#i just...can barely bring myself to try anymore

[whorrorbvby]

an update:

hey friends a lot of people have been asking where ive been on other socials and im sorry for being m.i.a and ignoring everyone’s worries. im not getting into it right now and i dont know if i want to talk about the details publicly. 

i deleted tumblr from my phone about two and a half weeks ago and ive had a friend keeping a queue going on main for me. it might be that way permanently now i don’t know. I don’t know that I want to come back to tumblr if im being honest. a lot of things happened and i just can’t handle seeing certain people anymore so i’ve been hanging out on two of the more safer socials where tumblr people people generally leave me alone. not that im upset with you any of you or anything it’s more of a personal relationship and it just turned me off of basically everything and i just can’t handle a lot right now.  

i didn’t want to stop posting my own content for obvious reasons but i really can’t bring myself to come back it’s too hard and my heart can’t handle it right now. i also haven’t taken any new photos or anything and as of right now i don’t really feel super comfortable in sharing my body in that way. situations have made me feel disgusting as a person and i can’t look at myself. im trying to post more on ig to boost myself back up but i don’t know my self image is kind of ruined now. plus i’ve lost 15lbs from stress and inability to eat because of it and with how many people already harass and bully me for how scrawny i am i don’t want to subject myself in my current mental state to even the possibility of anyone saying anything. 

but like i said i have a friend running main for me and i might have them run this account too and my pepper page just because i do want to go back to making content i just dont know if i can handle posting or being in certain spaces right now. 

on top of what im currently dealing with in my personal life this is just a really hard time for me in general because of the holiday season and close to the anniversary of my best friends death so i tend to shut down a little anyway it’s just my entire world came crashing down again and im honestly starting to give up on even existing. i know im being melodramatic and i need to suck it up and just go back to status quo it’s just really hard this time and i cant force myself into a positive headspace like i used to even for a second. i have honestly never felt this empty and i barely know who i am or what my worth is anymore. 

i dont know if i’ll turn my asks back on. my friend offered to answer anything for me but its better for my mental health if i dont because i know people will ask questions and i dont trust myself to not completely go off on a tangent. im sorry i know im rambling but i feel like a proper update with zero room for misunderstanding is needed and i dont want to sugarcoat or lie to any of you to make myself seem or feel better cuz i respect the hell out of you guys and you deserve honesty if for nothing else. and i appreciate so fucking much you all continuing to support me and hype me up through all the bullshit life keeps throwing at me. 

im mostly on ig and threads right now and on threads im talking about games and movies with new people im meeting and it’s been really helping through shit. if you follow me on snap you saw me say im thinking about deleting everything. my accounts are still up and as long as my friend still wants to help me out i’ll at least have a queue running on main but i’ve deleted every social app other than ig and threads. i wholeheartedly planned on deleting snap last night but it’s the only way some of you get any updates from me so for now i wont delete it but i might make a new one instead just to get away from situations that are bringing me down. we’ll see. if I make a new snap i’ll post it everywhere n put it in my bios. that being said i don’t have a private/nsfw snap and i wont make one im sorry. i still wont sell content outside of what i post on peppers and i wont do customs im sorry. maybe in the future but right now i need to focus on myself and getting out of this headspace before i do anything else. 

but truly thank you for sticking with me and just genuinely being the best crew around. i promise to try my best to get out of this mess of a headspace im in as quickly as possible and im really sorry for basically abandoning everything again but i really am hopeful for the future and just trying to focus on myself and my happiness at the moment 🙏🏻🧡

[sweetkpopmusings]

miserable (you & me) | b. chan <3

a/n: for some reason, i always have the urge to write angst for chan. this scratched that itch, but hopefully it still satisfies you with a happy/hopeful ending :,-) pics not mine~

content: angst, happy ending | wc: 1k | warnings: none really! | pairing: bang chan x gn!reader | requests:open

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

내가 변��� 거라면 다시 돌아가 그때로 / “if i’m the one who’s changed, let us go back to the way it was”

it was not as though chan wanted to end up here either. that was apparent to you by the way his eyes were glassy with tears, by the way he breathed through clenched teeth, knuckles white and begging himself to hold it together. he knew that if one tear fell, if one word cracked, it’d all be over. he’d cry until there was nothing left, and, if he wanted to fix this, he needed to be as close to whole as possible. that was nearly impossible, though. being his whole self when he was on the verge of losing you felt like the biggest paradox he could imagine. yet here he was, living it. 

“chan?” your voice was quiet, wanting to bring him back to the conversation but not wanting to scare him away, “we can talk about this later. i know we both have work soon, and i–”

“please,” he whispered, “don’t go yet.”

you nodded, sniffling quietly yourself, hoping he didn’t hear. he did, of course. chan never missed anything when it came to you. except, he learned earlier tonight, that a distance had been forming between you two. 

you knew it wasn’t intentional, but it was starting to hurt. the way he kept forgetting small promises he made, the way he was late to ninety percent of your plans, the way he was only partially present half of the time he was physically with you. it all added up to a dull ache in your chest. that, mixed with the weight of missing him, meant you couldn’t hold it in anymore. that’s how i know it’s not your fault, and i know you’re trying, but i feel like i barely see you now. even when you’re here with me, it’s like you’re a million miles away. i don’t know how much longer i can handle missing you like this. slipped out of your mouth this morning.

his heart broke when that truth entered his reality. chan felt that he had betrayed not only you but also himself. he cared about you more than anything. how could he be so blind to the fact he wasn’t showing up for the person he loved most? how could he not notice that, despite you filling up his mind and heart constantly, he wasn’t proving that to you through his behavior? 

his heart broke even more with how understanding you were. as soon as you said it, you started rattling off the ways his life got in the way, acknowledging that it wasn’t all his fault. how could you be so forgiving of the stress he was under when it was hurting you? how could you be so patient with him when he had been oblivious to this for who knows how long?

chan held your gaze for an eternity, trying to figure out what to say, finally landing on the simplest truth, “y/n, i am so sorry.”

“i know,” you rubbed your hand gently on his shoulder when he cleared his throat, failing to hide the crack in his voice, “i know.”

he sighed and looked at you, risking the tears to take you in fully, to show his apology through his broken expression, “i hate that i’ve hurt you. i hate myself for it. i…i don’t know. it doesn’t even seem fair for me to be hurt in this situation, and i’m not trying to make this about me. i’m just trying to say that you’re so, so important to me.”

chan paused, pulling your hands into his own to reiterate that you were at the center of everything for him. you were his everything.

“i’ve made a huge mistake, and i hate that this mistake left you isolated. you’re the last person i’d want to feel alone. you’re the last person i’d want to lose. you’re the absolute last person i’d want to feel unloved because i love you more than i can grasp. i understand if you have to leave; i understand if you can’t wait around for me to show up in the ways you deserve. i understand…” he paused, willing himself not to fall apart so you didn’t feel the need to comfort him, “do you think we could go back to before i hurt you? i’ll do whatever you need. i swear; i’ll try anything to fix this before it’s too late.”

chan’s tearful gaze held onto you tightly, and you had to put in as much effort as chan to keep yourself from breaking down into a mess of tears and apologies. his unwavering accountability gave you the hope you had lost. the grace and tenderness with which he treated you never ceased to amaze you. he cared for you; there was no doubt about that. his willingness to grow and his acceptance of your decision pushed against the doubts you had of whether he loved you. sitting there, beside him, holding him and his apologies in your arms, you had no doubt that you loved him enough to forgive him again and again.  

“i think we both know that there’s no going back to before. but, chan, i’m not asking to go back, and i’m not leaving. i’m just asking you to come back to me.”

chan sighed with relief, and the tears fell softly and abundantly. the promise of you not leaving was enough to make chan feel as though he could turn the whole world over, just to ensure you knew how grateful he was for you. a small smile formed on his lips, euphoria in the face of your forgiveness. though he couldn’t be too happy, not yet, not when he felt he hadn’t earned it. you could tell, however, by the look in his eyes, he would not rest until he believed your happiness had returned tenfold. only then could he be fully happy himself.

“what do you need? how can i be there for you? please, tell me, so i can make sure i never leave you alone again.”

you smiled, wiping a few tears off chan’s face. already he was proving to you that he’d come back to you every time, no matter what pulled him away. that, you thought, was enough to know you weren’t alone, not when chan was in your life.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

[stellawolfearts]

Stop being scared just draw.

do it scared, do it angry, just draw.

[sensitivegoblin]

Vent

Tw: sh, suivide

[brainfullofbees]

.

[pallases]

about to drop out jfc

[ghouljams]

Ok nobody extrapolate anything about me from this...

The first time you cry in front of the 141:

The first time you cry in front of Ghost it's because you can't fucking take it anymore. All the little things, all the comments you know he didn't mean to hurt, all the conversations you ignored because you didn't want to make him feel like the bad guy, it all comes to a head. You don't even mean it to happen, and you feel like shooting yourself on the spot as soon as the tears start flowing. It feels manipulative. It feels disingenuous. You feel like a piece of shit having him awkwardly bundle you in his arms as you break down sobbing over a topic that normally would mean nothing to you. And it all comes out. All the worries and slights you ignored, all the fears and doubts, all the things that made you question if you could ever even start to bring up with him. Like throwing up, once it starts you can't stop it.

He looks like you've hit him when you finally escape his bear hug. You barely get the chance to take it in before you're thrust back into sobbing hysterics, blubbering out apologies, how you feel like you're manipulating him, how you're a bad partner, how you're sure he's going to realize he doesn't want you and leave. You barely hear the rough "Jesus Christ" over your own hiccuping.

Ghost shuffles the two of you over to grab you a t-shirt to blow your nose in while you're sniffling and wiping at your eyes. You feel pathetic having him hold the fabric to your face and telling you to blow.

"Didn't know ya made this much snot love," he jokes.

"You're dot funny," you whine, nose still clogged with wattery mucus as your tears finally start calming down.

"I know," he grumps.

"You're mad at me," you sniffle.

"I'm not," he sounds mad, "mad at myself. Shoulda seen ya keepin' things to yourself, I'm glad ya finally told me." His scarred mouth screws to one side. "Just gotta work on makin' sure we don't get to this point again."

-

The first time you cry in front of Soap it's because you're so fucking mad at him. He's arguing with you over nothing, the same way he always does when he's in a bad mood. Finding little things that dig at you and twisting just enough to make it not his fault when you snap. Back and forth with your barbs until you got to bed angry.

You can feel the tears burning at your waterline before they spill and you know your hot cheeks don't bode any better. You're not yelling but you almost wish you were, at least of you were yelling at each other it might make you feel better about the sudden waterworks. You hate when this happens. Too big an emotion in the body, it has to come out somewhere, you suppose this is just the quickest avenue. The way Soap's face drops from anger to concern pisses you off though.

"Hen, are ya-"

"I'm so fucking mad right now," you assure him, "don't look at me, don't even acknowledge them."

"Ah dinnae ken," His voice is getting softer, it only makes you more upset, "Oh my bonnie, ahm sorry ah didnae think this would hurt ya so bad."

"Fuck off," you try to push past him to lock yourself in the bathroom and he catches your arm to pull you against him. "Fuck off!" You shriek, pushing at him.

"No," he holds you a little tighter, "my mam would 'ave my heid hearin' ah let ya walk away from me like this, yer stayin' 'ere."

"I will fucking skin you Mactavish," you struggle harder.

"Aye anno, now shut up an' quit yer kickin'."

You do neither of those things.

-

The first time Gaz sees you cry it's because no one's ever seen you before. Even in your best relationships, your closest friendships, no one sees you like Gaz. No one picks you up from work with flowers and takes you by your favorite bakery just so you can have a slice of cake when you watch your comfort show. You're not even through the title music, Gaz sorting through your takeout options after he'd gotten you a "fancy plate" and a small fork to eat with, when you break down in sobs. He's on you immediately, hushing you as he gathers you into his arms. He's so attentive it hurts.

"It's OK baby," he hums, "don't have to talk about it, you just let it out."

God even that gets you crying. You don't have to get your words right or find a way to explain what you're feeling, you can just feel it. You try to think of a way to put it into words but it all lines up wrong, sounds too juvenile, doesn't make any sense even to you. There's no need to say anything though, Gaz just sits there with you, holds you through it as you wet his shoulder with your tears.

You don't even know why you're crying by the end of it, you just kept coming up with other reasons to cry. Jesus you don't think you ever got over your last grandparent dying, or losing that one friend, that's something to unpack later. You feel drained. Literally dehydrated drained. Gaz's shirt is soaked, but he doesn't day anything when you pull back.

He cups your cheek at wipes at the wet stains on your cheek with his thumb, eyes searching yours before he gives you a tight smile.

"Why don't you go take a hot shower, yeah?" He offers, you give him a watery nod, he smiles and pats your knee. "Alright, off you go. I'll be in, in a second."

The second time you cry in front of Gaz it's before he's got you pinned to the shower wall.

-

The first time Price sees you cry it's because you're tired. You're tired of giving everything to this relationship and seeing him leave right when things seem to be falling into place. His phone buzzes in the middle of the night and you don't stop the downpour when he grumbles out a swear and turns on the light. You glare at the ceiling and let the tears flow. It hurts. Tight in your chest. This feeling like you'll never be enough, like he'll always have something more important than you, it kills you. So why can't you leave him?

Are the good times really good enough to make up for the bad?

It makes him stop what he was doing when he sees the resolute grimace and the flow of tears over your cheeks. You shudder in a breath when he sits on the side of the bed. You refuse to look at him.

How could he do this to you?

"Sweetheart," he starts, his voice low, gentling, "I'm sorry."

"You're not." You correct him, "Otherwise you wouldn't keep doing it."

"You want me to choose between you and the world, you know what I'll say." He always sounds so sharp, ready to guilt you into giving up what he wants.

"I'm asking you to choose between me and paperwork," you bite back.

"You don't know-"

"You get phone calls when you're being deployed." You remind him, "You get reminders when papers are due." You turn to glare at him. The look on his face twists like a knife in your chest. You're dead on the money, and it's killing him. "So can this really not wait until the morning, are you really that eager to be rid of me?"

"I'm sorry," he tries again, toeing off his shoes, "you're right, I hadn't noticed." You turn over as he climbs under the duvet again. You fold your legs up as his arm drapes over you hip and he curls around you. His lips touch your shoulder, a silent plea for forgiveness. "Let me make it up to you, no more running into red tape I promise."

You don't bother agreeing to empty promises, but the next day he's had the paperwork sent from the base. The same the next day. Price always told you working from home didn't suit him. Waking you up with a cuppa on the other hand and walking you to the station does though.

He makes good on his promise, he doesn't run off until the next call comes in.

[kindacreepy-kindaugly]

I don't know what to do with myself without my unrealistic daydreams but

I'm havin trouble thinkin of anythin cause suddenly my reality went beyond anythin I ever fantasized about

Weird

[hotpinkstars]

LOST POSSESSIONS - aventurine, boothill, x reader

- in which you lost your wedding band during a conflict with something/someone.

- novas comeback post guys I'm gonna be more fluent with writing I promise. hope you enjoy this though I was gonna add Sunday but my computer is literally at 1 percent sooooooo....

- a lot of crying, minor swearing, besides that all comfort... wc 912

When Aventurine walked into your shared home to the sight of you sobbing on the couch, he thought of the worst. Are you hurt? Did something happen while he was at work? He went up to you to seek for answers.

“What happened? What's wrong?” He internally panicked, not wanting to allow you to see his current emotions. He kept calm as you sat up, tear stained face poking a hole through his battered heart.

“You’re gonna be so pissed!” You sob, somehow starting to cry even harder. You dove back into the warm cushions of the couch when you felt the part near your shins dip, and a hand running through your hair and massaging the back of your scalp.

“You can tell me anything. I won’t be upset, I promise,” he gave you a sympathetic look before proceeding. “But if you’re not comfortable with it, I won’t push you.”

You hesitantly show him your bare hands, and he takes them in his. You roll over to face him and look at him with a pained expression, and that's when he seemed to realize. 

“Where's your wedding ring?” He said, his words quick. He looked at you slightly wide-eyed before you began bawling again. He began to swipe the tears out of your eyes, his thumb coming into contact with your lower lashes as he quietly attempts to hush you and calm you down.

“Was it stolen? Did you lose it?” 

You bring a hand up to your face before sniffling. “It got stolen. The diamond was too appealing to some bastard on the streets on Golden Hour, and it was swiped right off of my hand!” 

You curl back into yourself before Aventurine comes down to kiss your face. “I’m not mad at you, babe. I’m beyond pissed off with the person who did that. Nobody seems to have even a drop of human decency these days, do they?” 

You slightly shrugged before hugging him close. He returned the hug, and held you there until you quietly whispered a question into his ear. “What are we going to do about the ring?”

He slightly chuckled before bringing his head on top of yours. “I might as well get you a new one. The old one was rather… out of date, if I must say so myself. I could get you a bigger, brighter diamond.”You attempted to protest, attempting to say everything he knew you wanted to say- even something made out of paper would be good enough for me. But he thought you were worth the shiniest, biggest, rarest stone in the world. Worth much much more than that. And this incident wasn’t much of a setback for him, and really didn’t make his wallet cry very hard at all.

Boothill doesn’t play when his significant other is not doing very well. He’s immediately at your side, stroking your hair and trying to do or say anything he can to make you feel better. 

But in this instance, it didn’t really work. He realized after a few moments that he just had to be patient, and wait for you to come to him,

“You’re going to be so mad at me if I told you,” you hiccuped, before continuing to talk. “Please don’t yell at me.”

“Why would I ever yell at ya’?” He said, his voice uncharacteristically quiet. “Whatever's got your pretty face all stained with tears can’t be that bad. I hate gettin’ mad at ya’, and ya’ know that.”

You nodded, but dug your face deeper into the pillows. Boothill simply put his metal hand on your back, and rubbed up and down. While the sensation felt cold, it seemed to work to help calm you down because you felt more at ease, and he could tell that too. 

“I lost my wedding ring. I don’t know where it went, but one moment it was there and then the next it wasn’t on my hand anymore,” you cut out, trying to hold back more tears. You could see his face change from scared to relaxed.

“Hey, don’t stress it. That’s just a lil’ setback, nothin’ to worry about. We’ll either find it or I’ll buy ya’ a new one,” he says as he picks up your now bare hand, a flash of sadness showing through his eyes. “What’ll make ya’ feel better? Cuddles? If we went out to try n’ find it?”

You shrugged, and he nodded. You buried yourself even deeper into the blankets, giving him the hint that you just wanted to stay inside for now. You felt too bad and your face was rose red from crying, your eyes puffy and your voice raspy. He climbed into the bed with you, wrapping his strong, metallic arm around your covered torso. 

“I’ll do a thorough investigation tomorrow. People don’t usually lie to Galaxy Rangers, but I doubt those adorable cutie pies would know somethin’ like that,” he immediately cringed, realizing how the sentence came out. His stupid synesthesia beacon. 

But he heard you laugh, and the cringe feeling dissipated into a warmth in his metal chest. His whole goal is to keep you happy, healthy, and safe. If he were to fail at one of those things, he’d fail at his own purpose. For now, his only thing is to cheer you up, and make sure you know that he would never be mad at you for a mistake that's not even your fault.

[coffin-bird]

..

[maxtermind]

“your opinion of me won't change, right?” + lando (who kinda has a fuckboy reputation but fell for the reader)

“your opinion of me won't change, right?”

( event masterlist \ main masterlist \ drop a request ) ★:summary:: the one where a fuckboy gets turned into a loverboy? ★:feat:: lando norris x reader ★:genre:: hurt/comfort

the knock on your door comes around midnight when you're almost going to bed. you don’t expect anyone, especially not him.

for a second, you stand still, unsure of what to do with heart thudding. but the persistent rapping doesn’t stop, and despite the days of silence between you two, you already know who it is.

when you swing the door open, lando stumbles in, his shoulders slumped, eyes clouded with alcohol and something darker. his hair is a mess, damp from the rain, and he reeks of whiskey and regret.

“y/n,” he breathes out, almost as if he’s relieved to see you. but you’re not relieved at all. you’re angry, confused, and hurt and looking at him really hit you so hard that you had to squeeze the ends of your his t-shirt to not stumble.

you close the door behind him, and he sways unsteadily. he’s drunk—drunker than you’ve ever seen him. his clothes are disheveled, his usual cool confidence replaced by something pitiful, something raw.

"lando, what the hell are you doing here?" your voice is sharp, meant to sting, because his presence alone already rips at the wounds that haven't even started healing yet.

he doesn’t answer right away. instead, he looks at you with those familiar blue eyes, the same ones that once made you weak in the knees, but now… they just bring back the pain. his lips tremble as if he’s about to say something, but he doesn’t.

"you—" lando slurs slightly, stepping forward, hands outstretched. "you weren't… supposed to leave. you—" it washed over you like a bucket of cold water and you're already moving away from his touch.

"don't." your voice cracks, and you hate how fragile you sound. you take another step back, putting more space between you two. "don’t come here like this again."

lando rubs his face, pacing around your small living room slowly, stumbling over air. he’s spiraling, trying to collect his thoughts, but the alcohol muddles his brain and you can see the struggle on his face.

“i didn’t mean to… i didn’t want you to leave,” he mutters. he turns to you, desperation in his eyes. "i messed up, okay? i know that. but i… fuck, i’m trying, y/n."

you cross your arms, every muscle tense. "trying? you’re drunk, lando. that’s not trying."

his face crumples at your words, and he stumbles back, this time collapsing onto the couch like his legs can’t hold him up anymore. his hands run through his hair, pulling at it in frustration, in agony.

you vividly remember what happened a few nights ago when a girl texted him asking if he was up for 'another' great night. it wasn't easy being with someone while knowing he could have anyone in the entire world and with his past, you were already always on the edge of letting your insecurities out.

it just led to a bigger argument where instead of assuring you how you were the only one he ever wanted, he asked you to either start trusting him or leave.

so you left.

"do you know how much i fucking hate myself?" his voice is hoarse now, barely above a whisper, but the rawness in it cuts through you like a knife as it brings you back to the present. "i tried to be better for you. i… i tried."

you swallow the lump forming in your throat, trying to stay firm, but it’s hard. it's always been hard with him. "you have a funny way of showing it."

he lifts his head slowly, tears brimming in his eyes now, and the sight is enough to make your resolve crack just a little. you've never seen him cry before. not like this.

“your opinion of me won’t change, right?” his voice breaks, and you freeze. the vulnerability in his question sends a jolt of pain straight to your chest. he sounds small, defeated, like the weight of everything he’s been carrying has finally crushed him.

“lando…” you whisper, but he doesn’t let you finish.

"because everyone else—" he pauses, taking in a shaky breath. "they all think they know me? that i’m just some… some asshole who doesn’t care, who’s not capable of… anything real? but i’m not. i’m not, y/n. you know that, right?"

the room feels heavy, like the air is thickening with every word. you want to say something, to tell him that you believed in him once, that you saw the good in him, the real lando, but it’s not that simple anymore.

"i fell for you," he says, voice trembling, eyes glistening as he stares up at you like you're the only thing that can save him. with the rapid blinking of his eyes, tears start to fall and so does your resolve. "i wish i didn’t put you through this, but i did. and i didn’t know how to be that guy… the one you deserved. but i tried. i’m still trying."

it’s quiet for a moment, just the sound of his ragged breathing and your heartbeat pounding in your ears.

you look at him, really look at him. his face is flushed from the alcohol and the tears, but beneath that, you see something more. he’s broken in ways you never let yourself see before.

all the cockiness, the bravado, the charm—it was all just a shield. he never thought he was good enough for you either, and maybe that’s why you left. you repeat it to yourself but it was a losing war.

the old lando wouldn’t be here, in front of you, crying and baring his soul. he wouldn’t have admitted any of this. isn't that reason enough to give him another chance?

he was selfish before, reckless, hiding behind his reputation as the playboy, the fun guy who never cared too deeply about anything. but now, now you see the cracks. you see the vulnerability he’s tried so hard to bury and it kills you to give in but the words leave you before you can stop yourself.

"i thought you didn’t care," you admit softly, feeling all your defenses start to crumble. "that’s why i left, lando. i didn’t think you could care."

"i fucking love you," he lets out a bitter laugh, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. not believing what you were saying at all. "i care too fucking much. i just… maybe i don’t know how to show it right."

you sigh, sitting down beside him on the couch, still keeping a little distance between you. "it’s not about showing it right. it’s about showing it at all."

he looks at you, his gaze softer now, more open. "i’m sorry. i know i’ve been… i know i fucked up. but i’m… i love you, y/n. i really fucking love you. and i didn’t know how much until you weren’t there."

his words hang in the air, and for the first time in weeks, you don’t feel anger or hurt. you just feel… sad. sad for him, sad for you, sad for all the misunderstandings that led you here.

you reach out, gently brushing a lock of his hair from his forehead. he closes his eyes at the touch, leaning into it like he’s starved for your touch. he probably is because so are you.

"i’ve changed," he murmurs, his voice thick with exhaustion. "i swear loving you has changed me."

you don’t respond right away. instead, you lean forward and press a soft, lingering kiss to his forehead. his skin is warm beneath your lips, and the simple gesture feels more intimate than anything you’ve ever shared before.

when you pull back, lando looks at you through heavy-lidded eyes, his emotions raw and exposed. "i love you too," he mumbles, his voice barely audible, like he’s falling asleep or slipping into a dream where things are better, where you’re together again.

you don’t know what’s going to happen next, or if you can really fix what’s broken between you. but for the first time in a long while, you feel like maybe… just maybe, you can try.

and maybe this time, it’ll be different.

©maxtermind // do not copy, rewrite or translate any of my work on any platforms.

★:a/n:: thanks for the request love! feedback and reblogs are appreciated :3

[soulofapatrick]

All’s Fair in Love and War - Azriel x female reader

Summary: Azriel finds you after the war with Hybern 

Words: 2.8K 

Warnings: blood, shock 

Notes: sorry if this is messy - the idea came to me just now and I’m very tired and sleep deprived 

Y/N's POV

The battle is over. The roar of soldiers, the clash of swords, the gut-wrenching screams of the dying—they all fade, swallowed by a profound, unnatural silence. It's not the kind of quiet that brings peace. No, this stillness presses down on me like a weight, suffocating, as if the very air has thickened in the aftermath of violence. The tension in my muscles, the ache in my bones, feels as though it’s settling deep inside me, wrapping itself around my insides and pulling me down. Yet, I refuse to lie down. I won’t let myself be coddled, not when the taste of battle is still so fresh in the back of my throat.

I’m sitting upright in a rickety wooden chair, the rough, splintered wood digging into my back, but I don't care. The fabric of my tunic clings to my skin, drenched in a sickly mix of sweat and blood—my own, other people’s, I can’t tell anymore. Feyre’s insisted I lie down, insisted I let her help me, but I can’t. I need to stay here, right where I am. I need to be present, to feel the weight of my own existence, even as the world tilts and shifts in ways that don’t feel real.

My body feels wrong. Alien. Detached. It’s like I’m floating just above myself, watching from a distance. My limbs are too heavy, my chest too tight. The stinging aches from the cuts, bruises, and burns barely register against the cold emptiness gnawing at me from the inside. It feels like the very essence of who I am has been swallowed up, frozen over in a deep, hollow void that refuses to release its grip. My heart is still pounding, but the beat sounds muffled, as if I’m hearing it through a thick wall of fog.

I can taste it—the blood. The metallic tang coats my mouth, thick and sticky, like copper settling on my tongue. It tastes of death, of everything I’ve just witnessed, of the blood spilled for this fleeting victory. It makes my stomach churn, but I can’t bring myself to wipe it away. I don’t want to. It feels like a mark, like a final seal on everything we’ve just survived. A reminder of the price we’ve paid.

Feyre is beside me, but she feels so far away, even though I can hear the soft shuffle of her feet and feel the warmth of her presence. Her High Lady aura glows faintly in the dim light of the medical tent, shimmering around her like a halo, but there’s an edge to her that I recognise. The poise, the grace, is still there, but beneath it, I can see the cracks—the lines of worry etched deep in her face. She hovers near me, her hands hovering uncertainly as though she doesn’t want to break something fragile, doesn’t want to push me too far. Her fingers brush over my cheek, but I can feel the hesitation there, the caution. She’s holding back, trying not to make me feel weak.

My cheek feels raw, tender, swollen. I can feel the blood caked against my skin, drying in clumps, pulling at the tender flesh of my face. I know the wound is deep. I know it’s going to scar, leaving me with a permanent reminder of this war, this senseless battle that has taken so much from us. But right now, I can’t find it in myself to care. Not when the pain feels so distant, so muted, as if it belongs to someone else. All I can feel is the relentless grip of numbness, seeping into me, pushing out everything but the silence, the hollow ache.

Feyre’s voice pierces through the fog, soft and concerned, but it feels like it’s coming from a world far removed from me. “Y/N, you need to rest. You’re in no shape to be sitting up.”

“I’m fine,” I rasp, my voice cracked, dry as the air around me. It’s barely above a whisper, yet I feel the weight of it, the lie that I’m trying to convince myself of. “Just… let me be.”

I try to ignore the way my words falter, the way my body trembles despite my best efforts to hold steady. The exhaustion presses down on me, a weight too heavy to bear, but I refuse to admit it. Instead, I focus on the rhythm of Feyre’s breath, steady and calm, though I know it’s not as unaffected as it seems. I hear the subtle shift in her posture, the uncertainty in the way she moves around me, as if she doesn’t quite know what to do with me now. She’s worried, but she’s not pushing—she knows better than that.

And as I sit there, trapped in my own numbness, I feel the sting of my injuries fade into the background, swallowed by something deeper, something even harder to name. The tent is still, heavy with the weight of what’s happened—what’s still happening—but in the silence, there’s a steady, almost magnetic pull drawing me in. The world beyond the canvas walls is chaos, but here, in this small space, there’s a suffocating quiet, a sense of something monumental about to shift.

The flaps of the tent whip open again, and I feel it, the change in the air before I even hear their footsteps. Heavy. Relentless. The hum of power vibrates through the ground, the soft, sure steps unmistakable even before I see them.

Azriel.

Rhysand, Cassian—they follow, but it’s Azriel who fills the space, his presence tangible, suffocating, like a shadow that has always lingered just beyond the edges of my sight. And I know, even before I look up, that he's close. That shadow—his shadow—rushes in, skimming across the floor like liquid night, trailing after him, pulsing with life, like it’s an extension of him.

Feyre’s touch, warm and light, presses briefly on my shoulder before she moves away, joining her mate and the others, leaving me with Azriel, leaving me with the space between us that feels far too large and yet too small all at once. I know the others are there, I hear their words, but it’s Azriel I feel, his presence like a weight, heavy and undeniable. The shadows, they rush forward, caressing the air around me as they always do when he’s near—silent, loving, soft. His shadows have always been an extension of him, always a part of who he is, and right now, they envelop me in a comforting embrace, soothing the sharp edges of the world that try to break me apart.

I can’t move. My head still feels too heavy, too fogged with shock, and my body refuses to listen to me. But I feel them—his shadows—brush over my skin, gentle whispers of darkness, caressing me in a way that’s almost tender. They tug softly at the edges of my pain, washing over me, calming the panic that bubbles beneath the surface.

The soft thud of his boots stops directly in front of me. I don't look up. My body still doesn't listen. The shadows pull tighter around me, brushing against my skin like a lover’s touch, their cool embrace more comforting than the warmth of the sun. They make me feel whole, like I'm not slipping away into the numbness that’s trying to take me.

And then, without a word, Azriel kneels in front of me. I feel the shift in the air around him, the way his presence seems to draw everything closer, making the world feel smaller, like it's only the two of us now.

His scarred hands, the hands that have seen so much destruction, are gentle as they reach toward me. He hooks his fingers under my chin, lifting my face toward him with a force that isn't harsh but is insistent, like he won’t let me hide. Like he can’t let me hide.

And I look into his eyes. Hazel. Always searching. Always filled with that intensity, that unspoken understanding. His eyes flicker over my face, tracing the marks left by battle—the dried blood on my cheek, the swelling beneath my skin, the injury I know will leave a scar. But he doesn't look at it in disgust or pity. He looks at me. At me, the way only he ever has—like I’m something precious.

"Y/N," his voice is low, hoarse, almost cracked under the weight of what he's feeling. The shadows gather around us, encircling us both as if they're shielding us from the rest of the world. They move with him, soft, soothing, like they too are trying to hold me together. The subtle crackle of power in the air is thick, the tension between us palpable, but it’s his touch—the warmth of his fingers on my skin—that seems to hold everything still.

Azriel leans forward, and the air thickens between us, charged, electric, suffocating. His breath skims over my lips, and I know, I know, that this moment is everything. The world outside, the battle, the blood, the pain—all of it feels so far away now. There is only the space between us. Only him. Only the suffocating weight of his presence, and the shadows that pulse with life, circling us like an embrace, like a cage.

His eyes burn into mine, molten, dark, searching. His chest rises and falls, too fast, too heavy, as if he's holding his breath, waiting, as if we're both on the edge of something we can't undo. His shadows caress me, tender and possessive, as if they, too, are desperate to make sure I don't slip away. They're everywhere—on my skin, in my veins, curling around me, holding me steady, holding me together.

And then, without another breath between us, his lips crash into mine.

It's not gentle. It’s feral. Desperate. As if he's been holding himself back for lifetimes, and now that barrier is shattered. His lips are fierce, hungry, demanding, and all at once, I feel everything he’s been keeping buried—every bit of the anguish, the fear, the longing—poured into the kiss.

Azriel’s hands are on me, pulling me, urgent and fierce, as if he’s afraid I’ll slip through his fingers if he doesn't hold on tight enough. His touch is rough—scarred fingers threading through my hair, tilting my head back with a force that has me gasping, his mouth crashing into mine in a kiss that is all need, all fire. I taste blood—his, mine, I don’t care, I can't care—not when he’s here, when his body is pressed against mine, when every inch of him is breathing life back into me.

And then, without warning, he pulls me down.

I barely register the movement before I’m on the floor, my knees digging into the hard dirt beneath me, the sting of it nothing compared to the overwhelming heat that radiates from him. He’s sitting back on his knees, his thick thighs caging me in as I straddle him, my legs on either side, and the world narrows to just the space between us. His hands move to my back, pulling me flush against his chest, and the kiss deepens, more desperate, more frantic, as if this is the only way he can make sure I’m real, that I’m alive, that I’m still here.

His shadows wrap around us like a dark cocoon, curling around us both, a living thing that soothes, caresses, and holds us together. They move over my skin, tracing the curve of my spine, filling the space between us with an almost painful tenderness, as if they’re echoing the rawness in his kiss. They wrap around my arms, my waist, gently tugging me closer, pulling me against him like I belong there, like I’m the missing piece he’s been searching for.

I don’t care that the ground is rough, that the dirt is grinding into my knees, that my body is still sore and battered from the battle. None of it matters because he’s here. He’s alive. His lips are on mine, and nothing else exists. Not the horrors we’ve just survived, not the pain coursing through me, not the scars I know are already forming on my skin. There’s only him, only this moment, only the desperate, consuming way we kiss like our very lives depend on it.

His hands grip my hips, pulling me closer, his breath ragged as he breaks the kiss just enough to speak, but I’m not ready to let him go. His lips are against mine once more, rough and relentless, as if he’s trying to memorise the feeling of me, of us—of the connection that is more than just physical, more than just a fleeting moment of relief after the battle. His scarred hands slide down my sides, gripping me tightly, pulling me even closer, and I can’t help but let out a soft gasp at the pressure. His body shifts under mine, his thick thighs holding me in place as his shadows wrap tighter around us, drawing me further into his orbit.

Every breath, every movement, is a slow, steady burn, and I can feel the intensity of it seeping into my skin, into my bones. He’s not just kissing me—he’s claiming me, as if he’s afraid I’ll slip away if he doesn’t. His hands move to my back, tracing the curve of it before pressing me harder into him, his chest rising and falling rapidly as though he’s fighting for air. His lips break from mine, but only just, brushing against my jaw, my neck, as he breathes deeply against my skin, each inhale shuddering, as if he can’t quite gather himself enough to speak.

“Azriel,” I whisper, the name feeling foreign on my tongue, but I don’t care. Not when I’m here, not when his shadows are around us like a fortress, cocooning us in a darkness that’s only ours. “What are you—”

“I thought I lost you,” he cuts me off, his voice raw, rough, like he’s been holding back for too long. His lips find mine again, desperate, hungry, and the world outside us disappears.

But even as the kiss consumes me, I feel his trembling fingers against my cheek, his touch soft, reverent, like he’s afraid of breaking me, as if the battle, the blood, the scars are all still too fresh for him to truly believe I’m here.

I tilt my head back, surrendering into him, letting the kiss go deeper, matching the frantic pace of his lips as his breath catches in his throat. And as I feel him pulling me, coaxing me closer, his shadows continue to circle, holding us together in the suffocating intensity of everything unsaid.

“I can’t lose you,” he murmurs against my lips, the words desperate, raw, and heavy with meaning, as if they carry the weight of everything he’s been holding inside. “You’re... everything.”

My heart races at the confession—his confession—and my hands move to his face, feeling the roughness of his skin, the rasp of his stubble, the undeniable truth in the way he kisses me. His lips are tender now, softer, as if he's trying to take the moment in, savour it, but there's still a hunger beneath it all. Still a desperate need to make sure I’m here, that I’m alive, that I’m not going anywhere.

I don’t have the words for this. For him. For us. So I let the kiss speak for me, my hands slipping down to his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart, matching the frantic rhythm of my own.

His shadows seem to gather around us tighter, pulling me into him, surrounding us in a blanket of darkness and heat that holds us together, that swallows us whole. Everything else falls away—the battle, the pain, the fear—all of it. There’s only Azriel and me, only this moment, and the undeniable connection between us that has always been there, buried beneath the surface, waiting to break free.

And then, he pulls back just enough for us to breathe. His eyes are searching mine, dark and intense, filled with something I can’t name. Something that flickers in his gaze, something fragile, but unwavering.

“I thought I lost you,” he repeats, the words a soft, desperate plea.

I lean forward, my forehead resting against his, and I finally whisper the only words that seem to matter right now: “You didn’t.”

And as his lips meet mine again, softer this time, full of relief, of unspoken promises, I know that this is the beginning of something new, something that neither of us can turn away from.

ACOTAR Masterlist TAG LIST - updated 12th Oct 2024

TAGS:

@lilah-asteria @maleficmuse @fanficscuziranout @angelbunny222

[slayfics]

Katsuki gets caught being sweet to you.

You started to finally catch your breath being at the top of the hiking trail Katsuki had dragged you out too.

"Alright there, it's just us up here so tell me already. What the hell has been going on?"

"That's why you brought me out here?" You asked.

"Just tell me already, stop being so damn stubborn." He pried you impatiently.

"I told you I'm fine Bakugo, just busy like everyone else." You replied.

"Don't give me that shit. Do you think I'm stupid? The other extras are too dense to notice but I can see how exhausted you've been this whole week. So just tell me- what's going on," He said.

"You didn't need to drag me out here on a hike in freezing weather to do this, you know," You said, slightly irritated at Katsuki continuing to push you.

"Ugh- will you stop stalling and talk already," He yelled, causing you to let out an annoyed sigh. Katsuki put his hands in his pockets and looked out at the view, his demeanor softening slightly. "You can talk to me, you know," he added, his voice lower and kinder than before.

You stayed looking at the view for a few more moments trying to figure out how to unpack everything that had been stressing you out. It wasn't like some big thing, but a summation of a bunch of little things that were beginning to become too challenging to manage.

A cold breeze blew by causing you to shiver. You wondered why Katsuki had insisted on bringing you up this mountain to talk to you. He could have pestered you in your dorm where it was warm.

Katsuki stole glances at you occasionally then focused back on the view not wanting to intimidate you too much from his glare. Hiking always helped him to clear his mind and gather his thoughts when they seemed too loud. He thought maybe it would help you too, and being away from all your classmates might make it easier for you to talk to him. At the very least it made it easier for Katsuki to be more vulnerable with you. He found it too daunting to express himself fully with all the attention of his classmates around. It was much easier being only in your company.

You took a deep breath, "I guess- it's just been hard to balance everything recently," You finally spoke, breaking the silence. Katsuki made it easy to open up to, as he had no problem sitting in silence for long extended periods. Others in your life felt the need to fill that silence with useless chatter which always prevented you from sitting in your emotions and being able to formulate them into words.

You took in another breath feeling a lump in your throat form. You hadn't wanted to talk to anyone about what was going on for fear of opening up the flood of emotions and not being able to stop. Now here it was. You didn't want to cry on this fucking hill.

Katsuki patiently waited while you gathered your thoughts.

"It's just been so much and I've been barely keeping up. It's- been getting to me recently. I've been forgetting things I shouldn't. Being unusually upset at things that aren't that big of a deal- and I just- it's dumb." You cut yourself off afraid to say anymore.

"It's not dumb. Don't hold that shit in, it's not healthy," He said encouraging you to keep talking.

You sighed, "I just... know that it could be way worse, and I've been through way worse so- I feel so irritated at myself. What I'm going through now isn't something I can't handle. I know that. So why do I feel so fucking exhausted with everything," You replied wiping a stray tear from your cheek.

"Hmm," Katsuki grunted, processing what you said. "You know, it's ok to be tired, and- to not be perfect. You can't just deny yourself from feeling overwhelmed because it could be worse. If you're exhausted now then those feelings are real- and it's ok to have them," He spoke.

You looked down at the view watching the distant cars pass, "Thanks," You managed to say taking another deep breath.

"You shouldn't wait to handle them until they explode either. Trust me, I know what that's like," He said, causing you to let out a small giggle. "You're too damn hard on yourself you know that?"

You let out a full laugh, "Oh that's pretty good coming from you. You're the pro at having too high expectations for yourself," you laughed.

You and Katsuki were wrapped up in your conversation causing you not to notice approaching classmates in the distance. Mina and Eijiro had also decided to come up the hill after class and spotted both of you in the distance.

"That looks like we shouldn't interrupt," Eijiro said.

"Yeah," Mina agreed. "But maybe... we could get a little closer to make sure everything is ok?" She said, pulling Eijiro into the bushes to spy on you and Katsuki. Eijiro was highly against the plan but was unable to protest for fear of you two hearing.

"Yeah I know I have high expectations for myself... that's why I know what it fucking looks like when you're being too hard on yourself. So- tonight I'm coming to your dorm and, I'm making sure you get to bed at a reasonable fucking time."

Mina's eyes widened as she looked at Eijiro, "Coming to their dorm?!" She whispered, and Eijrio covered her mouth, silencing her.

"You mean Grandpa time at 9 p.m.?"

"Shut up! 9 p.m. is late as hell! You damn idiots just don't know how to have a good sleep schedule! Look I'm making sure you get some sleep and tomorrow I'm taking you out. So- figure out where you want to eat, I don't care where. And I'm not letting you say no you need a break," Katsuki replied.

"You don't have to do that Bakugo."

"Of course, I don't have to but, I want to. So just shut up and let me take care of you ok. You better not be afraid to order enough food this time either! I'm buying so- just get whatever you want, alright?"

"Ok ok," You laughed, feeling your mood brighten.

"Next time, just tell me when you're having a bad day or something. Stop making me drag it out of you. I- worry about you, you know? Now let's go back to the dorms. I see you shivering," He said, beginning to walk back down the hill.

Mina squirmed again under Eijiro's hand, keeping her silent. Her eyes said it all. She was in disbelief at Katsuki's words.

"Here," Katsuki said, holding his hand out and offering it to you. "I'll warm your hand with my quirk," he said.

You grabbed his hand interlacing your fingers with his.

"Don't dare say anything about how sweaty my hands are!" He barked.

You giggled, "How many times do I have to tell you I don't care Bakugo. It's part of your quirk, and your quirk is amazing you shouldn't be self-conscious about it. Besides, I'm always happy to hold your hand," You said as you two walked down the mountain.

"Tch whatever," Katsuki grumbled looking away from you as a small tint grew on his cheeks.

Finally, when you and Katsuki were far enough down the hill, Eijiro released Mina.

"WHAT WAS THAT?!?" Mina exclaimed.

"Shh shhh," Eijiro pleaded.

"WHAT- He wants to take care of them?!? OH MY GOD! They are totally dating right?! That's what he said he's taking them out to eat! And he's sneaking into their dorm! Wait wait- when they held hands it sounded like that had before! AND AND BAKUGO WAS TOTALLY BLUSHING! NO WAY!" Mina said looking like she might pass out from all this information.

"Ashido relax, we shouldn't have heard any of that!" Eijiro replied.

"Yeah but but-" Mina exclaimed, her head spinning. "Who knew Baklugo could actually be so sweet! I can't wait to tell Jiro-" She said, pulling out her phone.

"NO!" Eijiro said, grabbing her phone from her. "Uh- sorry, I didn't mean to be so harsh but- you can't tell anyone what we heard ok?" Eijiro said.

"WHAT?! I just heard Bakugo being the sweetest boyfriend ever and you expect me not to say anything about that?!"

"YES!" Eijiro yelled. "Look they both like their privacy and there is a reason they were all the way up here talking, Ashido. I think we should keep this a secret and let them do things at their own pace ok?" He said, handing Mina back her phone.

"UGH-" She exclaimed letting out a big sigh. "I guess you're right... but wow who would have thought Bakugo could be a decent person much less a good boyfriend." She said.

Eijiro just shrugged at her words, "I don't know he's not a bad guy like you all make him out to be you know."

"Wait! You totally already knew didn't you!" Mina said, slapping Eijiro's shoulder.

"Hey! I mean- Bakugo is my best friend you know, so yeah I did..." He answered truthfully.

"You suck! Keeping secrets like that from me!" Mina said playfully, waving a finger at him.

"I'm sorry, but it's their business you know?" He said.

"Yeah I understand, guess we should go back to the dorms too now," Mina suggested.

"Yeah it is pretty cold up here, let's go." He agreed as they both started to walk down the hill. "I don't have Bakugo's quirk or anything but- if you're cold you can hold my hand too if you want," Eijiro suggested.

Mina's face tinted a darker pink as she reached out and grabbed Eijiro's hand.

Tags: @unofficialmuilover @maddietries

Picture taken from @everypanelofkatsuki, thank you for all your hard work! Go check them out if you haven’t!

[joonieskinks]

best friend's sister

simon "ghost" riley x reader | john's your older brother, simon is your lover, will it work? | fluff, mentions of needles, some brief smut | 1.1k

inspired by: starstuckmiraclekitty - love her writing

“Listen boys,” Price started, addressing the group with his hands on his hips. “She’s coming here to stay, and I want you all on your best behaviour. Think of her as my second set of eyes, go’it?” 

A string of “yes sirs” echoed throughout the room, Simon’s included, not thinking twice about the Captain’s little sister coming to the base, just another rookie in his view. 

He thought as much until he laid eyes on you for the first time. Your kind eyes, your gorgeous body and soft smile. You care so much about helping others, patching them up and sending them off healthy. You were good, kind, pure- a direct contrast to what Simon considered himself: damaged, broken, evil.

However you thought otherwise. It didn’t take long to notice the tall, brooding Lieutenant that was so close to your brother. His tall, muscular body, his gorgeous eyes that stood out amongst the dark of his mask. His humour when he was relaxed, his impressive skills and his empathy. Specifically towards you when you first arrived. Checking up on you, helping keep your supplies restocked and assisting in your training.

It was on days like this that you needed to focus on your breathing, trying not to lose yourself in the close proximity to Simon. His legs over your waist, hands wrapped around your wrists, pinning you to the floor below him. It took every ounce of restraint in his body not to tip the mask up, lean down and kiss your lips.

And Simon was no basket case, he picked up on your subtle hints. Your lingering gaze, the excuses you would muster just to touch his uniform, your heightened breathing with his presence. But you seemed to be completely lost when it came to him and his feelings. Although he’s not exactly obvious, he thought you could read his willingness to be around you and his touches as a sign.

Apparently not.

“Si, can we talk?” You asked as you locked his door behind you, fiddling with your fingers nervously.

“‘Course. What’s on your mind?” Your eyes met briefly before you needed to look away, attempting to conceal the blush on your cheeks. Simon gave you a minute, waiting across the room for you to take the first step. The leap, when he couldn’t. Somehow that sat better with him knowing it was you who initiated if it ever came to confessing to your brother. 

“Simon, I can’t keep going on like this. I just need to know...” You started, gathering as much courage as you could and taking a few steps closer to his form. 

“I want you, and I don’t think I can keep it to myself anymore.” Simon could only chuckle. 

“You weren’ exactly subtle, love.” He closed the gap between the two of you, his hand at your chin, pushing it upwards to look into your eyes. 

You smiled slightly at the implication, biting your lips as you took in the man before you. 

“I don’t want you to regret this, or get in trouble because of me.” You confessed softly.

“Trus’me. S’not something I’m looking forward to,” Simon started, using his spare hand to take the mask off. You could only look in shock as he bared himself to you - the trust, the love. You knew then and there he wasn’t someone you could just walk away from. 

“But I think you’re worth it.” 

“Simon, you’re gorg-” You started but were quickly cut off by his lips on yours, his hands around your waist, directing you over to his bed. Stripping you of your clothes, your sticky underwear and touching his bare body with yours.

It wasn’t long before his head was between your thighs, his tongue pressed against your throbbing clit, making you cum once, twice, thrice over. 

Taking his hard length, over and over again until he could finish inside you, holding you close, kissing your lips and whispering sweet praises. Cleaning you up afterwards, bringing you in and keeping you beside him all night. Night after night, and neither of you could get enough. 

After three months of sneaking around, concealing your love for eachother behind closed doors, it was you who slipped up. 

In front of none other than John. 

Simon came by the infirmary to hand off the extra supply of syringes you needed for standard blood work procedures. He put the box into your arms, nodding his head to Price as he lay on the bed for his standard checkup from you. Taking the box, you leaned up to kiss Simon on the mask as a thank you, turning around to unpack it all. You only realized your mistake after the fact. Both boys were frozen and deadly silent as the mistake sunk in. You turned your head around slowly, kicking yourself for not thinking twice. 

John was the first one to break. 

“So,” He huffed, pointing aggressively at Simon. “You’re the one who's been sneaking around with my sister.” John’s gaze staring daggers into your lover, who could only watch back in shock.

Fuck. 

John moved quickly, trying to shove off the elastic arm tie, ripping the blankets back to charge at Simon.

“John!” You screamed, grabbing at his arms to hold him back. Simon quickly darted out of the room, leaving you to handle your brother for the time being. He certainly didn’t want his Captain to (try) and kick his ass in front of you. 

“John! Listen to me!” Heaving on your sibling, begging him to stop. 

“I’m gonna kick his ass for this (sure you are, buddy). Swear on it.” John was seething with anger. 

“I love him!” You screamed, giving one more big tug before John let up, facing you.

“You- What?” He looked utterly perplexed, but you nodded reassuringly.

“I do. I know you may not approve now, but you’ll have to come to terms with it eventually, John. It’s not going anywhere. You can’t bully him away.” You exhaled frustrated. “I know you only want to protect me, but I’m an adult now, you have got to start seeing me that way, alright? I love Simon, and he’s been so good to me. Please…” You squeezed your brother's arm, a silent beg. 

John closed his eyes, rubbing at his forehead. 

“‘Swear to God if he hurts you Y/N…” He warned. 

“Never.” You promised, nodding your head rapidly and John let out the breath he had been holding in. 

“Fuckers’ still got a lot to answer for.”

John eventually came around - after some punches that didn’t land on Simon and an outburst that left him feeling ridiculous. He inevitably came to accept you two, stomaching you around the barracks, even allowing him to come to family Christmases…

Just on the condition that you two aren't so loud at nightfall anymore.

Gives the old man a headache. 

And nausea.

//

[shy-writer-999]

OP Headcanons: Law & reader's first time

WARNING: MINORS DNI. NSFW CONTENT.

A/N: PURE SMUT! How would Law fuck (afab) reader for their first time? Very very lovey dovey sweet Law. ~2.9k words. CW: fingering, encouragement, teeny tiny bit of blood, P in V.

Law & reader's first time

Law murmured in your ear as you laid naked on the bed, facing up. “Do you ever touch yourself?”

You nodded, shyly, averting your eyes and turning bright red.

“What do you do?”

You hesitated, embarrassed. It felt so weird to say it out loud, especially in his presence, but you knew that it would turn him on. You knew how badly he wanted to hear it. “I rub myself down there… Put a finger in sometimes, until I can’t anymore?” Your cheeks were smarting with blush.

“Do you curl your finger when its inside? Do you ever press on your g-spot?”

“N-no,” you stuttered out an answer, flustered. “I don’t.”

“Can I show you?”

When you nodded, Law’s hand crept over your stomach, his fingers coming to rest on your bare lips. His skin was cool when it touched your folds and your breath hitched at the sensation. It felt so different than when you did it yourself—it made you feel tingly, tense, and when he started to rub two fingers up and down, you could feel heat blooming in your core.

“Does that feel good?” Law hummed in your ear, and you responded with a breathy “yes” that made his heart do a flip.

Law’s index finger trailed upwards, finding your sensitive spot, drawing light circles around it. Your hips bucked in surprise—it felt amazing. His fingers were surprisingly soft. He was being gentle, trying to coax pleasure out of you at a measured pace.

His finger went down again through your folds, collecting some of the slick that started to seep out of you, bringing it back up to your clit. You let out a muffled moan. He knew how to use his hands. He had told you that before, but now you really knew what that meant.

Law pressed on your clit, eliciting another muted moan. You were trying to push the sound back down your throat, turning crimson in embarrassment. You had never let those sounds out before, accustomed to touching yourself in private, quietly.

“Let those sounds out for me, I want to hear them.” Law's voice made goosebumps to ripple down your neck and flood the rest of your skin.

He continued playing with your clit and folds until you were so wet that it was starting to make your thighs and his hands messy. “Is it okay if I put a finger in?”

When you said yes, Law slowly inserted a finger. You walls clenched and pulsed around him; you were so warm inside, so wet. He tried not to get too excited about putting his cock in you later, but he couldn’t help himself. That sweet, scrunched up face that you made when he slid it in made his cock twitch.

Law let his finger sit there for a moment while you adjusted to it, and then he pulled it out slowly and back in. At the same time, he reached his thumb up to press on your clit.

You let out a mewl, finally allowing sounds to escape your lips at his request. It sounded like honey to his ears. “Law, feels so good, fuck.”

That was his cue to put another finger in. You gasped, feeling him stretch you out slightly more. His fingers scissored and pushed your walls to the side and then up and down. He was starting to pull more pleasure from your core, bit by bit. His fingers curled and you moaned his name. Each sound that trickled from your lips made him harder; It awoke some primal and carnal desire in him to fuck you senseless. But it was your first time, and he told you that he’d go slow and delicately. He wanted you to have the best experience you could possibly have, and he cherished the fact that you were comfortable enough to be so vulnerable with him.

Law wanted to make you cum before he fucked you. Just to make sure you were comfortable enough—but the added benefit would be that he got to see you writhe in pleasure while he fucked you with his fingers. He was so close to you, he saw every flutter of your eyelashes, noticed when your breaths quickened, heard every sound you made. He was getting off at your mere presence, at your pleasure, at your scent and pretty face and hands and breasts—he was enamored with you, counting his lucky stars to be close to you like this for the first time.

Sure, you and Law had made out before. He’d gotten handsy (with your permission), and you had done your fair share of dry humping. You’d even sucked his dick a couple of times—he swore that you had a natural gift for it. But he had never seen you completely naked, had never touched your pussy. His heartbeat was just as quick as yours, and you could feel it too. You could also feel his hard cock pressing on your side, twitching every time you let out a sound.

As Law fingered you, he got as deep as he possibly could. His fingertips roamed and curled, seeking that gooey hot spot that would make you squirm with pleasure.

He found it after a few moments and pressed it—you moaned his name the loudest he’d heard it yet. A smile played on his lips. Your voice was music to his ears. He kept pressing on your clit with his thumb, bringing his fingers out and in with increasing speed, reaching to press your g-spot each time. You were quickly approaching orgasm. Your head was thrown back with heaving breaths, his name escaped your lips in a constant stream.

“Law, I’m—I’m going to cum, I’m so close,” you whined, muscles tensing as you started to reach your peak.

“Let it all out for me,” he muttered, his voice deep and soothing in your ear. “Cum for me.”

He pressed on your g-spot persistently, making you squirm until the waves of euphoria finally crashed over you. Your hips bucked up, shoving his fingers deep—as you orgasm, you pulsed around his fingers fervently, your toes curled in pleasure, fingers gripping Law’s thigh so hard it would leave a bruise. “Law—Law, fuck, fuck, I’m cum-cumming, fuck.”

“Mmmm,” he hummed again. “Just like that. Good job.”

When you were done creaming on his fingers, Law brought them out of your cunt and sucked them clean. You watched him taste your own juices with wide eyes. “Tastes great. Wanna try?” he smiled. You nodded timidly and he pulled you into a kiss.

As you tasted yourself on his tongue and pulled him closer, your fingers tangled in the hair around the nape of his neck. He let out an almost inaudible groan into your mouth and his cock rubbed on your thigh. Law’s fingers crept up and started fondling one of your breasts, kneading it and playing with your hard nipples until you whined again.

Before you knew it, heat and need were starting to bloom between your legs again. You couldn’t help but think that if Law made you feel that good with his fingers, how would he make you feel with his cock buried inside of you?

“Law,” you pulled away from him and looked in his eyes. They were ravenous and animalistic; he was barely holding onto his inhibitions with a thread. But he told himself he wouldn’t fuck you until you asked for it clearly and with the utmost conviction.

“Law, I want you.”

“Are you absolutely sure?”

“Yes. Please.”

He wasted no time, shifting himself so that he was in between your legs, which he draped over the top of his thighs. One hand was pumping his cock lazily. His shaft was veiny, slightly curved, his tip red and inflamed already. He had gotten off so much on seeing you cum from his fingers that precum was already seeping out of his slit, milky white pearls that were starting too ooze down his shaft. His eyes were veiled in lust, desperate for you, staring down at you. You could tell he wanted all of you. Wanted all of you now.

“Are you sure?” Law confirmed one last time that you really wanted to do this. He didn’t want you to have any regrets. He wanted you to have the best, most comfortable experience that you could.

“Law, yes I’m sure. Please.”

He exhaled one long breath, steadying himself, and slowly started to push the tip of his cock inside. Even with the extra lubrication, it didn’t feel like the most spectacular thing in the world. You’d never been stretched out like this before, and Law’s cock was ridiculously long and girthy. As he got a couple inches deep, you let out a hiss of air between your teeth.

“Law, it hurts.” You were grimacing, and one look at you made him go completely still. He quickly tamed that animal part of him because you were in pain. It was your first time. He had to make sure that you were ok. To top it off, just the tiniest amount of blood was visible around your entrance. He knew that it couldn’t feel good and it made his stomach turn to think that he caused you any pain.

“Do you want me to stop? I can stop, I don’t want you to feel bad.” His expression was worried, brows furrowed. Your walls constricted around him again.

You paused for a moment. “No, don’t stop… just be extra gentle, ok?”

“Of course.”

Law resumed his slow pace, pushing into you, now centimeters at a time, seeing your face screw up as you took him in and as you stretched out to accommodate his size. He let out a deep rumble as your walls pulsed and squeezed around him—“Fuck, Y/N. You’re so tight.”

When he bottomed out, he came to a stop and regained composure. “Does it hurt too much?”

“No, not too much.”

“Let’s wait until you want me to move. Until you feel completely adjusted, ok?”

The pain was subsiding as each moment passed. You nodded at him. “Now.”

Law started to drag his cock out again. When he reached his tip, he pushed it back in. He did this a few times, agonizingly slow, cock twitching every second because he wished he could fuck you with reckless abandon. He wished he could push your legs up and bully your g-spot until you screamed his name. Every time he started thrusting into you again, every time you felt his tip brush past that sensitive spot, it started to feel a little better.

“Law,” you sighed his name, slowly warming up to the feeling of him inside of you. “Law, its starting to feel good. Go faster.”

“Fuckkkkk,” he groaned and picked up the pace, pushing back and forth, every pass of his cock wrenched more pleasure out of you. As he fucked you faster, he reached a thumb up and started rubbing circles across your clit. Your hips jerked up in response.

“Fuck Law, that feels amazing” your eyes closed, mouth hanging open, producing the sweetest sounds he’d ever heard.

“How good does it feel?” He grunted out, fucking you faster now, getting wrapped up in the moment. His thumb increased its speed, and you started to squirm, reaching your hands up and gripping his forearms.

“Look at me.” His voice was stern, trying and failing to cover up the desperation roaring inside of him like a wildfire.

When you opened your eyes, Law moved forward. He was getting a deeper angle now, leaning over you with a hand braced next to your head, cock buried inside. Your foreheads were almost touching, your eyes locking. That fire behind Law’s eyes was blazing, his black hair was ruffled, his inked skin rippling, toned, hard. You watched, hypnotized, as his tattooed fingers rubbed around your clit.

“Fuck, Law, it feels—feels so, so fucking good,” you keened as he started to fuck you ferociously. It was beyond any pleasure you’d ever experienced. He was fucking right into your g-spot. Your walls spasmed and constricted around his cock, his deep groans were echoing in your ears.

“You’re taking my cock so well." Law's eyes were centimeters away from yours, transfixed by the pleasure he was reading on your face. “Doing such a good job, your cunt feels so good on my cock, fuuuuuck.”

Law’s hips rolled into yours frantically and you pushed up to meet him, effectively fucking yourself harder with his cock. Your moans filled the room, along with sloppy, wet, squelching sounds, emphasized by his balls hitting your ass and his cock plunging into your cunt, drawing out more pleasure and more slick with each pass.

Every time his thumb pressed and rubbed on your clit and every time his length grinded in and out of your slippery, warm cunt, you got closer to orgasming. You could feel him bringing you nearer each moment, reading your every movement and moan to know what felt the best. He looked so fucking hot, too—hair plastered onto his forehead with sweat, rock hard abs and tattoos rolling, muscles flexing with each thrust.

“’M getting so close, Law,” you panted out. You struggled to get the words out between moans that took on progressive tones of desperation.

“Yeah? Gonna cum on my cock? Pussy feels from on me? You like it when I fuck you?” His voice was filthy, coated in desire, raspy and gruff.

“I-I like it, Law,” you were getting so close to climax that you felt like you were starting to vibrate with pleasure. “Want more, f-fuck me harder, I need you.”

He went into overdrive. His hips crashed into you haphazardly, frenzied, determined to fuck you so hard your eyes rolled back into your head.

Law leaned in and pulled you into a messy, passionate kiss. You could taste the sweat on his lips, could feel the hot puffs of air in your mouth as he groaned with each thrust, his prickly facial hair ticklish on your skin.

“Doing such a good job for me,” Law's voice was strained, gravelly and right next to your ear, now. He was trying to keep it together just long enough that you came. He wanted you to have the perfect first time, wanted you to be in bliss, wanted you to melt from his touch. “Takin’ it so well, ffuuuuucckkkkk.”

“Law I’m gonna cum, feels too good,” you whined, nails were digging into his forearms, leaving half-circles. He grabbed one of your thighs and pushed it up, holding your plushy and supple flesh there as he fucked you.

“Cum for me,” he growled again. “Want you to cum on my cock, baby, feels so fucking good, want you to cream for me.”

The angle switch up and his dirty words were enough to push you over the edge. You convulsed and spasmed, squeezing his cock in a vice grip, eyes rolling back in your head, moaning his name so needily that it filled the room and made him see stars. Another, crushing wave of ecstasy washed over your whole body—you felt like you were floating, like you’d pass out from pleasure.

As soon as Law saw you let go, he reached his limit. He couldn’t hold on anymore. Seeing you writhe and squirm from the pleasure that he gave you, hearing you say that it felt so good… He tipped over the threshold and fully gave himself over to the pleasure that you gave him. He pulled at the last second, cumming on your stomach while he pumped and squeezed the last of his cum from his cock. You were still riding the waves of pleasure by the time he came down from his high. He set your shaking thigh down gently and pulled you into another kiss, this time cupping your cheek with his hand, rubbing his thumb over your soft skin. The kiss was just as passionate, but this time it felt different. It felt like love. He nuzzled your nose with his, grateful that you let him be so close with you, that you were comfortable enough with him to be vulnerable with him.

Seeing you come down from the precipice that he helped build made his heart flutter. Your cheeks were ruddy, eyes closed, quick breaths escaping your mouth. When he maneuvered himself out of your legs and collapsed next to you, he peppered you with more kisses and smoothed your hair down.

“You did such a good job.”

Law kissed and petted you for a moment before he got up to grab a towel to wipe the cum off your stomach. He wiped you down so gently, and when he was done, he climbed back on the bed and spooned you, the sweat from your bodies mixing. He kissed your shoulder blades, inhaled the scent of your hair. His heart felt full, and he could feel himself blush.

“Are you doing okay?” He cooed in your ear, making sure that you were feeling okay with everything that just happened.

“Mmmmhmmm,” you murmured back. “That was so good. Thanks Law.”

“Thank you.” He pulled you closer and laid with you like that for as long as you wanted.

(/‿＼✿) (◕‸ ◕✿) (・ω<) (*ﾉωﾉ)

Also shoutout to Sam @walmartmihawk for the request: "Omg omg, could you do my last fic request but with Law please? And maybe Mihawk if you do him-- with a shy, virgin reader going through their first time? Thank you so much"

[typing-catastrophe]

Charles Xavier - only one bed (headcanons)

request: "gmorning! with deadpool 3 bringing around the xmen renaissance ive found myself once again totally obsessed w james mcavoy and was wondering if i could req an only one bed charles xavier x reader piece please ! i feel like theres just so much to be done w that trope, the mutual pining, the fluster, the rushed confessions, and ive somehow never seen anymore pair it w charles yet ?? i trust your vision completely, thank you so much and have a lovely day!"

a/n: thank you so much for your request anon ^^ I am also working on a longer piece (actual oneshot, no bulletpoints), so stay tuned for that and in the mean time have this :P hope you like it

💕 fluff

oohhh the temptation

charles trying so hard not to give in and read your mind

he is just so goddamn curious as to know what you're thinking about your current situation

because he can feel you laying next to him all tensed up and it makes him nervous

you're both idiots in love with the other, have been for a while, and both to scared to make the first move

you're convinced he isn't interested in you at all, and are too scared to ruin the friendship to say anything

and he is convinced he would drive away the only friend he made asides from raven and would end up feeling much lonelier than before

he technically is confident enough but at the same time doesn't want to risk anything going wrong or making it awkward between the two of you

when it gets too much for him, he strikes up a conversation which would end up in you two laughing and finally being comfortable in each others space again

when you tell him that you're having a hard time falling asleep at new places, he would offer to tell you about his research, because it helps raven fall asleep

when you both eventually fall asleep, he unconsciously shifts over and holds you close

you stir awake from the movement next to you, already dozing off again when you feel an arm sneak over your stomach and an explosion of butterflies when charles pulls you close

(that man needs someone to cuddle at night and you can't convince me otherwise. he's a cuddler.)

now wide awake and heartbeat going faster by the second, you franticly try to think of what to do next

when you try to scoot away, you're not only met with resistance but with him pulling you back and nuzzling his nose into your neck and hair

you lay there in defeat for a few minutes, enough time for your heartbeat to settle again. then you decide to turn around in his arms

you use the opportunity to look at him his beautiful facial features, all relaxed and peaceful. you'd never allow yourself to stare at him like this, in fear of getting caught

when he started to wake up and blinking a few times, you know you should look away, but you're so captured by him that you can't bring yourself to do so

so you're laying face to face with him, only inches apart, holding your breath

"hey... can't sleep?" he asks with a soft tone and smile

you shake your head the tiniest bit and a stray lock of hair falls into your face

he reaches out to tuck it behind your ear and lets his hand linger

even without using his powers he is almost sure to know what you think in that moment

so he leans in closer and asks "may I?"

you whisper a breathless "please" and before you know it, he presses the softest kiss to your lips

you almost whine when he leans back again

"you look so beautiful, darling" and "forgive me, we should've done this a lot sooner"

you couldn't agree more

sleepy, soft kisses turn into more intense ones turn into makeout session

so much suppressed feelings resurfacing, you can't get enough of each other

when your shirt hitches up and his hand grazes your bare skin, you let out a small noise of surprise and jump a little at the sudden contact

charles moves his hand away, not wanting to make you uncomfortable or do something you're not ready for, when you reach down and put his hand back, reassuring that it is okay for you

he doesn't mind at all if you don't want to go any further, he can't believe his luck of you reciprocating his feelings at all in the first place

if you do want to go further, that man will give you the best and softest, most loving time of your life

given that that would be your first time together, you would keep it simple and stick to getting to know each other and each others likes

first and foremost he would concentrate on making you feel good