#They hate seeing it be broken down. They want it to be broken down. It's a very confusing mix. They hate being confused.

[eccentricwritingbaby]

i miss you, i’m sorry 

lando norris x reader

summary - breakup, missed calls, and lando at your doorstep. 

masterlist 

-

do you remember happy together?

i do, don’t you?

“hi, you’ve reached y/n! i can’t come to the phone right now but please leave me a messa-”

click. lando stares down at his phone, the daunting contact photo of you two together and happy staring back at him. mocking him. his eyes are brimmed with salty tears, his head mentally begging you to call him back. 

you had broken up one month ago, pressures of life forcing the two of you to become resentful and angry, with a common thought that you would both be better off apart. after two years together he moved out of your shared apartment, giving it to you, and finding his own. but, within a week, lando had missed you too deeply to even recognize any faults near the end, just hopelessly attempting to contact you in any way. he had called you every day since then, always getting your voicemail and never having the right mind to leave one. 

the boxes scattered around his apartment were just inanimate reminders of you, and how much he wished he would’ve never left. how much he wished he would have fought for you and your love, a love that hadn’t disappeared the more you two were apart, it only grew stronger. 

you said ‘forever’, in the end i fought it

please, be honest, are we better for it?

thought you’d hate me, but instead you called

and said, “i miss you”

i caught it

lando fell back into the couch, his dark phone haunting him as he reminisced. what was so bad about the end? you couldn’t make a few races? he knew his love radiated and compensated for that. he could deal with missed races and conflicting schedules if it meant having you back in his life. as he sits, the slight buzzing of his phone catches him out of his trance, and your smiling face appears on his screen. quick and slightly sweating fingers slide across the screen, answering fast with a clearing of his throat. 

“h-hello?” his voice slightly cracks into the phone. 

“hi,” he hears you sigh from the other line, his smile finally coming back as he hears your current voice, “you called?” 

“been calling,” lando tries to lighten the mood, “‘m glad you called back,”

“me too,” your soft voice is music to his ears, “i, i miss you,” your small confession was everything to lando as his full smile returned to his face for the first time since your ultimate breakup. 

“miss you too, love,” he sighs out in relief, “been needin’ to hear your voice,”

“yours too,”

nothing happened in the way i wanted

every corner of this house is haunted

and i know you said that we’re not talking

but i miss you, i’m sorry

“how’ve you been?” he subtly asks, his fingers now playing with the hem of his shirt - a nervous habit he had picked up from you in your years together. 

“have to admit, not that good,” he hears your giggle through his phone and his heart jumps with love, “the apartment feels too quiet without you here,” 

“my new one feels too empty without you here,” lando replies, his hand runs down his face, preparing himself for his next question, “listen, i-i know you said you didn’t want to see me but-”

“come over,” your voice interrupts, already knowing what he was going to ask, “please,” your voice drops into your most vulnerable octave, and lando is already scrambling to retrieve his keys in order to head out the door to your old shared apartment, to you. 

“be there in five, love,” he responds swiftly, jogging out the door in order to make it towards you faster. 

everything i know brings me back to us

i don’t wanna go, we’ve been here before

everywhere i go leads me back to you

the gentle knocking at your door brings you out of your post-call fog and back into reality. he was here. the man that walked out of your life easily and then wouldn’t leave you alone to heal is here. and fuck, you were so happy to see him. 

the breakup hadn’t been your first decision either, the words had just shouted out of your mouth before you could think things through in a fit of rage. and lando listened. and left. but now he’s here. 

opening the door you’re faced with the man you loved, love. his bright eyes and curly hair still the same, his hoodie and joggers making him ever so soft, and the smile graced on his face was hard to miss. 

“hi,” he whispers, almost afraid to scare you off.

“hi,” you whisper back, same fears in your brain as his, “come in,” you gesture to the inside of your once shared apartment, and he easily steps in, bringing a warmth that was missing to the space and making it a home again. just like that. 

“wow,” he states, keeping his same quiet demeanor, “i’ve missed this place,” looking around, his eyes land on you, “i’ve missed you,”

“i’ve missed you too, lan,” you take a step towards him, “i miss you, a-and i’m sorry, for everything,”

“why are you apologizing?” he takes your hands into his own, giving them both a soft squeeze, “i should be the one apologizing, i just left when things got hard instead of working on it and figuring it out, i-”

“no no,” you cut off his ranting, “i should have never suggested a breakup, that was my fault,”

“and i should have never gone along with it, i should’ve stayed, should’ve fought,”

“you did fight, lan,” your eyes begin to gloss as you look up at him, “you called and called, i just shut you out-”

“then don’t shut me out now, give me another chance,” his pulls your hands that are in his to wrap around his neck as his own land on your waist, “please, baby, give us another chance,”

“i love you,” you whisper, “i still love you, of course i want to be with you again,” lando doesn’t hesitate, now knowing you’re on the same page as him and moves forward to capture your lips into a breathtaking kiss.

“god i’ve missed this,” he pants, forehead resting against yours, “please never break up with me again,”

“please never leave again,” you whisper back.

“wouldn’t even dream of it, baby,”

[maxdibert]

Sirius Black, the firstborn. The aristocrat. The one raised in a disgustingly rich, respected, and feared family. Sirius Black, the rebel without a cause, who forged his identity by opposing the values of that family. The tall guy, so handsome that girls couldn’t even concentrate on their exams. The popular one, the one who had it all. The one who didn’t have to worry about running away from home because the loving parents of his also-rich best friend took him in. Sirius Black, the one at the top, the one who did whatever he wanted to those beneath him. The one who spent seven years torturing a poor half-blood just out of boredom, for fun, because he could.

Sirius Black, who looked at that poor half-blood as a representation of everything he hated, everything that disgusted him. Despising him for wanting to go to his family’s house, for wanting to gain power that he—let’s be honest—had possessed from birth. Sirius Black, constantly laughing at Severus Snape, calling him Snivellus, mocking his appearance, ridiculing his poor, downtrodden look, encouraging him to go somewhere he’d likely end up dead. Sirius Black, convinced he was doing nothing wrong because Severus Snape was a piece of shit who followed the Death Eaters, and hurting him was completely justified.

Sirius Black, the brave one, the one who would’ve given his life for the good cause, the one who was on the right side from the beginning, who always knew where he belonged, who went to war and gave it his all—so much that he ended up in prison.

Sirius Black, who escapes Azkaban only to end up in another prison. The one who, locked in his family home, starts to see things for what they are. The one who is no longer a help but a hindrance. The one who is just a ticking time bomb for a Dumbledore who never gave a damn about his zeal for the fight. Sirius Black, who suddenly finds himself facing that same half-blood he used to insult, to hit, to hunt down like a predator after its daily meal. There he is, with them. Severus Snape, the Dark Arts freak, the greasy-haired, Malfoy’s lapdog, the one who followed the pureblood supremacists and bears the Dark Mark. The same Severus Snape who was a Death Eater and followed Voldemort, now stands as Dumbledore’s right-hand man.

And Dumbledore trusts him more than anyone. Trusts him so much that, although neither Lupin, Tonks, nor Moody like having him among their ranks, no one dares say a word against him. Only Sirius speaks up, and when he does, everyone scolds him. Because he’s no longer Snivellus; now he’s Snape. He’s a double agent. He’s someone important. He’s a rook, a bishop, a knight, while the others are mere pawns.

Sirius Black wonders why. Why, if he did everything right, if he stood up to his family, if he always defended what was right, he’s now reduced to a broken toy confined to isolation while that piece of shit who did everything wrong is the one who has Dumbledore’s favor. Because Sirius was always one of the good ones, and Severus was one of the bad ones. Because tormenting and mistreating him was justified. But then he realizes it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter who’s good or bad in a war; what matters is how useful you are to those who wage them.

And he has become useless, while Severus is a key piece. And that is the best revenge Severus could have had for all the years of abuse he endured: for Sirius to realize, in the last months of his life, that all his efforts to rebel had meant nothing. In a war against power structures, the aristocratic boy never has a place.*

[niteskysx]

(A continuation from my last fic)

Stepbrother! Nicholas Chavez x Reader x Stepbrother! Cooper Koch

Your role in this family was… complicated. When your adoptive parents brought you into the family, they thought giving their boys a little sister would be a wonderful idea. A picture-perfect family, they said.

What they didn’t realize was that their sons were far from perfect.

At first, Nicholas seemed like the kind of older brother anyone would want— charming, protective, and confident. With the exception of some anger issues, of course.

He said he’d help you with boys. He’d give advice, tease you harmlessly, and make you smile. But as the both of you grew older, that teasing shifted into somewhat of a darker nature.

In the teaching and teasing, he would start making these odd requests and try to convince you the best he could.

“I want to try something new with my girlfriend, but I need to make sure I don’t screw it up with her, I- I really love her you know… Can I try it on you first? Just to see how it feels? Just this once?”

You hesitated first, of course, but you were just helping, right? You were family. It was all innocent, wasn’t it? Just a favor for your stepbrother.

The first time you gave in, you told yourself it was harmless. But once that line was crossed, it was like he’d broken a lock.

The requests kept getting bolder and things started escalating into more intense exchanges.

He’d pull you aside, or take you to his room, and say he needed your help again. That it was “important.”That he loved his girlfriend too much to risk losing her.

Nicholas was a person that could get angry very quickly. When things didn’t go his way, he would be frustrated or get mad quick and needed a way to blow off steam fast.

Eventually, he started using you as a stress-reliever.

Whenever Nicholas felt bored, frustrated, or just needed to “relax,” he’d call you into his room. He’d claim it was harmless but he needed your help to blow off steam.

“You wouldn’t want to ruin the only family you have, would you?” He would say.

It’s not like you wanted him to continue with what he was doing— but sometimes, just, sometimes, you found yourself craving it. Craving him. Like a classic horny virgin, just so desperately waiting for the next time he’d teach you something new. You hated yourself for it, for wanting him like this, especially knowing that with each time you allowed him closer, you were indirectly betraying the only family you had ever known. But in those moments, as much as you tried, you couldn’t stop yourself. The minute he touched you, you melted— You couldn’t deny the way you looked forward to him, even as the guilt was suffocating you immensely.

Cooper, on the other hand, played the part of the sweet, caring brother. He didn’t seem to know the full extent of what went down between you and Nicholas, but you could tell he had an idea. He’d glance at you sometimes, his eyes filled with something you couldn’t quite name— concern, guilt, maybe even jealousy. He’d ask if you were okay, with his angelic gentle tone that he has, but his questions only made you more anxious.

Even with Cooper, things didn’t feel entirely “brother-like.” His glances always lingered on you a moment too long, his touch lingering in ways that felt just a bit too intimate, like when his fingers brushed yours at the dinner table when you asked him to pass the bread. And that tension. That unspoken tension between the two of you that rises whenever you are left in a room together, alone.

You felt trapped by the both of them. Mentally, physically, emotionally….

The lines between right and wrong started to blur for you everyday and you couldn’t think right. You just kept sinking deeper and deeper into their control— intentionally or unintentionally.

You found yourself sitting close to Nicholas again— you could feel his fingers trail down your arm, his breath warm against your skin. You wanted to get away, you knew you had to get away, but you couldn’t… It was like he had you under some kind of unspoken spell that couldn’t be broken. He was leaning in, looking at your lips, about to do what you think he was about to do when—

The door flew open.

Shit.

Shit.

Shit.

“Hey—oh,” Cooper’s voice cut through the tension like a blade. He froze in the doorway, his expression shifting from surprise to something unreadable.

Nick jerked back, his jaw clenching as he turned to glare at his younger brother. “What the hell are you doing?”

Cooper blinked, recovering quickly. “I was going to ask her if she wanted to watch a movie,” he said, his tone calm but his eyes flickering between the two of you. “But I can see I interrupted something.”

“You think?” Nick snapped.

Your heart was racing a million miles an hour. “I—I was just heading to bed,” you stammered, trying to escape the situation.

Cooper didn’t budge from the doorway, he just kept glaring, eyes locked on Nick’s. “Maybe you should give her some space, Nicholas. You know, let her breathe for once.”

You didn’t expect Cooper to say that. At all.

You could feel how mad Nick was getting. This wasn’t good.

“Stay out of it, Coop. This doesn’t concern you.”

“It does when you’re acting like a—” Cooper stopped himself, glancing at your innocent face before finishing. “Just… back off, okay?”

Nick took a step toward his brother.. “You don’t tell me what to do. Got it?”

“Someone has to,” Cooper shot back, his calm demeanor cracking. “She’s not your plaything, Nicholas.”

What was happening wasn’t good and you needed to figure out a way to stop this before things escalated. You quickly stepped between them before things could escalate.

“Stop it—both of you,” you said, your voice shaking but firm. “I don’t want any of this. I’m going to my room.”

You rushed out of there as soon as possible. You couldn’t take whatever “this” was. It was just too much for you to handle.

Nick watched you leave as you left his room, turning from frustrated to something softer. Sadder. But only for a brief moment before hardening his expression to bitter ‘ol Nicholas again. “Fine. Whatever,” he muttered, dropping into the chair beside his bed.

He shot a glance at Cooper, waving him off lazily.

“You can go now, too.”

Cooper gave Nick one last angry glance before he turned to leave.

As he stepped into the hallway, he could see that your door was slightly open and he peeked through that little space to see you sitting on the edge of your bed, holding yourself.

Hesitant at first, but he knocks lightly on your door and steps inside. “Hey,” he said, his voice gentler than ever. “You okay?”

You nodded, though your hands were still trembling. “I’m fine. Thanks for… everything.”

He gave you a small smile. “Someone has to look out for you.”

Before you could respond, he hesitated, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary. “If you ever need anything, just… let me know, okay?”

You nodded again, not adding anything else. He turned and quietly closed the door behind him.

When you were left alone with your thoughts, you were trying to process everything that just happened. What did just happen? In fact, what HAS been happening? I mean— this is not like you at all! You’re a good girl, like mom and dad say. You have always been a good girl… Kissing your step brother? Nicholas—? Seriously? The boy who gets off on torturing and teasing his stepsister? He doesn’t even really like you! He just uses you— why are you STILL letting him get close to you like that and then let him treat you like trash the rest of the time? And what was that fight? Over YOU? No way. This all feels like a very, VERY bad dream that you need to wake up from.

You sighed and collapsed onto your bed, burying your face in your hands.

Just sleep it off… just… sleep… it… off.

Things will be normal tomorrow…. Right?

For @blackynsupremacy 🙊💋

[thatnonameuser]

You said something about Azul's darling having children healing his childhood trauma. ANGST WARNING!! AND BULLYING!

This gave me an idea, he was bullied for being slow and different from other kids from the original plot. In this yandere au, that can be twisted into how he's such a loser, he'll probably never be good enough for a darling to accept him. He's so fat, not even a kind and pitiful darling, would want him. How the other mers think he's so stupid that he'd fumble trying to catch his darling and that they'll just be claimed by another, cooler, yandere. Laughing at him all the while so and flexing how their wonderful talents and skills would be enough to steal away a darling's heart, unlike him.

I can imagine how much this'll break his self esteem and brand him as a "weak yandere" to the other fishies. Azul would strive to be the opposite of all this, he would plan to take away their special abilities to "win a darling over" and make it his own, as his unique magic forms through sheer spite. He's so jaded and the thoughts of not being good enough to have a darling still ingrained in him. He probably won't fall in love with MC until after his overblot. Having the internal belief that, no darling would want a loser like him.. He probably won't care that MC is a darling at first and is just planning to use her as leverage against the other yanderes. Hence, taking over her only place to live. It benefits him as well since he'll be able to open another branch of the Mostro lounge and attract the other yanderes.

But then something changes. MC does something while they are inside the blot space. He realizes that.. she sees more in him than anyone ever had. Even if MC says so only in passing cause she's reasonably pissed- He can't help but focus on those specific words, ignoring the rest of her rant. Suddenly, he feels whole, and he knows she doesn't want to share this feeling with anyone. Suddenly...

He's already drafting a contract after their visit in the coral sea museum, giggling to himself as he marks that day their first date....

I hope you find this idea as interesting as I did!! I love Azul 😁

I really love asks for the yandereverse, because there are so many ways that the charas’ backstories can change. Azul’s bullying making him insecure when it comes to his darling is perfect, and it kind of works with how the Coral Sea sees yanderes and darlings. I also love Azul, I love me an evil mafia man.

The Coral Sea is an anti-darling rights area, so yanderes have more freedom to do what they want in order to take their darlings for themselves. And yanderes are supposed to be strong and tough, how else do they keep their darlings safe and with them? The kids of the Coral Sea know that well. 

And Azul wasn’t that. He was slow, and weak and a scaredy-catfish crybaby who hid inside a pot. HE was supposed to be a yandere? That was genuinely surprising to nearly all his former classmates. And they made sure he knew that. Their teasing was relentless….

‘Are you sure they weren’t wrong? You’re not supposed to be slow and stupid if you’re like us.’

‘He’ll probably lose his darling.’

‘I’d hate to be them, he’s so fat and icky.’

….And at the same time they rub salt into the wound. After all, they’re fast and strong and smart and talented and good looking. They’ll get their darlings no problem, while he will be left alone and broken hearted watching his darling being with someone else. All the bullying broke him down over a while, he started to think it was right. 

But despite all the bullying, Azul still tries his hardest to stop being the weak yandere his peers deemed him as. And in a form of vengeance, he’ll take away the special abilities they shoved in his face to remind him how inferior he was, After all, the yanderes that bullied him have their own insecurities that they want to hide from their darlings, so he’ll take their very best away to make himself better for his future darling. He’ll make himself better so that whoever he falls for won’t have to be disgusted by him. (While making his bullies as disgusting to their darlings as they said he’d be .)

But… He just can’t forget the years of bullying ingrained into him. What darling would want him? What darling would love him when he’s just a dim-witted octopus? That denial blinds him up till when he finally meets you. 

Once he’s aware of you being a darling he sees the opportunity, not love. (Because he doesn’t deserve you, so why bother?). After all, what would all your yanderes do or pay to have you for themselves? No price is too high when it comes to a darling, and so, getting you under his thumb is his first priority. Getting you out of Ramshackle and under his control/ownership will make this so much easier. But there’s one big problem. 

You won’t sign his contracts. You told him you’d rather never go home than sign one. I imagine after that point, he starts trying to find loopholes to get you to sign. And your friends are his best bet. So he tricks Ace, Deuce and Grim into being indebted to him, so that you’ll feel obligated to help them. But that didn’t work, because (to be honest, you’re grateful for the alone time) you just let them be stuck in a contract with him. Fortunately, Crowley got involved and you had to go into a contract with him. 

But unfortunately, instead of accepting his offer to stay at Octavinelle till the time limit was up, you proceeded to stay over in Savanaclaw. He’d never been more angry before in his life. The idea of you sleeping with and doing seven-only-knows with those beasts never made him more jealous. The smell of Leona Kingscholar on your skin made him want to add onto the debt the prince owed in vengeance. 

But not wanting to spoil anything more, in the blot space your attempts to pull him out of his self-loathing, change him. He sees that you care about him, that you don’t think he’s a not a stupid, ugly octopus and that instead you see him as something more. Someone who’s hardworking, intelligent, and even cute. And that moment, he truly realizes his love for you. You’re not like the others, you see something in him that no one ever had before. He doesn’t get that you’re saying it only for the sake of your, and maybe a little of his, life. Those words echo in his head. You love him, all his bullies were wrong, his darling isn’t disgusted by him. He feels whole….

…..And he doesn’t want to share this feeling. This complete joy.

He needs you to be his. He’ll draft another contract, one intended to make sure no one else will ever be able to steal you from him and ensure you’ll be by his side, on the land and in the sea. The museum will be like a date to him, hearing your kind words about his childhood appearance makes that younger self cry with joy.

You, quite literally, became the center of his world. And he intends to hold that same place as he becomes a part of your world. Whether you like it or not.

[loulovingho]

Rocker and Deacon are out shopping for groceries or whatever and Deacon just subconsciously reaches to hold Rocker's hand or to put his hand on Rocker's waist, while they're talking about something else, and Deacon not letting go even when they bump into someone they know.

Rocker is a little surprised because he remembers how they started off all clandestine and now Deacon is freely showing affection in front of others.

Okay, I saw this and had to write something about it 😩 then it turned into 1000 words! I hope you enjoy!

They've been together, really together, for four months now. No more hiding, no more affair, no more dirty little secret.

Deacon's moved into his own apartment, he's explained everything to the kids, he and Annie are figuring things out through their attorneys.

He and Rocker have even filled out all the proper relationship agreements at work.

All these steps came pretty naturally. They left both Deacon and Rocker feeling more free than they ever had their entire lives. Like a heavy weight had been lifted off of them.

They weren't exactly the most exciting pair. Sure, the sex was incredible, adventurous, sometimes daring, but life was about more than sex.

It was about fixing the broken cabinets in Deacon's apartment, it was dealing with the nightmares Rocker sometimes suffered from, it was making sure they got enough rest to be able to deal with whatever happened at work the next day.

It was figuring out who they were as a couple, all the things they liked and all the things they hated. It was laughing together, fighting together, helping each other, holding each other.

It was dealing with grocery shopping for two households on a Saturday afternoon.

“We should have gotten two carts.”

“You really want to try and maneuver two carts down every aisle through all these people?”

Deacon managed to step out of the way just before a lady could ram him with her cart. He sighed. “No. I just want to be done with this.”

“We just gotta get some breakfast foods for your place and we'll be finished.” He waved Deacon along. “Scoot scoot.”

With an eye roll, he turned and headed for the next aisle, Rocker following behind with the cart.

Deacon grabbed up a box of Fruity Pebbles and placed it on the side that had all his items, stopping with he noticed the look Rocker gave him.

“What?”

“That for you?” Rocker asked.

“Do I look like a Fruity Pebbles kinda guy to you?”

“You really want me to answer that?”

Deacon glared at him. “They're for the kids, Donovan. It's their favorite.”

Rocker shook his head, pushing the cart forward to get out of another man's way.

“What? What is that?” Deacon asked. “Why are you shaking your head?”

“They don't like Fruity Pebbles anymore.”

“Yes they do.”

“No they don't.”

“Yes, they- How would you know?”

“The last time they came over,” Rocker explained, “Lila mentioned that Samuel threw up Fruity Pebbles in the car and now none of the kids can handle the smell.”

Deacon picked up the box. “No Fruity Pebbles then,” he said, placing it back on the shelf. After letting three people pass between them, he moved back over to Rocker's side.

“Should I be offended that you know my children better than I do?” he questioned, wrapping an arm around Rocker's waist as they continued down the aisle.

Rocker smiled. “Well, technically you were in the shower when they told me, so...”

“Oh, the truth comes out,” Deacon said with a laugh. “You were just gonna let me think I should know this information?”

Rocker shrugged as they turned the corner. “It's fun to see you squirm sometimes.”

“Oh, you're gonna be doing some sq-”

“David!”

A woman's voice had Rocker and Deacon turning their heads to the side.

“Mrs. Chase!” Deacon greeted, smiling brightly at the older woman. “Good to see you!”

“You too. Busy day in here today, isn't it?”

“That's what we were saying,” Deacon answered, giving Rocker a pat on his side before resting his hand back on the same spot.

It was a little thing, and Rocker knew he should be used to it by now, but he wasn't. They'd spent over a year hiding. Making sure no one saw a touch, a glance, heard an unprofessional word. They'd once driven an hour out of town to go out to dinner somewhere that they knew no one would know them. And even then, Deacon had to be sitting so he could face the entire restaurant, just in case someone were to enter that he recognized.

Now though, with this woman that Deacon knew but Rocker had never seen before, his hand remained just above his hip.

“Mrs. Chase, this is my boyfriend, Donovan Rocker,” Deacon introduced. “He goes by Rocker though.”

And damn, that still felt new too.

Boyfriend.

Not acquaintance.

Not co-worker.

Not friend.

Boyfriend.

It might seem a little juvenile to some, using the word boyfriend when the two of them were in their forties and fifties, but in their line of work “partner” could mean many things. So, boyfriend it was.

Deacon gave Rocker's waist a little squeeze, “Donny, this is Mrs. Chase from my old church. Makes the best pies in the world.”

Rocker smiled, reaching out to give her hand a shake. “Nice to meet you, Ma'am, I've actually heard a lot about you.”

“Oh, my,” she replied with a little giggle, shaking his hand as a blush rose on her cheeks. “You're very handsome.”

“You're very sweet.”

She looked over at Deacon once she let go of Rocker's hand. “A lot of us have missed you at church, David.”

“I miss some of you guys too, it's just... that's Annie's place to go now. It wouldn't be fair to her.”

He left out the part of the news spreading like wildfire as soon as he and Annie filed for divorce. How the rumors had gotten so bad that the priest had called and asked him to not return. It wasn't like he was going to anyway, but that definitely put the final nail in the coffin.

Mrs. Chase nodded, her facial expression remaining soft, nonjudgmental. “Well, you have my number still, don't you?”

“Yes, Ma'am.”

“Good. Use it. Call me soon and I'll bring you a couple of my pies.” She looked back at Rocker. “You like cherry?”

“Love it.”

“Good. I better get going. It was good seeing you, David, and nice meeting you, Rocker.”

After saying their goodbye's, they started down the next aisle.

Using one hand to steer the cart, Rocker wrapped the other around Deacon's shoulder, pulling him closer and pressing a kiss to his temple.

“Can we get out of here now?” Deacon asked, gripping onto Rocker's shirt with his hand as they passed a group of very loud tourists.

“Breakfast foods,” Rocker reminded him.

Deacon dropped his head down. “Damn it.”

[fortheloveoffanfic]

Then it would only be second to death.....

Hozier x fem!reader

Author's note: this shouldn't have taken me a month.

Masterlist

Summary: Following their chance run-in at the farmers market, Andrew shows up at Y/n's house. Part 2 of What if this is the last time I see you?

Warnings: Angst

“I’m right here,” he threads his fingers through his hair, “right here. We’re getting married, it doesn’t get any more present than that.”

Y/n scoffs, turning away from him, and Andrew knows that it’s because he’s brought her to tears – she hates when people see her crying. He hates making her cry. “Is that why we’re getting married?” Her voice breaks and she quickly swipes at her cheek, “so you can prove to yourself that you want to be here?”

“I want to be here,” when he takes a step towards her, Y/n takes one backwards and shifts her shoulder. He winces at the gesture, as if she’s actually pushed him away – though he supposes that in a way, she has. “I’m here –”

“You keep saying that but you’re not!” When she finally looks at him, her eyes are wide and glassy. He’s trying to think of the last time he heard her yell, but he quickly realizes that such a memory doesn’t exist. “You're at the studio, you’re in L.A….you’re on tour –”

“I'm working,” he grits.

“So am I. But I don’t forget that you exist when I do.” He’s irrationally offended by her comment; Andrew has never forgotten that she exists, he’s just been…..compartmentalizing. When he’s at work, he’ll work – when he’s with her, they’ll be together.

But when was the last time they’ve been together? When was the last time he’s taken her out or just sat down with her on the couch with her? Gone to bed the same time she has?

He can’t immediately remember – it must’ve been months ago.

But she should understand; that's what being with him means sometimes. It's not some well-kept secret, Y/n knows him – and he's the same person he was when they first met.

So he says that.

“You have always known who I am,” the minute the pointed words leave his mouth, Andrew regrets them and the only thing he wants more than to pluck them out of the tension-riddled air and shove back into his mouth. The look on her face is one he’s never seen her wear before, and it might be because she’s never been hurt that badly before.

The tears in her eyes. The quiver in her lips. The visible tightness in her throat. The way her cheeks suddenly seem hollow and it looks like she’s holding her breath.

“Right,” the word is broken up by a strain in her throat, “you’re right. You have much more important things going on. It was silly of me to assume that for once you’d put us first –”

“No,” he reaches out, but Y/n pulls away and grimaces, as if the thought of his touch is physically painful, “honey, that’s not what I meant,” he swears, breath is escaping him and he’s struggling to come up with the words that will fix things, “you’re misunderstanding –”

Again, Y/n brushes her face with the back of her hands, “no, I think, for the first time, I understand you perfectly,” he protests when she starts taking her ring off, but Y/n doesn’t seem to hear it – or particularly care. “I’ll come back for my things,” she says, slipping the little, emerald cut, Welsh gold ring into the breast pocket of his camel-coloured coat.

“Please don’t go,” he rasps, loosely gripping her shoulders, “please.”

“I just need to get away for a while,” Y/n offers softly, standing on her toes and holding onto her shoulder as she reaches to kiss him. He bends his head mechanically to allow her lips to meet his cheek. When she pulls away, it feels like he’s suffocating and while Andrew knows that going after her as she heads for the door has the potential to make all the difference, he can’t get his legs to move. The air is thin, his head is swimming and his legs feel like they're made of cement. So he does nothing but regret everything.

There’s so much he’d do differently, but Andrew thinks the thing that he’d change first is that moment when Y/n told him that it felt like there was an immeasurable distance between them. It was following a forgotten appointment with a wedding planner he’d meant to hire as part of an early wedding present but had neglected to, he hadn’t even realized he’d forgotten until he got home and found her on the sofa, coat and keys discarded on the coffee table and eyes red-rimmed. Andrew can’t quite remember what had made him forget, but in the moment it had seemed more important than their wedding – except now he’s forgotten all about it but the memory of her telling him that she’s lonely in their relationship, and that he feels light-years beyond reach is still fresh in his mind.

Unbridgeable – that was the exact word she’d used.

“I can’t get to you,” she says, the hazy blue film of such a bruising memory shrouds the glassiness of her eyes but barely hides the thick emotion in her throat, “I keep trying, hoping you'll let me get close. I want to be with you, be there for you but most of the time I can’t tell what you’re thinking — I'm not sure if you even want me around. Whatever’s between us its……unbridgeable.”

Unbridgeable.

It makes him think of oceans and gaping canyons. That unmeasurable distance between the deepest point of the sea and the barest end of space. Unreachable – was he really that bad?

So far away that for every time they kissed, Y/n felt like she was locking lips with a memory she never made?

It doesn’t matter though, because to her, it certainly felt that way.

Andrew is sitting in the driver's seat, glazed over eyes staring at the way rain beats down on his windshield. He’s been parked outside her house for longer than anything that would constitute a normal amount of time – though, he doesn’t exactly know where the threshold between normal and creepy ex-boyfriend is.

Well, ex-fiance. Though, he isn’t sure if semantics matter.

The gentle buzz of the engine is the only thing joining the swoosh of the near violent downpour. They haven’t experienced rain like that in a while; swollen droplets pouring from the milk sky in a slanted fashion. So intense that even the tallest trees seem to be weighed down by the weight of it, branches adopting a downward curve and leaves hanging despondently.

And still, it isn't the prospect of getting drenched on the brief walk to her front door that stops him from getting out of the car. It's the fear that he’s making a bigger mistake than he did five years ago that rivets him to the driver's seat, fingers still curved around the bottom of the wheel, the tips of his toes tapping the gas pedal as the car lingers in park.

She’s been more of a constant on his mind since that meeting at the farmers market a week ago, than she has been in the past few years. Still, Andrew wasn’t going to drive to her place that night, but somewhere between his first and second beer of the night, with a record that she gifted him playing as he tried to read – but couldn’t – it dawned on him; what if she was it?

Andrew hardly believes in true love or anything of the sort, but he does believe that every once in a while the stars align so perfectly that constellations are more visible and more beautiful than they’ve ever been, and you meet someone whose life changes the trajectory of yours forever. You're meant to be intertwined, like roots twisting and tangling around each other in that graceful, effortless way.

What if she's all of that to him, and much, much more, but he never sees her again? Because that was the last time; it must be some kind of death – to never feel her eyes on him again, to only ever hear her voice in his memory for the rest of his life, like a phantom haunting his mind. To never again feel the way it does when her arms go around him and she presses her body to his, and suddenly they’re nothing more than two puzzle pieces, made with each other in mind.

That little epiphany came over Andrew in a rush, knocking the air from his chest and making him feel as if he’d just been tackled by a wave and smashed face first into freezing cold water. In his chest, he felt a sort of panic that he could only associate with drowning rise up, threatening to spill out of his throat. He didn’t think he could live like that.

He still doesn't think that a life that she is gone from is survivable.

But as he parked along the curb near her driveway, one fear gives way to another;

What if Y/n doesn’t feel the same way at all? What if she doesn’t regret their untimely demise as much as he does? What if the best love he’s ever gotten nothing but a figment of the past? Lost forever, so far behind him that its entirely out of reach.

What if he does get out of his car, beats against the angle of the rain and trudges to her front door, only for her to tell him that she doesn’t want them anymore?

That she’d actually heard when he said he’d missed her, but pretended not to so she wouldn’t have to deal with the messiness of his feelings.

That might be the only thing worse than never seeing her again. And that is why he’s still in the car.

But he won’t know unless he tries, right? It isn’t the reasoning with the most integrity, but its the only thing keeping him there – he just wishes it was enough to get him out of the damn car.

Andrew is staring at a window, a window that he knows with absolute certainty looks into the living room, when he notices the thin, sheer curtain shift slightly. The movement doesn’t last long enough for him to determine who the person behind the window is, but when the front door swings open a handful of seconds later and Y/n steps into the middle of the doorway, Andrew spares himself from thinking too hard on the matter.

She’s holding her cardigan closed at the front, and it falls to the middle of her thighs, effectively hiding the shorts he knows she’s wearing underneath. By the silvery glow of the rainy evening and the sickening yellow hue of the bulb mounted over the porch, Andrew can see her form on the threshold, frozen, like something plucked out of his memories.

He can see her again, one leg crossed over the other as she leans on the doorframe as she watches him playing the piano;

“That sounds nice, its new?”

“Yeah,” he sighs, lifting his fingers off the keys and turning to look at her, “like it?”

Y/n hums, pushing off the frame and sauntering over to him, feet bare and dressed in nothing but the crewneck he’d been wearing the evening before. When her fingers, delicate and gentle, clasp his broad shoulders, Andrew leans into her touch, allowing her to eventually slink them forward. “I love it, its so beautiful,” with her fingers splayed on his chest, Y/n bends so her chin sits on his shoulder, “would you teach me how to play it?”

He chuckles. In all the years they’ve known each other, Y/n has never been interested in learning to play an instrument – she always jokes about being tone deaf. “You sure?”

“Positive,” her lips on his cheek are quick, he almost misses the sensation before fully registering it and if it weren't for the resolve in her eyes, Andrew would pull her in for another, longer kiss.

“Alright,” he reaches for her hand, encouraging her to slip it off his shoulder before guiding her around the small, varnished, oak bench. Y/n goes to sit beside him, but Andrew’s hand on her hip, sneaked under the hem of the thick jumper, urges her onto his lap. “This is better,” he rasps, breath tickling her jaw as he presses his cheek to hers, the bristle of his beard on her skin making her giggle.

“This is how you’d teach somebody?” She laughs, and the sound, coupled with the way she leans against him, makes his chest feel full.

“This is how I’d teach you, sweetheart.” When Y/n angles her head to catch a glimpse of him, he can see the warmth in her cheeks, and takes the opportunity to steal a peck off her lips, “now, pay attention.”

Her hands are much smaller than his, making it easy for him to completely cover them with his long fingers. “I’m gonna show you,” he breathes, “and then you’ll try on your own.” Slowly, he guides her through a single line of the melody he’d been working on. “Do you understand?” He props his chin on her shoulder, leaning his head against hers. He loves having Y/n this close, he isn’t sure if he’s ever told her but there’s something about the weight of her on top of him that stirs a sensation that he’s never felt anywhere else. Maybe its peace or comfort or safety – maybe its some combination of all three, wrapped into one magical thing.

“No,” Y/n returns, tone flat, albeit just as hushed as his.

Andrew barks a chuckle that turns out louder than he expected it to be. “You’re not paying attention,” he reprimands gently.

“I’m trying,” Y/n defends, voice pitched, “but my teacher is…….distractingly close.”

“Don’t blame this on me,” he scoffs, wrapping his arms around her middle, squeezing her to him. Her shoulders shake in a fit of laughter as he peppers her neck in a series of ticklish kisses as he loses himself in the way the cologne still clinging to his jumper mingles with the remnants of lavender left behind by her body wash.

“I’m not gonna learn to play this, am I?” Y/n shifts when he pulls away for a brief moment. Her head is tilted a little, mouth barely a hair away from his and the barest tips of their noses are touching.

Lifting one of his hands to thread his fingers threaded through her hair, Andrew eagerly closes the sliver of distance, “not today you’re not.”

A crack of thunder jolts Andrew out of the memory and in an instant, he’s back in the confines of his car, gaze fixed on Y/n as she lingers in the doorway. He needs to get out of that damn car – that prison that's kept him from her long before she pointed it out.

On impulse, he hastily shuts the engine off, and pushes the door open. Within a minute of getting out and shutting the door, Andrew’s coat and the sweater he’s wearing under it is soaked through and his hair is matted to the sides of his face. His shoes hit the gently sloped driveway with a wet, squishing sound with each step as he trudges towards the front door.

“Andrew, what the fuck?" Y/n breathes when he stops at the bottom of the porch steps.

He shrugs, stuffing his hands into his pockets. The rain is still pounding against his back and head, but he doesn’t dare take another step forward. “I had to see you,” he explains simply. Roughly, he brushes some wet hair away from his brow, “I just-I can't…..I can’t live like that –”

“Andy –”

“No,” he cuts her off desperately, “I know you don’t want me here,” he licks his lips, “but you need to hear this – I need you to hear this,” he pauses, but not near long enough for her to get a word in. “I just….I was thinking….what if that was the last time we saw each other? Could you live like that? Cause I couldn’t. Not without looking for you everywhere I go; every bookstore, at the grocery, every street. At the fucking farmer’s market,” where he’ll linger at every vendor selling strawberries on the off chance of running into her. “Just everywhere,” in every reflection when he pauses to look at a storefront and on planes that take him to places she wouldn’t go without plausible reason, “But I’d never find you because that was the last time.” Swallowing thickly, he ducks his head and wet tendrils fall over his face, disrupting his view of their feet, his clad in water-logged converse, and hers bare with blue, painted nails. “I know you said that I’m good on my own, and I guess I used to be,” Andrew slumps his shoulders, “but I’m not anymore. And I’ll never be again –”

“Andy –”

“Please,” finally, he comes up the trio of steps that leads to her small, covered porch. “I’m different now.”

Y/n slumps her shoulders, tilting her head slightly to the side as she blinks away tears, “I was just gonna tell you to come inside,” she says softly when he stops, “you’re gonna catch a cold or something,” there’s a crack in her voice and Y/n scoffs when a lone tear creeps down her cheek. She doesn’t even want to think of him getting sick on her account, especially when he’ll probably be all alone and miserable. She thinks about that sometimes – who’s taking care of him when he forgets to take care of himself?

With the back of her sleeve, Y/n brushes at her cheek before reaching for one of his hands. “I never wanted you to be….different. I wanted…..I wanted you to be who you are….but right next to me,” her thumb grazes his knuckles and Andrew revels in a miniscule shred of contact. It's nothing compared to having her in his lap or her arms around his shoulders, but it's more than he’s had in a damn long time and he’s never been more grateful for anything else.

“I can do that now,” Andrew promises earnestly.

Sighing heavily, she glances away, “but I don’t know that. I won’t live like that again,” so haunted by something she almost has, but never truly will. The ‘almost’ that he became. Almost close enough to let her in, almost ready to let his guard down, almost her husband.

“You won't have to,” Andrew gives her hand a promising squeeze, “I swear. I swear to you, it’ll be different –”

“But I don’t –”

“I can’t live like this,” he urges, “I can’t….” Andrew shakes his urgently, “do you still love me?”

Y/n’s slumps her shoulders, “of course I do.” How could she not? After pouring so many years into their relationship, after years aching to break the wall he kept between them. After spending every minute since the one she took the ring off – the one that makes her hand feel like it's missing something even now – thinking about what they could have been. Really, dare he ask her that?

“Then how could you never want to see me again?” He asks desperately.

A sharp inhale is her initial response, and Y/n thinks back on those first moments after Andrew had approached her the week before – the relief she felt in seeing him, the way that when they hugged, it felt like something was finally going right in her life. There’s so much she’d kept to herself that day, mostly because she was so sure that he was over her and couldn’t possibly still be thinking of them, not the way she does. Everyday when she steeps tea that she doesn’t really like, or goes out into her garden but can’t think straight, because it was something they'd done together.

Its why she let the strawberry bushes die, and weeds overtake the flowers along the back fence before clearing them out.

“I could never want that,” Y/n finally manages, voice soft and fragile, “I think about you all the time.” The strawberries have been rotting in her fridge because she can barely stand to look at them without recalling what it felt like to slip that ring into his pocket.

The warmth the metal had soaked up from being on her finger, the crack in his voice when he said, “honey, please.”

“Then come back,” he rasps, letting go of her hand in favor of taking a gentle hold on her hips.

Y/n’s find his chest, fistfuls of his wet hoodie bunching up in her fingers, the fabric heavy and cold. “Don’t hurt me again,” she pleads softly, inching closer.

Andrew lifts one of his hands from her hip to cup her cheek, his long fingers dwarfing the side of her face, “I wouldn’t.” He roves his thumb over the apple of her cheek, and his breathing settles a little. He hadn't realized just how on-edge he’d felt since she left until right now, when he’s touching her again and it feels like the first inkling of peace he’s had in five years. “I don’t want us to be strangers,” Andrew adds.

“Just let me in then,” Y/n encourages in the same, hushed tone.

Swallowing thickly, he nods, “I will. I want to,” lowering his head, Andrew presses his forehead to hers. “You’re the only person I want this close – for my whole life, I just want it to be you.”

When their lips meet, he feels her shudder just as a shiver runs up his back. It isn't from the cold, or the uncomfortable way in which the fabric is sticking to his skin. It's from the realization that there's never been a homecoming quite like this one. There isn't anything that compares to this; it's like having some lost part of himself snap back into its rightful place.

“Please,” he rasps against the plush softness of her lips, “please let it be you.”

Whatever little resolve she's managed to build up over the years, the scraps that kept her from seeking him out after she walked out, has been entirely ebbed away. Staying away is easier when he isn't at her doorstep, offering her exactly what she's wanted for so long. “Always,” with one hand flattened against the center of his chest, she reaches up to brush away some wet hair matted to his damp brow. “It’ll always be me,” she promises earnestly;

No one can love him the way she does anyway, its a fact that Y/n is entirely certain of.

When she presses her lips to his again, the rain is still coming down around them, though while the sound has been suffocating, Andrew finds that its fading now – all the noises that seem to make the world a little unbearable is so much quieter, and he thinks it might be the universe’s way of telling him that this is the way things are meant to be.

******

Tagging: @tungledotfuck

[pr3ttynpiink]

Until I Find You

Prince!Javier Peña x Plus Size!Reader

ꨄ warnings: prince!javi, cinderella au in a way, toxic mothers, plus size reader, if i missed any please let me know!

ꨄ a/n: with all these new gladiator/f4 pics it was giving nothing but prince vibes so i had to. as always if you don't like it don't bite it! and yes- there will be a part 2 🙂‍↕️

Main Masterlist — Javier Peña Masterlist

“Why do we have to go?”

“Because the king and queen are looking for a princess for the prince.” your mother muttered, tightening your dress and pulling a small grunt from your lips. “Told you to lose weight. Who's gonna want a fat princess in the royal family?”

You rolled your eyes at the comment, completely drowning her voice out. She'd been on you for years about your weight but you loved the way you looked- curves and thick thighs, with an ass that was out of this world if you do say so yourself. She kept rambling on but her voice was muffled. You focused on your reflection, admiring how the dress you'd sewn yourself accented your lucious figure.

“Alright.” she muttered, gently patting you on the side and snapping you out of your thoughts.

“Thanks mama!” You grabbed your heels and ran out the back door barefoot, hearing your mother yell to you about not being late to the ceremony. You ran down the pebble sidewalk and into the small forest behind your home, needing a moment before going to the ceremony. What better place to go than into a secluded forest.

—

He sighed, leaning back against a tree as he tucked his sketchbook back into his satchel. He needed a break from it all- the high maintenance from his mother, the castle being swarmed by other royal families he's never seen before- all because he needs to find a princess. As much as he wanted to stay out here, it was only a matter of time before his mother sent out the entire army to look for him.

He stood up, walking back to his horse to head back home when he let out a grunt and fell to the ground.

“Shit.” you grunted, pulling yourself off whoever you just ran into. Your eyes widened in realization, quickly getting off of him- it's the prince. “Prince Javier. I-I'm so so sorry I didn't see you and-”

He let out a small chuckle and sat up, rubbing the back of his head. “It's alright. Good thing the ground is soft.” he joked, making you chuckle.

You pulled yourself up to your feet, reaching a hand down to him. He reached up, placing his much bigger hand into yours as he pulled himself up, causing his satchel to fall off his shoulder and his book to fall out. You bent down, picking up his satchel and fallen sketchbook. Your eyes scanned the open page, admiring the detail of his drawing.

“This is beautiful…”

Javier smiled, looking down at the book in your hands. “Thank you. Little hobby of mine.”

“The prince has hobbies?” you teased, making him laugh.

“Believe it or not- yes. Yes I do.”

You looked up at him, getting lost in the sparkle of his deep brown eyes. He admired the soft features of your face, getting lost in your eyes as well. The moment was broken by the sound of the bells echoing through the forest. Javier cleared his throat, gently taking his book from your hands.

“I gotta get going.”

You nodded, watching him as he got back on his horse.

“Hope to see you at the ceremony. Try not to tackle me this time.”

You felt the heat rise to your cheeks by embarrassment. “No promises.”

—

“Look at you! Your dress is a mess.” your mother pouted as she frantically dusted off the dress. “Ladies don't run off into the forest!”

“Mama-”

“Supposed to be impressing the royal family- not having them think we're poor.”

“Hate to burst your bubble but we are poor mama.” you let out a small hiss at the feel of your mothers hand hitting your bare back.

“We can't have them thinking that.”

You rolled your eyes, slipping on your heels and adjusting the skirt of your dress. “Better?”

She shrugged, reaching up and tucking a loose strand of hair behind a bobby pin. “It'll have to do… Remember, smile with your eyes and take that hateful look off your face. And be home before midnight. You know how your father is…”

“Yes mama…” you muttered, turning away from her and walking up the stone pathway that led to the castle. You tried your best to blend into the crowd of girls- all trying to achieve the same result- becoming a princess. You felt a bit out of place from the others. You didn't have perfect skin with sparkling blue eyes and blonde hair. You've always loved the way you looked, but being around others who were the complete opposite kicked your confidence down a few pegs.

The crowd flowed into the ballroom, everyone's eyes going straight to the prize- prince Javier sitting across the room on his chair.

His eyes scanned the room, all the girls looking the same. Some tall, some short, but all with their noses in the air like they're better than anyone here- reminding him of his own mother- which isn't what he wants.

“Javier put it away.” his mother hissed, motioning down to the sketchbook in his lap. He rolled his eyes and closed the book, laying it on the floor behind him.

“You know I'm old enough to do as I please.”

“And until you find yourself a wife- you're doing as I tell you. Now go.” she scolded, pulling a soft sigh from Javier's lips as he got up and walked through the crowd. Everyone greeted him as he walked by, girls practically throwing themselves into his arms trying to get his attention but he politely declined. The closer he got to the doors of the ballroom, the more he could feel his sense of freedom. But then you walked in.

You smiled, giving him a small wave. He smiled back and walked over to you.

“Didn't think to see you here.”

“Thought you could use the company.”

He chuckled, reaching over and grabbing your hand, placing a small kiss on your knuckles. “Happy to see a familiar face.” He looked around and saw his mother was distracted and then looked back at you. “Wanna get out of here?” he asked.

“What do you have in mind?”

—

You sat in the garden, laughing and talking with Javier for hours and hours. He was the opposite of what you'd thought a prince would be. He made you laugh, made you smile, made you feel like you were the only girl in the world.

“I kept you from your ceremony.”

He shrugged, “Better out here then in there with all of them.”

“Saying I made your night?”

He chuckled and nodded. “Definitely.” His eyes trailed down to your lips, slowly leaning in closer. You caught on to what he was wanting to do and you started to lean in, hoping to meet in the middle. Suddenly the bells of the castle rang, pulling your attention to the big clock on the bell tower. Midnight.

“Damnit.” you gasped, quickly getting up and grabbing your heels. “I-I gotta go.”

“Wait-”

“Javi, I'm so sorry, I have to.” you quickly ran out of the garden and down the massive staircase that led to the castle. You'd been so focused on making it home before your father found out that one of your heels slipped out of your grip and landed on the staircase. Javi reached down and picked it up, watching as you disappeared into the night, hoping he'd find you again soon.

credits

ꨄ beta'd: @joelmillerisapunk @80ssong @peepawispunk @half-moon16 💗

[anjautembear]

Helloo. So this is my first post and I had this idea in my head after I listend to a song. English isn't my first language so sorry if there are spelling errors or sentences that don't make a lot of sence😅. I hope to the readers that read this like this as much as I do and sorry again if it doesn't make sence >_<. OKAY on to the story!!

Warning: Angst baby

Inspired by the song: All i want by kodaline

All i want is nothing more

To hear you knocking at my door

He watches the door, hoping that she would walk threw it, greating him with that loving smile she always had, that still haunts him. He still hopes after weeks, but deep down he knows.

'Cause if I could see your face once more

I could die as a happy man I'm sure

He misses her, her face is starting to blur in his memory of her, but he wishes to go back. He wishes that he took her face in detail, if he only knew, that she would no longer be here, he would have printed her loving gaze in his mind.

When you said your last goodbye

The day of her death, is the day he wishes that never happend, the day that cancer took her from him, a sickness he so hates, a day that will haunt him forever.

The sound of a heartmonitor beeping in the background, the doctors and nurces shoes squeking on the floor outside, people talking, the sound of the wind blowing outside, the autum air blowing threw the curtains. Her favourite season.

But all those noises are blurred, for his soulfocus, was her, his beloved, his wife. He remembers holding her hand so tight for he feared she would pass to soon, slip from his fingers. His hold is tight but not too tight, for he didn't want to brake her. She was already thin and fragile. He still hates that feeling of her thin hand holding his and not the once healthy hand. Cancer was a true nightmare.

Her last words, the words that haunt him still, her fairwell greating, was a request. She requested that he should move on, marry another, find a new person that would treat him well. That she still and would love him. She hates that she is dying but does not want her beloved to suffer when she's gone. Her last and final words,

"You were a wonderful experience, I loved every minute with you. You were the reason for my every smile...I think...I'm ready to go home..with a smile and the memorys of us. Please look after youself...please."

I died a little bit inside

As his tears fall after she said those words, her final breath was taken, and she was gone. Like the autum leaves she so loved, her soul being carried away, back home. Her final smile with one tear falling, will always haunt him. His tears mimicking hers, but a waterfall. His heart stoped beating that day, like hers, for his heart shatter after she ripped the bandage clean.

I lay in tears in bed all night

As he lays in his ice cold bed, that no longer has her sent and warmf. He stares at the picture of their wedding day next to his bed. He still hasn't taken it off. His lifeless eyes staring at her bright smile, her wedding dress blowing in the spring wind. Memorys of her laughter, a sickening reminder, of his regrets of not marrying her sooner.

Alone without you by my side

He can no longer sleep, he can't, he tried multible times. But he can't sleep without her warm body next to his. So he holds her pillow, that no longer has her sent, the perfume bottle she once used ,empty after he used it to remind him of her.

But if you loved me

Why'd you leave me?

He doesn't know who to blame, himself, for not meating her sooner, cancer, a sickness that took her, or her, who left him a broken mess. A broken man who can't fix himself without her.

Take my body

Take my body..

All I want is

All I need is..

He felt like he should have been the one who left, he should be the one burried 6 feet under ground, he should be the one cold in the coffen, instead of his beloved, who didn't deserve it.

She was a bright light in a room full of dull lamps, he only saw her in a room full of people. But now she's a light no longer there, he is lost in the dark room. She is now no longer in the room full of people, he is surching, but she's already in the train of no return.

He needs her...but he no longer has her to save him

To find somebody

I'll find somebody

He tells himself he'll find another light, another person in the crowd, but deep down he knows that will never happen. She was the only 'somebody' he loved. But he'll try for her, he promised.

Ooh oh

Ooh oh

Ooh oh

Ooh oh

Memorys flash his mind. The day they met, bumping into eachother, on a cold autum day. He remembers how pretty she looked, how her hair framed her face, her flushed cheeks in the cold air. Her smile. Her smile he so loved.

Memorys flash in his mind. The day he preposed, the ring that gleamed in the setting sun. Her tears of joy rolling down her soft warm cheeks he so loved to kiss in the morning. Her eyes gleaming, resembling the ring, the ring he will no longer use.

Memorys flash in his mind. The day of their wedding. Tears of joy and laughter in the air of close friends, but the only laugh he heard, was hers, his wife, his other soul.

Memorys flash now...regret coming back. The day of her funeral. The rain pooring down, her coffen laying there, her favourite flower ontop. Haunting him. Mocking him, mocking him that he will no longer be able to give those same flowers to her on valentimes-day.

Cause you brought out the best of me

A part of me i'd never seen

He never thought that he could be loved, he always saw himself as the worst version of himself. But that all changed when she showed up in his life unexpectedly. She showed him parts of himself he has never seen before. She changed him into a better person. He never new he had these sides to him but she showed him like a hidden chapter between sticky pages glued together that he hid.

You took my soul and wiped it clean.

He was never a relegious person but she came to his life like a saint and changed his soul for the better. She saved him when he was stuck in a dark void of emptyness and anger. He worshiped her love like a person in church.

Our love was made for movie screens

If their love life was a movie. He was sure that everyone would have loved her as much as he did. They would have seen how deep their love was, how inlove he was. But he geasses that not every movie has a happy ending. There love story had a plot twist not even he could see coming.

Ooh, if you loved me

Why'd you leave me

Take my body

Take my body

All I want is..

All I need is..

To find somebody

I'll find somebody

Like you, ooh

He promised himself, he promised you, that he would move on. Find somebody that would love him like you did, but he can't. He would have to brake that promise. He can't move on, you were his somebody...

Thank you for reading this, I hope this wasn't a bad story😅. Bye bye!!

[yngikr]

what if?

what if suguru had turned around?

tw- hinting at depressed suguru

(lol i kinda hate this but whatever. tears falling out of my satosugu eyes so im trying to cope.)

*

the rain fell softly that evening, the kind that didn’t soak you but left a chill clinging to your skin. satoru stood just outside the kfc, his hands shoved into his pockets, waiting for something he wasn’t even sure would come. the last words he and suguru had exchanged echoed in his mind, sharp and painful. suguru had turned his back on him—on everything—and yet, satoru couldn’t let it end like that. not tonight. 

inside, the quiet hum of the lights above was drowned out by the storm brewing between the two of them. suguru sat at a booth by the window, staring down at the untouched drink in front of him. he looked thinner than satoru remembered, his usually sharp eyes dulled, his shoulders slumped as though the weight of his own convictions was crushing him. 

satoru had always known suguru carried burdens—ones he couldn’t quite understand. but this? this was different. there was something broken in him now, something hollow. and satoru hated it. 

he stepped inside, his presence loud even in his silence, and suguru didn’t even look up. for a moment, satoru hesitated, unsure of what to say, unsure if words could even reach the man who had been his everything. but he refused to let this silence stretch into a goodbye. 

“i can’t do this, suguru,” satoru said finally, his voice soft but firm, like a wave lapping at the shore. “i can’t just watch you destroy yourself.” 

suguru’s head lifted slightly, his dark eyes meeting satoru’s for the first time in what felt like years. there was a flicker of something there—regret, perhaps, or hope—but it was quickly buried beneath the weight of his resolve. “i don’t need saving, satoru,” he muttered, though the words lacked conviction. “you can’t fix this.” 

satoru stepped closer, pulling out the chair across from him and sitting down. his sunglasses were off, his cerulean eyes laid bare. they were piercing but soft, full of an understanding that suguru hadn’t allowed himself to see before. “i’m not trying to fix you,” satoru said, his voice low. “i just want to help you carry it.” 

suguru flinched as if the words had physically struck him. for so long, he’d carried this darkness alone, convinced that no one could understand, that no one could shoulder the things he’d seen, the things he’d done. but here was satoru, stubborn and unrelenting, offering his hand once again. 

and for the first time in years, suguru hesitated. 

“what do you want from me, satoru?” he asked, his voice cracking slightly. 

satoru leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, his expression unusually serious. “i want you to stop running from me. from us. you’re not alone, suguru. you never were.” 

the weight of the words hit suguru harder than any curse ever could. he wanted to believe him, wanted to believe that after everything he’d done, after all the lives he’d taken and all the blood on his hands, he could still be someone worth saving. 

and then he thought of the emptiness, the loneliness that had consumed him for so long. the nights spent staring at the ceiling, wishing for a hand to pull him out of the darkness. maybe… maybe it didn’t have to be this way. 

slowly, suguru stood. for a moment, satoru tensed, afraid he would walk away again. but instead, suguru moved toward him, his steps tentative but deliberate. when he stopped in front of him, satoru tilted his head up, looking at him with an expression suguru couldn’t quite place. 

“i don’t know if i can do this,” suguru admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “i don’t know if i can be the person you want me to be.” 

satoru smiled softly, reaching out to clasp suguru’s hand in his own. “then don’t. just be you. that’s all i’ve ever wanted.” 

for the first time in years, suguru allowed himself to believe him. allowed himself to let go of the anger, the guilt, and the pain that had kept him shackled. and as the rain continued to fall outside, satoru stood, pulling suguru into an embrace that felt more like home than anything suguru had ever known. 

“we’ll figure this out together,” satoru whispered, his voice steady, a promise. 

and in that moment, suguru turned away from the abyss and back toward the light. toward satoru. 

they left the kfc together, the storm giving way to a calm, as though the world itself had taken a deep breath. suguru didn’t know what the future held, but for the first time, he wasn’t afraid to face it. 

as they walked down the empty street, side by side, satoru glanced at suguru and smiled. it wasn’t the cocky grin suguru had grown so used to, but something softer, something real. 

and for the first time in a very long time, suguru smiled back. 

[soodoonimin]

Let me set the scene for a fic (based on Logan in the wilderness post) where Logan is in one of these states where he’s found himself isolated from his humanity again and Wade is up in the Canadian wilderness, meets him for the first time like this.

And despite not having the same nature as Logan he also immediately understands why Logan is up there (because that sorta why he was up there too) so instead of trying to bring him back to society he just visits him when he’s able to. He doesn't too much but just his general lasting presence is enough and over the course of some time trust builds slowly until Logan is ready to join him back in society. It is a shock to Logan’s system to back in civilization bc it’s been decades since he was last in a city and he takes time to adjust to certain things. He’s really protective of Wade and it’s slow burn obviously bc Wade doesn’t really know if his developing feelings are appropriate not just because of Logan's condition but also because he has cancer, he's going to die soon and while Logan doesn’t necessarily share the same reservations, so he makes a gesture to Wade (most likely a kiss) and Wade still not wanting to take advantage of Logan "rejects" him. Logan is about to leave again but Wade convinces him not to but now things are weird because they both have these strong feelings for each other but one of them (Wade) doesn't know how to express or even if he should and the other (Logan) thinks that Wade doesn't want him and only stays when Wade asks him to because he want to be able to protect him and be there for him even if he doesn't love him. It's messy and sad.

And while they’re having their little slow burn romance, the government comes looking for Logan and eventually find him and take him and Wade. This makes Logan go absolutely feral trying to get out, not just because he doesn’t want to be experimented on again but because they have WADE, the one person who cared for him, who was there for him, who he loves and will fight for.

He fights his was through the facility looking for Wade until he finds the room they're keeping him in and when they see what they've done to him...when Logan finds him, he's in pain, he's scarred, he's broken but not broken because he's scarred but broken because he's changed, broken because they some how managed to give Logan's curse to Wade.

This sends him into an RAGE! He not only tares the lab apart, he tares the people apart, bit by bit, with no hesitation, he howling and growling the whole time and just as he's coming down from it he hears his name, softly, weakly almost "Logan...?"

He's snapped out of it and scared because he thinks Wade is going to hate him now that he's seen the "real animal" in him and he's prepared to look back and see fear in Wade's eyes but when he turns he doesn't see fear, he sees something he's never seen before, worry. Wade looks worried but not of himself but for Logan. He falls off the metal table he was lying on and does his best to run over to Logan and starts checking on him, asking him if he's okay, touching him in random places and without even thinking he just kisses him.

Logan doesn't know what to say this has never happened before and the fact that Wade kissed him only adds to his confusion.

Wade already knows he's broken but Logan...he loves Logan so much he'd probably die if Logan was hurt.

The two of them leave that place, though they might have found each other, truly found each other, there's still so much more that needs to be healed but for the first time for the both of them, they don't have to do it alone.

[twrk11]

hello ,, hehe ,, i just came across ur acc and i love how you write for towa ,, is it okay if i ask for nsfw headcanons for taiga fico leo sho ren haku and jin (am more hoping for taiga leo haku and ren if you only write a specific amount of chars) , where mc is like real submissive for them in front of others, but in closed doors mc is dom hevfhbenfbeneb (⁠๑⁠♡⁠⌓⁠♡⁠๑⁠) ♡⁠(⁠>⁠ ⁠ਊ⁠ ⁠<⁠)⁠♡ feel free to ignore if it makes u uncomfy 🩷

NSFW Tokyo Debunker Headcanons & short fic | 18+

Characters : Taiga, Leo, Ren, Haku

Hello anon!! Glad you’re here ☺️!! Thanks so much for liking the Towa fic, I feel honored! I really did like this idea, I hope I fulfilled it the way you wanted!! This is personally my first time ever doing an ask so thank you for this!

I originally was going to do all the ones you mentioned but.. I ended up having too much fun. Took me a while to write all that I wanted! Perhaps i’ll revisit and do the other three?

(Apologies if some are longer than others! ~ 😢)

Content : All is of course consensual! No mention of readers gender, Smut, mentions of oral, riding, pegging, sex, begging, mention of a collar, brat, sub!characters, dom!reader, punishment, humiliation, bondage

words: 1415

Read under cut!

Taiga

-Definitely confused him the first time !

-You were so cute sitting on his lap at the poker table.. How did he end up fucked out of his mind?

-You were such a good submissive kitty.. He couldn’t help but think about pounding you until you were sobbing on how good it felt.

-He wants you to do it more though. He loves seeing you bounce on his cock. You’re so.. Eager,

-Don’t tease him, he will be angry and give you the nastiest glare he can muster (If he’s not fucked out)

-Grunts for sure, might be able to squeeze a whimper out every so often.

-If you don’t restrain him, he will claw and scratch at you.

-.. put a collar on him. Might piss him off but he’d also make such a cute kitty~!

-don’t get too close to his mouth, he might bite. He’s feisty.

“Gghh-“ He’d grunt, his brows furrowed. He’d jerk his hands, god those handcuffs pissed him off to no end. He’d glare at you, purposefully trying to rut his hips up into you harshly. He wanted to be in control! God- but when you slapped him when he did so.. he couldn’t lie, his cock twitched and throbbed. He wouldn’t warn you if he was about to cum, I’m .. quite frankly not so sure he could. But he certainly has tell tale signs!

“Mh~” A small whimper escaped his throat. Oh he might burst-!

“Go on.. you can cum~” you’d coo, gently running your hands on his chest.

He’d erupt immediately, his eyes shut as he couldn’t help the whines. His hands would shake, then he’d open his eyes, too dazed to even think.

Leo

-You were submissive in public—! It was perfect for his social media!!

-When you showed up in his videos and acted the way you did- you were so cute..

-It had helped fuel any of his fans desires at the thought of Leo being dominant. Really brought in the views!

-… how did he end up eating you out/sucking your dick with you calling him a good boy?

-either way.. he’s a brat. So fucking annoying

-He’d threaten to blackmail you.

-watch out, he miiiight try to spit on you.

-Just show him his place, might take a bit but he will eventually be broken down and a sobby mess for you~!

-He’d be so good at begging, and he loves to, even if he doesn’t wanna admit it

-He loves being restrained, please do so.. He wants to feel helpless.

-He’s loud.. like.. really.. really loud.. Moaning, whining, whimpering.

-He’d try to be quiet but eventually he can’t contain it—! You might have to help shut him up if he’s too loud..? Or you could let him be.. it’d humiliate him with how loud he is.

-Oh.. he’d hate to admit he loves being humiliated.

-Ride him, peg him/fuck him, he honestly loves it all, anything to get him a mess.

“F-Fuck-! M-Mmh~” He sobbed, he tried to not jerk his hips. Aahh.. but he couldn’t help it-! It felt like he had no control- over the situation or his body. Who would’ve thought you’d make him the pillow princess?

“I-Im gonna cum~!” He cried, he came immediately as soon as the words fell from his mouth.

.. Did you allow him to cum..? I don’t recall you ever did..? Don’t forget to punish him— Otherwise he will think he can do whatever he wants!

Ren

-He honestly quite liked how submissive you were in public. It made you so easy to tease and .. he’s mean.

-He got a real kick out of making fun of you!

-You were so agreeable and did whatever he asked, download a game and enter the referral code? You did it in a heartbeat! You were so eager to please!!

-.. Now he has to beg.. Fuck- he didn’t want to do that. That’s.. humiliating.

-Expect back talk. He’s definitely a brat.

-.. He will end up begging. And eventually he will be no stranger to it. The words really just can’t seem to help themselves other than to tumble out of his mouth.

-Oh he’s a whiner. He whimpers sooooo good.

-Please don’t restrain him— He NEEDS to grab onto something to keep him grounded.

-Whether that’s you or the sheets doesn’t matter he needs something, anything.

-(though I do believe he wouldn’t like touching much during sex just based on how he acts- I do think he has certain times and parts of the body he’s happy to have contact with. Does that make sense?)

-He definitely is a crier, it feels just too good.. he can’t help it.

“Fuck no! I’m not begging for you-“ .. Or so, that’s what he claimed. Slap him around a bit, toy a bit with his nipples. Oh, of course his nipples are sensitive. He’d shiver- it felt so so good-

“Why’d you stop..?” His voice was out of breath. His cock was so tight against his pants, this is not fair- Why were you playing games right now?

“Beg. You want more?” You’d demand, but would be met with a scoff. Didn’t he already tell you he’s not doing that? Who even put you in char- his cheek stung. His nipples hardened, as he felt his cock dribble out precum. No way he just got turned on from you slapping him— right? .. Tease his nipples a bit more, punish him until he finally begs. He’ll eventually learn that begging can get him everywhere!

“P-please~ C-cum-“ He can barely speak, just hiccup and sob words out, with his hands moving between gripping the sheets and your waist. His tears slowly slide down his cheeks- he’s so needy.. and once given permission he really can’t hold back anymore.

“Mm-mh~! M-MC-!” He sobbed your name as he came- his voice cracking.

Haku

-Oh you were just adorable when you reacted to his flirting.

-He really loved to tease you! He couldn’t help but imagine how you’d be in bed.

-He was so forward, and you were shy, obviously flustered easily. How could you not be submissive?

-.. Well.

-He was sorely mistaken, hm?

-He couldn’t help but love the view of you riding/fucking/pegging him, but goodness, his neck throbbed with all the times you bit him—!!

-He moans for sure, he’s quite loud too. Grunts and whines every now and then.

-He’d still tease you, he can’t help but be oh so forward with you.

-If he’s fucked out, he can’t help but look at you with a dazed expression- mumbling out how much he wants more.

-He’d LOVE to run his hands all over your body, he wants to connect with you in whatever way he can.

-He really wishes he could ravage you- you’d be so so cute.. Ah but your expression now.. He can’t deny how it makes his dick throb and ooze out pre-cum.

-He’s well behaved! But he will for sure be a bit of a brat. He can’t let you have it too easy can he? Though.. he’d happily do whatever you want, he just wants to satisfy you!

-He’s a massive slut, please make him cum over and over again. He doesn’t care if he’s overstimulated, he needs more. He’s insatiable.

-Loves praise! He craves knowing if he’s a good boy.

-Can’t help but love degradation as well, makes him feel so dirty. He really just wants to be your bitch.

“O-oh fuck— MC-“ He moaned as his lids seemed to flutter shut. You rolled your hips, just the way he liked. He let his hands roam over your body, gently caressing it .

“Please go faster baby- Mmh~” He slightly whined. He wanted you to use him- if it made you happy please do so. He really truly just wanted to be your whore.

“Yeah? Like that? Such a slut, begging for more. Mm- You’re such a good boy for me.” You whispered in his ear as you sped up, causing him to shiver and his cock twitch. When your hand wrapped around his neck and gently applied pressure, mixed with the soreness of all the hickeys littering his skin, he couldn’t help cum.

“F-fuck~! MC-! D-don’t stop please—“ He cried out- he needed more. Just truly drain him dry, he’d cum for you as much as you like.

[pricegouge]

Your most recent thing for stepdad!price… I couldn’t stop about thinking about what it would be like if dbf!Nik was the one pursuing you 👀

John could try telling you that he’s too old for you, but that would kind of get in the way of his own intentions, wouldn’t it? And he hates seeing how smitten you are with someone who might as well be him. And how is he going to tell your mother when he’s the one who let Nik hang around you in the first place? Meanwhile, Nik is stealing all of your firsts right out from under him.

Or, John could be in on it. Imagine him using Nik or one of the 141 as a proxy— he needs to know you’re with someone who can take care of you. Someone who’s loyal enough to him to take plenty of pictures for him 💖 someone charming enough to coax you into letting them take a few harmless videos

-🦷

Ngl I originally thought about dbf!Nik for this but I feel like a broken record cause every time I talk about dbf!Nik I wind up back at the same spot, with the two of them working together as they always do, united in the goal of sharing you.

That being said, omggggg, Nik "stealing all your firsts right out from under his nose" 😵‍💫😵‍💫

But you know John's not subtle, at least not to Nik who knows him better than anyone. Nik knows exactly how John wants you, can see it in his eyes. Can feel it on his thigh, too, when he stands too close to murmur in his comrade's ear about how you'd cum so pretty for him that first time, slick soaking down his wrist as the evidence of your virginity left a thin red trail collecting on the webbing between his thick fingers

[applebuttercringe]

Arcane episode 8 immediate thoughts

-NGL this is not the direction I thought Mel was going in.

-cool that she is a magical girl though, and made of gold.

-oh it’s the girl her mom killed.

-Mel’s outfit is very fan service

-Leblanc

-this is a lot to introduce in the second to last episode

-Well that didn’t take a lot of convincing…

-Richters funeral

-Time for Viktors T-shot

-Is Ambessa gonna lecture him into living?

-Viktor Machine Herald voice!

-No Viktor you are anti war.

-Oh, so Sky is her own will, disturbed by his actions.

-Do we not see Caitlyn’s reaction to Jayce.

-Ah she thought Loris was Vander

-Caitlyn’s haircut is hot.

-Is she still with Maddie?

-Maddie knows she is about to be cheated on

-Jinx isn’t eating, she is suicidal.

-the hair down

-The Jinx pain train is brutal, this is a lot even for Arcane.

-The Jayce Mel reunion?

-If Mel is untwined with the Arcane then Jayce’s mission will be to end her as well.

-Excuse me what?

-Viktor achieved the ultimate tenderness form? Mannequin.

-Why not come as Huck?

-Well, the Polycule is back together again. This time it is a three way breakup.

-Mel knows how to do the magic at will now?

-Why not explain what you saw? It might not change anything, but he didn’t even try.

-Viktor wants his evil BF back

-Aw man. Villain Viktor. That idea sucks.

-Once again Jayce rushes to Mel lol.

-Is Viktor gonna get broken up with on the astral plane?

-Jinx is finally hearing and seeing Silco hallucinations.

-Killing is a cycle and yet in Ep 7 Vi dying ended the cycle and healed its wound?

-Doesn’t the metaphor not work for Zaun? How do they walk away. They are trapped in the mines working forced labor and banned from Piltover institutions. Is the moral to become passive? Cease to care? How do you forgive and walk away when the crimes are ongoing and inescapable?

-The hug is good

-IS JINX GOMNA KILL HERSELF?

-That’s her resolution?

-Jayce’s self made leg brace perfectly fixing his untreated wound is bullshit.

-The shoulder armor is a CHOICE Jayce.

-How did he manage to get them together? They hate each other? His proposals for peace don’t work but he can get them talking and civil from off screen? Arcane is really abandoning the Zaun v Piltover thing. Like, straight up pretending it was never happening.

-Caitlyn gasses these people like a month ago.

-Yeah, start treating the Undercity as people so you can draft them. Whatever.

-Why the emphasis on the pianist

-I knew they were gonna abandon it but this is unreal to watch.

-Sassing your gf during her mental breakdown is insane

-Caitvi sex scene in a prison cell lol

-Maybe care that this is cheating

-Freaky~

-Damn

-The Tumblrinas are gonna love this

-The Medea’s scene is good

-She can touch embers with her bare hands

-Ambessa you’ve been trying to use Hextech for magic, TF do you mean you hate magic.

-Is there a delay on Viktor saying stuff and the clones saying it? Cause that happened a while ago.

-The song. So this was real Sky all along. She just really wanted him to use the Arcane this way. If this was the intention she should have had more S1 screentime to build up their relationship.

-He is letting them kill her again

-He’s gonna become Warwick?! That is a twist

-EW THE FEET SHOT

-He’s kindred? It isn’t a mask? It’s his head?

Ok so thought: This is a fumble for me. It feels like they are abandoning all the pre established plot and just rewriting the characters into new plots and then rushing those new plots to hell and back. They aren’t finishing what they started. The Jinx pain train is disappointing. Like, more Jinx being self loathing and suicidal, cool. Likely she will have a turn around in this last episode but. IDK. Did I like the time I spent with Arcane? Yes. Is it peak anymore? No. Sorry.

[sur-i-ki]

ok this one doesn't get a chapter title. I've spent a lot of time writing and re-writing this because of how much of it is from what I've experienced. but. it needs to happen. so imma js post it tbh.

14/20

You try not to go into his room. It’s still his room, though he’s been gone long enough for the world to expect you to call it something else. A storage space. A guest room. Anything but what it is—a shrine.

The mere thought of it used to paralyze you—the weight of what you’d see, of what you’d feel, too unbearable to entertain. But now, standing here in the doorway, you realize you didn’t choose this moment. It chose you, dragging you here on legs that don’t feel like yours, under a weight that has sat on your chest for days, weeks, months.

The door creaks when you push it open, and the sound slices through the silence like something alive. You flinch, but you don’t stop. Your breath comes shallow and fast as if your body already knows what your heart refuses to acknowledge: you’re not ready for this.

The room is the same as the day he left it. The air smells stale, untouched, yet faint traces of him linger like a ghost you can’t exorcise. That warm, earthy cologne he always used, the one you told him made him smell like sunlight. You breathe it in too deeply, and it punches through your lungs like a blade. Your heart clenches at the familiarity, at the cruel way it pulls you back to a time when he was still here, still laughing, still alive.

You step inside, each movement tentative, like the floor might crack open beneath your weight. The bed is unmade, the sheets twisted and pushed aside in a way that’s so him it hurts. He always hated making the bed. "What’s the point?" he used to say, grinning in that lopsided way that made you want to laugh and scream at the same time. The comforter is bunched at the corner where he kicked it off the last time he slept here. His shirt is draped over the chair in the corner, a crumpled thing that looks like him—slumped, careless, perfect. And the sneakers. You hate the sneakers. He left them by the door, one lying on its side like he rushed out, like he planned to come back.

Your knees buckle, and you sit down heavily on the edge of the mattress. The fabric is cold under your fingertips, no longer carrying the warmth of him. You press your hands into the sheets, gripping them as if they might anchor you, but all they do is remind you of the emptiness that’s replaced him.

Your eyes wander without permission, catching on the little things that used to be invisible in the background of your life. The sneakers by the door, one tipped over, the laces undone. There’s a mug on the desk, dried tea leaves clinging to the edges like a relic. You pick it up because you can’t help yourself, the ceramic warm in your memory though cold now, the handle shaped to fit his hand. You clutch it so tightly your fingers ache. If you let go, it will shatter. If you don’t, you will.

A jacket draped over the chair in the corner, sleeves dangling lifelessly. Each item feels like a tiny wound, slicing into you in ways you didn’t know were possible.

There’s a photo on the desk. You almost don’t want to look at it, but your gaze is drawn to it like a magnet. It’s the two of you, grinning, arms slung over each other’s shoulders like the world could never touch you. The frame is crooked, leaning slightly against a stack of books he never got around to reading. Your throat tightens, and your vision blurs as tears rise unbidden.

You feel them spilling down your cheeks, hot and relentless, like a dam has finally broken. You try to wipe them away, but it’s useless. They just keep coming, each drop carving a path down your face, each sob ripping through your chest like shards of glass.

The grief is suffocating, pressing down on you like a weight you can’t escape. It’s in the air, thick and cloying, sticking to your skin and filling your lungs until you can’t breathe. It’s in your head, a constant hum of what-ifs and should-haves that won’t leave you alone. It’s in your heart, a jagged, bleeding thing that refuses to heal.

You clutch the photo to your chest, curling into yourself like you can fold away the pain. But it doesn’t work. Nothing works. He’s everywhere in this room. In the things he left behind, in the silence that’s too loud, in the memories that play on a loop in your mind.

You remember the way he used to sit at that desk, scribbling notes or sketching ideas he’d never finish. The way he’d hum under his breath, always a little off-key but somehow perfect. The way he’d glance up at you, his eyes soft and full of something you didn’t realize you’d miss until it was gone.

You can almost hear his voice, the teasing lilt of it as he’d call your name, the warmth of it wrapping around you like a hug. You can almost feel his hand brushing against yours, a casual touch that felt anything but casual. You can almost see him, standing in the doorway with that smile that made the world seem brighter.

But it’s all in your head. He’s gone, and no amount of wishing will bring him back.

The tears slow eventually, leaving you feeling hollow and raw. Your chest aches, and your head pounds, but you don’t move. You can’t. The thought of leaving this room feels impossible, like walking away would mean letting him go for good.

Your fingers brush against the comforter, tracing the patterns he used to complain about. “Too busy,” he’d said, but he kept it anyway because it was your choice, and he always let you have your way in the end.

A shaky breath escapes you as you lean forward, resting your head in your hands. The grief is quieter now, but it’s no less sharp. It cuts through you in waves, each one leaving you more worn down than the last.

You think about all the things you’ll never get to say to him. All the moments you’ll never share. All the times you’ll have to face the world without him by your side.

The room is a graveyard of what once was, each object a headstone for a memory you can’t let go of. You want to gather them all up, to keep them close so you won’t forget, but you know that’s impossible. The memories will fade, no matter how tightly you hold on.

And that terrifies you.

You don’t know how long you sit there, lost in the ache of what you’ve lost. Time seems meaningless, stretching and twisting until it feels like you’ve been there forever.

Eventually, your body moves on its own, your fingers reaching out to touch the photo again. You trace his face with trembling hands, as if you can somehow bring him back to life through sheer willpower. But the glass is cold under your fingertips, a harsh reminder of the distance between you.

He’s everywhere, and he’s nowhere.

The room feels like it’s closing in on you, the walls pressing closer, the air growing heavier. You stand abruptly, the motion making your head spin. You stumble toward the door, your legs shaky and unsteady.

You pause in the doorway, glancing back one last time. The room looks the same, but it feels different now. Or maybe you’re the one who’s different.

As you step into the hallway, the air feels cooler, lighter, but it doesn’t help. The weight of him follows you, clinging to your skin, your mind, your heart.

You don’t look back. You can’t.

Because if you do, you know you’ll never leave.

⇝ 𝘓𝘪𝘬𝘦𝘴, 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘴, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘨𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥! 𝘗𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘣𝘶𝘵𝘦 𝘮𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘮𝘺 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯

[painful-pooch]

Earn My Screams

I have been far too excited to wait and so here is Chapter 3 of the Hostage Arc. I hope you guys like it! If you have any recommendations or ideas you want to see, my asks are open and I can maybe give a snippet to see if you like it hehe. Thank you all for your support and love!

Hostage Arc Chapters

Part 1 (Captain Down)

Part 2 (An Impromptu Farewell)

CWs: military whump, war, gunshot wounds, blood, injury, use of crowbar, violence, interrogation whump , stress position, broken bones

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Bruno finds himself hanging from the ceiling, the breath knocked out of him as cold water is thrown on him, causing him to thrash and sputter regardless of the pain. Even doing so, the chains rattle along with him, and his gasps echo in the interrogation room.

"You're up. Good. Maybe you'll actually answer something for once."

He notices he’s bandaged up where he was shot, though they didn’t give him anything for the pain. Like hell they would have anyways. He took so many of their soldiers for putting him in this predicament, he is surprised he isn’t more injured besides the killer headache making his head spin. 

"Why did you come here and what were your mission details?" The man asks, green eyes locked with his own.

The porous ground has more character than his captor, and he has no intention in building any rapport. "Bruno Stenberg, USAF, ID number 052148656. As far as your next question is concerned, I am not interested in answering it."

Just as he thinks it can't get worse, a fist comes across on his face, the man snarling in retaliation. "Try again. Go on." Something from his voice tells him that he should probably listen and give him what he wants. 

Nah. It ain't that easy.

"I'm sorry. You're deaf. Bruno Stenberg, United States Air Force, ID number 052148656." There's a bloody smirk on his own face and he tilts his chin up in defiance. "I tried again, like you said."

There's rage behind the man's eyes and he grabs a fistful of Bruno's hair, getting right in his face. "You think this is some kind of joke, but I'm through playing nice." He drives a fist into his side where the gunshot wound is.

The amount of agony and pain that shattered his world forces a struggled, pained gasp, his knees buckling and forcing Bruno to solely hang from his shackled wrists. He bites his cheek from the inside to keep himself from screaming, and he feels the sweat building up at his brow from the exertion. 

The man looks pleased and keeps a hand in Bruno's hair, patting his cheek. "You can scream, dog. Go ahead." There was this smarmy ass look that Bruno hated, so he did the one thing he knew to do when in a predicament like this. 

He headbutted the man just right, his forehead connecting with the man's nose. An audible crunch is heard in the interrogation room followed by a scream. It is a small victory for Bruno, watching the man pull back to hold his broken, bloody nose. "You got to earn my screams, fucker."

The man looks to the right of him and nods, forcing Bruno to fall on his hands and knees. But before he can have a chance to realize what's going to happen, a swift kick is dealt right to his stomach, dropping him to his side. The captain grits his teeth and groans loudly, but he refuses to scream. They are going to work for it.

"I'll take over," a female calls out, and Bruno recognizes her as the woman who knocked him unconscious when he was first taken. 

The man with the bloody nose curses in another language and huffs, "I'm going to get him back for this, Katerina."

"Manolo, go clean your face. Blood doesn't suit you like this one. And don't worry-" she forces her boot over Bruno's head-"I'll handle him." His head is then slammed into the floor, and he can taste blood and feel his nose already bleeding from the impact. Wonderful. 

"You think you're clever, but we have all the time in the world. You should be terrified," she snarls down at him.

Bruno forces a laugh and swallows back some blood. Better keep some in his body than lose it, he thinks to himself. I'm terrified to see how ugly I look now. If I cracked mirrors before, then I would probably turn people to stone at this point.

He looks up at the woman, trying to get a good read on her. “I’m not clever. I’m just an idiot that manages to get the kill each time. I’m not going to be scared of you because that’s not something I am capable of. So go ahead. Make me bleed. Make me scream. Make. Me. Suffer.” He forces himself to stand up, staring her down while he can hear the guards behind him aim at him. The pain is radiating throughout his body, but he doesn't care. They will see what kind of a military man Bruno is.

She is clapping her hands and laughs in his face. “Oh, I am going to remember those words. You want to suffer, bleed, and scream? Fine. We can do just that." 

It doesn't take even a few moments to get one of the guards to pass her a crowbar, the woman's smile a gleaming reminder that she's a sadistic captor. Before Bruno can even brace himself, she swings and catches him at his side where the wound is. He falls to his knees from the shock of the hit, biting down on his hand to keep him from screaming. He can taste his own blood and his eyes lock with the woman's silver eyes just as she goes for another swing.

This one connects to his ribs and he bites down harder when there's a snap, tears springing to his eyes and already falling when he can't breathe in. There's so much pain and he doesn't realize he's on the floor because she struck him in the back. His cheek is against the concrete, eyes now focused on the tiniest ant a few inches away.

It's like he's suffocating now, waiting for his body to let him take air in, and when he does, he whimpers so softly into his bitten hand, not letting go. They want his screams? They are gonna earn them. 

"Perfer et obdura; dolor hic tibi proderit olim..." ("Endure and be strong; this pain will be useful to you someday…") He replays his mantra in his head over and over just as the crowbar comes down on him again and again. 

He refuses to give in so quickly, and they haven't gotten him to scream, even when the woman is tired and everyone leaves him on the floor, bruised, bloodied, and weak. He didn't scream once, but the Captain never promised her he wouldn't cry. And so he did while he thought of his teammates back home.

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Bru Bru tag list: @cpt-winters, @redd956, @straight-to-the-pain, @technom0ose, @actress4him, @whumperofworlds, @i-eat-worlds, @inscrutable-shadow, @gala1981, @thethistlegirl, @ocean-blue-whump, @noirineverysense, @steelandblood, @crash-bump-bring-the-whump, @kervl-klear, @cravesunconditionallove

[pitzer]

attic window / summoning (October 24th, 2021)

I quenched my thirst for you by staring through the attic window

I saw you at the other end of the street, seeing me just like I see you

you were standing dead silent, night unraveling into the almost-morning

that's how I knew you were part of my memory

you always knew how to get home

lost was just another word to get lost into

you were an autumn mystery,

I knew who I was because you knew me

when your ghost chose to stay,

you were choosing me

and I turned you into a summoning

as a way of keeping you here

because my grief never lets me sleep

and I miss listening to the buzzing of your presence

no pretense

even in the way I imagined you in my dreams

you were always here

and I hate that you had to leave

other side of this (August 5th, 2019)

you needed me dependent

you liked me weak

i broke off the chains

thinking that's what you wanted

but then you set me free

you gave me attention

because you wanted to fix this trainwreck

but when i realized i didn't need you to solve this puzzle inside

you figured out you wasted your time

when i figured out i didn't need you

that's when you stopped needing me

but i still want you

yet you don't want me

you moved on to the next basket case

you moved on to someone as evolved as you

yes, all my learnings tell me i can make it through

but my heart still finds it hard to move on from you

so stay with her

leave me here to heal alone

she's too young for you

but if she's what you think you want

even when it clearly doesn't work

even when you spend half your time searching for my advice

if she's what you want

i'll breathe through the pain

i'll make it to the other side of this

i was the stepping stone

now you're the one moving on

to bigger things

and i'm left to fight my way through

to the other side of this

i feel so used

i feel like you keep me around for what i can offer you

i feel like you know exactly what i feel

but you don't have the balls to shut me down

because i'm useful

because i save your precious relationship all the time

because if it wasn't for me

you know you'd be in the same rock bottom you were years ago

the one i helped you crawl out of

when will this grief end?

it's been years, i've tried everything

i'm feeling my feelings,

maybe i'm rushing this

but i can't wait to be freed from this feeling

if i can get to the other side of this

i won't feel so rejected

it's like i gave my heart out to you

i showed all my broken parts

you said you wanted to see them

but i guess you didn't want to love them

because i was left by you to heal all the brokenness on my own

and i'm still not through

not over you

i just want closure

yet i know i'll never get it

so it keeps on hurting

(i wasn't feeling all the things i needed to feel

i didn't know how

i get why the delay

but...

i can't help but wish i wasn't still in so much pain

over something that happened so long ago)

Something about grief that will make you miss times that were materially worse than the ones you're in now.