#how do i go back in time to read this again THIS WAS SO CUTE I'M BANGING MY HEAD AGAINST THE WALL RN SIX

[zoieru]

Weirdly specific headcanons about the lads boys and your lip balm / chapstick ~

Xavier ~

'what's that smell? it...doesn't smell like shampoo usually does.'

he's cuddling on the sofa with you and lifts his head, hair a bit fluffed from where he was tucked into your neck and chest, and his light eyebrows draw in at the centre trying to work out where it comes from.

'smell? Mm...its probably my lipbalm, Xavier, here,'

he takes it when you grab it and give it to him, rolling it over in his fingers to read any writing around the edge, head resting back against you again. he takes off the lid and sniffs it, eyes widening slightly before smiling a touch.

'its nice. does it taste good?'

he sort of asks without thinking of the double entendre at first, but a second later he realises and his eyes hold a flicker of mischief as he brings his face closer, eyes flitting to your lips.

'i dont know, you tell me?'

then he's all up in your business, eyes closing as he brings his lips to yours almost exploratory as when you try a new snack.

'mmh, yes. I like it.'

'good'

you plant a soft little kiss on the end of his nose to a cute blink and blushed chuckle from him.

over the next few hours he keeps coming back to kiss you more pointedly, more often, to a raised eyebrow from you. he likes the feeling and smell of it on his lips, it makes them soft and makes him think of you.

'Xavier you can take it if you want, i have a spar-'

'I don't want one.'

'but...?'

He only wants the thin soft coating of it on his lips when it means he's kissed you recently.

Rafayel ~

once this man catches drift of your scented lip balms he is all over that shit. he'll insist on going to choose ones, buying too many since you cant try them at the store, and then pouts when you tell him you cant face trying on and wiping off like ten different lip balms just so he can smell and kiss you over and over to see which one is best.

youre sat on the bed, the fading sunlight shining through the domed windows of your shared bedroom and onto this ridiculous pile of little cylindrical tubes on the duvet.

'but...'

'the scents will mix, and anyway lip balm is supposed to be nourishing, not causing my lips to be sore because ive applied and scraped off loads of different ones'

'well how am i supposed to know which one is the best then?'

'you'll have to wait and see i guess, i can put a different one on at few hour intervals, itll be like a fun surprise, you can guess which one i have on!'

'thats tooo longggg'

later you catch him applying one on himself in the bathroom, he just couldnt wait okay!! when you do put one on, he materialises at your side, hands running over your skin and finding their way to your jaw as if he could sense it from the other room, and he tilts his head with a little cute smirk.

'next taste test? this one's going to be good, i can feel it.'

Zayne ~

'here,'

he hands you one that he picked off the shelf next to you as you perused the options.

'what, you like this one?'

'i'm not familiar with it, but its important to use ones with more natural ingredients, especially when applying to sensitive areas like your face and mouth.'

'mmh, makes sense.'

you buy a few different types at his behest, and then he watches you try them and smell them as he puts his stuff away around the house.

'do you like them?'

'this one smells really good, actually.'

'mh?'

he's at your side, finding himself strangely excited to have another scent to not only feel and smell when he kisses you, but also to associate with you like he does with your hair stuff or your perfume.

'it does, you're right.'

he takes your chin in his other hands fingers, his usually gentle but firm touch, and then runs his thumb featherlight across the edge of your bottom lip, dark eyelashes lowering slightly as his eyes seem to both soften and darken at the same time.

'does it taste just as good?'

Sylus ~

'get all of them'

'Sylus, there are like fifty options here, why would I need fifty lip balms?'

he just shrugs, that annoyingly handsome smirk on his face as he feigns nonchalance.

'just trying to be supportive, kitten. no need to scratch now.'

'being supportive would be you helping me pick one'

'mmh, would it now?'

he was waiting to be asked, he's irritating like that. you rolled your eyes subtly and couldnt help the smile off his face as he on cue started analysing the options on the shelf with a discerning critical eye. after a silence, you pause, and glance at him sidelong.

'so?'

he points to a few in succession, speaking in a slow thoughtful sort of drawl as he ponders, playful yet serious simultaneously. It's an important decision, of course.

'too sweet, too floral, too colourful, too...is that glitter? i thought this was supposed to be health related, not glamourous. though i suppose a mix of both might be alluring. mmh...this one'

he holds it out to you, made up his mind. not stating his reason outright obviously. he looks down at you and eyes flick between your face and his choice, very subtly figuring out your reaction to his choice. as you leave the shop after buying, and go to put on your helmet to get on his bike, his hand comes to rest on top of it, stopping its path, and he raises an eyebrow, cocking his head. You blink.

'hm?'

'well, come now, are you going to let me try the latest flavour of the lips i so often indulge in, or would you be cruel and have me wait?'

Caleb ~

so...lets say one day you're buying something completely unrelated, but you double take as your eyes happen to flit over some apple scented lip balm on the store shelf. You pause, nibble on your lip with a faint curl to the corners, and grab it and apply it on the way home. It's good...that apple scent that isnt too artificial or plasticky but also sweet and sharp enough to be noticeable and tasty.

Its hard to keep it in somehow when he gets home? its like a secret, which feels stupid, but he looks at you and raises a suspicious eyebrow.

'why you smilin', pips? what have you done?'

he asks, starting to laugh a bit at your face as you tried to keep it normal. it'll be like after a while where he wrestles you off the stove or something playfully that he'll catch a whiff. i mean he's obviously noticed your lips seem a touch shinier, but didn't think a whole lot of it except 'nice'.

'did you buy new perfume?'

'no...?'

'but...its appley over here, you got one in your ear or somethin'?'

he makes a point of sniffing around you like a dog as your giggling form is pressed back against the counter. then he pauses as his nose nears yours and a cheeky smile stretches across his face. his hand lifts and he runs the back of his fingers ever so softly over your bottom lip, his eyes following the movement.

'ah, bullseye. so this is what you were giggling about earlier, you're so silly pipsqueak,'

'what? why?!'

'who gets all giggly about lip balm hm?'

he tilts his head, still in teasy puppy mode, though his eyes have softened and darkened as his face has come closer. as you pout he pokes your lips again with a smirk.

'mmh, an apple flavoured pout huh?'

he leans in achingly slowly to kiss you.

Weirdly specific headcanons about the lads boys and your scrunchie

[earthchica]

Lady Love

terry richmond x black, fem!/plus size reader

summary: you and Terry have a cute, shy interaction in a library. He tries to ask you on a date but is nervous and slightly shy.

warning: fluff, shyness, use of y/n, kissing, errors, slight cussing, bookworm, wholesome, love at first sight & more.

note: let's get back active in this b*tch...this is something short and sweet. I hope you enjoy it. Spread some love and sweetness on here for y'all...we need to get back to good times and stop all this drama.

-

It was a quiet afternoon at the library. Sunlight streaming through the tall windows cast a warm glow over the rows of books.

You were tucked away in your usual corner, flipping through pages of your latest read, when you noticed a tall, muscular figure browsing nearby.

His light caramel skin perfectly caught the light, and his striking light eyes sparkled like two tiny stars.

As you tried to focus on your book, you couldn't help stealing glances at him. He looked so engrossed in a book on the shelf, his brow slightly furrowed as he combed through the titles.

After a few moments, he seemed to sense your gaze and turned to meet your eyes. Your eyes widened, and you quickly looked down, feeling warmth as embarrassment crept in.

"Uh, hey," he said, his voice low but friendly. A slight nervousness made his words almost stumble.

You looked up again, and he offered you a shy smile. "I’m Terry."

"Nice to meet you, Terry...I’m [Your Name]," You replied softly, feeling butterflies flutter in your stomach.

Both of you exchanged shy smiles, and for a moment, it felt like the world around you faded away.

Terry shifted his weight from one foot to the other, and you could see the wheels turning in his mind as if he was gathering the courage for something big.

"So, um, do you come here often?" he asked, scratching the back of his neck. A hint of an awkward chuckle escaped his plump lips. It was endearing how genuine he seemed, just a bit out of his element despite his confident appearance.

"Yeah, actually, I do. It’s one of my favorite spots," You admitted, feeling braver. "I love getting lost in a good book. What about you?"

"First time...I’m just over here trying to find some new reads,” he said, glancing back at the shelf. “But honestly, I kinda got distracted when I saw you."

Your heart skipped a beat. Did he really just say that? A shy smile crept onto your face, and you could feel the warmth rushing to your cheeks again.

Terry took a deep breath, his gaze steadying on you. "So, I was thinking…maybe we could grab a coffee or something? If you're free?"

His words tumbled out in a rush, and you could see the nervous flutter in his light eyes as he awaited your response.

You could see the genuine hope reflected in his gaze and the slight tremor in his hands as he waited for you to answer.

Your heart was racing, but you couldn’t help but feel that spark of excitement.

"I’d love that,” You said, your voice barely more than a whisper, but you could see the immediate relief wash over his face.

"Really? That's cool… I mean, great!" His smile widened, and suddenly, that nervousness seemed to melt away, replaced by a bright grin that made his eyes light up even more.

"How about this weekend?" Terry asked, his confidence growing with each passing second. “There’s this nice café not far from here."

"Yeah, that sounds perfect," You replied, your own smile growing wider as both of you exchanged numbers.

It felt like the start of something sweet and new, surrounded by the comforting quiet of books and the gentle hum of the library.

As you parted ways, you couldn’t help but glance back at him one last time. Terry stood there, staring at his phone with a triumphant smile.

-

The day of your date finally arrived, and excitement bubbled up inside you as you prepped for the afternoon.

You stood in front of the mirror, your fingers working through your hair, shaping your natural curls into a cute wash-and-go style.

The sunlight streamed through your window, illuminating your reflection and making you feel even more confident about your appearance.

Sliding into your favorite soft outfit—a cozy yet stylish oversized sweater paired with high-waisted jeans—you feel comfortable and cute.

You completed the look with fresh sneakers, just the right touch for a casual café date. After a final check in the mirror, you grabbed your bag and headed out, heart pounding in anticipation.

As you arrived at the café, you spotted Terry immediately. He was sitting outside, looking effortlessly handsome in a fitted tee showcasing his toned arms and a pair of jeans that complimented him.

The sun's warm glow around him made everything about the moment feel perfect. You caught his eye, and his face broke into that bright, genuine smile that made your heart beat.

“Hey, you look amazing!” Terry called out, standing up and giving you a little wave. The nerves you’d both felt in the library were nowhere to be found now, replaced by a comfortable familiarity.

“Thanks, you too! That shirt looks good on you,” you said with a shy smile, feeling a little flutter at the compliment. You both settled into your seats, the chatter of the café blending with the gentle clinking of cups and saucers.

“Alright, what’s your drink?” Terry asked, leaning forward with genuine curiosity.

“I’m all about that vanilla latte life,” you replied, grinning. “What about you?”

“I can’t resist a classic black coffee—keeps it simple,” he said confidently.

As you both placed your orders, the barista whipped them up quickly. With your drinks in hand, you settled into the cozy corner of the café.

The ambiance felt just right—soft music playing in the background and freshly brewed coffee wafting through the air.

You took a sip of your vanilla latte, and Terry’s eyes sparkled with curiosity as you set your cup down.

“So, what’s your favorite book?” he asked, leaning closer, his eyes keen and focused.

“Oh man, that’s a tough one! But I’d say I’m a sucker for anything by Toni Morrison. Her storytelling is just… next level. What about you?” You replied, feeling the conversation flow effortlessly.

Terry chuckled, his face lighting up. “I feel that! I just finished ‘Song of Solomon,’ and it hooked me. But don’t tell anyone, I lowkey love some graphic novels too—like, you ever read ‘Saga’? It’s wild!”

“Right? I love how it blends genres—sci-fi and fantasy. You get the best of both worlds,” you said, nodding enthusiastically.

“I know! Look at us, nerding out over books. You’d think we were at a damn book club or something,” Terry said, grinning, and you both laughed.

As the conversation flowed, you began to discover more about each other.

“So you mentioned working in a restaurant? What was that like?” he asked, tilting his head slightly, genuinely interested.

“Oh man, it was a crazy ride! I worked in a little diner back home. The rush during brunch was no joke! You know how it is—people can get wild when hungry. How about you?” you replied, leaning back comfortably.

“Same here! I was at this small restaurant, but we had some hilarious regulars. One guy would always order the same thing but ask for ‘extra everything.’ Like, bro, chill!” Terry laughed, mimicking the guy’s over-the-top enthusiasm.

“Right? We’d get some characters! I had this lady who insisted her eggs needed to be ‘sunny side up, but just on the sunny side.’ Like, what does that even mean?” You both erupted into laughter, reveling in the shared experiences.

“Man, I miss those days sometimes,” Terry said, sounding nostalgic.

"Yeah... so what do you do for fun?" you asked.

“I love hiking and camping too. Have you ever hit the trails?”

“Absolutely! Hiking is my thing. There’s nothing like being outdoors—exploring trails and soaking up the fresh air. Plus, camping? The vibes are unmatched.”

“Right? I recently tackled this intense trail. The views were unreal! There’s just something about it that makes ya feel alive,” he said, his enthusiasm infectious.

"Sounds cool! I’m all for climbing up to catch the sunrise. Nothing beats being on top of the world, you know?” You shared, and Terry nodded vigorously.

Then, a playful spark lit up the air between you.

“Alright, since we’re sharing secrets, what’s your go-to jam? I need to know if you vibe with my music taste,” Terry teased, leaning closer, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

“Oh, I definitely have a thing for jazz. There’s something about those smooth saxophone notes that just hits differently,” you said, shooting him a mischievous grin.

“But rock music? That’s a whole other level. My heart is at classic rock—nothing can top that.”

“Okay, I see you. A rock and jazz lover, huh? We might just have to set up a little jam session, real talk,” Terry said, his tone playful, and you couldn’t help but smile.

“Not gonna lie—I'm down! But just so you know, I might just rock some questionable dance moves on the side,” you joked, doing a little dance in your seat, which made him laugh.

“Please, don’t leave me hanging when you do! I’ll bring the popcorn to watch,” he shot back, grinning ear to ear.

The flirty banter kept rolling, and as your coffee cups emptied, you both felt the warm connection growing stronger. The light teasing and shy smiles turned to comfortable laughter and playful nudges.

When the café started to wind down, Terry leaned forward, the intensity in his gaze making your heart race. “You know, I really dig this vibe we’ve got going. It feels easy, right?”

You nodded, feeling an electric connection buzzing between you.

“Yeah, it really does. I can’t remember the last time I enjoyed myself this much on a first date.”

Terry sighed, his eyes softening as he leaned in just slightly more.

“I’m glad we met at that library, [Your Name]. Feels like one of those movie moments, ya know?”

You laughed softly, a little shy but feeling bold at this moment. “Totally. A meet-cute for the ages.”

His gaze intensified, and the playful energy shifted into something more profound.

“Can I…” he started, trailing off momentarily as he gauged your reaction.

You held your breath, feeling the air between you thicken. “Yeah?”

And without breaking eye contact, he leaned in, closed the gap, and gently brushed his lips against yours.

The kiss was soft and hesitant but deepened as you melted into the moment, feeling the warmth and connection unfold.

As he pulled back, still lingering close, both of you were grinning. “Fuck...I mean, sorry...Wow. That was amazing,” he said breathlessly.

“Yeah, it was,” you replied, your heart fluttering, knowing this was just the beginning of something special.

[neigepomme]

˙ ✩°˖ ☃️ try again / zayne x reader

synopsis; right person, wrong time, but even after a year, the heartache remains. you looked for him in everyone you met, and so did zayne — but when the universe lets you cross paths again, will it be kind enough to let you try again?

🍎 pomme's notes — i made a playlist for this fic! this is loosely based on jaehyun and d.ear's try again, but all of these songs were played while i was writing and i think they make the reading experience better!! also if there are typos forgive me i finished writing this at 5am oops

✴︎ 5.5k words ⋆ hurt/comfort ⋆ set in a world with no evol (also caleb cameo and zaynecaleb are best friends because i said so) ⋆ fem reader ⋆ 2nd person

it was a snowy december night when you decided to mutually break up.

the night was quiet and so peaceful, but your heart was in turmoil upon seeing his defeated face, and so was his when tears started to fall from your eyes.

it wasn’t always like this though.

you met him in college, he was two years your senior and you’d been taking the same ethics class — one he'd pushed off until his last semester before his residency. always kind and soft-spoken, you eventually got to work on a group project together and when the other people in your team decided to play hooky, zayne was the one to let the professor know and invite you to work together.

he eventually started reaching out to you under the pretense of studying together at a new cafe, only for the both of you to talk endlessly, with no real studying being done. your bashful expression when he'd compliment your new earrings didn't go unnoticed, and you also didn't miss the shy glances followed by a cough when you glanced back.

this went on for two whole months, until you encountered one of zayne's friends, caleb, at a party you both attended. drunk out of his mind, with zayne following in tow (sporting a worried expression that you found quite cute), he spotted you and made a beeline for you. the brunette pointed at you, and spoke with a slurred speech.

"you. you're the girl he's been talking about non-stop right? the cute one from his ethics class? dude, zayne's in looooove with you."

at a loss for words, you glanced at zayne — who was running a hand over his face, clearly flustered out of his mind and trying his best to get caleb to shut up.

the butterflies in your stomach were batting their wings furiously, and your own face started feeling hot. before you could even speak though, caleb spoke again, a little more agitated now.

"poor guy cannot take you off his mind, so for my mental wellbeing, please date him. i can't keep living like this, my ears are gonna fall off if i hear one more thing about you — no offense. if there's an equivalent to the bechdel test for men, we're failing and we're failing haaaaard. all because of him. i'm gonna grab another beer but you've gotta date him. please."

as caleb walked away, you stared at zayne. it was a clumsy indirect admission of feelings, but gosh was it a sweet one. his face burned red, unable to stop his friend from revealing all of that info to you — but it's not like it was a lie. whenever the two of them would hang out, he'd ask caleb for advice on what to wear for your next outing or check whether or not a text you sent him had a hidden message. hell, zayne would text him asking for good date spots to take you to.

running a hand through his hair, zayne watched his friend walk away and cleared his throat before grabbing a hold of your hand, his serious expression not doing much to distract you from the red of his cheeks.

"this wasn't how i planned on letting you know how i feel and asking you out but.. he wasn't really lying."

his cold hand gripped yours a bit more tightly, before he exhaled in a feeble attempt at steadying his nerves.

"i really do like you though, and i'd love to take you out. not as the guy from your ethics class that you're stuck doing a project with, but as your boyfriend."

that's how it started. loving zayne was comfortable. it came as easily as breathing. the late nights he'd spend in your dorm room, reading one of his cardiology textbooks while you slept soundly on his chest were your favorites. no words needed to be exchanged, his heartbeat told you everything you had to know about his love for you.

when you received a job offer from your dream company, zayne was there with a bouquet of your favorite flowers to congratulate you. kissing your face softly and whispering sweetly about how proud he was, and how he knew you'd get in. you melted in his embrace, remembering the times you'd cried in his arms, afraid of being rejected while he held you and gave you soft reassurances.

in return, you were there for him — preparing boxes of snacks for him to keep in his car while he did his residency. his own apartment was left neglected, as he preferred spending nights at your place, sleeping only for a few hours before he went back to the hospital.

it was comfortable when you were still in university, but life caught up with you rapidly. your job was rewarding, but the long hours and the overtime you had to work because of how new you were, drained you.

zayne also had a hard time. his mentor was spread thin, and he had to take on more responsibilities as a resident physician than he'd had to during his internship. coming back home to you was difficult, the shifts seemed never-ending — basically working 24 to 36 hours regularly.

the date nights became more and more sparse. you spoke to each other less and less, not wanting to drain the other further. zayne would spend more time at his place, given that it was closer to the hospital, and you'd be exhausted from the overtime to visit him. he called you during his breaks, but more often than not, he got interrupted by responsibilities or different emergency codes, only being able to talk to you for two minutes at most if he was lucky.

you were having a hard time too. trying your best to text him, but your boss seemed hellbent on making sure you were always hard at work, never allowing you the time to send zayne a quick text. the mandatory overtime was irritating to say the least — always menial tasks that took an infuriating amount of time and that kept you in the office for hours, forcing you to come home late at night. staying up was an almost impossible ask, no matter how much you loved zayne. your eyes practically closed upon entering your home, and you'd forget to wipe your makeup way too many times. the rare times you'd stay awake, he'd have to stay later, because of a young patient having a heart attack or a new admission at the hospital.

it was exhausting, and neither of you were to blame. the universe had made it difficult and you couldn't hold any resentment because you knew how much this job meant to zayne. on the other hand, he also didn't want to ask you to accommodate him — feeling that it'd be unfair to ask you to stay up, knowing just how tired you were.

eventually, it had been enough.

you tried your best to push that feeling down, convincing yourself that you two will be alright, that this is just a hardship that will pass, but it was eating away at you. you missed zayne so much, and this whole thing just wasn't doable. it wasn't sustainable for either of you. when your friend tara said, "right person, wrong time! it's unfortunate, but you can't help it," you never thought it'd apply to you. never in a million years would you have thought that this relationship would be a fleeting thing, that it'd be rendered difficult and heartache inducing. zayne was perfect for you, as you were for him — but whichever divine entity looked down upon you didn't seem to agree. the days seemed to drag on, and you missed your boyfriend so deeply, but life seemed set on making you and zayne exhausted, not even having the time to see one another.

you were the only thing on zayne's mind while he worked. the surgeries never ended, and he just wanted to take a nap in your arms, but his attending seemed keen on making him work until he keeled over. he was so worn out, every single one of his limbs sore, but he still thought about you and how lonely you must feel. this job is his dream, saving people is something he's always yearned to do, but that doesn't take away from the fact that he feels like the worst boyfriend to have ever existed. you never complained, never asked him to abandon his job to spend time with you, and whenever he'd have to cut your calls short, you'd tell him it's okay, your voice laced with an unspoken sadness.

he sometimes wished you'd get angry at him. demand he spend some time with you but you were always understandind and patient. you were too good to him, and zayne felt so selfish. you didn't deserve to wait for him, especially not when you already had so much on your plate with your new job and boss. his conscience weighed on him, and he couldn't let you keep going and be unhappy.

and so, he told his supervisor that there was a personal emergency, and he headed over to your place after sending you a message; one you dreaded but expected in the back of your mind.

"love, we need to talk. i'll come over to your place in 20 mins."

his heart ached upon sending it, and he only wished that your heart hurt less than his — unfortunately it was far from being the case. you had just gotten home when you received the text, and you could already feel tears welling up in your eyes. you knew what was going to follow, but you were exhausted, and you knew he was too. you wanted to fight for this relationship. you loved zayne so much, so desperately, it made your heart hurt, and god, you knew he loved you too. you wanted to fight, but you felt selfish doing so. in your heartbreak, you still cared about him so much. his eyebags were getting more and more pronounced, and there was nothing you could do to take away from his tiredness. at this point, you just wanted him to rest, and if you could take away one thing off his mind at the cost of your own unhappiness, you'd do it.

zayne drove to your place, his hands tight on the steering wheel. he didn't want to do this, but he loves you so much. he loves you so bad, he cannot let you wither away, waiting for him. you deserved the world and he couldn't even give you a full hour without being interrupted by a call from the hospital, or without him desperately needing sleep. he started going through his memory, trying to remember the last time he took you out on a date. the last time he gave you his full attention, the last time he saw you laugh, the last time he made you blush. all these instances seemed so far away, and he couldn't forgive himself for leaving you alone for so long. you deserved too much, and if you could be your bright, joyful self without him by your side, then so be it.

it was snowing outside, so softly. it felt as if the universe was mocking you, as if it interpreted your relationship as an insult towards itself, and was hellbent on getting rid of it. your heart was breaking in anticipation, but the world would keep on moving.

you choke back tears.

no matter how much you wanted the earth to stop spinning, just for a moment with him again, it never would. you were doomed to stride forward, whether you wanted to or not.

the twenty minutes went by at a grueling slow pace, yet it didn't feel like enough time for either of you to prepare for the inevitable. when you hear that familiar rhythmic knock on your door, it suddenly feels like the beginning of the end. there were so many thoughts going through your mind — what if you didn't answer the door? would he still stay by your side? no, that was too cruel. your stomach hurts at the thought of paining him further, and so you stood from the couch where you were sitting and walked towards the door. your whole body felt weighed down when you opened it, only to see zayne — a painful expression painted on his face. he seemed thinner than before, more tired. you wanted to reach up and cradle his face, one last time, but you held back. you couldn't bring yourself to do it.

all he wanted was to hold you in his arms, as tight as he could, and tell you, "we'll be alright, we'll be okay."

you looked so worried about him, it shattered zayne's heart. he couldn't believe you still cared, even after being so worn out from the long work hours. even in your most tired moments, when you looked so fragile, when your eyes held back tears, you still cared about him so much. he didn't want to hurt you, never wanted to — but he'd ended up doing it, and he couldn't keep dragging this on further. he didn't want to tell you how much he loved you, how much it broke him to do this.

when you invite him in, hesitant to hold his hand in fear of your resolve wavering, he refuses. if he took a step inside your home, he wouldn't want to let you go. you look up to stare into his eyes, only for him to shake his head and inhale shakily.

"i'm so sorry. i.. i think we should break up."

you heard his voice. you know what he said. you knew from before, knew it was coming, knew it was inevitable.

you knew, but it still hurt.

it hurt so terribly, and you couldn't even do anything to make it hurt less. you couldn't hate him, couldn't get angry, couldn't scream, couldn't do anything.

trying your best not to let your voice crack, you respond while choking back a sob.

"okay. i'm sorry, zayne."

when the tears started falling from your eyes, zayne wanted to reach out and wipe them away. he loathed to see you cry, but the only thing he loathed more than that at that moment was himself. his throat was closing up, and he wanted to fall to his knees.

he wanted to beg you to get angry.

beg you to love him less.

beg you to hate him.

beg you to do anything that could make it less painful for him to end things with you.

he couldn't do it, though. he could never do it, and he felt like a coward for that. so what did he do? he nodded and spoke one last time before leaving your doorstep.

"i'm so sorry. please, take care of yourself. i can't apologize enough."

as zayne walks back to his car, he has to fight with himself to not look back at you, despite the difficult breathing and the sniffles he hears from you. because if he does, he'll just run back to you. but he wants you to be free from him. free from the burden of his love — so he keeps on walking, biting the inside of his cheek to stop himself from crying.

you look at his back when he walks away.

you only allow yourself to sob once his car pulls out of your apartment's parking lot. the tears are falling freely, each one more painful than the next, and you can't help yourself from wailing, from silently begging him to come back, to tell you that everything is going to be fine, that you shouldn't break up.

sobbing on your doorstep, harder than you've ever cried before, harder than you thought you could ever cry.

one of your neighbor walks out to see you on your knees, and she asks you "what's wrong sweetie? are you hurt?", and you can only cry out that you love him, you love him so much it hurts, that you just want him. she holds you in her arms, tells you it's okay, that you'll be okay, but it's no use.

your heart hurts so bad.

it's not her you want comforting you.

it's zayne.

you want him to hold you tight, to tell you that everything will be okay.

it shouldn't have ended like this. you didn't want it to end like this, and neither did he, but there was nothing either of you could do.

right person, wrong time.

the day after was terrible. you had no choice but to show up to work, despite your voice being hoarse and your eyes being painfully puffy from all the tears you shed the night before.

everything felt off. you didn't text him during your break, and at no point did he call you. 

it made you want to cry again, but you couldn't. you had to be strong because the world kept on spinning, and zayne wouldn't have wanted you to sob for him endlessly — though you were certain that once you got home, you'd start sobbing and pleading for him in your room. 

the day went by quickly. too fast, really. there was just numbness when you were at your desk, something like autopilot mode kicking in. 

when the clock hit 5, and your boss let you go home with no overtime, you felt the tears resurface. the one day you had wished for a distraction, away from your feelings, your boss decided to be considerate. no words were said, though. you packed your bag and walked out. 

the chinese restaurant you went to with zayne was on your way home. the place where he found out he'd gotten matched into a cardiology residency at akso hospital, where he'd stood and hugged you so tightly, in front of onlookers — so unlike his usual self, who shyed away from PDA. he was so happy to share the good news with you, his favorite person. 

the memories resurfaced, and it felt like you could see him in everything you've ever loved. zayne had left a permanent mark on you, and you wanted to hate him for ruining so many things for you, but you couldn't bring yourself to.

you held your tears back during the entire walk home.

maybe you should call tara. do anything to distract you from this. from feeling like a ghost, a shell of yourself without him by your side. you needed to change, to prepare food, to sleep, to work, and to repeat all of this again tomorrow. so with a heavy sigh and an even heavier heart, you opened your closet to grab some comfortable clothes — that was when you saw it.

one of zayne's sweaters, one that he'd given you to wear when you were cold during a date. it still smelled like his cologne, like his jasmine fragrance.

it was unfair. you inhaled sharply and looked up, trying your best to stop the sobs, but it was of no use. 

it still smelled like him.

you grabbed your phone before the tears completely blurred your vision and called tara, all while clutching his sweater to your chest.

“hey babe! you got off work?”

and the sobs resumed. you cried your heart out, desperately asking her, if it was for the best, then why does it hurt so bad? why does it feel like a part of yourself got removed when he walked away? everything seemed like a blur, but you remember the door unlocking and her worried face. hands cradling your face, telling you to let it all out, to cry until you couldn't anymore. that it was okay to hurt. you didn't need to put on a front. you didn't need to look so strong — you could fall apart because you'd build yourself back up.

so you did just that. you cried in her arms. you cried for him, cried at the world, cried at the unfairness of it all. she rocked you back and forth, comfort reminiscent of zayne's arms.

you cried harder than the night before. and you kept on crying every single day for a week.

the months passed by slowly after that. you still didn't text him during your breaks, and he still didn't call you. you still loved him, you still longed for him, but you hoped he was relieved of some burden. maybe he'd finally sleep a little better at night, maybe his eyebags went away, even if you weren't there to see it. you'd be okay eventually, but now wasn't quite the time yet.

following tara's recommendation, you downloaded dating apps. not to properly date anyone, just to take your mind off him, but it proved to be harder than she said. the men you matched with all resembled him slightly. one of them had similar eyes, the other had the same fashion sense, and another had a similar smile. when you talked to them, you tried to find traces of him within their speaking habits. none of them had his dry humor, nor did they have his tender voice or his laugh.

none of them called you to check in between shifts.

none of them were zayne.

dating was off the table when you realized that; maybe you need some more time to yourself? perhaps you need to learn to visit the places you went to with him, get used to going to the cafes you two favored on your own.

your boss wasn't breathing down your neck anymore, so you could spend your next evening visiting that pastry shop zayne adored — the one he'd order macarons from and personally deliver to your home to share with you.

however, each time you told yourself you'd do it, you felt afraid.

afraid of running into him. afraid of seeing him too happy without you by his side. what if he'd already found another woman? someone from the hospital, maybe a nurse or a fellow resident. you wouldn't be able to handle it, so you pushed it off.

"i'll do it tomorrow," you'd tell yourself.

soon, it'll be a whole year without zayne. his birthday was the most difficult day since the night you lost him. funnily enough, you thought you'd be able not to cry, but you missed him even more than before. you had the day off — a PTO you scheduled ahead of the breakup, but now you were just surrounded by the silence. the autumn breeze blew through your window and reminded you of him.

“you'll catch a cold, my love.”

“mmh, the breeze feels so nice, though. but maybe if my favorite snowman hugged me and kept me warm, i'd be okay.”

“sure, darling. i'll keep you warm in my icy embrace and shield you from the cold, won't i?”

you hugged the snowman plushie he'd won you a little tighter upon reminiscing. you cried softly against it, your heart aching again — but you found solace in knowing that he was out here working hard towards his goal. you'd support him from afar, no matter what.

today marked 12 months since the breakup. an entire year.

and today, you were going to visit the pastry shop. you had to get over him, and as painful as it sounded, it had been almost a year, and you had to keep moving. zayne would become a beloved memory, treasured within both your heart and your mind. 

dressed for the weather, you walked towards the quiet cafe but hesitated before opening the door to the establishment. the walk on the way here was familiar, and the pastry shop remained the same way you'd left it when you last visited it with zayne. the same regulars, the same jingle of the bell when you pushed the door open, the same chairs and the same staff. you searched for the seats you'd usually sit at with zayne, and you thought your eyes failed you when you see those familiar hazel eyes looking over the cafe, as if they were waiting for something to happen.

or someone to come in.

he was sitting alone, the same jasmine tea latte on the table in front of him — the one he'd meticulously pour three sugar packets in before stirring counterclockwise for 20 seconds to dissolve the sugar. he looked the same as he did that december night, if only more tired. his eyebags did not go away, it seemed.

gathering all the courage you could muster, you walk towards him. you'd get your closure today no matter what.

but when he looked your way, your steps faltered. his gaze softened, his shoulders slumped a bit, as if he'd let go of some tension he didn't know he held. zayne smiled, and you had to hold back from jumping into his arms, telling him how much you'd missed him. he spoke softly, as if afraid to disturb you — as if you'd blow away in the wind, like a dandelion's bristles.

"hi," he'd whisper, his voice as soothing as the day you last heard it.

your breath catches in your throat, and you have to inhale a bit before replying.

“hi, zayne. can i sit here?”

and he nodded, his lips slightly curling upwards. you hoped it was you he was waiting for. maybe he'd wanted to see as much as you did, and maybe he too longed to hold you in his arms. 

you waited for him to speak again, and as if reading your mind, he did. fidgeting a bit in his chair, zayne looked over at you so fondly. 

“how have you been?”

his voice. you missed his voice so much. you missed him asking about you about your day with that tone, that patient and tender, love filled tone. 

"oh i've been.. decent." 

that seemed like a good answer. you weren't good, nor were you fine. you had the man you loved, the man you love, sitting in front of you after close to a year of yearning for him, following the worst heartbreak you had ever experienced. 

“work's been tiring, but my boss stopped breathing down my neck. i get home on time now, with no mandatory overtime. it's okay now. how about you?”

zayne wasn't fine. the hospital took in some new cardiology residents, so the workload calmed down, but he still felt restless without you by his side. he gazed over all of your features, and you looked so beautiful. he missed you to death.

“i'm handling everything okay. we have new attending physicians, so the amount of long shifts has significantly decreased.”

he spoke truthfully, you knew it, but you couldn't make sense of his eyebags if that was the truth. he looked like he's had sleepless nights for months, his eyes tired and not as bright as they used to be. he still looked so charming, though, and you thought to yourself, that it wasn't your place to inquire any further.

the two of you caught up for two hours, akin to old friends having a heartfelt reunion — except you were ex-lovers. ex-lovers who valued the other's happiness over your own, leaving you both miserable but under the impression that the other was doing better without you.

he asked if you dated in the past year, and you shook your head, explaining that you had a hard time and chose to take some time to yourself. zayne didn't need to know you were unable to date because you wanted him. he didn't need to know that you refused to give a chance to anyone who wasn't him, that you looked for him in everyone you met.

secretly, zayne felt relief upon learning that. he wanted you to be happy, of course he did, but selfishly, he wanted to be the one to bring you happiness. in all honesty, he couldn't bring himself to date anyone either. the women around him weren't you. they didn't smile at him the way you did, never cared to learn more about him beyond his face and job, and none of them texted him sweet little love messages to check up on him. you were the only one for him.

you only started heading out when the cafe announced it'd be closing its doors, and even then, neither of you seemed to be in a rush. a strange sense of longing lingered around you both, a warm feeling — something that quietly begged for one more moment spent together.

zayne offered to drive you home, and you took him up on that. the car hummed quietly as you sat in comfortable silence. the last rays of sunlight quickly disappeared, leaving behind them a deep blue night. snowflakes slowly started drifting down from the sky, and you were reminded of that night when you decided to part ways. sooner than you'd hoped, zayne pulled into your apartment's parking lot.

he still knew the way to your place.

if you asked him about it, he'd answer simply. he never forgot, never could bring himself to remove the path to your home from his memory. he'd spent countless nights there, holding you in his arms while he rested before the hospital inevitably called him for a new 36h shift. zayne could never forget the way home. not your apartment, he could never forget the way to you — his real home.

getting out of his car, he walked you to your apartment. soon, you'd have to say goodbye to him, and you grew restless at the thought. it felt like if you said goodbye today, it'd be the last time you'd see him. you didn't want to bother him any longer, nor keep him tied down.

it seemed inevitable, though. it felt like it was last year again when you had to fight tears from falling upon agreeing on breaking up. helpless, unable to speak, and to ask him to stay. unable to be selfish, for once. but what could you do? you just nodded and wished him a goodnight and goodbye. it'd be over soon enough. you'd see his back as he walked away from you for the last time.

you're the first to turn away, focusing your gaze on your doorknob, trying to type in the digits to his birthday to unlock your apartment. the tears rose up, and your eyes were misty again, fog taking over your field of vision. 

it was the end.

zayne took a step back and looked at you. a feeling of doom, helplessness, and fear took over him. he'd let you go a second time, and it'd be the last this time around. no more chances — he'd never get to see your face agaim after this, but if you were happy it was worth it, wasn't it?

he watched you type in your password and heard the familiar jingle when your door unlocked.

it really was the end.

god, he really couldn't do this. he needed to be selfish for once, and he prayed you'd forgive him for it.

before you can take a step inside, you hear him call out your name, and before you can fully process it, you just feel his arms around you. he held you so tightly.

zayne was holding you in his arms. the way he desperately wanted to when he heard you cry a year ago. the way you wished he'd held you a year ago. 

“i'm sorry. i'm selfish. i can't even let you go, so please, please.”

you couldn't stop the sobs that took over your body when you heard him plead for you. you clutched onto his sweater as tight as you could, the smell of jasmine so soothing while you sobbed in his arms. his arms tighten around you when he feels you tremble against him, desperate in the way he shook slightly too.

he spoke again, his voice breaking. more vulnerable than you'd ever heard him before. more raw, full of yearning, longing, desperation and love. so much love.

“i love you. i love you so much, i love you more than life itself.”

zayne kissed the top of your head, soft tears falling down his cheeks while he whispered soft apologies and promises of a future together. he missed you so much. a part of his heart went missing without you next to him. he needed you by his side, as selfish as that made him seem.

“we'll be alright. please, let's try again.”

those words you wanted to hear, so very badly on that night, a year ago. you nodded against his chest, the sobs not showing any signs of stopping.

except this time around, zayne was there to hold you in his arms. two lovers who longed for each other's warmth for a year, finally into each other's embrace again.

it was a snowy december night when you reunited with your love, and you'd never let go this time.

🍎 pomme's final notes — if the zaynejaehyun agenda has a million fans then i am one of them if the zaynejaehyun agenda has one fan it is me and if the zaynejaehyun agenda has no fans i am dead. also i bawled while writing the breakup part don't kick me too hard

also if at any point while reading this fic you wanted to kill me just know that i was probably also wanting to kill myself but hey all's well that ends well am i right :P

[bbokicidal]

Ooh, it's a bad habit. | SKZ [OT8]

synopsis: "Bad" habits the boys have in relationships + in general.

Genre: Fluff I guess? Pairing: OT8 x GN!Reader Warnings: Mentions of arguing but nothing depicted Notes: I just enjoy making these types of posts and I'm feeling inspired at 5 AM (YET AGAIN) so enjoy!~

Chan:

Does not answer text messages. Opens it, reads it, gets distracted, does not come back to it until either eight hours later or until you double text him. Hit his ass with the "????" and he'll apologize but otherwise he'll just "oh."

Leaves his little snack wrappers on the kitchen counters. If you don't get to them first, he'll clean them up when he goes into the kitchen next. He just forgets about it in the moment; Man likes his snackies.

Bites the skin around his nails so his cuticles are Lowkey HORRIBLE but if you get him on a cuticle oil that smells nice, he's gonna be like a bitch with a new lipgloss applying that shit every ten minutes.

Hums a lot. Not a bad habit but not the nicest when you're on a phone call and you can hear him humming next to you.

Cannot control his face. Even grows a habit of making certain faces at you when you're either arguing or talking about something he's uncertain about. It annoys you to no end and he tries to stop but fails every time.

Lino:

Doesn't answer, period. You can talk to him for almost five minutes about a subject and he won't hear a single thing because he's on his phone. Selective hearing, apparently.

Will not do something if he does not want to - which can be good, obviously he shouldn't do something if he doesn't feel like it - but when you've made plans and he doesn't want to go last minute it can be really frustrating. He's also incredibly stubborn when it comes to this, too.

Very irritable most of the time, especially after he's just woken up. He will snap if you pester him too much about something but at this point you've grown to understand it's just how he is. He never says anything mean, he never yells, it's just a light raise of his voice and something along the lines of, "Yes, okay! I'll get to it when I get to it!"

Glances at his watch way too fucking much. Man is constantly keeping track of the time - which leads to him complaining that he looked at his watch earlier and it said 4:50, looked at his watch two seconds ago and now it says 4:51.

Doesn't like being at events longer than he's supposed to be. If y'all have dinner with the group and he was ready to go home forty minutes ago, he's going to be pouting and rolling his eyes those entire forty minutes.

Changbin:

Talks with his mouth full. It's cute, because his cheeks pudge out and his lips are all pursed and pouty - but he does it a lot. Especially if someone argues with him while he's eating, he's gonna be pointing and yelling back and food's gonna be flying.

Not a bad habit but purses his lips and expects kisses from you. You know what it means now and always kiss him when you see him do it but at the beginning of your relationship it confused the hell out of you. Why was he making duck lips at you?

Crosses and uncrosses his legs like no other. Sometimes the man cannot sit still in his seat and the moment you notice it, it Lowkey drives you insane. But he also can't cross his legs at his thighs because they're thicker than Hell AND he's got a third leg in the middle so he's always just crossing his ankles and kicking his feet out.

Sitting forward/slouching. Changbin. Cannot. Sit. Up. Straight. ^ Going off the prompt above, he's literally always sitting forward with his elbows on his knees or sitting back in his seat and leaning. It's not horrible but sometimes if he's in interviews or going to award shows you have to remind him to sit up.

Toys with things that are sitting in front of him. He needs stimulation with his hands so if he's got his phone, he's turning it over in his hands; If he's sitting in front of a candle, he's waving his finger over the open flame like an idiot.

Hyunjin:

Picks at his nail polish. He always does the cutest designs and he knows you love when he paints his nails but five seconds later he's either biting at them when he gets anxious or he's picking at the polish until it chips off. He never gets good photos, either.

Chews on his drawing pencils, which is why he's always buying new art supplies. Luckily he gets gifted drawing utensils from a lot of brands he works with on Holidays and his birthday - but a lot of his pencils go to shit because he gnaws on them while he's thinking about his art piece.

Checks his phone a lot. He wants to see if he has messages from you so he's always peeking at his notifications in eager waiting, but if he's with you he's also checking his group chat notifications from he boys. It's not bad, but gets annoying on dates.

Leaves his clothes everywhere. His room is always messy with little piles of clothes and when you move in together, your shared room becomes the same way. He gets better about it when you get on his ass but up until then he's just throwing his shit everywhere.

Twirls his hair around his fingers. Not a bad habit but funny when you pick up on it. He's doing it all the time when he's listening in on conversations, and while he does it he's pursing his lips. Just a drama queen judging other drama queens.

Jisung:

Talks with his hands. He gets real flappy when he's arguing and bickering with people, and he's come real close to hitting you a few times when he stands up from the couch to argue with Hyunjin on the other end. He always apologizes but it'll never stop.

Rubs his eyes a lot, which you have to remind him is bad for 1) his skin, and 2) the company will yell at him. He's gotten better when he's wearing makeup because he doesn't want to mess it up but when he's at home he's always rubbing his face.

Stuttering/Stammering. Especially if you're bickering or you catch him off guard, he cannot get a damn comment out to save his life. He'll try, say the word four times wrong, and then stop to think and then completely lose the thought altogether.

Constantly apologizing. The man is apologizing for everything under the Sun; Being behind you when you move away from the fridge, bumping into you while you do laundry, saying sorry for cutting you off while talking. Most of the things are no big deals and it can get a little frustrating, but it's also a tad endearing.

His eyebrows do not have an off switch. They are always moving. He speaks with his hands, his mouth, and his eyebrows. Which ties into him, most of the time, not being able to control his expressions. Not that he wants to.

Felix:

Messy eating. Man needs like eight napkins when he's eating chicken wings, he fuckin' flies through them like crazy. He's the type that's got sauce all over his fingers, his mouth, staining his chin. He can't help it though and it is kind of cute. Just don't let him near too many finger foods.

Touches his hair all too much. Sometimes he complains his hair looks greasy or messed up and you have to remind him that every five minutes he's pushing it back with his hands - which is why it grows oily so fast. Always pushing it behind his ears, pulling it down over his forehead, touching the ends behind his neck.

Swears like a sailor. Bro has the biggest potty mouth in the group and cannot control it when he gets angry. Most used words are: Wank, Fuck, Shit, and Asshole.

Claps at everything. Not in the verbal way; He actually claps. He claps when he laughs, he claps when someone does something successfully, he claps when he's tired and ready to go to bed. Has a habit of clapping once before he starts talking, usually a "*clap* Alright, well -"

Winks. Wink, wink. Always winking at people. Not strangers, though - Just you and the guys, and on occasion a security guard escorting him through the airport. An eternal flirt who cannot help himself. A natural charmer.

Seungmin:

Rubs the tip of his index finger against the side of his thumb and subsequently gains a callus from it because he can't fucking stop. It doesn't really matter nor does it effect his daily life but it's a little annoying when he's playing guitar. But it also.. kind of.. helps.

Speaking of ^ Brings his guitar everywhere he can. If he is going somewhere and knows he'll have free time to practice or play, he's bringing it with even if it's taking up space in the car and people are tripping over it. That thing goes with him everywhere.

Has a very bad habit of standing and staring - except it's less staring and more glaring. He's not doing it on purpose, nor is he always mad - He just had a perfect RBF and can't help it. But he's always tipping his head down, his eyes are always dark, he's never smiling unless he's actively like - trying. He's just kind of scary. Scary guard dog.

Taps his foot a lot. Not annoying, not a hinderance - just a habit that ends up making his ankle and the top of his foot hurt because he is constantly doing it. It becomes a game though if you pick up on it - He'll tap his foot to a rhythm and you have to guess the song, which is a lot harder than you expect.

Sniffs. Sniffles. Sniffing everything. One of those people who, if he opens something new, sniffs it immediately - even if it isn't food or something that will smell good. Sniffs it anyways.

Jeongin:

Twists the rings he wears around his fingers. Most of them are higher quality and from fancy ass brands so it doesn't matter, but every once in a while he gets a slightly shittier ring and when he twists it, it turns his finger green. And then he ends up pouting while he tries to wash the stain out of his skin.

Constantly licking his lips but not in the way you're thinking. He does this thing specifically where he pushes the tip of his tongue into the corner of his lips while they're parted and then caresses it. With his tongue. He does it a lot and when you pick up on it, you stare every time he does it subconsciously because it is so sexy.

Pulls at his bottom lip when in heavier conversations. Not even heavy topics - just intense or interesting convos. They could be talking about aliens and if he's in deep and thinking about conspiracies and shit, he'll pulling at the skin of his lip. More of a thinking habit than anything but he ends up using tons of chapstick afterwards.

Sticks his tongue out when he gets scolded or complimented. Anytime a comment is directed at him, he sticks his tongue out briefly before smiling. It's more of a teasing habit because it riles the other members up and flusters you - so. He gets away with it.

Pulls childish moves during arguments; Pouts when you're angry with him for something, rolls hie eyes when he's frustrated, puffs his cheeks out when he's thinking of how to retaliate. And absolutely says "Ooh you wanna kiss me so bad!!" when the two of you are bickering.

Permanent Taglist :

@dwaekkicidal @possum-playground

@thatonedarkskinnedsiren @oc3anfloor @theyadorevalerie

@jeonginsleftcheek @pixie-felix @hwangjoanna

[al1x00]

Guess who's back🫣 HII KATY HOW ARE YOU MY LOVE?😚 ALSO A ZOMBIE APOCALYPSE AU?!?! HELL YEAH

Ngl I read the first lines before anything else and I was prepared for the worst LMAO glad that Yuri's so comprehensive tho (love her sm)

"After our trip to the beach, I know it's his" GIRL?🫣OOP🤭

"And as for the guitar, he put a sticker of your face right on the crack and the mortherfucker kisses it before every show for good luck" WAITT THAT'S SO CUTE :((

I feel like Hobie would for sure take the responsibility if an accidental pregnancy happened, he's not the type of person to leave it all behind. ALSO, I feel like he'd be a huge ass girl dad (and also a huge misandrist LMAO)

Damn James you got a great timing to go piss huh😒

HELPPP YURI AND NED DRINKING AWAY THE EXHASPERATION BYE I'M DEAD

They're like "pass me the wine, I need to get drunk and forget about this" HAHAHA

KATY HOW TF DID YOU MANAGE TO WRITE THE UNDEAD TO BE THAT TERRIFYING MY GODD I HAD CHILLS ALL OVER. That scene where the horde starts to get in the house is written SO WELL ISTG, I can picture it perfectly in my mind.

You can literally feel the anxiety, the chaos of it all, the ABSOLUTE HORROR OF IT KATY YOU'RE A GENIUS YOU OUTDO YOURSELF EVERY GODDAMN TIME

The fact that Hobie immediately thought of what to do if him and R got somehow separated:( He's too loving for his own good

The burning house is giving the start of TLOU ngl

NOOO NOT THE FUCKING TRUCK AND HORDE THEY GOT SEPARATED BWAJFJSKOFF MY BABIESSS😭😭😭

Okay so the infection is like- instant. Once you're bitten you become one of them, right?

TWO FUCKING MONTHS HAVE PASSED?! GOOD GOD THAT'S SO MUCH TIME.

THEY CAN'T EVEN DIE?? Imagine how scared Hobie was when he was just taking a bath and he feels a hand around his ankle- I'd never set foot in any body of water ever again, no matter the size of it.

The voicemails :( I'm not even halfway throught it and I'm already starting to sob KATY YOU OWE ME A THERAPIST

OH HELL NAH PLEASE TELL ME HOBIE IS OKAY AND HE DIDN'T TURN INTO A SEA CREATURE

"It feels like your heart is out of your body, missing somewhere else" I'M SOBBINGG THEY LONG FOR EACH OTHER SM😭😭😭

"Looks like you already took the load" JAMES😨- YOU LITTLE SHIT OMG

My heart literally jumped out of my chest when R almost jumped from the bridge- for a second you had me thinking she was about to die (but then I remembered it's a Katy Special tm)

"The PG version please" HELPP I'M CRYING

"Mudwood Manor" BDAS REFERENCE BDAS REFERENCE BDAS REFERENCEEEEE

AAAAAAA

HOBIE'S ALRIGHT THANK GODDD MY PRAYERS HAVE BEEN ANSWERED

Aww poor Hobie :( the way the situation remembers him of when he was younger actually breaks him. That and how he's already acclimate with how dangerous and difficult the whole situation is. He deserves all the hugs in the world.

The way R for a second didn't even realise it could be Hobie on the other side of the door or how she thought she was just going crazy and imagining it all

NOOO JAMESS GODDAMN IT :((

NOT R CRADLING HIS HEAD IN HER LAP AND FIXING HIS HAIR KATYY STOP MAKING ME SOB.

UGHH THE ENDING IS SO BITTERSWEET I LOVE IT SM. The life among the death, the gore and the blood and Hobie's hug just makes me want to bawl my eyes out of their sockets I swear.

KATYY I MISSED READING YOUR FICS SM AND COMING BACK TO THIS WAS SUCH A NICE EXPERIENCE SO THANK YOU SM. I know I've said it before but I SWEAR I'll get around to read IPOB because I'm so damn curios abt it🤭🤭. But this was such a great read, it's got me in a chokehold now ngl.

End of Beginning

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader

Word count: 18.7k

Synopsis: When the world seems to come to an end, life starts. Death looms and a virus has taken over. Life as you know it has ended and all you ever want is to see him again.

Tags: Use of Y/N sparsely, no specific physical description of the reader (except for clothing), CW pregnancy, vomit mention, TW blood and gore, CW injury, TW violence, CW death, CW guns, suggestive content, zombie apocalypse AU, established relationship, hurt/comfort, angst.

Navigation

You stare intensely at the two little red lines on the plastic stick. Heart beating out of your body while the muffled sounds of the party rattles the locked bathroom door. Your breath hitches in your throat, mouth dry and hands shaking from the mere sight of the three pregnancy tests having the same result— positive. There's no doubt about it as the double lines are as clear as day.

“Fuck.” Yuri says the exact same word you have in mind.

“F–Fuck.” You breathlessly say, voice trembling while you haven't moved an inch from where you're standing in front of the sink.

“What're you gonna do?” Yuri asks beside you, hand placed right on your shoulder as you start wobbling in place, afraid that you might keel over on the harsh tiles. “Are you gonna tell him?”

“I–I’m not sure.” You roll the simple silver band around your pinky finger. One that was given to you by Hobie a long time ago.

Finally lifting up your eyes, you stare at yourself in front of the mirror. You look disheveled, hair a mess from the concert. Your clothes still smell faintly like bile and the floor of a pub. The eyeliner around your eyes is smudged, and lips bare from all the wiping you had to do after getting sick all over James’ parents’ bathroom. You feel like a bloody mess.

It was Yuri's idea to run to the chemist's and buy different packs of tests for you after she walked in on you heaving out your dinner. Damn Yuri and her smart ass.

“I thought it was food poisoning from the shawarma we ate.” You deflate, tears threatening to spill over as you sit on the toilet.

“That place near the post office?” Yuri sighs, leaning against the cold tiles as her voice echoes around the bathroom that's as big as your living room.

You rub your palms all over your face, elbows placed atop of your knees as your body folds over itself in an attempt to calm down. There's a rock in the pit of your stomach, face clammy and lips wobbling. The soles of your feet feel numb, ebbing up to your legs and further towards your chest until it reaches your shaking hands. Your leg keeps bouncing up and down, as if it has a life of its own. You don't hear your best friend calling your name as blood rushes in your ears.

“Hey,” she kneels down in front of you, bare knees freezing from the tiles but seemingly not caring for the sensation as her kind eyes stay on you. Her leather skirt pools around her, a blob of black framing under her. “You okay?”

“Y–yeah, it's that place near the post office.” a tear slides down your cheek, and you're quick to wipe it away.

Yuri holds onto your knee, stopping the bouncing of your legs as she cups it with her palm gently and looks into your eyes. “Please don't tell me it's James'”

You pause, staring straight at her with a glare. “Bitch.”

She laughs, the sound bouncing all over the walls. “Mate,” her hand grasps your own, fondly rubbing at your sweaty palm. “You and Hobie have been together since the dawn of time. trust me, after our trip to the beach, I know it's his.”

You crumple in place, a smile slowly appearing on your lips as you hide your face. “God, you'll never let us live that down.”

“Seriously, we had to wear our noise cancelling headphones.”

“Stop!” Chuckling, you feel a bit lighter from her teasing. Just a tiny bit.

Yuri mirrors your smile, dark eyes crinkling at the corners. “What are you worried about, hm?”

You sigh, “you know what I'm worried about, Yuri.”

She shrugs and makes a face. “No, I don't, so don't waste both our time and just tell your best mate.”

Rubbing your eyes with your index finger, your entire body starts feeling the pin pricks all around you. “I just—” she patiently waits for you to gather your words. “What if he doesn't want it? That he'll leave me all because of…” you wildly gesture around your stomach.

“Are the hormones getting in your head already?” You give her a stern glare. “Babes, remember the time you accidentally broke his favourite vinyl?” You nod, wincing at the memory. “And that one time you dropped his guitar while attempting to clean it?”

“Please don't remind me, I have nightmares of breaking more shit.”

“Well, you might not remember that he never got mad at you.” Yuri smiles, taking your clenched hands and holding it in place. “He even placed the vinyl in a frame and made it look fucking cooler than before with its shattered pieces. And as for the guitar, he put a sticker of your face right on the crack and the motherfucker kisses it before every show for good luck.”

You chuckle, tears sticking to your lashes.

“All I'm saying is, he's not gonna fucking leave you because of this.” She beams at you, eyes shining from the bright light of the bathroom. “If he does, then I'm gonna help you raise that kid. But before that I have to bury him and you're gonna help me find a quiet and secluded place for him.”

You laugh, head falling down on Yuri's shoulder. “You really think so?” Your voice is small as she rubs your back.

“I know so, babes. Besides, this is his fault too.” You sniff and she holds onto you tighter. “And I know Hobie, he takes responsibility for shit he does. The one thing he truly loves in this world besides his guitar is you.” She whispers, love rolling off of her as she comforts you. “I've seen the way he looks at you, and that's not the look a man gives to someone he's ready to up and leave because of a baby.”

Your heart steadies in place as your mind flickers back to his face. Yuri's right, all those years of being in love with him, and the many years of being together would tell you that he won't bolt away from the product of all those years of loving each other. But there's that one thing you're worried about too.

“But—” you start and Yuri lifts your head up, scrunching your face in her hands.

“No buts!”

“Yuri,” you say, despite your squished lips and cheeks. “The band is just gaining traction, what if this—”

“I'm going to stop you right there.” She stands up, boots thumping on the tiles as she helps you stand up from the toilet and grabs a tissue to clean up your tear stained cheeks and messy mascara. “This won't stop us, and we'll learn to juggle it with you.” Gently patting your eyes, she smiles softly. “Don't forget, you're part of this band too.”

A smile manages to wiggle itself on your face with Yuri's bright encouragement. She does have a point, and you can't help but imagine Hobie kissing your baby's chubby cheeks, or the baby having his smile and his eyes. And the thought of him cradling them to sleep while the baby’s little lashes flutter close. He'll be a good dad, but at the same time you don't want to spring this huge news on him when his career is just starting to propel him and the band. You don't want to be the one to hold him back. Yes, you have options, but this is the product of your love, *years of that love. Maybe you'll be a good mother, for now, you have to be brave and tell him.

“I just manage the gigs, you guys can live without me.”

“Tell that to our lead guitarist.” Nudging your shoulder, she places you in front of the mirror. “We've got your back, alright? Do you think a baby will stop him from making music?”

“I don't know, Yuri. But thank you.” You nod appreciatively, swallowing thickly at the woman standing in the mirror. Will you still look like this in nine months? Will you be happy with your decision in nine months?

“Just tell him, or he'll be able to sniff it out like his surprise birthday party last year.” She gently shakes you in place, trying to get a smile out of you.

“I'll tell him, don't worry. He deserves to know.” You whisper as someone knocks on the bathroom door, their muffled words telling you to hurry up.

“Good, because it's his fault.” Yuri grabs another tissue and wraps all the tests and places it in your palm.

“Not entirely.” You chuckle out, and she makes a disgusted face.

“Augh, I swear you two are like fucking rabbits.”

You snort as you pocket the pregnancy tests. It feels vaguely heavy inside the front pocket of your jeans.

“You ready? Or do you need one more hug?” Yuri opens her arms, expecting for you to wave her away, but instead you step into her arms, embracing her. She hugs back wholeheartedly.

“Thank you, Yuri.”

“Anytime, lovely.” She kisses your temple, wiping away the kiss mark. “I can't wait to buy baby shit for whatever spawns out of you.”

“I can already tell you'll be a great aunt.” You say with a hint of sarcasm.

She scoffs, “of course I will be!” Wrenching the door open, you're met with James’ disgruntled face. “Jeez, do you need to pee that bad, Jameson?”

“Yes! Move!” He pushes Yuri out of the way and she shields you away from his elbow. “Why do girls always go to the loo together!”

The two of you shuffle away immediately before you get a sight of something that will surely make you hurl once again.

“Christ, it's because of all those beers he's been chugging.” Yuri walks next to you, eyes roaming around for the familiar punk’s back to bring you back to him.

“And to think that he has an army of groupies.” You find that your hand unconsciously meets with your stomach, protecting it from the rambunctious party goers.

The party is in full swing as you and Yuri go down the long winding stairs of James’ parents' mansion. Drinks are passed around, amber liquid sloshing out of the glasses and cans. Speakers play one of the band's songs, a loud punk anthem that adds fuel to the already on fire party. Expensive Arabian carpets now smell of beer and piss, crisps crunching down on your shoes, impossible to step around it when the place is packed with sweaty and dancing bodies. It's a miracle that nothing is broken or else James will never see the sun again after his parents see the aftermath of their million euro home.

“There's Ned!” Yuri guides you towards the makeshift bar which is actually the kitchen's island where bottles upon bottles of liquor sits on its previously pristine marble.

“Where the fuck have you two been? Hobie's practically going insane looking for you!” Ned exclaims as he pours you and Yuri a glass of gin.

You scrunch your face at the drink, stomach churning from the smell alone, and Yuri saves you by taking both glasses and chugging each of them without gagging or missing a beat.

“Whew!” The glasses clinks as she places it both down. “Thanks, Ned, I was getting thirsty!”

Ned blinks, and looks impressed at the feat. He sighs, ponting at you. “That was for her, I'll just pour you another one.”

“No!” You and Yuri collectively gasp.

“I mean—” you start, “I've been feeling sick lately, remember? I don't think drinking will help my stomach.” Yuri nods her head enthusiastically, agreeing with you.

“Right, I did tell Hobie that the shawarma place near the post office had a health violation last year.” Ned looks at something behind you, or someone.

A familiar arm loops over your shoulder, the comforting weight keeps your stomach from doing flips and hurling what's left of it onto the marble kitchen. His front is right behind you while his free hand has managed to wiggle itself into your backpocket.

“They said they're under new management, Ned.” Hobie chuckles out, warmth seeping through you.

You look over your shoulder, only to be met with his amber eyes that look almost golden under the light. He smells faintly of after concert musk and your own perfume that he keeps saying is his lucky charm. Smiling, he cups your chin with his palm, giving you a chaste kiss.

He scrunches his nose, smiling at you. “Did you brush your teeth?” His face then morphs into concern, brows furrowed and hands squeezing your side, fingers grazing your stomach. “We can go home if you feel too sick.”

“I did, don't worry I didn't use anyone's toothbrush, I just used my finger like a caveman. And please don't be a worry wart, it's nothing I can't handle, Hobs.” You lean against his shoulder, feeling infinitely better now that you're in his arms. Now that you're looking at him as he gazes at you with so much affection, you start to think that your worries feel silly.

“I don't think they had toothpaste back in the stone age, love.” He nuzzles your temple, nose tickling your hairline.

“Archeologists beg to differ.”

“Yeah? You an archaeologist now?” He flirts back, palm still cupping the back of your neck and thumb rubbing along your jaw. His rings are cold against your warm skin, comforting you further.

Yuri and Ned roll their eyes and tries to ignore the public display of affection while mixing in drinks and then downing it in one go. Like a couple of exasperated parents.

“I could be if I wasn't too busy being your manager.” You hold his hand as he kisses the tip of your nose. “And fluoride existed during the olden times, y’know.”

Hobie leans back, brows knitting together before a smile etches on his handsome face. “Really?” He says with a lilt in his tone. “This your way of sayin’ bye to the band?”

“Nope, someone's gonna miss me too much.” You whisper against his cheek, kissing him lovingly.

“I'm sure Ned will live.” Hobie laughs, embracing you as he sways you to the music.

“Don't bring me into this, bruv.” You and Hobie laugh at the look on Ned’s face.

Yuri stares at you and smiles, wordlessly telling you to tell Hobie the news. With a deep inhale, you twist around to cup Hobie's face and look at him with a serious expression. The glint of your ring urges you to continue.

“Can we go somewhere quiet? I need to tell you something, Hobie—”

“Oi, have the lot of you seen this?” James comes running in, flip phone in hand as he shoves the screen in each of your faces until Hobie takes it.

“That you finally washed your hands after taking a piss?” Yuri crosses her arms over her chest as she closes the distance and peeks over your shoulder.

A shaky and grimey video plays a scene of someone blowing out their birthday candles inside a restaurant. The celebrant claps while the guests cheer for them. It's all normal and happy at first then the camera zooms in on the background, right on the window where a man who looks like he's drunk, staggers and limps towards the restaurant window. Then a sound of an oncoming car skids to a halt but too late to stop in time. It hits the man dead on as he flips and flies over the car until his face meets and grinds on the asphalt, leaving a blood trail. Chaos ensues as the shaking of the camera moves towards the streets while onlookers yell and try to call for help.

“Fuckin’ hell, mate, what did I tell you about showing us these kinds of videos.” Ned groans then leaves to go tend to the makeshift bar again.

“No, no, just watch!” James pleads, shoving the screen in front of the band's faces but Ned just shakes his head. “It's bonkers!”

“C’mon, bruv, you can't jus’ show us shit like this.” Hobie moves the phone away from you, but you chase the screen with your eyes as you see the last bit of the video showing the man standing up like nothing happened.

Hobie tries to close the phone to save you from the sight but James snatches it and continues to show it to everyone else. Hobie tries to manoeuvre you away but with James' increasing insistence, Yuri takes one for the team and yanks it out of his hand and pockets it.

“No phone for you until you shut the fuck up about it!”

“Yuri! That's bullshit! That's mine.” James reaches for his phone but Yuri dodges him. “You're not my mum!”

“You tried to show us some live leak shit! No, absolutely not.” They fight like siblings while Yuri swats his roaming hands away.

“The bloke stood up like normal and his eyeball was hanging out of his sockets!” Their arguing falls into the background as Hobie leads you towards the corner of the kitchen.

“You alright, love? Not too queasy?” Hobie rubs your stomach, still unbeknownst to the growing life inside of you.

Taking his hand, you let it rest on your belly. “I'm fine, nothing I can't handle.”

He smiles, squeezing your hand and chuckling. “That's my girl, always so bloody tough, eh?”

“Yeah, that's me, tough as nails.” You nervously chuckle as if you weren't about to burst into tears a few minutes ago.

“Now, what were you about to tell me?”

“I—” you're suddenly out of words. “Can we go somewhere quiet first?” The raging bass of the music is starting to give you a headache, shaking through your skull.

“This serious then?” Worry flickers in his mind, and you know that he's trying to remember if he did something bad. “Did I do somethin'?” And you were right.

You shake your head, palms splayed over his chest whilst you lay down the lapels of his spiked denim jacket. “You didn't do anything wrong.” Your voice is gentle yet it wavers a bit from your own worries.

What if you don't do good for this kid? What if being a mother isn't for you? What if— your attention flits over to a staggering figure appearing from the hill. The shadow gets closer towards the house as you see them through the ceiling to floor windows of James' home, the glass is just situated behind Hobie. Everyone seems to not notice the person as it sprints on the grass. Their head dips back, as if the speed they're running at has their own head lolling backwards from the momentum.

“Is this because of me accidentally leavin' puddin’ on the table and having ants…”

Hobie's voice fades in your ears as your eyes stay on the figure that's coming towards you.

They're quickly gaining speed.

“Love?”

The party goers don't seem to notice the guy, continuing to dance and drink about all merrily. Your body freezes in place, mind going haywire, electricity running down your fingertips and stomach flipping upside down. It's as if your senses warn you of the figure, as if your innate fear response is acting upon itself.

Hobie cups your cheek gently just as the man gets closer, barefooted, shoulder bent at a harsh angle and blood dripping from his eyes.

Then more appear right on the hill, running like they've injured themselves, moon shining down behind them, bathing their shadows in silver light. They look like regular people, except for limbs that flail around, and mouths agape— the blood smeared all over them has your senses telling you to run.

Your breathing stops.

In a blink, there's a horde of them coming your way.

“Oi, you alright? You gonna be sick?”

“Run—!” As you say it, a loud smash can be heard as the first figure you saw comes crashing inside the house. People scream and dodge broken glass.

“Shit!” Hobie shields you away immediately, arms enveloping around you.

“What the fuck?!” James yells, trainers stepping on glass. “My parents are gonna kill me!”

Everyone looks at the body laying on the floor, around him lays plastic cups and crisps. He bleeds slowly into the marble floor, staining it with a puddle of warm crimson. You swear you saw smoke appear from within.

“Someone call an ambulance!” An acquaintance of the band yells as everyone else pauses to stare wide eyed at the still body.

“F–Fuck!” Yuri curses as she takes out her phone from her pocket, fumbling with it in a panic that causes the phone to slip from her grasp and onto the puddle of blood. “Shit.”

She takes a step closer to take it back, and you quickly yank her away. Everyone's attention is on the lone body, but yours are on the oncoming crowd that are running down the hill.

Yuri and Hobie follow your line of sight, gasping in place as they see a dozen or so figures running at breakneck speed.

The rest follows as the guttural groans get louder.

“What the fuck—!” Just as Ned says it, the lone body twitches on the floor and lifts his head up, revealing a grotesque slashed face with shards of glass embedded in his rotting flesh. Blood dribbles from his mouth, strings of drool and crimson leaving his cut lip. His veins pop out, black and blue. “What the fuck!”

You grab a knife from the bar, and you tug Hobie away. “Everyone, run!”

Glass smashes underfoot as everyone rushes to get to the exit.

Yuri holds onto your arm whilst Hobie takes the front. He holds onto your hand in a tight grip, shoulder smashing into the panicking crowd to get you out of there.

Bodies are packed into the doorway as people try to get out. Screams ring out behind you, screams that will haunt your dreams as tearing flesh accompanies the horrific sound.

“Fuckin’ move!” Hobie squeezes himself out in between panicking bodies, hand still grasping around yours. He yells your name, eyes set in a panic as blood splashes across the walls and expensive paintings.

You don't dare look back at the carnage as you manage to get out while your hand is around your stomach protectively.

“C’mon!” Hobie yanks you away, no time for gentleness as he leads you towards the car. “Fuck!”

The two of you run on the yard, the street filled with cries as people funnel out of the house. Neighbours come out of their houses, porch lights flickering on.

You notice the lack of hands around you as you look back at the house. “Yuri!”

Hobie pauses for a second, looking for the rest of his band in the midst of chaos and screams. Faces whizz by, but none of them look like them. With his heart plummeting down to his stomach, he continues to run and snatch you out of your worried stupor.

You stagger on your feet, the cold February air nipping at your cheeks. “What about the others?!” You cry out as Hobie unlocks the car and practically shoves you inside the passenger's side. Face unreadable. “Hobie!” He slams the door shut and goes around the hood to get inside.

He takes a breath for a second, hands wrapped tightly around the steering wheel, and eyes wild as he stares at the rearview mirror.

You grasp his hand, fingers trembling around his palm. “We need to wait for them.”

Swallowing thickly and with a shaking hand, he inserts the key in the ignition and starts the car.

“Hobie, we can't fucking leave them here!” You cry out, head turning towards the house where you see limping and bloodied bodies exit the place.

More and more come out, all covered in crimson, eyes eerily wide, and jaws permanently set ajar, mouths frothing and dripping with blood. They sniff the air as a few of them pick apart the stragglers left writhing on the grass.

“What—What the fuck are they?” Hobie watches as they rip and tear into bodies like they're wet paper. Limbs fly about, severed arms and legs fling out before landing on the former pristine grass.

“I—I don't know.” Your hand grips the knife tightly. “Do you see them?” You whisper, afraid of being heard by the creatures.

Hobie roams his eyes around, frantically looking for the band. He licks at his lips, sweat dribbling down the back of his neck. “...no, do you—?!” A fist bangs against the window, the face belonging to it seems familiar, whoever it was, they break his window with ease after a couple of punches. The tattered arm reaches inside, trying to grab at Hobie. “Fuck!”

You scream, and Hobie, in his panic, steps on the gas.

“Hobie!” The car speeds off into the suburban streets but whatever or whoever it was they still hold onto the side of the window, groaning, eyes bleeding and trying to bite at him with his golden teeth. “Fuck off!” You yell, holding onto the grab handles above to propel your legs over Hobie and kick them out of the car.

They fly away, body rag dolling, skidding into the asphalt and leaving a trail of blood.

You huff, heaving back into your seat as Hobie glances worriedly at you. “Are you okay?” You ask, adrenaline filtering through your veins.

He checks himself over, and finds nothing of note. “Yeah,” he reaches for you, palm cupping your cheek. “You?”

“I–I think so.” You look down at your shoes, finding specks of blood staining your trainers. The hula girl on the dashboard dances to the hum of the car, completely unbothered.

“What the fuck is happening?” Hobie asks as his attention turns back towards the road, carefully steering in through the neighborhood.

“I think what James showed us…” you try to catch your breath, hand placed on your stomach. “...is that— it's happening here too.”

“Love.” He exhales shakily, trying to even out his breathing and expel out the panic. “I think that was the pub owner.”

“What?” You look back, only to see the grand houses fading away. “Who?”

“The fuckin' guy who tried to grab me.” He gestures behind him.

Your face morphs into horror as realization flits over you. “What the fuck.” Looking back again, you only see the dark road. “That can't— he was at the party with us!”

“Do you think it's contagious?”

“What?”

“They looked like they were sick, like fuckin'— like rabies.” He waves his hand wildly.

“Rabies?”

“I don't know— all I know is that he was bloody fine the last I saw him.”

“If it is contagious, we need to know how you get it so we can avoid it.” You sit back down, hand still holding onto the small knife you grabbed from the bar. He nods, eyeing you from his peripheral.

The car grows quiet for a minute as you and Hobie ride towards the city.

“We left them there.” You say solemnly, eyes staring straight at the buildings in front of you.

“They're alright.” Hobie says matter-of-factly, hands clenching around the wheel.

“Hobie.” You say his name with tears in your eyes.

“I know they are.” He grabs your hand, squeezing it three times before letting go. Another minute passes in heavy silence. “If…” Hobie starts, heart heavy. “...If we get separated—”

“Hobie—”

“Jus’ in case, love.” He pats your thigh lovingly. “Jus’ in case, we meet back at the houseboat. And if that doesn't work or you can't get there…” he inhales shakily, afraid of losing you in the chaos. “D’you remember that cabin we rented out last year for our anniversary?” You nod, hand reaching for his elbow. “We'll meet there, right? Tell me you understand, love.”

“I understand.” You say with haste. The frantic look in his eyes has you reaching for him, hand placed in between the headrest and the back of his neck as he leans against your touch. “We'll be okay, Hobie.”

He swallows thickly, fists tightening around the steering wheel. “You come first, remember that, y–yeah?” His voice cracks as he runs a rough palm over his face. “Whatever happens, we stay together.”

Just as the words escape his lips, the car passes by a burning building on the side of the road. The embers flicker in and out, flames illuminating the darkened road in its yellow glow. The fire devours the whole place, warmth felt through the windshield, kissing your cheeks. You and Hobie share a heavy look, recognizing the place as the same diner you two had your first date together. It doesn't bode well, and it doesn't help with your churning stomach.

“Love.” He calls you softy, grasping at your hand that rests on your stomach.

You didn't even notice you were holding onto your belly until he touched you. “Yeah?”

“You alright?”

Hobie turns the car further into the highway as you two come across more cars than before, all leaving the city unlike you and Hobie.

“Y–Yeah.” You lie through your teeth, eyes watching as an ambulance whizzes past you towards the city. “What’s your plan?”

“We need to go home and then sail on the houseboat. I bet whatever those things were can't bloody swim.”

“Hobie, the houseboat can't handle waves from the sea.” You say as you instinctively knead at his nape.

“I know, love, we'll stay close to the rivers—” He abruptly stops talking, eyes following an empty bus stopped on the road. It looked normal at first, but when you stare into it longer, the bloody handprints on the windows make your skin rise. “We'll be fine.” His tone says that he's not just reassuring you but also himself.

A helicopter passes by above you, blades whirring and fading away as it goes out of the city. The familiar streets are filled with people, all lugging bags and their children carried on their backs as they try to leave the place. Your palm curls around your shirt, a pit in your stomach weighing heavily.

“I think we should turn back.”

“Back to where?” Hobie doesn't mean for his tone to be harsher than it was. “There's nowhere else.”

You almost jump in place when a jet plane whooses past, leaving behind a trail in the clouds. “Somewhere that isn't crowded.”

“We're in London, love, everywhere is crowded.” Hobie stops the car as you two hit traffic. “The world is endin’ and there's still fuckin' traffic.” He honks the horn in frustration, muscles straining under the harsh push.

The sound rings in your ears as you look around you. Pedestrians have a solemn look in their eyes, clutching at themselves. A few limp in place, ankle swollen or leg bleeding from the worst day in their lives. Your mind wanders back to Yuri and the others, wondering if they're alright, or if they're injured and limping like the strangers around you.

Hobie turns on the radio, flipping through the usual music channels to get to the news. The sound of the emergency broadcast has you and Hobie covering your ears from the shrill sound. He lowers the volume down from the last music jam you two had on your way to James'.

The radio cackles for a moment, signal fading in and out as static cackles. “Stay….home…danger…bite.”

“Useless piece of shit!” He punches the radio, suddenly, instead of the broadcaster's voice, an ear piercing boom can be heard from your right. The knick-knacks on the dashboard fall on the floor. “Fuck!” Hobie instinctively puts his arms around your head, shielding you.

The explosion reverberates, shockwave echoing through the city as it hits the car and breaks all the windows and windshields. Glass shatters around you whilst screams erupt all around the streets.

“What was that?!” Your ears ring, a piercing sound deep inside your ears. Hobie says something, mouth opening and closing but you don't hear him through the shrill deaf tone. “What?!”

He grasps at your face, pointing at the black smoke billowing from the distance. You follow his finger, seeing fire and brimstone, the heat from it searing your cheeks. “—we need to go!”

You stare back at him, eyes wide at an oncoming truck heading your way. It runs through cars like butter, flipping metal and ripping flesh. You don't have time to run, so you embrace him— The only way you know how to protect him.

—

Hobie wakes up with a flaring pain on his temple. Skin aflame as gashes and scratches mar his flesh. His vision fades in and out, and his throat dry as he swings upside down in his seat.

Panic sets in immediately, blood rushing to his head. The car is a mess, trinkets that were on the dashboard are now strewn across the car's ceiling. Glass shards littered around, and metal folded and creaking as he moves. He yells your name, throat stinging, chest heavy as he looks beside him.

He only sees a splash of crimson on the seat.

“Love!” He cries out, rough and bloodied hands trying to push away several metal rods piercing in between him and the passenger's seat, fencing him out. It almost split the car in half.

“F–Fuck! C’mon!” Looking through the cracks, he spots an opening before him and a trail of blood. That's probably where you must've gone.

His hand trembles as he feels through the seatbelt and releases it with a click. He falls down harshly, body folded against himself. Breath wheezing, he inhales through the pain.

The thought of you injured and alone was enough fuel for him to squeeze himself out of the window and into the street. Glass nicks his body, scraping against his skin. He bites his tongue, hands scruffed and bleeding.

Hobie falls knees first into the asphalt, body aching and various cuts bleeding on the cold grey ground.

With a deep inhale, he pushes himself up, palms splayed, and feet boosting himself up. His muscles scream in protest as blood dribbles from his brow down to his lashes. He finally makes it up, standing on unsteady feet.

Hobie goes back to the car, arms reaching towards the backseat where his guitar case lies. His fingertips brush along its rough leather until he manages to get a hold of it. He yanks it out of the back, a miracle that it's even intact after the crash. There's no care when he takes it out of the car, case smashing loudly against the broken shards of glass and banging on the metal door. As long as he has it back, he doesn't care about the damage.

There's a sudden animalistic groan in the distance.

On trembling legs, he turns around. His whole body freezes as he sees piles upon piles of cars littered around. Death lingers in the place, rotten flesh and drying blood wafting over his nose.

You have to be alive. You have to be.

As he starts to stagger around the car to climb over the debris and over to you— he falls back on the hood from the sharp pain stinging on his cranium; hip hitting hard on the metal. The sound bounces off the concrete street, and he hears the sudden shuffling of feet, then running footsteps.

Hobie lifts his head up, seeing a crowd— no, a horde sprinting towards him as they appear behind the flipped and broken down cars. All gnashing teeth and bloodied fingers trying to rip him apart.

Without a choice, he bolts away in the different direction you might've gone.

—

Warmth kisses your skin as you lay on the soft mattress. Face squished on the pillow as arms wrap around your body.

“Morning, Hobie.” It was all a bad dream then, nothing but a nightmare fuelled from watching a horror movie before bed. You run your knuckles over his cheek, he still doesn't stirr. “I know you're awake, Hobs.”

You take his cheek, palm resting along his jawline. He feels cold. “Hobie? You okay?” Sitting up, you try to shake him awake. “Hobie? Are you sick?”

His body immediately flings up, sheets flying off his body as his hands wrap tightly around your neck. The amber eyes you love are now a pair of bloodied rubies in his eye sockets. Blood drips from his lips, skin bubbling and melting off his skull. Blue and red veins snake along his flesh, curling around his eyes and lips.

“H–Hobie!” You claw at his hands, ripping away his skin, feeling it crust under your nails.

He chokes you firmly, and you gasp awake.

Your eyes meet with carnage, fire and smoke hitting your face as a breeze passes by. The once normal London streets look like a car junkyard. A throbbing ache spreads through you as you see the hula girl on the floor, crimson splashed on her ukelele.

“Holy shit, you're finally awake!” The least likely person you thought you'd meet up with taps your cheek. James' face is drenched in sweat and blood, shirt caked in drying blood as he shakes you awake once again.

“J–James? How?”

“I need to unclip you, okay? You're gonna fall.” Before you could say something or even wait for your mind to wake up fully, he cuts your seatbelt off with a knife and you fall headfirst into the car's ceiling. Pain blooms on the back of your neck as you feel aches and pains all over. “There, we need to fucking move, Y/N.”

“No, where's—!?” You twist in your seat, sitting up and weakly pushing him away as you turn towards the driver's side. Hobie is still strapped in his seat, sitting upside down, arms dangling from his sides. He's unconscious but breathing.

“Hobie.” You try to squeeze your hands in between the metal crammed in the car that divides your side from his. The beloved car has seen better days. “H–Hobie, fucking wake up!” The tips of your fingers brush along his shoulder, feeling his warmth against your skin. “Please!”

James yells your name, tugging you away. “We'll get him out! But we need to hurry, they're coming!”

“Who?” A low rumbling groan echoes out from the chaos. In your headache, you finally remember what happened.

“You need to get out of the car and I'll try to get him out. You won't go far with your leg.”

“My leg?” You look down, gasping as a large gash runs down your hind leg. Blood trickles from the wound as shards of sharp glass sticks out of it. “Oh f–fuck!” Immediately, pain shoots up. A blinding pain that has you grasping at James’ shoulders and biting down your lip.

“Yeah, I know, calm down.” James pats your back and brandishes the same knife you took from his house. “I'm going to jump over the cars and cut him loose, okay? Stay here.”

You nod, biting down your yelps of agony. Your hand wanders down to your stomach out of fear for the life inside.

James leaves your side, grunting and grasping at his bleeding arm. You watch him carefully as he tries to find a foothold on a side mirror attached to something that doesn't even look like a vehicle anymore with its crushed metal and shattered glass. Ageing blood drifts in the air, clotted and drying while screams and screeches echo all around the city. There's a low rumble of helicopter blades somewhere, and sirens fading in and out.

James still struggles to climb up over the pile of cars. You turn your head, glancing at Hobie in hopes of him waking up from his dreamless sleep. There's drying blood trickling on his temple, lips split and bloodied. Adrenaline makes your hand shake, his words echo in your mind— “you come first.” He'd want for you to not just sit there wait for him to wake up, so with a determination to survive in your eyes, you reach upwards to grab a scarf you know you've placed inside the console. Things tumble out as you open it, polaroids, keys, guitar picks and the blue scarf you've been looking for.

You hear James' grunts as you gingerly pick up a picture of you and Hobie on a random day at the beach. That day was freezing cold with the waters nipping at your skin, but you two didn't care as you chased each other on the frozen sand. With trembling fingers, you hide the picture inside your jacket pocket.

“F–Fuck.” You bite your tongue as you take out pieces of glass out of your leg. A tear slides down your cheek as you remove the last one that was buried deep inside your muscle. Inhaling, you flick your eyes towards James who's halfway up the pileup. “Okay.” Cinching the cloth tighter and tighter around your leg, you breathe in through your nose, mouth clamped shut to prevent a shrill cry from coming out. Tying it neatly, you finally take a deep exhale of air.

“Shit!” James yells, foot slipping off a bloodied hood of a car as he tumbles down on the hard ground. He groans, sitting up and cradling his behind.

“You okay?” You ask, swallowing down your fear as you quickly glance at Hobie, who's still unconscious. If you take too long to get him out, the blood rushing to his head won't be good. “James.”

“I'm good— fuck!” An arm suddenly reaches from within a crushed car, skin mangled, black blood oozing from the wounds. James crawls backwards into a car, the loud bump and his screech could wake up the whole city.

“James— shit!” You clamber out of the car, leg immediately shooting up a wave of pain that has you almost curling against yourself. With another look at Hobie, you limp towards James and help him up. “We need to get Hobie out!”

“Yeah—” his eyes turn wide at something behind you. “Fuck me.”

As you look over your shoulder, you see a wave of people clambering out of the destroyed cars and appearing from the side streets. The moon gazes behind them, a spotlight on their shambling bodies and shadows dancing on the pavement as their hands open and close, trying to grasp at you.

With your heart stuck in your throat, you grab a piece of metal laying at your feet. Its sharp edges sting your palms as the smell of the rusted iron meets with your nose. You look at Hobie, eyes tearing up at him sitting there alone and defenseless. You murmur an apology before smacking the metal against the hood of a car.

“Over here!” You scream, throat burning and legs inching towards an opening towards the alleyway.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” James tries to grab you, but you nudge him away.

“Getting them away from him!” You hammer away at the cars around you while you limp towards the alley. “James, come on!”

The rotting corpses follow you as you and James shimmy in between a downed car and a truck. Their running footsteps thud in tandem with your heart, metal pokes and scratch you but you carry on with gritted teeth.

You make it out of the pileup, immediately turning around to grab James by the collar before one of the shamblers takes a hold of him. Their fingers graze his back, almost ripping his shirt apart.

“Come on, you fuckers!” You yell, banging the metal rod around the walls whilst James guides you backwards.

The corpses struggle to get out of the small space, pushing at each other as bodies quickly pile up over the cars and spill over the cramped alleyway. A few hit the ground in a crunching noise, but the rest pay them no heed as they jump over their heads, stampeding over them while they desperately try to get to you.

“We need to run!” James grabs your arm, quickly looping it over his shoulder to help you bolt away. “I've got an idea!”

Before you could fully turn away, you see a glimpse of Hobie in between the piles of bodies and metal. He sits there, undisturbed and safe.

“Go!” With tears in your eyes, you sprint away despite the searing pain in your leg.

—

Hobie quickens his sprinting, wind whizzing past him as he almost tumbles towards the docks. Wood creaks under him, heavy boots thumping against the old wood and water logged planks.

It looks like he outran the corpses, but he can still hear them heaving out a throaty groan like they're in pain. He's not taking any chances as he quickly makes time and jumps over the side of his houseboat the second he sees its well loved façade.

“Shit, shit, shit.” His knees hit the deck and an almost blinding pain lights his joints on fire.

He grasps at his knees, body laying against the cold wood. Despite the pain, he unties the rope tether from the dock, using his muscle memory and ignoring the fear to quickly untie it. The ropes fall down into the waters, sinking down into the depths.

With a deep inhale, he crawls towards the welcome mat that he still remembers you got for him as a housewarming gift. That was before you were dating, but he already loved you back then— still does, a lot more now. Turning it over, he grabs the spare key and climbs back up, using the doorknob as leverage.

With his hands shaking, he opens the door in hopes of seeing you waiting for him patiently inside.

The door creaks open, and he's only met with dead air and darkness.

Hobie bites the inside of his cheek, trying to calm himself down as he makes his way upwards and towards the steering wheel. The framed pictures of you two and the band whizzes past him in the dark, all smiles and laughter etched in each photograph. He makes it up to the wheel, immediately inserting the key in the ignition as the whole boat lights up like a damn Christmas tree.

The bloodied and bloated corpses appear from the street, shrieking as they see him standing in the boat before racing towards him.

Hobie doesn't steer the boat just yet, eyes roaming around the docks, hoping, wishing that he would see you sprinting towards the houseboat you two shared.

But with every inch the dead comes close to him, he has no choice but to sail away without you.

He promises to find you, even if it kills him.

—

Your lungs burn from the running, feet sore and feeling like you're sprinting on hot coals. It's torture, pair it up with your nausea and your various wounds, you feel like you're better off as the dead’s meal. And yet, you still run with James leading you towards a pub.

His shoulder hits the double doors, bursting it open and pulling you through it and locking the doors with a propped up chair all in quick succession.

You stand in the middle of the room with a wild look in your eyes as you see a handful of people peeking out of the bar.

“Get out!” One whisper yells at you, and James finally joins your side.

“Absolutely not, mate.” He shakes his head, taking your hand, he leads you towards the back of the place. “I own this bloody place.”

You whip your head towards him with shock. “What?”

“Technically my dad does.” He whispers to you as he continues to lead you to an office while the survivors follow you with their heavy gaze.

“And here I thought JJJ only had that radio show.” You say as you close the door behind you to shut off the stares.

James rummages through the desk, trying to find something as you roam your eyes around the sparse room with a few accolades framed to the walls and its business permit. Behind the oak table lies a large cabinet with a lock on it. And to the other side of the wall is the back exit. There's not even a framed picture of his family in it, not even of James.

“One thing about my dad is that he loves yapping, drinking, and…” he grins, showing you a ring of keys. “Guns.”

“Guns? That's—”

“Hard to get here? Yeah, he had to pull some strings.” He immediately turns around, crouching down to unlock the cabinet. “The real deal is at our house, and you already know what happened there, this is just a small part of his collection.” A muffled curse escapes from his lips as he tries to find the right key in the dozen or so keys.

You look at the window from the office, seeing the survivors beginning to stand up and staring at you with curiosity. Without missing a beat, you close the blinds with a quick tug. You can't risk it, not when you've seen too many apocalypse movies with Hobie. Fuck, Hobie, your heart squeezes at the thought of him. You should get back to him using those guns, saving him like in the movies.

“How'd you find us, James— shit, have you seen Yuri and Ned?” You lean against the table as a wave of pain ebbs through you. Your hand grasps at your stomach, trying to calm yourself down.

His hands pauses, “...no, no I haven't. We got separated too. We all ran out towards another house to get help but when I looked back they were both gone. Then I jacked a car to get to the city— to my mum and dad, hopefully. That's when I saw the pileup and your car.” He clears his throat, sniffing and wiping his face with his sleeve. “I'm sure they're fine though, this is Yuri and Ned we're talking about.”

“Yeah, I hope so. I'm sure your parents are fine too.” That means Hobie is all alone out there. “James, we need to get back to Hobie.”

“I know, boss.” He says your nickname that he dubbed to you when you took on the mantle of being their manager. “No man left behind, I promise.” The cabinet finally unlocks, revealing a pump action shotgun and a pistol. “Thanks dad.” James grabs the backpack next to the gun, filling it up with as much ammo as he could put inside. “Help me with this.”

You nod, quickly kneeling down to shovel in ammo. Your leg hinders you to fold it, but despite the stabbing pain, you still crouch. “After we get Hobie, we'll hop onto the houseboat then we'll go out and find Yuri and Ned.” The boxes of bullets rattle as you shove it inside.

“Solid plan.” He takes the shotgun and loads it in with shells. You gawk at his expert movements. He shrugs, “of course he taught us how to use these things.”

“Perks of being friends with the royal family I guess?”

James makes a face, nose scrunched up. “Never went to their hunts, dad said I would've pointed it at them instead.”

You chuckle, “that's probably true.”

He smiles, handing you the pistol. “You know how to use it?”

“Uh, point and shoot?” You take the weighted gun in your hand.

James takes the gun and shows you the safety, “right means pew pew, left means no pew pew.” He then takes a cartridge and loads up the pistol and shows you how to load it yourself. “Just pull this back right after and you're good.”

“What if it jams?” You ask as he gives it back to you.

“Like in the movies, huh?” It's your turn to shrug. “That rarely happens with a gun like this. But if it does, you run like hell, okay?”

“Okay.” You inhale, letting your hand acclimate to the weight. “I never thought that there's this side of you, James.”

“I was really into watching doomsday preppers when I was younger. I guess the doom mongering kinda stuck with me.”

You chuckle, “we're kinda stuck together until we find them. How do you feel about that?”

“Fucking lucky that I got the fittest member in the band.” James jokes, nudging you as he puts on the backpack. He stands up, giving you a helping hand that you take.

“Not going to be fit for much longer.” You groan as your knees creak from under you.

“C’mon, you're not that old.”

“I don't mean it like that.” You inhale, “I'm pregnant, James.”

“Shit, is Yuri the father?”

You push him playfully. “Fucker.”

“Congrats? Shit timing though.”

You shake your head with a small smile. You feel lighter now that you've told someone else. “The worst fucking timing. I haven't told him yet— I was about to but then you know.”

“Yeah, the fucking dead rises again.” He walks over to the backdoor, unlocking it.

“Should we help them?” You gesture towards the window and the bar.

James sighs then nods. “Yeah, actually we should—!” The door opens and out comes a stumbling wall of decaying flesh. He immediately fires at it head on, blood and guts spraying at you and the walls as your ears ring from the loud shot.

You take James by the back of his collar, tugging him backwards into the bar as the loud shot has brought more visitors to funnel into the office.

You yell ‘run,’ but you can't hear your own voice.

James points the barrel behind you as more and more appear. You quickly open the pub entrance, flinging away the chair as chaos ensues inside.

Your hearing comes back just as the screams start.

James tries his best to help, shooting at anyone who comes close to the survivors but he can't protect himself and them at the same time. He's backed against a table as he reloads. Fountains of crimson splashes out of the bodies as the corpses rip and tear into their insides.

A few escape, pushing past you to get out into the streets. But most fall into the jaws of death.

Soon, the oaken floorboards and marble bar is covered in guts and bone.

“James, we need to go!”

James struggles to reload with his shaking fingers, with a deep inhale, you point and shoot at a corpse who came too close to him. He cradles his ear, wincing at the sound as he retreats towards you. The body staggers back, but your bullet missed the head, ear no longer there.

You take the opportunity to pull him out just in time as bodies pile up and spring over to you, you see a glimpse of one of the survivors with a huge chunk taken out of their face, twitching and writhing on the floor before they stand up and bite at the air with their bloodied teeth.

You don't have time to ponder what you saw as you and James run towards the docks.

Your leg aches but you carry on with the pain, you feel blood seeping through the measly bandage while you run. James holds onto your elbow, making sure you don't lag behind as you blindly shoot behind you.

James leads you back to where he found you and Hobie, his feet skids to a stop but when he looks inside the driver's side, Hobie's gone.

You almost cry at the sight. But you hold onto hope. “The docks!” James immediately understands as he lets you lead this time.

Muscle memory guides you towards the side streets where you and Hobie use as shortcuts to get home faster. Shoes thudding against the pavement, shots echoing in the dark as smoke and fire billows all over the city you call home.

The smell of the river has you running faster.

Muscles screaming to stop, you heave as you bolt over to the houseboat. Only to be met with nothing in its place.

“What the fuck?!” You scream, gun tightly around your hand. “Where—?!” Turning around, you roam your frantic eyes across the familiar dock, but the red paint of the houseboat is nowhere to be seen, only the rope that was tied around it is left floating on the water.

“Where is it?!” James yells, reloading his gun before making quick work of the corpses that fall down with a bloodied thud.

With a heavy heart, you pull James away and back into the streets. “It's not here!”

You're half relieved and afraid of what might've happened to him. Hobie might've woken up and went to the houseboat in hopes of meeting you there. But he had to leave, you know he wouldn't have any other choice in the matter if he chose that. But another half of you thinks that he perished along the way, that the houseboat is now floating along the Thames with its captain writhing and stumbling inside the very place you both cherished.

You shake the thought away, focusing on surviving for him and for the life inside you. He's alive, you know he is.

“Over here!” James pushes himself inside a broken metal fence, helping you squeeze inside as the horde catches up to you. You feel the heat of their bodies against your back as they desperately try to wrap their rotted fingers around you.

He pulls you, shooting at any stragglers as your destination gets near. A tall building stands before you with its shiny windows that reach high into the sky, and rotating doors that remind you of a fancy hotel.

“Keep running!” He yells, arm still holding onto you for dear life.

“Fuck, my leg!” You almost stumble, but James comes back to you and grabs your arm and places it around his shoulder.

“I'm sorry, we're almost there!” He yells, panicking as he bares half of your weight for you.

The two of you pass by a pub that's filled with screams of terror echoing out instead of the sound of music that you're used to. The windows are painted in crimson, splotches of blood marr the historical walls inside like spider lilies spread across the glass. There's still people in there, fighting for their lives as you see a flash of light and hear a loud bang that has your teeth rattling inside your mouth.

The horde splits off towards the sound, leaving you with a dozen corpses heading your way.

Your adrenaline filled heart flips as you see the name of the pub, and it's the same one you were in just mere hours ago with Hobie.

“In here!” James pulls you back into the present, pushing you towards the rotating doors and into the empty lobby.

You make it inside just in time before the dead get to you. James grabs the metal rod in your hand, using it to lock the rotating doors by placing it in-between the glass.

“It's not gonna hold on for long, we need to go up!” James grabs your hand, yanking you towards the stairs. “Seventh floor!”

You don't have enough time to gaze upon the expansive lobby with its marble floors and crystal chandelier. It seems as though the place lies untouched by the calamity outside.

Your mind goes on survival mode, running, dodging bared teeth, climbing up the stairs, shooting, kicking a corpse away from your ankle. And then sprinting upwards towards the winding stairs.

James couldn't risk it with the elevators, knowing that it could get stuck in between floors or worse, the dead lurk and wait inside.

The condo door is in sight, just when James trips and falls face first into the harsh ground. You look at the crawling corpse, who's rotting hand is wrapped around his ankle.

Without wasting time, you take your foot up, stomping down on their skull in a sickening crunch of brain matter and bone.

Eyeing down your deed, with its mess marked on the once pristine floors, James pulls you away and towards the door. Within a second, he inputs the code on the panel and the door clicks open. He pushes you inside and shuts the door with haste.

There's banging outside the door, and you're left standing in the hallway with James pushing a bookshelf towards it as a barricade.

You don't notice him calling your name as you stare at your bloodied shoe with brain matter sticking to its heel.

“Hey.” James grasps your arm, panting and eyes wide awake. “I need help with the door.”

With a firm nod, you take your mind off of what you have done, and whilst you push shelves against the door, you could only wish that Hobie's alright and he made it to the boat in one piece.

—

Hobie's stuck alone in his boat. With nothing but the waters and the fish to keep him company for two months, he sails towards the north where the cabin, the designated meeting place, lies. His hand tightens around the wheel, lips chapped, scruff scratching him, and bags dark under his brown eyes. He feels as if he's going sea crazy out here. Hundreds of worries have appeared in his mind, and most of it consists of you and your whereabouts.

Without the knowledge of you being alive and breathing, he keeps seeing you in his dreams. The last two months have been a nightmare for him. And it has gotten worse with every day that passes without you by his side. Now he knows why Yuri and the others always joke that they shouldn't separate the two of you lest the other won't function or go stir crazy. He only hopes that you're doing better than he is.

His eyes seem to circle around the sticker of your face on his guitar, right where you accidentally scruffed it. You two always talked about sailing the whole world on the houseboat, ignoring the fact that the boat can't withstand the harsh waves of the ocean. But it was a good dream nonetheless. If only you could be here with him, it's not sailing around the world, but the water at night would be a sight to behold for you.

The waters around the country have gone wilder by the week, he sticks to the beaches and the coast where he can control the houseboat better. Where the water isn't too rough around the old ship.

The boat isn't built for seafaring, or even long journeys. If the houseboat collapses against the rough waves before he could get to the small fishing town you two stayed in, his hope would dwindle, but he'll stay determined for you.

He can already feel your arms around him when the reunion happens. Or is that his mind playing tricks on him once again?

At least he has enough provisions to last him a few more weeks out in the open. But in time, he has to go dock the boat and scavenge for food. He doesn't need to load up with gasoline when the houseboat runs on solar. Thank fuck he built that before shit hit the fan.

The virus seems to have wrapped its teeth around the world. Marks of death lay waste to every city he sails by. Piles and piles of bodies, half burned by the very people who once knew them, afraid of the walking death that could savage them too. Cities now lay empty or crowded by snarling corpses. Some were lucky enough to build walls around a small commune, but it was obvious that they didn't want newcomers with the mounted guns and patrolling armed forces around it.

With every port and dock he passes, he looks for you and your familiar face. He hopes that with every wave and tide he conquers, you're getting closer to him. But whenever he passes by a coastal town, or a beach he once visited with you, he could only see the dead awaiting for him on the sand, like old friends waiting to be reunited with him. Their eyes are long gone, white scleras and crimson irises staring him down with their maws agape, biting at air and inhaling through their rotten lungs.

The shamblers, he calls it, or them, the former humans that were sadly infected, can't swim, but they also can't drown. So swimming in the water poses a risk of getting bitten by one of them that are treading the sea floor. Hobie doesn't risk getting into the sea after a limp hand wrapped around his ankle when he decided to take a quick dip.

In the past two months since then, he misses you, misses the way he would wake up to your face, arms wrapped around him and protecting him from the harsh morning cold. He misses the way you would smile and laugh. He misses the sound of your footsteps walking around the boat, sometimes he hears it at night when he's in between sleep and the waking world. Missing you was an understatement, he longs for you, longs for you to be alive and back beside him. They say that absence makes the heart grow fonder, but no one told him that the ache would be unbearable.

Hobie once hated the mundanity of life. The way he plays his loud music in the speakers, now he can't even turn on the stereo when every sound could bring the dead to him. Even the radio that he has taken for granted, one that you would always turn on in the morning without fail, now only plays static. Or the repeating sounds of the emergency broadcast over and over again. He sometimes wants to chuck it out of the boat and into the depths, but he remembers how much you loved the old radio and how you would sway to the music. So now he lets it play static, the sound keeping him company throughout the night instead of you.

The information pamphlet that the government tossed from an airplane glares at him from where he taped it on the side of the controls. Hobie still remembers the whirr of the engine above while the papers drift down like snow.

The drawings remind him of the ones in airplanes where they tell you what to do in case of a plane crash or how to put on your seatbelt. He feels like he's in a never ending plane crash heading to nowhere. The words ‘body fluids,’ ‘infected,’ ‘bites,’ and ‘ten seconds’ are engraved in his mind.

He once tried to call your phone in hopes of you answering it but he only heard your voicemail. In the rocky waters and the solemn sky, your voice echoes and presence felt through the speakers. He kept calling you after that just to hear your voice again and again until cell services stopped working.

He's utterly alone.

With a sigh, he steers the houseboat towards an empty dock. The wood creaks as he steps out, bag slung over his shoulder and rope itching against his palms. After taking a quick look around for danger, he ties the rope around the dock, securing his home before grabbing his hammer from his belt.

He stretches his arms and legs as if he's about to run a marathon, he probably would be after he tried to restock for supplies a few days ago. He can still smell the stench of rotten flesh and blood in his nose when a horde chased after him.

Like always he tries to find the evacuation area where you might be, or where other people might be. He would steer away from other survivors, but if there's doctors and a lot of people around, he's sure that they can be trusted. A gathering of people in the apocalypse could spell danger, but it could also be hope.

He treks along the empty street, nothing left but dusty shops, and abandoned cars on the road. There's no stench of death that lingers around the place, or blood splattered along the shop walls. Hobie guesses this town was one of the lucky ones to be evacuated before the virus got to them.

His hypothesis seems to be right when he spots a military vehicle abandoned on the side of the road. Peeking behind it, he doesn't find anything, not even a shambler waiting to bite at him behind the tarpaulin. He wonders what happened to this place.

Every place he encounters has him asking the same question, could you be here?

As he enters the large stadium, it's evident that it's long been abandoned.

Scattered boxes and tents lay where its occupants last left it. Needles and bloodied bandages are strewn across the painted floor and on the court seats. Hobie stands where the general seats would be, right in the middle of everything and with him having a good vantage point of the whole place. A breeze passes by, and papers fly ahead of him.

It’s completely empty, even if he scavenge for supplies in here he won't find anything.

Just as he's about to leave, he hears a clunking sound from the middle of the stadium. His hands hold onto the railings as he narrows his eyes towards the movement from behind the tents.

There, a couple of black clad strangers emerge from within, all holding onto their own blades.

Hobie immediately ducks down, hiding behind the wall and railings.

“This place is shit, there's nothin’ left!” One says, voice echoing.

“Keep your bloody voice down unless you want to wake the dead.”

“How fucking poetic of you.”

Hobie has managed to avoid the dead and the living, the dead a lot easier, but people are harder to get away from. He hasn't killed or maimed anyone, unlike the apocalyptic movies he had watched with you and the band. He tries to avoid it, staying away from staining his hands with red. The shamblers used to be human too, under all the rotten flesh and dead eyes, they once had a life, a family, someone that cared for them. So as much as he can, he only stuns them.

He has never encountered other people before, on his ship, the only faces he has seen are the ones in photographs. He always wondered where everyone went, if there's a huge ship somewhere carrying the whole world behind its metal back. Finding the strangers is comforting in a way, a way that he wasn't left behind to rot and survive on his own. That there are still people out there, living and breathing ones.

But it's clear that you're not here.

With a thudding heart, he slowly crawls on the dusty floor, gloved hand and knees dirtied by the muck and grime.

Hobie tries to not make any noise above the whistling wind and rustling trees. He avoids fallen bottles, and scattered paper plates. The voices fade behind him, the doors where he came from just in his line of sight.

He shifts left and right, crawling as he adjusts his belt. Your voice telling him that he needed a new one rather than the barely holding on rope echoes in his ears. He curses himself for not listening as he keeps adjusting the falling thing.

His breath quickens, pulse palpitating as he makes it to the door. His palm reaches for the doorknob, still kneeling down. But as he stretches himself, the hammer hanging from his belt falls.

Hobie gasps, fingertips brushing along its handle, trying to catch it. It falls down loudly on the floor, metallic clanging sounding like a death knell.

“What was that?!”

“Fuck.” Hobie, without wasting time, grabs the hammer and runs for his life.

The door swings open, the warmth of the sun greeting him. His boots thump loudly on the pavement, leaving his pursuers in the dust.

“Get back here!” They gain speed as their footsteps get louder, a cacophony of breaths and blades unsheathing. “He has supplies, get him!”

Hobie turns a corner, his destination still too far from him to see. His legs are starting to ache, chest aflame as he navigates the town that he thought would be empty.

“Shit!” He makes the mistake of looking back, finding three people now running after him. Wait, three?

A shambler joins the chase, eyes bloodied, arms trying to grasp at the couple.

“Behind you!” Hobie tries to help as they're too focused on trying to catch him.

Just as the man wielding a fire axe turns to look behind him, the shambler catches up and grabs him by the neck, taking a chunk out of his face.

His screams of agony would bring Hobie nightmares, but the guttural yell of grief from his companion would be etched in his mind forever.

“Wilson, no!” He cries, trying to help the other as blood sprays the pavement below.

The dead doesn't let go, maw properly set into his skin.

His pursuer cranes his neck towards the frozen Hobie, eyes pleading with him for help.

Hobie should help, could help. His mind is in scrambles as screams echo around the small town, waking the dead that hides in the forgotten homes. He swallows thickly just as the sound of running footsteps roar from further within the town. So he turns around, running away from the scene as more and more join in, hearing the screams of terror ebb out like a dinner bell.

He doesn't sleep that night, the faces of those strangers are painted behind his eyelids, faces contorted into pure fear. And yet he left them, had to leave them or he might've been caught with them. Died with them, died with strangers who tried to take his things and perhaps his life.

Hobie doesn't want to die amongst strangers, nor be forgotten and lost within the numbers of the dead. To be left for dead is his greatest fear, losing you was the closest he got to feeling that fear. If It's his time, he wants it to be with people he knows, people he loves, not wasting as a husk of himself in a place he doesn't know.

He lays awake in the same bed you once shared, the pillows still smell like your shampoo, and the room has lingering scents of your perfume. His eyes are heavy and lashes sticking to one another. The chipping paint of the ceiling morphs into shapes, the pub he played at, the band's faces, and you, smiling at him like always.

Closing his eyes tightly, he wretches the vision from his mind. He needs to stay sane. As he stands up from the bed, mattress creaking from his weight, he wraps your cardigan around himself, clinging onto it like a child's toy.

The ship rocks back and forth to the calm waves. Stars dotted along the sky while the moonlight stretches across the shining waters. Hobie sits on the deck, where you two would usually drink morning tea at, and where you'd be sitting when you're waiting for him to come home from a gig.

Everything reminds him of you, there's no escaping it, even if he doesn't want to. He doesn't know if it’s the only thing keeping him sane all alone, or the thing that's slowly making him bonkers. Either way, the memory of you keeps him company in the end of the world.

He brings his knees to his chest, chin propped up on it as his eyes follow a dot in the horizon. The moonlight shines on it whilst it moves on the water.

Fear grips him as it continues to move closer to his boat. The shadow moves from side to side, at the mercy of the waves.

Hobie stands up, putting on your cardigan as he makes his way up to the wheel. He steers the boat away from its way, now seeing it as a large cruise ship that's aimlessly floating on the water.

There's no light nor voices coming from it, only the familiar scent of decomposing flesh, and the sound of low groans.

He steers clear of it as he sees a face peeking from the side, eyes unblinking, red almost shining in the light of the moon. He swears he saw it grin at him.

As he swivels the wheel, he lets the ship pass quietly, letting it carry the dead on its empty voyage.

Hobie decides to get back into bed then, eyes too heavy, body too tired. His head lands on the pillow, sleep taking him into its calm arms.

—

Hobie wakes up to your thumb brushing along his jaw. He cracks an eye open, and your smile beams at him.

“Hey, you.”

“Hey, me.” A smile spreads across his cheeks, your familiar warmth and scent felt through his bones. His eyes feel so heavy, and you're so warm that he could fall right back to sleep.

“You’re loopy today.” The pads of your fingertips graze along his stubble. “Are you tired, Hobie?”

“Yeah, love.” He breathlessly says, smile etched on his lips as the sun shines behind you, bathing you in warm light. “Where have you been?”

“I was waiting for you.” You tilt your head with a smile. “You sleep like the dead.”

He chuckles, hand grasping on your waist. “I was lookin’ for you in my dream.”

“Yeah?” You chuckle above the sound of wind chimes. “Did you find me in your dream?”

“I haven't, not yet.” He sniffs, and yet can't smell your shampoo or perfume.

“Maybe you should wake up then, continue your search?” You whisper, voice gentle as your hands cup his cheeks.

Hobie grins tiredly, eyes half lidded. “You're already in front of me, what is there left to find?”

“You have to wake up, Hobie.” Your fingers pinch his skin, nails digging into his cheeks as the sun is replaced by darkness. And the warmth in your eyes turn stark white.

“Ow, what?”

“Wake the fuck up!”

Hobie jumps off the bed, head hitting the hard wall of the houseboat as thunder rips through the wood while lightning flashes outside. He can still hear the last echoes of your scream in his ears.

“Fuck!” The whole boat shifts to the side, dangerously close to tipping. His things are knocked from their place, glass shattering and making a mess of the bedroom. If he doesn't get up to the wheel, the waves might break the boat in half.

He panics, grabbing his windbreaker, and boots in the other. As he climbs up the steps, he puts it on awkwardly over your cardigan and as best as he can with his shoelaces loose.

Rain battens down on the houseboat, wind howling outside. Hobie zips his jacket on, taking a breath before opening the door.

The water smacks him right on his face, sharp rain drops stinging his cheeks. He slams the door closed, bracing the wind as he shields himself with his arm.

“Shit!” The slippery floors made it hard for him to find a foothold while the waves shook and turn the boat all over like he's in a blender.

Hobie grips the side wall, trying to keep his balance to get up the steps to the controls. The waves splash and slap his body around, completely drenching him from inside and out.

The winds howl a dreaded tune, one that sailors would run away in fear. Dark waves loom overhead, sea salt on his lips, and seafoam spreading by his feet. All he could do is brace for impact.

—

The city in front of you is still burning. Skyscrapers that used to reach the heavens are now nothing but flaming metal and acrid dark smoke. James had warned you not to stay too long on the balcony when the air outside leaves less to be desired, especially in your condition. James has been pleasant company, but the life growing inside you has made it extra difficult to stay in a good mood. Especially when the one person you want to be next to you is missing.

It feels like your heart is out of your body, missing somewhere else.

Your eyes glance over to the Thames, the water is dark and glimmering under the embers of the city and the moonlight. Despite the crackling of fire and low groans of the dead in the streets, the city is quiet, dead quiet.

You long for the days when the sound of a guitar rips through the morning hours of sleep. Hobie would always apologize with a smile, but you know he has taken the position of your personal alarm clock whenever he would wake up earlier than you. Nowadays you would wake up to James trying to pick up a signal from a CB radio he found during his runs through the building. He said it's to contact the rest of the band, but you can always hear him trying to call for his parents when you're in bed and alone with only the polaroid of him, and your baby to keep you company.

It's been two months since you found out, two months without Hobie. You try not to worry too much, telling yourself that he's alright and probably faring better than you and James. But you only do it for the baby, you know all that worrying would bear down on them. Even the prenatal vitamins James found for you from one of his neighbours wouldn't help if you kept on crying through the night with your chest sore while mumbling Hobie's name.

According to the pregnancy book you found, something that was probably owned by James’ mother, your baby is as big as a raspberry now. You already feel bloated and you dread trying to run away from the dead when your belly gets bigger with time. It also said that in three months the baby will be the size of a lemon, the thought makes you realize how long it has been since you've held fresh produce.

James' parents' condo is big, too big for just two people. You've been stuck within the four walls for months now when you can't step out of the building without the city's horde lunging at you. James and you decided to wait out the dead after you read in the government pamphlet that they like to travel in hordes and they tend to leave when there’s no one left to infect or eat. You've seen that the infected are beginning to thin out, but not fast enough.

The place isn't uncomfortable at all; it's probably the best place you could wait it all out in. It's all pristine white walls and modern furniture that must've been worth more than your houseboat. You've taken the guest room with its king sized bed and hundred thread count sheets. It has its own bathroom, and a bathtub to boot. And yet your mind keeps going back to the houseboat where you and Hobie were happy and content. You hate the fact that he's been missing for two months of your life, two months of the pregnancy where you imagined you two would lean on each other. Not spending it all with James, he's kind and patient, but he's still not your Hobie.

You try not to gaze at the river again, but you keep failing each time. The hot chocolate you made sits abandoned on a small table beside you as the wind blows against your cheeks. The scenery doesn't change, it hasn't changed in two months, but you hope and wish that one day the familiar red paint of the houseboat would appear on the waters with Hobie on it.

With a tight grasp around the binoculars, you take a peek at the waters. Your eyes roam around the same docks where you last saw the houseboat, like before, there's nothing.

James thought that giving you the binoculars would help quell your anxieties, but whenever you look through it, you could only see the faces of the dead staring back at you. You could only hope that you don't— would never see a familiar face among the horde.

The sliding doors to the balcony opens, and out comes James' head peeking through it. He gives you soft smile, blond hair tousled in the wind, and a beard needing a trim. The light from inside the condo spills out into the balcony. You always thought that the city's electric grid would run out within a few weeks, but it's still going strong.

“Hey,” he sighs, gazing at how you grip onto the binoculars and down to your growing stomach. “You feeling okay?”

“Yeah,” you inhale, lower back aching and stomach feeling heavier than yesterday. “Just sightseeing.”

He steps out, still wearing his dad's hunting vest, and his mum's silver bracelet. “Anything new?”

You shake your head. “I thought I heard a gunshot from somewhere, but I couldn't find where it came from.”

James sits down next to you with a groan, hand reaching for the binoculars. “Let me try.” You give it to him, hand subconsciously twirling the ring around your pinky. “Where do you think it came from?”

“West, just by the park.” You cradle your stomach, the growing belly still feels alien to you. But at least now the morning sickness is gone, but your feet look bloated inside your socks.

James hums, looking through the binoculars with intensity. He takes it off his eyes after a minute, shaking his head and giving it back to you. “Yeah, nothing, just a few of the infected.”

“Why are you still in your hunting vest? You already got us enough provisions to last us a couple of weeks.”

He looks down at his appearance, “sorry, I can't seem to just shrug it off.” You know what he meant by it, and it's not the vest he's talking about as he cleans off the grime under his fingernails with his thumb nail. “Does it bother you? I'll take it off.”

You stop him from taking the vest off. “No, it's fine, keep it on if you like.”

Nodding, James puts the beige vest back on. “Is your leg still hurting?” he glances at your leg that's perched on the railing.

“Just sore, is all.” You inhale, thumb drawing circles around your belly. “Putting it up helps.”

“If I just knew how to treat it properly before—”

“You did a good job, James.” You reach for him, palm resting on his arm. “If it was just me I would've thought of cutting it off or something.”

He smiles, patting the back of your hand. “How’s Hobie jr?”

“Fine, just like yesterday and the day before that.” You chuckle. “How are you holding up, James? I should be helping you out there.”

Scoffing, James flicks the back of your hand playfully. “You'd just hold me back, preggo.”

“Hey,” you say with a laugh. “All I'm saying is that you need someone to watch your back. Or at least help carry the load.”

He looks at your stomach then over to your face with a teasing glint in his eyes. “Looks like you already took the load.”

“You little shit!” Slapping his arm, he lets out a feigned yelp. “I'm serious, I could really help.”

“If something happens to you I wouldn't be able to live with myself, boss.” James looks at the distance, eyes darting over to the river. “Besides, I can handle it.” He flexes his arm, smacking his bicep.

You sigh, watching him with a strained smile and shining eyes. You blame the hormones. “Okay, but when you move up another floor again, I'm coming with.”

He shakes his head, chuckling and taking your mug of hot chocolate, taking a sip from the lukewarm drink. “Yeah, no.”

“James.” You say sternly, “come on, what if you get trapped up there alone? Ned would kill me if I get his best mate killed.”

“First of all, I'm nobody's best mate. Yuri is yours, and Ned is Hobie's. Second, I have a fucking gun and have been doing this alone for weeks now. I'll be fine.”

Your tone grows soft. “You're my best mate too, James. So is Hobie's, Yuri's and Ned’s. You're our friend, and if it was anybody else in your position, I would offer the same, and fight you just as hard.” You lean close, arms over the armrest as he stares at you. “I don't want you to fucking die in here alone. Especially when I can still do something to help. Because in a few months I won't be able to.”

“Do you think they're alright out there?”

“Don't change the fucking subject—”

“They have to be okay.” James licks his dry lips, swallowing down the lump in his throat. You've had this conversation before, and it always ends the same way.

You nod, chest heavy and hands shaking. “They are, I know they are. They're tough, our band will hold on.”

He swallows thickly, looking away at you and instead staring at the dark drink. The previous conversation wedges in his mind. “I just— I think I just want to be useful, you know? Because I know this stuff, shooting and shit. So I gotta use it to protect you and the baby because that's all I know.”

You feel tears prick at your lashes. “You've always been useful, James. You're our drummer, the music's shit without you.” He chuckles, sniffing as he gazes at the ruined city. “We're a band, we protect each other. And I've seen you do other shit with expertise, shooting is not all you know.”

He turns to you, smiling gently. “I do make a really good pot of stew.”

“The best.” You smile back, tugging at his hand and holding it fondly.

His face turns solemn, eyes downturned at your intertwined hands. “Can you promise me something?”

“Anything.”

“Can— will you end me if I ever get bitten?”

“James—”

“I've seen them closely, Y/N, I know they're in pain. I don't want to end up like that.” His voice breaks at the end, thumb brushing along the back of your hand, staring down at it. “The pamphlet said you have ten seconds before you turn, that's plenty of time to reload.”

Your lips wobble, head shaking before you inhale deeply. “...Okay. If that's what you want.”

“Y–Yeah, I want that.”

“It won't get to that, I promise.” You don't know that, but you promise him anyway.

“Thank you, boss.”

“Can you promise the same thing for me too—?” Before you could finish your words, the lights shuts off, and you see the wave of darkness ebb through the city. “Shit.”

“I think we need to get to that cabin sooner rather than later.” James utters in the dark.

—

After weeks of waiting and preparing in the darkened condo, with some luck and a miracle, you and James manage to get outside of the condo and even get to ride in his parent's lexus.

You shut your door as quietly as you can, heaving and laden with sweat as you're covered from head to toe in thick winter clothes; so if an infected gets to you, their teeth won't be able to penetrate the cloth. Patting your stomach, the roundness of it is still unusual for you now that you can feel the baby move around.

James mirrors your befuddled look, sweat dripping off his brows and beard sticking to his chin in what could be an uncomfortable feeling. He nods at you, smiling as he grips the steering wheel. All the bags and guns are thrown in the backseat, together with a baby bag that James managed to find in one of the flats.

“We fucking made it.”

“God, I could fucking kiss you right now, James.” You joke, reaching over the center console to briefly hug him.

“I wouldn't say no to that.” He chuckles out, patting your back before turning on the ignition with a shaky hand. “To the cabin we go!”

The engine stirs up immediately, a thrumming sound of victory. James presses a button on a small remote, prompting the automatic garage door to whirr awake.

You laugh, but the sound of running footsteps behind you has your stomach sinking. Looking behind and over the seats, you see a whole horde of them gunning for you and James. It's the building’s residents.

“We need to go!”

“Seat belts!” James revs up the engine and without missing a beat, backs the car towards the bodies as blood sprays all over the windows.

Clicking on your seat belt, you hang on for dear life as James panics and turns the steering wheel around to face the garage doors.

“James!” You yell as more and more clamber their way to the sides. The car jolts, wheels squeaking but not moving as blood and guts fly about.

The sound of the garage door’s metallic clanking has more of the infected join in, the stragglers left by the rest of the city's horde. The sun peeks through the opening, shadows of the stumbling and running crowd managing to squeeze through.

“The wheel's fucking stuck!” James presses down on the pedals, but the car still doesn't move.

You yell when a banging sound erupts from the backseat. Right on the glass, bodies and faces are squished in between it, blood and ripped skin kissing the car's window.

“I need to get out and—” James panics, but before he could grab the shotgun from the backseat, you're already holding onto it. “What—?!”

The loud reverb of the shot stings your ears as the glass of the back window now lay shattered all over your things.

“What the fuck, Y/N?!” James yanks the gun away and you surprisingly let him.

You crawl towards the seats, ignoring the broken and bloodied glass, and quickly ripping the bag zipper open as you grab a molotov cocktail from the arsenal you and James prepared exactly for situations like this. You only have a few minutes before your opening closes and before the horde gets back up.

Without questioning you anymore, James helps you by fishing out his lighter, clicking it once until the cloth lit up the whole car.

Just like Hobie taught you, you toss it through the opening you made within a half second.

The bottle flies over the dead, their heads turn towards the heat and light as it lands directly at them with force, shattering the glass and spreading the fire.

The guttural screams would haunt your dreams, but when the car lurches and the infected gather around the warmth and leave the car be, you smile victoriously.

James drives off, car hitting the streets with a metallic slam and wheels smoking. He hoots and hollers, smacking your side ecstatically.

“You absolute beauty, you!” He laughs, fist slamming against the car's ceiling.

Buildings whizz by, grinning back at James. His smile flickers away as his eyes move down to your lap. You suddenly feel a stinging ache on your palms.

With bated breath, you look down, blood pooling all over his mother's mink coat.

“It's probably fine—”

“Stop the car!” You yell as the car skids to a stop near the bridge. Opening the door, you immediately bolt away from James and climb up the wall of the bridge, standing precariously on the ledge as you look down at the Thames.

The sound of the car door opening has you looking back at a concerned James, the gun in his hand means that you both have reached an understanding.

Big Ben looms over the distance, its clock face standing still just like the world has. Just like you have as you count down to ten.

Your laboured breaths rise above the sound of the rushing river below you. It's dark depths calling for you.

Five.

“It's okay, boss, I—I think you're fine.” James utters but the tears in his eyes says that he has the same worries as you. “Ten seconds have already passed.”

Four.

“T–The glass had their blood, James.” You show him your blood drenched palms. “It might take awhile.”

“It won't fucking take you. Get down from there please.”

Three.

“The pamphlet said it transfers through bodily fluids—”

“Get the fuck down.”

Two.

“I can't.”

James slowly inches towards you, gun holstered.

One.

Your breathing rises, blood dripping from your wounds. “I think—” James yanks you away by the coat’s hem, dragging you away from the ledge as you land against his chest. Your cries are muffled by his own coat.

He shushes you gently, holding you in place. “You're good, see? Still alive.”

“I'm sorry, t–that was pathetic.”

“Pathetic? Nah, just melodramatic.” He sighs in relief, leaning away as he holds you at arm's length. Patting your cheek, he sees your left eye twitching briefly before stabilizing. “Let's get the fuck away from here. We have bandages in the car, come on, boss.”

You wipe all your tears, nodding and trying to calm yourself down. “Okay, we have a reunion to go to.”

—

“So, tell me about this cabin?” James asks while a storm brews in the distance, dark clouds looming over the trees on your right. “We have four whole days of travelling, might as well tell me about it.”

“What?” You ask, head still not screwed on tight on your neck after what transpired a few hours ago. The bandage around your palms are rough against your thumbnail, incessantly picking at it anxiously. The ring around your pinky is stained in red, you should clean it later.

“The cabin, tell me about your time there with Hobie. The PG version please.” He chuckles, eyes straight on the road as he carries precious cargo.

Shaking your head, you look over to him while a pair of beaded bracelets dangle from the rearview mirror. “It was nice, we went there for our anniversary.”

“And?”

“And?” You scoff with a smile. “That's it, we spent time lounging around the place and in the morning we would go out to eat and sightsee.”

“You have a way with your words, boss.”

“What do you want from me, James?” You shift in your seat, arms wrapped around your growing belly. “A narration?”

James shakes his head with a growing grin, eyes flicking to you briefly. “No, I'm just making conversation to fucking get you out of there.”

“Out of my seat?”

“No, your fucking head, emo. You've been quiet this entire time.”

“Oh,” you sniff as thunder rumbles from a distance. “Well, thanks.” You can't tell him that his annoyance actually worked and kept you distracted for a little bit, or you'll never hear the end of it. “The cabin was just an hour away from the town. It was pretty, you know, in a cabin in a horror movie type of shit.”

He chuckles, finally victorious. “Why? Is there a permanent smell of carcass around the place, oh! Or like dolls hanging from the ceiling?”

“That’s fucked up!” You chortle, smacking his bicep playfully while he mirrors your smile. It's nice to be finally out of the damn building you've been stuck on for almost three months. “No, there was none of that, just a bunch of antique furniture that looks older than me and Hobie combined. I remember the guy who owns it described it as, ‘rustic’ and ‘remote.’”

“That place is definitely haunted. Like someone died in there or some fucked up ritual.”

“Oh, you think you can do better?” You jab his side, earning a guffaw from him as he flinches away, stomach ticklish.

“Uh, yeah!”

“Of course you can, rich boy.” You roll your eyes, legs folding to rest on the seat with you, arms wrapped around it as you perch your chin atop your knees. Thunder rolls around, grey clouds now looming over the highway that's littered with abandoned cars and luggage.

“We have a farm further north— a fucking rest house more like.” He sighs, eyes fond as he remembers a memory. “We used to go there every winter with the whole family, go sledding and shit. Until the whole drama happened between my dad and aunt.”

“I'm sorry, James.”

“Nah, don't be. I was a kid, barely remembered the whole tiff they had. I just miss my cousins is all.” He shrugs, clearing his throat as he continues to drive steadily. “There's a huge chance that they might be there, y’know the whole family and stuff.”

“You planning on going there?” You ask, voice turning soft.

“Yeah, I think so— well, after we meet up with Hobie and hopefully the others.”

You smile, hand reaching to grasp reassuringly at his bicep. “Sounds like a good plan, James. We'll come with you, as support and definitely not to test out the hundred rooms you guys probably have. What's the name of the place?”

“Mudwood manor.” You nod, taking note of the name. “Dad's gonna have a heart attack if he ever saw you lot. He's still not over what happened two years ago.” He chuckles, hand patting your own in appreciation. “Thanks, boss, for everything. I think I wouldn't have made it this far without you.”

You shake your head, tears making your vision blurry. You blame the hormones. “That should be my words, not yours.” James mirrors your expression, inhaling deeply to get rid of the lump in his throat. “If your parents ever saw you now, they'd be proud of you. I'm proud of you.”

He subtly wipes away at his eye. “You gonna name the kid after me now?”

Laughing, you pat his arm before letting go. “Maybe, I'm seriously considering it.”

“Shit, really?” He says with disbelief. “James Junior, wow.”

You wince, making a face. “Probably not with the Junior. Ew.”

The two of you laugh as rain now pours over the car, drenching the pavement. The sound reverberates through the metal, and the broken window doesn't help with tamping down the sound.

You look over your shoulder, finding that the tarpaulin that you hastily stuck on the hole is hanging on.

“Hey,” James pats your knee, eyes shining despite the dark clouds and pouring rain outside. “We’ll make it there.”

“I know.”

“Let me worry for the two of you, okay?” He glances at your stomach, your belly button is beginning to protrude through your shirt.

“Careful, you'll have worry lines.”

“Birds find worry lines fit, boss.”

With a roll of your eyes, you pinch his arm. “Focus on the damn road, Jameson.”

—

“Wake up, Hobie.”

Your voice yanks him from deep slumber, hard pebbled rocks digging into his skin as he rises from the coast.

He aches all over, arms throbbing, knees screaming in protest as he kneels down on the rough rocks. His heavy eyes roam around the beach, finding nothing but miles of the rocky coast with its boulders piled up high, edges smooth from years of waves lapping around it.

Rain bears down on him, ears ringing from the sound of rain hitting the hardened ground. His body shivers, eyes straining from the downpour.

A sound of knocking wood from behind takes his attention. Looking over his shoulder, he finds the remains of his houseboat, all shards of wood and glass, memories scattered and floating in the cold dark water.

A scream almost escapes out of him. Hand covering his mouth, as he keels over to the rocks, palm digging harshly into the beach.

It was his home and yours for almost ten years, and it was his only salvation, his safety while he was out treading the waters. And it was his one reminder of you. Everything in it had memories, both fond and somewhat awful, but they were his, and now it lays in the bottom of the sea. Picture frames floating with the seaweeds, shoes and clothes tangled around drifting wood.

But by some miracle, his guitar case floats in between two rocks, knocking against the other, in tune with the waves.

Hobie, with whatever's left of his energy, stands up on wobbly legs. There's scratches all over his skin, all searing pain that almost had him falling back down on his knees. And yet he continues on, legs weak, feet barely moving towards the guitar case.

Salty water hits his feet as he shivers, he treads on until the water reaches his waist. The cold and salt exacerbates his injuries, with clenched teeth and shuddered breath, he reaches for the only thing that's left of his home.

The thick leather brushes along his fingertips, hands wrapped around it as he tugs it closer to his chest. Hobie shakily hugs it, a sob pushing through his carefully built wall as he cries atop it like it's a casket that's about to be buried.

His head lays on top of it while rain pours overhead. And his tears are carried by the salty waves.

—

Hobie lugs around whatever's left of his houseboat. All shoved inside a tattered backpack that was once yours. Your charms still clink against the other, and pins still clinging on the fabric. His hand holds onto the guitar case, afraid of opening it and seeing the damage on his guitar. So he carries it around, a heavy weapon that contains his most precious memory. He can still see the sticker of your face on the guitar, he hopes that it's still intact.

He's drenched from head to toe as the storm persists on his back, as if fate is playing with him.

It's bad enough that he had to trek the rest of the way towards the cabin, but the storm keeps following him, as if it's pursuing him and hindering him from finding you. With each town he passes, he sees less and less of the dead. Some lay withered on the ground, chest cavity opened, guts spilled all over the pavement while they desperately tried to reach him with their skeletal hand.

They seem to be dying out, or the virus can no longer keep them upright, not when the host is already decomposing. And now it desperately seeks a new host, even when their jaws are barely holding on, skin blanched and bones bleached by the sun.

Hobie passes by countless evacuation centres just like the one he saw before, and they all sit there empty just like the others. Medical tents lay fallen on the ground, gurneys broken and beaten beside dirty syringes and bandages. Despite that, he checks all of them thoroughly for a sign from you, anything that would indicate that you passed through. But he has seen none.

He feels like the last man alive.

He scavenges and rests in empty houses, careful not to wake the dead that might be hiding within the deep crevices of the town. Every night, he lights a fire, small enough to warm him and not let out smoke that would signal other people that could hurt him for what little he has. Hobie knows how to survive, he went through it during his teenage years, and he never thought that he had to experience it all over again. The uncertainty of where your next meal would be, the dangers lurking around every corner; and not trusting other people to help you. His old self is rearing his head again, peeking through his flesh that you once affectionately held in your hands.

When he finds you, would you see the same person you loved? Would he see the same person in you again after everything?

Hobie's own mind is his enemy. Back on the boat he only worried about hallucinations or delusions that could plague him in the dark. But out here, where the dead lurk, everything and anything could kill him. Even his own head.

It's been a week of walking, through rain and the dead, he finally makes it to the same woods that he once shared with you.

The gates of the cabin squeak in the wind, metal gates swinging around as the breeze picks up, fluttering his lashes.

There's a walkway leading towards the house made out of pebbles, pebbles that remind him of the coast, the same grey shade as the clouds, all rounded around the edges. He roams his eyes over to the cabin, all oak and dark yellowed windows. A porch sits in front with a rocking chair that gently moves back and forth in the wind. The perfect place to rest at the end of the world.

A wind chime clinks from somewhere, and as he cranes his head to the left, there sits under a pile of strewn out branches and leaves, a car, one with a shattered window at the back and side mirrors ripped from the hinges. Bloodied specks dot around its silver paint, scratches and bullet holes mar what was once pristine.

Hobie swallows thickly as he opens the gate, there right above the squeaking metal, a loud shot can be heard from the inside. He jumps in place, hand tight around the rusty metal. Then a guttural cry, one that sends shivers down his spine.

He runs on the path, stones rolling down as he makes his way towards the cabin. His hand wraps around the doorknob, finding it unlocked.

Pushing it, there's resistance from the other side. And as he stares down, he sees a pool of blood slowly spreading over the floorboards.

Panic sets in, as he pushes hard on the door.

“Get the fuck away!” Another shot echoes around as birds fly away from their perches outside.

Hobie heaves and stares at the bullet hole on the door. It missed his head by a couple of inches.

With wide eyes, he stares through it, body frozen as he sees you in the dark with a gun pointed right at him. For a second he thought that he's dreaming again. But he wouldn't dream of something so horrible as he sees what's in your lap.

“Why won't you just die?!”

Hobie dodges before another shot takes out a chunk of the door. Flinging his body towards cover, sitting on the floor with his back against the wall. “Love? It's me!” He can barely recognize his own voice.

“Oh god.” You cry, and a smacking sound can be heard. “I'm already going crazy.”

“No, you're not, it's me, love. It's Hobie.” He then calls your name, soft and filled with fondness that it has you dropping the gun on the floor, metal clanging on wood.

“Hobie?” But he can still recognize your voice.

“Yeah, don't shoot.” His whole body shakes with trepidation.

“Hobie!” Your sobs get louder as he opens the door, letting out the pungent smell of blood and letting in sparse sunlight that filters through the dark clouds. “Hobie?” He stands there, hand on the doorknob as he looks down at you and the body laying on your lap. Maybe you are going crazy. “I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.”

Hobie looks down, staring eye to eye at a dead shambler with a hole right in his head that was blocking the door. Then he gazes back at you with James' head laying right on your lap, eyes closed, blood pooling down the bullet hole in his head and down your legs.

His hand trembles at the sight of his friend, eyes watering, painting you in water colours of blood and gore. Chest sore and stomach in knots, he closes the distance. His eyes land on you, bloodied yet alive. Then he looks down, the familiar ring around your pinky is murky and covered in red, and then he sees it.

“H–He asked me to. James, he— he saved me again.” You stare at him with wild bloodshot eyes, hands drenched in crimson as you tremble and fix the blond locks on his head. “He got bit. I'm so fucking sorry.” There's a huge chunk of his neck missing.

“Are you—?”

“No, it didn't get m–me.” You heave, barely getting your words out as you stare into his eyes.

He kneels down, hand reaching down and towards your stomach. “Are you pregnant?” His hand is warm, and he feels real. You feel real.

You nod, tears streaming down your face. “I tried to tell you before—”

His arms engulf you, holding you close, breathing you in, death and all.

A/N: thank you for reading! Please consider reblogging if you liked it ❤️

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[greenwitchfromthewoods]

kiss between friends - Frankie Morales

900 Followers Milestone Celebration - kissing prompts

bio : This story is part of the 900 Followers Milestone Celebration - kissing prompts.

person ordering: one sweet anon

warnings : fluff, friends don't do that, some beer, one pushy guy, some angst; Pope, Will and Benny are mentioned

[my masterlist]

They were different kinds of kisses. And Frankie thought they were all innocent and natural, because after all, you were friends.

A quick kiss on his cheek as you got out of his car when he dropped you off at home. He could feel the place burning him for a while afterwards.

A kiss he placed on your temple when you were at an amusement park and you really wanted to see if you could hit the target with your air rifle. Frankie won you that teddy bear you dreamed of later.

A kiss placed on the back of your hand during a long car ride, when music was playing on the radio and you were singing one of the songs you both liked so much.

A kiss on the forehead that you didn't know about because you were asleep cuddled up to him on the couch, even though you really wanted to see that movie with him.

Pope and Will mocked him, and Benny teased him every time you were out of sight. “You should ask her out eventually. Fuck, how long are you going to wait? For someone else to do it?” they said.

But Frankie always had one answer to that - you were friends. And even though he felt like it wasn't just friendship anymore, he still didn't have the courage to ask for more. The possibility of rejection terrified him. He'd rather spend time by your side as a friend than live without you because his feelings for you could scare you.

What if you didn't want him? What if you only saw him as a friend? 

"A penny for your thoughts." You sat down next to him, lightly bumping your shoulder against his. Frankie smiled and shook his head.

"Naah. They're not worth that much." He replied. "Are you having a good time?"

You glanced around the bar and all the guests, then back at him. "I am now."

It was nice to have Frankie by your side. Even though he was sometimes withdrawn, you felt like there was someone else around you - more honest, cheerful, open. When you had to show up somewhere and you knew he would be there, you didn't even hesitate. You always answered his phone, you wrote back to him immediately after reading the messages. He was your friend, and even someone much more important.

But that evening something was wrong. Frankie seemed more tense, lost in his own thoughts, and even your presence couldn't wake him up.

How could you have known that before you showed up here Santiago and Benny had mocked him for his indecisiveness towards you. 

“Goddamn it, dude!” Benny groaned, smacking him in the chest. “You’ve been making puppy eyes at her for so long, it’s just pathetic. Do you have balls or not? Go tell me how you feel before some dick comes along who wants her all to himself.”

And unfortunately for Frankie, such a guy stood next to you a moment later. Morales noticed the quick look you gave him when the other guy asked you to dance "Will you do something about it?", but he just took a sip of his beer, looking down.

He watched as you disappeared into the crowd of people, and he was left alone with his thoughts again.

This guy was nice, at least until he downed two more beers. You tried to ignore his hungry gaze that wandered over your body, and once or twice you shook off his hand that landed on your hip.

"Let's dance," he suggested, pulling you towards the dancing people. You tried to find Frankie with your eyes, but you lost him somewhere. Was he angry at you? Maybe you said or did something that offended him? You couldn't remember anything like that though.

"Come closer, sweetie."

Your companion pulled you closer, you smelled beer or cheap cologne. you wanted to protest, but your voice died in your throat as his hand unexpectedly squeezed your ass.

“I’ve been watching you for a long time, you’re cute,” he mumbled with a smile right into your ear.

"Thanks." you replied, placing your hand on his shoulder. "You know, you're a little too close."

“The closer the better, right?”

"I'm not like that..."

“Hands off, asshole.” Someone yanked the arm that was holding you and in a second you were pushed away from your companion.

"Frankie..."

"Hey, dude! We're just dancing!" the other protested, but Frankie had fire in his eyes, his jaw was tense and he seemed taller than usual. You instinctively grabbed his arm.

"She didn't seem thrilled with the dance." He replied, pointing a finger at him. "Stay away from her, you son of a bitch!"

"Frankie, let's get out of here." You groaned, pulling him towards the exit as more and more people were paying attention to you. A fight wasn't necessary, not for something like this.

With considerable difficulty, you led Frankie towards the exit and after a moment you felt the cold air, and the sounds of music and conversations faded away as the doors closed behind you.

"What was that?" You asked, folding your hands over your chest. You weren't angry, more scared and confused. Frankie, on the other hand, took deep breaths, took off his hat and ruffled his hair with his hand, then pushed it back on his head.

"That guy shouldn't touch you like that." he grumbled "He's lucky I didn't break his fucking arm or..."

"Frankie!"

"I’m sorry." he mumbled, looking down "I just... Sorry."

You were both silent for a moment. A few people left the pub, but no one paid any attention to you. Finally, you were the first to speak.

"Will you tell me what's going on? You've been so... angry with me all evening. Did I do something wrong?"

"No, hermosa. Please, this doesn't concern you." he replied quickly.

"Really? I get a different impression."

Frankie sighed. Suddenly he felt your hand on his shoulder, warm and gentle, like it always was when you touched him. You stood close, looking at him with concern written on your face.

"Tell me what's going on, Frankie." you said quietly "We're friends and I... I worry about you, about us."

He cleared his throat. When he spoke, his voice was calm. "I don't want to be your friend anymore." a small wrinkle appeared between your eyebrows "I don't want to be just a friend, hermosa. I want more. I've wanted more for a long time. I want you. Not just these little touches..." he looked at your hand still holding him, you quickly pulled it away "Not just friendly kisses and time spent together. I want more. I want you, all of you."

You stared at him, clearly confused. What he said overwhelmed you in an instant and it took a moment for your brain to process it. But you finally let out the air you had been holding in your lungs unconsciously. "I don't understand, Frankie..."

"Then let me show you."

And before you knew it, his large hands cupped your face. A quick glance of brown eyes, and you felt his lips on yours. 

Frankie was kissing you, gently and with a feeling like he was afraid you would fall apart. But when your hands grabbed his wrists, when he felt you start to kiss him back, nothing could stop him anymore. 

He ran his tongue over your lips, and you parted them, allowing him to sneak inside. He played with you, extracting quiet sighs from your throat, unconsciously moving you towards the wall and soon you were trapped between Frankie's solid body and the cold building.

Your lips tore apart for a moment. When you opened your eyes, you saw Frankie's scared face in front of you. Brown eyes stared at you, full of emotions that neither of you could name.

"I'm sorry..." he whispered, "I shouldn't."

"I don't think that's how friends kiss..." you replied, the corners of your lips twitching, "But I like it."

"Really? Sweet Jesus, I've wanted to do this for a long time." he smiled radiantly as if a great weight had been lifted from his heart.

You both smiled at each other like crazy for a few seconds until you were the first to speak up. "Will you do it again?"

"Definitely." he breathed out and your lips crashed together again.

"Finally!" Benny's loud voice came from the doorway. "Pope, man! You owe me fifty bucks!"

[actuallysaiyan]

Love Again(Chapter Two)

warnings: smut, unprotected sex, slight cumplay, vaginal fingering, mentions of non-consensual sex(neither party is involved), demon AU, clit worship, lewd themes word count: 2.5k pairings: Demon!Toshinori Yagi x Fem!Reader summary: the morning, everything comes crashing down. while you try to have a decent conversation to understand what's happening, Toshi has other plans with you!

You stare up at the demon sitting on his knees on your bed. There was no way he was real. But he keeps giving you this smile that makes need pool deep in your tummy. It makes your insides melt. It’s such a sweet smile, but behind it lingers a hunger that seemingly only you can calm.

“What’s the matter? I must have really pushed you too far.”

He comes closer, capturing your lips with his. It’s a slow, longing kiss. He loves the way you look right now. Still a little groggy from your sleep. Your hair is disheveled. Toshinori has always loved humans. They are the ones who revere him the most. Humans are the ones who look to him for guidance. He feels the most attached to them.

“You didn’t dream it. It really happened,” He whispers against your lips. “It could happen again if you wanted to.”

You think about your options. You really need to get a grasp on the situation at hand too. There’s no telling what could happen if you were to just let this all slide. Then he begins to play with your folds with his long fingers and you let out a moan.

“So cute,” he coos as he rubs his fingers up and down on the sensitive skin. “So cute, and all for me!”

He seems so excited about how you’re this aroused. He then pulls the hood of your clit back and leans in to blow a little air on it. You squeak and your nub throbs a few times, clearly sensitive this morning.

“H-how did you get here?” You croak out, your whole body on fire from the simplest of touches.

Toshinori smirks. “You called for me. Remember? You said the magic words, pretty little one.”

You’re about to ask another question when his thumb rubs your clit in slow, tantalizing circles. The words die in your throat. There’s nothing else you can think about other than the pure pleasure he’s giving to you. Then you snap out of it for a moment, only when he pulls away to lick his fingers.

“What are you, exactly?”

He spreads your thighs even more and settles on his stomach. He then watches your clit throb a few more times as his warm breath hits it. Toshinori is very amused with how he can make it twitch like that with only the smallest little touches.

“I told you what I am last night…besides, you read the words from that book.”

He doesn’t say anything else. Instead, he wraps his lips around your swollen bud and suckles on it softly. The moans that come from him are downright pornographic in nature. You’re trying to think straight once more, but he’s more interested in eating you out.

“Fuck, you’re so damn wet! I love humans so much! You always get so wet.”

Your cheeks burn at his comments. How could he be doing this to you at a time like this? You don’t even know what’s going on. You don’t know how long he intends on being here. Then again, with the way he keeps making you cum, is it really a bad thing? You reach down to thread your fingers through his hair and his cock springs to life.

“Heh,” he laughs. “I knew you’d love this right now. Cute little human, oh you’re so fucking cute!”

He begins to sloppily lick you from hole to clit over and over until he’s sucking on your swollen bud. You ride out the intense high he gives you, making you slump back on the bed panting to catch your breath.

Still, Toshinori keeps up his ministrations. He’s in no rush to stop, but you’re so sensitive. You squeal in surprise when he begins to rub it in fast little circles now. You’re tumbling over the edge once more with a whine of his name.

“That’s it, little one. Keep saying my name like that.”

You want to push him off again. You need to know how long he wants to stay. There’s a normal, non-orgasmic life you need to get back to but he’s making it hard to pull away from all this bliss. 

“Toshinori,” you start but then he moans.

“Say it again, please.”

His tongue slides between your folds again, his cock erect and leaking. He’s desperate for you to fall under his spell and just let him fuck you once more. He knows he’s going to have to be careful with you, but you’re just so damn adorable. You’ve got the best little pussy he’s had in centuries. But to pull away from you right now would definitely drive him crazy. Besides, his cock is hard. He’s going to have to fuck you or something.

You swallow hard, your fingers still threading through his hair. You’re thankful that today is your day off. Could you even imagine trying to go to work after this? You’d be a big puddle of arousal. So instead of pushing him off, you begin to grind against his face.

Toshinori chuckles after pulling away with a slurping noise. His fingers are back on your swollen clit, looking at the way it seems to twitch beneath his touch. You whine from the loss of contact from his mouth. Begging wouldn’t be beneath you, but do you really want to be weak to this demon?

“Are you ready for more dick?” He asks, stroking his leaking member. “Is that okay? I don’t want to break you…at least not yet.”

You look up at him and nod. “Y-yeah, I can take it.”

Something inside of you is seemingly screaming for you to stop him, but a bigger part of yourself is telling you that you deserve this. You work hard in life. You’re not particularly popular. There’s nobody to call your own. So why not? Why shouldn’t you just enjoy this.

His cock is heavy as he guides it to your little hole. Your mouth opens in a silent moan, and he chuckles again. Damn, you really are so fucking cute. There’s a soft squelching sound as he thrusts shallowly to open you up.

The room grows hotter as he begins to fuck himself even deeper into you. You’re so fucking wet and it drives him crazy. When was the last time he had a cute little human? He thinks about the partners he’s had in the most recent time. One of them in particular—no, he promised himself he wouldn’t think of them.

And just like that, you bring him back to you by wrapping your legs around him and pulling him down for a kiss. Your tongues rub and roll together in an obscene show of passion and hunger. Fuck, he tastes so good and he’s thinking the same thing about you. He’s thinking about how he wants to drown in these sensations right about now.

Your orgasm(the fourth one since waking up?) is earth shattering. Your walls clamp down around his cock, and this time he finds it even harder to pull out. With a few more violent bucks of his hips, he manages to spill all over your mound and lower abdomen. He grunts when he looks at you. You’re laying there, his seed painting your skin, and you look absolutely fucked out.

Before you can even do anything, Toshinori leaves the room and returns with a warm washcloth. This leads you to understand that he’s at least made himself comfortable with the layouts of your home to know where the bathroom is. 

Carefully, he cleans you up. You look at him tenderly. He’s a lot softer and sweeter than a normal demon. Then again, you didn’t know what to expect. You didn’t even truly believe that he would come out when you said those words. You had been such a skeptic.

A warmth envelops you when he comes back to bed and wraps his arms around you. Soft kisses are pressed to your neck, cheek and then your lips. You sigh in content, knowing that this is what true bliss feels like.

“You have no idea how happy I am that you decided to summon me.”

This is what brings you back to reality. Yeah, you summoned him. You summoned a fucking demon. Not just any demon, but a patron of sex! Your eyes open and you look at him. If you were a bit more delusional, maybe you’d let it all slide. But the ache in your pussy makes you realize that you’ll have to deal with this situation now.

You sit up, wrapping the sheet around your body. There’s a nervous feeling passing through you. There’s a tension in the air that settles on the both of you. Toshinori sees the look in your eyes and he knows what’s coming next. He’s no stranger to heartbreak, pain and rejection. Being the patron of love as well, he’s seen his fair share of this look.

“I can’t…” you begin but the words get stuck in your throat. “I can’t do this. We can’t just have sex like this all the time.”

He knows the words are real. It scares him in a way. He’ll have to go back to the realm he belongs to. Not that he thought you’d fall for him so hard immediately, but he thought maybe he had a little more time before he had to go back home.

With tenderness, he sits up with you and takes your hand in his. He smiles that genuine smile that has your heart racing. You’re so beautiful in his eyes. You seem like a sweet woman too. Maybe he could make you see how having him here would be an advantage to yourself. He doesn’t want to go back to that realm. It’s lonely, dark and not suitable for the type of demon he is anyway.

“Just…let me stay for today?” He has an almost pleading tone.

You shake your head. “I can’t do that. I can’t…this is so surreal. You have to understand that I can’t just have a demon in my home.”

He bats his eyelashes, looking at you with an even more pleading look than before. He’s so damn handsome too, it’s not helping. It’s not to say you dislike him, but you really don’t know anything about him except for how good he is at pleasuring you.

“I’m not going to be a burden for you,” he explains. “Why don’t we at least try to get to know one another?”

You sigh softly and run your fingers through your hair. It wouldn’t do you any good to push him away when you feel like you’ve become a little more attached. “Fine, fine. But I’m laying down some ground rules.”

“Yes! Anything!”

Toshinori thinks about the ground rules you’ve laid down as you take a shower. He tried to join you, but you shut that down pretty quick. Your clit is still throbbing and your hole is raw from being fucked so hard. You had told him ‘we only have sex when I say so’ and he found that hard to follow. Not that he wanted to do it non-consensually, but he’s a sex demon! It’s in his nature to want to fuck.

He sits in the spandex pants he arrived in on your couch and waits for you to join him. When you do, he loves to see you in such comfortable attire. You’re adorable with your hair still damp. You look a bit more fresh-faced now, not that he minded you in your groggy form.

“So, do you eat?” You ask casually as you gather things in the kitchen for breakfast.

He places his hands on your hips and leans. “You mean other than pussy? Yeah, I can eat human food.”

You roll your eyes despite the throbbing in your pants never ceasing. He turns you on more than anyone else has in your life. He chuckles sweetly and leans back on the island in your kitchen.

“You sure love sex, hm?” You ask as you begin making some scrambled eggs and toast.

“Love sex? Who doesn’t!?”

You turn to face him and laugh. “Some people don’t. It can be painful for some.”

He takes this information to heart. There have been a number of humans who have sought out his guidance over the centuries for this very reason. It hurt to have sex. It pained them to make love. And that in turn broke his heart.

“Do you think it hurts them because…they were…” he doesn’t want to say the words.

When you look at him and see the pain in his eyes, you know what he means. “Y-yeah, it could be because of that. Sometimes…it’s because of that.”

There’s a new look on his face. It’s one that shows he’s disgusted by the topic at hand. Then he turns to you and looks at you seriously.

“Is that what I did to you?”

You shake your head wildly. “Of course not! I mean, you are…persuasive and you certainly are virile with a high stamina. But I wanted that. I needed it, if I’m being honest.”

Relief washes over his features. He knows he can be pushy at times, but he tries his best to listen to his partners. He then pulls you close to him, pressing his face in the crook of your neck. He breathes in the scent of you, shuddering as it invades his senses.

“Please don’t push me away. I’ll listen to your rules. I promise.” He whispers softly. “I don’t want to go back there, it’s lonely and cold.”

You run your fingers through his hair once more, whispering comforting words. You never believed you’d be here with a demon like this. It’s not what you were expecting. But you weren’t disliking it.

When you pull away, you press a kiss to his forehead. Then you finish cooking, plating up the food and handing him a serving. You sit next to him, eating in silence. The two of you have nothing to say at the moment. Then he turns to you once more.

“So…I can stay?!”

He’s like this overgrown puppy dog. You’re surprised he doesn’t want to go back to hell or whatever his home is. Why would he want to stay with you? You’re not particularly special by any means, and you certainly aren’t the most beautiful. So in a way, this makes you feel valued to know that you’ve had such a strong effect on him.

“Yes, you can stay.”

He smiles that genuine smile again. It’s a soft look on his features. It makes him look youthful, which reminds you that you truly have no idea how old he is. You take another bite of your food and laugh.

“By the way,” you smirk. “How old are you?”

He leans in closer and whispers, “Duo milia annorum.”

You look stunned by his answer. It doesn’t take a scholar to know what he’s just said. And yet, something about that makes you even more interested in him. He smirks and kisses your cheek.

“But when I’m with you, I don’t feel a day over three hundred.”

reblogs and comments always appreciated!

©actuallysaiyan 2025– do not repost on other platforms, copy, translate or edit my works!

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[hiddensanctuarywrites]

Oh how the turn tables

Lawrence Oleander x Reader/MC

Warning: NSFW, Noncon. Read at your own risk!

A/N: I felt an overwhelming desire to be mean to Lawrence, so I wrote this instead of working on my main story lol. Enjoy! ❤️

This is what you get for asking a cute stranger what time it is, you guess. Stuck taped down to a chair after he freaks out and knocks you unconscious. Waiting until he decides to go through with killing you or something, you're not really sure.. It's really hard to tell what is going on in Lawrence's head.

It's the second day here and you woke up to find him asleep on his bed. You're sure he was more careful taping your arms down this time and decided it's worth trying to free yourself again. You pray that he doesn't wake up as you begin your second battle with your restraints.

It was actually the left arm of the chair that loosened, then eventually gave way after a little more effort. You used your free arm to quietly pull off the right side and took the small knife left on the table in front of you to cut yourself free.

You're a bit dizzy and sore standing up but you need to figure out what to do now. You look around the room and then to your captor. Your frustratingly handsome, mentally unstable captor.

…An idea suddenly hits you. You hope to hell it'll work and you'll be very happy if it does. Time to try and give this man a taste of his own medicine, and then some.

You single out a large heavy pot with a fern growing inside, set on his kitchen counter. You very slowly walk over and lift it up as quietly as possible. Walking over to him didn't wake him up, but as you strain to lift the pot high in the air, you accidentally nudge the bed, scaring him awake.

But by then it's too late for him, considering you drop the pot directly on his head, knocking him unconscious. You wince a bit out of sympathy and quickly grab the pot, noticing that it's left a small gash on his forehead.

You're unsure when he'll wake back up so you have no time to waste. You quickly put the fern back in its place, fix the chair up again, and heave Lawrence over to it. It takes quite a bit of effort to move his body but you manage to get him propped up before securing his arms and legs to the chair. Not sure how he'll react initially, you decide to put some tape over his mouth as well.

You take a step back, satisfied with how restrained he is, before looking for something to scare him into cooperation. The tiny knife you cut yourself free with won't do and the giant sheers he has set aside seem overkill…

You rummage through his kitchen and eventually find a chef's knife in one of his drawers. You sigh in relief before standing in front of your captor turned captive and wait patiently for him to wake up. It wouldn't be fun playing with him while he's still unconscious, after all.

…

When he finally comes to, he wakes with a start. He very soon realizes that he’s tied to the same chair you were just in earlier that day and you're standing in front of him, watching him. He looks up at you with a terrified expression, unable to say anything with the tape over his mouth.

“Do as I say and I won't hurt you, okay?” you say gently, but the knife in your hand is showing that you're not messing around.

He's shaking and tearing up now as the gravity of the situation sinks in but eventually nods and you smile gleefully.

“It doesn't feel very good being tied up, now, does it? …Well, I'm not letting you go. I'll take the tape off your face so I can hear your pretty voice though. Be good and quiet or I'll find something else to shut up that mouth with, okay?”

You rip it off as painlessly as you can and when it's finally off, he asks, “W-what do you want from me..?”

You give him a very obvious once-over. “What I'm Going to do... is play with you. However I want.. until I'm completely satisfied.” He shifts uncomfortably in the seat, a nice blush starting to dust his cheeks. “Wha- N-no..don't…”

You pet him, running your hand through his hair, even though it doesn't console him in the slightest. “Oh, honey.. You don't have a Say in what happens to you now.”

He whimpers at that and you continue petting him. “Even though I wanted you so badly from the moment I saw you, I Was going to let you go on your way.. But then you knocked me out, took me home with you...even gave me a wound to remind me of you when I leave. And now.. we're here. You had Your turn..and now it's mine.”

“W..what are you going to do..?” He's still shaking, looking equally bewildered and terrified. When you grab his flaccid cock through his sweatpants, his breath hitches. “I told you, I'm going to play with you until I'm satisfied.”

Now understanding what you mean, his face turns red as his dick twitches in your hand, hardening slightly. You smile coyly, squeezing him lightly to make sure he knows that you know he's reacting to you.

He turns his head away and closes his eyes, clearly disliking how his body is betraying him. “Nuh uh, no looking away. You know what happens when you don't listen, right?” you quietly chastise him, moving your knife back and forth a bit.

You don't actually want to hurt him but this is the only way you figured he'll listen. Thankfully he does, looking back at you but clearly getting frustrated. You knock that look off his face by rubbing the length of his cock a few times through his clothes. “Good boy.. keep those eyes on me, got it?”

You set the knife down on the table behind you before running your hands along his body, from his bare arms to his shoulders, down his torso, along his sides and ending on his thighs.

He's really wrestling with that command to keep looking at you as you're doing this but he’s able to focus on your face since you're busy paying so much attention to the rest of him.

You kneel in front of him, looking up to make sure he's still watching you. You rub his thighs as you talk, “I'm going to need to take these off. You'll cooperate with me, right?”

Not waiting for an answer, you undo the string on his sweatpants and work on pulling them off. You grin teasingly when you see that he's going commando and he looks away, shutting his eyes tightly from embarrassment.

You let it slide this time and tug on his pants more. When you clear your throat as a warning, he cooperates by hovering above the seat just enough to get it down to his ankles.

He's not fully hard yet but he's well on the way. You blow on it, watching it twitch from the smallest bit of contact. “So cute.. I'm going to really enjoy this, Lawrence.”

He doesn't say anything but you can tell a part of him likes it because he keeps getting harder.

“D-don’t look…” he whines out, his embarrassment getting to him. You decide to take it easy on him and focus elsewhere, running your hand up his torso and further up, past his neck to gently cradle his face.

“...Do you have any idea how attractive you are?” you ask him almost accusingly, brushing your thumb along his cheek before sinking your fingertips into his hair.

You really want to bully him a bit more so you grab a fist full of hair near his scalp and yank his head back to run your tongue roughly up the side of his neck.

He reacts by letting out a strangled moan, so you bring your free hand down to jerk off his cock as you suck on his neck hard enough to leave a deep bruise. At that, he cries out your name in a low moan but still is coherent enough to beg “no, not the-ere..”

It's not enough. You need him turned into a pathetic mess. Lucky for you, you know exactly what to do to get him there.

You kiss down his torso, spreading his legs apart wider and getting between them. You make sure that he's looking at you before opening your mouth and lightly slapping the head of his dick against your extended tongue.

He's entranced now and watches closely as you slide him deep into your mouth and rub your tongue against it. It must feel really good because he's twitching again and letting out another strangled whimper, louder than before.

It doesn't take long for him to let go and just enjoy you giving him head. Not much longer than that, he's almost at the edge of coming undone and filling your mouth with his load.

…And that's exactly when you move back, sitting on your legs and watching his reaction. He looked like he was in such bliss until he realized his cock left your mouth. “Why..? Why did you stop..?” He's confused but that quickly turns to frustration and anger when he realizes that you're toying with him.

“Until I’M satisfied, remember?” you say teasingly. You run your fingertip down his length and rub his inner thigh with your other hand but that's clearly not enough for him.

“You damn flower. I should've just killed you when I had the chance.” he growls out. “Well, that's no way to talk to your captor, especially one that's been treating you so nicely.” Your hand reaches back for the knife, a reminder of who's in charge right now.

That seems to shut him up and you're satisfied with that. “Ask nicely and I Might let you cum… eventually.” He's still pissed but clearly thinking it over. You rub his cock a few more times to keep it nice and hard as you add on some probably vital information. “Otherwise I'll just edge you as much as I want without giving you any release.”

He looks a little worried as your words sink in but he still doesn't give in. So you do what you said, going between sucking him off and jerking him off until you can tell his orgasm is close, then backing off completely to let him cool down. It takes a couple rounds of this until he finally cracks, whining out “l…let me cum..”

“Say please.” you demand, keeping your hand hovering around his painfully hard member. He whimpers at that, not wanting to give in completely. He rubs his thighs together, thrusting up a bit in a pitiful attempt to get some friction. To get you to touch him again.

He has tears in his eyes when he finally gives in. “....p..please..” Extremely satisfied, you practically purr your reply. “Good boyy, that wasn't so hard, was it? I'll make sure you cum so hard you're seeing stars… When I'm done.”

Knowing that you're not going to give him his release yet makes him sob quietly but that's quickly turned into another moan when you put your hot mouth back on him.

By the time you have him at the edge again, he's broken down completely, begging “ple-ease, please, Y/N, I'll do anything.”

That stops you. Anything? You were going to just use that tea on him to knock him out and leave after untying him but.. “Anything huh? You promise?”

He whimpers, shaking. “A-anything.” You smile, going back to playing with him. This time, when he's close you keep going, jerking him off and fondling his balls with your mouth firmly over his head.

When he finally comes, his whole body locks up as loads of his spunk aggressively shoot into your mouth, filling it up easily. You work him through his orgasm until he's whining from overstimulation.

He looks completely dazed when you get up but comes to when you're suddenly grabbing his jaw and kissing him, forcing his mouth open enough to spit his own load inside before clamping your hand over his lips.

“Swallow.” You demand, and having no choice, he does. You smile happily at that. “You said Anything, right?” He suddenly looks afraid but nervously nods.

You pick up the knife and slice of the tape binding one of his arms before undoing your pants and sliding them down. You grab his hand and hold it against your parts, watching as he flushes all over again.

“Look at what you did to me.. Be a good boy and take care of it for me.” You notice his cock is twitching again as he feels up your excitement.

...Maybe you'll keep him locked up a while longer.

[asheyxash]

i love you, i'm sorry

pairing: idol seungkwan x reader troupe: exes to lovers again, second chance genre(s): angst (if you squint your eyes), comfort, fluff warning(s): minor swearing/cursing word count: ~2.8k

summary: seungkwan somehow convinces her to talk. she reluctantly agrees, thinking it would lead to yet another argument but it doesn't. in fact, it leads to something she thought she would never experience after her break up- having a boyfriend again.

pt 2 of seungkwan short series, read pt1, "i miss you, i'm sorry" here!

work all mine, no reposting without creds, no stealing of published work, copyrighted:D

you stared at the cafe's glass door, waiting for the cute little orange bell to chime. it was supposed to be a day off for you, but today you felt more nervous and stressed than ever. somehow, fast forward three months later, you had healed almost completely, and just as you were living the life you had always dreamed of, you received an anonymous message asking whether you were down for a chat, and your mind clicked-it was seungkwan, wasn't it? but considering how the last time you two had met had gone awfully wrong, you wanted to make up for it, hoping you could apologise for well, saying all that. you admitted half of it wasn't necessary but you felt like a burden had been lifted off your chest after pouring out all your feelings in a rant. so, you texted him back, saying you would consider it. you really didn't want something to happen like the past, and you were scared that it would lead to yet another argument, just like what had happened before.

you stared continuously at the message from an unknown number. "hey, it's me, wow it's been a while. are you willing to talk? i know it's kinda weird but i swear i'm not mad at you, i really just want to know what you were going through while i was being so...distant. if you're comfortable with it, maybe we could schedule a chat sometime at your cafe i understand completely if you're still not ready and sorry to message you all of a sudden." when you first received the message, you heart was pounding as thoughts echoed through your mind- would it be a good idea to meet your ex three months later? what would we even be talking about? so you replied carefully, "oh, yeah it has been a while. sorry but could i think about it for a while?" all that came as a reply was an "of course". you were stuck between a dilemma- perhaps you could get answers to your own questions like what he wanted, why did your relationship start to fall apart? why did you two never hang around together anymore? what exactly happened? you wanted to know too, considering how you just left. yet another part of you was concerned, worried even, that you would go through another argument, and you would have to live through the painful memories you had finally kept at bay once again.

"whatcha looking at noona?" you rolled your eyes, a voice so familiar as you turned around, clutching your phone tightly to your chest, "yah don't scare me!" sunoo, your employee and an amazing barista for the cafe came running over. as soon as he saw you gripping onto your phone like you were hiding something, he wiggled his eyebrows, "y/n, do you have a new boyfriend?" "what? no!" you exclaimed, as the two of you began fighting over your phone. "then what is so secretive you can't share with your favourite employee?" he grumbled as you chuckled, "first of all sunoo, i am not dating anyone geez, and secondly, you are not my favourite employee." he shot daggers through his eyes as you shrugged.

"boo!" suddenly he scared you, as you flinched and he took this moment to snatch your phone. you were in a daze to even realise this- boo, a nickname you had created for seungkwan. "y/n? y/n! hello? get out of your lovey dovey land and tell me who this is that wants to meet up with you!" his irritating voice snapped you back to reality as you grabbed your phone back from his hands, causing a hey from the younger. "he's no...one. i have to go for a meeting." you mumbled something and sprinted to your office but he was faster. "bro, what are you on? girl it's literally saturday, isn't that your off day?" sunoo asked as you gave up, "whatever sunoo he's the guy you saw last time, seungkwan...my ex."

"oh." was all you heard as you looked at the boy who now plastered a cheeky, mischievous expression. "what?" you asked, confused. "oh so that's why you were trying to hide from me! have you made up? are you going to talk to him?" a burst of questions rang through your mind from a overly curious sunoo as you laughed, "woah chill there buddy, i don't know if i should agree to see him. after all, the last time we met, i..." "you ended up crying buckets of tears in my arms HA!" before i could even finish my sentence, sunoo beat me to it, wiping fake tears from his eyes as i gave him a playful shove, "shut up."

"no but i think you should see him." suddenly, he turned serious, making direct contact into your eyes. "what?" you asked, perplexed. "i'm saying, if he won't give up on you, he's a good one. trust me i know but if he does end up as a jerk, i'll spill ice cold americano on him, how does that sound?"

"right..." you responded, not really listening after sunoo mentioned ice americano. that was seungkwan's favourite, and you knew his order by heart. thus, while adding that to your menu, you included a little orange slice on top. most of your customers found it strange but intriguing, rarely eating the orange slice but you knew you created it with a purpose. in fact, a bunch of things from your cafe, heaven's cloud, was inspired by him, yet no one would ever know, no, not even the gossipy sunoo would know, that it was because of him that you opened your dream cafe. that is was because of him that you chased your dreams, that it was because of him that you worked tirelessly at your previous office job, to save up to open a cafe, that it was because of your ex boyfriend seungkwan, that you were living the life you had always wanted since young.

"noonaaaaa are you thereeee?" sunoo's boisterous voice finally brought you back as you replied, "yeah, yeah you know what? you're right. i'll agree." he smirked, "if you get back a boyfriend, i get leave for a whole week!" "not happening!" you replied , raising an eyebrow as he ran off. sometimes this kid was a handful to deal with, but you could let it go this time, because sunoo's words were just what you needed to type into your phone, "actually, i'm down."

and so you were waiting, waiting for the clock to strike 11. you were getting frustrated as the minutes passed by, if he wanted to so desperately talk to you, why the hell wasn't he here? this was the exact problem you faced when you two were still a thing. he would come home so late and sometimes, he wouldn't even show up at all. the worst thing? you wouldn't know of it until the next morning because he would never bother to tell you. just as you thought he was going to stand you up, the all too familiar sound of the orange bell ringing jerked you up instantly, and you looked up to the sight of a 5'10'' tall man rushing into the cafe. you took a deep breath, if you were doing this, you were doing this today.

"hey i'm so sorry i'm late, i was getting you something." seungkwan's words came out in a jumble as he took out a bouquet of tulips, your favourite. "seungkwan oh my god, you didn't have to do this." you breathed, giving him a smile as you graciously accepted the flowers, making a note to put them on the counter later. "i know, but i wanted to, you know, as a gift." he replied, scratching the back of his head as he sat opposite you. "that's very thoughtful of you seungkwan, thank you." you smiled, before changing the subject, "so, what did you want to talk to me about?" he monitored the way you spoke, so confidently yet the nervousness in your eyes betrayed your steady gaze.

"how are you doing these days?" he asked, showing genuine interest. "i'm doing fine, the cafe's doing well, i recently added a few things to the menu, a butterfly pea crust in gradient blue purple that dissolves as you touch it, revealing a butterfly jelly inside made of blueberries and also a chocolate mousse cake that's in a shape of a literally mouse, and my personal favourite, the orange blast, a citrus filled tart that gives customers a surprise when they dig into it! orange pulp and tropical fruits spill out from the freshly made tart, and something special about this is that every day, i hide 10 slips of coupon papers in ten random tarts, something like a fortune cookie, and whoever gets it can come to my employees to claim a free drink!" you started rambling, your eyes sparkling with passion as he chuckled. seungkwan always loved when you were so passionate about something, but his chuckle only made you realise just how much you had started talking about the cafe, "oh i'm so sorry, i got carried away uhm..." however, before you could continue, he blurted out, "no it's fine, i love seeing you talk about your cafe!" you felt your cheeks heating slightly, but truth was that seungkwan did in fact, loved that part of you- he loved how you could go on for hours about something you truly loved, and that was one of the things about you that led him to fall in love.

"oh, okay. how about you?" you asked shyly, as he responded, "i'm doing fine, practice is tough at times, but i'll manage." you gave him a soft smile, "so, about what you came here for..." you paused, waiting for him to continue, "right, so, it's been a while since we broke up and before you continue, let me just tell you everything i wanted to say but couldn't." the both of you breathed in, as you anticipated on what he had to say.

"um the truth? after you left, i did realise what an ass i had been to you. yeah, i realised just how badly i treated you, compared to the start of our relationship. i realised just how often i would come home past midnight, and how i would always be busy when you wanted to spend time with me. i took our relationship for granted, and a small part of me will always hate myself for doing that...i know why you left, and i'm not even mad, because...because you left because i wasn't acting like your boyfriend. i...i..." he broke down in sobs as you felt tears pricking the corners of your own eyelids. "i wanted to tell you just how sorry i am, you might never forgive me, and i'll respect that, but, but...i want you to know i do regret it, every day and night i do, because i promise y/n, i never once stopped loving you. i really am sorry." he continued, his voice softer as tears rolled down his cheeks. you sat there, shocked, trying to process everything you had just heard.

"oh seungkwan..." he sniffed and looked at you, "yeah?"

"i guess i'm doing this too. seungkwan, it hurt me, a lot, and i'm sure you know it did. it hurt me to know you were too busy for me, putting your career over me but that is exactly why i gave you up, for your dream job. when we started dating, you always told me how nice it would be to roam the world through world tours, meeting carats from all across the globe, being a world class singer, and now look at you. you should be proud seungkwan, i'm insanely proud of you, of seventeen, of everything you all have achieved. i'm so sorry for ending things, i'm so fucking sorry. i hurt you a lot by leaving without saying anything, didn't i? i want you to know i never stopped loving you either, i broke down in front of my friends after i walked out that door that day. i love you, i'm sorry." your voice was trembling, as you stood up, refusing to make eye contact with your ex. "you're, you're proud of me?" he gulped, swallowing a lump of bile rising in his throat as you nodded. he let down more tears of what seemed to be a mix of sadness, gratitude and relief, "y/n...don't be sorry, yes it hurt but you did it because of me. wait, did you just say you love me?" his voice grew softer as your cheeks burned red.

"seungkwan, i, i never once lost feelings for you. i've always loved you, and i still do..." you mumbled softly, your lips quavering as he also stood up, the both of you now directly facing each other. "oh my god, oh my god y/n...i love you too you know? i always have..." he reached his arms out, and you slowly stepped into them as he wrapped them around you. "i can't, can't believe this... i tried finding you y/n, i did." seungkwan's voice was croaky as you let him hug you, "yeah, yeah i know. i'm so sorry for trying to run away, i thought i had moved on, but my heart refused to let you go, then i realised, i just can't run away... i'm so sorry." he cradled you in his arms, wiping your tears with his hoodie's sleeve, "ssh, y/n, don't cry, i'm here now, and that's all that matters." his warmth felt amazing as you let everything out to him. he was back, you were back, you two were back. "so, what are we?" you asked after a moment's silence of just hugging each other.

"well, may i do the honours y/n?" he cleared his throat and pulled you towards him till his arms wrapped around your waist and his voice travelled down your ears, sending down chills from how attractive it was, "you have always been the one who was there for me, cheering for me whenever seventeen got to greater heights. you were the one for me, always proud of me, always ready to make me smile, to make me happy, and for the first time in my life, i felt like my life was perfect. then, one day it all came crashing down, and my life was never the same without you y/n, and that was when i realised just how much i needed you. so, will you, ms y/n, founder of heaven's cloud and my once ex girlfriend, be willing to give me a second chance?" you replied right away, "no." he looked stunned, but you broke into a wide smile, "just kidding, come here", and so, the two of you looked at each other deep into the eyes, as you whispered, "boo..." "yes, my love, my girlfriend and my better half?" his angelic voice melted in the once tension filled air as you giggled, "kiss me." "tsk, so demanding, how can i kiss you since you said no to being my girlfriend just now?" he asked cheekily, as you playfully smacked his head, "boo seungkwan, i swear if you don't kiss me right now-"

his lips crashed onto yours, the feeling you had been craving for finally here. you eagerly kissed him back, making sure he knew you were serious about him, claiming him as yours. he held you tight, never letting go as you landed a rain of kisses of his cheeks, making him blush a pinkish red.

"i knew you still loved me, like look at your cafe, it's literally a cafe for me!" seungkwan's voice rang as he squeezed you so tight. you rolled your eyes, the sassy seungkwan was back, the seungkwan you knew, the seungkwan that was now yours. "yah boo seungkwan, i'm your girlfriend now and you want to talk to me like that? knew i should have said no" you replied with the same amount of sassiness, flipping your hair. "what no!" he replied, chasing you as you tried to escape from his grip.

just then, sunoo came running from out of nowhere, blocking your way from escape as seungkwan caught up to you, "ya what are you doing here? you're not supposed to be here!"

"I knew it! i said that if you got a boyfriend again i get leave for the whole of next week!" he jumped in glee as you shook your head, "in your dreams!" he pouted, pointing to seungkwan who looked amused at your interactions with sunoo. "me?" seungkwan asked, bewildered. "yeah, aren't you going to say anything to help me out here?" sunoo asked as you raised an eyebrow. "uhh babe, maybe just let him get off work for once?" he replied slowly, eyeing you. you scoffed, "fine! since you think it's such a good idea for sunoo to go rest, why don't you join him?" "huh? "what?" seungkwan and sunoo asked, as realisation slowly dawned on them. you smirked and strutted off, ignoring the two male's whining, as you could hear the faint voice of your boyfriend calling from behind you, "babe i love you, i'm sorry!"

[charlieluver]

Feelin' Better?

(Ben Shelton × fem!reader) Word count: 1.1k Warnings: none Divider: @firefly-graphics

You had an upcoming exam worth more than half the marks this semester in biology. Ben saw you study restlessly, day and night for the past two weeks. The game nights had turned into study sessions, where you pretended to teach him so you could revise. He used this time to admire you, his chest hugging your favourite burger soft toy while you lectured him about the Krebs cycle. He tried to understand what you were even talking about, but your eyes, laser focused on the notes in your hand, a whiff of your floral perfume while you paced the room, that cute pout he loved, kept him preoccupied. His eyes, filled with awe while you were too stressed to even notice them.

Today was the D-day. Streaks of light between the curtains, filled the room with a soft glow. The gentle air from the ceiling fan, your soft hair against Ben's cheek, as he stirred from his slumber. He opened his eyes, to a view of your face, relaxed with your lips slightly parted, soft snores escaping. The clock read 6:30. "Babe, wake up" he softly brings his arm, his thumb tracing pattern on your cheek. You stir, rubbing your eyes as you yawn. "Good morning y/n" He kisses your forehead. You hum, nuzzling into his chest as he combs his finger through your hair. "What time is it?" you mumble, voice thick with sleep. "6:30" Your eyes fly open as you sit up suddenly. "Shit I'm gonna be late" Ben chuckles. "You have three hours babe, its ok, go freshen up and I will make you breakfast." With a quick nod, you scurry towards the bathroom. You dry your hair as the sweet smell of pancakes fill the apartment. You come out of the room to see Ben, with a smile on his face, flipping pancakes. "Smells delicious" you hug him from behind. His smell makes you smile against his skin. "Yeah almost done" "Thank you for doing this" He breaks from the embrace and turns towards you. "Cmon I have to support my girl ain't it? Now eat fast or you will be late" He hands you a plate full of pancakes and raspberries as he flashes you a smile.

“Mhmm so good” you put the last piece of pancake in your mouth. Ben smiles, he loves seeing you eat.

“Thanks, and dont forget to take your ORS” he hands you a bottle. “I’ll get going alright, I'll catch the bus”. “All the best, don’t worry hmm? I know you will do well” he pecks your lips.

“Thanks Ben, see you” ☾ ☾ ☾ "Practice ends a lil late today, see ya at 7" Ben's message stares back at you. He is supposed to be home now. The house is dark, your bag lying somewhere in the living room floor, your curled up figure on the bed. Sighing, you feel your eyes sting again, for the fourth time. You shut your eyes as you force your mind to shut down. "Hey, you weren't opening the door, so had to use the key" Ben steps in, closing the door. He switches on the lights, but doesn't see your familiar figure on the couch. "Strange." He comes inside the bedroom, and barely makes out your silhouette. You feel the bed sink behind you as the smell of Ben's cologne hits. He combs your hair, gently, as he glides your hand towards your cheek . His fingers, slightly retract noticing dampness. "Baby, why are you crying?" You turn towards him, sniffling. "Baby, what happened?" his voice drops to a whisper as he notices your red eyes in the dim light. "Um i-its really nothing, stupid even" your voice rough from crying, scratching his heart. " s'nothin stupid if it makes you cry hmm? Baby talk to me, I'm here" he holds your shoulder, pulling you onto his chest. "I-it's just I fucking flopped in the test, I -I don't know I just...blanked out in the exam hall," your breath quivers as tears streak down your face. "I worked like a dog, day and night for this. A-and you know what's the worst fucking part? This is my subject, the shit I usually ace at. And now if this is how I did, I-I don't even wanna think about the others." You hiccuped, his hand rubbing on your back to soothe you. "Listen y/n, I know you worked hard, you know that yourself too. It happens and trust me it stings like a bitch but here you are, and I know you are strong to overcome this, yeah?" You feel his lips on your head, planting a kiss.

"B-but there are people who just study an all nighter and score like that isn't fucking fair Ben I- I don't know what I'm doing wrong. My head throbs, my body aches from sitting for so long and I-I just don't know.." you choke on your words, face buried in his chest. Ben's heart breaks at this sight. Your broken voice tugs his heart. He cradles your face in his palms, wiping the tears, "Never ever compare yourself with others alright? You are you and no matter what others do, do not make yourself look smaller. I don't care who does what, I care only about you. Just focus on yourself, on your improvement and everything in between, yeah?" He kisses your cheek gently, "I believe in you, always and forever." He joined his forehead with yours, his thumb brushing over your cheek. You give him a weak smile, and part of Ben is relieved so see your mood lift a little. "You need to eat love, I know you haven't had anything. How does some sandwich sound?" His hoodie hugs your figure, his smell making your heart lighter. Ben comes back from washing the dishes. "Could we cuddle, Ben?" Ben looks at you, his eyes looking at your figure, as his shoulder relaxes, your voice pulling heart strings. How can he ever refuse your plea? "Not even a question." Soon his arms wrap around your waist , pulling you closer. Your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. You feel him tracing circles on your hips, his touch, pleasant on your skin. His warmth, making you forget, tension escaping your body. "Thank you." You breathe out, looking into his eyes which were already on your face. He smiles, leaning closer to kiss your forehead, the feeling of his kiss lingering for longer than it usually does. It feels nice, his presence, his love. He knows how thankful you are and you feel it, you know it. You snuggle closer onto his chest, his rhythmic breathing, all too familiar, rocking you ever so gently.

You drift off to sleep, knowing sometimes home can just be a person and Ben will be there, for you , by your side.

And you come running to home everyday.

man this academic shit is killin me so i just imagined getting comforted by ben (so delusional haha) i should go study

masterlist

[lav-is-writing]

Howdy I'm back in the building again!

Saw that request were open and Idk if I've already sent this one in or not, but I was wondering if it was possible for you to write the following?

Ronin from Killer Chat with a very touchstarved reader. I think these two being so somewhat attached to each other like this would actually be really cute in a way.

I really adore your writing and I hope that you keep up the fabulous work and just know how much I appreciate everything you do for writing for all your fandoms. Thank you for reading friend!

🔍-anon

Keep Your Hand in Mine

pairing- Ronin x Touchstarved!Reader

warnings- Short :( I'm sorry

a/n- FEIUHF ANON ILY!! YOU'RE TOO SWEET <33

“More, darlin?”

You nodded, continuing to move closer to Ronin. He scoffed from his position on the couch, one hand pulling you closer to him while the other set down the TV remote. The two of you were in the middle of one of your horror movie marathons, but this time, you didn’t care so much about the movie as you did Ronin’s touch.

Since he started to date you, Ronin had learned about the thing you loved the most- touch. Yet, he didn’t pry, giving you what you needed without complaint. You had been caught off guard when he admitted something during one of your cuddle sessions- He loved physical touch. Whether a small peck on your cheek or a lingering touch on your hand, Ronin knew how much you craved it.

It was one of the things that made him love you so. 

Countless nights spent snuggling you as you slept, helping you fall into unconsciousness and relieving Ronin’s fears of you leaving him. No one could hurt you while he held you. He made sure of that.

In public, it was a bit more difficult. When a stranger brushed hands with you, you tensed, looking at Ronin for guidance. He would help you through it, apologizing for the stranger and making a note to find them if they were rude about it. Simple touches like that were enough to cause panic, and even Ronin wasn’t always spared from that. 

Hugs could make you wince, so Ronin would put his hands up as he approached, nodding at you as if to ask if you were okay with it. For the devil, he was surprisingly gentle with you, understanding your problems. 

And when the day came where you accepted touching without warning?

He's estatic.

Still a bit hesitant, Ronin asked you repeatably: "Are you sure, darlin'? Don't want you to feel pressured into this."

You always said yes.

“I’m here, don’t worry, darlin'. You don’t have to let go.”

Extra headcanons since this is short:

If you wanted to seek professional help with your problem, Ronin would be completely supportive of it. If it helped you feel better, he was quick to find the best person he could find.

Massages became a part of your daily routine, preformed by Ronin in order to help you relax. The second tension left your body, he was beaming silently, proud that he was able to help.

a/n- okay but he's just a little guy :3

[mumintr0llet]

A ‘The ducklings finding out about Hilson’-fic collection 

This is probably my favourite type of Hilson-fic because they’re always so fluffy and cute and domestic and funny. Especially love when the Ducklings go from ‘No fucking way, you’re not married House!’ to ‘Oh... you and Wilson… Yeah, that actually makes so much sense...’

I’ve created an ao3 bookmark-tag for myself but also thought that maybe I should put together a tumblr post as well so here we go: 

Teddy Bear Timeline - FandomsAreMyFuel: (this might be one of the best Hilson-fics in general that I’ve read!) series 4/5 (ish) ducklings break into House’s home and are surprised by how homey it is and gets an insight of House life with Wilson 

criteria - PaintedVanilla: (this is the Hilson-fic with the most kudos and I really understand why, it’s brilliant!) House and Wilson are betting on how long it will take for the original ducklings to figure out who House is married to

mutualism - PaintedVanilla: when Cameron says she’s only coming back to work for house if he goes on a date with her and later is told that House is already married to someone. 

replicability - ORiley42: a sequel to criteria: it’s the new ducklings turn to run around the hospital and find House’s spouse

Wanna bet? - movingon_exceptnot: also House and Wilson betting on who long it’s going to take until the original ducklings realise they’re married; very “aaah, that makes so much sense” feeling when they find out 

Dirty Little Secret - stasis: Cameron and Chase meet Wilson (who works at another hospital) when they break into House’s home and all of them are scared and confused and it’s very funny 

The Private Life of Gregory House - superangsty: a 5+1 thing: House suddenly wears a wedding ring and it takes five events for the original duckings to realise who House’s spouse is 

he goes to another school - Galileoleo: again the original ducklings thing House is pulling a prank when he shows up with a wedding ring, they can’t believe House could get- and let along stay- married, especially since hi supposed spouse is working at another hospital

let it slip - zlicxn: it’s Christmas time, House slips on ice, gets a concussion and in his confused state lets the original ducklings know he’s in a relationship. They’re then bet on who they think he’s planning to propose to (spoiler; I kind of think Cameron ruined his proposal but House gets his yes so it's all good in the end, hehe)

An Essay On Stupidity - DumpsterBeagle: House and Wilson have been married for about a year but the original ducklings hasn’t picked it up yet so House starts to play around with them, with Wilson kind of in on it. They hang out with Cuddy outside of work and the ducklings thing Thirteen (who’s not really Thirteen to them because they don’t know her) is House’s wife 

Expect the Unexpected - housethemd (Whiskeyrose1): short and sweet; series 5 ducklings are startled by House showing up at work with two children

Base Assumption - AmTheDreamer: House, Wilson and Cuddy think the original ducklings are idiots because how haven't they noticed that Wilson is House’s husband- since about a decked back (so, so funny!) 

Here We Go Again - AmTheDreamer: follow-up to Base Assumption, now it’s the new ducklings turn to try and figure out who their boss is married to, including some hurt/comfort as well

Bonus that kind of fits the brief: 

The Line of Thoughts - tevinterimperium: House thinks he and Wilson should pretend to be dating after the original ducklings asked too many investigative questions about House’s dating life. They don’t believe it at first, but slowly get more and more convince at the same time as House and Wilson realise things about themselves 

And if you've got any more, please do share and help me expand the list!

[britneyshakespeare]

you: nicholas alexander chavez, the actor from ryan murphy's recent work

me, a mama's girl and daytime tv viewer:

[sysig]

VUX versions! (Patreon)

[sskk-manifesto]

What a good episode. Maaaaaan

[gaysindistress]

Things Simon Riley says

Masterlist

Nothing.

This man is silent all of the time.

It’s unsettling.

You almost think he’s mute because of how eerily silent he is literally all of the time.

(You had also thought he was deaf so you attempted to sign really badly and John lost his shit laughing. “He can hear just fine love. He’s just an arsehole.”)

John is your personal translator for the first few months and can somehow read Simon’s expressions while you slowly figure it out.

Which leads to the first time he does speak around you.

Simon, his voice hoarse and low from no use, greeting you for the first time as he walks into John’s house, “good ta see ya.”

Simon shaking his head and chuckling at your wide and startled eyes.

Simon slowly saying more and more to you, sometimes it’s a simple, “how are ya today?” and other times it’s your name in that baritone gruff voice that heats up your face.

Simon grumbling at Johnny when he attempts to sit beside you at dinner one night, “no, move.”

Simon glaring at him and uttering the simple two words again.

Simon quietly saying, “food’s good,” to you as you all finish your meal and you nearly choke on your food thanking him.

Simon correctly the guys when they refer to you as ‘John’s neighbor’, “she’s got a name. Use it.”

Simon barking out, “10 more laps for that shit” when they’re all doing PT and Johnny pops off about how he might ask out “John’s cute little neighbor.”

Simon sending you a text one day that reads “dinner tonight? I’ll cook.”

Simon making causal conversation as he methodically prepares ramen for you two, the hulking man taking up your entire kitchen, “How long ‘ave ya lived here?”

Simon blocking you entering the kitchen when you try to clean up with a stern , “no sit down and eat. I cooked so I’ll clean up.”

Simon keeping your weekly dinners up for months until he has to go on a mission and before he leaves the last time, he places a kiss on the corner of your lips while whispering “I’ll be back. 6 months tops. Take pictures of everything you make and we’ll make together when I get back.”