#their devastated face fuels me

[anonymousdidsys]

Listen I’m glad Paul wasn’t the 17th houseguest

…but how funny would it have been

[fedao]

🍉 Help my family 🍉

Hello, I am Fidaa and I am reaching out to you with a heavy heart on behalf of my family, a family of five people trapped in the devastating situation in Gaza. We are urgently seeking evacuation to Egypt after enduring more than 282 days of displacement and hardship. I am seeking to help us urgently and provide us with the minimum requirements. I never imagined that my loved ones would be caught in the crossfire of a conflict they were not part of. My husband had only one dream – to teach and take care of our children . The idea that their innocence has been marred by the horrors of war is too heavy a burden to bear. We face the harsh reality of conflict. The trauma inflicted on my children tears at my heart, and I am haunted by fear for their safety and well-being. To give you a glimpse into their daily struggle, they wake up to a relentless battle for survival after surviving deadly nights. For more than 200 days, we have been cooking on firewood due to the scarcity of cooking gas. The entire region lacks fuel for cars, making transportation almost impossible. Basic necessities, including medicines, are scarce, even for those with the means to purchase them. Humanitarian aid has barely reached areas in Khan Yunis that have not yet reached us. But I find myself in a very embarrassing situation. I have to go back and ask for help and rescue. You are my only hope. My family is struggling with genocide. I promised myself that I would do my best to convey their suffering and save them, even if it cost me death. My beloved family is the most precious thing in my existence, and I am very sad that we are still in the Gaza Strip, where we see all kinds of death I'm ashamed to ask you to help me save our lives. It was my wise way to save my children If someone donates $5 it will make a difference for us and help us because we need more. I don't want to lose my family, you are my only hope I love you because you were the source of my trust. I love you because you are truly wonderful. You are our hope always and forever. You also helped me save my family, the most precious thing in existence. I feel so embarrassed but I have rubbed salt in my wound and I have no one to save it but you

Your generosity will directly help save my family from death and rebuild our lives. Every donation, no matter the size, makes a big difference. Lend your hand and make a meaningful impact for us because we need you Donate on GoFundMe Every contribution, whether big or small, will directly help save my family's life ✓ Share this post and spread the word ⩥ Please share this campaign with your friends, family and colleagues to help us achieve our goal and evacuate my family safely . Your support means everything to me, and I am so grateful for any help you can provide during this difficult time. Your help means everything to us. For more details or questions, please contact me freely. Your kindness is a beacon of hope for our family. We thank you for your support and hope that better days will come.

[abby-howard]

Some folks were asking for my boiled peanuts recipe (as they feature in our game, Scarlet Hollow, and we made a big batch this past weekend), but it's unfortunately a bit difficult for me to post with lightness in my heart right now because this past weekend the entirety of western North Carolina, where Scarlet Hollow takes place, was devastated by hurricane Helene.

Towns I have been to and have fond memories of have been described as "washed away." The region is almost entirely still out of power, the water is all contaminated with repair efforts expected to take weeks, and there are hundreds of people stranded, including my relatives, as roads have been totally destroyed. My uncle sent a photo of the road near his house, thankfully his home is okay but I have to image it's going to take a while for roads like this to see repairs:

I know this photo has been making the rounds, but it bears posting for those who haven't seen it-- the main strip of Chimney Rock, before and after:

Trees, cars, buildings, everything is gone. And now all that debris is just sitting in lakes and rivers. This is Lake Lure today:

Pictures from Swannanoa, an absolutely lovely town with so much character, where my sister went to folk music camp as a teen, where mobile home parks were hit hardest-- people's houses just floated away downriver:

And of course Asheville is the town most people will have heard of. A city of 95k, completely isolated in the days after the storm. The River Arts District was still underwater as of yesterday:

People throughout the entire region are without power and transport and fuel and water and food, they've lost their homes and their businesses, and people have had to resort to hiking to reach loved ones to see if they're safe or whether their homes were just wiped off the face of the earth-- hundreds are still missing because it's been so difficult to get in contact with people in these isolated, rural communities that are now nearly impossible to get to because roads were washed away or collapsed in landslides.

I honestly don't even know where to start when it comes to relief funds or ways that people can help. I've been listening to the local radio station and it sounds like the area is in shock, people are coming in to help pick up the pieces but there is so much recovery that will have to happen that it's hard to know where to start.

This article from the Citizen Times has a list of places that are currently helping with relief efforts.

It's absolutely unfathomable that a hurricane could hit the mountains. The effects of this are going to be felt in western NC for a long time, and my heart goes out to everyone who is currently stranded or trying to get in touch with people who are.

[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩ PARTNERS — GOJO SATORU. (rich boy! au)

contents. college! au, rich boy! gojo, established relationship, you and suguru are partnered for a project instead of satoru…and he doesn’t take the news lightly, dramatic toru and INSTIGATOR suguru

satoru is sulking—you’d find it a little amusing any other day, but he seems a bit more upset than usual. and quite frankly, suguru isn’t really helping things out either, so you feel just a little bad.

“baby,” you poke his cheek, “it’s not our fault! we just got randomly assigned—”

“whatever,” he huffs. you tug at his arm, but he pulls it away.

it just so happens that the three of you seem to share a class this semester—but unfortunately, suguru is assigned as your partner for a project. it’s the same project satoru wanted to be paired with you for. he seems convinced it’ll be you and him that are called—which, in all honesty, the likelihood of being paired with you out of the multiple people in the class is low, but it’s only added insult to injury that suguru had the odds in his favor.

satoru is not handling it well.

“toru,” you insist, pinching his cheek in hopes to cheer him up. he scowls at you—as if this is your fault, “c’mon, cheer up! now that it’s suguru, you can just tag along when we work—”

“tag along?” he cuts you off, tone bordering on hurt, “so now i’m the third wheel?”

oh dear.

“n-no!” you say quickly—suguru has the audacity to snicker, earning a warning glance from you, “you’re never the third wheel, toru. you’re the first wheel! the only wheel. really!”

“y’know,” suguru starts—you already know whatever he’s about to say is going to make things ten times worse. you try (and fail) to glare at him until he’s silent. “if i recall, the two of you got together through a project, didn’t you? who knows, maybe you’ll have the biggest crush on me after this is over.”

suguru drops the bomb and winks. you look at him like you want to kill him. satoru’s face is devastated.

you think this might be the end.

“what?” satoru gasps, turning to you quickly, “tell him that’s impossible, tell him! tell him he’s hideous and that you only have eyes for me—”

“toru, of course i only have eyes for you, don’t listen to him, he’s just pushing your buttons—”

“hey, you never know. i might charm you,” suguru adds fuel to the fire—this time, you throw your water bottle at him. he catches it with ease, throwing you a smug grin that makes you scowl deeper.

“you’re hideous, suguru,” satoru spits, “no way anyone would leave me for you—”

“that already happened. remember your girlfriend in middle school?”

“that doesn’t count! we were too young to know what love was back then!”

satoru is practically inconsolable now—you consider dropping out of this class just for the sake of peace. maybe you can take it over the summer and be paired with a random stranger that won’t bother your dramatic boyfriend. maybe you can evade the project altogether with a different professor. maybe you can kill suguru and the misfortune of a dead partner can grant you an automatic exemption from this assignment.

you weigh your options as satoru slumps with a pout.

“whatever,” he grumbles, “i don’t even care. have fun without me.”

suguru chuckles, shaking his head in amusement. you sigh before cupping satoru’s cheeks and giving him a small kiss to his forehead to cheer him up.

not surprisingly, it doesn’t seem to work.

“cheer up, baby,” you reason, “at least since it’s just suguru, you won’t have to leave us alone to work! it won’t be awkward if you’re there too.”

“but you’ll be too busy working with suguru to talk to me,” he says bitterly.

“at least i’ll have a handsome face to keep me motivated,” you grin, kissing his jaw—now that…that seems to cheer him up considerably. he brightens, plastering that usual smug grin he sports, as if the world around him wasn’t ending just moments ago.

“i am handsome, aren’t i?” he hums, wrapping an arm around you—mission accomplished, you think happily.

“yeah,” you nod quickly, “and suguru is hideous anyway. i’d never leave you for someone with a tacky man bun—”

“hey, leave my hair out of this—”

“it is pretty tacky,” satoru nods and agrees.

suguru crosses his arms, glaring at the both of you before he opens his mouth to retaliate. you cut in before he can say anything else to worsen satoru’s mood any further.

“and maybe you can help me—you’re smarter than suguru too.”

“he is not—”

“you’re right baby,” satoru hums, “maybe this is for the best. i’ll save both of your grades this way.”

suguru’s vein all but pops. “we don’t need your help—”

“don’t worry suguru,” satoru grins confidently, pointing to himself with his thumb, “i’ll save your grade. no need to thank me—ow!”

you watch tiredly as suguru throws your water bottle at satoru’s head—it’s going to be a long project.

i already know the switch boy! au people are gonna start the “suguru definitely wants reader” comments. i’m waiting for them i can sense them already

[cactus-cuddler]

¸.·✩·.¸¸.·¯⍣✩𝐁𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬

Natasha Romanoff

x female reader

¸.·✩·.¸¸.·¯⍣✩¸.·✩·.¸¸.·¯⍣✩¸.·✩·.¸¸.·¯⍣✩¸.·✩·.

Word count: 1k

Plot: after an argument with Natasha, your partner, you retreat to a friend's place feeling lost and devastated. Two days later, Natasha surprises you by showing up to leave a letter. Filled with anxiety, you're unsure whether to read it, fearing it might end things between you.

Genre: dramatic(?), hurt & comfort

Author's note: English is not my first language so sorry if you find several errors!

You and Natasha had a big argument, and it's been two days of silence since then.

The tension had been building for days. You were caught up in a demanding project with your colleague Wanda Maximoff, leaving Natasha feeling neglected. When you finally got home, exhausted, you barely acknowledged her before heading straight to bed, which only fueled her sense of isolation.

Things came to a head during dinner with friends, where they praised your successful collaboration with Wanda. Natasha made a joke that inadvertently embarrassed you, hinting at jealousy and discomfort about your relationship with Wanda. The atmosphere soured, and the argument erupted as soon as you got home, lasting for hours until you stormed out, slamming the door behind you.

Now, without Natasha, you feel lost. After two years together, the thought of it all ending over a silly argument pains you deeply. But neither of you is willing to break the silence. You're now at a friend's place, barely eating or sleeping, yearning to be close to Natasha again, to talk to her, to feel her lips on yours.

You're lying on your friend's couch, looking and feeling like a shell of yourself. Your friend tries to comfort you with your favorite ice cream, but it does little to lift your spirits. The only thing that could truly make a difference is Natasha, but you doubt she would come – until her familiar voice surprises you at the door. You're almost convinced you're hallucinating; why would Natasha show up now after days of silence?

"Do you want me to call her?" your friend asks softly, unaware you can hear every word.

"I don't think she wants to see me," Natasha's voice replies, resigned and filled with sorrow.

"Are you planning to leave her a letter without talking to her?" your friend asks more urgently.

"It's all I can do," Natasha murmurs quietly.

You leap from the couch, rushing towards the door, but your friend manages to close it before you can reach Natasha.

"Was she here?" you ask tearfully upon returning, heart sinking as your friend nods and hands you a letter Natasha left for you. You're torn; each line could either heal you or hurt you further.

You leave the letter unopened on the coffee table, sealed in a red envelope. Is it a cruel gesture signaling the end before you even read it? You hesitate, fearing more pain, as your friend sits beside you, offering a comforting embrace.

"Natasha looked just as lost as you do now," your friend says gently, stroking your hair with maternal warmth. "She's scared of losing the person she loves most in the world. You both scare each other."

"I love her so much," you whisper, choked with emotion. The anguish threatens to overwhelm you.

"Do you want to know what she wrote?" your friend asks softly.

You manage a smile, acknowledging she's right. Taking the letter, you retreat to the bathroom for a moment alone with Natasha's words – words that could either devastate you or offer hope.

A smile of relief spreads across your face. Natasha wants to work things out. Leaving the bathroom with renewed determination (and lingering anger), you tell your friend you're heading home to face things with Natasha. She offers to accompany you, but you choose to go alone. Natasha deserves the chance to make amends, even if you, too, have apologies to offer.

The walk home, typically a twenty-minute journey, feels longer under the weight of uncertainty. You hadn't bothered to change out of your pajamas and slippers, a minor detail that you know won't bother Natasha.

"You're adorable," Natasha says softly, a faint smile lifting her tired eyes and dark circles. Despite her disheveled appearance, you find her endearing. Her smile, however small, warms your heart – a glimmer of hope that you both can mend what's been broken.

"I owe you an apology," she whispers, fidgeting with her hands nervously. Her agitation is palpable, a rarity in your typically composed partner.

"Me too," you reply in the same hushed tone, sitting together at the kitchen table, side by side. Silence hangs heavily between you, filled with unspoken words and shared history, the essence of your connection.

With hearts in hand, you begin to talk – really talk – sharing everything you've bottled up during these tumultuous days. There's a flicker of possibility, a chance that your love might survive this storm.

"Do you remember when we tried to bake a cake together?" Natasha asks suddenly, a hint of mischief in her voice. It's a memory you promised never to share.

"You were the one who said to put it in the oven. I was sure you meant the fridge, but I didn't dare contradict you," you say, laughing softly. The memory of burning an ice cream cake had led to blaming each other before eventually blaming the kitchen.

"And do you want to try making that cake again?" Natasha asks.

Your eyes light up with joy, eagerly accepting her offer. This cake symbolizes more than a sweet treat – it's a metaphor for overcoming a crisis that nearly tore you apart. Perhaps this time, the cake will turn out perfectly.

Thanks for reading and let me know if you want me to bring you a one-shot where you and Natasha burn that ice cream cake!

[arcanume]

Whispered prayers — Aemond Targaryen.

overview & pairing; : Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Reader : When Aemond is deep within the pleasure of himself — and you, he seems to find his own treacherous, pathetic, thoughts start to wander. his prayers begin to audibly force their way through his lips, and in turn — you start to see a side of aemond; raw, and untouched, materialize.

type; Drabble + Smut, with a tinge of angst.

warning(s); p in v, dirty talk, aemond starts to cry at some point, reader is confused but supportive, aemond needs a hug (canon)

a/n: omgomgomg!! 🥹🎉, i hope u guys enjoy this !! pls leave feedback, it’s so greatly appreciated and lets me know that i at least satisfied somebody !! ♥️♥️

His touch is rather harsh at times, it encapsulates his anger, his nature, perhaps even his pain at times as well. His nights spent with you are a way to manage this..pain? anger? he's not quite sure anymore - frankly he's not sure he ever was sure, or aware, or ever fully in touch with his mind and body.

A wretched thing, his mind, beautiful but wretched - he supposes that's the rest of him too, behind every beautiful corner there's a wretched sickly thing waiting along with it. Perhaps that's why he enjoys you - a simple servant of the castle, something he can dirty over and over again, not quite his but still his.

When his cock glides in and out of you nearly every night, his mind is a quiet echo similar to the darkest hours of the forests he's so frequently rode through. Your touch brings him that of one a mother's might've - might've but never did. He does suppose it's pathetic to chase after something, search for something in a plain servant girl.

But then again you're not plain are you? You hold all the things he longs for, the things he's seen his family to give everybody but him. He realizes his mind will always be broken, always reach out to something he simply cannot have. It's why he holds you the way he does when you're spending yet another night with him, the way his hands make their journey down the curves of your back, gripping every bit of skin he can - grounding himself.

Your breasts pressed against his chest only fuel this desire, this carnal urge to destroy you and savor you all the same. He can't help but press his face into the crook of your neck and let out a noise of just pure pathetic resolve - the way your cunt clenches around him, your scent, your everything.

It's truly not his fault he starts to tear up, anybody would if they had been in the position he was in currently. "I..I do believe I find myself needing you more and more every night and my god is it devastating me to my absolute core." His eyes stare at you with such intensity you start to worry it'll be enough to make you surrender to his every whim and request - not that you don't already of course, but you're truly terrified you'll never be able to stop.

"My prince, where is this coming from?" You start to stir from underneath him and attempt to sit your body up, he however doesn't let that happen, pressing his hand deep into the skin and bone of your hip, confining you to his cock and muscle. "No, no just.. stay where you are my dear one, please?" A simple nod from you is all Aemond needs to continue his thrusts into you. His tears however do not stop, only intensifying with each thrust into your honey sweet cunt.

His behavior sends an echo of confusion into your mind, but you don't press it. Far too afraid of what the cunning prince could do. You let his rambunctious actions on your body continue, choosing to savor the pleasure - rather than dwell on the pain and even possible death that could come with you opening a door to something not quite somebody of your status should ever do.

Perhaps somebody you'll take a leap of bravery and open this door. For now however, you're content with being the warmth and indulgence Aemond needs In his life - it's a high honor isn't it? To be chosen by a prince as beautiful and accomplished as Aemond? You cannot complain when his pleasure blends with your own to create a harmony of completeness, a satisfaction that rests deep in your soul days after an encounter with the prince.

@ arcanume 2024 , do not copy, repost, or steal.

[seresinhangmanjake]

Rather Be With You

Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Summary: Jake has been away for six months and he just hopes you waited for him.

Warnings: cursing. I think that's it.

Notes: this was inspired by an ask (💐) from a bit ago. Sorry it took so long. So much happened in the last week and a half, some good some bad, and it just got on top of me. Writing had to come second. I have probably written better in my life haha, but I tried.

Words: 1972

---

“You know he's only messing with you, right?”

He wasn’t sure how long he’d sat there, hunched forward with his elbows on his knees as he wrung his hands together. Surely it had been a while. For the entirety of the morning, perhaps? Rooster had made his teasing comments at seven a.m. sharp and they were due to dock at noon. Had it been that long? Or had he really managed to shove many hours worth of painful thoughts into just a few short minutes? Somehow, he figured, it was one or the other. No in-between.

When his eyes flicked up, Nat’s face seemed to hint at the former. 

It made sense, he supposed. Spending hours thinking about you wasn’t exactly uncommon. Usually, though, those thoughts were a bit nicer, with you naked and smiling, laughing, or whispering sweet words to him. He liked those better than the ones that had plagued him for…well, however long he’d been sitting there.

“He knows what he said isn’t true,” she continued. “He wouldn’t have had the balls to make jokes like that if he thought they would hold any weight. Trust me, no one particularly enjoys pissing you off.”

He wasn’t pissed off, though. He was devastated at the seeds of doubt planted in his head; at the pain and insecurity that came with the twisted knife to his gut. He hated the images forced into his mind at his friend’s words; the ones of you with other men; the ones that made it terribly clear how little you considered or missed him in his absence. 

“Jake, she waited for you. I know she did.”

“Yea? How?” he asked. 

Phoenix opened her mouth quickly, just as he would have had someone asked him a few hours ago if you loved him like he loved you—ready to confirm with a smile on his face. But if made to think of the answer for more than a half-second, without the hope and giddiness fueling his enthusiasm, he realized he couldn’t actually say for sure if you loved him, just as Nat now could not say with certainty that you had waited for him. 

Her mouth closed. 

"Exactly. You don't know," he said. "It’s not like I was smart enough to ask her to be my girlfriend before we left. She has no obligation to me, so why would she have bothered to wait six months to have me when she could have anyone?"

The brunette shook her head. “I don’t believe she's like that."

Leaning back against the bench and crossing his arms, Jake just barely held himself back from a scoff. "Like what, Nat? That wouldn't make her anything other than a woman who found someone new to sleep with after the guy she was sleeping with disappeared for half a year.”

“But you didn’t—”

“I know I didn't disappear. But I’ve been gone longer than we’d been together," he said, his voice drifting as he imagined what he hadn't stopped to consider before; a nightmare that, if proven true, would cleanly snap his heart in half. "Joke or not, Rooster could very well be right.”

—

"You're overthinking,” Penny’s voice snuck in from your left. 

She reached out to take the beer glass from your hand, polished almost too clean after the twenty minutes you spent absentmindedly running a rag over it. Your mind had been too occupied with troubled thoughts to notice your unceasing drag of the dishtowel around the cylindrical shape of the glass. 

It came free from your hand with ease, and as Penny placed it back on its shelf, you spewed, "What if he hooked up with someone? What if he decided six months was too long to wait for a woman that isn't his girlfriend?” You finally faced her just to find her rolling her eyes. “He likes sex, Penny. A lot. There are plenty of willing women and he's practically insatiable."

"When it comes to you, maybe."

The tenseness in your shoulders from well-formed stress was heavy with your exhale, forcing your shoulders to fall forward and your posture to take a hit. "Penny…" you groaned.

"I'm telling you, there's no way he messed around with anyone,” she swore, leaning back against the bar. "Besides, it's frowned upon to get involved with your coworkers."

"You think that's ever stopped Jake?"

She pursed her lips and tilted her head from side to side as she considered. "Ok, fair enough,” she agreed. “Once upon a time, that definitely wouldn't have stopped him. But after meeting you, he hasn't looked at another woman."

You couldn’t say that provided you with any relief. Jake had always presented as an ‘out of sight, out of mind’ type of man. He wasn’t a worrier. Once something exited his periphery, it promptly left his brain, discarded with all past challenges or predicaments. And wasn’t that what you were? An obstacle? He hadn’t asked you to be his girlfriend for a reason. Holding on to you for more than just the night didn’t necessarily make you more special than any of the other women. Perhaps it simply made you convenient.  

"You don’t know, Penny. You’re not with him 24/7."

Penny muttered something under her breath. Her fingers rose to rub at her temple and when they dropped back to her side, the stare she shot you was imbued with determination. "Look, my bar is where Seresin used to do his "best work," as he liked to say,” she said, and you made a face. "But the only work he's been putting in since he met you has involved getting you to like him and making you happy after you two started your little…thing." 

"You may not pay attention, but I do," she practically scolded. "Now, a month ago you were excited to meet him when he got back, and then you let your thoughts get away from you and it’s fucking everything up." 

To your own shame, you couldn't deny that. So you didn't bother, rather opting to nibble on your thumbnail.

"They'll be back soon, so are you coming with me or not?"

—

He didn’t know what he was doing, standing there with his bag over his shoulder. But he felt like a heavy weight, an anchor in a sea of levity. Looking around, the men and women he’d been packed in with for the last six months were thrilled, the room sprinkled with smiles and laughs of giddiness in anticipation of having their families in their arms again. 

He didn’t have that. 

He wanted to have it, but that was fully reliant on you. Your feelings. Your wants and desires. Your plan for your future. Jake could imagine a world where he had the strength to beg to be a part of your life—to plead as desperately as if fighting for enough air to fill his lungs—but reality made that entirely out of his will and control. So he didn't shove his way forward when they made it home. He couldn't bring himself to jump in front of the others who had people waiting for them upon their return. Instead, he let them file out, his team included, until he was one of the final few to step back on dry, solid land. 

As he walked by couple after couple, family after family, his already weak composure began to crumble at its edges. The people milling around him felt like a mocking montage of the life he didn’t have. Men and women kissing their partners or spouses, hugging their children with no intent of letting go, their tears coating the ground with joy. 

Jake's chest constricted. He needed to get himself on the other side of it, but weaving through the mass of bodies proved harder than he expected. 

His shoulders bumped into theirs, his chest skimming across backs and limbs when he turned to his side to sneak through narrow openings. Little kids ran into his legs like spinning tops on the loose from their wound-up energy finally releasing, though each one quickly recovered and returned to their parents, maintaining the same level of enthusiasm they had prior to smacking face-first into a muscled calf. 

With each unintentional nudge, he apologized, but no one so much as noticed, too engrossed in their relief at making it home unscathed or in seeing their loved ones still intact. Somewhere, his teammates were doing the same. They’d found their partners, and he thought he’d found his, but his overconfidence in your feelings kept him from ensuring you were actually together. And maybe it was too late. Maybe he would have no choice but to watch you move on from him.  

Finally breaking through the edge of the crowd, Jake took his first deep breath. He didn’t look back as he made his way to his truck. He didn’t turn when rushed footsteps grew closer until they sounded as if right on his tail. 

“Jake.”

He paused and sighed. He should’ve known he would imagine your voice. Six months without that lovely sound, his only chance at hearing it being within his dreams, took its toll. It haunted him like a ghost on that ship. Of course it wouldn’t cease just because he was home.

“I was calling you, but you didn’t hear me.” There was a soft chuckle, then, “Well, at least I hope you didn’t hear me.”

He spun on his heel and was greeted with your smile. It lacked its carefree nature, instead just barely failing to conceal a twinge of nerves, but beautiful nonetheless. He couldn’t help but smile back. 

“What are you doing here?” he asked, taking a few steps closer. 

“I came with Penny.” The roundness of your cheeks turned pink from your blush. You lightly shrugged. “I missed you.”

With those words, Jake knew Rooster was deserving of a swift smack upside the head, one he very well may deliver. You cared. You missed him, even. 

Fucking Rooster.

“Oh, I, um,” you continued, your eyes falling down to your hand. “I got you these. It feels silly now, but at the time I thought they would be nice, I guess.”

He followed your line of sight to the small bundle in your hand. Five long stems were tight in your grip, the bulbs on their ends made up of layers of silky red petals. 

"I was thinking," you swallowed hard and met his gaze, "I don't actually know if you like flowers. And if you do, I didn't know your favorite. I just picked mine." The sweet grin that returned to your face practically demanded he kiss you. Your lips, your cheeks, your forehead, your nose. All of you. Every little bit. 

And you weren't wrong. He hadn't had a favorite. 

He did now. 

Jake swallowed through the tightness in his throat, fighting back the stinging in the corners of his eyes. 

He didn't get gifts, and certainly not from the women he was with. But then again, with the exception of you, he hadn't chosen to be with a woman for more than a night or two in the last decade. 

"I like the yellow ones but they symbolize friendship and that wasn't really what I was going for, so I—"

"I love you.”

Your smile, your jaw, your hand, fell. "You…what?"

He let out a chuckle and reached for you. "Come here."

You didn't hesitate sliding your hand into his and he quickly pulled you to him, your chests hitting, lips meeting with an intensity that he hoped expressed even just a lick of how much he missed you. You draped your arms around his shoulders and the petals of the flowers tickled the nape of his neck. 

"Six months was too long," you whispered when you separated. 

He nudged his nose against yours. "Way too long."

---

tags: @wkndwlff @kmc1989 @sagittarius-flowerchild @dempy @oliviah-25 @rosiahills22 @xoxabs88xox @cinderellasmissingshoe @leila22rogers

[andy-15-07]

Beneath the Veil of Fate

masterlist ! pairing Feyd-Rautha x reader

Dune Masterlist

The desert sands of Arrakis stretched endlessly beneath the harsh sun, bearing witness to a clash that would shape the fate of the universe. Beneath the scorching heat, Y/N stood on the sidelines, her heart torn between loyalty and love as she watched her husband, Feyd Rautha, engage in combat with the legendary Paul Muad'Dib.

Spectators gathered around the arena, their voices hushed in anticipation as the two warriors faced off. Feyd, fueled by his thirst for power, exuded confidence as he prepared to confront his adversary. Paul, the mysterious and enigmatic figure known as the Kwisatz Haderach, stood tall and unwavering, his eyes betraying a depth of knowledge far beyond his years.

Y/N's breath caught in her throat as the battle commenced, her gaze fixed on the swirling dust kicked up by the combatants' movements. She knew that regardless of the outcome, the consequences would be dire. But she never imagined that her heart would be torn between the man she loved and the cause he fought for.

As the fight raged on, it became increasingly clear that Feyd was outmatched. Paul's movements were fluid and precise, his every strike calculated to exploit his opponent's weaknesses. Despite Feyd's best efforts, he found himself unable to gain the upper hand against the formidable Muad'Dib.

Y/N's heart ached as she watched Feyd falter, his once-confident demeanor giving way to desperation. She knew that he was fighting not just for himself, but for the future of House Harkonnen and all they had built on Arrakis. But even as she wished for his victory, she couldn't ignore the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.

"Feyd, be careful!" Y/N called out, her voice barely audible over the din of the crowd. Her words were a desperate plea, a silent prayer for his safety amidst the chaos of battle.

But Feyd seemed not to hear her, his focus consumed by the struggle before him. Every blow he landed was met with a counterstrike from Paul, each one more devastating than the last. Y/N could see the toll it was taking on him, both physically and emotionally, as the battle wore on.

Then, in a moment that seemed to stretch on for eternity, Paul saw his opening. With a lightning-fast movement, he disarmed Feyd and brought him to his knees, his blade poised at his throat.

The crowd erupted into cheers as Paul emerged victorious, his triumph cementing his status as the savior of Arrakis. But for Y/N, there was no joy in the moment, only heartache and despair as she watched her husband defeated before her eyes.

"Feyd…" she whispered, her voice barely a whisper as she rushed to his side. She knelt beside him, her hands reaching out to cradle his face as tears welled in her eyes.

Feyd met her gaze, his own eyes filled with a mixture of pain and resignation. "I'm sorry, my love," he murmured, his voice barely audible over the roar of the crowd. "I have failed you."

But Y/N shook her head, her heart breaking as she leaned in to press a kiss to his forehead. "No, Feyd," she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. "You haven't failed me. You've always fought with honor and courage, and I am proud to stand by your side, no matter what."

And in that moment, as they faced defeat together, Y/N knew that their love was stronger than any conflict, their bond unbreakable in the face of adversity. Though the battle may have been lost, their love would endure, a beacon of hope in the darkness of uncertainty.

[reidsdimples]

Strictly Professional | Part 2

Spencer Reid x Reader

18+❤️‍🔥

You're hooking up with your coworker, Spencer Reid. Someone at the BAU knows.

Part 1

"No way, you are not getting out of this. You have nowhere else to be, you have to tell us what's been going on with you," Penelope grips your arm with a playfully smile. JJ and Prentiss cross their arms, they agree that something is off.

"It's nothing," you groan. The guys are talking on the back patio after everyone met up for Italiano at Rossi's. You sip your wine and make sure not to trail your eyes over to where Spencer is leaning against the balcony, lost in conversation.

The two of you have been very careful for the last two weeks, not hooking up after the exchange in the intel closet at work. The girls were picking up on your distracted behavior, perhaps even your frustration at him keeping his distance. You'd rather them think you're upset though, than suspect what's really going on- or was going on.

"Come on, spill," Prentiss prods. Her devastating smile was contagious.

"I-" you pause to think. "Things ended with someone I was casually dating."

"Ouch, that's not good. I'm sorry chica," Penelope hugs you.

"Perks of the job," JJ sighs sympathetically.

You're attention is drawn towards the patio when Morgan sprints past the window with Spencer strapped to his back. Hotch's face is in his hand and Rossi is smiling wide. Before you know it all of you are laughing and headed outside to join them.

"Listen here kid, next time I'm going to throw you off," Morgan is standing above Spencer who is sprawled on his back in the grass and laughing.

"I'm not even gonna ask," Prentiss smiles at them.

Morgan takes Spence's hand and hauls him back up before taking him into a playful headlock. These are the moments that heal the team's souls, where the bonding happens, and the trauma of the job falls away for just a moment.

You all chatter amongst yourselves, allowing the evening to float on by in blissful wine fueled companionship. You and Reid converse casually within the group but he makes no effort to joke with or seek you out directed for conversation. You worry his avoidance will draw attention but no one else seems to notice.

"I think I need to stop," you giggle as you set the empty wine glass down.

The effects go straight to your head and relax your body. The issue with wine for you though is that it makes you keenly aware of that sensitive spot between your legs. Even your thighs rubbing together is torture to your heightened senses. You cut yourself off because you are beginning to notice Spencer far more.

The way he stands and shifts his weight onto one leg, the fighting of his fingers, the way his tongue darts across his bottom lip on occasion when he's about to talk... if you let yourself notice those things, well...

"Hey you okay?" Garcia asks, snapping you out of your daydream.

Reid notices you staring before you turn to Garcia.

"Yeah, zoned out," your cheeks heat.

"Alright who's sober enough to drive me and Y/N home?" She announces to the group.

"I can drive," you protest. You know you probably shouldn't. JJ and Prentiss are leaning on each other laughing at some unknown joke, faces bright red, and they're both swaying. They aren't even aware of the conversation at hand.

"I'll take these two," Morgan places a hand on Prentiss' and JJ's shoulders.

"Reid, you take them home," Rossi instructs towards you and Garcia. You groan under your breath which catches Hotch's attention. Reid raises his eyebrows and half turns towards the two of you, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"I need to have a word with you," Hotch tells Rossi. It's implied that it's to take place after you all leave.

"The men are all sober and so serious," Prentiss taunts playfully as she and JJ link arms and skip past them. You can't help but to laugh.

You and Garcia pile into the back of Reid's car, Penelope pouting because she had to leave her car at Rossi's.

"I'm in Dr. Reid's car, how bizarre," Penelope seems to come to one of her realizations. She glances around, looks down and her eyes blow wide as Spencer silently begins to drive. "Y/N," she slaps your leg rapidly. "Tell me that's not women's underwear, please tell me it's not," she whispering now. She's pointing to a red thong on the floor board of his car.

"Shut the fuck up," you breathe.

"No way! Dr. Spencer Reid is a certified man whore!" She exclaims.

Spencer's head snaps back to look at her, unsure of what she's referring to. His eyes crash into yours for a moment as though you would have actually told her.

"Underwear, Spence, really?" You lay on the disbelief thick as though they aren't yours.

"That's not, it's not-" he rambles off.

"I'm calling Morgan," Penelope is giddy with excitement as she whips out her cell phone. You stop her playfully.

"This is looking real unsub-ish," you grip Spencer's shoulders from behind him. He clears his throat and shakes his head but stays focused on the road. You can feel the electricity spike between you so you drop your hands from him.

"This does not leave this car," he pleads with the two of you. You can see his knuckles whiten as his grip tightens on the wheel, he's not angry. He's flustered, embarrassed. It's adorable.

"Fine," Penelope groans. "I'll keep this delicious little morsel of information to myself. For now."

You swear you can hear Spence roll his eyes.

He pulls up to Penelope's apartment first and steps out of the car to let her out.

"You are more than just a brainiac, aren't ya," she pats Spencer's chest while giggling.

"Yeah yeah yeah," he grins and walks her to her door. You lie down in the backseat, your eyes fluttering closed as you remember just how those underwear got there.

The two of you had been sent to follow up on a lead that turned out to be a dead end. It was late, both of your inhibitions lowered with sleep deprivation. The aching need between you that seemed to draw on forever had come to a breaking point.

You had drug him into the backseat under the protection of darkness on the back country road. Despite his concerns, his need for you took over. The wildness of that encounter had fueled many late night fantasies since then. You squeeze your thighs together, the wine and flashback flood you with need.

The driver's side door swings open, causing you to jump upward when Spencer drops into the car.

"Are you doing okay?" He asks, his demeanor is already different now that the two of you are alone.

"Mhmm," you answer as the car begins to move. From the way you're laying in the seat, you have a perfect view of his features.

His hair is perfectly tousled, his jaw line extra sharp tonight somehow, and those perfect lips...

"'Wanna kiss you," you murmur. You don't know why you said it but when his tongue darts out to moisten his lips, you start to wonder why you didn't say it sooner.

"We shouldn't," he shakes his head. You frown and sit up in the back seat. He looks over his shoulder. "I don't think Hotch scheduling that mandatory fraternization training for the team was just a coincidence."

"I know we don't really believe in coincidences but those training's are required annually, Spence," you sigh and place your hands on his shoulders. He lolls his head back briefly but keeps his eyes straight forward.

"It's only been four months and thirteen days since the last one," he reasons. That was true, you probably should be concerned. Even so, the wine was clouding your judgement and the way he looked tonight was torture.

You groan because you know his concerns are valid.

"With the consent to monitor, we could already be under investigation if they suspect something," he sighs. You can hear the pain in his voice because he knows he needs to keep things strictly professional.

"Hotch wouldn't do that. He would just ask us. You know that," you reason. It was true. Your team was a family, he would confront it head on instead of underhandedly.

He seems to weigh the logic and then accept it. It makes you feel better in your line of reasoning.

"You know it's better if we don't," he says as he parks the car outside of your house.

"I know," you nod. But when he turns back to look at you, his defenses are down. His pleading eyes devour you and the air charges. "But you can't look at me like that, Spence," you say and grip his tie.

You bring your lips to his, your grip on him keeping him in place. He groans into the kiss and then his tongue slips into your mouth. You adjust in the seat to deepen the kiss. Lust burns between you and his hand is in your hair, keeping you locked close just like you're desperately doing to him.

He breaks the kiss, eyes searching yours briefly before getting out of the car. He hurriedly opens your door. You giggle when he takes your hand, long legs taking quick strides to your door.

You fumble with the keys and finally get the door unlocked. He kicks it closed behind him, his blazer the first thing you push off of him. His tie is loose and he seems like he can't get it off fast enough as he jerks it over his head.

He stumbles into you, focused on getting his hands on you. He kisses you roughly, messily. You don't care, you grip his hair as he picks you up and you wrap your legs around his waist.

"You looked perfect tonight," he groans between needy kisses.

You rip open his dark purple button down with a moan and begin to attack his neck with your mouth. He pins you against the wall, his erection teasing your clit through your clothes. You've never hated clothes more.

"I need you," you plead and push his shirt off of his shoulders as his hands explore your waist.

His bare chest and body against yours is heady and you run your nails down his torso, eliciting a whimper from deep in his throat. Something about watching this beautiful man melt from a genius FBI agent into an animal blind with need was exhilarating.

"Fuck it," he drops you abruptly. His mind is made up, he's giving into this.

He spins you suddenly, forcing you to bend forward over the entryway table. He drags your pants and underwear down in one swift movement.

"Spencer," you giggle. He kicks your leg to make you widen your stance and you're panting. You look into the mirror in front of you and catch a glimpse of him undoing his belt while his eyes drink you in.

"You're going to watch yourself," he grips your hair. His cock teases your entrance, causing you to moan. "You're going to see how pretty you look when you cum for me."

His words cause your stomach to tighten but you can't react because his cock is inside of you, stretching you wide for him. You drop your head but he grips your hair and forces your eyes back up to the mirror.

Your eyes meet his and he's lost in the feeling of being inside of you. His own head lolls back briefly and he exhales as he thrusts into you. The room fills with the filthy sounds of him pounding into you. His other hand digs into your hip while he keeps your head upright by your hair. You're forced to watch what he's doing and it's so hot.

His mouth has fallen open as he focuses his rhythm to meet your needs. You're pushing your hips back to meet him pound for pound which earns you a string of curses from his delicious mouth. Part of you can't help but think of how much trouble both of you would be in if Hotch found out. It makes everything so much more thrilling, so much more risky.

He's dragging you closer to your orgasm with every thrust, every nerve inside of you being stroked by the head of his cock. You can feel the shape of him, the girth as your body opens up for him.

"Harder baby," you moan and place your hand on the mirror to brace yourself. He does as he's told with a pleased moan. You shudder as your climax barrels through you.

"Fuck," he moans. "Look at you," he whimpers.

You look up as you tighten and explode around his cock. Your face is red, your breasts pressed into the table, your eyes are blown wide, and you're biting down on your bottom lip.

"So pretty cumming for me," he slows his rhythm and tortuously takes his time sliding in and out of you. He knows you're extra sensitive post orgasm and he wants to make you feel so good.

"Ah, Spence," you moan and hike your leg up onto the table. He approves and is able to fuck you deeper, harder with the new angle. He does just that until you're screaming his name.

"This is so bad, were so bad," you moan which only prompts him to fuck you harder because he agrees.

"Fuck," he shudders as he comes apart inside of you. The feeling pulls another orgasm out of you, and has you digging your nails into the wood of the table.

"Oh my God," you whimper as you both finish cumming together.

It's so good. Too good. You drop your head into your hands, breathing frantically while he pulls out of you. Goddamn. The feeling of his cum dripping out of you is always so fucking hot.

He pulls you into him and kisses you softly. He exhales with a similar relief that you feel. Two weeks without him was far too long.

"You are incredible," he tells you, his eyes seemingly heavy with relaxation.

You kiss him again and lay your head on his chest as he pulls you into him.

"Stay the night," you plead. The two of you have never spent the night together, keeping things to a culmination of heated encounters.

"You know I can't," he frowns.

You nod, not sure why you asked. Your heart sinks at the thought of him leaving and you push it away.

"We have to try to keep this casual if not professional. If we start doing that, it complicates things further," he tells you.

You hug your arms to your chest and nod. You know he's right.

"Yeah, I know," you say quietly.

He pulls his shirt back on and begins buttoning it. You go ahead and pull your own pants back on. His phone rings, drawing you out of your conflicting thoughts and feelings.

"Reid," he answers. "What?" He turns to you with wide eyes. "Nothing is... Garcia," he groans and runs his hand through his hair. "They weren't hers. You're not making sense..." he becomes frantic.

You try to ask him to put it on speaker but he shakes his head.

"She got sick... it's not like that," he's trying to play it casual.

You know in that moment... Penelope figured it out and she's not even a profiler.

Fuck.

A/N; imagine your own era of Reid ;) These gifs give a variety haha

[shitsndgiggs]

what if Hector took out all his anger with a rough sex after a match they lost? a smut about this would be sooo good. like a rude and hate sex with y/n ;)

btw i love ur writings smm 🫶🏻

A/N: WARNING SMUT!!

I’M HERE, ALWAYS - HÉCTOR FORT

In which Héctor comes home angry after losing a match. And you can’t seem to stop talking

Héctor Fort x fem! reader

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿

The Barcelona locker room was thick with disappointment and frustration as Hector stormed out, his heart heavy with anger after a devastating loss.

The echoes of his teammates' muted conversations faded as he walked through the corridors, each step fueled by the adrenaline still coursing through his veins.

The taste of defeat lingered on his tongue, bitter and sharp.

As he stepped into the quiet of his home, the weight of the world pressed down on him. I had been waiting for him, knowing he would need someone to talk to, someone to help him process his emotions.

"Hey," I greeted softly, watching him kick off his shoes with more force than necessary. "Tough game, huh?"

Hector didn't respond, his jaw clenched and eyes dark with a mix of anger and disappointment. I followed him into the living room, where he collapsed onto the couch, rubbing his face with his hands.

"I know it sucks," I continued, trying to keep my voice gentle. "But it's just one game. You guys will bounce back. You always do."

He shot me a look, his eyes intense and intimidating, but I pressed on, determined to break through his wall of silence.

"Remember last season when you lost to Madrid? Everyone thought it was over, but you guys came back stronger than ever. This is just a setback."

Hector turned his head slowly, fixing me with an intimidating gaze that could have cut through steel. His dark eyes bore into mine, and for a moment, the air between us crackled with tension.

"Seriously, Y/N?" he said, his voice low and laced with irritation. "I don’t need a pep talk right now."

Undeterred, I sat beside him, my hand reaching out to touch his arm in a comforting gesture. "Hector, it's okay to be upset. But you can't let one game define you. You're an amazing player, and you—"

"Stop," he said, his voice low and dangerous.

I froze, but only for a moment. "No, I won't stop. You need to hear this. You need to know that one game doesn't change who you are or how good you are. It's just—"

Without warning, Hector grabbed me by the wrist and pulled me towards him. Before I could say another word, his lips crushed mine in a harsh, aggressive kiss.

It was unlike any kiss we had shared before—it was angry, demanding, and it took my breath away. I could taste the bitterness of his frustration as his tongue invaded my mouth.

I knew then that I had pushed him too far with my attempts at comfort. He was going to take his anger out on me, and there was nothing I could do but surrender to it.

My body responded to his kiss despite the underlying aggression. I felt a rush of wetness between my legs as his hand tightened on my wrist, pinning me against him.

When he finally pulled back, we were both breathless, our foreheads resting against each other. "Shut up and ride me," he growled, his voice hoarse with anger.

I did as I was told, knowing that arguing would only fuel his anger further. I quickly took off my sweatpants and my panties.

I straddled him, feeling the hardness of his dick pressing against my ass through his jeans.

Reaching down, I fumbled with the button and zipper, freeing his thick, rock-hard cock. It sprang out, eager and twitching, and I guided it to my entrance.

Slowly, I lowered myself onto him, taking him deep inside me. We both moaned at the sensation—me at the fullness, and him at the tight, wet heat of my pussy.

Gripping his shoulders for support, I began to ride him, lifting my body up and slamming back down onto his lap, taking him balls-deep with each stroke.

Hector's hands gripped my thighs, guiding my movements as I bounced on his cock. "más rápido," he growled, his breath hot on my neck. "Ride me harder."

I did as he commanded, increasing my pace and grinding my hips in circles, feeling his cock hitting all the right spots inside me. The couch creaked beneath us as our bodies slapped together, the rhythm of our fucking filling the room.

His hands squeezed my thighs, leaving bruises, and he thrust up to meet my downward motion. "You like that, don't you?" he said through gritted teeth. "Taking my cock while I'm angry."

"¡Sí!," I moaned, my head thrown back in pleasure. "I love it. I love feeling your cock inside me."

Hector's fingers dug into my flesh, and he lifted me slightly, changing the angle of his cock inside me. "You're so wet for me," he growled. "So fucking wet. You love it when I take control."

"Yes," I whispered, my body trembling on the verge of orgasm. "I do. I love it when you use me like this."

His thumb found my clit and began to rub circles around it as I rode him. The combination of his thick cock stretching me and his thumb working its magic pushed me over the edge. "Oh, God, I'm cumming!" I cried out, my body shaking uncontrollably as wave after wave of pleasure washed over me.

Feeling my pussy clench and spasm around his cock only served to fuel Hector's anger-filled passion further.

With a growl, he sat up, still embedded inside me, and flipped us over so that he was on top. He began to pound into me with fierce, powerful strokes, taking control completely.

The force of his thrusts pushed me along the couch, and I could do nothing but hold on as he used my body to satisfy his needs.

His angry grunts filled my ears, and I could feel his balls slapping against my ass with each deep thrust.

"You're gonna make me cum," he growled, his eyes wild. "Gonna fill that tight pussy of yours with my hot cum."

Hearing him talk so dirty only served to excite me further, and my pussy clenched around him involuntarily. "Cum for me, amor,” I begged. "I want to feel you explode inside me."

His pace quickened as he chased his orgasm, and then, with a roar, he stiffened, buried deep inside me. I felt his cock twitch and pulse as he filled me with his hot, sticky release.

His eyes drilled into mine as he came, and for a moment, the anger disappeared, replaced by pure, raw passion.

Collapsing on top of me, he kissed me deeply, his mouth tasting of satisfaction.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, his voice hoarse. "I just... I couldn't take it anymore. I needed to forget, even if just for a moment."

I cupped his face gently, my thumb brushing against his cheek. "It's okay, Hector. I get it. Sometimes, we all need a distraction."

I pressed a soft kiss to his forehead, feeling the tension in his body slowly begin to ease. "You don't have to carry it all by yourself. I'm here, Hector. Always."

[mbruben-stein]

How would Tokyo Revengers react to their girlfriend s/o taking a hit for Emma and dying instead of her.

A/n / warning: Note this is kind of going to be really sad headcanons. I am just warning you all before you read this. This is going to mention death and is going to be really sad.

Mikey:

Mikey's heart shattered into a million pieces as he watched his beloved Girlfriend s/o take the fatal blow meant for Emma. The sound of the metal baseball bat striking against their body echoed in his ears, sending a wave of agony through his entire being. In that moment, everything seemed to move in slow motion as he rushed to their side, his hands trembling as he tried to hold onto them, hoping against hope that they would open their eyes and smile at him once more.

But as s/o whispered their final goodbyes, Mikey felt his world come crashing down around him. Tears welled up in his eyes, blurring his vision as he clutched onto them desperately, unwilling to accept that they were gone. He could hear Emma's sobs in the background, her grief mirroring his own, but he couldn't tear his gaze away from s/o's lifeless form.

In a daze, Mikey tried to shake s/o awake, his voice cracking as he begged them to come back to him. But the reality of the situation hit him like a ton of bricks, and he collapsed to his knees, his heart aching with a pain unlike anything he had ever felt before. The loss was unbearable, the guilt of not being able to protect them weighing heavily on his shoulders.

As he looked up at the sky, tears streaming down his face, Mikey vowed to avenge s/o's death. He would make Kisaki pay for taking away the light of his life, and he would ensure that s/o's memory lived on in his heart forever. But for now, all he could do was hold onto the memory of their love, a love that had been tragically cut short.

The last words he said to his S/o who was dying in his arms: "Stay with me baby. I can't bear to lose you. Please, don't leave me. I need you... I love you."

Draken:

Draken's world came crashing down the moment he saw his girlfriend s/o lying lifeless on the ground, a victim of Kisaki's ruthless attack. His heart shattered into a million pieces as he knelt beside her, desperately trying to wake her up, to hear her voice one more time. But she remained still, her eyes closed, her body cold.

Tears streamed down Draken's face as he cradled her in his arms, unable to accept the cruel reality of her death. The pain in his chest was unbearable, aching with the loss of the person he cherished more than anything in the world. He couldn't understand why she had to be taken from him, why fate had been so merciless.

As he looked at her peaceful face, memories of their time together flooded his mind. The laughter they shared, the moments of pure joy and love they experienced, all now tainted by the devastating loss. Draken felt a deep sense of guilt for not being able to protect her, for failing to keep her safe from harm.

In that moment of grief and despair, Draken made a silent vow to avenge her death, to make Kisaki pay for the pain he had inflicted on him and on his s/o. He would not rest until justice was served, until he could find some semblance of peace in a world that had turned dark and cruel.

And as he held her lifeless body close to his chest, Draken whispered words of love and sorrow, promising to always remember her, to carry her memory in his heart until the end of his days. He knew that he would never be the same without her, that her absence would leave a void that could never be filled. But he also knew that he would honor her memory by fighting for a better future, by ensuring that her sacrifice would not be in vain. And with that determination burning in his soul, Draken rose to his feet, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead, fueled by the love and loss of the one he had lost.

The last words he said to his S/o who was dying in his arms: "Stay with me, please. Don't leave me alone. I can't do this without you. I love you more than anything. Fucking fight, don't give up on me now. I need you. Please, stay with me."

Takemichi:

Takemichi's world shattered into a million pieces when he witnessed his beloved Girlfriend s/o take a fatal blow meant for Emma. The sound of the metal baseball bat hitting her body echoed in his ears, haunting him with the image of her falling to the ground. His heart clenched in agony as he rushed to her side, desperate to save her, but it was too late.

Tears streamed down his face as he held her lifeless body in his arms, his mind unable to comprehend the cruel reality of her death. The pain of losing her was like a dagger through his heart, leaving him gasping for air as he struggled to accept the harsh truth.

Takemichi's determination, usually unwavering, crumbled in the face of such a devastating loss. He felt lost, alone, and broken beyond repair. The guilt of not being able to protect her consumed him, filling him with a deep sense of regret and sorrow.

As he mourned the loss of his s/o, Takemichi vowed to carry her memory in his heart forever. He would never forget the sacrifice she made for Emma, and he would honor her by fighting for a better future, one where such senseless tragedies could be prevented.

But deep down, he knew that his world would never be the same without her by his side. And as he lay awake at night, haunted by memories of her smile and her laughter, he whispered her name into the darkness, longing for her presence once more.

The last words he said to his S/o who was dying in his arms: "I love you more than anything in this world. You've brought light into my life, and I'll carry your love with me forever. Thank you for being my everything. Please know that you'll always be in my heart."

[neoplatinum]

VTMNTSCOAT - destroy lonely | ning 'ningning' yizhou

summary: ning's not herself; hasn't been for a long time. you're left wondering where she really has gone.

pairing: gf!ningning x gf!reader

themes: drug abuse, alcohol, cigarettes, lots and lots of swearing, angst, arguing, ning is very unstable, kinda toxic relationship, rest of aespa!

wc: 2.2k

link to pt2: keep it up - chase atlantic

she's irritated, and you're irritated by her being irritated. her eyes are already glazed over from all the cocaine lines she snorted with your rolled-up benjamin. needless to say, it won't take long before a fight breaks out in this club if she doesn't sit down soon.

a giant swarm of bodies is how you describe kwangya avenue tonight, bright LEDs shining overhead, and a cacophony of voices all drumming into your ear. it's all a bit much for you, but you weather through it rather than to see yizhou upset at you.

she's landed herself into one of the vips booths, the wrong vip booth it seems. since you don't recognize a single face there. the women are watching in disdain as yizhou collects herself while you try to move her out of the way. the men are trying to get a better view of her face (and her body). you sneer at them and grab her arm to hold her back up.

she's a devastating beauty with her leather jacket and wispy long jet black hair. she's weaving through the crowd as if trying to swim through water, stumbling and holding onto walls. you finally managed to see the booth of people at aeri's party.

"fuck me." you groan to yourself when you see the many lines of cocaine and girls swapping acid tabs with each other. it's a recipe for disaster, and with how yizhou has been pre-gaming, the last thing she needs is more fuel for the fire that is her muddled brain.

"gigi! my baby!" yizhou shouts as she damn near throws herself over aeri when she sees her.

you try and sit far away from the unknown girls who are making out with each other while being egged on by some weird dudes. the last thing you need is attention. you just hope this night ends quickly enough for you to enjoy your show wrapped up in your warm bed.

"hi sweetheart, missed me?" aeri speaks gently to yizhou, she smooths out yizhou's wild hair. aeri is nice. you've met her a couple times. she's calmer than yizhou, that's for sure. but she's often an enabler, she is just better at self-control than yizhou. there's been more than a few occasions that yizhou has went over to aeri's and come back on another universe, with aeri telling you that she needs to settle.

you can see the care that aeri has for yizhou, like her little sister, that she finds out of control. you're grateful that aeri is able to bring yizhou back to reality whenever she spirals.

aeri finally spots you with a tired yizhou lying on her chest, "hi, she doing okay?" she points at yizhou in her arms. you nod and get closer to aeri.

"yeah, got high off lines early; you know how she likes to pregame." you explain and yizhou is laughing with her eyes closed and rubbing aeri's back languidly.

she laughs at the fact, "yeah that's ning for sure." aeri passes yizhou back to you, and in an instant you're back to worrying about just fucked up she is right now. aeri is off being a good host, talking to other people while you have a high yizhou tucked into your neck like a koala bear.

you check her eyes, they're blown for sure. it's still safe but definitely a little worrisome. you continue to sigh as she grumbles about you messing with her eyes. you start explaining why, but she's already tuned you out. grabbing a cup of whiskey off the table and downing it before the owner can see it.

minjeong and jimin show up after a couple minutes, both enthusiastically wishing aeri a happy birthday and upon seeing yizhou's state, they come over to talk to her. yizhou seems a little more coherent, joyfully speaking about how happy she is that it's aeri's birthday and that she wishes nothing but the best.

minjeong is happily chatting it up with yizhou and being an active listener, but jimin's worried. she shoots you glances and whispers questions about yizhou's well-being. you give her the same spiel you gave aeri earlier. jimin is nice enough to bring over glasses of water to help sober up yizhou, even if it'll only do a little.

aeri returns with a bright smile after greeting her other guests, and seeing how yizhou is so happy, she pulls yizhou to the dance floor.

"omg, yay! let's all dance!" yizhou exclaims happily she tugs both minjeong and jimin's hands and pulls them to the dancefloor. you sigh when you notice you've been left behind. aeri waits for you, though, "are you okay?"

"no, give me a minute." you rub at your temples and set off for the bar, needing a drink to get the nerves out of your body, so you order just a water cup and try to calm yourself down.

feeling the anxiety of being yizhou's caretaker when she's beyond comprehension is taking a toll on you. it doesn't help that it seems to be a recurring event.

you turn around and get ready to face the dance floor when you notice your girl dancing on some guy. the rage flares up in your body, and you practically run towards the dancefloor where yizhou is happily dancing.

"ning, what the actual fuck!" you grab her off of the random dude, to which he drunkenly walks away. yizhou is still confused with what's going on until her eyes refocus on you.

"what?" she questions as she grabs onto your jacket.

"you were dancing up on some guy!" you're angry and hurt, feeling the anger bubbling up from your gut. minjeong and jimin both eye you two warily. the people around you are moving further away.

"no, i wasn't, i was dancing up on you!" she laughs at you and tries pulling you closer to her.

"you weren't! you were too high out of your fucking mind to realize that dude wasn't even me!" you shout, and by now, yizhou is sobering up a bit. eyes still unfocused, but she's trying to recenter herself.

"no, i'm not!" she shouts and gets away from you, feeling insecure. she's rubbing her arms up and down her jacket and watching everyone's eyes on her. she turns back and pushes you.

"stop it!, i didn't do anything wrong!" she shouts, and by now, more people are gathering, watching you two quarrel.

"anything wrong? ning! you're so beyond here that you can't even differentiate between me and some random dude, of course there's something wrong!" jimin is pulling at your arms and minjeong is trying to console a very upset yizhou.

"calm down. it's okay, you know she doesn't know what's going on." jimin tries getting you to take deep breaths. you nod your head, but the hurt is still spreading deep within your chest.

"you are the one that has a problem with me, my own girlfriend, and it is so damn suffocating to be around you!" yizhou shouts and runs off the dancefloor to what is presumably the women's bathroom. hot tears running down her face as she curses you.

now you're aggravated, and people are awed at the spectacle before them. aeri's busy trying to diffuse the situation and asking the dj to turn up the music louder so everyone will go back to dancing. and it mostly works, you calm your breathing a bit, both minjeong and jimin guiding you through your breathing.

"fuck jimin, i don't know what to do with her." you let out a strangled cry at the frustration, trying so hard to hold yourself together tonight, only to find yourself crying not even halfway through the event.

"listen, i know you're upset right now, but you really should go talk to her; you know how inconsolable she gets when she's high and sad." jimin pats your back, and with a sad heart you walk towards the women's bathroom.

you aren't ready to deal with whatever yizhou throws at you.

"excuse me, excuse me." you weave past the line of women outside the bathrooms and finally find the stall that yizhou has put herself in. she's crying into her hands and rocking herself back and forth.

you crouch down and try and tap her knees, she looks up and scowls at you. already reaching for a cigarette in her pocket. you try to take it away from her but she's being fussy about it. yanking it back and grabbing on to her lips.

she waits until you grab the lighter from your back pocket, smiling at you when you help her light up the cigarette and hold it to her mouth. she inhales deeply before leaning back against the bathroom wall.

"ning baby, let's talk outside." you try to gently pull her up.

she seems out of it, dried teary mascara all over her cheeks and smudged makeup on her hands. she stares at you before grabbing you by the collar and smashing her lips against yours.

you mold your lips against hers and forget just how fucked up this all is. how yizhou never wants to talk to you unless she's on something, how it's always her way or the highway. even now, you know this is fueled by the mix of everything that's in her system. so you cry quietly against her lips. grabbing the back of her head to pull her closer.

you miss when yizhou's eyes would light up when they saw you; now you think in her eyes all she sees is just a blob of a figure. her affection runs hot and cold, just like her temper. and you hang onto this moment, wishing she always wants to kiss you, even if she needs something in her system to do so.

upon feeling the wet tears on her cheeks, she pulls back and stares at you. really takes a look at the person she calls her girlfriend, and she hugs you tightly. sobbing into your arms, and you finally are able to hold her to walk out of the dirty club bathroom. she's crying, you're crying; you can't even tell why you're crying anymore. for yourself or for her, you really don't know.

"i'm sorry for treating you like shit." she mumbles into your chest, but you can hear it no matter how quiet she is. "i just don't feel like myself anymore. whenever I'm sober, it's like...I'm just always sad." she continues when you open the backdoor of the club, walking out in the cool air and away from everyone.

"ning baby, you need to lay off the drugs; it's what's fucking up your mood. you're so dependent on it, it's fucking with how you're actually supposed to feel." she cries harder into you, and you set her down; she immediately crouches into herself and sobs. you just sit with her, taking the cigarette from her and taking a few long draws.

"i hate myself for how i treat you." she cries out. the guilty part of yizhou is resurfacing, the intense guilt for how she can't break out of this cycle, needing lines of cocaine to even attend her best friend's party. she's crying less, but now she has the hiccups, and you would tell her it's cute if not for the heavy mood currently.

"you can still get better ning, nothing is stopping you."

"i'm scared that if i do quit the drugs, that i won't be able to love you anymore." she explains and finally it all clicks, how dependent she is on the drugs to uplift her own mood and make you happy. she's so lost in her wallowing that you're also crying. you look at her and see someone crying out for help.

"i don't think that's possible. i think it would make you able to love a lot better. you can feel the full extent of your emotions when you're sober. these are all just quick and cheap thrills to fake happiness." you explain, and she nods, still clutching onto herself for stability.

you reach into your pocket and bring out some napkins, and start wiping down her face, removing the smudged eyeliner and makeup as best as you can, she closes her eyes and just lets you.

it feels like home again, when you used to help her remove her makeup whenever she felt too tired from a long day out.

behind these tired and dull eyes is still your girlfriend; her warmth and love for you are still there, and at least you would like to believe so. you also wipe down her hands and rub them to stop them from shaking.

"ning, let's go home, okay? tonight's been a lot. i'll text aeri about it."

she nods, and you hold her hand and walk to your bike parked next to the club. grabbing the helmet and kissing her forehead before placing it on and clipping it to her head. you turn around and get ready to speed off in the night, with yizhou's arms wrapped tightly around your torso. you send aeri a quick text that you and ning are leaving early, receiving a thumbs up emoji and you look back at yizhou.

"we'll be okay." you say to yourself and take off.

--

a/n: ning is such an opium girlie (giselle too), and you know it. sorry for such an angsty one, was really feeling it with this ningning pic. stay safe and stay healthy everyone!

[marvelavengerspovs1]

Comfort

Pairing: Bucky x F!reader

Warnings: Light mention of politics, fluff

Length: 494

Summary: Bucky comforts you during your time in need.

A/N: Normally I’m not one to be overly vocal about my beliefs, but after the shit show that was the election, I can’t not be. If you know me, I believe that everyone deserves rights, no matter who they are, how they identify, who they love, etc. The type of hate that we see now is only going to increase and I cannot stand by and not say anything. My page will always be a safe space for everyone, no matter what. I wrote this partially to comfort myself, but now I am posting it for everyone else who also needs this. To my friends who are going to be affected by this, I am so sorry that this country has failed you. I am sorry that your rights will be affected by this. I am sorry that people carry this immense amount of hate and don’t know how to mind their own business. Know this; My page will be a safe space for you to be yourself, even in this horrible time. You have someone in your corner who will not judge you and cares for your overall well being. We may not know each other, but I support you.

This is not proofread, I just wanted to put this out.

I do not consent for my work to be translated, copied, or sold!

You lay in your bed, thinking about life. It’s a tough pill to swallow. There are no words to describe the devastation you feel for your friends and family. You continue to stare up at the ceiling, thinking about how much you wished Bucky was home.

Bucky had left a few days prior on a mission. While it shouldn’t be much longer, you still wished he was home. You wished that you could lay in his arms and cry while he held you, telling you that he would do everything in his power to try to help you.

You are so lost in thought, you don’t hear the front door to your apartment open. 

Bucky quietly opens the door, hoping to not disturb you. He gently locks the door and takes off his boots, leaving them by the front door. Alpine is the first to greet him, rubbing against his leg. 

Bucky picks her up to pet her, giving her a gentle kiss on the top of her head. “Hey girl, is she still in bed?”

Alpine purrs to say yes and rubs herself on Bucky’s chest. Bucky frowns slightly but he knew you would be like this. He walks to your shared bedroom, knocking on the door.

“Doll?” He asks tentatively.

Your heart jumps before you turn your head. “Hey, Buck.” You whisper with a small smile and tears in your eyes.

Bucky gently puts Alpine on the bed and cuddles up right next to you. “I’m so sorry, Doll.”

You only nod your head and turn your body to be engulfed by him, wrapping your leg around his waist. “You just being here is helping.”

Bucky doesn’t say anything, only rubbing your back and kissing your temple as you cry in his arms. If there was anything he could do, he would do it. But that’s not possible and he wants to destroy everything because of it.

“I got you, Doll. You can cry, scream, punch, do whatever you need to do.”

You shake your head. “I just need to be with you.”

Bucky nods. “Then we can lay here and waste the day away. Have you eaten?”

You shake your head once more. “No.”

Bucky frowns slightly. “Doll, you need to eat. It’s almost 3 pm.” Alpine meows in agreement.

“I know, I just couldn’t pull myself out of bed.” You reach for Alpine and she lays between you and Bucky, purring at her favorite humans.

“Ok, well do you want to order food?”

You shake your head and scrunch your face. “I feel like if I eat, I’m going to throw up.”

Bucky looks you in the eyes. “Baby, I know. But you have to eat. How about I make you some toast? It’ll fuel you and isn’t super heavy.”

You nod. “Yeah, ok.”

Bucky kisses your forehead. “I know Doll, but we’ll get through this. I will do everything in my power to make sure that you’ll be ok.”

[imaginesforfandom]

A Wolverine's Heartache - Part III

Part I Part II

i'm so sorry it took so long for me to post this!! i've been drowning in work :,(

Logan/James Howlett x Reader

She/Her pronouns used!!

Summary: Logan struggles after seeing a person he loves alive. Will he be able to save her?

In the moments leading up to Logan's journey back in time, the Xavier Institute was a hub of frantic activity, a beacon of hope in the face of impending doom. The threat of the Sentinels loomed large, casting a shadow of fear and uncertainty over the mutant community.

Logan, haunted by the memory of Y/N's tragic death and driven by a desperate need to prevent further loss, had become the linchpin in a daring plan to alter the course of history. With the help of Professor Xavier and a handful of trusted allies, Logan prepared to embark on a mission that would defy the very fabric of time itself.

The decision to send Logan back in time was not made lightly. It required sacrifices – sacrifices that weighed heavily on the hearts of those left behind. Yet, in the face of imminent destruction, there was no room for hesitation.

As Logan stood before the makeshift time-travel device, his resolve hardened like steel. The weight of his mission bore down on him, a burden he carried with grim determination. He knew the risks – the possibility of altering the timeline, of facing enemies both old and new – but the chance to rewrite history and save those he loved was a gamble he was willing to take.

Before he could second-guess himself, Logan braced himself for the journey ahead. With a final glance at his comrades, a silent promise etched in his eyes, he stepped into the swirling vortex of energy, disappearing into the unknown depths of the past.

In that pivotal moment, the fate of the world hung in the balance. For Logan, it was a journey fraught with peril and uncertainty, but it was also a journey fueled by hope – hope for redemption, for a chance to right the wrongs of the past, and for a future where Y/N's death would be nothing more than a distant memory.

As Logan's consciousness shifted through time, propelled back to a pivotal moment before the devastation wrought by the Sentinels, a sense of urgency gripped him like a vice. His mission was clear: to prevent the cataclysmic events that had led to Y/N's tragic demise.

Arriving in the past, Logan found himself in a world that was both familiar and yet subtly different. The Xavier Institute bustled with life, its halls alive with the laughter of students and the gentle hum of telepathic conversations. But for Logan, it was a world tinged with sorrow, a reminder of the losses he had endured.

As he navigated the bustling corridors, searching for allies to aid him in his quest, Logan's heart quickened at the thought of encountering Y/N. She existed in this timeline, vibrant and alive, yet unaware of the role she would play in shaping their shared destiny.

When Logan finally came face to face with Y/N, his breath caught in his throat. She was different here – a younger version of the person he had known, her features softened by innocence and untainted by the scars of war. And yet, there was an undeniable familiarity in her presence, a connection that transcended the boundaries of time.

As their eyes met, Logan felt a surge of emotions wash over him – longing, regret, and a fierce determination to protect her at all costs. In that fleeting moment, he saw echoes of the Y/N he had lost, a reminder of the bond they had shared across time and space.

But for Y/N, Logan was a stranger – a mysterious figure with haunted eyes and a sense of purpose that seemed to emanate from his very being. And yet, there was something in his gaze, a depth of emotion that stirred something within her – a feeling she couldn't quite place.

As Logan reached out to Y/N, his hand trembling with the weight of unspoken truths, he knew that convincing her to join him would be no easy task. But for Y/N, Logan's presence ignited a spark of curiosity, a whisper of destiny that beckoned her towards a future she could not yet fathom.

As Logan stood before the younger version of Y/N, his heart clenched with a mixture of emotions – longing, regret, and an urgent sense of purpose. He knew that convincing her of the impending danger would be no easy task, especially considering she had no recollection of their shared history.

Y/N regarded him with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion, her brows furrowed in confusion. "Who are you?" she demanded, her voice tinged with a hint of defiance.

Logan took a deep breath, steeling himself for the difficult task ahead. "I know this is hard to believe, but you need to listen to me. I'm from the future, and I've seen what happens if we don't act now."

Y/N's eyes widened in disbelief, a scoff escaping her lips. "From the future? That's impossible. Why should I trust you?"

Logan knew he had to choose his words carefully, to break through the wall of skepticism that surrounded her. "I know this is a lot to take in, but I've seen the devastation caused by the Sentinels. They've hunted us down, taken everything from us. If we don't stop them now, there won't be a future for any of us."

Y/N's expression softened slightly, but her hesitation remained palpable. "And why should I believe you? You could be anyone, spinning tales to manipulate me."

Logan's jaw tightened with frustration, but he forced himself to remain calm. He understood her skepticism – after all, he was asking her to believe in the impossible. "I understand your doubts, but you have to trust me. Lives are at stake here, including yours. We need to work together to stop this."

Y/N's gaze flickered with uncertainty, torn between disbelief and a nagging sense of curiosity. She wanted to dismiss Logan's words as the ramblings of a madman, but there was something in his eyes – a depth of sincerity that gave her pause.

As Logan pleaded with her to heed his warning, Y/N felt a surge of conflicting emotions wash over her – fear, anger, and a flicker of hope. In that moment of uncertainty, she grappled with the weight of the decision before her, knowing that the fate of the world rested in her hands – and in the hands of the enigmatic stranger who claimed to hold the key to their salvation.

The moment hung suspended in time, a fragile balance between doubt and determination. Y/N stood before Logan, her gaze locked with his, uncertainty etched into the lines of her face. Logan's plea echoed in the air, a whispered promise of redemption and salvation, and for a fleeting instant, Y/N hesitated.

But then, something shifted within her – a spark of resolve that ignited in the depths of her soul. It was a quiet realization, born from the depths of her own courage and fueled by the unwavering belief that together, they could make a difference.

With a steadying breath, Y/N met Logan's gaze, her voice steady despite the turmoil raging within her. "Alright. I'll help you."

The words hung in the air like a beacon of hope, a testament to the strength of her conviction. In that moment, a weight lifted from Logan's shoulders, replaced by a surge of gratitude and relief. He had expected resistance, perhaps even outright rejection, but Y/N's willingness to trust him filled him with a sense of purpose unlike anything he had ever known.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As the tension reached its peak in the crowded conference room, Logan and Y/N moved with precision and determination, their eyes locked in silent communication. They had trained for this moment, prepared for the pivotal role they would play in altering the course of history.

Amidst the chaos, Mystique, disguised as a government official, made her move, her gun trained on Trask, the architect of the Sentinel program. But before she could pull the trigger, Logan sprang into action, his instincts honed by years of combat.

With a swift motion, he intercepted Mystique's shot, deflecting the bullet away from its intended target. The room erupted into chaos as panic spread like wildfire, but Logan remained focused, his gaze never wavering from Mystique's determined form.

Beside him, Y/N moved with a grace and precision that belied her years, her powers weaving through the air like a symphony of light and shadow. With a flick of her wrist, she immobilized Mystique, her telekinetic abilities holding her captive in a shimmering cocoon of energy.

As the dust settled and order was restored, Logan and Y/N shared a fleeting glance, a silent acknowledgment of the pivotal role they had played in preventing catastrophe. In that moment, the bond between them deepened, forged in the crucible of adversity.

But as they stood amidst the aftermath of their actions, a sense of uncertainty lingered in the air. The future remains uncertain, and the threat of the Sentinels still loomed large. Yet, for the first time in a long time, Logan allowed himself to feel a glimmer of hope – a hope that with Y/N by his side, they could face whatever challenges lay ahead, together.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As Logan's consciousness shifted back to the future, his senses reeled from the disorienting transition. The world around him was a blur of chaos and destruction, the aftermath of the battle against the Sentinels evident in the smoldering ruins that surrounded him. But amidst the devastation, one sight stood out like a beacon of light in the darkness.

There, among the ragged survivors, stood Y/N – her presence a ray of hope amidst the despair. For a moment, time seemed to stand still as Logan's gaze locked onto her familiar form, his heart swelling with a mixture of relief and gratitude.

Without hesitation, he moved towards her, his steps fueled by an overwhelming urge to reach her side. As he drew closer, their eyes met, and in that instant, a flood of emotions washed over him – longing, regret, and a fierce determination to protect her at all costs.

Unable to resist any longer, Logan closed the distance between them in a single stride, his arms enveloping Y/N in a tight embrace. It was a gesture born from the depths of his soul, a silent vow to never let her go again.

In that poignant moment, as Logan's arms enveloped Y/N in a tight embrace amidst the wreckage of their war-torn world, a whirlwind of emotions stirred within him, threatening to overwhelm his senses.

First and foremost was an overwhelming sense of relief – relief that Y/N was alive and standing before him, a beacon of hope amidst the devastation. The mere sight of her, her presence a comforting reminder of their shared history and the bond they had forged, filled his heart with a profound sense of gratitude.

But alongside relief, there was also a deep-seated longing – a longing for the lost time, for the moments they had shared before the world had descended into chaos. Seeing Y/N again awakened a flood of memories, memories of laughter and camaraderie, of unspoken connections and shared moments that now felt like distant echoes in the wake of tragedy.

Mixed with longing was a potent undercurrent of regret – regret for the pain and suffering they had endured, for the lives lost and the futures stolen. Logan couldn't help but wonder if there was more he could have done, if he could have somehow prevented the devastation that had torn them apart.

Yet, amidst the tumult of emotions, there was also a fierce determination – a determination to protect Y/N at all costs, to ensure that she would never again face the horrors of war alone. In that moment, as he held her close, Logan made a silent vow to do whatever it took to keep her safe, to carve out a future where they could finally find peace.

And underlying it all was a profound sense of love – a love that transcended time and space, a love that had endured despite the odds. In Y/N's arms, Logan found solace amidst the chaos, a glimmer of hope in a world consumed by darkness.

After the embrace had ended, Logan held onto Y/N's hands tightly, his gaze locking with hers with a newfound intensity. In that moment, the weight of his unspoken emotions pressed heavily upon him, urging him to finally lay bare the truth that had long been buried within his heart.

"Y/N," he began, his voice rough with emotion, "I… I need you to know something. I've been a fool, blind to what's been right in front of me all along."

Y/N's eyes widened in surprise, her heart fluttering with a mixture of anticipation and apprehension. She waited with bated breath as Logan continued, his words carrying the weight of a lifetime's worth of regrets.

"I love you, Y/N," Logan confessed, his voice barely above a whisper but filled with an undeniable sincerity. "I've loved you for longer than I care to admit, but I was too damn stubborn to see it. I let my fears and insecurities cloud my judgment, and for that, I'm sorry."

Tears welled in Y/N's eyes at Logan's confession, her heart swelling with a rush of emotions she could hardly comprehend. In that moment, the walls she had built around her heart crumbled, leaving her vulnerable but unafraid.

"Logan," she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion, "I love you too. I've loved you for as long as I can remember, but I was too afraid to say it. Too afraid of what it might mean, of what we might lose."

Their hands tightened around each other's, a silent vow passing between them. In that shared moment of vulnerability, Logan and Y/N laid bare their hearts, their love for each other a beacon of hope in a world shrouded in darkness.

And as they stood together, tears mingling with smiles, they knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, as long as they were together, they would face them with unwavering courage and unyielding love. For in each other's arms, they had found a home – a sanctuary amidst the chaos, where their love could flourish and grow stronger with each passing day.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

again, i'm so sorry it took me so long!!! this term has been so exhausting :,(

i really hope you guys liked the final part!! i hadn't meant to make it this long but i got a little carried away lol. i know it's not fully canon to the movies, sorry bout that.

[stackslip]

OK OK CHAINSAW MAN THOUGHTS FOR THIS CHAPTER UHHH i haven't done this in a while.

love, love the continuation of the previous chapter's yoru pointing up into these regular americans pointing up (possibly giving the gun devil more strength inadvertently?). this series of chapters is gonna be such a treat to read once it's put into a volume

lots of talk about how "freedom" and "gun" sound almost the same in japanese and this is clearly a dark pun, but the thing i also really love here is.... the arm symbolizing the "light"/flame of america/american styled "freedom" falling and replaced by a gun. the bit of the gun devil clearly having emerged FROM the statue, crawling out of it and revealing its ghastly interior, the sham it's always been. fujimoto's works starting with fire punch have always been obsessed with the idea of the image/representation and the many truths it disguises, how ugly realities are turned into stories, or propaganda, or even into merchandise to be bought, sold, covered up, used as justification for idleness or atrocities. belief is what makes devils powerful. the statue of liberty symbolizes deep held beliefs that America is all about pursuing dreams and protecting freedom, no matter what america's actual past and present actions reflect upon it. this is just the nature of that symbol and what it represents laid bare for all to see!

one of part 2's greatest strengths and worst weaknesses has been asa's passivity--which fits thematically, and makes her character that much more realistic and interesting when fujimoto bothers to draw her and put her emotions center stage (and makes it that much more depressing when she barely has a role outside of gawking at new information). but see this--this! this is what i want! this is what makes asa's passivity so devastating as a character! the exchange here is SO perfect, from yoru having committed the crime to asa suddenly being in her place, witness to the atrocity she's let herself be an accomplice to--and by extension, having committed it herself! we've seen that most of her power is fueled by guilt and regret--something that comes to her so, so naturally. and now she's confronted with it. with the results of her actions, of her dreams and attempts to save chainsaw man (to have a friend/someone who could love and understand her). the results of her passivity vis-à-vis yoru. she's committed this atrocity, essentially. she can't hide behind yoru for it. this is her body too.

just an unbelievable panel. the hole looks like it's *bleeding*, like a bullet wound on a corpse. sick sick sick!

see what i mean re asa's passivity being so compelling when used right. how could i forget? how could i get so comfortable? gd. also yoru's laugh is so good she looks so awkward. and most importantly she looks like nayuta did when making fun of asa after making her bark like a dog. sisters!

sick ass design. absolutely TWISTED parallel to when denji last faced the gun devil, with humans helping denji and begging him to save them. TWISTED parallel to makima's "save me, chainsaw man" and asa's own "i'll save you, chainsaw man!". fujimoto king of making narrative parallels so evil you'll feel sick ever rereading the first panels.

yeah uh i'm just gonna drop the parallel here and fucking run and die. isn't it romantic? you understand, don't you chainsaw man? you of all people would get the love involved in this?

the juxtaposition of the ruined city by asa/yoru and the children being led to the slaughter by the japanese government to resurrect denji is just. jesus christ man

[brandwhorestarscream]

I need the whole story of D-16 and his sparkling with Sentinal! It's such an amazing story. Take ur time tho.

Well thank you for saying so, that's so sweet! And I'm pleased to announce that I'm givin ya'll the next chapter here and now!

Part 1, Part 2, Part 4

They have suffered enough for one day.

Alpha Trion departs swiftly, disappearing out through the tunnel they had explored to get here, leaving the four of them in solitude. They cling to each other in the darkness, exhausted and sick and hopeless. Orion and D-16 remain wound tightly around one another, the silver mech continuing to tremble with the stress of everything bearing down on him. Orion holds him, fully with both arms, wrapped as tightly and securely around his body as they can, keeping Dee snuggled against his chassis. Dee clings to him, desperate for comfort that isn’t coming, hiding his face in the underside of Orion’s neck. His EM field throbs weakly, sluggishly, exhausted even as potent grief and fear gushes off of him and contaminates the air around them. It’s impossible to escape, and the four of them stew helplessly in the aura of misery. They’re all contributing toward it, but none more than D-16. It’s just too much.

Alpha Trion finds them just where he left them, huddled together like frightened nestlings that flinch at every little sound, and their optics are full of fear when he returns, til they notice it’s him. Then the fear abates, replaced with longing and misery that he can’t soothe.

The fuel their guardian has brought is in liquid form, to their surprise. The energon they stripped from the mines was all solid, and even after processing became squishy and malleable, like thick petroleum jelly. Capable of holding it’s own form without assistance, but easy giving out under the force of pinching fingers. This wasn’t at all like that: it sloshed and splashed within the old cube, and was steaming, little ribbons of heat curling off of it and into the air.

“You first, Dee,” no one protests Orion’s insistence, propping his friend up. Dee has by now gone limp, optics faded and empty as he struggled to process everything, and the horrible, gnawing pressure of the choice he faced. Orion shakes him gently, but it’s like his friend can’t even hear him, optics listless as they stare deeply into space, as if he’s watching something a thousand miles away. Orion jostles him again. “Dee…? H-Hey, come on, you’re scaring me-!”

“Do not panic, little one.” Alpha Trion reaches out and gently presses the tip of one finger to D-16’s forehelm, and the silver mech jumps. His optics snap up to the old Prime, trance broken, and his expression remains blank for only a second before it crumbles back into devastation. He sobs, and turns away to curl further into Orion, shoulders shaking again. Orion rubs his back, laying his chin atop the other’s helm as his own optics sting.

“Dee…” Orion sniffles. “I-It’s time to eat.”

They shuffle around for a moment, and finally, Dee’s tearstained face peeks out, the epitome of misery. Oily tears dried and caked to his face, vents still shuddering and hiccuping and leaking little bits of backed up cleanser. His mouth is downturned, lips still trembling, optics narrow and sore from so much crying. He hiccups, clinging tightly to Orion. He swallows, and rasps out his first words since Onyx Prime had left them. “I…” his voice cracks grandly, tone hoarse and stuffy. His systems are clogged. “I’b not- h-hungry…”

“C’mon, you’ve gotta be hungry,” B-127 speaks up, wringing his servos worriedly. The journey here had taken them multiple days, and D-16 had been violently ill the entire time. He had to be running on empty! There was hardly anything left in his tanks to throw up, and- “Ohhh, I get it. You’re scared you’re gonna vom again, ri-”

“Don’t-!” Dee covers his mouth, optics squeezed shut. “P-Please, don’t…”

Onyx Prime’s blessing had chased away the worst of his symptoms, for now, but it wouldn’t last forever. For the first time in several decacycles, his digestive tanks weren’t sloshing and roiling like a stormy sea, but they were still incredibly tender and sore from all the abuse they’d endured. He was sure, if he tried to refuel, it would just come back up. His fuel gauge was at a measly 7%: any further and he’d probably drop into stasis lock, but the idea of food was downright revolting.

“You must try, little one,” Alpha Trion implores him. “You will not recover if you are starving.”

Dee’s systems make a high pitched keening noise, and Orion gently rubs his arm. “...please, Dee?” he asks, voice soft and hesitant. “Just try? For me?” He picks up the cube in one shaking servo, raising it to the silver mech’s face. Dee’s expression remains pinched and uncomfortable, and Orion gives him a gentle squeeze. “C’mon… one sip?”

Nearby, Elita huffs when D-16 still shakes his helm. “Well, I’m not refueling until you do.”

That gets his attention. He turns toward her, confusion painted on his face. “What are you-”

“If you’re going on a hunger strike then I am too,” she folds her arms in challenge, brows furrowed and lips pulled into a tight pout. “If you’re gonna try to starve yourself to death then I’m gonna starve to death, too.”

“Oh oh, oh! Me too, me too!” Bee eagerly waves one arm in the air. “I’ll go on strike too, I’ve always wanted to do a strike!”

D-16 glances back and forth between them, looking panicked. “Wait, no-”

“Me three,” Orion actually manages to smile. It’s small and frail, but it’s there, and Dee stares at him incredulously. “I’m not eating til you do, either.”

“Wha- bu-” at a loss, he glances at Alpha Trion for help, who looks just as bemused as he feels. “You guys, you c-can’t just-”

“Too bad,” Elita glowers at him challengingly. “You don’t want us to starve? Then you don’t get to starve, either. Fair’s fair.”

“Just ooone sip, Dee?” Orion looks hopefully, still holding up the cube of fuel. It’s begun to cool now, no longer steaming, but still every bit as thin and fluid as before. Orion gently sloshes the cube back and forth. “See, look, it’ll go down easy, you won’t even have to chew.”

Helpless against all three of them and unable to bear the idea of none of them eating because of him–especially after Orion carried him most of the way here and was probably painfully hungry as well–he nervously concedes. “...ok,” he swallows unsurely, eyeing the fuel with trepidation. Orion is gentle as he brings it forward to press against his mouth, and Dee tries to steal himself. The first sip flows into his mouth and he coughs, clamping one servo over his mouth and forcing it down. His tanks cramp painfully and he hunches over, but… nothing comes of it. He takes several slow breaths, then turns back to Orion, nodding.

His best friend smiles wider, and presses a gentle, chaste kiss to his temple before raising the cube once more. “Couple more, then we’ll have some, ok?”

Elita refuses to take the cube til D-16’s drained about 20% of the contents, at last dropping his face into Orion’s shoulder and telling them he really will get sick if he has any more. She gently takes it from him, refusing to let B-127 hold it, not trusting him not to drop or spill any of the precious fuel. “Open,” she commands, and he does as she says, letting her press it against his mouth and tilting it steeply. “Now chug.”

When he’s done gulping down his portion, she hands it back to Orion, who tries to protest. “No, uh, you go ahead-”

“Shut up,” she barks the order. “Drink, now!”

“Yes ma’m!” he squeaks, optics wide like a dipole-doe in headlights, drinking down the lukewarm energon.

Once they’ve all eaten–Alpha Trion included–the old Prime sits cross legged before them. There’s still more to talk about, like their missing cogs and the matter of D-16’s health. He tells them, in no uncertain terms, that so long as he hosts the sparkling within him? He’ll have to cater to its needs if he wants to stop being so sick. “I understand that this subject is very, uncomfortable for you,” he says, regretful. “But we cannot afford to delay. Your child will continue to sicken you until its material requirements are satisfied.”

D-16 seemed to shrink, looking queasy at the idea. “I- I can’t! Not with him, not after-” he gags and covers his mouth.

“No, not with him, little one. You have suffered his touch enough,” Alpha Trion shakes his head. “You shouldn’t engage with such things unless you are certain. But, in order for your sparkling to live and for your own health to improve, you must intake the proper donations, regularly.”

Dee huddles close to Orion, audials ringing and only half-listening as the much older mech explains. If they were still home in Iacon, it would’ve been easy. Ratchet could administer it artificially, he could be numb and not have to feel it. He could have his choice of donor; he knows plenty of his batchmates and fellow cogless would be more than willing to donate. He could have Orion next to him to hold his hand and distract him so he didn’t have to think about it.

Here, though…

Here, his options are limited. They don’t have the luxury of medical tools or numbing medication. No choice but to do it the old fashioned way, and the thought makes his tanks turn. He’s only just met B-127. He likes the little chatterbox well enough, but he could never be intimate with him. Ever. Elita, he knows her better, but their relationship had always been rather strictly professional, and the idea of her domineering and straightforward personality being directed at him while they… oh, Primus, no. The thought makes him want to cry. He… he never wants to interface again, honestly. Just considering it makes him feel dirty, makes shame burn at his cheeks and neck.

Alpha Trion made it clear that he would if asked, but D-16 can’t imagine asking anything more of the mystical mech that’s looking after them. Besides, they just met, and he’s so much bigger than them… about the same size as Sentinel. He shudders just thinking about it.

That leaves only Orion, but… he can’t ask him. He- He suffered the same thing that Dee did, Sentinel had violated him too, how could he be so selfish and ask him to engage in the most disgusting and horrible thing of all? How could he ask his friend to touch the same place Sentinel had, how could he ask him to help grow that monster’s spawn? Orion didn’t deserve to have such a choice foisted on him-

“...Dee,” Orion’s voice drifts into his audials like a soothing balm, so warm and gentle. “Hey, um… c-can I- I mean, I wouldn’t mind if-”

“What?!”

Orion makes a sound that almost passes as a humorless laugh. His weight shifts beneath D-16, and he snuggles him close. He hasn’t let go this whole time, keeping his carrying friend cocooned safely in his arms for several megacycles. He rocks them both back and forth for a moment, trying to find the right words. “I just... I- I know this’s gonna be… h-hard. Really hard,” he swallows and blinks rapidly, as his optics strain to fill with tears but his reserves are still empty. “B-But, we- uh-” his optics flit over to Elita and B-127. The femme takes the hint, pointedly turning away and loudly asking Bee a question. Orion lowers his lips to murmur softly in Dee’s audio receptor. “We were both there, I- I’ve already seen you and you’ve already seen me, so, it- it won’t be awkward, and I won’t tell anyone, and,” he presses his nose into D-16’s cheek, optics sliding closed. “I… w-wanna do it with you. Cuz-”

Because you’re not Sentinel. Because I trust you. Because I love you. Because I’m worried for you and this is the only way I can help you.

So many reasons, and all of the words die in his throat. Unable to speak, he cuddles closer to Dee, letting their EM fields mix and mingle. He doesn’t push, doesn’t try to force it, and instead just lets his emotions flow and ebb like the tide, lapping up against his dearest friend, hope and tenderness offering themselves warmly. To his relief, Dee heaves a sigh of relief and snuggles into him, one servo snaking around to gently interlace their fingers and squeeze him tight.

“You…” he takes a shaky invent. “Y-You really… wouldn’t mind?” Orion nods in affirmation, and Dee gives his first, weak little smile in days. It's sheer relief, realizing he won't have to suffer through it with a stranger and, instead, his best and most beloved friend. “Ok,” it comes out in a whispered rush. “Alright… y-yeah, ok… let’s- l-let’s do it.”

...

And that's a wrap on this piece! Hope you enjoyed it lol, next time prepare for schmoopy fluffy adorable healing sex between these two traumatized babies. Part 4 only comes when ya'll abuse my ask box for it, so~