. .

"The grumpy one?" you asked. "Your son?" You don't need his confirmation when he falls silent at the accusation. 

"Just go closer and make sure he’s okay," the man turned away from your curious gaze, and his hands tightened on the steering wheel, concentrating on the brown leaf-covered road.

"Okay?" you insisted.

"No bruises or anything like that," Toji mumbled through his teeth, downplaying it with a wave of his hand. However, you noticed a genuine concern in his words.

You looked again at the boy, who was still glaring in disgust at the others. The task you had been given made your heart beat fast.

"I'm sure he's fine," you say, still watching him.

"You wanted to come, so go. The car ride is not free, kid," Toji comments. 

"Stop calling me that. I have a name," you demand, your jaw tense and your teeth clenched, wanting him to look at you with the same admiration and respect with which you looked at him.

"I will if you go," Toji says, staring at you.

If this was your way of saying thank you for what he had done for you so far, then so be it. Your bottom lip quivered and his blue gaze intimidated you. After all, a deal's a deal. You got out of the car carefully, checking both sides of the street before crossing and starting to walk towards the school. Before you took another step, a man approached the boy, seeming to know him by the familiarity with which they treated each other. He was a man about your own age, tall and with white hair.

Reluctantly, he took the boy's hand and led him in the opposite direction of the school. You trotted back toward the car.

"Who was that?" you questioned Toji before even closing the door. 

"A friend," Toji replied laconically as he started the car again.

"So he's in good hands. If you're friends, why didn't you approach him?" 

"Hmm," Toji muttered, dodging. "Lots of questions."

"Why don't you approach him?" you insisted once again.

Toji sighed before replying sincerely, "This is my way of taking care of him." Despite your initial misgivings, you gradually felt content with his explanation, crossing your arms in momentary acceptance.

The day progressed, and Toji drove you to a nearby pier. He left you in the car while he walked away to ask some questions of some people in the area. From the window, you watched the reflection of the sun on the water and in it the blurry image of Toji grabbing the man in the boat by the shirt threatening to throw him into the sea. You shivered in your seat, focusing your whole body and senses in the direction of the fight but you didn't dare get out because you didn't want to disobey him (besides there wasn't much you could do). It was some time before Toji returned to the car, with a frown on his face and an expression that told you he hadn't gotten clear answers but told you he wasn't going to answer any of the questions you never asked.

Finally, Toji took you to a cozy ramen restaurant. You ate together in a quiet corner of the place, sharing in bits and pieces stories of his work and your memories of when you were a slave. As the evening progressed, the initial tension between you began to dissipate. You realized that, despite his rough exterior, Toji had a kind and protective side in his own way.

After a long day together, you returned home, the sun had set and the city lights were beginning to glow. Although more questions than answers had arisen, you were beginning to feel closer to Toji and the world around him.

— / / / 

"You're very quiet," Toji says after closing the apartment door behind you. He continues on his way without stopping to really check, straight to the switch where it allows the light bulb to chase away the gloomy shadows which you appreciate. "And I don't know if I like that or it scares me," he adds.

Toji is looking at you now at a safe distance for you because your thoughts became a mess when you had him close. A sudden chill fills you with shivers and you bring your hands up to your forearms to hug yourself, apparently you had forgotten to close a window.

"I've made a decision but I know you're going to laugh."

Toji licks his lips, the tip of his tongue brushing the scar erasing the birth of a smile, you look at him with raised eyebrows and unable to contain himself he lets out a snort followed by his hands raised to chest height in a sign of peace and surrender.

"Stop it," you ask.

"Please speak up," Toji encourages you, crossing his arms.

"I want you to train me." You pause, seeing no response from him you continue speaking with your throat strangely dry. "I want to learn from you and I want to kill the ringleaders of the Zenin clan.”

"You want revenge?" To your surprise his countenance was serious, with some muscle in his jaw clenched.

"Yes."

"Then I can't help you. Revenge is the worst emotion you can cling to in order to go on living."

You blink a couple of times in his direction, perplexed that as soon as he finished speaking he turned around and headed down the hallway to continue on his journey to wherever he was headed, your mouth opens and closes a couple of times until you perk up and take a step forward.

"What?!" you shout, confused.

"There is no point in seeking revenge."

Toji speaks without stopping walking, without raising his voice, moving to the direction where your room was. You chase after him with a vein throbbing in the sides of your head, you were so full of rage accumulated over so many years that your thoughts were clouded.

"You're going to give me moral lessons?”

"Listen." He turns, pointing an accusing finger at you and you force your feet to stop so fast you nearly collide with it. "I've lived under the shadow of revenge every day, it's one of the reasons I get up every morning and it's an emotion that consumes you, you don't want that for yourself."

"You don't know me. You can't know what I want," you point out.

"It doesn't take knowing you to read you like the back of my hand. You couldn't bear to kill a fly."

You clench your jaw hard until your teeth grind from the pressure, your back is tense and erect as if someone was pulling it up. You take a step forward and Toji seems to give you the same importance he would give a mosquito, he turns his back on you again and walks into your room.

He didn't know you, he had no idea what you were capable of doing, you had the ability to kill someone, you were sure of that.

You follow him through the door frame. With the little blue light bathing the place, you notice Toji with a naked torso, the black t-shirt was lying on the floor at his feet, you had caught him halfway through his fingers grabbing the loop of his pants to undo it and let it fall.

You gasp, covering your lips with one hand and your mouth fills with saliva. "What are you doing?" His skin looked smooth, marred by a scar near his left pec and another near the V that was blatantly marked above his pelvis, where a happy trail also began. "Get out of my room," you stammer, forcing yourself to focus on his eyes.

"This is my room." You lower your hand from your face slowly, at the revelation you can't help but take a wide look at the place, then up and down Toji. "And if you don't want to see me naked, I'd advise you to leave."

"We're not done talking."

"Yeah, we are," he replies. "I'm going to take a shower." Now you're the one crossing your arms.

"Train me," you demand. 

"I won't."

Before you can speak again he is pulling down his pants, your body as automatically turns away from him, fleeing from the flash of bare skin.

"Are you crazy?!"

"Ow come on, sweetheart. It's just a little skin. This just proves you're not ready for my training."

"How does seeing you naked have anything to do with training me!" He was crazy. Insane. Unhinged. And you worried that instead of pushing you away it would push you more into him.

"If you can't see a fucking dick, how are you going to have the stomach to cut someone's head off?"

You don't remember the last time you had felt so embarrassed. You were trembling but you had to show Toji how important this was to you, so against all odds you turned to see him. Your eyes went to his dick —which hung heavy and thick under the bush of hair above his pelvis— drawn by a magnetism stronger than your willpower, you swallowed your embarrassment and looked him in the face, your pussy wetting in the vastness of his shorts. Toji had a half smile on his face and you weren't sure if it was your nerves or the sudden dizziness, but you could see a pale shade of red on his cheeks.

"Fushiguro, please." Your fists were clenched as a way of keeping you bound to this present moment, your nails digging red-hot into your flesh forcing you not to wander back into the middle of her thighs.

"Let me take a shower," he sighs, chewing on a chuckle. "I'll be back soon and we can talk."

Toji moves away from your point of view and you don't move a muscle until you hear him close the bathroom door. You run to open a window, sticking your head out until the wind cools the heat from your cheeks. You pat your face gently with trembling fingers, then scrunch your eyes and sink your face into the palms of your hands and for a long minute you sigh at the scent of liquid soap, the shampoo in your hair and the smell of food that clung to your shirt thanks to the ramen restaurant.

Underneath the baggy T-shirt your nipples are hard, aching every time they brush against the thick fabric begging for some kind of release.

There was a lot of traffic on the street, every now and then you could hear the horn of a vehicle in the distance. You linger in the safety that space afforded you until Toji's voice shocks you by calling your name from behind, followed by an apology if his behavior earlier had made you uncomfortable but he needed to make a point.

You turn on your heels to look at him. Toji has a white towel wrapped around his hips, his chest as well as his hair are soaked with hundreds of water droplets that you would like to lick (you cross out that thought immediately), he runs his hand through his jet hair and you forget how to breathe, the room that starts to give off an unbearable heat closes in on you.

"I hear you, you needed to prove a point and that's okay." You lick your lips.

Toji starts wandering in the room, opens the closet and takes out some pajama pants.

"Shiu would have to be convinced that you can do the job." Your eyebrows raise to the sky slightly but you don't say anything. "And have him take you into his apartment until you can be somewhere else safe," Toji says, slipping into his pants still wearing the towel.

Wonderful, he had no boxers underneath. Which made his penis stand out shamelessly when he removed the towel altogether, the garment falling dangerously below his sharp hip bones.

"I can do the job." You force yourself to keep the thread of conversation going, scratching a nonexistent itch on your forehead.

"Good." Toji leaves the room with the towel in his hand, so you think he probably went to put it in the bathroom and you take the opportunity to let your legs rest from shaking and sit on the bed. "But you are free to leave at any time. I'm not going to force you to be here, Shiu either," Toji shouts from the hallway and as he speaks his voice gets closer until he materializes in the doorway.

"Thank you." That's all you can say at this point as he looks down on you. Toji makes a sound with his tongue and points to the hallway with his head.

"Do you want something to eat? We have cereal and..." he pauses, trying to remember more food list and a smile appears on your lips.

"I'm fine," you gently confess to him.

"We can order ramen or Chinese food. I'm starving, I think Shiu left his wallet." 

"I'm fine, Toji. Thank you," you repeat, still maintaining your smile.

Toji nods and leaves the room. You can breathe again, your chest feels squeezed by an invisible weight and you open and close your hand to make the sudden cramp go away.

You walk over to the window to take a last breath of the night air, the damp wind, the smell of smoke and the smell of freedom. Your lungs expand with the scent of street dirt.

You were free to go anywhere, to run away, to escape, to keep running, yet you decided to go back to Toji's bed. You lay your head on a pillow while hugging another to cheat the ghost of loneliness and pretend you were really with someone so it makes you feel safe— although you don't know how long it takes, but after trying to fall asleep watching the figures forming the light from the window on the floor mixed with the noise of the TV in the distance you realize you can't fall asleep, too scared and anxious to do so (if your savior wasn't around). 

So you pull the warm sheet away from your body and leave the room in the direction of where the noise from the television was coming from, where you now realize that it is a baseball game.

"Hey," Toji greets as he notices you approaching him. He contemplates your figure silently as he watches you drop your weight beside him, wearing nothing but his big old t-shirt, your thighs were in full view. "Can't sleep?" Toji was watching you out of the corner of his eye, you shake your head.

"You?" you ask, watching the game.

"I was thinking of sleeping on the couch."

"No," you whine. "It's your room, it's your bed, we can share it."

Toji snorts. "You know how I sleep, I almost strangled you this morning."

"That’s not true." You tear your eyes away from the television to focus on him, blue and green lights dance across his features, across his cheekbones and sharp jaw. For a second your gazes stumble and he focuses on your lips for the duration of a blink. "I mean you did but I don't mind." You chuckle at a bad joke, Toji makes the attempt at a laugh. "You'd be doing me a favor anyway."

"Don't say that, kid— [Name]," he corrects himself at once, turning his focus back to the game, you pat his bare shoulder in a sign of 'congratulations'. "You still have a lot to live for, there's a lot you haven't seen or known yet. Even I don't want to die."

"Don't say it like that," you scold him with a frown, still looking at him... admiring him. "You have a lot to live for, too."

"Nah."

"Stop it. You have your son."

"He hates me, [Name]," he says with a tone of bitterness, you stay quiet for a moment, soaking in the noise of the match narrator, fumbling what to say. You hadn't comforted anyone before, not even your fellow maidservants, you didn't know exactly what to do or what to say so you loosened your tongue.

"I don't think he hates you, Toji." You said his name with such compassion, his jaw tensed focusing his vision to the ground. "Even if he hates you, you're alive, you have a chance to make things right, to change, to be better."

Toji looks at you, rather looks at your mouth, not wanting to pretend this time. "I don't want to change."

"I don't believe you." He looks into your eyes and you hold his gaze, one of your hands going up to his face and cradling his jaw. After a few seconds you feel the weight of his bones in your hand, indicating to you that he had dropped into it. "You know why I don't believe you?" your thumb goes to his lip and Toji parts them for you, the hardness of your hand meets his scar above his mouth and he flinches, pulling back a little. "Because you got this by protecting me."

Toji takes your hand between his fingers and slowly lowers your hand to his lap, for a while he stands still and you can't figure out what it is you see in his eyes because no one has ever looked at you like that before.

"I'm sure there are good things in you." Toji can feel the pulse in your wrist, he could even swear he can hear your heart. Pumping and beating, rumbling in your ribs.

"Stop," Toji begs, unable to look at you.

Enveloped in the frenzy that engulfs you, you let go and take his face in your hand again and Toji drops into it like a puppy in need of attention. His face looks beautiful under the lights on the television, those pretty blue eyes covered in a heavy layer of glitter. They were the same eyes that looked down on you from upstairs in the hallway when he helped you to your feet after his cousin abused you, eyes full of compassion.

"Have you ever left the country?" The question rolls off your tongue.

That look full of longing changes for a second to one of confusion, anyway he answers. "No."

"Have you ever seen a live band?" 

"W- no," he chuckles.

"How long has it been since you've been to the sea?" This time he doesn't speak, you continue. "You still have many things to see, to live, don't take away the value of your life."

Toji gazes at you, closes his eyes for a moment trying to calm his inner storm but when he opens them again, long, heavy eyelashes fluttering like butterfly wings— you were still here. He feels the warmth of your hand against his still in his lap, feels the firm touch of your palm on his cheek, his lungs filling with his fragrance permeating you. It was not a dream.

Toji leans forward and you don't move a muscle even though he sees something tighten in your neck and your breathing stops for just an instant.

"Please, stop me." He thinks he says to himself but his words actually reach the surface, fly to your ears in a whisper.

Toji holds you in the same way you hold him, his fingers, bigger than yours and any other maid you've ever known caresses your cheek in the same way a butterfly would kiss a flower. And this simple fact is enough to make your stomach flare, your eyelids give way to nerves and you swallow a breath.

"Please..." Toji begs again in a breath, but this time his lips are on yours, not touching you directly but just enough to let you feel his warm exhale. You could taste the milk on his lips from the cereal he had eaten and this made you lick your lips, wandering if you could discover the taste of milk on his tongue as well. "I thought you had died."

"You rescued me. That memory kept me alive."

At your confession Toji finally cuts the distance and presses his lips to yours. Just a brush, something too fast to be considered a kiss, so in search of more you pounce on him.

Your grip leaves his neck to hug the back of his neck and pull him further into you. As the baseball game is interrupted by commercials behind your back, Toji squeezes your thighs and drags you over his lap stealing a groan of surprise.

His kisses are no longer on your mouth, they go in search of your jaw and the jugular vein in your neck. Toji feels it throbbing fast against his mouth, he bites down, you moan, and he swipes his thick, hot tongue across the area soothing the burning.

"Please, stop me." You hear the request for the third time. The prayer is needy and hungry.

"I'm not going to stop you."

Toji suddenly interrupts his actions to look at you. His hands are shakily tangled inside your/his shirt.

"I can't love you." He lies, as a last resort to get you to stay away from him. You are too precious for someone like him, being around him would only ruin you.

"I don’t care," —you interrupt the intrusive train of thought in your head— “I have love enough for both of us."

If revenge was the worst emotion you can cling to in order to go on living, then you would cling to the love and admiration you feel for him.

Although you can't deny that it hurt to hear him say that, it hurt more to respond to him, it hurt when his fingers pulled hard on your nipples kneading your breasts roughly and it hurt when his teeth dug into your lip and forced his tongue into your mouth (and you were right, he tasted like milk and honey). It took courage to swallow your emotions and not run away to your/his room but you understood, you understood when he tugged off your shirt and took one of your nipples into his mouth.

You understood that both Toji and you needed this. No matter how long it took him to forget his wife, you were going to be by his side with him, as a friend, as a lover....

"Ah, ngh!"

Or as his murderous partner.

Because that's what you deserve. Finally make your own decisions, screw it up, damage it or start over.

But you were free to choose and now you chose to watch Toji from above suck on your nipples like a hungry man while your hips as with life could rub against the growing erection. His hands squeezed your breasts as he licked one to return with the other and do the same pattern while you could do nothing but gasp with parted lips.

"Fuck," he cursed, harshly carving a hard nipple with his flat tongue. 

"More," you implored.

So Toji left your tits alone for a while, licking his lips with the same punishing tongue to wipe away the trace of saliva that had been left behind. Then he slipped a hand inside the boxers and his fingers met the puddle that was your pussy.

"Oh my… [Name]."

You wanted to run away, but instead you moved your hips and the friction of three fingers on your clitoris made you moan, made you repeat the action.

"I'm sorry." The apology came out of your mouth before you could understand what you were apologizing for.

It was like when you dropped a dish, when you were late in returning a weapon, when your clothes were not spotless. They were the words your mouth was most familiar with.

"Why?" Toji questions you, forcing you to speak despite your condition. 

Condition: three of his fingers oscillating in circles over your over-stimulated clit.

"I asked.. why are you apologizing." With every word his fingers tap your sticky pussy, his words hot on top of your throbbing temple.

You swallow dryly. "I'm sorry," you repeat.

"Stop apologizing," Toji growls, moving to your ear, gently biting the gristle. "Are you a virgin?" The question feels like a concern, not for him but for you, it sounded like Toji needed to know whether or not you'd had sex before to know how to proceed.

"No." You reply dryly.

'No, I had sex with a member of the Zenin clan once, twice who turned out to be an asshole’ — is the answer you cut off halfway, perhaps an explanation you would —or would not— give Toji later when his fingers weren't pushing inside you.

Thanks to your lubricated pussy one finger was able to enter without difficulty, then another until you felt so full inside that you clung to Toji's shoulders for stability, hugging your body to his body as he waits for you to adjust to the size.

"Are you okay?" he asks, depositing small kisses on your shoulder. 

"Hm hm!" you respond positively with your lip between your teeth.

Then his fingers push in and you groan, then out and soon you miss them and again that word Toji could get used to hearing all night comes from your lips.

"More." And he laughs, wrapped in the pleasure he gets from giving you pleasure.

Toji starts a specific rhythm, fucking you open with his big fingers as his fat thumb entertains your clit and his own cock throbs in the confines of his pajama pants, staining the fabric in a matter of seconds. You feel it resting heavy on his thigh, the thickness and size making you scratch his back wishing you had the courage to do something about it, that you had the courage to pull it out and do something else, yet you don't find the courage, it hides deep inside you as Toji pumps your pussy, in and out and faster and faster in rhythm with his moans. You are sure that if the TV were off the sticky sounds would be filling your ears in a way too embarrassing to process.

In that same rhythm Toji makes you have your first orgasm, it tears you apart and leaves you dizzy sinking your teeth into his flesh after he told you it was okay, that you could drown your screams on his shoulder, so you did, so much so that you are sure it will leave a mark. You think about apologizing but your brain mimics his raspy voice asking you not to apologize again.

For a moment you think you're going to pass out, your whole body is sore especially your thighs but it's a pain, satisfying? You wouldn't know exactly what words to put it in. You mumble his name a hundred times and he pulls you by your collar to have you facing him, your hair is tousled, your gaze confused and your lips slightly red, his cock is throbbing and in that moment he promises something to himself: he needs to make you cum again.

Above the noise of the sloppy kiss in which Toji grabs you and the narrator of the game shouting excitedly for a home run Toji hears keys in the door. Shiu, he concludes. So he grabs you by the thighs and walks with you to the room you share, no matter how much you complain about your weight or scream that you're going to fall. He doesn't release you from his grip until he throws you onto the mattress and he locks the door.

Toji takes a moment to admire your half naked body, his fingers are still soaked with you and he brings them to his mouth covering them with his drool as he walks towards you.

"There are so many things I want to show you," he says, crawling on the bed. "So many things I want to do to you." His scar rises along with the half-smile. His fingers hook into the elastic of your boxers and you moan as you stand completely naked in front of him, under the blue lights and moonlight.

You open your lips to complain but Toji places a finger over his: 'Shh' he makes a sound, then touches his ear, indicating you to pay attention to the footsteps outside which makes you keep quiet again.

Toji pounces on you, caging your body under his. Without breaking the connection of your lips together with one hand he helps your legs spread, one knee far apart from the other and he improves his position in the center. His covered cock is above your core, throbbing and begging for real attention, your fingers slide to the nape of his neck.

"Toji," you breathe. You don't remember the last time you had done so. 

However, "Sh." He shushes you again by sucking the salty skin on your neck.

Each time his hips rotated over you you had to roll your eyes, so overwhelmed with pleasure. Toji then slides his fingers through your navel and reaches your sensitive clit again, the touch is as soft as a feather and at the same time he unloads on you static that fills you with shivers.

Toji wonders if he could make you cum like this, him rubbing shamelessly over your folds while at the same time stimulating your most sensitive spot. His fingers go faster and your back arches, trying to run away from the pleasure, from how raw his rough touch feels on your vulnerable flesh.

Your fingers tangle around his wrist and between dry-mouthed stutters you ask him to stop for a while. And he does so reluctantly, kissing your sweaty temple and dropping his heavy body next to you with a creak of the mattress, his chest rising and falling and the sound of the city making itself present again.

Adrenaline begins to leave your bloodstream bringing with it guilt and shame, you wonder what Toji who hasn't said another word in the last five minutes is thinking so you turn to your side to get a better look at him. He has his eyes wide open, focused somewhere on the ceiling as he sucks in his own lower lip, you move your eyes over every inch of his body until you are on his hips and the obvious bulge between his thighs, after a while of watching you realize you can see it trembling.

"Does it hurt?" you ask him after licking the sweat off your upper lip. Toji seems to have been forcibly brought out of his trance.

"What thing?" He asks, looking at you.

"Your... hmph, your penis."

He laughs, "Yeah," he replies quietly. 

"I want to make you feel good."

Toji turns his head to soak you in, his eyes going to every corner of your face, then to your breasts for a moment.

"You don't have to," he speaks hoarsely, turning to your eyes.

Wordlessly, you reach down to his crotch, your fingers mimic a playful spider dancing over his navel and tangling in the trail of short hairs but Toji stops you, the grip is insecure and you stare at each other for what feels like a heavy eternity but finally he gives you the freedom to continue exploring while at the same time exhaling through his nose just like a raging bull.

You touch him through his pants and the muscles in his legs tighten, he pushes his hips up in an animal instinct to reach for more. You size it up and rub it as you watch him grow amidst the darkness, finally you get up the courage to reach into his pants and Toji helps you by pulling it down just enough so it doesn't bother you.

Half naked under your nose you breathe in the raw scent of sex that collects in a cloud-like form in the room. Toji is so hard and you take him between a weak fist, somewhat unsure, as if it’s going to bite you. Inexperienced you give a downward tug and Toji throws his head back with a curse and a choked grunt.

"More. Squeeze your hand just a little tighter," Toji says, encouraging himself to raise his head again to look at you giving him pleasure.

"Like this?"

"Yeah. The tip, just... God— fuck the tip with your hand, I'm so sensitive."

It takes you little time to learn what he likes, you learn quickly and he is pleased. Toji asks you to cradle his balls and you do so obediently, then spit on the shaft as he commands, saliva runs down the swollen pink head and slides easily to reach his full balls. Toji hunches his back and turns sideways to pay attention to you— now in front of him you had nowhere to escape.

Toji breathes on your open mouth, his fingers squeeze your ass, caress your thighs longingly and end up on your pussy, pressing on the soaked folds. For a while he stays still, just feeling your clit throbbing, it's as if he was waiting for you to stop him again, he wanted to be sure. He tentatively slips a finger in the middle of your labia and you mewl.

"You're so wet," he admits with bated breath as you continue to masturbate him. "I wanna fuck you so bad," he says, biting your lip and you close your eyes, a little dizzy now that your clit was being stimulated again. "My whole body needs it, I need to put my heavy cock in that pretty pussy of yours, [Name]. I want to— fuck me. I want to slap it with my cock, I'm sure I could make you cum with just that."

"Toji!" you scream the instant two fingers go inside you without warning, quickly assaulting your pussy, pumping it in and out. "F-fuck me, do it."

"What was that?" with a sinister smile breaking the darkness along with his scar, he longed to hear you speak again.

"Please." You respond assigned, your stomach clenching.

"Next time, baby." He deposits a fleeting kiss on your lips. "When I get condoms I'm gonna pound that pussy so good that all you're gonna remember is my name. Now..., fucking cum for me."

You couldn't breathe or respond because his mouth was on yours, stealing your breath and what little strength your limbs had left. Your whole body ached, you felt so full with those two fingers plus thumb rubbing your clit back and forth, your fist squeezes just a little on the head of his cock, your thumb slides over the cleft of the cockhead and Toji growls on your tongue, you swallow the vibrations and squeeze your eyes tightly shut letting yourself sink into the liquid stream that tucks your body, for a second you stop breathing but you open your eyes suddenly screaming his name and he shushes you again kissing you deeply, soon after Toji cums in your fist and on his own stomach, drops of cum fall on the mattress and Toji moves away to find a t-shirt of his to clean it and help you clean yourself.

"Come here," he says, but he doesn't really give you a choice because his arms were wrapped around your body, dragging you on top of him.

You sigh. Your face was crushed into his chest, his big hand playing with your hair. You didn't know what to say, you could hear his heart beating as fast as yours, you were tired and sore but never before had you felt happier than at this moment.

"Rest up, tomorrow will be your first day of training." Toji kisses the crown of your head and that's all you hear before you sink into a thick froth of dreams, where all you can appreciate is Toji's warm, naked body against yours and the soft sheets beneath your bodies.

[the-apocrypha]

Cottagecore Series DVD Bonus Features

By popular request: the deleted scenes of how Dream and Hob ended up confessing their respective Big Secrets to one another. Below the cut are a series of conversations that take place a few days after Dream announces his pregnancy with Orpheus, and they are incredibly angsty. They also heavily feature abortion as a conversation topic. These were originally written to intercut with at least two miracles but didn't end up working out due to tone issues, and also don't really work as a standalone fic, so. If you're interested--enjoy!

The possibility of a child—their child, their own, of them—had occasionally crossed Hob’s mind, in the same way that other fantastical things like dragons and public libraries did. Fleeting. Unformed. Simple, wonderful little daydreams. 

The reality of it was both impossibly more exciting and terrifying than he could have ever imagined. 

Hob thought of a beautiful child with tiny pointed ears and glowing amber eyes. He thought of a babe born to the world still and pale, never to draw a single breath of life. He thought of all the stories his mother used to tell him, the skipping games and the toy swords and songs that lived inside of him, waiting to be passed down to someone small and new. He thought of a fae child, enamored of the forest and magic and books of learning, with little use for its mortal father. 

Once, when Hob was young, his mother had been called to help an ewe who had been laboring for the better part of the day. Twin lambs, both trying to emerge at the same time.

They’d had mutton for dinner, that night. And for many nights after that. 

Hob could not stop thinking about it. About everything.

What if the child came out completely human. 

What if the child came out completely fae. 

“You told me once,” Hob said, the words leaving his mouth even as lead weights sank pits into his stomach, even as his heart said don’t ask this don’t ask this don’t do it, but he had to, he had to know. “You told me once. That it took you a very long time to grow up.” 

Dream paused. “Yes,” he said, at length. “But time in the realm of the fae is not so… linear as it is here. It is—it was subject to neither law nor order. Time was fickle. Changeable.” 

“You said that it was almost a hundred years.” 

“That was… a guess,” Dream said. 

Hob stared. 

“It was unusual,” Dream added. He did not meet Hob’s eyes. “It. It was a choice I made. The rest of my siblings came of age much faster than I.” 

“How fast?” Hob asked, heart in his throat. 

Dream swallowed. 

“How fast?” 

“The child is half mortal, Hob it should not—it will not age as a fae child would. It cannot, it—it will not have the same power, the same gifts, and moreover, the laws of this universe would not allow—” 

“Oh, you know that, do you?” Hob asked, eyebrows raised. “Like you knew that a mortal man couldn’t get you pregnant in the first place?” 

Dream flinched. 

Hob sighed, and scrubbed at his face. “I’m just. I’m just thinking. We don’t know what we’re going to get, eight months from now—” If they were going to get anything at all. “—and we’ve got zero precedent to go off of, here. It. It could be anything. It could grow like a human and take sixteen years and be done. But, it could also…” 

“It will not,” Dream said, but there was a traitorous wobble in his voice.

“It could,” Hob insisted. “It could, Dream, and we just. I just want to be prepared for that. I want you to be prepared for that.” 

Dream stared, like the whole world was crashing down around him. As if he had not considered this at all. “No.” 

“Yes.” 

“Hob—” 

“But, listen—listen, it’ll be okay,” Hob said hurriedly, and took Dream’s hands into his own. Put on the bravest face he could muster. “Whatever happens, it’ll be okay. I promise. I’ll be with you every step of the way, for. For as long as I can be. Even if it means being stuck in the terrible twos for an entire decade. You just might have to do the teenage years on your own, that’s all. And. You know. The thousand years that come after that.” 

Dream closed his eyes. 

Hob tried desperately to rally. “And, hey! The good news is, at least I won’t be around to give any dodgy sex talks when it comes time for that, since I obviously—” 

“Hob,” Dream said. 

“Though clearly pregnancy prevention isn’t your strong suit either,” Hob allowed. 

“Hob.” 

Dream’s eyes were open again, and they were full of tears. 

“Hob,” Dream said again, and it caught in his throat. “Hob, I—I am not going to live for another thousand years.” 

Hob frowned. “But—”

“I made,” Dream said, and with the next blink the tears spilled over, “a bargain.” 

The reason that Hob had kept it a secret for so long (was because he was a coward) was because, in his opinion, there had been no good that would come of the truth. 

Dream had assumed that the people of Eskham had turned against Hob for being a hedgewitch. He’d assumed in turn that mortals were prejudiced against any being with magic, which was a category that happened to include the fae but more importantly included Hob, who did not have the ability to summon tornadoes or fell ancient oaks. Dream still sweetly seethed about the injustices Hob’s own people had done upon him. He had yet to even once seem concerned for his own safety. 

This was fair. 

Dream had, after all, taken out an entire village of mortals in one wrothful fell swoop. 

Now, Dream had confessed what had happened in the aftermath of that massacre—what he had so readily sacrificed, to save Hob’s life—and it had been devastating in its own right. It had left Hob awake at night, imagining what it would be like to grow older and older and older, while his child did not. 

But it had also pulled on the string that unraveled whatever remained of their tapestried joy at the possibility of impending parenthood. The happiness was gone. The happiness should never have existed in the first place, because the ache of its absence was far worse than to have never known it at all. Hob could not believe he ever felt such simple, mindless elation at what had quickly become a question to which every answer was more horrifying than the last. 

Hob thought of a babe with perfectly pointed ears, stolen away in the night, drowned in the river. 

Hob thought of a child with huge, phosphorescent eyes, tied to a stake above a pile of dried tinder. Screaming.

Hob thought of black-nailed teenager who had had forty-odd years of childhood with its parents before they succumbed to old age, and left their child alone in a world it did not belong in. Orphaned. Ostracized. Hunted. 

It filled Hob’s stomach and left him unable to eat. It pressed down on his chest at night, and he could not sleep. 

And he knew what he needed to do. 

At the same table where Dream had confessed not three days ago, Hob sat himself heavily on the bench. 

Dream stared back wanly. He’d spent most of the morning vomiting copiously, which perhaps made this timing even worse, but Hob knew if he did not say it now he might never say it at all. 

“Dream,” Hob said carefully. The words stuck in his throat like glass, and they tore him open one by one as he forced them out. “There’s. The other day, when you told me about the bargain you made. I—there’s something that I should. Something I should have told you, before—something. Something.” He swallowed. “Something I. Something.” His nails dug into his palms. His heart was pounding in his ears. “Something—” 

“Hob.” 

Dream’s hand splayed across his chest is like ice on fire. Hob sucked in a breath, and relished the burn. 

He seized Dream’s hand in his own. Looked Dream in the eyes. Prepared to pull this one last thread of sanity for the person he loved more than anything in this world. 

“Something,” Hob said unevenly, holding onto Dream like a lifeline, “that I should have told you a long time ago. About. About Eskham.” 

Dream tilted his head, brows drawing together. “Eskham?” 

Hob nodded. 

“What about it?” Dream asked. 

He had no idea. He had no clue. 

“That day,” Hob said, and he was gripping Dream’s hand hard as if he could prevent the inevitable withdrawal. “When they came for me.” 

And Dream nodded. He reached out with his other hand to rest it on Hob’s forearm—a gesture meant as supportive that only served to make Hob’s stomach drop to new depths. 

But this was not about him. This was not even about Dream. It was about their child, carried one day into a town square with pitchforks at its throat and devil spawn in its ears. It was about deserved truths. 

“That day,” Hob said again. He swallowed against a dry tongue. Against the heart that was trying to escape through his throat. “That day. The mob. They weren’t looking for me.”

Dream stared. 

Hob’s heart was pounding so hard he thought he might be sick. 

He watched, as Dream’s face went from confusion, to realization, to—

Bloodless. 

Grey. Dead eyes and parted lips. Staring, but not seeing. 

“I—defended you,” Hob made himself say. “I wouldn’t tell them. Where you were. I told them that I loved you, that you were just as natural as any other creature in this realm and that I would rather die before I let any of them hurt you, and—” 

Dream yanked his hands back. 

Hob tried to hold on, but he wasn’t quick enough. Not strong enough. 

“You,” Dream whispered. 

“I don’t regret it,” Hob said frantically, almost angrily. He was losing control, the tidal wave of panic and horror sweeping him out to a roiling sea he could not swim in, and he barely knew which words would leave his mouth when he opened it again. “I haven’t regretted it for a single second, Dream, not once, not ever, I’d have burned on that stake a thousand times over before I let them touch you, I’d—” 

And Dream bolted. 

Hob leapt to his feet to follow—but his calf muscle seized, and he careened to the side and just barely managed to grab the table at the last second. Stood there, panting, gripping the table as his calf cramped hard enough to render the entire leg useless. Staring at the empty doorway. 

He deserved this, he supposed. 

It didn’t make it hurt any less. 

The summer air was thick and sweet beneath the canopy of the forest. The trees mostly blocked the breeze, but so also the warmth of the sun, which made it about as pleasant as any place was during the midday heat. They were sat at the base of an ancient yew tree that Dream favored, not far from the cottage, and had been for some time. Ravens chattered and rustled softly overhead. A large halo of bird shit was slowly accumulating around them. 

Dream inhaled as if to speak, for the third time in about as many minutes. This time, though, the words came. 

“I do not want. Our child. To be hunted.” 

Hob closed his eyes. “I know.” 

“We do not know what powers it will be born to. What features it will be born to.” 

Unspoken—the slimmest chance, the highest hope, that it would somehow be born wholly mortal. 

A mortal body. A mortal magic. A mortal lifespan. 

“We’ll do whatever we have to, to protect them. Whatever it takes. You know we will,” Hob said, and even as anxiety turned his stomach over, rage flared through him hot and fast. “Anyone that tries to lay a finger on our child, I’ll—I’ll kill ‘em. I would. Anyone. Everyone. And if they think I’m terrifying just wait until they meet the thirty-foot forest nightmare right behind me that can summon hail and rent the earth.” 

Dream swallowed. “Hail and earth. Did not save you.” 

Hob tightened his grip around Dream’s waist. “Yes it did.” 

“You—” 

“Yes it bloody well did. You saved my life that day, you fought, and if you hadn’t been there I—” 

“If I had not been there,” Dream interrupted darkly. He barked one harsh, bitter laugh. “If I had never inflicted myself upon you in the first place, then no mob would have ever come for you at all. You would be—” 

“Lonely,” Hob said. He tried desperately to keep the frustration from rising. “I told you. I would have been lonely, and bored, Dream, and I would have died in that house feeling as if I’d never truly lived at all. You are the best thing to ever happen to me.” 

“I nearly killed you,” Dream said. 

“You saved—”

“And now,” Dream continued, staring into the depths of the forest, “I have attempted to thrust a child upon you, without your consent. I have tried to sentence you to spending the rest of your meager years consumed in the care of a creature that will only suffer as a result of my own hubris—my own selfishness—and it will resent us. It will hate us. It will hate me, and it will be right to do so for—” 

“Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey,” Hob said, scrambling around in front of Dream, and cupping his face. 

Dream stared determinedly to the side, with eyes that were red-rimmed and shiny. His breaths came uneven and jagged. 

“You and I both know that you didn’t get pregnant on purpose,” Hob said fiercely. “You didn’t know better. I didn’t know better. Right?” 

“Hob—” 

“This isn’t something that you’ve done to me. To us. Neither one of us is to blame here. Not one little bit. And it wouldn’t matter anyway if it was, because whatever happens, you know that we’re in this together. We’re going to do what we always do, and make it work. Figure it out. Pregnancy, childbirth, parenthood, all of it. Together. Yeah?” 

Dream set his jaw, and at last met Hob’s eyes. Slowly, he reached up, and pulled Hob’s hands away from his face. 

“You argue. That we are absolved of any guilt, for what strife our child may face in life. Because we held no intention of conception, in our couplings,” Dream said. 

“...Yes?” Hob said, eyebrows raising. “I don’t think we can be blamed for bringing a child into the world when we didn’t know it was possible in the first place.” 

“Incorrect,” Dream disagreed. 

Hob opened his mouth, but Dream continued too quickly. 

“Ignorance acquits us from blame in the conception of this child, yes.” Dream’s hand moved, in the periphery of Hob’s vision, delving into the folds of his robe. “But we are not without agency, in these early months of pregnancy.” 

Dread swung sudden and hard into Hob’s chest, like a fist. 

“...What do you mean?” 

Dream held out his hand between them, and uncurled his fingers. A cluster of flowers rested there. 

Tansy. 

“It sings to me of… release,” Dream said. His thumb brushed over golden petals like spikes. “Of choice. Liberty. Of the harmonization of poison and medicine, as one.”

Hob took in a deep breath, because he was, for the first time in days, hopeful. 

Hob was also terrified. 

Hob was sick, sick, sick, sick. 

“I believe,” Dream whispered, eyes boring in Hob’s, “that it would be enough. To—take care of it.” 

There was a cup of water on the table, steaming and yellow with tansy. 

Choice, Dream said it sang. Release. Liberty. The harmonization of poison and medicine, as one. 

But to Hob, it was silent as a grave. 

Dream was holding the cup so tightly his knuckles had gone white. The steam had long disappeared from the cup, leaving only a stagnant yellow tonic. Hob had offered to leave the cottage twice and allow Dream some privacy, and on the second time Dream had grabbed his hand, hard, and he hadn’t let go since. 

Hob’s fingers ached where they were threaded through Dream’s, but he did not complain. 

He sat in silence, and watched Dream raise the cup to his mouth. 

Watched him inhale. 

Watched him close his eyes. 

Watched him press the rim of the cup to his lips. 

Watched as Dream froze, and was perfectly still for an eternity save for the tremble of the cup in his grasp—

And the cup slammed down onto the table, sloshing poison everywhere, and Dream gasped, “I cannot. I cannot, forgive me, Hob, I—” 

Hob grabbed him and pulled him in hard. “It’s okay—” 

“—I cannot do it, I cannot—” 

“—you don’t have to—” 

“I should,” Dream snarled, gripping the fabric of Hob’s tunic and pushing back. There were tears streaming down his face. “I should end it, I should be rid of it. It is. It is the only humane option, the only option that guarantees that—that—” 

“I know, love,” Hob said miserably, his own throat going tight and hot. “I know that. But—” 

“Hob,” Dream choked out. He tried to inhale, but could not. “Hob, I can—hear it.” 

Hob’s heart skipped a beat, and his mouth went numb. “Y-you—” 

“I can—” Dream slapped his hands over his mouth. He stared at Hob in horror. 

Dream, who could hear the songs of river stones and the herbs in the garden. Who communed with foxes and ancient oak trees alike. Who had come to Hob with news of this pregnancy but without explanation as to how he knew. 

“You can hear it,” Hob repeated blankly. 

“I should not have told you,” Dream said, shaking his head. His eyes were blank and unseeing and wet with tears. “I. I should not have told you, I told myself I would not, I—it should not matter. It does not matter.” 

“What does it sound like?” Hob asked. 

Dream looked up at him. His mouth opened, but no words came out. 

“Dream, what does it sound like?” 

He shouldn’t ask. 

He couldn’t not know. 

“Like. A songbird,” Dream whispered. 

A songbird. 

“The most beautiful—” Dream choked on a sob. “The most beautiful songbird, Hob, the most wonderful songbird in the world.” 

And Hob. Hob, quite abruptly, could not imagine a world where he did not one day get to hear that song. He could not imagine a world in which he did not get to hold their child in his arms this winter and instantly fall in love with whatever features the world had seen fit to give them, mortal or fae or some splendid combination of both. 

He could not imagine what it would be like, for Dream to sit at this table and drink down poison and then listen to the song of their child go silent. 

Dream sobbed in his arms. He begged for forgiveness—from Hob. Their future child. The universe. I have failed, he said, over and over again. Selfish, and weak, and worthless, he named himself, and he would not be consoled with any combination or repetition of words Hob had to offer. 

But still, the tansy sat untouched. 

Eventually, it went out the window. 

And the songbird lived another day.

[carpentvrs]

The End — Mattheo Riddle

pairing :: mattheo riddle x reader

summary :: all things must come to an end, right?

based on the song the end by tom odell

warnings :: cursing (like one or two times), (mentions of) addiction & substance abuse & a toxic household, angst!! no use of y/n, tom‘s mattheo‘s brother, after hogwarts au, voldy doesn’t exist

a/n :: very angsty but i hope you like it anyway! again, english isn’t my native language so please don’t mind any mistakes. if requested, I’m up for a part two! biggest thank you to alex for helping me write <33 rebolgs are very appreciated

some things begin with the knowledge of them having an end. like watching a movie or reading a book, like going on a walk or on vacation. soon enough you will turn off the tv, close the book, return home, and tell your friends all about your summer days. if the movie is bad, you know it won’t go on forever. one more hour and you can walk out the cinema. if the book is good, you can reread it sometime, if it’s bad, close it. you can always or never again go on walks and if you don’t or do enjoy your summer trip, you know you’ll come back home either way. So many different possibilities, always the same fate. It has to end one day.

a relationship isn’t like that. it can either go on forever, until both lovers fall into the nothingness, trying to find each other even in the afterlife, hand in hand in every universe.

or it’ll end. in a peaceful or in a painful way. it ends with ’ i don’t think we want the same things for our future ‘ or with infidelity. it ends with different beliefs or with different lovers. it ends with one trying and the other giving up, it ends with one failing and the other failing to help.

mattheo riddle feels as though you two are growing apart, your usually interlocked fingers slipping through each others, no one reaching to strengthen the hold. he knows it’s his fault, he puts you through things you shouldn’t have to go through. he tries to get clean, but both of you know that with him, it’s always one wobbly step forward and three steady ones back. he tries nonetheless.

“uhm, hey, can we talk, maybe? go for a walk in the park if you’d like?”

you know what he wants to talk about. you hadn’t seen each other in a while, despite being in a relationship – if you could still call it that. not seeing each other for a month, that’s not usual, right? at least it shouldn’t be. you know it and he knows it, there’s no denying. at least you agreed to meet up now.

he puts on his leather jacket and grabs his keychain, the rattling sound of his keys and the many key rings and charms colliding together reminding him of your promise. if you make it through to next month, i’ll craft you another key ring. try for me, love. please. you did it just as a little reminder that you do care. but he’s never managed a whole month before. maybe the bottle opener attached to the key chain was a bigger reminder that eventually, one beer wouldn’t hurt him. or two.

you made key rings and charms for almost everyone. all your friends have them and your family does too. wether its an initial of their name or of their partner‘s name, a symbol or whatever else they wished for, you made it for them. and everyone loves them. so does mattheo, you thought. or did. otherwise he’d surely make more effort to treat them with care and most of them wouldn’t have scrapes and scratches all over them, and there wouldn’t be a crack in your initial either, which, to no one’s surprise, was another result of one-too-many drunken nights.

he wants to make things right, and he’s certain it’s gonna work. spending time together in the park you went to after your first date sounds nice, doesn’t it?

your first official date was in a small pub, a few months after your joint time in Hogwarts had ended. you still remember walking through the rose garden in the north side of that park after that date. the sky was painted in a velvety black, the sun‘s final farewell long forgotten and the gates were already shut. but you managed to sneak in anyway. he picked a rose for you and you appreciated the gesture more than anything, soon enough you and him both had a little rose charm attached to your keychains. he lost his, you still have yours.

looking at it now, you should’ve realized then that the way he stumbled on the way back home was already a warning sign that he didn’t hold back when alcohol was involved. And if he couldn’t keep it together on a first date, then why would he around friends? Why would he around his family, why would he around yours? And why would he not use it as a way to calm his nerves whenever life gets serious when he so obviously already did that for nothing more than a harmless first date with a person he’s known for almost longer than he’s not?

you know most of his problems go way back. they come from his father’s unloving and cold gaze and his mother’s absence whenever his father lifted his finger. as if that wasn’t enough, his brother tom would always be in the spotlight, while mattheo was kept hidden away in the shadows. if that’s how he felt, no wonder he had to find a way to forget all about it.

you tried to help. you always did.

but how were you supposed to help someone who didn’t want help himself? drugs surely aren’t the only way out. self control is a term long forgotten in mattheo‘s mind, and it was solely on him to change that.

hence you’re not as certain as him that this talk is going to help. mattheo has made too many empty promises, told too many lies and had too many accidents. sometimes even unforgivable ones. the hand that rested on that red haired girl’s lower back every time you’d meet up with your friends, that couldn’t just be a mistake. you’d love to know what he whispered in her ear whenever he had too much to drink, and you crave to know her replies, considering the relationship between you and mattheo wasn’t ever a secret. at least you didn’t make it one.

he’s already sitting on a bench in the park, carefully petting a dog that was busy sniffing the ground beneath him. mattheo sees you and immediately stands up to make his way over to you, leaving the dog behind to run back to its owner.

“they kinda look alike, don’t they?”

“who?”

“that dog and its owner, same eye and hair colour”

you smile slightly and look up at mattheo. your good looking, sweet and romantic matty. you used to be so deeply in love, one look at him and you were on cloud nine, swooning and giggling with nothing but pure adoration and love in your eyes. your little dates used to be fun, with deep conversation and lighthearted gossip sessions with moments of comforting silence filling the spaces in between.

and now? meaningless topics and useless small talk. Just the same as your last few meetups one month ago. It was more of a chore than it was enjoyable. some time has passed, the birds loudly chirping while you and him walked with slow steps, his hands buried in the pockets of his jacket, yours swinging slowly on either side of your body.

„i’ve been clean for almost three weeks now, actually. 20 days.“

your eyes widened and your head quickly turns to look at him. you’re happy for him, you truly are. but your heart still doesn’t feel as full as it usually would with mattheo, and if he managed to keep that 20 day streak during a whole month of almost no contact between you two, then he would manage it also when you’re not with him anymore. right?

„oh, that’s great! ‘m proud of you, mattheo,“

„you don’t sound as happy as I expected,“ he begins, „is something wrong?“

at that moment he knows he has to claw back his confidence. maybe you had already given up, and he just didn’t want to believe it. he know you well, without a doubt. it was the lack of his nickname that gave it away. your loving ‚ matty ‘ was replaced by a simple ‚ mattheo ‘ , no nickname, no pet name. 20 days, for him, is a long time. why aren’t you half as happy as when he told you about his one week achievement 2 months ago? is it because just a day after telling you about it, you found him asleep on his couch with a half empty whiskey bottle on the table in front of him?

„no- i mean, yes, actually. it’s just-“ you stumbled over your words. you don’t want to have to say it, don’t want to say it loud, don’t want to see his pained reaction and, most importantly, you don’t want to be the cause of it. but you know you can’t keep going like this, you had lost hope a while ago, and this is the only way out.

„do you think we can be friends?“

he blinks. „what?“

your voice is shakier than ever. „friends, mattheo. i can’t keep going like this. i want to break up, once and for all. our relationship has been going downhill for too long now, you know that.“ your eyes are fixated on your shoes, not daring to look him in his eyes.

he swears he can he hear his heart being shattered and torn apart and feels how a part of his soul is leaving his body, leaving the rest to grow tired and dark and empty. tears slowly fill his eyes as he reaches for your hands, making you look at him.

you do, but quickly pull your arms back. „you can’t do this to me! i- i need you, i can’t do this without you, i can’t!“ warm tears roll down your face, and you want to hug him so bad. keep his body close to yours and not let go.

but you have to let go.

mattheo hates it. but if being friends with you means he doesn’t lose you completely, then maybe it’ll be okay. and if he really loved you, and you really loved him, then maybe, if he gets better, you’d come back. he hopes.

„and if i change?“

„maybe, matty- mattheo,“ your voice trembles „but i need to be sure you don’t hurt either of us for now. i need time, but i don’t want to lose you. friends mattheo, please?“

„you wanna be friends? after all thi-“

„mattheo i‘m begging you“

he pinches his nose, tears streaming down his face. this is his fault. of course it is. this is the consequence he has to deal with. He should’ve realized sooner that his alcohol consumption wasn’t only his, but also the problem of the people around him. and now he loses you just because of his reckless and stupid behavior. he has to change. he needs to.

„alright! fuck, alright. friends. i‘ll make it better, i swear. i won’t disappoint you, not again.“

you nod, mustering up a smile as well as you could. you hug him one last time, feeling his hand wrap around you body with a tight hold on your shirt. you feel his tears falling onto your shirt, and he feels yours.

he hates it, but maybe he needs this wake-up call. he will change. 20 days and many more to come, he won’t go back. and he’ll do it for you.

the sun slowly sets and you’ve reached the same rose garden you’d come to after your first date. the memories flood back but it’s no use.

mattheo and you, you’ve now reached the end.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

it wasn’t until two days later that you went to the same park again with your best friend alex. „isn’t that mattheo over there?“

your heart paused for a second as you looked over and saw the boys with beer bottles in their hands. draco took a sip as theo had already downed almost half oh his beer in one swig.

you felt your heart break thinking about how mattheo already started drinking again after only two days. until you actually looked at his hands, finding nothing but a simple can of coke.

you left out a sigh of relief, smiling to yourself.

your eyes locked and he smiled back at you, even his eyes seemingly lighting up. you blushed slightly, turning you head back to alex. 22 days wasn’t a lot, but it was great starting point. especially for him.

„yeah, that’s my matty.“

hope you liked it! requests are open <3

[carnatus89]

Shen Qingqiu triple trouble!

So, System Possession AU of @artsarasp is going through, stuff let's say. Angsty stuff. So of course my mind was like.

Let's make shen triplets!

The situation is, Shen Jiu has his fatal Qi deviation, Shen Yuan dies by choking on food and all is normal. But, some error occurs, and both Shen Jiu’s and Shen Yuan’s souls are in danger of disintegrating from the Qi deviation. The System notices this and tries to fix it, forcing the soul to generate a body to occupy from basically thin air. But there’s a problem, since there’s two souls that are now generating a body, meanwhile the original body is still functional, though has been metaphorically dragged through the mud. Thus, both Shen Jiu and Shen Yuan materialize with new bodies while the System is absorbed into the spare body.

So now we have three Shen Qingqius. And the System is Not Happy.

Neither is Shen Jiu to be honest.

Shen Yuan somehow convinces both the System and Shen Jiu that they should pretend to just be brothers, make some bullshit about trapped consciousness to fool the peak lords, while he wacks his brain to try to avoid death or punishment from the enraged System. Which can still give both points and punishments. The problem is that since he got the short end of the stick in the body lottery, he has to be very careful of exerting the body’s limits, so he can’t get agitated. And giving punishments is very agitating. Shen Yuan is basically trying to make the System care. If Wall-E can love, so can the System, wouldn’t it be better for the story if he becomes an active member? It would also be better to leave the story to develop itself organically, think about all the character development! So the protagonist can have a more round support cast! If he read something like that, he wouldn’t have criticized so much the papapa scenes since he could just focus on that! What do you think System-bro?

Meanwhile Shen Jiu is very conflicted, since these, what, fakers? Clones? Some type of demons? Are stealing his face and seem to have some ulterior motive, but both seem eager to ‘help him’ somehow. Granted, the blue eyed freak is creepy as fuck, a fake cherfulness that all his instincts scream to get away from, but he’s mostly… nice. The definition of the word, at least. The other fake is snarky, doesn’t really back down from a verbal dispute, and, while infuriating, it’s more real. Safer, in a way, more honest. Besides, the blue eyed one is useful when trying to find synonyms while writing or finding the name of a song he couldn’t remember well. They can stay, for now.

System is actually scared. They saved the scum villain character, but made a bigger problem while also becoming… vulnerable. How could they make sure the story functions if they have a weak and frail body? They are forced to play along, become a more direct support to the characters to make sure they stay in line. But [User02] seems to have other ideas, and while they must punish him, they really can’t without suffering themselfs. The original scum villain for the most part follows the script, but he also seems perturbed by their presence, which is fine. All is fine, they should be able to fix it.

Somehow.

The three of them are mostly the same in appearance. The major difference that the peaklords catch on is the mark on the forehead (I don’t remember what it is called). Shen Jiu has a lotus flower painted, Shen Yuan has a dot while the System has an empty circle, resembling a zero. Both Shen Jiu and the System have their clothes correctly, while Shen Yuan doesn’t really know how any of his layers of clothes work, so he fastened the belt around everyone, even the outer robe. Finally, the System has their hair tight to their head, Shen Jiu has it a little loose to let it flow but staying neat and clean. Shen Yuan just, tries his best. Finally, the System’s face is kinda cartoonish, they make faces that shouldn't be possible, stretching his smile wide and making their eyes a little too big. Both Shens don’t mention it much, they just say they’re special.

I don’t know what came to me to do this shit, but now’s here, deal with it.

Spanish rambling when this idea just came barreling through my brain.

[strnilolover]

⋆.˚ Don’t Run .ᐟ

♫ Don’t Run • Corbyn Besson

warnings : unresolved angst, break up, argument, crying, guilt, matts pov, tiny sprinkle of asshole matt (sorry), mentions of drinking, mentions of sleeping with multiple people, hurt with a sprinkle of comfort, and more.

a/n : angsty time. I absolutely love Corbyn (i used to be a wdw fan) and just listening to this song made me think of an angst thing for matt. again, angst is not my strong suit! so sorry if it’s not the best. (i hope this makes you guys cry at least a little 🥰)

The memory of the fight still played on a loop in Matt’s head like a bad song stuck on repeat. It was supposed to be a regular night, one of those long, exhausting ones after a day of filming.

Matt had just wrapped up editing, a process that always left him on edge when it was his turn instead of Nicks or Chris’. His brothers had already gone to bed, the apartment quiet except for the hum of his computer and the soft notifications buzzing on his phone.

You had walked into his room with that look — the one that told him you had something heavy on your mind, the weight of the conversation already thick between you both.

“We need to talk, Matt,” you said, voice wavering slightly, like you were trying to gather the courage to finish your sentence. He didn’t even turn around at first, fingers tapping away at his keyboard as if he could escape whatever storm was brewing behind him.

“Can it wait?” he muttered, eyes not leaving the screen. “I’m almost done here.”

You took a breath, sighing.“No, it can’t,” you insisted, voice soft but firm. “We keep putting it off, and I can’t pretend everything’s fine anymore.”

He sighed heavily, closing his eyes for a second before turning to face you. “What’s wrong?” he asked, though his tone carried exhaustion more than genuine curiosity.

“Matt, you’re never here,” you started, taking a shaky breath. “Not really. I know you’re busy, but I feel like I’m always waiting for you to show up. And when you do, you’re just so... distant.” your teeth tucked your bottom lip between them, chewing slightly.

“What are you talking about?” Matt frowned, confusion and defensiveness rising within him. “I’m not distant. I’m working — this is what I do. It’s my job.” his tone coming out a little harsher than intended.

“I know,” you said softly, “but you’re more than your job, Matt. At least, you used to be. And now, it’s like I’m just another part of your day that you have to get through.” you stated, your face now burning with the force to hold back your tears.

“That’s not fair,” he shot back, shaking his head. “You know I’ve been under a lot of pressure lately. We’re trying to grow the channel more, and that takes time and effort.” he defended, the harsh edge still there.

“I get that,” you replied, your voice shaking slightly, continuing to hold back your tears. “But you can’t keep using that as an excuse to shut me out.”

“Shut you out?” Matt’s voice rose unintentionally, frustration creeping in. He caught himself and softened his tone, running a hand through his hair in agitation. “I’m not trying to shut you out. I’m just trying to keep everything from falling apart.”

You shook your head. “I never asked you to fix everything,” you whispered, and he could see your resolve breaking. “I just wanted you to care enough to show up for me, too.”

He stood there, struggling to find the right words. “What do you want me to do?” he asked, sounding almost defeated. “Quit? Stop doing what I love?”

“No, Matt,” you said, tears streaming down your face now. “I want you to fight for me, the way you fight for everything else.”

The silence that followed was deafening. He looked at you, seeing the raw hurt in your eyes, and his stomach twisted with the realization of just how far apart you both had grown.

“I didn’t know it was this bad,” he admitted, voice cracking slightly.

You wiped at your cheeks, frustration mingling with sadness. “You never asked, Matt. You never noticed.”

He opened his mouth, but the words wouldn’t come. Panic started to creep in as he saw you pulling away, the finality of the moment settling heavily on his chest. “Wait — wait, just... we can fix this,” he pleaded, stepping closer, but you shook your head, taking a step back.

“I can’t keep waiting for you to choose me, Matt,” you choked out. “I love you, but I can’t keep pretending that love is enough to make up for feeling so alone.”

Matt’s breathing quickened, his eyes widening as the weight of your words sank in. “No, no, please, don’t do this,” he begged, reaching out to grab your hand, but you pulled away. “I’ll change, I’ll do whatever it takes, okay? Just don’t leave.”

Your voice trembled as you responded, “It’s not just about changing, Matt. It’s about knowing that I matter to you, and right now, I don’t feel like I do.” your voice cracked, fat tears rolling down your cheeks as you sniffled.

“You do matter,” he insisted, his voice desperate and raw. “You matter more than anything. I just — I didn’t realize how much I was screwing this up. Please, just give me a chance to fix it.”

Your silence and sniffles was the only answer he got, and he could see the pain etched into every line of your face. “Goodbye, Matt,” you whispered, voice breaking as you turned and walked out of the room.

“Wait — please,” he called after you, voice cracking as he took a step toward you, but you didn’t stop. The door closed softly behind you, and Matt felt the ground crumble beneath him.

-

It was seven in the morning, and Matt was staring at the ceiling, the light from the window seeping through the cracks in the blinds. The early morning quiet didn’t give him the solace he’d hoped for. Clothes lay in disarray across the floor, some his, some not his — reminders of choices that never filled the ache in his chest.

He turned his head slightly, watching the figure sleeping beside him, a tangle of dark hair and skin that wasn’t yours. But his mind, God, it betrayed him. Every movement in the sheets, every breath that wasn’t your soft sigh haunted him.

The pain of that night never really left him. It clung to him like a shadow, and he hated himself for letting you go. But he couldn’t bring himself to admit it out loud, not when the damage was already done. So he drowned himself in anything and anyone that wasn’t you, hoping it would numb the ache in his chest.

Baby, she ain’t you.

A bitter chuckle slipped past his lips as he closed his eyes, blocking out the world he was trying too hard to pretend he wanted. The way she shifted closer made his skin crawl with guilt, with the incessant buzzing of his mind screaming that this wasn’t what he needed.

He could practically hear you in the back of his head, that knowing voice echoing through the cracks of his resolve, warning him, like you always did, when he was doing something that would hurt him in the long run.

But he ignored it. He always ignored it. Trying to force a needle through skin that never belonged to him in the first place, grasping at someone else because he couldn’t hold onto you.

Matt slid out of the bed, grabbing his jeans off the chair and shoving them on, the harsh sound of a zipper loud in the silence. He didn’t look back; he couldn’t. Stumbling out of the door, he let it close softly behind him, letting the other girl stay asleep, oblivious to the mess he was internally drowning in.

His phone was warm in his hand, and it shook as he tapped open your contact, thumb hovering over the call button. It was so simple — just one tap, and he could hear your voice, maybe hear the softness it used to hold when you whispered his name, or the anger that he deserved when he left you standing in the pouring rain, shattered and holding onto every piece he threw away.

But what if you didn’t want to hear it anymore?

He locked his phone and stuffed it into his back pocket. The hangover made his vision blur at the edges, and his heart thumped heavily with the beat of regret in his chest. He knew drinking and getting girls into his bed was not a good way to cope with his feelings. It had been months since that night, and he was only serving to hurt himself worse.

Was this what it felt like to need someone? He had never felt the desperation like this, the longing, the brokenness that came from knowing you lost the one thing that could keep you steady.

My heart’s been stuck at a red light since you said we’re done.

Matt was back at his apartment — when did he get here?, he doesn’t know. Everything blurring together as his mind just went on autopilot. The cold still silence was more suffocating than the noise of the city.

He could still feel the weight of your memory around him, wrapped in the Prada perfume you used to wear. It lingered in the fibers of his hoodie, in the sheets he hadn’t washed since you left. He buried his face in the fabric, trying to remember what it felt like to hold you, to be someone who made you stay.

“I can change,” he whispered into the emptiness, voice breaking. “If promises still mean the same, I can change.” But the room didn’t answer. It only offered the suffocating rush of memories and the cruel bite of loneliness.

He closed his eyes, flashes of you overwhelming him — the way you laughed, bright and full, even when he was too wrapped up in his own darkness to appreciate it. The way you said his name, like he was your safe place, your home. He remembered how your voice cracked when you broke things off, when you turned away with tears in your eyes, and he was too much of a coward to stop you.

He couldn’t even fake it, the weight of his mistakes pressing down with every breath. He could still hear the gunshots from the last movie night you two had, his fingers intertwined with yours until he pulled away. The pain was like those casings — empty, spent, and irreversible. Maybe you had already moved on; maybe you found someone who didn’t take your presence for granted, who didn’t make you run.

But he couldn’t stop missing you. He missed you like he needed air, like you were the last drop of water in a desert he willingly walked into.

Is this what it feels like to need someone?

He opened his phone again like he did earlier — eyes scanning over the multiple contacts of random women he has slept with. But he wasn’t focused on them, instead his fingers trembled as he opened your contact and started typing. The words came easily because they had been locked inside for too long, festering and aching to be let out.

I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, baby. I can change, I promise. I miss you every day, in every way. Please, don’t run. I’m not ready for this to be over.

He hovered over the send button, heart hammering in his chest, a tightness in his throat making it hard to breathe. The minutes ticked by, each second dragging. But the fear of you not responding was enough to keep his thumb still.

Then the door to his room creaked open, and his heart jumped, thinking for one wild, desperate second that it might be you. But it wasn’t. It was Nick, looking worried, like he always did whenever Matt got like this.

“Matt, you okay?” Nick asked softly, stepping closer but not too close. Not wanting to risk the possibility of Matt telling him to go away — to leave him alone, when he knew he couldn’t just do that.

Matt froze for a moment swallowing hard. He shook his head, unable to speak, unable to express the loss that consumed him. His phone slipped from his grip, landing on the floor with a soft thud. The unsent message glowed in the dim light, a plea never spoken out loud.

“C’mere,” Nick muttered as he walked over and sat on the edge of his bed, wrapping an arm around his shoulders, trying to offer the support Matt was too stubborn to ask for.

Matt buried his face in his hands, the tears coming faster now, the weight of the world finally breaking him. “She’s gone,” he choked out. “I let her go.”

Nick’s hand tightened around his shoulder, and for a while, they stayed like that, the only sounds in the room being Matt’s uneven breathing and the hum of city traffic outside.

Is this what it feels like to need someone?

He didn’t know if he could ever find the answer, but the only thing he knew for certain was that he wasn’t ready — and will never be ready to let you go.

[damiansgoodgirll]

Okay can I make a request for la knight? Inspired by the song maybe next time by Jamie miller? Where, essentially, la knight gives up on the relationship because of some difficulties quite quickly. Making the reader feel not enough? Angsty 🫶🏼

la knight x reader

‼️angst angst angst sorry! i’m gonna be using his real name because calling him la knight in serious conversation sounds weird to me‼️

like, comments and reblog are always appreciated!

mistakes

you knew something was wrong the exact moment you felt shaun was distancing himself from you.

his replies were short and cold. he didn’t text you first like he used to. the little time he was home he put himself into training mode and avoided you. he didn’t even wanted at summerslam claiming that you would get bored.

yes, you weren’t a wrestling fan but you always supported him. since the beginning of your relationship, you were there for him so you couldn’t understand why the sudden change.

you waited for him to come back home to confront him about it. you’ve actually tried the past few days but he would always ended the call saying he was busy.

so when you saw his car pulling up to the driveway, you knew that he had no choice but to listen to you.

there was silence when he entered the front door, like he was pretending you weren’t there.

“you could at least still pretend to care…” you whispered, not even turning your head to brett him.

“y/n…it’s not the time now, i’m tired and”

“you’re always tired shaun…i don’t even have time to have a normal conversation with you that you’re always tired…guess what! i’m tired too of not being taken seriously, i’m tired of not knowing what’s going on with you because you never talk to me!” you almost screamed sitting up from the couch and standing in front of him “so please…please shaun, tell me what’s going on”

he knew it wasn’t fair treating you like that, he loved you too much and he hated to see you hurting because of him.

but it all became to much for him “i can’t y/n…i can’t go on like this…”

“like what shaun? like what? how am i supposed to know what you’re feeling if you don’t talk to me…” your eyes were about to tear up.

“like this…like i’m a good boyfriend when i’m clearly not, when i’m never home and you’re here all day by yourself and then i have the pressure from the company, after winning the title i feel like i’m more and more pressured into doing things that i don’t normally do…and, i don’t wanna bring you into this, you don’t deserve to be thrown into this y/n…” he felt like crying but he wanted to be strong for you.

“shaun don’t you think i should be the one deciding whether i want to be put into this position? i knew when i started dating you that this relationship was going to be hard…but i never gave up and i always stood by your side so…what is happening now?” you couldn’t understand where this was coming from.

“i feel like sometimes i’m not enough for you and that you deserve better…and you clearly deserve better than me. i’m home once a week, we never see each other, i want to be there for you but i can’t and…and we should probably end this relationship before it tear us apart…” he said, not even looking at you.

“what are you saying?” you grabbed him from his arm and turned him to face you “what are you saying shaun? look me in the eyes and tell me you wanna break up, shaun, look me in the eyes and tell me you wanna break up!”

“i…i think it’s better if -…”

“it’s better for who shaun? better for you or better for us?” you didn’t care if you were crying now, you just wanted him to be real with you.

“it’s better for us because we can’t keep having a relationship if i’m never home! i miss having you around and i can’t force you to give up on your job for me…that’s not fair and, and i know you deserve better, i know it but i can’t fucking let you go” his eyes were closed, he was trying his best to not to cry.

“shaun…” your soft voice woke him up.

“i can’t…i feel like i’m trapping you here and i can’t forgive myself because i know you will find someone better, someone who treats you better and is more present…i can’t give you that…” he slowly opened his eyes and some tears fell down his face.

“why are you giving up on us so easily?” your question broke his heart, because he knew you were going to hate him but for him, it was for the best “why are you giving up on me so easily? did i ever complain?” you asked and he nodded his head no “did i ever say that what we have is not enough?” he nodded no again “then why are you deciding for both of us? let me decide if what we have is enough…”

“but it’s not enough for me…” he said, hating himself even more “it’s not enough for me because i…i want to be the man you deserve but i’m not, i’m not and i’ll never be, and you deserve the whole world…so, answering to the question you asked before, i’m breaking things up because i would hate to see you leave one day, i would hate for you to leave me for someone else…so i’m giving you the opportunity to leave, leave and live your life…the one you deserve” his heart was breaking.

his heart was breaking because he loved you too much but he couldn’t get past the feeling he wasn’t enough for you. his heart was breaking for you because you couldn’t even stand to see him and look him in the eyes.

your heart was breaking because after all you’ve been through, his reasons were pure selfish and heartless because if he really knew you, he knew that you would have stayed no matter what.

“i’m gonna leave the house tomorrow…i’m gonna crash at some friends house and then i’ll look for an apartment…” he softly said.

“shaun?” your broken voice called him.

“yes?”

“is this really over? are we really breaking up over something as stupid as that?” your eyes were begging him to tell you that he was joking but he didn’t.

“i’m so sorry y/n…i’m doing everything for you, i’m doing this for you…” his voice cracked.

but if he was doing everything for you, why were you hurting that much?