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yandere-sins · 1 year

Note

Can I request a yandere Diluc smut? With the use of aphrodisac or somnophilia if possible 🙏🏻

Thanks for requesting!

Warnings: Yandere, Sexual Content (Somnophilia, Non-Con, AFAB body, Dirty Thoughts, Creampie, Fingering), Kidnapping

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Sinking his cock into you was as if you delivered him from all the regrets and wrongdoings in his life in one meager dip.

He never let it come this far before, never went against what he thought was justified. But that was all before he experienced your warmth wrapping around his cock. Before he found you half uncovered from your blanket, your nightgown slid upwards to expose the supple flesh of your ass to him. It seemed so long ago, even if it had just been a few minutes that he let his fingertips glide over the curve of your cheeks, his self-restraint hanging on a thin thread with his cock impatiently throbbing under the tight pants he wore. But when he explored further, careful not to wake you with one hand between your thighs, prying through your soft folds giving way to him, all the restraint simply... snapped.

Now, even this seemed justified in his eyes.

Diluc never knew how adorable the sound of your moans and whines was. How beautiful you could wind your body while he slid his fingers under the fabric of your panties and inside you, joint after joint, yearning to give you the pleasure you deserved. The pleasure he wanted you to have. For years he'd been keeping you under his roof, never knowing the sweetness of your cunt until now, licking it off his fingertips, pupils dilating as if he was becoming addicted after just one taste of you.

All this time, he tried to keep you safe and ensured no harm came to you. He fed you, clothed you, bought you everything you could wish for, and all he ever received was disdain and ill-spoken words thrown at his head. Until now, Diluc accepted it with no resistance. If he ignored your unhappiness, he could go on with his day despite having a heavy heart beating and yearning for you in his chest, so he never allowed himself to linger when you so clearly didn't want him. But had he known the sweetness awaiting him, he might have been more assertive in getting between your thighs, drinking from the source of life and pleasuring you at the same time.

This new book he got you was his way of worming himself back into your life, but when he went to give it to you, you had already fallen asleep. The coldest of cold shoulders, but your ass on display made him into a simple man with simple desires. If you'd allow him, he'd worship you, head to toe, with his body and soul. Diluc always felt like it was never the right time to bring it up, but whenever he had the chance to see you, it was all he could think about.

And there you were, accessible, asleep, and so fucking welcoming.

Because he spent so little quality time with you, where you weren't shouting, weren't cursing him, he never had a chance to ask about your experiences and what you liked in the bedroom. But after pumping his fingers in and out of you, nervously checking for signs of you waking up while he tested out the flowing waters of your cunt, it had been so easy to slip his rock-hard cock into you. Biting his lip, he watched as it disappeared inside you, a hint of anxiety in his gaze as he raked it over you. Anxiety and lust. A dangerous combination that slowly but surely drove him mad.

Diluc had yet to sheath it entirely inside you when you made a small, uncomfortable huff, twisting your hips around until you laid on your stomach. He held back a groan, the urge to punch the wall manifesting in him as you clenched your pussy around his grith, eliciting a moan from you that made him lose the gentleness he had worked with until now, climbing on top of you and pushing his hips comfortably into the cushion of your ass. If that was the only push he ever did, he wanted it to be the best.

And it was fucking glorious.

You moaned into your pillow, still so innocently unaware of what power you held over Diluc, whose head fell back, his legs for once feeling weak, and his hands curling into fists with his nails drawing blood from his palms. He had dreamed about this. About the day you'd let him fuck you, worship you. Even if he had to beg on his knees for you to get him off between your thighs, he would have done it. Yet, he still could have never imagined it to feel this good.

By now, he was hovering over you as you laid face down in your bed, his cock embedded warmly in your cunt even though he tried not to put his weight on you and stir you from your sleep. If you found him like this, what would you think of him? Would you ever allow him back in your room? You already hated him, but could the respect for him sink even further?

That's not what he wanted.

And yet, what he wanted was to grip your hair and pull you up, arch your back so your ass would find its place of belonging against his hips while he plowed you mercilessly into a bubbling, crying mess. Diluc was so close to throwing the sham of the good samaritan and make you his personal fucktoy, always ready and wet for him no matter where and when he wanted you. If he had to be the bad guy, he might as well enjoy it, and there was no better way he could think of than by leaving his mark on your body.

"Do you like it?" he whispered next to your ear, feeling his hot breath bounce off your skin, and you grumbled in your sleep, his tongue lapping out to lick over your lips. Delicious. He could taste the pastries he provided you with on you, and they were almost as sweet as you. "Am I making you feel good, Darling?"

The thought of his voice echoing through your dreams only made Diluc's pace go faster at the excitement, his cock stirring up your insides eagerly. Even though he was using your body, he'd be in your deepest conscience, too, hopefully fucking you senseless in your dreams and in reality. If only he could always be on your mind, like you are on his, the thought of you in everything he does, whether it was earning money for you or fighting for your safety.

Moving his cock in and out, Diluc's voice rang out in a groan, finally allowing himself to experience this fully since you wouldn't wake up even after he began talking to you, telling you about all the naughty things he'd do to you. Ultimately, he could not bring himself to make you the fucktoy of his dreams and make you his personal hole, formed to only fit his cock and crave him every second he wasn't there to fill you. But the slowness of his pace allowed him to really, thoroughly feel every part of you wrap around his inches, welcoming him in with squelching wetness and lingering as long as possible as if your body was complaining he was pulling away.

Every time you moaned, he could feel the clenching of your core sucking him in, and though you furrowed your eyebrows, you didn't wake up. It was like heaven and hell, as Diluc found himself desperate for you to recognize what he was doing and tell him all about how good he made you feel. How he made your toes curl and hear you beg for more of what only he could give you. Declare your love between sloppy cries and needy whines, and ask to join his bed from now on, so you'd always be in his reach for whatever he needed. But perhaps he was lucky that all his training and steeling of his body worked out now, as he could gently grab your hips to quicken his pace without tearing you out of your sweet dreams. Dreams about him, he hoped. Only him, always. Illusions of a future you two would never have together.

The excitement and caution were like tingling harbingers to his orgasm. There was no way that a man craving you day and night would be able to hold out long when he was finally welcomed into the sanctuary of your cunt. Neither the heat nor the snapping of his hips helped to prolong what should have never occurred in the first place, and with your breathing ragged, too, Diluc's only wish was for you to cum as hard as he would.

Inevitably, his world was turned upside down as he plunged deep inside you, finding himself unable to pull out before feeling his jizz splurt into your depths. All he could do was hold on tight to the wall over your head, drilling his fingers into it to the point it hurt. However, Diluc couldn't feel anything besides the bliss of spilling all the pent-up need and desire for you deep inside with no caution. What happened, happened, and he'd be ready for it when the time was right.

Unless it would keep him from doing this again.

Pulling out, his cock was soaked with your mixed juices, your pussy spilling his semen without him clogging up your hole. It was a perfect sight. A rare achievement that Diluc got addicted to just as quickly as your taste and the warmth. He could barely keep his imagination from going wild, the idea of you spilling juices all over his lap after he let you ride him on his office chair, or with you dripping spill everywhere as he walked you around the house without panties, making him so fucking excited for all the possibilities. His cock gave a warning jerk as he felt himself hardening just from the thoughts, but until then, his fingers sliding up your cunt and pushing the wasted cum back inside you had to be enough.

This had to be enough.

You, asleep, looking a little disgruntled and needy after he left you high and dry like an asshole. Secretly, it made him hope you'd be so despaired and horny by the time he visited you in the morning you'd jump him just to get your sweet release. A man could dream about all the things he'd do then, all the times he'd make you cum on his tongue, fingers, and dick.

Tugging you in, Diluc planted a gentle kiss on the back of your head. His darling. His beautiful, amazing darling with a cunt so warm and alluring, it was almost harder to part with you than ever before. But he'd be back for more; that much was sure. One release wasn't nearly enough to satisfy him.

And maybe next time, he'd wake you up so you could enjoy him the same way he enjoyed you.

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koushisbabie · 8 months

Text

where were we?

imagine! Tsukishima x reader

summary: you and Tsukishima are studying, but little do you know, he is crushing mad hard on you...

genre: fluff!

word count: 1.5k

It’s late, and the library is quiet save for the occasional page turning and the gentle scratch of pen on paper. Somewhere there is a clock ticking faintly. You rest your head in your palms, eyelids threatening to close with each minute that passes.

‘Oi.’ A sharp tap on your forehead brings you to focus, and you snap you attention to your companion. ‘Don’t fall asleep.’

Tsukishima pushes his glasses up and fixes you with a stern look. ‘You’ll get drool all over your workbook,’ he smirks.

‘It must be almost midnight,’ you say, searching for your phone, ‘shouldn’t we call it a night? I don’t know how much more I can take.’

‘Is that so?’

‘We’ve been at this for hours,’ you whine, ‘I need to rest.’

‘You’ve barely touched your textbook,’ Tsukishima points out. He turns back to his own book, content with his progress for the evening.

‘But I’m tired…’ you yawn. ‘Just a little nap, five minutes, I promise,’ you say, cradling your head on the tabletop. You close your eyes to Tsukishima’s annoyed expression. ‘Just five minutes.’

Minutes pass, and you are well passed out. Tsukishima takes a moment to look at you, really taking in the sight of your hair sprawled around your face, soft and messy, never staying in place for too long. Your eyelashes pretty and delicate against your cheekbones, the smattering of sunspots evident across the bridge of your nose, proof that you do in fact go outside from time to time. Your mouth is slightly open, the gentlest of snores escaping between your lips. You looks peaceful, he thinks, how tired you are from doing next to nothing today, he cannot reason why. Rolling his eyes, he places his large hand on your head, gently patting your hair like he was patting a sleeping cat.

The blush that crept across his cheeks grew too warm and the fluttering in his belly too active for his liking. He glances around, brows furrowed in annoyance, thankfully, no one was watching this play out.

‘I guess there’s no harm in it,’ Tsukishima mutters. He pushes his seat backward, stretching his legs. He heads outside and down the stairs to the vending machine.

Fresh air is a welcome sensation, the crisp taste of the nighttime cool against his heated cheekbones. It has not been long since he began feeling oddly self-conscious around you, wondering whether you actually enjoy his company for him, or whether you are just bored of your own friends. It might as well be clear that you are not using him as a tutor since you just fall asleep during a study session. For a time, he actually thought you hung around him to get closer to Yamaguchi, believing he would be a better match for you then himself, but even when Yamaguchi was not around, you spent time with Tsukishima. He even began checking his hair before he left the bathroom, sometimes even twice. In class it was hard to focus, every time you raise your hand, your voice rings out with a tentative answer, Tsukishima’s belly does flips, fighting the urge to swivel in his seat and stare at you. It was bad enough that he stole glances every now and then, much to Yamaguchi’s amusement. It only took Yamaguchi nudging Tsukishima’s arm and winking in your direction for him to click onto the fact that maybe, just maybe, he likes you more than just a friend.

Tsukishima shakes the thought from his mind, his cheeks that had only just returned to normal are blushing furiously again. ‘Tch,’ he rolls his eyes, ‘what am I supposed to do with this?’

The vending machine hums quietly beside him, emitting enough glow to attract moths that flutter around Tsukishima. He presses some buttons and feeds several silver coins into the machine. The drinks thud into the reception and with a small sigh, he makes his way back up to the library where, he discovers, you are still sleeping soundly.

The tiniest drool glistens on your hand, Tsukishima notices as he pulls out his chair. He places the drinks loudly on the table, the vibration enough to wake you from your slumber.

‘What happened?’ You ask, your voice husky from sleep. You look at him with wide eyes, and his heart skips a beat.

‘Nothing,’ he says, quickly looking away, ‘here, caffeine.’

‘I’m not sure it’s a good idea to have caffeine this late,’ you say hesitantly.

Tsukishima shrugs. ‘Don’t finish this chapter then,’ he says nonchalantly, ‘and I’ll drink both.’ He follows this with a small smirk.

You grimace, cracking open the drink and taking a sip. You wipe your mouth on the back of your hand. ‘Fine, you win,’ you say, smiling at him. ‘Thank you.’ You lick your lips with the tip of your tongue. Unaware that Tsukishima is watching you with eagle eyes, wondering how soft your lips would feel against his neck. His face warms, and he shifts in his seat nervously.

You lean over the table to peer closely at his textbook, a clear view down your shirt the further you lean toward him, your face dangerously close to his. ‘Now, where were we?’

Tsukishima falters, the blush threatening to creep across his face again, but he quickly covers it up as he pushes his glasses up. He glances from your chest to your lips to your eyes, wide and wondering. It would only take a second to kiss you, he thinks, but how perverted would you think he is, staring down your shirt and then kissing you out of the blue, and during a study session! But then, you might like it, you might melt into his grasp… Or you might push him away, disgusted by his advances, ‘We’re just friends, what the hell are you doing?’ Your voice rings in his ears.

‘Tsukishima?’ You say, hesitantly. Your brows furrowed with concern, your perfect pout pink and so close to him. ‘Are you okay?’

He tries to push the thought from his mind, clearing his throat. ‘Page eighty-seven,’ he murmurs, averting his gaze. You frown slightly, blush dusting your cheekbones. You linger for a moment too long, and he glances back at you, meeting your eyes.

How long had it been since he first saw you? When you were dashing through the corridor, late for your club activity, and bumping into him, apologising profusely. The day you asked him to check over your homework before you handed it in, he looked at you with narrow eyes, ‘you’re the one who ran into me, aren’t you?’ he had asked, ‘are you late to hand in your work as well?’. To which you had replied with something witty, but he could not remember what, he was busy trying to figure out what colour your eyes were. The next time he had seen you was when you volunteered to help Yachi take photos, and you waved at him wildly from across the court, distracting and earning him a few suggestive winks from his teammates. You always did that, distracted him when you moved to his class, when you continued to show up with Yachi, and when you started studying with him.

Every time, he found himself drawn to you – and he never wanted to admit it, but here he is, staring wide-eyed at your pretty face, your sweet breath just inches from him, alone in the quiet library on a normal Wednesday evening.

Fuck it. Tsukishima’s hands cup your face, bringing you closer to his, and bridges the gap. Indeed, your lips are as soft as he had imagined, and as warm as he had hoped. His chest is hammering hard, and he is sure you can hear it.

You seem to have frozen, he realises, and he pulls back sheepishly.

‘I, uh,’ Tsukishima blushes, brows furrowed, looking for an excuse. It is not every day he gets embarrassed, but he has done it now, he thinks. ‘Sorry, I don’t –’

‘You don’t what?’ You ask quickly. ‘You don’t like me?’

Tsukishima’s eyes widen, his heartbeat in his ears. ‘That’s not what I was going to say,’ he says, eyes narrowing, he pouts.

You search his face, his skin a pretty, pink blossom. ‘You do, don’t you?’ You grin.

Tsukishima scowls, unsure how to react, and nothing witty comes to mind. Never in a million years did he expect to be confessing during an interrogation. He rolls his eyes.

‘I knew it,’ you say confidently. ‘No one blushes like you do around me.’

‘Oh, shut it,’ Tsukishima says, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

‘Make me,’ you say, smirking against his lips.

author note: a little drabble, hope you enjoy!

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #tsukishima kei #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima x you #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu reader insert #tsukishima fluff

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shadowofahope · 2 months

Text

Eucalyptus || 2.5

Warnings: Swearing, abandonment, hybrids are only considered as pets, mentions of pre-heat and scent triggers, use of medication, overdosing(unintentional), self-harm (unintentional)

Premise: A sugar glider hybrid with a broken past. Seven men convinced they can give her the life she’s always wanted. Sometimes destiny has a funny way of finding you, and sometimes it smells like Eucalyptus.

WC: 1.3K

Masterlist || 001 || 002 || 2.5

Words tumble out of your mouth when you hear the click.

“I need….Can I have more..?” You try to stop your hands from shaking. They haven’t stopped in weeks.

“Already?” The vet asks from the other end of the phone. He was finishing his paperwork for the day. He had Chinese takeout with his name on it that he was eager to get to when you called. Which was unusual in itself because you never called without one of your owners present or even all of them. “I gave you a 4-month trial, it's only been just over a month. Are they not working?”

You force down the thick lump of saliva in your throat, trying to clear your voice enough to sound..well like you were fine. “They were…but then- I need something stronger.”

You were not fine. You hadn’t been since the week you had been given the pills. But you held onto some hope that your body just had to adjust to them, waiting for them to take the discomfort away, the unending need you felt.

“Snow I can’t give you anything stronger, as you are a smaller hybrid they will be fatal if we’re not careful.” He sits up straighter in his chair. Forgoing his paperwork to focus on your words. “Did you try taking an extra one? That should help without being too much for your body.”

“I did.” The room starts to spin a little, you stumble to sit on the ground.”...So I took more.”

“How many more?” Now he’s slightly worried.

“Today or ?” You hold your head in your hand, but you're still finding it hard to stay upright. “I started taking 2 but then it stopped working so I took another and then…eventually another…”

“That’s 4. How long have you been taking 4?”

“A month or so?”

“How many today?” He was trying to keep calm, but inside he was frantic. 4 is double your max dose. He just hoped today you hadn’t followed the same pattern.

“Today…today….six…” The urge to vomit was slowly forcing its way higher and higher from your stomach. Every inch you could feel it burning a path through you. You decide it would be best to lay down on the hardwood. The coolness against your clothed back gave a welcome break from the rising heat. “It kept hurting. It wouldn’t stop hurting…”

“I need… I need… I need to morph back. I don’t feel as sick. I don’t want to be sick.” You could hear your own words slowing. Your mouth couldn’t keep up with your mind anymore. Or was it your mind not being able to keep up with your mouth? You couldn’t tell the difference anymore.

The tantalizing taste of eucalyptus that hung in the air. It was always the only thing your mind could focus on. It felt so thickly enticing.

“Snow! Do not change into your hybrid-” He’s cut off by a sharp chirp through the phone. “Shit.”

“Deandra!” He yells out his office door. “I need your hybrid in here now!”

One of the shelters nurses and her raccoon hybrid come running into the room, they had stayed later tonight to help finish getting the new hybrid drop offs comfortable. He shoves the phone at the male hybrid.

“I need you to tell me exactly what she’s saying. Keep her talking.” He instructs sternly. Normally he wouldn’t talk to someones hybrid like this but he doesn’t have the ability to watch his tone or filter his words.

He reaches over his desk knocking the papers that he was working on onto the floor. He quickly dials your owners number that he has kept on speed dial since his first day visiting you.

He hears the click of a connect.

“Seokjin! Thank god. Tell me, are you the one?” He feels out of breathe, like he’s panting. Even though he’s not.

“Doctor? The one what?” Seokjin’s curious words respond to him.

“The one who started Snow’s heat.” He clarifies.

There’s a pause. It takes too long for the other to answer his question.

“QUICKLY.” He shouts at the younger.

“No. No. its not me. What is happening?!” Seokjin’s concern erupts through his ears.

“You need to get home now, I’ll leave as soon as I can. The pills had a severe negative affect. She’s taken too many.” He explains desperately. He can’t hide the panic in his feet, he’s pacing in the space infront of his desk.

“What?” Seokjin tells himself out loud. “I have to tell the others.”

“No! Only you. Whoever it is will only make this worse. She needs you right now.”

“I’m leaving.” The younger notifies him as well as anyone else in the room with him.

“I’ll meet you there.” They both hang up, not bothering with any form of goodbyes.

“-Doctor…..” The racoon hybrid calls to him.

“What is she saying??” He’s trying to keep himself from yelling. But the full blown panic that is beginning to set within him is about to break out.

“She’s not… she’s not talking. She’s only making noises, nothing is making sense. I don’t think-”

He points to the nurse, “Call an emergency vehicle to head there. Tell them it’s critical.”

Rounding his desk, he snatched the phone away from the hybrid shuffling him to the other side and points at him, “Stay.”

“Snow! Hear me. Talk to me. Jin is on his way. You need to change back.” He hears a few other cheeps before loud rustling.

“Liiiiiiving with them…… has maaaade me…. the hppiest…. Ive ever been in my eeentiiiiire liiiiife.” Your voice comes through muffled and slurring. “I would gooo through….. aaaaaall….. the abuse…. I sufferrrrred…. over again….. to have the chance…. to beeee their pet. They loved meeeee doctor…”

“Love, snow. They love you.”

“I used to….. maaaake themmmmm sooooo haaaaappy….. Theeeey would alwayssss… ssssmiiiile when they ssssaaaaw mmmme…they donnnnnnnn sssmile assssss…… much anymore….. I wisssh they did….. How doo I…. make them sssssmile… again…?”

“They want you to be healthy and happy. That’s all they want.” He tries to quiet his own breath to be able to hear your slow deep attempts.

He hears a bang and rustling from the other end. He hits speaker on his office phone. The other hybrid still in his office, just in case she returns back to hybrid form. God he hopes she doesn’t.

“Snow what happened?” He can hear Sekjin’s voice now.

“Thesssse…. are…. Pretty’ssss…. Eyesssss.” Her slurring worsens. It’s almost incomprehensible.

“Snow please. Doctor what do I do?” Jins voice abruptly yells.

“I have an emergency vehicle headed to you now. Keep her awake and don’t let her change into her hybrid form. The medication will only circulate through her system faster.”

“Pretty…. issssn’t sssssmiling.-How do IIIII -maaaaake Pretty …ssssssmiiiiiile again.” He can hear Seokjin sniffling through her attempts at speech. “i kn..ooow. Everyyyyoooone ssssssmiiilessss ….when immmmm -”

“little…” they word escapes out in an exhale.

Airy faint chirps are heard, he drastitically turns to the other hybrid.

“Doctor! She’s changed again!” Jin all but shrieks.

“What is she saying?” He demands of the terrified male hybrid.

“...” He walks closer to listen, his face going pale. “She’s saying… ‘I’ll stay little forever. I’m no trouble when I’m little.’” Listens again “‘Everyone smiles when I’m little….I’ll stay little’…..She’s just repeating ‘I’ll stay little’ over and over again.”

“Snow!” Seokjin whimpers over the phone, his voice breaking. Just like his heart.. “No…. please.”

“I’M ON MY WAY!” He grabs his things from his drawer and bolts for the door.

Running to his car he thinks about all the risks, the side affects he had gone over with you, all the late night research he had done. But this isn’t one of the risks that even crossed his mind. He made a vow all those years ago when you first came to the shelter. He promised to find you a loving family, that you would finally be happy.

He didn’t realize just how dangerous this could be. How there was one thing above all others that could make it all come crashing down…desperation.

Masterlist || 001 || 002 || 2.5

taglist:@luminaaz, @mingkilovur, @thefirewasfriendly, @malewife-supremacy, @cestlabellemort @purpleskyyyy @aianloveseven @zera10 @roguesthetic, @littlrmills14-blog, @hesmyphenominiall @ottergirl @scrumptioustrash

#bts imagines #bts fic #bts angst #bts fanfics #bts fanfic #bts fan fiction #bts hybrid fanfic #bts hybrid au #bts namjoon #bts taehyung #bts jin #bts yoongi #bts jungkook #bts jimin #bts hoseok #reader x mate revealed

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secret-smut-sideblog · 3 months

Text

A Dangerous Thing

Astarion x F! Dark Urge

18+ violence, possession, near death, implied self harm, bhaal being fucked up, injuries, fear, hurt/comfort, fingering (f!), oral (f!), sub/dom, (mild) restraint, overstimulation

Almost losing her to Bhaal's influence, Astarion wont let her out of his sight again...

In trance he becomes aware of an absence at his side, her divine warmth missing.

"Darling?" He mumbled, fingers searching for her. A breeze on his cheek.

Eyes flashing open to the chasm of his tent door.

Gone.

Scrambling to feet he lunged out into the night, eyes frantic.

It was getting bad, he knew. Saw the way she would freeze, muscles clenching all at once. Paralyzed as she fought for control.

Would do his best to touch her with love, speak reassured to her rigid body. Help her back into herself, though he didnt know how much good it was doing.

We're close. She had sighed. The temple is near, I can feel it. Shuddered. I feel it everywhere.

Fuck. Fuck. He ran tent to tent, looking for those pale horns, those haunting eyes.

He had gotten sloppy, losing focus. Gods why did she put him in charge?!

"Whoa, Fangs! What's going on?" Karlach called, already pulling her boots on seeing the panic in his face.

"She's gone! Hells we have to find her!" He shouted, hands shaking. Eyes everywhere, in every shadow, every space between.

"Shit!" She went to wake the others, sounding out like an alarm.

Finally he saw a sign of her. Sharp footsteps leading into the forest, the heels deep in the mud. She had been running.

No time, he sprinted after her ghost. Calling out her name in big gulping shouts. Heard the others following behind.

I think if I couldn't control it anymore. She had whispered, their hands intertwined. Laying in blissful quiet. I'd end it. Said with such certainty, eyes resolute. It would be my last offering for the world. To stop myself. To leave it untouched.

He couldn't lose her. Not now. Not when she has given him so much. Not before he can tell her he loves her one more time.

Gods let him have this, this one bright beautiful thing.

He gasped out her name when he spotted her silhouette in a clearing. Sitting on knees in the dark.

His voice curdled in his throat as he drew closer, took in the full sight.

Her arms laying limp at her side, face wrenched up to the sky. Bhaal's red lights dancing sickening circles around the crown of her head. Eyes blown wide, glowing red hot.

"Here!" He shouted shakenly to the others somewhere behind, hovering around her. "She's here!"

Terrified into indecision. Hands reaching out, he had to do something.

"Get out!" Her jaw clenching down so hard he thought it would crack. He jumped back, breath caught.

"You are not welcome here. You are not me. You are not in charge." She hissed through her teeth, speaking to something unseen, rage dripping from every word.

"I guided your hand when you spilled your first blood." A deep nauseating voice erupted from her mouth, forming words with her lips. "I have always been here. I am all of you. I am eternal."

Her face going slack into a sickening smile. "You will to say yes to me, child."

Eyes clenching shut, face twisting, pulling back into her mind. "Fuck. You." Her voice venomous.

Lifted invisible by her throat she hovered in the air, legs slack beneath her. Feet grazing the ground. Sigils burning and whipping angry around her.

"I love you." Lashes emerging across her torso. "I love you." Cracking of ribs. "I love you." Arm wrenched from socket, flopping down at her side.

"Stop," Astarion breathed, despair flooding his vision. "Stop, stop, stop!" A rising scream chanted.

Her head lolling puppeteered to look at him. Eyes wide, all radiating crimson. A horrible smile smeared across her angelic face.

"The interloper..." It sneered in her features, amused. "Tell me, little waste..." Turning her in one motion to face him, hovering far higher above the ground. Her full body weight on her throat. Yet it still it spoke.

"Do you really think you can stop her?" Leaning her head down to stare condescending into him. "How long do you think she will resist her call? To deny her birthright?"

"I molded her myself, my body, my blood. She will heed to me."

"You're just another master, another piece of shit that needs control. You dont impress me." He spat. "I've killed one of you before, and I'll enjoy doing it again."

It laughed, booming. Lifting her arms wide, sigils spinning hurricane around her.

He heard the others coming up hot behind him, a flurry of noise. Spells, arrows, enchantments soaring through the air. All hitting mute against the cyclone. It cackled, delighted at their attempts.

Suddenly she wrenched back to the surface, body twisting. "Get away! Go!" Her desperate eyes reaching his. "I can finish this!"

"No!" He bellowed, enraged. "Let us help you! For once let us be the strong ones!" Bloody tears streaming down his shouting face.

Her eyes crumpled at his words and something in the hold broke.

In a piercing wail she fought against her restraints, hair whipping around her head. Pulling her limbs with incredible force against its control. Balling into herself. Releasing them out in a deafening scream. An explosion of force leaving her, pushing them all to their knees.

Prone, he watched her fall. Thudding silent to the ground. "No, no," He begged, crawling to her unmoving body. "Dont leave. Dont leave me."

Cradling her head he stared through thick water. Searching. Desperate. Hands coaxing, pleading, for her to come back.

Shadowheart, Halsin, and Minthara appearing quick at her side, pummeling healing words into her. Lighting her up in waves of blue.

"You can't go. I wont let you." He gripped her as they shouted around him, his tears dropping onto her mottled bruised neck. "I will search every corner of the afterlife and drag you back to us."

Giving it everything she had Shadowheart shouted one last spell, her hands bracing against her still chest.

Silence. Then with a heaving, gasping cough she returned. Hand instinctively finding his cheek.

A deep wail left him, pulling her into him, inconsolable. Body shaking with great heaving sobs of relief.

"Ow." She laughed wetly. Good arm shakily holding him. Eyes bright, meeting the tear stained faces that surrounded them through the window of his shoulder. "Hi everyone."

They all rushed around her, touching her, hugging her, voices all melding into one joyful choir. Still gripping her to his body they held him too.

Karlach planting big kisses on her face. Even planting a quick softer one on his forehead. "Welcome back, soldier!" She boomed. "Dont ever do that shit again!" Yelled with the same smile.

She laughed painfully, clenching her side. "Fuck, okay. You've convinced me."

"We need to get her back to camp." Shadowheart gently squeezed Astarion's shoulder. He agreed but still had his face buried into her. Tremoring.

"Let me lend some aid." Halsin smiled, offering his arms. Waiting for Astarion to release.

Loathe to let her go but knew he wouldn't be able to carry her in this state he nodded.

The druid lifting her gently into his arms she was absent from him. She gave a little sigh into the wide chest. He trailed close, never taking his eyes off her.

She smiled gently at him, reaching out for him. Finding his fingers in hers. Gods, she was cold.

He kissed them, pressing them against his cheek.

"You're okay to sleep, love." She hushed, trailing her hand down his back. "I can get one of the others."

In her tent, made into a makeshift infirmary he shook his head. Only last night she had nearly been lost and his body was still vibrating with anxious energy. Trying not to pace.

"We've moved camp, we're far enough away from the temple now." She tried to reassure. He waved her away, back still turned.

Her hand stopped on his back. Quiet. Still.

"I'm sorry I'm the one you love." A whisper.

He whipped his head, angry. The tears on his face that he had been trying to hide from her laid bare.

"No. No you dont get to do that." Eyes alight in equal parts adoration and indignation. "I have been broken apart countless times and you are by far the best thing that has ever happened to me. The only person who could ever understand me."

Face twisting in grief, in determination. "I have waited lifetimes for you. How dare you apologize."

Catching the light her tears slipped quiet out of her eyes. Even in this state unbelievably beautiful, always catching him off guard. Neck still patches of green, purple, yellow. Arm slung snugly in a sling. One tip of her horns now notched, caught in her fall. He trailed his hand along it tenderly, never to be the same again.

"I'm sorry." She choked, hearing the heavy catch in her throat.

"Stop." He stared hard into her eyes.

"I'm so sorry."

He pulled her hard into his body. Burying his face in her hair. "I love you. I love you. I love you so much." He pressed his words into her.

"I will never regret you. I will never have something like this again. Even in a hundred years I will never stop thinking of you."

A sob wracked her chest, shaking into him. One arm gripping his shirt. Releasing her grief, her fear into his cool body.

He stroked her hair, wrapping his legs around her lower back. Pulling her fully into him. Yes, let it out.

They stayed like that for a moment, hands anchoring eachother. Her waves of sorrow striking his chest. Breathing in, out.

"When I die I'm haunting your ass so hard." She whispered raggedly, her tears finally slowing. He laughed, wiping his own wet face.

"I'd be offended if you didnt, my sweet."

Pulling back to look at him, eyes overflowing with love. "Ow, damn it." Readjusting her arm in its sling as she shifted. "How long did Shadowheart say this should take again?" She huffed. He tried to hide his smile.

"What's the point of healing magic if it doesn't get the job done..." Grumbling her frustration.

"Already thinking about the next task? Gods you're relentless." He teased.

"We have things to do!"

"Oh how could you possibly take a break, the torment you must endure." He admonished, trailing kisses along her face.

She giggled, the sound lighting up his heart. Caught her sweet mouth in a kiss. Slow. Deep.

She moaned lightly into him, hand cupping the back of his head. Pulling him in deeper.

He sighed contentedly, so glad to do this again. That they had more time. More time for him to get lost in her.

Her hand pulling the ties of his tunic.

"Wait," He breathed, to her discontented whine. Hand still trying to pull him open.

Threading his fingers in hers, he pulled away. "My sweet, slow down." Took her eyes in his. Her mouth slightly swollen from their kiss making him stifle a groan, despite himself.

"You're in no state-"

"Then be gentle." She countered.

"Darling..." He started, unsure.

"Please," She whispered, pushing her forehead into his. Threaded fingers tightening on his. "I need you, I need this."

Gentle, he thought. Gods did he know how to fuck gentle? Had he? Maybe some time in the past, long before.

Could see the nervousness in her eyes as well, asked for entrance to her mind.

She obliged, and he found their thoughts mingling. Not the exact same, but rhyming. Fear. Longing. Love. Pain. Things lost. Things terrified to be found.

He smiled warmly, pulling her back into his kiss. I told you. He spoke to her.

What? She thought.

You and I know eachother. I see you, you see me. See me so clearly.

So is that a yes? Could feel her cheeky smile against his lips.

He sighed, defeated. Trying not to prove his rising arousal as she gave a little squeal of triumph.

Now, how to do this delicately. He pushed them forward, laying her down onto her back. Hand bracing her slow descent. Though he focused on undressing her as softly as he could, his kiss was searing.

Her hand pulled his shirt hard over his head, he maneuvered his arms to assist her. Her leg hooking up under his, pushing it out to be straddling over her.

"Oh so only I have to be gentle..."

"Do you want me to be?" She rumbled in his ear, sending a shudder down his spine.

"Gods no,"

Pulling the last of her clothes off he stared down at her, breath taken. Both by her beauty and the state of her body.

Criss cross slashes stretching across her torso, sewn deftly closed. Bruises that veiled over her ribs. Could see the discoloration between the tight bandages holding her shoulder.

Trying not to be overcome again, he leaned down, ghosting soft kisses over her angry skin.

"You'll tell me if we need to stop, yes?" He urged.

She smiled down at him, carding her fingers through his hair. "Of course, my love."

Satisfied he continued his feather light lips down her front.

"How are you so beautiful?" He marveled.

Delighted in the blush that crept up to her cheeks. To make a bhaalspawn blush, his bhaalspawn.

"Darling this position you've so graciously put me in gives me an idea." He mused, absentmindedly swirling little circles on her clit. One leg over her hip, one between her thighs. He stood up on knees, getting a better feel. Oh this could work.

"Good thing your lower extremities are unscathed, sweet thing." Grabbing a pillow he lifted her by one plush thigh and pushed it under her hips. Heard her little aroused groan at being manhandled. "Yes this will do nicely." He preened, now had the perfect angle.

"I never doubted you for a second." She tried for teasing but couldn't hide the lust in her voice.

His free hand dragging soft up and down her entrance, joining his fingers already worshipping her hard mound. Hands busy he had the perfect view to watch her unwind under him.

Her head fell back, arching slightly. Horns digging against the pillow.

He slowly inserted two digits into her, shallowly pumping. The angle perfect to go as far as he could, but not yet. Just teasing her entrance. Fingers on her clit pushing more force. Her little gasping breaths goading him on.

Started pushing inside her with earnest, fingers curling in the way he knew made her mewl. Hand on her clit feather light.

Alternating his force back and forth between his two hands he could tell he was driving her mad. Slick already dripping down under his fingers.

"Astarion," She groaned, hand gripping the sheet.

"I'm all pointy ears, darling." He teased, switching hands again just to make her gasp.

"Gods, please fuck me already." She panted, looking into his eyes.

"Ah, but we need to be careful." He purred, smiling like a fox cornering a hen. "Nothing too strenuous, you know. Gotta make sure you're-" Both hands with pressure, her eyes rolling back in her head. "Up to it." He finished.

"You know I can kill you, right?"

"Oh we're doing threats now," He hissed, smiling down over her. "How rude."

Both hands working in a blur she was an incoherent writhing mess. Hips trying to get away. He sat his weight on her side, pinning her there. "Oh come on now, I know you can take it."

He knew she was so close to being undone as he watched. Her hot panting groans getting more frantic, higher. Hips squirming helplessly under him.

Leaning over he looked into her eyes. "I want you to come all over my hand."

Her eyes went wide then squeezed shut. Face contorting in anguished pleasure. Clenching down hard on his fingers she wailed an esctastic cry. Hips jutting up into his body, hiking him up. Shocked by the strength of her.

Moving down quickly he pushed his mouth into her, tongue working rapidly. Taking up the pace of his fingers.

She almost screamed, hand gripping his hair.

Wrapping his arms around her retreating thighs he ravaged. Groaning into her, already so much creamy slick pushing out of her. All for him.

Already on the cusp of a second orgasm he watched her through her spread legs. Suckling down hard on her clit, merciless.

"Oh gods, oh fuck," She whimpered, head craning back. Pelvis shaking.

So perfect, you taste so sweet. He thought to her, connecting their minds. Honeysuckle... Groaning into her.

Her mouth falling open in a silent scream, eyes hitching. Seizing under his mouth, head lolling. Her body an arched bridge. Sharp talons leaving his hair and ripping into the sheet.

He palmed over her overstimulated core as she collapsed, knew his cool hand would bring relief. Kissing softly below her navel. Her body still trembling, breath regaining from the drown of her pleasure.

"If I wasnt already in the infirmary.." She breathed when she found her words again.

He laughed, sliding in next to her. Adjusting her slightly so he could slot under her. Wrapping his leg around her side, straddled behind her.

She fell back into his chest, already spent.

"Damn, maybe I'm not as ready as I thought I was." She laughed, threading her hand into his.

"Told you." He murmured into her hair. Pulling their joined hands to his lips.

She got quiet for a moment, knocking her head gently into his.

"I'm going to get better, I promise." Speaking on more than her injuries.

"I know, my sweet girl."

Part 5

#this one got away from me ngl #possession scene Heavily inspired by ptolemaea by ethel cain (lyrics from it too)#astarion smut #astarion x dark urge #astarion x tav

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crowborn666-writes · 1 year

Note

hi anon here! i was wondering if u could do a platonic aizawa x student reader? basically reader gets really overwhelmed (sensory wise) at the feeling of clothes on their skin sometimes and it happens one day when they’re in their dorm and they just dunno how to cope with it so they end up accidentally sh relapsing cuz they just need to get their frustration out. aizawa ends up finding out about it and confronts them about it one day after class. gender neutral reader btw. this is oddly specific LMFAOO sorry bruh it’s totally cool if u cant do it! <3 (bonus points if reader is autistic)

Sense

(Sensory overload? Autistic? Sounds like me already lol. I’m more familiar with noise and lighting sensory overload than fabric, so hope it’s ok I stuck those in here as well!)

Aizawa x Student!Reader

Genre: Comfort, Fluff, Platonic

Summary: Too much leads you to a relapse, your teacher finds out and wishes to help.

TW/CW: mentions of accidental self harm, mentions of blood/bleeding, sensory overload caused by touch, light, and sound,

(If I missed any, pls lmk!)

~~~~~~

Breakfast was slightly rowdy as usual, Bakugo griping about how Denki and Shoto shouldn’t be allowed in the kitchen as he fixes the mess they made. Iida running around handing everyone plates, Kirishima giving everyone a warm good morning with Mina.

You’d no less than sat down in your usual spot when Iida came whizzing by with your usual breakfast, you toss a quick thanks over your shoulder, beginning to eat.

Minutes went by, you quietly eating when the noise seemed to get louder. A glance up made you wince, the lights seeming brighter. Your clothes then began to itch.

You bit your lip, glancing around at everyone’s smiling faces, perhaps if you found something to distract yourself with, you could ignore it.

You focused on your food, trying to focus on the nice taste when someone’s voice went a level higher. Your hand reached for your sleeve, beginning to scratch at the skin just underneath.

The voices only got louder, the light brighter, your clothes scratchier. Louder, brighter, scratchier. Louder, brighter, scratchier. Louderbrighterscratchie–

Breakfast was over, Iida coming by to scoop up your empty plate, most everyone heading to the common room to watch TV together. You changed your usual course, instead of going to the common room with everyone you moved past it, off towards your dorm room. Panicked breaths left you, feet a near blur across the carpet.

The dark quiet of your room was welcomed, but you found yourself clawing off the offending, itchy fabric on your skin.

You lose yourself for a moment, coming back to find your teeth sunken into your flesh and your nails digging angry red lines across your forearm. Small dots of blood bubbled to the surface from the injuries. A small, quiet cry leaves you as the pain registers, both from the injury and from your mind. You’d been doing well…

You shake away those thoughts, taking a shaky breath before moving to your bathroom to clean up.

Faint teeth marks, scratches, nails dug into your palms. You cleaned them all and bandaged the ones needed. You were thankful for the long sleeves on your uniforms, as well as the usually comfortable baggy clothing you wore.

You picked your safest outfit to wear, drawing the curtains slightly to limit the amount of light in your room.

Deep breath. In and out.

You’d be okay. A bit of time here to calm is what you need.

School was a wreck, people were being loud and seemingly more annoying with their antics than usual.

And worst of all, your uniform was starting to itch.

A shaky breath, the urge to scratch and bite and pick and—

You shook your head a little, shaking away those thoughts.

You didn’t bother staying in the lunch room, not wanting to throw yourself into another sensory overload.

A gentle hand brushed your arm as you moved through the hallway, and you turn to see Aizawa-sensei there.

“You don’t look so good, (L/n). Do you want to eat lunch in the classroom?”

You almost wanted to cry tears of relief. You nodded, following behind him to the classroom with your lunch.

“Sensory overload getting to you?” Aizawa piped up, glancing your way. “Iida said you didn’t look so well yesterday morning.”

“Yeah..” you murmured, your wrists trying to urge you to scratch them. “It got bad yesterday.”

“You’re free to talk about it if you want.” He replied, flipping all but one set of lights off as you both entered the classroom.

“…I relapsed…” you breathed, avoiding his gaze.

“May I see the damage?” He asked, setting his paperwork down and taking the seat next to you as you sat down.

You nodded, sure your teacher didn’t miss the way you tried to avoid your sleeve touching your skin as you tugged it back, showing the scabbed over scratches.

“The fabric of my clothes gets itchy, and it’s hard not to scratch sometimes.”

Aizawa nodded quietly, taking your hand gently to assess the damage. “I’ll see if Nezu can get in a change of fabrics for your uniform. The damage here isn’t too bad.”

“I know… but I hadn’t in a long time and—“

“It’s not about how long it’s been, in the end, it’s about if you choose to keep fighting.”

Aizawa let go of your hand, sitting back. “Eat some food, you’ve got hero class next, and you’ll need the nutrition.”

“Thank you, Aizawa-sensei.” You replied as he stood, scooping up his paperwork as he moved to his desk.

“If it gets bad again, you’re free to come in here to relax.”

#mha #bnha #mha x reader #platonic #aizawa x student reader #Aizawa x reader #x reader #aizawa #shota aizawa #mha aizawa #bnha aizawa

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soubi122 · 8 months

Text

How Long? - PT 7

One more chapter to go! WARNINGS: Manipulation, mentions of pregnancy, thoughts of baby trapping, fear, angst, anxiety, suggestive, cheating, overall toxic behavior, thoughts of self harm, destructive behavior, so many lies - ugh

True Disaster

For a moment everything went quiet, despite the yelling and screaming, you could only hear Sanzu's words echo in your ears. Was this some sort of sick ‘welcome back’ joke?

As much as you resented him, there was still a small part of you that loved him… Those feelings that began to bloom when you first met him on the island were fading - fast. Everything that came out of his mouth earlier was a lie. He had no problem keeping your old shared bedroom the same and bedding some other woman in it. Now you know for sure that the gods have a sick sense of humor. Bringing him back into your life was already a beautiful deception but the events that followed were a true disaster.

He had said it mere hours ago, ‘I want to start a family’. He got his wish, ohh boy did he get his wish. The quiet chuckle that escaped your lips made Sanzu turn around and look at you in confusion. This should have broken you and left you a sobbing mess. Yet you were laughing and smiling - almost as if your sanity went out the window. “What's so funny dollface?” Sanzu smirks at you. Slowly sitting up, you grip your chest and respond in an icy tone. “He won't set me free. Only a fool would think that…” You didn't mean to insult Sanzu but it was the truth. This was no more than a small hiccup, Ran was no stranger to forcing a woman to get an abortion, he was no stranger to making people disappear - he will do everything it takes for that to happen. Your muscle strength was returning, allowing you to sit up comfortably and place your feet on the floor.

Rushing footsteps had you both turning around to face the rest of Bonten. Some of them looked roughed up, it seems they struggled to keep Ran from setting the office on fire. “Oh, (Y/N), welcome back.” Kakucho said while straightening up his tie. As if there wasn’t a shit storm in the other room - they proceeded to greet you. Rindou couldn’t help but scoff and furrow his eyebrows at you, he still resented you. However, now he felt nothing but pity for you. You were going to be shoved aside yet again. How long was Ran going to keep it up this time?

In the back you could see the morose look on Ran’s face. The moment your eyes connected, he walked in your direction and placed his hand on your head. “Everything will be alright baby. I can fix this.” You remained still and locked eyes with Sanzu. He knew that look all too well and didn't say a thing. Mikey felt the urge to intervene but he noticed the exchange between you and Sanzu. ‘She knows…’ He thinks to himself, there was no reason for you to look at him like that. “Aniki (兄貴), she cannot stay at your place. It’s too risky.” Rindou spoke, he masked his real concern with the excuse that the building staff might recognize you. In reality he was afraid that the woman who was claiming his baby would show up at his home.

Kokonoi and Takeomi agreed, it was too risky for you to stay with Ran. Especially since you were technically dead. The only question was where will you stay? They couldn’t risk you staying at a hotel due to surveillance, none else in Bonten wanted to get caught between the mess Ran created and they did not want a ‘stranger’ in their home. Ran protested, he did not want you out of his sight but Rindou had a valid point. “Mikey, where did you hide her last time?” Takeomi asked. Mikey omitted information of your exact whereabouts in his explanation. You felt a little nauseous when Takeomi asked that question - would Mikey omit it or tell the truth. What if Ran puts the pieces together? What if he decides to end you right here and now? Mikey refused to say as a ‘safety precaution’, stating that he could not compromise Bonten’s safety but assured them that you’d be safe.

“If I hide her, Ran you won’t have access to her.” He said emotionlessly. “What do you mean by that? I can’t see my wife until this little issue is resolved?” Ran asked with a low tone. Wife? Was he fucking serious right now? What the hell did he mean by little issue, this is a huge issue. One bigger than you could have imagined. Questioning the king was a mistake but to avoid conflict - you did something you wished you didn’t.

Pulling Ran in, you placed a gentle kiss on his cheek. “You said it would be ok. Please, if this is the only way for me to not jeopardize you or the organization - I’ll do it. I don’t want to cause more trouble than I already have.” Your tone was soft and almost obedient. Sanzu grinned like a madman, he was enjoying your theatrics. Who knew you had it in you, then again pain can make someone change. It was settled with a mere kiss to the cheek - Ran let go of any nagging questions that were burning in his skull when you kissed him. You were now playing a dangerous game. Weakly standing, you bowed to everyone and apologized for deceiving them.

They could only nod and accept your apology as they understood your reasoning. Being told you were loved and then cheated on by your fiancé - it was heartbreaking. Even they could see that. Regardless of Bonten’s cruel nature, they still held a soft spot for you and it showed during their mourning period for you. “(Y/N), I will take you home shortly.” Mikey said and dismissed everyone out of the office. When he spoke, you could feel the warmth in your chest - he was going to protect you again. Allowing you a moment to head to the bathroom, you took the spare toothbrush and toothpaste that they kept in the storage closet (of course they would have all sorts of things here as most of them lived in the office) to wash your mouth and remove the bitter taste of vomit, metal and lingering sweet taste of chloroform.

Afterwards, Ran took your hand and guided you to his office - his hands were cold, almost as if you were holding the hand of a corpse. Shutting the door behind him, he moved you towards his desk and took a seat on the large office chair. Pulling you in and sitting you down on his desk, he wrapped his arms around your waist and buried his face in your chest. His breathing was unsteady and he held you tightly, he muttered his apologies while remaining buried in your chest. If you didn’t know what you knew now - you would have caved in. This would have been a tender moment between someone who threw a temper tantrum over being told to be patient. Hesitating, you wrapped your arms around him, “Ran, I’m sorry I panicked. I thought you were going to hurt me again.” You say and begin to stroke his hair, almost in a comforting manner. Your false sincerity was convincing, he didn’t question you nor press you any further as to why you fled. He shakes his head, he was letting it go since he had more pressing matters at hand. “What happened? What was all that noise in the other room?” You asked innocently, letting him think that you knew nothing of what was going on.

He squeezes you tightly, almost like a child trying to hide his face from his mother. “Nothing my love, nothing to worry about.” He said and continued to hide his face. You could feel his hands tremble, he was hiding it - was he really going to lie to you again? It felt like he was made up of nothing but lies at this point. You were giving him one final chance to come clean with you - after this there was no going back. Trying to cup his face and tilt his head up, you spoke softly. “Please, it sounded like intense fighting. Be honest with me - I deserve that much, Ran.” He kept his head down and spoke into your chest, he was almost begging you to let it go. “It was nothing, I just got scolded for bringing you in the way I did. I fucked up and could have drawn attention to us. That’s all.” Once again, you felt pain in your chest - if he’s lying to you now, what will stop him lying to you again? This is not just a minor inconvenience, this is the life of another person and a new life that has yet to be born in this world. Who knows how far along this woman was and what she had hanging over his head in order for him to lose this shit. Even now you were already bearing the weight of his lies, they were crushing you little by little and there was no easy way out of this. You knew, you fucking knew that whatever takes place after tonight, it will destroy him and may even destroy you.

“Can we just stay like this a little longer? Please…” He said. You paused for a moment and held him close, biting back the tears that were on the verge of spilling. You exhaled and realized that it was taking a lot out of you to love him. There was no way to peacefully resolve this, someone was bound to lose and for the second time in your life you were forced to make a choice. There was no way to feel anything for him anymore, the lies and trial by fire was too much. Old wounds were beginning to open and bleed, this was going to be the last time you’d ever feel him in your arms, the last time you’d feel his lips on yours and the last time your heart will ever beat for him…

After a few minutes, the knock on the door made you separate from him and face the doorway. It was Mikey, the scene in front of him made a pang in his chest but all he had to do was wait just a little longer. He’d be able to talk to you freely without prying eyes and ears. “It’s time…” He said dryly. Ran finally looked up and at the doorway, he wasn’t ready to part ways with you just yet, but he was rather grateful that you were going to be kept out of sight. He was planning his next move on how to resolve the unplanned pregnancy that fell on his lap. “Just one more minute boss…” Mikey nodded and closed the door. The moment the door shut, Ran stood up and made you face him - pulling you into him again and his lips crashed against yours. He didn’t give you a moment to breathe as his tongue overwhelmed yours, tasting you as if it were the last time. It felt like it was more than a minute. Ran whispered into your lips, “I love you (Y/N). No matter what happens, I will always love you.” It hurts, it hurts so much - oh god it hurts.

Luckily, you didn’t get the chance to speak as Mikey opened the door and signaled for you to follow him. You couldn’t bring yourself to say it back and Ran didn’t force you either. How could you after everything he put you through? “Wait for me…” He barely managed to say right before you walked out the door. You only looked back and gave him a weak smile before disappearing with Mikey. The rest of the admins and executives only watched as you trailed behind Manjiro like a lost puppy. Keeping your head down, you avoided eye contact with everyone. Sanzu couldn’t hide his shit eating grin, it made Takeomi rather uncomfortable - he knows his brother has many screws loose but this was different. Sanzu knew something that they didn’t, but good luck making him talk - he was the master of secrets and deception.

On the way to this ‘classified’ location, you sat in the passenger seat as Manjiro drove - the silence was overwhelming. There were so many questions that you wanted to ask and so many things you wanted to say, however, you opted not to break down in front of him. When he pulled into an underground garage, you followed him - it was to switch cars to avoid any potential followers finding out where you were going. You remembered the first time he did this and you thought he was really going to kill you. The light snicker made Mikey turn to look at you with a soft smile on his face. “Hm? You’re thinking about the first time?” He says and wiggles his eyebrows up and down teasingly. “You were so scared and yet you continued to follow me without question.” He was right, you were scared shitless yet you didn't run away from him, you trusted him.

Finally, you arrived at his home - it was nostalgic and bittersweet. Walking in, you kicked off your shoes and stood by the doorway, waiting for his permission to move forward. “I know you’re not acting like this is your first time here (Y/N)...” Mikey snickers and lightly pushes you through the entrance. Even though you called this home in the past, it was still surreal to be here again. You couldn’t bring yourself to sit down or touch anything as you felt dirty from lying on the grass and being touched by Ran. “Can I use your shower? I’m covered in dirt and other things..” You say awkwardly. “You don’t have to ask for permission, angel. This will always be your home.” Mikey says and pats your head. He was being gentle and considerate of you.

After taking a long shower, you filled the tub with warm water and a bath bomb. Mikey ended up getting some for himself after you forced him to use one. You melted his stress away with little to no effort that night. Somehow you convinced the King of Bonten to indulge in the little self pleasures of life. Several minutes of sitting in the bath water, you heard a knock on the bathroom door and in walked Mikey. He had two beers in hand and a warm smile on his face. The blush on your face made his heart skip a beat. It’s been far too long since he’s seen you like this…bare and vulnerable. He sat on the edge of the tub and handed you the beer bottle, you could see his eyes drinking in your features and figure. All of a sudden you were self conscious and tried to cover yourself as best you could under the water. Taking sips, you still tried your best to hide your body. Mikey chuckled and began to pat your head, slowly stroking your hair and made you lean into his touch. His touch felt like a warm embrace.

You could feel your heart pound in your chest and the overwhelming sense of guilt began to crash into you. The sound of your unsteady breathing caught his attention, he paused and sighed. “I’m so sorry, angel. I should have warned you when Ran left Tokyo for Wakkanai.” He felt responsible for everything you went through within the last 3 days. You buried your face into the side of his thigh. He didn’t care that you were getting his clothes wet. Mikey felt his heart strings being pulled, seeing you like this reminded him of that time you dove into the deep end. “Mikey, I feel like such a fool.” You barely manage to say. The pain in your chest wouldn’t stop, the throbbing in your head was driving you insane and the feeling of Ran’s lips on yours was making you chew on your bottom lip. At first, there was a small glimmer of hope of taking Ran back but the overall behavior and lies just squashed it.

Without hesitating, Mikey put the bottles on the floor and climbed into the tub fully clothed. He pulled you in and held you tight. “Angel, can you forgive me?” He pleaded, he was angry at himself for making you go through this again and again and again. You felt your heart breaking, he had no reason to apologize, he did what he thought was best - to let you stand on your own two feet. There was no one else to blame but both you and Ran. Manjiro did nothing wrong. It felt like you couldn’t breathe, all the emotions swirling inside of you just bursted out and you were a crying mess. Babbling incoherently and apologizing to Manjiro for being a weak woman, for flinching, for wavering, for sleeping with Ran, for letting him kiss you and hold you. The bathroom was filled with echoes of your cries as you buried your face into his chest.

Memories of Ran’s first betrayal had your body trembling, it didn’t help that the actions that took place earlier today were already chipping away at what little resolve you had left. “Manjiro, did you know about the baby?” You asked him and clutched his shirt as you continued to cry. “No, none of us did. This was just sprung on us the moment Ran brought you to the office.” Mikey said and tilted your head up to face him. “I will get as many details as I can for you so that you can make your decision.” His tone was low, almost glum - he was afraid of losing you again. Seeing you so vulnerable, the temptation was getting the better of him. Slowly he leaned in, ghosting his lips over yours. “Manjiro…” You whisper and pull away. “We can’t…” It hurt the both of you but you were right. This wasn’t the time to give in to desire.

Mikey softly smiled and placed a kiss on your forehead, apologizing and was about to leave but your arms reached out for him. “You’ll catch a cold like that.” You say while looking down at the water, you couldn’t face him. Handing him the loofa, you signaled for him to discard his clothes - he smiled and removed his clothing. Oh how your eyes lit up at remembering him. His lean and toned figure, the veins on his arms, the veins somewhere else below… Shyly, you asked him to turn around and he did. Sitting down and placing him between your legs, you pulled him into your chest and hugged him from behind. Feeling your breasts against his bare back had his blood rushing south. His body was so warm and the way his breathing became unsteady, it was making an ache grow between your legs.

Grabbing the shampoo bottle, you begin to wash his silver hair and massaged his scalp. The light scent of lavender filled the room and Mikey relaxed into your touch, closing his eyes and placing his hands on your knees. It was rather nostalgic to you both, it was something he did for you after that one night together. That tender moment made your heart begin to beat for someone other than Ran. Mikey held a special place in your heart, but you were too afraid to commit to him. Even though he is a drastic change from Ran, knowing that they are involved, you sealed off your heart, especially after his refusal to come see you.

Running your hands down the back of his neck, you gently massage it and his shoulders. Your touch had his mind wondering, especially when you traced over his hanafuda tattoo. He lightly pants and runs his hands up your thighs - gripping them a little. “Angel…you’re gonna get me even harder…” Mikey says as a moan escapes his lips when you massaged a particular spot that got his mind muddled in sin. You apologized to him, it wasn’t your intention to get him excited - kind of... “You never came to see me while I was in Wakkanai…” You whisper in his ear, the bewitching tone made his body yearn for your warm walls. Before Mikey could answer, you began to rinse his hair - slightly sitting up on your knees and pressing yourself against him. Running the nozzle on his scalp, you gently wash away the shampoo and continue to lightly massage him. “I didn’t want to risk exposing you - Sanzu would have caught on immediately. You know how paranoid he is.” Mikey says while keeping his eyes closed, his hand began to wander south of his body - his member was fully erect and his body felt like it was on fire.

‘She’s driving me insane…’ He thinks to himself and resists the urge to stroke himself. Once you were done, you grabbed the loofa and washed his back. “Still…you should have come to see me, I waited for you. I keep praying that you'd walk through that door, not Ran.” There was a bit of anguish in your voice, you had a feeling that he didn’t come to see you due to other reasons. Other reasons being that you two made love to each other and made heartfelt promises. Promises that in the end, Manjiro couldn’t keep because of Bonten. He couldn’t find the words to say and remained quiet. Everything continued in awkward silence, even after the bath. Without asking, you went into his closet to grab some clean clothes - Ran still had your stuff at his place. It wasn’t like you to stay upset, especially with Mikey - you never stayed mad at him for more than a minute. Yet, Mikey didn’t do anything to approach you. There was too much fire in your eyes and he didn’t want to get burned.

Once Mikey got dressed, he left the room - the sound of the front door opening and closing signaled his leave. He didn’t want to stay there or else he’d be forced to give in to his selfish desires. When you were apart, he used to call you twice a week just to check in and make sure you were ok. Those calls became less and less when you would ask him to come see you on certain events, like your birthday or his birthday and the grand opening of your café. When he would say yes, he’d only end up disappointing you by canceling literally 1 hour before your meet up time. You always told yourself that it was ok because you understood that Bonten always came first but when he made a habit out of it - you realized that it was more than just Bonten. It was because of you.

On his bed, you curled up and bursted out crying - the pain was too much to bear with the maelstrom of emotions. Your heart was in shambles. Ran was the love of your life and his return left you busted and blue. There was a sliver of hope that maybe, just maybe he would have changed. However, the conversation you overheard with Rindou - it made you hit the brakes. What followed was a collision of regret, insanity and obsession. These last few years away from it all, it made you a stronger person but yet he was able to break you down in a mere minute. Even with his pleas of wanting a family, there was a split second of happiness that felt like heaven but it was all too good to be true. Now he’ll be a father to someone else’s baby. The thoughts swirling in your head had you overwhelmed, making your eyes heavy and your body give in to lethargy. Everything faded into black…

*meanwhile*

Ran was pacing back and forth in his office, trying to figure out how to handle the catastrophe that landed on his lap. The women in question? Oh you knew her all too well, it was the same woman who he cheated on you with - Rindou’s ex girlfriend. That woman single handedly destroys everything she touches, fucks any many men she can sink her teeth into and gets whatever she wants at whatever the cost. Ran’s office door swung open and the rest of Bonten walked into his office. “Aniki (兄貴), you need to let (Y/N) go - this shit storm isn’t going away anytime soon.” Rindou’s voice was full of venom. It felt like an eternity for Ran to recover from losing you, Rindou didn’t want to see him like that again. “How the fuck did you let this happen?” Mochizuki asked him, this was the first time he’s ever been pissed off at Ran. He knew his carelessness would one day come back and bite him in the ass but this was beyond what anyone could have imagined.

It turns out that Ran got piss drunk, took her home, fucked her in your shared bed and doesn’t remember what he did or said. But apparently the bitch was sneaky enough to record the whole ordeal, it was the only way to keep Ran at her side - she refused to let go of the life of luxury. She couldn’t get it with Rindou or anyone else but she aimed for Ran after your so-called death. Who else would replace you? He’s been seeing her even after your disappearance and death. Wiping her out of existence wouldn’t be an issue - it’d be the easiest solution but she was smart. She spread the information and video amongst the lower ranks and others who had a personal vendetta against Ran. If she were to go missing, they’d turn in the evidence to the cops and take down Ran. This would also lead to an internal investigation on Bonten. He royally fucked up.

“We need to find everyone she had contact with to make sure they don’t leak any information - we will need to get rid of them and everyone else around them to avoid any potential third party leaks.” Takeomi said and began to look through his contacts - of course the call girls who were in that circle would have information. Bonten can offer more than just money for their loyalty. “Getting rid of the third party folks would be the first step - but we also need to secure that whore at the same time. We can’t risk her sending out any kind of signal to her contacts.” Sanzu said and grinned like a child on Christmas morning. He was a little too excited about this and it shows. “We need to do this quietly… QUIETLY!” Kokonoi said as he looked at Sanzu, everyone knew that he was a loose cannon. “It’s not just Ran who would be jeopardized… Mikey would be too…” Kakucho said and reminded Sanzu of how delicate this operation would be. Though Sanzu couldn’t give two shits about Ran - he did value the safety of his King.

“Ran, she needs to know about this - we don’t know how much information she has access to while in hiding.” Mochizuki said softly, concern was laced on each and every word. Remember, the others did favor you and treated you like family before the fall out. This was way too cruel even for Bonten standards - you don’t deserve to be thrown into the flames again. “She does not need to know a goddamn thing, do you understand me?!” Ran raised his voice. He was cracking. Now Bonten had two things to worry about, this blackmail and Ran’s sanity. “What if she does find out?” The Cheshire cat grin that Sanzu had on his face made everyone uneasy. He’s always ready to end lives but he was indulging in an admin’s/executive’s misfortune. He was almost baring his fangs at Ran, ready to savor the moment that everything comes crashing down on him.

The rest of the night was spent in mapping out that woman’s contacts, they left no stone unturned. In the middle of this Mikey walked in and Sanzu’s grin widened - everyone else was so caught up in Ran’s fucking disaster that they didn’t notice Mikey’s change of clothes. That only led Sanzu to one thing and one thing only - you two were closer than what he makes it seem and Ran doesn’t know a damn thing about it. “Boss…” Sanzu says, trying to hide his excitement. This was one of the main reasons why Mikey couldn’t come to see you. Sanzu was too sharp and would have caught on if he disappeared to come see you, even if it was only for a day.

The admins and executives filled Mikey in with the information gathered and what the plan was. So far, everything sounds good on paper - but the execution of this operation is going to be crucial. “Mikey…is she ok?” Ran asked, uncertainty tainted his every word. He answered dryly and didn’t bother to give him further information. “How long will this operation take? She can’t stay in hiding forever, the longer she stays in Tokyo, the higher the risk of her being recognized..” Mikey said and finalized the plan to move forward. It really didn’t matter how long the operation would take- he just wanted to know how long he’d have you by his side.

*the next day*

Waking up with the sun slapping you in the face, you groan and roll over - not realizing where you were and whose house you were in. Nhn… The scent of sandalwood and warm vanilla made you snap up. “Mikey!” You say his name in a panic. Only silence responded to your call, there was no noise inside the house. Getting up to check the rest of the house, you noticed that Mikey hadn’t returned from the office.

The whole day you paced back and forth - waiting for Mikey to come home. There was no way to communicate with him or anyone, it was making you anxious. Recalling the laptop he had, you searched his home for it in hopes that it still had his phone synced into it. Rummaging through the house, you were not having luck finding it - well that is until you went back to his bedroom. In the closet on the top shelf, the laptop was there just collecting dust, he hasn’t used it since you left. Taking it with you to the living room, you plug it in and run the updates. After what felt like an eternity, it rebooted and was ready for use. Crossing your fingers you prayed that the updates didn’t mess with the synchronization with his phone.

For once the gods did you a favor and let something go your way. You were able to login and see Mikey’s location, he was indeed at the office. Pulling up the messaging app, it made a pang in your heart - the previous messages popped up. This all took place while you were in hiding 3 years ago before he got you a burner phone. The messages started innocent and shy, almost professional in a way. Then they started becoming more friendly and sweet, you could see how little by little both your barriers were coming down. There was no denying that there was something there. The notification sound of a bubble made you jump, it was a notification - a new message. Sure enough when you opened it, it was Mikey.

31/08 - 9:59 a.m. Manjiro Mobile: Angel? What are you doing? End Message

He could see his laptop’s status as Online and it surprised him. You reply and ask him when he will be home and what was going on? The exchange lasted a few minutes, he didn’t want you to stress out and only mentioned that they were all extremely busy. It was driving you up the wall, you needed some air.

31/08 - 10:14 a.m. PC device: Mikey, I need to step out. I have no clothing, no personal care items and you hardly have any food. I will wear a facemask and go to the small convenience store 3 blocks down. I am taking some cash from our little piggy bank. End Message

Mikey did an immediate facetime call - it kept ringing and ringing but there was no reply. By the time the call timed out, he noticed that the pc’s status was offline. Did you just…? Did you just disobey orders? Surely, you were still throwing a hissy fit because of last night, you weren’t going to leave right? “Fuck…” He sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of his nose, you were still pissed off. “What’s wrong boss?” Kakucho asked, it wasn’t like Mikey to show any sign of frustration. “I need to go…” He said and walked off. Everyone else was too busy to notice that Mikey had disappeared. To be fair, it wasn’t anything unusual.

*meanwhile*

Before leaving Mikey’s house, you made sure to cover up your face with a face mask and hat. The baggy clothes made it hard to determine if you were a woman or a man. Walking down the streets, you tried to keep your eyes peeled to make sure that you wouldn’t run into anyone you knew in the past. Luckily the streets were still empty, from what you knew Mikey's home location was away from admins, executives and underlings - all as a precaution.

While gathering the essentials, you were looking around the store for a quick meal to eat and the sound of someone's giggle made you freeze in place. The sound got louder and louder, as if they were passing by behind you. A chill ran down your spine, making the hairs on the back of your neck stand. 'It can't be…' You think to yourself and slowly lift your head to look for the source of laughter. There was no forgetting the sound of her voice, you've heard it too many times and even heard it the day you lost your fucking mind. You would have probably lost your life if Mikey wasn't there to catch you. The moment your eyes landed on the smaller brunette at the end of the aisle, you felt as if you were going to pass out - it was her. She had her back turned but you knew, you fucking knew it was the woman who took everything from you. She was laughing without a care in the world and was with two other women. Just as you were beginning to walk away, one of the women's questions made you stop in your tracks. "When are you due again?" Dropping down to pretend to look for something on the floor shelves, you listened to her response. "I'm due towards the end of May, just like her daddy!" She squeals in excitement. There was a voice inside your head that was telling you to turn around and leave but the curiosity got the better of you. The motions felt as if they were in slo mo and she was caressing her belly. You could barely see the bump but when she pulled the fabric of her shirt tight against her stomach, there it was. Their baby…

You felt heat in your face and your vision became blurry. There was no way to prepare for impact. As much as you tried to steel yourself against Ran, it was no use - it's everything you wanted at the beginning of this engagement. Yet it now belonged to someone else. "It took me almost 3 years to convince him to give me a baby… but he finally gave in 2 months ago. He said he wanted to start a family and that he loves me." Her tone was sincere, there was no way to tell if she was lying or not. Now, you felt like the other woman… If he truly said he loved her and agreed to give her a baby, why would he come looking for you? Why would he tell you he loves you? Why would he tell you he wanted a family with you? All these things were said knowing that his heart was somewhere else. The disgust was eating away at you, it felt like you couldn't breathe and everything in sight started to distort. An overwhelming sense of hatred had you clenching your fists so hard that it made you draw blood from your palms.

You felt something snap, the last thread that was keeping your heart strung together just snapped. Leaving the items behind, you exited the convenience store and continued to walk - walking until your legs led you to his front door. Your mind was so muddled and the maelstrom of emotions was enough to block out all other sounds around you. Strangers were staring at you and some even tried coming up to you to ask if you were ok as your hands were bleeding. But you just kept walking, you kept moving forward - not even bothering to take a moment to pause for crosswalks. Surprisingly enough you didn’t get hit by a car or run into something.

Making your way up to the top floor of your old home, you unlocked the door using the spare key he always kept magnetized on top of the door frame. Entering the penthouse, your eyes scanned the entire space - things that you didn’t notice before were now like giant red flags that screamed at you. Someone else was staying here rather often, there were feminine decorations and items lying around that you knew for sure did not belong to Ran. Opening the foyer closet, you saw a few pairs of women’s shoes, a woman’s jacket and handbags. You ran to the bathroom to check for feminine products and other shit that hinted at him having someone else living with him. Sure enough, beauty products were on the counter with scented candles and an extra tooth brush.

How the fuck was he going to explain all this to you? You were bound to see these things the same day of your arrival. The last straw was the bedroom, even though he kept things the way they were when you left - her things were in your drawers and closet space. Ran was an idiot for finding you without thinking things through. This would have been more than enough to signal that he hasn’t changed and that he was messing around with the same bitch. The qualm was eating away at you, you should have noticed all these things when you arrived yesterday but you were too anxious to notice them. He was the same fucking idiot that you left 3 years ago, nothing changed - he didn’t change.

The sound of a phone vibrating caught your attention, it was sitting on his side of the nightstand - this wasn’t his phone. It looked like a Bonten burner phone. In the pit of your stomach you felt a gross sense of curiosity. The voice inside your head was screaming at you not to touch it and to get the fuck out of there, call it a woman’s intuition or whatnot, but of course, you were human - human to a fucking fault. Picking up the phone you touch the screen and slide the bar to unlock it. Sure enough a wave of regret and anger washed over you. The home screen was another woman… and it wasn’t even the pregnant one. The notification bubble popped up again and the contact name was a nickname ‘Cocksleeve’. It made you sick to your stomach. You hated yourself for what you did next. You opened his messenger app and lo and behold - dozens of his contacts had half naked profile pictures with trashy nicknames. It got worse as you scrolled through the messages, videos of them and him - so much for saying that he never stopped thinking about you. The worst part was that a lot of these were recent. You wanted nothing more than to set yourself on fire and cleanse your body from his touch.

Even though you already made the choice to leave Ran, the blossoming rage inside you wanted to make him suffer. You promised yourself back in Wakkanai that you wouldn’t hurt him, you weren’t like that…you weren’t like him. Now all the memories were too stained with blood to even think back on any happy moments with him. Everything that played inside your head were his actions of betrayal, his spiteful words and the distorted I love yous - it was making your head spin. You dropped the phone and chuckled, the chuckles turned into giggles, the giggles into full blown laughter with tears streaming down your face. You were now sure that god didn’t exist, there was no way that he would allow something that cruel to happen to anyone - either that or god had it out for you.

Smashing the proposal photo that was on his nightstand, you took the picture out of frame and tore it to shreds, you couldn’t feel the glass shards on your finger tips. The blood stained the scraps of photo paper and tainted the floor. Walking over to the dresser and vanity, you knocked everything off - smashing the expensive perfume bottles. The stinging in your palms was nowhere near the pain that you felt in your chest. Grabbing the broken bottle, you fling it into the mirror - shattering the image of yourself. The force was enough to send shards in your direction, causing small cuts on your face. You lost control of yourself. Going through his closet, you opened the leather suitcase that has his old gang’s uniform and mementos. Inside was also his baton, his favorite weapon of choice as a fucked up teenager. Taking the baton, you proceeded to smash all the mirrors, lights and anything you know he valued.

In a way you were setting yourself free from his lies and bullshit. If someone were to walk in on you now, they would have confused you for someone who escaped out of the insane asylum. By the time you finished destroying everything you could, your arms felt like lead and your body was covered in specs of blood. Grabbing his burner phone, you tucked it inside your backpack and left his apartment. Taking your old car keys from the key rack, you headed back to Manjiro’s house and prepared yourself to make the final blow… Ran was going to feel every ounce of rage you had pent up inside you. At this point you didn’t care whether or not you’d live to see tomorrow. You just wanted him to suffer…

Tags: @rinrinfoxy @mor-pheus @no-signal-found @namelessnikki2 @gabi-moureira @spookys-s @slvtmeow @jinii-desu @mmmaaannnsssiii @3xchooo @kokotakeomi @no-name-jack @barriesandcrem @reidsmexyconverse @waterfallsdown @1980losersliveinme @gabytodd @simp4ren @fffsksixj @whatsonthemirror @jcrml @reiners-milkbiddies @unr-u-1y @bakugosgf2005 @whoisneth @bluephoenix908 @asmosslut @laurenzitaa @uniqueeggtoast @arlertsbaby @ilivefortheleague @mytaiyakeylover @niko-ash

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finn-m-corvex · 6 months

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Whumptober 2023 Day 1 - "How many fingers am I holding up?"

Hello everyone, and welcome to Finn's Whumptober! This is the first of the past fifteen days to come out, and the other fourteen will be releasing every hour on the hour! I've put an incredible amount of work into making these (the first batch is like. 30k words alone-) so if you guys have been craving some of my content, here you go! You're getting plenty nowadays!

GENERAL TWS FOR THE ENTIRETY OF MY STORIES: blood, vomit, beatings, assault, bullying, kinda gorey at some points, other stuff just be careful. I'll go back through and tag each individually if I need to!

Since I'm scheduling these, I won't have the opportunity to add anyone but @splinnters to the tag list, but there's going to be so many of them that I feel like it's going to be easy to find. Hope you enjoy reading all of these as much as I enjoyed writing them!

Words: 2.1k

Jay was bored.

Who knew working a party could be so mind-numbingly boring? The point of parties was to let loose and have fun, and yet here he was, stuck in a dumb stuffy suit in the corner only watching as everyone got more and more drunk off their asses. He sipped at his disappointedly non-alcoholic punch, pretending like he was keeping a careful eye over the rest of the patrons as they danced.

Getting called to watch Cyrus Borg’s work functions was one of the worst things to happen to him in recent times.

“Check in, everyone,” Lloyd said over the comm, and Jay tapped his foot against the ground as he waited for everyone else to sound off. Cole was standing on the entire other side of the room, and Jay had long since given up trying to hold a mime’s version of a conversation with his brother when the earth ninja only gave him an unimpressed stare after the first gesture. At least he was stuck in here with his best friend rather than Kai or Zane; knowing them, he would’ve gotten a full lecture rather than just a look.

A crackle, and then his beautiful Yang’s angelic voice. “Kai and I are clear.”

Part of Jay wanted to chime in and talk to her with a casual conversation about guest gossip, but he had already gotten in enough trouble tonight; he couldn’t start pushing it.

Zane and Pixal both spoke, and then it was Cole’s turn. “Jay and I are clear, although someone needs to start laying off the punch. He’s already almost spilled on himself more than once.”

“Hey!” Jay exclaimed, but he still kept it down so no one would start listening in. It pleased him immensely to hear Nya giggle over the comm, and it took every bit of self-restraint to keep from playing up the act. “I’m doing just fine, thank you very much.”

“Sure you are, bro,” Cole rolled his eyes across the room, and Jay felt his power start to flicker under his skin in frustration. Pushing the lightning down, Jay huffed, checking in with Lloyd before going back to his self-assigned duty of people-watching. At least he had a nice spot next to the punch table.

It wasn’t very long before someone bumped into him, causing his drink to slosh around and over the rim of his glass. Jay turned to face whoever it was, ready to give them a piece of his mind for almost getting punch on his nice shoes (seriously, they were brand-new!), but he stopped when he remembered that these people were all civillians and he did have to at least make an effort to be nice.

Unfortunately.

“I’m so sorry about that,” the stranger said, flashing his pearly whites and readjusting his cuffs. Jay’s danger sense was going off, and he resisted every urge in his body that was screaming for him to run far away from here. This was just a normal guy, so why was he feeling like this?

“Don’t worry about it, no harm done,” Jay chuckled, masking his discomfort with ease. It was one of his most used skills, especially in social situations.

“Surely you wouldn’t mind if I just got you another glass? Anything for a great hero of Ninjago!”

Never accept drinks from strangers, dear, he could hear his Ma say, and Jay always heeded the advice his mother gave him after the Underwear Incident.

He shook his head. “No thank you, don’t worry about it. Go enjoy the festivities, please, I insist.”

A rather cold goodbye for the sociable lightning ninja; Jay hoped that no one else would notice so it wouldn’t end up on the media. What a mess to clean up that would be, and the others already made enough messes online. The man huffed as if Jay had personally offended him, stalking off into the crowd where Jay’s eyes couldn’t be bothered to follow him. Frowning, Jay took another sip of his drink, only to bring it away from his mouth in confusion.

Why did it taste different?

Must be my lightning, Jay thought to himself as he drank it, noticing the previously sweet taste switching to salty. His lightning tended to change his taste buds whenever he suppressed it, just another little quirk of having powers, so this was just another case of that happening.

It definitely wasn’t the case fifteen minutes later.

Jay kept getting dizzier and dizzier as time passed, leaning back on the pillar and relying on it to keep him stable. Everything around him was spinning, the low lights blurring into vague patterns and swirling around on the floor at a speed that he couldn’t comprehend. He could feel the sweat gathering on the back of his neck, hot and sticking to his shirt collar. There were nails being driven into his temples, and he winced as the crowd suddenly cheered when Cyrus Borg came out on the other side of the room to start his speech. Pixal and Zane were on the stage with him, and Jay had to keep himself from screaming as the spotlights followed the three as they walked.

Up until now, he had hesitated everytime his hand went to his comm; he had already pissed Cole off once or twice, he shouldn’t say anything unless it was an absolute emergency.

His vision blacked out for a second, and Jay was suddenly hyperaware of everything happening around him. This wasn’t normal; this was an emergency.

“Cole,” Jay said, swallowing back the spit in his mouth that threatened to spill down his lips. Why couldn’t he feel his lips? Why did his throat feel like it was clogging up with something?

Reaching up with an arm, his brother looked quite bored. “What is it now, Jay?”

“Something’s wrong.”

Jay must’ve forgotten to switch to their private channel, because Lloyd’s voice came through the tinny speaker. “Jay, what’s wrong?”

“I-I’m dizzy,” Jay couldn’t keep himself from stuttering, and he started panicking as his knee gave out from under him. What the hell was in his drink?

Starting to push through the crowd, he could barely pick Cole out from the crowd, only hearing the earth ninja’s voice through his earpiece. “Jay, Jay did you drink something-”

And Jay was crashing to the floor.

Head smacking against the ground, Jay was coughing up spit, reeling from the loud gasp that surged through the crowd at the sight of one of the Ninja collapsing. Even though this was far from the first time that he had hit his head, he still found himself dizzier than before, struggling to ground himself in the forest of suit pants and dresses that he was stuck in. His hands were shaking as they tried to push him up, and he cried out as his elbows stopped working and his head hit the ground again.

Why couldn’t he feel his legs? Panic swarmed through his chest as he tried to wiggle his toes, but he couldn’t tell if it was working.

First Master, he was drugged.

“Move!” he heard two voices at once; one voice in the earpiece and the other through the ear not smushed against the tile. “Move out of the way!”

Other voices were clammering around him, and Jay would’ve yelled for them all to shut up if his tongue didn’t feel like it was a piece of cotton stuffed into his mouth. He was pretty sure he was drooling all on the floor, and he could feel the excess dribbling down his chin when rough hands pulled him upright.

There was Cole, face pinched in worry and hurriedly speaking into his comm. “I have him, he just collapsed and I don’t know why. Shut down the exits and get Borg out of here-”

Jay had to stop listening as the spotlights focused directly into his eyes, and he slammed his eyelids shut as if that were going to do anything. Cole was quick to block out the light, but the damage had been done; Jay leaned to the side and vomited, red punch spurting from his lips along with the small finger sandwiches that he had chowed down on earlier. Some of it landed on some poor patron’s shoes, and Jay opened his mouth to apologize only to upchuck more of his guts. His stomach heaved under the weight of his anxiety, feeling the voices around him change to a disgusted pitch, and the feeling of knowing that all of these strangers were seeing one of their protectors collapse and throw up like some drunkard made him flush with shame.

Something hauled him up from under the armpits, and suddenly he was on the move. Cole was taking him somewhere.

“Can’t take you anywhere without shit hitting the fan,” Cole grumbled, and Jay could feel the tears stinging at his eyes in protest. He didn’t mean for this to happen!

But was it his fault anyway? Could he have done anything to stop the man?

He was sat on some cheap chair a few hallways down, and Jay couldn’t move his arms or legs to try and readjust himself, the numbness spreading from his chest outwards. Cole pressed a warm hand to Jay’s forehead, feeling his cheeks and the back of his neck.

Jay felt so ashamed when he couldn’t stop the tears from rolling down his cheeks. “Cole, Cole-”

“What happened, Jay?” Cole asked, a serious expression on his face. He reached up to start thumbing away the tears. “Are you drunk? I promise you aren’t in trouble if you are, things happen.”

He shook his head as best as he could. “No, someone spiked it.”

Mouth agape, Cole clicked it shut, fury overtaking his features. “Who. The. Fuck. Spiked your drink?”

“A guy, he ran into me and must’ve put it in my punch,” Jay let out a small sob as the spinning room sped up. “I-I’m so sorry.”

“The only thing you have to be sorry for is not telling me sooner,” Cole stressed, cupping his brother’s cheek when Jay’s head lulled to the side. “First Master, is this why you were so fidgety? I knew something was wrong; I’m the one who should be saying sorry to you.”

Shaking his head, Jay felt the shame swell up even further. “It’s not your fault-”

“No, but I’m still your brother, and I should’ve checked in the moment I thought something was wrong.” Cole clicked his tongue, thumb brushing against Jay’s jaw in a way that had his heart aching. “I gotta check how bad it is, bluebell. How many fingers am I holding up?”

If Jay was being completely honest, it looked like twelve, so that’s exactly what he said. Cole’s worried face was not reassuring in the slightest.

Nya’s voice flowed into his ear, and Jay sobbed. He wanted her, he wanted her so bad. “Jay, honey, I need you to talk to me. What’s wrong?”

“Some asshat spiked his drink,” Cole said briskly, shrugging off his suit jacket and draping it over Jay after seeing how hard the blue ninja was shaking. “He’s still conscious, but I don’t think he’s moving anytime soon. We’re in the hallway off to the left of the main room.”

Finally, the severity of the situation hit Jay: he had been drugged. Someone had deliberately sought him out and messed with his drink with ill intentions that Jay could only dream of, even though those dreams would actually be nightmares.

The thought of what could’ve happened if Cole hadn’t seen him go down made him sick to his stomach.

“I’ll be right there,” and Jay felt his lip start to wobble as the sobs rushed up his throat, because he wanted Nya here now and he was scared and he was too cold but too hot at the same time and he couldn’t move and Cole was mad at him and why was his vision tunneling and oh shit was it always this hard to breathe-

A hand tangled itself in his hair, gently freeing it from its prison of hair products as Jay gasped for air. “Stay with me, Bluejay. Nya’s on her way and then we’re getting you out of here. You’re gonna go home and we’re going to spoil you rotten, okay?”

His hands scrambled for something to hang onto, his fingertips unfeeling, and Cole was quick to put his other warm hand into Jay’s as he readjusted the makeshift blanket over Jay’s form. It wasn’t nearly as good as a shock blanket would’ve been but beggars can’t be choosers. Jay forced his body forward, landing clumsily on Cole’s chest as the earth ninja quickly compensated for the extra weight. “I want Nya.”

There was yelling from the main room that made it hard for Jay to hear what Cole was saying. “I know buddy, she’ll be here soon. I’m going to hold you just like this for a little while, okay?”

“Okay,” Jay whispered, feeling the tears start to soak into his brother’s suit, and First Master he hoped it was going to be okay.

#whumptober 2023 #finn's writing #ninjago jay #ninjago fanfiction #lego ninjago #ninjago cole #ninjago whumptober #whumptober day 1

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beanibon · 11 months

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Hi there. I love everything you've written so far. I was wondering if you could write something about Vash having a romantic partner who struggles with self harm and is worried he'll be disgusted with or loathe all the scars on their body once he sees them. or that he'll start looking at and treating them different cuz of their struggle. Thank you have a nice day.

That's no issue at all, I'd love to write this for you and anyone else who needs just a bit of Vash comforting his s/o.

TW: self-harm, self-harm mentions, scars, depressive thoughts.(lemme know if I've missed anything)

Fluff & Angst

Vash x A Relapsing Self-Harm!Reader

It was a particularly hard day for you, struggling to keep up with what was happening around you, mind mostly wandering. Driving squished in-between your boyfriend, head leaning against the hard technology of his prosthetic, and Wolfwood left a lot of time between towns to think. Not the good kind of thinking.

You had been relapsing for a while, new scars appearing almost each day as the constant travelling was becoming overwhelming. The car was filled with silence 70% of the time, the other either arguing, snoring of one or all of the men crammed in the car, or the nauseating sound of a staticie radio. It drove you insane!

Nails began pinching at the skin where new scars had formed, only stopping when a certain blonde stirred from his peaceful slumber.

Vash yawned, rubbing his eyes as he tiredly smiled at you, enveloping you in an one armed hug. You leaned into the embrace, welcoming his warmth as it ceased most of those ugly thoughts. There was only one that screamed louder than the others, only sounding in affectionate moments like this.

It was officially week 3 since Vash shyly asked you to be his girlfriend, even going as far as presenting a worn book to you in hopes you'd accept. Even without the gift you wouldn't launched into his arms, squeezing the air from him as you hugged his neck in pure joy. There was just one thing that played in the back of your mind, an certain problem you feared may ruin the only bit of happiness you managed to scrape from this planet.

You couldn't stop harming yourself.

The many scars across your body was a constant reminder, you couldn't look at yourself in the mirror anymore, that's how bad your urges had gotten. Since dating Vash you tried to stop, or at least lessen the amount of times you did it. But nothing worked, and you found yourself falling deeper into an endless chasm that you couldn't be pulled from.

"You feeling okay, Mayfly?" Vash looked at you, concern written across his soft features. He was such a loving boyfriend, caring and compassionate, you truly didn't deserve him.

"Just thinking about the bed we better still be getting," You lied, feeling the guilt already begin to well up inside your gut. "It'd be nice not to wake up with sand all in my clothes for once."

A small laugh was heard from the Humanoid Typhoon before a gentle, loving kiss was placed between your brows, his hand fondly playing with your hair. Such a simple action had seemingly brushed away all of your fears, worries and harmful thoughts, mind filled with the kind person that was Vash. It was refreshing, even as the guilt of using him as a distraction balled in your stomach, as if he were some pain medication to take away the vindictive desires inflicted upon yourself.

"Alright everyone, we're stopping here for the night," Excited at the prospect of a bed made you shove Vash out of the car, only to freeze, blinking as you were met with endless sand. You turned to Meryl, confused. "Sorry Y/N, we weren't able to make it to the next town. It'll only be for the night though, I promise!"

Yet that wasn't what concerned you, what concerned you was the way your skin itched, unsure if you could go another night clean. The very thought ate you up inside, but you didn't know how to stop, how to overcome the voice screaming at you.

So, as everyone set out to make their makeshift camp, you slumped against the other side of the car. Everyone was busy, so it wouldn't hurt to quickly to relieve some of the pain, right?

Taking the small pocket knife from it's compartment, you flicked it out, met with your reflection upon it's blade.

Guilt, regret and worst of all endless pain stared back at you, and before you knew it, the damage was done.

"Y/N?"

Startled you jumped from your spot on the ground, clutching your wrists as you met the shocked eyes of none other than Vash.

Fear swallowed you whole, even as Vash ran forward to seize your hands in his, you flinched out of his grip. All that consumed your mind was how Vash would react to seeing the rest, your arms, legs, body even was covered in scars. Surely he would be disgusted at the sight, loathe your very existence that you weren't some gorgeous, scar-free individual.

"Please, Y/N. Let me see," Vash's voice was so soft, so gentle and reassuring it made you choke out a cry. You refused to believe this was how he chose to react, that secretly he despised you. "Let me help you, Mayfly."

You hesitantly relaxed, allowing Vash to roll your sleeves up, revealing the ugly sight of many self-inflicted scars, yet he didn't bat an eye. Vash grabbed some water, and set to patching up the recent wounds.

You simply watched, letting silent tears fall from your eyes, his hands were so soft. It made fresh tears well up, eyes desperately trying to find some kind of malice behind those stupid yellow shades.

"I don't hate you if that's what you're thinking, I just want to know why?" Vash finished up, hands moving to cup your crying face in his hands. "How long have you been hurting Mayfly?"

The waterworks came immediately, latching onto Vash as if he'd disappear if you didn't. He simply reacted by holding you tightly, arms wrapped around you protectively as you wept. Gentle whispers began reassuring you, soft kisses pressed into the crown of your skull as fingers stroked loving circles in between your shoulder blades.

"I'm sorry... I tried, I really tried to stop, I swear I did." You managed began sobs, wiping at your face to lessen the tears that blurred your vision. "It just hurts too much, the screams don't stop until I give in."

Vash let out a quiet 'shh', that stupid smile on his face as he wiped your tears and nose with his sleeve, ignoring the way you scrunched your face at the action.

"You don't ever have to apologise to me, not now not ever." He squeezed you against him, nuzzling into your hair. "And I promise you Y/N, I'll help you get through this. Just promise me one thing, that you'll come to me first before resorting to this." Vash held the pocket knife in his hand, snapped shut.

"You don't hate me? Think I'm pathetic, disgusting to look at?" Vash's eyes widened, shocked you would think such a thing.

"Of course not! Why would I ever hate you?"

"Because I'm ugly covered in all these scars."

The impact of your words left the Humanoid Typhoon speechless, head shaking as he brought you closer, cradling your head against his shoulder. "You are not ugly, you're beautiful, perfect even! I'm so lucky to have someone as amazing as you are in my life, you make me laugh, your smile lights fireworks in my heart, and the way you kiss me? I'd melt right against those lips of yours!"

A small laugh sounded from you, those words alone lifted a weight from your shoulders. What had you done to deserve someone that radiated sunshine like Vash did?

"Don't even get me started on your ass in those pants," A gentle slap made Vash laugh, bringing you into the best kiss you've experienced. "There's my spitfire, glad to have you back."

You hummed, closing your eyes as you leaned into Vash, who wrapped his coat around your shoulders. Picking you up to tuck you into his sleeping bag, despite having your own.

"Vash?"

"Yes, Mayfly?"

"I promise to come to you first, or at least try to." You promised, determined for his sake.

"That's all I ask of you, I love you my beautiful Mayfly."

"I love you too, Vash."

A/N: Hope you enjoyed Anon and anyone else that needed this. You're all amazing and I hope you all stay safe

#trigun stampede #trigun #vash #vash the stampede #vash x you #vash the stampede x reader #vash x reader

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 7 months

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AITA for running a kid out of a gaming community? (Tw mention of rape/self-harm/nazism)

I play the sims often, and am active in the simblr community. About four years back I (f, 19 at the time) saw a comment under a post about a DLC pack for the game, pointing out that there were an unequal amount of masculine vs feminine clothing in the pack, and stating that “girls were ruining the sims and making it a girls game.” I replied, saying I agreed with their assertion that in inequality isn’t fair (people, myself included, have been complaining about that very thing since the game first came out), but that it’s the developers faults, and it’s not right to blame the players or fanbase of a game for aspects of production that they have no control over. The commenter who I’ll call J (m, 17, though I didn’t know his age until later) responded saying again that girls were ruining the game for male players. Not wanting to clog the OPs notifs with back-and-forth comments, I messaged J privately, reiterating that I agreed with some of his points, just that it wasn’t fair to blame women for ‘ruining’ a game when they weren’t in control of mistakes the development team made. J went on a massive rant about how I was a ‘stupid white girl who loves Starbucks’ (I’m not white and I never said anything about Starbucks?) and that women were ruining the sims franchise by turning it into a “decorating and dress up game” and that players who were women “hated all men and children” because too many people made adult women sims and not enough men/child sims.

At that point I knew the discussion wasn’t going to go anywhere, so I joked and said he sounded like a Redditor. He responded by saying “me when women get raped” followed by a Fortnite dancing gif. I didn’t respond. An hour later he sent me a link to some website featuring a video of a man beating a woman in public. I screenshotted his messages, blocked him, and made a post with said screenshots urging others to not interact with him/to block him too.

A while later I get a message from a mutual linking a post he made about the situation on Reddit, explaining the discussion from his point of view. It was removed by the time I looked at it, but the comments were basically all agreeing with me or at least saying his last responses were wrong. He would go on to complain about how I was “the reason he hated modern women” and that I was “driving him back to being a Nazi because Nazis were so welcoming”. I made a post laughing at the situation, because it was just so absurd.

A few hours later I get an anon from J telling me that I had made him self harm and he posted the photos on his blog. When I finally got the courage to look on his blog several days later he seemed to be okay (it looked like he accidentally scratched himself on the arm too hard, nothing life threatening) but he had DOZENS of anons upset with him for the heinous shit he said. This is when I learned he was 17. He said that he “wasn’t a Nazi anymore, but was thinking about going back” (even though he was non-white, gay and trans?); that women were turning the sims into a girls game and because of that people irl would call him slurs because he was playing a girls game; that the reason he said those things to me was because “I’m autistic, and no one gets mad when they say it on family guy”, and that he want a misogynist he just wanted to make me upset, as well as back and forth arguments with anons where he essentially argued that female custom content creators are sexist if they don’t make masculine clothing/content for male sims. His last posts talked about how the sims was all he had in life and that since everyone in the community hated him now he’d just make everyone happy by killing himself. His blog hasn’t updated since.

Obviously I can’t confirm what happened to him, but I still think about this event frequently, and check up on his blog a few times a year. I have a sizable following on my simblr, and I knew I’d be exposing him to thousands of people with my posts—but I didn’t want him to hurt himself, I only wanted to warn people that he wasn’t safe to interact with.

Should I have blocked and moved on without warning people? Was I the asshole?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole #suicide cw #rape cw #self harm cw

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abbysbraids · 1 month

Text

Self harm after care with Ellie

warnings: self harm, nick names , blood I think that’s it :)))

you had dated ellie for a month , you loved her but you didn’t tell her one thing , you had sh a couple of months ago and you didn’t have the heart to tell her you didn’t want to feel sorry for you so you keep it to yourself,

while ellie was at work you had the urge again , you tired to stop yourself but you could , your one the floor blood all over your Clothes your eyes were puffy from crying your eyes out , and suddenly you hear keys and the front door open your went quite you didn’t want her to see you like this , she’s called out your name when you didn’t reply, she wondered if you left without telling her , that’s when she found you on the kitchen floor blood and wet from your tears , your limp and you couldn’t speak , the sight of her girl like this made her so fucking upset how could she left this happen how can someone so perfect do this to themselves she rushed over to you scooping you up in her arm her tears falling on you “ what happened my love “ she said through you couldn’t reply your throat was dry she held you tight carful not to hurt your arms and thighs “ I’m so sorry “ you say , you were doing so good what happened why do this to her and yourself “ don’t apologize sweet girl it’s not your fault I’m sorry for letting you down , I’m gonna carry you to the couch and clean you up okay baby is that okay “ all you can do is nod your lifeless body being cared to the couch she gently placed you don’t and reassured that everything is okay “ your baby girl it’s okay , your absolutely perfect I love your eyes your hair your lips your body, I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you “ she was blaming herself if only she stayed home from work today maybe things would end up differently “ it’s not your fault els , im so sorry for not being honest with I was just scared you would leave I know you could never but my mind couldnt shake it off I’m so fucking sorry for being a burden “ you couldn’t stop the tears as she clean you up and banged you up “I love you so fucking much sweet girl your never a burden, your gonna be okay I promise I’m gonna be with you every step of the way I’m not leaving your side “ she says you can’t believe how luck you are to have her you feel like the biggest Asshole ever she was so supportive and comforting “ do you need to eat or drink something “ she asked “ can I have some water “ you ask “ of course y/n anything you need I’m here “ shes gets up to get the water coming back fast “ can you open up for me mama” you nod as she helped you swallow the water “ you feeling better ?” She asked generally worried about you “ yeah thank you babe can you be next to me please “ you just want to feel to feel her warm presence next to you , she sits next to you opening her arms to welcome your body close to her you nuzzled your head into the crook of her neck , she kisses your head grabbing your face and kissing your face gently talking her times admiring your face your weakly smile melting into her arms wondering how could you ever deserve her .

Note: this is my first time writing so I hope it’s good , this is a heavy topic but it’s been on my mind all day , so sorry if I didn’t so the warnings right I’m letting 😔🎀( I’m just a girl)

#ellie tlou #ellie williams #the last of us #ellie fic #firtspost

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ariluvsusm · 2 years

Text

-description: azriel comforts you after you wake up from nightmares

-warnings: self-harm discussed, you’re very sad, female y/n, very soft and respectful azriel, azriel is the most respectful Illyrian male ever, i’m lonely fr so i wrote this at 2 am

-a/n this is low key shitty but i don’t usually write in 3rd person 😭😭 anyway i’m trying to improve myself please give me criticism :)

1.6k words

————————————————————————

after a few hours of tossing and turning, your mind has finally given in to your exhausted body. before long, you fall into a dream, a world where you can’t decipher between true and false, memory and the present, real-life and fantasy. images of your past haunt your mind, terrifying your consciousness, and after a mere hour of sleep, you abruptly awaken. your throat burns from screaming. and crying, you assume from your wet cheeks. your nightgown is hitched up, the thin material twisted around your waist. your hair is matted and tangled, and your entire body is covered in a sheen of sticky sweat. your pillows are strewn about the room and your sheets and blankets are entangled with each other, hanging off the bed. how you didn’t wake anyone, you don’t know. still crying, you sit helplessly on your bed, knees to your chest and arms wrapped around yourself, rocking back and forth to self-soothe. but you can’t help it, as you delve deeper into your memories, your breathing quickens and you know exactly what is to follow, and once you start, you cannot stop. the urge to cause yourself physical pain, to hurt yourself, only gets worse.

quickly, you crawl off of your bed, wiping your face and adjusting your rather short nightgown. but you don’t bother to change it before you slip out of your room and into the dark hallway. the only sound is the pitter-patter of your feet on the cold floor, and before you know it you’re standing in front of his door. he’s always told you he’s here whenever you need him, to come to him, but you’ve never actually taken him up on the offer. you can see from the light shining under his door that he is awake. before you can change your mind, you knock.

in a flash, the door opens, and standing before you is azriel.

“az,” you greet him quietly, your voice hoarse. and that’s all it takes before he opens the door wider, inviting you in. he’s shirtless, his hair is messy, and he has candles illuminating his desk, where a stack of papers and a pen sit. shadows writhe around his legs and feet.

“are you alright, y/n?” he asks as you walk by. he glances from your tangled hair, your wild eyes, your chapped lips, down to your wrinkled nightgown and exposed skin.

“yes,” you say quietly as he closes the door, “i’ve just had night terrors. i needed company.”

“did you…” he trails off, glancing at your exposed wrists and thighs, where self-inflicted scars litter your skin.

“oh, no.” you say quickly, sitting down on the edge of his bed. “i was… i didn’t want… i… that’s why i came here,” you say. “i hope i’m not interrupting.”

“no, no, just some paperwork for my recent mission.” he says, waving in the direction of the desk. he steps closer to you. “you’re welcome here any time, y/n. any time. no matter the hour, or how busy i am.” he says, the last phrase a little quieter than the first.

you look down, tears threatening to escape your eyes. you wring your hands, trying not to remember the last time you trusted somebody like this… the last time you let someone in...

“thank you.” you say sincerely, your voice breaking. he kneels in front of you, catching your eyes in his. surprisingly, he places his scarred, calloused hands around yours. tendrils of his smoke-like shadows wrap around your hands, wrists, and forearms, covering your scars and pale skin in a blanket of night. azriel is the only male who knows of your past. and our certain he is the only one you will ever tell.

“i wish i could erase your memory, or change your past. but neither of us can. so instead, you must cope. in a safe and healthy manor. and i am here, for you, no matter what, to make sure you do that. and to make sure you recover, and never feel like you have to-” his voice breaks, “hurt yourself... ever again. i know how it feels to finally be safe. to question everyone around you. the uncertainty, the feeling that it all might be ripped away from you. the guilt of knowing so many others did not escape, will not ever. the loneliness. the nightmares, the terrors, the ghosts. they may not ever go away. but i’m not either.”

you lift your head to look at him, and he is staring at you already. pure love and understanding dance in his eyes. candlelight flickers across his face, which is contorted into an expression of worry. suddenly, he brings your hands to his lips, kissing your hands. and from your hands to your wrists, to your forearms. directly over your scars.

whatever leash you had on your emotions break, and you lunge foreword, flinging yourself into to his arms and letting out a sob. he wraps his arms around you, letting you cry into his chest.

you sit like that for a while, you in his arms weeping for the years past. him, arms around you, protecting you from the ghosts that haunt your every thought. tendrils of shadow wrap around you, binding you together, whispering comfort into your ear. finally, your tears stop and your breathing evens.

“thank you” you whisper into his chest. you adjust yourself to look up at him and meet his gaze. then, you wiggle out of his arms, both of you now standing. you awkwardly straight out your nightgown and he drinks in your every movement, every motion.

“so, um…” you say, looking down again.

“i know we aren’t… but- if you want to spend the night in here-” he says, quickly adding “just for comfort, you know. my bed is big enough for the both of us. it may be good for you to have someone, it might help your nightmares. and if you want…” he trails off, not finishing the last sentence, but his cheeks crowd with color. gods, did you make azriel flustered?

“i would like that.” you say a little too quickly.

“okay. let me just finish up here.” he says, gesturing to his desk. “go ahead and… make yourself at home.” he says, now waving in the direction of the bed. you crawl onto the giant, unmade bed, and into the mess of covers. after settling under his fluffy duvet cover, you watch him work. his muscular back. his dark skin like molten gold. his scent crowds your fae senses, and you are comforted. the pressure of your last few weeks weighs down on you. after you yawn, az turns around.

“hey, if you want, we can go ahead and go to sleep. i can finish this tomorrow.” you shake your head, closing your eyes and stifling another yawn. but when you open them, the paperwork has disappeared, and azriel is putting on a shirt in an attempt to be respectful about sharing his bed with you. you try not to smile. then, he is climbing into bed, wings out and relaxed. again, you try not to smile. you know that he would have to be comfortable and trust you to share a bed. but illyrians are so careful with their wings, so careful about who sees them, who touches them. he props himself up against plush pillows, turning to face you.

“so…” he says, “um, if you think it would help you, we can… you know…” this time, you actually crack a smile.

“is azriel, spymaster of the night court, terror incarnate, asking me to snuggle?” for a supposed spymaster, he is terrible at hiding his feelings. because when he looks over at you, giving you a small smile, affection speckled in his eyes, you know exactly how he feels about you. you sit up in bed, knowing that you probably look awful right now, with your untamed hair, your face shiny from sweat. but he looks at you like the most beautiful female he’s ever seen.

“i just think- you know, physical comfort…” azriel says, looking up at you.

“yes. it would.” you say, once again, a little too eagerly. but he doesn’t smirk at you, or tease you. he just smiles. you’ve never seen azriel like this, his guard down, so vulnerable. so you crawl across the giant bed, to where azriel lays, arms open. you place yourself in them, facing into his chest, and breath in the scent of him. he wraps his arms around you tightly. his shadows dance on your skin, making soothing circles on your exposed back and arms. his wings wrap around you too, so warm and soft, providing you with a different type of comfort and safety, one that you’ve never experienced. he leans down and places a small kiss atop your head, and all of the candles in the room go out, now completely dark save for the very small amount of light coming in through the windows because of the full moon.

and you fall asleep like that. you feel more safe and protected than you have in a long while, him wrapped around you, your two bodies entwined. you yearn for it to continue, for the feeing of security and stability to stay. so in the morning, when you both stir, when life and light stream through the windows and people bustle about in the hallways, neither of you let go.

#azriel #azriel shadowsinger #a court of thorns and roses #acotar #azriel acotar #azriel x reader #azriel x female!reader #azriel x you #azriel supremacy #fanfic #sjm #acomaf #acofas #acosf

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ofhismentalwayss · 1 year

Text

You call that a kiss?

Hiii I’m Kieran and I love haymitch, so I wrote this but just a few warnings: Self-Harm, Swearing, And Mentions of smut. Enjoy!

—

As you walked around district 12 the urge to hurt yourself was getting to you. You already had that morning but the rubber band on your left wrist had to work for now. You ended up in front of Haymitch’s house in the victors village, and you decided to go in.

“Haymitch? It’s y/n….” You called in to the house that was slightly illuminated by the fire in the fireplace in the living room. He stumbled out of the kitchen, smiling when his eyes landed on you. “Hey sweetheart.. Wanna drink?” Haymitch smirked.

A few minutes later you found yourself sitting on the couch beside him venting about all your shit. You took off your jacket forgetting about your cuts

“Y/N! Your arm!….” Haymitch gasped in surprise. You turn red from embarrassment and tears well up in your eyes and he grabs your wrist and looks close at the fresh and old cuts. You look at him trying not to cry as he holds your hand in both of his.

“I’m sorry!” You start to sob pulling your hand back and burying your face in your hands.

“Y/N… don’t be. It’s okay.” He assured you.

Your Y/E/C eyes met his blue eyes making butterflies erupt in your stomach. You didn’t ignore that you liked him at all at that moment. You cupped his face with one hand and used the other to wipe your tears.

“Y/N…..” He sighed

You leaned in to him and kissed him gently making him smirk. Yes you had been drinking, but were you drunk? No, you weren’t.

“Haymitch I really like you…” You smiled. “Sweetheart, you’re just drunk.” Haymitch sighed once more.

you smiled at him, he looked from your eyes to your lips his eyes hungry for more. You kissed him lightly once more making him grip your hair and tug it down so your head was cocked back. You whimpered as he kissed your neck.

“You call that a kiss?” He smiled. “What you said I’m drunk soooo?” You smirked

He let go of your hair and yanked you to strattle his lap, you started to play with his hair. Making him smile and chuckle at you being happy with him. “Y/N, I like you too… Just know that..” He smiled, kissing your forehead. “Then why don’t we just… ya know…” You smiled. “Have sex or make out.?”He asked. “I’ve done none of the above so..” you admitted making him smile

You kissed him gripping his collar making him bite your bottom lip slightly, Making a whimper come from your lips. The kiss deepened as he guided you through. You moaned slightly as his hands ran over your body. He pulled away and looked at you with a questioning look. “Do you wanna stop?” He asked.

You give a silent nod making him move you off for him and stand up. You look at him, as he gestures for you to follow him. “you comfortable staying with me… I mean cuddling…?” He asked. “Of course!” You smile as you walk up the stairs behind him.

He lays down silently and you lay cuddled up beside him head on his chest. As he strokes your hair making you tired. “if you fall asleep and have a nightmare, I’ll be there…” Haymitch croaked out, you could tell he was tired as well. “Okay…” You yawn as you drift off.

—

Okay part two? Thoughts? This is my first story so anything would be welcome!

#haymitch x reader #haymitch abernathy #the hunger games #tw depression #tw self destructive behavior

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r1v3raq · 13 days

Text

My perfect boy

sim jaeyun x trans male reader

fluff ; comfort ; crying ; oneshot ; pet names ; non-idol AU ; jake as your sweet boyfriend ; first year anniversary celebrating

➣ lowercase intended

➣ the reader gets called “pretty” etc

➢ the reader had top surgery ; !! ftm reader !!

tw: mentioned transphobia ; body dysmorphia ; self hate ; intention of self harm ; curse words

english is not my first language. i apologise if i made some mistakes. feel free to correct me :)

「 ☆ 」

jake had a pretty tiring day at work, so now he just wants to get home and prepare for the best night ever. even at work, he was thinking about you, since today is your first year anniversary.

this day has to be special.

he’s tapping with his fingers on the steering wheel as his thoughts circle around you. how badly he wants to cuddle you right now, pepper your face with kisses, admire your attractive face and listen to your voice. but no matter how badly he wants to do these right now, he has to finish his surprise for you, that’s why he goes home hours earlier.

jake has always been a clingy person, but ever since he got together with you, — according to his friends, — he got ten times worse. he just can’t get enough of you. the urge to refrain himself from hugging and placing small kisses on your face is always a big challenge for him.

that’s why he feels the need to make this night perfect for you. he planned everything a few months ago, just that he can get home sooner than he usually does. his boss wasn’t happy about it, but jake doesn’t really care about it. he wants to make you happy.

the moment he gets home, he starts his work right away. he spreads some artificial rose petals onto the floor, from the main door to your bedroom. he knows it’s cheesy but he has always wanted to try it, so he thought he would give it a shot.

then he goes to the kitchen and takes out the ingredients — which he bought in advance just to be sure he can be prepared — and starts cooking your favorite food. he keeps looking at the clock, checking from time to time, calculating how much time he has before you get home.

he's listening to his favorite songs as he cooks, humming the lyrics, sometimes even shaking his hips to the rhythm.

as he finishes, there's only one thing left to do. jake places a lot of candles — with your favorite scent — in every room and lights them. then he goes to your shared bedroom to change his clothes. he knows what kind of style do you like on him, so he puts on those kind of clothes.

he smiles as he tries to guess what your reaction will be. he knows you tend to forget things — such as birthdays or special events — because of all the things you stress about, so it’s mostly him who reminds you of these. but as long as he can surprise you, he doesn't mind.

he turns off all the lights, so now everything is dark, except for the dim light of the candles. he sits down on the couch and checks the time on his phone. it’s almost time for you to arrive.

a few minutes later, jake hears the sound of your footsteps. he takes a deep breath as he hears you insert the key to the lock. he gets up from the furniture and slowly walks towards the front door.

「 ☆ 」

after you open the door the next thing you see is your boyfriend’s face. he’s smiling widely as he leans to the wall.

you almost drop everything out of your hand.

jake comes closer and welcomes you with a warm hug. he peppers kisses on your face as he says “happy first anniversary dear!”

that is the moment when you can't hold your tears back anymore. you press yourself to jake close and start sobbing. the last thing you want to do is ruining jake's mood, but everything bottled up and seeing jake smiling and waiting for you with probably a lot of surprises — as you know how your boyfriend can be when it comes to special events — does not help your situation.

as expected, jake's smile immediately disappears from his face as the worry takes over. he brings one hand to your face and carefully starts rubbing your cheek.

“love? what's wrong?” he asks in a quiet tone, slightly pushing you away so he can look at you properly.

you don't utter a word, because you feel like if you say anything, you won't be able to stop.

“let's just go inside first, alright?” he asks after a couple seconds of silence. you nod.

he closes the door behind you after you both step inside. you see the beautiful lights of the candles, the petals on the floor and you feel even worse. and when the smell of your favorite food reaches your nose, the urge to scream grows stronger.

“i’m so sorry.” that's all you say before you break down completely, crying and sniffing loudly. you feel your knees getting weak but before you could drop down on the floor, jake grabs you by your hips and carries you to the coach. he quickly goes to the switch and turns on the lights, then he comes back to sit next to you, your legs pressed together as he leans closer and hugs you tightly.

“why are you sorry? what happened? you know i’m here for you sweetheart.”

he patiently waits for you as you cry loudly into his shoulders. his clothing around his shoulder is soaked by the amount of tears you dropped on it, but he doesn't mind.

it seems like an eternity, when you finally start to feel better. after taking a deep breath, you try to calm down.

“do you want to talk about it dear, hm?” murmurs jake close to your ears as he starts peppering little kisses on your face.

you can't help but smile at his affectionate side. jake always knows how to help you get through situations like these. because of course, a sudden outburst like this from you is not the first example.

“i don’t want to ruin this day.” you sniffle, avoiding his gaze.

“who says you’re ruining it?” he sighs in a disappointed tone. “if you're not feeling okay, then celebrating it wouldn't make any sense. i don't want you to pretend to be happy when you're not.”

it has always been clear that jake is a good boyfriend. no, not good but the best you could ever ask for.

the uneasy feeling inside you did not disappear, but you're starting to think clearer as you did a few minutes ago.

“i don’t even know where to start.” you say it in a low tone. but jake waits patiently, one of his hands smoothing over the skin on your chin, and the other hand on your thighs while his gaze is on you all the time. “take your time, sweetheart.”

you inhale before you start talking.

“i didn’t forget about this day. i actually planned to get a special cake for you, but... something happened.” you have to take a deep breath so you can continue. “i just left the bakery when i bumped into someone. it was an old classmate of mine, and unfortunately he recognized me. he said really bad things about me and called me names, while his friends just stood there with a disgusted look on their face. it was horrible.”

with each word that left your mouth, jake's gaze got darker and darker.

“i tried to save the cake when they pushed me, but it got smashed. i did not want them to see me cry so i ran away. it was humiliating, just like the fact that i wasn't able to save your anniversary gift.” you start sobbing again.

your boyfriend doesn't say anything, instead he holds you tight. his hands find their way to your hair as he carefully caresses your head, waiting for you to continue.

“and i hate that even though i try everything to bury my past, people still find a way to throw me back and stab me where it hurts the most. i already hate myself so much, why do they have to make it worse? i know i’ll never be a boy, but why do they have to make me more miserable? why is it my fault that i hate who i was, no, who i am, because i will never ever be satisfied with how i look, sound or act. it's so unfair, i hate being jealous but in reality i've always felt envy to attractive boys with deeper voice and adam’s apple. i wish i was one of them. a real boy. i wish i didn’t have to pay for a surgery just to be who i am supposed to be. sometimes i want to hurt myself to actually feel that i'm real somehow, but at the same time i feel so lost and scared. i hate it!”

at the end of your speech you raise your voice. your mind is literally a mess. jake already knew you were struggling with these feelings, but you never got worked up like this before. everything really did bottle up inside you.

“and most of the time i feel like you deserve someone better. someone who is not a failure like me, who is prettier, smarter and more talented. someone whose life isn't shitty and is a better boyfriend.”

jake stays quiet through everything you say, but this time he slightly pulls himself away to look you in the eyes. they are full of emotions. anger, sadness, even disappointment.

it makes you stop talking.

he takes one of your hands and kisses the inside of your palm, near to your wrist.

“love... it must have been horrible to keep these only to yourself, so thank you for telling me. i know it's really hard for you, and i just want you to know that i’m so proud of you. it really hurts me to see you like this. if anyone deserves better in this world, it is you. how can you say those bad things about yourself? you’re the best boyfriend i could ask for. you're my perfect boy. and no one can change that, because no matter how you sound or look, you'll always be a boy. believe me dear. i have been nothing but sincere with you always, so i hope my words will actually get to you. let me help you and be there for you. i want you to always tell me when your overwhelmed with thoughts like these. you don't have to go through this alone, okay? and don't say you don't want to bother me because you could never do that.”

he's carefully choosing his words as he caresses your face. you force your tears to stop.

“and i swear, if i ever see those motherfuckers, they will regret everything they have done to you and they will be begging for your forgiveness. how dare they say those awful, untrue things about my partner? who is actually perfect, if you ask me.” he says as he keeps looking to your eyes.

you can't help but chuckle at his words.

“that's my boy.” he places a soft kiss on your cheek, then he reaches out one hand and wipes the tears from your face. “your smile is the prettiest. my bad, you are the prettiest.”

your gaze stays on him as you feel a warm feeling settling in your chest. you feel so lucky to have jake. your heart could explode by this overflowing adoration that he gives you.

“thank you, love.” you say to him as you lay your head on his shoulder and close your eyes. “can we stay like this for a few minutes?” you ask.

“of course.”

「 ☆ 」

“do you feel better?” asks jake a bit later. you nod in response. “good. but i’m here to listen if you have anything in your mind. i didn't want to interrupt you before.”

you take a deep breath while you interlace your fingers with jake's. a smile appears on his face at your action, but you don't notice it. your eyes are on his veiny hands.

“now, i just want to celebrate our first year anniversary with my boyfriend.”

this makes both of you smile at eachother.

“very well then. i cooked your favorite, as you can probably smell it. should we eat? are you hungry?”

“i wouldn't want to miss out on your cooking.” you murmur after placing a quick kiss on jake's lips, which you know it drives him crazy.

“don’t you want to give me a proper kiss?” asks your boyfriend with a cheeky smile.

the answer you prepared for him is straight up teasing.

“if the food is good enough, i will consider it.”

jake's reaction is priceless. his smile disappears from his face and pure flabbergast takes over. it almost makes you laugh out loud.

you stand up from the couch to make your way to the kitchen, but jake's hands find their way to your waist and pulls you back to him. as a result, you fall into his lap.

“i guarantee you, i cook really well, so give me the kiss in advance, please.” he whines.

you roll your eyes playfully at his words. needy jake is back. but you both know you can't resist him.

you turn your head to face your boyfriend and lean close to him. he looks at you with his doe eyes, waiting for you to speak.

“so childish. but since you asked so nicely–” you cut off your own sentence by placing your lips on his, causing him another surprise.

he closes his eyes as he places his hands on your waist, making you turn your whole body to his and pulling you even closer. it feels so good, you start to forget about all the bad things that happened to you today.

jake is here for you, and the thought he always will be makes you smile in satisfaction.

“i love you” he mumbles after breaking the kiss.

“i love you so much.” he repeats.

if anyone asked how you feel after hearing these words, it would be hard to answer. you heard him saying it many times already, but every time those words leave his mouth, it's like hearing it for the first time. the way he pours every emotion to his words, the way he softly holds you with his hands and the way he handles these situations makes you fall for him over and over again.

“i love you too, jaeyun.”

「 ☆ 」

AUTHORS NOTE:

hello! i know it's been a while, sorry for that. actually, this is my last year in secondary grammar school, and it's really stressful with all the tests coming up. although i enjoy writing, it's hard for me to actually finish any oneshot i started.

i feel like the end is pretty rushed but i wanted to focus on the feelings of you and though i wanted to write more of the whole anniversary, i feel like this was a perfect moment to end. i hope you liked it! :)

also, if any of you struggle with this, i just want you to know that i’m SUPER proud of you for being here. you're awesome. i love you <3

#enhypen #enhypen x reader #male reader #jake x reader #sim jake x reader #sim jaeyun x reader #sim jake #sim jaeyun

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intheorangebedroom · 1 year

Text

Pleased to meet you, chapter 12

Summary: You gave in to Benny, sort of, and now you have to go buy a goddamn car. You and Frankie find yourselves alone together for the first time in nearly 16 years.

Pairing: Frankie Morales x French fem!Reader.

Rating: Explicit 🔞

TW: cryptic mention of self-harm.

A/N: Voilà, they're talking. Jfc the struggle... I'm still in a state of shock (and exhaustion). I think I'm satisfied about the substance of this chapter, not so sure about the form. Some of you might recognise some lines from the movie... I'm insanely grateful for anyone who interacts with this story, for your support and for sticking with them this far! *presses post now and goes drink a tall glass of Bailey's*

Word Count: 7.1k (oops)

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Chapter 12: The Drive Home

The two of you didn’t talk much over the course of the weekend because there was no need for words. The synchronicity between you was evident, if one that he couldn’t explain. The implicit trust and shameless want he saw in your wide eyes was a high he never found anywhere else, no matter how many drugs he tried.

You were you, and you craved him.

Most of the talking had been done on the fire escape. Favourite books, favourite movies, favourite musics. Politics and values, dreams and allegiances. The differences welcome, no real divergence, only promises.

In retrospect, this was another regret. So many questions he should have asked. He never forgot your reaction when he called you baby. How you tensed up in his hold like a wild animal, like you’d never known love, or you had forgotten that life could be sweet. Your sadness had torn a gaping hole in his chest. How many times had you say, “sorry”? The first night, at least. He’d spent the following days erasing it, thoroughly, lovingly. There was what you were, and what you’d been taught. Who had done this to you?

And yet, in spite of your apparent wounds, you had let him in. Your softness towards him all the more special. Uncertain, at first, and suddenly all in. Resolutely unguarded, a strength in its own right. He wasn’t sure, then, if he possessed that kind of courage. But he knew what he felt, this consuming urge to right all the wrongs. He would gladly unleash hell on anyone trying to hurt you again.

Is Benny good enough to you? Most probably. And he should bottle up his questions and leave you the fuck alone. Turns out you didn’t need him to flourish.

He understands clearly now, with enough years behind him to name the feeling, why he’d been so eager to feed you, to get you cleaned up. He remembers that shower together, before you started fooling around again, he had come in your mouth less than an hour before, fuck he’d been relentless, and you’d taken it all.

Standing behind you in the narrow tub, he had washed your body, lathering soap with the palm of his hands on your shoulders and your back, the curve of your hips, along your thighs, his satisfaction tinged with regrets for you’d lose his scent, but he would imprint it on you again later, deeper, definite, and you kept leaning into his touch, eyes half closed, humming quietly to yourself, your skin a constant thrum. Like you’d been starved of any form of attention, of affection. He could tell. Yet he never asked.

And perhaps it had played into what had happened next, how he had lost it completely, when he took you on the bathroom floor, after nearly two days restraining himself, his arms caging you with an iron grip, his teeth sunk into the soft flesh at the base of your neck, pinching your nipples so hard you had cried out his name. Your body vibrating endlessly with it. He had to carry you back to bed.

You were still laughing from that disastrous attempt at a romantic fuck when he stepped out of the bathtub behind you. His cock felt heavy as he palmed himself through the discomfort of the condom, and he was about to take it off when his eyes flickered up to you. You were wiping the steam off the mirror above the sink with your right hand, and you turned around to face him, radiant, with a candid smile. The yellow light from the bare bulb hanging above the mirror ricocheted on every single droplet of water clinging to your body, your skin glinting in a golden hue.

You were golden.

Something snapped in his brain. His breath caught in his chest, and he shut his eyes quickly, but the vision was dancing under his eyelids and when he reopened them, his gaze had turned dark and wild. He was on you in one step, his right hand curled around your nape. He pulled you in with all of his strength, tilting your head up with a tug of your hair, his mouth crushing your mouth, his tongue forcing you open. You responded immediately, his hunger bleeding into you through the kiss and you sank your nails in his back and his shoulder. It felt more like wrestling than kissing, your bodies slippery and wet, and he laid you down underneath him on the rough rug as you whispered a needless plea he couldn’t hear, with the thunderous noise of the blood rushing in his ears.

He had fucked into you at a punishing pace, with the maddening thought of ripping that damn condom off his cock to have you bare and paint your slick walls with his cum, his blunt head bumping against the cup of your cervix and it still wasn’t enough. He had to possess you, encase every part of your body with his, crush you with his weight, mark your skin with his mouth and his teeth and his spit and his cum, fuck your cunt, your mouth, your ass, your tits with his cock, his fingers, his tongue. Ruin you for other men. You were his. He was yours.

He should have been terrified by the intensity of it, and perhaps he was, but your every movement spoke that confession.

There hadn’t been anything to fear within the realm of the orange bedroom. But then, how to explain the deafening silence that came when he never heard your voice again?

He waited. He waited on the car ride with his sister to basic training, realising in a panic that you two hadn’t even exchanged last names. He waited the following hours, days and weeks. He waited as he helplessly observed the quick fading of the red crescents your nails had left on his skin. He waited all through the pilot training program, his first tour and the second. He waited, patient and focused and cool-headed, and with each passing year, the certainty waned. He waited until one day his phone got stolen, and a Verizon vendor who looked like a drowned rat flatly told him he had to change his line. He had remained perfectly calm, but he could have murdered the man.

What began after that was a brand-new kind of hell. One morning he woke up and he couldn’t convoke the memory of your taste. That was when he started fucking all these random women, their faces and bodies morphing into a blurry composite of anonymous features. The doubt drove him insane, but he could no longer find it in himself to believe it had really happened. Maybe he had dreamed you. A filthy fever dream that had meant everything. Finding the book with your red lips etched on the page barely helped, only adding to his confusion, edging on resentment.

But when he saw you, when he saw you walking into the familiar setting of the bar where he meets with his friends every week, holding Benny’s hand, beyond the fury of those years, beyond the anger and the pain, he looked into your eyes and found hope again.

So now he’s back to waiting. Back to that goddamn piece of plastic burning through the back pocket of his jeans. But waiting is fine. Waiting is seven years of his life. Nearly a sixth of his years. He knows how to handle that. Waiting is what was before everything went south, before his phone got stolen, before his first kill, before Al-Qa’im, before the brothels and before the doubt.

And so, he waits. He waits as April slowly dies, as May drags by and as June blossoms under a thin drizzle. He waits until, one perfectly mundane Thursday morning, you text him. Three messages sent in quick succession.

Hey. Is this coming Saturday at 10am ok for you?

It’s me by the way.

He stares at your name. It’s been 16 years since he’s said it out loud. His thumb hovers over the screen. He tells himself the burning sensation from the scar on his left side isn’t real. It’s not pain. It’s guilt.

—

Yea. I’ll pick you up outside your building.

Frankie

You never gave him your address and he hasn’t asked, you have to assume Benny gave it to him. Have to.

Nine weeks and four days since you last saw him. Since he walked in on you in Will’s spotless kitchen, basking you in his scent and his heat and his strength, and demanded that you let him come with you to buy a car you don’t even want. A goddamn car. Not a table, or a plant, or even a TV, a goddamn car. And you didn’t even think twice. You straight up consented without taking a second to think about the consequences, just like you had instinctively and consistently reacted to everything he had ever asked.

In the course of those nine and a half weeks, you’ve reverted to the proven ways of your former life, doing what you do best: act normal amidst the rumbling storm inside your brain. Constantly, expertly compartmentalizing, your mind an oversized closet of neatly folded fears and neurosis. Immediate pleasures and comforting memories. Sadness, fondness, regrets, remorse. Restless with your time, headstrong against your anxiety, no pause to reflect. The great escape.

The very next day, you started to fill up your boyfriend’s house with your belongings, scattered across every room. Panties, bras, socks and t-shirts in the newly emptied chest drawer by the bedroom window. Books he never gives you time to read on the nightstand. Deodorant, creams and shampoo in the bathroom cabinet. An umbrella by the front door. Records stacked by the vinyl turntable. A tin mug in the kitchen. You stay there four to five nights a week, now. He is delighted.

On three separate occasions, Benny had to go away for a fight and remained out of town for a couple of days, which is not uncommon, and you ordinarily welcome the time alone.

The first time provided you with the perfect opportunity to get together with Yovanna, the two of you meeting in a downtown Russian restaurant of her choosing, sharing copious appetizers and laughs and strong liquor, along with your respective backstories, yours carefully redacted. She recounted the first twenty years of her life, traumatic by any standard, matter-of-factly and without bitterness. She defines resilience, and the following morning you woke up revived, if a little hungover.

By the time Benny had to leave again, however, an indistinct, murky dread had settled in your chest and between your shoulders. You proceeded calmly, with resolve, asking him if you could spend the evening at his place in his absence, which implied him giving you a set of keys. You trusted him not to make a big deal about it, and sure enough he didn’t, but you did not anticipate the way he made love to you that night. With an unusual softness, and intent, as if to communicate how much he had no desire to be away.

And when the time came, a Saturday, you curled up on the empty couch in the silent living-room, hunched over a book you could not focus on, eventually falling asleep on his side of the bed.

The third time had been rough, perhaps because you chose to stay at your apartment, chain-smoking again, drawing from your experience the necessary resources to hang on until dawn, when you know the morning light will dissipate your darkness. The morning always comes. All it takes is for you to bite the bullet and await. You know the dance.

You haven’t told anything to Rosie, even though you’ve had several opportunities to do so. You know what she’ll say, and you don’t care to hear it. You’re getting a car, not a room. You’re an adult. You’ll be fine.

And anyway, Rosie knows something’s not right. You haven’t missed one single Taco Tuesday since you skipped that first one, back in April, and you’ve done your absolute best to act natural, like it means something, but she’s been closely observing you ever since. Like she used to when you first arrived here, after she’d dragged you out of your isolation, like you’re a saucepan of milk over the stove, ready to overflow. You don’t know how she does it, but she knows something’s askew.

Seemingly innocuous questions of “everything good with Benny?”, “Still happy with your job?” cue you in. Sideways glances. Her dark eyes overshadowed.

And if she only had doubts, your behaviour on her 36th birthday probably confirmed them all.

She had made plans to celebrate with a girl’s night out, inviting some of her friends from work, along with Yovanna, to her favourite place, a Mexican restaurant with a garden room in Boerum Hill, Brooklyn, which brought you way too close to Greenpoint for comfort.

You didn’t just get drunk, you got blackout drunk, downing shots of tequila, knowing very well your body doesn’t tolerate those, polishing off everyone’s drink until you got sick and just about passed out, and Rosie had to take you home, where you woke up with your head split in half to a handwritten note on your kitchen table that read, simply, “call me.” Which you haven’t done.

You spent the next day glued to your sheets, only crawling out of it to stick your head down the toilet bowl, throwing up, seven times, grand total, your body painfully collapsing on itself, getting rid of the alcohol, but not of the guilt, and not of the pain. No, those remained, sticking to your clammy skin, weighing down your soul.

You know this road, been down it many times. The automatic deflection through invisible, self-inflicted physical pain. You recognise the symptoms, the warning signs for that shifting cloud of thick black smoke swelling in your chest, like a fast-growing beast made of nothing tangible but two glinting, yellow eyes.

So the following day, when you got to work, you picked up your phone, and texted Frankie, at long last. When his answer came, immediate, as if he had been waiting all along with his phone in his hand and did not care in the least if it showed, you informed Benny, and asked Suzanne for your Saturday off.

A sequence of events that has you standing in front of your bedroom mirror, now, applying mascara, nervously fiddling with your hair, unsure whether you’re wearing the proper outfit. You’ve been up since dawn, and as you gulp down your third cup of coffee along with your fourth cigarette, ignoring your throbbing throat, you tell yourself it’s not really stress, it’s only the morning light, because you still haven’t installed the curtains you bought over a year ago.

You can feel a contraction building up in your left calve. It would be wise to drink some water. But you don’t.

The smell of nicotine clings to your hair and your clothes, but it’s too late to shower again, or even to change, and it doesn’t matter anyway. You’re getting a car. Not a room, after all.

Your eyes flick down to your watch for the umpteenth time. 9.55am. You peer out at the sky, through your bare bedroom window. It hangs low and overcast, the temperature chill, for mid-June. It all adds up and lies heavy on your lungs. You don’t know the first thing about buying a car, but you’re not exactly eager to take a test drive on wet asphalt.

When you pull open the front door of your building at 10am sharp, you notice the pattern formed by the wet dots as they agglomerate on the pavement.

Frankie’s here, parked just in front, as promised. Faded red t-shirt and light-coloured jeans, he’s standing on the sidewalk, leaning against the hood of his red truck, arms crossed over his chest. The vehicle is ridiculously massive but his broad figure and square shoulders look perfectly on scale. He’s been waiting for a while, judging by the dampened patches on his shoulders, but his face doesn’t show any sign of impatience. The deep lines between his eyebrows only giving the slightest hint of tension under the brim of his cap.

“Hey,” his voice sounds rusty, as if he hasn’t spoken in weeks.

“Morning,” yours is too breathy, and impossibly high.

You don’t stop and walk straight to the passenger side of the car, ignoring the way his head tilts to the right to follow you, instead cringing at how inelegant you must look, as you climb awkwardly into the high cab. You drop your bag on the floor and fasten your seatbelt, admonishing yourself, one more time, that none of it matters, not how you move, nor what you wear, nor what you smell like, because you are only getting a car.

He waits until you are settled in to join you inside and when he shuts the door, his scent fills up the space, brushing against your skin, and you pinch the side of your right thigh as hard as you can. His moves are measured and deliberate, and you will your heart to slow the fuck down and align its erratic rhythm to that of his movements.

You risk a glance in his direction when he lifts up his cap and combs his fingers through his thick dark curls. You remembered them a lighter shade of brown. During the few hours you’ve spent observing this older version of him, you’ve come to decipher the gesture. He readjusts his thoughts, just like he does his hair. Once the cap is firmly deep-set on his head, the mountain that is Francisco Morales is set in motion.

But you don’t know him anymore, not like you did. Years after years, unwanted layers of separate lives, wounds, and emotions have altered the fabric of your innate connection. He has become a guarded man, remote, distant. To you, at least.

Then why are you here?

There’s a pause and the air hangs still for a moment, save for your uneven breathing, louder than the few street noises. Frankie’s perfectly poised when he turns towards you and asks, “So where are we going?”

You blink wildly, your mouth falling open at the one question you didn’t anticipate.

“What– what do you mean, where are we going?” you stutter.

“To what dealership?” he offers patiently.

“I don’t know,” you breathe out, with a shake of your head, “you said ‘let’s go get a car’ and I–” you trail off, you don’t know how to end this sentence.

“I said, ‘let me go with you to buy a car,’” he corrects, and you sit there, dumbstruck, and exposed.

“What kind of car do you want?” he tries again, and as you remain silent, rubbing your palms on your thighs in a subconscious attempt to dry them of the sweat your entire body is breaking into, he averts his eyes, looking down at the steering wheel. A smile tugging at his lips.

“How about we go somewhere, get a drink, first?” he finally proposes. “We can talk about it, see what are the options?”

“It’s 10am,” you reply blankly, as if it makes any difference.

You immediately wince and his smile broadens.

“A coffee, then?”

—

Your nervousness drives him mad. You stare out the window as he drives, refusing to look at him and he can see your fingers compulsively fumbling along the side of your thigh when you think he’s not watching.

He put you in that impossible situation. You look pale and tired, there’s a faint smell of cigarette about you, and what’s worse is that he can’t help but smile like a fucking idiot, no matter how hard he tries to bite it down or cover it with a grimace. You’re sitting next to him in his truck. Once more, all he had to do was ask.

You look like a misplaced stereotype of a French girl in your stripped boat neck shirt, and he struggles to focus on the road, scanning the exposed skin of your neck, where it meets your shoulder, searching for a mark that has long faded.

By the time he pulls into the empty parking lot in front of the Dunkin’ on Tonnele Ave, fat raindrops are splattering on the windshield.

“You wanna stay here? Or sit inside? I can go get our orders and–”

“Oh yeah, here is nice”, you acquiesce, apparently relieved at the thought of not having to go out, “I mean it’s fine. Please.”

You say “please” like you used to say “sorry.”

“Milk, no sugar?” he asks quietly, immediately regretting it. He shouldn’t let on how much he remembers. He’s going to freak you out.

You draw in a deep breath and answer, “Please.”

—

It all begins with small talk. Absurd and mundane. The weather, the traffic, the coffee that’s never strong enough. And before either of you realise it, the parked car feels like an island, the paper cup nicely warming up your stiff hands.

You’re the first to chance a diverted evocation of your shared past, inquiring about his sister. She’s fine, he tells you, not without pride, a well-established professional photographer, whose work you’re likely to have seen in news magazines and art catalogs.

Your left knee propped up on the seat, your back leaned against the door, you’re finally facing him, your posture relaxed. His broad frame doesn’t allow him that much space, but he too seems at ease, his legs stretched as far as they can, his left arm resting on the wheel. Still, you recoil imperceptibly at his next question.

“What about you? Are you an archaeologist?”

You take the involuntary hit and think about the best way to present that part of your life, so you don’t come across as worthless as you systematically feel every time you have to discuss that particular subject.

“No,” you eventually sigh, “I failed.” Ignoring the tick of his jaw, you carry on, “I mean, I graduated, got my BA degree. But I couldn’t get any internship, just like they said. So I moved on to a master’s degree, but in contemporary history,” you chuckle at the nonsensical turnaround in your resume, easing into the topic, “and then I got tired of starving,” you laugh, lifting your palms upward, “so I became a civil servant. Got a position with the historical library of the Hôtel de Ville de Paris. I mean the Paris City Hall,” you shrug, uncertain with your whole translation.

“Did you like it? The job?” he asks.

“Well, it’s not what I had set out for. But I think it fitted me better. No pressure, no deadlines. Old books, manuscripts, first editions–” you start to enumerate before your voice fades.

“Do you miss it?”

You nod wordlessly, your throat suddenly a little tight. His voice is so low you struggle to hear him when he asks again, “Why did you leave?”

You take a brief moment to gather your thoughts, looking vacantly at the neon letters spelling Dunkin’, blurred by the rain running off the windshield. You’ve been asked this question about a million times since you’ve landed here a little over two years ago. Offering countless consensual variations of the same explanation, none of them ever sounding quite right.

Next to you, Frankie’s waiting, hung from your lips.

“I think it’s because I had a purpose, but no goal, you know?” you say as you turn toward him again, in time to see him gritting his teeth.

The crease between his brow deepens before he says, barely audible, “Do you have one, now?”

Somehow, you find it easy to maintain eye contact, and your own voice is steady as you tell him, “Yeah, I think I have.”

Frankie wants to follow up on your answer but he finds himself incapable of speaking. He doesn’t think he’d be able to bear it if you told him that the life you share with Ben provides you with both. Yet, your eyes tell a different story. Your eyes tell him this is not about a man. It is not about him, or his friend. This is entirely about you.

“None of it sounds like a failure to me,” he eventually says softly.

There’s no sign of the stress that tensed up your body earlier. He likes the sight of you sitting comfortably in his truck, absentmindedly playing with the empty paper cup in your hands. Perhaps you’d like another coffee, but he fears that if he leaves the car, he might find you gone when he returns.

Outside, a tall blond woman is running on high heels towards the front door of the Dunkin’, her gait cloddish and imbalanced has she tries not to slip. You watch her until she makes it inside.

“I don’t know. Anyway, nothing much I can do about it, anymore,” and perhaps for the first time ever, you’re ok with it. “But you, you made it! You became a pilot.”

He shakes his head, and before he can stop himself, mutters under his breath, “Yea, at what cost.”

Uncertain if you heard him right, you sit up straighter and ask, “How was it?”

“How was what?” he frowns.

“The army. Was it what you thought it would be?”

“Yes and no,” he sighs. He has never given himself the time to reflect on that before. Rather rushed in the opposite direction. “I never expected it to be easy, but– I joined so I could get my pilot’s license. And I ended up doing stuff I hadn’t really signed up for.”

“Did you ever kill anyone?”

“Why the fuck you wanna know that for?” he narrows his eyes at your face, his voice an angry rumble.

You want to crawl onto his lap and wrap your body around his, knock off that damn cap and run your fingers through his curls, get a glimpse of the lighter shades they used to shine with. You want to press your lips against his forehead, ease the crease of his brow with your thumb, let your skin reach out for him, like it used to, when words were unnecessary, you want him to hear it, because I care, because I wasn’t there, because I wish I could carry it with you. Because I spent too many nights awake, wondering where you were. Because, even when I thought the morning would never come, I hung on, in hopes that the thread between us would keep you safe and sound. Hear everything you cannot pronounce.

You lean back against the door, cranking your brain for another approach. “Did you know that Will kept a ledger of his body count?”

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, before running a palm over his face. “Jesus… No. But I’m not surprised. Did he tell you how many?”

“Yes, but I don’t think it’s for me to tell you. Although he’d probably tell you too, if you asked him,” you reply in a casual tone.

“You two really talk about everything,” he says with an empty smile.

“No, not everything. But we do talk a lot,” you offer no further insight into your relationship with the older Miller brother.

“And did he tell you how’s his sleep?” he snarls.

“He says it’s better than it should be,” you shrug as if you were still discussing the weather. “You haven’t answered, Frankie.”

He presses his back into the back of the seat to crush down the shivers that run down his spine when his name passes your lips. A lot may have changed. But not this.

He knows what you're doing. At least he thinks he does. And anyway, that’s another thing that hasn’t changed. To your voice, he complies.

He runs his knuckles under his chin, seemingly weighing his next words. “I did what I had to do. I was– I was often too quick on the trigger. I didn’t count them.”

Between his spread thighs, his hands have joined, his right thumb scratching the small tattoo on his left hand.

“Were you ever scared?”

“No,” he says firmly, shaking his head, “not for myself anyway. For Izzy. Anything happens to me, she’s alone.”

The leather seat creaks when you scoot closer to him, seeking his heat. He rubs his skin harder, so he won’t think about yours. The rain has become a heavy downpour, the drops falling onto the roof of the truck in a loud racket that nearly covers your voice when you speak next.

“What about that thing Tom mentioned, that night at the bar? About you being grounded. Does that mean you can’t fly anymore?”

His hands still. He turns his head and glares at you, his eyes black and cold. Your face is so soft. You said you’d take anything. But that was long ago. That was before.

He licks his lips, clears his throat. You won’t back down. So he tells you.

“I was suspended. They ran a random drug test at work,” he leaves Giovanni out of the picture, the last thing he wants is for you to think he’s not taking full responsibility for his own fuckups, “it’s a flight school for rich assholes over in upstate New York, and– they found traces of coke in my system.”

“Coke?” your eyes widen with shock as the image shoots through your chest, and he can’t stand the way you look at him right now, like you don’t know him, like you never did.

“Does it help you? With your– sleep?” There’s no judgment in your voice, and you hope it gets through to him, pass the thick skin and the shame. And, perhaps, he’s more surprised than you that it does.

“Yea,” he says, looking down at the little tattoo again, shifting in his seat, “it did, yes. And with the rest, I guess. But I’m not using, anymore. Izzy would bite my head off. She found me a good lawyer, the case got dismissed, somehow–” he shrugs, “I got my license back. I’m clear.”

“What are you going to do, now?”

“I think they’re going to take me back. I gotta go there Monday, actually.”

“I mean about your sleep, Frankie.”

God, your face is so soft.

“You don’t worry about that.”

As if it were that simple.

—

Cars have come and gone in the small parking lot. A composite Saturday morning crowd of busy moms and weekend workers hurriedly flowing in and out of the coffee shop, holding white paper bags and cardboard trays with tall paper cups.

The outside world resurfaces around Frankie, as you two sit in silence side by side in his truck.

You peeled him open. Picking out the jagged pieces of his life one by one, with infinite tenderness, and methodically reassembled them. Sought him out in the darkest confines of his existence. Left him with no place to hide. Weaved back the thread.

“I think I need another coffee,” you stiffen a yawn.

“Yea.”

The rain abated, without your realising it. You walk in together this time, and when you return to the car, you pull out your phone from your bag, to find Benny has texted you. Your eyes are heavy and your movements slow, you’re suddenly exhausted.

You answer Benny’s question, “Are you guys done?” with a half-truth about waiting for the weather to get better, inwardly smiling at his abusive use of emojis.

The conversation resumes, with more trivial topics. You mention the curtains laying untouched in a bag on your apartment’s carpeted floor.

Eventually, Frankie asks about the car again. Secondhand, you say, and small, preferably European, although you can’t say why. An expression of your homesickness, perhaps. An extra comfort.

It’s a ten-minute drive to Autoland, a dealership on Communipaw Ave that Frankie pretends to know but really only googled the previous day.

He parks in a lot across the street from the dealership, and gets out of his truck with a spring in his step.

This time, you circle the vehicle over to Frankie’s side and wait for him, uneasy and apprehensive, seeking the reassurance of his tall figure before you can take one more step. The place looks reasonably sized, for once, you’ve seen bigger ones in Parisian suburbs, but you’ve never bought a car in your life and you’re utterly out of your depth.

He looks at you as he tucks his t-shirt in his pants, and smiles. Before the two of you cross the busy road, he places a large hand on the small of your back, his fingers splayed, and gives an imperceptible squeeze. You lean into his heat, let it seep in and run through you. You’ve spent years worth of sleepless nights trying to imagine how it would feel like if he ever touched you again. Like electricity, like a dam that gives, like the end of your world. It’s none of it. It’s quiet relief. It’s a close circle.

The cotton of your shirt feels warm under his palm, it catches at the calloused pads of his work-worn fingertips. Your skin, just underneath it. It’s not it, not yet, and it can’t be. This would be the end of everything.

True to his profession’s stereotype, the salesman jumps you the very second you step into the lot and introduces himself as Gary. But the cliché ends there. Gary is a lean man of average height, in his late twenties-early thirties, with olive skin and strands of straight black hair that frame his face like a stage curtain. Shiny buckle shoes, skinny black jeans and a tight button-up shirt in a loud pattern, he looks just as misplaced as you in the somewhat depressing dealership.

Gary speaks with a quick flow you struggle to understand and swallows half his words, and when you discreetly peer up at Frankie, you catch him trying to repress a mocking smile. He tilts his head down and raises an eyebrow as he mouths, “I think he’s high.”

You’ve clearly stated what you were looking for, yet Gary keeps walking you towards sedans the size of your living-room. European, alright, Volvo and Volkswagen you wouldn’t know how to maneuver on an empty racetrack. He keeps addressing Frankie, who tries his best to suppress the scoffing off his tone every time he has to remind him that you are the client, and when Gary, at long last, takes note, he punctuates his well-rehearsed speech with a “sweetheart” that send Frankie’s shoulders heaving with a soft chuckle.

After ten minutes that feel like an hour, you lose patience and cut him mid-sentence.

“Hey listen, Gary, let’s forget about the European thing, ok? I want a small car. Small, you know, like three doors?”

“Oh yeah, right, small car, got it!”

He turns on his heels and start walking briskly. You turn to Frankie, eyebrows disappearing into your hairline as you tell him, “Is he fucking serious?” and revel in the sound of his breathy laughter.

You join Gary at the rear of the dealership, where half a dozen compact cars are parked, when his cellphone rings. Raising a heavily bejeweled index to excuse himself as he picks up, he steps away from you.

Hands on his hips, one leg extended to the side, Frankie watches you impatiently checking the time on your wristwatch.

“Hey,” he starts in a husky tone, “you know, I did fly over the Andes.”

A wildfire flares up in his chest as you lighten up with the first genuine smile he’s seen on your face since you came back into his life, one that reaches your eyes, that has you beaming, and that he recognises, and you too recognise him when he smiles back, his dimple deeper in his fuller cheek when he adds, wiggling his eyebrows, “Twice.”

You let out a thrilled little gasp, your voice failing you, a little hoarse when you whisper, “How was it? Was it what you expected?”

“Almost,” he answers.

You’re so close, so fucking close he can smell that new perfume, and it doesn’t matter that it’s not the same, your eyes are, what if he leaned in a little closer and brushed your lips with his, what if he asked you to leave with him? Would you follow him, again?

Your gaze fall on his plush lips when he licks them, but you back away at the sound of Gary’s voice, standing in front of you.

“Ok guys, sorry about that! So, small car?”

Frankie’s mouth twitches and he stares daggers at the salesman.

“Hey Gary, would you mind giving us a minute?”

He doesn’t wait for his reply to place his hand on the small of your back again, and you take a few steps with him, on shaky legs.

“Look,” his dark eyes plunge into yours, “if you don’t want a car, we can just go. Tell Benny there wasn’t much choice, which is kinda true,” he gestures towards the yard. “Just– please, promise me you’ll take a cab, when you go out at night.”

Your mind’s racing, going through the options, you need more time to think, so you stall and retort with your usual argument, “I’m a big girl–”

“From a big city, yea, I heard you the first time. Please.” There’s no scorn in his tone. You’re a big girl. He does believe that. But he needs to hear you say it.

To you, however, it doesn’t sound like a request, most definitely like a direct order, and your mind reels unwillingly as you picture him on the field, in his military uniform, a gun in his deft hands, shouting instructions in his assertive, deep tone, his force and temper barely contained. You’ve seen his control slip. Experienced it firsthand. And you’ve no business being this aroused right now.

You let it ripple down your limbs before you push it away, before you sigh, “Ok. Let’s go, then. I’ve had more than I can take.”

Getting rid of Gary proves itself challenging. He follows you all the way back to the street and hands you a business card you politely decline at first, before changing your mind, in hopes it will shake him off faster.

His nasal voice is still ringing in your ears when you climb back into the safe-haven of Frankie’s truck. He turns on the ignition and merges into traffic, taking the direction of your apartment, the only possible destination, the decision tacit and unspoken.

This time, you watch him drive. In fact, you can’t stop staring, the lean muscles undulating under the freckled skin of his forearms, the shape of his solid shoulders, the line of his throat, and the curls on his nape, the sharp edges of his profile, the bare patch in his beard, the thin wrinkles at the corner of his eyes. For the first time, you notice his watch, big, square, utilitarian.

You jolt yourself out of your trance and decide to call Benny. You can hear his disappointment through the phone, and you feel terrible, like you haven’t tried hard enough, before it occurs to you that the last time you placed your own needs below those of the man you shared your life with, it didn't end up so well. Granted, Benny’s not Éric, not by a stretch, which might be the very reason why it affects you now. So you repeat your promise to take taxis at night, Frankie’s eyes flicking between you and the road.

He steers slowly through midday traffic, praying for red lights. The silent stillness between you hangs heavy when he double-parks in front of your red brick building. You can’t move. Not when you don’t know if you’ll see him again.

Drawing in a shaky breath, you gather your strength and unfasten your seatbelt, Frankie once more lifting his cap to readjust his hair.

“I never thanked you. For coming with me, today. For your help–” you trail off.

The sun has come out and you feel hot in your jeans and thick t-shirt. He doesn’t look at you, his head down, his brow once more knitted.

“I– I guess I’ll see you,” you murmur.

You want to wish him good luck, for Monday, ask him to call you afterwards to tell you how it went, but it all gets stuck in the back of your throat, so you grab your bag, instead, and put your hand on the door handle.

He moves fast, gripping your arm, unclenching his jaw to ask you to “Wait.”

You face him, resigned. If not ready. You know what’s coming.

Funny how, when the opportunity finally presents itself to get an answer to the one question that has obsessed him his entire adult life, the words won’t come out. And Frankie struggles to look at you as he whispers, “Why didn’t you call?”

You take the punch, breathing in deeply, thinking that the question you so dreaded wasn’t that terrible, after all, when you register the tears prickling at the corners of your eyes.

“What’s it gonna change, now?”

He lets go of your arm. “Please,” he breathes out.

Images overlap as your vision blurs, your last kiss, not far from here, so long ago, you cupped his face with both hands and sought his eyes with yours.

You blink back the memory before you open your bag and pull out your wallet, moving slowly, as if in a dream, your body rebelling against the injunctions from your brain. You take the rectangular note, and with a trembling hand, place it on his lap. Frankie tilts down his head, narrowing his eyes on the little piece of paper, ink-stained and torn out. You’re not sure that he understands what he’s looking at.

“I got caught in a rainstorm on my way back to Rosie.” It’s hard to speak with the heavy lump in your throat. “I– I was going to call you, that night, but that’s all that was left of your number.” You pause to aggressively brush off a stray tear rolling down your cheek. “I went back to your place, I thought I might catch your sister. I was too late.”

Look at me, Frankie. I tried. I swear.

Frankie hasn’t moved. He’s glaring at the paper, teeth clenched, breathing heavily through his flared nostrils.

Wiping another tear from your cheek, you open the door and get out of the car. Your strides are long and hurried as you walk toward the front door of your building.

****

Additional note: Thank you for reading this far 💕

I have no idea when I'll be able to work on and post the next chapter. Good news is, it's already half done, and entirely outlined. However, it is also my favourite, so I want to make sure I get it right. I am truly exhausted and clearly need to refill. Plus the holidays are never easy on my mental health... Everyone, be gentle to yourselves in this time of year 🧡 I'll keep you posted (bad pun always intended). Never hesitate to drop me an ask, I really love those. Love 🧡

Taglist (thank you 🧡): @elegantduckturtle @mashomasho @lola766 @flowersandpotplantsandsunshine @nicolethered @littleone65 @bands-tv-movies-is-me @the-rambling-nerd @saintbedelia @pedrostories @trickstersp8 @all-the-way-down-here @deadmantis @hbc8 @princessdjarin @harriedandharassed @girlofchaos

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