#I write WARMTH??? i'm going to sob bye

[callsignspark]

the way I'm actually going to cry because you treat yourself with them???? oh my god!!! (Mary whole heartily approves of this)

MY HEART! I can just imagine them mooning over each other, sending heart eyes from across the room. Not together-together, but also not not together! A LDR without the R (at least not quite yet)! And oh the yearninggggg! - they absolutely were sending each other puppy dog eyes and everyone was just ignoring it because they didn't want to mess anything up!! they haven't DTR but we all know it's a LDR!! he sent her a birthday present from halfway across the world!!! she's prepping a care package for him!! that's gf/bf level stuff!!

hardly anything, and yet it meant everything 🥹🥲 it means more because those feelings are there, and real, and reciprocated! - Mary felt like it was nothing but Bradley has looked at the piece of paper every day!!

not her watching him slowly sail away his MavDad next to her. I’m too delicate for this! - Mary and MavDad watching as the carrier turns into a dot on the horizon and then Pete insists that she eats dinner with him and Slider (where they show her more baby photos and tell embarrassing stories to make her laugh)

this is such a lovely image 🥰 - bronzed god that man is!!

that’s our Bradley! 💖 - he's so dumb!! we love him!!

this man!!!!!!!!! Oh he’s thinking about everythingggg! He’s stewing and making notes and pivoting and going back to the original idea because it was perfect in the first place. Bless him. - he was seriously debating whether flowers (especially red roses) would be too much (hence the use of overbearing) and Flora was like "okay, I hear you. how about this?" and together they built the perfect arrangement!

I need to know what you imagine he smells like, this is vvvv important - I think I've described him before as warm and spicy, and after some searching, I landed on this woody ginger scent by dossier, which according to the notes is a refined and assertive masculine fragrance, bringing together ingredients with a strong personality in an innovative composition that is all about harmony. feels like Bradley.

oh sweet babe, he’s missing you just as much! Counting down those days until your date! He’s got a little countdown on his phone and everything. - he's so excited for the date! (he misses her so much too!) and all he's doing in his free time is sleeping and thinking about what their date is gonna be. he has a few ideas but the's trying to narrow it down to the best choice.

miss flora ma’am I see you and you don’t fool meeee // not yet 💁🏼‍♀️ // ROAST HIMMMMMMM 🤠 - LMAO this is how you know these two are meant to be!! because she's absolutely killing him and if he knew about it he would be smiling about it. "Oh??? she's talking about me??"

S C R E A M I N G - the man is from Texas, it was never NOT going to happen lmao

Ma’am?… Ma’am…. Ma’am?! Look I get it! They were out, and now I love McDs a lot, but you CANNOT tell me you couldn’t stop at a bakery or a Whole Foods. // sweet but still. Flora, babe. It’s her birthdayyyyy. - Flora has a lot on her plate at this time (as we'll find out!) but the apple pie was definitely a miss on her part!! thankfully Mary and Bradley don't mind the fact that it was McDick's and not a real pie lol

if anything it isn’t enough!! That man wants to fall asleep on FaceTime with you, like he’s obsessed. - "only two emails today?? I hope she's not mad at me" *insert any Dagger Squad member here* "Bradshaw you are pathetic"

Then she reads the card, and her insecurities quiet down for the night. — 🥰🥰🥰 - THE SWEETEST MAN

And oh the letter!! The sweetest boy! “Send one of you too”, “I miss you”, “56 days”, “HONEY”!!! - I EVEN GOT MY OWN ASS WITH THE LOVE BRADLEY!!!

Oh I love them!! I can’t wait for their date!!!! 💖💖💖 - their date is going to be such a fun read!

Mar[r]y Me - part 8.5

pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x Mariella “M&M” Vertucci (fem!OC)

summary: A love story told through friendship, laughter, and food.

series warnings: 18+ minors DNI, discussion of insecurities, difficult family relationships, discussions of food and alcohol use, discussions of body image, conversations on what it’s like to be a fat woman trying to date in today’s society, extreme fluff, warnings to be added as needed

word count: 2.3k

previous part | series masterlist | main masterlist

note: happy Friday! this is a short but sweet one! see here for my soft-tober announcement and here for a quick update on what's happening in the month of October! have a great weekend!

part 8.5 - McDonald's apple pie

“Don’t get any ideas.”

“I’d never dream of it!”

Mary snuggles deeper into the couch as Pierce Brosnan - her favorite James Bond - races through the streets of Ho Chi Minh City on a motorcycle with Michelle Yeoh handcuffed to his wrist. Her chest hurts; tight from an overwhelming urge to cry and a tiredness she can’t quite shake no matter how much she’s been sleeping lately.

The day had been spent with Danielle and the kids, and it had been fun. They had gone to the beach and gotten Thai food for dinner, the adults devouring pad thai while Annabeth watched Frozen again. It was nice; she loved her family, but she missed Bradley.

More than she thought she would.

They didn’t get a chance to properly say goodbye. He had received a hug and the same “be safe, see you in two months” as everyone else. There wasn’t a spare second to sneak away and kiss him goodbye; there was always someone near them the entire time.

All she could do was slip a good luck note into the palm of his hand and hug him for an extra second longer than anyone else. It was hardly anything, but he still gave her a big smile and a sneaky forehead kiss, whispering that his peanut butter bites were safely stored at the bottom of his pack.

For the millionth time since she sat with Mav in her office and they watched the carrier steam away, Mary wonders where Bradley is. Thanks to her security clearance, she knows he's floating somewhere in the Pacific, but nothing more.

Maybe he’ll come back with an even deeper tan.

Somehow, Bradley is always sort of tan, even in January. Yes, they live in California, where it’s beach weather year-round, but it’s like he was born with a built-in base layer of golden skin.

Bond is just about to magically escape from another precarious situation he’s gotten himself into when the doorbell rings. Mary peeks over the top of the couch, trying to figure out who could be at her front door. Her family is in New York, Slider went back to Pensacola last week, and the majority of people she knows in California are also in the middle of the ocean with Bradley.

The bell rings again, whoever it is knocking this time. She sighs - they’re not going away - and frees herself from her perfectly crafted blanket burrito, a poor substitution for the pair of strong arms she’s missing.

Carefully peeking through the side window, she’s surprised to find Flora standing there and quickly opens the door, a blur of red and pink taking over her vision.

“Happy birthday!” Flora yells, shoving an enormous floral arrangement in her face.

“Than- thank you?”

Mary tentatively grabs the vase, taken off guard, as Flora walks in and slips her clogs off. Dropping her huge L.L. Bean tote bag on the dining room table, Flora laughs at how Mary is frozen at the front door, flowers hiding her torso but not her confused face.

“Here, give me those, and you open this.” Flora pulls a box out of her Mary Poppins-sized bag and takes the vase back. She carefully places the arrangement on the island, fiddling with the stems so they look perfect.

“What is happening?”

“Well, your boyfriend came into my shop about three weeks ago and asked me if I would do him a favor. He was so sweet and pathetic; I couldn’t help but say yes.”

“He’s not my boyfriend.”

“Funny.” Flora hums, eyebrow arching in disbelief. “I didn’t say a name, but you knew who I was talking about.”

Mary flushes, the tips of her ears on fire as she tries to stutter out an excuse.

“It’s okay, Mary.” Flora takes pity on her. “I know it’s complicated, but let’s face it, that man would do anything for you. Which is why I’m here, on a Sunday night, with gifts.”

“Gifts?” Mary echoes. “Plural?”

“Mmhm. First up, a floral arrangement full of warm tones because “red is her favorite color, but all red would probably be overbearing” - which is a direct quote.”

“They’re beautiful, Flora.”

“He did a good job, and he deserves a reward for understanding that flowers are expensive and you can’t cheap out if you want a nice, big bouquet. Next is the box.” She slides the brown box across the table, fluffing the ribbon curls on top. “I have no idea what’s in that one.”

Mary carefully opens the ribbons tied around the box, her throat tightening when she takes the lid off. At the top is a notecard with Bradley’s handwriting.

She pulls the sweater out of the box, and her eyes start to water as she holds it up for Flora to see. It’s a light yellow, almost the same shade as the stick of butter softening on her counter, practically identical to the one sitting in her closet, a red stain still covering the front. The material is so soft she can’t help but press her face into it, tears escaping as Bradley’s cologne washes over her.

Fuck. I miss him so much.

This was anticipated; she knows how sad Dani can get during Reuben’s deployments. Knows how sad she would get when her best friend was gone for months. It’s only been two weeks, but it’s the longest they’ve gone without seeing each other. Even during the rough patch in January, they still got glimpses of each other at work. The worst part is not knowing how he’s doing. If he’s okay. She assumes he is; Mav hadn’t mentioned anything, and she’s pretty sure he would tell her.

It would be the only way she would find out. Mary isn’t naïve enough to believe that she would be a first-tier point of contact if he got hurt. They haven’t even gone on a date yet, and the only time they kissed was that day in her office.

She’s pulled out of the impending spiral by a gentle hand rubbing her shoulders, which she didn’t realize were shaking. She lets herself be comforted by Flora, the older woman pulling her into a hug, uncaring about the tears staining her shirt.

“Sorry.” Mary sniffles, pulling back after a minute to wipe her eyes. “I just really miss him, more than I thought I would.”

“It’s okay, I get it.”

“That’s right. I forgot about Jake.”

She realizes she said something wrong by the way Flora’s hand goes stiff on her back.

“Jake and I are not together.”

“Oh. He just- when we were talking, he kinda implied that the two of you were sort of seeing each other.”

“We’ve fucked a few times, we're not together.”

Mary blinks at her. Jake had never said anything about sex; he was lamenting that Flora didn’t want to see a movie he was excited about. Sad that the florist wouldn’t join him.

“Jake, I mean, I don’t know Flora very well, but I gotta say she doesn’t really seem like a zombie apocalypse kinda girl.” Mary gently soothed, trying to give equal attention to her email inbox and the mopey Texan. “Why don’t you find a movie you’ll both like?”

“I tried! She doesn’t want to go to the movies at all. I know she’s busy - like she runs a whole ass business all by herself - but it’s like she doesn’t even care that we’re gonna be gone for two months!”

“Did you tell her that you want to spend time together before you leave?”

“No. We’re just- that’s not-” Jake sighs, cut off by Mary’s phone.

They had never finished their conversation; Jake had a hop and Mary a meeting, and a few days later, he was shipping out alongside Bradley.

“Okay. I’m sorry, he didn’t mention that, so I must have misunderstood.”

“You probably didn’t.” Flora rolls her eyes. “Jake likes to talk like we’re together, but I’ve told him several times a relationship is not what I’m looking for from him.”

“Can I ask why?” She quickly backtracks when the other woman’s face scrunches up. “Oh my god, you absolutely don’t have to say anything. I wasn’t trying to push.”

“No, you’re fine. Jake is a great guy. He’s smart and funny and handsome, but we want different things in life. Things that can’t be compromised on and that I won’t ever change my mind about. So there’s really no reason for us to try anything serious. I told him that before they deployed, but I’m officially breaking it off when they’re back because I’m not sure he got the hint.”

“That makes sense; that’s probably the best way to go about it.” She nods, impressed by how strong Flora is in her conviction and a bit sad at the same time. Those two would be great.

“Sucks, though. He’s incredible in bed.”

Mary lets out a bark of laughter at the complete 180 in conversation. “That surprises me and doesn’t surprise me all at the same time.”

“It’s that atrocious arrogance of his, isn’t it?”

“Yes! An ego like that means a man is either totally overcompensating, or he knows he’s good, and he’s got the moves to prove it.”

“Oh, he’s got the moves. Believe me.” They laugh at the eyebrow wiggle that accompanies Flora’s words.

“I’m sorry, but I’ve gotta know. That ridiculous Texas accent he pulls out when he’s trying to charm someone-”

“-does he use it in bed? More frequently than you would imagine.”

“Okay… but, like, does it do it for you?”

“I plead the Fifth,” Flora says as she furiously nods.

“Stop! Wait! And the cowboy hat?”

She laughs harder, tears in her eyes as she gasps, “Both of us!”

“You’ve both worn it?!”

Flora’s confirmation makes them both howl with laughter, Mary bending over and holding onto the table for support. It takes a few minutes for them to calm down, wiping tears away as they catch their breath.

“Well, that’s got to be the least shocking thing I’ve learned about Jake.”

It makes them both start giggling again; the blonde man’s affinity for his home state is well-known, frequently coming up in conversation.

“I should get going. I have to be up early to set up for a funeral. But I have one more thing for you, well, two things.” Flora dips back into her bag, pulling out a brown paper bag and a square envelope. “From Bradley.”

“McDonald’s?”

“Well, he requested I get you an apple pie - it had to be an apple pie - from Sift, but by the time I got there this afternoon, all their pies were gone. So I improvised, and thankfully, Mickey D’s had just done a fresh batch.”

“Apple pie is my favorite.” Mary quietly says, peeking into the bag and seeing five pie boxes. “Thank you for doing this, Flora.”

“It’s no problem. Bradley was so cute when he came in; I couldn’t help but agree. It’s sweet how much he cares about you.”

“I’m starting to understand how much he really does.” A content feeling settles in her chest, warming her up from the cold sadness that was taking over earlier.

Only 60 more days until Bradley is home.

“You’ll probably want to warm those up before you eat them,” Flora says, slipping her shoes back on, getting ready to leave.

“Hey, we're having a girls' night and putting together care packages for the Daggers next week. You should come, you can help with Nat’s box. Plus, it’s great to have extra hands to help put them together.”

“That sounds fun; I’d love to join you guys.” She opens the door and hesitates for a second, turning back to Mary. “No one knows about me and Jake hooking up. I didn’t tell Nat because she wouldn’t understand, and I don’t think he’s told anyone either. I’d like to keep it that way.”

“No problem. I’m always here to talk if you want some fairly neutral input.”

“Fairly neutral?”

She shrugs. “I know he can be an idiot, but Jake is a good guy, and he’s also my friend, so I can’t be completely unbiased about him. Fairly neutral is the best I can offer.”

“Fair enough.” Flora smiles at her, yelling back as she walks down the steps. “We should grab dinner sometime! Have a good night!”

“Night!” Mary waves, happier than she’s been since the beginning of the month.

She locks the door after making sure Flora gets into her car safely, promising herself that she’ll reach out to friends more. No more moping around, being sad that Bradley is gone.

I’ve got to learn how to deal with this if we’re going to date. It’s not like he’s going to leave the Navy; he’s going to be gone.

Snapping photos of her presents, she starts mentally composing the thank you email she’s going to send to Bradley. The Lincoln is on a communications blackout for the first three weeks of the cruise, but she’s been sending him little updates. Letting him know when she’s thinking of him, hoping she isn’t filling up his inbox too much.

She plops back into her favorite corner of the couch, stretching out on the chaise that makes her get a little hot under the collar every time she sits on it.

“Let’s read this card.” She mumbles to herself around a bite of pie as Bond saves the world and gets the girl.

A photo flutters out of the envelope as she pulls the card out, and she loses her breath when she flips it over. It’s the two of them on Valentine’s Day. When she made him pancakes, the photo he said he was going to tape up in his bunk.

A promise he followed through on, his last text showing off his rack. Corners of the blue blanket neatly tucked in, and the photo of the two of them taped on the wall right next to his pillow. Mary looks at the photo he printed for her, smiling at the happiness radiating from both of them. The corners of their eyes crinkled, and her dimple popping out; she still can’t quite believe that Bradley Bradshaw wants her, of all people.

Then she reads the card, and her insecurities quiet down for the night.

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fic tag | credit for dividers here

[tan1shere]

Hi! So if you’re comfortable with it i’d love to request Professor!Billie x reader. I love how in “Her Favorite” Billie asks if Reader is okay and if she needs anything. So what if Reader is quiet and shy but is sh-ing maybe Billie sees scars on her arm? Idk just super fluffy and angsty. Again please only write it if you’re comfortable with the request. Have a great day and thank you for your amazing writing 💕

My priority

A/n: yes ofc !! Thank you for checking angel, I'm more than ok with writing this :) I hope you enjoy <3

Warnings - mentions of self harm, cuts ??, and depression, so please don't read if it's triggering in any way ! || Masterlist

Another draining day at this hell hole of a college. You dreaded it each day you just wanted to stay in bed and hide from everyone. You go to your first class of the day, wearing oversized everything as you couldn't care less you just wanted to be comfortable. You take a seat at the back, out of everyone's way. When you accidentally bump into someone. "Sorry." You say timidly. "Watch where you're going." They say bluntly. You sigh hoping this day doesn't drag on too much.

Nearing the end of this class, you couldn't be more happier. Although you loved your professor. She was the kindest person, and honestly made it a lot less horrible. Everyone has already left, like always you are the last to leave. "Bye Ms O'Connell." You give her a gentle smile. She does the same. "Bye sweetheart, have a good day." You blush slightly, she always made you so nervous. Did you have a slight crush on her?

Fast forward a few weeks and you were having the worst day known to man. You had woken up late, burned your tongue. Every little thing seemed to happen, badly. Setting your whole mood off. You had even forgotten your jacket, feeling cold. Bringing your arms around your body ever so slightly everywhere you went. You weren't always such a joyful person, you had severe depression. It always lingered inside you maybe that's why people never wanted to be near you, were you scary to them?

It was that same class again, and you honestly couldn't of been more thankful, knowing she'd cheer you up just by her presence. You go to sit down in your usual spot, writing down something when you feel a presence by you. Ms O'Connell, she was looking at you with the softest smile. But her eyes moved from your face and it faded. Your brows furrow wondering why she was looking at you in such a way. Had you spilt something on yourself- but as she walks to the front and you look. You facepalm.

You idiot, how could you forget your jacket for that reason. She most definitely saw them, and now you truly wanted to hide. Instead of being last you try to be the first one out. "Y/n, hun?" You hear her say making you stop. Her voice was so delicate. Your head turns to look at her. Humming in response. "Could we talk?" You slowly nod. Approaching her slowly, you look into her eyes. "I'm here for you." Is all she says. Your eyes avert from hers, watching as the other students leave. "And you can always-" She begins but you turn back to face her with tears in your eyes.

It truly breaks her heart. She doesn't say a word just brings you into a hug which you tightly reciprocate. Crying softly into the hug. "It's ok, you can talk to me." She soothes your hair, gently kissing the top of it. She knew you needed as much comfort right now. "I feel so alone." You sobbed, honestly quite pathetically but you couldn't care less you just needed this hug desperately. You needed warmth of someone.

"Shhh, it's ok. You're never alone. And if it helps you have me, I promise." Maybe it was childhood trauma but you felt comfort in her, even if she was your professor. She moves you with her going into her tiny office in the room. "We can sit here for awhile, you can rant. Cry more. Or just stay silent whatever you prefer. Just know I'm here for you." You hug her so tightly after she says that.

You finally felt seen.

Im so sorry if this isn't the best :( my brain was lacking more creativity but I hope this is what you were after even a little bit :)!

[magpiemoon6]

Extraction point

Simon Riley x Y/N

Sad fluff !!!

Warnings: PTSD, depression, mental health issues

( I'm sorry if there is any writing mistakes I'll fix them tomorrow)

Reminder people, you are loved and deserve happiness always <3

A thousand tones feel like it’s on my chest, I cannot breathe. Like the world has chosen this exact moment to swallow me up in my pain and stress. My mind betrays me and falls in its own trap of self-doubt. I’m so far behind where I’m meant to be and the guilt of not living up to my own expectations for my inner child is eating me up. And in this moment every single mistake or failure seems to pile up in my head. I’m drowning even though I’m on land.

But he seems to be a light in my darkness, I need Simon, and before the guilt stops me, I reach for my phone under the pile of covers and duvets. Searching through the stuffy warmth till my hand claps the cold object. Pulling it to my chest, my eyes are swollen from crying and my nose is entirely blocked from my crying till my vision goes blurry.

I search for his name in my phone, I just want to hear his phone, the warmth of his voice is like a drug and the euphoria should shield me from my pit.

Si <3

“Hey, are you free a second? If not no worries x”

I feel so wrong for relying on him, but I promised Simon, that if it gets bad, we won’t shut each other out not again. That we can be each other’s extraction point.

Buzzing snaps me out of my brain unravelling in my hands. He’s calling and my heart drops because if he hears I’ve been crying he will come running and I can’t do that to him. Clearing my throat, I click to answer.

“Hello lovie” Simon says, and it feels like the flood gates are getting harder to hold shut, I just want him here and I’m so fucking selfish for that.

“Hey baby, I’m sorry I shouldn’t have texted you” I respond, I don’t want him to panic so I’m praying that my voice sounds calm, and my breathing is even enough he won’t realise.

“What happened? Tell me please y/n? I’m here” I can hear the anxiousness in his voice creep in, shit he knows and when he says that everything in me that was protecting him from my pain breaks from his kindness.

I’m crying again silent tears and my breathing stops trying helplessly to hold it in.

“I’m fine, I’m fine Simon, it’s stupid I’m sorry for disturbing you. I’m a big girl I just needed to hear your voice,” my voice is breaking as I say it, my grip on my phone is too tight. I need to let go. But I cant.

“Y/n?” the softness in his tone is so different from his voice yet hearing him say my name gives me more comfort than the dozens of duvets on top of me.

“Yes Simon?” I need to get control of my sadness, it kills me knowing he has to hear me like this.

“It’s going to be okay love” and that makes me sob harder, holding the phone away from myself so he is saved from my pain.

“Okay, thank you. Bye Si” and that’s all I can say because if I say anything else it will involve me pathetically asking him over and he deserves better than the mess I am in this moment.

So now I’m sat here in my cold dark room alone. Submerged in my pain. I’m so tired of this, I want to be better, to get better and no more need for meds and therapy and other people to hold me together. I feel pathetic as if I’m dragging on everyone’s life. I want to live without all my sadness.

I’m too sucked into my own depression to hear the door of my flat opening and shutting. Too distracted to recognize the footsteps moving towards my room.

Simon opens the door, and I don’t know how to cope with my emotions. My heart practically burst knowing he came over, giving me some hope that maybe I am worthy of his love. But then he has to see my darkness, the hypocrite I am knowing I’ve seen him where I am and gave him all my love I possibly could.

“Hey love,” he’s quiet even for him, moving through the room like he is terrified he may break something or me.

“You didn’t have too” the guilt stays heavy on my shoulders.

Knowing he is staring at me, someone who is normally so full of light now covered in darkness that fills the room and holds it down. He begins to move onto the bed gently, moving himself silently under the covers with me. My heart hurts. Loving him gives me air in my lungs, everything about him gives me hope and love. I could stare at him for a thousand years and still not get enough.

“Y/n, I love you, okay? I will be here if I’m dead or alive, a million miles away or next door.” Pulling me into his chest, the heat of his body makes the blankets feel cold.

I cant stop crying even if I wanted too, pushing my face into his chest and curling into him, I let him hold me and begin to pull away all the darkness that doesn’t seem to drown me as much now. I feel him large hand begin to gently stroke my hair, moving through it as he soothes soul with his love.

“I’m sorry,” I mumble into his chest, this makes his hand stop its rhythmic pattern of brushing through my hair. Tilting my head to his eyes.

He stares back and I fall in love all over again, those honey eyes are only filled with compassion and understanding. Before him my loneliness was my company, and everything was always so violent. But with him now I’m learning to live without violence and less loneliness.

“What’s our promise?” he asks me, still holding me tightly letting my pain wash away his love flooding me and bring me back to the now.

“That we will always be each other’s extraction point,” the quote we made up before we even started dating. The quote that we held onto before we knew our love wasn’t one sided.

“Exactly,” he says and goes back to stroking my hair and listening to my hiccupping breathing, never judging just existing with me.

“Thank you, I love you” and I mean it, the same way I know he does too. Our darkness still haunts us both, but we have learnt to comfort each other and hold out the light when we need it.

“I love you too”.

[jenoslutie]

mark lee x reader

genre: smut

warnings: phone sex, use of vibrators, degradation

mark's been going insane since he left on a trip with his friends less than a week ago, he could not stop thinking about you, his best friend with benefits. All his thoughts just consisted of you, his brain constantly reminding him of the last day he saw you before leaving for the trip

"fuckkk" mark whined as you sank down on him, overwhelmed by being swallowed by your warmth. his hips jerking up to match your pace until he felt your hand wrap around his neck, slowly restricting his airflow.

he came so hard that day, the both of you making a mess of your sheets and neither of you seemed to complain.

that was until you called him that night to tell him about your day, just hearing your voice got him going "honestly though, i hate my job, you should find me a new job" you pretended to sob. mark chuckled dryly, feeling his cock hardening in his sweats "tell me more, anyone else piss u off today?" and he listened to you go on and on about whatever happened at your workplace today, however, you noticed mark's lack of feedback after a while, the only thing you could hear is the rustling of his sheets. "mark? are u even listening?" he hummed in response "yeah fuck baby, keep talking- actually, could we facetime?" you immediately got an idea of what could be happening on the other line and accepted his facetime request. "hey, you okay?" mark merely nodded before setting his phone up against something so you could see his entire situation. he was wearing a plain black t-shirt and his pants were pulled down just enough so he could pull his cock out.

"can you please help?" mark whined lowly, his head thrown back as he slowly stroked his cock. with a nod, you were quick to pull down your shorts along with your panties so he could see your glistening pussy. "i don't really know how to do this" you confessed, closing your legs before he could even respond.

"it's okay just like tell me what you want me to do to you- you know what i mean" your mind went blank for a second before "well, right now i really wanna suck ur dick and edge u and then see u get all frustrated so u can degrade me and tell me that i'm good for nothing but taking ur cock and then u make me ride u just like last time" you admitted, spreading your legs again and collecting your arousal on your fingers to rub at your clit "yeah? want me to tell u that you're good for nothing? ur just a slut only thinking about cock? only my cock?" you nod, reaching over into your nightstand drawer to pull out your vibrator and letting it replace your fingers. "fuck miss you so much mark" your words came out as a whimper as you looked at the man in question, tip of his cock red and he looked like he was on the brink of finishing.

You can hear him mumble something about how ‘how much he misses fucking your little pussy’ and that seemed to do it for you, your back arching as your orgasm comes over you. with your legs shaking and chest heaving you look over at your screen to see little spurts of white pool out of his tip and white streaks painting his pretty fingers.

"round two when u get back?"

"you dont have to ask me twice"

not proof read.

um if this is trash please look away i am going through it and need to write fluff now bye

[chokchokk]

choi san is THE hopeless romantic but there is just something so friends with benefits about him i'm so sorry for the man.

that being said, THE PROMPT? gosh i wish i had come up with that. dayum. anyhow here i go huh! into, b-body worship and.... aftercare....

what he was not supposed to be was a repeated cycle of waking up in his bed. but that’s exactly what san became. you weren’t exactly sure how to describe your relationship with him—friends with benefits?

HELP THIS IS SO REAL i have to stop myself from being in my angsty “you are not friends with san you only fuck him”-mindset i have savedHWHHWHW. this fic might be the cure LMAO

you couldn’t even remember his name

REAL. (that's it that's the comment i'm making. mhm.)

you couldn’t suppress your excitement at the prospect of seeing him again.

omg reader is so down baddddddddd *rolls eyes*

he threw in the information that he was stressed and could really use relief. you were happy to assist him.

(reader is me)

san was always very sweet, though his personality in bed was a bit unpredictable.

*takes a deep breath* ah-

hahahahaha

AHAHAHWHAWHAH.

im gonna go INSANE LILO YOU CANT SAY THAT.

(...) was merciless, pounding into you at an ungodly speed while he whispered the filthiest things into your ear.

f-fuck off i thought he was soft. but that's just the manz. isn't it.

other times, like now for instance, he’d be gentle, taking his time with your body, hands and lips ghosting over sensitive areas and mapping them out.

HELLOO LILOOOOO FUCKKKKKOFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFLLELLLEASSELLELLAEEEEEEE UNGODLY SPEED? GHOSTING MAPPING OUT THE SENSITIVE AREAS SITH HIS HANDS AND LIPS? manz is supernatural.

cum three times

DAYUM. the thots are rolling and they're multiplying as we speak.

still eager to continue.

READER IS SOOOO REAL LMAO (and horny but that might just be me.)

pinned over your head

LILO YOU CANT YOU CANT YOU can YOU CANT YOU CANT YOU CANT YOU CANT YOCU OYU CANT

he knew your body well

HE— HHHHHHHHHHHWEWWWWWW (sobbing aggressively) why would you write that.

in the most delicious way.

am eating it up yes. deliciously. slurprupr. no crumbs left behind. not an ounce of soup.

“you know,” (…) “you’re always so pretty to me”

HOW WOULD YOU KNOW THAT MAILBOY, HUH? CONTINUE READING YOUR PAPERS.

causing a stampede of butterflies you forcefully swallowed

naur not the feelings…. (i live. (that was written so beautifully))

his eyes rich with all kinds of emotions

COVERING MY FACE. NOOOOOO. NOOOO HE CANT. YOU CANT. STOP. BOTH OF YOU.

(though you weren’t that exhausted, but who were you to complain?)

im the queen of this house…. and i’m so real. san better help me put my clothes on every morning.

holding you tightly and kissing your forehead.

NOT THE FOREHEAD KISS BYE

the pair of you engulfed by the warmth of the blanket.

HHWHHHWHW (continues sobbing)

“no.”

BITCHASS!!!!!!!!!!!!

.... i need something to dig my nails into. that was such an intimate, sensual read lilo, i enjoyed it very much!!!! (as you may or may not. saw.) trembling in fear anticipating my request....

600 FOLLOWER EVENT — THREE — CHOI SAN.

requested by anon. “congrats on 600 lovely !! <3 fluff list 2: “you wouldn’t, uh, maybe, want to stay the night, would you? i just really don’t want today to end.” & smut list 4: ❛ i love that no one else has seen you like this, that no one else has felt you before, been inside you. they don't get to have you, but i do. ❜ with san would be 🫠🫠” lilo’s notes. thank you for the request anon!! i agree this is an absolutely amazing request and the prompts are just *chefs kiss*. that being said, i had to change them very slightly (like one or two words) just to fit the scenario a bit, i hope you don’t mind. <33

prompts. “you wouldn’t, uh, maybe, want to stay the night, would you? i just really don’t want today to end.” ; “i love that no one else has seen you like this, that no one else has felt you before, been inside you. they don't get to have you, but i do.” pairing. choi san x fem!reader

warnings. smut below the cut, minors please dni, soft dom!san, soft sex, body worship, fuckbuddy!san, minimal dirty talk, praise, p in v, unprotected sex (pls don’t do this irl), nicknames (baby, love), slight overstimulation, aftercare, a lot of softness. wc. 1.7k.

he was supposed to be a one night stand, a stranger you’d have some fun with and then forget about later.

what he was not supposed to be was a repeated cycle of waking up in his bed. but that’s exactly what san became. you weren’t exactly sure how to describe your relationship with him—friends with benefits? no, you didn’t really talk enough about your personal lives to consider him close to you in any other way than physical. fuck buddy? that was definitely more fitting, but something about it still felt off.

after the first night you spent together, you were intrigued, eager to find out everything he could do but had not yet shown you. so, before you left in the morning, you grabbed a pen and paper from his desk and wrote down your number and name (you couldn’t even remember his name so you doubted you ever gave him yours).

it didn’t take him too long to contact you. only a week later and you received a text message where he introduced himself. once you were reminded of who he was, you couldn’t suppress your excitement at the prospect of seeing him again. you were completely right about his intentions for it was only a few messages later that he threw in the information that he was stressed and could really use relief. you were happy to assist him.

your little adventures in his sheets quickly became something constant in your life, seeing him every couple days. soon enough you figured out you were both std free, so you let him go in without protection. the pleasure of it all never really left either of you with a desire to sleep with anyone else, since you didn’t have to worry about diseases or pregnancy (thanks to you being on the pill). and after the first night, you stopped leaving as soon as you woke up while he was still fast asleep, and with each encounter you’d find yourself staying just a bit longer each time. san was always very sweet, though his personality in bed was a bit unpredictable.

sometimes he was merciless, pounding into you at an ungodly speed while he whispered the filthiest things into your ear. other times, like now for instance, he’d be gentle, taking his time with your body, hands and lips ghosting over sensitive areas and mapping them out.

he already made you cum three times and by the time he finally entered you, you were quivering with overstimulation but still eager to continue. one of his hands had your wrists crossed and pinned over your head while the other trailed all over your body, gently teasing the other held your thighs together and bent them over your chest, his hips rolling against you sensually.

he knew your body well, knew what angles got your head spinning and what touches got your pussy gushing. occasionally he let out groans, but he was rarely too focused on his own release, keen on making sure you felt good. this particular position was a favourite of yours, it helped him reach inside you deeper and it increased the tightness around his cock, stimulating both of you in the most delicious way.

“you know,” his tone was soft, almost as if he were talking to you while reading a newspaper over breakfast and not fucking you. “you’re always so pretty for me.”

san leaned down and pressed featherlight kisses to the back of your calves, trailing them down to the back of your knees and causing a stampede of butterflies you forcefully swallowed. the pace of his thrusts was almost frustratingly slow, making you feel how his length filled you so thoroughly.

his hands grasped the back of your thighs and moved your legs carefully, to hook them around his waist. when he was fucking you like this, with this gentleness, he liked missionary. he liked it because it gave him a clear view of how your face contorted with the pleasure only he can provide you with. because he could lean down and kiss you and swallow all your moans.

“o-oh san…” you whimpered against his lips as he gave a sharp thrust different from all the other ones.

in response, he bit your lip and pulled it slightly before releasing it. san brushed his fingers over your cheekbone as he leaned his face back to watch the muscles of your face twitch and go slack. “hm, did you like that, baby? your sounds are like music to my ears. all your whimpers and moans, i never want to stop hearing them.”

you felt your nails digging into his biceps as he increased his pace just a bit, the contrast between his sudden roughness and the featherlight touches of his hands sliding up and down your glistening body making your head spin. he hummed, his eyes rich with all kinds of emotions as they surveyed the moaning mess you were.

“i love that no one else gets to see you like this.” he angled his hips a little differently so his whole cock dragged along your most sensitive spots. he reached one of his hands down to let his thumb circled your swollen, abused clit. “that no one else gets to feel you or be inside you. they don’t get to have you… but i do.”

something about the way he whispered those words so possessively. it sent your mind reeling and had your walls clenching around him tightly as another orgasm washed over you. your body shook and writhed beneath him, overwhelmed for a moment. you opened your mouth in a silent moan, but his hand moved to your chin to nudge it shut so he could finish with his own groans muffled against you.

a little after that, he pulled out of you, both of you shuddering as he collapsed on top of you with his head between your breasts. san’s hands traced from your shoulder to your hands, holding them as if they were delicate and could break at any second, his hazy mind calming down as he listened to your heartbeat and felt the rise and fall of your chest. when you squeezed his hands, he sat up slightly dropping your right hand to hold onto your left one with both of his. he brought it up to his face and kissed your palm.

you let him, watching him silently as your cheeks warmed with heat and your stomach stirred with something other than arousal. he placed heartfelt pecks against your palm before he moved his lips to press more pecks on the inside of your wrist and then up your arm, all the way until he got to your shoulder. there, he lifted his lips, but not for very long as he placed a kiss against the spot over your heart and then continued travelling upwards. his tender kisses littered your neck and cheek until, finally, he pressed a firm kiss to your lips.

you shivered and held him close, not quite processing how intimate all of this was. but soon enough, he got up from the bed and returned with a fresh pair of boxers on and a wet towel. he took ahold of your ankles and pulled you to the edge of the bed so your knees hang off it. spreading your knees apart, he kneeled on the ground, eye level with the area he intended to clean.

as he wiped away all the cum and arousal, you twitched every now and then, stinging from the slight overstimulation. whenever you flinched, he’d pull his hand back and glance up at you, not continuing until he saw your discomfort eased. occasionally he’d press his lips against the inside of your thighs and your kneecaps, mumbling sweet words against them.

“you did so well, just relax now, love.” “does this feel okay, it’s not too much, is it?”

once he was done, san took the panties he had haphazardly tossed away from the bed and slid them up your legs, patting your hips once he got them on you. figuring you’d be cold, he also grabbed a shirt from his closet, slipping his hand under your back to help you sit up (though you weren’t that exhausted, but who were you to complain?) and dressing you in the soft, grey material. 

when you woke up the next morning, you were facing each other, legs tangled under the sheets. he was already awake, absentmindedly tracing shapes on the skin of your waist under the shirt as he looked at you. there a warm smile spread itself onto his face when he noticed you were awake. his hand moved to the small of your back and drew you closer, holding you tightly and kissing your forehead.

briefly you considered asking what he saw you as. sure, after you slept together he’d usually be very affectionate. but something was different last night; the lingering kisses, the intimacy, the shockingly affectionate tenderness of his eyes. you pushed those thoughts away. there was no way he thought of you the way you thought of him.

still, a part of your soul couldn’t help but stay hopeful as he hesitantly uttered his next words.

“you wouldn’t, uh, maybe, want to stay for the rest of the day, would you? i just really don’t want this to end.”

you stopped yourself from cooing at his nervousness, nodding slowly. “i’d love to stay.”

“good.”

a beat of silence followed that, neither of you sure of what to say next. it was an awkward or uncomfortable silence, it was calm. the few rays of sunlight that got past his curtains provided the room with a soft glow, the pair of you engulfed by the warmth of the blanket.

he brought your hand up to his face and, much like the night before, pressed a kiss to your palm and then your wrist. the sensation left tingles on your skin and your breath hitched, something he took note of with a smirk.

“can i have my hand back yet?” you asked jokingly, your chuckle ringing through his ears.

“hmmm,” he nipped at your wrist, “no.”

[ networks . . . ] @cromernet @blankjournal

[ perm taglist . . . ] @ad0rechuu @sankatchu

[wrenqueenisboss]

Let Me Go - Technoblade x f!reader

technoblade x f!reader

+ songfic: "I Love You So" by The Walters

for @nightmarefox15 writing contest

Prompts: "I'm not ready to lose you" "We promised forever"

~-~-~-~-~-

The slash in your stomach set your whole body on fire, the agony burning through your veins.

It shouldn't have to end like this. Not now. Not here. Not slumped against a rock on the edge of the battlefield. Not with your friends dying and getting injured all around you. Not with your locket sitting on the ground next to you, in the growing pool of your blood.

But as your vision starts to get blurry, as you start to loose feeling in your fingers and toes, you realize that there's nothing you can do. You're dying. You're on your last life. This is permanent. As permanent as the bloodstains on your white shirt. As permanent as the delicate and ornate carvings on your locket. The locket that Technoblade made you.

Technoblade.

Your boyfriend. You lover. The love of your life. The Blood God. The man fighting mercilessly in the center of the battlefield, as always. Washing the world in red.

You want to tell him goodbye. You want to tell him you love him one last time. To run a hand through his soft locks of pink hair, to straighten the brain you spent a tender few minutes weaving.

And somehow, Technoblade finds his way to you. Perhaps, someone took note of your horrible state and summoned him. But all that matters is that he's here. His dark red eyes pooling with sadness and concern. He, too, knows that the end is near. At least, for you.

He holds your face in his palm. The soft callouses on his fingertips brushing your cheekbone. And you realize he’s brushing away your tears.

”Hey, Y/n.” His deep voice is low, breaking with the emotion behind it. “I’m here, love.”

You blink slowly. Too slowly, Technoblade notices. Your life is ebbing away. This realization makes him start to grow frantic.

“Stay awake, darling. Please. For me,” the pure, unbidden desperation makes your heart break. For you know this is where your journey ends.

Now. Here. Slumped against a rock on the edge of the battlefiel. With your friends dying and getting injured all around you. With your locket sitting on the ground next to you, in a growing pool of your blood.

The locket. The one Technoblade made you for your life one-year anniversary. The one he carved on his own. Spending hours in his workshop carefully etching designs onto the piglin gold.

With the remains of your waning strength you reached out. Grabbed the locket. Dipping the tips of your fingers in your own scarlet life force in the process.

You press the golden pice of jewelry into his shaking palm, folding your fingers over his own. But Technoblade is too focused on trying to keep you alive. He rips the bottom of his white shirt, the one he seemed to always wear, tearing off a strip. Eyes wide with fear, he wraps the strip around your wound, dismayed when it soaks through almost immediately.

But you grabbed his fist, pressed the locket more firmly into it. You ignored the way your blood smeared on his hand.

“Technoblade,” you manage to choke out.

The sound of your weak voice makes him break. A single tear falls from his eye. It lands on your connected hands.

”My goddess,” his words are shaky, wavering, as he brushes the stray locks of hair away from your forehead. “I’m here.”

A weak laugh escapes your lips, and you wince and the sudden increase of pain. “You always are.“

The Blood God, man of no mercy, pulls you into his chest, and you shiver at the sudden warmth. Shiver as you feel your life slipping away.

"I love you so," you whisper into his shirt.

But Technoblade can hear the finality in your tone. The sad acceptance. And it makes him sob. "I'm not ready to lose you, y/n."

"Please let me go." Because you're already in agony. Because the strip of Technoblade's shirt is red now. Because Death is calling out to you. Because you simply can't handle a good bye.

"We promised forever...." He presses a tender kiss to your lips. Short yet it feels lingering. But the kind of love you share will always stay. "I love you."

"So please let me go."

You are crying now, too. Your tears track shiny trails through the dirt and blood moon your face; remnants of the battle. And if it wren't for your rapidly-fading strength, your body would be shaking with tears.

"I love you, Technoblade."

It ends like that. Right there. Right then. Slumped against a rock on the edge of the battlefield. With your friends dying and getting injured all around you. With your bloodied locket pressed into his palm.

With a final kiss to your temple, Technoblade lets you go.

Death welcomes you into her arms.

[frogtanii]

hi! i absolutely loved the most recent chapter and it gave me an idea and inspired me to write this, i hope that's okay! after how you described atsumu's feelings about osamu drifting away it made me think that it's probably been affecting him for a while and i feel like he probably went to y/n at some point about it, so here's a little hurt/comfort drabble about that!

-

tonight, it had been the icy glance osamu sent his way as he prepped dinner on the kitchen island. his twin's stone grey eyes suspiciously following his movements as if he was analyzing and criticizing each and every little motion.

"'samu," atsumu acknowledged his brother trying to ease some of the tension, yet completely ignored the woman latched onto his side. osamu flicked his eyes back to his work, letting out a breathy scoff as he did so. atsumu knew his brother always hated people crowding him in the kitchen when he was trying to cook. so how was it that his own brother seemed to annoy him more than meiko's clingy grasp?

the action plunged a knife deep into his heart, and atsumu found himself frozen, staring at his brother. was it just him, or was the oxygen in the kitchen suddenly running low?

"'m just grabbing a drink, then i'll be outta yer way," he explained, not in the mood to deal with the pair.

but meiko had other plans. stroking her outgrown acrylics up and down osamu's biceps, meiko lifted herself on to her toes, pressing her rouge lips to osamu's ear. locking her malice striken eyes with atsumu's, she whispered into osamu's ear. it was quiet, but atsumu caught a few words. something about you, atsumu, and sexual favors; the same insult always. but what really twisted the knife already stuck in his heart was the way osamu laughed. he laughed. as if his own brother's emotions were something to be taken as a cheap joke.

so when osamu leaned down to whisper a response into meiko's ear with that same malicious gaze, atsumu decided he didn't want to stay and hear what his brother had to say. so he found himself storming out of the kitchen, drink forgotten. meiko and osamu's snickers fading as his feet instinctively carried him to your room.

however, he faultered upon reaching your closed door. would it really be the best idea idea bother you about this? He knows exactly what you'd say, something along the lines of "you could never bother me" or "i'm here for you no matter what."

but part of him couldn't help feeling guilty. here he was about to dump his problems onto your already heavy shoulders. yet his body started moving on its own and he couldn't stop himself; he wanted – no, needed – your comfort. so with three light raps on your door, he called out to you, "angel, it's me, can i come in?"

your voice sounded a muffled confirmation from the other side. wrapping a shaky hand around the doorknob, atsumu entered your dim room. you were nuzzled into your duvet, turned on your side to face the door as you scrolled mindlessly on your phone.

he must have looked pretty pitiful, because as soon as your eyes landed on his hunched form you shot out of bed, fully alert. you were in front of him in no time, bed sheets tossed carelessly to the floor in your haste.

"'tsumu, what happened? what's wrong?" your voice was so soft, so gentle, and your touch even more so. warmth spread across his cheeks as you cupped his face with both hands, your thumb skimming his cheek to clean the trail of tears. had he really been crying? he hadn't noticed.

when he didn't answer, you spoke again. "was it osamu again?" he nodded, god you really did know him so well. it wasn't the first time atsumu had confided in you about his broken relationship with his brother. but still, you just knew, just like how you knew exactly what he needed in this moment.

if you were angry – which you 100% were – you didn't let it show, more concerned with the boy in front of you. one of your hands traveled to the back of atsumu's neck to pull his head down to your shoulder while the other soothingly ran through his hair. "i'm so sorry 'tsumu. i've got you, you're okay." your voice was just above a whisper.

and that was all it took for atsumu to completely unravel. his arms wrapped themselves around your waist to pull you closer into him as he buried his face deeper into the crook of your neck. his tears had surely soaked through the fabric of your shirt by now, but you showed no indication of caring about that. instead, your fingers continued their ministrations in his hair, all the while you whispered sweet affirmations in his ear.

he relished in your warmth. god, was he glad he came to you. you, who had the weight of eleven peoples' hatred bearing down on your psyche. yet here you are, opening your arms to hold him as he sobbed, selfless as always. and in that moment he only hoped he could make you feel as safe in his arms as he did in your's right then.

"thank you," he mumbled into your neck suddenly. atsumu wanted to say so much more than that, but he couldn't find the words. so instead, his fists clenched the back of your shirt and pulled you closer to him, hoping his actions would portray more than his words could.

"of course," you whispered back. somehow, he knew you understood.

-

this turned out to be longer than i thought, sorry! it's a little rushed and not that great but i hope you like it!

— noah (anon)

(i might more in the future so i'll go by this name if that's okay)

WHAT IS W YALL DOWNPLAYING UR TALENTS CS THIS???? THIS????? IS INCREDIBLE BESTIE I LOVE LOVE LOVE THIS and you bYE <3333 i would love it if u sent more of ur writing in!!!! l o v e l y

[clumsyclifford]

hm hi maybe i will officially ask you if you want to hurt me and write a therapy fic. i vote malum but. you do as— no you know what i'm me this is a malum prompt i'm sending you okay love you bye

hiya taylor i hope you realized when you asked for this that it would be angsty as fuck, so i really can’t apologize for uhh writing something angsty as fuck!! BUT with a hopeful ending because we know how i am

tw for suicide ideation, suicidal thoughts, depression

read it here on ao3

-

Michael is winded from the moment they walk onstage.

He’s been all smiles all day. Somewhere he’d heard that smiling was supposed to trigger some kind of happy brain chemical, a creepy fake-it-’til-you-make-it strategy. It has not worked. Michael is exhausted from the effort he’s put into looking like he’s okay. The smile has become a grimace, and he doesn’t have the energy to make it look more realistic. Cameras capture upturned lips and that’s enough to convince them he’s happy, which is the important thing. 

He doesn’t intend to watch those videos when they’re edited together. He can’t even bear to look in the mirror these days. The travesty of him that stares back out with dead eyes only makes him feel worse. At this point he’d doubted whether or not he could actually feel worse.

Standing in front of almost thirty thousand people, it turns out he can. Or at the very least he can feel equally bad in a different way. He’d been drowning before, but he’s choking now. Dying either way. 

If he died onstage, slain where he stood, what would his band do? What would the thousands of fans do? Maybe it would be a mercy. Michael’s a liability right now. He’s frozen in front of thousands of people at the fucking O2 Arena, for fuck’s sake. The band is supposed to be skyrocketing and Michael is a faulty engine, fuel that’s caught fire. If they keep him around they’ll catch fire too, and then they’ll all be free-falling, instead of just him. 

They’d hate him if he died onstage, though. Michael would hate himself too. At the O2, of all places, really? How much more of an attention whore can you be? Couldn’t have waited for a smaller venue to have a heart attack? Or maybe a hotel room? Someplace you could be alone?

Shit. Fuck. The loud cheering has wavered, and all three of his bandmates are giving him concerned looks. Michael fights for breath and finally — for better or for worse — manages to take in the oxygen he’d been missing. And then he forces yet another smile, for his bandmates — but he can’t look at them, can’t see the looks on their faces, not right now — and for the stadium. The sound of screaming doubles in intensity. Michael is already so tired, and they’ve only just started the show.

Luke yells something lead-singer-y and Michael’s hand shakes against the strings of his guitar until he starts playing, closing his eyes for a moment so muscle memory can take over. 

It’s too loud. One way or another, he’ll drown; his lungs aren’t working the way lungs are supposed to, and if they’re not filling with air they might as well fill with water.

Holy shit, he thinks, because he knows enough to know that these are Dangerous Thoughts. But he can’t deal with that right now because they have a show, and after the show he’s fully booked with Pretending He’s Fine from now until forever.

On the opposite side of the stage, Calum catches his eye, and Michael tries to infuse his hollow smile with warmth, sincerity, anything to make that worried expression melt away, but he’s not stupid enough to think it’s worked, even when Calum turns away. Although Calum does turn away, so maybe it means he knows Michael’s lying and just doesn’t care.

You’re in the middle of a show, you fucking idiot, says Michael’s evil subconscious. They’re not going to stop the show in the middle just because you look like you’re seconds from death. You always look like that. 

Right. Right. Michael’s done this to himself. Calum’s not crippled with concern, and he shouldn’t be; he’s Michael’s best friend, not his fucking therapist. Not that Michael has a therapist. Nor does he want one. No random stranger would give a fuck about his bullshit problems, and neither would a random stranger with a PhD.

Fuck. The crowd is getting louder. Is it possible for them to get louder? Or is that all in Michael’s head? Or is everything all in Michael’s head? Are the in-ears keeping the fans’ screams out, or Michael’s screams in? Fuck. Shit. Oxygen is being awfully unreliable today. It’s so loud. Michael closes his eyes again. He knows this song. He’s played this stupid fucking song a thousand times. He could play it in his sleep. He could play it in his casket. That might be what he’s doing right now.

Fuck.

-

Michael is in a constant game with himself, pushing his own limits just to see where he’ll snap. The way he sees it, it’s like exercising a muscle; wherever he breaks, he grows back stronger so he won’t break there again. At this point his threshold is high enough that when he’s feeling particularly masochistic — although when isn’t he — he really has to work for the breakdown. 

It’s a blessing and a curse to be able to handle this much. It means that even when everything is wrong, Michael doesn’t collapse. Which means that he can still play an entire concert at the O2 Arena without having a meltdown, but also that by the time he actually does break, his insides are charred from all the damage control that hasn’t quite succeeded in containing it. 

At least a hotel room is a better place for it than an arena stage.

He can feel it creeping up on him, and he knows it’ll be soon. It won’t take much. There’s already enough wrong as it is. The hotel room is too cold. It’d been nice for a little bit, immediately after the show when he’d been sweaty from the performance, but now it’s making him shiver.

He has sweatshirts, hoodies, blankets. But that would be cheating. Michael stays where he is, sitting at the chair by the window in the tank top he’d played in, staring outside at the sprawling mass of London with all its flickering lights. Sitting by the window is also definitely not helping the temperature situation, but Michael isn’t shying from the crash; he’s trying to induce it. 

Just then, Calum comes out of the bathroom, still towel-drying his hair, and Michael knows what’s next.

Sure enough: “Hey,” the same way one might talk to a baby animal, like if Calum talks too loud he’ll startle it. “You okay?”

Guess, Michael thinks, swallowing. Take a guess. What do you think? “Fine,” he says, because that’s his line. Calum won’t believe it, as well he shouldn’t, since Michael is lying.

“You don’t seem fine,” says Calum. His voice moves around behind Michael as he gets dressed in joggers and a hoodie. “I saw you when we went on to play tonight. You looked like you’d seen a ghost.” There’s a pause. “Like you were a ghost.”

Michael swallows again, and it’s more difficult this time. His eyes sting; his fingers twist anxiously around the hem of his shirt. “That’s a bit dramatic.”

“Well, you didn’t see yourself,” Calum says. 

“Was probably the lights.”

“Don’t be like that, Michael. It’s not like I think you’re okay. I know you’re pretending for the rest of the world, but you don’t have to pretend for me.”

Fuck.

This conversation is not going to be your breaking point, Michael thinks fiercely to himself. Calm down. He inhales raggedly, although it does nothing for his composure. He’s breathing around thorns only by telling himself that they’re roses, and all the while they shred the walls of his lungs, making it more difficult to cling to oxygen when he takes it in.

I’m not pretending, he wants to tell Calum, but he can’t. “Well, you don’t have to worry about me,” he returns. Fuck. His voice sounds shaky and the lights of London are swimming in his vision.

“I don’t worry because I have to,” Calum says. His voice is closer, but before Michael can figure out what he’s doing, he’s taken the seat across from Michael at the window, dropping a flannel into Michael’s lap. “I worry because I love you. You’re shivering.”

Is he? Michael hadn’t noticed. He looks down but he can’t see anything, but if he blinks then the tears will fall and Calum will notice and Michael will have to admit that maybe this is his breaking point and he doesn’t want it to be but he is cold and when he blinks even his eyes feel cold and he quickly looks back at the window and moves his hands on top of the flannel and Calum says, “At least put it on, it’s cold enough in here without wearing a tank top,” and Michael’s throat closes up because however much he can control himself around cameras and crew members and friends and fans, something about Calum makes him completely unravel.

Maybe it’s not that this is his breaking point. Maybe it’s just that this is a safe place to break.

(Maybe it’s a little bit of both.)

So he picks up the flannel and pulls it around his shoulders without putting his arms through the sleeves, and he sniffles and says, “Thanks,” voice all fucked up and wobbly.

“Yeah,” Calum says softly. “What’s on your mind?”

“I’m tired,” Michael whines, and that’s the last he manages before he’s crying like a little kid, tears streaming — it’s been so long since Michael’s cried and he’d forgotten that tears were this relentless, fresh new ones falling now matter how many times Michael tries to squeeze them away — and Calum moves like he’d just been waiting and pulls Michael into a hug, where Michael hides his face and tries to hold his breath because he’s going to die eventually and it will probably happen soon and Michael would at least like to die in Calum’s arms, while he has the chance. But the sobs wracking his body force him to inhale so that plan falls through almost immediately. Because Michael can’t even die right. Fuck.

“Oh, babe,” Calum murmurs. His arms are tight around Michael. “I’m sorry, love, honestly, I’m so sorry.”

Michael can’t stop crying or else he’d say why are you sorry? even though he knows this is more of a sympathetic platitude than anything. Calum does sound sorry but surely he knows it’s not his fault — that this is Michael, all Michael, Michael’s fucked up brain and fucked up self and total inability to get his shit together like everyone else. The more successful the band gets, the worse he feels, and he knows that’s not what’s supposed to happen and he feels even shittier that he’s not being fucking grateful for everything the band is giving him and all the opportunities he has thanks to this, and instead is so stuck in his own fucking head that he’s tallying the passing days like an apocalypse survivor, counting each one he lives through. Or possibly counting down until his death. 

The wrenching sobs slow to nothing. Calum doesn’t try to get Michael to talk, and that itself gets Michael to talk. The silence is worse, and Calum is here, and Calum is safe, and Calum loves Michael. 

“I am not okay,” he mumbles into Calum’s shoulder, which should be a given at this stage, but Calum only squeezes him a little tighter and doesn’t interrupt. “I know that’s a shock.” Calum hums. “I can’t explain why. I don’t know. I just know that this…isn’t how okay people feel.”

“Yeah,” Calum says quietly.

“I don’t know what to do,” Michael says helplessly. “I don’t — I don’t know. But I keep — like — the things I think, you don’t even…you don’t want to know. If you’re worried now, you definitely don’t want to know.”

“I am worried,” Calum says. “But you can tell me if it’ll make you feel better.”

“I don’t want to. It’s not your job to be my therapist.”

“I’m not trying to be your therapist, I’m trying to be your friend.”

“It won’t make me feel better. I’m not going to tell you,” Michael says, though that just means Calum will draw his own conclusions, which might be worse. Not that anything is worse than Michael’s actual thoughts. He adjusts his grip on Calum, tightening his hold. The flannel is falling from around his shoulders, but he doesn’t want to move to pull it up.

“That’s okay.”

“I hate this,” Michael whimpers. It hits him like a hurricane how true that is. “I don’t like this. I don’t want to not be okay. It’s not worth the effort.”

“I know,” Calum says, rubbing circles on Michael’s back.

None of them are okay, truthfully. That’s why Michael can cry on Calum’s shoulder; he knows Calum would cry on his. It’s possible he’s a little worse than the rest of them, but he’s not alone. There’s a twisted comfort in knowing that he doesn’t really have to explain himself to Calum.

“I’m sorry,” he says mournfully.

“Don’t be sorry, you’ve got no reason to be sorry.”

Michael nods, though he’s still sorry. But they won’t get anywhere if Michael’s always apologising. It’ll only serve to annoy Calum, and right now Calum is all Michael has. If the world got any bigger it would crush him, so he keeps it close; it’s only him and Calum and the chill emanating off the window and the flannel dragging against Michael’s back.

Later, when the world expands again, when Michael can bear it, when he’s expelled all the water out of his lungs and stuck plasters over the cracks in his facade to hold himself together, Calum will sit with him on the bed with his laptop open before them and type up a search for virtual therapy despite Michael’s half-hearted protests. Later, Michael will sort himself out a little, Calum by his side to pull him over gaps when Michael’s too much of a coward to step across. Later, much later, a Michael of the future will write about the Michael of the present like he’s a distant memory, using past-tense verbs to make the most tragic sentences into a success story. That Michael is okay, or at least more okay. 

“I know it doesn’t seem like it, but I really think you’re going to be okay,” Calum whispers into his ear now, pressing a lingering kiss to the curve of his jaw. 

Which doesn’t make anything better in the long run, but certainly doesn’t hurt to hear right now. 

“Thank you,” this Michael sighs, as Calum tugs the flannel back up over Michael’s shoulders. 

“Of course,” Calum says lightly. “I love you.”

“Love you too.”

Present Michael can’t see past this moment, but as he takes his first deep breath in days, inhaling the familiar scent of Calum and warm from Calum’s embrace, he thinks that if the future were to hold more moments like this one, it might just be worth living through.

[profmori]

;Daiharu au 💴🌸💎

Summary : Haru Kato overworked himself as usual and Daisuke is trying to take care of him.

Note : yeh! first tumblr fic, let's get it ✨😗✌️

Haru sometimes hated his job.

Or rather he hated his strong sense of justice, which made him constantly push his boundaries to do what was right. Most of the first division members usually shied out when he asked them for help, and no way in the world he could go to Daisuke Kambe for the same.

Everyone tells him to lay off multiple times but he doesn't needs them to take care of him, damn it.

. . . . 💴🌸💎

Haru fell back in his chair, making the rusty old thing creek in protest. Everyone turned around to witness his loud and grumpy arrival, probably testing the waters before making a move. He paid them little to no attention, knowing he'll lash out otherwise.

The board gave him a hard time, the first division gave him a hard time, Daisuke blew him off like nothing and then Cho-san yelled at him --- Haru straight up wasn't having the best day. Now the last thing he needed was more people pestering him.

Luck, however, wasn't on his side.

The phone on his table starting ringing the moment Haru got comfortable in his chair, the loud sound made the headache double up a few notches. Haru tsked and picked up the receiver, putting it against his ear.

“yes?”

“Oh my god!” the lady at the other end screamed. “Pleass hurry there has been a robbery at my store, everything is wrecked.”

Haru tried to hide his sigh. “Please stay calm and tell me your address. Don't be alone in the house, as it might be dangerous and don't touch anything until help arrives.”

The lady hurried up with details as much as she could while simultaneously sobbing into the speaker, somewhere in the distance was a dog barking at her. Haru kept down the receiver and turned to Kamie, holding up the slip of paper with the address on it.

“There has been a robbery, can you go and see to it?” Haru asked, waiting patiently as the other completed typing on his computer. Kamie looked up with a guilt ridden smile, rubbing the back of his neck as he fumbled for an answer.

“You see, I've been dead tired after all the cardio you put me through---”

“Nevermind.” Haru cut in,“I'll take care of it myself.”

Haru stood up rather fast, making his head go blank for a solid second. He managed to hold himself up just before he could fall forward, the sudden movement causing the table to shake with impact and catch everyone's attention.

“Are you okay?” Mahoro asked, her hand stopped midway with a candy between her fingers. The pink haired officer gave him a worried look. “Would you liked this limited addition candy?”

“I'll pass.” Haru waved his hand and went out of the office lounge, momentarily leaned against the wall to regain his left over energy --- only god knew how worse the robbery was going to be, he needed to get every bit of patience and energy to deal with it.

Once sure that he wasn't going to collapse, Haru shrugged on his jacket and went to the crime scene.

. . . . 💴🌸💎

“Ah Kambe-san.” Kamie called out as Daisuke entered the room, the millionaire gave him a nod and went over to his desk. The inspector pulled Daisuke down to talk quietly into his ear.

“Is there a problem?” Daisuke asked, his voice even like it always have been. Kamie felt himself shiver at the calculated coldness in his eyes, he has to shake his head to get back on his tongue.

“Did something happen with Haru and you?”

Daisuke stared at him for a long moment, eyebrows lightly scrunched in concentration. Then he simply shook his head in denial, making Kamie sigh in confusion. He was well aware of Haru's habits of pushing himself too far, but there was no way you could stop him from doing so.

“Could you please go and check on him then?” Kamie asked with a requested smile, pressing his hands in a prayer position and ducked his head. “I'm afraid he might pass out or something.”

“Okay.” Daisuke said and straightened up, fixing his suit as he exited the lounge for second time this day. “HEUSC track Haru Kato's location.”

“The location has been found.”

Daisuke got in his car and glanced over to the screen, a map displayed in front of him with a green dot blinking inside a cafe. He got the car in ignition and put it on the road the moment it's engine roared.

. . . . 💴🌸💎

“Ehhh . . . what do you mean it wasn't a robbery?”

The woman in front of him laughed in embarrassment, a blush spread across her pale cheeks. Beside her, in a vile grip was a child yelling at her to let go, probably the culprit of the robbery. She bowed to Haru while winding up apologies, forcing the kid down with a hand pressed on his head.

“S-Sorry inspector, my son and his friends created a ruckus before I opened the cafe. I panicked and thought it was a robbery.”

“Are you sure everyone in safe here?” Haru asked; Except for the kid obviously, he thought but knew better than to voice it, his mouthy self already got him in trouble multiple times, he didn't want anything more.

“Yes inspector, our apologies for the inconvenience.” She said again and forced the son to say sorry as well, which Haru just accepted with a laugh. He then nodded to the lady and made his way out of the cafe, yawning as he started walking back to the office, his body however was screaming for him to rest.

Haru stopped as a sleek black car pulled up next to him, a colour and design he was all to familiar with now. The door opened with a smooth motion, inside seated was Daisuke with his usual bored expression, the one that seriously ticked him off.

“Oi Kambe, what are you doing here?”

“I was told to pick you up.” He replied monotonously,“Please get in the car before the traffic rolls up.”

Haru didn't want to be anywhere near Daisuke right now but he found himself rushing over inside the car and sighing once he was able to shut himself in the silent atmosphere. He may not admit out loud but Daisuke's car was more comfortable than his bed --- soft seats, warmth and his rich perfume. Haru instantly felt like he was going to fall asleep, and that would have been embarrassing.

“So what makes you come here?” he decided to ask instead.

“I was told to pick you up.”

“And you agreed?”

“Yes.” Haru didn't expect him to say anything more to so he just let it drop, but Daisuke cleared his throat and continued. “And I owed you an apology.”

Haru was in no mood for having that conversation so he just shrugged it off and let his eyes stay fixed outside the window, looking at nothing in particular. Daisuke waited for an answer before he decided better than to question him further.

“Are you tired?” Daisuke asked as he killed the engine and Haru shook his head, hurrying out of the car before he could seriously fall asleep. He shut the door to cut off any further complaints, making his way back to the office and hopefully avoiding Daisuke any further. Thankfully, the conversation never came up again, not until the shutting time atleast.

. . . . 💴🌸💎

“Haru are you sure you're staying back?”

“Yeah I need to write the report for today.”

“Okayy, bye!” everyone cheered as the hurried out of the office, glad that the day was finally over. Haru watched them leave, wincing when the door shut loudly after the departing crowd.

He let his head fall on the table and groaned. The cursor blink on the empty sheet of the word document, waiting to be worked on; problem was Haru's lack of motivation, he couldn't even lay it off with the board monitoring him and finding all the ways to pick more mistakes on him. It would he easier on their pockets if they could cut more of pay --- and with the deadline for his rent, a pay cut was the last thing he needed right now.

So with the last bit of energy left in him, Haru rolled his sleeved his sleeves up and got to work.

. . . . 💴🌸💎

Daisuke stared at the empty cup holder and realized that he left his wallet in the office, he killed the engine and got off the car. The last bit of left workers nodded as they moved past him, rushing out to go back home. He wasn't half surprised to find Haru bend over his computer and typing sluggishly, his eye bags reached on the floor and casted a dark edge to his golden eyes.

“Kamie? . . . no Kambe." He mumbled his words,"What are you doing here?"

“I left my wallet.”

Haru nodded and went back to typing, taking a sip out of coffee which was most likely cold by now. As Daisuke crossed him, he could see Haru shivering in his seat and having trouble to get a better grip of his coffee. He watched him struggle.

“You need to rest.” Daisuke said.

“As if the guy who threw up off the bridge would care.” Haru replied and then his words turned quiet. “Nobody cares.”

“huh?”

Haru send him a simple shrug and got to work again, mumbling as he typed, backspacing more and actually writing something. Daisuke then turned his head and spoke into the ear piece.

“HEUSC type the report for the incident today.”

“Command in processor. Estimate completion time in 10 minutes.”

“Let's go--- Haru!” Daisuke grabbed him just in time, saving him from hitting his head on the table edge. Haru groaned and fell against Daisuke's torso, eyes barely open and sweat pooled over his eyebrows; despite the obvious temperature rise, he was shivering. “Come with me.”

“I'm fine!” he said, words mingled into each other. “Just a little bit---”

“You just passed out.” Daisuke removed his glove and pressed his hand against Haru's forehead, feeling it burning under his cool skin. Haru straightened himself up, pressing a firm hand against Daisuke's torso too keep him at the arm length.

“I said I'm fine.” he said,“If I don't complete this by today, they'll probably fire me. Unlike you some people are limited on their resources Kambe.”

“I told HEUSC to do it for you.” He replied,“For now just come with me.”

“Why? Give me a reason.”

“To apologize.” He said without missing a beat .

“What for?”

“For everything.” Daisuke said.

Haru could only stare. He wanted to say no and deal with himself, since Daisuke also did the same. The last thing he wanted was to become a burden on someone who refused his help.

He was a burden.

Denial almost went past his mouth but stopped when Daisuke reached out and grabbed his hand, his fingers cold against Haru's wrist. The millionaire's face was stoic as ever but his words were soft.

“Haru . . come with me.”

Seemed like he wasn't getting anywhere with denial tonight.

. . . . 💴🌸💎

continues part two

[rashenditrash]

Had a not great day today, so here's some sad Kadolin which I wrote to help me feel stuff.

So I've done something like this before when I wrote "An Expert in Just About Everything" - that is reworking a scene from the books with different characters.  ROW SPOILERS AHEAD.

This time around, as soon as I read Chapter 12 of of Rhythm of War, I knew I wanted to do a rewrite of the scene with the roles reversed.  While I love Kadolin's dynamic, I'm personally not a huge fan of writing Shallan off because I also love her individually, and her and Adolin's relationship.  With that in mind, the premise of the following scene is that Shallan is deep undercover, and Adolin believes (incorrectly) that she is dead.  I think this could make for some very interesting conversations down the road.  In my mind, it would be less about the typical drama, and more about "okay, how do we make this work".  Maybe if writing this inspires me I'll continue the narrative.

For maximum effect, I'd recommend reading Chapter 12 of Rhythm of War first (and maybe Chapter 21), and hopefully you can pick up on the parallels.  

Anyways, here it goes ROW SPOILERS AHEAD:

She's gone.  Adolin felt dim, unreal, like he was hovering between realms.  Is this how you feel? he wondered to Maya.  Unfortunately, Maya could not answer for him, and Adolin just felt lost.  Adolin stiffly moved towards his rooms, the rooms he used to share with his wife, and turned and closed the door with a firm push.  

Only then did he break.  He didn't make it to the chair or the bed.  He sank down with his back to the wall beside the door.  He tried to unbutton his well tailored jacket - storms why did he always need clothing that fit so snug?  His fingers fumbled at the ornate buttons, but found no purchase.  He tried to gasp, his chest and abdomen straining against his suddenly restrictive clothing.  His entire body seemed to tremble as agonyspren twisted in an out, twisted faces carved from stone, mocking him in his loneliness.  

Come on.  You've known loss before.  You got through losing your mother.  You can do this.  Adolin sobbed, and grabbed a scarf to muffle the sound.  Why couldn't he pull himself together, like he had back then?  The answer was obvious.  When his mother had died, and his father had abandoned them for drink.  There was no choice but to keep things together for Renarin's sake.  He had been the only one looking out for his brilliant little brother.  Now, Renarin was well and living his own life, and Adolin was just . . .

Alone.

He'd always hated that word.  All his life Adolin strove to surround himself in people - it didn't matter of they were common soldiers, lordly courtiers, or girlfriends, so long as they were there, with him, taking up space beside him.  But to seek the comfort of company now felt wrong, like a betrayal to the person whose absence he wanted to fill more than anything.   

A knock came at his door.  Adolin bit down hard on his scarf.  Please just go away.  The knock became more insistent.  Adolin tried to catch his breath, and glanced at a nearby mirror.  Come on, he told himself, Present yourself.  He sniffed three times and fanned his face, banishing the tears from his eyes.  He ran his hand through his hair a couple of times, until it settled into its familiar pattern of calculated dishevelment.  As he stood, he straightened his shirt and jacket, each motion of tidying his appearance soothing him a little more.  You can get through this.

The knocking continued.  "Coming," Adolin said, unable to keep his unsteadiness from his voice.  

Kaladin pushed his way in, Syl at his shoulder.  He wore civilian's garb, plain and unassuming, which only made his hardened bearing and physique stand out more.  Kaladin was like a constant, and unmovable anchor in the chaos of a high storm.    

They stood in silence, for a moment, taking each other in.  Adolin flashed a hesitant smile.  You know this is going to be hard for him too.  You can't let your dark moments undo his progress.  

"Maya... I wasn't quite sure what she wanted, but she seemed to want us to come here... um..." Syl appeared uncharacteristically bashful, and Adolin got the impression she'd be blushing if she wasn't monochromatic.  "And we're here now... so... bye!  I'll let you two talk"

As Syl departed, Kaladin cocked his head to the side.  "I... I heard.  I'm sorry Adolin."

"I'll... I'll be all right Bridgeboy.  Really.  I just need some time.  No need to fret."

Kaladin nodded, solemn.  "Right."  He closed the door behind him, and slid down to the floor.  Patting the ground beside him, he motioned for Adolin to sit down.  "No reason for you to take your time alone though right?"

"I..."

"If you need to be alone that's fine, just tell me.  It's not a big deal.  But for now I'll just sit here okay?  Until you tell me otherwise."  

Storms, when had Kaladin of all people become emotionally intelligent?   Adolin hesitated, then loosened his jacket and sunk down to the ground beside Kaladin.  As he leaned back, his arm brushed up against Kaladin's.  He felt he could almost absorb some strength from the man's frame, like a Radiant consuming Stormlight.  

He was in mourning - he should be taking time alone to work through his emotions.  To pay respects to... to her...  But of course, alone was the last thing Adolin wanted to be.  

Adolin grimaced as he caught sight of himself in the mirror again.  Granted, he was at a terrible angle, but he hadn't done nearly as good a job of clearing the redness from his eyes as he thought he had.  "Storms, I look awful.  What a mess."  

Kaladin grunted, making his disagreement immediately evident in a way only he could.  "As an expert in the subject,  I can confirm looking awful isn't half has bad as it's made out to be, not that you would know."

"Come now, you know you're a catch.  You have that whole aloof, stoic, hero thing going for you."

  "You're the expert."  Kaladin's eyes darted up and down Adolin's figure with a surgeon's precision.  "Here, let's get you changed into something more comfortable.  You need to be able to breath easy, and that ridiculous outfit isn't helping you at the moment.  I'll get you some water."  Kaladin stood slowly, and helped Adolin up.  "Don't worry about how it looks, just throw on whatever will make you feel the best.

Adolin extracted his hand from Kaladin's grip, and moved over to his armoire behind the dressing screen and started shifting out of his formal attire.  Normally, Adolin was able to quickly choose an outfit by instinct, but this time he found himself hesitating.  Eventually, he settled on a pair of comfortable training trousers, meant to facilitate movement, and one of the men's shirts that Veil used to wear.  The garment, tailored to Shallan's proportions, wouldn't quite close properly, so Adolin just pulled it around himself, smelling the shirt, and imagining his wife was wrapping her arms around him again.  

He let out a sob as he sank to the ground.  Kaladin was there in an instant, placing a hand against Adolin's chest, then his neck, and leaning in to support him as they sat down.  After the sobs died down a bit, Kaladin held up a glass of water, forcing Adolin to drink.  Adolin drank, and breathed in the smell of Kaladin.  He smelt... clean, but practical?  Like freshly laundered kitchen linens.  Slowly, the sobs subsided as Adolin took comfort in the strong frame of his friend.  

"I'm sorry," he whispered.  "I shouldn't put this on you.  How are you doing, Kaladin?  Storms, she was your friend too, I..."

"Sush, stop doing that."

"Doing what?"

"Trying to 'help' me to avoid thinking about how you are doing.  You can't be a light to everyone if your own sphere is going dim, Adolin.  It's okay to lean on me.  My father always said, in an emergency a surgeon has to look after himself first - its only after your own person is secure that you can ensure you are capable of competently helping others.  We'll have plenty of time to talk about me later.  For now, what do you need Adolin?"

I need you.  The thought, unbidden, seemed to escape from a locked chest in Adolin's mind.  Stop it, you are just scared of being alone.  Yes, he found Kaladin's presence comforting, and he certainly needed support in the moment.  That was all he was responding too, nothing more.  What kind of man would be thinking of someone else, like that, so soon after losing the person he was supposed to turn to?  He wanted to tell himself it was just a thing of a moment, a figment of his loneliness and need for comfort.  

You know that's not true.  This isn't new, and you know it.  Listen to who you are ignoring, even when its yourself.

"It's okay, just breathe.  Drink some water and breathe okay.  We don't have to talk."  Kaladin's hand traced along Adolin's spine, brushing each vertebrae.  Adolin focused on the rhythm of Kaladin's touch, and on his breathing.  Up and down, in and out.  He felt himself slipping into the trance-like state of mind Zahel had taught him to utilize when preparing for combat.  Slowly he began to feel the emotions start to subside.  They didn't leave, but the wave passed.  He entered a calm in the storm.

"You're one hell of a surgeon, Bridgeboy."

Kaladin's hand stopped.  "I do what I can," he said carefully, "But Adolin, you're the one who heals people.  I'm just returning a favor, long overdue."

Adolin smiled, feeling a moment of genuine warmth in his chest.  "Thank-you."

[hunsuks]

Vapor. | gonhun

pairings: gonhun (main), gonbae, hunhee.

genre: angst, dreams

word count: 1,827

a/n: i've always wanted to write something out of this plot and i finally found the perfect pair! the characters were originally switched up (like byounggon as seunghun and vice versa) but something made me feel like it would be better the other way around so if i missed some mistake from switching their names, please forgive me because i did it after i had someone read it for me. 🥺💛

p.s this is not a songfic but these songs fit this fic so much so you can also listen to them while reading.

"It's him."

Byounggon's heart started acting as if it was about to escape and rip his rib cage. For what felt like a myriad of moments passing by around him, he felt his feet glued to the ground. Numb and frozen on his state, he felt white heat drape all over him. His vision started to darken and his hearing started blurring out as well. He was going to pass out anytime soon but he has to follow him. He knows to himself that it's him. The man of his dream. It's Seunghun. The Seunghun who he have always yearned to meet in real life and not only in his deep slumber. The Seunghun that he wanted to hold in his arms not only fifteen minutes after he closed his eyes. He have waited all his life for this day to come. He can't let him go.

—

This world felt as if nothing could tear them apart. Not even the storm. Nothing. This world felt like the complete opposite of Byounggon's reality. In this world, he felt secured. He felt real happiness. He was euphoric. Because he was holding the dearest man of his life. He held him softly, with great caution but at the same time, so tight that it seemed like Seunghun would slip away in a blink of an eye.

Because he would. He was just a dream who would disappear like vapor the moment Byounggon opens his eyes.

For a moment and for the first time in Byounggon's life, he didn't ever want to wake up from a dream. Seunghun was his most beautiful nightmare; because he never had Seunghun in his reality.

The first time Byounggon started having vivid dreams, he woke up feeling like he never slept at all. He felt more exhausted than he should be from sleeping for almost half a day. He oddly felt like he was carrying a weight in his chest that he felt like sobbing it out and crying his eyes out would help him breathe but it doesn't. His dreams vividly, continuously, ran inside his head.

He never met this man, yet he was the most beautiful man he's ever seen in his life. He felt like it was pathetic to cry over someone he only saw in his dreams. But he never had dreams as clear as this. He can remember every detail from Seunghun's face. He can remember Seunghun's name.

He shook his head and went to wash his face with cold water only to face his restless self in the mirror.

"Are you this pathetic now?" he cursed to himself.

The insomnia he's been having for the past months after a traumatic good bye with Jinyoung left him restless. For the past months, he couldn't remember dreaming at all. He can't even remember if he was ever asleep. Still, he refused to be medicated leaving him no choice but watch the sun rise each day. This was the longest sleep he's ever had ever since that night Jinyoung said he couldn't do it anymore. And it constantly pains him. Even at this moment. The memories of that night tried to intrude in between the flashes of his dream.

He felt like he's carrying a piece of that world in his dream with him even in this world; with his soul. It felt too real to forget. Everything reminds him of Seunghun.

How can I even remember his name? I never met him, not even once as far as I can remember.

In his dreams, they were perfect. As perfect as what every couple in this world would admire to be.

—

"Welcome home, my love." Seunghun whispered to his ear as he breathed in Seunghun's neck, inhaling what oddly seemed to be a familiar scent. This is what home smells like. His heart have never felt this warm. There were no worries in his head while his arms were tightly wrapped around Seunghun's body while they were standing in the middle of an empty living room. The only worry going on in his head right now is the boxes that they are about to unpack and the furniture that they had to put in places within the day.

"Welcome home..." He answered as Seunghun placed a peck on his forehead and shuffled his hair.

Byounggon was aware that he was dreaming. But it felt too good to resist. He would like to watch this. Oddly, he would like to see what happens next with this beautiful boy with him.

'Don't open your eyes yet Byounggon, don't.' he thought to himself within his dreams.

"So this is what it feels like? We're really living together now. You can't let go of me now." Seunghun chuckled as he held Byounggon's hand, tight.

'I wish I can't.' Byounggon thought to himself as his gaze wandered around Seunghun's face, indulging every detail that he can, every detail that he wants to remember even if he woke up.

"I will never let go. You know that." Byounggon said as if he really meant it. Because that's how it felt like. He felt like those words came out straight from his heart to a stranger in front of him; even though he didn't feel like one at all.

They began to unpack all the stuff that they could do for the day. As enough as having the TV and the sofa in the living room and having the bed set in their now shared room. Byounggon vividly remembers every little detail. Even from the moment Seunghun accidentally hit his toe in the corner of the table and how he burned his tongue from the ramyeon that they cooked for dinner.

He have never laughed this much in a while. He was aware. It felt like he was living someone else's life but at the same time it felt so right to hold Seunghun's hand that fits perfectly with his, to kiss Seunghun's lips that felt like his was meant to meet. It was too surreal. He never encountered something that's too good to be true ever in his life.

—

And his life went on and so did the vivid dreams. Byounggon have never felt so excited to go home and sleep each day. It felt like he was living his life everyday just to sleep again; just to meet Seunghun in his dreams again.

He never told anyone about this. He was scared that everybody will tell him that he's crazy for having dreams that felt like a drama with consecutive episodes every night. He started getting convinced that he's living another life in another universe, a world wherein everything is perfect with Seunghun.

He was scared that if he told someone about it, he might suddenly stop seeing Seunghun in his dreams.

He knows that if he ever told someone about it, they would tell him to look for him in this world, but that was what he was most scared of. To meet him in this world. To meet this stranger in this world.

Until one day, there was no way to escape from his fears anymore.

He knew that this day would come. Somehow he wished that this reality was the dream instead.

The Seunghun in his dream is standing in front him. He have never felt this sure in his life. He scanned every detail from his face as Seunghun looked down at the book that he was holding. And he knows, deep in his heart that every detail hits home within him. A stranger never felt this familiar to him. Just like the first he met his Seunghun in his dreams, he never felt like a stranger at all.

"It's him."

Byounggon's heart started acting as if it was about to escape and rip his rib cage. For what felt like a myriad of moments passing by around him, he felt his feet glued to the ground. Numb and frozen on his state, he felt white heat drape all over him. His vision started to darken and his hearing started blurring out as well. He was going to pass out anytime soon but he has to follow him. He knows to himself that it's him. The man of his dream. It's Seunghun. The Seunghun who he have always yearned to meet in real life and not only in his deep slumber. The Seunghun that he wanted to hold in his arms not only fifteen minutes after he closed his eyes. He have waited all his life for this day to come. He can't let him go. But his fears were stronger than him.

'Does he know me? What if he doesn't know me? What if he does? Would I tell him that I know him? Does he dream the same dreams as me? What if he thinks I'm crazy?' Myriad of thoughts spiraled around Byounggon's head. He felt as if he was going to collapse.

'Of course I'm crazy.'

Seunghun is just a table and books away from him in his favorite bookstore. Never did he ever think that this is where he'll finally meet Seunghun.

For what felt like years of standing across him, Seunghun finally closes the book he was holding and started heading to the cashier.

Unconsciously, Byounggon's voice cracked as he slipped Seunghun's name out of his mouth way too loud without thinking.

A millisecond felt like an hour.

Thump. Thump.

He gripped the table to support himself, he knows he's going to fall soon.

Thump. Thump.

Did he hear me? Why is everyone looking at me?

Thump. Thump.

Is he going to turn?

Thump.

And he did.

Byounggon never thought he'll meet those glistening eyes ever in his life; in this world. But this is the reality. He tried to pinch himself multiple times but it was even harder to differentiate what's real and what's not. He was trying to convince himself that perhaps, this is the dream.

Seunghun's expression was hard to read. He was not shocked. Not confused either. Byounggon does not know how to identify what it says. Neither does he know how to tell how he's feeling right at that moment, he just wanted to run away but at the same time, feel Seunghun's warmth.

Seunghun's expression was suddenly bright. It was as if he was not the man Byounggon was looking at a few seconds? minutes? a million thoughts ago.

That smile. The smile that tells him that he's finally home. His comfort. His rest. His safe haven. He's looking at it right now. But more vivid. Realer.

"Seunghun-ah..." said someone softly from behind Byounggon.

And this time, it tears his heart rather than making it warm, because he was not the reason behind it.

He knew what was gonna come. He felt like he was gonna throw up but he watched a fairly tall boy walk to Seunghun from his behind and wrapped his arms around Seunghun's waist.

"I'm done choosing a book Yong-ah. Look."

[writemywaytoyourheart]

"Wow, you're beautiful..."

a/n: welcome to another part of the OT7 series, my loves <3 and welcome to another monday >_< we're gonna stick with any member for this one! hope this post can help you make it through the week^^

BTS Masterlist ← find all my works here~

Pairing: BTS x reader

Genre: FLUFF ❤️

Warnings: domestic fluff :)))

*JUST IMAGINE WHICHEVER MEMBER YOU'D LIKE*

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

You stretch a little and sink back into the warmth of the covers wrapped around your body. It was a bit chilly recently; it had been raining for the past few days and it was still drizzling a little outside your window.

The whole atmosphere was warm and inviting and you didn't want to get up. Not yet.

Unfortunately your body was waking itself up, despite the fact that the sun wasn't shining very brightly because of the rain clouds, your mind woke up anyway. You sigh and close your eyes again wondering what time it was and if you could sneak in a bit more sleep.

Just five more minutes, please.

You wanted nothing more than to just lay in the warm covers with his arms wrapped around you snugly.

You were currently lying on your back with his arms around your waist. Turning very carefully so as not to wake him, you look at his peaceful sleeping face then feel your heart catch in your throat.

You two were married six months ago, and you could still never get used to waking up next to him without having your heart hammering in your chest. You tentatively bring a hand up and pet his soft hair gently, smiling to yourself at how innocent and small he looked while sleeping.

His eyelids move slightly and he stirs a bit before hugging you tighter and humming in his sleep.

How on earth you ended up with a man like him, you had no idea. He was your best friend and closest ally, sticking through it with you no matter what happened. You couldn't wait to spend the rest of your life with him.

Listening to the quiet pattering of the rain outside, you keep looking at the beautiful man next to you, watching with a small smile as his deep breaths lift his chest up and down rhythmically.

A few minutes pass while you gaze at your husband sleeping peacefully. Then you realize you have to go to the bathroom, so you gently push his arms off you enough so you can slip out carefully, hopefully without waking him up.

The air is cold when you leave the warmth of the big bed so you hurry to the bathroom so you could climb back into bed with him again quickly. After you get back from the restroom, you see his peaceful face has taken on a slight pout even as he sleeps.

You smile at him fondly and curl back into the warm bed, where his arms immediately reach out and go around your waist to pull you in. A small smile finds it's way onto his lips and he scrunches up his face then hums happily and buries his head between your neck and shoulder. He mumbles something unintelligible and you pull back a bit to hear him better.

You brush his mussy morning hair out of his eyes and try not to giggle at how cute and sleepy he looks, "what did you say love?"

He smacks his lips together tiredly but his eyes are still shut as he repeats what he said with his deep morning voice, "I said you're so warm and comfy baby." You giggle at him and he smirks lazily, still keeping his eyes closed. You keep stroking his fluffy hair and can't stop looking at his cute tired expression.

"Are you still sleepy hun? You can rest more if you want," You say softly after a minute. He hums and shakes his head, then his voice comes back with a hoarse and sleepily attractive lilt to it, "I'm ok, my mind is awake now, it's just that my eyelids are as heavy as boulders."

You giggle again and push his hair back to expose his forehead before you press a soft kiss there. His smile widens and he finally opens one eye just enough to try and make you out. He stretches a little and scrunches his eyes again, trying to find the energy to open them.

"What time is it?" He yawns as he asks you, then rubs his eyes in attempt to get them to open. You shift a little so you can grab your phone off the nightstand. Bringing it up to your face you squint to make out the time, "it's 7:30 right now," then you turn to face him again, only once you do you realize he's scooted closer so your noses bump together. Your cheeks burn while he looks straight into your eyes and just stays there, nose to nose with you. It feels like an eternity of silence passes, you can't think clearly enough to say anything. Finally he breaks the silence as he whispers in awe, "wow.....you're beautiful." The blood rushes up your neck and deepens the blush in your cheeks and you just blink at him. Then you finally choke out, "you got your eyes open I see."

He smiles and with his hands on your hips he pulls you closer than you thought possible. He hugs you tightly and starts to leave small kisses on your shoulder. In between each kiss he says, "yup, and I'm glad I did, now I can see my beautiful wife." Your heart is hammering away and you're honestly not sure how you've lasted six months without imploding already. You mutter while he leaves sleepy kisses on your neck, "I- I don't even have make-up on yet, don't be silly."

His kisses move up to your jaw and chin, then your cheeks and forehead, a peck on the nose and finally he looks at your lips then into your eyes- you feel like he's staring into your very soul when he speaks again quietly but steadily, "You....are the most beautiful girl I've ever seen in my life. And I don't want you to ever say anything bad about my baby. Ok?" His gaze never leaving yours, his words and voice were so sincere that you feel tears well up. You nod and he gently wipes your eyes then smiles before leaning in and kissing you slowly.

When you two pull away he brushes your cheeks gently with his hand, then he looks behind you towards the window where the rain is falling softly on it, tiny water droplets decorating the glass.

"I love the rain." He whispers, his eyes bright as he watches it fall. You smile and snuggle closer to his chest, thankful that it was Saturday and he had the weekend off from his busy schedule as an idol. You two could lie around as long as you wanted, which you loved to do with him.

Your head rises and falls gently with his chest as he breathes in and out, his hands are rubbing up and down on your back as you two lay there doing nothing.

Suddenly he shifts and you look up curiously, he looks apologetic and says, "sorry baby, I have to go to the bathroom real quick." You laugh at him as he scrambles out of bed and hurries to the bathroom.

You turn onto your back and stretch your limbs out as far as you can and groan from the stiffness in them. Your eyes are closed and you don't see him come back, so you squeal when you suddenly feel his weight as he flops onto you.

"Yah! What're you doi-" you shout before he kisses you playfully and cuts you off. You can't stop laughing now as he snuggles his face into your neck and blows raspberries onto it.

"Just making sure my baby is awake and ready to spend the day with me~" he giggles and keeps attacking you with kisses until you're out of breath.

When you've both calmed down and he's lying next to you in the bed you turn on your side and look at him, sitting up on your elbow, "what do you wanna eat for breakfast love?" He hums thoughtfully then turns and props himself up imitating your posture and says, "I kinda just want some sugary cereal.... I'm not sure why." You laugh at him and nod, "sounds good to me baby, let's go get some."

You crawl off the bed and grab an extra blanket to wrap around yourself like a little burrito, safe from the cold. Then you shuffle out of the room and towards the kitchen to eat some cereal. Your husband stays in the bed for another minute, just watching you and trying to control his heart that's pounding in his ears from how much he loves you.

That girl, he thinks happily, she's gonna be the end of me.

Then he gets up and follows you into the kitchen, going in for a back hug while you take out the bowls.

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

a/n 2.0: sorry this is a little late, I hope you liked it <3 Mikrokosmos and Make It Right played while I was writing this, I'm emo now, I'm gonna go crawl into my covers and sob from loneliness, bye-bye :')

[fromheroestodust]

Be Alright

Summary: Stanley goes through the mind breaking experience of someone he loves dying at the hands of his worst fear.

Warnings: cussing (duh), dead body?, Much sadness

Word count: 1,471

Pairing: Stanley Uris x reader

A/N: this is based off of the song Be Alright by Dean Lewis! This is also my first It fic! (Sorry if it's shit, I didn't edit) also this is the first fic I've posted in a while, I have a lot but I haven't really been motivated to post them. I promise I'll be posting more soon ! (Also I know that this isn't really what the song is about but I wanted to change it a lil)

I look up from the ground

To see your sad and teary eyes

You look away from me

And I see there's something you're trying to hide

And I reach for your hand but it's cold

You pull away again

And I wonder what's on your mind

"Y/n? What's wrong?" I ask, concern quickly spreading to my voice. She never acted like this.

And then you say to me you made a dumb mistake

You start to tremble and your voice begins to break

"I made a dumb mistake, Stanny." Y/n mumbles, her voice cracking with her words. The blood drains from my face as I see her suddenly turn around, her eyes void of life as tears stream from them.

I bolt upright in my bed, my chest heaving for breath and my skin covered in cold sweat. The memories of everything that'd been going on the past few weeks suddenly washes over me, nearly pulling me under the waves as a hybrid of a sob and a cry escapes my throat and I bury my face in my hands.

So I still look back at all the messages you'd sent

And I know it wasn't right, but it was fucking with my head

I stand after ten minutes of sobbing and rubbing my eyes raw and walk towards my desk. I open one drawer that was flooded with notes and letters and remove one, a sad smile grazing my face as I read the messy hand writing.

Dear Stanny,

I'm coming back in a week! I'll be sure to bring you plenty of shells from the beach. I love you, more letters soon!

Lovingly, Y/n

The others keep telling me I shouldn't keep rereading the letters because every time I did I would end up crying again but I couldn't stop myself. It was one of the only things I had left of her.

I gently place the letter back down in the drawer before moving on to the things on top of the desk. A few dead flowers and a jar filled with seashells sits in the corner. I gingerly pick up one of the flowers with dry purple petals before setting it down again.

My mind starts running to the week before the incident no matter how much I beg it not too.

But it's not the fact that you kissed him yesterday

It's the feeling of betrayal, that I just can't seem to shake

"Y/n, truth or dare?" Richie asks, a mischievous shine in his eyes. I look to Y/n who sits next to me, a grin grazing her face.

"Dare."

"I dare you too... Kiss Bill." Richie states.

My face falls as does hers but she crawls across the circle, quickly pecks the corner of Bill's mouth, flicks off Richie, and returns to my side. Though everyone else stares in shock I start seeing red.

"I think I'm going to go home." I say through gritted teeth before standing and walking towards the basement door.

I hear footsteps behind mine up the stairs but ignore them until someone pulls my shoulder and forces me to turn around.

"Stan? What's wrong?" Y/n asks, concern and curiosity displayed in her eyes. A humourless laugh escapes my mouth.

"What's wrong? What's wrong is that you kissed Bill, Y/n." I respond with bitterness I never even imagined I could use towards her.

"It was a dare. There's nothing else than that." She says, clearly confused to my reaction.

Betrayal pangs in my heart as I stare down at her. "Just because it was a dare doesn't mean that it's okay! You kissed someone else in front of me! We're dating not you and Bill!"

"Stan, I'm sorry I didn't think-"

"No, you're not sorry. You don't care because I'm just always supposed to forgive you." I quip, no emotion but anger and betrayal quickly rising in my voice. "I need to take a break from you all."

"Wait, Stanny!" I hear Y/n call out as I walk towards the door. I ignore her calls and walk outside, steam practically pouring out of my ears as I walk down the sidewalk.

I shake my head and push away the memory, sniffing before getting dressed. I pull on a marroon dress shirt and black suit pants. I trudge down the stairs, saying a quick bye to my parents before walking outside.

Another fifteen minutes later I stand outside a gloomy building and reluctantly pull open the door. I walk down the dimly lit hall and into a small room, my feet stopping in their tracks. In the front of the room there she lays. Y/n lays in a casket that seems way too small to be remotely okay to have been made - how could someone so small be gone? She looks so peaceful. Her eyes are gently lidded and her hands rest on her stomach as if she's sleeping. I walk towards her until I'm right in front of her. My hand reaches up to cup her cheek, a tear falling over my cheek when I no longer feel the warmth I'm used to; just cold skin.

I think it was an hour before the other Losers arrived. They all gathered around me and Y/n, giving sorrowful glances to us both. Everyone's cheeks are stained with tears.

And everything I know tells me that I should walk away

But I just want to stay

I know standing here was not helping me. I know standing there was ripping down everything I'd rebuilt after her death and more but I couldn't will myself to walk away, I just wanted to keep seeing her.

And my friend said

"I know you love her, but it's over, mate

It doesn't matter, put the phone away

It's never easy to walk away, let her go

It'll be okay

It's gonna hurt for a bit of time

"Stan, how long have you been up here?" Mike asks gently.

"I don't know. An hour at the least." I answer barely above a whisper with my voice cracking.

"We should maybe go sit down." Eddie says.

I shake my head, not bothering to pull away the hair that fell in my eyes.

"I know you love her but we need to let other people see her." Beverly adds, biting her lip to hold back tears.

"I can't. She needs me." I croak, taking her still hand in mine.

"I-I know it's not e-e-easy but yuh-you need to let go." Bill says, placing a hand on my shoulder.

Reluctantly I let them lead me to the front row of seats. Almost as soon as they all sit down in a small circle of chairs I let out a sob and hold up my head with my hands.

"It'll be okay Stan." Richie whispers, giving me a look of concern. I can hear his own crack in his voice.

"Bill?" I call out, looking up. "D-does it ever get better?"

"I-i-its gonna hurt f-for a while b-b-but yeah. It w-w-will eventually." He answers.

We spend the rest of the day at Y/ns funeral, tears never leaving the scene as we share our happiest memories of her. It hurts. It hurts so much to know we were all so, so close to escaping this whole mess alive but the fucking clown had to kill her in the last week. It hurt so much to have her lying right there but to not hear her laugh and not see her smile and not hear her call me by her nickname Stanny. Everything hurt; literally and figuratively. I think back to every moment I could've made better but didn't and regret it. But, with the others there everything was slightly more bearable. It was slightly easier to breathe - to exist in a world without the girl I loved so much.

The funeral comes to an end and I walk back to the casket after asking for some time alone. I dig into my pocket and pull out a letter, a seashell, and a flower along with one of the many shirts of mine that she loved to wear. I gently set them all down around her before leaning down and placing a feathery kiss to her almost blue lips. A pang of hurt hits my heart when hers don't move in response but I ignore it, give her one last look of longing love, and walk back towards the others. It definitely hurt to know that was the last time I'd see her in person. Every thing that slightly mentioned her did. But, I had no choice but to pull through it. I had to.

It's never easy to walk away, let her go

It'll be okay

It'll be alright

It'll be alright

It'll be alright

It'll be alright

It'll be alright

[whispering-raine]

So this is based off of a small fan fiction I wrote the other day-

Janus' POV:

I felt my heart crumble once again. I layed against the wall, crying to myself.

Yes, I get that it has been too long and I should stop sulking around all day waiting for him to come back. But it's just so...difficult.

We grew up together, us Dark Sides. But then one day, he snapped...

He packed almost everything and went to join the Light Sides.

That bitch.

He was the only thing keeping me sane. Now the only person I have is Remus, and though he tries, he's starting to get distant too.

I'm scared to loose more of them.

I picked my phone up off of the ground next to me, clicking on Apple Music and blasting my playlist. Well, this isn't actually my playlist.

It's Virgil's.

Sappy, I know. But he...has good music taste. Or he did...

I just turned fourteen, and I think I know everything.

I wanted to sing along with the song. I wanted to scream the lyrics and get lost in the music, but I could barely get a whisper out.

I reached out towards my closet, the only place I have to hide anything. A small box sat in there, on the outside it read 'DO NOT TOUCH' in bold marker.

Only a few things sat in that box, and those things are my all time prized possessions. Such as special bracelets that I got gifted when I was a kid, or childhood toys that I couldn't seem to get rid of.

I've had that box for as long as I can remember.

But I only could think of one thing to grab in the moment.

I slid one of Virgil's old sweaters out of the box and put it on, the oversized hoodie filling me with warmth.

Instinctively, I wrapped my arms around my chest, sobbing louder than the music itself.

After so many years, it started to loose the vanilla scent that always seemed to follow him around. But it was still his...

"I just can't fucking..." I don't know what I was going to say, but it just slipped out of my mouth.

A shiver shot up my spine, making my whole body twitch uncontrollably. It all feels so big, but I'm just so small.

"I miss you." I whispered. No lies. No exaggeration. Just the truth.

"J? You ok?" Remus asked, sliding down the other side of the door.

I sniffled and wiped my eyes.

"I'm perfectly fine, why would you ask?" My voice was noticeably shaky, but maybe that was muffled by the door separating us.

"Well do ya' wanna make breakfast with me?" I did, actually. But food is the last thing that I want right now.

"Go away Remus." I hissed. It stayed silent for a few moments.

"Ok, bye.." I heard the floorboards creek as he got up, walking away.

Once again, I push away everyone I love. Yay. So fun.

I pulled the box into my lap, deciding to go through it to pass the time.

Music continued to play in the background.

Can't count the years on one hand that we've been together.

First I pulled out a small teddy bear, I got this at a place called Build-a-Bear when I was six. I slept with this bear every day until I turned seventeen. Her name was Chocolate. She used to smell like hot cocoa, but it faded over time.

I need the other one to hold you. Make you feel, make you feel better.

About ten homemade bracelets sat in the back of the box, I remember how those were made. Virgil would always make bracelets when he was nervous or anxious about anything. Hundreds of bracelets were made over the years, and he gave some of them to Remus and I. He grew out of it after a while.

It's not a walk in the park to love each other.

A small golden ring was hidden under those bracelets. I'm not sure where I got it, but I've always liked that ring.

I picked it up, sliding it on my ring finger.

But when our fingers interlock, can't deny, can't deny, you're worth it.

The last thing sat in the box. A large, broken picture frame was held in my hands. A movie theater picture strip was inside of it. It was smaller than the frame by a ton, so you could see the back of the wooden frame behind it. It was pictures of when Virgil, Remus, and I were in our teens, just handing out at the movies.

Cause' after all this time..I'm still into you.

We all had goofy smiles on our faces, Remus stuck his tongue out along with the smile.

I held the picture frame in my hands, anger building up in me.

I threw it across my room, it hit the wall as it broke more.

I should be over all the butterflies. But I'm into you. I'm into you.

Glass flew onto the ground. Instant regret washed over me.

"I'm sorry.." I whispered, my voice cracking.

I instantly got up, realizing that the frame was completely broken, leaving the picture almost floating in the middle of the wooden frame.

I snatched the paper off of the ground, avoiding the glass that scattered on the carpet.

I stared at the paper for a solid five minutes, no thoughts crossed my mind.

I finally caught a grip on reality and snapped out of it. I walked back over to my bed, still holding the pictures.

I layed down, clutching onto my body pillow like it was the only thing keeping me alive.

The playlist had stopped. Either my phone had died, or I never put it on repeat.

I took one more glance at the paper, before holding it close to my chest and drifting off into the sweet release of sleep.

The comic isn't identical, only based off of the writing. Hope you enjoy?