#AND LIKE ANGST... sometimes there are weeks when things just don't line up and they can't call and its so hard.

[bokutosbabe]

i didn't know the spotify wrapped event was ending n u were starting a new event ... 🍊 🍫 w sae😈😈

dawg I'm coming back to ur acc every day now I love ur works

💌

awee thank you so much, that's so sweet :,)

a sae itoshi chocolate covered orange

જ⁀♡⊹｡° don't you say you've missed me

♡ a/n — for my more than a married couple event !

♡ content — sae itoshi x gn! reader, ex bf! sae, sae itoshi x gn! reader, second chance romance, slight pining?, angst (kinda)

♡ synopsis — sae itoshi broke your heart years ago, and this simulation is giving him the perfect opportunity to do it again.

It was almost cruel how life worked sometimes. Out of all the people in the world, it had to be him.

Sae Itoshi stood across from you, his posture perfect, his expression unreadable as the instructor explained the expectations of the marriage simulation program. He hadn’t so much as glanced your way, and you hadn’t said a word to him either.

You wondered if he was as shocked as you were when his name was called alongside yours—or if he even cared.

The last time you’d spoken was years ago, back when the two of you were more than just strangers passing each other by. Back when his hand used to find yours in crowded places, and his words carried a softness that now seemed impossible to imagine.

Back when you still believed in him.

The shared apartment was unnervingly quiet that first evening. Sae unpacked in silence, his every movement precise and deliberate. You tried to busy yourself by organizing your side of the space, but the weight of his presence was impossible to ignore.

“So,” he said finally, his voice cutting through the stillness like a blade. “This is awkward.”

You turned to face him, surprised he’d broken the silence. His expression was calm, but there was a faint edge to his tone.

“I didn’t expect to see you again,” you admitted, your voice quieter than you intended.

“Neither did I.” He looked at you then, his teal eyes sharp and assessing. “But it’s just a program. Let’s get through it and move on.”

His words stung more than you wanted to admit.

Despite his detached demeanor, Sae was annoyingly good at the simulation.

He remembered every detail the program tested on—your supposed "anniversary," your "favorite" flowers, even how you took your coffee. He played the part of the perfect partner effortlessly, charming the instructors and the other couples with ease.

But you knew better.

Behind the façade, he was as distant as ever. Every word he spoke, every gesture he made, felt rehearsed, like he was reciting lines from a script.

It reminded you of how things had been near the end of your relationship—the way he’d started pulling away, hiding behind excuses and half-truths until there was nothing left between you but empty space.

One evening, as you sat together at the kitchen table, going over the week’s assignments, you couldn’t hold it in any longer.

“Do you even care about this?” you asked, your voice sharper than you intended.

Sae didn’t look up from his notebook. “What do you mean?”

“This.” You gestured around the room. “The program, the simulation, us. Do you care about any of it, or is this just another thing you’re good at?”

He finally met your gaze, his expression unreadable. “Does it matter?”

“Yes,” you said, your chest tightening. “It matters to me.”

For a moment, he just stared at you, his teal eyes piercing. Then he sighed, leaning back in his chair.

“It’s just a program,” he said quietly. “None of this is real.”

But it had been real once.

You remembered the late-night phone calls, the stolen moments between his games and your busy schedule. The way he used to look at you like you were the only thing that mattered in the world.

And you remembered the way it all fell apart.

The arguments, the distance, the day he told you he was leaving for Spain—and the way he didn’t ask you to come with him. The way he didn't bother when you offered to do long distance.

The way he got over you so easily.

You’d told yourself you were over it. That you’d moved on.

But sitting there, across from him, the weight of everything unsaid between you pressed down like a storm cloud, and you wondered if you ever really had.

The final week of the program arrived, and with it, the “partner reflection” exercise.

Each couple was tasked with writing a letter to their partner, summarizing their experience in the program and what they’d learned. The letters would be shared during the final evaluation.

You spent hours staring at a blank page, the words refusing to come. What could you possibly say to Sae that hadn’t already been said—or left unsaid—years ago?

When the day came, you sat in the evaluation room, your letter clutched tightly in your hands. Sae sat beside you, calm and composed as always, his letter folded neatly on the table.

When it was time to read, he went first.

His words were precise, calculated, perfectly crafted to impress the instructors. He spoke about teamwork, communication, and personal growth, his tone polite but detached.

It was everything you expected—and nothing you wanted to hear.

When it was your turn, you hesitated. The letter in your hands felt heavy, the weight of all your unspoken feelings pressing down on you.

In the end, you set it down on the table, unopened.

“I don’t have anything to say,” you said quietly, your voice barely above a whisper.

The instructors looked surprised, but they didn’t press you.

Sae didn’t say anything either.

The program ended the next day.

As you packed up your things, Sae lingered by the door, his expression unreadable.

“This was… interesting,” he said finally, his tone carefully neutral.

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak.

For a moment, it looked like he wanted to say something more. But then he turned, his hand on the doorknob.

“Take care of yourself,” he said softly, without looking back.

And then he was gone.

As the door closed behind him, you felt a strange sense of finality settle over you.

Maybe this was how it was always meant to end—two people, once close, now strangers again, moving on in opposite directions.

You told yourself it was for the best.

But as you stood alone in the empty apartment, your chest ached with the weight of everything you’d lost.

i'm obsessed with 2nd chance romance

i hope you liked it!

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!

[monstrsball]

it's thinking about iwaoisuga long distance and being kinda sad hours. they are playing on hard mode!! imagining them trying to navigate the timezones, it's such a headache but also worth it. they're staying up way too late or waking up earlier than they really need to, squeezing calls in between classes, etc...

[goldsbitch]

remember that

Absence makes the heart grow fonder. But everyone need assurance that they are still loved sometimes. The first time Lando almost slept on a couch blurb

warning: couple fight, angst

It was bad. This time, it was really fucking bad.

After weeks of snarky comments being swallowed in, the "it's fine" line being burned into Lando's ears almost on a daily basis and growing minutes Y/N had to wait before Lando decided to respond to her texts, shit finally hit the fan.

They hadn't seen each other for two weeks now. Inevitable fight broke out right as he crossed the threshold. Postponed dates and forgotten dinners lined up. They couldn't help themselves and put it all on the table. First it was the fact she didn't smile upon seeing him, then it was a reminder that he promised to bring something from Italy and forgot. It went on and on and on. She sat at the dinning table, while he leaned over at the kitchen counter.

"Lando, sometimes it feels like I'm in a relationship with your assistant and not you! For heaven sake, this week I had to call him, once again, when I could not reach you. Do you know how embarrassing it is?" she half-screamed into her hands.

Lando took a breath so deep an average yoga teacher would be jealous. "How am I suppose to be expected to pick up on a race day. You know that I get super busy and distracted."

"Funny how you never were when we started dating," she murmured bitterly.

He had to turn away, couldn't watch his love giving up on him just because they were not in the honeymoon stage anymore. "Yes, but now I'm winning races! Closer to my dream that I've ever been. It's different now."

"I'm glad I met you back then, because obviously you'd not date me if we met now," she couldn't stop those words that rotted in her coming out.

A beat. Maybe it was time to actually break the rule for once and go to sleep angry, because it was getting out of hand. "You know what, that's probably true and it breaks my heart that once I start doing well, you're suddenly not the supporting girlfriend anymore."

A crushing blow. "Tell me how am I suppose to support you if you don't even answer my phone! We used to talk for hours!

"Maybe understand that I can't!"

"I do! But you can't assume that I'll let you push me away completely!"

Lando thew his hands up in desperation. How could she not see it? "I'm coming here to you whenever I have a slightest chance! And I come what? You constantly dragging me through the mud."

"Oh interesting you mention that. How sad that your assistant had to remind you of my sensitive skin before you having him book me an "apology mud massage" when you cancelled on me few weeks ago," se shot, knowing it would hit the target.

"How do you even know that!" he said, unable to comprehend that he did not even control his paid assistant, not mention his own life anyway.

"Well, I talk a lot to you assistant! And he slips up!" It was a weird friendship between people who both wished they could get a little more info out of Lando.

"That's it. I can't deal with this now," he said, with the intention to sleep on the couch for the first time in their relationship. He didn't even know why he chose that action, walking towards their bedroom and dramatically bringing a pillow and a blanket over to the sofa, but if this is what couples did when the fought, there must have been a reason for it.

It absolutely infuriated her. Sparked up something she hoped she'd never feel. "Oh, sleep tight." she spitted with bitter undertone.

"I will!"

//

They walked around each other in silence, him getting ready to sleep on the couch and her cutting her skincare short this time and spending more time debating whether to close the bedroom door as they usually would or leave it open. Just in case.

He could hear her shifting back and forth. It angered him a little bit, since he was the one playing a cruel joke on his already tired muscles.

Thousand things she wanted to say and only one came to her mind in a form of an actual sentence. There goes nothing. "Do you still feel good about this?"

"What?" he whispered, not expecting her to speak to him again before the next day.

"Nevermind, forget I asked."

"About what!" He hated when she did this. If you didn't catch up at the first moment, she did not give you a second chance.

"Do you still feel good about us, being together?" She cursed herself for asking this. Dangerous questions brought up explosive answers. She wished for a reassurance and a rejection. She snuggled deeper into her blanket and turned around to face the door. As if wishing for him to stand there and coming back to her.

Lando hated her question. In fact, it made him furious again. But it was a peace offering, he had already learned that before. "Even here, lying on the bloody couch, because we're fighting...It's the place I wanna be at."

Anxiety kicked in Y/N. "What, you mean like away from me?"

He laughed lightly. She was always thinking the worst. "No, silly. The exact opposite...We could both be at thousand different places at the moment. But we're not. And for me at least, it's because like---I want to be with you. I hate that we'd drifted apart lately. I'd love to be in bed with you, laughing without a care in the world, like we usually do. But, we can't do that now. And yet, I'd rather be left on the couch if I know you're next door than all alone in my bed." His words hit like small drops of rain after a long draught.

She whispered, choosing her words carefully. "You're my twin flame. You make my soul light up in fire, make me feel like I'm the sun. Do you know what my biggest fear is?"

Lando also tuned into sweeter tone, one that was more familiar from days filled with sunshine. "What, my love?"

"That we're gonna burn out. You and me, ending up like an epic love story. The good ones work because they end in tragedy."

"You're always so poetic," he smiled, proud to think he was her love story.

"There is no other way to describe how you'd changed my life. Flipped it upside down the moment you walked into the same room."

Lando chucked. "Yeah, remember that?"

"How could I not."

"You were not having a good day."

Finally, she spoke loudly again. "So, what? Everything was going to shit and the event we were doing had to be perfect before the 'important people' arrived".

"Such an ego boost to know I was your priority before you even met me," he uttered, happy to push her buttons.

"Oh, and you were so cocky! Just laughing around, like we were some sort of comedy sketch."

"Well, I'm sorry, have you heard yourself when you're upset? The way how your voice goes up seven octaves higher?" he laughed, his breath feeling lighter now.

"Coming from you, that's rich! You were giggling in a tone so high the elderly couldn't hear you!"

"I'm so happy I managed to bag the grumpiest person in the building. And bare in mind there must have been around 500 people there."

"980 if you could in staff as well."

He let out a heavy sigh. "You with your pristine memory."

She paused before responding. "Yes. Wish I didn't have that sometimes."

"Wish I had at least a pinch of that."

Silence fell in both rooms. Heavy breath and wondering eyes. The lack of their touch suddenly being more obvious than before. Playing a contest who will reach out first.

"Lando?"

"Yes, my love?"

"Can you back here, please?" she said, somewhat nervously. Lando took a pause. There was nothing he wished for more. It hurt to fight. But he figured a relationship needed that sometimes. As the poets say, you loose a woman when you forget to cherish her. He liked to think this went both ways. And they both started slacking a bit. He could only affect his own behavior, with the hope that she'd also come to the same understanding.

"I'd like nothing more in the world, my love."

[always-just-red]

A/N: Poured my soul into this a couple weeks ago, am dedicating it to everyone who's similarly torn between Sylus and their original LI- especially my fellow Rafayel girlies! This is not going to help! It's going to make it worse!! 🥰

Unspoken

Sylus x Reader 🩸 (implied Rafayel x reader)

Summary: You could fix all of this if Sylus would just resonate with you. Why won't he resonate with you?

Genre: Angst, so much angst, brace yourselves

Warnings/Additional tags: gn!reader, injury detail, blood, swearing, possibly not lore-accurate (I've taken some creative liberties with Sylus' healing abilities and MC's resonance for the sake of maximum angst, because I like to suffer!)

| Word count: 2k | Masterlist | Opt-in to my taglist here!

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!

“Like the first, warm prickle of sunlight when you step out of a cold shadow.”

“Hmm?”

“That is what you said to him, right?”

Sylus’s eyes are closed, his head leant back against the wall and his whole body heavy with tiredness. He doesn’t move as he asks you the question. Doesn’t fix you with that suffocating, crimson gaze— like he usually does— and you almost miss it. There’s a pain to his tone, accentuating the gravel of his voice, and a part of you thinks it isn’t all for the injuries you’ve set about tending to.

If he was looking at you, you would see it, wouldn’t you? That flicker of melancholy that sometimes likes to betray the rest of him. Maybe that’s why he keeps his eyes closed.

You deliberate his words, trying to ignore the way he tenses as you press gauze to a wound on his stomach. They do feel familiar: a simile dancing at the edge of your consciousness, just barely out of reach. It’s hard to pursue the past with the present wetting your fingertips, fresh, hot, and red.

One clue: That is what you said to him, right? Him. Him? Who was—

Ah.

Suddenly the words are your own, at the tip of your tongue, because you're saying them in a memory. You were with Rafayel in his studio, reunited and safely returned from the N109 Zone. He had been holding you close, telling you he’d missed you and that he’d been waiting forever; he was so, so bored. You’d smiled fondly. Laced your fingers through his and resonated: wanting to lose yourself in his power, wanting to forget there was any other kind of warmth. He had sighed softly. The sensation was usually buried beneath blood and battle; you’d forgotten how intimate it was.

Then he’d asked you what it felt like.  

“You heard that?” you say to Sylus.

He hums a little. “Not directly.”

“Sylus.”

His name evokes a faint interest, or perhaps it’s the way you said it: chiding, stern— like you were just getting started. His right eye opens, regarding you warily. “Mmm?”

“We’ve talked about this.”

“You’ve lectured me, sweetie.” He leans back again, eyes closed. “There is a difference.”

You resist the urge to wring his neck, especially when it’s bared as invitingly as it is now. It feels calculated. Deliberate. You can almost imagine him lying there, anticipating the fatal vice of your hands. It was what he always seemed to want: to drag you into sin with him.

“I wouldn’t have to lecture you if you actually listened to me,” you reason, releasing a breath. “You can’t keep spying on me, Sy.”

He hums again: this time sceptically. “Can’t I? But you say such pretty things to him, kitten. It’s like watching a melodramatic film. I’d hate to miss it.”

“You’re jealous.”

“Maybe,” he admits with a half-hearted chuckle. “Then again, maybe not.”

You don’t know what to say, so you pretend it’s because you’re busy. Sylus’s hastily rolled up shirt has slipped downwards, catching the edge of his wound, and you lift it delicately, your fingers skirting over skin. His jaw clenches. His hands fist. His mouth is a tight line and you’re not sure what it’s holding onto more carefully: a short hiss of pain or the rest of his confession.

There are always things he isn’t telling you, but he comes closer to it at times like this, when you could do anything to him— cut his throat, collect on so many bounties— and instead you’re just… nice.

It’s the reason he doesn’t call when he’s slumped somewhere after a shootout, his Evol exhausted and his strength draining from half a dozen wounds he can’t quite heal yet. It’s the reason he lay here for who knows how many hours before you found him, rolling his eyes as you rushed to his side, because Luke and Kieran couldn’t keep their mouths shut.

You want to shout at him— want to scold him for being so goddamn stupid— but you don’t. Here you are instead, humouring him and playing nurse, when a simple resonance would suffice. He’d tried to force it before, but now, when you had thrust your hand into his and willed him to take? He’d snatched his hand back. Insisted on bearing his pain ‘the old-fashioned way’.

He was so fucking stubborn.

“What does it feel like with me?”

Sylus’s voice is gentle but his eyes are sharp— cutting into you like a blade striving for bone. It’s an unintentional violence, a jarring: I know what you’re thinking, but I’d rather hear you say it. Kindred spirits; he sees your mind and your heart and then looks at you like it isn’t a weapon. Like you should be grateful for the knife at your throat because you can trust the hand that’s holding it.

“I don’t know.”

“Oh, please,” he scoffs, “if you can conjure up a metaphor for your little artist, you can do the same for me.”

Something is stoked in you, and though you bite your tongue, your careful fingers slip for a moment, pressing into the tender skin at the edge of his wound. Sylus grimaces— hisses— though you could swear there’s a hint of a smile on his lips.

You’d sinned, hadn’t you? “You really wanna know?”

He nods, his eyes on you again. It’s your hand on the knife, and he trusts you implicitly.  

“It’s like… the ocean, I guess.”

“Inspired.”

“Shut up—” you flick his forehead— “just listen, ok? It was overwhelming at first. Zayne, Xavier, Raf… They’re all so powerful. But you? It felt like you could drown me. Like you wanted to drown me.”

Sylus is quiet. You’re running an antiseptic wipe over the smaller scrapes on his stomach, but he doesn’t flinch.

“It was consuming,” you carry on as you work. “Frightening. There was so much of it- so much you- filling my lungs, trying to take my breath away. The entire time I could feel how fathomless it was. I knew if I stopped fighting it I would sink, and that I would never, ever stop.”

You can remember it vividly, especially when you’re as close to him as you are now. Though there’s no more dark energy, twisting around you, dragging you closer, you can still feel its grasp. You can see it, too, when you look up at him: hunger, burning red.

It isn’t a command anymore; it’s a longing.

And you both know you can’t give him what he wants.

“But then I did stop fighting,” you continue, because you can at least answer his question. “And I could still breathe. I was still… myself.” You place a hand on his knee. “It doesn’t scare me anymore, Sy. It’s vast and intimidating, but it’s… exciting, too.”

You smile and give his knee a playful squeeze. “I wanna see how deep it goes.”

He’s stoic for another moment, an apathetic gaze dropping to your hand before lifting to your lips. Then he’s smiling too, leaning closer: “I want to show you how deep it—”

“Don’t ruin it.” You push him back to the wall.

He laughs, running a hand through his white hair, his eyes never leaving yours. There’s a place in his mind where he’s closing the distance again, and he doesn’t care if you know it. You feel the heat in your cheeks betraying you, so you focus back on the man’s injuries: the gash on his stomach has already bled through your bandages. It’ll need stitches.

You sigh, starting to peel back your previous work.

“Does it hurt?” Sylus asks. “Now that you’ve… stopped fighting?”  

You glance up, and he’s examining his hand like it’s a gun he hasn’t yet fired and so can't know the power of. He flexes his fingers, pale in the light. “A little,” you admit, thinking of Zayne’s ice and Rafayel’s fire. Resonating was always a trust exercise: it could kill you, could burn, and you had to be willing to let it. “But I can handle it.”  

Used bandages tossed aside, Sylus’s wound looks as dire as when you’d first lifted his shirt to find it. You lean back, lips pursed in bleak assessment; somewhere at the back of your mind, Zayne is insisting this is a job for a real doctor.

“That bad, huh?”

You huff in answer, exhausted. You shoot Sylus a look of defeat before gingerly offering your hand.

His eyes flit between it and you, and you have to give another nod of encouragement before he surrenders. He holds his breath— it’s slow— his forefinger gliding tentatively up your wrist, spelling a silent question, before tracing a circle in your palm. He closes his eyes. His long fingers spread yours and he’s claiming your hand with something between reverence and sin.

His touch trespasses delicately. His Evol doesn’t.

You bite back a gasp as power surges through you, dark and devouring. Your eyes snap shut and your hand tightens around his, not knowing if it’ll ground you or drag you deeper, not caring so long as there’s something in all this everything to hold onto. This could kill you— you would let this kill you, but it won’t. Your nails are leaving crescents in his skin and you know, you know, the world will burn long before you do.

This is different than the others. Better than the others.

Suddenly your hand is empty and the darkness is not a promise but a place where you’re alone. Your eyes flutter open, searching for an anchor. Your head is swimming.

“Are you alright?” Sylus is looking at you, his hand on your shoulder, steadying you, and it takes everything in your power not to grasp it again.

So empty. So alone. “I’m fine,” you manage, but your voice is shaking.

“Tch.”

He’s not a man who wastes his time, and he knows better than to push that particular lie. Rejuvenated, he sits up, stretching his arms and rolling his shoulders— reacquainting himself with the strength of his body. He’s imposing again. Looming over you, again. His wounds have all healed, and you watch as the stains of his blood lift and disintegrate, like embers on a breeze.

His hand moves to massage his neck, and he yawns as he lazily tips his head from side to side. “Enjoying the show, sweetie?”

You don’t really hear him. He chuckles, pulling his shirt back down before waving a hand in front of your face; you catch it in a heartbeat. “Stop it.”

“There you are.” 

He twists his wrist free, but then your fingers are around his hand, turning it over so you can get a better look. Your thumb traces thoughtfully over the marks you’d made. “Aren’t you going to heal—”

“No,” he smirks.

He wants you to ask him why, so there’s no way in hell you’re going to. You both have your secrets: some worn on the sleeve and others, clutched a little closer to the chest. What does it feel like with me? You turn the question over in your mind as you tidy up wet gauze and bandages. You had told him the truth, just not all of it.

Like how you don’t lose yourself in him, but feel more yourself than you ever have.

Like how every time it gets easier, but so much harder to stop.

“So,” you mutter, distracting yourself, “are you happy with your metaphor?”

Sylus mulls it over as he studies you, a faint glow in his right eye. There are also things he wants to say, but he’s thinking of you and the artist, locked in a wistful embrace in a cluttered studio, so he keeps them to himself. His gaze tells you what he doesn’t: that he will bear it with a smile, for you, and that he will hold onto it long after it makes his hands bleed.

“It was a trifle trite, perhaps. Though… sweet,” he purrs. “Who knew a kitten could be so eloquent?”

“Fuck you.”

“Mmm.” He grins as he looks at your marks on his skin. “That’s better.”

[virtualvault]

Finish What I Started

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara  x f!reader

Summary: After being called away while he's between your thighs, Miguel comes back to finish what he started.

Warnings: SMUT, NSFW, 18+ ONLY, brief angst, oral(f receiving), fingering, brief somno, kissing, dirty talk, pet names( baby, good girl), kissing, unprotected p in v, creampie. Let me know if I missed anything

WC: 2.3k

A/N: I know reader starts off sad but don't worry, Miguel fixes it with his dick lol I was determined to make Miguel his regular dirty self, but spice it up with a bit of angst. Also, no explicit consent for somno given by reader beforehand, but I wrote it as if there is general consent within the relationship to do so. As always, feedback is encouraged and appreciated!!

For the past few months Miguel has been gone more than usual. He's home a few days then called away again and it's starting to weigh on you. He's just returned from a week away and he's finally back. He was taking care of some 'business', which he of course doesn't tell you anything about. You know it's for your own good, but sometimes it would be nice for him to open up a bit about his work. At least vent to you. You know he's under an extreme amount of stress and it would do him some good to open up about it.

But of course, he tells you he doesn't want to burden you, even though you've told him a thousand times that it wouldn't. He does have his own way of communicating, though. It's just usually through actions instead of words. Like when he holds you close and locks you into a needy kiss and you can feel the desperation and all his pent-up emotion. It lets you know he's back where he wants to be. Home with you.

Which is where you are right now. He kisses down your stomach, taking his time not only to savor you, but show you how much he's missed you. He makes it to your folds and places a few light kisses there before diving in. You let out a long sigh, reveling in the feeling you haven't gotten to indulge in for what feels like forever. He never fails to take your breath away, though. The way his tongue glides against you and prods at your entrance. You wrap your fingers in his hair, lightly dragging your fingers across his scalp and he leans closer into you, and he groans.

His hand comes up to join his mouth, and just before he can push a finger in, you hear it. That dreaded sound. A high-pitched ring accompanied by a buzz, letting you know he has to leaves you. Again. You try to put things into perspective any time he gets called away and try to find the restraint to not get on your knees and beg him not to go. You know he helps people, and he puts his life on the line for the greater good, but you can't help the sadness that blooms in your chest each time.

He doesn't say anything, just pulls his mouth from you and rests his head on your thigh, letting out an exasperated sigh. A pathetic whine falls from you lips in return. You cradle his head in your hands and hold it against you, silently pleading with him to stay. He gently pries your hands off and kisses each wrist before sitting up and tapping his watch, answering the distress call. He shares a few quick, and quiet, words with someone before leaning back down to you.

"Baby-" he starts. "I know," you respond, sounding dejected, and he looks back at you apologetically. He knows he asks a lot of you. You live your life around his work and are always left waiting for him to return. The unpredictability and the time away are a lot to deal with. You do it happily because you love him, but he knows it takes a toll on you. It takes a toll on him too, and he finds it harder and harder to leave you every time.

 He kisses your forehead and lifts your chin to meet his eyes. "I'll be back as soon as I can. I promise." He pulls you in for a kiss, then makes his way to the door.

You hear it close and are immediately overwhelmed by the emptiness. It's dark and the silence is deafening. You look over to his side of the bed and pull his pillow into your arms. Usually, you'd at least give yourself a pitiful orgasm to let out a little of the sexual frustration he left you with alongside the emotional, but you don't have it in you. You roll over and hold the pillow close. You can smell him on it and the comforting scent lulls you to sleep.

Miguel returns in the dead of night, and he shuts the door softly behind himself to avoid waking you. He was only gone a few hours, which is something of a rare occurrence. Turns out he just had to assist in a little damage control and then he was racing back home to you. Part of him was hoping you'd still be awake, but he knows that'd be unfair to expect of you. It breaks his heart to think of you curled up in bed, sad and alone, waiting up for him.

He walks into the bedroom, and he's met with a wonderful sight. There is a feeling burning hot within him at the sight of your exposed backside. He ripped the pleasure from you upon his departure and is determined to give you what you deserve. He wants to express how grateful he is that you stay by his side, giving so much to him and the relationship. That you are the most important thing to him and that he cherishes you above all else. These are things he makes an effort to tell you all the time, but right now he wants to show you.

You wake up to a pulsing heat in your core. You're on your stomach, one leg hiked up, and Miguel's pillow still held against you. Your eyes flutter open, and you attempt to roll over, but two pairs of hands hold you in place.  You let out a soft moan and you shake your head, clearing the last bit of haze as you become fully conscious. That's when you feel it. Miguel's tongue firmly, yet slowly, rolling against your exposed nub.

"Miguel?" There's a slight drowsiness to your voice. It doesn’t last long as you exclaim his name at full volume when he slips a finger inside you. "I'm here, baby." He lifts his head long enough to offer you the reassurance and flip you over, then he resumes his position between your thighs. He slips two fingers in this time. You gasp and you grab the pillow beneath your head.

"You're home," you pant out and he chuckles. "Yes. I am. There's nowhere else I'd rather be."

He brings his thumb up to your clit while he speaks to you and rubs in slow, teasing circles. "I left you all desperate for me. That wasn't very nice, was it?" He asks and you quickly shake your head 'no' as you tilt your hips up and start grinding your hips in time with his movements. "Did you touch yourself when I left?"

Again, you shake your head and let out a ragged "No," and he cocks his eyebrow. "Why not?" He asks. You don't answer as he starts moving his fingers faster and biting across the flesh of your thighs. "I bought you that wonderful little toy to keep you company when I'm away." You blush as you think about the vibrator sitting in your nightstand. It was a very thoughtful gift, and you do get a lot of use out of it, but there's no substitution for the real thing.

 "It's not the same," you moan. He lets out a pleased hum at your answer. "I want your fingers…your mouth… your cock." Your last word is punctuated by a whine as he probes deeper inside you. He groans and you see him grind his hips into the mattress. "Well, I'm happy to give it all to you, baby." He places his tongue back on your clit and before you know it, you're cumming around his fingers.

"That's it, good girl. God fucking girl," he praises, admiring the way your arousal gushes out of you and down his hand. When he slips them out of you, you pull his fingers up and into your mouth. His breath hitches as your tongue slides along each digit. When he looks up at you, you can see the desire dancing in his eyes. His kisses up your stomach, across your breast, and up your neck until his face is hovering over yours.

"That's two out of three. You gonna give me your cock?" You speak in a teasing tone, but you're dying to feel him inside you.

He chuckles. "Happily."

He sheds his clothes and settles between your thighs. "How do you want it, sweetheart? On your back? Stomach?" He asks, wanting to give it to you exactly how you want it. "Um…" you take a second to think and realize what you really want. "I want to feel your arms around me while you fuck me," you respond, looking up at him through your lashes. He nods and moves your body into position. He puts his arms under you and flips the both of you over. He plants his feet onto the mattress and wraps his arm around your waist, using it to move slide you up and down his length, effectively coating him in your slick. The friction feels wonderful, and you gasp when his tip catches on your clit.

 Once he feels he's properly lubricated, he slowly guides himself inside you. You both breath out a sigh of relief at the feeling you've both been waiting so long for. He's got one arm around your waist while the other goes to cradle the back of your head and he pulls you into a heated kiss. Your shared longing and need are apparent in your movements. You slide your tongues over each other's messily and only pull apart when you become desperate for air. Then, urgent with need, you begin grinding yourself down on to him, earning a throaty moan from the man below you.

"I've made you wait long enough, haven't I?" You nod and nip at his lower lip. "Please, Miguel. I need it so bad."

He starts slow, stretching you out deliciously and you melt around him. You drop your head to his shoulder and nuzzle into his neck as he picks up the pace. His deep, steady strokes cause pleasure to ripple over your body. You can hear his ragged breathing and the noise of your skin slapping together and it adds to the warmth building in your belly. You begin placing sloppy kisses on his neck and nipping at the flesh. That always drives him crazy, and he holds you tighter against him. He grips the back of your neck and starts pulling you down to meet his thrusts.

"Oh, god baby, you're gripping me so tight," he groans, speaking against the crown of your head. He breathes in deeply, relishing in your scent. You whine into his shoulder as you feel him fucking you at just the right angle. Pleasure pulses through your veins and you can tell you're close. So can he.

"Let go, baby. Make a mess on my cock. Wanna feel you squeeze me." You keen at his words as they vibrate against you, and it has you tumbling over the edge. He grits his teeth as your walls quiver around him and you babble out thank-yous and sweet nothings while you ride out your high.

Before you can fully come down, he rolls you over and before you know it, he's rutting into you again. He pushes your legs up by the back of your thighs and admires the way his shaft disappears inside you. "You take it so well. This pussy was made for me, wasn't it?" He brings his thumb down to circle your clit and you writhe under him.

"C'mon, say it." he brings his other hand to the back of your head and angles so you're looking at him.

"This pussy was made for you. I was made for you" you say, raggedly. He moans at your confession before wrapping his arms around you once more. You're completely enveloped by him now. By his body, his scent, and his sounds. It overwhelms your senses int the best way and you can tell you're about to succumb to the pleasure again. You wrap your arms around his shoulder, holding him to you, and run a hand through his hair. You give it a tug each time he hits that soft spot inside you and he groans at the feeling.

You gasp with each measured thrust, although they're getting sloppier, and you can tell he's close too. You'd love to cum with him, so you contract around him again and again. Now he's the one whining into your shoulder.

"I'm never leaving again. I wanna stay buried inside this pussy forever," he admits, breathily. He voice is barely above a whisper, and you think he's saying that not only to you but himself as well. You know he will inevitably leave again, but he speaks with such passion. So, you both let yourselves believe, even for just this moment, that it's true. When the words leave his mouth, you allow yourself to let go.

You arch your back and drag your nails across his skin as you let the ecstasy wash over you. It pushes him to his own release, and he presses his lips to your forehead, and you feel him twitch inside you. You pulse around him, and he stills as he spills himself inside you with a strangled moan.

He pulls away and cradles your face, looking deep into your eyes. "I know I'll have to leave again, but I will always come back to you. Always." He vows.

"And I'll always be here when you do. Always," you reply, then seal your promise with a kiss.

[wolfish-trickster]

Don't make me choose

Gojo x fem!reader

Part 2

Word count: 1.4K

Summary: it's been some time since you've started dating the infamous Satoru Gojo. But lately you feel more like the two of you are just cuddle/fuck buddies and not a real couple. You make him choose his priorities which is something the strongest doesn't like.

Warnings: bad grammar (possibly), typos, angst, very little comfort

When Gojo Satoru first asked you out you couldn't be happier. The first time he caught your eye was when he zoomed past you together with Geto on one bike. You got so startled you fell to the ground and scratched your knee. You thought at first that they will just leave you there and probably laugh at you later at a pub, talking to their friends how they knocked over a clumsy girl in a park. What completely shocked you was Gojo running up to you with Geto pushing their bike behind him asking you if you were okay and if you need any help.

The rest is history.

Now, three years later, things have been going well. Mostly.

You had the ultimate boyfriend experience. Nice dates, wholesome anniversaries, moving in together, having fun. You did everything in your power to not get boring, for him to not get bored. You cooked, cleaned, asked him how his day was, acted silly with him even when you were exhausted after a long day.

So why? Why was he spending more and more of his free time away from you?

It started out small. The first time you started noticing was like a month ago. As soon as he came home he told you he's going to the pub with Geto and Nanami. You told him to have fun of course, not wanting to seem like that girlfriend that doesn't allow their boyfriends having fun without them. Then from one weekend it became every weekend. Both of you were busy during the week, the only time you had for yourself was during the night and weekend. It soon became just nights.

Even during the week it was "babe, i have a day off tomorrow i'm going to Geto's" or "sorry we have to move the date night to sometime else, Geto is sick and has no one to take care of him" and once even "babe, remember how you told me about this place you used to love as a child? I'm going there with Geto! What a coincidence, right?". The last one hurt the most. Honestly, the last one was also what made you start noticing these in the first place. Once you looked into the past and counted all the times Gojo chose to spend his free time with his best friend instead of you you nearly slapped yourself. It was too many times. How could've you been so blind?

All off days were for Geto. All special days were once again for Geto. Weekends, holidays, his and yours birthdays, all for Geto fucking Suguru.

You needed to have a talk with him.

If he comes back that is. Lately he started to have sleepovers with Geto. As if both of them were teenage girls. You did ask to join them but they always told you off to "not disturb their boy time".

Steps echo outside your apartment. The door unlocks. And in comes...

"Babe," comes the voice of your beloved white haired guy, "I'm home."

"I can hear that," came your answer. You prayed it didn't sound too agressive. Your stomach was full of nervous butterflies, making it even worse to come up with a decent way to start the talk.

While you were thinking he came from the entrance hall to the kitchen where you were sitting and kissed you on the crown of your head. "I wanted to ask, do we have plans next wendesday? Because Suguru said he'd-"

"Listen," you interrupted him before he could even finish, "can we talk?"

Gojo chuckled. "That's a very scary sentence."

"Why? Have something to hide?"

"Nope," he put his bag down and leaned his back against the wall, "I'm listening. What is it?"

You took a deep breath. Then another. "Don't you think you're spending a little too much time with Geto?"

His playful smile loosend into a neutral line. "Elaborate?"

"It's just... you've been with him so much lately and I miss being with you-"

"I'm with you all the damn time. Every single night we-"

"Can't you let me finish?!" you said a little louder than intended but enough is enough. "Is that all you see me as? A fuck-buddy to warm your bed?"

Gojo groaned in annoyance. "No, of course not. But you're literally overreacting over here!"

"Overreacting? How? By wanting my boyfriend to be home on his off days? To spend some time with me and have fun like before?"

"Have fun times with you? What am I your babysitter?"

"Are you Geto's? All the fun stuff we used to do you're doing with him!"

"No, no darling," he stood up straight and walked towards you, backing you into the corner, "all the stuff we used to do I did with him first. He's my best friend! I've known him half my life! You have to have at least a bit of empathy to understand that."

Even cornered by a giant of a guy like him you didn't feel fear. The butterflies in your stomach died. What remained was just pain in your chest predicting what was about to come.

"Do you even see me as your girlfriend anymore, Gojo?"

"Oh, so we are on last name terms again?" he asked sarcastically and walked away to pour himself a cup of water.

"Answer me."

You watched him drink. Slowly. You've never seen a man drink this slow.

"Of course I do," he put the glass down, "what kind of a bullshit question is that?"

"It's how I feel Gojo. You're never here with me!"

"I am here now aren't I?" he poked his chest with his forefinger. "I'm here every single day and night, twentyfour fucking seven ever since we moved in together! Well excuse me I want to have some quality time with my best friend from time to time!"

You didn't want this. The yelling, the arguing. But it has to be done.

Now as a finishing touch. "Who do you value more?"

"Excuse me?" was all he said, too surprised to not hear you yell in return, just calmly asking your question.

"Who is more important to you? Your best friend or your girlfriend?"

Gojo covered his face with his palms and threw his head back. "You can't be serious right now," he groaned. "Suguru is my best friend. You can't just make me choose!"

"So I'm below a best friend. I might as well be called your friend with benefits..." you say more to yourself than him.

"There you go hating yourself again," he shook his head. "I get it, you want to hear me say how much you mean to me, how you're the most important thing in the world and other stuff I've told you a million times already and yet you still slip into this state. I might as well record myself saying those things so you could listen to them everytime you're attention starved," he pinched the bridge of his nose.

He sighed. "You know what? I'm tired of this. I still care about you, but you have to understand Suguru is-"

"I know," you interrupt his rant. "I'm tired too."

Gojo sighs. "Okay. Good. I knew we could talk this out," he said and picked up his sleepover bag again. "I hate arguing with you."

He walked past you to the bathroom to dump his pyjamas into dirty laundry. "Let's go to bed, okay?" he shouted from there.

After a quick shower he walked out the bathroom with nothing but sweatpants on and a towel around his neck.

However you weren't there. Not in the bedroom, nor living room, nor anywhere else. Confused Gojo walked around the apartment, looking for any signs where you might be hiding. Maybe you want to jumpscare him again to light up the tension?

Fine, two can play this game. He tiptoed into the bedroom to your massive closet and yanked it open.

You weren't there. But neither were your things. He quickly checked under the bed to see your beloved backpack missing.

Panicked he started calling out for you, thinking this was just a prank.

It wasn't.

You made him choose and without even realizing it he did.

[moonstruckme]

So, obviously you don't gotta do this request if you are not comfortable, and you can totally delete it, don't feel like you gotta, really.

I was wondering if, you could write some like angst-comfort-fluff type thing with poly!marauders? Where they have been dating reader for a hot minute now, but during (and long before they started dating) reader has been on-and-off cutting herself? And the boys don't know?

Like I said you do NOT have to write this, and just like any request do NOT feel like you EVER have to write a request.

Have an amazing day <3 <3

Hi lovely! I appreciate the disclaimers. I was a bit hesitant to do this because I feel like I'm not always sure where the line is between comforting/validating people who experience this and inadvertently glorifying self-harm, but I hope the general message of getting support and help comes through. Thanks for requesting and hope you're having a good week <33

cw: self-harm scars, mention of current self-harm

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.4k words

James doesn’t see so much as feel them, hands roving under your clothes as has become his favorite pastime when you’re both feeling lazy. A series of neat, raised lines starting at the skin of your hip. Curiosity moves his hand upward, following the rows up to your waist. It’s impossible to tell how many there are. They just feel like vague ridges to James’ touch. 

His heart takes on a too-familiar heaviness, and he strokes the lines absentmindedly as he thinks of what to say. 

In the end, he doesn’t have to. You’d been on the precipice of sleep, your form lax between James’ legs, but suddenly you’re startling, an almost imperceptible jolt and your hand covering his own. 

“What’re you doing?” you ask dazedly. 

You sound panicked, and James hurries to placate you. “Sorry, I should have asked before touching you there.” Your alarm attracts Remus’ attention, and he peers over the top of his book from where he sits on the opposite end of the couch. James isn’t sure what to do. He wonders if you’d want this to be a private conversation (based on the fact that you haven’t brought it up yourself, he doubts you want it to be a conversation at all), but he can’t just not mention it and have you think he doesn’t care. He does what he can to keep the wariness from his voice. “Do you want to talk about it, lovely?”

Remus lowers his book as you slide down James’ torso, shrinking yourself. “Talk about what?” he asks, concern already infiltrating his tone. 

James won’t speak for you. You’re quiet for a few long, heavy moments, and he can feel you growing tenser with each one. Finally, you say, quietly so that Sirius can’t hear from the kitchen, “It’s okay. I was going to tell you at some point.” 

“Tell us what?” Remus asks again. 

James sends him a look that begs for patience, bringing his hand to your shoulder to knead tenderly at the taut muscles around your neck. “Okay, thank you sweetheart. Would it be alright if I pulled your shirt up a little?” 

He knows he’s handling you in that extra-gentle way that sometimes frustrates you. You resent kid-gloves, and he can’t tell for certain if this situation is an exception or if you’re just too embarrassed to say anything. You only nod, and James pinches the hem of your top between his fingers, bringing it up to just below your ribs. 

The lines look thinner than they’d felt against his fingertips. Remus sets his book down, forgetting to save the page as he leans forward, palm moving up your leg as if to keep you in place while he looks. He fingers the waistband of your shorts, looking to you for permission before drawing it down until the lines stop where your hip bleeds into your upper thigh. 

“When—” He swallows, voice painfully quiet. “When were you going to tell us?” There’s a sound from the kitchen which signals Sirius has finished preparing his snack. 

Your eyes are almost frightened. James can tell there’s a myriad of placations vying to be the first to leave your tongue, but what makes it out is  “Please don’t be mad.”

“Ooh, what do we have?” Sirius hears and comes running at the first whiff of trouble, perching on the armrest and sidling up to Remus. “A secret tattoo or—” You turn your hip into James’ thigh, and he doesn’t try to stop you, but you’re too slow, and Sirius’ voice seems to run out of air. Usually mirthful gray eyes flit up to yours looking almost betrayed. “Baby.” The word sounds as if it’s been hooked from some wretched part of him and dragged forcibly out. “When did…how long has this been going on?” 

James can feel your ribs expanding and contracting faster as your breaths come quicker. You feel cornered. He puts his hand over the marks on your waist protectively, and you flinch. 

“Hey,” he shushes you. “You’re alright, darling. Nobody’s upset with you, okay?” He lets his eyes flit up to meet the other two boys' warningly. Okay? “We’re just a little worried.”

“I’m sorry,” you say, and your tone is so fraught James’ heart very nearly shatters. “You don’t need to worry about me.” 

“We don’t mind worrying, love.” Remus’ voice is still quiet, but the gentleness in it is more apparent now. “But whatever you’re comfortable sharing, we’ll take it. Has this been going on a long time?”

You nod. James begins stroking up and down your side. 

Remus’ lips pinch, but he doesn’t waver. “Is it still going on?”

Your shoulders stiffen and your breathing stops. James’ insides fill with concrete, but he forces himself to peer around the back of your head to see your face. You’re biting down on your lip, hard. 

“Even now?” Sirius sounds devastated. Remus reaches behind him, setting a pacifying hand on his knee. 

Silver lines your eyes, but you take a slow, shuddering breath, and your voice comes out calm. “I’ve almost got it under control,” you say. “I’ve slipped up a few times, but…but I’m working on it.” 

“Alright,” Remus replies, giving Sirius’ knee a squeeze and you a kind, if thin-lipped, smile. “Is there anything we can do?” 

You shake your head immediately, but Sirius shoots you a look. “Don’t,” he says, and his voice is so uncharacteristically stern that even James startles, hand faltering on your side. It’s quiet as Sirius can manage, though still strained with emotion. “Don’t try to shelter us by keeping it to yourself. There have to be things we can do.”

James recollects himself, wrapping both arms around your middle and drawing you closer until the back of your head rests against his collarbone rather than his stomach. “Maybe,” he suggests, “you could let us help by telling us when you think you might slip, and we could try to find ways to distract you. Does that sound alright, lovely?”

You turn your head to look at him, and James steals a selfish kiss to the skin just near your eye. The corner of your lips twitch, and he hits there too, the little peck aiding the spread of your smile.

“That might help,” you say, quiet, tentative. Your smile fades as you turn your gaze to the other two boys. Sirius’ eyes have gotten stuck again on the scars lining your side, but he looks up when you speak. “Are you…do they bother you?”

Remus’ eyebrows stitch together, but he lets Sirius answer. The raven-haired boy looks almost surprised. “The marks?” he asks you, and despite James’ sympathy for the shock of all this, he sort of wants to kill him. He couldn’t make it easy on you, could he? Your hand finds James’ where it rests against your side, fingers worming between his, and he gives them an encouraging squeeze. You nod. “Baby, of course not,” Sirius says, ardent, and James swears he can feel you relax against his chest. “It bothers us—it bothers me that you’ve been upset, and that you’ve been dealing with it by yourself for so long, but I couldn’t give less of a shit about the marks. I care about you, your pain, not how it—how it looks on your body.” 

“I agree,” Remus says, smiling a little as he pats Sirius’ knee like settle down. “Honey, so long as you’re doing what you can—and letting us do what we can—to help yourself feel better, the scars don’t matter.”

“Thanks.” Your voice is quiet, but more bashful now than ashamed, which James considers to be some improvement. “It’s just awkward to talk about, you know?”

“It’s not,” James tells you. “Or, it doesn’t have to be. Listen, we don’t have to talk about it like, every day, but you should be able to tell us when you’re feeling down, okay?” You rest your head against his shoulder, and it feels nice, but James gives you a playful little jostle to let you know his question wasn’t rhetorical. “Okay?” 

“Yeah, okay.” The words leave you in a sigh, and Sirius rolls his eyes amusedly while Remus watches you with a knowing look. You were on the brink of a nap before, and the weight of this conversation has thoroughly tuckered you out. 

“Good,” James says, mock stern as he tucks his chin into the juncture of your neck. Wordlessly, Remus pulls Sirius down from the armrest and into his lap, picking up his book again. Your breathing slows, and James’ thumb strokes at your side underneath your shirt, indiscriminate between smooth skin and scars.

[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.”

[snowwybear]

𝗣𝗢𝗩: 𝘆𝗼𝘂'𝗿𝗲 𝗮𝗻 𝗮𝗰𝘁𝗼𝗿 𝗱𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘃𝗶𝗻𝗻𝗶𝗲 𝗵𝗮𝗰𝗸𝗲𝗿

warnings: slight angst, fluff

It's hard, between his work and your work it was hard to keep the relationship alive. Always filming, sometimes even in another part of the world, then there was press tours and red-carpet premiers. Even when you were home it was checking emails, recording audition tapes or rehearsing lines. Then there was Vinnie, either off doing modelling shoots, away for whatever fashion week was currently on and of course Twitch streams. It was hard, exhausting work both of you had to do - but you loved it, there was nothing you'd rather be doing.

"When are you back home?" Vinnie asked over the phone.

"Soon" You yawn as a response. "We have a few more weeks of press then I'm back. When do you leave for London?"

"2 weeks, so we might miss each other again".

The silence on the other end of the phone stretched for a few beats too long, the weight of it settling heavily between you both. This was how it always went—quick check-ins, same questions, same answers, the same longing neither of you could properly voice.

"Maybe we’ll figure something out," you said, trying to inject some hope into your voice, but even you could hear how tired you sounded.

Vinnie let out a soft sigh, and you could picture him running a hand through his hair, that familiar crease forming between his brows. "Yeah, maybe."

You pulled the covers tighter around yourself, staring blankly at the hotel room ceiling. You loved your job—loved the chaos, the constant whirlwind of activity—but right now, it felt suffocating. You were on the verge of something great in your career, and so was Vinnie, but at what cost?

"Do you ever feel like…" you hesitated, unsure if you wanted to say it. Vinnie’s always been the optimist between the two of you, the one who kept things light, who filled the gaps with his infectious energy and easy laughter. But even he sounded tired lately, worn down by the distance.

"Like what?" he asked softly.

"Like we’re slipping away from each other."

Another pause, this one heavier, more loaded. You held your breath, waiting for his answer, a part of you scared of what he might say.

"I don’t want that," Vinnie finally responded, his voice firm. "I don’t want to lose you, us. But I don't know how to fix it either."

The admission hit you harder than you expected. You hadn’t realized how much you’d been holding in until that moment, how much you’d been pretending everything was fine when it clearly wasn’t.

"Me neither," you whispered. "But I don’t want to lose us either."

There was a rustling sound on the other end, and then Vinnie’s voice, softer now, but determined. "Okay, then we won’t."

You smiled faintly despite yourself. "That easy, huh?"

Vinnie chuckled, a low, comforting sound that made your heart ache with how much you missed him. "Maybe not easy, but we’ve made it this far, haven’t we? Look, let’s make a deal."

"A deal?"

"Yeah," he said, sounding a little more like himself now. "I don’t care where you are or where I am. Next time we both have a free day, no matter what, we’re seeing each other. I’ll fly to wherever you are, or you can come to me. Doesn’t matter. We’ll make it happen."

You thought about it for a second, picturing the ridiculousness of Vinnie showing up at some far-flung location, just for a day or two. But then again, wasn't that what made you fall for him in the first place? His spontaneity, the way he never let things feel impossible, no matter how busy or chaotic life got.

"Deal," you agreed, feeling a flicker of hope stir inside you. "Next free day, no matter where we are."

"Good," he said, and you could almost hear the grin in his voice. "And maybe next time we’ll actually plan a proper vacation or something. Somewhere with no Wi-Fi, no work, just you, me, and whatever beach we end up on."

You laughed softly at the thought. "That sounds perfect."

For the first time in weeks, the exhaustion weighing on you felt a little lighter. Maybe the timing was never right, and maybe things were messy and unpredictable, but you’d figure it out. After all, if there was one thing you and Vinnie were good at, it was finding your way back to each other—no matter how far apart you were.

[velvet-stoleurdiscord]

𝐌𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲

(Alcina X Wife!FashionDesigner!Reader)

[Reader has been neglecting their health, ignoring people, and overworking... and so Alcina decides to deal with it herself.]

~Angst/Fluff/Under eating/Self neglect/Mental health talk/Overworking~

~Little use of Y/N, bad grammar, possible misspellings, Reader is over 30 (roughly 36-38)~

So like- I'm kind of projecting on this one :') I think you'll find that some of the angst fics that I write are sometimes me projecting some of the things I go through IRL. I find that writing what I'm going through tends to help calm my nerves, however because my hands are shaking there will probably be a few more spelling mistakes then usual, sorry about that :')

Anyways, enjoy my loves and please take care of yourself <3

~ ~

Work. Work, work, work, work, work. That's all that's on your mind lately. You've barely seen Alcina or the girls for a week, unless it's dinner. You've been sitting in your own workspace, working for hours on end. You've slept a total of maybe 8 hours this entire week. An entire week, of little sleep or just sleepless nights.

You hardly eat anything when you go down to the dining room, and you don't speak to anyone. You were frustrated, stressed and overworked. Some days you felt like you would just pass out and never wake up, but you knew that would be too good for you. And whenever Alcina or the girls tried to talk to you, you'd shut the conversation down before anyone can even think of asking you to take a break.

Currently, you're sitting in the room Alcina had renovated into a workspace for you to do your work. Sitting at your desk, head resting on your arm which was resting on your desk, staring at the papers scattered across the table and adorning your wall. It was well after 2am, yet you were in a dark room, the only light source being the moonlight and candle sitting next to you. You had countless designs that you wanted to finish, but no inspiration whatsoever. Not to mention, the constant shaking in your hands every time you picked up your pencil. There were a few mannequins with partially finished dresses and suits standing around the room. Some mannequins were big, some were smaller, your size, and others were somewhere in between that.

You let out a groan of frustration, burying your face in your hands. , , It's not that fucking hard, you're being dramatic just- just think!-" You mutter to yourself, and oddly enough, an idea comes to mind. You bring one of the papers towards you and pick up a pencil. However, when you go to add to your design, your hand starts to shake violently, causing you to cross a line over your drawing.

, , Christ sake!"

You stand up, throwing the pencil across the room, watching as it cracks from the force. You were beyond pissed with how incompetant your body was acting. Your gaze snaps down to your desk, and you quite harshly grab the paper sitting infront of you. You begin to tear it to pieces, crushing the pieces to a ball before chucking it into the bin beside your desk. You began to throw things, anything. You pushed over mannequins, brushed papers across the room from your desk, kicked rolls of materials across the floor. You needed to let out all this frustration on something, but you felt so lost.

You were about to push another mannequin over before your arms were pulled back behind you. You tried to pull away, writhing against the grip of whoever had taken ahold of your arms. You had a pretty good guess of who it was, considering you could smell expensive cigarettes and burned roses. You kept fighting against the tight grip, but gave up upon realising it was probably a useless attempt. All of a sudden, all the angry frustration you felt turned to tears, filling up behind a dam wall, bound to break at any moment.

You let out a choked sob when the grip on your arms loosens. Your knees collapse beneath you, causing you to fall to the ground. The wall breaks, and tears begin to fall into your lap. Realisation sets in after a few moments, and you quickly pull yourself towards the bin besides your desk.

, , No, no no- Fuck!"

You pick out the crumbled ball of paper and unroll it, watching as the pieces fall to your lap.

, , FUCK." You yell out in frustration, as you're lifted off the ground. You close your eyes, tight, crying uncontrollably. You try to control your breathing, but of course, nothing is ever easy. You're pulled into the chest of who you now knew was Alcina, not that it was easy to see her clearly, your vision was too clouded with blurry wet tears, and you could hardly keep them open for more then half a second.

, , Hush my love, it's alright."

As much as you wanted to believe that it was alright, the terrible week you had, had your mind believing that it was the end of the world. You tried your best to keep your sobbing quiet, but it was proving difficult. You were being held bridal style to your wife's chest while she carried you out of your study and most likely back to your private chambers.

By the time you had arrived at your chambers, of which was all the way on the other side of the Castle, you had stopped crying, just soft gentle sobs every few seconds. By now you had shut your eyes, and was trying to focus on just Alcina's heart beat. It felt like an eternity before you were able to focus, there was so little happening, yet so much, and it was extremely overwhelming. It felt like you were in a deep black pit, but yet, you knew you weren't.

You didn't snap out of your thoughts until you felt yourself being placed onto the soft comfortable embrace of your bed, you didn't realise how much you had missed the feeling of it. Being engulfed by the warm blankets, it calmed you down, but not too much. What really calmed you down, was the feeling of your wifes arms wrapping around you and pulling you into her chest, of which you immediately and unapologetically buried your face into, all your anxiety and frustrations started to slowly creep back to the shadows.

You noticed that she was in her nightgown, which you probably shouldn't be surprised about considering how late it was. You then looked down at your own attire, realising that you were also wearing a nightgown. Had you really gotten that consumed with your thoughts you hadn't realised that Alcina had changed you?

, , Sleep Dragă. I'll be here when you wake up."

You wanted to protest but you were unbareably tired, and you were already laying on a bed, and Alcina showed no sign of letting you go anytime soon, so really you had no choice. You tried to fight off the sleep that was slowly dragging you down as much as you could, but gave up when Alcina held you closer.

, , I'm sorry... I love you, Alcina."

Your voice was barely a whisper, so gentle and quiet. It made Alcina smile, placing a soft kiss on your forehead.

That was the last thing you felt before being carried away into a dreamless, calm sleep. The best sleep you had gotten in the past week.

Yep okay, bye, it;s 5am im done, goodnight

im not gonna try to edt any misspelingns anymore im tired, this fic might make like 0 sense at all

[kaminocasey]

Hey! I'm gonna take advantage of your charity and incredible talent and ask me some Silco stuff, and I will make it very personal.

Im just a sucker for angsty fluff, so I was thinking something in the lines of reader works either in some restaurant where Silco goes or actually works in the last drop. And she's just having a rough couple of days and Silco finds out about it and just wants to help (maybe he gets frustrated because of it all, and goes all Silco, you know what I mean? Damn I'm gonna shut up now). But we all know Silco is not the most affectionate man, or at least shows it in weird (?) ways. I feel like it would be better (?) if they didn't have a relationship yet. But I'll leave it to your brilliance to do as you please, I have complete trust in your skills.

But remember, you don't have to do this if you don't feel like it of course.

Anyway, to much information already. So good luck, love your work, that brain of yours and you in general ❤️💙💛🤍

PS- do not allow me to make more requests, I will make them long, weird and I'll keep remembering more stuff to add and the next thing you know it's a full blown fic 🤣

Take All Your Sins

A/N: Thank you so much for your request, love!!! I was excited to do this one!!! This is going to be a two parter or MORE for SURE. <3 ilysm thank you again for your trust in me!!!

Summary: You work in the Last Drop and very close to Vander. What happens if Silco comes along and ruins that?

Pairing: Silco x Reader

WC: 1.4k

Warnings: Angst, sweet Silco, protective Vander, alcohol

Taglist Form | Arcane Masterlist

“If you have something else to do, I can finish those.” You come into the doorway of the kitchen, nodding toward the dishes that he’s doing. 

“I got ‘em. Almost done.” The older man smiles at you.

A few years ago, Vander gave you a place to stay when he found you out on the streets and ever since then, you were basically inseparable. His kids were like your own. 

“Rough night, huh?” Vander asks as you lean in the doorway, keeping an eye on the place in case more patrons came in. 

The Last Drop is usually busy this time of night, especially on this day of the week. But it’s like a ghost town right now and you can’t seem to figure out why.

“Rough week.” You sigh, crossing your arms. 

“Do you need a couple days off?” Vander asks, genuinely.

He always made sure you were taken care of, which you appreciate, but sometimes it feels like he does too much for others, and never lets anyone do anything for him. You’re bound to change that though. His birthday is coming up and you’ve been saving up for something special that will be from you and the kids. 

“Nah, I’m-” You start but hear the door open.

“You got it?” Vander asks and you nod with a grin and turn around to greet the customer, letting the kitchen door swing shut.

“What can I get ya?” You smile at the older man, who makes you do a subtle double take.

“Whiskey. Neat, please.” He smiles. 

He’s got dark hair, a partially scarred face, one blue eye and the other dark black with an orange iris that makes him look incredibly menacing. He’s wearing an open, fancy peacoat with a buttoned vest and tie. Who the hell is this guy?

His eyes rake over you as you approach the bar where he sits. 

“Haven’t seen you before.” You smile, politely. 

“I don’t get out much.” He takes his coat off and sits it down on the stool next to him. “I… work a lot.” 

His voice is silky and you can’t help but want to hear him say more. 

“What do you do?” You ask as you pour his drink. 

“I own my own business.” He tells you and takes the drink when you slide it to him. 

The way he says it, makes you think he doesn’t want to answer anymore questions about himself. 

“What’s your name?” He asks softly. 

You tell him and he takes a sip, keeping his blue eye on you. You smile softly, unsure of what to say.

“Pretty name.” He tells you, after he finishes off his drink. 

You go to pour him another but he puts his hand over his drink and shakes his head.

“Thanks.” You put the bottle back down and then take the empty glass from him, sitting it in the sink. “What’s yours?” 

“Silco. Do you like working here?” He asks, not missing a beat. 

You nod. “Yeah, I do.” 

“And you like Vander?” 

You nod. “Who doesn’t?” 

He chuckles, glancing around subtly. “Who doesn’t, indeed?”

“What are you doing after work?” He asks. 

Oh… of course. He thinks you’re going to put out- 

“I’m not trying to fuck you.” He tells you, as if he can read your mind while he stands up and puts his coat back on.

“You’re not?” You narrow your eyes at him.

“I mean, I wouldn’t say no if you wanted to, but that’s not why I asked.” He smirks.

You both stare at each other for a moment. His eyes fall to your lips before coming back up to your eyes.

“So… the real reason is?” You cross your arms.

“I think you’re beautiful and I’ve not been on a proper date in years.” Silco shrugs, placing a hand on the back of the barstool. 

You go warm in the face before looking down at his slender fingers and immediately can’t help but wonder what they’d feel like inside-

“I’ll be by at 11.” He tells you, snapping your thoughts back to the present as he places a few cogs onto the bar. 

“Um. Alright.” You nod, giving a kind smile. 

He stares at you for another short moment before giving you a smile back and then leaving. Just as the door closes, Vander walks out and sees you staring at the door, breaking you out of the trance that Silco seemed to have put you in.

“Everything okay?” He asks, placing a hand on your shoulder.

You look up at him, smiling a little dreamily. It’s not something you’re used to. Normally, when customers ask you out, you brush them off and pay them no mind. But Silco… he managed to get you to pay attention. 

“All good. Um… I have a date after work.” You go warm in the face at the word ‘date’. 

It’s not like you don’t date… you do… just not consistently. The last date you went on was a year ago. It didn’t go well so you decided to just focus on work.

“With the customer that just came in? Who is he?” Vander’s eyebrows raise in surprise, knowing that you haven’t gone out with someone in a long time.

“Just… some guy.” You shrug, starting to wipe down the bar. 

Vander chuckles. “Alright. Keep your secrets. I was young once, too.”

You laugh with him, your thoughts immediately going back to Silco’s unmatching eyes and the way they softened at the sight of you. 

“You can go get ready if you want. I can finish here.” Vander smirks. 

You roll your eyes. “Thanks. I owe you.” 

“Nah. Get outta here.” He nods toward the door that leads to the upstairs. 

You pat him on the shoulder as you walk past him, heading upstairs to go shower. You look at the clock and see that it reads 9:30. That should give you plenty of time to get ready. You don’t take particularly long showers. 

As you turn on the water, you climb into the shower, letting the water flow over your body as you stand there for a moment before starting to wash your body and hair. You still can’t stop thinking about the older man. He had to be about Vander’s age, right? You wonder if they know each other. Perhaps after you get to know Silco a little more, you’ll introduce them. 

After your shower, you dry your hair the best you can and then settle on a dress that you’d saved up forever to buy just because. What better excuse to wear it than on a date with an extremely attractive, slightly intimidating, man? 

At ten til 11, you make your way back down to the bar. Vander and Benzo both let out a whistle at the sight of you.

“Don’t you clean up nice?” Vander grins. 

You shrug, going warm in the face from the attention. “I guess.” 

You sit up on the bar stool next to Benzo. You glance over at the door and then back at Vander. 

“Do you want something to loosen your nerves?” Vander teases. 

“I’m alright, thanks.” You roll your eyes, amused.

“Who’s this hot date with?” Benzo nudges you with his elbow. 

You go warm in the face all over again, thinking about Silco. “Just some older guy… he’ll be here any minute.” 

They accept that answer and continue their conversation from before about business stuff that you don’t really mind yourself with. You pretty much just show up and do your job and do exactly what Vander tells you to do and then go back upstairs and sleep. And then repeat. 

The door opens moments later, and the three of you look up to find Silco walking in. You can’t help but give him a sweet smile. He smirks at you and pauses by the door.

“Are you ready-” He starts.

“Silco.” Vander growls. 

“Hello, Vander.” Silco’s eyes fall past you to the man behind you. “Lovely establishment you have here.”

You turn to Vander, confused. “You know each other?”

“Oh yes, we do.” Silco walks toward you, wrapping an arm around your lower back, looking you up and down. “You look beautiful, darling.” 

“She’s not going anywhere with you.” Vander comes around the bar and starts toward Silco but Benzo gets up quickly from the stool and stops him. 

You look between Silco and Vander, still confused.

“I think that’s for her to decide.” Silco smirks up at Vander who stands almost a foot above him.

You turn to Vander, with furrowed brows. This man is the one who gave you life again, the man who is like a father to you. The man you owe your life to. If he says you shouldn’t go… then shouldn’t you listen to him?

[shortestcake]

SUCCUMB

Pairing: Pirate!Ellie Williams x Mermaid!reader

Pronouns used: none

Gendered terms: mermaid

Genre: (eventual) fluff+angst+smut

Summary: An infamous pirate seems to have finally bitten off more than she can chew.

// blood/wounds/alcohol mentioned, I don't know anything about ships, or sailing, or even pirates really, ellie is a bit dumb sometimes

| Part 1 | Part 2 |

Silver scales glistened from underneath the water, or were they blue? Maybe pink, or green. She couldn't really tell, it was like they'd shift colors at every new angle of reflected light. But that didn't matter all too much. What did matter was that Ellie was about to grasp the biggest catch of her life.

"Fucking Christ— Hey!" Her voice bellowed throughout the ship, yet not loudly enough to garner the attention of her— probably asleep— crewmates. Of course, she could usually manage this on her own; though, in the moment, a helping hand would've been ideal, given the whiskey she enjoyed earlier.

But, not willing to let this gem slip away, she rushes to get the fishing net herself, nearly tumbling due to her drunken state. She practically sprints back once it's in her hold. And, with as much precision as she can muster, Ellie tosses the net. Reeling it back in when it's clear her target was tangled in well enough.

'This was it, this was what you finally got after years of dancing around death', you thought. You were just so curious, the group of young adults, laughing, drinking, dancing, effortlessly caught your eye. They were so muddled after all that liquor, that you assumed surely it'd be harmless to have a closer look. Especially once everyone went inside except for one woman. One mesmerizing woman.

She continues to lug the net upwards, slamming you against the ship's walls occasionally. 'This should last us weeks', she thought to herself, the weight of the fish taking her by surprise. It certainly wasn't the heaviest thing she's carried, but definitely not as light as fish usually are, and also definitely squirmier than fish typically are. Ellie could've sworn she felt a tugging of some sort.

Once over the edge, she choked on her own spit at the sight. Instead of a bug-eyed, all fin and scales— the pirate finds staring back at her a very human-looking pair of eyes. Naturally, her grip falters from the shock, and the net slips back to where she struggled so much to take it from.

Only your yelp snaps her back to reality, just in time to snatch the rope again. She caught it and dragged you back up without thinking, instinctively 'helping' you, now that her brain recognized you as a person and not just a meal.

The two of you just stared at each other, you wanted to curse at her, scream in her face and tackle her— your fucking arms and back hurt so much from how she knocked you into the ship. But you did nothing, after all, you weren't underwater, she clearly had the upper hand. And, as every second passed, you became more unsure of her motives. You initially thought she was one of those people who'd hunt inhuman creatures just for some extra coin. Sell elf teeth by gram, or mermaid scales by the piece. Instead, she looked more lost than you, eyeing you up and down, but not menacingly— it was shocked, curious even.

Finally, she pushed out of her frozen state, rubbing her eyes with her palms. "I'm way too fuckin' drunk for this." She slurred, it would've made you chuckle under other circumstances.

Ellie's mind was running a hundred miles a minute, did she really just accidentally catch a mermaid, how does that even happen?

Maybe this was your chance to slip away, retreat into the ocean, and play it safe. You swore to whatever divinity would listen, you'd never step out of line again if they spared you this once.

A firm grip on your arm stopped you from withdrawing any farther.

Jade eyes bore into yours, fixated on your features as her lips gaped. She opened and closed her mouth a few times, unable to formulate a proper sentence. "You— what—" Asking what you were would've been foolish, so she stopped herself; "What were you doing so close to a ship?".

"Just... curious." You answered carefully, still unable to decipher her character.

The thief hums, not very convinced. Mermaids were supposed to be dangerous to humans. What if you weren't alone? What if she and her friends were in danger? What if—

Before she could think of what to do, a familiar voice rang through the air. "Ellie? Are ya' still out here?" Joel. Suddenly all rational thinking was lost, and Ellie turned back into a teenager trying to avoid a scolding. She pulled you out of the net and hoisted you into her arms, practically throwing you over your shoulder and running to her room.

You instantly started thrashing around, panicked. "Put me down." You hissed, slamming your fists into her back.

"Shut up. Shut up. You'll get us caught!" Now, realistically, she knew she had no reason to be this worried. She was a grown woman, after all, her dad couldn't ground her.

Honestly, it probably would've been easier to let Joel find you, he knew what to do in these situations better anyway. But she was beyond tipsy, and all she could think was 'Potential killing machine on ship, my fault.' over and over.

That's why she locked the door behind her when she reached her cabin, and why she was now pacing.

Ellie finally slowed and glanced back at you. "Doesn't that hurt?" Her finger switched between pointing at your arm and then your tail.

Confused, you follow her index finger, to find two wounds, one worse than the other. It was like the adrenaline numbed you, and now, looking at the damage brought that pain rushing in. "Fuck— must've happened while you dragged me against your ship."

Ellie winced at your comment. She took a deep breath, trying to clear the fog of alcohol from her mind. "Look, I didn't mean to hurt you," she said, a bit more gently. "I just thought you were a really big fish." She admits, quietly and embarrassed. At that, you let yourself giggle. But your amusement didn't last long when your body decided to remind you of the excruciating pain you were in. You flinched and sucked in a sharp breath.

Now it was her turn to chuckle, just barely, though. "Can you go back out like that?" She asks, and it seems genuine— maybe she's sobered up a bit, you think. "I don't know." You answer honestly, fidgeting your fingers.

"I"m not— Hey, listen!" Poor Jesse, desperately defending himself from his own best friend and girlfriend. "I'm not saying we should just invite mermaids onboard. I'm just saying, hypothetically, if we somehow befriended a mermaid, it'd help us a lot."

"Yeah, or get us killed." Ellie scoffed.

"You know what I mean, dick." He rolled his eyes. "Like, with navigating and—" hiccup "shit."

"Okay, you're drunk." Dina put her hand on his shoulder. "But, I guess, hypothetically, you're right."

Jesse made an 'I told you so' motion with his hands while nodding at the other girl.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever."

Ellie recollected the conversation with her crew mates, chewing on her lip in contemplation.

"Then, you can stay here." She blurted out. This made you look at her like she was the mermaid, and you the pirate.

After a moment of silently blinking up at her, you asked "Why?", a reasonable question, who wouldn't be suspicious under these circumstances.

"We could help each other. I let you stay here, give you food, bandages, and you help us navigate." The offer was tempting, aside from the fact that getting back home in your state would've been a pain, you've also always had a curiosity about humans.

"I just tell you where you to go? Is there some catch?" You ask, still slightly skeptical.

"Nope, these waters are dangerous, and you know them better than anyone else on this ship." She remarks, matter-of-factly.

"Makes sense." You mumble.

"So?"

"So, I'll help."

[bountycancelled]

something more than friends

(lucy gray baird x reader)

tip me on kofi if you feel so inclined

requested: yep, I hope you like it anon♡

content: a little bit of angst but mainly fluff, men (derogatory), kinda lovesick!lucy gray, jealous lucy gray (we love to see it), pretty intense description of kissing but no smut.

warnings: a very brief mention of drinking, internalised homophobia but it doesn't last long, gay stuff (duh), lowercase intended I know boo I'm annoying.

a/n: I haven't read the book yet so idk much about the covey so their appearance may ooc but that's solely due to my lack of knowledge on them

lucy gray baird never faltered when she sang.

there were very few things that could get under her skin when she was on that stage, strumming her guitar and twirling in her skirt as the district folk stomped along to the beat.

sure, sometimes drunkards and the occasional hung up ex would try to cause a scene, attempting to gain her attention from below, but she would simply roll her eyes, waiting for someone to take care of them so that she could go back to doing what she did best. performing.

so what exactly had happened to make the lucy gray baird, forget a line in a song?

she was quick to remedy her mistake, carrying the tune in such a way that most patrons didn't even notice her mess up. but ironically enough, the very cause of her brain fog noticed. you.

you gave her a worried look, but she brushed it off, willing herself to continue playing as if nothing was wrong. and technically, nothing was wrong. you were there, in the far back of the crowd, wearing a white dress with a drink in your hand. and Lucy Gray didn't mean to be cliché, but you really did look like an angel, something divine that she had the honour of setting her eyes on.

but obviously, she wasn't the only one who thought that.

you were speaking to some man. which was fine, you were always the most gorgeous girl in the room in her eyes and she knew that she wasn't the only one who appreciated your beauty, you were always needing to awkwardly laugh at men's advances and brush them off as best as you could, but you weren't doing that tonight.

you were laughing, a genuine laugh, leaning in to hear his voice over the music, over her singing. she wanted to jump off of the stage and break her guitar over that assholes face, and she couldn't explain why.

she had always known that one day, you'd settle down with a kind man who cared for you (not nearly as much as she did, but that was okay) and then she would see you less and less. but knowing didn't make the taste in her mouth any more bitter.

the first time you told her about a crush that you had, on a boy named Tom, she spent the whole night convincing you that he just wasn't right for you. you believed her of course, rejecting him swiftly the next week when he asked you to go on a walk with him, walking instead with lucy gray, hand in hand.

but then, she did it every time you spoke about a boy, and you started to believe her less and less. 'I think you're just jealous lucy gray, and you don't anybody taking my attention away from you.'

you were right, she was jealous, and the thought of you, with a man, it disgusted her to her core. which is why she took off as soon as her set ended, not even staying for the applause as she searched for you outside.

there you were, and thankfully, you were alone, no undeserving man in sight.

she ran up to you, her brown eyes seemingly sparkling even in the darkened night. "how'd you enjoy the show, darlin'?"

her heart jumped when you smiled at her, your eyes crinkling in joy as you took both of her hand in yours, squeezing them affectionately. "you have the voice of an angel, lucy gray. and I envy the lucky fella who's gonna marry you, and have to serenade them whenever they want."

lucy gray rolled her eyes in a good natured fashion, trying to ignore the knot in her stomach when you mentioned her getting married. "I already serenade you, sweet thing. and im not gonna let some wedding band stop me."

you laughed airily, leading her by the hand towards the lake, where you spent most nights together. you sat down at the edge, laying your head in her lap when she sat beside you. her hand went to your hair, and she fought the urge to by giddy at the sight of your head in her lap, you were just... perfect.

"who was that guy that you were talking to back then? when I was singing, I mean." she asked, her voice uncharacteristically quiet.

you thought back to about an hour prior, picturing every person that you had been with throughout the evening as you tried to recall who she was asking about in particular. "oh! that was matthew, his dad and my dad go way back, but the two of us never really shared their closeness for whatever reason. but after speaking to him tonight I'm a bit upset that I never tried to grow a friendship with him earlier."

she nodded, her cherry glossed lips pressing into a thin line. "he doesn't just wanna be friends with you though, I could see it." you scoffed playfully, raising a brow at her curiously. "you were all the way up on stage, in the middle of your favourite song to perform, and somehow, you could tell that much from so far away?"

she opened her mouth to defend herself, but after realising just how insane the notion sounded when you phrased it in that way, she quickly closed it again. "I'm not gonna let any man take me away from you, lucy gray, believe me when I say that I can't live without you."

your words sent a fury of butterflies in her stomach, and she swore that felt dizzy as you picked your head up, moving your face so close to hers that your noses were almost touching. she wanted to kiss you. god, what the hell was wrong with her? how could she be thinking of you in this way?

despite her inner conflict, she made no moves to create some distance between your faces, selfishly wanting to stay like this for as long as you'd let her. "I wish we could get married." she sighed, her eyes widening at her own words. "I meant- not like, I didn't mean- not in, like, a husband and wife typa way-"

you cut her off with trying to, with a tilt of your head making her suck in a sharp breath. "you don't wanna do husband and wife things with me?" you asked, and she could swear that your voice had a certain tone about it, one that made her cheeks feel blazing and her breaths shallow.

she shook her head, her usually fierce tone reduced to a meek almost whisper. "we can't do those stuff together."

you were too close for comfort. she could feel the tip of your nose against hers and if you leaned in any further, she was sure that she would combust. "who cares if we can't? the more important question is, do you want to?"

inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale. she had forgotten how to breath. this wasn't right, she knew that, so why were her lips on yours in a flash, her hands in your hair, around your waist, holding your hands, touching any part of you that she could reach as the two of you kissed? in public, no less?

she couldn't find it in her mind to stop, not when your soft, sweet lips moved in tandem with hers as if you were molded to fit each other. when you pulled away, with lucy gray chasing your lips with an involuntary whine, you held her by the shoulders, a look of concern on your face.

that was when she felt it. the guilt knawing at her stomach, and the tears that flowed down her face. was she crying because of how overwhelming her feelings were for you? maybe it was because she knew that you would have to hide... whatever had just happened between the two of you.

you leaned your forehead against hers, you sweet voice easing her fear. "I love you." she nodded, not being able to say it back just yet, but she could only hope that you knew. she moved to kiss you again, being startled out of her mind by a girlish scream in the distance.

it was maude ivory, eyes wide and hand slapped over her mouth in shock, with an equally suprised tam amber standing next to her. lucy gray felt sick to her stomach.

"I knew it." tam Amber said with a shrug, moving to sit next to the two fo you as she stared out at the moonlit lake. "no one looks at their friend like how lucy gray looks at you."

"can I be the flower girl? and the maid of honour? and the priest?" maude ivory rambled, laying half in lucy grays lap and half in yours. you simply laughed, explaining that her dream wasn't exactly possible but flower girl was certainly doable as lucy gray watched, tears threatening to fall from her eyes once again. only this time, they were of relief.

the joy she felt in her chest, at the thought that you could be... together in front of the covey was the best gift she could possibly be given. you and her, together. not just as best friends. although it was hard to wrap her head around it, she knew that it was exactly what she wanted and she had it on good authority that you wanted it too.

[kjhbsies]

Waiting Room

Ellie Williams x fem!reader (wc: 1,156)

Synopsis: Ellie Williams married you, but her heart is occupied with someone else.

Warnings: angst??? arranged marriage trope bc i like to suffer. this is my first time to write a story, please don't mind the incorrect grammars.

pt. II pt. III

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

You should be celebrating. 

Finally, the girl you’ve wanted ever since you were 16 years old married you. Of all people, you really thought you would never get the chance to be with her. After all, everyone used to say that Ellie and Dina were good together, and that they were each other’s soulmate. You can’t really disagree about that. You can see how both of them loved each other, and even if they broke up, you can feel that they cared for each other deeply.

So… why did she marry you?

Ellie and Dina broke up one year ago after a huge fight between them happened. Up until now, no one knows about it. Rumors say that Dina wanted to settle down, far away in Jackson, to start a new life with her and JJ. But Ellie couldn’t leave this town, especially her family, and Joel. Apparently, this caused them to break up eventually. Shortly after the breakup, Dina and JJ went and lived in a small town in Illinois. For months, Ellie tried to remain strong, seemingly fine and unfazed about the breakup with Dina. She went on to continue her life as if nothing really happened. For months, Ellie went on to continue the routine of drowning herself with alcohol, going home with a lot of girls, and throwing them away like trash. That was her life. And you just watched it from far away and you tried to avoid her like a plague. You liked her, but you don’t want to be her sex toy. 

Until Dina came back.

After a year, Dina and JJ moved in with their old house in Jackson when her older sister, Talia, got sick. Since both of their parents died before, no one is there to take care of her. So she came back, and Ellie’s life became worse. 

Her failure of coping healthily about their breakup started to show up when her mood became the worst. Ellie became a ball of rage, bursting into anger even in the smallest little thing. 

“You should take a vacation somewhere else. Breathe fresh air, enjoy other things, just don’t…” Joel tightly shut his eyes, “...don’t turn into a fucking monster, Ellie.”

Ellie lifted her brows before chuckling sarcastically. “So that’s what you think about me now, huh?”

“Everyone does. They’re scared of you. Do you want JJ to also be afraid when he sees you?” Joel’s voice started rising.

Ellie looked at him pointedly. “Don’t bring him into this.”

Joel sighed. “I know you were still a mess, Ellie-”

“I’m not.”

“-But you can’t keep living like this.” He says, eyes softening at her. “Forget Dina and marry someone else.”

Ellie’s brows turned into a straight line. “Are you insane? The fuck?” She coughed out a ridiculous laugh. 

“You should think about it. Y/N’s family is offering up a fortune if you marry their daughter. You knew her, right? Y/N?”

“Yeah… but-”

“Good. We can arrange a family dinner tonight.”

“Are you for real?” 

“It’ll be great. Her dad and I were pretty close and he always brings up that his daughter may have a little crush on you. Apparently, it’s in her grandmother’s will that she will not inherit the money, or have her farms and businesses if she’s single. She needs to be married in order to have those. Her dad offered that you will share a huge amount of money if you married her. Ellie, she’s a pretty young lady. And both of you need each other.”

“Little crush?” Ellie repeated, her ears perking up at those words. 

“Think about it, kid. You’ll like her, she’s a great girl.”

And yes, you are. 

Ellie thought about it for a week. Sure, she heard some great things with you. You're a prissy prim princess and the daughter of one of the richest families in the town. She’s always seen you hanging around the diner sometimes, wearing your dainty skirts and dresses, with bows clipped in your hair. She’s seen you in different spots of Jackson, immersed in your sketchbook, or oftentimes, you’re painting different portraits and landscapes. Ellie was always fascinated by you, because you and her are… contrasting.

The first time you and your family went into their house for dinner, Ellie couldn’t keep her eyes away from you. You noticed it, and it somehow made you uncomfortable. So, the whole night while your parents and her dad were talking about the future wedding, you were just looking at your plate. Sometimes looking up when one of them says something funny, cracking up a small smile or letting out a silent chuckle. But you couldn’t look at Ellie.

Ellie noticed it. The whole night you weren’t even sparing a glance at her and it made her curious as to why you seem to avoid her. Did you know about her history of girls? Did you see her at the diner, drinking her ass off? Why aren’t you looking at her?

When the dinner was done, Joel and your dad stood up and went to the living room to talk further about the said wedding. Your mom politely excused herself as she went to the bathroom to have a quick touch up. And you and Ellie were alone in the dining room.

The one time you looked up at her, Ellie was mesmerized. But of course, she wouldn’t show it, nor would she accept it. You were pretty. Everyone was right. You are pretty like a precious flower; your eyes were soft and gentle as you stared at her. You are a precious gem. And Ellie is a master of destruction.

She couldn’t touch you. She’s afraid that you’ll break. And maybe you might. 

“I’m sorry.” You said, kindly, as you looked straight in her eyes.

Ellie’s brows rose. “Why? You didn’t do anything.” She said, voice raspy.

Your heart beat doubled. “You didn’t have to agree to this wedding, you know. My dad proposed this crazy scheme to Mr. Joel and I feel like it’s all my fault.” You sighed.

“I will marry you.” Ellie says, determined. “Just… don’t expect that I’ll love you. We have to agree that you won’t fall in love with me, and I’ll assure you that I won’t bother you. You will get your grandmother’s money and land, and I will share your money. Both of us need the same thing and I don’t want you to think that there’s a single hope that I will love you eventually. Is that okay?” She asked.

You should be celebrating. 

Finally, the girl you’ve wanted ever since you were 16 years old married you.

But her heart is with someone else. 

“Okay.” You agreed, while staring at the small picture frame at the corner of the dining room.

It was Ellie and Dina kissing each other.

[thirstywoso]

Colour outside the lines //

Jessie Fleming x Reader

W/C: 1.6k

Warnings: none

A/N: little angst and a little fluff

Edit: I wrote this in less than 2 hours whilst I was bored at work and I'm not sure I like it but let's gooo

You'd have thought working with Jessie would be fun but sometimes her competitive edge and your stubbornness wouldn't always be as beneficial as it usually was. That was the case this week, training was something you had always enjoyed but lately yourself and Jessie were pushing each other to one another's limits. Sure in the long run this would be good for your fitness and stamina, that being said you were run ragged most days.

Today though you were wrecked, it started in the morning when you had arrived at training. Sitting down on the bench in front of your cubby you were talking to Sam about the session you had coming up.

"Y/n if you're going to be fighting for dominance with Jessie again today I won't be partnering with you" she mocked pretending to roll her eyes

You playfully swatted her on the arm. "You wouldn't ever dream of leaving me partnerless Coffey" you put your hand on your chest as if you were offended.

"Just because I love you doesn't mean I can keep up with this weird competitive thing you've got on with Miss Freckles over there"

You laughed at her comment before glancing over at the mentioned woman who sat opposite you in the changing room, she caught your eye and gave you a determined look. "Shit" you thought to yourself knowing today was going to be another tough one.

"Earth to y/n, where'd you just go?"

You looked back at her with a blank expression wondering how long you'd zoned out for.

"Look I'll partner with you always but please don't drag me into it, I've been asleep by 9 after I train with you" she said putting a hand on your shoulder to stop you from wondering into your own world again.

"I can't promise anything.."

By lunch time Sam had indeed regretted partnering up with you.

The morning entailed parters competing in various challenges that would be ranked based on a combined score.

The first challenge was the vertical jump, where each team had to go twice and their best score would be counted.

Sam and yourself just beating Jessie and Janine by 1 point which of course Jessie claimed that you had cheated and wanted a rematch but the coaches confirmed the scores were final.

Next you had an endurance test, where the first person in the pair would run from one end of the pitch and back and then the second one would go and so on. The teams that lasted the longest would gain the most points.

Jessie and Janine had won that to your dismay with you only dropping out a lap before them.

The morning continued on like that where you would win a challenge and then Jessie would win a challenge. When lunch time rolled around you had reached a deadlock.

"Are you not sick of these two bickering over who is better everyday?" Janine asked Sam as they joined yourself and Jessie at the lunch table.

"Who isn't?" Sam Laughed

"Sorry that we like to keep our relationship alive with some healthy competition" Jessie defended

"Babe you must admit we have been going a bit crazy with this lately"

"Y/n's right Jessie, y'all have been killing us and everyone else has been saying it's been getting out of control" Sam tried to reason

"Yeah we understand the competitive side you both have but bickering every time you don't win is getting old even y/n is sick of it" Janine aimed at Jessie

Jessie looked over to you catching your eye, you just held your hands up surrendering

"You think it's getting tiring too?" She said looking disappointed

You didn't answer straight away as you didn't want to upset Jessie and as much as you loved her playful side you were starting to come home drained each day to the point you'd sometimes fall asleep whilst eating dinner that Jessie had cooked you.

Jessie stood up heading for the door back towards the training facilities "Jess, come on don't be like that" you called after her but it was no use.

"Thanks guys" you said sarcastically as you got up in the direction of Jessie.

The rest of training Jessie had avoided you not even acknowledging you when you tried to talk to her. You'd planned on breaking your deadlock during this part of the afternoon but you could tell it wasn't a good idea with the scowl she had painted on her face.

Even the ride home from training was quiet and you knew even if you attempted to talk to her it would be futile.

Getting in through the door Jessie made her way to your bedroom and shut the door behind her, you leant against the cool granite of the kitchen island and released a sigh you hadn't realised you'd be holding in.

Closing your eyes you let yourself think about what the hell had happened today. You decided the best way to get on Jessie's good side would be to cook her favourite meal of yours.

You began cooking your famous chicken pesto pasta and set up the table with some candles. Admiring the set up you realised something was missing so you walked down to the local store and bought some of your girlfriends favourite flowers and grabbed her a coffee from her favourite coffee shop.

When you returned you lit the candles and arranged the flowers heating the meal you had made. Once you'd served it up you put on some music and lightly knocked on your bedroom door before entering.

Seeing Jessie laying there staring at the ceiling in thought

"Hey.." you said nervously

She didn't answer

"Look, I know you're upset but there's some food out here for you and if you're up for it I would like to talk about what happened today"

You closed the door and went and sat at the table, just as you were about to start you heard the door click open and Jessie's feet padding softly towards you.

"Jess, I know you're upset because I hadn't said anything"

"Why didn't you tell me y/n/n?"

"I just, I love you Jess and your quirky competitive side. In fact I've really enjoyed training lately but this past week you've just been putting me to shame and keeping up with you has been an effort and I'm just finding myself so lethargic I can't even enjoy our quiet time together" you rambled out explaining before she could say anything.

Jessie grabbed your hand across the table "I'm sorry, I thought you enjoyed that about me and I didn't want to disappoint you by stopping our fun routine we have going on"

You rubbed your thumb over her hand comfortingly prompting her to carry on.

"I wish you'd have said something, I was just upset that I had to hear from our friends how you were feeling." She paused "I guess I'm saying that it hurt you felt you could go to them before you could go to me"

"Jessie, I promise it wasn't like that. Sam had complained I was working her too hard and I simply agreed that I was tired too"

"I understand, I just hope this means we are okay. I certainly think it'll do us both some good if we get a break from this healthy competition that has slowly become unhealthy" Jessie reasoned

"I agree"

You are the rest of you meal just casually chatting about other things going on in your life. After you finished Jessie washed the dishes and you dried them packing them away.

"How about we go cuddle up and watch a movie?" Jessie held out an olive branch

"How could I refuse" you smile

-

You'd both changed into some shorts and T-shirts you in her UCLA shirt and her in your old National team jersey.

Cuddling up to Jessie under the blanket you closed your eyes as she gently stroked your arm. Her fingers gently tracing the tattoos that ran from your shoulder to your wrist.

You hummed in contentment as she continued

"You know I've always wondered what these would look like in colour" Jessie said mindlessly

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah"

"Colour them in if you like?"

"Can I?"

You stood up grabbing a pack of colouring pens from a draw and returned handing them to Jessie

"Go ahead!"

You then sat there as Jessie began to colour in the flowers you had on your arm, taking care that she didn't colour outside the lines.

You're not sure how long you sat there for watching as Jessie meticulously coloured each piece of skin. Relaxing into the feeling the next thing you know you woke up. Jessie still tracing the shapes on your body only now you were fully in colour, and a suspicious addition where you arm and wrist connect. As you pulled your arm closer to inspect you realised that she had written her name on you.

You smiled to yourself and looked at her, a guilty smirk evident on her face.

"You really do bring colour to my life" looking back at your arm "literally"

"I love you more than anything" Jessie said sincerely

"I, I don't think I could ever express how big my feelings are for you" you thought for a second "I could genuinely burst when I look at you, my heart combusts just trying to put it into words"

"Ew gross, but you too" Jessie fake gagged at your sentiment.

This earned a shove from you which had Jessie landing on the floor in a pile of blankets looking up at you bemused.

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook

𝐒𝐞𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐀𝐧𝐱𝐢𝐞𝐭𝐲 | Part 5

A smile from you is all he needs to feel recharged.

Tags/Warnings: Game Designer!Jungkook, Non Idol AU, established relationship, Angst , emotional kook, suggestive messages, poor Maria pt.1 [Tags will be different for every part!]

Length: 1k Words

There is no taglist for this fic.

Collab with @euphoricfilter ! 💜

-> Masterlist

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

This is not going to plan at all.

Not only is he behind schedule wise, he's also not thought about the possibility of what this all might look like to you at all. Because why would you even think that in the first place? He'd be absolutely stupid to cheat on you, let alone with a 64 year old married woman of all people!

But then again, you don't know that part- and he also can't really properly explain it as he would surely blow his own cover, and he's just too close to the finish line to give up now. He already almost cried at deleting your face ID and fingerprint from his phone, feeling like he deleted the memory of setting those things up too, but he swore himself it's for a good cause down the line. You'll make so many more memories together for sure, and they'll top those more than by just a little. He'll make sure that they will.

[Alright, I'm so excited! Next time let's do it this way right from the start- no need to make it so complicated!] Maria had wrote him in full, and he reads over it with a bit of worry. Does she really understand what he meant by his worries?

[I'm not sure you understand. I'm planning something big, and I'm also behind when it comes to physical intimacy these days, you know?] He writes the woman, who he's asked prior about the rules and such regarding.. well, sex in the home he's renting out for the upcoming special occasion he's planned. He doesn't want to get locked up for not following some Airbnb laws he overlooked after all. That would just be embarrassing. [And we're very intimate people. I'm taking her pleasure and happiness seriously, if you get the hint.] He texts her as he boils some water on the stove for his absolute accurately made ramyeon.

[Oh trust me, I've been young too! No need to be shy, I can only imagine that emotions will run high most likely!] She responds, and Jungkook pursed his lips for a second, before he starts to play with his piercings deep in thought.

[No, Maria, I don't think you get it-] he begins to type. [-it's been almost two full weeks at this point, that's the longest we've ever gone without any sex, we're talking at least three orgasms a day times fourteen, I've got some major catching up to do..] jungkook sends her, before he puts his phone down for a second as to prepare the instant noodles properly.

[It's fine, really. No need to worry!] The woman responds. But jungkook wants to make sure.

[She's a squirter- you know what that is right? Either way it's gonna get messy so I'm just making sure you REALLY know what you're getting into if you say it's alright because the carpet looked really nice and I'm not sure how to get cum stains out of that] he rambles, not noticing you emerge from the bedroom now as you put your bag on one of the kitchen chairs. [I can replace it too if that happens no problem, you know how my girlfriend gets haha. Well you don't but you will know after we're done with the place-] he taps and accidentally sends out as you call his name, causing him to almost drop his phone into the soup pot on the stove, only barely catching it in time before he can practically throw it into the pocket of his sweatpants. "Yeah?" He asks towards you, and you look at him still way too hostile in his opinion.

He knows you can be a bit of a hot head. It's what he loves about you- how fierce you can get and how you'll always stand your ground. But he also knows that you're a bit of an aklebiter with some serious anger issues sometimes- once you see red, you don't see anything else anymore. So he's got to be careful not to fuck it up any further, because once he loses you, he loses for good.

Because you're stubborn if you've made up your mind.

"The water's boiling over." You mumble, avoiding his gaze as you sit at the kitchen table, arms crossed in defense. He jumps at your words and turns off the stove at that, somewhat awkwardly playing up some food into bowl for the both of you, watching you eat silently across from him with an almost needy gaze.

You're gonna probably try and kick his balls if he asks you to sit on his lap right now, so he swallows down the request to keep them intact.

He's gonna seriously crunch some hours while you're sleeping over at a friend's house so he can still make the deadline, able to pass up on sleep with you not actually home to scold him for it. He hates the fact that the app on his phone constantly reminds him of the lack of intimacy between you two- taunting him with notifications about his streak being broken, his record being topped, his spot up top on the scoreboard being taken. He hates it. He created this app, he should be the one who's best at it too!

God he can't wait to get his hands on you again. He feels like his dick is going to fall off in the next few days.

And it's not just that, either. He doesn't sleep well when you're not with him, he misses all the interactions you usually have during the day, the love, the intimacy of just being close, he misses it so bad. And he kind of doesn't want you to leave right now- he'd love to just call it quits and just cave in, but he's come too far now, and you're also a strong independent woman. You deserve to choose where you want to go or stay, he's got no say in that- or at least he shouldn't try to have it.

"I.. You'll text me when you wanna come back home, right?" He asks as he finishes his bowl, and you shrug.

"Whatever." You mumble. "S' not like you want me home for more than the chores anyways." You huff into your food, and he can't help but feel his eyes tear up. No, stupid Jungkook, don't fucking cry right now. You're gonna ruin it all with your dumb tears and weak heart just like always-

"I do want you home.." he mumbles quietly, blinking harder to avoid you spotting anything off- but you notice. Of course you do.

"...I'll text you." You say, and that at least soothes his mind for the moment as his phone falls out of his pocket, screen cracking and making him cringe.

Fuck. That's the what.. 20th time this year?

But it's all worth it, if it means he can at least see the hint of a smile pull at your lips for once.

The sight alone motivation enough to make him work even harder now.