#like i want to cry and punch something at the same time but ITS A HAPPY ENDING LIKE

[insectduck]

I just finished reading the most fucking devastating +100k word fic in three days and I'm nawt okay

[kameyyy]

#recs

this didn’t fit anymore lmao😭

try again

part 0.11. HERE TO STAY

“on the other side of the wall, she’s listening to her client with a smile on her face. she’s a professional; she’s been trained to multitask and take notes while still listening and providing feedback to her clients. right now, she’s clicking off a tab back to the one filled with bullet points on things her client has said. she always knows when he arrives. she hears the left door open, which she knows because it squeaks more than the one on the right. he always uses the left door (she thinks it has something to do with the fact that more people touch the handle of the right door on their way in) and his paces are always steady down the creaky hallway. her last sign that he's here is the chair he sits in every time, the one right next to the door into her rooms. the legs are the slightest bit uneven and the back of the chair will lightly tap against the wall as its way of letting her know of her welcome guest. she already has her queue of songs up. she’s always hated her thin walls until he started coming in. a lot has changed in her life since he's come back, hasn't it?"

content warnings: the big finale which isn't that dramatic! i'm sorry for my bad writing! y/n dad reveal! breaking news: her dad is an asshole! tad bit of violence, one mention of blood and also just cursing and abusive fathers </3

he insists on paying and she doesn’t argue with him about it for long; she’ll have countless more opportunities to steal the check from him, she hopes.

she feels better when she's finally eaten after a day of nervous nausea and time spent anxiously bouncing her knee. on top of that, she’d been with him for the majority of the day, distracting her from what had happened in the morning. he even listened to her issues, and she’s finally starting to believe the promise that he’s here to stay. 

they’ve just stepped off the train, and her apartment building is only a few minutes away. he walks alongside her the entire time, their arms brushing each other ever so often. whether it’s on purpose or not, neither of them will fess up.

he’s only distracted from his time spent mindlessly reaching his arm out just the slightest bit more to hit hers ever so often when he feels a buzz in his pocket. he slips out his phone quickly to check its screen:

akaashi’s a moment too late, because they’ve just made it up the stairs to her floor.

she’s already seen him, and he’s already seen her.

she wants to puke. 

he’s there, arguing with iwaizumi outside their door. his sunken eyes and gaunt face make her stomach twist with guilt, but a brush from omi’s knuckles reminds her where she is again. it’s not her job to take care of him. it never was, and it never will be.

"you," the man is pointing a finger towards her, stumbling forward and she immediately shrinks back like a shriveling flower, losing her confidence. omi's already standing in front of her without even thinking about it, putting a barrier between the two.

the old man keeps talking as if he can see right through him, though “you’re a disrespectful worthless piece of shit, you know that? can’t ever in your life put even a single person about yourself. here you are living with a bunch of boys. what are you, a whore? do you suck them off so they’ll keep the bad guys away? they’re doing a shit job at it. i’m standing here after, all, aren’t i?”

“it’s not like that,” her voice is quiet and weak, and she’s not even sure it makes it to the man’s ears.

“you can’t think about anyone else. you're too selfish. you won’t even answer your own father’s calls much less say anything to him at all–”

“i told you to back off!” her voice comes out loud this time, louder than she means for it to, “i’ve told you to back off so many times but you just don’t listen,” she steps out from behind omi, standing next to him instead while the man in front of them stops at the sound of her voice, “these are my roommates and my closest friends. i'm living with them because they genuinely care about me and aren't using me for any purpose, something you can't even dream about. the only reason you’re still standing here is that they have enough self-control and respect for me that they won't beat up the man i regrettably call my father.”

omi’s gaze slides over to hers, trying to see if she’ll meet his eyes. he’s simultaneously trying to communicate how proud of her he is and let her know that he'll support her no matter what happens. 

“take that back,” her father spits, starting to curl his fingers into a fist. she stays silent, and his face begins to flush an angry red. “you’re only proving my point. you’re just an ungreatful little girl who thinks she no longer has to care about anyone else because she's older. i took care of you your whole life and i will not have you ignoring me for the rest of my fucking life!” the smell of beer invades her senses as he steps closer.

“you did jackshit in my life! you never helped me with anything I asked you to. never bought me anything i needed, you've never cared about me. i’ve grown up and moved out. i can do whatever i damn please and i told you to leave me alone. maybe if you respected me i wouldn't ignore you, but that's impossible for you,” she retorts, standing her ground.

“don’t you fucking talk to me like that–” he nears her, only a few steps between them and she starts to feel the panic in her chest, “your stubbornness is the reason your mother left–”

“my stubbornness?” she can’t help but fight back. that’s what separates her from her past self. her younger self ran away, left home as soon as she could to live on her own, but now she’s grown into who she is today, and she won’t let him ruin that. “you treated your wife like shit and refused to change no matter how many times she screamed and argued with you right in front of me about how horrible you were. you've never fixed anything because you’re so stuck up and think you’re so high and mighty that she decided to pack up her bags and leave–”

“then why did she leave you behind too?” 

it’s like her heart stops beating for a second. her blood runs cold before her vision is a blur and the face of the man is crushed right in front of her, sending him to the ground groaning. his hand is covering his nose, preventing her from seeing how badly damaged it is, but she can’t find it in her to care.

“don’t blame her for your faults. grow up and take responsibility for your shit. she deserved better than either of you,” omi is talking down on the man now, and she looks up from her father’s body to the fist of the boy beside her, bruised and a little red.

he’s been by her side since day one, and maybe he disappeared for a section of it, but now he’s back. they're back together, and she stands proudly beside him, “she left me too, but i can’t be mad at her for being sick of you. or us. whatever it is, you’re both selfish and her absence nor yours is something i’m mourning over. i’m happy to have left you too and for the last time, i never want to see you again”

iwaizumi has joined them, standing above the man, no trace of sympathy in his eyes despite the blood that's streaking down her father's face. he tries to get up, only for iwaizumi to keep him down on the ground with a foot on his shoulder, “you heard her. don’t ever show your fucking face around here again. i’ll kill you the moment i lay eyes on you.” iwaizumi’s olive eyes move from the ground to meet hers, slightly softening when he sees her, “are you done with him? i’ll make sure he gets out of here and stays away for good.”

omi’s words from the diner rush back to her head, and she doesn’t feel so bad for relying on her friend. she believes he's willing to help her, and she won’t let her father’s words get to her head. she’s cared for others, unlike him, and developed relationships that she’s earned by giving out her own love. “yeah, i’m done,” her voice is quiet again as she keeps looking at her friend, searching his eyes for any sort of annoyance. but she can’t find any, and she smiles, walking towards him, wrapping her arms around him. “thank you, iwaizumi.”

he has an arm around her shoulders, his foot still resting on her father. “always,” he replies simply before she leaves him embrace, gesturing for omi to follow her. “i’m going to take care of his fist, now.”

iwaizumi only nods, turning his attention back to the man on the ground omi following his gaze as he passes by. iwaizumi will do more than a good enough job at keeping his word, he knows that, but he feels like he should have some part in taking care of the man whose plagued the girl in front of him for her entire life.

but she hasn’t asked him to take care of the man in front of her, and he knows its not his place. she knows she does not resent the man to the point that she wishes harm upon him, she simply wishes that he would leave her alone. and iwaizumi will make sure that wish is honored, and omi should be satisfied with the hit he landed on the man’s nose.

before her hand can even reach the knob of the door, it swings open and she’s pulled inside by the arms of a black-haired man who he recognizes to be akaashi. kita is standing beside him, a hand on [y/n]’s shoulder as they both check on her for any injuries or harm.

he hasn’t seen kita since his days in high school when he was the captain of inarizaki; atsumu told him he had moved out to the countryside but he must have come back after some time. he feels like a weight is lifted off his chest at the sight of her in the arms of his roomates, and he knows that she is cared for. that she has found her people, just like he told her earlier that night, and he hopes that she’s starting to accept his words as the truth.

he’s happy just watching her from afar, but she breaks apart from akaashi’s hug to gesture him in, and kita shuts the door behind him. “omi, this way,” she says with a smile on her face, beckoning him with a hand.

it’s the first time she’s called him by that old name since high school, and he thinks he’s falling even harder for her if that’s possible. she makes him sit on a stool in the kitchen while she searches her cabinets and a nearby closet for medical supplies. she’s begun to apply an ointment to his hand when he opens his mouth, “i can’t believe you think your roomates would ever leave you. look at how they all came to make sure you were okay. mine are one fight away from starting to vote people to kick out of the apartment nearly every week.”

she laughs at his comment, unwrapping a roll of bandages, “i’m sure no one would ever vote for you if that happened, but i guess you’re right, they’re pretty good, aren’t they?”

he nods, watching her face while she’s focused on his hand, “are you doing okay?”

she hums back in response, “yeah. the thing about my mom leaving me behind too kind of stung, but i don’t think life would’ve been any better with her, so it shouldn’t really hurt that bad. i’ll be okay. what you said at the diner really helped, you know. i feel like I can trust myself to say what i'm thinking rather than being scared i'm wrong or selfish. i can trust that it's not egotistical to believe my roomates don’t actually hate me. and that you don’t hate me. so i feel like i’ve finally escaped the weight of my dad’s words always crushing me and playing down anything i do.”

he reaches a hand up with his uninjured hand to wipe away tears from her face she didn't even realize were falling. and then he keeps his hand there, caressing the side of her face. “i don’t hate you, i never have. this entire time…how i feel about you is quite the opposite,” the words are slightly too intimate for him and as soon as they escape his mouth, it becomes hard to swallow and his face feels a little hot, but he doesn’t remove the hand from her cheek. he opts to say something more neutral next, “you did well, talking back down to him. i think you could’ve taken him down yourself.”

she chuckles at that, tying a knot to finish his bandage, “that’s what you think, but i’m sure i’d break my thumb or something. and if i have a hot man to defend me? i’m not lifting a finger.”

“you think i’m hot?” he says with a smile.

her cheeks grow warm under his hand, but she can’t look or move away from him, “i’m pretty sure thousands of people think so. it’s like a fact; newspapers can make money off of just having your face on the front page even if they barely mention you or don’t focus on sports at all.”

“well none of that matters,” he’s smiling softly now, and she’s still looking into his dark-colored eyes, hands holding his wrapped hand, “it just matters what you think.”

“what i think?” she repeats. and maybe it’s the adrenaline from the encounter they just had, or his boldness rubbing off on her in this current moment, but her next words come out clear and confident, “i think i love you, and i have for years. even when you left, i never stopped loving you.”

“i’m gonna make up for those years, you know,” he whispers back, pulling her by the sides to stand between his legs, bringing her closer. “i know i love you. i’d be a fool not to. and i loved you back then in high school too, even if i didn’t know it. i swear, losing you made me realize how much i took you for granted and everything became clear. letting you disappear was the worst mistake i ever made. i’ll make up for that lost time. make it up to you to the the point that you’re sick of me and you forget we were ever even separated for a time in our lives.”

“oh? and how are you gonna do that?” there’s a breathless feeling growing inside of her chest, where her heart beating fast with his confession and the way she's allowing him to pull her face close to this.

“starting with this,” his breath is hot against her lips before he closes the gap between them, and she’s kissing him back. she doesn't mourn or wish for the past, or for anything to change. he's come back and that's all that matters. she's happy with the word again. she likes it better than a phrase like "we fell in love at first sight." instead, she can say, "we met again. we fell in love again.

"we tried again."

it sounds like a story that reminds people endings aren't set in stone. she likes it.

.

.

.

“by the way, have you been playing songs for me in your lounge room when i’m waiting for you?”

“oh, you noticed?”

.

.

.

"the more you love your friends the more their features start to blur until all you remember is a pair of warm, welcoming eyes and laughter that feels like home."

prev. | m.list

extras <3

this is the end! thank you for reading try again <3

that last little quote is something i should've included like two chapters ago but it got lost in my gallery so here it is now <3

y/n's a good therapist i swear!!! she takes like one second to hit a play on a spotify playlist she's not playing games on her computer for entire sessions 😭

this is all i have tbh! i hope you enjoyed a little bit of this story <3 thank you so so much for being along on this ride w me!!

taglist: @eggyrocks @wyrcan @guitarstringed-scars @strawberryuri @violetesensou @kakeru-eem @glmge @heytheredemonsss @mollyrolls @bemebiu @daszy @snail-squasher @0moonii @thiisisntlovely @todorokiskitten @rory-cakes @iiwaijime @iatethemochi @yuminako @savemebrazilhinata @kismyscars @bokutoko @nobodybutnnoorr @wolffmaiden @daisy-room @softpia @lees-chaotic-brain @v3nusplanetofluv @crispchocolates @phoenix-eclipses @hhoneyhan @encrypta @rockleeisbaeeee @cr4yolaas @zombriesworld @localgaytrainwreck @moucheslove @hibernatinghamster @notverymarley @certaindreampost @akaakeis @ciderscape @lucien-luna @strawbrinkofdeath @wave2mia @samuel1004 @01trickster10 @dazqa @cosmiicdust @chemiru

[acid-ixx]

to you, my greatest passion (soft yandere! batfam x traumatized! reader oneshot)

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

tw: allusions to stockholm syndrome, flawed relationship (they have no concept of boundaries) and mild descriptions of injuries and torture (not by the batfam). read until the end for an author's note. happy 4k followers to me :)) uh leave comments if u like this type of analysis and want to see more. i had no direction for writing this. please don't let this flop huhu i might delete this since i don't like it

as much as i love my angst, we all need something soft at times, and moments with yan!batfam with a reader who is absolutely fucking broken from their past that the mere implication that someone could love them is enough to let them melt into whoever's chest they lay upon that night.

just, hurt/comfort. one that heals the soul in its overly possessive embrace. the same way chapped lips peck softly on your cheeks, muscled arms caress your fragile, shivering body, and legs tangle upon yours in a cacophony of warm, cozy blankets.

where as the longer time passes in the manor, the more you learn to love. to let go of the painful memories your tormenters left you. to allow past scars to heal into a mere visage of what once was streaks coated in blood. your family acts as your new abductors, yes, but how could you hold your freedom against them when it is them that comfort you from drowning through the deepest depths of your nightmares?

nightmares of the past, of the knives that break through your already gashed skin, or the ropes that burn through bruises and laceration— every time you wake up crying, with tears running down your cheeks and a pained cry; a recollection of the torture you were subject to, it is them that come running to your room not a moment after.

it's bruce's tall, domineering form that crumbles into soft, snug pillows for you. your father arms that punches criminals into prison become the shoulder you lean on. calloused fingers rub your cheeks, wiping away your tears, holding your face in his palms like you're the most fragile thing on earth— and you are. every time he looks at your dampened eyes and sniffling nose, he gets reminded of how lonely he was as a child, who lost his parent too young to the cruelty of the world, of gotham and her unyielding coldness. and when he reminisces, he begins to cage you in his arms a tad bit tighter, begins to comfort you longer and softer than he has ever done with anyone else, as if he is reassuring himself. it is with you that his vulnerability, that fear of loss becomes all too stronger. and every time you cry a bit longer, your hold on his sleeves becoming unyielding, does bruce become crueler in his pursuit of fighting crime, a lesson to himself that the people he punishes are those with hands capable enough to harm you, his precious, his pearl that glints throughout the moonlight.

whenever your father is unavailable, it's dick who runs to you, with all the intention to provide you comfort. it's him who calls you his baby bird, as he reassures you that you're no burden in his eyes every time you scream in terror as your sleep. it's him who loves to drown you in his affection, always near, always close, never far and never too much. physically, he's the most doting to a fault. tender, yet tight were his hugs. his kisses to your cheeks and your forehead always linger, as if hesitant to release itself from its rightful place. it's a testiment to how much he loves you, how he's incapable of separating himself from you. god, he loves you so much he wishes he'd just melt right into your skin, so that you actually finally realize how you're the most important thing in the world to him. you, his baby bird. if he had met you sooner, quite earlier, right after his parent's have died, then maybe he could've managed his anger better, could've learned to cope with you through the battles you both fought. it's with you that dick feel unbearably euphoric, ready to spill his love to the point where tears consume his eyes and his head laid on your chest refuses to detach itself.

jason isn't familiar with what warmth feels like, not anymore. but when he sees your hapless state, he sees a reflection of himself in that abandoned warehouse. broken, defiled, hurt. with nothing to comfort you from the cold other than the ropes that burn through your skin and the adrenaline that runs through your veins. he forgots what solace feels like, what it means, but through your shared trauma does jason learn. he learns to talk to you, with you, learns to pinpoint each and every emotion he felt at the time, what you felt inside that putrid basement. he learns to manage his grief because he doesn't want to anger himself looking at you, at just how much justice can only serve so many. the longer you talk to jason, the more he becomes softer, yet hungrier. he learns how to hold you in a way a brother learns to hold his baby sibling for the first time when conceived. he relearns the warmth he felt, like when he was finally able to be good enough to be the successor to the title of robin, when he felt you drool on his chest when you trusted him enough to sleep in his room. yet this time that feeling was accompanied with that ominous, distracting essence. one that makes jason's knuckles crack and have him prepare his guns, as he discovers that you can never truly erase the past. and even though it might take years for him to be your ideal brother, he could at least be your sole protector.

then there's tim, who never truly had the opportunity to develop that deeper sense of love he wanted to feel until he was officially adopted into the wayne family right after his parents' death. don't get him wrong, he loves his mom and dad, and so does he loves his current family— but it's obsession that drives him nonetheless. the need to prove himself, to gather information about everyone to know who they truly are; beyond that there's nothing more than shallowness, a neverending hole he can't satisfy. but with you? oh god, you. to tim, you're his everything. you devour his being whole. with you, there's always something new. the need to track every single thing about you leads him into this cycle of want and need that coagulates into desire, into drive. every time you smile, or laugh, or frown, he gains newer intel about you, one he loops into the deepest crevices of his brain at a constant, you are his constant. but staying right behind you can only do so much. and as he sits right beside you in bed, awkwardly comforting you through the ways he mirrored off from his brothers: a sloppy kiss to your knuckles, a joke cracked here and there, and wiping your eyes and nose with his sleeves; tim learns that stalking can only do so much. he learns what it feels like to be needed for emotional connection and nothing else and that only further motivates him to be perfect for you, and to be with you, his sibling, more often than to simply live right under your nose.

and damian, your baby brother, who's unsurprisingly the one who sleeps in your room, or has you sleep in his room, the most. damian tells himself he's incapable of love, of showing it or reciprocating it. but for you, he tries, and like jason, he learns. he discovers just how depraved both of you are when it comes to love. it enlightens you both and it makes damian feel a deeper sense of connection with you than anyone else. with you, he feels like a child: vulnerable, yet uncaring and free, like the true meaning of being a robin, one the soars through the skies with no grandfather or mother or league to watch your every step as their successor. all the times you cry, he silently sobs with you, holding your cheeks down to his level with scarred palms. silent, yet comforting, he'd allow his smaller form to simply become your teddy bear whilst he whispers consolations. about how strong his older sibling is, how precious you are for being comfortable with him to speak of your problems, how you're everything to damian just as he wishes to be the world for you. it makes you think you're more immature that him, it makes him grateful that he has you. even though he doesn't say it, he shows through actions just how truly important you are whenever he draws a sword towards his enemies, thinking about you and his unsaid promises.

nights where you're reminded of that solitary confinement, of the darkness that creeps into your vision and the voices that pierce through your ears. nights where you feel you've exhausted yourself of hope, where what was once warmth that hugs your heart is now that frigid, yet burning spikes that penetrates into the confidence that you'll somehow, someday, run away from that hellhole— those were nights you thought you'd never live with proper sleep. but as one or two of them holds you in their embrace whenever your nightmares consume your being, you're slowly allowing your established walls to fall apart, all for the mere implication of their love.

who would save you, if not for them? their hushed whispers of consolation, hands that wrap around your figure, and fingers that knead your cheeks provide you that deep sated comfort you always wanted. the sleeves they use to wipe away both saltine liquid and snot, to slowly silence your blubbering rambles, your inconsolable crying; it's warmer than the basement you used to be locked in as a child, with dripping faucets the only source of your water— they saved you once before, who's to say they won't save you a thousand times more?

every time you feel like crying, every time that familiar faulty tap in your eyes begins to dampen against ashen skin, it's them that asks you if you're alright. even if you grit your teeth, even if you seeth or bite or beat or punch or kick, to punish yourself, to cope through the trauma, to not feel nothing.

every time pain begins to sear through your skin, it's your grandfather, father, brothers and sisters that huddle around you and tell you 'you're safe here, in the manor, with us'.

every time they spend hours, ditching patrol nights, cooking your comfort food, reading your favorite books, watching movies for hours, ignoring your assigned sleep schedule, kissing your scarred hands gently, reverently, cuddling your form against their strong ones as a silent promise that with them, there's nothing to harm you no more— you'd feel lighter every time, a tad happier, even. slowly, but surely, melting against the confines of your adorned cage and the embrace of your loving captors.

every time they help you heal, it makes you forgive, and it makes you forget their prior kidnapping in return of building new memories with them, in a safer haven, with nobody to hurt you any longer, with nobody to bash your head against concrete walls, to punish you. you who is underserving of the circumstances bought upon you back then.

safe, a word you thought you'll never feel, a word you didn't even know existed in the crevices of your heart. but it is with them that you slowly start to associate safe with family.

the family that you've come to love and cherish in your own imperfect ways, the same way a stray dog becomes too loyal to a passerby when given bones for leftovers every day.

but you're not an animal, and you're not a pavlovian dog meant to be conditioned. no, you're their baby, their love, their treasure and their only one. the love they feed you exceeds beyond leftovers. only you can devour them wholly, the same way they cloak your world in the love that fills that neverending pit in your heart.

you're not biologically related to any of them in any way, too. yet it was all a matter of coincidence that they stumbled upon you.

but really, past is past.

then is then.

now it's just you and them.

it's you, with them.

just your family. overbearing, overprotective, overpowering.

but nothing is always over to you. their love isn't too much. how could you tell yourself it's too much? not when you were never given a basis of what is too much. how is one too much when you were never even given enough?

trust is built upon a foundation of connecting with others who can relate with you one way or another, who can see past through your flaws and mistakes— it's a bond that precedes mere acquaintanceship.

you might've met them later than everyone else, but it's you that completes them.

you're the puzzle that completes the family photographs, the goal for bruce to continue his legacy as batman and to ward off all evil, the inspiration for dick to be that aspiring hero everyone sees him to be, the reason jason begins to reform himself for your sake, the purpose for tim's endless pursuit of knowledge, the muse for damian's painting, the subject for his love he thought was no more, the ambition for steph's prolongation despite her countless of failures, the motivation for barbara to seek out all the criminals who have harmed you, the influence for cass to be stronger to protect you, the catalyst for duke to use his metahuman abilities for good, to take out those who walk in broad daylight, as if they weren't involved in your past tortures.

you're everything that they are.

their sunshine and moonlight, their companionship and loneliness, their pain and pleasure, their yin and yan.

their greatest passion.

a/n: hii guys erm. this is so sudden and also counts as a rant but yk... i feel like quitting this blog but at the same time not. it's just, i feel like writing has been more of an obligation than anything else. it doesn't help the fact that i've only been getting interaction if i were to actually produce something good. beyond that, it feels like people are expecting more of me. i get it, updates are sporadic, they appear in the blink of an eye when you least expect it, but at the same time it's just hard juggling what i want to write and what i feel like i need to write. this blog was primarily to post about my thoughts and to talk to people but lately, every time i open this app to write, i feel these plethora of thoughts and expectations telling me that if i don't do well enough then people would merely ignore whatever i post or it's just bad by standards. and yes i'm grateful for all the people supporting my writing, but at the same time i'm lead to a cycle of me losing my motivation to continue writing. ugh idk what im doing anymore help :((

tl;dr: will i stop writing? no, but at the same time i don't know. someday, i may deactivate this account out of impulse if i feel too much, or not. it depends hehe.

[lostintransist]

The Price is Wife | Part 2

Part one here *Part one includes ace!wife!reader coming home to find John has brought home a boyfriend and packs a bag to spend the night at a hotel because why would John need a wife if he has a boyfriend???

Tear stains on your cheeks led to a cool washcloth on your face before packing all of your clothes back into your luggage. You didn't know if you would be able to book this same room for another few nights.

Digging your nails into the palm of the other hand you focus on breathing. The bright color on your nails makes you think of John. Fuck. He had paid for this set. Dammit all and beyond, you didn't want your marriage to end. You love John, he had to be one of your best friends. With a little wine in your glass you would even call him your soul mate. He would laugh and lay a kiss at your cheek, thanking you for the honor.

You loved that man so much you couldn't, wouldn't, stand in his way of being truly happy. John longed for more physical affection than either of you was comfortable with. You knew that John would thrive under the kisses of his boyfriend. Guess you would request a transfer at work and file uncontested.

Halting those thoughts before you started sobbing again you flap your hands at your face to keep your eyes from leaking. Your makeup was done lightly today, knowing you would be crying most of it off in John's office after work despite the setting spray.

Three meetings. That is all you had to get through today. You could buy yourself comfort food on the way to the hotel. Might even splurge and rent an overpriced movie. Yeah. That sounded like a plan.

First meeting drags, sending the following two into overtime and you to missing lunch and clocking out an hour later than you originally planned. The idea of putting food in your face makes you nauseus. Any food will taste like sawdust right now.

The first person to notice something is wrong is the gate officer. Office Madida had been letting you on and off base for a few years now. The man's bright smile fit so neatly on his dark skin that to see him without one would almost signal the end of the world.

"Ah! Mrs. Price, here to see your husband?"

Offering a wan smile you nod, "I'm a bit late. Would you call his office to let him know I'm here?"

"Of course! Give me a moment," Madida grabs the phone from its cradle and punches in a series of numbers. He looks you over smile slipping as he takes in the whole of you. "You doing alright Mrs. Price?"

The title slices at you. It won't be yours for to much longer. Your wan smile is now watery.

"Not really, but I appreciate you noticing."

He holds up a finger as he speaks into the phone. "Yeah, I've got Mrs. Price at the gate. She's asking that Captain Price can meet at his office?" He lifts a brow at you to confirm. At your nod he continues, "I'll send her in now. No, she won't need an escort she's been visiting her husband for nearly a decade."

Fuck a duck, your next anniversry would be ten wouldn't it? A hiccuping sob bursts past your lips. The hand you slap to your mouth doesn't prevent Officer Madida's sharp look as he hangs up the phone.

"Go and park Mrs. Price. Give me five minutes to get a replacement out here and I will walk with you."

You do as commanded, tears streaking down your face as you settle the car into park. Madida opens the door and reaches in to turn off the engine when he arrives. Thankfully you have nearly sobbed yourself out when he arrives. He walks close to you, deference and defense in his body language.

Officer Madida leaves you after John's voice rings out at your knock. Stepping into his office feels like the first time you did two weeks after you had gotten married. He introduced you around the base, proud to show off his new wife. The same drab brown covered the walls, a blanket you had crocheted him for your first wedding anniversery lay across the couch he kept for naps. The only real change in the room had to be the drawn look across John's face.

For a man who should have been happy to lose a wife and gain a husband he looked dreadful. Deep eye bags and his unkempt beard tell of a hard night. Maybe as hard as yours.

John rose slowly as you shut the door behind you. His eyes searched yours.

"Are you ready to talk now?" The gravel in his voice stings as if you were flung across it.

The lip quiver starts first. "What is there to talk about John? Why would you me when you have a boyfriend now? We are friends who sometimes kiss and share tax benefits and a flat. That's not much compared to someone who can love you the way you deserve and fills your needs and your bed."

Tightening your nails into your palms and your arms around your ribs you watch your husband round his desk. John's broad hands settle on you, one at your face and the other on your elbow. Your eyelids drift closed at the familiar, safe touch.

"Why would I want to trade one love for another?" John whispers, voice breaking.

Lifting a hand to lay across the one on your face you open your eyes and match his tear filled gaze.

"I can't see your boyfriend being okay with you keeping a wife. I can't be the reason you don't get to be happy."

John's hand slide around to the back of you, pulling you into a hug.

"The first thing I did," John spoke into your ear, "When Nik kissed me out of the blue was tell him about my wife. The woman who holds me as I cry and pokes fun at me until we both laugh. My best friend, my soul mate. I told him about our arrangement, and how anything with him could not hurt what I have with you. You're allowed to be selfish."

You are sobbing now, wrinkling John's shirt with your tears and your grip. Selfish isn't something you have ever been allowed to be. Asking for your parents to show up to important dates in school, graduation, etc were always met with cries of being selfish. Your sibling had an event that day already, or they had a work event. John had been the first to put your first.

Being put aside so often by those that claimed to love you it only made sense to step aside before John could do the same.

"No, I'm not. Selfish is always the word people use to say I am asking for to much." Sobbing harder the past pains work their way out through your grip on your husband. "Why didn't you tell me John? I would have understood. I want you to be able to be loved the way you deserve."

"Honestly?" He chuckled a bit, "I was so excited for the two of you two meet that I didn't think it through."

Pulling back from John you give him a look he is expressly familiar with. Sometimes your brilliant, SAS-trained, Air Force Captian was dumber than a box of rocks. At this point, you chalked it up to a function of testosterone.

"You forgot to tell your wife that you were bringing your boyfriend home?" The deadpan delivery has John's ears pinking up.

"Nik also called me an idiot after I explained that you were heading to a hotel for the night. He was looking forward to meeting you. If you're okay with it he is probably outside the office waiting to talk to you," John gives you the softest of smiles.

There is a light knock at the door.

"I want you both, and if there is anything you need from me to keep both of you I will do anything to make that happen." John speaks with the seriousness that made you believe he would fight god and win.

Pressing a light kiss to your lips John opens the door to his lover. Nik observes you with a cool indifference. The deepening wrinkles around his eyes tell you he might also be nervous.

"Would you like to see my helicopter?" His accent is thicker today than when he introduced himself last night.

You nod, and John offers your hand to his boyfriend. Nik takes your hand, tucking it into the corner of his elbow as the two of you wander further onto base. Passing no one on your way neither of you is ready to break the silence.

Leaving the building behind both you and Nik take a deep breath. Glancing at him you find Nik looking at your already. Both of you laugh out your big breath of air.

"I hate being in the base buildings for too long. Makes my skin itch," you offer.

"I dislike all the brown," Nik replies in return.

"What did John tell you?" You broach the subject first.

"He told me of his wife. Of her kindness, her self sacrificing ways, of the kisses you share, and the happiness that fills him up so much that I fell in love with coming from you."

No change in his tone or side glance at you. The feet attached to your body would have been rooted to the ground if Nik did not keep careful pressure on your hand, pulling you forward to the helicopter now within sight.

The ache in your chest that had started last night when John called Nik his boyfriend flared to life again, an improperly cared for fire.

"First thing you will need to learn," you cover your mouth with a hand, "Is that you can't say nice things like that to me. I cry if you are too nice to me and you are in love with John so you don't want to comfort his wife."

Nik blinks at you slowly, observing. He gives no inclination as to what he saw but lets your hand fall as you reach his helo. He opens the side door and invites you to sit down with a pat of his hand. Sitting next to you Nik does not say anything for a long time. Swinging your feet you prod at your emotions until you can parse them out enough for words. Your palms wear patterns up and down the thighs of your pants.

"I don't want to lose him, Nik. But he deserves to be happy and I know he will be happy with you. He's talked about you before, for years now, I just never realized he liked you more than as a friend. A word from you and I will file the paperwork today. It's an odd agreement between us. I knew it would end for him one day when he found someone to love and love him in return." Your voice breaks as you fight back the sobs. As if the cliffs could fight back a storm.

He pulls your hand from your lap, threading his wide fingers between yours. Hair dots his knuckes. He does not offer platitudes, or unfounded words, simply holds your hand as you weep.

"You love John. I also love John. Part of the love John carries is for you alone, and it would shatter him to lose you," Nik pauses until your sobbing has slowed enough to hear him again. "Give us a chance to learn to love each other, as friends and as those who love the idiot that is John Price."

Someone else calling John an idiot sparked a bark of laughter.

"I would love to learn to love you Nik," squeezing his fingers tight in yours you stand.

Nik joins you. Releasing his hand from yours he settles both against your face. Placing a kiss to one cheek and then the other, he finally places a kiss on your lips. The two of you share a smile and a nod of understanding. This would be a time of transition and of growth, but you both loved John enough to make room for the other.

The kiss Nik pressed to your lips did not go unobserved. Kyle, with a twisted and complicated relationship of his own he kept under wraps, saw Nik kiss John's wife. Turning and sprinting across the base he found his lovers, Simon and Johnny, reviewing paperwork from their last mission.

"Nikoli is a fucking homewrecker and is trying to get with Mrs. Price!"

That brought all work to a hard standstill.

Part 1 | Part 3 | Bonus

Masterlist

[writeriguess]

I request: Reader kissing Kiri, his neck, his chest, all over, praising him for all his hard work and resilience and him melting into a puddle under your touch, maybe even getting teary-eyed, I feel like shark boi needs that in his life 

Safe in Your Arms

You find him sprawled out on your shared bed, arms flung over his face, chest rising and falling in slow, steady breaths. The day had taken its toll—training, studying, hero work, the endless pressure to be strong, to be reliable, to never falter. Kirishima always put on a brave face, that dazzling, toothy grin never slipping, even when exhaustion clung to him like a second skin.

But you saw through it.

You always did.

His hair is damp from a shower, strands sticking to his forehead. The bruises from sparring are fading, but you know his muscles still ache. His calloused hands, the same ones that throw devastating punches and shield those in need, are now lax at his sides. Vulnerable.

You step closer, heart aching with fondness. “Eiji?”

He hums, but doesn’t move his arms from his face.

You climb onto the bed, straddling his waist lightly, just enough to keep him in place. His breath hitches, a quiet chuckle escaping. “Babe, what’re you doin’?” His voice is raspy, thick with exhaustion.

“Taking care of you,” you murmur, and lean down, pressing a featherlight kiss to his collarbone.

Kirishima tenses beneath you, but only for a second before exhaling, melting into the mattress. His arms slip from his face, ruby-red eyes blinking up at you, soft with something vulnerable. “You don’t have to—”

“I want to,” you insist, lips trailing lower, across the broad plane of his chest. He shudders as your mouth lingers over a particularly sore spot, warm and tender. “You always push yourself so hard,” you continue between kisses. “Always giving, always fighting, always protecting everyone else.” You kiss the curve of his pec, the dip between his ribs, pressing your palms flat against his skin, feeling the strength and warmth beneath your fingertips.

“Someone needs to take care of you too.”

His breath stutters, fingers twitching at his sides as if unsure whether to grab onto you or let himself fall apart. His lips part, but nothing comes out—not a joke, not an easygoing quip. Just silence, just him staring up at you with something raw and unguarded.

You kiss up his chest again, taking your time, letting him feel every touch. Your lips brush over the sharp lines of his collarbone, then up the side of his neck, feeling the way his pulse quickens. “You’re incredible, Eiji,” you whisper against his skin. “You work so hard. You are so strong. But you don’t have to be strong all the time. Not with me.”

A shaky exhale leaves him. His hands finally move, fingers digging into your sides, grounding himself as if he might float away otherwise. “You’re gonna make me cry,” he murmurs, voice rough, but there’s a wobbly smile on his lips.

You nuzzle into the crook of his neck, kissing just below his ear. “Then cry,” you whisper. “Let it out. I’ve got you.”

He does.

It’s quiet, just a few tears slipping down his flushed cheeks, but he doesn’t hide them, doesn’t wipe them away in shame. He clutches you close instead, arms wrapping around your waist, burying his face in your shoulder as you continue your soft worship of him, your love etched into every press of your lips against his skin.

And when you finally pull back to look at him, his smile is still there—soft, genuine, grateful. “I love you,” he murmurs, voice thick.

You kiss him once more, slow and sweet. “I love you too, Eiji.”

And for once, he lets himself be loved.

[heartsforjh]

I saw your post saying you'd cook writing something for Luke.

Sooo.....

Luke childhood friends to lovers would be pretty cool

ofc! thanks sm for the request 🙂🫶 fair warning: i did not in fact cook, this is more like a snack 😭

“so… can i get your number before i go? maybe we can hang?” ethan edwards, one of the hockey players from school, asks. his tone is casual but there’s a flicker of hope in his eyes.

you smile, holding your hand out for his phone.

“sure, why not?”

you punch your number into his phone, your fingers brushing against the screen as the room buzzes with laughter and music. handing it back, you grin. “there you go.”

ethan thanks you before heading off, and you take a sip of your drink, the cold fizz tingling against your lips. the exchange admittedly, leaves you feeling giddy. you’re stood leaning against the counter top, before a sharp voice immediately drags you out of your thoughts.

“the fuck was that?” you freeze, instantly recognizing the voice. it’s Luke’s—your best friend since you were in diapers. his tone is irritated, and when you turn around, you’re met with his all too familiar, towering frame. it would be intimidating if this wasn’t the same boy you used to watch cry over having to do homework as a kid.

“what was what?” you ask, surprised by his sudden tone. casually, you take another sip of your drink.

“i’m serious! what was that?!” he repeats, his voice more insistent now.

you sigh, placing your drink on the counter and giving him your full attention. “what do you mean? he asked for my number, so i gave it to him.”

Luke runs a hand through his long hair, visibly stressed. “so what— you guys are a thing now?”

you blink, caught off guard by his reaction. “oh my gosh. just because he has my number doesn’t mean we’re a thing… not yet, at least.”

you can’t help but tease him a little, curious about the frustration he’s displaying. something about his reaction feels… different, almost protective.

“that’s my friend! you can’t just… you can’t do that with my friends!” his voice rises slightly, cracking in a way that betrays the emotion he’s trying to hide.

“why not? they’re not just your friends Luke.” you frown, not happy about the possessiveness in his tone. this isn’t the first time he’s acted this way. growing up, he always had a hard time sharing—specifically his teammates or neighborhood friends. he had no problem playing dress up but firmly shut you out when it came to anything with the boys.

Luke exhales sharply, his shoulders slumping. “its not ethan i care about, y/n. it’s you. you’re mine. i love you, and i don’t want ethan—or anyone else—to have you.”

the words hang in the air, thick and heavy. your mouth fallls open slightly, shock washing over you. Luke looks just as stunned, whatever bit of confidence he had found before already crumbling as he runs a hand down his face.

“forget it. just… forget i said anything y/n. do whatever you want.” he moves to leave, his frustration spilling into his steps. he’s quick to try to up and leave.

but you’re quicker. grabbing his arm, you step in front of him, blocking his path. instinctively you stroke your thumb on his arm in a comforting way, and you tilt your head up to look at him. you’re so close now, the faint smell of his cologne filling the small space between you.

“first of all, Luke, don’t ever walk away from me like that.” you say firmly, voice soft but unwavering. “second of all, i love you too.”

he sighs. “no y/n i mean it like—”

you cut him off, your voice steady and reassuring. “i know exactly what you meant. i said i love you too.”

“wait—you do?” he asks, his voice quiet and, expression of disbelief.

you nod, a soft smile growing on your face “i’ve loved you since we were kids Luke. i think i knew the day quinn ripped my barbie’s head off and you got into a fight with him over it.”

Luke lets out a breathy laugh, glancing down before meeting your eyes again. “that was second grade. i’ve known i loved you since kindergarten, when you let me have the last blue Play-Doh. so, technically, i’ve got you beat.

you roll your eyes, laughing softly. “not everything’s a competition, Luke.”

“really? cuz it feels like i’ve been in competition for you my whole life.” he admits, only half joking. he somehow finds the confidence to snake his arms around your waist.

“come on lu. you should know that nobody could ever compare to you.”

his cheeks flush slightly, and he grins, sheepish but hopeful. “you mean that?”

“of course i do.” you say softly.

“so… uh… wanna be my girlfriend?” the words tumble out quickly, his confidence once again faltering as he rubs the back of his neck.

you laugh, shaking your head. “what was that?

he groans, looking at the ceiling for a moment before repeating himself, slower this time. “do you wanna be my girlfriend? it’s okay if not, i just really—”

“of course i do!” you cut him off, grinning up at him. he lets out a sigh of relief, hand falling back to your side, gently caressing up and down.

“hey.” he says suddenly, glancing towards the door. “let’s ditch this party.”

you nod without hesitation, lettting him take your hand and lead you toward the exit. the two of you walked in as friends, but as you step out into the cool night air, hand in hand, you know you’re leaving as so much more.

sorry for the wait but i really hope y’all enjoyed this one :) next part of the quinny smau is coming out next so keep an eye out!

[malisorn]

𖤓 || 𝐏𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞, 𝐏𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞, 𝐏𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞

Pairing | Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Reader

Summary | Aemond has begged for many things in his life and for one last time, he gets down on his knees and begs for you ๋࣭ ⭑

Warnings & Suggestions | Fluff & tiny bit of Angst, soft dark!aemond, heavily inspired by Please Please Please Let Me Get What I Want by Deftones (originally The Smiths)

Speak the wrong thing, in the wrong place, at the wrong time.

These words have rotted deep inside Aemond's mind ever since he was a child, for he has always been the butt of a joke to his own brother and nephews.

In the beginning, he lets them jest all they wish, enduring their laughter as if it meant nothing. But after times and times of the same old jokes, it is no more fun, it has never been fun.

He started to defend himself, spit back at Aegon's words and try to fight, but still he failed. And in the last resort, he found himself on his knees, crying over and over again.

“Please, please, please, give me the biggest dragon in the world.” Tears streaming down as he begs the gods. He promises to be a changed man if he ever has a dragon.

And the gods seem to have heard him but nothing in the world has ever come without its price. For the very first time in his life, Aemond got his wish as he rode Vhagar through the dark night sky. And for a minute, he felt like he had own the world. After countless nights of practicing High Valyrian, imagining a dragon in front of him as he shouted the word out loud.

“Dohaerās!”

“Lykirī!”

“Sōvēs!”

Now, slowly patting the back of Vhagar, this is real, seeing his tears dropping on Vhagar, this is truly real. He has finally proved himself worthy to be a dragonrider to his father, a perfect son to his mother and a true Targaryen to his brother and his nephews.

His thoughts run short when he notices the Velaryons and the Strongs from below.

“I will not fear them, Vhagar has proved me worthy of her, I will not fear anyone.” He thinks to himself as he comes down to face them.

“It’s him!”

“It’s me.” Aemond feels confidence runs through him like a raging fire, pushing him to all the ways to say things he's always afraid of.

“Vhagar is my mother's dragon!” The girl argued hard with no less confidence than him. “Your mother's dead.” Aemond worries he is too bold but there is no stopping from this moment. “And Vhagar has a new rider now.” He continues with pride on his face.

“She was mine to claim!” Rhaena shouts with her twin sister’s comfort from the back. Aemond was silent for a second as he observes everyone around, none of their dragons can compare to his. Arrax is young, Vermax can barely obey and Moondancer is nothing to Vhagar. Smiling at his realization, “Maybe your cousins can find you a pig to ride, it would suit you.” He looks at all of them. Threats shouted with punches exchanged, Aemond has insulted them just as they once did to him but never in his life has he thought something so brutal would happen to him.

“The scar will heal but the eye could never do the same, your grace.” Aemond grips the chair hard, he has lost his eye. He looks at his mother with tears full of pain. “Please, please, please, mother, help me.” He thinks to the mother and his own as the maester stitches his scar.

And his mother tried to help him, with the same pleadings in her eyes as she looked at his father, The King, the one who can truly give him everything but the King didn't return the same look in his eyes, he gave those to only his daughter and bash away Aemond's pain. However, his mother couldn't give up, she stood with duty heavy on her back, running to takes Lucerys’s eye. Everything from that night still haunts him and he couldn't look at the King the same.

Aemond did become a changed man, just as he promised to the gods in exchange for a dragon. Not the kind of change he has imagined. Instead, he has become a brute, poisoned with hatred and not even an ounce of sympathy left inside of him.

The Sept is no longer his place of comfort and he rarely begs the gods for anything. Aemond believes he has gotten everything he ever wanted, everything he needs to be a Targaryen. But no, it is far from the truth. Deep inside, Aemond feared that if he ever dared uttering a single wish to the gods, they would take something important from him in return. It could be his other eye, his title, his dragon or even his own life-

“Please, please, please, let this woman be the bride of mine for I have endured the pain my whole life. Let her be mine, for this will be my one last wish.”

Aemond feels bitterness twists through his words, he feels like a fool being down on his knees. After all these years of resentment, he broke all his promises and ran all his way back to the gods one more time. He said his prayers sternly, the gods must answer his wish after all they've done to him, he believes himself deserving something as dainty and perfect as you.

All of his thoughts slowly fade as his blurring sight clears into the vision of you standing right in front of him, wearing a pure white gown with wild flowers in your hair.

With each time he blinks, each breath he takes, every single piece of you has finally revived into a wish he has always yearn to be blessed. The way you talk, the way you smile and how you spin around with that white gown of yours, he has never been allured by a woman's beauty like this.

The gods have answered his prayers, you are now his bride.

“I am forever grateful to be your wife, my prince.” The sweet words dropping from your lips. He didn't know whether he wanted to be eternally confined by your love or to be freed from your lure. After nights of endless prayers, thinking that his wish has been torn aside and forgotten. But at this sight with you as his bride and from now on, his wife. Aemond feels seen, listened and answered, not only by the judgment of the gods but also by you.

He turns to look at you once more, “Same as I, to be your husband is truly a gift from gods.”

Feeling all smug with his answered prayers, Aemond seems to forget that nothing in the world has ever come without its price. Now, he can enjoy his days and nights with the love of his life but soon, the gods will find their ways and take anything they could in exchange of his one last wish.

masterlist for more

requests are open! feel free to ask ♡

images' credits

Society Lady With a Spray of Lilac by Hermann Clementz

Dancing Fairies by August Malmström

Peacocks and Delphiniums by Jessie Arms Botke

[idanceuntilidie]

Huloo, just read Yandere cheater and it was hook line sinker for me, do you still do request? If so can you do a Yan! cheater but the reader is like one of those cold stone face to others but warm to their friends and family but especially soft towards someone they really like? (In this case the cheater). Im curious about your take 😭. Scenario would basically be the same same I guess, like Yan! Cheater jumped to conclusion and, being an idiot, decide revenge cheat is the solulu to his delulu thoughts.

(If your requests are closed, please ignore this, Id be embarrassed)

I would have finished this way earlier today, slowly back to posting I hope yall are proud of me Warning: non con touching * blood * mentions of rotting meat and killing people * yandere themes ofc

yan cheater x gn reader

„SMILE FOR ME ALRIGHT?”

“I like when you smile, you look really cute when you do” “Haha aren’t you a charmer?” “Listen, I am serious! Your smile is special, not many can see it bunny.” “I love you” “I love you too.” Your face doesn’t reflect on how you are feeling, unless it is someone that you actually care about. It is only natural that people can’t tell what you are feeling, and that comes with its pros and cons.

People won’t know if they hurt you. Ciaran was pretty, but underneath all of that hid a disgusting freak. Too bad you have learned that when you saw the man you love kiss someone else. You remember he kissed you with such passion not even a few hours later. You hate to admit, he looks pretty even now. Standing at your doorstep, red hair clinging to his face. Make up slightly smeared because of the water. Ciaran looked beautiful, even if messy and wet. It made your blood boil. You wanted to rip his hair out, punch him and then curl into a ball and cry your eyes out. Instead you kept leaning against the door frame, the scent of rain calming you down. You didn’t say anything to him, and he didn’t to you. He knew that you found out, and you knew his only regret right now was that he didn’t hide well enough.

The more you look at him, the more sick you feel. You waited for him to come back though, so you could spit on his face and throw him out of your apartment. You didn’t even bother with a suitcase, a trash bag fitted his personality more. “I have nothing to say to you Ciaran, take your shit and get lost.” Your voice was cold, monotonous but it made him shudder. You threw the bag into the closest puddle and finally slammed the door in his fucking face. There was something about you, Ciaran couldn’t put his finger on it. He doesn’t know why you are so attractive to him. Your eyes are cold, dead just like your expression that you wear. It’s like making eye contact with a corpse. Despite your very dead expression, you are quite attractive. Beautiful. It made his heart flutter, so it was only natural that he tried to get close to you. With time he got to see more of you, your little traits. Likes and dislikes. What you listen to, and what you eat.

The best part was when your stoic expression was replaced with a smile. He lived for those moments, but then it got boring. Can you even blame him? It all felt lukewarm. He needed that excitement back, and you couldn’t give him that. That is, he thought you couldn’t. But he was wrong. Ciaran wouldn’t admit it of course, it would hurt his pride. He was too proud, and you were just difficult and used.

He couldn’t admit that after just a week his body ached for your touch, scent. He wanted to see you smile again, hear you speak, touch you.

Every single time he tried to crawl back to you, you welcomed him with an ice cold stare and blank face. After God knows how many times he appeared in front of your house, you didn’t even bother opening the door and soon enough you moved away.

How could you? Leaving him wailing in the dirt in front of the place both of you called home. You are so cruel, didn’t you say people deserve a second chance?

Maybe he just needed to try harder.

The house breathed with you, calm and unbothered. The air felt heavy still and moist, in other words it stank in here quite badly. Slightly rotten food with the mix of your sweat made you gag. You laid still in your bed, eyes tired, achy and dry from the lack of sleep. You feel like you are going to suffocate in here. You listen to the melody of the forest surrounding your house, the gentle sway of the trees and cicadas. It’s dark, why were you up again? Your eyes start to wander around the room trying to adjust to the soft light of the moon. It’s dark, you see your furniture and that pile of clothes that looks a lot like a human now that you stare at it.

You turn on the light, it blinds you and you close your eyes and hiss in pain. When you open them again you see the same pile of dirty clothes. It looks normal, like a pile of unwashed clothes would. You thought it was.. nevermind, brain tends to imagine weird shapes when you can’t see shit. That’s what it was, you sigh as you get up. The air feels stuffy.

 If it wasn’t for the crippling anxiety you would open the window, you can’t see outside but it can see you. That makes you worry.

You dragged your heavy feet to the kitchen to grab something to eat even though there is not much you can choose from. You need to go shopping. Your stomach recoils at that thought. Ciaran just waits for you to leave. He is probably not very happy that you have ignored him as much as you did. His gifts lay unopened at your front door, slowly piling up. The sweet scent of rotting meat emitting from them. Just thinking about it makes you weak in the stomach. The kitchen is dark, after the bedroom incident you didn’t bother even turning on the light. Your poor eyes. Your shaky hands search for the least dirty cup so you can at least drink some water.

After your break up, Ciaran hasn’t left you alone. Blocking him didn’t help, the police didn’t help. He made sure you were alone, with no one to help you. Your ex successfully tracked you every single time, that's why you are stuck at home. Looking and smelling like shit. It has been a week without him trying to contact you but you aren’t sure he finally moved on. You will sneak out of the house, leave everything and just escape this madness. You will be free. There is a warm breath on your neck.

The glass shattered against the wooden floor. “Did you miss me?” he rasped out. He smelled like forest. His voice goes through your ears, making them ring. You didn’t respond, praying that your brain is imagining things. It surely is, he imagines how he nuzzles into the crook of your neck and his hands slowly wander around your body.

You feel weak in your knees, hands gripping the sink in an attempt to get some stability. Ciarans cold hands painfully dig into your stomach. You feel like you are going to puke.

Then everything stops. You turn around and you are greeted with the sight of your kitchen. No Ciaran.

You raise your shirt, no marks.

You were going crazy or the lack of sleep is really getting into you. Forget the water or food, you are going to sleep. Ciaran is not here, you are safe and you need sleep. Badly. The floorboards creak against your weight, the trip to your room. It’s like being like a kid again, and you feel like someone is chasing you so you run up to your room to turn the light on and scare the evil away. The thought of it makes you chuckle. Something feels wrong though, you look at your front door. It’s open.

Fuck the sneaking, you are ready to run to your room when someone grabs you. Their hands are sticky, warm. The metallic and sweet rotting smell fills the room. “Bunny, bunny calm down. It’s okay, I am here finally.” “Ciaran, Ciaran please…” you choke out as he squeezes your frail body. “Ahh how I missed that voice of yours.” he moaned into your ear and hugged you tighter. You want to cry, you want to throw up but you can’t give him the satisfaction of that. You can show him any basic human emotion, that’s what he wants.

 He kissed your neck, nipping at some places. Like he used to, when you two were together.

“You missed me too, right bunny? you missed my voice?” “Ciaran leave my house.” “But baby why? We are finally together again.” He let go of you. Your body ached, head pounding and all of your senses screaming to run.

“Aren’t you happy? Please bunny, smile for me like you used to.” His hands grabbed your face, fingers jamming into your mouth forcing it to open. It hurts, you can taste the blood coating his hands. He forces you to smile and you stop yourself from actually throwing up. Your thoughts are muddy, body weak. You claw at his hands but he grips you together. Nails digging into your gums, you gag. Ciaran beams at you, happy. Smiling widely, just like he used to.

“Now, was that so hard?” he hums.

You try to protest, but you are unable to speak. You are so tired, so weak. He took notice of that. Kissing your forehead.

“Oh my poor baby, you are exhausted waiting for me right? Don’t worry, I will help you.”

The last thing you remember is pain, the amazement on how strong his head is and a small thought that no matter how far you run. Your loving ex will find you.

[ashwhowrites]

OMG I CANT BELIEVE REQS ARE OPEN YAYAAYAYAYAYAYYYYY

okay so basically i was wondering if you could do something with popular!bully!eddie x sensitive!reader

okay okay. so reader and eddie like each other but its a secret from the other and eddie bullies her lightly (cos he doesnt know how to deal with emotions) and shes super insecure cos she has like no friends and stuff and he went prom dress shopping with chrissy and saw reader there and teased her about the dress she picked and she got sad and cried at home then its prom and eddie's rejected everyone cos hes waiting for reader to show up and finally confess but shes nowhere to be found so he goes to her house with flowers or smth and he finds her crying and he comforts her and has her put her dress on and they kiss

IM SORRY IF THIS MAKES NO SENSE!!!

but thank you SO MUCH ash your writing is literally amazing it always has me in my feels <333 thank you for bringing so much happiness (and angst LMAO) to my feed!!

You are so sweet!! Thank you so much 🫶🏻I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it. Thank you for requesting!

Prom Dress

Eddie never had a good hand on his emotions, he never learned how to express what he felt correctly. All he saw growing up was expressing emotions through anger. His dad was never around to tell him about girls and his mom was never there to teach him how a girl wants to be treated. So he went with what came naturally, except he barely ever felt real feelings towards a girl.

Until he met Y/N

Eddie was popular, it was easy to have girls on his arm and in his bed. But he didn't have feelings for them, so it was easy sweet talk and then they wouldn't talk again. But it was like his brain froze when he was in Y/N's presence. His sweet talk was out the door as he stuttered out something to say, and it was always a comment that sent her over the edge. He just didn't know that.

Y/N was a very alone person. She wasn't the best at making friends, making peace with being her own friend. She was insecure, never telling a boy how she felt because she knew it would go the exact way she thought it would. And when she realized her heart raced when Eddie walked in the halls, she knew that one would never happen.

Plus she has a good damn feeling he hated her guts. He added fire to the hell she lived in but there was something about him that she wanted. She allowed herself to be his punching bag because she felt alive when his eyes were on her. He was practically the only person that talked to her, and she didn't want to give that up.

Because at the end of the day, she had Eddie Munson's attention.

~~~

Eddie groaned as Chrissy picked up another dress to try on. He looked at his watch, annoyed that they had been in the same shop for two hours.

"At this point, Jason won't care what you pick. Can we please go?" Eddie moaned, his head thrown back as he sat on the uncomfortable chairs.

"You're fine. I have two more dresses and then we'll leave!" Chrissy sighed, going into the changing room.

Eddie moved his head back and looked around the store. He blinked a few times when he saw someone familiar. He stood up and slowly walked closer, squinting his eyes as a girl walked away from the register with a puffy pink dress.

"Y/N?"

She froze as she recognized the voice. Already on edge as she turned out. Panic in her eyes as she met his brown ones.

"Hi Eddie," she said, a small smile as she greeted him politely.

"Is that your prom dress?" He asked, his eyes looking over her shoulder as she held it.

"Yeah," she said quietly

"So you are going to prom? What? Alone?" He scoffed, a mocking chuckle left his mouth and Y/N shifted on her feet uncomfortably.

"Um, I don't know yet. Depends if someone asks" She shrugged

Eddie felt his body burn, a sense of discomfort thinking of someone asking her. Some guy takes her, takes pictures, and spins her on the dance floor. Someone she would have gotten dressed up for. He wasn't sure why the thought made him so damn angry. But the good news for him, he knew how to express anger.

"Ask you? You know that's not going to happen" he argued, his eyes dark as he stared down at her. "And while you are wearing that? A puffy pink dress, you think you are some fairytale princess? That dress looks like it's for a five-year-old old" He teased, but it wasn't his usual tease. This time it felt like every word he said sliced through her.

The one dress that fit her like a glove. The one dress that made every problem wash away. A dress where for once she felt beautiful.

She didn't say anything, just turned around and walked out of the store.

She cried as she raced to her car, harshly throwing the dress in the backseat. She cried the whole way home, feeling helpless in this world. She wasn't sure why it felt like everything was always up against her.

~~~

It was the night of the prom, and Y/N ignored the dress that hung up in her closet.

She bought it a week ago, a week since Eddie ruined the one bit of confidence she had left.

She wanted to return it, but the store wouldn't take it. So now she was stuck with a reminder that she would never be the gorgeous girl who walked into prom and changed everyone's perspective of her. She would still be that loser everyone laughed about.

So she stayed home. Her parents weren't too involved with her life, out on vacation as she sat on the couch. She watched romantic movies, crying as she stuffed her mouth with chocolate ice cream.

~

Eddie checked his watch for the tenth time of the night. The loud music overwhelmed him as he kept his eyes on the door.

"Want to dance?" A girl from the cheerleading squad asked.

"No thanks. I'm waiting for someone" he said with a tight smile, then moved his eyes back to the door

The prom started two hours ago, and she still wasn't there.

He turned down about ten dances before he took matters into his own hands.

He grabbed his keys from his pocket and hit the road. The flowers he bought sat in his passenger seat, guess he was going to drive them to her instead.

He pulled up to her driveway, letting out a nervous breath as he got out. He fixed his suit, patted down his hair, and gripped the flowers. He knocked on the door, stepping back as he waited for it to open.

"Eddie?" She was surprised, her body mostly covered by the door. Some sort of protection for herself.

He looked up and frowned. Her eyes were red and her cheeks were wet. And she wasn't anywhere near dressed up for prom. Her hair was down, but no makeup on her face.

"Hey, can I come in?" He asked

"Why?" She asked, covering her body even more with the door

"Why didn't you come to prom?"

She was surprised he even noticed. But she was more curious as to why it mattered to him.

"Didn't want to go. Is that all?" She snapped. It was enough that he could torture her at school and outside of school. But at her own house is where she drew the line.

"Um, uh, these are for you," he said shyly, not used to her face looking so annoyed and a snap in her tone.

She eyed the flowers as he held them out for her. She opened the door wider to grab them. They were truly beautiful and it was the first time she ever received flowers.

"Oh um thank you, Eddie," she said, smelling the flowers

"Can I come in? Maybe we can talk?" He asked, he twiddled his fingers as he waited for her to reply

"Uh sure but don't you have like a date or something?" She asked

"No, I was waiting for you," he said honestly, for once just saying what he felt instead of turning it into a joke.

She didn't know what to say so she opened the door and let him step inside.

She walked to the kitchen and got a vase for the flowers. He followed without asking.

"So why were you waiting for me? Was a big bucket of red paint gonna fall over me?" She asked, watching as the water filled the clear vase.

"No, why would I do that?" He asked, his head turned like a confused puppy

She laughed to herself bitterly

"Because you make my life hell" She looked at him like it was obvious. Softly placing the flowers on the kitchen table.

"I don't mean to, I'm sorry" his eyes looked sincere but she wasn't sure what trap he was waiting for.

"Then why do you do it?" She asked, her arms crossed as she angrily looked at him. Maybe this was her chance to finally stick up for herself and tell him to shove everything up his ass.

"Because I like you, and I wasn't sure how to show that" he explained, a small blush formed on his face as he muttered the words.

Y/N stood frozen as she stared at him like he had two heads.

Eddie confessed he liked her?

What kind of prank was this?

"Which I can see now I did in every wrong way possible. I'm sorry for everything, I didn't know I was upsetting you."

She sighed as the apology lifted some weight off her body. It felt nice to finally be apologized to.

"Thank you for apologizing," she said, a small smile on her face

"Thank you for allowing me to," he said, a shy smile on his face

They stared at each other, neither knowing what the next move should be.

"Can I uh see your dress? I saw it in the store but didn't get to see what it looked like on you" he asked, his eyes moving to the floor

"Are you going to make fun of me?" She asked, her arms crossed. Her protection shield is back up.

"No!" He shook his head dramatically, "I know my horrible take on flirting was more hurtful. So I will keep my mouth shut" he said

"That was flirting? God, you are horrible" she joked, loving the way the air shifted into something lighthearted. He laughed with her and agreed.

She led him to her room, allowing him to sit on the bed as she went into the bathroom to change.

She slipped on the pink dress, looking at herself in the mirror. That same rush of confidence filled her body. It was like the dress was magical and healed every broken part of her. She tried to reach the back zipper but couldn't get it. Her face was already on fire as she realized what she had to do.

She walked into the room, Eddie looked up from his hands and his mouth dropped. His eyes skimmed over her dress, the way it hugged her body perfectly.

"Could you zip me up?" She asked, turning around as she tried to keep her breathing normal.

He coughed and stood up. Wiping his sweaty palms on his suit pants. His fingers danced down her spine, making her shiver. He reached the zipper and slowly pulled it up, her skin disappearing under the fabric.

The room felt thick as she slowly turned around. The ghost of his fingers was still on her back.

"You look breathtaking," he said, his voice a quiet whisper as he looked into her eyes

She gulped when his eyes dropped down to her lips. Then he was slowly leaning in.

His hand moved up to hold her cheek, and his eyes moved up to her eyes to check for a sign of rejection. But her eyes were zoned in on his lips.

He smirked as he noticed, slowly leaning in until his lips pressed perfectly against hers.

She wasn't sure where to put her hands so she softly placed them on his chest. Her head turned as he deepened the kiss.

She felt like he kept chasing her lips, sucking away her breath as she gripped his suit in her fingers.

Her body buzzed with electricity. His lips and hands were softer than she thought they would be. His kiss was gentle and slow. Her stomach fluttered and her head spun.

He held back his moans as he slipped his tongue in her mouth. Her lips were soft and warm. Her hands on his chest made his heart race and his face flush. He tried his best to not get carried away, not wanting to scare her. His free hand slipped to her back as he pushed her further against him. He never felt this way ever when he kissed a girl.

She pulled back when she felt like she couldn't breathe. She took a huge puff of air into her lungs as they kept their faces close.

Panting against each other as they looked into each other's eyes.

Like she said, it was a magical dress.

Tags!

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @somethingvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @thegemaqua @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila @stusdollface93 @gretavankleep37 @bellaisswagger @arlx @ineedmentalhelp123

[ilysungho]

prompt 1: “how do you want me to fuck you?” With soft dom best friends, Myung Jaehyung and Kim Leehan (helping their friend orgasm 🤭)

a/n: not sure how to write threesomes but i hope this is good... also i apologize for taking so long! i've been putting off finishing this 'cause i felt like i wouldn't be able to write this up well if i don't put some thought into it. anyways, PLEASE let me know how this is written! i'd love any and all feedback and criticism <3 enjoy my loves! wc: 2k contains: softdom!leehan, softdom!jaehyun, sub!reader, leehan x reader, jaehyun x reader, leehan x jaehyun x reader, jaehyun is in love with you, leehan's just a chill guy, ex!taesan mentions, degradation implied, masturbation mention, threesome, experienced leehan, virgin jaehyun, fingering, penetration (p in v), unprotected sex (don't!), lowercase intended, prompts italicized

leehan had been studying your face for a while, sitting across you and jaehyun at the table. his eyes focused on how you scrunched your eyebrows and moved your pencil furiously to try and solve the equation at hand.

"no not like this y/n, do this instead." jaehyun's hand wrapped around your own as he scratched the right way of getting the answer down. you weren't the best at math but at least you had jaehyun to help. on the other hand, you didn't know why leehan tagged along, but you didn't mind the company of both your best friends.

the room fell quiet again with the three of you focusing on your homework. suddenly, you felt a foot touch yours, socks rubbing your own to get attention. "hani cut it out. i'm trying to finish the stupid homework here."

"can we do something fun instead? this is so boring, i'm already done with most of mine." he bent backwards, groaning in frustration. you looked up to see the veins on his neck protruding, immediately looking back down to forget the sight in front of you. a faint blush rose on your cheeks while you kept your head down, the pencil scribbling harder.

jaehyun noticed the sudden shift in your demeanor, squinting his eyes to read your behavior. in all the years he knew you, he could tell that the expression on your face meant that something turned you on. he remembered a time when you were dating taesan and texting him, suddenly getting up with the same blush to go to your room. he didn't mean to hear the moans coming out of your room as you masturbated to your now ex's voice on call, him saying things that made jaehyun want to punch his face for taking time away from his best friend. his best friend he had come to like. and he couldn't help being so protective over you.

on the other hand, to leehan, his actions were out of pure frustration. he had no intention to make you feel a certain way, but if he knew, he'd take full advantage of the situation. it wouldn't be the first time he tried to, but he hadn't done so since your break up. he'd rather sit there with you and listen to you let out your emotions, rubbing your back while you cry, telling you words of comfort.

both the boys had their attention on you while you hid your face in the paper you had to turn in in a couple days. jaehyun’s puzzled mind took a hold of your hand again, gently but strongly moving it away so you would look up.

“what jaehyun? let me finish this please.”

“why is your face red?” leehan interjected upon seeing the expression he hadn’t caught before.

“w-what? nothing, its h-hot… that’s it!”

“no, i know that face.” jaehyun looked at you with sharp eyes and pursed lips.

“what f-face? i don’t know what you’re talking about!” the saturation on your cheeks heightened at his face and low voice.

“you make that face when you’re turned on. you think i wouldn’t know after seeing it come up so many times while talking to that ex of yours? i’ve heard how you go into your room to moan and fuck your fingers while he called you things he never should’ve.”

leehan sat across amused listening to the story his friend shared with him. jaehyun’s irritated voice got louder as he leaned ahead into you, trapping you between his arms against the edge of the desk. you sat extremely still and quiet, scared to confirm the true story since you’d never talked about that side of you before.

taking a deep breath in, you got up to excuse yourself to the bathroom. but the blond’s hand tugged on the hem of your pants, making your stomach churn at the sudden flutter of his skin touching yours. “don’t leave now, y/n. you’re not in the mood to study anymore right? then why don’t we have some fun now?” his sickly sweet smile only made it worse as he pulled you down to sit on his lap, jaehyun watching the entire interaction while moving to sit beside leehan.

"yeah, you know that we can help you right? we're your best friends after all, so trust us ok?" you stared at jaehyun, hearing his words coated with a hint of lust. the 3 of you never shared stories of sexual fantasies of encounters, so the whole situation pointing in that direction had you confused but also... excited?

there's no way i'm excited right now... leehan and jaehyun are just my friends, so i wouldn't want to do anything. hell, i don't even see them in this way, so why am i looking forward to what will happen?

leehan's hands on your thighs got you out of your thoughts, rubbing the pants you wore just enough to where the friction produced some heat to your skin underneath. jaehyun's face came near yours, as if to ask for permission to kiss you. you pursed your lips though, scared to know what will happen next. "just kiss him y/n, he's been dreaming of it anyways."

your breath hitched at leehan's words, jaehyun face only getting closer to you when you finally gave in. the kiss felt like fireworks to jaehyun. he's dreamed of anything to do with you since forever, but he too didn't want to change his relationship with you if it meant he could stay by your side. but how could he not take the opportunity right in front of him? he'd be stupid not to.

his lips tangled with your own while leehan kissed your neck. your hands reached up to pull jaehyun's face closer to you, while leehan's held you down on his lap. everything felt like too much while being between the two guys you gave control to, grinding softly on the lap you sat on.

leehan let go and sat back, watching the scene in front of him while leaning against his arms. your kissing partner then switched his position to sit on top of your lap, essentially putting the weights of you both on leehan. you were too entranced by the way jaehyun expertly kissed you, his tongue now exploring your mouth while you let out moans into his.

any and every sound you let out went straight to jaehyun's dick as you felt him get hard on top of you, while leehan got hard under you from the pressure. he was so very amused by everything happening on top of him, but he too wanted to get some control. so he waited while he wrapped his arms around the two of you, as he went back to kissing and sucking on your neck.

jaehyun let go of the kiss, catching his breath as he looked dazed from the most magical kiss of his life. a string of saliva kept you two connected until you let out another moan from leehan's sudden biting. the boy on top of you removed his shirt, after which he took of yours as well. he went straight to kissing your chest, massaging the skin under your bra. leehan helped jaehyun then, unhooking your bra from behind so he could take if off.

unknown to you, leehan tapped on jaehyun and signaled to take you to bed. at the former's cue, the latter let go while leehan held you bridal style before lying you down on your mattress. now, jaehyun's had his fair share of make outs with a couple people before, but it's never gone ahead of that when he wanted to save himself for you. on the other hand, leehan's essentially been fucking around to find his tastes, so this one would just be another playtime for him.

“so how do you want us to fuck you? actually scratch that, i'll decide.” leehan taking on the dominating role, both your best friends' gentle hands touched you softly, feeling your skin to their hearts' contents. but jaehyun did take a backseat, seeing how leehan touched your rather sensitive parts with expert fingers. his touch had you shivering as he brought his fingers over the cloth on your clit. "lift your hips for me, y/n." leehan said out loud, you obeying his command as he slipped the garment off of you with ease. jaehyun leaned against the wall behind while on the bed, reaching for his boner as he watched how his trusted friend worked you over yourself, fingers reaching into you making you whine.

"jae, don't touch yourself. do what i'm doing right now ok? make sure to, you'll make y/n feel good this way then." jaehyun gulped as he nodded, paying attention to everything leehan did. but most of all, to the sounds you made, how your face looked down to where it felt the best, how your mouth was slightly agape. just everything about you had jaehyun absolutely on edge as he watched and thought about how he'd going to finally be able to have you.

feeling your juices squelch around, leehan felt he prepped you enough to where jaehyun can now take over. giving the reigns to his the other male, he sat back and watched as his friend got in position, inserting his length into you easily with all the foreplay. you can feel how he shakes on top of you while he's trying his hardest to stay calm. yet he can't help but feel so many emotions because he's just so in love with you and wanted to savor the moment.

jaehyun thrust into you softly, keeping a slow but steady pace as he got used to your walls hugging him. his focus fell on you as he watched the way his dick got swallowed whole by your cunt, not believing his eyes at the visual. the very scene he wished for had finally been happening before his eyes, and he couldn't feel more thrill and happiness than now.

putting his eyes back on you, jaehyun leaned down to kiss your face as your back arched up to meet his body. your bruised lips once again danced with his as he furrowed his eyes and kissed you ever so deeply. the feelings he put behind the kisses you shared told everything you hadn't known before, but alas, you were scared to think of any change to your relationship.

to the side though, leehan watched the scene go down. he watched how jaehyun pulled out his length so slowly before going back in, just as he had taught him to with his fingers. he watched how your body reacted to the pleasure the boy gave you as you hugged him from below. and he watched how the kisses between you fueled his friend to not stop. to him, all he needed was to watch and that'd be enough. he prefers watching than working anyways.

at that, he pulled out his own cock, moving his hand on it with the speed jaehyun worked you out, keeping quiet to hear all the noises coming out of the two of you. he observed the two of you so closely, feeling even the slightest of changes and following along to the two of you. his precum coated his dick, continuously sliding his hand up and down to the harmonious view between the two of you.

now, with all the time leehan had spent fingering you, the knot in your stomach felt close to coming undone as jaehyun's thrusts got erratic in you. he himself felt close, yet he didn't want to let go of your perfect cunt until he felt you come around him.

"come for me, y/n. please..." the boy pleaded so sweetly against your ears as you whined against his too. leehan chimed in from the sides, telling you to do as the older boy told you to. hearing all the voices had you finally willing to let go, telling the two you are about to come as jaehyun increased his speed with rather sporadic thrusts.

feeling your cum coat his throbbing cock, jaehyun's sense heightened as he pulled out and cummed on your tummy almost immediately. falling on top of your body, the boy breathed down your neck with a spent voice about how good you felt. at the same time, leehan got between your legs to stuff his cock into you.

"don't forget about me."

[cozmowrites]

The Fire Burns Out

ooc: cheating

===

The apartment was silent except for the faint hum of the refrigerator. You sat on the couch, staring at the television screen displaying a paused scene from a movie you'd stopped paying attention to.

It had been a week since Bakugou came home late, smelling of someone else's perfume, and three days since you had confronted him about it.

Even now, the echo of his words replayed in your head, sharp and cutting.

"It didn't mean anything, alright?" He had snapped, his voice raw. "I don't know why you're making such a big deal out of this." Why would he say something like that?

The argument had spiraled out of control, leaving behind wounds that words couldn't heal. His guilt was there, you saw it in his eyes. But it wasn't enough to stop him. Not enough to fight for you the way you had always fought for him.

Your fingers traced the rim of your coffee mug. Four years. Four long years together, and it all felt like it was unraveling at the seams. You remembered the beginning.

The way he shyly asked you out in your third year of high school, his cheeks flushed as he tried to play it cool. He loved you. The way he'd held your hand for the first time, his touch hesitant but warm.

You had believed in him, in the fire that burned so brightly in his soul. But now, that fire felt cold, its embers scattered.

The front door clicked open, and you heard his boots against the floor. He didn't announce himself like he used to. No, "I'm home," or teasing remarks about your taste in TV dramas. Instead, he walked straight to the kitchen, avoiding your gaze.

"Late night again?" You asked, keeping your voice even. You wanted to cry, but you had to show how u bothered you were. Just to get through it.

"Work," he muttered, not looking at you as he grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge.

"Work," you repeated bitterly. "Is that what you're calling it now?"

His movements froze, and for a moment, the air between you was thick with unspoken tension. Finally, he turned to face you, his crimson eyes hard but tired.

"What do you want me to say, (Y/n)?" he asked, his voice low. "That I'm sorry? I already said it. What more do you want from me?"

"I want the truth," you shot back, standing up. "I want to know why. Why her? Why now? After everything we've been through, Katsuki, how could you—" Your voice cracked, and you hated yourself for it.

His jaw tightened, and he ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "It just happened, alright? I don't know what else to tell you!"

"You don't know?" You said, your voice rising. Cracking. "You don't know why you decided to throw away four years like it was nothing?"

"It's not like that!" He snapped, his own temper flaring. "Stop acting like I don't care about you, because I do!"

"Do you?" You challenged, stepping closer to him. "Because it sure as hell doesn't feel like it. You haven't looked at me the same in months, Katsuki. I'm not stupid. I know you've been pulling away, but I thought—" Your voice broke again, and you took a shaky breath. "I thought we could fix it."

His silence was deafening, and for the first time, you saw it in his eyes—resignation. He wasn't going to fight for you.

"Maybe we can't," he said quietly, and the words hit you like a punch to the gut.

For a moment, you couldn't breathe. The tears you'd been holding back spilled over, and you turned away from him, covering your face with your hands.

"God, you're such a coward," you choked out. "You'd rather cheat than talk to me. You'd rather hurt me than admit you're falling out of love. How did we get here, Katsuki?"

"I don't know," he admitted, his voice softer now. "I don't know, (Y/n)."

The fight drained out of you, leaving behind a hollow ache. You sat back down on the couch, burying your face in your hands.

"I loved you," you whispered. "I still do. But maybe that's not enough anymore."

Bakugou stood there, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. He looked like he wanted to say something, to reach out to you, but he didn't. Instead, he turned and walked toward the bedroom, leaving you alone with your broken heart.

+++

The days that followed were a blur of cold silence and awkward avoidance. You both went through the motions, pretending you could coexist in the same space without addressing the chasm that had grown between you.

One night, you found yourself scrolling through old photos on your phone. There was one from your high school graduation, the two of you grinning like idiots with your arms around each other. Another from your first vacation together, where he had carried you on his back after you twisted your ankle hiking.

You missed that version of him. The version who looked at you like you were his entire world.

But people changed. Love changed. And as much as it hurt, you couldn't ignore the truth any longer.

+++

The final fight came a week later.

"I'm moving out," you said, breaking the silence as you packed your suitcase.

Bakugou stood in the doorway of your shared bedroom, his expression unreadable. "So that's it, huh?"

"What else is there to say?" You asked, not looking at him. "We've been pretending like this can work, but it can't. Not anymore."

He crossed his arms, his jaw tightening. "You're giving up."

You laughed bitterly, turning to face him. "I'm not the one who gave up, Katsuki. You did. The moment you decided she was worth more than us, you gave up. I'm just finally accepting it."

His gaze dropped, and for a moment, you thought he might argue. But he didn't. Instead, he nodded, his shoulders slumping in defeat.

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm sorry I hurt you."

"I know," you replied, your voice softening. "But sorry doesn't fix this. It doesn't fix us."

You finished packing and zipped up your suitcase. As you walked past him, he reached out and grabbed your wrist.

"(Y/n)," he said, his voice cracking.

You looked at him, and for a brief moment, you saw a flicker of the boy you had fallen in love with. But it wasn't enough to make you stay.

"Goodbye, Katsuki," you said, gently pulling your hand away.

And with that, you walked out the door, leaving behind the man who had once been your everything.

+++

masterlist ⟢

more bakugou ⟢

requests ツ

[definitelynotafurinasimp]

Hey i see your request are open so could i ask for any characters of your choice with a s/o that has a strong battle lust like no matter the situation they if they see something or someone they think is strong or scary enough they just go “lets kill it” anyway thank you for making content its people like you who get me through the day don’t feel obligated to write this if you don’t want to love your stuff keep it up!

Them with a reader that wants to fight everything

characters: Eula / Keqing / Clorinde x gn!reader

warnings: none

a/n: I gotta recover those character banners I used back in the day...

Anyway, thanks for the request and the kind words, they mean a lot and I hope you enjoy!

Eula

Eula has had to work with more people than she could recall over the years, some of them more tolerable than others, whether it was due to their personalities or work ethic. And yet you still managed to rank amongst the most exhausting companions she ever had to work besides.

It wasn’t your personality – she could count the times you got into any kind of conflicts with your squadmates on one hand – nor was there any kind of definition she could use to call your work ethic lacking. If anything… it was the complete opposite.

Having to make sure you didn’t get yourself killed after charging headfirst into battle was tedious enough, and yet it weren’t just Lavachurls and other kinds of monstrous beasts that regularly drew your lust for battle.

“Please, Eula. Just one Punch!” You begged like a little child that was told their parents wouldn’t buy that one toy that they had set their minds on for them, trying your damnedest to wiggle out of her grip. And yet to no avail, as shoulders remained in her tight grip.

If she didn’t know better, Eula would think you were the one that had spent their evening drinking their frustrations away, and not her. If it were anyone other than you, she’d at least try to tell you to calm down, that strangers judging her for her heritage was nothing new for her, and yet considering it was you, she doubted it would have made any difference whether the tall big guy in front of you hadn’t insulted her or not.

Sure, you seemed agitated enough while listening to him talk, but it had only been after he challenged you to a fight that you had tried jumping at him with the excitement of a dog chasing his favourite toy.

Not that you ever got the chance to strike, having your arms used to pull you back the same way one would use the leash on a dog the moment before your feet took off. Nor did you have to punch anyone, as your lack of even a sliver of hesitation and lust for battle alone did enough to drive anyone stupid enough to challenge you away.

“No! We can go search for hilichurl camps tomorrow, sit down!”

Eula didn’t even expect that to work. And yet the moment those words left her mouth you were sitting on the bench as if nothing had ever happened.

Keqing

“What do you have to say for yourself?” The Guardman’s voice echoed out, staring accusatory daggers into you as he tried to catch his breath from having to run all the way here, the footsteps of his companions trailing not far behind him as you immediately raised your arms in a show of peace.

“They tried to hurt each other”, you gestured to the several bandits lying around the grassfield, none of them showing any signs of consciousness, although each of them were still clearly alive.

“But, I’m a peaceful person, I don't do things like that.” As those words flew past your lips, Keqing’s eyes locked with the guard’s.

The two of you had been on a small errand, when a group of treasure hoarders had ambushed you just outside the city’s view, each of them large in stature and looking threatening in their own right, before demanding your goods and mora.

Not wanting to use unnecessary violence, Keqing had just started to try and resolve the conflict with words when you had suddenly kicked one of them with enough force to have him roll down the hill, letting out a war cry best described as ‘unhinged’ before literally picking up the smallest of them and throwing him as if competing in a sport.

By the time the Yuheng stopped blinking at you in utter surprise and sprang into action, all of the bandits had either been knocked out cold or were running for the mountains.

It was… an experience.

“Everything I did, I did in self defense.” You added in a tone that almost made it seem you were sad you had to resort to violence in the first place. 

…She doubted you were. There weren’t all too many pacifists she knew that had a war cry ready at a moment's notice.

“Miss Keqing, you’ve seen the scene play out, I presume? Is it the truth?” The Guard asked her now, the Yuheng’s eyes widening in surprise for a brief moment as she hesitated to answer for a moment before doing so with confidence.

“Considering they did ambush us, I would call it self defense as well.”

Just like that, the two of you were free to go. But while you no longer had anything to explain to the Guards, that didn’t mean you weren’t going to have a discussion about this.

Clorinde

There weren’t many people that would willingly challenge Clorinde to a fight, most of her potential opponents fled or decided to get sentenced instead of duelling her. Not that she could blame them. The number of human fighters in Fontaine that could stand their ground against her could be counted on one hand.

And then… there were you. Always challenging her to fights whenever you could, only to get rejected each and every time. 

Work and private life didn’t mix for Clorinde. You were part of her private life, while duelling was work. She was more than happy enough to have you join her and the others playing games or to indulge you in your hobbies, but duelling? That was out of the question.

Not like her rejections impacted your determination in any way though. You’d still continue asking.

Today was a day to celebrate. Not for Clorinde’s sake, the woman only begrudgingly let you and Navia celebrate her birthday after all, but for yours. Celebrating other peoples’ birthdays or achievements was something entirely different, especially if it were those of people close to her. And yet considering what had led you here in the first place, Clorinde found it difficult to decide whether to congratulate or chide you.

“Congratulations on your promotion. Navia baked some macrons for you when she heard the news”, The woman with a small box of the sweets in her hand, only to pull it away just in time to dodge the hand of yours that reached out to grab it.

“Playing with a wounded officer’s feelings? You’re too cruel, Clorinde”, you pretended to be disappointed in her, only to quickly smile at her, using the momentary distraction to try grabbing the sweets once again.

“And how exactly were you wounded?” She asked in her usual stoic voice as she dodged your hand once again, already knowing the answer to her question.

“By valiantly trying to protect a member of the community.” You declared before trying to strike a pose, only to hiss in pain as you moved your injured arm.

Considering you did manage to help catch a wanted criminal, Clorinde decided not to add insult to injury, leaving out her comment about how she seriously doubted it was the potential victim that caused you to lunch at the criminal and not just the thrill of the fight, letting out a small sigh before placing Navia’s gift in front of you, only to watch you inhale them within moments.

“Clorinde, let's have a duel tomorrow”, you stated in between your bites, only for your movements to come to a grinding halt the moment you heard a dry chuckle escape her lips.

“I’m not going to duel an injured person.”

Almost immediately, Clorinde wished she had phrased that statement differently, as your eyes lit up with almost childlike excitement.

“So you’re alright with duelling me once I’ve recovered?!”

[cloudcountry]

a broken symbol ⤿ you bring toshinori out of his mind

comments: i have nothing to say...hello mha fandom...are we still here...

tags: sir nighteye is mentioned, fluff, established relationship, toshinori is whipped, retired toshinori, insecurities.

These days, it doesn’t take much for Toshinori to collapse. He’s been retired for quite a while now but still helps out behind the scenes, always the hero even though he deserves nothing but rest. He ends up excusing himself from his work every hour, only to run to the nearest bathroom and crumple over the first drain he can reach.

His side flares up with pain and he clutches the flesh, feeling the stretched and scarred skin that caused his health to decline so rapidly as he hacks up far too much blood. Despite everything—the scar and the blood he spits up and the way he really doesn’t have a quirk anymore and the way he can’t maintain his muscular form even if he wanted to—he still works.

And at the end of the day, his gnarled, gangly form drags its way over to you, the person he is finally able to love just a little bit, because the public knows he is All Might and he is still very much a target, and he knows he can still protect you but he’d rather not have it come to that.

Each day was harder than the last, more taxing on his broken and battered body. Even simple tasks like getting out of bed were becoming difficult, the scars and residual pain a constant reminder of just how beaten he truly was.

Why were you with a man like him?

What could he give you, really? He wasn’t young anymore, nor was he muscular or flashy. He couldn’t give you the life you deserved, with a partner the same age as you, in top condition, ready to spoil you relentlessly. Instead you got a run down, broken man, his muscles and glory gone. The only thing he could possibly offer you was his smile.

(Not the well trained one for the press, or the one he saved for victims during and after he saved them. The one that only his colleagues and his students have seen, the awkward one that droops a little on the right, the one that makes his eyes shut with peace he hasn’t known in forever, the one that accompanies a nervous laugh.)

He doesn’t notice your presence when he steps through the front door, muttering a soft “I’m home,” as he takes his shoes off in the doorway. You stand there, waiting for him with a ladle in hand, a cute apron wrapped around you. Your touch feels like an anchor when it reaches him, brushing his snarled hair away from his eyes. You look so concerned and it punches him right in the gut, guilt seeping into his expression. He feels so frail in front of you, like a giant skinny bug. Why do you treat him so gently?

Toshinori’s heart squeezes. He doesn’t deserve you. He’s pathetic, a broken symbol of peace, a reminder that he couldn’t do more for the people he wanted to protect, for his Master who bet everything on him, for young Midoriya who looked up at him with stars in his eyes.

You ask him if he’s getting in his own head again. Your words swim around his skull, only barely making sense as he ducks his head, lanky arms pulling you into his chest and holding you close. He doesn’t cry, it’s rare that he ever does, but he doesn’t stop the single tear that falls down his cheek. You hug him back immediately, pressing your hands into his back, and it feels so soft and warm.

What did he do to deserve something—someone—as soft as this?

“You’ve done everything.” you scold, holding him a little tighter.

How can you sound so gentle even when berating him for being pathetic?

No, that’s not what you were doing. You were just loving him.

“You’ve saved millions. You fought for them for decades. You stopped All for One time and time again. You’ve saved the world over and over. You’ve built society from the ground up.” you reprimand him for each mean thought he has about him, piecing him together from the ashes of his legacy.

He doesn’t say anything, slumped over on your shoulder, taking in your words like they’re the softest, sweetest thing he’s heard his whole life.

Everyone else wanted All Might. He was so, so lucky to find the person who loved Toshinori.

“I understand that the world isn’t safe yet, and I get that you will always be a hero at heart. It’s one of the many things I love about you.” you pick and choose your words carefully, he can hear it in your tone, “This is the life you chose and I won’t try to take it away from you. Just let me support you. And for the sake of the world, stop being so harsh on yourself.”

As he gazes at you, he can’t help but think that his world has narrowed down considerably since he retired. He entrusted the Earth to his students and colleagues, putting blood, sweat, and tears into the staircase he built for them, just so they could reach the highest peak and succeed in protecting everyone they cared for. He is, no matter how he feels about it, just a man now. And his world became you a while ago.

It feels selfish for him to admit that to himself. He will never stop caring about the public, the people who put their hopes and dreams on his shoulders and allowed him to carry their burdens for him, but you’re the only one who has ever really taken his burdens.

Maybe it’s because he never allowed anyone else to. He holds you just a little bit tighter, memories of friends long gone who pleaded with him not to go flashing through his mind.

“You will always be a hero, love.” you sigh, brushing his cheek with the back of your hand, “You will forever be my hero. But right now, I want you to just be you.”

That’s right. He shudders in your arms, a remnant of what once was, but this remnant loves you with every shattered bit of him.

“Right.” he says, voice low and soft.

He hardly has the energy to say anything else, but he knows he doesn’t have to.

Not when it’s you.

[lilbluustar]

sungchan's toxic traits as a boyfriend

sungchan seems like the perfect boyfriend: tall, handsome, funny and with the most charming smile in the world. but when you fall in love with him, you realize that being his girlfriend is not as easy as you imagined... but even the brightest sun has its shadow

ᯓ too charming... with everyone

sungchan is naturally charismatic. he's the kind of guy who gets along with anyone and always has a ready smile. the problem?

his friendliness can be mistaken for flirting (and he often doesn't realize it himself).

it can be frustrating to watch other girls melt for him and he, instead of setting boundaries, just smiles like it's nothing.

and if you say something to him, he might blurt out, "honey, you know i only want you. don't be jealous, i'm not to blame for being nice." (😃😭)

and what do you do with that response? you feel like crying and punching him at the same time.

ᯓ he makes jokes at times when you need him to be serious

you're trying to have a deep conversation, and out of nowhere he drops a joke to lighten the mood.

is his defense mechanism, but it frustrates you because he seems to avoid talking about important things.

and when you tell him "sungchan, i'm serious," he lowers his head and says "i know, i'm sorry." but he still keeps doing it.

sungchan hates conflict. he prefers to ignore a problem and pretend everything is fine rather than face it.

ᯓ you can never be sure what he really wants or feel

if you have a complaint about his behavior, instead of defending himself or apologizing, he tries to distract you with something else to change the subject. and if the discussion gets intense, he may suddenly become extra sweet to you just to avoid talking about what really matters (manipulation? a bit).

ᯓ doesn't like you getting too close to other guys.

although he would never directly forbid you, he would make passive-aggressive comments or make faces when he sees you talking to someone else.

if a guy talks to you a lot or treats you with confidence, then sungchan becomes more serious or distant until you bring up what's wrong with him.

his excuse is always, "it's not that i don't trust you...i just don't trust them."

he's good at expressing affection, but when it comes to his real emotions, he shuts down.

if he's sad, angry or worried, he'd rather hide it with a smile than admit it.

you might notice him getting quieter one day and when you ask him what's wrong, he just says "nothing, i'm fine." but his expression says otherwise.

sungchan is not someone who is cruel, but he is someone who can be indecisive with his feelings.

he's the type who can love you with all his heart one moment and then feel confused about what he really wants.

ᯓ he finds it hard to commit 100%

and the worst? he wouldn't tell you outright.

ᯓ he always had to know what you were doing or who you were with.

if you uploaded a story with someone he didn't know, he would immediately ask "who is he?"

if he saw you online and you didn't respond quickly, he would say "who are you talking to so much?"

it wasn't that he was banning you from anything, but he did like to have control over your time and who you spent it with.

it's not that sungchan is unfaithful or that he doesn't love you, but....

sometimes he acts like he's scared of the seriousness of the relationship.

may be slow to tell you "i love you" because he feels it's too big of a commitment.

if he feels that things are moving fast, he may suddenly become a little bit colder or more distant.

ᯓ he's so loved by everyone that you feel in competition with the world

it's not because he doesn't want to be with you, but because he's afraid of feeling tied down (but the worst part is that he doesn't realize that his attitude can make you suffer).

ᯓ he didn't want anyone else to take his "place" in your life.

if you mentioned that someone else listened to you or supported you, he would make comments like "oh, you already have someone else for that".

when you were upset with him and someone else gave you advice, he would say "sure, they must have already turned you against me".

he didn't want you to feel that someone else could understand or support you like him, because deep down he was afraid that you would replace him.

literally everyone loves him. friends, colleagues, even strangers feel comfortable with him.

is not the attention-seeking type, but attention always comes to him, and that sometimes makes you feel like you have to try harder to stand out in his life.

ᯓ he doesn't notice when something bothers you until it's too late

you can be upset about something and he still acts normal, not noticing that you're about to explode.

when you finally get fed up and tell him "can't you tell?!", he's shocked, completely confused.

he doesn't do it on purpose, he's just slow to pick up on emotional cues.

ᯓ he seems like a perfect boyfriend... and that makes you feel like the problem is you

he doesn't yell, he's not jealous, he's not possessive, he never disrespects you. But sometimes you feel like he's too nice, like he has no flaws.

and when you feel like something is missing in the relationship, you wonder if the problem is you and not him.

ᯓ in arguments, he doesn't always take responsibility

sungchan is charming, but when there's a fight?

he can turn the situation around so that you end up feeling guilty.

he uses phrases like, "i didn't mean to make you feel that way." or "i think you're overreacting a bit." to smooth over the problem and take the heat off himself.

instead of a direct apology, often opt for a sudden hug or a nervous laugh to calm the mood. (it works, but it doesn't solve anything).

sungchan is the boyfriend who seems perfect, but that's precisely why he's hard to deal with. his extreme kindness, fear of conflict, and difficulty expressing how he really feels can make you feel insecure without him noticing. he's not toxic in a traditional way, but sometimes his way of being can make you feel lost in the relationship.

[pool-spidey]

The thing about the Ice Box was it could make your skin crawl just thinking about it, let alone being its inmate.

Still, Wade couldn’t really say he regretted ending up in there; given the chance, he would’ve blown off that fucking pedophile’s head a hundred more times. But needless to say, his first mission under the X-Men’s wing didn’t go as smoothly as planned.

What Wade remembered best from being arrested wasn’t the sensation of this fucking collar being clasped over his neck, and his body revolting against the cancer joining the party once again. What carved into his memory even more were Peter’s screams, telling the motherfuckers to get fucking off him, take that shit off, you’re gonna fucking kill him; backing it up with some punches thrown with what could only be taken for a mutant strength.

Needless to say, that got him arrested, too. Which was exactly what he wanted.

And what made up all the regret Wade had about what he’d done.

Wade remembered vaguely joking that it was not exactly how he imagined getting away with Peter for that vacation at last, but it’d have to do. Being taken to the mountains, getting matching outfits and all that.

And he remembered that Peter didn’t laugh.

As the door of their cell locked behind them, Wade had to sit down, but Peter started to pace up and down the small space. Wade’s eyes followed him like he was watching the tennis match.

Peter unzipped his yellow prison garb and let it loose around his legs, revealing a white undershirt, same as Wade had underneath.

It made the collar on his neck even more visible and Wade felt rage crippling through his cancer-ridden body.

“You, fucking stop it.”

Peter froze in place and looked at him.

“What?”

“Wolverine was supposed to be the only one looking this good in a wife beater. So you better fucking stop it.”

Peter snorted, a shadow of a smile on his lips. It sounded a little bit relieved and a little bit more like he wanted to cry.

“You forgot Freddy Mercury,” he said, walking up to sit beside Wade. He left no space between them and Wade took the chance to rest his head on Peter’s shoulder.

He quickly sat back up though, feeling that Peter was shaking. He pressed a hand to his face, covering his eyes and leaving no doubt now that he was crying.

“Hey… what’s up?”

“I’m so sorry, Wade.”

“What? Why?”

He took a hand off his face and looked at Wade, whose heart immediately smashed to smithereens at the sight of sadness overflowing his eyes along with the tears.

“I talked you into this X-Men shit… If you weren’t there…”

“Hey, boo, stop it. Really, life would always find a way to fuck us stiff bareback, don’t you know it? Stop crying, this is not your fault.”

“That’s not why I’m crying.”

“Then why?”

“Cause you’re…” he started in a tone like he couldn’t believe Wade had to even ask, but then cut it abruptly and said something else than he’d intended: “Cause you’re in pain.”

Cause you’re dying.

Vomiting felt like all of Wade’s insides were going out – or rather wanted to, but couldn’t.

All he had inside of him was pain, and it felt like Wade was the one his body was fighting, not the cancer.

He wiped his mouth with shaking hand and used the rest of his energy to get away from the toilet and crawl a meter away of it, towards his pallet. Peter was sitting by it on the floor, waiting for him to come back and lay his head on his lap. Which Wade did, curling on the floor and burrowing half of his face in Peter’s thigh. Peter gave him his hand and Wade took it with both of his, pressed it to his chest like he was a child squeezing a teddy bear. The other hand Peter laid on his head, petting it slowly, like he was a mother of said terrified child.

“Here we fucking go again, I guess,” Wade groaned.

“Only the first time you fled on me, remember?”

“Yeah. And I’m sorry.”

“And you’d do it again.” There was no accusation in his voice; there was only the warmth in his hands.

“Probably, yeah.”

It wouldn’t be like them if they didn’t get into even bigger shit than they were already in.

It was the first time they were in prison cafeteria, poking around for something edible among the crap they had on their platters. They were sitting alone by their table, face to face, and Wade was trying to imagine that Peter was the only one out there, the only person in a thousand miles radius; lines of his bare biceps like a balm for Wade’s aching insides.

It took him a good minute to notice the group approaching them.

“I’ve seen you earlier, pretty face.”

Black Tom didn’t look as much of a threat. And maybe it wouldn’t have ended so badly if he didn’t touch Peter.

“Thanks, I was thinking about acting, actually.” In his current state, Wade wasn’t that much of a threat either. But least he could do was try to keep their attention on himself.

But they didn’t take it, told him to shut the fuck up – they’re talking to the twink right here.

“Your name here’s gonna be Gentle Mouth…” Black Tom said, putting his dirty paw on Peter’s face.

There were plenty of times before when they were in danger, when they were dealing with far worse than fucking Black Tom and his boys.

But all these previous times were different.

Now Wade couldn’t fight them and he knew it.

So maybe that was why his eloquence left him high and dry, and the only way to let out his rage as he saw Peter stiffening under Black Tom’s touch, was noncreative and point-blank:

“Keep the fuck away from him.”

“Why, he’s your bitch?”

“I am his.”

“Oh shee-it!” Black Tom smiled, turning to Wade. “I see you’ve got something in your teeth. His pubes?”

“Jealous much?”

You moron, Peter would tell him later, all resigned. Couldn’t you keep your mouth shut for once? I was trying not to provoke them.

In exchange for what he said, Wade got some laughs, and a nudge in the gut from Black Tom; which combined forces with the cancer and was enough to leave him breathless.

And as for Black Tom, what he got in exchange was Peter’s platter right to his fucking face – a beautiful hit that set both Black Tom and Peter’s untouched excuse for a meal flying around in all directions.

After that it went painfully and fast, and soon enough they were all escorted roughly to their cells, Peter helping Wade walk to theirs, almost carrying him. 

As soon as they were in, Wade would’ve collapsed right then and there if Petter didn’t make the extra effort to lay him on the pallet; to put the pillow under his dizzy head.

Then he lay down behind him, hugging him gently; somehow holding Wade in place – this bundle of different pains all stitched together.

Peter was also beat up, even worse than Wade given the fact that this whole fight was practically him just trying to keep others away from Wade who was only lying there on the floor and getting kicked. But he took it better; even the last part when he just clung to Wade on the floor, shielding him with his body; taking the kicks to his own ribs.  

Now Wade was glad to be the little spoon – he didn’t have to see Peter’s bloodied face.

“Sorry,” he said. “I know you didn’t want to provoke them. But I just…”

He didn’t know what to say, so he stopped, the pain and the blame getting the best of him. And for a moment Peter wasn’t saying anything, but then Wade felt warmth on the back of his head, so gentle, and again. And again.  

Peter kissing him there.

“It’s okay,” he said quietly, and held him closer. “I’m just sorry you’re hurt.”

Not long after – and not a moment too soon – Cable was there, fucking the shit up and chasing a fourteen-year-old.

It came pretty much without saying that Peter and Wade were gonna help the kid. That is: it came without saying for Peter, so also for Wade.

Some plain old chaos and ass beatings were involved, during which Cable’s fuckass weapon fired right into Wade’s collar, breaking it just in fucking time for Wade to survive his not so pleasant fall on a table which practically broke him in half.

He had a moment of a black out, and the last thing he heard before it was Peter tearing his throat on Wade’s name as he watched him fall.

Wade was glad it didn’t end up the last thing he's heard in life; and also that it wasn’t the last image of him burned into Peter’s mind.

Not his best look, for sure. Also, breaking a spine? Wade wouldn’t recommend.

But what came after was, not to exaggerate, motherfucking awesome.

Welcome back, superpowers.

After that it went pretty fast.

X-Men showed up in their hovercraft to check up on the fuckery that was going on there. They were too late to meet Cable, but at least they gave Peter, Wade and that kid Russel a lift.

And Yukio, that sweet girl, took the collars off of Peter and Russel as well.

During the flight, Peter gave them a piece of his mind about not doing anything to prevent the mutants from being held in such conditions, and not coming earlier to prevent Wade from dying there of cancer. Wade sat there with his head on Peter’s shoulder, listening with a smile to him telling Colossus where he could shove his rules.

Russell was taken to the X-Men mansion and soon enough Cable showed up for him; but there he met Wade and Peter.

There was some talking and some more beating the shit out of each other, and also some more shooting, but eventually they came to terms.

They made raid on the facility where Russell had been held and abused. They killed some pedos together, and in the end it was Dopinder, sweet sweet bloodthirsty Dopinder, who ended that fucking turd of a director of that dump; not Russell.

Orphans were saved and friends were made, and Russell stayed at X-Men mansion, while Cable came back to his loved ones.

Peter and Wade also came home – to spoon, finally, in their own bed.

Being even more of the ­f-word than before.

[tojisun]

military man simon (ghost) riley x nun!reader

!! suggestive - minors dni, heavy on catholicism; play on blasphemy; im ignoring the code of canon law (of confession and absolution) so yall should too!!; it’s all one-sided btw; female reader

song playing: the apparition (ST) // prev posts: 01, 02

simon feels the hesitation surround his throat, coiling past the shame before settling in his stomach.

he is hovering, he knows that, but simon will have to disappear for a year at least and while the duration has never daunted him before, he couldn’t say the same now anymore. things have changed. because this time around, he has someone he wants to return home to.

sure, you do not love him that way, but simon chases the affection in your prayers, licking the remnants of your devotion from the edges of your words. he pretends that it is enough. pretends that he is not woken up in the middle of the night by the explosion of his desire, ever so expanding in its carnality.

pretends that there is something else for him in this chapel.

his lips twitch when you finally turn to him with a smile.

“mr. riley!” you greet, walking to him excitably.

“just ‘simon’. please.”

simon’s aware of how his body reacts to you. how, as you draw close, he shifts, muscles rippling to see you better. to hear you better. to pretend that he can ever touch you.

but he doesn’t have to wait. not when you take his hands in yours, holding in a way that is so gentle and sacred, the shame he tried to stomp down begins unfurling from the base of his lungs to tickle the base of his throat, ready to spill over.

“you’re usually not here for the sunday services, simon,” you say, and simon tries to suppress the tremors that racked his body upon hearing you say his name.

again, he wants to plea. say my name again.

but you are looking at him with worry, and while simon is a greedy, greedy man who wants to at least have your concerns if he can’t have your love, he doesn’t like the way your face falls as you fret.

so he smiles, crooked as it is, and tightens his hold on your hands, careful not to do any more lest it just pushes you away.

“yeah,” he replies, his voice croaking. “may i request something, sister?”

sister. it leaves such a vile taste in his mouth.

“of course.” your eyes are still furrowed, your lips downturned in a sorrowful pout. “anything.”

simon breathes in sharply, the weight of your words punching the air out of him, and he buckles, folding into himself as he chokes on his words.

your worry explodes, gentle prodding now a panicked cry. “simon!?”

“it’s nothing,” he lies. “i’m okay.”

you let his hands go—simon tries not to whine—only to feel you pull him closer, short arms curling over his back, your warm palms rubbing soothing nothings against the plane of his spine.

this feels like torture—your kindness will be the death of him.

“please, tell me how i can help you,” you whisper, darling even as you look as lost as you feel. “the church is here for you, simon.”

“i know,” he says even though all he wants to say is ‘all i need is you.’ he breathes in, staggered rasps not quelling your worries, but simon bulldozes past your gentle touch, afraid that he’ll get addicted to this.

“i need your help,” he continues. “help me repent.”

you blink, going slack. you begin to pull away and simon, a man who has faced more painful things more than the feeling of your warmth separating from his, shakily lets you go.

“i cannot give you penance, simon. only the priest can do this—i can go get him-”

simon pulls you close again when you begin to stand up, surely to locate the priest that gave the service today, but simon doesn’t want him. he doesn’t want a stranger to hear the rising tides in his heart. he doesn’t want someone to forgive him for his guilt.

“no,” he whispers, his voice so quiet. so vulnerable. “i can’t-…”

your lips are pursed but your eyes are alight with wonder. with consideration.

simon prays that you will grant him even this.

a heartbeat passes, a stuttering silence ringing in his ears, and then, “okay.”

simon smiles. “thank you.”

-

the rite started like this: with simon sinking into the confessional, watching you from the thin divider as you do the same, noting the way your fists are balling your habit, your hands trembling at the sacrilege.

because simon knows. before coming here, before bowing into himself in front of you, simon already knew. he knew that you could never give him the penance he told you he seeks for. he knew that this—you sitting in the confessional—is a chip to your vow.

he knew that you’ve, once again, put him before the lord.

simon aches to sink his teeth in the plush flesh of your body. to worship you the way you deserve to be. instead, he ignores the festering desire, swallowing the yearning he feels as he does the sign of the cross.

“bless me sister for i have sinned.” he licks at his dry lips. “it’s been…” he hesitates.

“tell me,” you say when his silence draws on. “this is not a place of judgement and forsaking.”

tell me, is what simon hears instead. tell me, i will understand.

“it’s been eighteen years since my last confession,” he continues, breathing raggedly, his face burning up as the words begin spilling. “these are my sins: i am lusting for her, i cannot stop thinking of her.”

the gasp on the other side of the confessional makes his blood jump, his mind feeding him images—is this how you would gasp out if you give yourself to him? is this how you will sing when he takes you, gently and deeply? is this how?

“i dream of a life with her. i dream of the way she will fold herself into my arms, tucking my sharp corners into her tender parts. i dream of the way i can touch her—all-consuming and ravenous. i dream of how she will feel when she’s with me. how she will taste like when i’m with her.”

simon breathes in deeply, the sound slicing through the heavy silence in the booth and passing through his teeth like a hiss.

“i want to devour her. i want to strip the layers of her honesty and fill her with me. just me.”

he clenches his fist, preparing for the last of it all.

“i want to worship her.”

the weight of his words fall like judas’ tender kiss, resounding in their immorality.

“for these, and all my sins,” simon begins after the stretch of silence. “i am truly sorry.”

“i see,” you whisper, breathless yourself. simon wonders how you must look; would you have your eyes open in surprise? would you have your lips pursed in distaste? would you look at simon like the sinner that he is? would you begin to leave him be?

“pray with me,” you say, ripping him from the depths of his uncertainties.

simon lets your words wash over him, dripping down the lines of his veins and dragging across the stretches of his scars. he knows you couldn’t possibly offer absolution, but simon feels forgiven.

more than that, simon feels seen.

he feels raw, his vulnerability exposed to the very person simon who makes simon’s knees buckle, but it feels correct. it feels like this is where simon should be.

at your mercy.

when the confession is over and you two have stepped out of the booth, simon relishes in your shy gaze, eyes fleeting between him and the altar. he smiles, his eyes crinkling, because simon’s heart truly feels at ease.

“thank you,” simon murmurs, hands twitching by his side as he yearns to reach out and pull you close.

“of course,” you reply, bravely holding his gaze. “always.”

that night, in the comfort of his room, simon traces the hardening length of his cock. he shuts his eyes and conjures the image you made—shy, quiet, flustered—and the sounds that spilled from your lips—breathy, choked out, hesitant—and fists at his flesh, thinking.

dreaming.

ending with an a/n: growing up in a private catholic school and seeing all the censorship pushed sm of us (in school) to romanticize blasphemy n transgressions tbh sooo heres the continuous manifestation of that indulgence (mentioned in pt 01)