#with time of course but baby steps 🤞🏾🤞🏾🤞🏾

[gixxie]

So you gonna sit there and tear my heart into shreds.😭😭 Gosh this was written so beautifully. I can feel reader's pain. It hurts so good but I want to protect them from the world 😭😭. Something about this HITS. reader confessing their feelings, admitting the hardest truth of their life. It's so raw and real I think! Facing parenthood is hard. Extremely hard when you're doing it alone. And it doesn't help when ghost comes in back and forth whenever he wants (or please) while reader is left to pick up to pieces when he leaves. You conveyed the pain and heartache so well I'm emotional. The back and forth, Ghost trying to push that it's different and reader like "but is it really?". OH I wanna say as much as he's like saying it's different, I like that he's letting them get their emotions out, letting them doubt him. They have every right to of course. And maybe it's because he can't find the right words but it feels like for once he's fucking listening and not trying to sweet talk (or fuck). Gosh and reader admitting they'd let him fuck again despite the heartache, knowing he'd bounce as soon as he can. PLEASE... I'm in pain. My heart in million pieces. Something about being unable to let him go. UGH I wanna fight him 😂😂 how dare he. Ya know what (excuse my little tangent) BUT HOW DARE HE BE "you're as close as I've gotten to loving you". okay I do respect that because how would he know what love is I guess. BUT BITCH YOU BETTER FALL IN LOVE, BE FUCKIN' DOWN BAD IF YOU KEEP COMING TO MY FUCKIN' HOUSE. Can't be popping up like a damn cockroach and not love me. NOT HEARING IT.

white flag toxic baby daddy!ghost x reader part 5/?

synopsis: maybe it's time to give up the ghost. lord knows you tried.

wc: 2k

cw: afab!reader, angst, hurt and some comfort (finally), language, allusions to postpartum depression, abandonment issues, trust issues, no gendered language, discussions of pregnancy. no use of y/n ever.

author’s note: the talk is finally here! i hope you enjoy, i am very proud of it. new to baby blue? start here.

It’s almost one in the morning when the bed creaks under Ghost's body, signalling his departure. The immediate absence of his warmth, the loss of his skin on yours makes you miserable in a way you wish you didn't have to examine. It makes you feel weak and yearning and empty and wistful all at once, tumbling all the emotions together until it spills out of your mouth unbidden.

“Will you stay?” You whisper it, almost as if you want it to go unheard.

It's heard.

Immediately, Ghost stops moving, stops dressing. Hell, you're almost positive he'd stopped breathing.

“You want me to?” he turns to face you, expression typically placid but his body frozen with tension.

You feel like you’re going to be sick all over your sheets when you croak “yeah” out into the stillness of your bedroom, spitting your white flag at his feet, for him to accept or trample over. 

Neither of you move for what feels like an eternity. Staring into each other's faces like they hold the answers to all the bullshit questions you made in each other. 

You break first. 

"C'mere. Please." You shift under your blanket, nodding your head towards the indent he’d made in your mattress, the sheets still warm from his heat.

Ghost is quick to move, reclaiming his spot in your bed, sliding under your covers and into your grasp, where you can cling to him like you wanted to years ago. Like you want to now. 

Your head sits on the swell of his chest, his heart beating even and quick below your ear. The position you're in makes your lower back twinge, but neither of you move, your legs now twisted in his. Initially, when he’d returned after Tommy’s fourth birthday, you’d been worried about what you’d say to him, how you’d finally tell him everything you’ve been thinking from the moment he left you. Now, the words are easy. They come when they are called, straight from your mind, stewed in your grief, pinched, sorrowful words, soaked with your tears, spoken into the dark, thin fabric of his shirt.

“I hate you.” You gasp, and wind howls through the cavern in your chest, “I hate you so much, I wish I never met you.” Hot tears burn your eyes and slide over your nose and cheeks, you hiccup through your burning throat and just speak.

"You ruined my life, you gave me this person, this little person who needs me for everything, and then you abandoned me. For so long I hated you and I hated him." Ghost's chest stops rising and falling for a moment when you confess it, the shame and anger catching him off guard. It's clear he can't quite believe it after seeing you with Tommy day after day, being who your son needed you to be, raising him, loving him, all like it was second nature. And why should he? He was off God knows where, doing God knows what while you tumbled through heavy bouts of depression and self loathing. Days where you wanted to stay rotting in your bed, but Tommy's reedy, desperate cries forced you to rise, to resist. 

"I hated my own son. My baby. Because of you." The window in your bedroom is open, and the rain outside gets heavier, like it’s trying to drown out the sounds of your confession, your accusation, like it wants to bury your humiliation and vitriol under the rushing white noise. Fill the cavern with water instead of letting it close.

“Why couldn't you just stay for me, Simon? Why couldn't you be who I needed you to be?” 

He’s breathing again, slow and steady but you can hear his heart thud irregularly in his chest, like it’s trying to follow the thread of your thoughts, but it can’t quite keep tempo. 

‘He’s scared.’ you think, and for the first time, in a long time, it doesn’t feel good. 

“I felt like I was dying. Tommy has your big ass head,” your laughter sounds like a death rattle, but you press on, spilling the dark, black ichor of the past onto Simon, into the bed you share. "It hurt so bad, the worst pain I ever felt. And I was alone. You left me alone. I wanted to die so bad.”

“I'm sorry.” he finally speaks, and it’s always a little surreal to hear his voice without it being muffled by a mask after so long. Strange to hear how deep and clear his voice can be when there isn’t a barrier between you, or your blood rushing past your ears. 

Ghost is holding you so tight, like you’ll get up and bolt at any minute, and maybe you will. Cause he’d deserve it. He’d deserve to be left behind. Just this once.

“Why? You knew what you were doing to me. You left knowing I wanted him. Knowing I'd do it all by myself. And now you're back, and you want to what? Fuck me? Break me? What do you want, Simon? How can I make you stop this…game you're playing.” You’re crying again, a small headache beginning to form at the base of your skull, reminding you what sorrow costs, what getting it all out will bring you. Pain. Pain that leaves you feeble and empty and bone-fucking-tired.

Somehow, his arms tighten around you further, feeling all at once like attachment and hatred and deep deep longing for intimacy with the one person who saw you as you were and decided he didn't want to stick around to see the rest. 

“And you know what? I know that none of this means shit for you because I let you fuck me again. Because I have no goddamn self control." You have to rein yourself back from shouting into the dark. "No self respect. A-and I can't stop missing you, missing you and me together, because it felt so real, it felt like you loved me." You anchor yourself up, letting the tears that collected on your nose and cheeks fall onto his chest. The pressure in your ears changes and you sniff against your runny nose. You feel pathetic, tiny in the wake of the all encompassing ache he brings with him everywhere. You can barely see him in the dark but you try to meet his eyes anyway. "If you ever, ever cared about me, if you care about your son, Simon, you will stop trying to break me down. You will give up on being a family. You lost your fucking chance. And it's not fair for you to come back when I know - I know - you're going to leave again."

You're short of breath and light headed when you finally stop, gulping down air and springing up tears for the third time, burning hot on your face, stinging your eyes so badly you worry the pain will never subside.

He waits a moment, before he sits up too, like he wants to be sure you got it all out before he tries and inevitably fails to make everything better. 

"I fucked up. I get that. But I can't let go of it. Of this." His voice creates this itch inside your head, like it needs something specific to go away. You’re sitting between his legs now, hands fisted in your soft white blanket, the body warmed fabric poking out between your fingers. 

“I’m trying, and you don’t want me to. He doesn’t need me to. But I want to.”

You both sit with it for a while, chewing on each other’s regrets, on his mistakes, on your heartache. It’s strange, hearing an actual apology from him, like you’d dreamed about early on. Cloudy blue and pink fantasies about opening your front door and seeing the father of your child on his knees, begging for forgiveness, grovelling for a second chance. It hadn’t happened, of course. And you’d let him into your bed anyway, because you’d missed him, four years and five months had passed you by and you still felt his absence, still felt cold at night, still felt empty in the morning. So when he knocked, you let him in.

And maybe that’s where the next question you ask him comes from. You were rarely jealous when you were actually "together", but now, the idea of Simon, your Simon, cuddled up with someone different? Enjoying himself while you toiled? Chuckling deep and low while you cried to your ceiling? It made your stomach turn. Maybe you weren't so much jealous as you were bitter. Bitter, you knew. Bitter was your closest friend. Bitter stood by your side while you raised your son, paid your bills, scrubbed your floors. Bitter was all you could taste lately.

"Was there ever…anyone else?"

He shifts next to you. Tries to play it off like a stretch. Like the line of questioning didn't burrow under his skin like a mite, eager to lay eggs that hatch guilt into his blood.

But you know better. You know him better. 

"No one important." He mutters. 

"Well that doesn't matter, I wasn't important and you knocked me up!" Your laugh smacks of your best friend, its acrid taste settling in your mouth.

"You were important. Are important." He asserts, circling his hand around the back of your neck, squeezing once before he lets go.

"Not enough for you to stay. Or call." You mumble.

You aren't even looking at him and you know his hand is up over his face, shielding him from God knows what. 

“I needed you to stay the same. And you couldn’t anymore.” You want to turn and face him, argue that he changed you. You didn’t make your son by yourself after all. He stops you, keeps you facing your bedroom wall while he hunches over to press his face into the curve where your neck meets your shoulder.

"And I don’t want to need anybody, I haven’t in a long time."

"Least of all me, huh?"

“You know that isn’t true.”

“I don’t know shit.” You gesture around your hands waving over the entire of your bedroom. “Clearly. If I knew what you thought of me, we wouldn’t be here. In this fucking…mess. Right?” 

It’s another white flag, if you were being honest, an opportunity for him to take your olive branch and not smack you across the face with it. A sign that the fuel for this particular fire, at least, has begun to burn out, leaving little but glowing embers behind.  

In lieu of speaking, his arms tighten around you again. It’s not an answer, not really, but you leave it alone. You push on a different wound. And another. And another. You poke and prod Simon with every question you’d had while he was gone, and you don’t care about the blood you leave in your wake. 

“Does the force know?” They do now.

“How?” I told ‘em.

“Why’d you tell them?” It’s…You’re important.

“No we aren���t. Not to you.” A shake of the head and a quiet rebuttal.

Eventually, it feels like the two of you keep speaking in circles, he asserts things are different, you doubt and lay righteous blame, he apologizes and asserts things have changed now, and so on and so forth until the late hour tugs at your swollen eyelids. He pulls you down to the mattress, lays back and arranges you across his chest once more. Your legs fit together a little better now, and you can feel sleep slowly taking hold of you. 

Before you slip under, you murmur into his chest; "Simon.” He makes a low noise in his throat, an indication of his attention. “Do you love me? Did you ever love me?" It’s a plea for the truth, for an answer so irrefutable that it finally soothes the ache, scratches the itch, mends the torn fabric that lays between you.

"You're as close as I ever got." You feel his lips press against the crown of your head before you fall asleep, succumbing to a simple, dreamless slumber.

When you wake up the next morning, he's there. Not sleeping. His hair is a mess, and his face is bare. He's reclined against your headboard, reading a romance paperback you borrowed from the library, frowning at the yellowed pages like it's written in Latin.

When you start to cry, he holds you until Tommy stirs awake, knocking at your door for Sunday morning pancakes.

so...what'd we think? this one made my husband cry :)

series masterlist here

support city girls who like sad broken men, reblog what you like.

[shurisbathwater]

::𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄

PART 1

"--𝐈 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐀 𝐁𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄"

Riri Williams x black fem ! Reader

𝐖 𝐀 𝐑 𝐍 𝐈 𝐍 𝐆 ::  smoking weed , slight smut , cussing , friends w benefits 😛(fav trope)

A/n:: imagine y/n in the bohemian aesthetic 🤞🏾🤞🏾 idk she just gives me that vibe

Favourite by nicki minaj & jerimih

"--𝐈 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐆𝐎, baby." Your girlfriend, shuri said as you sat on her lap, pouting at her. Shuri had been your girlfriend for about a month now, she certainly had the looks ... from her two toned plump lips to her dark skin and curly hair. She was exactly your type, but sometimes you felt like she wasn't being exactly truthful.

Alot of the time, actually.

"Okoye called me over." She chuckled lightly at your face. "You said we'd chill at home today. You always go out." You rolled your eyes as you got up from her lap. Though you knew it wasn't her "okoye".

"cmon love, don't be like that." She got up to caress your cheek. You looked up at her as she did it. She was quite tall. You were only 5"7. "Ill be home by ten." She pecked your cheek and walked out of the room, heading to the door.

Yeah, she was 100% lying to your face.

You heard a slam coming from the main door, of course. You sighed as you sat on the bed, alone once again. Fuck, you needed a smoke. With your favourite person, Riri Williams.

You : you tryna roll up or what?

Riri : you already know the answer babe

You grinned to yourself , but quickly stopped. You had a girlfriend. But the most attractive thing about Riri was that she always had your back, and the fact that she was so persistent with you.

You had led her on a couple of times, which you had regretted. Bit by bit it would eat you alive. Yet you still felt an itch of irritation when she talked to other girls.

I dont wanna hype ya

But you a lucky nigga

If my mean ass like ya

You grab your keys and walk to Riris, she lived a few floors down , all it took was a simple elevator.

You close the door behind you and dust off your outfit, a skirt and tube top you made yourself.

The Elevator opened within seconds and now you were on Riri's floor.

You took a couple of steps to Riri's apartment and knock on the door. She opens within seconds and you take a minute to admire...her in general.

She had just got her Knottless braids done , edges laid and a simple white tank top with some sweats. "Hey bae" you say as you come in to hug her. You always called eachother pet names, though Shuri didn't really like it.

Her hand traced your hips, all the way down to your...

Nevermind.

"Let me get a blunt." You giggled as you clapped your hands jokingly.

'Cause if its you I would change for

You always make sure ...

I just wanna be your favourite.

You headed to her room to roll up, of course. And thats what you did--before you knew it you were couped up on one of her balcony chairs, her sitting beside you.

You looked at Instagram and clicked on Shuris story, that wasn't Okoye's house. At all. You saw another girl, faceless due to her back facing the screen.

"Oh." You said as your voice cracked. "Pass the blunt. Quick I need it."

"Couldve been a bit more discreet." You muttered. "Whats up?" She asked. To turn the phone to her and she raises her brows. "I was right about her ass." She scoffed as she took a hit of the blunt.

"You never liked her, Riri."

" And I hope she knows it. Ion like seeing anyone with you."

You chuckled lightly as you turned off your phone, she always knew how to make you feel better. Riri passed the blunt to you and you held it in your hand for a minute. "She's a liar. I told you"

"Forreal, fuck out my face, you know what I mean?" You said as you  exhaled, letting the smoke from the blunt leave your mouth. You passed it back to Riri, your eyes starting to feel heavy.

"I feel you." She replies,taking the blunt in her hands and getting a hit. "Mhm." You hummed as you adjusted yourself in the chair. "I cant believe i let her fuck on me." You mumbled as you look at the time on your phone.

"who wouldn't fuck you though?"

"You would?"

"Yeah."

"You tryna test that theory?"

"I think your already high, let's put this out..." you say as she takes another puff. This time the smoke blows straight into your mouth.

"Completely sober."

You both lean in and kiss, her tounge swirling in your mouth. She starts off at a steady pace and leans in a bit more and kisses harder. You gasp throughout the kiss.

I just wanna be your favourite.

Your heart beat quickened as you realised this is all you've been dreaming about ... this exact moment. She goes down to your neck and you wince at her touch, knowing she's going to take out all of her internalised feelings on you.

"Am I your favourite y/n?" She asked as she slipped her hand up your thigh, your knee length skirt getting in the way. You didnt reply, you knee what you were doing. You were doing something so bad, but it felt so good.

"Say it."

"Yes." You said breathlessly.