#but you know he can always destroy this okay goodbye

[shandykey]

sigh, time to get engaged I guess....

[moonchild1]

park jimin fic rec list (Ⅲ)

woah it really has been a long time since i posted but i am so glad to be back and to get back into reading i saw so many of my favourite authors have updated and i am beyond excited to start this journey again but in the mean time here's jimin rec list as promised it was so exciting finishing this list cause i got so nostalgic making it and reading all the old fics i had on my reading list ughhh i just loved it so much and it got me back into the swing of things and i cant wait to make more lists, i do have another jjk list ready and i will post it the day after tomorrow so i hope you enjoy this one and don't forget to show all the love and support in the world to these amazing authors they work so hard to create these fics for us and they deserve endless praise and love for the commitment and generosity they have so please do leave them a comment, heart or reblog a small comment can go a long way here and can make someone smile even bigger so dont don't shy away from making someone happy... as usual you guys know this fics i recommend contain smut so minors don't interact you will be blocked... i really do love hearing from you guys so if you do have a little fic you are super into right now and you just want to rant about how amazing it is feel free to send me an ask 😊🖤

a- angst s- smut f- fluff

series

plot twist by @xpeachesncream f s a

↳ jimin isn’t interested in fake dating, but he’s definitely interested in getting to know someone the right way. after all, he feels like he’s ready to put himself out there and give it all he’s got. so, he takes a risk in trying something completely out of his comfort zone and hops on the new, popular dating app - only to come across and get to know someone he didn’t expect to meet.

a remedy for mondays by @dovechim s

↳ all you wanted was just one day off work. but for that to happen, you need to invent a plausible reason. and then somehow, somewhere along the way, things get out of hand, and now people think you’re having a baby with your co-worker Park Jimin after a one-night stand. confused? join the club.

it’s okay, that’s love by @/dovechim f s a deals with deep subjects

↳ People are constantly making some kind of connection with each other- be it friendship or romance. But human bonds always lead to messy complications; commitment, sharing, driving people to the airport, letting them get up close and personal with the darkest parts of ourselves. And sure- it’s scary as hell to watch them cross those boundaries you’ve so meticulously drawn, but it’s okay, because that’s love.

so it goes by @/dovechim f s

↳ Park Jimin knows a lot about humans. of course he does, he studies them for a living. he knows that they say hello by holding hands, and when they say goodbye, they put their arms around each other. but this particular human, he notes, is unlike the rest- stuck in a slump, going about your day praying for the Universe to stage an intervention in the form of an alien abduction. when he decides to finally fulfil your wishes, he finds that you have a little something to teach him about what it means to live life on Earth the way you do: ugly crying, underwear and all. in return, he shows you the possibilities that abound if you simply adopted their mantra: everything is beautiful, and nothing hurts.

love again by @taestefully-in-luv f s a

↳ A friend of yours is eager to introduce you to her new man but what happens when Park Jimin, the man who broke your heart 5 years ago walks in through the door?

the other woman: the seduction and the illusion by @namjooningelsewhere f s a

↳ No one told you being the other woman would never be easy, No one told you that his love would be two sides to a same coin. No one told you he came to you because you were his escape to his demons. No one told you he would always call you his, but he would never be yours. And most importantly no one told you, He never loved you because you dont destroy the people you love.

FUTURE HEARTS by @jungblue f s a ft. jjk

↳ It was everything, from his tattoos, to his touches, to the way sweat rolled down his neck as he strummed into his guitar on stage; everything about him completely enthralled you. So why are you now, two and a half years later, on a train to Seoul, telling a complete stranger the recollection of how you became fated to forever have scars on all of your future hearts due to the happiness, but most of all the pain, that came along with falling in love with Jeon Jungkook. 

after the applause by @foxymoxynoona

↳ Jimin doesn't know how he would have made it this far after the shattering of his world without the support of his thoughtful, generous, helpful neighbor. Hanbyul has lived next to hottie Jimin and his adorable daughter for years now, long enough to remember the wife he was so devoted to and lost far too young. With each safely ensconced on their side of the brick wall of the Parks' grief, it will take an enterprising little scientist to set the stage for a second chance at love.

saved by @to-star-lake s a

rockstar au deep subjects read warnings

midnight memories by @hobipaint f s a

↳ there's drunk habits, and then there's drunk mistakes. What do you call meeting your friend - no, ‘former friend’ - at a bar, getting drunk with him and sleeping- 'accidentally' - with him? especially when everyone already knows that you stay away from him as much as the day does from night?

Easy. You forget about it.

heartbreak chronicles by @sugaxjpg s

↳ Park Jimin had it all — good grades, a place as the soccer team’s captain and, more than that, the broken hearts of at least half the campus’ population. Though, one thing he did not have was someone willing to break his heart and, after you were dragged inside a miraculous plan to play that part, the last thing counted on was the preposterous idea that, perhaps, you could fall for him as well. 

drifting by@hongcherry f a

↳ After being assigned different partners for your midterm routine, your and Jimin’s relationship starts to deteriorate when you both begin spending more time away from each other and with your assigned partners instead.

growing pains by @taleasnewastime f s a

↳ Growing up the daughter of the boss of a gang is never easy, but normally the problems are around being given too many responsibilities, or the risk of being connected to a gang leader, or wanting to escape but not being able to. But you’ve got a different problem, you want more responsibility, want to be like your brother who’s been named heir, want a role in the family gang. Your whole life you’ve been denied what you want, being born a female seemingly your main issue; perceived as weak, naïve, trying to step above your station. But as unsupportive and dismissive as your family is, there is always the bright light that is Jimin; the boy you love but can never have.

tuqburni by @solastia f s a ft.myg

↳ You’ve spent two years building a life with Yoongi who you loved more than anything in the world. Now, his ex-boyfriend Jimin is back in the picture, and Yoongi begs you not to make him choose between the two of you, offering the choice of a polyamorous relationship. Though your heart is shattered, you agree.

stardust by @venusjeon f a

↳ struck by your beauty, Jimin begs to paint you naked behind the world's back so as not to stain your influential family—his patrons—with scandal.

drift by @snackhobi f s

↳ You used to think that there was nothing better than the sensation of coming first place. However, your rival- the talented, gorgeous, dangerous Park Jimin- is more than happy to prove you wrong.

the deli diaries by @jimlingss f

↳ Working at a grocery store deli is absolutely unbearable (and you’re also perfectly aware of how dramatic you are). But it seems like something, or rather, someone might make the job a bit more manageable.

best of me by @xotoosweet f a

↳ when he tells the story of how he met you in a few years, he'll claim that it was meant to be. you'll laugh and call it a coincidence. it was a coincidence that on the first day of summer semester, he decided to go on a run (though he claimed he always ran in the mornings). it was a coincidence that he chose a less traveled path in the university arboretum that morning. and it was definitely a coincidence that you were there, sitting on the rail of the river bridge.

the ten days of ex-mas by @kpopfanfictrash f s a

↳ Three months following the worst break-up of your life, you finally feel ready to start moving on. The world, it seems, has other ideas when you pick up the phone and find your ex-boyfriend calling.

strip by @yoonia f s a

↳ Summary | Everything you have done has always been about surviving life and raising your child on your own. Having someone else caring about you was the last thing you had expected. Especially when that someone is the same man you have watched performing every night on stage and secretly admired. But will he run the moment he finds out about your little secret waiting at home?

falling by @/yoonia s a

↳ For Park Jimin, you are everything he will ever need—his assistant, his housekeeper, his task runner, his fairy godmother. For you, he is more than everything. You have dedicated your life for him and, before you even realised it, your heart belongs to him alone. The only problem is that he is never yours, and you are living in a world that your love for him is nothing more than a fairytale ending. As you are suddenly given a chance to wake up and face the real world, will you be ready to embrace it? Will he be ready to deal with the world without you in it?

wrapped around by @jjkfire ft. kth f s a

↳ Freshman year was a mess and sophomore year doesn’t seem to be looking too good either. You know boys like them are no good for you but maybe they’re just your kind of type

baby, baby by @hobiwonder f s a

↳ When you’ve run out of savings to continue on to the last semester of your Bachelors - you take an unorthodox route. Helping a desperate couple have a child and getting paid for it? Heck yeah. But what do you know - it wasn’t as easy as it sounds.

love at first touch by bagelswrites (ao3)

↳ The first time you meet your soulmate, it leaves a bruise on both of you at the point of contact. From then on, your body begins rejecting any sustenance other than the touch of your soulmate. The trick is, the bruises take a few hours to appear, so you have to figure out who you've touched and find them before you starve to death. But once you do, all you ever need is them. So what happens if you're an idol and you meet your soulmate at a fan event?

our little family by @nightbts f a

↳ you were living a simple life filled with simple dreams; combining your two most loved things in life, children and teaching, you were starting out your career as a teacher at the local pre-school. but little did you know, how one child and her very special father, would change your simple life into something extraordinary

one-shot 35

brand new eyes by @missgeniality s

↳ Jimin’s eyes had potential to ruin you, and tonight you test the damage.

waves by @shina913 s

↳ It's Valentine's Day and your boyfriend decides to spice things up with a little surprise for you.

failure to communicate by @gukslut s

↳ Enemies to Lovers/ College AU

physical by @ppersonna f s

↳ you cant seem to escape the sexy fitness instructor that seemingly is everywhere you turn. it’s enough to make you irrational.

good for you by @candlewaxandp0lar0ids s

↳ Jimin can’t help the way he drowns himself in you. Why should he anyway?

ho-ho-home by @jjungkookislife s a

↳ Golden neighbor extraordinaire, Park Jimin, is (unintentionally) stealing your spotlight this holiday season. Despite your one sided rivalry with him, all Jimin wants is for you to remember him, to remember your past and hopefully create a future with you.

100km/hour by @chateautae s

↳ what exactly happens when you and your friends have to pile into one car for the ride home after an insane halloween party, and you find yourself sitting in park jimin’s lap? especially when he’s dressed as an angel, and you’re in the sluttiest devil costume ever?

what it's like by @jimilter s

↳ You’ve always heard great tales about how good the infamous fuckboy on campus, Park Jimin, is in bed, and wondered if there could be any truth behind these claims when the guy looks like an angel with his cheruby cheeks and precious smiles. So when a new gossip starts to circulate about how ‘hard he hits’, you have had enough of the suspense and decide to finally sample him yourself.

feel your touch by @/jimilter f s a

↳ You have always known yourself to be a sexual switch in bed, flipping between exercising and submitting control according to different situations and partners. And this camboy you are addicted to, one that seems to kinda reciprocate your interest, submits so beautifully that you just want to command him. But when things progress to levels you never anticipated, you end up discovering pleasant surprises that might just change your life.

the prince’s cinderella syndrome by @/jimilter f s a ft jjk

↳ He shows up at Halloween, every year, dressed the same, and leaves at midnight like some Cinderella. You would think he was a prankster if his eyes didn't look like they contained all the sadness in the world. You don't know him - no one on campus does. You don't know why he appears only once a year. You don't know why he never smiles. But you can't help falling in love with him. Even if he breaks your heart when he abandons you at midnight, again.

scream your panties by @opaljm s a

↳ As your midterms have ended and Halloween has arrived, you are looking forward to a pleasant time relaxing and enjoying the festivities at your sorority and Jimin’s frat houses. Luck is not in your favor, though, because things keep going wrong like a trail of dominoes falling – the only upside to your slowly deteriorating day being that you get to end it with your boyfriend’s delicious self between your legs.

first snow, last kiss by @taeshobipop f s a

↳ He broke your heart four years ago; the old loving memories of your time together now tainted by pure betrayal. Yet in the haze of new snow, after returning home for the first time, the moments you had once convinced yourself were nothing but a lie, reveal themselves to be otherwise.

antifreeze by @winetae s

↳ Jimin participates in the school’s adaption of The Nutcracker for extra credit but doesn’t expect his new dance partner to a) be this bad at dancing and b) be this fucking cute

what she likes by @untaemedqueen f s

idol au husband au marriage au

only you by @personasintro f s a

↳  you’ve been always there for your best friend, even when he became a single dad 

sucker by @/personasintro s a

↳ You wish you'd pay more attention to Jimin. Like, how his eyes kept changing color. How cold his skin was, too unrealistically to be natural. Or one second, he flashed you with his sharp canines and the next one he didn't have any. How much he craved for you, but not the way you thought he was.

please, lie to me by @ressjeon s a

↳ "centuries of loyalty vs. only months of fucking, how could you miscalculate?"

summer synchrony by @seokkgenie f s a

↳ childhood friends to lovers

neon seoul @readyplayerhobi f s a

↳ It the city of New Seoul, another homicide isn’t newsworthy but instead just a statistic. But when the son of the mayor is murdered in an alley in a shady part of the city? Then it’s important. You and your partner, Detective Park Jimin, are given the honour of investigating the crime. Will you find out who killed him? Or will you fail?

serendipity by @btsracket s a ao3

↳ It's serendipitous. Jimin braces for darkness but finds his light instead.

the boyfriend concept by @/kpopfanfictrash s

↳ Win a Date with a Porn Star! You saw the sign when you walked in, of course, but you had no idea your friend dropped your name into the raffle. Fast-forward to later that day, when you actually win. You are horrified, of course, with no intention of accepting and setting yourself up for embarrassment. But then you meet Jimin, and decide this might be worth a shot.

Lovely Demons by @/kpopfanfictrash s a

↳ As penance for a crime committed long, long ago, the Witch Council banished you to the feared Tholoss forest. Your sentence was one hundred thousand days of solitude – or death, whichever came first. Your only hope of salvation comes from the demon names routinely sent your way; creatures who escape the inner circles of Hell and pose a threat to the mortal realms. For each demon you kill, days are removed from your sentence. For years you’ve existed, biding your time, until one morning you receive a name which throws your entire world into chaos: the name of Park Jimin, High Prince of Hell himself.

blue blood by @joonbird s a

↳ “Prince Jimin was born with blue blood. His coronation is rapidly approaching, but there are two requirements he must fulfil before becoming a king. He must have the skills to fight in battle, and he must have a Queen with blood as blue as his. You, a member of the royal guard, are assigned to teach Jimin the ins and outs of combat. You are not scared of death, of blood, or of battle. What you are scared of however, is falling in love with Jimin, the one man your blood decrees you can never have.”

i want to be with you by @oddinary4bts f s a

↳ moving to Seoul has always seemed like a good idea, until the bubble bursts when you realize your new neighbor is Park Jimin, and he's not the sweet angel you've always imagined him to be. Will the reality of Park Jimin forever be a nightmare, or will he turn into a sweet dream?

locked in love by @parkmuse f s a

↳ Getting locked in the mall on Christmas eve isn’t ideal, but getting locked in the mall with your brothers best friend that you haven’t seen in a while? Well, it might have been alright if you didn’t have feelings for him.

peaches and cream by @snackhobi s

↳ you wouldn’t mind your cute neighbour being such a shameless fuckboy if a) the walls weren’t so thin and b) he didn’t seem intent on adding you as another notch in his bedpost. 

reset by @/dovechim s

↳ We are made of the pieces of what we remember, and we hold in ourselves the hopes and fears of those who love us. As long as there are memories to call our own, there can be no true loss. But Park Jimin has no such privilege. 

the dark side of the moon by @/dovechim s

↳ falling in love at first sight is cliche, not until it happens to you on a dark night in a lonely alley. but you’re only human, while Park Jimin is Alpha of his pack; it could never work out. so you resort to pining for him like a wolf howling at the moon, but when Jimin goes feral, that’s when everything changes. 

Unconditionally by @kstopping s a

↳ Jimin constantly torments you. But you love it.

Instinct by @evangelene f a

↳ A lost child appears into your life only to bring you closer Jimin–a man that you’d thought you’d hated once upon a time. Now all you want is to be there for the child, and maybe his father–but only if his mother gets the hell out of the way.

eternal sunlight by @kidguk f s a

↳ “college and soulmate au where the first words your soulmate will say to you are tattooed on your wrist. jimin thinks he met his soulmate exactly four months after he met and fell in love with you. you can’t explain your attraction or your feelings toward him, even though technically you’re meant to be with other people. taehyung and jungkook helpfully suggest that the universe might be glitching.”

foul play by @kimvtae f s a

↳ Everyone loves a good rivalry, and the students at your university are no exception. Unluckily for you, the rivalry of the decade is between yourself and a furiously irritating Park Jimin. A top gymnast and a basketball star shouldn’t cross paths, but Jimin makes his way into your heart before you can put a stop to it.

lost and found by @/kimvtae s a

↳ The only thing bigger than Park Jimin’s ass is his ego. After one too many scandals, after one too many mornings stumbling back to the dorms drunk or ruining the reputations of other idols, Jimin is given an ultimatum: complete a rehabilitation program in America or leave Bangtan.

if we were a movie by @/kimvtae f s a

↳ Friends with benefits never worked in the movies, but you and Jimin had been friends for so long, it was bound to work for you. Until, of course, Jimin gets a girlfriend, and you fear you may lose your friendship with him for good.

the pull of the tides by @goldenscript f s

↳ The expanse of the deep blue sea has always drawn you in. Each ebb and flow of the tides never ceasing to take your breath away. And now, a boy with hair as light as the morning sun and a smile just as bright does too. 

hard to say by @floralseokjin f s a

↳you've had feelings for your best friend Jimin for as long as you can remember, but you always thought they were unreciprocated. What if it turned out they weren’t...?

↬looking for pjm library or the other members check out my library

[edwinspaynes]

A thing I really love about Edwin, specifically in his queer journey, is that he does so many things for himself. He does an excellent job of centering himself in his experience and prioritizes getting to know himself and being authentic to his own feelings.

A glaring example? His confession to Charles. That must have been terrifying, and he knew there was a strong chance that he did not reciprocate his romantic sentiments. But he did it anyway, because accepting his romantic love for Charles and making it known was an important part of being true to himself. It was an important part of Charles's knowing him, and Edwin lives in a world where Charles has always known him like the back of his hand.

Edwin confesses to Charles for himself.

Another example? Edwin forgiving Simon. Yes, he wants to help Simon escape Hell; yes, he is a ridiculously good person. But more than that, he needs to empathize with someone who shared his love for men, and he needed to let go of the homophobia that destroyed his past. This was a way to do it. "If you punish yourself, everywhere becomes Hell" wasn't just Edwin helping Simon; it was Edwin acknowledging a truth that he had lived and could not overcome.

Edwin forgives Simon for himself.

And what about his last scene with The Cat King? He's actively leaving Port Townsend. He views this as a goodbye (though obviously it was not, but hey, no s2 to explore that.) So he flirts. He kisses the Cat King's cheek, to prove to himself that he can. He does it because he wants to, and in doing so accepts that it is okay to want.

Edwin flirts with the Cat King for himself.

Edwin accepts and embraces himself intrinsically over the course of the season, not just externally. I love that.

[myeagleexpert]

𝕮𝖆𝖓 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖋𝖊𝖊𝖑 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖑𝖔𝖛𝖊 𝖙𝖔𝖓𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙?

Yuu has reached her limits, tired and without the strength to fight anymore, it is up to Leona to care for and restore her body and mind with devotion. Notes: Leona in this fic may be a little ooc, but I firmly believe that when he enters into a serious relationship with someone he will become more vulnerable and soft, taking care of the smallest details so that the person feels protected. He's very soft and sweet here, which we all need, right? (Fem!Yuu) You are not a machine, you do not run on steam and electricity. You are a human and you deserve to have your rest days. May this fic be a break for you and so that like Yuu you can have your rest.

This was one of those weeks.

Terrible. Exhausting. Desperate. With sleepless nights and days without eating properly.

And after finishing everything in the early hours of Friday to Saturday and handing over his work to Dire Crowley, because taking care of Grim and doing tasks in a magical world where you parachuted in is tiring enough, imagine the injustice when you still have to do the work of a therapist and do all the paperwork that Crowley forgot to do and threw everything into the shaking hands of the young woman without magic is even more tiring and an overload.

Yuu said goodbye to Grim who went yawning to Ramcharkle and called a sleeping lion to come get you, which was quick, considering he was just waiting for the sign of his love to pick her up on the flying broom and take her in bridal style .

Her friends started to worry because the symptoms were getting worse and worse, frequent headaches, irritation with the squad, confusing people's names and potion ingredients, refusing to stop to rest, because she always responded that she wasn't tired. But everyone saw and turned a blind eye when she fell asleep in the middle of classes, when she shook so much that she couldn't drink water properly, when her nails were always bleeding and her hair became brittle. Everyone was worried and didn't know what to do.

She was becoming increasingly sick and weak, a workaholic, and was unable to share the heavy burdens with anyone. She held the world on her shoulders, dividing herself into 100 so that the work could be done with excellence. Terrible idea, but necessary. She had water up her neck and was running out of air and options.

Jack, as a loyal friend, had the courage to tell Leona everything that was happening to Yuu, and that he, as her boyfriend, should do something. It was then that Leona swore that she would take care of her now, because if the discrepancies didn't lead anywhere, he would have to take drastic actions, like wrapping up an act in a burrito.

"Are you okay?"-Leona looked worried at her strangely cold and quiet form.

"Hunhun.." a yawn interrupted the little princess-"just tired…but fine" with a voice as loud as the whisper of a little mouse.

It didn't take long for them to get to Leona's room, and it took even less time for Yuu to trip on the carpet and hit the arm of the dresser next to the bed. Since when was that damn thing there? And then she threw herself on his spacious bed, still wearing her uniform and sneakers, and with makeup slightly smeared from the day's course on her face.

"Tsk… this herbivore."

The powerful and feared lion gently took off the girl's sneakers and placed her in a comfortable position, being careful not to wake her. And with the greatest care that hands made to destroy, he takes a cloth of warm water and delicately cleans Yuu's face of makeup, removing the excess mascara from her eyes, and the concealer that tried to hide the deep dark circles that were demonstrating the Yuu's exhaustion. Leona almost feels responsible for her tiredness, for her sadness, for not being able to help her enough, for not having been by her side when she deals with giants bigger than herself, for not having talked more about her carrying the world on her shoulders. That she is not alone.

And do you want to know the worst? That it wasn't the first time this was happening and it was getting more intense than before.

Leona was never one to believe in gods or be religious, but that night he prayed at the foot of the bed to whatever powerful being was in the heights, that he would always be by her side, that he would be strong enough to hold her. without trembling, so that one day she can be free and happy.

And when he went to lie down next to Yuu, he held her tight in her sleep, because at least in his arms she wouldn't have to deal with the threats of the world.

It was noon on Saturday morning when Yuu woke up from her more than deserved sleep, but she didn't have the strength to move enough and chose to sleep like a log for another 10 min…20…30… .. until her body decided it could become conscious.

By rubbing her eyes she tried to get used to the light in the place, or rather, the lack of light. Disoriented, she noticed that she wasn't in her precious Ramcharcle room, if she had been Grim would have woken her up for breakfast, meowing loudly until she had her tuna toast. She was then in….

"Good morning, princess." - said the gentle voice of the lion, he crossed the room and opened the curtains letting the sun shine. "How did sleeping beauty sleep?" he took the chance to get into bed with her

"Morning…" Yuu gave a heavy sigh and replied in a slightly worn voice, almost moaning from how refreshing the sleep was "Well…I slept well, my love. Did I give you trouble?"

"It's going to be trouble now" with a smile, Leona stood up and took her hand like a gentleman guiding her to the bathroom.

"Hey…I shower alone."

"This time you're going alone, but next time we'll be together" - he said with a damn smirk - "I have a gift for you"

At the entrance to the bathroom there was a beautiful gift basket. A basket with luxury skincare, recommended by the queen of Sunset Savanah herself and by a brand designed only for celebrities.

"Actually, I was going to give you this gift on our date next week. But my plans were advanced and today seems like a great opportunity." he smiled fondly and gave Yuu a kiss on the forehead before leaving to prepare something for her to eat.

The shower water was like a cold current that took away the thick layer of frustrations, fears, desires, and slowly brought the lightness of Yuu's heart, she smiled involuntarily when she saw that the basket's theme was for sleeping and relaxing, having exquisite notes of lavender and chamomile. He must be really worried. The body scrub renewed her skin, giving her a feeling of deep cleansing and freshness, and when she applied the shampoo and conditioner to her hair, she realized that it had been a long time since she had time to take care of herself with such patience. No spa day for days. No money for a new perfume. No time to take care of your body and mind. Even her nails, which were previously so vain and painted in different colors and interesting details, were bitten, she took out all her anxiety and stress on her nails, because what else could she do?

After a while in the bathroom, she came out and found a pair of clean, folded oversized pajamas on the bed. And she knew it was there for her, because Ruggie had perfected the lavender scent of the fabric softener, because Leona hates strong smells in his clothes.

"How do you feel? Do you want to sleep more?" Leona appeared at the bedroom door suddenly and approached Yuu.

"You arrived just in time, love. I'm just out of the shower" - Yuu wrapped her arms around the prince's waist, pulling him into a hug that was soon returned.

"We'll be eating in a bit. Ruggie is making your favorites and will bring them when ready."

"Great, now I'm going to comb my hair-"

"Nah nah nah bun, let me do it. Sit here." He said sitting on the bed, waiting for Yuu to sit in front of him. And she goes, used to his grooming.

You might think he wouldn't know how to take care of a person, and something as simple and intimate as combing someone else's hair could turn into a disastrous situation. But when it comes to Yuu, his partner, his mate, his equal, he makes a point of applying a cream first and massaging his princess's scalp, combing it with a comb designed for her hair, untangling the strands with tenderness and love. , mentally cursing the knots that dared to remain in Yuu's delicate mane.

How many times had Yuu done this for him in the dark and distressing days he had already gone through? And all he wants is to repay the love he received on a silver platter a thousand times over. Leos are very possessive of their mates, you know? An intense and protective love.

"Did you like the present?" he said, sniffing deeply Yuu's neck, inhaling the calming notes -" Farena's wife who recommendend this to me"

"Wow, what an honor that the queen personally chose my gift." she said laughing "But I did like it, just what I need at the moment."

"hey, I helped too. Don't give her all the credit."

"Oh yeah? And how did you help?"

"Saying whether it was approved or not, of course."

Yuu would comment further on this when he saw the strange pattern Leona was making in her hair.

"Hey baby, what are you doing?"

"I'm finishing your hair, it's like this, right? I researched your hair type online and saw that it's supposed to be styled like this."- If Vil saw this he would be horrified by Leona's messy hairstyle, but Yuu didn't care. This was because she was immensely grateful that her partner was taking care of her so well.

"Ow kitten, thank you." her heart was static, like a wound being healed little by little and it didn't hurt that much. "come here."

Yuu turned around and hugged the big cat, placing kisses on his cheek and mouth. "You're the best, love."

"Everything for you, darling." caressing her cheek and looking deep into the girl's eyes, he continued- "Just for you."

The moment was as delicate as a flower, vulnerable, two people healing each other through gestures and words, enjoying the calm and peaceful moment they hadn't had in days. And if the moment could last longer, it would, but a certain hyena had to enter just in time.

"Leona-sammm~ Yuu's lunch is here. Yuu, are you awake?"

Ruggie found Yuu sitting on the bed, smiling at him.

And Leona staring at him with a hateful face that said: "Don't you know how to hit, hyena?" with its tail wagging in annoyance, like a cat.

"How are you Yuu? This time you scared us so much shi shi shi~" he laughed in relief seeing that his friend, despite being tired, was recovering and left the snack on a small table next to the bed

"I'm getting better little by little… but I'm very hungry!" she said, getting up towards the table and enjoying the smell of the delicious food.

There were two sandwiches with shredded chicken, cheese and ham, lightly toasted, with a protein cream to accompany and two glasses of citrus juice.

Leona knew everything about Yuu and when he saw the eyes lit up by a simple food he knew that the plan had worked: Right at the beginning of their relationship, in a conversation about their childhood Yuu had confessed that her mother always made this sandwich when she was sick and tired to regain her energy, and always, always with a citrus juice to go with it.

He never forgot.

And he wants Yuu to know that even in her smallest details, he hasn't forgotten.

"Eat to your heart's content, we're going to need you tomorrow!" Leona immediately glared at Ruggie the moment he profaned those words.

"Uat weonna do?" with a voice full of food she asked

"Well, tomorrow will be-"

"There won't be anything Ruggie, let her rest. It's Sunday, she'll spend the day here." Leona roared quickly and to the point, wrapping an arm protectively around Yuu's waist.

"Ok ok relax, I'm joking bro shi shi shi~" covering his hand over his mouth he laughed softly, impressed as in any situation involving Yuu, Leona will show her claws to protect Yuu, that's a material for profocation later.

They spent the afternoon relaxing, he was sprawled out on Yuu's lap, while she responded to friends, comments, posts on her cell phone, laughing at her boyfriend's sarcastic comments, watching movies while eating popcorn, and when it was time to go to sleep, they were both cuddled up together, underneath with soft covers, in each other's arms whispering words of love.

"Thank you for today kitty, I felt like a spoiled little princess" she thanked the equally spoiled prince, who was currently having his ears stroked while listening to Yuu's heart, buried in her chest.

"Well, you better get used to it, from now on the treatment is real. And another thing, it doesn't scare me like that. If I see you working yourself to the bone, I'll ruin that crow's race myself."

The two laughed and when a comfortable silence reigned, he could only hear Yuu's breathing slowing down, calming down, and watching how her eyelids slowly became heavier, the good side of night vision.

"Hey Leona….." "Hmm?"

"…I love you" she approached and whispered incoherently with the sleep already taking over her body, on the lips of the lion prince who smiled and returned the kiss

"I love you too, my love." and with that his tail wrapped around Yuu's leg, pulling her closer. The stars are witnesses to this delicate romance, and between the purring of a lion and the slow massages of the princess's hair, the two got the rest they deserved.

(っ◔◡◔)っ ♥ Every like, repost and comment is very welcome and appreciated. ♥

@nickson-lol I think you'll enjoy this <3

[autisticlancemcclain]

My Dearest La

Dear La

Lance,

I really hate it when you’re right.

I know you are smiling as you read this. I can see it so clearly in my head. You are rolling your eyes now, probably, in fact you are probably even straining yourself. But I bet you are still smiling.

…

I miss you.

You told me leaving was stupid. Well, we screamed about it. I don’t like that I left angry. I should have waited so we could have been — well, I don’t know. I just don’t like that I left without saying goodbye properly. I don’t like that I didn’t get to kiss the smush between your eyebrows that you get when you’re mad

The bottom line is that I’m sorry. And I can’t do anything about it now because what’s done is done but. I wish I did. I’m sorry this message is so dorky. I can’t help how I feel about you. I promise I’ll be more — suave, or whatever, in my next one. There’s this Blade I hang out with sometimes, Sedrit, she is awkwardly funny like you. She has promised to give me some pointers because she’s as nosy as you are and read over my shoulder all the other times I tried to write this letter. I don’t trust her judgement but I’d walk into a wall on purpose in front of Pidge’s cameras if I could guarantee it’d make you laugh I think we could always use a smile. I’m ending this letter now because I’m embarrassed and if I write one more line I’ll lose my nerve.

Love,

Warm regards,

Sincerely,

Love,

Keith

———

“Sir? Sir! Hold on! Sir!”

The Balmeran turns, looking back at him curiously. He leans heavily on his cane, back hunched but chin set squarely.

“Yes, Blade?”

Keith jogs all the way over to him, stopping a respectful distance away. He reaches up to deactivate his mask, which he is not supposed to do, but the mask is fucking creepy, okay, it makes people uneasy so clearly that even Keith can see it, so fuck Kolivan’s lectures. He’s vindicated by the visible relaxing of the Balmeran’s shoulders.

“I need — a favour,” Keith says haltingly. His own shoulders begin to hunch. “If you don’t mind.”

The Balmeran’s stiff brows lift in surprise. He looks deliberately down at his newly-bandaged leg, then back up at Keith. Keith flushes.

“A… favour.”

All the pockets on Keith’s uniform are square-shaped and small. Deep, but not very long. Anything he puts in there gets squished. Except for the long, thin pocket-thing hidden against the outside of his thigh.

The letter has been stuffed carefully in there for two weeks. It’s a miracle it hasn’t been destroyed. The top left corner of it has gotten frayed, because Keith keeps catching himself rubbing it with the pad of his thumb.

“I know you’ve been through so much,” Keith says quietly. “I’m sorry even to ask.”

The Balmeran’s stance is still carefully guarded, practiced —

“As have you.”

— but his eyes are soft and knowing.

Keith lets out a long, heavy breath. He slides the letter gently out of its spot, turning it over in his hands; inspecting the familiar creases, ink stains. It’s a rough, recycled envelope. Made out of old briefing notes, by the looks of it, thick black lines of censorship streaking across the pale yellow surface. An ugly thing, really.

“I need to get this to the Red Paladin of Voltron,” he says, forcing himself to hand the thing over. “I don’t — I can’t send it through the Empire delivery service, for obvious reasons. And Voltron’s location is always encrypted. I —” He stops, mouth clamping shut, because suddenly the words have become impossible to force out through the lump in his throat. He hasn’t talked to the team in weeks. He has no way of contacting them without putting them — or himself — in danger. There will be absolutely no way for Lance to send him a letter back, even if he wants to. The whole thing seems, abruptly, a painful kind of hopeless.

And yet.

“I will pass it along,” promises the Balmeran, voice flooded with kind understanding. He wraps his hands around Keith’s, squeezing once, before gently prying the letter out of his clenched fingers. “I don’t know how long it will take, but I have a someone who works in Emerg-med. She travels frequently, and should be able to take it farther than I can.”

“Thank you,” Keith chokes out, blinking rapidly.

The Balmeran smiles. “Keep strong, child.”

———

“Granddaughter,” greets the old man warmly. The young woman turns at his voice, laughing in delight when she sees him and enveloping him carefully in an embrace.

“Grandfather! You’re well!”

“I’m alive,” he corrects, teasingly.

She takes the jest in stride. “You are alive, and so you are well. I am so happy to see you.” There is genuine love in her voice. She holds tightly to his arm. “Are you staying in care long?”

He shakes his head. “No, dear. I dropped by only to see you. And,” he digs around in his pocket, carefully extracting a letter, placing it in her waiting hands, “to ask a favour.”

“A letter?”

“For the Red Paladin, from the Black.”

“I see.” She frowns thoughtfully, turning the paper over in her hands. “Last I heard, they were rebuilding on Ilso. I am going only as far as Igrendia, to visit my cousin.”

“Pass it along then,” he suggests.

She promises she will.

———

A young girl, to her cousin: “Imeld! Can you pass something along for me?”

A cousin, to her lover: “If you could drop it off at the supply camp when you stop by.”

A lover, to his father: “A friend of mine works in that fuel stop. Let him know I sent you?”

A father, to a friend of a friend: “Only a couple stops left, I reckon.”

A friend of a friend, to a friend of a friend, to a friend of a friend: “It’s almost there.

———

A friend of a friend of a friend, to a Paladin:

“I think this is yours. It’s travelled a while.”

———

A smile aches at the apples of Lance’s cheeks. Salt drips onto his tongue, and he swallows, breath shuddering.

“You — dorky asshole,” he whispers, and tucks the envelope in the secret pocket on the thigh of his undersuit.

———

Lance,

I have no idea if my last letter got to you. I hope it did, if not, here’s the rundown: you were right, I regret leaving, and I miss you.

Anyways.

Today I was on a mission in a planet that was just a huge wildflower field. Just — hundreds of hundreds of flowers, every colour you can imagine and then some. It smelled like you. I cried.

Do you remember when we snuck out of that negotiation — thing? Whatever it was? And you poked me hard in the arm and loudly complained about how much of a bummer I was being. And you dared me to roll down the hill with you. And when I was laughing at the bottom of the hill because you had just so much grass in your hair you crawled over me and kissed me like you’d been waiting to do it.

I remember how we kissed until my lips bruised after. And then we just lay there, until I got fidgety, and then you pulled us both up and walked around picking flowers and sticking them in my hair and snickering. This was the flower. Doesn’t it look like the one you brought back?

I thought of you a lot today. It hurt a little bit. A lot bit. I missed you until it ached.

I hope I see you in the flowers again soon.

I love you more than the stars

Love, and lots of it,

Keith

———

“Hey, Sedrit.”

His voice is as hushed as he can make it. He doesn’t want to wake the others. But she won’t be asleep — she never sleeps before big missions. She says it’s because the adrenaline keeps her alert, puffing up her chest. But Keith knows that she prays because she is afraid that she will die.

She doesn’t answer, so he kicks the bottom of the mattress above him. He hears a huff, and then seconds later, a curtain of hair flops over the side of the top bunk, and her wide, pupil-less eyes blink into focus.

“What do you want, shithead.”

He smiles at her guiltily. “A favour?”

“Ugh.”

But she looks at him in begrudging acceptance.

“I need you to — drop something off, when you go to El-dan. Ask another Blade there if they could pass on a letter.”

She must read his tone, because the annoyance vanishes from her expression. She reaches over and flicks him in the nose.

“Yeah, lovebird. I can pass on your letter.”

———

“Hey, man, could you send this along the next off-world?”

“What for?”

“For true love. Or because I asked you to.”

———

“I don’t know what it is. It’s classified. But it needs to get to the Red Paladin.”

———

“I heard it’s news of an ambush!”

“Well, it can’t be news now. It’s weeks old at least.”

“Yes, well, drop it off anyways. It’s Voltron business, you know.”

———

Lance’s door slide opens.

“I have — correspondence,” says Allura, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “I was informed of a possible ambush? Perhaps we should read the letter together.”

Prepared remark about greetings and knocking and why they were invented flee Lance’s tongue, and his controller clatters to the ground in his haste to meet her.

“Lemme see,” he demands, snatching the letter straight from her hands. Her protests fall on deaf ears.

You were right, I regret leaving, I miss you.

He grins.

“What is that?”

“No ambush,” he says breathlessly, floating back over to his bed. He traces the shape of every letter, the blots of smudged ink. The scratch of the words is just as important as the content of the letter, Lance has found. He’s long since memorized the first letter, but he still finds himself drawing it out of his pocket, unfolding it with a shaky sort of reverence, studying every slanted T and looped L, closing his eyes and letting the impression of the ink burn into his eyelids. The cadence of the words have become song, hummed over and over and over again in his head.

This time, there’s a drawing. It does indeed look similar to the one hanging, dried, at the head of his bed. He presses the tip of his thumb into the center of it, breathing hard, rapidly blinking away the tears so they don’t drop and ruin the paper.

“I remember,” he manages, half-choked. “I remember, I remember.”

When he looks up again, hours have passed, and Allura has long since left, closing the door quietly behind her.

———

Lance, my love,

I know we do not talk about the observation deck.

It is your sacred place, I think. When you sit in the middle of the floor and look up at the glowing stars and the planets cast shadows on your face and make your eyes shine gold as sunlight the only way to describe you is holy. The first time I ever saw you like that it made my stomach hurt. When I think about it now I miss you so much the ache spreads all the way to my teeth.

When I was a kid I read about how grief makes you hurt but time makes you forget. I read about how men begin to forget the shape of their late wives’ smile. Or the slope of her nose. I read about how children begin to forget the slant of their fathers’ shoulder. How mothers forget the way their babies curled their fist.

Missing you hurts like unravelling. You’re all I think about. I will never forget the fit of your hand in mine as long as I remember how to speak. And I will know the ridges of your teeth so long as I can taste. I will know the length of your back as long as I can walk. I will remember the curve of your lips as long as I can blink. I will know the way you glowed in floating blue starlight until my brain shuts down and my organs fail me.

Patroclus said I will know him in death and at the end of the world.

I will know you every waking second of my life, and I will make myself remember for every nanosecond in between.

Nothing will compare to holding you in my arms again.

Keith

———

Sedrit has officially been declared missing in action. A new soldier has taken her bunk.

Keith’s stomach hurts all the time, now.

“Just — one time,” Keith begs.

“You have way more training than that job requires,” says Kolivan.

“I know. I just —” He realises, suddenly, that even if he had an argument he does not have the strength to make it. The letter creases in his clenched hands. “Please.”

For a long moment the Blade leader does not speak. Keith meets his searching gaze, but his eyes are blank, unfocused. Exhaustion pulls at his features. His hood droops on his shoulders.

“In an out, Keith,” Kolivan relents finally. “A supply mission should take less than four vargas. I want you back here then and not a tick later, so you understand?”

Keith could cry in relief, but Kolivan looks stiff enough already. Should Keith express an emotion in front of him he might be forced into a total system reset, and his programming might not be prepared for that.

“Thank you,” he says instead, and rushes off before he can change his mind.

Matt is leading the supply run. This letter might land right in Lance’s hands.

———

“I’ll get it to him, Keith.”

“Thank you, Matt. I owe you.”

“Take care of yourself, man. They all miss you.”

“…I miss them too.”

———

Matt hands him the letter without a word. No one else says anything, either, when he clenched it tightly between his thumb and forefinger and walks right out of the bridge. Not even Shiro, whose gaze Lance can feel bore a hole into the back of his head.

You’re all I think about, writes Keith’s neat cursive, and Lance presses the paper to his chest and cries.

———

My Lance,

I hate it here.

I miss you.

———

Alarm bells shriek through the headquarters. Keith has become numb to them, at this point.

He slides the letter in between the pages of an intelli-file and hopes.

———

CLASSIFIED

FOR VOLTRON’S EYES ONLY

BIOMETRICS REQUIRED

WILL SELF DESTRUCT

———

There is a letter waiting on his bed when Lance gets back from his mission on Efid-d. He has not slept in three days. His vision is blurry.

He falls asleep with the paper open in his hands, mirroring the curve of Keith’s body.

———

My love,

Naxzela. Soon. I think Kolivan knows there’s something wrong. I’m gonna I might I think I can stay, for a bit. Hopefully.

Well, I will see you again. Damn it all. I don’t care about the world I don’t care about the Empire I don’t care about anything, anymore, I just want to come home —

Naxzela.

It will be weeks until I see you face to face on this mission but already everything seems less bleak. I will admit some of the anger has crept in. I feel awful. I’m trying to remember what you said, in the very beginning, before you kissed me in the flowers. When you held my hands in the purple light and said we make a good team.

I know you say you don’t remember it, you goober. You do. You get embarrassed when I bring it up, that’s how I know. You always get embarrassed when you’re caught being vulnerable.

I loved you then, you know. I didn’t know it then but I did. I thought about your hand in mine for weeks. You have always been so central to me.

Soon, sweetheart. Soon I can hold you again.

Naxzela.

———

He doesn’t bother sending this one along. He tucks it in the secret pocket on the side of his pants, and with every passing day it grows heavier and the weight on his chest grows lighter.

———

When the shield closes over the planet and Keith says, it’s been an honour serving with you all, the scream starts at the bottom of Lance’s feet. It comes up to his knees when he sees the pod speeding towards it, up to his chest when Shiro barks at him to stay in formation. It catches in his throat as he wrenches Red away.

It echoes through space when the pod hits the shield in a shower of blue sparks and grey smoke, and Prince Lotor defects to their side one nanosecond too late.

———

The beep of the healing pod synchs with Lance’s heartbeat. It can’t quite drown out the screech echoing in Lance’s head; that keeps going, and going, and going.

Soon, sweetheart.

He sobs into the half-burned paper.

———

“You better keep your promise, you dorky asshole.”

———

Healing pods have always smelt, inexplicably, of burnt hair.

He hears the slide of the glass door opening, then the whoosh of air as he pitches forward before his arms are awake enough to stop him. Luckily, he falls right into bony arms, and the smell of flowers and sunshine quickly envelops him.

“You motherfucker,” says a voice, heavy with tears, and Keith smiles.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he croaks.

His Lance sobs. The hands on the sides of his arms slide slowly down to his wrists, gripping tightly. Keith forces his eyes open, blinking away the bleariness. Lance has his own eyes squeezed shut, like he’s too afraid to look, head bowed.

Well, that simply won’t do.

“Lance, baby, look at me.”

“You motherfucker,” Lance repeats, and finally he does look up but he’s glaring angrier than Keith has ever seen him. Keith grins wider. “You motherfucker, you damn near lied to me.”

Slowly, half convinced he’ll move to fast and wake up on his bunk, alone, he reaches up and cups Lance’s cheeks. He swipes his thumbs carefully over wet cheekbones, exhaling shakily, revelling in the feel of Lance’s skin under his, finally, finally, finally.

“I’m home, Lance,” he whispers. Tears spring from his own eyes. “Sweetheart, I’m home.”

“Stay,” Lance begs, like he should have months and months ago, like he meant to, like he wanted to.

“There’s no other option,” Keith promises, and as he leans in and presses their lips together, finally, tasting the salt and licking the ridge of his teeth and swallowing every shuddering breath, he vows to never send a letter again.

He’ll tell Lance all he needs to hear himself.

———

all art by @mothmanavenue

concept from this post

[neonovember]

Coming in HOT with some ANGST and FLUFF, having SUCH an intense emotional fight with Carmen one night. Maybe you’re both arguing about the opening of The Bear or finances or even just with communication in your relationship, Carmen just snaps about how you weren’t always this hostile. Just losing it on him and in tears crying out “YOU LEFT!! YOU LEFT ME CARMEN!! I understand what happened with you and your brother, but you just fucking left and didn’t even say goodbye!! You know how AWFUL that made me feel?! Like all of a sudden after everything we’d been through! It was like suddenly I was another face you just cut out and forgot about. It took me MONTHS to stop even just thinking about you. And then when you came back? It was as if nothing happened, but I was SO happy you were back….and now you always act like I’m some inconvenience that’s always in the way!!!! So what do you WANT Carmen?! Do you want me to stay or is this another New York situation?”. You can see Carmen’s heart shattering in his face as he just crumbles at the end begging for forgiveness 🥲. It ends maybe with the both of you holding each other in the kitchen “I’m so sorry” “No no….it’s okay….I shouldn’t have taken it out on you like that…”

All for you

this request was so good! your brain anon..😍 i hope i did it justice, this is part one of two because i always seem to be extending things that should be a one shot! i'm thinking part two should be from carm's pov? what do you guys think??

warnings: shouting, self deprecation, angst to the tenth power, no happy endings, carmen is so so so bad at communicating, unresolved tension/anger, new york carmy!

Loving Carmen was a lot of things. 

It was the smoulder of colours brushed onto a canvas, it was the crash of waves in the middle of the pacific, fighting and thrashing against each other until it took you under and below. It was the spoonful of honey that eased the bitterness, it was beyond your control. A love so smouldering and bright that you didn't quite know if your heart could fit it all.

But it was also difficult, like dragging a 50 pound steel anchor every way you went. You were forever grateful to have Carmen in your life, again at least, but it wasn’t exactly like the things that he had struggled with before he wasn't struggling with even more now. 

You were patient, you tried to be at least. When he wouldn’t pick up your calls for hours, when he was so caught up with work he forgot to eat, when he was so caught up with work all the last of his energy was spent on you and not himself.

You loved Carmen too hard to let him destroy himself for his work, even if he hated you for it, you couldn't watch him crumble and break from the stress of the restaurant and the overwhelming pressure he put on himself. 

Especially when you saw him begin to unravel before you, melting hot wax crackling and setting form. He had begun to throw back bottles of pepto like it was water, crunching on tums like popcorn any chance he got, and it wasn't like the restaurant was doing bad, in fact it was doing amazing. Yet, it was that fact alone that made Carmen get worse, made him slip into the sinking black hole that told him one moment away from the shop, one glance off of his work and it would crumble into ash.

You had seen this in New York, where he would call you during the depths of the night, the sound of his stuttered sobs breaking any resolve you had left. You had raced to throw on a jacket and bring a pot of soup to his place even when he protested. You fed him whilst he shook against you, you whispered stories until he fell asleep, you kissed his curls.

You wondered if he knew.

You find yourself doing the same thing now, like an endless dance you both are bound to, every rational part of you wants to hate it but you can't deny the way your heart shimmers in want. Your mind moves with the familiarity of it, chasing after him like a game of cat and mouse.

Only this time you live with Carmen and not in a dingy shoebox in New York holding back every ounce of love you wanted to pour into him. 

Carmen’s mind was forever connected to food, it was something so automatic it fell unconscious under his skin. You found amusement in the way he’d stand in the middle of your apartment living room in quick critic over the late night cooking shows that you would turn on whilst waiting for him to come home, or the coffee around the corner he swears isn’t actual beans. 

But your soup, and anything else you made was something he had always reserved with a certain adoration. He’d whisper into the anonymity of your neck under the covers, recounting how your food was akin to a warm hug, coming home to the smell of cookies and a house of laughter and light he wished he had growing up.  

You hoped he had actually eaten something today, but it was that belief that evaded your mind as quickly as it came when you reminded yourself who Carmen was. It was push and pull, and you would be damned if he didn't finish your food and then some.

Your job allowed you to work from home, and you don’t know if it was your laziness or intelligence that enabled you to make it so that you only had to work a couple hours in the day. It was sometimes strange to Carmen, how you could be able to find love and creation in something without putting everything into it.

Carmen was always watching you, he found peace in it, the moves and motions of you all over the apartment, the scent of your body wash, you toothbrush next to his, you were a movie right in front of him and he would watch you for eternity if he could.

You turn into the back of the Bear, parking between the faded white lines before turning off the engine and staying in the car for a moment. You hated the cold, and your breath had already begun to blow out misty clouds every time you exhaled. Collecting the warm container of soup and a sandwich you quickly jog towards the restaurant, taking the back door when you notice Manny leaving.

“Hey Hun, how ya doing” Manny nods towards you with a warm smile

“Hey Manny, just coming to get Carmen to eat something other than tums” 

“Chef is definitely wound tight, mix up on a new delivery of some kind of fruit? Forgot the name.. It's spiky and smells like when we moved out those ovens and found those burnt onions and stock stuck to the floor” Manny replies with a wince as you both recall the devastating smell that hadn’t left your nostrils in weeks during the renovation.

“Uh, Durian?” You reply and Manny clicks his fingers at your reply.

“That's it. That mind of yours is really something. He hasn’t taken a break since the morning, but you always have a way with him” Manny raises his eyebrows and you shake your head with a laugh

You only remember that particular fruit because Carmen had been obsessing over a new menu item that included it as its main component. He had spent sleepless nights perfecting it, despite it being utterly magnificent the first try. You couldn’t shake him from his work, it could consume him for months if he let it, and you feared he was at the precipice of falling into that hole once again.

You walk through the back hallway leading up to the main kitchen, passing by the tired hunches of the shoulder dressed down in crisp white shirts and aprons. The Bear had a late start today, Sydney suggested opening a little later for a full dinner menu rather than lunch as well and the turn out had shocked you all.

It also meant Carmen came home even later than he already did during those nights, you’ve had to damn near carry him to the bath to get him to not drop dead the second he came home. You didn’t mind however, you couldn't deny the faint thrum of your heart content as you washed Carmen’s hair whilst he lay against you half asleep. 

You spot Sydney at her station, and you quickly walk over to see her prepping for dinner, the swoop of her knife cutting into red meat in a kind of curve you knew she had perfected over the years.

“Hey Syd, early start?” You say, once your side by side with her

“Oh don’t remind me, can you believe the L got backed up from all the ice last night? Added a whole 45 minutes to my commute” Sydney groans out, shaking her head as she turns to you. Grateful to have a reprieve from her repetitive cutting.

“Goddam Chicago, if it makes you feel any better, I’ve got a bottle of wine with your name on it in my fridge and it is dying to be opened and shared by two very, very tired women” You reply, smiling at the way Sydney raises her eyebrows gleefully at the thought.

“I am holding you to that, as soon as we get through today. God, this new dish Carmen has thought up is kicking my ass” Sydney replies, and your ears chirp at the mention of the man you’ve been looking for.

“Speaking of Carmen, have you seen him?” 

“Yeah, I think he’s still in the office, been on call with one of our vendors cause of the mix up with the--”

“Durian, yeah. Thanks Syd” You reply, giving her a nod before making your way to the hallway leading into the office.

You hear Carmen before you see him, the sound of his loud voice seeping through the cracks of the door. His voice rises as he gets more and more agitated, and you don’t miss the sound of a cup being thrown against the wall as the phone call continues, not waiting a moment before firing back muffled words you can hardly make out except

“Unprofessional” “waste of my time” “fuckin’ dick”

So yeah, you thought it was definitely a good time to walk in and get your extremely agitated boyfriend to eat your soup.

Just as you walk through the door, you see Carmen slam the phone back onto the receiver, shouting out obscenities at the object as he throws his chair back onto the floor. Years working together has made you unfazed by his outbursts of anger, though you have been sly in trying to get him to go to therapy so that he doesn't get an aneurysm over the phone with the Wifi company or something hilariously trivial.

“Hey Carm” You say, whilst closing the door, and Carmen look up at you in surprise, his features sobering, as his eyes relax into a comforting gaze.

“Ah shit, sorry bout that, just some stubborn, pig headed vendors who don’t want to fix a problem they fucking caused” Carmen replies, his chest rising rapidly as he takes sharp inhales of oxygen. 

He turns to face you and you take in the sunken look of his cheeks, the skin a little discoloured like he was sick, and his hair dishevelled and falling flat against his face like he's run his hand through it too many times.

“Jesus Carmen, have you gotten any sleep?” You reply, instantly as you make your way over to him, pressing a hand on his shoulder.

Carmen shudders against your touch, shaking his head as he leans back and away from you. You stumble as you look down at your hand now inches away from his shoulder in confusion. Carmen never turned you away from him, in fact during those unforgiving times of anxiety and anguish, when he felt the entire sky falling, you would be his anchor to bring him back.

The fact that he had visibly shuddered when you touched him made your heart ache, and it hurts even more when Carmen notices, the guilt spilling into him.

“Just been so busy” Carmen replies, his eyes darting everywhere but you, as you nod with a tight smile, backing away from him.

You reach for the soup you've left on the edge, placing it on the desk and you nod to it

“Have you eaten today?” You reply and Carmen stops watching you, blinking slowly as he tries to remember the last time he's actually consumed something, before coming up empty and shaking his head up at you with a groan.

“I thought so, you need to eat Carmen, how can you expect to function let alone run a restaurant if you aren't at your optimal level” You reason, leaning against the table, with your arms crossed against your chest.

“It’s fine, I was just gonna grab something small” Carmen waves you off

“Actually, I brought you food right now so I think it would be a perfect time-

“Is that why you came? To micromanage me like some toddler” Carmen suddenly replies, his eyes narrowing as he looks at you through half lidded eyes.

“I- what? I didn’t-”

“I can run my restaurant blindfolded with my arms tied behind my back, alright? I don’t need you to come and patronise me like you know every goddamn thing” Carmen spits out, and you can't help the way your blood runs hot, the rhythmic beat of anger pounding through you like a hammer.

How fucking dare he

“Excuse me? I came here for you Carmen, not some self-righteous moment to say I'm better than you. God damnit, is that what you think? I came here to make sure you didn't faint and fall into a pot of boiling hot water” You spit out, Carmen looks up at you, hes blues swimming in ire as he lets a humour-less laugh rumble through his chest.

You felt all the things you had kept a lid on begin to tumble out of your mouth, and soon you’re anger morphed into a building current. The flashes of everything that had gone wrong, the lack of communication, the coming home late, it all has begun to accumulate rapidly and you let it consume you in its entirety. 

“Sure, of course,” Carmen sings. “I’m not your fucking child alright? You are my goddamn mother so stop treating me like you need to make sure I eat 3 times a day and have my nightly bath. I’m a grown man-”

“Then ACT LIKE IT!”

Carmen looks up at you in surprise, his brows knitting as his head swivels back from your outburst. You had never screamed at him, in fact, Carmen can’t remember a time where you had screamed at anyone like you did now as you stare him down deviantly. Eyes burning with a fiery anger that begged to be stoked. Carmen knows this, your hands shake in tight fists like your seconds away from swiping him, and he resorts back to his usual self destruction of turning back and running away. 

“Yeah, yeah that's right, walk away, walk away like you always do. Carmen, soon enough you're going to have to face it you know? You’re gonna have to face your fucking issues before it destroys us both” You scream, and Carmen pauses, causing you to stumble. Carmen turns around to face you in the middle of the hallway, the rush of anger present on his cheeks, causing the veins to bulge out on his neck and he looms over you

“Issues, I have fucking issues? You’re screaming at me because of goddamn soup”

“It’s more than fucking SOUP!” The screech of your voice bounced across the thin walls of the restaurant hallway, your throat begins to burn as you begin to swallow down the emotion bubbling within you. You want to reach into him and rattle his neck, force him to see the destructive path he was taking, force him to do anything but turn away and shut you out.

A quiet trepidation falls over the entire kitchen as they watch you both fight, it was unheard of, an anomaly that seemed wrong, like someone had gotten a couple from the street and put your faces on it.

Watching you both fight was like watching a performance. The way you both leaned into each other menacingly, neither of you backing down, there was an indefinite energy that bubbled between you both, you were seconds away from shocking each other or making out. 

“What is it then huh? Why are you acting like this? You expect me to read your goddamn mind? You’ve changed alright? Everyone can see it, I can't even recognise the person in front of me half the time” Carmen sneers, his neck turning a crimson red as he clenches his jaw painfully. He’s holding himself back, his body shakes with it, the tight clenches of his fist stopping him from putting a hole in the wall or smashing a chair.

“I’ve changed? Me?” You cut yourself off with a chuckle, Carmen shifted his gaze as his eyebrows knot in confusion, and when you catch a glimpse of his face you can’t help the booming sound from crawling up your throat, keening over as the sick sound of laughter rocks through your body.

The rest of the team now watches on in horror, you were laughing, why are you fucking laughing?

You try and gulp down the uncontrollable fit of laughter, you can practically feel your body shift down into the jagged memories from all those years ago. From a place and time you had shuffled into a no named cabinet and thrown into the deepest depths of the ocean. 

You didn’t want to remember, you begged your mind to forget, but as your laughter slips into sharp inhales, you already can taste the wetness streaming down your cheeks, and slithering down the slope of your neck.

Your sob’s rack through you, winding you until you hunched over, reaching out onto the wall to steady yourself and trying to find footing as the ground caves beneath you.

Carmen recognises it in an instant, taking a tentative step forward, raising his arms before dropping them in a second, like he was approaching a volatile animal.

“Fuck, I’m sorry I-” Carmen starts, but you’ve already raised yourself from your hunched position, the tears dripping into the linoleum floors and splashing onto your combat boots.

You didn’t want to face that time in your life again, but Carmen has practically forced you too, and there's no way in hell you weren’t going to drag him down into that bordered off well. Fuck being the bigger person.

“No no, you spoke, this is my fucking turn now” You grunt out, the rippling grief leaving your body in a flash as you sneer over him.

Carmen gulps back a retort, his mind re-circuiting, trying to figure out your polar behaviour. Carmen knew better to interrupt you now, in fact the restaurants was a pin drop quiet, safe for the whooshing sound of the central air corn, and the sound of Carmen's stuttering inhales.

“YOU listen to me” You spit, pointing a finger, pressing it into Carmen's chest so hard he stumbles back

“You fucking left me Carmen. You! You- just, you dropped everything we had, everything we ever built in New York and you disappeared. And it was Mickey, and you needed to be there and I got that, I get that, but you- you just left me there.” You grunt, biting back the swell of emotion that erupted when you thought about those years ago. 

“You became a ghost, and god,- you could have told me, after everything I thought we had- you could've told me! But then you didn't. And I was left to pick up the pieces, wondering if you had ever loved me, wondering if I should have given half of myself to you whilst you couldn't even call me back” You stutter out, shocking back the onslaught of tears as you swallow around the lump in your throat.

Carmen’s face pales as he registers those years ago in New York, the immediate look of guilt and anguish twisting his features as he leans onto the wall for support.

Even after all these years, all this time, you still felt it like it was yesterday. All your work had become undone, the thin veil of healing had been stripped back to bare bones in an instant, and you hate it, you hate it so much. Why couldn’t you have packed up and moved on? Why did you have to fold back into yourself at those memories? You don't know what you're seeking now, vengeance, restitution, it all becomes blurred in the heat of it, and god have you wanted to strip your skin and wake up restored since that night.

“You ruined me for a year Carmen. I was a shell of myself because of you. And then you called me that afternoon and you know what? I wanted to throw my phone into the fucking Hudson. I wanted to rip my hair out and scream and hurt you like you hurt me because the truth was I already forgiven you before you even apologised. And you never did. And I still wanted to come back to Chicago for you.” 

“Honey-” Carmen's strained voice shudders at your words, and you can make out the red of his eyelids, the tears collecting at his lids.

You hold up a hand, stopping Carmen from speaking, tears begin to form at your waterline, threatening to break, your vision blurs, the features of Carmen’s tormented face becoming wobbly and undefined. 

You were so sick of crying, you were so sick of it.

“And I won’t ever make you keep paying for a mistake for the rest of your life, I let go of that anger because you needed my help and in some way, I fell in love with you all over again, I was able to make peace with it.” 

“But you don't think I know you Carmen? When you overwork yourself to death you can barely eat? When you get bad again at calling me? When you were good, you were the best person in my entire world, but when you're like this?” You shake your head into the empty space between you, hands waving in front of you. 

Carmen looks torn apart, his hair falling flat against his forehead, his hands in tight fists as he shakes his head against your words. Begging, on his knees, begging for you to stop, to stop saying those things that came from your mouth that were not true. His body shakes with it, the gushing feeling of guilt, it washes over him in waves.

His mind is going a mile a minute, every thought of work, of that mismatched order he had to deal with, of the vendor who refused to deliver, it all went out the window the second your face contorted in that heart aching way. He can't lose you, every fiber in his being yearned for you, he lived for you. And here he was losing you, like a brush of paint across a canvas.

You were slipping from him every second you stood there with tears dripping down your cheeks like a stream.

“You’re the one that's changed. You're the one who's always changing. Don’t throw it back at me just because you can’t see it” You mutter with a shake of your head. Your voice carries a finality with it, and you jerk from Carmen when he takes a step towards you. You can't breathe in here, and you pass by the concerned gases of the rest of the Bear, shaking your head and moving away from Sydney, before dipping back into the busy streets of Chicago. You bite your tongue the entire way until the taste of copper fills your mouth.

Folding yourself into the huddled waves of mundanity, leaving your soup and the last bit of your aching heart on the bench of Carmen's office.

[myrmica]

having finished rewatching s4 and being past the vitalasy goodbye stream in s5 is so miserable what do you mean there's no more vitalasy. the fact that vitalasy leaves and that same day everything starts moving again, that same day zam has that conversation with planet where he keeps laughing mid sentence and going "i don't know how to do this anymore it's been so long," and in that stream bacon and zam describe it as if the wormhole had broken the fourth wall permanently, so now they have to open up to the audience in ways they hadn't before, but that's not quite right. the wormhole opened a door sure, season 4 changed things. but during wormhole zam slammed a door shut on vitalasy and that door stayed shut until this precise moment. so he and vitalasy never get to have the kind of conversation about their past vitalasy needed from him while vitalasy was still there, because the shell only starts to crack open the moment vitalasy is gone. vitalasy exits the stage leaving it all necessarily resolved off screen, leaving a book zam keeps private from the audience. it allows vitalasy to come back in s6 and say "we worked it out behind the scenes," and for that to be all you need to know. vitalasy is no longer a character whose history with zam keeps mattering to him, informing new choices and new problems. but zam is. zam remains a character with all of that history intact, who thinks about it, and uses it as a point of measure for other relationships in his life (or sometimes it seems for relationships, period), who alludes to it in conversation, who remembers it even though at one point he tried pretty hard to forget. so much did happen between them and it still doesn't feel like enough. it just gets cut off, and leaves behind this constant looming possibility space. makes you think well, now there might finally be enough distance from it all that they could really talk about it, that it might be okay. but vitalasy isn't here. and when he visits they never get more than a moment alone together, anyway. what is zam's memory of vitalasy; the things he has accepted and the things he still doesn't think about, the parts of it that remain warped in his memory; what is he guilty about and what is he still mad about; how would he describe eclipse to someone who wasn't there in s4 if he had to really sit down and go through it all; what would have happened if he did give vitalasy that apology heart during the mace trials, if they did get more than a moment alone together. if vitalasy was still present. if there was ever a reason to talk about him. and vitalasy's ghost is overwhelmingly present in s5. he leaves and that's the catalyst. destroying what's left of vitalasy on the server is always the worst thing zam can threaten, and then zam is banned fighting over vitalasy's grave trying to make good on that threat. and they never, ever, ever get to talk about any of it. all of those stupid hours of conversation in season 4 and then nothing at all forever. they worked it out but you don't get to see that part. vitalazam world. i hate everyone else on this minecraft server fuck all of you for real. whenever vitalasy isn't on screen you should be asking "where's vitalasy."

[murrpa]

heart wrecking angst⇩

•

•

•

In Deadpool 4, Logan discovers his presence in Wades universe messes up cycle of events and if he continues to live in it— the universe can collapse (butterfly effect kind of thing), so in the end of the movie B-15 and minute men show up dramatically a they do at Wades apartment, and escort Logan back into the headquarters planning to send him back to his “home”. Both Logan and Wade see the scale of this, and Wade soon is taken to talk to him one last time before never seeing him again since B-15 felt generous that day. So she give them this moment.

Wade scoffs: So now is the time? Hah, I should’ve known, TVA has every event written down to nanoseconds… I swear, it puts someone’s strict mother’s skill to plan the whole year in advance and never let her kid see the light of day without her permission at shame!

All that while Logan looks at him. Though he has so much to say, to confess, but decides not to do it, maybe because it’ll hurt letting him go more than it already is.

Wade approaches him: I… ugh, was not prepared, otherwise I would’ve pulled out my 100 page essay and read it to you in British accent as you walk further away from me into the sunset.

Logan: Wade?

Wade: Yeah?

Logan struggles. What is there to say now? His heart is aching, and cracks with each passing second there’s left. He wanted to say his life was at its fullest by Wade’s side, how he’s now changed man, all because of him. For him. That he will continue being that person in his world simply because Wade will be proud.

Logan: I might have my own place, my house and whatnot… But I never dared to call it my home, y’know?

Wade listens, no longer daring to quip a sound. And hazel eyes of Logan glisten in nothing but sadness. If that emotion could be painted— it would be him. Right now.

Logan: I wish the world was on my side, fair to me, to us, Wade.

His voice shakes. And he no longer cares to control the tear that soon oozes out the corner of an eye, to his hope, telling at least a tenth of all what his heart wants to say. Then it finally hits merc. Is this really it?

Wade: Peanut, I promise, it’s okay.

No. It fucking hurts. Wade never hated to say goodbye so damn much like now, but understands, that to love someone is letting them go.

He’s only doing it for Logan, for his universe. Sure there’s something that’s waiting for him, something better than this. Which what Logan deserves, after non consensual involvement in Wade’s goal to save his own world. After what he had been through.

Logan softly sobs: It shouldn’t be, I wish I had a choice. Because coming back is long time off my list.

Wade realizes his emotions reveal, a hot heavy tear drops off his chin, and fake but bitter smile grows to comfort Wolverine. Ignoring everything what’s falling into pieces in his chest.

Wade: I just… I just never want you to get into dangerous shit cause of me. I want you to be okay.

But Logan doesn’t care, even if his old life promises to be as peaceful as Swedish government. In the end, being next to Wade— suddenly makes chaos worth it.

Logan: I was okay, Wade, I was… so happy— but as soon as my foot steps through the teleporter…

Logan breaks as more tears rush down his face. His gaze locked with Wade’s.

Logan: … I will comeback being the same pitty guy you picked up at the bar.

But Wade protests.

Wade: No, nope, you’ll comeback better than ever.

He gives up smiling, then reaching out for the man, locking him in the most loving hug, arms wrapping waist, one digging fingertips into the shirt, and second one cards Logan’s hair. Which makes older man hate himself for not hugging Wade often before, when they were so happy, and lived under one roof not knowing this day would come.

Wade: You are, and always will be the best wolverine.

Logan hides his face in Wade’s neck, ashamed someone might see him, how destroyed he is with pain of leaving him, forever.

Wade: Thank you infinitely, for staying, saving my world.

Wade’s hushed voice sends chills, and throat begins to burn, yearning to say one last thing as he hears footsteps approaching.

Logan: Thank you for becoming mine.

(lmk if you’re interested in me writing full fic based off of this💛❤️)

[jolalibrary]

ix. put me to bed

frankie morales x f!reader | chapter nine of i like the way you

best friend! friends with benefits! frankie morales summary: what starts off as an offhand remark, quickly becomes a regular, scheduled 'stress relief'. the only problem is, both of you are in denial that you feel anything outside of friendship for the other.

warnings: friends with benefits. fwb! rules. idiots who are so in love it’s stupid. feelings. angst with fluff. dont hate the jo. a love confession, but not to the other. mention of alcohol (a few drinks). one use of the nickname 'bean', no use of y/n

word count: 4.1k

an: the most overwhelming thanks to @thetriumphantpanda for reading this chapter and the next, and giving me the comfort i needed to say goodbye to them.

He doesn’t know where to begin.

For the longest time, he just stands. Eyes sweeping across the effort you had made—the weight of it hitting into him. Contemplating the reason behind it, letting it mist over him, slathering itself onto his clothes, making them cling to his bones.

Drowned. He feels like he’s drowning.

It’s making everything feel tight, uncomfortable. All the while processing this thing he’s squandered. Ruined. Destroyed like he does everything else in his life.

Because you had broken a rule for him.

A declaration that you had encased in a statement, it all bold. He can only imagine from the display (and an array of wick-burnt candles) that it would have been illumed by dancing flames.

That is if he hadn’t overslept. If he had put on an alarm, done something other than close his eyes and hope.

Usually, Frankie doesn’t nap. He barely, and rarely even sleeps. Hasn’t been particularly good at getting a good amount for a while. Too many thoughts which keep him paralysed in the dark, ifs and buts and maybes all circling. The unknown faces of the loved ones that are left behind because he had something to do, achieve, complete.

Even since he’d gotten out, it hadn’t improved. In fact, it had worsened, doubling more so in the time since Colombia—only improving whenever he finds himself next to you. When your soft breaths in, and out, calm him, the scent of your shampoo takes the last bit of stress from him, handing him only a pleasant night's sleep.

He’d wanted to return the favour—give his attention, his time. It’s why he’d closed his eyes to begin with, why he’d thought grabbing an hour would be beneficial.

Now, it’s spoiled everything.

His teeth leave indents on the inside of his mouth, biting further down until it stings. The pads of his fingers tug at his curls as he unsticks his foot from the floor, deciding it was likely best he begin to tidy.

One, in the hope it’ll distract him, pass the time until you return from wherever it is you’ve gone. Two, because it’ll at least provide you with a clean home to return to—no evidence of the night he’d let you down.

It’s only when he’s cleared the table, mid-scraping the food into your bin, does he glance up. Eyes landing on your fridge, finding the Polaroid stuck to it—the one the two of you had taken at some BBQ years ago. Your lips pressed to his cheek, his eyes closed, lines in the corners as he grins something stupid. It always makes him smile when he sees it—had even begged you to let him take it when he began working away.

No. If you take it, you’ll have nothing to come visit me for.

As if that could ever be true.

He remembers when he told you about his license, the stupid drug charge. You had been the first place he thought of going. Rocking up to your door, enveloped in your porch light he stood more mess than man, shaking, trembling, so fearful that his life would go up in flames. But, you were an anchor, a thing which rooted him and didn’t let him float up into the sky. Hand on his back, guiding him in.

Whatever it is, it’ll be okay, Frank. I promise.

You had been right. Like you were about so many things.

Constantly a calming vibe, a thing he instantly feels better around—relaxing and unknotting him, it not mattering what state he presented himself to you in.

Closing his eyes, he runs his thumb over his phone—without even needing to open them, he finds your contact. Suddenly drowned in the dull ringing tone. It sounds out in the tension, vibrating against it, making it more prominent, until it rings to nothing, stuffing it back where he won’t see you and your face illuminated on the background of his phone.

Sinking into your sofa, he feels he should go. Return back to his place, pass all the buildings he’s just torn past, likely hit each red light on the way home (a thing he’s sure he deserves). He should get behind the wheel, tap his thumbs against it as he hopes you’ll ring him, maybe even force him to change lanes and come to you.

He sits instead. Both in the discomfort of his own making and the sorrow of a failed night—letting it sink into him. Pierce in, leave a mark, an invisible tattoo needled in with what he hopes isn’t your tears, sadness and anger. Yet, he suspects it’s all three.

His phone buzzes, heart flipping as he pulls it out of his jean pocket, hoping he sees your name—sees your face lit up on his screen. That happy one, where your eyes are closed and your mouth is open, it snapped a year ago, his shades hanging off the tip of your nose and a streak of jam on your cheek from a doughnut.

It isn’t your name.

Isn’t even a call.

Just one text, from Will.

Come get your girl, Fish.

He drives calmer than when he’d headed over. Only for the fact he doesn’t want to face the judgment when he arrives.

Because Will is nothing but predictable, likely timing him, knowing the exact minute of when he should arrive from either his own place or yours.

Naturally, he’s greeted by him—waiting outside, arms folded.

“Hey. Where is she?”

Frankie is barely confident he’s shut the door of his truck, only hoping it’ll lock as he presses the button, walking across the road to him—coming face-to-face with his friend.

It’s clear there’s judgment there, all heavy—embedded in confusion and disappointment. Both were like old friends sliding in, sketching across the same face he’d been beside in sand dunes and deep in jungles alongside.

“Inside.”

Something tightens, the rope threading through itself further, creating another knot he’ll struggle to undo. “She tell you?”

Will snorts. “No. But she didn’t not tell me either.”

“You out here to defend her or something?”

Narrowing his eyes, Will just stares—letting it simmer for a moment, letting it bubble in tension before he runs his thumb across his bottom lip.

“No,” he eventually says. “If anything, I’m not sure who she’s more pissed at. Apparently, I betrayed her.”

Frankie bites back a smile, dipping his head, hiding it—hopefully.

“Tell me I upset her for the right reason,” Will continues. “Tell me I didn’t make her look at me all crushed for no reason, Fish.”

Scratching the back of his curls, he swallows.

“C’mon man, gimme something here. I’ve had to watch the two of you do this fuckin’ dance for years. Ever since you left Ben’s. I thought, maybe this is it, maybe the two of them will open their eyes.”

Rubbing his arm, he drags his tongue across his bottom lip. Staring just passed him, at the windows of the bar—wondering if you’re there, if you’re further tucked inside, simmering, all hating and fury—

“Fish.”

“What?”

Giving him a pointed look, Will throws his arms out to the side. Wearing a look he’s seen before. One usually there when he’s telling someone off—berating them.

“What do you want me to tell you?” he asks.

Because, he isn’t sure. Not even wholeheartedly confident he knows what to say.

It’s why it was supposed to come out solid, all sharp edges and deep. Instead, it comes out shaky, weak—wrapped in nerves and encased in concerns. Defeat flowing through him, smothering everything else—made worse by the tilting head of his friend.

“You want me to tell you that I’m in love with her? Well, I am. I have been for… fuck—longer than I’ve known. You want me to tell you that I’ve been happier than I have been the last few months getting to enjoy seeing what it would be like to be with her, because I can’t.”

Swallowing, Frankie runs his hand across his face.

“You want me to tell you that I can’t stop thinking about her, that it feels like my heart has been wrenched out and gutted from my fucking chest because I let her down tonight—that she deserves better—“

“Fish…”

“—she does. Someone good, someone like you who makes her laugh, is there at the drop of a phone call, and can provide—“

The ball doesn’t shrink, it just pulses. Filling the space in his throat, constricting, widening in the limited avenue it has until he almost chokes on it.

“—and I can’t. I… I don’t know how to do any of it. Even if being with her feels like everything—like the fucking rain doesn’t make me think of Colombia, doesn’t make me remember the weight of carrying his body. Because—“

It catches and hits the back of his teeth. Attempting to swallow, shove it back. A sting to his eyes as he tries to blink it away.

But it isn’t so easily hidden, removed—or buried. It’s there now, existing, risen to the surface, bobbing up and down on emotions which are too heavy to sink to the bottom of his soul.

“—Because—“

“Y’need to tell her,” Will says, finally cutting through. Hand on his shoulder, grappling him, digging his fingers in. “Believe me.”

Blinking, he breathes. Takes more air in. Trying to settle his nerves, the adrenaline from letting it all out. “What if I lose her?”

“Y’won’t. Do you know why? Because while you’re getting worked up about what you think she deserves, she’s sat wishing she was good enough for you. So, talk to her. Trust me.”

Nodding, he casts his eyes down, hearing the door of the bar open—the loudness escaping out into the otherwise quiet street—as he locks eyes with you. You, who even with anger simmering, take his fucking breath away.

“I don’t like her like that, Fish,” Will whispers. “Never have. But even if I did, it wouldn’t have mattered. She’s always been yours.”

You’re quiet when he opens the door, even more so when you slide in beside him. A part of you knows he'll hate it, the silent treatment.

But, it's either that, or words, all matted together, coming out like a magician's infinite silk handkerchief.

You're sure that's what is simmering in your chest, all eroding, bubbling, all coiled and twisted. At the heart of it is disappointment, followed up by so much more. It prickles in and around the truck, adding in thick layers to the tension—it all being plucked like the chords of a song.

Your stomach swirls, in the opposite way to your head. The few drinks you had mixed with the emotional whiplash you were still recovering from.

Because when you’d seen him, all you had wanted to do was bury your head into his chest. Somehow hold him, rid yourself of the doubts, the worries. The thoughts which had thundered inside of you, were only diluted by the anger you’d been feeling that maybe, just maybe, he’d decided against doing this thing with you.

It isn’t until the engine rumbles, does your stomach make a noise, a grumble. The hunger rising, not as easily ignored as it had been before—when you’d been turning things over. Purposefully choosing to sit in the complex emotions Will tried to urge you to explain.

But how could you?

Especially when you were unsure at what point they began and ended? A love that had woven in and around all of you, threaded itself between bones and became part of muscles.

“How much did you drink?”

Twisting your fingers around the strap of your bag, you swallow. “Two, maybe three.”

You catch his brow arching, lips tightening into a thin line. His profile is all lit up by the lights above dashing past as he heads down the quiet road.

“Someone spilt a drink on me. That's... that's why you can smell it.”

“You okay—I got a hoodie in the back?”

Snorting, you lick your lips. “No. I’m fine. Was just a shot—smells worse than it is.”

Pulling up to a light, you hear him take a deep breath. A sound you shouldn’t be happy to hear, but you are. It settling things, easing the grip around your heart—the one which had tightened when you’d wondered if something had happened, if he had been hurt—

“You really do stink.”

You don’t laugh, just bite it back, letting the lights go green as he drives and drives. Your head wants nothing more than to turn, stare at him—ask him what happened, shout and even cry.

You do none of it.

Just waiting until he pulls up, in that spot his vehicle always finds itself in. The engine cuts, the air around the two of you turning silent.

It’s just you, and him, your dark and quiet street, and the animals who wish for some privacy as they get up to no good.

“I…” he begins, clearing his throat. “I need you to know I didn’t mean to stand you up—I overslept.”

“I know,” you mumble, shaking your phone. “Saw your text.”

Nodding, he chews his cheek, sighing. “I know people let you down, but please... I wouldn’t, I didn’t mean to do that to you. I just—I needed a nap, just… fuck I just wanted to be more alert.”

Biting your bottom lip, you almost pierce it. It stings, throbs, worsening in the seconds that pass as you nod.

Undoing your seatbelt, shifting yourself to the side. Pulse thumping in your ear, beating, getting louder and louder, and then you look at him.

The way his eyes have widened, soft, all worried. His face pinched, his lips in a thin line, but it’s the dark circles under his eyes, the darkened tinge you know wasn’t there the week prior.

Because you’ve mapped him. Know every inch of him now. Somehow able to carve him from clay with how your hands know him, able to spot the way his hand feels in yours from a lineup.

“I just didn’t want to have waited all week to see you, and fall asleep once I was around you.”

Snorting. “I must be good company.”

He whispers your name, more urgently, all quick. “You’re… I feel relaxed around you, that’s all.”

Sighing, the car fills with the sound, as he lets his head roll back onto the headrest. And you can feel him staring at you, getting the feeling he’s unable to take his eyes off of you. As if he’s almost unable to, commanded to.

You hate that you feel the same. That you always feel the same. Your eyes scanning over each angle of his face, an act you’ve done thousands of times, but this time, feels, different.

“Why didn’t you tell me you weren’t sleeping?”

“It’s not that I’m not sleeping. More that I’m just not sleeping as well.”

You almost say same. Spill it. Share it with him.

You’re just fearful of what will come with it. Confessions are so easy when your mind is full of the things you can’t say, mixing with the tiredness that’s come on from worrying, from being nervous, from crying—from keeping a tight lip when Will tried to get you to open up.

At this point, it would be easier to tell him that you dream of waking beside him. Your linens, but in his bedroom—all dark walls that make the day not seem like it's arrived, just so you could steal more time with him.

“How long?”

Smirking, it softens into a smile as the seconds collect. “Since I began spending one night a week curled up against you.”

Eyes dropping, your fingers begin playing with the zip on your bag. Pulse thundering in your head, that little screech starting in your eardrum as you try to keep yourself calm, try not to let yourself get ahead of yourself.

“It’s why…” pinching the bridge of his nose, you let your gaze wander back to him. “I just wanted to see you on more sleep than I’d had since I was up there.”

“Don’t be cute.”

“You want me to turn it off?”

Looking down, you nod. A playful smile begins to grace your lips, feeling him still watching you. You sit in it—all the things unspoken. The fact that hours ago, all you had wanted to do was pour your heart out, tell him, clutch his cheeks—love me, Frankie, please love me.

Now, you fiddle with any part of your bag you can. Secretly wanting him to kiss you, render you thoughtless—make the night fade, blend into a sea of other ones. Because you’re not sure how to explain to him how often you think of him, how his name comes so easily to rest on your lips when you first wake in the morning when you’re having a bad day, when your hand is sliding under the band of your underwear seeking a little something to unwind.

It’s him. Always him.

Even if you know that a part of you also knows he isn’t yours. He doesn’t owe you anything, it all barely an agreement, barely anything in place which would explain the way you feeling—how crestfallen, shattered and smashed into a thousand pieces.

“Bean…” he whispers.

Forcing your eyes to drag up. “You’ve not called me that in ages.”

Smiling half-heartedly, he snorts.

An old nickname, a thing he called you for no reason, but it stuck. Became a fixture. A thing now replaced with other pet names, other terms of affection. You're not sure which one makes your heart double in size more.

Not now. Not when all you do is feel so much for him.

“I’m so sorry.”

“I know,” you reply. And you do.

Not meeting his eyes, not able to, a part of you worrying what will happen if you do—will you ever be able to look away? Will he see through the facade you’d throw up for him, see all the ways he’s managed to bring old scars to the surface, make you feel at fault, foolish—

Your insides churn.

“Okay.”

Lifting your chin, you slide your hand over to take his, gripping it, not letting go. Because there’s not a thing you wanted more than him, not ever. Not when you’d been sat waiting, with time to tick on, and not now sat, feeling his guilt wash from him in thick, horrid waves.

“I thought you’d had enough of me.”

It’s all you can say, swallowing the rest. That you’d worried you were broken, unsave-able—forever destined to be let down and hurt. A pattern of it stitched into you before him, a sea of bad dates and bad relationships, each leaving a different insecurity nestled within you.

“Never,” he breathes.

You blink, feeling the corners blur as the tears approach—your elbow resting on the door of his truck, teeth nipping at your thumb, biting down harder, more intently, just to stifle them. Stop them from building more, fearful of them falling.

Because it heals a shard inside of you—apply glue to it, knowing it’ll be set in a few hours.

“You coming in?”

“Sure, querida.”

Another part of you calms. It sliding back into its original place inside of you—able to take a breath, a real one. Hearing his footsteps fall behind you, your fingers finding your keys, as your door unlocks with far too much ease with how you’d slammed it earlier tonight.

It’s only when you throw your bag on the hook, passing the jacket he’d left behind, that your mind remembers the evidence at your dining table. The thing you wouldn’t be able to explain, even if you tried. The words are all jumbled now, blasted to the inside of your brain by earlier sobs, anger and now beer.

“I’ve already seen it.”

His voice sounds louder in the quiet of your home and the thudding of your head. Your brain whirring, trying to catch up, to think on your feet—be quick, be witty, do something, say anything.

“Tomorrow?” he adds, cutting you off before words even begin to be thought.

A lump forms in your throat, beginning there, all unable to be swallowed as he runs his hand up and down your arm before he heads into your kitchen. You follow, slowly, more cautious in your steps as you hear the tap, hear him grab a glass—all movements that feel normal, but now feel the very opposite of that.

“Drink this.”

“I’m not that drunk.”

“Humour me,” he says, nudging the glass into your hand.

It allows you a moment to spot the table—how spotless it is, the only evidence of the night being the candles, the cutlery he hadn’t put away, the rest is gone, vanished.

“Came to find you,” he says, all able to read you—a thing he does with far too much ease.

And it makes you worry, and panic. Because if he can so easily discern this, does he already know? Had it been an element of why he had needed the nap—more energy to end this, the thing the two of you have that has been more than just sex. It has become something so much more.

You had known it. Had been feeling it.

It was evidenced by the fact you had begun to count more than days till you could see him.

“Remember when you cleaned sick of my floor.”

Snorting, he leans against your counter, all legs outstretched, arms folding—even the outline of him handsome, barely needing the light on to see how good he looks. Because that’s just him.

“Vividly,” he says, smirking. “Not repeating that tonight, are you?”

“No. Didn’t drink much.”

“You keep saying that but your eyes are glazed.”

You bite your lip. “I didn’t eat.”

He doesn’t speak but rather makes a noise. Something in the back of his throat, something he buries in a cough, smothering it from existence with a wipe of his face, as you drain the last bit of your glass.

“Good gi…”

Biting your bottom lip, you pause as you offer it to him, staring at him.

It’s likely wrong, not the thing you should do, but you do it anyway. The gap closing, all easy to do (barely more than three steps) as you clutch his cheeks, crashing your lips to his, hoping it says enough—a gesture which speaks a thousand of the words which keep circling, swimming.

Can you hear me love you, Morales?

His lips moving with yours, the tip of his tongue sliding across your bottom lip—warm, eager, likely saying just as many things, but they’re not easy to read, to tell.

Pulling back, you press your forehead against him, fingers working around his neck, twirling a curl or two. Just being. Taking in the way you can feel his heart hammer against yours, the two of them trying to find a rhythm, desperate to match, to fit.

“Should sleep,” he whispers against you, a soft kiss against your skin. “We can… we can talk tomorrow.”

“Stay—“

Nodding, he cups your face with his hands. “I will, baby. I promise. Out here, on the sofa. You… we should talk tomorrow. You’re tired, I’m tired.”

Tears threaten to spill, hanging, all delicate from your lashes as you slowly lift your head, trying to nod. Your throat tightening, clenching.

“Bean, don’t cry. It’s gonna be alright, we’ll sleep and then tomorrow we’ll talk and it’ll be fine.”

Biting the inside of your cheek, you try to smile. “Okay.”

Kissing your forehead, he lingers, your fingers hovering over his waist, desperate to pull him close.

“You’re not leaving me are you?”

Something shifts in his eyes. A moment where they widen and then narrow ever so slightly—like they’re being pinched by his thoughts, things he likes wants to say, spill, let you know and understand.

“No. Never,” he whispers, fingers clutching your chin, thumb drawing a line up and down it. “I’ll tell you how I’m never going to tomorrow. When you’re sober.”

Okay, you think. Biting your lip, casting your eyes down when you hear him say your name.

“If I…” Frankie scratches the back of his head. “You’ve had a drink… I don’t wanna push things, but if you—”

“I want to fall asleep with you,” you cut in.

Okay, you hear.

And it’s different than the one you thought, different than the nervousness in his voice a second ago. It’s different—all of it. You just hope different doesn’t mean wrong.

FINAL CHAPTER ->

[wabatle]

𓆩⚝𓆪 — Siblings go from love to hate

𓆩⚝𓆪 — Synopsis: both of your relationships with your brothers get destroyed. what now?

𓆩⚝𓆪 — Warnings: reader gets implied thoughts of suicide/self-harm/self-hatred, lots of swearing

𓆩⚝𓆪 — Contains: fem!reader (use of sister), reader gets a partner without a specified gender

𓆩⚝𓆪 — A/N: anon i'm going to start calling you the itoshi brothers anon unless you come up with a label for yourself (which is okay). your brain>>>>>>

Ever since you were young, you had always had a close relationship with your brothers. Even since they were born, you knew they loved you.

“Rin…” Your little self gently pushes open the door.

“What is it, (name)?” He replied.

“I'm bored. Wanna play together?”

He blinked. “Sure. Come here.” He patted the ground next to him.

You never thought to treasure moments like these, as you never thought anything could happen to the three of you.

“Sae, Rin, you're so cool!” You exclaimed after seeing the two of them win another match.

Sae ruffled your hair. “Thanks, (name).”

“You're cool as well. You're really smart.” Rin told you.

Everything changed when Sae went to Spain.

It was no secret that things were different. You were missing a whole older brother.

As Sae was doing whatever it was he was doing in Spain, your bond with Rin just grew stronger.

“Good luck in Spain, Sae.” You told your brother. “Don't get a girlfriend and forget about me.” You hugged him.

“I won't.” He hugged you back. “Same thing goes for you, too. No getting a boyfriend. Ever.”

“I love you, Sae.”

“I love you too, my baby sister.”

You stepped back and held Rin’s hand. Saying goodbye had always been hard for you.

You watched the plane take off, and that was it. Your older brother was gone.

“So… what now?” You asked Rin nervously.

“I…I’m not sure.” He replied.

Four years later, you witnessed Rin get crushed by Sae. You saw all of it. It was horrible to watch. The bond the three of you had, ripped to shreds. You tried to catch Sae as he was leaving.

“Sae!”

He stopped and looked at you.

“U–um, welcome home…”

“Thanks.”

“A–about what happened just now—”

“Save it. I don't want to hear it. He's lukewarm and useless. That's all there is to it.”

“B–but—!”

“Enough. You're just as lukewarm as him. You'll never even be as good as Rin, let alone me. You're lukewarm and useless. I truly am disgusted to call a disgrace like you my younger sister.”

Tears ran down your face. Sae continued walking ignoring your tears. Only 5 years ago would he have dropped everything to make sure you were okay. Now, he doesn't even care.

You dropped to the ground, sobbing. You hated everything. You wondered why the world had decided to punish you in this way, and what you had done.

Slowly, you made your way back home. You went right to your room and locked yourself in. You began to question everything. If you really were useless, if you were good enough, if you were worthy of being alive.

You closed yourself off from everyone. You hardly talked to your friends at school, you blankly sat through conversations with your parents. But worst of all, you and Rin avoided each other.

There was… unsaid tension. Both of you had been hurt by Sae. Neither of you wanted to talk to each other. Rin was too busy thinking about what Sae said while you had convinced yourself that Rin was upset at you.

Rin caught you in the hall of your home one day.

“Hey.” He said, averting your gaze.

“Hi.” You said, also looking away.

“Why haven't you come out of your room? You haven't eaten, you haven't spoken to me, why? What happened?”

“I–I don't know,” You stuttered, “I just… kinda thought you were mad at me.”

“I'm not.”

“Are you sure? You seem kinda irritated…”

“No, I'm fine.” His tone was more hostile.

“Um… okay.” You were surprised by his hostility. He usually was never this cold to you. “I'm just gonna go, then.”

“We're not done talking.” He grabbed your wrist.

“Rin—”

“Stop running from me—”

“Can I just go to the bathroom? Please?”

He let go. “Oh. Fine. Sorry.”

You locked yourself in the bathroom for a while, each time hesitating to come out in case Rin was waiting for you.

Finally, you came out, and to your relief, Rin was nowhere to be found.

You made your way straight to your room, skipping dinner once again that night.

You heard a knock on your door. “(Name)?” You heard Rin's voice. “Can I come in? I brought you dinner.”

Reluctantly and nervously, you got up and opened the door. “I'm not hungry.”

“Like hell you aren't. You haven't eaten all day.”

And, like a perfectly timed reason to prove the universe hated you, your stomach rumbled.

“That's what I thought.” Rin said, walking in and setting the plate down on your desk.

After a moment of very awkward silence, Rin spoke, “Did… Did Sae say anything to you?”

“Um, no.” You lied.

“Oh. Well, he said something to me.”

“...Oh?” You replied with feigned curiosity.

“He said that… No, it's nothing. But what he said made me realize something.”

You could tell where this was going immediately.

“You're gonna tell me that you hate me, huh? You're gonna tell me that you're disgusted to call a leech like me your sister, aren't you?”

“What? No—”

“Get out of my room, Rin. I don't want to talk to you.”

“Fine. Eat.” Rin got up and left, leaving you to cry on your own.

The next day, Rin approached you after school.

“You're skipping practice—” Rin cut you off.

“I was thinking about what you said last night. And you know what? You're right. I do hate you.”

You stared at Rin, eyes widening in fear.

“You're useless. You don't add anything to this family and instead drag us down. You'll never be successful, you'll never make any achievements, nothing. You have no talent.”

“R–Rin—”

“And you were right. I'm disgusted to call you my younger sister. Don't talk to me until you've done something with your worthless life.” He waved you off and left for practice.

You were horrified. Your self-deprecation just got worse from here, causing you to fall into a spiraling depression.

When Rin left for Blue Lock, you were more than relieved. You slowly started to feel safe at home again, but your parents, now with only one child at home, took every chance they could to bother you.

Now, you're twenty two. You moved out to University and you found a partner. Not just a romantic partner, a marital partner. You were so excited to change your last name and leave your Itoshi past behind you.

That was, until one fateful day, your older brother showed up on your doorstep. Sae.

“What are you doing here?” You snarled.

“I came to see you. And how you were doing.”

“I'm doing fine, thanks for asking.” You said with a forced smile. “Much better than I was seven years ago.”

“(Name), listen—”

“No. I don't want to hear it. I don't want to hear some half-baked apology from someone who basically told me I didn’t deserve to be alive. I will never forgive you, and I should be the one ashamed to have such an asshole for a brother. Get out of my house, Sae.”

“I’ll be waiting here until you’re ready to forgive me. I’m aware that what I said was not only horrible, but also straight up false. I love you, you’ll always be my little sister. But I understand if you want to cut contact with me.”

Your expressions softened into a surprised one. “Sae… I hope you know it would take me a really long time to forgive you. You said some really shitty stuff that day.”

“I know. But I can wait.”

“I think it’s best if you just leave.” You said, averting his gaze.

“Okay. Um, I got a new number, so if you want it, let me know.”

You nodded, and Sae walked away. You sat down and put your head in your hands. Just five more days. Then you’ll finally no longer be an Itoshi.

Unfortunately, those five days were nothing short of chaotic. Especially because Rin showed up at your door two days later.

There was only one way you thought Rin could’ve found out about your engagement and your new address.

Sae.

He must’ve noticed the ring on your finger and told Rin.

“Um… Hey, (Name)...”

“What do you want? Why are you here?”

“I, um… I heard you’re engaged.”

“And? What is it to you?”

“I think I have a right to know what’s going on in my sister’s life.”

“Not anymore you don’t. Not after what you said to me.”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“But you did, didn’t you? No fixing it now.”

“Don’t get feisty with me.” Rin growled.

“I can act however I want towards you. I’m not the one who crushed your confidence.”

“(Name)—”

“I don’t want to hear it! Back off and go home, Itoshi!”

“Fuck you! I meant every fucking word I said back then, bitch!”

“Oh, go fuck yourself! Get out of my life and don’t come back! I don’t need someone like you in my life!”

“Fine! Fuck you!” Rin started walking away.

“Don’t talk to me again, asshole!” You shot at him one last time.

Rin flipped you off and kept walking.

Rin, you would never forgive. Sae, maybe, with a lot of love and care, maybe you would forgive Sae.

Just three more days, and then you’ll no longer be an Itoshi.

𓆩⚝𓆪 — thank you for reading!

𓆩⚝𓆪 — taglist (ask 2 be added): @mariaace @plsmarrymehioriyo @stellas-starry-stories13

𓆩⚝𓆪 — blue lock masterlist || masterlist

[sickuma]

Hello, this maybe kinda out of the fiction you always write. But can i ask for some doctor x reader fanfiction? Make it angst please, i will pay for my therapy bills!! 😁😁😁

PATIENT AT ROOM 224 — a Miguel O'hara fiction.

❱ The first actual request ill cover! I have a few lined up but I wanted to do this one first since I got the idea^^ tysm for the request <3 I hope this is to your liking (●'◡'●) Also if some things don't make sense, I barely know things about hospitals pardon me, I'm 15 and have yet to learn more about such gaahhh this one is pretty long!

ꜝ？ Warning. . angst! mentions of chronic illness, death, and such. ﹟paring | doctor Miguel x patient reader

➴ SYNOPSIS — You suffer from an illness without a cure, and your doctor Miguel tries hard to fasten the pace of formulating that cure. Time is not in your favor, you have one wish and it's to see the ocean for the last time. Along with your goodbyes, he revealed a confession.

NEPENTHE — (n.) An ancient Greek word, nepenthe is defined as a medicine for sorrow. It is a place, person, or thing, which can aid in forgetting your pain and suffering.

It’s been four years,

Four years since the hospital became your home, four years since this became your reality. Exactly four years since you’ve been a prisoner of your own health, in constant risk of losing your life. It took a while to accept, but four years have passed, and you knew there was nothing else you can do but sit and wait for the inevitable.

A part of you never let go of that speck of hope,

Maybe you still have a chance, maybe you can still live. You want to live. Despite being quiet and accepting of your situation, the fear was undeniably there, and it grows every day. You don't want to die, you’re scared, it’s frightening. 

It seems you’re not the only one feeling that way,

In front of you stood your doctor, Miguel. He’s been in charge of you for years now, he’s been there since the very beginning. It’s starting to feel like he’s the only person you have ever since your family seldom visited. He had a nonchalant disposition, a permanent scowl on his face, and yet he feels homely.

“vitals are stable,” he spoke flatly, scribbling something on his paper. He had the glasses he wears on certain occasions, looking serious as always.

On most days he’s kept to himself, and on some rare occasions, he would speak to you. Things that aren't needed for your health, basic conversations that brought your head out of your wilting life. You appreciated that, knowing he isn't the type to converse or talk about personal topics. You always notice how his eyes look when he’d lay them on you,

Sorrowful? You’re unsure. But there’s definitely a hint of sadness in them, the type of look someone gives when they need to get something off their chest as if he needed to say something urgent. He never does. 

“How are you feeling?” he asks, placing his clipboard down the table. Looking at you expectantly, his tone was gentler, softer, something his colleagues would find unusual. You smile at him like you always do, which he always found pleasant. “Just like the usual.” “No aches? How about your difficulty with breathing?”

“None.” you lie, You know it’s stupid to be lying to your own doctor but the last time you told him about it, he looked destroyed. You find out he didn't sleep a wink that week, checking the lab and giving them consistent assistance in finding the cure. Breathing isn't that hard—you've grown used to it. You didn't want to cause him that state ever again. You're aware of your condition, and you can almost predict what the future will be, there was no need to stress him out more than he already is.

He looked at you, searching for any signs of lies only for you to chuckle at him. Stifling a laugh which actually made it difficult to breathe, but that didn't matter. “I’m feeling great.”

He sighed, taking his glasses off to massage his temple. “Are you okay?” you ask, tilting your head slightly. “Just worried.” you smile at his response, it’s nice to know someone cares enough to worry for you. But surely he’s only doing it for the sake of his job, it’s his duty to worry for you, still it felt nice.

“Do you think I’ll ever see the ocean again? I want to visit the beach, is there a chance?” you drift the subject subtly. It was your turn to look at him expectantly, for a brief moment he had a look of guilt, you know well why. “If I can, I want to see the ocean again.” 

“Soon,” he mumbles, turning away from you to open a drawer. “You just—I’ll take you there. When things get a little loose, I’ll take you to see the ocean.”

“You will?”

He was shaken, stumped but he can't let you see that. Gathering what’s left of his solace, solace which you've been providing for the last few years.  "We'll see the ocean."

"That's a promise."

The reason why he’s so gentle with you, why he sugarcoats the rough truth as much as he can, why he promises you such things, he doesn’t know why. With you he feels a sense of solace, was it when you speak? The sound of your voice? that mellow look in your eyes? What is it? Countless sleepless nights were earned simply because he tries to find the answer, no matter how much he distances himself to do his job properly and realistically,

You would always be sitting up on that bed, glancing up at him with your tired expectant eyes accompanied by the gentlest smile he has ever come across with. Before he knows it, he’s promising you a cure that probably won't be formulated until a few years. Until you’re not able to wake anymore.

“Rest up, I’ll do another test tomorrow.” “Do you really promise?” you pry, looking up at him with a smile. A genuine one.

“Yeah, I promise.”

﹐

“The patient at room 224, [name] right?” another doctor spoke from behind him, stopping him dead in his tracks, hearing your name. “Their vitals. It wasn't stable.” “You’re lying to them, Miguel.”

Miguel breathes in, turning to look at the owner of the voice. His gentle complexion faded away, replaced by his common scowl. “How long will you foolishly wait for this cure?”

"It takes years, Miguel. Centuries even, to formulate a cure, you of all people know that." the man spoke with worry, Miguel knew he was only concerned and yet he felt almost enraged.

"I don't remember asking for your opinion."

"This isn't about opinions. That person, they're suffering. God, we need to let them rest, we have the family's wish." argued the man, he now had a frown on his face clearly unsure of Miguel’s intentions. “You’re letting their weak heart grasp on a false hope.”

"What about their wish?" he was angry, and he expressed it freely. “The family’s wish? The same family who barely visited them?”

He breathes in his frustration, he can't afford to lose his cool. Especially now that you're in a terrible state.

His colleague was silenced. Looking at him with hesitance.

"Why are you insisting so much? You're a doctor, they're your patient. You have a duty."

"That duty is to protect and keep them alive," Miguel interjects, he’s had enough of this argument, he hated it. He hated how right his colleague was, and yet he choose to be stubborn. "They want to live."

"And I'll make sure of that."

"You have never been this determined for a patient, especially when you know full well what the outcome will be." he waved his hand upwards, stressed at Miguel’s foolish antics "It's inevitable. It's a chronic illness for God's sake."

For the first time, he's stumped, he doesn't have the answer. All he knows is that he wants to keep you alive, he needs to keep you alive,

For your sake or his?

He stares at you, lying on the bed just as you've been for half of the year. Exhaustion is evident even with your sleeping form, Your life was faltering, you know it, He knows it. And yet for some reason, it's a fact he can't accept. For years of his profession, not once has he cared this much for a person.

It was more than that. 

For years of working in this hospital, not once has he been fazed over a patient's condition. No matter how heartless that sounded, he never cared to this extent.

Yet the idea of putting you down hunts him. The idea of putting you down as if you're some sort of animal without control over your own life, without a say in your own life. It taunts him,

To the point he struggles to sleep, often staying up to check up on the cure's status. Staying up worrying about the passing time,

"If I can, I want to see the ocean again."

His eyes squint in conflict, memories of your sorrowful wish passing through his mind. If he could show you the ocean, he would. If he could show you the world you missed out on, he would. You deserved it, more than anyone, you deserved everything he can give. 

He felt enraged, not because of the workload he has to push through. But for not knowing why it hurts him so much to witness you wilt, he feels confused and conflicted. The growing ache in his heart adding up to his stress,

“I'll talk to them tomorrow Miguel.” his colleague decided sternly, “ill tell them the truth and they will decide. You can watch but you can’t oppose.”

He walks away, leaving Miguel before he could even respond or disagree. Frustration surges through him though it can't compare to how helpless he felt. This was his only way of helping you, even that can get taken away, it feels like a stab in the throat. Slamming his office door shut, he sat on the chair, palming his face. “fuck.”

﹐

“What's happening here?”

Miguel spoke with a perplexed look, there were about 4 people inside your room. Papers in their hands. While you laid on the bed, signing the papers obediently, looking even weaker than the day before. “Miguel!”

You greet him with that stupid smile you always have, why were you smiling? Miguel could feel his nerves rise, seeing all the people and how they looked at him with fright.

“[name] what’s this?” he looks at you, pushing through the people to draw near you.

“They're fixing the documents for the euthanasia.”

He didn't open his mouth to speak for a few minutes, gathering enough strength and making sure he heard you correctly. “Get the hell out.”

He didn't need to repeat it, a man took the signed papers from you and everyone left the room shortly. Leaving you with an angry man who used to be the gentle Miguel who visited you daily to promise you a better life. “Why?”

He asks. He knew he was acting out of line as your doctor. But at this moment he wasn't your doctor, he was Miguel. The man who soothes your sleepless nights, the man who sticks with you even off duty, the only man who cared enough. He didn't say anything else, he simply looked at you with disappointment and sadness,

“They told me the pain only gets worse from here,” you humor a laugh. “If there's a worse pain than what i have right now, I don't think—I can only imagine what that would be like.”

“You didn't wanna die.” he interrupts, a frown evidently shown on his face. “You told me, you're scared.”

He looked almost devastated, well he is. It was obvious just from the look of his eyes, he wanted you to answer, and he wanted you to answer truthfully.

You breathe in, the smile falling soon enough. “I know, I am, I really am scared.”

“But I've been—it’s been like this for four years, how long will I trap myself in this situation? How long will I keep making myself suffer? Im just… tired. I want to live, I really do but if living means staying inside the hospital walls and consisting of lab tests, excruciating pains, and breathing difficulty, then I don't think that’s living at all.” 

He looks away, dawning on him just how selfish he sounded. Asking you why, barging in hoping to convince you otherwise. It was selfish of him. All this time he was focused on what he wanted and needed, constantly going to extents just to save you for his sake, 

He nods, “I'm sorry I just—” he paused looking back at your eyes. I really wanted you to stay he wanted to say it out loud, but he felt it was not necessary. “When is it?”

“Tomorrow.”

His eyes widened briefly, looking at her with disbelief once again. “So soon?” his voice was weak, a fleeting look of desperation in his eyes. 

“I asked for that.” you looked away fiddling with the blankets. That’s when he noticed you weren't sitting up like you usually were, if his predictions were correct it was because your body was too weak to manage sitting up. It was once again this illness, slowly eating away your life against your will, 

He felt his heart sink deeper, feeling more affected than he ever was. He wanted to shout, he wanted to convince you to retract your signage, anything to make you stay, but that wasn't his decision to make.

It was yours, it was your right.

He won't defy you as everyone else did. If it’s truly what you wish then he would support you, no matter how heavy it feels to the heart, he’ll wholeheartedly support you like he always has. 

“Then…”

He pauses, causing you to look back at him weakly waiting for him to continue.

“I promised to take you to see the ocean right.” 

It was his turn to look away, suppressing the tears that threatened to fall. Its been decades since he last cried, yet he finds himself weak for you, refusing to let the tears fall. Not wanting you to see just how affected he was, he didn't want you to worry knowing you will. 

“Let's go see the ocean, okay? Before you go,” he had to pause every few seconds, afraid another word will cause him to break down. "Like I promised."

“Let’s go see the ocean together.”

﹐

It was almost dawn, he never left your room ever since that conversation. He stayed all day and during the night, watched you fall to sleep, rubbing the back of your hand as you doze off. He felt his heart break with every passing hour, 

Knowing that it’ll come eventually. The time he’ll have to let you go.

He watched as your calm expression fall to slumber, it was the first time he’s ever seen you so serene. You would always have this tired expression as if everything in the world pained you, for some reason he knew some parts of that was true. This life truly failed you, you deserved better.

Yet you smiled and accepted your fate. He could remember just how happy you looked when he broke the news about the ocean,

At that moment, he witnessed genuine happiness from you. It was the first time he saw your full smile, it wasn't a half smile, not a small one, it was real. And he loved it, he wanted to look at it forever, to admire it as much as he can. Perhaps that's what made this so bittersweet,

Despite his desire for you to stay, he prioritized what you wanted, what you needed.

As long as you’re happy, he's at peace.

“[name], it’s time to go,” he whispers, gently waking you up. Stuffing his keys deep into his pocket, “Let’s go see the ocean, amor.”

He didn't care about what he was saying nor what he just called you, he was just focused on fulfilling your wish. He needed to hurry before the sunrise, he wanted to watch it with you. If this would be the last sight you see before you go, he wanted it to be the most beautiful youve ever seen.

Your eyes fluttered open, greeted by Miguel picking your limp body up in his arms to carry you toward his car. He was gentle, careful not to hurt or cause you discomfort, it made your heart leap with joy and ache at the same time, 

“We’re going to see the ocean now?” you ask excitedly, a bit of rasp to your voice from the sleep. His face scrunched up, biting his lip to suppress his emotion.

“Yes,” he responds, attempting to sound just as thrilled as you are. “Yes, we are.”

The drive wasn't long, nor was it eventful. It was mostly silent, with a few remarks from you ranting about how much you loved the beach as a child and how excited you are to see it along with the sunrise. He was fulfilling two wishes of yours, you couldn't be more grateful.

On the other hand, he drove silently. Responding to your stories ever so often, occupied with his sinking heart. He was happy, truly, seeing you look so lively,

It was the most life he’s ever seen from you in your four years of seeing each other in the hospital walls. It hurts him a tad bit, how easily pleased you are, how failed you are by everything in your life.

He had to gather himself, he needs to be happy for your sake. Seeing you peer through the window with a smile, it was like your eyes were shining with excitement, it caused a bittersweet smile to his lips. “We’re here.”

The two of you were just in time, a few minutes before dawn passes with the sunrise on its way. He carefully picked you up from the car, seeing your smile from the corner of his eyes, it was the brightest, at least the brightest smile he's ever seen from you. And you smiled a lot all throughout that four years.

He felt the sand sinking his shoes as he walked with you in his arms, walking until he reached a spot he deemed perfect. “I can stand,” you eagerly spoke, looking at him expectantly.

He would've refused if this was just a normal day, but this was your last day. He wouldn't reprimand you any joy you want. With support, he drops you carefully, holding your waist and your hand on the other. Your legs trembled, they hurt but you ignored it, too busy looking ahead to even feel the excruciating pain all throughout your body. He made sure to hold and support you properly,

“It’s pretty,” you mumble, mesmerized by how the sun slowly made its way to exposure.

You looked ahead, while he looked at you. “It is.”

He knew it wouldn't be long until the tears form, so he savored the moment to admire your face before his eyes blur out with tears. “Should we sit?”

You nod, looking at him briefly before you return your gaze to the front. Taking in the breeze and the scenery, it was painful yet beautiful. You wouldn't ask for more,

“Thank you, Miguel.”

He was silent, letting you speak. “I never thought I could be this happy, but I’m really really happy. My heart could jump!” chuckling at your own words, you turned to him. Tears were evident from your eyes, he disliked it, it made his tears threaten to fall as well. “I really really am happy. Truly.”

“No,” he spoke, looking ahead this time. “Thank you.”

“Thank you for everything.”

You looked at him in confusion, letting out a short laugh. “But for four years i was just at that very bed. What did I do for you worth gratifying for?”

“Existing.” he says calmly, “thank you for existing.”

It was your turn to be quiet, looking at him and observing his expression carefully. It was the first time he outwardly showed emotions, tears brimming in his eyes. They made yours fall even more. “Thank you for existing and waking my heart.”

“Waking… your heart?”

“Yes,” he responds, with a smile. The very first time you saw his smile, it was a sight truly. A beautiful one, almost on par with the ocean and the sunrise. “Thank you for making me love again.”

His words were unexpected but you kept quiet, taking in his confession. He was pouring his heart out, calmly and painfully. It was almost confusing, yet it was beautiful.

“I loved you the moment you smiled at me. The moment you looked at me in a way only you will—I know it’s odd, I know it’s unusual but I haven't stopped loving you since.” he looked back at you, holding you in his arms as you both sat on the sand.

He had a look of hurt, but a look of acceptance mixed in with a thousand emotions he had on display “When I look at you, I don't want to look at anything else but you.”

“I want to care for you, I wanted to protect you—I wanted to save you.” he was letting himself cry. For the first time in years, he allowed himself to be vulnerable “I won't ask you to return that love. Because it's yours and yours only.”

“Miguel.” you barely whispered, ignoring the pain that gnawed on your body. 

“I'll keep loving you,” “I'll love you today, ill love you tomorrow, I'll love you forever.”

You both were a crying mess and for some reason, it felt right. The serene breeze of the ocean, the light of the sunrise. It was a perfect moment, the pain was indescribable but none of you would have wanted anything else at this moment. You didn't speak, only looked at him as he does to you. Even without words he knew, the way you stared at him with tears-stained eyes, he knew you understood, he knew you heard him.

He stifles a short laugh, “It's a bit unfortunate for me but if I were to fall in love once more, I’ll choose you over and over again.”

You laid your head on his chest, letting him hold you in your last moments. Closing your eyes, pushing out the tears which didn't seem to stop,

“Until I'm nothing but a fading memory to this world, ill keep loving you even then.”

“If I was given a chance to live, I would have wanted to spend it with you like this as well.” you smile at his chest, intertwining your fingers with his. Feeling yourself falter and falter every passing moment, “There wasn't a moment where your love wasn't reciprocated, Miguel.”

He held you, tightly but gently. Tight enough to not let you go, gently enough to allow you to feel his love. Your words strike his heart in every right way, in every painful way.

“Thank you for unknowingly saving me.”

As the sun rise, the silence of the place allowed him to grieve, giving him space to accept what has passed. He stared ahead, caressing your hair gently, as you depart in his arms. Where you belonged, where you wanted to be.

It was a wonder why the skilled doctor always had a scowl on his face, who knew the patient at room 224 was all it takes to wake his sleeping heart.

this was a fun to write (●'◡'●) bandaids for everyone?

( :̲̅:̲̅:[̲̅:★:]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅)

( :̲̅:̲̅:[̲̅:★:]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅)

( :̲̅:̲̅:[̲̅:★:]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅)

this is unedited!!!

[nochukoo97]

seven dates a week - monday

pairing: jungkook x reader

summary: a series of you and jungkook’s dates throughout the week, jungkook is a sweetheart and spoils you a lot, too much in your opinion.

word count: 1.2k+

a/n: OMG super excited for this i am going to make this a small series, probably just seven parts to this for each day of the week but here’s the first fic! but i may open a taglist and asks for this if i think it does well ☺️

seven dates a week masterlist!

“one touch and you got me stoned~” jungkook’s voice rings throughout the car as the radio plays, you two starting the day early in the morning by going to a coffee shop for breakfast.

you giggle as you point your camera towards your boyfriend who’s currently singing his heart out and driving. when the car stops at the red light, jungkook looks at the camera as he sings with a dramatic expression on his face, causing you to laugh even more.

“your touch blurred my vision, it’s your world and im just in it- oh shit” your boyfriend halts mid-performance when he realises the car behind him had honked for him to go, jungkook was too engrossed in singing for you he had paid no attention to the red light that was now green.

“baby it’s this one, turn right,” you point towards the little coffee shop at the corner of the road that you had searched up for you and jungkook to go.

as you get out of the car, you excitedly grab your boyfriend’s hand, ready to walk into the coffee shop you had been dying to go to.

“jagi, calm down” jungkook laughs while being forcefully dragged to walk two times as fast to the entrance of the coffee shop.

“ohmygosh- baby look this is so cute!” you squeal as you scan the room, pretty flowers adorn the ceiling and there was even a house cat that lived in the coffee shop, according to the website.

even after the waiter had sat the both of you down and given you the menus to place your order, you quickly got distracted and walked towards the cat laying near the entrance.

“hiii cutie, oh my goodness,” you coo as the cat purrs, flipping over on its back to let you scratch its tummy.

“jagi-ah, you want the matcha latte right?” jungkook calls out as he peers over from the menu.

“yeah, you can order whatever food, i can share with you,” you don’t even look back at your boyfriend as you continue to shower the fat grey cat with attention.

—-

“baby, come the food is here,” your boyfriend calls out to you again, you unwillingly walk back to the table as you bid the cat goodbye.

“NO WAIT-” you nearly scream and jungkook who had a fork in his hand, ready to devour the pancakes prettily plated in front of him.

“jesus, you scared me,” your boyfriend grumbled as he leaned back in his chair, forgetting that you always scolded him whenever he began to eat without allowing you to take photos of the food.

“if you had put the fork in the pancake i would have killed you,” you snap a picture of the pancake, angling it so that jungkook’s torso was in the frame.

“okay now can i eat?” jungkook whines as you snap a couple more, nodding to him as he absolutely destroys the stack of pancakes, making the one’s at the top fall all over the place. you decide to let that slide.

“baby, try my drink,” you hold out your cup towards him, but jungkook only scrunches up his face seeing the green drink he always had a strong hatred to.

“you know i hate that thing, its disgusting,” your boyfriend refuses the offer, but you wont take no for an answer.

“just try it, trust me its like sooooo good,” you definitely weren’t exaggerating in your opinion, but jungkook thinks otherwise.

you laugh as your boyfriend hisses as the drink slides up the straw into his mouth.

“urgh, taste like shit,” he groans as you slap his arm.

“don’t say that here! the staff can hear you!” you scold him but he waves you off anyways.

before you can say anything else, your boyfriend is stuffing a huge mouth of pancakes into your mouth as you can only frown at him.

he snaps a picture on his phone.

“baby what do u think about getting matching bracelets, i saw a shop had one and its pretty cute,” jungkook talks to you as you nod, still chewing the huge amount of pancakes in your mouth.

“urgh, you stuffed so much in my mouth,” you say as you dramatically gasp for air after swallowing.

“isn’t the first time i did that,” he’s smirking as if he was very proud of his comment.

“jungkook!” you hiss at him as you look around, thankfully the cafe was not too packed, so hopefully no one heard.

“i wasn’t lying,”

the audacity to give you a sly smile.

——

“babe, why are we at cartier,” you ask, as jungkook drags you by the hand into the shop before you can resist

“what do you mean?” he smiles back at you, “to buy our bracelets!”

your jaw drops as your boyfriend is grinning widely at you.

“baby, nonono- we can’t do this, it’s so much money,” you start to try and pull your hand away from him, but your boyfriend is too strong to let go.

“why not, it can be our anniversary gift!” he pulls you closer to him and wraps his arm around your waist, leading you towards the display cases.

“babe, our anniversary was two months ago and you bought me an expensive handbag, don’t make excuses,” you whine as you want to run out of the store, not wanting your boyfriend to spend so much money on you for the millionth time this year.

“it’s okay baby i want this, even if you don’t want it ill wear both for myself,” he sits you down on the chair at the display case as he tells the staff which piece of jewelry he wants to see.

“we both know you will end up making me wear one,”

“exactly”

so thats how you ended up with two cartier love bracelets, one on each of you, that cost way more than you want to imagine.

but you thank jungkook for it anyways.

——

your last destination for the day is the mall, to run a few errands like picking up groceries for the house.

but your terrible at sticking to the plan as you drag jungkook into the store that caught your attention.

jungkook groans as you begin to saunter towards the giant eevee plushie at the near end of the small shop.

“baby, come on, let’s stick to our plan and go to the supermarket,” jungkook tries to gently coax you away from that terrible giant piece of fluff that you might eventually convince him to let you bring home.

“but baby, i really really need this,” you pout at the huge plushie, pointing towards it as you slowly manage to drag your boyfriend closer and closer to it.

each step was a step closer to victory.

——-

“i can’t believe i have this huge ass thing in the back of my car right now,”

you frown at your boyfriend’s mean and horrible words.

“don’t say that to eevee, you will make her cry,” you smack your boyfriend’s arm as he looks at you in offense

“that thing can’t hear me and it doesn’t have feelings baby, it’s okay,”

“don’t call it a thing!”

in the end jungkook is forced to give your new plushie a big warm welcome into your shared apartment as he sets the huge soft toy down in the middle of the living room.

[thegnomelord]

Shark

- 🦈

(WOBSVHDVUH. HOLY MOTHER OF SHARKS. HOW DO YOU WRITE SO GOOD. Gosh you, darn you, daum you. Fuel my god daum brainrot.

Now im thinkin of angst. DONT WRITE IT, I CANNOT HANDLE YOUR WRITING IN ANGST. THIS IS JUST A BRAIN BLURB.

Price is close to death whether it be the ultimte battle between the destruction of all that can die or of a horrid enemy, they have yet to defeat.

Price is alive, but too far to be ever saved. The boys want to summon their captain's ole friend, to say a well had goodbye, maybe even save him. But no books, no scrolls, nor anything etched in stone on the surface depicts them. Nothing.

Price dies knowing hes lived a good life, praying to all the gods that his beloved eldritch dosent destroy the surface he called home.

The only way the poor eldritch finds out, are when Prices ashes are swallowed by the waves.

In every storm, waves tower over the heights of skyscraper, to the point not even those that could fly can cross. Death is quick when it comes to the ocean, like it trying to collect all power it can withhold. Creatures are cruel when it comes to what has killed their gods beloved, relentlessly acttacting what they can. Sharks are rare, to the point their sighting have come near myth or legend. Yet, they will always come come towards any that is draconic for they miss them. Ocean creatures, humanoid or not, would cry with no control, close to fire, dragons or smoke. They grieve. They all grieve.

But, Dragons seem to live longer when close to the waves. Saving them in dire situations when the fall from they sky, wounds healed when submerged in the salty sea. Even if you were pure fire, absolute whole magma. You'd be saftely cradled in any and all water. Water is the safest, the safest they have ever felt in all of their exsistence. They know this feeling, it is old, it is familiar, it is embedded in blood.

For the ocean rembers, it always remembers.)

Okay honestly your brain farts are always so good but. . . But . . . I'm so sorry sharky. This came to before you even wrote your ask and now I have to do it, you're just the sacrificial goat. . .

CW: SFW, angst, made myself cry :/ Got some idea inspo from @heliumknife

John Price doesn't die on a notable day. He doesn't die on the day of reckoning, doesn't die on the day fire rains from the sky and blood muddles your oceans, doesn't die alongside human gods, doesn't die on the day he may meet what made him and hear he was a good man.

John Price dies on a regular Tuesday night.

Not even a blip on the radar.

Having saved the oblivious world yet again he retches a bloodied cough as he stumbles on the beach he'd ended up on. His legs give out, the course sand rubbing his skin when he falls, red blood slowly seeping between the grains. Distantly he can hear his boys calling for him, watching the waves wash onto the shore, the tide too low to reach him; too low for you to sense him.

He can feel Gaz scrambling to stem his bleeding, Soap desperately searching through the first aid kit, Ghost barking on the coms that Price is hit. And as the world begins to grow quiet, the low murmur of waves washing upon the sand filling his ears, washed up amber glittering in his blurring eyes, the scent of seaweed and brine filling his rapidly slowing lungs—

Price smiles — he'll slumber with you soon.

Only when the morning tide comes in do you sense his blood, do you rouse from the depths like lightning, waking from a nightmare to find it has followed you to the waking world.

You're too late.

Like always.

He's so still.

Peaceful — worry lines and wrinkles smoothed out and face relaxed you could delude yourself into thinking he's just sleeping. Oh those dragons with their slumber; he'll grumble when you go to wake him, demanding five more bloody minutes of your attention as if he's the god here. Cling to you like a barnacle and growling like a kitten until you give in and lay down next to him. Give a rumbling purr and laugh at how he got a god wrapped around his finger until you shut him up with a kiss.

But you can't.

Your vessel's eyes keep darting to the blood staining his clothes, the crusted red lines trailing from his lip down his chin, the stillness of his chest, the silence.

They tell you John Price died protecting his team from a brutal foe. John Price died protecting the world. John Price died protecting the very people who in your recent shared memory had been happy to sharpen sticks and melt rock into to steel all in an vain attempt at glory. . .

John Price died a hero.

Your John died.

And you weren't there.

"Hey. . ." You look at Gaz when he speaks, standing on the opposite side of the medical table they've laid his body on. ". . .I know you two were, close." He chokes up, voice rough and nasally, fresh tear tracks staining his cheeks.

You envy him for it. For once you wish you were the ant on a circuit board instead of it's maker, just so you could see the world like they do, mourn like they do — open, visible, showing you cared, showing he wasn't just a toy in your sandbox. That Price was the voice you'd hear when loosening the noose of the rope, the beckoning call beyond the reach of your waves, the one that held that wretched excuse you call a heart.

But you can't.

All your treacherous vessel manages to achieve is a small dip in the corner of your lip. "So were you." Your voice is low and garbled like you're drowning, the rumble of icebergs scraping on the ocean floor filling the silence behind each syllable.

Gaz flinches like he'd been slapped, unable to look at the man he loved as much as you did. "Yeah," His gaze flickers everywhere like fleeing fishes in a reef, "I'm sorry." He blurts out.

"Don't be." You don't look at him, your cold hand reaching out to trace Price's jaw, coarse beard scratching your flesh. "You loved him when I couldn't." A part of you wants to be angry at Gaz for harboring John's affection and attention, that it's not fair for him to be able to mourn when you've known your John long before Athenians and Spartans decided to throw hissy fits in your waters. But you can't call yourself a lover he deserved when you met him so rarely, a blink of the eye for you and a century passes.

"Are you going to kill us now?" Kyle asks, not scared, as if he's expecting it.

It shames you, but you thought about it; of sea life growing gigantic and voracious under your influence, of making the sky weep in your stead, of violent waves rising up and devouring the planet for taking away your world. What's the point of it's existence when the one who made it shine has been snuffed out?

"No," You sigh in resignation. You can't, not while there are still people and places John loved, not while vestiges of him remain. You can't kill what's left of him, protect them like you couldn't do with him.

Gaz tells you they plan to cremate him in line with dragon customs, only to take a step back when you pick your John up to cradle in your arms, his loose wing draping over your shoulder, his head resting on your shoulder, nose buried in your neck as if he's scenting you once again.

"I'll come to collect the rest of you when you pass." You say before disappearing with Price, because if you had to answer Gaz's questions — Why are you taking his body when you weren't even there when he died? Why do you act like you care when you saw him so rarely? Why are you taking him away from Gaz when he was the one who loved Price? What gives you the right? — you would have drowned a country.

Water rushes around him the moment you are back in your element, holding him in a cradle made of your waters like the first time he'd fallen into the ocean so many millennia ago. Water bubbles escape his open mouth as your waves caress and kiss each inch of him, crusted blood muddling the brine around him as you pull him as close to your real body as you can.

Searching.

You can feel his soul once your waters have kissed every inch of his skin, faint yet stubbornly clinging on somewhere in the aether, no doubt giving Death a headache.

You were once a soul too were you not? Just a dead thing too dumb to know it died; somewhere deep beneath the individual writhing sharks and decaying corpses and fossilized bone making up your body resides your original one, nothing but a chunk of rock with the imprint of what you had as a skeleton at the time.

For if Death doesn't come to claim it, a soul won't die until the body's gone. You had slipped past the cracks, grew fat and large on the other souls until Death could no longer touch you without fear of being swallowed whole.

You doubt it would let Price slip through like it had with you, fortunately you put claim on his soul long ago. You swim to the deepest part of the earth where burning geothermal vents spew minerals into freezing cold waters, where you slumber and feed on the souls of the dead.

You curl around him, living and dead bodies parting until Price rests wrapped around the oldest part of you.

Embracing you like he always wanted to.

He waited so long for you.

Now it's your turn to wait. This time you will be there.

And if the oceans above rage for months, if the season long rain floods the streets, if the weather makes it so that in the crushing depths no one can pick out your tears from the ocean brine, all the better.

[adorenaisha]

angst, g. satoru

you stood there looking through the telescope of the now destroyed astronomy tower filled with dead bodies, ignoring the awful smell of blood while observing the bright stars in the sky. it would be such a lie if you were to say that the stars weren't beautiful. but there was always one star that stood out the most.

he stood still behind you, breathing heavily. his white hair now had splatters of blood over it, so does his outfit, blood of the innocent people that you killed.

he should kill you. he needs to kill you. but why hasn't he? was it perhaps that he cannot bear the loss of another loved one in his life? he has lost suguru after all, and now he has to loose you.

"hey y/n, what's the answer to number 4?" gojo whispers not very quietly, seeking to find the answer from you. "gojo didn't i tell you to study?" you sigh out.

he lets out an awkward smile, you knew that face. "i was busy!" he responded back to you while you just roll your eyes at him. "you know, the results of these astrology quizzes are gonna be like..50% of our grade?"

his eyes suddenly widen a little. "oh fuck. are you serious?–"

"do i look like i'm joking right now?" you deadpan.

"are there going to be remedials? oh gosh." he asks you in a hurry. "i don't know." you said blankly, focusing back on your paper. "y/n, help a friend out maybe??"

you groan quietly. "okay, look. i can help you study later at the library for the next upcoming quizzes?" his lips curl up in his signature smile as he thanks you.

is it a coincidence how you both got so close because of you offering to tutor him about astrology? he isn't sure. but when he blinks out of his thought you were still searching for the one star.

why were you taking so long? he asked himself. although, you have never told him what your favorite star was. ever.

suddenly when he was spacing out again he saw you turn around, your figure now facing his. "how long are you gonna wait?" you ask him, your voice echoing through the tower. "as long as you want me to."

his voice sounded tired while his face was covered up in bruises, from your doings. "did you find your favorite star?" he says softly while his gaze was focused at you, admiring you for the last time. a small smile slowly lifting from your lips as he got his cursed technique ready.

"i did."

a single tear ran down through your cheeks before you got obliterated, your blood raining down everywhere.

gojo stood there with a blank expression as he got drenched in more blood, your blood. the blood of someone whom he loved so dearly, who he cherished, who he never got to say goodbye to.

if only he knew that it was him.

he's the one who shines the most amongst other stars. the one who shined the light into your life.

gojo satoru was truly your favorite star.

[wildflowerluver]

can i req a emily prentiss daughter reader after emily “dies” and reader’s reaction to her death. angst, and then emily comes back and reader acts like morgan and is mad at emily, then fluff

motion sickness

emily prentiss x teen daughter!reader

the rise and fall of losing and regaining your mom

cw: character death, follows season 6/7 plot, reader has symptoms of depression, angst, yelling, grief, panic attacks, aaron cares so much for the reader

wc: 2.3k

༺♡༻

losing your mom doesn’t just hurt, it destroys you. 

emily wasn’t just your mom, she was your best friend. stemming from experience with her own mother, she made sure you two were close. 

the two of you traveled a lot when you were younger due to her job. but, joining the bau set permanent roots in washington d.c. you adored the city to grow up with and more importantly, you adored her team.

emily trained you like a profiler - on a much smaller scale, obviously, but you knew basic human behavior and safety. you were in highschool, she wanted you to not only be safe, but to be able to take care of yourself when she was away on cases.

you had woken up that monday to a note on the counter from your mom. you initially didn’t think much of it. she always left notes if she had an emergency case. 

you went through your normal maneuvers, getting ready for school and feeding sergio before leaving. 

it seemed like a normal day.

aaron had been the one to break the news.

you got a knock on the door of your home late that night. you were up late doing homework and if you were being honest, from anxiety too. your mom hadn’t texted or called. no contact worried you immensely.

turns out, your gut feeling had been right.

you don’t say anything, peering up at the agent with curious eyes as to what he’s doing here at this house. 

“i’m so sorry,” he starts.

three words.

i’m so sorry.

something had happened.

“we did everything we could,” the rest of his words seem to go fuzzy. if he keeps talking, you don’t hear anything.

your mom was dead. 

he didn’t even say it and you knew. her job had caught up to her.

he’s there when your knees buckle, arms wrapping around you to help you to the couch.

the tears come hot and fast, breathing becoming erratic as everything sets in. your mom was dead. she was gone and she wasn’t coming back. 

she hadn’t even been able to say goodbye.

aaron rubs your back as you sob. he doesn’t try and assure you that it’ll be okay because you know for a fact it won’t. all you wanted was her.

you don’t know how long you cry. the only thing you remember is aaron forcing you to match his breathing to back you down from the panic attack you were already spiraling yourself into. time doesn’t seem to be real, but that’s how grief is.

the one thing you know for sure is that you’re grateful aaron’s the one with you. he’s stoic and is, was, close with your mom. 

the second wave of panic hits hard: you’re alone. you have no parents and no one to care for you. you’re going to have to do it on your own.

you eventually run out of tears.

the numbness quickly replaces the weeping.

your mom was dead.

no matter how often that realization hits you, it feels like a fresh wound. you don’t know what happens, nor do you want to. all you can hope is that she went peacefully, that she wasn’t alone.

aaron stays the rest of the night and into the next day.

you barely sleep, a few hours at a time. each time you wake up, without fail, there’s the split second you forget what had happened before it all comes rushing back.

your mom was dead.

__

sergio gets rehomed quickly.

the cat had nudged his way into your room one afternoon. you were alone. parts of the house sat in boxes for your move. you hadn’t even dared to touch anything of your moms. the house was set to stay in your name as an inheritance. if you ever chose to return to d.c. it would serve as a place to stay. 

he jumped on your bed, pawing his way up your duvet to meet where your face was pressed against the mattress, stiff with tears. he meows, seemingly sensing your mood.

and you freak. 

you throw back the covers as you jump up.

“she’s dead, serg!” you scream, voice hoarse. “she’s fucking dead and she’s not coming back!”

sergio just sits, tilting his head.

you break.

looking at him reminds you of your mom. you picked him out, she chose the name. you couldn’t even look at him, let alone take care of him. it was just more pain.

penelope takes him in a heartbeat.

__

family friends in the midwest take you in.

it’s universal that staying in the city, in the home you shared, wouldn’t be good for you.

you leave almost immediately after your mom's funeral.

it’s a big gathering. 

agents from the bureau and friends in the surrounding area are there. the entire team, too. you sit in the front row with j.j. 

you don’t speak, you can’t.

staring at her coffin doesn’t seem real. 

you’re the last one to place a rose on the casket before it's lowered down. tears flood your cheeks and you have to bite your lip to suppress your sob. 

one kiss to the shiny wood and she’s gone.

the team each gives you a long hug. it’s a blur of ‘please reach out if you need anything’ and ‘you have our numbers’ but you appreciate it.

aaron is the one who drives you to the airport. 

you hold his hand the entire way.

__

life moves on but you change.

it marks five months since you left d.c. and the grief of losing your mom never lets up.

you keep the note she wrote the day of her death with you everyday. you trace the ‘i love you’ she signed it with more times than you’d like to admit.

to put it simply, you lose yourself after her death.

everything that made you you seems to disappear. school becomes an afterthought. you pass your sophomore year, barely, but if you didn’t you wouldn’t even care. your voice goes too. staying quiet is easier, better. nothing even feels worth talking about anymore. 

you’re grateful for the people who took you in and they do their best to help, but nothing replaces your mom. nothing will.

you get a call from a random number.

you decline it. you rarely pick up unknown numbers if ever. but when the number calls back two more times, you finally answer.

“hello?”

“is this y/n prentiss?”

you flinch at the last name but hum.

“this is erin strauss. i’m the bau section chief at quantico. i worked above your mother.”

erin strauss? you barely knew the woman, only hearing about her from your mom on the rare occasion she complained about her. why she was calling was beyond you.

she speaks before you can say anything. “while i know you’ve relocated, i do have a box of your mothers things here in washington if you are interested in coming to get them. i know this may seem like a postponed call but i’m sure you understand it’s a sensitive topic.”

she has no idea.

you didn’t know what she could have but you agree. you needed anything else you could get of your moms.

“i can talk to my foster parents and work something out.”

“great, i’ll see you soon.”

it takes you a few weeks after the initial call to make it back to washington d.c. emotions aside, you’re still a minor and flying alone needs additional paperwork. one of your family friends had offered to go with but you declined. you needed to do this on your own.

stepping off the plane, however, you seemingly regret that.

it’s been five months, nearly six, since the funeral. five months since you lost your mom. five months since you had spoken to and seen any of her team. five months since being home.

a car was arranged by your family friends to be waiting at the airport for you to drive to quantico. you ease back into driving in the city quickly, trying desperately to block out the visuals around you that pour memories in your mind.

it takes you nearly a half an hour to walk into quantico. 

seeing the building reminds you of your mom, obviously. you know that she has a picture on the wall with the same inscription on her tombstone, you had seen ones of other agents when you visited her at work. one deep breath and a swipe of tears later and you’re heading in.

when you had informed strauss of your arrival date, she made sure things at security were set. clipping a visitors badge on your shirt feels strange, like you shouldn’t be allowed to be here.

strauss’ office is easy enough to find with the help of an agent.

she isn’t even in there, though the box, clearly labeled, sits on one of the chairs.

you hoist it in your arms, fully intent on leaving the bau though the remembrance of the portrait makes you pause.

you need to see it. even in picture form, you need to see her. 

maybe saying hi to the team wouldn’t be a bad thing either.

you push through the glass doors to the bullpen, eyes darting around to take in the atmosphere you hadn’t seen in so long.

and then you see her.

she’s leaning against j.j.’s desk, laughing at something spencer said across from her. the team, aside from aaron, is out and mingling as well.

she’s alive.

your mom is alive. 

she’s not just alive, but she's standing less than 30 feet away from you.

everything seems to stop. the box in your hands slips out of your grip, clattering to the floor with a loud thud. if there was anything in there that was breakable, you were sure it had shattered.

all eyes in the bullpen snap over to where the commotion is.

you meet your mom's eyes, unable to focus on anything else. 

“y/n-” she breathes out, seemingly in equal awe at seeing you. 

your mom was alive.

when she takes a tentative step towards you, you take one backwards.

the atmosphere of the bau becomes suffocating. the months you spent mourning your mom's death was for nothing. she was here in washington d.c. laughing with her coworkers and she hadn’t reached out to you at all. 

everything is too much to process for you. none of it even makes sense.

you abandon the dropped box, turning on your heel and rushing out of the bullpen.

you take the stairs for the purpose of time. her voice calls your name behind you. in an effort to lose her, you weave your way between floors, taking different staircases until you’re back on the ground floor.

the fresh air outside doesn’t even help.

you avoid going back to your house. it was only yours because your mom left it in your name when she died. or well, faked her death.

instead, you find a hotel and check in. cash, of course. it would take penelope longer to track a paper trail than if you used your debit. 

technically it’s illegal to book hotel rooms for minors but, like with your safety, you were raised as a profiler. lying your way into a room wasn’t hard and you had no shame in using bau relations for further convincing. 

the second the door of your hotel room closes, you break.

betrayal takes over as the primary emotion. you buried her. she didn’t say goodbye and all this time you had thought it was because it was an urgent case. she planned to fake her death and let you mourn her.

the team didn’t even seem shocked by her return; the same ones who held you at her funeral and one of whom spent the entire night after delivering the news comforting you.

oh god, did aaron know?

your mom was alive and she hadn’t even thought of you.

__

you maximize your time at the hotel, choosing the latest possible check out time.

you head back home. that word leaves a sour taste in your mouth. it’s a 50/50 chance if your mom is there or not, but the realization hits that you’ll want, need, to see her.

the key to the home hasn’t changed. it still dangles from your keychain and fits perfectly when you slide it in to unlock the door.

your mom is sitting on the couch when you walk in. sergio purrs beside her, clearly ecstatic that his mom is back.

he jumps off the couch when he hears the door open, parading towards you with a meow. you, however, can only focus on her.

“y/n-” she starts again.

she lets you make the first move, eyes pooling with tears at the site of you.

your tears have long begun to stream down your cheeks. a sob falls from your mouth when you reach her, hands extending out to hold her face.

thumb rests on her pulsepoint on her neck. her heart is beating, steady. that feeling alone makes everything more real.

“how?” is the only question you can ask.

she holds your wrists.

“it doesn’t matter right now, i’ll explain later, okay? i promise,” your mom pleads. “i was waiting until things calmed down a bit before i reached out to you. i’m so so sorry.”

you press your foreheads together. you don’t want an apology. 

“it’s okay mom. i’m just really glad you’re here.” and you mean it.

the two of you spend the greater part of the day crying and holding each other. when you’ve calmed down, you fill your mom in on everything that’s happened.

you go to bed that night with her tucking you in and kissing your forehead like she always used to do. 

“goodnight y/n, i love you so much.” 

“i love you too.”

your mom is alive.

[samgirl98]

Mending a Family 53/54

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Danny hugged Sam and Tucker. He would miss his friends, but there was no reason to stay. His dad and family were in the other dimension. Besides, even when they destroyed the portal, they could visit with Wulf's help.

Ghostwriter, who had been stuck in the thermos with Danny, had said he would look for Wulf so that they could facilitate communication between the friends. The other ghost had gone through the portal when they let him go to tell Raven they were fine and not to call other heroes.

Thank the Ancients he did because if time was slower in Danny’s home dimension, who knows how long it’s been in the other dimension? He didn’t want Auntie Raven freaking out. They already had to think of something to explain Danny’s disappearance. They didn’t need to add heroes to the mix.

They all went to the basement. Danny was wary; he didn’t want to see the Fentons’ bodies.

He was thankful Talia had cleaned up well. There wasn’t even blood on the floors. He did idly wonder where she hid the bodies.

Don’t think about it.

“We’ll miss you, Danny, but I’m glad you found a parent that cares about you,” Sam said as she hugged him again.

“Yeah, dude, you deserve some happiness. And who knows, you might have caught up to our age again the next time we see each other. You’re so shrimpy right now,” Tucker teased.

“Hardy, har-har, Tucker.”

His friends grinned, and Danny couldn’t help but give one of his own.

“We’ll wait for Wulf. We can trade letters or try to visit each other in the Ghost Zone,” Sam said with a sad smile. “It’s not goodbye. It’s an ‘I’ll see you later’ type of deal.”

Danny nodded, “I’ll miss you guys, but…”

Danny turned to look at his dad. He was standing by Talia and Jazz. Talia was tucking Jazz’s hair behind her ear and telling her something. Jazz’s eyes were still red. Danny couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt. Jazz had killed the Fentons to save him. It was his fault.

Talia had a maternal air around her as she continued talking to Jazz. Maybe he should accept her, not as his grandmother but as part of his family. She seemed to be helping Jazz after—after what happened.

Sam brought Danny back to the present.

“Live your best life; it sounds like you’re in a great dimension.”

“It has problems, but at least I’ll be more accepted with my powers. And the best part is, no GIW or Vlad!”

“I wonder what he’s going to do when he finds out Maddie is, well, you know,” Tucker said.

Danny tried not to think about it. He ignored the renewed sense of guilt at the thought of the Fentons’ deaths.

“You guys should go; we’re going to blow up this place and the portal. We don’t want anyone to think it was your fault.”

They hugged one last time, and then they were gone. It saddened Danny to see his friends leave, but he didn’t regret his decision. Besides, it was, as Sam said, it wasn’t goodbye.

“Are you sure about this, Danny lad? We can stay here. I have no problem leaving it all behind and, umph.”

Danny had tackled his father, “You’re silly, dad. I’ll miss my friends, but we can always visit. This dimension has left a bad taste in my mouth. I’d rather be home.”

Danny saw Batman and Nightwing’s tense shoulders relax from the corner of his eyes. Danny ignored them. They had been the main cause of his dad’s pain.

“Danny, chum, stop.”

“I’m not doing anything, daddy,” Danny said innocently. Okay, so maybe he wasn’t completely ignoring the two men. And maybe glaring at one of the founding members of the Justice League with glowing eyes wasn’t the best idea, but he couldn’t help it.

Dad laughed and hugged Danny, “I love you, chum, so much.”

“I love you, too.”

“I hate to break up this sweet father-son moment, but it’s time to leave,” Jazz said in a hollow voice, “I set the portal to blow up in ten minutes. That should give us enough time to get far enough away from it.”

“And you’re sure this explosion will stay isolated to the basement,” Batman asked. Which okay, it was a valid question, but why couldn’t someone less annoying have asked?

Jazz turned toward him, “Yes, I’m sure. It’ll only take out the basement and the portal. Nothing or no one else will be affected. Also, I know that you copied the data on the computer. I want to receive a copy. And that isn’t up to negotiation, Batman.”

“Busted,” Nightwing murmured.

“Seriously, old man?” Danny grinned at his dad’s pissed-off tone.

“Of course, I’m…sorry that I didn’t ask before doing so.”

“Somehow, I doubt that. Let’s go.”

Dad glared at Batman one last time before walking through the portal. It was time to go home.

____

Jazz drank a hot cup of tea as she watched the sun move across the sky. Ellie was sleeping beside her in a baby bouncer.

Thankfully, by the time they returned home, they had only been gone the whole night and part of the morning. They had made up a story about looking for Danny in the woods behind the school all night and having found him. The official story was that Danny had followed a kitten into the woods and gotten lost. It hurt Danny’s pride a little, but they had to come up with something.

The police had notified the school officials, and by midday, everyone knew Danny had been found.

Even Avril had shown up to make sure they had been fine.

“I’m so glad little Danny is well,” she crouched down to Danny, “Don’t follow animals into the woods anymore, sweetie; it could have ended so much worse. Oh, Sarah was so worried.”

Jazz couldn’t tell if the woman was being sincere or not, but they were all too tired to care about her.

After their statement had been taken, the little family went back home. Raven had picked up Ellie, and Jazz had wanted to hold her little girl after the shitty day she had.

They had let Bruce and Dick stay the day so they could rest. Bruce had overstepped his boundaries but still helped get Danny back. He even gave Jazz the drive and asked if he could review the information.

Jazz and Jason could let the two men rest at their home.

Jazz had been too restless to sleep, so she had offered her bed to Dick while Bruce had taken Jason’s. Jason had gone to sleep with Danny in Danny’s room. Raven had gone home but promised to return with Roy and Lian the next day.

Jazz took another sip of her tea, Ellie’s soft snores calming her nerves.

She let time pass her by without any real thoughts, which was her excuse for not noticing Talia until she put something wrapped in a white cloth in front of her.

It took Jazz a moment to recognize the shape of the item. It was a knife. Jazz’s blood ran cold.

“I doubt you would want to keep it, but I had to ask before taking that decision away from you,” Talia said.

Jazz took the wrapped dagger in her hands. Although it was clean, she swore she saw red specks on the cloth.

“It’s Danny’s; you should ask him.”

Coward, she thought to herself, making Danny decide is a cowardly move.

Talia put her manicured hand on top of Jazz’s, “It’s yours now, Jasmine. I can take it away, and you’ll never see it again, but you have to decide.”

For a while, only Ellie’s soft snores punctured the silence.

Jazz put the dagger down.

“I want to keep it, as weird as it sounds.”

That dagger was her partner in crime. Probably the only other thing that could understand her. After all, it had helped Jazz take Jack Fenton’s life.

Jazz tried not to think too deeply about her keeping a souvenir of her first kill.

She laughed hysterically: did she really think ‘first?’

Talia squeezed Jazz’s hand. “Jasmine, I am not a perfect mother or person, but I want to be here for you. I want to help you through this.”

Jazz looked at Talia and said sincerely, “You have helped me. Thank you.”

She got up and hugged the woman. Talia tensed with surprise before putting her arms around Jazz.

Jazz would get through this. She could try to find a therapist who specialized in PTSD, or she could ask Talia to find one who wouldn’t report her to the authorities and lock her up.

She would not let this consume her. Jazz had her future ahead of her; the Fentons had taken enough of her past, and they would not have her future either.

Hey everyone, just one more chapter to go through, and I'll finish this fic. I actually have tears in my eyes. I can't believe it's almost over 😭