#and he was so hurting and I knew time was dwindling so I sat there

[whereisthedamndaddymanual]

If you know anyone else who got arrested, was quite guilty, told the truth during the entire arrest and trial, refused the judge on the last day in court and walked out free that same day with all charges dropped please let me know.

Because I never bothered looking at it like that, but it is accurate as fuck

[hurthermore]

Hey! Just wanna say I ADORE your Bimbo series ❤️

I have an idea for the next one; The reader teases Alastor for being an old, grumpy man. She's spending too much time on social media & video games to pay attention to him. Then, he punishes her for it. Wink wink! ✋️🍑💦

»»------► 𝙱𝚒𝚖𝚋𝚘 - 𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝟺 (18+)

▻ 𝙱𝚒𝚖𝚋𝚘 𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝟸 (18+) ▻ 𝙱𝚒𝚖𝚋𝚘 𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝟹 (18+)

Pairing: 𝙰𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛 𝚡 𝙵!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

Word Count: 𝟸𝚔

Warnings: 𝙽𝚘 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚕𝚒𝚌𝚒𝚝 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚋𝚘𝚝𝚑 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚝, 𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚜𝚎𝚡, 𝚋𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚗 𝚑𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚡 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚑 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛, 𝚗𝚘 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚢, 𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚌𝚕𝚎𝚜, 𝚍𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝚜𝚒𝚣𝚎 𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚔, 𝚖𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚌𝚘𝚌𝚔, 𝚋𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚋𝚞𝚕𝚐𝚎, 𝚍𝚎𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐?

A/N: 𝙸 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚐𝚛𝚞𝚖𝚙𝚢 𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝙰𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛, 𝚋𝚎𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚎, 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝙼𝙾𝙽𝚂𝚃𝙴𝚁 𝙵𝚄𝙲𝙺𝙴𝙳

Alastor deeply regretted buying you that damned piece of technology.

For the past few days, instead of being all over the Radio Demon like you usually were; instead of always being in his presence, talking to him, holding him, kissing him, and fucking yourself into his cock, you had, for some reason, been consistently dwindling the amount of attention you usually gave him to play on that silly little gaming console you had asked him oh so prettily for. 

As he questioned himself on why he had even purchased it for you, he knew it was because he was so easily swayed by you; that he adored you and wanted to see that pretty smile on your face; it was only a very welcomed luxury when you begged with that that pretty little voice of yours, when you placed your even prettier lips around his cock as a way of persuading him to buy things for you.

He’d buy it for you even if you didn’t do those things; but you didn’t need to know that.

Even now, as you sat in his lap, the both of you in his radio station whilst he broadcast his mass of screaming souls to the entirety of hell, you seemed to simply ignore his presence as you fiddled with the buttons of your newest piece of technology. He didn’t like how much your mental absence toward him had his chest hurting ever so slightly; but despite that, he still remained in his smiling neutral facade. 

Looking down at you, he wondered if you were torturing him on purpose by wearing that semi transparent babydoll nightwear he had bought for you recently; the same one that allowed Alastor to admire every erotic detail of your body, to the front of your core squished against your thighs, to your stomach scrunched up due to the bend of your position, and how beautifully erect your nipples were. It was quite the task for him to contain himself when you looked so ethereal; so undeniably erotic.

Alastor craved to ravish you, just as he did quite often.

If only you would cease playing that ridiculous game. 

You were a smart little darling, despite how ditzy you could be, you weren’t so stupid that you were unaware of how much the simple sight of you turned him on. You must’ve known what you were doing to him.

Alastor knew you did.

As he watched you hum away as you swayed your head along with the music from your game that Alastor was positive you could barely hear over the screams of his broadcast, he etched his sharp talons underneath the flimsy piece of clothing you wore, pressing them against the thick of your thighs before he sunk the tips ever so slightly into your squishy femurs. His upper lip snarling ever so slightly as you refused to give him even a drop of attention even as he damaged the perfect skin that encased your innards.

You wouldn’t even flinch.

With a huff, he leaned his chin into your shoulder as uncharacteristically morbid thoughts of your true feelings towards him clouded his mind, he turned off the microphone connected to his broadcast. “Tell me, do you only love me so you can get what you want?” He didn’t mean to ask it with venom drenched into his words, but he couldn’t help the way his chest constricted from the doubt that had funnelled its way into his head.

“Don’t be silly Al. I love you.” You mumbled as you continued to press the buttons on the console; still refusing to even glance at him.

Grabbing the device from your soft hands, he slammed it against the console of his radio station. “Then why do you persist in depriving me from your attention to play with such frivolous technology?”

Rolling your eyes as he snatched your game from you, you turned around in his lap to finally face him. “God, you’re such a needy, grumpy old man aren’t you?” You mocked him before pushing your chest against him; poking your index finger in his face. “You’re so pathetic it's cute.”

Were you trying to test him?

To piss him off? 

You were extremely lucky you had him wrapped around your little finger, else he would’ve shredded your perfect body into little tiny pieces for saying such things to him. Instead, he sunk his claws into your neck with a look that forced your facial structure to express worry. “I’m offended you think such things of me, my beautiful little darling; it looks as though I’ll have to show you how frighteningly vigorous I can be.” He whispered into your pretty face before conjuring a black appendage to tear your overly exposing nightwear in two.

Slamming your back into his broadcasting table, Alastor watched as you moaned out a bundle of screams as he began shoving his cock in between your exposed and glistening folds without warning; you couldn’t believe he had pulled his length out so quickly from his suit pants as you began panting. Your tight cunt struggled to allow him to enter in one push due to the lack of foreplay; but this is what you deserved, being the little mouthy brat you were.

With both of his hands on your delicate throat, Alastor put so much pressure against it that he could hear tiny gasps of moaned plea’s escape your throat that struggled to intake a proper breath as he painfully pulled his cock out of you, only to slam it back in; only this time, its entire length finally sunk into your beautifully pleasurable wettening walls, forcing a scream to rip from your constricted oesophagus. 

Conjuring more black appendages, he commanded the tentacle-like affixes to tightly wrap around your thighs, the fat around them popping out as the slimy protuberances pressurised with a harshness like no other. Drool dripping from his mouth, Alastor began to groan at the sight of you below him; your perfect face almost draining in colour, his sharp hands wrapped around your beautiful throat, your thighs squished into oblivion, and the squelching that filled the room as he fucked his fat cock into your unready cunt. 

He couldn’t handle it, especially after not having you on his red length for the past few days due to your persistent gaming. Gritting his yellowed teeth, he forced the appendages around your thighs to bend your femurs into your chest, putting you in a mating position that allowed him to pulverise his cock against your cervix. Groaning, he smashed his lips against your breathless ones as he craved for passion from you, he could feel you attempt to kiss him back; something that made his heart burst with love, but the dizziness he was inflicting on you due to his brutal pressure on your larynx and savage, deprived pace he was fucking you with had you unable to truly focus on his lips.

Alastor could feel his balls tighten; a sign he was close to spilling his lovely white cum into you, but he needed to stop. You were due for a punishment, and he had barely scratched the surface. Calming down his pace, stilling his ministrations to prevent himself from ejaculating, his grip on your throat loosened, causing you to cough up breaths of air as drops of sweat from Alastors forehead splattered against yours.

For some reason, after your breathing began to calm down, you began to chuckle; causing your boyfriend's ears to twitch with every mocking laugh. “I knew you were an old man, but come on. You can’t even last two minutes without needing to cum? Can’t even make me cum, baby?” You snickered as you gyrated your waist with his cock still inside you, testing his limits as you snaked your tongue against his adorably frustrated expression. Immediately, he slammed your head into the table with an odd amount of care before he bit the tips of his razor sharp teeth into your neck after you spoke those words; his cock began thrusting into you with a pace that he was dead set on breaking your pelvis with. 

Groaning, Alastor was beyond angry as you kept testing him to the point he hadn’t realised his body began to morph; not until you wrapped your hands around his stitched neck and let out a blood curdling scream from those pretty flushed out lips. “Oh god, Al, don’t stop!” You screeched in a pleasured pain as his cock began to grow thicker and longer inside of you. Letting go of your neck, Alastor admired your pained expression before he looked down to your stomach; he couldn’t prevent the low growl that had left his throat as he watched his growing cock force a large bulge to emerge from your lower belly.

It wasn’t until Alastor found himself standing at double your height that his body decided to halt morphing; his cock forcing your stomach to contort around it as it stretched out the gummy walls of your cunt. Panting, tears left your oculi as your boyfriend stilled his massive length inside of you. “You change your tune so quickly, my love.” His voice came out so much more distorted than usual; as if it was glitching along with every word on his tongue. 

Crying out, you let out a sharp gasp as his overly large hands wrapped around the entirety of your waist; his thumbs pressing down on the bulge his cock enforced as he tried to move, to slam his cock back into you, but he couldn’t. 

He had grown so big that your cunt became simply too tight for him to move. 

Tightening his grip around your waist, he picked you up from the table before his heavy breathes consumed your auditory senses as he began moving you along the entirety of his length, forcing a mixture of pain and pleasure to mumble and curse out from your lips; crying as Alastor used your body as a damned fleshlight. His ridiculously large cock made your stomach bloat to the point you thought he was going to tear through you every time your thighs met his pelvis bone. “That’s it: cry for the ‘needy, grumpy old man’, my lovely, desperate, little whore.” And you did; ever so prettily. Gripping onto his prolonged neck that was covered in stitches, you begged for him to kiss you; begged for him, only him.

Complying to your demands enthusiastically, Alastors back began to bend, his fucked up form covered the entirety of your sight before his drool soaked lips connected with yours rather softly; his head moving up and down every time he moved your body along his length.

Surprisingly, as Alastor retracted one of his hands from your waist, you still felt secure; not a moment did you believe you would fall. His clawed finger tips only slightly brushed against your clit before you could feel your thighs shake; primarily from the sheer atrocity that Alastor was fucking into your cunt. 

Feeling your bud throb as his monster cock invaded far more than whatever should be invaded; along with his sharp claw teasing your clit ever so slightly, your cunt began to spasm in pleasure, ripping a loud, debauched moan from your larynx. Your wet, expanded, pretty little sex began to grip onto Alastors cock tighter as you began to squirt splashes of lust induced liquid onto your lover's body; and from how harshly your core tensed around him, a sensation deep in his own nether regions snapped, filling your womb up with a stupid amount of sperm as he splattered his cum deep inside of you.

Slowly pulling you off his length, Alastor groaned as he watched the mass amount of his ejaculation cascade from your puffy and widening cunt, only to shove his fingers inside you, forcing you to cry out as he made sure the rest of his cum stayed deep inside your womb. “Don’t worry love, I believe this wraps up my example,” Alastor’s voice echoed, still slightly distorted as his body began to slowly morph back to his normal size; forcing you to become limply dumb. “I’ll clean you up now; so relax for your needy old man.”

»»------► 𝙼𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝

@saccharine-nectarine @daintydreams-blog @lunaramune

[withlove-xixi]

— SWEET TOOTH: portgas d. ace x reader

KINKTOBER DAY SEVEN: FACESITTING ᥫ cw: nsfw, facesitting, oral sex ᥫ wc: 1129 ★ erm . this prompt was meant for kiryu but i couldnt figure out how to do it, so we are getting ace instead yipee cross posted on ao3 — MINORS DNI! —

— ACE LIKED ALL SORTS OF FOOD.

[♡]: he wasn’t quite a picky eater at all and he was always willing to try new things. the things he wouldn’t eat were a small dwindle of a handful of things, but even then he’d eat the if they were prepared right. ace didn’t have preferences, well, that is except his sweet tooth for you.

WHEN ACE FIRST ASKED YOU TO SIT ON HIS FACE, he knew you were hesitant. For starters, you had never done this before. Though it was far from the first time Ace would eat you out, you couldn’t help but be nervous. Sure, you’ve heard couples doing these things but you never thought to actually try it. You weren’t quite sure how it went and all the more you were unsure how it would go. Despite being more or less willing to try all of Ace’s requests when it came to your sex life, every time he suggested something you couldn’t help but be just a bit nervous about it. It was natural to be wary of new things after all. But you trusted Ace, and really, sitting on his face seemed harmless enough.

“S’okay, baby, I can take it. Don’t gotta worry ‘bout me,” he had said reassuringly with a cheeky grin. “‘Sides, I know you wouldn’t hurt me, yeah? I’ll tell ya if it’s too much.”

Still there was some hesitation on your part, but you agree regardless, admittedly a bit curious on how things would go. So there you were, Ace’s face lay directly beneath you while you sat on your knees above him. Looking down, you can see the way he eyes you hungrily, tracing over the space between your thighs with such intense want it makes you shiver and clench instinctively. He licks his lips in anticipation, big hands resting on either of your thighs, rubbing circles on your skin to calm you down.

Your lip quivers at the sight of him, the way his lips are slightly parted, the way the edge of his hot breath fans against your skin, the way his eyes aren’t even looking back at yours, just tunnel visioning on your sex, eager to taste it. You swallow nervously, waiting for Ace to move, to say something. But instead he stays still, he stays quiet. The only noise from him is his deep breathing, it sounds like he’s panting. And the only movement from him is the twitch of his fingers, the steady drum of them against your skin.

It takes a bit for it to click that he was waiting for you. The realization only set you a bit more on edge because you had been waiting for him. And really you thought that this proximity was enough, that Ace would meet you halfway. But you supposed you weren’t really sitting so much as you were somewhat awkwardly hovering over him. With mustered scraps of courage, your hands find support in the headboard of the bed as you shakily lower yourself, just slightly to test the waters and see how low you can actually get.

Ace’s breath hitches when you move, and you hear the soft sound of him squirming around beneath you. It’s enough to encourage you to go a bit lower, lower and lower until you feel his nose brush against you. You jolt at the sudden touch, a shiver running up your spine at the realization he was way nearer than you anticipated. You feel his fingers dig into your skin, his grip on you tightening in an almost desperate way.

“Baby…” Ace pleas, breathily, dreamily. His hands travel from the sides of your thighs to your hips.

Then suddenly, you’re pulled downward, strong hands pressing you flush against his face. He straight up moans at the contact, not wasting a second to start licking and sucking away at your warmth. It takes you a second to recover from your initial shock, the sudden electric shock that tingles all over your body when his tongue laps over your hole with gusto. You grip the headboard tighter, your body lurches forward that your head’s now against it too. Moans and whines leave your lips like prayer as Ace eats his heart out, making sure every inch of your sex is given the same attention from his tongue and his lips.

He eats you out messier than normal. There’s a slick, almost sticky feeling that runs against your thighs and his cheeks; you’re almost certain it was his spit. You moan as your thighs clench, trapping his head between them. Ace groans in response and his mouth moves faster, hungrier, like you had added more fuel to the fire. His hand stay on your hips, holding onto the for dear life. You whimper when you feel him nuzzle his face against you, his nose brushing against your skin.

“H-hah— Ace… W-wait, you— Need to b-breathe—” You rasp between pants and whines, finally finding the courage to look at his face.

He feels your thighs clench when his eyes meet your pretty, pleasured expression. You must’ve been taken aback from the sudden eye contact. Ace chuckles at the thought, you were such a cutie.

What he doesn’t realize is his chuckles, muffled by your weight, vibrate so nicely against you. You sit up-right at the feeling, unknowingly grinding your hips against him, chasing your own high. If you had the mind to conjure coherent thoughts, you might’ve noticed Ace’s lips briefly curl upwards into a sly smile before going back to eating you out. His hands begin to help guide your hips, rocking you steadily to the pace you set. God, that bastard.

“Clo-close—! Ace—” You moan in strangled cries as your cum, thighs pressing against each other, locking his head in place, body freezing up as waves of pleasure wash over you, eyes shut tightly in blissful release.

All the while, Ace laps up your release, his tongue working against the crevices of your entrance as his hands continue to slowly rock your hips against his face, letting your ride out your high. You whimper quietly as your body slowly relaxes, your hands finally letting go of the headboard. You tilt your head back to stare blankly at the ceiling, catching your breath and letting the final fleeting waves of pleasure wash away. 

There’s a short moment of almost complete silence before Ace hurriedly pats at your thigh. Dazily, you look down to meet his eyes, only to see his brows are furrowed and there’s this almost panicked look in his eyes. Only then do you realize Ace very much needed to breathe.

Quickly you hop off him and he instantly gasps for air. You lean over him, worried. You scan his face for any sign of discomfort, but you’re met with the aftermath of your orgasm, the entire bottom half of his face covered in his saliva and remnants of whatever cum he wasn’t able to swallow. Shyly, you lick your lips, an action that doesn’t go unnoticed by Ace, who bears a lopsided grin despite his heavy panting.

“Wasn’t so bad now was it, sugar?”

[shitsndgiggs]

Can you make a fic of kenan forgetting about his girlfriend birthday while he hangs out with his friends and one of the friends remind him that and he directly leaves and goes to reader?

Also I missed your fics sm 😭🤍

MAKING IT UP TO YOU - KENAN YILDIZ

Kenan forgetting your birthday

Kenan Yildiz x fem! reader

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿

The day had started like any other—Kenan left early for training, followed by plans to hang out with his friends.

I didn’t expect anything grand or flashy for my birthday, but a small text, a “Happy Birthday, babe,” would’ve been nice. Instead, I spent the morning checking my phone, only to be met with silence.

By afternoon, I’d resigned myself to the fact that Kenan had forgotten. A lump formed in my throat, but I brushed it aside, convincing myself not to let it get to me.

He’s busy, I told myself. Maybe he’d planned a surprise for later. But as the hours ticked by, any hopes of a surprise dwindled.

Meanwhile, Kenan was hanging out with his friends, completely oblivious to the date. They were sitting at a café, laughing and chatting, when one of his friends, casually asked, "Hey, aren’t you doing anything for Y/N’s birthday today?"

Kenan blinked, the words slowly sinking in like a punch to the gut. His face dropped, eyes wide with realization. “Her… birthday?” he muttered, panic instantly rising in his chest.

His friend raised an eyebrow, sipping his drink. “You didn’t forget, did you?”

Kenan shot up from his seat, the chair screeching against the floor. "Oh, shit. I completely forgot!" He grabbed his jacket, fumbling with his phone.

“How could I forget?” His voice was frantic now, tinged with guilt as he gathered his things in a hurry. “I gotta go—like, right now.”

He bolted out the door, his heart pounding. How had he managed to forget something so important? The guilt gnawed at him as he quickly dialed a florist, hoping to salvage what was left of the day. He knew this wasn’t going to be easy—he’d messed up, big time.

Back at the apartment, I sat on the couch, scrolling through my phone with a heavy heart. Messages from friends and family had poured in all day, wishing me a happy birthday.

But the one message I wanted more than anything? Still nothing. I sighed, tossing my phone aside and pulling a blanket around me.

Just then, the door flew open with a loud bang, and Kenan stumbled in, out of breath, holding a large bouquet of flowers that looked like they were grabbed in a rush. He was panting, his hair messy from running.

“Y/N!” he exclaimed, voice high-pitched with desperation.

I looked up from the couch, raising an eyebrow. “Kenan…”

“Babe, I—oh God, I’m so sorry. I messed up. I’m an idiot,” he blurted out, stumbling over his words as he rushed toward me, thrusting the flowers into my hands. “Happy birthday!”

I stared at him, trying to suppress the hurt. “You forgot,” I said softly, feeling the sting of those words as I said them aloud.

His face fell even more, if that was possible. “I know. I’m so sorry. I don’t even know how I could’ve been so stupid. I was with the guys and—" He stopped himself, taking a deep breath, and crouched down in front of me, his hands gently grabbing mine. “I don’t have any excuses. I should’ve remembered.”

I let out a small sigh, looking at the bouquet in my lap. “You didn’t even text me, Kenan. I waited all day.”

The guilt on his face deepened. “I know, and I’m the worst for it. I swear, I’ll spend the rest of the day making it up to you. The rest of the year, even,” he added, a desperate edge to his voice. “Just don’t be mad. Please.”

I couldn’t help it—his panicked, puppy-like expression broke through my walls just a little. But I wasn’t going to let him off that easily. “The rest of the year?” I repeated, raising an eyebrow. “That’s a long time.”

He nodded vigorously. “Yes! The rest of the year, and the next one too. I’ll start right now,” he said, grabbing his wallet from his pocket and handing me his card. “Here, take this. Go buy whatever you want.”

I blinked at him. “You’re bribing me now?”

He looked even more panicked, scrambling to explain. “No, no, it’s not like that! I just… I just want you to be happy. Please, tell me how to fix this.”

I looked at his face, the guilt and sincerity so clear in his eyes, and despite the frustration, I felt my heart soften. “You really feel bad, huh?”

“More than you know,” he said quietly, his eyes pleading. “I love you, and I’m so sorry I made you feel like I forgot. You mean everything to me.”

I sighed, setting the flowers aside and tugging him closer by his jacket. “Fine. But this doesn’t mean you’re off the hook.”

He grinned, relief flooding his face. “Fair enough.”

I smiled a little, leaning in to kiss his cheek. “You’re lucky you’re cute when you’re panicking.”

He chuckled, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me into his lap, burying his face in my neck. “You’re not allowed to leave me alone with the guys ever again. Apparently, I lose my brain.”

“Apparently,” I teased, running my fingers through his hair.

“Let me take you out, okay? Anywhere you want to go. I’ll give you the birthday you deserve,” he mumbled against my skin, his voice still tinged with guilt.

I pulled back slightly, looking into his eyes. “You better,” I said softly. “And for the record… I love you too.”

His face lit up with a relieved smile, and he pressed a soft kiss to my lips. “I swear, I’ll make this the best night ever.”

“Kenan,” I smirked, looking at the mess he had made in his rush to get here. “It better be, or I’m using that card to buy a lot of shoes.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “Deal.”

[darlingsblackbook]

Distant Echeos 3

Gojo Satoru x Reader

Arranged Marriage AU

Summary : The time of an old pact, promising your hand to the heir of the Gojo clan, has come. It is now your wedding, how will the two of you continue from here?

Wordcount : 1,3K

Warnings : Hurt, Angst, Angst and Angst. Sad y/n :'(

AN : This is part Three!

It had been almost a month since Gojo and I were married, but it felt as though the time had stretched into an eternity. The penthouse, which was supposed to be a shared home, now felt more like a gilded cage—too large, too empty, too quiet.

I had hoped, in the beginning, that things would get better. That with time, maybe Gojo would warm up to me, or at least acknowledge the effort I was putting into trying to make this situation work.

But as the days passed, my hope dwindled. Every time he came home—if you could even call it that—it was like watching a shadow pass through. He was there one moment, gone the next, always with the same distant expression, the same dismissive tone.

I barely existed in his world. And slowly, I felt myself fading because of it.

I had stopped preparing his lunches. He never ate them anyway, and the sight of another untouched bento sitting on the counter had become too painful to bear.

It wasn’t that I had expected him to suddenly fall in love with me, but I had at least thought he might care a little. A small acknowledgment, a quiet thank you that meant he saw me, even if only as his wife in name. But no.

He left in the morning, often before I woke up, and returned only when he needed something. Clothes, documents, a momentary break before heading back to his real life.

Not once did he ask how I was doing. Not once did he ask if I needed anything.

So, I stopped trying to reach out. It was easier that way. Less painful.

Instead, I retreated further into myself, finding solace in the small routines that gave my day structure. I kept the penthouse clean—spotless, even—though I knew he didn’t notice.

I went grocery shopping, even though half the food I bought went uneaten. I made simple meals for myself, always enough for two, but always alone at the table.

The silence became my companion, and I grew more comfortable with it. At least the silence didn’t hurt. At least the silence didn’t look right through me.

°•♡•°

One evening, about a week after I’d stopped making him lunches, I heard the door open. It was late—later than usual for him to stop by—but I didn’t bother looking up from where I sat, curled up on the couch with a blanket wrapped around me.

I had a book open in my lap, though I hadn’t really been reading. The words blurred together in front of me, my mind too numb to concentrate.

Gojo’s presence filled the room like it always did—vast, overwhelming, but somehow distant, as though he wasn’t really there at all.

I heard him move around, his footsteps quiet but purposeful as he grabbed a fresh set of clothes from the bedroom. I waited, hoping he might say something, anything, but the only sound was the rustle of fabric and the soft click of the closet door.

And then, without a word, he was gone again.

I didn’t move from my spot, but the familiar ache in my chest grew a little stronger, a little heavier.

What had I expected? For him to sit down and ask how my day had been? For him to actually notice me sitting there, waiting for some sign that I wasn’t invisible?

No. I had learned better by now. Hoping only led to disappointment.

With a deep breath, I turned my attention back to the book, forcing myself to focus on the words. They were dry, dull—nothing like the romance stories I had once enjoyed.

I used to dream of love, of passion, of a relationship filled with warmth and laughter. But now, even the idea of such things felt foreign. Unreal.

Love wasn’t for people like me. People who were married off for political reasons, who existed as pawns in a game they never asked to play.

I had told myself, over and over again, that I just needed to give it time. That things would get better. But now, after weeks of silence, I wasn’t sure how much longer I could hold onto that belief.

°•♡•°

The next day, Gojo didn’t come home at all.

I didn’t even realize until I woke up the following morning to an empty, undisturbed house. His clothes were still neatly folded in the closet, his things untouched. I wondered, for a brief moment, if something had happened—if he was hurt or in trouble. But then I remembered who I was married to. Gojo Satoru. The strongest sorcerer in the world. Nothing could touch him.

Nothing except, apparently, the thought of spending time here.

With me.

I went through the motions of the day mechanically—making breakfast, cleaning up, folding laundry—knowing none of it really mattered. I had once thought that keeping the house in order would make me feel like I had some kind of control, but now, even that felt hollow.

By the time the evening rolled around, I was exhausted, though not from any physical effort. It was the kind of tired that seeped into your bones, weighing down every step, every breath. I curled up on the couch again, the same book in my lap, though this time I didn’t even pretend to read.

The emptiness felt bigger tonight. Heavier. Like a tangible thing pressing down on me, reminding me just how alone I was.

I wondered if Gojo felt the same way. He always seemed so self-assured, so confident, but there had to be something under the surface, didn’t there? He couldn’t possibly be this detached all the time. Maybe he hated this marriage as much as I did. Maybe he was just avoiding me because he didn’t know what to say.

I tried to imagine what I would say to him if I had the courage. If I could speak my mind without fear of rejection or indifference.

“Do you hate me?” I whispered into the empty room, the words soft, barely audible even to myself.

But the silence, as always, gave no answer.

°•♡•°

A few more days passed, and Gojo’s absence became a constant. He came by once or twice, late at night, to grab things or change clothes, but he never stayed longer than a few minutes. He never asked about the house or how I was doing. He never asked if I was okay.

I was beginning to wonder if I had been foolish to think that things would ever change.

That night, I lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling. The room was dark, the only light coming from the faint glow of the moon through the curtains. I felt small, insignificant, like a ghost haunting a place that wasn’t mine.

I had tried to make this house a home. I had tried to make myself a part of this new life. But every effort, every gesture, had been met with silence, with indifference. And now, I wasn’t sure if I had anything left to give.

It wasn’t just the loneliness that hurt. It was the sense of failure. The feeling that no matter what I did, I wasn’t enough.

Not for Gojo.

Not for this marriage.

Not for the life I had been thrust into.

And so, little by little, I retreated further into myself. I stopped trying to reach out, stopped hoping for things to change. I spoke less, stayed in my room more, and let the days blend together in a fog of quiet isolation.

Maybe Gojo was waiting for me to give up. Maybe that’s what he wanted. To be left alone, free from the burden of a wife he never asked for.

Or maybe I was just fooling myself.

Either way, I was sinking deeper into a place I didn’t know how to climb out of. And the worst part was, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to anymore.

♡

The world was on fire but no one can save me but you~ la la

All Rights Reserved © 2024 DarlingsBlackBook

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Love That Burns ~ 34

LOVE THAT BURNS MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 4,645ish

Summary: You and Logan continue to protect Mariko despite your dwindling abilities

Warnings: wounds, fighting, character death(s)

Notes: Please share reactions! People have been sending in less and less reactions as the series has gone on… I hope you are still enjoying it! And a big shout out to those who are still reacting! Your reactions always make my day!

Reminder: I DO NOT do taglists. Please don’t ask. Please follow and interact! I appreciate any reblogs, likes, comments, and asks! 

Sometimes, you forget how heavy Logan is. He carries the adamantium skeleton so easily, that now you and Mariko are trying to pick him up off the ground, you are reminded of the metal. The two of you ended up having to drag Logan back into the room.

“I’m going to get help!” Mariko exclaimed, rushing from the room.

You should have gone for Mariko’s safety, but right now, Logan was your priority. You wiped his face with your hands, trying to get the rain and hair away. The wounds in his abdomen were still bleeding heavily, letting you know that blood loss was probably the reason for his passing out. Ignoring your own pain, you began to take his layers off until his chest was bare.

Mariko returned with the front desk attendant and a young man. It took all four of you to get Logan down to the basement of the hotel, where the young man was running a small vet clinic. Mariko talked the young man into pulling the bullets from Logan's chest. You sat silently at Logan’s side, gripping tightly to his arm. Logan unconsciously fought as the young man stitched him up, mostly cutting you in the process. You wouldn't allow Logan to hurt anyone else. You could sense when his claws were coming and warned the others. 

Mariko spoke in Japanese to the young man once Logan was all stitched up. The young man grabbed some supplies and came to your side.

“You need help, too,” Mariko stated.

“I’m fine," you said with a shake of your head.

“I’m sure your husband would not like it if he woke and you weren’t taken care of.”

You knew that Mariko was right. You let the young man work on you as you stayed at Logan's side. You were done getting stitched up when Logan came to.

“Logan,” you whispered as his eyes scanned the room. His eyes snapped to you, and he looked relieved.

“Y/N,” he rasped. Logan grunted as he pushed himself to sit up.

“You need to lay back down.”

“I’m fine,” he waved you off, staring at the two strangers.

“This is Mieko from the hotel,” Mariko introduced, “and her grandson, Hitoshi.”

“Is he a doctor?”

“In a manner of speaking, yes. He’s a veterinarian… student. Large animal.”

“Uh, thanks,” Logan reached out to shake the young man's hand. The young man scrambled back, not wanting to be near Logan’s hand. “Whoa.” He looked at you for an explanation.

“You may have let your claws loose a few times while he was stitching you,” you explained. Logan’s eyes fell to your arms where he would see the marks his claws left on you.

“Okay, okay, okay, okay, okay,” the young man breathed out, trying to calm Logan down though there was no need.

Mariko spoke to the two in Japanese, letting Logan’s eyes fall on you. His hands carefully reached down and took your arms in his hands, thumb rubbing against your skin.

“Are you alright?” Logan asked.

“I’m fine, Logan,” you replied softly. “Just a little scratch.” You stood up and kissed the tip of his nose. “You had me so worried.”

Logan’s arms wrapped around you, pulling you to stand between his legs more. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.” He kissed your nose. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Getting me help.”

“It was mostly Mariko. I was a nervous wreck.”

He looked up at the other woman. “Thank you… I’ve never needed this before.”

“What? Help?” Mariko questioned.

“That doctor, the one who helped your grandfather, the blonde. Who is she?”

“He met her last year when he was in America for treatment.” 

“Your grandfather told me my healing could be taken from me, passed on. I’m not getting better, not like before. Neither of us are. She did this to us.”

~~~

Mariko was still insisting on going South, and at this point, neither of you had any energy to argue with her. The three of you loaded onto a crowded bus. Mariko sat in front of you while you and Logan took the bench behind her. Both of you were exhausted. It didn’t take long for Logan to be leaning against the window, grunting as he slept, with his arm slung over you. You were leaning up against Logan, asleep as well.

The bus stopped harshly, causing you and Logan to jerk forward, waking up. Logan’s arm held you to him tighter while you both looked around. Mariko stood up and glanced back at the two of you.

“We get off here,” she said, heading off of the bus.

“Let’s go,” Logan grunted, helping you up to your feet as he stood.

You gripped Logan’s hand tightly as the two of you got off the bus and followed Mariko through the town.

“Where are we?” Logan wondered.

“Just outside Nagasaki,” Mariko replied. 

Logan tensed as he took in the area. 

“You okay?” you whispered.

“I'm fine,” he muttered, pulling you after Mariko.

The three of you stopped by a nearby market. Mariko chose all the groceries while Logan carried them all. That allowed you to take in the beautiful scenery. 

After shopping, you followed Mariko through town to a small house. With every step you took, you could see Mariko release some of the stress of the last few days. It was nice to see her so carefree. Mariko went straight to work in the kitchen, allowing you and Logan to rest a little.

The bed was a mat on the floor meant for a single person, but that didn't matter to you or Logan. Logan laid down first, taking you with him. You were practically on top of him, facing him. Both of you fell asleep quickly.

Logan was the first one to wake. He kissed your head before carefully slipping out from underneath you and heading for the kitchen. A picture on a pinboard caught his eye. He took it off and held it in his hands.

“This is the guy from the funeral, the archer," Logan stated. “He was your boyfriend.”

“That’s Harada,” Mariko explained. “We were village champions that summer. He with the bow and me with the knives. Hard and I were planning to get married.”

“What stopped you?”

“Grandfather. He said we had to wait until we were at least 15… How did you and Y/N meet?”

“It's a long story.” A small smile formed on his lips at the thought of you, and he glanced back to see you still sound asleep. 

“It’s clear that you two care greatly for each other.” Logan grunted in agreement. “Why don’t you go wake her? Dinner's ready.”

Logan nodded, turning back around to head to you. He knelt down with a small smile on his face. He leaned close to your face and began pressing kisses to your face, trying to ignore the fact that every time he touched you, your skin was noticeably cooler. Your lips pulled up as you moaned, pushing back into Logan.

“Time to wake up, princess,” he whispered. “Dinner’s ready.” 

You turned to look up at him. It never ceased to amaze you at how beautiful Logan was. Your hand reached up and rested on his cheek, thumb rubbing against his stumbled cheek.

“Hi,” he whispered, grabbing your wrist and pressing a kiss to the palm of your hand.

“Hi,” you whispered back. 

“How are you feeling?”

“Fine. You?”

“Fine.”

“I’m glad we both decided to lie to each other.”

“Cancels it out.” He leaned down and kissed your lips. “Come on.” He pulled you up. “Let’s go eat.”

Logan led you to the kitchen, where Mariko had already set the table and was sitting to eat. He helped you to the ground before joining you. Logan immediately grabbed the chopsticks and stuck them into the noodles before grabbing the spoon. Mariko was clearly displeased, reaching over and resting the chopsticks back on the table.

“Chopsticks upright are a bad omen," she explained. “It resembles incense at a funeral. Nothing is without meaning.”

“So, the other night at the house, when you, uh, ran out in the rain, what did that mean?” Logan asked before taking a spoonful of liquid.

“My grandfather was dying."

“You knew he was gonna die. He’d been sick for a long time.”

“Logan,” you scolded.

“What?”

“It’s alright,” Mariko said. “It wasn’t his death I feared."

“So, what, then? What did he tell you that night? Mariko, why did your father hit you?”

“I was trying to warn him.”

“About what? What did your grandfather tell you?”

“Seriously, Logan,” you cut in. “Let her eat.”

“No, you both deserve to know,” Mariko said, sighing. “He told me… that… in three days… when they read his will… I will become the most powerful person in Japan… He gave it all to me.”

“The company?” Logan clarified.

Mariko nodded. “I didn’t want it. He knew that. I don't understand why he gave it to me. It was all my father dreamed of."

“Well, that’s why. What about this fiancee of yours? Nostromo.”

“Noburo.”

“Does he know about this?”

“No.”

“Why are you marrying him? He seems like kind of an asshole.”

“And now I’m questioning why I married you,” you muttered, continuing to eat. You hadn’t realized how cold you had gotten until this warm food began filling a void.

“My father arranged it last year,” said Mariko. “It gives him a better access to the political theater. To disobey my father would be to dishonor him. I don't expect either of you to understand. You're not Japanese.”

“I’m sorry for all that you’re having to deal with Mariko.”

“Thank you, Y/N.”

“I’m also sorry for my husband here.” You reached over and patted his arm. “He hasn’t been socialized a whole lot in the last ten years.”

“Hey!” Logan exclaimed. “I’m not that bad.” You gave him a look that quickly got his shoulders slumping.

~~~

The next morning, you found Logan in the bathroom shaving. You leaned against the doorway, shamelessly watching him shave and watching the way his back muscles moved without a shirt on. Logan caught your eyes in the mirror and smirked.

“Like the show?” He taunted.

“Love it,” you replied before biting your lip. 

You walked up and wrapped your arms around him, resting your head against his bare back. Logan gave your arms a squeeze before going back to shaving. It was moments like these that Logan loved the most. The simple, tender everyday moments that the two of you shared. He only wished that they were happening in the safety of your home. Your head lifted up as you heard someone calling for Mariko from outside. Logan immediately tensed, cleaning up quickly before leading you outside. The two of you stood at the door, watching Mariko speak to an older woman.

“A tree fell in the road,” Mariko stated as she headed back to the house. “They’re wondering if Logan can help.”

“Sure,” Logan answered, grabbing his tank top and pulling it over his head.

“Are you sure?" You asked. “You still haven’t healed.”

“Sweetheart, it’s just some wood and an ax. I do this every day for work.” 

He kissed your head before taking your hand. Mariko guided the two of you to where the tree was. Logan was handed an ax and immediately got to work. A few of the kids swarmed you, speaking quickly in Japanese. 

Mariko laughed. “They want to know if you can do any tricks,” she told you.

“Oh,” you said. “I think I have one or two up my sleeve.” 

You held your hand out, palm up. You winced at the amount of energy it took to produce a small flame. Logan noticed immediately, having to stop himself before running towards you. There was nothing he could do about your dwindling powers, though he wished he could.

You smiled as the kids oohed and aahed at the small, dancing flame. They clapped as you closed your hand, forcing the flame to die. Logan’s lips lifted at the sight of you with the kids. You and Mariko distracted many of the kids while the men from the town and Logan worked to remove the tree from the road.

Mariko began walking down a path near the water after the tree had been fully removed. Logan was panting and dapping his head with a cloth. You looped your arm through his arm as you followed Logan.

“Do you need to sit?” You quietly asked, worried about him. He nodded, pulling you down with him to the nearby brick wall. 

“Are you okay?” Mariko asked.

“Tired,” Logan panted.

“Do you need something?”

“No.”

Mariko stopped a nearby cart vendor, buying three apples from him. She tossed two of them to you and Logan, who caught yours for you. You rested your head against Logan’s shoulder as you both took bites of your apples.

“Thanks,” you told Mariko.

Looking around, something caught Logan’s eye. He stood up, eyes on the archway not too far away, and began walking there.

“Logan?” You called, you and Mariko following after him.

He walked past the archway to a metal circle in the walkway not too far from it. You watched curiously as he crouched down and placed a hand on the metal. Mariko stopped you before you could get too close.

“I was here… when it happened,” Logan stood up and said. “It’s how I met Yashida… We hid in there.”

“I heard the stories,” Mariko said. “My grandfather would say, ‘what happened here was proof that everything in the world finds peace… eventually’… that man can recover from anything. Maybe you, too.” Mariko’s eyes glanced at the sky. “We should go back. There's rain coming.” She turned away.

You reached over and grabbed Logan’s hand. “Are you okay?” You asked.

“I will be,” he replied. “Once we get this taken care of and get you feeling better.”

“You need to heal, too, Logan.”

“I saw that flame, Y/N. I can feel your warmth leaving. Something is not just preventing you from healing, but preventing you from using your mutation.” 

“I’ll be fine—“

“What if it kills you? What if you get too cold—“

“Logan, Logan, hey,” you grabbed his face. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

Logan's lips captured yours in a fierce kiss. You could taste the desperation and fear as he tried to pull you impossibly closer.

“We need to get back to the house,” he whispered against your lips. “I need to feel you… need to get you warmed up.”

You nodded. “Okay.”

~~~

Logan did what he could to feel you and keep you warmed up long into the night. He needed to show you how much he needed you and to remind himself that you were still with him despite the fact that his mind was convinced you were fading away. He woke up before you did, heart immediately dropping. You were much colder than you had been before he had worked so hard to warm you up. Logan immediately pulled you into him and tugged the blanket over you both.

“Logan?” You mumbled against his chest, being woken up by something so unfamiliar.

“Sshhh, sweetheart,” he cooed, holding you tighter.

“Logan... I’m cold."

Logan’s heart sank. In all the time he had known you, you had never admitted to being cold. It just meant that something was very wrong. “I know, honey, I know. I’m going to warm you up, keep you warm, alright?”

“Logan!” Mariko’s scream came from outside. “LOGAN!”

“Go,” you urged. “I’ll stay here in the blankets.”

“But—“

“LOGAN!” Mariko screamed again.

“Go!” You yelled, rolling off of him.

With hesitancy in his eyes, Logan got up and ran out, following Mariko’s screams. Your movements were slow as you put clothes on and buried yourself beneath the blankets. Logan was limping upon his return, and Yukio was with him. With a pained grunt, Logan picked you and the blankets up. He carried you to Yukio’s car, getting you situated in the back seat before he took the front passenger seat and Yukio took the driver's side.

“Take us to Noburo,” Logan demanded.

“Logan,” Yukio said.

“Take me to him.”

“I need to tell you something.”

"Do it. Now!”

Without another word, Yukio sped off. 

~~~

“Wait in the car with Y/N," Logan ordered once Yukio pulled up to the building.

“Logan,” Yukio called.

“What?”

“I saw you die.”

“What?!”

“I saw you die.”

“When? Just now?"

“A while ago. But it’s not like I get a complete picture. more like looking through a keyhole. But I’m always right. All I can see is one part of a person's life... their death. And I saw yours… and Y/N’s.”

“What?” You gasped from the back, still curled up for warmth. 

“What did you see?” Asked Logan.

“I saw you on your back. There’s blood everywhere. You’re holding your own heart in your hand. It’s not beating.”

“What about Y/N’s?”

“Her chest was cut open… blood was everywhere—

“I don’t have time for this shit.”

“When I was five, I knew how my own parents would die. Then I watched it happen from the back seat.”

“Look at me. A lot of people have tried to kill me, and I’m still here. Y/N’s still here. ”

“Yeah, but you’re different now, aren't you? They can hurt you. They can kill you.”

“Just wait in the car with Y/N.” 

Logan slammed the car door as he left and slipped into the building. Yukio anxiously tapped the steering wheel as you waited for Logan. 

“Yukio?” You called. “Did you see anything else with my death?”

“Logan’s claws… Logan’s hands… they were covered in your blood,” she responded.

“He can’t know that.”

“Y/N—“

“You can't tell him. Especially if I die by his hands. He will never touch me again. He will run. You cannot tell him the rest of what you saw.”

“Okay.”

~~~

When Logan returned to the car, he informed you and Yukio that Shingen had ordered the hit on Mariko. Yukio drove as fast as she could to Yashida’s house. Upon arrival, Logan helped you out, and the three of you headed into the house.

“Where is the security?” Yukio wondered.

“Shingen!” Logan called.

Logan kept a hold of your hand as the three of you made your way towards the medical room. The lights were on in the room, but all the screens were off.

“Logan,” Yukio called. 

You and Logan went over to see what Yukio was looking at on the floor. There was a dead security man with a picture stabbed into his chest. On the page, there was a building and a bloody note: come and get her. Logan reached down and ripped off the page.

“This. This here," Logan pointed to the building. “Where is this?”

“Master Yashida’s birthplace,” Yukio said, moving over to the large painting on the opposite wall. She pinned the picture to the painting. “The company built a facility into the mountainside.”

“How far?”

“500 kilometers from here.”

Looking around, Logan noticed that something was missing from two of the large glass containers. He dropped your hand and went over to the medical bed. He grabbed the remote and turned on the machines. With a grunt, he lay down and let the machine scan over him. You and Yukio watched as the scans revealed a large, spider-like thing wrapped around Logan’s heart. Logan looked down at his chest and ripped his shirt off.

“Logan,” you called, coming over to his side. “What are you doing?”

“I gotta get that thing out of me,” he murmured.

“How?”

“No, stop, Logan,” begged Yukio. “I saw you die! I’m never wrong. I’m never wrong!”

“You’re not always right,” Logan retorted. “You didn’t know the old man was gonna bite it.”

“I saw you die in a room like this with your heart in your hand.”

“I’m the only chance Mariko’s got, but not with that thing inside me.”

“You’re going to die, Logan," you cried, gripping onto his arm.

His free arm raised, with his middle claw poking out of his fist. Logan looked at you, his eyes trying to say everything he wished he could. “Kiss me.” You didn't waste a second, pressing your lips to his. “I love you, sweetheart. No matter what. I love you.”

A few tears escaped your eyes. “I love you, too.”

Before either of you could say anything else, Logan used his claw to cut open his chest. Yukio pulled you back.

“You’re not gonna want to watch this part,” Logan groaned. He suddenly stuffed his hand into the large cut.

“Logan!” You shouted, fighting Yukio’s grip as he pressed his hand further into himself.

He groaned and cried out in pain, making you cry more. You shrieked as the glass wall behind you suddenly gave way. An armored Shingen stepped in, sword ready to fight.

“Move!” Shingen ordered as Yukio jumped in front of you and Logan.

“Stay away from him!” Yukio shouted.

“He killed your master. Put hands on your sister. And now you want him?”

Shingen pushed the scanner away, preventing Logan from seeing where his hand was going. Yukio jumped over Logan to keep Shingen away. You stood at Logan’s side as Yukio and Shingen began fighting. Suddenly, Logan gasped. His bloody hand retreated from his chest, the robotic spider writhing in his hand. Logan continued to groan, struggling for breath.

“Logan!” You cried, trying to get him to focus on you. “Logan!”

“Y—Y/N,” he stammered, eyes struggling to focus on you. The machines made a long, droning beeping sound, and Logan’s eyes rolled back into his head.

“No! Logan!” 

Logan’s arm gave way, falling to hang off of the bed. Tears freely rained down your face as Yukio and Shingen continued to fight around you. You tried to shake him awake, but Logan wouldn’t budge. Shingen kicked Yukio into a machine, knocking her out and causing his attention to turn to you. You barely missed the sword that he swung your way. You threw your hands to the side and tried to summon fire. Shingen chuckled as the flames in your hands appeared dim and fluttery. 

“Weak,” he spat. “Can’t even form a flame without your Kuzuri.”

You grabbed a nearby sword that was hanging on the wall and tried to use it to defend yourself. But you were weak, Shingen was right. With one swift swing of his own sword, your sword was dropped, and you were stumbling back until you were on the ground. Shingen lifted up the sword to end you when his sword was suddenly caught in three metal claws.

“No one hurts my wife,” Logan growled.

Logan used his returned strength to fling Shingen across the room, away from you. Logan stalked forward with his claws out.

“Where’s Mariko?” Logan demanded.

“She’s gone,” Shingen responded. “That Viper bitch took her. It was my father’s obsession with mutation, with God's mistakes…” Logan easily deflected the swinging swords, "Like you and your wife, that ruined this house.”

Logan and Shingen pushed their fight into the hallway. Shingen’s sword caught Logan’s cheek, cutting it. Logan turned his head back to Shingen, showing the man how quickly it healed. The two swung their weapons at each other while Yukio rushed to your side.

“Are you alright?” She worried over you. She noticed how you were shaking. She placed her hands on your arms and felt how cold you were. “Logan!” She shouted over the clanging of mental. 

“Lo—Logan,” your teeth clattered together. “I need… Logan…”

“I know, I know. Logan!” Yukio helped you up and got you onto the medical bed.

“Y/N!” Logan shouted as he rushed back into the room. He came to your side, hands shooting to carefully cradle your face. “Sweetheart, I’m here. I’m right here.” He looked at Yukio. “Get the machine back up!” Yukio nodded, quickly getting to work, allowing Logan to focus back on you. “We’re going to see what’s wrong, princess. We’re going to see what we can do.”

“I was so scared,” you rasped.

“I know," he pressed a kiss to your head, “I know. I’m sorry.”

“It’s ready,” Yukio stated.

Logan stepped away from you, allowing the machine to scan your body. Just as Logan thought, you had a machine robotic spider wrapped around your heart.

“You need to cut it out of me,” you said.

“No!" Logan retorted, back at your side. “We don't know if you'll survive. Your abilities are different than mine.”

“There’s no time, Logan. You have to try.”

“No!” Yukio cut in. “I saw you die too. Logan had your blood all over your hands.”

“Logan didn't stay dead. And… I’ve died before.”

“I don't know if you’ll survive,” Logan said, shaking his head, tears shimmering in his eyes. “I can’t—I won’t.”

“Logan,” you grabbed his hands, “it’s got to go. I’m dying with it inside of me… I trust you… I trust you…”

“I… I can’t lose you.”

“I almost just lost you. We can call it even.”

“What if you die for good this time?”

"Then you save Mariko and go back to New York. Back to our friends.”

“Not without you.”

“Logan—“

“No!”

You let your eyes find Yukio. “Do not let him be alone if I don't make it.”

“I promise,” Yukio whispered.

Your focus went back to Logan. You reached up and brought his head down for a searing kiss. “I love you. Don’t forget it.”

“I can’t do this,” Logan whispered, allowing himself to cry. “I can’t hurt you.”

“You’re not hurting me. You’re saving me… James, please, I trust you.”

“I love you.”

“So save me.”

Logan stood up and pushed out one of his claws. Tears streamed down his face as he took a deep breath. Your eyes kept a lock on his eyes. He needed to know you weren’t mad at him. That this wasn’t his fault. Suddenly, Logan began cutting into your chest. You screamed out in pain.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” Logan cried. “I’m so sorry. I’m going to fix it. I’m going to save you.” As soon as the cut was big enough, Logan pushed his hand inside of you. You gasped as you began to struggle for breath. “Stay with me, princess… Stay with me.” 

Logan gripped the robot and ripped it out of you. You lurched up with a gasp before going limp. The monitors beside you signaled that you weren’t breathing. Logan tossed the intruder away and pulled you into his arms.

“Come back to me,” he sobbed. “I got it out… Come back to me.”

“Logan…” Yukio whispered after Logan sobbed and rocked you for a few minutes. She rested her hand against his bare back. “We should go.”

“No!” Logan jerked away from Yukio. “I can’t leave her! Not when this is my fault…”

“Logan—“

“No!” Logan buried his head into your neck as your body remained limp in his arms. “I’m so sorry, honey… I failed you… I’m so sorry…”

“We can come back for her. No one will disturb her body here… She’s safe.”

Logan knew that Yukio was right. Besides, you wanted him to save Mariko. He would be letting you down more if he didn’t. He pressed a light kiss to your unresponsive lips before holding one to your forehead. Slowly, he set you back down on the bed. 

“I will come back for you,” he whispered. “I promise.”

It took a lot of strength for Logan to turn around and leave you there. Yukio followed close behind. He clenched his fists as Yukio drove them off, looking back at the house until he couldn’t. Barely missing the sight of smoke rising from the house.

next chapter >

[redrose10]

Here is chapter 1! I hope you like it. Chapter 2 will come out in a few days. Comments are appreciated!

Yoongi X Female Reader. CEO/Arranged Marriage AU

Summary: You were selected to marry the wayward CEO/Billionaire/Heir, Min Yoongi. You went into it with an open mind and heart determined to try and make it work. Yoongi on the other hand had no intention of ever letting you in let alone allowing himself to fall in love with you. Slowly you start to associate the smell of cinnamon and vanilla with the feelings of hurt and sorrow.

Word Count: 1,693

Warnings: (May get updated as chapters progress): Arranged marriage, cheating/infidelity, hints of smut (Probably won’t get very explicit but we’ll see how it goes), Sexual Assault, Brief mentions of death, Reader grew up an orphan, General Angst, Swearing

The weather outside did not match the feeling in the conference room. Outside the window you saw the bright sunny sky, not a cloud in sight. You longed for the warmth to touch your skin. Inside this room you felt cold. The walls were a dark cherry mahogany. A marble sculpture of a horse sat in the corner. You’re sure it cost more than a years worth salary for you. You chewed on your lip, a nervous habit you developed at some point. Everyone was patiently waiting for the same person to arrive so you could finally get this over with. Never would you have imagined you’d be in a position like this. Being married off to a man you’d never met. You knew of him of course. Who didn’t? Min Yoongi was the CEO of one of the largest tech companies in the world. He was the sole heir to a large fortune being that the Min family was one of the most powerful and wealthiest families in all of Asia. He was dangerously handsome with an arrogant attitude. A womanizer who was constantly in the media and not in a positive way. Just a few months ago we was caught on camera being tossed out of a club for punching the bartender. The video showed him staggering around so drunk he could barely stand straight. He shouted some choice words before shoving three random women into the back of his Rolls Royce and having the driver speed off. Of course the poor bartender didn’t even file any charges knowing he’d never win against the Min family power and money.

Shareholders started worrying about Yoongi’s ability to lead the company, some even demanding he step down. People were uncertain if they should invest in a company run by a sloppy drunk with clear emotional baggage. Stocks in Min Enterprises began to plummet which meant the Min family money started to dwindle and only then did they decide it was time to step in. Which is how you ended up here, sitting across from Yoongi’s parents and some of the other higher ranking officials at Min Enterprises. They had come to the conclusion that it was time for Yoongi to settle down. He needed to find a nice wholesome woman who could help him clean up his image, turn his life around, maybe have a future heir and turn himself into a well respected family man. The problem with that was that Yoongi had never lasted more than a couple weeks with any woman since he was about 19. Often going for quick hookups with women he met at clubs or random models he got ahold of that just wanted to use his name to further their career. In his mind it was easier. No strings attached. No chance of falling in love. No heartbreak. Just sex and send them on their way.

You were a simple girl. You didn’t come from money or power. You loved flowers, blue hydrangeas were your favorite. You often enjoyed a mug of warm milk before bed or maybe some chamomile tea if you were feeling adventurous. Most of your clothes were thrifted and definitely not name brands. You’d only ever had one serious boyfriend and less than four flings. You were the exact opposite of Yoongi and the women you often saw him photographed with.

Which is exactly why the Min family thought you were the perfect match to save their wayward son and bring a good reputation back to the Min name. You had no one else to thank but your old college roommate and best friend Jimin. After graduation he moved away but you kept in touch with each other. One day you get a voicemail from your friend asking you to come visit him in Korea. After calling him back and him assuring you the trip was all expenses paid by himself you agreed. Little did you know of the secret motive. Jimin had moved to Seoul after graduation, quickly getting a job at Min Enterprises. He started as just an assistant to Yoongi’s assistant. Over time Jimin was able to work his way up and was now a member of the board of directors and one of Yoongi’s best friends. When Jimin heard of the Min family plan he immediately thought of you and threw your name into the contenders ring as a potential suitor for Yoongi. You had recently complained about wanting to get out of your small town and Jimin recalled several instances where you mentioned your ever failing love life and non existent bank account so what better way to get around that than to marry a handsome young billionaire.

Your thoughts were interrupted when someone cleared their throat. Looking up you were greeted by the handsome face of Kim Seokjin, one of the Min family lawyers. “Can we be expecting Yoongi any time today?”, he asked probably more sarcastically than he had planned. As the elder Mr. Min started reaching for his phone the large double doors swung open and swiftly slammed shut as the man you were all waiting for stomped over and took his seat next to you, clearly agitated at having to be there.

You knew that Yoongi was handsome, most of the world knew that, but seeing him in person was different than any photos you’d ever seen. Soft perfect skin, piercing cat like eyes, silky jet black hair that he had started to let grow out. He was wearing a fitted dark green suit that probably cost more than every piece of clothing you owned. His cologne intoxicating, a mix of cinnamon and vanilla. He smelled like comfort and warmth.

When he realized you were staring at him he looked over at you turning to a face of disgust before shaking his head and turning his attention back to the lawyer, “Jin, can we get this over with? I have more important events to attend to.” You watched the lawyer lay out several sheets of paper in front of the two of you. “Right so these are the basics of the contract. It’s pretty standard. The Min family will release an official statement announcing the marriage of their only son Yoongi and Miss Y/N. The wedding will take place shortly after.” You watched as Jin turned to you placing an additional paper down in front of you and pointing to the stipulations as he read them off, “Y/N you will take the Min last name. You will move into Yoongi’s penthouse. You will agree to attend all social and/or professional functions with Yoongi and occasionally you will have to go alone as the Min representative. You will be given a credit card to make any and all purchases for any thing you need or want. And lastly you will uphold a satisfactory image as to not taint the Min image. Also please be aware that a divorce is not an option and the contract will only become nullified in the event that either Yoongi or Y/N were to pass away leaving the other as a widow.” You nodded in understanding while staring down at the list of demands in front of you. Things could be worse you thought but this still wasn’t ideal, especially not having the option for a divorce.

Jin turned his attention over to Yoongi placing a similar paper down in front of him and going over his stipulations which were much simpler than yours, basically don’t get caught with other women and don’t get drunk in public. You scoffed knowing that he would struggle to uphold his end of the contract. You were blindsided though when Jin read off the final stipulation, “After the wedding Yoongi will make an initial donation in his and Y/N’s name in the amount of $5 million US dollars to ‘Little Rays of Sunshine Orphanage’ in Y/N’s hometown. Then he will make an additional $1 million donation every year thereafter for the duration of the marriage.” Your lips turned up into a small smile. You had jokingly told Jimin that you’d agree to this whole ordeal if Yoongi donated a large amount of money to the orphanage that you grew up in. You didn’t think he’d actually get it done but you were a little relieved knowing that at least going through with this was going to benefit many children in need. You made a mental note to thank Jimin later. Deep in your thoughts you hadn’t noticed how Yoongi had looked over at you with furrowed brows questioning that request.

Jin placed a pen down in front of you before clapping his hands together, “Alright now that that’s out of the way the two of you just need to sign and date here and here and we can all go on with our day.” Trying your best to hide your shaking hand you gently grasped the ivory pen taking a deep breath before signing away your life to this man you met less than 15 minutes ago. Handing the pen over to Yoongi he glared at you before releasing a loud sigh and roughly taking the pen from your grasp signing away his name. Once it was done Mrs. Min began to speak but was cutoff by Yoongi loudly pushing his chair back and slamming the pen down on the glass table, “I have places to be.” And with that he stormed out of the room loudly slamming the door behind him. Mr. And Mrs. Min along with the rest of the elders followed not long after giving you a nod goodbye. You looked up to Jin who gave you an apologetic smile. He patted your hand as he continued to pack up his belongings, “He’ll come around Y/N. Just give it some time. He puts on a tough act but underneath that harsh exterior is really a sweet kid who got lost along the way.” Going into this you thought maybe this could actually work out and the two of you could at the very least pretend to love each other. Now, after meeting for the first time, you’re not so sure.

[virginsexgod69]

❝ Proud of You ❞

Pairing Professor! Rick Grimes x F! Student! Reader

summary Rick comforts you after finding out your biggest fear is disappointing him.

cw teacher - student relationship, power imbalance, age gap, crying, making out, riding, unprotected p in v, emotional hurt/comfort, pet names, 3rd person pov

1.1k words

series masterlist

 She nervously chewed on the cap of her pen. She knew she was fucked the moment she walked into Professor Grimes' classroom. She regretted every minute she spent doing anything but study for this damn test. Failing the test, however, was the least of her worries- it was disappointing her professor that she was the most worried about. She blinked back tears as she tried her best to answer questions about unstudied materials. 

 Once the other students had filed out the classroom and she was the only one left, she grabbed her sorry excuse of a test and approached his desk. Her tear filled eyes and quivering lips didn't go unnoticed by him. 

"What's the matter?" he asked after collecting her test and putting it in a neat stack with the others. 

"I fai-" her words got caught in the lump clogging her throat. She fiddled with the hem of her skirt as she attempted to blink back her tears. 

"I failed!" she was finally able to say. But that admission broke the dam and sent hot, salty tears streaming down her face. 

"Hey, hey, don't cry, sweetheart," he soothed as he grabbed her hand and guided her to sit on his lap. She wrapped her arms around his neck and sobbed into his shoulder. He stroked her back and hushed her as her tears saturated his crisp, white button up shirt. 

"You're a good girl with good grades. This won' mess up your grade too bad," he reassured. She sat up and he wiped her tears away with his thumb as she sniffled.

"Th-that's not what I'm worried about," she confessed. 

"Well, then, wha's the problem?" 

Her chin and lips started quivering again as new tears formed. "Y-you're gonna b-be," she took a stuttering breath, "disappointedinme!" She buried her face in his shoulder again as she sobbed even harder this time. He soothed her until her sobbing dwindled down into little whimpers. 

"I ain' disappointed in ya. Everyone messes up," he reassured. She sat up and looked at him, mascara tears streaked down her pretty face. It broke his heart to see his star pupil in such a state. 

"N-not me! I never m-mess up!" Fresh tears filled her eyes again, but before she could bury her face in his shoulder again, he cupped her cheek in his hand and swiped her tears away with his thumb. 

"Sweetheart, look at me," he commanded. She couldn't look him in the eyes, not after this. It's one thing to absolutely bomb a test, but another to embarrass herself by being a sorry mess like this was something she doubted she'd ever come back from. 

"Didn't I jus' tell you to do something?" he said more sternly this time. Her eyes snapped up to his, fearing disappointing him even more. Even though it was hard to hold eye contact, she didn't let hers waver and neither did he. She didn't see anything resembling disappointment in his eyes. In fact, he was looking at her so softly. 

"You're r-really not disappointed in m-me?" she muttered. 

"Didn't I jus' tell you that?" he teased, earning a small smile from the pretty girl in his lap for the first time all day. She wrapped her arms around him, but this time instead of crying, she pulled him in for a kiss. He reciprocated with fervor, slipping his tongue between her soft, glossy lips. Without breaking the kiss, she readjusted herself to straddle his hips, sitting right on top of his bulge. His hands slid up her thighs, creeping beneath her short skirt, and cupped her ass in his hands. She giggled against his mouth, a sound he was elated to hear after all her sobbing. 

"I'm gonna make you proud, Professor Grimes," she whispered against his lips. 

"Oh? How's that?" he asked. She already made him proud, but playing into her games wouldn't hurt. She ground down on his hardening cock, earning a breathy moan from him. 

"The door's not locked," he warned. 

"Then I'll make this quick." She undid his belt and unzipped his pants with quickness. Once his hard cock was no longer restricted by its confines, she stroked it a few times causing precum to bubble at the tip. Moving her panties aside, she lined him up with her entrance before sinking down. Rick Grimes was well endowed, so the stretch stung each time. 

"Y'alright, sweetheart?" he asked. Her only response was pressing kisses to his jaw and neck as she undid his tie. His hands reluctantly stopped kneading her ass and instead helped pull her shirt over her head once she was done unbuttoning his. Her hands grasped his shoulders once she was ready to move again, and used them for support as she lifted herself off him, until only the tip was inside then dropped herself back down. His big dick filled her so good that the outline of it could be seen through her stomach. Rick's head lolled back as he moaned in pleasure, his grip on her hips almost bruising her soft skin. She squeezed him with her velvety walls, feeling ridge his veins provided.

"Feel so good, baby," he groaned as his student bounced on his cock. His hands traversed up her body, until they reached her bra. He unclasped the pesky thing and tossed it aside, releasing her breasts so he could watch the fleshy mounds bounce as she rode him. He took her nipples- hardened by the air conditioning blasting in the room- and pinched them between his index fingers and thumbs.

"Oh my god, Professor Grimes," she moaned out. Her calling him Professor Grimes during sex always did something to him. His cock twitched inside of her, his release not far.

"I'm 'bout to cum," she warned. He could tell by the way her rhythm became sloppy and the way she squeezed him.

"I know, baby, me too," he said before taking a breast into his mouth, nipping at and sucking on the nipple. His hand slid beneath her skirt and began rubbing the bundle of nerves through her panties. She screamed his name as she came, seeing stars as she did. Rick came too, his hot loads of cum filling up her sweet cunt as he threw his head back in ecstasy, guttural moans erupting from him. He continued to rub her clit until she came down from her orgasmic high. When she did, she slumped over onto his chest. He wrapped his arms around her and held her close, pressing a kiss to her slightly sweaty hairline. 

"Did I make you proud?" she asked. 

She felt his chest vibrate as he chuckled. 

"Always been proud of you, darlin'." 

would i even be who i am if i proofread this?

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[starshipsofstarlord]

Sleepless

Summary -> On the farm, you struggle to fall asleep due to all the things that you know that surround you, from the walkers in the barn to Shane. The only thing that can make you feel any comfort is Daryl (1.4k)

Warnings -> harassment, angst, fluff, manipulation, mention of death, fighting, swearing

daryl dixon / norman reedus works masterlist

No matter how many times you had attempted to fall asleep, it was nearly impossible. You and the group that you had found in Atlanta had set up camp on the Greene's farm, everything seemed too good to be true, and that is exactly what it was.

Glenn had told you about the captive walkers that were held up in the barn, and it was only a matter of time until Shane with his explosive temper took control of the situation. It was better when you didn't know about the holding cell for the dead, but there was nothing that you could do to erase the cursed knowledge from your brain.

It was easier to stay awake, and so you sat beside the small fire that was throwing heat at you, whilst your comrades had already retreated to their tents. The snap of a twig alerted your ears to the presence of another, and instantaneously you were on defence, grasping your knife from the loop of your weaponry belt in the grip of your hand.

A part of you hoped that it was Daryl whom had been so cooped up with finding the whereabouts of Sophia, which made yo love him even more, however your luck dwindled when you saw who it was.

It was a boulder of a man that had changed a lot from the time that you had met him, his eyes were dark and dangerous as he headed towards you, some kind of intent in his unfaltering steps.

"Couldn't sleep either?" You asked Shane, loosening your grip on the sharp object in your hand but refusing to let it go. He grunted a reply and a stiff nod in relation to your enquiry, sitting close next to you, which made your bones stiffen. Since his best friend Rick Grimes had made a return into his life, it was as though a switch had been switched in that mind of his.

You tried not to think of his tale of how Otis had supposedly sacrificed himself either, as you among others had suspicions that he hadn't quite told you all the truth. "Something like that." He spoke. You'd never had much interaction with the man since he founded the old camp for you and the other survivors, unless you were killing walkers together or occasionally assigned to check the perimeter, however Daryl had always reminded you to be careful.

Shane may have been on the same journey as the rest of you, but he'd become more damaged through your journey to live so far. "At least there's some stars to watch, I loved looking up at them as a kid. Now the worlds gone to shit, but that is one of the only things that has't changed." It felt strange having a conversation so light hearted with the man, but it was just to bide time in your eyes until morning arose.

"Can't say the same about your taste in men - after all you're dating that redneck that is lost in the thought that he'll actually find the girl out there. I'm sure before all this you had some kind of self respect." He scoffed, which. Only made you shoot a glare at him which was equally matched with one of his own. But you knew not to retaliate, for your own protection, not after how he had hurt Lori as she had told you in secrecy.

"I think I'm tired after all." You gritted out from behind your teeth, going to stand until Shane followed you, grasping your elbow with a vice grip that would no doubt leave a bruise upon your flesh. "Shame, let go. This isn't you." This was exactly him, the cold shell of a person that he had become from the horrible things that he had bore and witnessed. Your voice had been sharp, a warning if he knew what was best for him. He'd always been smart with his sneaky actions, but the bitter scent of whisky that blew in your face told you that he wasn't in his usual solitary mind.

"Why should I? So you can go back to a man that you're too good for and cares more about a child and his dead brother than you?" That was the last straw, you couldn't let him wrap your mind in a bubble of lies about Daryl for a single second, so you raised your right hand and butted him in the nose with the dull end of your knife, causing the man to stumble back. But he still refused to retract his hand, he pulled you closer, snarling in your face.

"Shane, stop!" You yelled, hoping that someone would hear you. As he dragged you back towards the fire that now felt anything but warm to you, you rammed your boot into his shin, taking his moment of weakness to raise your blade against his throat, taking advantage of his vulnerable and slightly bent form. "You really think that doing your own thing, causing conflict and rumours is the right thing. Then shame on you. You threaten me, or slander my man again, I'll feed you to the walkers in that barn myself."

With that he finally released you, feeling an inkling of regret for the first time in months, allowing you to stroll away and back to your tent. No one had heard you, Daryl was out cold, no doubt exhausted from his endless searching. Maybe he really did care about the dead and lost more than he did you, you zipped the tent up, careful as to not wake the man in your blankets, as you curled up in the corner and rested your head upon your knees, allowing the tears to fall behind the barricade of your legs.

But even if Daryl were tired, and he hadn't heard your loud words to Shane, as it had been farther out by the cars, he definitely heard your broken sobs that you attempted to mute. He shuffled in the sleeping bag, sitting up right and searching his surroundings, until his eyes finally landed on you. In a panicked haze he slipped beside you, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and pulled your head up so he could see your face. "Wha' happened?" He asked, desperately wanting to find the reason behind your pain.

"Shane, he-he.." Oh god no, Daryl thought. His blue orbs ran all over you until he saw the sore spot between your upper and lower arm, anger fuelling him into an awakened state. "He grabbed me, and I was this close to slitting his throat. I was okay with doing it, I just didn't want us to get kicked out from here - we'd die out there. And I don't want to die but Shane's gonna kill all of us." Daryl held you rather than hunting down the man that had caused you so much sorrow, as much as he wanted to, you were more important.

"Look a' me. You didn't do anything wrong, you defended yourself," he tucked your hair behind your ear, pressing a kiss to your forehead, "we should tell Rick in the morning. He's a loose cannon and if he's coming after our own, it's not just that barn we have to be wary of." That damn barn was the last of your worries now, you were turning on each other, stupidly enough when you'd found a place safer than others to reside in. "And I'll deal with Shane. No one touches ma girl." He stated, seriousness underlaying his tone.

"I love you Daryl." You hiccuped, brushing the droplets from beneath your eyes, desperately looking up at him. Everything Shane said was a lie, it was just another one of his many ploys to have everyone under his thumb, just like how he persuaded Andrea to stand beside him in some of his brash decisions. He fed off her pain from losing Amy, and he was a wolf in sheep's clothing, prowling around and hunting for his next prey. Tonight it so happened to be you.

"Love you more." He leant down, smouldering your lips with his own, gently cupping your face. "We'll get Herschel to check your arm when he's awake, right now you need to rest. And if you want to sit outside and look at the stars, you wake me, ya got it?" You nodded, laying your head on his chest and the rest of your body weight atop of him, until you finally drifted off. And for once you didn't have a nightmare, instead you saw nothing, which was a blessing in disguise, the real blessing however were that you and Daryl were still alive, and you had each other for as long as you both breathed.

[lethalchiralium]

No More | [2] | Simon “Ghost” Riley x F!Reader

a/n: WOW. i did not expect that to blow up as hard as it did. thank you so much!! [this seriously might become a series. we’ll see.] [also, that means you’re getting a backstory. a very… need for speed backstory ;)] i really do think this is shitty but that’s all part of the plan baby!

warnings: cussing, alcohol, simon drinks to forget but he always remembers, non-sexual nudity, mentions of genocide, mentions of trauma, mentions of past careers, mentions of planes, mentions of crashing, mentions of american citizenship (you don’t have to be from there if you don’t want to be! i live there and i don’t want to be here! it’s just important from a certain aspect of your previous career.) simon is also a lot more lovey when he’s drunk.

summary: He’s convinced he should leave. He’s convinced himself that you are better off without him, better alone than being hurt by a shell of a man like him. He barely got a foot out of the door before he changed his mind.

part one here! | SERIES MASTERLIST

He had more bourbon in the past two months than he’s ever had in his entire life. The sickly sweet pull and the burn down his throat was a comforting pain as agony ripped through his heart. He sat alone in your shared apartment, a dim lamp being the only light in the entire space. He hadn’t gotten sick of the bourbon like he usually does, he couldn’t move it from the coffee table - he had sat forwards, arms resting on his knees and hands dug into his hair.

He was bone tired. He hadn’t slept in two days; it was a normal occurrence now that you had gone on that mission. He had to take leave so he didn’t rip Price’s throat out for not letting him go with you. The ache in his head still hadn’t gone away with the aspirin he took a few hours ago and the full bottle of his best bourbon down the hatch. The night wasn’t flying by like it did last night, he could hear the clock on the wall tick as he wallowed in his own misery.

Sometimes it took him weeks to bring up the scalpel and separate Ghost and Simon, divide the halves into quarters and dissect what actions could have been better performed to produce a better outcome - essentially, what he did to fuck up the one good thing he had going for him, and how he could fix it. He took your words to heart, and he was taking a very long time to stew over everything he could have done that would’ve have made him look like he didn’t trust you. Simon trusted you with every fiber of his being, he loved you more than that. He knew you were an amazing fighter, your fire to help those in need could never be extinguished.

He realized later rather than sooner that Ghost was why you didn’t trust him - Ghost was protecting the person Simon loves the most. And maybe, that included when you were home too. Keeping Simon locked away so he didn’t get hurt, so Simon didn’t get hurt by you.

If he had half a bottle less, he would’ve gone up to bed - but the room felt suffocating without you. He couldn’t lay in a bed that smelled like you if it became one of the last things he had of you in case you were killed, so he had cat napped on the couch for the past nine weeks. If he had a bottle less, he wouldn’t have thought about how his absence wouldn’t hurt you as much as Ghost does - if he had the £348 he spent on alcohol back, he wouldn’t have thought how this place felt like your home. Never his, he also categorized it underneath Ghost’s half - keeping his love at arms length so his self-destruction doesn’t hurt you.

He was drunk. Piss drunk, since he had never gave himself time to sleep off the bourbon. Ghost was cracked in the middle, and Simon was punching out holes in Ghost’s façade. Ghost never allowed Simon to feel, never allowed him to connect with anyone - a self-defense mechanism. But now? Ghost was almost gone, and he felt like himself now. And God, did it hurt.

How could he have done this? How could have pushed you away so far that your rope was dwindling by a thread, how could he have hurt the one thing that made him begin to unlock the cage around his freezing cold heart? He felt it in his chest, the raw burn and tug of desperation - he knew that he had to cut the thread.

He didn’t want to, he would give anything to not let you go - but Simon couldn’t let you keep getting damaged by his defense measures.

If he had no alcohol in his system, he wouldn’t have gotten up like he did. He wouldn’t have waltzed to the guest room, messily packed his duffle and brought it to the living room. He wouldn’t have grabbed a pen and an old pad of paper. And he definitely wouldn’t have written the note he was writing now.

He folded the note, lifting up the bottle of bourbon on the coffee table and setting it down on the table, putting the bottle on the corner to hold the note down. His hand grabbed his duffle and he stood and he made his way to the front door. He slipped on his boots, only caring enough to tuck the laces into his socks before Simon went to open the door. He took the time to turn around, gazing at the dim apartment that smelled like you, that held all of your important belongings. It was the place that cradled you when you were down, the place he kept falling for you, the place he would kneel to the kiss the ground you walked on.

This was the place he loved you.

Honestly, in the back of his mind, he knew his sober ass would walk home after a week.

Before he could open the door, the lock turned and the door burst open - he threw his duffle into the adjacent kitchen and was about to fight. That was before he saw you.

Dirt and blood caked on your face, your duffle hanging from your hand, your hoodie tattered and your neck bruised - and he watched as the tears raced down your face. He could barely even begin to speak when you flung your duffle inside and dove into his chest, arms wrapped around his chest so hard, he thought you would pop his lungs.

“Baby, baby, hey,” He cooed, his hand immediately held your head against his chest - he pulled you both out of the way so he could close the door and lock it, now he was immediately sobered up. Your sobs were loud now, your hands gripped onto the back of his shirt so hard he was convinced it would rip.

He tried to pull you away but you refused, begging, “Please, pl-please don’t let me go.”

“Where’s Cerby?” He spoke gently, keeping his hand on the back of your head, feeling dirt crusted into your scalp. You must have come straight here.

“With K-Keegs.” You mumbled, muffled by his thin t-shirt with a faded band logo on it. He sighed, sad that his dog wouldn’t be home for a few days but he let the feeling go. All he needed to focus on was you, and definitely not his foolish actions from literally three minutes prior.

He hummed then, his free hand moved to underneath your thigh - he pulled it up so you would get the hint, which you did. Your arms moved from around his chest to around his neck and you jumped into his arms, caging your legs around his large waist as best you could. Both of his hands held the back of your thighs, he glanced to the kitchen and made sure both of the duffles were there and unharmed. They were, so he turned around and walked down the hallway to the bedroom he hadn’t used in since the last time you were home. He pushed the door open, turning on the warm light before walking into the ensuite bathroom.

He flicked on the light before moving to sit on the side of the bathtub, it creaked under your combined weight - you were sat firmly on his lap and his hands went to your back and head, cradling you.

“I’m gonna start a bath for you, love.” He spoke, his voice wavering with uncertainty as your arms wrapped tighter around his masked neck.

“No, no, please, don’t let go.” The tumble of words from your mouth made his grip on you tighter. He couldn’t imagine what happened, he didn’t want to - he thanked God that he decided to drink that entire bottle of bourbon a couple of hours ago. His mind was muddled, he could barely get any thought out of what could’ve happened. All he wanted to do now was help you.

He kissed the top of your head through his mask, dismissing the feeling of cloth against his lips and he gently pulled your head back, he gazed into your red-rimmed eyes. He whispered your name like a prayer, as if you were an angel - which you were to him. Even covered head to toe in dirt, blood, and grime, he would still be able to see your halo through any darkness. “Let me help, love. Let me help you feel better, then I won’t let you go for as long as you want.”

“I can’t.” The voice he heard was almost unrecognizable, he had never heard you sound so small. “I can’t, I can’t.”

He sighed, moving forwards to press the skull to your forehead - something he did when he knew you needed it. You physically relaxed when he did it, your back bent into his hand as you pushed every single ounce of weight onto him. His fingertips pressed into your spine, dragging up and down it from above your shitty old hoodie. He stayed like that for a few minutes, letting you cry against his mask. He gave you a bit of time before he pulled up your hoodie, you obliged and let him pull it over your head. You were just in your dirty black sports bra, and now he got a good look at you.

He felt bile rise in his throat. Your entire chest was spray painted in black bruises, he got a good look at the dark purplish handprint on your neck. He looked back up at you, your head faced to the side as you cried, ashamed.

“Oh, my love,” His hand returned to the back of your head, cradling it as he gazed at you. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”

You quickly shook your head, tears removing most of the grime on your cheeks. Your arms were now at your side, fiddling with the hem of his athletic shorts while you let out a broken sigh. His hands moved to lift you off of his lap, one hand didn’t stop touching you while he pulled off your boots, tossing them to the side before tugging off your holed socks. He made a mental reminder to buy you new socks at the base shop while he placed a hand on your back, guiding you with him as he moved to turn the faucet on. He turned it all the way up then back a little, the temperature you liked. He plugged the drain and put his hand underneath the flow of water, waiting for it to turn almost hot - normally, he would’ve made it extremely hot, you had always said you thought it was like being boiled like a lobster. But, he didn’t want to agitate your injuries. His hand moved from your back and didn’t break skin contact when he took your hand, still looking away from you but he still held your hand gently.

“You’re warm.” You mumbled, moving his hand up to settle on your cheek.

“I know, love.” He answered, turning back to you. His hand slipped from your face and down your side to your belt loops, undoing the buttons and zipper then pulling down your pants. He took your hands as you stepped out of your pants, watched as you kicked them behind you and he observed new pink scars, healed but still fresh. Surrounding them were black bruises, identical to the ones on your chest. He heard your whimpers of pain when you stood back up, his hand ghosted your side as he gazed at it, seeing identical black bruises again. Even if he felt sober, he knew that the adrenaline from you showing up injured would wear off and he would become sloppy. He didn’t hurry, he took his time as he pulled down the boxers you stole from him and toss them away. His hands found the bottom of your sports bra, your wince made him pause and look at your face again.

Fat tears still rolled down your cheeks, silent sobs left you as you kept your eyes closed. Your hands stayed at your side until he murmured, “Raise your arms please.” You did as you were told, he tugged it off quickly but not as painlessly as he wanted. You let out a loud wheeze that echoed throughout the bathroom, he placed his hand on your side again, his presence close to you as he leaned down and shut off the water. “‘m gonna pick you up, love.”

“Okay.”

He did as he had said, gently swooping you into his arms and placing you in the warm water that reached up to your collarbone. Your eyes opened again when he retreated from the tub, your gaze watched as he pulled out a towel from the closet and began to rummage through it.

“I almost died.”

Simon visibly froze as you turned back, your gaze now staring at the light above the tub. He peered around the door, hand clutching a washcloth with a pain he couldn’t soberly place. “Do…Do you want to tell me?”

You didn’t respond. He brought all of the materials to the side of the tub, he gently pet your head.

Simon, drunk as hell, bathed you with care. He didn’t speak a word and neither did you, you stared at the wall the whole time except when he tried to wash your hair. You let him move you under the faucet, rinse your hair for five minutes because he couldn’t tell if the soap was gone yet, let him dry you with a towel and dress you in new clothes.

You could barely keep your eyes open when he carried you to bed, tucking you in before he did himself. He watched as you curled into a ball, facing him and keeping your eyes on the sheets, your hand drew circles beside your face. He turned off the lamp on the nightstand, drowning the room in darkness and settled back onto the bed, watching you with bated breath.

“Got trapped in a burning truck.” Your voice almost spooked him, his eyebrows furrowed. You just stared at the gray sheets. “RPG’d the ground in front of us and flipped it. Knocked Logan and Keegs out. Hesh got launched from the driver’s windshield. Had to drag them out and triage them in an abandoned warehouse while trying to fight off the enemy. Got captured for a week. Keegs saved me.” You sniffled a little, your hand reached for his - he instantly took it. He squeezed your hand. “Had bad flashbacks. It had been a while since I’ve got stuck under burning metal and tortured. S’why I was crying.”

“How’re the boys?”

“Watchin’ Cerby and all as stubborn as always. All fine.” You mumbled, pressing his rough skin to your chapped lips.

A deafening silence settled then, your thumb threaded over the back of his hand while he felt your breath graze it. He began to feel drowsy, the slow turn-table of dizziness was coming back from earlier and all he wanted to do was place his head in your neck and just breathe. He needed you like he needed oxygen, you touch him and he felt like it was the first breath he’s ever taken.

“Sleep, baby.” He murmured, sliding down from his sitting position, underneath the soft duvet. He moved closer to you, settling his head so that he laid face to face with you. He could barely make out your nose and cheeks in the dim moonlight, but he could see the glisten of your eyes as they gazed at his.

“I haven’t had a PTSD episode since I left the US Naval Aviation division.” The voice he heard sounded nothing like what you normally do - it was small. Broken. Damaged. An echo of you.

He furrowed his brows, he thought he knew everything about you. Both your dad and childhood best friend were pilots, but you never specified what kind - and apparently neglected to tell him that you were one too. “Why didn’t you tell me you were a pilot?”

You sniffled, squeezing his hand and ignored his question. “Got shot down over enemy territory. Crash landed and had to pry my legs from my jet as the fire burned.” The sensation of his hand being squeezed tighter made his dizzy mind think that you were angry - but in reality, the memory of burning metal against your hands made you feel scared. You wanted to pull him closer, to have him shield you from your memories. Yet you kept talking, even if you recognized the hurt twang in his voice. “Had to fend for myself in an abandoned city just over the border in Ukraine. Stayed in that town for three weeks ‘til Special Forces came and found me.” You pulled his arm to your chest, pressing his hand into your cheek. “S’where I met Price. Almost shot him too, thought he was an enemy.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about the flashbacks?” His voice was softer then, he pressed his warm palm down to your jaw. “I could’ve helped you, my love.”

“‘Cause it’s not important now.” You murmured, both of your hands cradled his. “Wasn’t even s’posed to stay with 141, meant to go back to Miramar. Meant to get back in the air.” You took a quiet breath. “I fell for you and everything I knew went up in smoke.”

His heart dropped to the floor. It thumped against it, still pumping blood but it hurt in his chest.

“If I hadn’t given it up, I wouldn’t have you.”

“I would give up anything for you.” He whispered. “Don’t give up anything for me, darling. You deserve everything you have.”

“That means I deserve you.”

“You don’t deserve me.” He immediately answered, his other hand went to settle on the duvet, tugging it up more. “You don’t deserve my problems, how fucked up I am.”

“I don’t care.”

“You should.” He settled his hand on your side, feeling you breathe underneath his fingertips. “I’ve hurt you, not on purpose but I still did it.” His thumb circled on the duvet, you barely felt it as his voice became quieter. “You really hurt me when you walked away.”

“I’m sorry.” Your voice wavered, he couldn’t bear to hear you start to cry again. He paused, hand coming from your hip to completely take off his mask - something he had never done in your presence before. He tossed the mask away onto the floor as he moved forwards, placing his lips against your moonlight dusted cheek.

“I deserved it.” He answered, settling back and pulling your hands into his chest. “Made me think for a while.”

“You’re drunk.” A statement he didn’t deny, he pulled your hands upwards to his collarbone.

“I am.”

“Because of me?”

“Because I hurt you.” He answered, now pulling your hands to settle on his cheeks. “I want you to feel that I trust you, because I do.” He began to move your hands upwards, his eyes fluttered closed as your fingertips traced his warm face, tracing his eyebrows and dancing over his eyelids.

“Simon, you don’t have to let me do this.” Your hands paused, his own grip settled on your wrists. “I want you to be sober, you’ll be mad at me tomorrow.”

He scoffed, moving his head to kiss one of your palms, keeping his eyes closed as he whispered, “I could never be mad at you. Frustrated or upset? Yes, but angry? No.” He gently rubbed your arms, hands moving to settle on your own cheeks. “I’ve decided that you need to really know how much I trust you. How much faith I have in you. How proud I am of you.”

“You hurt me for so long.” Your voice cracked so heavily, fingertips grazing his forehead and memorizing his nose, coming down to trace his lips you knew well.

“I want to fix it.” His lips kissed your palm again, eyes opening to gaze at your dimly lit face. “Give me a chance.”

“I think this is most comfortable you’ve ever been to talk about things like this.” You remarked, hands stopping on his jaw, cradling it. “I want you to show me how much you trust me, but when you’re sober.”

He nodded in return, moving forwards to place a slow kiss on your lips. His hands moved to settle on the side of your head, pulling you forward just a little. When he broke the kiss, he placed another on the tip of your nose. “You’ll know how much I treasure you until the end of time.”

“Okay.”

“Just don’t leave me like that ever again.” His voice was low, one hand going to trace down your body. “Ever.”

You nodded as you moved closer to him, chest to chest. He removed his other hand from your cheek and slid his arm under his pillow.

“Sleep, love. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

_______________

comment for part 3! (part three here!!)

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[koyagifs]

𝔀𝓱𝔂 𝓭𝓸 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮

pairing: hongjoong x reader au: non idol | college | genre: angst word count: 979 words summary: your relationship with Hongjoong slowly begins to dwindle due to his girl best friend and you still can't help but feel like it's your fault. a/n: some swearing

Hongoong and you sat on the couch in your shared apartment with your friend. Finally, you were spending time together, as the whole summer he was busy with his friends, especially his childhood best friend Kat. Every time you asked your boyfriend to hang out, something happened to Kat.

" oh sorry sweetie, Kat still needs me"

"oh, can we reschedule? Kat said she needed my help"

"oh - I'm sorry my love, I'm already going with Kat and the boys."

You had your friends, of course, but the plans with Hongjoong that were made prior seemed to have slipped his mind once Kat begged for his attention. The phone vibrating slipped you back to reality, and seeing the contact on his phone, you rolled your eyes before sitting up.

Hongjoong frowned at your reaction as he answered the phone, "Hey Kat what's up?"

You left the couch, heading to the kitchen to try and calm down. Of course, she would call as soon as she realized where he's at. Pain tugged at your heart as you heard him on the phone, promising to visit her.

"yn?" he called out.

You didn't answer, your lips trembling as you tried your best to hold in your cries. You've tried your best to get along with Kat but all your actions were shot down and just cries wolf.

" I'm so sorry baby- hey what's wrong?"

You shook your head, wiping your tears from your eyes as you gave him your best smile. He held you in place, his arms resting on your waist.

"Nothing, I'll see you later yes?" You mumbled, pecking his cheek.

He kissed you on the forehead and mumbled an "I love you" before he headed out. Now you stand in the kitchen, alone, tears flowing down freely.

-

Hongjoong couldn't shake the feeling that followed him as he reached Kat's apartment. He stayed in his car, pondering on going in or returning to you. He could see how upset you were for him picking Kat over you. He thought you'll understand considering that she's his childhood friend.

"oh, Hyung!"

Hongjoong looked up, seeing Jongho and San waving him down. Exiting his car he went up to them smiling.

" did you finally break up with yn? The poor thing was crying when we dropped Mingi off. It was kinda awkward considering we're mutual friends." San asked.

" yeah, Mingi was furious though. To be fair - you barely seen her all summer. She should have gotten the message with how much you've been running to Kat." Jongho said, munching on the apple he had in his hand.

Hongjoong eyebrows furrowed in confusion. " what are you talking about? Yn and I are still very much together."

San and Jongho looked at each other before looking back at Hongjoong. " and why was she crying? I just left her apartment. Kat called me saying it was an emergency."

San scoffed, "Emergency my ass. Dude, are you serious? "

" yeah, I never broke up with her."

" sure as hell don't show it. How are you going to drag yn along as it's very clear that Kat is doing this to hurt her." Jongho spoke.

" Kat would never, she knows how much yn means to me. She would never -"

" oh hongjoongie! You made it!" Kat cried out, rushing over to the 3 males who stood around the parking lot.

San and Jongho left without bidding goodbye - never really liking Kat. Kat ignored them as well, smiling brightly as she tugged on Hongjoong's arm to head inside.

" what's the emergency, Kat? I left yn apartment -"

" oh - just that uhm "

Hongjoong pulled his arm back, Kat trying her best to come up with something on the spot. She knew he was there - his location was clearly being shown. She hated yn - it was a known thing to everyone but Hongjoong. Entering their apartment, Hongjoong stood by the door wanting to make a quick exit.

" Kat," Hoongjoong said, crossing his arms.

" god, you're so fucking oblivious Hongjoong. Can't you see how much I've tried to take you away from yn? Everyone else does! It's why they refuse to come and hang out with us!"

Hongjoong stood there shocked. The affection that Kat had shown Hongjoong throughout the years finally makes sense as he recalls them.

"Why would you? Yn has been nothing but nice to you!" Hongjoong yelled back, furious now as he hurt you the most without even realizing it.

" she's a dumb bitch but I'll give her some credit. She does love you. She's like some lovesick puppy who'll wait for their owner who abandoned them." Kat spat, clearly angered that someone truly loves him like she does.

Hongjoong scoffed, "No I'm the dumb one. I kept running back to you, thinking I could salvage our relationship. I was wrong"

Turning to leave her apartment, ignoring her screams for him to come back as he tried to call you.

the number you have dialed does not have a voicemail-

"Please pick up, I'm so sorry my love " Hongjoong mumbled, trying your phone once again.

Once he reached your apartment Mingi was the one who answered. Anger was evident on his face as he saw Hongjoong.

"Please I got to speak to her. "

" she doesn't want to talk to you," Mingi said before slamming the door.

You sat on the couch, tears freshly dried as Mingi came around and sat beside you.

"Who was it?" you asked, taking a bit of your ice cream.

" oh, someone had the wrong apartment," Mingi said.

You hummed in response, cuddling up to him as he set your plate aside. Your heart still aching as you texted Hongjoong a final message.

let's break up

[honeysickledream]

'Overgrown' - Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader | Chapter Three

['banner' photo credit : me (@honeysickledream) | dividers by @/saradika-graphics]

tags / cw: Middle Ages-ish AU, some period typical misogyny, relationship struggles, miscommunication / lack of communication, minor (?) hurt w/ comfort, past arguments, reconciliation, forced / arranged marriage, F!Reader, no use of Y/N, no physical descriptions of reader, their relationship is now on the mend, reader is a midwife | lmk if i missed anything Word Count: ~2.0k A/N: The first part of this chapter is a massive flashback to the arrangement of the marriage, the wedding, and so on. I promise things are getting better, they talk about shit, yeah…. sorry it's taken a few weeks to get this done. Synopsis: You had married Simon four months ago, the whole thing some stupid forced arrangement. You had left everything you knew behind to live with Simon in his cabin a few miles out from his hometown. You weren't sure you could classify your relationship as a marriage, or even say truthfully that you lived with him because he wasn't around very often. Some part of you hopes things improve, but you're not unwillingly to do what you can to live the life you'd originally planned for.

Chap. 1 | Chap. 2 | Chap. 4

The whole situation had begun because your father had made, with what little he had to his name to begin with, bad investments. His intentions in making those investments had been somewhat good-natured, you supposed. Wanting to increase the family’s wealth that had been dwindling for two generations, each year another chunk of land gone, a handful of ancient brooches sold off to pay the few servants that remained and to keep food in people’s bellies.

To save the family from utter ruin for the last few years, your father had called for suitors for his daughters and sent his sons off to find agreeable matches. Over three years, your two older sisters had found what seemed to be love matches, and your brothers had married suitable ladies, but you remained the unmarried one, not that you minded it.

You had continued to spend your days tending to injuries the servants gained or helping the few livestock that remained bring their little ones into the world. You even slipped into the city, when your father and mother were too busy worrying over the finances, to apprentice with the midwives there, earning money as you did so that you contributed to the household funds (even though your earnings were meager).

Then the world changed. One late night as you attempted to enter the aged manor your family had inhabited since time immemorial, you came across a rough man with an imposing stature and an equal seriousness who was sitting in the parlor…glaring at your father who was trying his best to be just as imposing, except he failed. The furrow in your father’s brow made you want to scoff, to giggle at him like you had done when he was little, but when he looked at you with shame, you felt your soul die a little.

Apparently your father, without your knowledge, had sent out feelers for a possible betrothal for you. The finances had taken an even sharper decline, the household suddenly unable to support the few livestock and servants that remained, and you. The insults and threats you had hurled that night had made even your betrothed go wide-eyed where he sat. Yet there was no changing what had already been agreed upon, and for four whole days, you had been under house-arrest to ensure you didn’t flee to the city and weasel your way into one of the midwives’ houses for the rest of your life.

The wedding had been held on the fourth night, an embarrassing affair that made your skin crawl and burn even months after. Your siblings had not been there, only your parents, the priest, one loyal former servant who caught wind of the event, and the town lord from Simon’s region had also been in attendance. It felt more like the secret weddings some of the patients from the city had right before their babies came, but that wasn’t why. Your family simply couldn’t afford a grand event for you, and any guests you would have wanted wouldn’t have been able to make it on such short notice.

Once the vows had been sealed with a hesitant and short peck, you were practically dragged to a carriage, secured inside it with Simon across from you, and spent the one-day journey glaring at Simon or looking at the countryside to keep from crying (which worked about as well as a holey barrel storing water during a thunderstorm at sea).

The carriage had stopped at the edge of the woods where Simon’s family’s cabin was, forcing the two of you to hike three miles to the old building. Luckily, and unluckily, you’d not been able (allowed) to pack many belongings, so all you carried with you was an old medical case from one of the midwives, and a case full of simple clothing and another pair of shoes. Simon carried your trousseau, along with his case of clothing. He had offered to carry all your belongings to make the hike easier for you, but you’d shot him down quickly and hurried on ahead.

Simon gave you a quick tour of the cabin once you’d arrived. He had shown you his bedroom, which has a bed big enough for the two of you. At the sight of it, the implications of what would happen now that you were husband and wife, made your panic and anger bubble over. In that moment, you’d told him angrily that you hadn’t wanted to marry him—or anyone—in the first place, and that you absolutely refused to be touched. That this wasn’t what your life was supposed to amount to

Then Simon had told you that the idea of marriage had never been particularly appealing to him either, that he’d had his arm twisted to into marrying someone, anyone, and your father had just so happened to extend an invitation to discuss a possible betrothal. The whole thing was some sort of marriage of convenience for him, that you were free to do whatever you wanted to do and to leave him out of it.

The night ended with the two of you in different rooms, and in the morning, you and Simon agreed to be husband and wife on paper only.

You hadn’t thought this through, that much was plainly obvious. Neither of you had uttered a word to each other after you suggested the two of you talk while he went to market. You followed him closely, much like a lost puppy, as he wove through the customers in the marketplace.

When he stopped at a stall to examine a merchant’s goods, he took his sweet time looking over every piece he could get his hands on before deciding he wanted to go elsewhere. You were trying to find the right time to fall into step beside him, to broach the subject that had been hanging between you for months now, but he didn’t make it easy.

When you did manage to be beside him, he was engaged in conversing with merchants, ordering full pecks of apples to be delivered by the middle of the week or haggling prices for full sacks of flour and sugar that would also be delivered. He always got what he wanted in the end, either because the merchants were terrified of his presence that seemed to engulf everything, or because he was just that good at finding the middle ground that made every one happy.

“Choose,” he said to you as he motioned to the display of vegetables from one of the granges. “Larder’s all but empty, and the garden’s not goin’ to produce enough for us both this late into autumn.”

He wasn't wrong, the garden was on its last legs for the year, so you began to peruse the vegetables. The friars had an abundance of skirret and leeks, onions and squash. You grabbed up the produce as possibilities for meals filled your mind: stew with squash, skirret and a bit of the meat Simon had requested from the butcher. An onion loaf with some cheese baked into it, maybe some leek tarts.

Simon paid the friars once you stepped back from the display after filling his basket with more than enough vegetables. Simon flashed you a smile, a faint one but a smile all the same. Something about it made your heart clench.

There wasn’t much time to analyze the feeling because Simon was moving to the next stall and then the next. The sun hung low by the time his shopping desires were sated and the basket you carried was almost too heavy to handle alongside your medical bag. His paced slowed enough for you to fall into step beside him as you made your way to the town square.

You sat on the bench angled towards the town fountain, the full basket and your medical bag separating you. Simon fiddled with one of the thin lengths of skirret, his blunt nails scraping at the rough and dirtied peel. The major crowds had died down around the town square, a gentle hum of conversations and laughter coming from the side streets and promenades.

Now was as good a time as any, you realized with a sigh. “Simon,” you started softly and he went stock still, nearly dropping the root vegetable. Your skin prickled as his gaze cut to you. “I…haven’t been fair to you. I wasn’t fair the night we met, the day we married and you brought me here. All the anger I feel towards my father, this entire situation, has been directed towards you and it’s not right.”

“’aven’t been fair to ya, either,” he muttered. “Marriage wasn’t supposed to be in the cards f’r me. Swore on my father’s deathbed that the Riley line would end with me, then the damned town lord came ‘round some fifteen years later sayin’ I had too much wealth and land to continue doin’ nothin’ with. He gave me an ultimatum: find a wife and use the land, the money I ‘ave, to support her and a family or…he would do what he could to take it all from me. My father never left a proper will. Yet another way he fucked me over. So, I got my friends to help me find someone. Price found ya father’s offer: marriage to a learned, talented bride if the groom helped the family with their financial struggles. The papers were signed before ya got ‘ome that night. I thought you’d agreed to the whole thing, if I realized ya hadn’t, I wouldn’t ‘ave signed. But I couldn’t go back on my word, I’ve some honor left in me.”

“You’ve more than some honor, Simon,” you told him quickly. You finally looked at him and gave him the best smile you could muster. He had a crooked nose, you noticed for the first time, and it was charming. Though you wanted to chastise whoever had set it so poorly. “How do we go about repairing things? Slowly, I know that much, especially when you could be called away to do whatever it is you do with your friends.” There was a hint of bitterness in your voice, you weren’t sure where it came from or why. You hated the feeling though. It made you nauseated.

“We’re mercenaries,” he told you, the honesty warmed your heart. “When we’re gone for days, it’s to do what mercenaries do.” He leaned back on the bench, head tilted to the sky. “We go at this slowly, like ya said, and with ‘onesty at the forefront of everythin’. Here’s my first step: I don’t want children. Ever. I plan to keep the promise that the Riley line doesn’t continue past me.”

Relief settled over you. Children had never been part of your plan, none of this had been, but to know he didn’t want children, that there would be no expectation to have children? “I don’t want them either. Children are fine to be around in small bursts, but I’ve never seen myself as very…maternal.”

He barked a laugh and you couldn’t help but chuckle. “There’s some irony there, given your profession, no?”

“I’d said there’s a bit of irony in everything we choose to do. A doctor might not want to get ill, yet he still rushes into the plague houses to help people, does he not? A sapper doesn’t wish to be crushed, yet he lays charges and does his best to rush from the structure he’s attempting to cripple. In all honestly, I became a midwife because there’s a lack of support from others that women must contend with during that part of their life. If I can lessen their troubles just a little, I feel like I’ve made the world a little better.”

“They’re lucky to have ya,” he said. He waved the around the poor skirret he’d been fiddling with, the air scented withe a faint peppery aroma. “Will ya teach me how to cook with this...thing tonight?”

“It’s skirret and yes,” you laughed, “I’ll teach you how to cook with it.”

(at some point I gave up with putting an accent to simon's dialogue, i think. anyways, there's the third chapter. i need to go study for the jeopardy game my class is doing for midterm practice tomorrow)

[firstdivisiongirl]

Hey I am a really big fan of your writing and I love it it so much

This is the first time I request anything so please bear with me if I did anything wrong

Can I request Law with a fem reader that is his girlfriend but he keeps feeling he is not enough and starts distancing him self from her and acting cold because he feels something bad will happen if he acts like him self?and when she confronts him he denies anything wrong which makes their relationship grow cold

Angst to fluff the more angst the better please

Hi @phsycochan! I am so happy to hear that you like my writing. Thank you for the kind words. I am so happy that people like you are turning in a lot of Law scenarios. He's one of my favorites. I love writing for him, but I never do for some reason. I hope you enjoy this!

WARNINGS: ANGST! HURT TO COMFORT!

Law x Female Reader: Distance Between Us

He let you into your life.  You were his girl.  But, he wasn’t acting or treating you that way.  He was treating you more like a stranger.  One that he’d pass and never see again.  This wasn’t the Trafalgar Law you knew and loved.  You wanted the distance between you to shrink.  He’d listen to you, right?

To him, you were his everything.  You were the girl of his dreams.  However, he never felt like he deserved you.  Everyone he loved died one way or another.  He wasn’t strong enough to protect them, so how could he protect you?  So he kept you far away,  you’d be safer and happier that way, right?

You had asked him why.  But, he ignored you.  You told him you loved him.  But, he ignored you.  The distance between you only grew.  Finally, after months and months of this, you decided to try again.

You walked into his office.  But everything was a mess.  His usual neat desk was covered in papers.  His organized bookshelf was a complete disaster with books clearly not in alphabetical order.  The bags under his eyes were as large, if not larger, than the day you met.  What happened to him, you thought.

“What happened,” you asked, breaking the icy silence between you two.

He went back to his work, “nothing.”

“No!  Something is wrong.  You treat me like I mean nothing to you!  What’s going on?  You can’t treat me like this?”

“It’s better this way!”  You could see the vein on his forehead starting to protrude.

“NO IT’S NOT!!!!!  Look at you!  You’re a mess and…”

“ENOUGH!,” he interrupted your speech, “I’m not a child.  I can handle this on my own.  I don’t need you.”

You ran out of the room crying.  You both sat there, wondering what you could have done differently.

****

Three months have passed with the same coldness between you.  You two could barely look at each other, let alone be in the same confined space.  So you made the hard decision to leave the Heart Pirates.  That’s how you got to where you are now.  Everyone on the crew was so sad, especially Bepo.  He wanted to believe that you and Law would work it all out and get back together.  

As everyone said their goodbyes to you, Law was inside.  He wanted to respect your decision, but he knew he really messed up.  He kept hearing what Ikkaku told him before she and the rest of the crew left to say goodbyes.  “She fell in love with you because you were you.  You were so worried about losing her that you caused her to leave.  Put on your big girl panties and tell her how you feel.”  Ikkaku was right, so he ran out of his office before it was too late.

You were about to leave when you heard someone yell.  “Wait,” Law yelled, running up to you.  When he reached you he kissed you passionately.  It reminded you of the first time he kissed you.  The magic was still there.

He continued, “I’m sorry.  It’s my fault.  I was just afraid of losing you.  I didn’t mean any of it.  I love you Y/N.  Please stay.”  You nodded your head, tears streaming down your face

It would take time and effort, but the two of you would try.  This distance between you was finally dwindling.

Please do not copy, modify, translate, or repost my writing on other platforms. Comments, reblogs or likes are highly appreciated!

[noproofread]

Empty Matresses

"I will soon forget the color of your eyes, and you'll forget mine"

Inspired by I'm Low On Gas And You Need A Jacket and Me Dediqué a Perderte

cw / tw: alcohol abuse

angsty. Reader is tired of Shanks' constant partying and drinking, they drift apart. hurt, no comfort.

word count: 1,021

masterlist here

tag list: @fanaticsnail @vangowithit @sugardxddysmoney

Shanks was known to party. He loved the atmosphere. The loud cackling of his crewmates, the loud music that lured people to dance, the drinking. Especially the drinking. He loved the taste of liquor. The taste of slight sweetness that lingered on his tongue. The scent reminiscent of nuts and fruit that hit his nose whenever he brought a cup close to his face. The feeling it left him, oh the feeling. The feeling of time passing by in slow motion, the feeling of his anxieties washing away, the feeling of euphoria. You knew this well, and you tried not to let it bother you. For a while it was fun. You’d drink with him, dance with him. Experience the world the way he liked to experience it. But you didn’t like how you felt the day after. Shanks would beckon you to drink more, “hair of the dog” he’d say as he would down a drink to cure his hangover. You’d decline, you’d always decline.

It became too much for you. You found yourself cutting your night short, saying goodnight to the crew and going into the room you shared with Shanks. Though Shanks was rarely there. Your only company was the warm blanket that enveloped you as you held it tightly around your neck and the twinkling lights in the sky that comforted you as the loud music and laughter blared through the door. You would roll over to the cold, empty side of the bed that belonged to the red haired pirate as tears would trickle down your cheeks and fall onto the pillow beneath you. You loved him, but it hurt to do so.

Shanks would notice you becoming distant. His intoxicated brain proved too weak to understand that it was his behavior causing you to drift away. He would stare at the closed door of your shared bedroom and down a shot of liquor, coughing as it trickled down his throat. He would shake away the thought of you alone in that room and continue partying. After a couple of weeks of this behavior, you decided to stop letting his behavior bother you. You would go out on your own, meet people, have fun, and go back to your room to Shanks passed out on the mattress. The conversations between you and him dwindled down to a series of “How are you feeling this morning?” and grunts in response. You were drifting apart, you both felt it, but it hurt too much to acknowledge it. Neither of you wanted to have that conversation, and so you continued living together. Your routine consisted of going out alone while Shanks stayed to party with his crew and ended with you coming back at various stages of a drunk and disheveled Shanks.

You awoke one night to Shanks and Mihawk fighting. Both intoxicated. You brought Shanks into the room, bloodied and beaten, as Mihawk stumbled away. You tended to Shanks’ wounds, sighing as you realized the man you met and fell in love with was lost. He reached for your hand, gripping it softly as he looked into your eyes. “I won that fight, love. Mihawk never stood a chance.” He slurred, laughing breathily as his head collapsed onto your chest. You bit your lip in frustration and sadness, laying him down on the bed. You couldn’t sleep. You stood up, staring out the window waiting for Shanks to wake up. You observed the waves crashing onto the shore, the seagulls flying by with the newspaper for the day. You had never seen the sunrise before. The beautiful night sky brightened up as the rays of sun broke through the clouds, painting the sky with a gorgeous deep orange color until the sun fully rose and took its position front and center.

A muffled grunt came from the groggy red head as he sat up, his face in his hands. You walked over, offering him a glass of water. Shanks looked at you through squinted eyes and took the glass from your hand, chugging it down as if he had traveled through a desert. He rubbed his eyes with his hands, sighing as you sat across from him. Shanks met your gaze, remembering the bruises he acquired from his fight with Mihawk, he groaned. “You said you won.” You broke the silence, your face was serious although you tried to appear indifferent. Shanks chuckled. “Was that supposed to impress me, Shanks?” He scanned your face, your tone hurt him. It was cold and angry. He was quiet. “Shanks, I’m trying. I really am.” Your voice broke, making him scoot closer to you and hold your hands. “Hey, I’m sorry. I know I haven’t been as attentive as I could be. Maybe we could do something else tonight. I can tell the crew to party without me and we can go out for dinner or-” You cut him off “No Shanks.”

Your heart was pounding. You didn’t want to do it but you had to put yourself first for once. Your eyes glassed over, tears threatening to fall as you spoke. “We have to call it.” Your voice came out in a whisper. Shanks looked down at your hands, still interlocked with his. “A dinner isn’t going to fix us and you know that.” You gulped, trying to ease the knot in your throat as Shanks said nothing. You felt him grip your hands tighter as his own tears betrayed him, falling onto your hands. You felt his hands shake as he looked up once again. “I didn’t realize…” His words trailed off as he took a deep breath. “It’s for the best Shanks.” You closed your eyes, letting go of his hands, feeling the warmth leave them. You got up and headed for the door. “I love you” he spoke softly behind you. You stopped, your hand on the knob, refusing to look back as your own emotions got the best of you. Tears fell from your eyes as you opened the door. “I love you too. Always.” You said as you walked out, closing the door behind you.

[viktoriaashleyyx]

Chapter 2 is here!

This is a pro Tamlin, anti Rhysand self insert revenge fic. All characters belong to SJM, but she wasn't treating them right. Tam x reader, Tam x Rhysands Sister (OC), First person narrative. This will also reference Elucien and Neris in the future but we aren't there yet.

This one is mainly fluff.(?) (I am not sure what tw to put on this) mutual bathing. Making out. They accept the mating bond, no smut that's next.

I would love to hear any criticisms.

Ch1 Ch3

Chapter 2:

We sat there for a long while, until we were interrupted by the grumbling of his stomach. I looked up at him with wide doe eyes “you're hungry.” Not a question. We never got a chance to accept the mating bond before I left, and I remembered this tradition. I scoured the realms and planned what meal I would prepare for him first. I learned how to cook the best meal of every town I had visited. I knew exactly what I wanted to prepare for him and had even packed the ingredients in my bag. I had held all hope that I would finally make it home and I was right.

“You don't need to worry about that.” he breathed, his strong arms still wrapped around me.

“It doesn't have to mean anything if you don't want it to, you have to eat. But if I am being honest I have looked forward to this meal since the day the bond snapped into place.” I consoled him.

“I am no longer the man I was when you left. Amarantha, Feyre, Hybern and Lucien have broken me.” His arms finally released me and he pulled away. The pain in his eyes, he was utterly alone here and he believed he deserved it. “I am a monster, now, Sky.”

Good, I've developed a monster fucking kink. No wait, now is not the time to say that thought out loud. I grabbed his face in my hands and looked him in the eye “Do you still have love in your heart for me?”

“Always. I would die for you. I would burn this world to the ground to find you again, now that I know you're alive.”

“But would you live for me? Would you heal, and rebuild? Would you face and confront your traumas and mistakes, and atone for those you hurt in the interim? Would you rebuild your, no, our court and work to regain the trust of our people?”

His emerald eyes looked deep into mine before he muttered a soft “yes, all of it.”

“I will accept nothing less. You are good, you are kind. I know your heart. You are deserving of love. Allow me the right to make my own decisions. Now I am going to make you food.”

He didn't argue any further, just looked in my eyes, searching, as if waiting for the punchline, waiting for another cruel joke. What has my horribly cruel brother done to him? “I love you, Tamlin. I always have. I am home now, please allow me the pleasure of proving it to you.” I spoke softly, burying my face in his neck holding him once more. He embraced me again and I could feel a few tears dropping onto my shoulder.

“I’ve missed you so much,” Tamlin admitted with a raspy broken sigh. I looked at him, with star bright eyes and a wide smile.

“So you agree? I am home? And you will let me make you food, knowing what it means?” almost too excited, I asked with a big smile. His face relaxed and he allowed himself an amused half smile.

“If you wish, I will gladly accept.” Relief poured from his voice.

“Yay! Now help me clean the kitchen so I can cook, I have all the ingredients in my bag here.” I requested, no, commanded excitedly. With a wave of his hand the kitchen was spotless. “If you are able to do that, why is the manor such a mess?” I scolded.

“I missed the last Calanmai, and the one before that Lucien stood in for me.” he answered, “it's been a rough few years. My power is dwindling.”

“We are gonna have to fix that, aren't we?” I said bluntly. He took a seat at the small table in the middle of the kitchen and watched as I prepared to make him the best stew I had ever had. “You have a lot on your mind, speak freely as I cook, I will keep my questions limited.”

“I killed her.”

“Who? Amarantha?” I asked, he nodded his head. I put the knife down and walked over to him, wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him deeply. “I am so proud of you.” He looked at me like he hadn't heard those words in a very long time, it broke my heart.

I returned to the stew, “I could never hurt your brother. If he were anyone else, I would've killed him a long time ago, but he was the closest thing I had left of you. He died in the hybern war, and through everything I should've left him. His mate, my ex, Feyre destroyed my court and I knew that if it had been me laying there no one would've batted an eye. Feyre screamed and pleaded for me to revive him. I almost had the strength to walk away, for 300 years I mourned you, I will admit I had lost hope of you ever returning. But that hope sparked one last time and I revived him. I told her to be happy, but it was for you.” I had so many questions, stories we would need to catch up on, but that's not for now.

“You should've let him rot.” my response was gentle enough, brother or not, Rhysand was a selfish brat who never utilized his daemati powers for anything that didn't get him what he wanted. A spitting image of our father. “But you've always had a kinder heart than me, Tamlin.”

He released a sad chuckle at my words as if to say ‘I know.’ “The lady of Autumn had the baby all our mothers were stressing about, Lucien, he became my closest friend. And yes, he did look like Helion.”

“No” I gasped.

“And Beron knew it. He treated him cruelly and dropped him at my border. I took him in almost 200 years ago. It's only recently with the events of Amarantha and Feyre that he's left, but he stops by every now and then. If a male with long red hair and a golden eye stops by, don't hurt him.”

I giggled “so you do remember me well. Thank you for the heads up.” I poured him a bowl and sat it in front of him. He held my gaze for a minute, still in disbelief. Any hope he did have when he woke up this morning, couldn't compare to what is happening now. He slowly picked up the spoon and began eating.

“This is delicious, what kind of meat is this?” He asked between bites.

“Bear.” I answered.

He was filthy, his hair matted and his clothes ripped. As he ate I grabbed a wooden hairbrush I found and began to work out the knots, gently. He savored every bite and when he finished, he leaned back almost to show how good it felt and to allow me to finish detangling his long blonde hair. When I was done I pulled his head back ever so slightly just to leave a kiss on his forehead.

He took my hand, guided me around to face him and pulled me onto his lap straddling him. “Thank you, it's been a long time since I've felt a gentle caring touch from anyone. It means more than you realize.” He admitted, but I could tell, he was holding back, putting on a strong facade. He needed me just as much as I needed him, that much was true.

“Good thing I have no intention of letting you go anytime soon.” I breathed, my eyes drifting from his to his lips. I had always heard that men go absolutely feral by this point, does he not want me? Why is he being so cautious? I leaned closer and he got the hint. His lips met mine, gentle at first, his gorgeously muscled arms wrapped around my waist. I bit his bottom lip playfully, and he smiled, amused. He deepened the kiss, his hands traveling up my back to pull me closer, my hands tangling themselves in his gorgeous blonde hair. I pulled away, “You could use a bath first.”

He grunted “you're probably right.” Most would take offense to this, but he knew me, he knew my blunt outbursts were merely observations and meant nothing more. Generally, he found them amusing. He once explained to me that he hated having to guess everyone's thoughts and moods all the time, he's not a daemati, and my willingness to admit what I was thinking, so clearly and straightforwardly, was a breath of fresh air for someone growing up in a royal home.

He led me up the stairs to his chambers. My attention wandering from the destruction around me, to the beautiful strong hand holding mine. As we entered the large room he called his, I was taken aback in pure astonishment of what hung over his bed. My mouth gaped open as I stared at the painting. “Just the rumors of your artwork has gotten me into a lot of trouble. I’ve never let anyone else in here.” There, hung above his bed was the picture I had painted of my own wings. I spent weeks, no, months perfecting it until it looked like my actual wings were encapsulated in the canvas. He had always complimented them and when I started to excel in my art, he requested this specifically. Most days he would sit next to me and point details out and give me direction and praise.

“You still have it.” was all I was able to mutter.

“Why would I ever get rid of something so perfect?” he smiled at me. I shook myself out of awe and tried to focus. Bath, that's right.

“Do the hand waving and clean this room too,” I demanded as we entered the connected bathroom. A large white tub with golden clawed feet sat in the middle, and I searched through the cupboards for the soaps and oils. I tried to divert my gaze as he undressed and climbed into the warm water he had conjured. I would say every inch of him was sculpted by the gods, if I hadn't met the gods and realized what ridiculousness they actually engaged in. “Now dunk under and wet your hair so I can wash it.” I sat at the head of the tub, scrubbing shampoo into his scalp and massaging oils into the length. He purred in approval. This is everything I have wanted, to take care of him, and for him to care for and protect me. I hated the fighting, the battles, the training and being dirty and covered in blood that wasn't mine. I was good at it, but every night I would lie down and dream of my life at the Spring court. I would dream of having a big comfy bed, a daily bath, and his arms wrapped around me. I wanted to spend my days painting, dancing, singing or just annoying him while he completed trivial tasks only he deemed important.

He rinsed the soaps out of his hair and drained the water. I was still lost in my thoughts of what I had missed, had I truly gotten it back? He wrapped a towel around his waist and helped me to my feet. I stood before him and looked up at him, hoping the wonder and love I was feeling translated to his understanding. “Thank you, my love, you have helped me feel like I'm worth something again,” he admitted, looking down to me and running a gentle hand along the side of my face. He was so much taller than me. “I think it's your turn.”

True, I don't remember the last time I was able to bathe properly. He re filled the bath with slightly hotter water this time, and I began to peel off the layers of leather and chain I had collected off the monsters I killed. He turned his gaze out of respect and I giggled.

“Am I really that bad to look at?” I teased giving him a sly smile. “You can drop the gentleman act, I know you want to look”

He gave me a cautious smile, his gaze fixed on my eyes “forgive me love, the shock is still settling, it all seems to be happening so fast… but I don't want it to slow down.”

“3 centuries of waiting is too fast?” I teased as I lowered myself into the hot bath. I sighed as I cherished the feeling. I grabbed a rag with some soap and started scrubbing my face, working my way down. He took my place at the head of the bath and began carefully undoing the intricate braids I kept my black hair in to preserve the length that touched my waist and keep it out of the way. I finished scrubbing my body down and leaned my head back, enjoying the feeling of his gentle hands massaging the shampoo into my scalp. I always loved my men with long hair because that meant they knew how to help me care for mine. It was as if we were washing the past 300 years off eachother, to start anew. As he finished I dunked my head under and he reached for my wings.

He grabbed a fresh washcloth, wet it and added a small amount of soap and oil. He carefully stretched out my wing as I allowed him and began running the warm rag across the entirety of the dark sensitive skin. My eyes rolled back, I could climax just by this feeling alone. No one, save for him, has ever been this gentle with me. I let out a soft sigh and opened my eyes to catch his. He stood next to me, soft towel in one hand, the other extended to guide me up and out. I took his hand and stood up, I tripped getting out and fell straight into his chest. We both giggled as I corrected my footing but not pulling away. His hands rested on my back holding me up.

His loving and amused face turned to concern. “It's been so long, my love, I don't know if I can hold back if I loosen my restraint. I want you so badly, but I don't want to hurt you.”

I smiled and pulled his head down closer to whisper in his ear “I like it rough.”

And with that he wrapped his hands around my waist and picked me up, I locked my legs around him and kissed him, hard and passionately, as he carried me over to the bed.

♡♡♡♡♡

Tag list: @ladythornofrivia @rin-u-pos @rcarbo1

Lmk if you want to be added to the taglist.

[r0ttenhearts]

end of summer blues

thoma x situationship! reader

sypnosis: with the end of summer your relationship with him dwindles

a/n: super self indulgent this is a comfort fic for me sorry if he’s ooc

it was finally over. the day you had feared would eventually come. thoma was a sweet boy, holding a place near and dear to your heart as you both grew up together. with two confused teenagers came the need to have a certain type of closeness that’s reserved for lovers.

deep in your heart you knew it was wrong, you knew it hurt him. he loved you for awhile, and you loved him too. but you fell for him once he was in the arms of another girl. a girl that was everything you were not. you couldn’t hate her for it, she was just kind to him. and he had found it in him to move on from you.

it didn’t help the ache in your heart as you sat alone on the edge of your porch. a melting bright blue popsicle in your hand, the other half melting on the wrapper beside you. six years of pain, six years of memories, gone. the blonde haired boy slowly disappeared from your life, texts and calls going unread. his profiles on social media now matching ayaka’s, his bio’s filled with cheese love lines. it made you feel sick.

you remembered the last time you spoke to him, the tears in your eyes and the indifference in his voice. it was as if he was talking to someone he hated, not a friend of six years.

“what do you want me to tell you, (y/n)? sorry, we can still have sex and live together?”

“you’re such a fucking asshole, thoma.”

fat tears rolled down your cheek, the melting blue ice finally splatting on the floor.

“why can’t you be calm about this? just because i’m with ayaka doesn’t mean we don’t have to be friends.”

“it hurts too much to see you replace me and disappear. i don’t want you to only come to me when she’s not satisfying you.”

“you didn’t hate it, (y/n). don’t lie.”

your phone still sat in your pocket, his profiles all blocked and restricted from being able to view anything about you.

“just let me go, thoma. we both have other things to hold onto, different things that make us happy. i won’t do this with you anymore.”

“we’ve been friends for years (y/n). i’m not gonna throw away a quick fuck just because you wanna be dramatic.”

that sweet smile you once looked forward to seeing was nowhere in sight that night. the glare and scoff on his pretty features were unrecognizable. this is what he thought of you after years of friendship. after years of consoling each other and being there for one another.

“i’m done, thoma. taroumaru deserves better than what you’re doing now.”

taglist: @samarill @jaderose18 @whorerificstuff @lelemnh @linkookie197

a/n: gosh that argument hurt so bad i was shaking the whole time i hope i never see him again

part II