#and that i’ll hurt her feelings by telling her to stop

[mioons]

‎ YOU DREW STARS AROUND MY SCARS ✦ 星星

ᐢ..ᐢ enha when you relapse ㅤ✿ 𝖾𝗇𝗁𝖺 𝗁𝗒𝗎𝗇𝗀 𝓁𝗂𝗇𝖾 𝗑 𝒻𝖾𝗆. 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 ⟢ ( 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗍, 𝗂𝗆𝗉𝗅𝗂𝖾𝖽 𝗌𝗁, 𝖾𝗌𝗍. 𝗋𝖾𝗅𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗉 ) . . 630 ⟡

EN— | 𝗋𝖾𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗀 𝗂𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖾𝗇𝗃𝗈𝗒𝖾𝖽 ♥︎ CLiCK

heeseung thinks you’re the most beautiful girl in the world. so why on earth would he ever allow you to damage or tarnish your body? it truly breaks his heart every time. he feels his heart being torn into two every time he sees a new scar on your body.

“baby, it’s gonna be okay,” he’d whisper into your hair as he cradled your trembling body.

each tear that rolled down your cheek was like a stab to his heart. he wanted to whisper into your ear and tell you he’ll take care of you forever, that he’ll love you for a lifetime.

he wishes he could take all the pain inside of your heart and give it to himself. an angel like you doesn’t deserve to suffer.

“shh.. i love you. don’t hurt yourself please? talk to me okay? i’ll do everything i can to help yeah? my pretty baby.”

jay can’t bear to see you hurt yourself, be it over something trivial or something serious, it pains him to see you in pain. seeing any sort of scar or wound inflicted upon your skin causes him to immediately rush to your side, wrapping his strong arms around your scared frame.

and god did it hurt to see you so scared, so in pain. the worse part of all this was him not being able to do anything.

he could only whisper sweet nothings into your ear, mumbling quiet, ‘i love you’s and ‘you’re gonna be okay sweetheart’s

he wanted to confront whoever or whatever that caused you so much hurt and destroy every fibre of it.

“‘s okay sweetheart, i’m here. i’m here right now with you,” he’d press a few kisses to the side of your face in hopes it would calm your nerves a little.

“i love you no matter what.”

jake doesn’t blame you for any of the hurt and pain you’re going through. in fact, he thinks he hasn’t done enough to protect you, to keep you safe from harm. how could he let such a beautiful soul like you go through anything bad in life? he wants to transfer all the scars on your body to his, to make you feel loved and so protected by him.

once he found you lying on the floor of your shared bedroom, he frantically rushed to your side and held you against his chest.

“oh my precious girl.. i’m so sorry my love,” he’d whisper into your hair, pressing kisses to the side of your head and your face.

if kissing you could take your pain away, jake would do it in a heartbeat.

“you’re so enough for me baby, don’t ever tell yourself anything otherwise.”

jake would comfort you over and over again, not feeling any ounce of discomfort or annoyance.

for you were his precious girlfriend he had to protect for eternity.

sunghoon may seem like the kind of guy to not be sentimental but in reality the moment he sees you hurting yourself or beating yourself up over something trivial, he’s already at your side.

holding your hands in his, he gently entwines both your fingers together. he’s holding your hand not only to comfort you but to stop you from hurting yourself even more. to stop you from thinking you should hurt yourself because an angel such as you should never have to have these negative thoughts in her head.

“if you can’t love yourself, let me love you for you,” he’d whisper ever so softly in your ear. sunghoon will press feather like kisses all over your tear stricken face, a silent way of telling you that even at your lowest, he’d still love you the same forevermore.

“let me be the one you share your joy and your pain with.”

taglist ╱ @flwrstqr @wonsdoll @won4kiss @dioll @tzyunaes @suneng @jakesangel @wonsprincess

[jensengirl83]

You'll Accompany Me Chp 18

Warnings- Some angst, fluff, mild descriptions of childbirth

Word Count- 3530

A/N- Sorry this has taken so long, but the series is finally finished! I'll be posting a chapter a week until the last one. I hope you all enjoy it!

It had been a month since Jensen had proposed to Y/N, and things were going well. She was still working on getting ready for the arrival of their baby. She was due to go to her next appointment to check on her condition later that afternoon, and Jensen had been trying to get her to reconsider not finding out the gender. 

“Seriously, honey, you don’t want to know what it is?” he asked, his tone almost begging. 

“No, Jay. I want it to be a surprise. Everything hasn’t gone so well since I found out I was pregnant, and I just want this one thing to be something to look forward to,” she chuckled. 

“How many times do I have to apologize for what I did, huh? I’ve tried to make it up to you in every way I know how. You know I’ll never forgive myself for it, so why did you have to bring it up?” he responded, his voice cracking with emotion at the end. 

“Jay…” she sighed, reaching for his hand, but he pulled it away. 

She knew that she’d struck a nerve, but she also needed him to let her explain how she was feeling, and she couldn’t do that if he wouldn’t even look at her. She reached for him one more time just for him to pull away again, not even looking in her direction. Not giving him the chance to withdraw from her, she cupped his face in her hands and turned his face to look at her. 

“I want you to listen to me, okay? Yes, what happened was hard, but that wasn’t what I was referring to. The fact that I was ordered on bed rest because of a serious health condition that could hurt me and the baby was a lot to deal with. Me being so stubborn and taking so long to forgive you and cut what time we could’ve been enjoying this pregnancy together is something else I have to live with. And I kick myself in the ass for that every day, but I have forgiven you, Jay. I really have. So, please, stop beating yourself up over it, and thinking that every time I bring up what a hard time I’ve had, that it means I’m talking about that, okay?” 

She could see his eyes begin to tear up, and she felt horrible. This isn’t where she wanted the conversation to go, but now she had to try and fix it. With a sigh of regret, she pulled him to her, kissing him softly, and wrapping him in a hug. She could feel the tension all over him, so she slowly ran her hand through his hair, whispering apologies and how much she loved him over and over until she could feel him start to relax. He eventually pulled away to look at her, and it compounded her guilt. He looked heartbroken. 

“Jay, I’m so sorry. Please believe me when I tell you that I forgave you a long time ago, and nothing I said was about that,” she whispered, hugging him around his waist and resting her head on his chest.

“It’s okay, baby. I believe you. I just…” he paused, looking down at her, her eyes letting him know she was listening and wanted to hear what he had to say, “I’ve never forgiven myself for leaving you like that, and I think that stress is what may have caused your preeclampsia in the first place. And that makes me feel like the biggest piece of shit on the planet.”

“Please, Jay, forgive yourself. I did a long time ago. I was just too stubborn to admit it, and I’m sorry. But, baby, that had nothing to do with what happened to me. It happens to a lot of pregnant women, and you had absolutely nothing to do with it. I love you, Jensen, and if knowing the gender will make you feel better, then that’s what we’ll do,” she smiled, squeezing his middle in a tight hug. 

“We don’t have to find out if you really don’t want to. That wouldn’t be fair,” he sighed in contentment, kissing the top of her head. He loved her hugs. 

“No, it’s okay. Maybe it would be helpful in the end. That way we could buy exactly what we need without getting everything gender neutral,” she giggled as he tickled her ribs. 

“You have any idea how much I fucking love you?” 

“Probably not as much as I love you,” she sassed back, laughing when he sighed in faux annoyance. 

“Always busting my balls, Y/L/N.” he deadpanned, trying to hide his smile. 

“You wouldn’t have it any other way.” 

“No. No I wouldn’t, darlin’,” he replied, pulling her into his lap. She’d never know how grateful he was to have her there. To have her, period. 

Y/N’s knee was bouncing with nerves as they sat in the doctor’s office later that afternoon. She was hoping for a good report and that she could lift some of her restrictions and be more active. Not being able to do much other than cook, light cleaning, and lying around was starting to drive her a little insane. But, something was eating at her that everything wasn’t going to be okay, and she couldn’t shake that feeling. She’d been having small Braxton Hicks contractions, but other than that, everything was progressing as it should. But something just wouldn’t let her feel like everything was fine. 

She jumped slightly as the nurse called her name to lead her back to the exam room. She didn’t think Jensen had noticed how nervous she was, but he had. As she stood, he took her hand, kissing it lightly and giving it a little squeeze to tell her without words that he was there and it would be okay. If only she could believe it. She hadn’t been in the small room long before Dr. Williams walked in with her million-watt smile she always had. It had always put Y/N at ease, but not today. 

“Good afternoon, mom and dad. How are we feeling today?” Dr. Williams asked, sitting down on the small stool and getting everything prepared for the exam. 

“I’m not going to lie. Other than the normal Braxton Hicks, nothing is going on, but I just feel like something is going to go wrong with the exam today,” Y/N answered honestly, Jensen looking over at her, one eyebrow raised in confusion and concern. She hadn’t mentioned feeling that way to him. 

“It’s fine, Y/N. A lot of mothers have that feeling at this stage of pregnancy, and especially if they have complications. Do we still not want to know the gender?” 

“No. Y/N agreed to find out this time,” Jensen replied quickly, his big smile letting Y/N know she’d made the right decision. If this made him feel just a little better about the pregnancy, then he deserved that. 

“Okay, then. How about we get the exam over first to ease mom’s worries, and then we’ll do the ultrasound. That sound good to you two?” 

“Sounds good,” Y/N and Jensen answered simultaneously, making all three of them chuckle. 

Y/N took a deep breath as the doctor started her exam. Having her cervix checked was never a fun time, and she hated it, but it had to happen. Luckily, it was usually over quickly. But she noticed that Dr. Williams was taking longer than normal this time, and her breathing started to pick up and her heart began to race. It didn’t help when she looked up and saw a concerned look on the woman’s face. Jensen had noticed, too, and before Y/N could say anything, Jensen was speaking. 

“What’s wrong, doc? Is everything okay? Is there something wrong with Y/N or the baby?” he rapidly fired the questions at the doctor, his palms beginning to sweat with nervousness. He didn’t know what he would do if something was wrong. 

“Just calm down, everyone. There’s nothing major going on,” Dr. Williams began before taking a breath to tell them what she had found, “But, Y/N is completely effaced and dilated to 5 centimeters.” 

“What the hell does that mean? She’s only thirty-five weeks along. There’s no way she can be dilated!” Jensen shouted, his fear beginning to take over and panic setting in. 

“What?! I can’t be. It’s too early! I can’t have the baby now,” Y/N cried, tears starting to slip down her cheeks.Something was wrong and she knew it, knew something was wrong with her baby. 

“Everyone calm down. This isn’t unheard of with women that have preeclampsia. Yes, it’s a little early, but the baby will probably be just fine.” 

“Probably?! I’m not fine with a probably,” Jensen was yelling now. 

“Mr. Ackles, many women have babies at this stage and most are just fine. Of course, I can’t give you an absolute guarantee, because there isn’t any when it comes to these things. But, I can tell you that I think mom and baby are going to be just fine. Now, I have to go get her a room ready for labor and delivery. A nurse will be down soon to get her moved to that floor. I know this isn’t easy, but I need you both to try and be as calm as you can. That’s what’s going to help mom and baby get through this happy and healthy,” Dr. Williams smiled, patting Jensen on the shoulder as she left the couple alone to try and come to terms with their impending situation. 

“Jay…” Y/N’s trembling voice brought Jensen out of his panic. He was by her side in an instant, running his hand over her head, and kissing her face. 

“It’s okay, honey. Everything’s going to be okay,” he whispered while soothing her, hoping that he would eventually believe his own words. 

“But what if it’s not? What if the baby is too small and…” she began to cry when he interrupted her. 

“No, uh uh. You’re both going to be fine, baby. This is a great hospital, and babies are born more prematurely than ours all the time and are just fine. All you need to worry about is taking care of yourself and bringing our little peanut out to meet us. Okay? I’ve got everything else,” he reassured her, even though he felt as if he would crumble at any moment. 

She nodded her head and cried. She knew that she had a rough journey ahead of her, and she would need all the strength she had to deliver the baby. But she couldn’t stop worrying about whether he or she would be okay. And she knew she had to have Jensen make her a promise before all the craziness got started. 

“Jay, no matter what happens in there, you stay with the baby. No matter what,” she begged, knowing she couldn’t do this without that promise. 

“Y/N…” 

“No, Jay. You have to promise me. Please, I'm begging you. Take care of our baby if anything goes wrong. Please promise me Jay,” she wailed, the tears and fear of what could happen overtaking her. 

“Shh, shh, it’s okay. I promise, honey. I'll stay with the baby no matter what. But you have to make me a promise. You gotta promise me that you’ll do everything you can to be okay. We’re both going to bring this precious baby home together. You hear me?” he pleaded, his tears finally breaking free and dropping down to her forehead where he had rested his against it. 

“I promise,” she whispered, reaching up to cup his face and kiss him softly, just as the door opened and the nurse came in. 

“Ms. Y/L/N, we’re here to take you upstairs.” 

“I’ll be right behind you,” Jensen kissed her one last time as the nurse walked over to wheel her up to delivery in her bed.

“See you soon, handsome,” she smiled, squeezing his hand as they began to wheel her out of the room. 

Jensen was pacing the floor waiting for the nurse to come tell him he could be with Y/N. Once they had gotten her upstairs, they told him he needed to wait outside in the hall while they got her settled in and hooked to all the monitors, and an IV inserted. He had already made all the phone calls he needed to make. Jared and Gen were on their way, his parents were heading out as soon as they could, and Dee and the kids knew that she would be delivering soon, and wanted to wait until she was in recovery before they came to visit. All he was waiting on now was the okay to be with his future wife. It felt like an eternity before the nurse came out and took him in to see Y/N. Dr. Williams was there when he walked in. 

“Hello, Mr. Ackles. I’ll get you up to speed on what’s happening. Sorry, it took so long to bring you in, but her water broke when we moved her to her new bed. So, that means that there’s an increased risk of infection if her labor doesn’t progress in a timely manner. Which means that I put her on a Pitocin drip through her IV. Unfortunately, that means her contractions will be more intense than usual, but that also means that little Ackles will make their debut sooner.” 

“Okay, so what do I need to do?” he asked, completely at a loss about what he should be doing. 

“Same thing you did with your other three children when your wife was in labor,” the doctor said, a look of confusion on her face. 

“Well, see, that’s the problem. All three of my other kids were scheduled c-sections. I never had to go through the labor part of it,” he answered sheepishly, feeling stupid for not knowing what to expect. 

“Oh! Well, then that makes sense,” the doctor giggled, “No need to be embarrassed. Just do whatever you can to help her be comfortable, and be her support when she needs encouragement. Other than that, buckle up and enjoy the ride. This will be a completely different but amazing experience for you.” 

“O-Okay,” he stuttered, a little overwhelmed with everything going on around him.

“Jay, it’s okay. Just come sit beside me, please,” Y’N’s voice broke him out of his stupor, her tired smile and outstretched hand making his legs finally work to have a seat by her side. 

“How are you feeling, baby?” he asked, running his hand over her head. 

“Remember that scene from Alien?” she chuckled dryly. 

“The chest burster?!” he gasped at the visual image in his head. 

“Yeah, that one. Kinda like that,” she frowned as a strong contraction hit. 

“It’s okay, sweetheart. Just breathe. It’s going to be okay,” he huffed, her hand feeling like it was going to crush his  fingers as she squeezed. 

Jensen kept repeating to her that everything was fine and that she was doing amazing, and that it would all be over soon as each contraction had her gritting her teeth and crying in pain. He hated seeing her in so much pain, and he would do it for her if he could. But since he couldn’t, he stayed by her side with words of encouragement, little kisses on her face and head, and wiping the sweat away with a cool cloth. And after what felt like an eternity, the doctor told them that it was finally time for her to push. 

The flurry of activity in the room as the doctor and nurses prepared to help bring their baby into the world had his head spinning, but he tried to keep his focus on Y/N, and do everything he could to make it as easy as he could for her. Once the doctor told him to hold Y/N’s leg up, he knew the show was starting, and he didn’t know if he wanted to jump for joy, throw up, or pass out. 

“Jay. I can’t do this,” she cried after twenty minutes of pushing, her body feeling as if it would give out at any moment. 

“Yes you can, baby. You’re doing so good. They’re almost here, and we’ll know soon whether we have a son or daughter,” he whispered in her ear, kissing her temple, “I’m so fucking proud of you, honey. You’ve got this.” 

‘Come on, Y/N. I can see the head now. Just a few more pushes,” the doctor yelled out, making Jensen look down. 

“Don’t you dare look at that! It’ll scar you forever,” Y/N screamed, groaning through another contraction. 

“Baby, nothing could ever make me think any differently of you,” he said sweetly, looking back down to where the doctor was, “Oh my God! Honey, I can see the head! It has so much hair!” 

Jensen was elated. He couldn’t have imagined that this experience would’ve been so profound. Of course, seeing his other children being brought into the world through c-section was absolutely amazing, too. But this was a completely different ballgame. 

“Okay, Y/N. One more big push and you’ll meet your baby,” the nurse beside her said, holding her leg up higher to give her more leverage to push. Jensen followed suit, and leaned back to Y/N. 

“Come on, baby. You can do it. One more and we get to see our baby,” he cooed, kissing her forehead as she gave one last push. 

The sound of a loud cry pierced the room, and Y/N and Jensen both let out cries of their own at the wonderful sound. She’d done it. She’d endured the worst pain of her life, and now, her son or daughter was there, screaming for the whole delivery floor to hear. She’d never heard such a beautiful sound in her life. She continued to cry tears of joy as Jensen kissed all over her face, his tears mixing with hers, him showering her with praise for what a great job she had done.

“Mr. Ackles, would you like to cut the cord?” Dr. Williams asked, a bright smile on her face, “You have a very healthy baby over here.” 

Y/N and Jensen began to sniffle at her words. Their baby was perfectly healthy. All the worry of them being premature and having complications melting away. Jensen walked over to cut the cord. His breath caught in his throat when he looked down, the doctor smiling at him. 

“How about you cut this cord, and then you can go tell mama what the gender is, huh?” 

Jensen just nodded. He was speechless. This experience had been one of the most nerve-wracking but beautiful he’d ever had, and he couldn’t wait to tell Y/N what the gender was. Once the cord was cut, and the baby cleaned and wrapped up, Jensen slowly walked back to his fiancee, a face-splitting smile on his face. 

“Honey, would you like to hold our son?” he asked, a tear slipping down his cheek at the way Y/N’s face lit up with his words. 

“It’s a boy?” she whispered, her voice breaking with all the emotion she was feeling. 

“It’s a healthy little boy,” he beamed with pride, gently placing their son in his mama’s arms. 

“Oh my God, Jay. He’s beautiful, and just perfect,” she said with awe, kissing the little boy’s nose, forehead, and cheeks. 

“Thank you, Y/N. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you,” he hiccuped with emotion, placing kisses all over her face between every word of thanks. 

“You don’t have to thank me, Jay.” 

“Yes, I do, baby. I have to thank you for being my friend all those years, for giving me the chance to be your boyfriend, for forgiving me when I fucked up so royally, for agreeing to be my wife, and especially for giving me what I didn’t even know I needed, another baby to love. So, yes, darlin’, I’ll owe you thanks every day for the rest of my life,” he whispered, afraid all the emotions he was feeling would take his voice if he tried to speak any louder. 

“I love you so much, Jay,” she smiled through tears, reaching up to cup his face. 

“I love you more than I’ll ever be able to tell you, baby,” he leaned down to capture her lips in a soft, quick kiss. 

Jensen leaned back to look down at Y/N and their son. The love in her eyes as she looked at their son took his breath away. How could he have been so selfish to have even thought to deny her this? She was going to be a great mother, and he couldn’t wait to spend the rest of his life with her, raising their kids, and just loving her. He knew at that moment just what a lucky son of a bitch he was, and he was going to do his damnedest to never take that for granted again.

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[bigslutr]

Yelena Lock & Ellie Sallow

Prompt?: Darling being sick for around 2 weeks and gets worried before calling an old friend from highschool which is Yelena. But when Yelena takes interest in Darling and Ellie cannot stand.

-_-_--_-_--_-_--_-_--_-_--_-_--_-_--_-_--_-_--_-_--_-_--_-_--_-_--_-_-

It’s been two weeks. Two long, painful weeks of watching my angel struggle. I've done everything I can, getting someone to run to the store for medicine, ordering my cooker to make her soup and staying by their side when their fever spikes. But its not enough. They’re still weak, still not themselves, and my heart hurts everytime they wince or turn away from me.

I hate it. I hate not being able to fix this.

I sit on the edge of the bed, brushing their damp hair away from my worry etched on my face. My angel smiles fainty, it makes my heart race but it was only a shadow of the smile I loved. “You’re doing great Ellie,” They whisper, their voice weak and tied. But i know they’re just saying that to make me feel better.

I bite my lip, feeling the frustration coil tighter in my chest. I need to do something. I can’t lose them. Not to this. I won’t.

That’s when it hits me. Yelena.

My stomach twists at the thought. I haven’t talked to her in years, not since high school. But she’s in medical school now, training to be a doctor. Maybe she’ll know what to do. Maybe she can help.

I glance at Y/N. They’re so fragile right now, so vulnerable. I can’t bear it. I have to do whatever it takes to make them better, even if it means calling Yelena.

I quietly slip out of the room and grab my phone, my fingers trembling as I scroll through old contacts. Her name pops up, and for a second, I hesitate. I’ve always hated how perfect she seemed, how calm, how patient, how she always had this air of control. I know she’ll come in, take over, and make me feel small.

But I push that feeling down and hit the call button. It rings twice before she picks up, her voice bright and warm on the other end.

“Ellie? Wow, it’s been forever! What’s up?”

I forced a smile, even though she couldn't see it. “Hey, Yelena. Yeah, it has. Listen, I... I need your help.”

There’s a pause. “Help? With what?”

I take a deep breath. “It’s my Significant Other. They’ve been sick for a while, and... I don’t know what else to do. Could you... maybe come and take a look at them?”

She agrees almost too quickly. “Of course! I’ll be over as soon as I can.”

I hang up, staring at the phone in my hand. It feels wrong. I’ve always taken care of Y/N on my own. Now, I’ve invited someone else into our space, her and I can’t shake the feeling that I’ve made a mistake.

Yelena arrives the next morning, a bundle of energy and smiles. Y/N perks up the moment they see her, which sends a pang straight through my chest. I try to push it down, but it’s hard when they’re looking at her like that.

“I’m so glad you called me, Ellie,” Yelena says, brushing past me like I’m an afterthought. She heads straight for Y/N, checking their temperature, asking them questions, all while giving them that sweet smile of hers.

“Thank you for coming,” Y/N says, their voice so much lighter than it’s been with me. “I’ve been worried, but Ellie’s been great.”

I know they mean it, but Yelena’s eyes flick to me, and I catch the hint of something…pity? maybe? Or is it amusement? I can’t tell, but I hate it.

Yelena quickly takes control, slipping into the caretaker role as if it were made for her, and Y/N lets her. They trust her. Every time Yelena touches them, I see Y/N relax in a way they haven’t with me in days. I can feel the distance growing, as if with every touch, Yelena pulls them further from me. But I can’t stop it. Not when Y/N is smiling, even if it's because of her.

The days blur together with Yelena by Y/N’s side more often than I am. She’s always there, her hand on Y/N’s shoulder, her voice soft and reassuring. I feel like a ghost in my own home, watching from the sidelines while they build something…something I’m not a part of.

During the quiet moments when Yelena leaves to “grab more supplies” or to take a break, I seize my chance. As soon as she’s gone, I slip into Y/N’s room. They’re still lying there, looking pale but awake. I sit on the edge of the bed, brushing their hair back gently.

“Hey,” I whisper. “It’s just us now.”

They smile, a small, weary thing, but it’s still there. I hold onto it, like it’s proof that I still have a place with them. I need that reassurance, even though it feels fragile, like it could shatter at any moment.

“How’re you feeling?” I ask, though it’s a question I’ve asked a hundred times before.

“Better,” they say softly. “Yelena’s really been helping.”

It’s always Yelena now. That name sticks in my throat, the way they say it, like she’s some miracle.

“I’ve been trying, too,” I add, my voice almost too quiet. “I’ve been doing my best.”

They glance at me, their hand reaching out to squeeze mine. “I know, Ellie. You’ve been amazing.”

But it feels empty, like they’re just saying it to make me feel better. I look at them, studying their face. The light in their eyes that had dimmed during those awful weeks is flickering back—but it’s not because of me. It’s because of her.

When I hear Yelena’s voice outside, talking on the phone, probably getting more advice or prescriptions from her colleagues, my body stiffens. I quickly press a kiss to Y/N’s forehead before pulling away. I have to make them remember—it’s me who’s been there through everything.

“I’ll get you some water,” I mutter, retreating before Yelena can walk in and reclaim her spot beside them.

When Yelena’s gone, I fight. I sit with Y/N, talk to them, bring them their favorite snacks, anything to keep them focused on me. But it never feels like enough. It’s like Yelena’s shadow lingers, even when she isn’t physically there. Y/N’s eyes glaze over sometimes, like they’re waiting for her to come back.

The next morning, I wake up early, earlier than Yelena for once, and make breakfast. Pancakes—Y/N’s favorite. I set the table, making sure everything is perfect, hoping for some alone time before Yelena swoops in.

Y/N smiles when I bring the tray to them, but it doesn’t reach their eyes. They take a bite, but I can tell they’re not really hungry.

“This is really sweet, Ellie,” they say, pushing the plate aside after just a few bites. “Thank you.”

I force a smile. “I just want you to feel better.”

As if on cue, the front door swings open and Yelena steps in, holding a bag of supplies. “Morning!” she chirps, her eyes bright and full of energy.

Y/N’s face lights up, and my heart sinks. The food on the table, my effort—it’s like it all disappears the second Yelena walks in. I watch her sit beside Y/N, easily picking up where I left off, as if I wasn’t even there.

Yelena’s laughter fills the room, and Y/N leans into her presence, their mood lifting effortlessly. My throat tightens. I feel like I’m suffocating, trapped in the space between them, like some kind of outsider.

The worst part? Yelena’s so... nice. She doesn’t flaunt her place in Y/N’s life, doesn’t throw it in my face. She’s sweet, caring, patient—the exact opposite of how I feel right now. And that makes it even harder to fight her.

But I keep trying. Every time Yelena steps out, I rush in to take her place. I pour Y/N water, fluff their pillows, brush their hair, desperate to reclaim my spot in their heart. And every time, Y/N smiles, but it feels smaller, more distant.

I can’t stand it.

Late one evening, after Yelena’s left for the night, I sit beside Y/N in the dimly lit room. The house is quiet except for the steady ticking of the clock. I reach for their hand, squeezing it gently.

“Y/N, do you... do you still need me?” The question escapes before I can stop it.

They look at me, surprised, like the thought never crossed their mind. “Of course I do, Ellie. Why would you even ask that?”

I swallow the lump in my throat. “It’s just... ever since Yelena came, it feels like... like I’m not enough anymore.”

Their expression softens, but there’s a hesitation that wasn’t there before. “You’ve always been enough. You’ve been taking care of me all this time.”

But it doesn’t feel real. It doesn’t feel like they believe it. And I don’t either.

Because every time Yelena walks through the door, Y/N’s eyes light up in a way they never do for me anymore.

Later that night, I find myself standing in the kitchen, staring blankly at the knife block. I’m not going to do anything, of course. I’m not that kind of person. I wouldn’t hurt anyone... would I?

But the thought lingers, gnawing at me, and when I hear Yelena’s voice from the other room, laughing softly with Y/N, I wonder just how far I’ll have to go to keep them safe.

Because Y/N is mine. And I won’t lose them. Not to Yelena. Not to anyone.

[sadstrever]

i’m still 114lbs. i feel sick. yesterday was an awful day, i came home and had an out of body chew and spit session. i wish there was more research on this part of ed’s, or just more people who talked about it because i can’t be alone in this. i refuse to believe i’m the only sick person who does disgusting shit like this. anyways the reason why i call it an out of body experience is because it’s almost like binging-just without all the swallowing of food. i came home and immediately started doing it and filled up 1 and 1/2 2 liter bottles with food. i spent 5 hours doing this without even realizing and pretty much emptied out my whole families fridge. the guilt i felt afterwards was worse than a binge in my opinion. not only did i totally waste SO MUCH food, make a huge mess, ended up with disgusting bottles of mush in my room, i also have to face the consequences of my family coming home to an empty fridge. but when they got home they were happy that i “ate.” god i’m such a fucking piece of shit.

anyways after all that i took 4 laxatives to try and get the guilt of wasting the food out of me. i woke up in the morning today in terrible pain but still had to go to class, cuz what am i supposed to tell my parents? “yeah i haven’t eaten in almost a month and basically just threw all the food we have out in the trash and i also took 4 laxatives, can i please stay home tehe?” so i went to 1 class and ended up leaving because the pain was so excruciating. straight from class i went to the gym and somehow burnt 900 calories because i guess that’s what guilt does to me. i had to take the bus 2 hours home afterwards(bus delays and i went to a new further gym location this time), high out of my mind. i’m home now and my stomach hurts but the laxatives finally did their job. i don’t want to keep doing this. 4 years ago i said i’d recover and then i didn’t. since then i’ve forgotten about recovery (with the exception of a few random moments here and there that i block out immediately), i am so used to living in this fucking misery that i didn’t realize how abnormal my reality is. i don’t want to be a bad person anymore. but i can’t stop lol.

this is what bothers me about the girls who romanticize this disorder SO MUCH, when much of the time they haven’t realized how difficult it can become. i know i’ve done this, even now sometimes as a coping mechanism. but man, i’m sick of it.

i have a friend who writes poetry and she wrote a poem about eating disorders that make me so fucking angry. the thing is, i’ve known her for years and she’s always had the best relationship with food out of most of the people i know. she’s naturally pretty thin(not too thin but normal) and she’s very open about her struggles. i know every single one of her stories, i know she’s diagnosed with adhd. that’s HER disorder, that i don’t understand so i DONT write fucking POETRY about it. a few months ago she kind of forced me into opening up about my eating disorder. after i did, suddenly she started writing these stories about her eating disorder-very very very suspiciously similar to mine. i obviously didn’t tell her everything but i told her about how long this has been going on and just my emotions about it. seeing her start to adapt my fucking disorder into her poetry disgusted me. she glamorized the fuck out of it and made me feel so stupid for ever opening up about it. she’s naturally skinny so she got a bunch of support from our friend group from it and i’m just upset man. i’m sick of living in misery while other people can use the idea of living in pain for attention.

i promised my best friend that in 3 weeks i’ll go back to therapy and try my best to recover. it’s not true. man it’s never fucking true. it’s never fucking over. unlike ms.deep-poetry-girl i can’t just fucking write this and log off and then eat a good warm meal and talk to my parents without them mentioning my body. i can’t wake up tomorrow morning and hug them without worrying that they’re gonna feel my bones. i can’t wear shorts anymore without people noticing the bruises. i can’t go to school and keep my focus because i have nothing to feed my brain. i can’t let anyone get close because soon enough they’ll be just like YOU. OR they’ll hate me for not wanting to get better. i can’t love myself like you do because of the disgusting things i do each day. i can’t wake up thinner and suddenly stop hating myself. FUCK YOUUUUUUUU GOD IM SO SICK OF IT GOD. whatever im done. just sick and tired.

[seaoflove07]

Love Planted a Rose 🌹

~ Dark ~

• Artwork by The Drawables •

Full Art Cover and Story Description, Here.

OCXCanon. 🔪 Azusa & Christine’s Story. 🌹

Fan Fiction Written by Me.

Fandom: Diabolik Lovers.

Masterpost.

Christine was sitting in the bathtub with her arms wrapped around her legs. She was lost in her thoughts thinking of what happened last night with Azusa. All the things he told her. To him, pain makes him feel wanted and needed. What has this world done to him? To make him think this way. It's sad. Her mind is telling her to stay away from him, but she can't understand why her heart is aching for him. She wants to get to know him, to understand him. Even though she's very aware that's gonna cost her lots of pain. She wants to know his past, and she also wants to know how long has he been living in this world. So many questions she would love to ask him. But she knows he won't answer to any. She already tried, but he made it clear that his past doesn’t concern her. Yet he wants to know everything about her.

She touches her lips, Thinking about the way he kissed her with so much desperation.

Christine: (I haven’t kissed another man since Mark. I didn't think I would ever need that kiss, but I did, desperately like Azusa. His lips, his tongue, and his rough touches. They all felt good, even though my head was spinning and I struggled to catch up to him since I was very lightheaded. The way he got anxious when he thought I had a boyfriend back home. I'm starting to feel these butterflies in my stomach again. Why am I feeling this way? I can't let him get into my heart, I just can't. A human broke my heart to pieces, I can't imagine how much worse it will be with a vampire. It's already madness right now. Azusa is very scary at times, he almost killed me. All the physical pain Azusa has caused me and I haven’t been here long. I can’t imagine how it would be for the rest of the summer. My lips are swollen from that kiss, not just my lips, but my whole body hurts and I have so many bite marks and cuts from his knife...)

*Knock, Knock*

Azusa: “Rose-san… I'm coming in…”

Christine: “Azusa! I'm still in the bathtub, please get out.”

Azusa: “There’s so many bubbles in the bathtub… I can't see your body… So don't worry…”

Christine: “… Do you need something?”

Azusa: “Ruki told me... to give you… this medicine… he said… it will help you… feel better… here… I also brought you… water…”

- She drinks the medication -

Christine: “Thank you.”

Azusa: … …

Christine: “What's the matter?”

Azusa: “I can't stop… thinking about you… even when… I’m with my brothers… or when I'm alone… or cutting myself... or polishing my knives… and when I’m talking to Justin… your pretty face… always comes to my mind…”

Christine: !!!

(I can feel my cheeks flushed...)

“I-I have been thinking about you a lot too. I want to get to know you, Azusa.”

Azusa: “Eh…!? Really, Rose…?”

He moves closer to her and sits at the edge of the bathtub, neither say anything. Azusa caresses her cheek and stares deeply at her brown eyes.

Ruki: “Hmph, Azusa. I told you to only give her the medication and to come back quickly. Stop touching her and take your leave. You're already running late on the task that I asked you to do earlier.”

Azusa: “I’m sorry… I’ll go right now… I'll see you later… Rose…”

He gave her a cute smile and leaves the bathroom.

Ruki: “Livestock, hurry up with your bath and meet me at the library. I would like to discuss something with you.”

Christine: “Okay, I'll be out in a minute.”

*TimeSkip*

- At the Library -

Christine: “I'm here, Ruki.”

Ruki: “Good, you didn’t make me wait long. Take a seat.”

… …

“Livestock, you are going to be living in this manor all summer and I expect honesty. Tell me what you really are? And you better not lie to me.”

Christine: (His question took me by surprise…)

“What do you mean?”

He slams his fist on the table.

Ruki: “Dammit, Livestock. Don't play dumb with me! I had my familiar follow you. He said when you were at our swimming pool there was a blonde woman with a white dress inside the pool near you but disappeared quickly. Were you doing black magic? Are you a witch?”

Christine: !!

(So I'm not crazy and I didn't imagine it! I did see a reflection of myself under the pool…)

“I’m not lying and I'm not a witch! But I did see myself inside the pool last night and it scared me. When I started to scream underwater, Azusa got me out of the pool. I asked him if he saw anyone inside the pool but he said no. This has never happened to me before.”

Ruki: “I see. Thinking about it a Witch wouldn't have a similar blood scent to Eve. Did the figure say anything to you?”

Christine: “Yes… She said, “Soon, you will be me.”

“I-I don't understand the meaning of this. She did look exactly like me but when she gave me a sinister look it seemed inhuman.”

(Chills run down her spine just thinking about it…)

Ruki: “Whatever that thing was is probably your true form. Are you sure you don't know what that form is? Does your family have a history of mystical creatures?”

Christine: “What!? Of course not. We are all just humans and I don't possess any strength or magical powers. Ruki, please if you know anything about why I was sent here please tell me.”

Ruki: “That's information I want to know as well. None of us know why you were truly sent here, not even the Sakamakis. Your blood sent is similar to Eve's but I don't think this is about another sacrificial bride. You are valuable to that man. He has made it clear in reminder letters that he will kill anyone if they kill you, and this pool incident it's not a coincidence. I will still try my investigation to see what he really wants with you. If you experience another similar situation like this again I need you to tell me immediately, I am clear, Livestock?”

Christine: “What's the point in telling you if you are gonna have your familiars follow me anyways?”

Ruki: “Dammit, Livestock! You sure don't know how to shut your mouth and agree nicely like a good girl.”

Christine: “Because I am not a girl, I’m a woman!”

Ruki stands up and grabs her wrists pulling her up.

Ruki: “A woman you say? So you don't mind me being this close to you.”

He smirks.

Christine: “What the hell are you doing? Let go of me.”

Ruki: “Living in this manor, I don't care if it's temporary. You still are gonna follow my rules and I expect you to agree nicely with respect. I shall have no mercy next time you run your mouth. Understood?”

Christine: “Yes.”

(I'm trying to control my anger right now. I truly want to tell him to Fuck off!…)

Ruki: “Good, There is something else I want to ask you.”

He removes his hands from her wrists and steps back a bit.

“Are you seducing my younger brother?”

Christine: “Of course not! He's only after my blood and nothing else.”

Ruki: “Not true. You have him hypnotized. He’s never acted this way for a Livestock before. Have you hit and harmed him?”

Christine: “Not because I want to. Most of the time, he forces me to hurt him, and on some occasions I have, but it was for self-defense.”

Ruki: “Ha… I see. What are your thoughts on him?”

Christine: “I have mixed feelings for him… Sometimes, I'm afraid of him, wondering what he will do next. But other times, I kinda like his company. He does hurt me a lot but on some occasions, he's very sweet to me. I don't understand his full logic when it comes to pain. But to be honest, I want to get to know him and maybe become friends with him.”

Ruki: “Friends? Livestock, you really are foolish. Azusa won't settle for only friendship.”

Christine: “What do you mean?…”

Ruki: “Why don't you use that brain of yours? You truly are an airhead.”

Christine: … …

Ruki: I do find it interesting how obsessed Azusa is with you. Your blood probably is tasty to him but... There’s something more, I can feel it in your Aura. Azusa has been through a lot over the years and I worry to see my brother break because of you.”

Christine: ... ...

“Ruki... can you please tell me about Azusa’s past? I truly don’t want to hurt him. I want to get to know him and to help him. But for me to be able to help him I need to understand him. Please Ruki! Can you please tell me what caused him to self-harm?”

Ruki: “Why don’t you ask him this question yourself?”

Christine: “I did, but he told me it doesn't concern me. I just want to understand why he acts like this.”

Ruki: “Haah... Fine. I will tell you just this once. Azusa has never opened up too much about himself to us either. Even I have never fully understood how his brain works. From what I know, it has something to do with those kids from his childhood. Their names are Justin, Christina, and Melissa.”

Christine: (The names of his scars!…)

“He introduced his scars to me and they had those names.”

He nods.

Ruki: “He believes those three are his friends and will not let anyone treat his wounds so they do not disappear. From what he told us, those kids used to beat him up for fun daily until he started enjoying it and thought he was being useful to them. They then left him alone, thinking he was some kind of a weird kid. Those kids, later on, got killed because they were caught shoplifting. Seeing them dead traumatized him.”

Christine: “B-But Where were your parents? And he’s your younger brother, why did you guys allow this to happen? Why you guys didn’t help him? While he was getting bullied.”

Ruki: “Azusa since childhood he was wandering around in the streets. His parents abandoned him. We are not blood brothers. After the death of Justin, Christina, and Melissa. Azusa was sent to the orphanage and that’s where we all met. Kou and Yuma too. Ever since then, we became brothers.”

... ...

“That will be all the information that I will tell you. You are even lucky that I even told you this much.”

Christine: (My heart hurts for Azusa and for the brothers. Even though Ruki didn't mention the full story, by them meeting each other at the orphanage they all probably had a bad childhood...)

“I appreciate you telling me this. I won't bother you anymore. I'll be taking my leave now and will start my shift.”

Ruki: “Wait, Livestock. I am not done talking to you. Tomorrow, Kou will be the one to accompany you to the Sakamakis. I have other matters to take care of. Don’t be dumb and behave around the brothers and try not to get yourself killed this time.”

Christine: “Okay… I will watch my back.”

Ruki: “That will be all, you may take your leave and start your shift.”

*TimeSkip*

After Christine completed her work shift she took another bath and finished brushing her long blonde hair, lastly, she sprayed herself with her favorite perfume, Coco Mademoiselle by Chanel. She loves the perfume so much that she wears it all the time even before bedtime. She couldn’t stop thinking about Azusa. She feels so sad for him and her chest keeps hurting every time she thinks about what Ruki told her. Azusa truly must have felt so lonely to the point he wanted to be useful to his bullies who were beating him up all the time. Now she understands why he asks her to give him pain. Christine felt tears running down her cheeks. The fact that he also was abandoned in the streets by his parents. How cruel and sad! He must have been scared, cold, and hungry. More tears keep coming out of Christine’s eyes. She grabbed a tissue to clean her face and tried to calm down. She needed to occupy her mind so she decided to read her favorite novel Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austin. Christine has lost count of the number of times she has read this story. She needed to distract herself and take Azusa off her mind. She went to grab the book and flinched when she heard a knock on her door.

Christine: “Who is it?”

… …

(Whoever it is they are not responding…)

She moved closer and hesitated to open the door.

“Is someone there?”

(She can hear someone chatter through the door…)

- She opens the door -

Christine: “Azusa! Did something happen?”

(He's shaking and sweating. He looks really sad…)

She cupped his cheeks.

Azusa: “Rose-san… can I sleep in your bed… I don't want to be alone… right now…”

She nods.

Christine: “Come in… Can I get you water? I can go grab it really quick in the kitchen.”

Azusa: “No… just lay down next to me… please... don’t leave me... alone...”

Christine: (He looks so anxious! I’m so worried about him right now…)

She takes his hand and leads him to her bed.

“Lay down, Azusa… I promise I'll stay by your side.”

- They both lay down on the bed, staring at each other -

Christine: “What happened…?”

Azusa: … …

“I had a nightmare… and when I woke up… I needed to see you…”

Christine: “What was the nightmare about?”

Azusa: … …

“I already forgot…”

Christine: “What!? How is that possible?”

Azusa: “I already said… I have forgotten about it… so you don't need to worry…”

Christine: … …

(He has tears in his eyes, she knows he's lying…)

“Azusa… I won’t force you to tell me. But… I want to let you know… that I'll listen to you if you ever want to talk about anything that's on your mind. I'll be here for you. You're not alone…”

- She cups his cheek -

• Artwork by @yuma-mukami-garden-god •

Azusa: !!

“Rose…”

(Her beautiful smile and gentle touch warms my heart. Her hand is so soft, like rose petals from the garden....)

“I’m feeling calmer now… that I'm here with you…”

- He places his hand on top of hers and smells her wrist -

“Your flowery scent… is also calming to me… I’m glad… you came into my life… Rose…”

Christine: “Really?”

He nods.

Azusa: “Can I … suck your blood…? I’m thirsty… from all the sweating…”

Christine: (If my blood will calm him and make him feel better than he can have it…)

“Yes, Azusa… Go ahead.”

She closes her eyes, waiting for the strike of pain.

Azusa: “Look at me…”

He sinks his fangs into her wrist.

*Slurp*

Christine: “Azu…”

Azusa: “Ah… so sweet… and… I love that look… on your face… I'll bite you more…”

*Gulp*

Christine: “Azu… doesn't my perfume bother you? I feel like the taste of a perfume won't be pleasing.”

- He licks the bite mark -

Azusa: “It tastes delicious… your floral scent… mixed with the scent of your blood… is heavenly addicting…”

He planted a kiss on her wrist.

Azusa: “I like that you are calling me… “Azu…” hehe… Keep calling me that, okay…? Now let me hold you tight…”

- He embraced her -

“The warmth of your body… feels nice… it takes all my worries away….”

Christine: (I can feel both our hearts pounding with his tight embrace…)

“I’m glad you feel that way Azu. I hope you have a sweet dream this time.”

Azusa: … Zzz… Zzz…

Christine: (He fell asleep immediately. Azusa’s temperature is so cold but I don't dislike it. His scent is nice too. His scent is a mix of fruity black tea with hints of florals. I should move and give us space but the truth is… I want to be locked in his arms, it feels nice. His expression looks peaceful now. I truly hope he has a better dream this time…)

She runs her fingers through his dark greenish hair.

(If Helping him by doing these things for him, I hope he can trust me one day and open up to me…)

Christine: “I hope… you let me cure your scars, Azusa.”

She buries her face on his chest and closes her eyes.

- TO BE CONTINUED -

• Artwork by MonMonArtz •

[asirensrage]

Saudade - Chapter 10

Rating: Explicit Pairing: Mikey x OC, Hanma x OC, Ran x OC, Mikey x OC x Draken Fandom: Tokyo Revengers Warnings: swearing, violence, threats of violence, murder, smoking, sex, consensual sex between teenagers, alcohol, recreational drug use, mention of trafficking, torture, family neglect, mentions of sexual violence. isekai OC. memory loss. unbeta’d **warnings are not exhaustive** Summary: No one seems to realize she doesn’t belong until she finally runs into her “new” brother, Hanagaki Takemichi. Now, hearing his story, Takara makes the choice to help him and hopefully find her way home, but faking it til you make it only lasts so long when you start losing the memories of the life you had before. As Takemichi becomes the only family she’s ever known, how far will she go to protect him?

notes: Thank you all so much for reading this and for your comments. They mean the world to me. I'm so glad you're enjoying this. Please let me know what you think about this chapter. I'd love to hear your theories about what's going to happen. 😏

also on ao3

fic masterlist - prev chapter

She doesn’t sleep.

How can she when she has to sort through the shit in her head? She doesn’t regret her choice to threaten Taiju. He nearly killed Takemichi and she’s not prepared to let him die, now or in the future. She’s already planned to do whatever it takes to keep him alive. Accepting Toman’s help would be another shackle around her neck. She’d be subjected to the orders of Mikey and the other leaders…including Kisaki. On her own she would have less protection, but she’d be free to make her own choices. 

She ignores the texts that make her phone buzz and instead buries herself in her blankets. It would be easier if she didn’t give a shit about her brother, but Takemichi is the only one she has. He’s the only one who knows she doesn’t really belong here and that…he’s the only one who actually sees her. She has to protect that. 

🏍️

By the next morning, the bruise on her face is mostly yellow with some splotches of red, but the one on her side where she took the direct hit was a mix of red, dark blues and purple. It is a bit hard to see. It hurts like hell though now. The lack of sleep didn’t help, nor did the call demanding her presence at a meeting she definitely didn’t belong at. She was also warned not to bring her roller blades which felt like a punishment already. 

“What happened to you?” Takemichi cries out the moment he sees her. 

“A funny thing happened on the way to the market…” she says lightly, hoping she could avoid telling him. Considering the order she received to follow her brother to the meeting, it isn’t likely. “I met the Black Dragon giant last night.”

Takemichi drops the cup he’s holding in shock before darting over to her. “Are you alright?! Did he do this?! Was it because of me?”

She winces and steps out of his hold, shoving his hands down so he stops touching her face. “Knock it off. I’m fine. I just had something to tell him.”

“What could you possibly need to tell the leader of the Black Dragons?” he asks, looking at her incredulously. 

“That if he ever touches my family again, I’ll kill him.” 

Her brother’s mouth drops open, staring at her in shock. “What?!”

She ignores him, grabbing something to eat for breakfast. She gets enough to make some for her brother as well. She goes through the motions of cooking, keeping an eye out for their parents. None of them are around, or if they are, they’re avoiding them. It feels weird. Parents should be more invested in her opinion. Or maybe that’s just what she was used to. 

“Takara, tell me you didn’t threaten that monster!”

“Okay, I won’t.”

“Taka!”

“Take!” she quips back. “Hurry up and eat. I gotta go with you to your meeting because of this,” she motions to her face. 

“You’re like five feet tall! He’s ginormous! He could kill you, Takara! He wanted to kill me!”

“Yeah, but you’re the idiot who doesn’t know how to duck.” 

“What?!”

🏍️

They continue to go back and forth, heading to meet the others until Takemichi stops her to admit that she’s not the only one who did something without thinking last night. 

“You told Chifuyu?!”

“I didn’t mean to! It just slipped out and then the next thing I knew, I was saying everything!” 

“And he believed you?”

“Yeah, he said it made sense. That it was like I was two different people at times.” 

She falls silent. It was true. The Takemichi standing before her now is familiar and comfortable. It’s the one who actually feels like her brother. His present self that returns when he leaves back to the future…it doesn’t feel the same. 

“This will be good,” Takemichi says. “Another person on our side! Who can help me.”

The way he says it rankles, digging into an old wound when it sounds like she’s not good enough. She swallows the feeling back, knowing her brother is an idiot and probably didn’t mean the way it sounds. “Sure.” 

“On the inside,” he says quickly as if he realizes he made a mistake. “With Toman.”

She sighs. “I get it, Takemichi.” Takara shoves her hands in her pockets and continues to walk, her brother following quickly behind. “Don’t worry about it.” 

“Are you sure? I really didn’t mean that you can’t help me! I just meant that having someone in the gang who knows the people better than either of us do…”

She tunes him out. This Takemichi doesn’t know that she’s been dragged into a friendship with Draken and Mikey. He doesn’t know that Hanma has hounded her for her attention and that there’s a bet out there to sleep with her. It’s driving in the reminder that she’s alone in this world, that she doesn’t belong here. 

Takara hasn’t made friends outside of being adopted by her brother’s friends. Her parents here have only acknowledged her when she was arrested after trying to save Baji. The only reason she’s not failing school is because it was driven into her as a child that failure was not an option. All she has is Takemichi and the sports she keeps telling herself she’ll join again but she hasn’t because it’s not the same. She doesn’t have anyone telling her she needs to do something. She’s left to her own devices and she’s floundering. 

🏍️

The only ones who don’t look surprised to see her when she shows up at the executive meeting are Mikey and Draken. Hanma stands instantly, gaze darkening as he takes in the bruise on her face but he’s prevented from heading towards her both by Kisaki’s hand on his arm and Mikey calling her forward. 

She straightens her shoulders, ignoring the looks of concern she’s getting from Mitsuya and his vice-captain she knows she’s met before, and the confusion from the others she doesn’t completely recognize. 

Mikey moves forward from where he’s sitting, perched above the rest like a king on his throne. He leans down, face turning as he inspects the damage. “It’s not that bad.”

Draken has his arms crossed, watching them. “Lift up your shirt.”

“Hey!” Takemichi protests. “That’s my sister!”

“Not like that!” he shouts back, sounding annoyed at the accusation. “She’s injured.”

She glares over at Draken but he stares back, unimpressed. She exhales sharply as she lifts up the side of the shirt she’s wearing, trying not to wince at the pain the motion creates. 

Someone swears. 

“Takara!” her brother cries out. “You said you were fine!”

“I am fine!” She jolts to the side when Mikey pokes her bruise. “Ow!” She swipes at his hand, forcing it down instantly. “Stop that!” 

He moves back to his perch. “What happened?” 

“You mean Draken didn’t tell you?”

“I want to hear it from you. Everyone here should.” 

“Your choice will impact ours,” Draken says, reminding her of what’s coming. 

She can practically feel Hanma’s gaze burning into her back. “Fine. I came home yesterday to find my brother beaten to hell. He told me what happened. I…picked up my bat and left, tracking the giant asshole down, which wasn’t hard by the way,” she admits. “I rolled up on him, broke my bat across his head and gave him a warning that if he ever touched my brother again, I’d kill him.” 

There’s a moment of silence as her words are processed. Someone behind her laughs. 

“The bruises are because he managed to hit me once on the side. I crashed into a wall,” she motions to her face. 

“You’re saying you hit Taiju Shiba?” She looks back to see that the one who asked was one of the guys she doesn’t recognize with blond hair. 

“Princess does pack a strong hit,” Hanma grins. “Especially with a weapon.”

“It’s sports equipment,” Takara says. “And yeah, I hit him.” 

“You’re…tiny.”

“No shit.” She turns back to Mikey. “I ran into Draken after. I didn’t know about the rules or anything like that. He told me I gotta choose which direction I want to go in after that.”

“What?” Takemichi interrupts. “What choice?”

She ignores her brother.

“Did you?” Draken asks. 

“Yeah,” Takara nods. It was an easy one when it came down to it. “I’ll remain unaffliated with Toman.”

“You’re sure?” Draken asks, looking between her and Mikey who hasn’t looked away from her. “You know what that means.” 

“Yeah. No protection but it’s fine.”

“It’s fucking stupid!” She rolls her eyes at Hanma’s voice and doesn’t bother to turn to look at him. “Come on, princess!”

“I don’t need your opinion,” she snaps, glancing back at him. 

He scowls darkly. “What? You think the fucking Haitanis are going to protect you?”

“Haitani?” Multiple people ask, a mixture of confusion and accusation. 

“You running with another gang?” the blond one she doesn’t know asks. It sounds more like an accusation. 

“I’m not running with any gang,” Takara says, looking back at him in confusion. “I went to a rink and they found me. They just wanted to talk,” she shrugs. 

“About what?” the blond asks before taking a step towards her.

“Mucho!” Draken snaps. “She’s not a traitor.”

“Can’t betray anything I’m not a part of,” Takara adds. She rocks back on her heels slightly, wishing she was wearing her skates. Despite the confidence she has in her brother having her back, he’s a terrible fighter and she’s starting to feel cornered. 

“Are you sure?” Mikey asks, eyes meeting hers as he ignores the others. He’s steadfast as he waits, exuding confidence as he acts as the leader he is. It’s such a contrast to how she’s seen him when it’s just her and Draken. 

Takara nods. “I thought about the pros and cons last night. I’d rather be free and face the consequences. No offence.”

“None taken. Wait outside.” 

She nods again and leaves, ignoring the stares that watch her go. She can practically feel both Hanma and Takemichi wanting to say something. It’s a miracle her brother doesn’t.   

🏍️

She makes her way outside, sitting down in the dirt and leaning back against one of the walls. Her legs ache like she needs to stretch but the pain of her side and face are enough to ignore it.

Looking back, it was a bad idea to go after the giant. Still, she couldn’t get over her anger that led to her lashing out. Takemichi faced not only death now in the future but incarceration as well. He refused to tell her where she was, only that they weren’t close, and her day earlier with Ran and Rindou had been ruined by Hanma’s arrival. Mainly because of the possessive way he spoke about her to them and the fact that she knew it was only going to get worse if she enacted her plan. 

She leans back and closes her eyes, letting out a sigh. She wants to be back on the ice, a hockey stick in her hand and…and..she wants her family back. Her friends. She wants to not have to worry that her brother is going to die and there’s nothing she can do about it. She wants…to be able to remember what they look like. In detail. She can remember her brothers, her mother and father, but her friends' faces are slipping away. When she thinks of her friends, she only thinks of the people she knows here. 

A lump grows in her throat and she takes a deep breath, swallowing it back. It’s a constant ache that leaves her feeling empty and the worst part is she knows something is missing but she doesn’t know what it is. It’s like the way she likes things now she knows she didn’t before, not who she used to be. 

If she’s losing pieces of herself…what is she left with? Is she anyone except Takemichi’s sister? 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

She jolts in surprise, looking up to see Hanma storming towards her. The grief slips to the back of her mind as she forces herself to her feet to face off. “The fuck do you want?” she snarls back, instantly on guard. She sees the others coming out of the shack they had their meeting in, but they’re all moving slower than Hanma and she doesn’t see her brother yet. 

He moves closer as if he can force her back and corner her. 

She digs her metaphorical feet in and doesn’t back down. He’s not the first to attempt to cow her into submission with his size and he won’t be the last. “What the fuck do you want?” she repeats, slower this time, sharpening her words to a point as she glares up at him. 

“Why didn’t you come to me for help?”

“Why would I?” She asks, almost genuinely curious. “We’re not fucking friends, Hanma, and in case you haven’t noticed, I don’t want you around.”

“I would have helped you, princess,” he says, voice slightly softer than before as he stares down at her. Takara stares back, confused at the insistence and the way he’s looking at her. 

“Fuck off, I don’t need help.”

“Yeah, you made that fucking clear when you refused Toman’s. Why didn’t you ally with us?”

“Why the fuck would I trust you?” She asks, glaring up at him. “You forced a kiss on me the second time we met. You fought against my brother. You want to help me? Suck my dick.”

“Kara-chan. Come.” Mikey calls out, breaking the tension between the two of them. He’s emerged from the shack with Draken at his side and both her brother and Chifuyu following. 

“What am I, a dog?” she mutters before shoving her way past Hanma to join him. She gives him the finger before ignoring him completely as she follows Mikey.

“Takara–”

“We’ll talk later,” she murmurs to Takemichi as he tries to stop her. “Don’t worry.” She smiles at him before heading to meet Mikey at his bike. He climbs on and offers her a hand to get on behind him. He waits until she’s ready, feet on the pegs and arms wrapped around him, before he takes off, leaving everyone else behind.

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[keclan]

ok officially need advice on this. my mom is a super nice woman i’ve never in my life had an argument with, but she will not stop buying me dresses online that i don’t want. we are going on a big family vacation on a fancy cruise ship in december, and for some reason either she or my stepdad has gotten it in their heads that i either can’t afford to dress myself properly or i can’t be trusted to dress myself properly. she’s sent me now like four or five boxes of clothes and each one has like five or six dresses in it, it’s getting ridiculous. she doesn’t know that i’m nb, but i did mention the last time i saw her that i’m not interested in dresses currently and i mentioned wanting to get a tux or a suit for the vacation, which was taken well at the time but completely forgotten or ignored later. additionally, now that my job has changed, i have less time to go out during the work day, and every time she sends me a box, i have to return all the stuff that i don’t want and it’s a huge hassle, like this current box i have to take it to the post office on saturday because i won’t be able to do it any other day before the date it’s due back, which means i have to try them all on now, so i can print the return slip tomorrow, so i can get them all in the box and ready saturday morning. it’s just annoying and unwanted. i don’t know how to ask her to stop, i thought the previous box she sent was the final one but i just received another this week and i’m getting really frustrated with her. but i’m worried she’ll take it personally or that it will make her sad if i say anything about it. i don’t want to upset her but i don’t want her to be wasting her money and me to be wasting my time etc

[bilestat]

insane how quickly something small can tank my mood

[brontes]

having a rough night of it. had a rough day of it. need to communicate but also don’t want to talk to anyone. wearing dangerously thin emotionally and too tired to fight it

[hayleykiyopioids]

I don’t know what the hell imma put in the tags tonight I’m drunk, was hanging out with my roommate but now I’m scrolling tumblr and also a little sad/mad that the girl I’m (was) talking to cancelled our plans tonight for like the 4th time so I think I need to stop talking to her before I get my feelings hurt

My feelings are already hurt but like I’m gay and she’s cute as hell and keeps canceling on me so idk what the hell else am I supposed to do

She’s cute as fuck and I think she’s so cool and interesting but I also don’t have time for someone always canceling plans!!! Anyway idk ignore me tonight bc I’m drunk and a lil sad and I need to finish my drink before I go to bed tonight

[inkedells]

pairing: old!logan x f!reader

Logan is sick and tired of you treating him like he's fragile. He'll ignore his relentless pain to show you what it's like to be taken apart, rough and slow, then fast and agonizing.

wc: 3.5k of pure smut

warnings: heavy smut, lap sitting, fingering, oral (f!receiving and m!receiving), dirty talk, facials, p in v, ruined orgasms, snowballing, kind of angsty, the claws come out, logan is angry with you, kinda toxic, definitely mean, but still kind of sweet, pwp basically, blood, but it's not bloodplay, it's just logan not caring if he's hurt, if i missed any let me know.

Logan comes home and throws himself back on that torn-up leather sofa, thumb flicking his lighter while the other holds a cigar. It’s less of a distraction from the ache in his bones, and more of a device to push you away. Because if you think he’s tired or angry or hurting, you won’t ask him to fuck you.

It’s not like he doesn’t want you. Of course he does. It’s the sympathy in your eyes when he gets tired from just a couple of minutes of thrusting that he hates. The whispered, “It’s okay. baby, I can ride you.” The gentle touches across his body and his neck and his face and his beard. It all reeks of pity. And if you were to sit him down one day and ask him why he hates being taken care of, he wouldn’t have an answer. He would push the voice in his head down into the void that all the strength he had left fell in, the voice shrinking until it’s nothing as it screams, because I’ve never been taken care of, and I would’ve loved it back when being taken care of wasn’t my only choice.

But it’s fine. You wouldn’t ever ask him that question because he knows for a fact that you don’t know. If you did, you wouldn’t be climbing onto his lap quietly, hands rubbing his sides as you press kisses to his neck.

“I missed you, Logan,” You whisper. Your hips aren’t moving; He knows he sat here like this to avoid fucking you, but he almost wishes you were seeking exactly that. Sex, as embarrassing as it would be for him, is better than you holding him because of your sick love for him. He doesn’t think you love him in the way lovers do. It’s the kind of love meant for sick puppies, or the lonely old woman sitting on the bus with all her belongings in plastic bags.

He turns his head to take a drag of his cigar. Silence.

You hold his face, forcing him to look at you as you kiss him. Slow, chaste, no tongue. He feels scrutinized by your touches, and something nervous seats itself deep in his belly.

“How was your day?” You ask, your gaze snapping between his eyes.

He closes them. “I’m tired,” Logan says flatly.

“I know. It’s okay.”

There it is again. Pity.

He scoffs. It’s quiet. Barely there. He didn’t mean to. He watches your face fall the smallest bit. A year ago, he wouldn’t have noticed, and if he would’ve, he would blurt out an apology. Now, he does notice, but he secretly wants to watch it fall even further if it means you’ll realize how much you’ve been hurting him.

You swallow, your thumb rubbing his cheekbone. “I found an American poetry anthology in the basement today. 20th Century. My favorite poem was in it.”

He mumbles, “In a Station of the Metro. T.S. Elliot.” Remembering the poem you told him about months ago sounds too much like sorry. He wishes he’d pretended to forget.

“Elliot Pound,” You correct. Your smile tells him he’s forgiven for an apology he never offered. “If you can recite it I’ll be impressed.”

“I’m not reciting a goddamn poem.” He sounds sarcastic, and it relieves you, but then you kiss him and he’s wound tight again.

You sigh as you pull back. “What’s bothering you, baby?”

“Nothing’s bothering—”

“What’s bothering you?” You interject.

He shakes his head, clenching his jaw. He makes the decision to sacrifice his dignity for the sake of stopping this conversation. You never could resist an orgasm, especially one caused by him. “Enough of that.”

“What?”

But he’s putting out his cigar and lifting you off his lap with a suppressed grunt, then pushing you down on the couch.

“Logan,” You protest.

He continues undoing the drawstring of your pajamas.

You sit up straight, swatting his hand away. “Stop.”

He withdraws immediately, breathing hard through his nose as he looks down at the floor. He was wrong, before, about you not knowing. You definitely know, because you don’t place a loving hand on his thigh and you don’t kiss his shoulder. He’s grateful.

Instead, you observe his profile, then the quiet tremor in his hand. The impossible stillness of the rest of him. He tends to do that when his nerves are on fire. Thinks being a statue is what people who aren’t in chronic pain do.

“Don’t do that,” He mumbles, feeling your eyes on him. “I don’t need you feeling sorry, or whatever—whatever the fuck else goes through your head when you’re around me.”

You say nothing. That’s the most he’s said about his feelings in a while. He knows it, so he forces himself to say nothing, too. It doesn’t last long.

“I’m not dying.” His voice cracks a little at the end and he fights the urge to squeeze his eyes shut.

“I know.” The words come out in a tumble, as if you’re rushing to participate in his lie.

“Then stop looking at me like I’m dying.”

“Okay.” Tears prickle your eyes but you blink them away.

“Okay,” He repeats.

You take a deep breath. “But it’s okay to be cared for, Logan.”

He laughs incredulously, and suddenly his volume is rising and his voice is firm. “Would you just—Would you just quit being my fuckin’ mommy? Would you?”

He only lets your silence marinate for a second before he rushes in to kiss you, ignoring the cramps in his muscles as he tugs your neck forward roughly. You squeak against his mouth, fighting his impossible grip on you, but you give up with a shaky exhale through your nose when your efforts prove useless.

“I can take care of you, too,” He grits out. It would sound sweet if it weren’t for the frustration in his tone. He pushes you onto the couch the same way he did moments before as he opens your legs by your knees and settles between them. He sucks a dark mark onto your neck, his fingers digging bruises in your ribs.

“I know you can,” You reassure him. You can see where this is going. “And I love when you do.” You gasp when he pulls your shirt up over the curve of your breasts.

“No. You don’t.” He pinches one of your nipples and sucks the other into his mouth for a brief second. “It’s okay. I’ll show you so you don’t forget again. You won’t want to get ruined any other way.”

“Logan,” You sigh.

He hums against the soft skin just underneath your breast as his hands ravage your body. He begins to unsheathe the adamantium claws in one of his hands so he can rip your top open. It’s slow and excruciating, so he closes his eyes, but the pain is over too soon and his suspicions are confirmed when he opens his eyes to see them stuck halfway.

You don’t expect him to lean back and individually tug each blade free. There’s blood, and now it’s dripping onto your belly, and he mumbles something that sounds like an apology as he wipes the dots of red away with his thumb.

But the hazel in his eyes is alive again. You hope it’s you that did that. Hope it’s not the pain or the sight of his own blood. You want to ask him, just to make sure. You don’t like hurting, right? You just really like me—

He slices through your shirt, careful not to graze your skin, and you try to ignore the fact that he’s never that cautious with himself, but you can’t.

“Logan, you’re bleeding.” Your voice is unstable.

“It’ll heal,” He says quickly, passively. He wipes his burning palm on his wifebeater.

“But that takes a long time now.”

He meets your eyes, his movements frozen. He’s angry and you’re not stupid. You’re pitying him again. He needs you to stop fucking pitying him. When he speaks, his voice is deep and rough and slow, and you would be scared if he wasn’t your Logan. “Are you done?”

You don’t know what to say, so you just close your eyes and nod. You hear his claws retract faster than when they came out, and almost simultaneously, he’s shoving that same hand under your waistband as two of his calloused fingers push themselves into your cunt.

You arch toward him involuntarily, a ragged moan falling from your lips as he tugs your pajamas off your legs and spits on your pussy to ease the slide of his fingers.

Each groan he pulls from your throat is a step toward dispelling the doubt from your body. Doubt of his capabilities, of his strength, of his devotion to you.

“Beg me to fuck you,” He demands, fingering you roughly.

Your mind is cloudy at this point, from sadness or arousal or both, but you give him what he wants. “Fuck me,” You whisper, your eyelids about to flutter shut as you shed a tear.

But then you catch Logan smiling.

He grabs your jaw with his free hand, and you look at him immediately. “You’re gonna let me use it, right? Get myself off?” You lazily trace his features with your gaze—His nose, his wrinkles, his beard—because you know if it were your fingers instead he’d mistake it for tenderness and get mad again.

You nod, but it’s weak with how hazy everything is.

“Good girl.” 

“Please,” You sigh, “I need you inside of me. I need to—I need it.”

“I know. I know what you’re feeling before you feel it. I know you’ve been missing when I used to ruin you.” He lets the pad of his thumb draw quick circles on your clit. “What? Thought I couldn’t hear you playing with yourself in the shower? If I can hear your heartbeat when I walk through the door, what makes you think I wouldn’t have heard you whining my name?”

“Logan,” You sigh, your hips lifting off the couch, coaxing his fingers deeper for as long as possible before he’s shoving you back down with the heel of his palm.

“I’m gonna play with you now. I’ll fuck you after, don’t worry your pretty head about it.”

“What do you mean?” You breathe, fighting to keep your eyes open as he finds your g-spot.

He grins dirtily, in a way that makes your head spin and your thighs clench around his hand. You’re barely processing his words as he bends down to mumble in your ear, “Right when you’re about to make a mess on my fingers, I’m gonna stop. Then I’m gonna go down on you. And I’m gonna lick your pretty pussy, maybe even fuck you with my tongue if you’re good. And guess what? Guess what I’m gonna do when you’re this close?”

“You’re gonna stop,” You whine.

“I’m gonna stop,” He nods, and it’s mocking, but it’s gentle, and he’s fucking killing you with the way he’s talking right now. “But I’m not mean. I’ll give you a break. You can calm down when my dick is in your mouth, okay?”

“Okay,” You breathe, your hips unabashedly grinding on his fingers. But you want to reassure him he is mean, and you especially want to tell him how much you love it. “Logan, I’m gonna—”

He withdraws his fingers from you so fast it almost burns. You clench around nothing, your lower half spasming as your orgasm barely approaches before falling away again. Only a hint of pleasure is able to make it through the cracks, and you cling onto it, hoping if you focus hard enough, the wave will come back. It doesn’t. You should regret warning Logan that you were about to finish, but all you feel is comfort now that he’s finally proud of you again.

Another tear streams down the side of your face, landing in your hair. Logan’s watching you as he pets your thigh, his lips parted when he leans down over you. He kisses your wet cheek softly, his beard rough on your skin. It’s unlike him to offer you affection this gracefully during sex. It’s always shaky limbs and suppressed groans and dirty kisses. Both of you know it. 

He moves down your body, until his face is hovering over your cunt. He doesn’t have his reading glasses on, so he has to pull his head back and squint as he spreads your folds with his thumbs, studying what you look like. He licks a stripe over you. A second, longer one, before he zeroes in on your clit. You can do nothing except lay there and take it as your hips twitch from overstimulation under his firm hands.

“Oh my god,” You whisper, your fingers twisting in his hair. “F-Fuck.”

He moans at that, pressed right up against you, the sound deep and delicious and vibrating. “Feel good?” He asks teasingly with a nip to your inner thigh.

“What do—What the fuck do you think?”

He breathes a laugh. It’s short and airy, not frustrated like before, and a warmth ignites itself in the back of your mind. It’s overpowering even the feeling of his mouth licking and sucking your most sensitive area; It’s the relief that he’s still hiding the Logan you fell in love with somewhere in there.

You wind your fingers in his hair and scratch his scalp. You try to do it lovingly, although it comes across as sexual and Logan’s breath hitches in pleasure against your pussy instead. So as you suppress a gasp from the pure skill of his tongue, you show your affection differently—you hold the wounded hand he has resting face-up beside your hip. The cuts embedded there are easy to avoid as your thumb rubs the lines of his palm, because even though you can’t see his hand, the puffiness surrounding each slash on his skin are your cues.

He doesn’t move his hand away, but his tongue falters for a fraction of a second before slowing down.

The kind of love you’re pressing into Logan’s skin with each gentle stroke is unrecognizable to him. It’s not the pitiful love he’s so used to. He thinks it might be the opposite. Admiration. Reverence.

“I’m so empty,” You whisper, bringing your hands to grope Logan’s biceps. They’re sweaty and hard and flexing under your touch, and you wonder if he would let you ride them one day.

When your climax starts to creep up on you, it’s thanks to the image of Logan forcing you to lick your arousal clean off his bicep. Indulgently swirling your tongue along his pronounced veins, savoring the taste of his sweat mixed with yourself. He’d probably say somthing like, fuckin’ filthy. Getting yourself off on my arm. Who does that? Are you that obsessed with me?

Logan feels you squeezing his tongue, harder than all the other times before, so he withdraws at the last moment, ruining your orgasm once again.

 You convulse silently, your breath coming out stuttered with your twitching jaw. As if he can read your mind, he unbuckles his belt and removes his pants and boxers. But he doesn’t strip himself of his wifebeater, stained with blood.

It’s the hottest thing in the world.

You blink, and suddenly Logan is hovering above you with his cock over your face. He rubs his leaking tip on your cheeks first, then your lips, and when you open your mouth to take him, he moves his cock away and nudges your jaw shut with his free hand, shaking his head.

“Not yet.”

A whine lodges itself in your throat as Logan spreads his pre-come over the plush of your lips. It escapes only when he lets go of his cock in favor of massaging his wetness across your lips and on your tongue with his thumb. His hard cock is bobbing above you, almost tantalizingly, the occasional drip of arousal landing itself somewhere near your eyes, then your hair, then your mouth, and you watch Logan’s brow furrow as you try to lick whatever you can.

His resolve snaps. A calloused hand squeezes at your cheeks until your jaw falls open. His cock is in your mouth before you can process it, thick and heavy and wet. So. Incredibly. Wet. You start to wonder how it’s even possible that he’s this hard at his age, but you know he wouldn’t want you to be wondering that, so you happily push the thought away.

You suck your cheeks in, swirling your tongue around his tip as you bob your head to meet the subtle, almost imperceivable thrust of his hips. You’re taking it well, you know you are.

He moves back until his cock slips out of your mouth. “I don’t wanna come like this. Wanna fuck you.”

“Yeah, yes. Fuck me. Please.”

He stands up and turns you on your front, your knees pressing into the soft couch cushions with your ass in the air.

“Logan,” You plead as you feel his tip pressing at your entrance.

“I’ve got you,” He says quietly, pushing in until half of his cock is comfortably squeezed by your cunt. Both your breathing is loud and labored, and there’s a specific kind of intimacy in knowing you’re both feeling identical things. Overwhelming and hot and unquenchable by anything other than each other.

His first thrust is shallow, but it ruins you all the same. With how thick he is, it should feel like an intrusion. But all you can think about is how perfectly he fits inside of you.

“Fuck,” Logan breathes. “Look at that.” He traces around your entrance with his thumb. “Stretching so wide to take me.”

You moan, pressing your cheek against the sofa as you rock with his thrusts. He still hasn’t pressed all the way in yet, and you’re growing impatient. “Come on,” You urge, pushing yourself back to force more of his cock into you.

You expect him to chastise you for being so greedy, but he listens to you instead with a slow, full thrust. His tip nudges your cervix with how deep he is, and a ragged moan escapes you. “Yes,” You whine, “Oh god, yes.”

Logan’s breaths are coming out heavy through his nose, quick and occasionally intertwined with a grunt. His thrusts are getting quicker, and it’s starting to burn, but you welcome every sensation he has to offer you. He pulls out, spits on his cock, then shoves himself back inside, and this time you’re both unabashedly moaning the minute you’re joined again. 

His fingers dig in the plush of your ass as he observes himself disappearing into you. It hurts, but you love it. He knows you do, so he spanks you quickly before gripping you and rutting against you again.

“I love when you fuck me,” You whisper, feeling ashamed as soon as the confession leave you. “When you properly fuck me.”

He slows for a moment so he can watch his cock glisten with how wet you are. “I know.” He picks back up his punishing pace.

Your eyes begin to water, from pain or pleasure, you can’t tell. “I love you.”

“I know,” He repeats, this time breathier. His hips stutter. You can tell he’s close.

“I want it on my face,” You tell him quickly, his impending orgasm giving you no time to worry about being too forward.

He pulls out again, letting you turn onto your back as he shifts up your body. He jerks himself furiously, but you swat his hand away and take it upon yourself to stroke him.

“Come for me,” You tell him honestly, softly. His eyes squeeze shut and his lips part around a trembling exhale.

“I’m gonna—” He groans over and over as his release coats your face in long stripes. Some of it even lands in your hair, but you don’t care. Your own fingers work your clit as you stick your tongue out and taste him. Logan bends down to kiss you, chest heaving and hands shaky, and you rub yourself faster, swapping his release between the two of you with a hum. He pulls back so you both can swallow, then he kisses your cheeks with his rough beard, uncaring about the mess on your face.

You don’t know you’re coming until it’s over and you’re breathless, and it’s almost excruciating with how much he’s ruined you, but you’re so exhausted you can’t find it in yourself to dwell on it a second longer.

You wrap your arms around his neck and tug him down for another kiss because you can hardly remember the one he just gave you.

“I’m sorry I had been treating you all wrong,” You say carefully.

“It doesn’t matter anymore.” His voice is rough from his orgasm.

You nod, your lips brushing his as you smooth sweaty strands of hair away from his forehead. These touches are hard for him. Any variation of your chaste affection is a reminder that he’s not really Logan anymore.

But the shame in it is gone. Replaced by the reassurance that he can still surround you with safety and firm hands and blatant desire;

And for a moment, he’s his old self again.

A/N: it's been so long since i've written anything, but logan has been consuming my brain for weeks so i had to get this out. i hope it's true to his character. <3 also, my asks are open, so feel free to request anything you want to read about.

[devil-in-hiding]

Okay but Virgin!Reader who is absolutely terrified of intimacy. It’s not a lack of knowledge on the subject; she’s knows more about it than a retired pornstar. But she just can’t handle the thought of giving herself away, especially to someone she doesn’t know or feels like she can’t trust! Back where she comes from, trust is a privilege and respect is a must. But what happens when she meets brutal, gruff, and one hundred and ten percent dangerous Simon Riley, who’s way more experienced and has a history of fucking just to let off some steam.

Ughhhhh 😵‍💫

Simon is your neighbor. Your first interaction is when he almost knocks you over in the hall, only offering a grunt and cold glare before slamming his apartment door shut.

It remains that way for a year or so, the rare times you do see him home. Nothing is ever said, but he acknowledges you with a grunt, and you always return a small nod of greeting. He’s cold and gruff, but every time he gets home from wherever he goes, you have to hole up in the living room to escape the moans and his headboard banging into your wall. the following mornings you can hardly look him in the eye as he stares at you rushing towards the stairs.

It’s not until after a particularly bad date, who is stubbornly trying to invite himself into your apartment, that Simon actually speaks.

“Jake please, I had a nice time but I have to get up early for work.” You protest, trying to block your doorway and the guy scoffs. “C’mon, you gonna leave me hangin like that?” He frowns, trying to shoulder past you.

“I would like you to leave now.”

“Listen here you little bitch, I’ve had to put up with staring at that rack all night, the least you can do is-“

“Think the lady told you to get the fuck out mate.” A deep voice growls, and the two of you jump, and your eyes widen at seeing Simon there, and there’s a dark look in his eyes as he stares down your ‘date’

“Hey man, this is none of you-“

“Considering this nice woman is my neighbor, I’m making it my fucking business.” He states before quite literally lifting Jake by the scruff of his neck and throwing him out into the hallway. “I see you bothering her again and I’ll kick your sorry ass up and down this god damn complex you got that?”

Jake is gone before Simon is done talking. You hear him take a deep breath, shoulders relaxing before he turns to face you, and you’re surprised by the concern showing in his eyes.

“That fuckhead didn’t hurt you, did he?” He asks, and you’re shocked this man’s voice can be so soft. You’re frozen, just staring at him before you find your voice.

“N-no, no I’m okay, he was just trying to shoulder past me.” You stutter out, nervously playing with your fingers. Your heart stops when one of his large hands reaches up, gently brushing your hair away from your face.

“Sorry it took me so long, couldn’t tell if it was you I was hearing.” He admits, and your heart flutters. He knows your voice?

He talks to you more after that, helping you with groceries when your hands are full, stopping by to ask if you’d watch his apartment while he’s away on deployment. You start to look forward to the two knocks on your door, finding Simon waiting for you, crinkles around his eyes letting you know he’s smiling at you.

But the women still come, along with your nights camped out in the living room, you’re heart just a bit heavier every time.

(might turn this into something)

[reidrum]

close to home | s.r

pairing: spencer reid x reader

a/n: this has been rotting in my brain for days now i hope you enjoy the angsty comfort this brought me <3 my requests are open (guidelines in pinned!) or if you wanna just chat hop in my ask box :) gonna hopefully work on a smut fic in the next week so keep an eye out hehe

cw: angst, hurt/comfort, protective!spencer, afab!reader who uses she/her pronouns, non bau!reader, cm type violence, reader sustains injuries from unsub, vague description of injuries, maeve mentions, derek being a good friend, spencer being so in love with reader, this takes place probably a year after maeve, inconsistencies with tls and characters but who cares

wc: 2.4k

summary: the bau is working a local case when their unsub strikes again mid investigation, hotch tells reid and morgan to go check it out but spencer finds the address of the crime to be a little too familar

_______________________________________________

whenever the bau has a case based in the dc area, it’s always a little easier on the team. familiar stomping grounds, ease of resources, no major time difference, and everyone can sleep in their own beds. the hard part about home cases is knowing there’s a serial killer in the place they know deeply, with people they cared about deeply.

spencer and callahan are in the middle of the bullpen staring at the giant white board with all the evidence they have so far. the unsub has been killing women in their mid 20s in the local dc area, with the mo currently unknown. there had already been two victims, both killed in their homes. spencer was currently trying to analyze all the information the case had alongside with what garcia was able to provide, and he was still hitting a dead end. morgan had joined them at some point too, trying to offer what he could remember from the crime scenes but to no avail. he felt his eyes straining and dropping so he decided to get more coffee, but was stopped by hotch and garcia entering the bullpen.

“police just got a 911 call about a break in, but there’s a witness this time. she was home when it happened and it looks like he didn’t expect that and tried to knock her out before escaping. i think it sounds like our unsub. morgan and reid i need you to go check out the scene and interview the witness, see what she remembers.” hotch explained.

morgan and reid nodded as garcia spoke up, “i just sent the address to your phones, it’s a house on hillcrest so it's not that far from here.”

spencer froze. he had to have heard wrong, she did not say hillcrest, “did you say hillcrest?”

“yeah hillcrest drive. it’s like, a 15 minute drive it’s not that bad.”

he felt his heart drop to his feet, a sinking feeling building in his gut. that was the street you lived on. he tried to ground himself with logic, the probability of it being your house is only 10%, but he was dreading asking the fated question.

“garcia, what’s the house number?”

“reid, i already sent it to your pho-“

“garcia, what is the house number,” he spoke again. 

please don’t say 1159 please don’t say 1159 please don’t say-

“1159.”

fuck. the color drained from his face, and the nausea was building to a head quickly. spencer hurriedly tried to think through the last time he spoke to you, last night? this morning? he doesn’t check on you as much as he does when he’s not on a case, but oh my god why can’t he remember the last time he saw you.

“reid,” hotch bellows, finally breaking spencer out of his trance, “what is it? what do you know?”

he shook his head,  “nothing. morgan, let’s go.” he grabbed his jacket and booked it out the door.

morgan, garcia, and hotch all looked at each other in concern, before morgan spoke up, “i’ll see what’s up.” the latter two nodded softly, though the worry didn’t let up in their eyes.

morgan walked up to the car to find spencer repeatedly trying to call someone on the phone, clearly unable to get through and getting really frustrated.

spencer was alerted by morgan’s presence hearing the car unlock but he didn’t even look at him, just immediately got in the car and strapped his seat belt. morgan joined him in the drivers seat giving him a wary look before turning the car on and pulling out of the bureau.

“okay reid, spill it. it’s obvious you know who lives here.” morgan speaks up.

“just drive, please.”

“because if you know something, something that could help the case, it would be helpful if we knew.”

“morgan, just drive.” he borderline yells.

he raises his eyebrows at his raised voice, “listen kid, i’m just trying to help you. i can see you’re upset but we’re on the same side, you know that.”

spencer takes a shaky breath, feeling another shade of guilt at yelling at one of his friends, for something he didn’t even know about. he’d kept you a secret for many reasons— your relationship with him was still new, and he just wanted to keep you to himself for a bit. after what happened with maeve, he felt especially more responsible at keeping you safe and making sure you didn’t get tangled up in his line of work.

some job he did of that.

the one thing he regrets about how he handled the maeve situation, was not asking for help until it was almost too late. for not doing anything about her stalker when he was part of one of the most famous fbi teams built to find people like that. he’d always live with that guilt, but he vowed not to do that with you.

he loved you so much. you were so kind, and smart, and beautiful. a breath of fresh air after feeling lost in a dark tunnel for so long. you were so understanding when he explained what he did for a living, and what had happened to him and people he cared about as a result. he still remembers what you said to him when he told you that you could have an out, if you wanted.

“any risk is worth taking if getting to be with you is the consolation prize.”

tears welled up in eyes thinking about the memory. if you were willing to take any risk, then he should be able to as well.

he cleared his throat, and morgan’s ears perked up, “my uh, my girlfriend lives there. where the unsub, at- attacked.” he voiced softly.

morgan looked at him for a beat while driving, spencer missing the way his face dropped. he tightened his hands on the wheels, and didn’t hesitate to turn the lights and siren on and shift gears to speed up.

__

the car pulled onto your street and the first thing spencer sees is the flashing light of the ambulances. morgan doesn’t even put the car in park before spencer’s bolting out hoping he can find you quickly.

he’s asking all the paramedics he’s passing if they’ve seen you or know if you’re being treated, were you transferred to a hospital and he didn’t know, the tunnel vision slowly overtaking him until he hears a voice breaking through like sunlight call out his name.

he whips his head in the direction he heard it come from, and he’s never been more grateful to be met with the beautiful sight of you. you watch his eyes widen and let out a sigh before running over to where you were sitting in the back of the ambulance. he’s definitely not thinking when he goes in to hug you, not even knowing the extent of your injuries. he’s overtaken by the desperate need to hold you in his arms so he knows you’re safe and okay.

“hi,” you choke out muffled, “funny seeing you here.”

he pulls back to inspect your face, taking note of a small cut above your left eyebrow and the beginning splotches of a bruise forming on your lower jaw. his heart aches so much looking at you, knowing what happened to you and who did this to you.

“hi, honey,” he lets out tearfully, “are you okay? i mean, of course you’re not. but what did the paramedics say? did they give you anything? are you sure they checked all your injuries? you know what, let me go call the guy over. i’ll be literally two seconds.” his panicked ramble fading off as he rounds the truck you’re sat in to find the emt.

upon his extensive questioning of the man who treated you, he found out that you had sustained a minor concussion from when the unsub swung at you with an umbrella, superficial cuts caused by a broken vase you threw to defend yourself, and a dislocated shoulder from getting shoved into the wall.

you were okay, but at what cost.

the emt leaves you two and spencer sits himself next to you on the rig. he wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you as tight as he can and the other hand cradles your head into the crook of his neck, holding you so tight he’s hoping he can squeeze the bad memories out of you. it’s at this moment of feeling safe and sound in his arms when the adrenaline of your attack wears off.

spencer hears a small whimper and feels a few hot tears trickle down his neck, your breathing gets faster as you’re attempting to beat your body’s fear response. the slow build up of sobs starting to rack your chest, and he immediately holds you tighter.

“it’s over, baby, they won’t hurt you anymore. i promise.”

you sniffle, “i know, i just can’t believe this happened. to me, to us. it’s not fair to you.” trailing off the last two words.

“to me? wh- what do you mean?”

you take a deep breath, “i don’t mean to bring it up again, i just know how eerily similar this is to a past experience you’ve had. and i hoped that i wouldn’t be in a position to make you feel that way again. i don’t know why this happened, i'm sorry.”

he looked down at you incredulously. genuinely unable to believe that you were sitting next to him on an ambulance, beaten up with bruises and scars after a home invasion attack, worried about how he would feel when he got to you. it was enough to finally let the swell of tears saved up in his eyes fall.

“oh sweetheart,” he chokes out, realizing you’ve been trying to be brave for him this whole time, “what happened is not your fault, do you understand me? my job is to always worry about you and your safety. when garcia said the address i…i couldn’t even process it, i don’t even know how i got to the car,” he shook his head, “but i am the last person you need to push your emotions down for. i will always take them in stride and love you even more for that, okay?”

“okay,” you take a shaky breath, “i love you.”

“i love you.” he leans down to press a kiss to the crown of your head.

both of your heads look up at an approaching figure, who you quickly recognize to be ssa derek morgan. you knew spencer hadn’t told the team about you yet, so you tried to sit up independently as fast as you could before he came over and suspected something.

spencer’s grip didn’t let up when he bent down and whispered, “it’s okay, he knows.” you look up at him with wide eyes when derek finally reaches you.

“reid, i already talked to the detectives and we’re good to go when you’re ready,” he turns his body to you and gives you a comforting smile, “hi sweetheart, i’m derek morgan, it’s nice to meet you.”

spencer rolls his eyes at the nickname while you giggle softly, “hi derek, i’ve heard so much about you. it's nice to finally meet you too.”

“i wish it were under better circumstances,” he sighs, “listen, i know it’s all still really fresh for you, but it might help the case if you’re able to come in for a cognitive interview, or even talk to a sketch artist.”

spencer doesn’t miss a beat before protesting, “absolutely not. we can do it later, it’s fine.”

“reid-“

you look up at him placing your hand on his chest, “spence, it’s okay. i want to help, please.”

he rests his hand on top yours and gives it a light squeeze, “okay, but i’m not leaving you alone for a second.”

“i didn’t think you would.” you smile.

“alright lovebirds, you can have your private time later, we should go now.” derek teases.

spencer groans, “see this is why i didn’t say anything.”

“you think i’m bad? wait till penelope meets her.”

__

the three of you pile into the car before starting the drive to spencer’s apartment so he could get you a change of clothes and other things you might need. you end up falling asleep in the back seat, the final stage of your shock sinking in like a rock. spencer checks on you from the rear view mirror and sees you passed out, and smiles.

“she’s cute,” derek starts, “can i ask how long?”

“nine months.” he replies, fishing for something out of his pocket.

“pretty boy hid a girl from all of us for nine months? maybe we’re not as good profilers as we thought.”

“imagine that,” he laughs, and gestures to the item in his hand, “look.”

spencer’s holding out a well loved photo booth strip with three pictures, of you and spencer from the time you went to a local county fair. you’re sitting in his lap, mostly due to the cramped space and the expansive limbs. the first picture is the two of you holding up finger guns attempting to be as back to back as you can. the second picture, you intended it to be a normal one where you both smile at the camera, but spencer couldn’t take his eyes off you and the picture captured the love struck gaze he had on you. the last one you were about to tell him the idea for it, when he grabbed your face and pulled you closer to kiss you, neither of you knowing when the final picture snapped.

the edges were worn out and frayed, clearly broken down by the oils on his fingers from pulling it out frequently. it was his most treasured item, a constant reminder of what was always waiting for him when he got back from grueling cases, and how lucky he was to have you in his life.

“you look really happy, kid.” derek says, thinking about the many times he’s seen his friend at rock bottom, the things that have been so brutally taken from him, and the suffering he’s had at the hands of his job. his heart warms for his friend, who seemed to finally catch a break.

“i am.”

[yanderenightmare]

TW: yandere, noncon/dubcon, angst, unwanted pregnancy, blackmail, ish-baby trapping

PART ONE only avaliable on AO3 due to Tumblr restrictions

fem reader

You went cold and forgot how to breathe.

When you got to the kindergarten, they told you his father had already come and collected him early. All looking at you as though you were crazy, assaulting the daycare workers with your hands in a bruising grip, shaking her by her shoulders—demanding she tell you where he took him. 

She spilled the name of some family restaurant down the road and said he’d wanted you to join them there. The poor thing was on the verge of tears when you let go.

Rushing out, you all but ran down the streets before pushing yourself through the doors—cold-sweating and swivel-eyed—in a panic, scanning faces with his name coming out weak under your breath. 

With your vision spinning, you felt faint before you heard it.

“Mommy! Mommy! You’re here! Look! I’m King of the castle!” he shouted, and your peeled eyes snapped to see him up high in a bright red plastic tower.

But before your shoes could hit the soft foam of the playground, you were intercepted by something larger.

“He’s fine,” he said under his breath, catching and stopping you in your beeline, holding you by the waist. “I need to talk to you.”

Something old and instinctive didn’t bother paying him heed—as if forgetting how to speak, you just ignored him in favor of pushing past him, eyes glued to the sight of your son blissfully unaware, playing with other kids with an oblivious smile on his face. But his grip was stronger than your instincts, firm enough to keep you still but not enough to hurt you, even when you tried twisting yourself free.

“Come on,” he urged.

You were about to sneer something, finally looking at his face—that face you hated—but the bark of curse words got held back.

“Look around you. Let’s not cause a scene.” The wild animal within went silent while your eyes flickered around at the surrounding picnic tables where families were having their dinner. “We can talk outside. My assistant will look after him.”

You didn’t feel much inclined to listen, but still, even though it made you hate to fold on his behest—reluctantly, you accepted the sense of what he was saying. Looking back at your son still laughing up in his tower with cinched brows. You didn’t want to scare him when he didn’t know what was going on, even though you felt the need to scream at the very top of your lungs.

You allowed him to lead you outside, but as soon as the fresh air welcomed your rigid state, you were at once whipping around and pushing him away. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?!” snarling at him. “How fucking dare you?!”

“Calm down. He might still see us,” he hushed, hands raised in halfhearted surrender, casting a nod to the glass walls separating you from the frivolity inside. “Let’s just talk rationally.”

“Rationally?!” you scoffed in a shout, eyes still manic. “You fucking kidnapped my son, you psycho-”

“You wouldn’t answer my texts or calls,” he snubbed. “He’s my son too-”

“Fuck you,” you interrupted to return the favor. “If you fuck with me on this, I swear I’ll ruin you.” You had a finger raised at him, breathing furiously—looking down-right mad—sweaty and disheveled from your run with your face twisted with such a state of frenzy. “I’ll tell everyone how I got him in the first place!”

Despite the threat, he didn’t seem all that fazed. 

“Think about it…” he said calmly, much in contrast to you. “Who do you think people will believe? A teenage mom abusing her son for a paycheck or his estranged father wanting to provide for him?”

You blanched, and before anything else made it out—whether it be more rage or something else, he was already further silencing you.

“Not to mention… the trial would be gruesome, and Junior would have to grow up with it always hanging over his head—is that really what you want?”

You look at him, and you still can't believe it. How could it have turned out like this? You’d been perfect only a month ago before he’d shown up at your apartment.

You thought you’d sent him on his way for good that day, but only now did you realize he had no plans to leave you alone.

“Come, let’s talk in the car. It’s cold, and you’re not dressed,” he ushered, taking your arm again where you stood, stunned and still, trying to wrap your head around his threats. Letting yourself be led into the black vehicle standing perfectly parked in its neat white rectangle.

You both got in the back with enough room to battle your homey sofa nook at home.

“I don’t want this to get ugly,” he started anew—his voice still so irritatingly calm, unfairly so. “I just want to see my son-”

“He’s not yours,” you croaked, feeling the situation slip from your fingers—battling a drumming heart, shifty breaths, and the mean sting of tears welling up in your eyes.

“If you try and keep him from me, I’ll sue for full custody. And given I’m the only one out of us who isn’t a pro-bono case and the only one with any future that isn’t managing a register, I’d say I have a pretty fair shot at winning.”

You can’t keep from bursting out crying then, overwhelmed by the fear of losing the only thing that mattered and the pure disgust of the man who’d given it to you. It felt like everything was tearing—your whole life—crumbling before your eyes.

“Don’t cry,” he soothed, his hand coming to drape your hunched shoulders where you held your tears. “I don’t want to take him away from you…” His attempt did little to comfort you, but the next words had your heart grasping for what little hope they offered. “And I’m not going to either.”

You looked at him through the hurt of swollen eyes, tears still falling while he wiped them away with the course pad of his thumb—rubbing your cheek affectionately. In any other circumstance, you’d surely slap him, but right now, all you could do was listen.

“I’m buying a house,” he revealed, still holding your cheek and gaze. “Fit for a family. Safe neighborhood, good school district, giant backyard.” The list went over your head—it was all too surreal to register. You couldn’t even fathom what he was getting at until, “I want the two of you to come live there with me.”

Stunned, you remained completely silent until the tears dried, and he let go of your face. 

“You don’t have to say anything right now.” He reaches across you and fetches the seatbelt before coming back over you to click it in place. “I’ll go get Junior and drive you home. Just stay here.”

You do as suggested and stay seated as he pops his door open and leaves—feeling all but cemented in place as your thoughts go tumbling around and around as if caught in a rip curl. When Junior jumps in beside you, a farfetched smile is all you can offer. Thankfully, he’s so enamored by a toy he’d gotten to notice much of your state.

When your door opens again, you’re led out and onto your neighborhood street. The fresh air does little to clear your mind. Feeling all but feverish as you hold Junior's small hand in yours while the man of your nightmares smiles all too fondly at the two of you.

“I’ll come pick you up after your shift on Monday.,” he says decidedly—cheerfully as he ruffles Junior’s hair enough to make him giggle. “Bring the rascal with you, and he can pick his room first.”

You weren’t planning on staying. You were never planning on staying—certain you would leave the second the opportunity to skip town arose—you just need to scramble the money together first. 

But the house was huge… nothing you could ever dream of, and while it made you desperate with grief, you couldn’t deny it either… Junior really loved having a dad.

It nearly brought sick to your throat to call him that. It was a shot through the heart every time you heard Junior’s boyish call, squealing with giggles, saying “Daddy, daddy, daddy-”

None of it seemed right to you. Seeing his bright smile, now at the age where a new tooth fell out every other week—looking so goofy as he proudly shows the two of you the new one he’d just knocked out playing soccer at school. “Mommy, Daddy, look!”

What’s worse is that you can't even deny how good the man you hate is at it all—spoiling him with gifts and making him laugh—giving piggyback ride after air-plane flight after tickle-fight and a game of tag and hide’n’seek. 

And it’s not just the easy stuff. He’s good at the shit that used to make you go crazy—putting him to bed, getting him dressed, making him eat the right stuff, and not just scuffle down candy. It’s as if the two of them have developed a secret language you’re not a part of. If Junior weren’t a toddler, you’d even suspect he’d been bribed and told to do his best to make you lose your mind. But no, it’s just reality.

The man you live with drives and picks your son up from school as if he’d done it since he was born, goes with you to meet the teacher if and when he gets into trouble and helps the two of you pick out the right shoes—shoes that you can now afford, thanks to him.

“I thought I might sleep in the master bedroom tonight.” He says, leaning against the frame in the doorway.

You’d been living there a month now. He’d been generous enough to sleep in the guest room up until now.

You don’t know how to deny him. It feels as if anything you might say would just be ignored or threatened until you eventually took it back. You didn’t want him in your bed—you didn’t want him in the same house—in fact, preferably, you’d want him to be six feet deep in the dirt.

You end up not answering. But he’s used to that by now. 

“I get it…” he says, taking steps into the room you’d wrongfully thought was your safe space. “You don’t trust me.” He sits down at the edge of the bed and reaches out across the sheets. You’re too late to pull your feet to yourself before he has one in his hand. He doesn’t do much but stroke it. “But you can.”

The sincerity in his eyes makes you want to gouge them out. It’s all been some cruel joke ever since you moved in—all the pleasantries and presents, as if trying to distract you from the past. Your wardrobe is chockfull of it, and so is Junior’s room—filled to the brim with lies.

“I’m never gon’ hurt you.” Another lie. “I did you wrong once, and I’ll spend the rest of my life makin’ up for it.” 

You want to shake your head, laugh in his face—anything to reject it. But you’re terrified of what he might do if you didn’t play along. The threat of losing Junior is enough to make you cooperative.

“I know I’ve not been fair—pushin’ you into all of this so fast.” He gets down on his knees on the floor as if praying, right down beside you. “I took advantage of a vulnerable situation ‘cause I’m an impatient asshole—but I promise you—” He takes your hand in both of his. “If you give me the chance, I’m gon’ make our lives together like somethin’ outa’ a fuckin’ fairytale—all that happily ever after shit and more, just like you always wanted.”

The kiss he presses upon your knuckles beckons goosebumps to rise all across you. All his words feel like a bad script read by an even worse actor—in fact, this whole thing feels like a prank. And still, it doesn’t surprise you—he’s been laughing at you ever since you were children.

And now, laughing still, only with a fucking ringbox in his hand.

“I want Junior to see us as a united front. I don’t want him askin’ question why we ain’t sleepin’ in the same bed, why we fight behind locked doors, why you cry in the bathroom.” 

He pops the black velvet lid and reveals something so outrages it almost looks tacky lying there in a plush bed of red silk.

“I want us to be happy.” He picks the little thing out and holds it up between his thumb and index, still holding your hand in the other. “I want us to be real.” You can almost see your life flash before your eyes as it threatens your ring finger. “Let’s make us real.”

You don’t say anything as he eases the tiny hoop on, sliding it all the way back until it sits snugly right at your knuckle—dazzling in the dark. A tiny tear slips down your cheek—equally dazzling.

He played some with the digit—a smile on his face. 

“Looks good on you, Mrs.” As he calls you by his last name you almost shake the ring off as if it burned to wear, but it all gets lost when he rushes forward and locks his lips with yours.

You yelp against his mouth, kept from turning away by the large hand holding your jaw, threatening to seize your throat and squeeze. You remember how it had felt. You don’t want more of a reminder, so you intercept his tongue with yours before he forced it down your throat.

He groans at the warm welcome, and your entire body shudders in memory.

You hadn’t let anyone touch you since that time five years ago. It had left a poor taste in your mouth, and the hunger for it had never come back.

You choke it down now as he climbs on top. 

♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Dabi, Hawks ♡ JJK – Sukuna, Geto, Gojo, Naoya, Toji

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[ladysharmaa]

My miracle

Anthony Bridgerton x reader

summary: Anthony’s wife is in labor and it’s not looking good

warnings: mentions of death

“Where is she?” the loud voice of Anthony was heard in the entire mansion. The door he opened slammed into the wall but he couldn’t care less as he saw some servants running his way to take off his coat. “Tell me where my wife is!”

“My apologies, my Lord.” the poor man trembled under the Lord’s menacingly glare, that were just a cover for the worry and fear that was running though his veins. “The Viscountess is in your chambers. The midwife and your mother are already present with her. Shall I inform your brothers to come and wait with you until the child is born?”

Anthony didn’t bother to respond. He quickly climbed the stairs, two steps at once, seeing with wide eyes as the maids ran to his room with towels in their hands. He doesn't even settle for knocking, immediatly opening the bedroom door. None of his mother's stories could have prepared him for the sight that lay ahead.

His darling wife was drenched in sweat, dressed in her nightdown. One hand was on her round belly protectively while the other was in his mother’s hands, who was whispering words of comfort. Her jaw was clenched in pain and it was only then that he noticed the midwife between the Viscountess legs. 

“You!” Y/n screamed accusingly, managing to point a finger at Anthony with hatred. “You did this to me! You will never ever put your hands on me again!”

“I-” Anthony was at loss of words. He knew that his wife was in pain, and looking like she was ready to kill, so he just nodded his head in agreement. He took slow hesitant steps towards the bed, hoping to comfort her without dying. “I’ll never touch you again, my love. How are you feeling?”

“How do you think I’m feeling? I’m pushing your child that inherited your big head out of my lady parts! So tell me, my dear husband, how am I feeling?”

“Like you are giving birth?”

“Anthony...” his mother whispered while shaking her head in dispair. “You should leave the room. Your brothers must be coming to keep you company. We shall call you when the child is born.” 

“I’m not leaving my wife.” was the only thing he said with firmity, holding Y/n’s hand and kissing her soft skin gently.

She turned to him, a change in her demeanor, eyes full of tears of terror. “I’m scared, Anthony. It hurts.”

“I know it hurts. It’s okay, love. You will be alright and then we will have our child with us.” he whispered. A feeling of guilt washed through him. How could he have made his wife suffer through childbirth? “You are the bravest person I know. So so much braver than me and everyone else. I’m so proud of you.”

"I can't do this. It hurts too much. Make it stop, Anthony, please." Y/n cried.

It was only then that Anthony saw the look in his mother. She was worried, exchanging looks with the midwife. And as much as the Viscount would like to also show his anguish, his first priority was to comfort Y/n. "It's going to be okay, my love. Just a little longer, you're being so strong."

But she no longer had the strength to respond. It was getting harder and harder to keep her eyes open and she just wanted to sleep to escape the pain. Between her legs, an increasingly larger pool of blood was forming. Anthony's eyes were wide and there was enormous pressure in his chest. It felt like I was running out of oxygen, and it only got worse when Y/n finally gave in to unconsciousness.

"What's happening?" he whispered, looking in alarm first at Violet. Afterwards, he turned to the midwife furiously. "What's wrong with her? Help her! Do something!"

"Anthony, you need to leave." Violet advised, trying to remain calm for everyone's sake. Anthony was becoming more and more desperate, tears falling from his eyes as he grabbed his wife's hand tighter and brought it to his lips.

"I'm not going anywhere!"

"Viscount Bridgerton, the baby is in pain. You won't want to see what I'm going to do. I promise I'll try to save both of them." the midwife said, taking a small knife and flying it over Y/n's stomach.

"If you need to choose, save my wife's life." Anthony begged, now more desperate as his mother called his brothers to take him out of the room.

"Anthony..."

"No, mother, you save my wife's life!" Benedict and Collin grabbed the man by the arms and began to carry him outside, despite Anthony's struggle. "You hear me! My wife is going to survive! Let me go! Mother, save Y/n!" he shouted before the door closed in his face. 

The last thing he saw was the woman making the cut on Y/n's stomach, who woke up with a jolt. She then let out a scream that would torment Anthony for the rest of his life.

With a cry of anger mixed with sadness, Anthony broke free from his brothers' grip and put his hands to his face. He didn't want to think about the possibility of losing the love of his life. He simply couldn't take it.

"Wow, Anthony, calm down." Collin whispered when Anthony, in a rage, threw a punch against the wall. "The Viscountess is a fighter. If anyone is capable of overcoming this, it's her."

"You don't tell me to calm down, Collin. Not when my wife is in that room fighting for her life over something I did." he cried, jaw shaking and eyes red that only showed the immense pain he was in. He sat on the floor, leaning his head back and looking at the ceiling. "I need her to live."

"And she will live, brother. I will bring a drink, and we will wait together for news." Benedict said, rushing to bring the alcohol when Y/n's screams became louder.

On one hand, each scream was like a stab in the heart of Anthony, who was increasingly pale and looked like he was going to vomit at any moment. On the other, it was the only way to know she was alive.

Moments passed. The Viscount didn't know if it had been seconds, minutes or hours. Things seemed to be getting mixed up in his mind. Nothing made sense, not when the love of his life was in the next room in pain and he was away from her. He had to protect her, it was his obligation as a husband. And he failed.

And then came the moment when Anthony's heart stopped. A baby's cry was heard, and he allowed himself to smile a little. He had a son or daughter. A mini version of his wife. And then he burst into tears when Y/n stopped screaming and everything became too silent.

It was uncontrollable. He cried without being able to stop, making it even difficult to breathe in. Anthony refused to believe that he would have to raise this child without Y/n. Without her affection, her kindness, her love. He didn't want to open his eyes and realize that all this wasn't a nightmare, but reality.

Benedict and Collin didn't know what to do. But one thing was certain, they would be there to help Anthony with whatever he needed and never let that child forget the wonderful mother he had. Then, Violet left the room holding a pile of blankets that held the baby.

"You have a daughter, Anthony."

He just cried more. His body was shaking and he couldn't even look at his mother and the baby. "Y/n... Is she...?" He took Violet's silence as a yes. "Oh god..."

"Enter the room, Anthony. She is waiting for you."

Anthony had never stood up so quickly in his life. He quickly opened the door, stopping momentarily when he saw the amount of blood on the sheets, but the most important thing was Y/n's half-open eyes. She was alive and looking around the room in confusion.

"Anthony? Where is my baby?" her voice was hoarse and extremely weak.

The man fell to his knees at the edge of her bed, and lowered his head to rest on her chest. A feeling of relief spread throughout his body when he felt the rising and falling movement of her chest, indicating that she was breathing and that it wasn't just his imagination.

"I love you so much." he cried, feeling her hands start stroking his hair. "I'm sorry. You were so brave and strong. I'm so proud of you, my love."

"Where is my baby?" Y/n didn't want to seem like she didn't appreciate Anthony's words because that was a lie. He was the most important person in her life. But at that moment, Y/n just wanted to know where her baby was.

"She's right here, dear." Violet reassured with a smile, announcing her presence.

Very carefully, she passed the child into the arms of her son's wife, her smile widening as the little family was finally together again. The new parents had a gentle smile as they looked at their creation, a new love emerging for this fragile human being.

Anthony kissed Y/n's temple. "We have a daughter."

"She is beautiful."

"She takes after her mother." Anthony quickly said, never feeling so much love as he did in that moment. 

He was extremely proud of Y/n admiring her strength and courage. Now, he was going to protect his two girls until the end of his life. Nothing was more important than his family.

[insanechayne]

~ ~ ~