#i got sick the other night and ended up sleeping later in before i had to work

[giannaln4]

Sick

lando norris x fem reader

summary: Your sickness got in the way of a romantic day Lando had planned for the both of you, but to him, making you feel better was way more important than anything. (3.1k words)

warnings: stablished relationship, sick!reader, mentions of throw up, extremely cheesy, fluff

a/n: i was supposed to post this last week when the request was made, i'm sorry it took me so long anon but i hope you like it! also i did make it a little longer and more dramatic than i had to. also this is the first request i post!! i have one more but please keep sending more ideas, i love reading what you have in mind

check out the original request here!

-> Prequel

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Lando had been sick last week, and you did everything to take good care of him, as much as you could. You carried medications with you, made sure he drank enough water, and gave him tea to help him feel better. You even cuddled him every night to help him sleep.

He was extremely grateful that you made sure to take good care of him. Having to give everything on track sure made it a little difficult, but he did get better eventually, and he said it was thanks to you.

What you never considered, though, was the fact that his sickness would get to you, but the next week, you felt it, and it was even more evident the night after the Austrian Grand Prix.

For some reason, it hit you harder, and the fact that you had been travelling so much didn’t help. You wanted nothing more than to sleep for days until the sickness went away, but Lando had other plans. With how busy he usually is, he always makes you his priority when he’s away from the track, so before going to bed, he shared the plans he had for the next day, including some activities that required you to get ready and leave the comfort of your home.

You both valued your time together, and you could tell how excited he was to take you out and spend the day with you, something that would also help him to take his mind off the events that took place that weekend, so you said yes.

The next morning, you felt him leave the bed, kissing your forehead goodbye as you turned around to face him.

“I have a little something to do before our date, but you can meet me at the restaurant so we can have breakfast together, yeah?” He whispered. You just nodded, and he kissed you again, whispering a little ‘I love you’ before leaving your room.

You went back to sleep as soon as he left, but the sound of your alarm woke you up an hour later. You grunted as you turned it off, looking at the time, knowing you had to start getting ready if you wanted to make it on time for your date, but your body felt so heavy that you couldn’t even leave the bed. 

Your current state was unfortunate, to say the least. A pounding headache, a runny nose, a sore throat, constant sweating, and intense body pain. There was no way you could go out.

It broke your heart to have to cancel your day with Lando, but you knew your body couldn’t take it and that he would understand.

Before notifying your boyfriend that you wouldn't make it, you looked up your symptoms to make sure you didn’t need to seek medical attention. The last thing you wanted was to end up at the hospital; you never liked them. You quickly came to the conclusion that it was a simple cold. You should’ve seen it coming; not only did you take care of Lando while he was sick, but you hadn’t been feeling the best the last couple of days and brushed it off, thinking you were just tired.

You sent him a long text explaining that you were sick and apologising a million times for cancelling the romantic day he had planned, feeling terrible for failing him.

You fell back asleep almost immediately, but sadly, not for long. Your body temperature suddenly dropped, making you shiver, so you brought up every blanket and tried to cover your entire body with them, but stopped when you suddenly felt hot again.

You were sure you had never been this sick; you were uncomfortable, your throat was incredibly dry, and your whole body was sticky from sweat. It even hurt to sneeze. You let out a loud moan in discomfort, and a few seconds later, you heard the door open.

“Sorry, I didn’t know if you were awake, and I didn’t wanna bother you,” Lando said softly, entering the room. He was holding a few blankets and pillows that covered his face, but you knew he had a worried look on his face. You covered yourself again, up to your head; you didn’t want him to see you like this, not when your hair was an absolute mess and your sleeping shirt looked like you took a shower in it.

“What are you doing here? I thought you had something to do,” you asked under the blankets.

His eyes softened when they hit the lump on the bed as he placed the stuff by your feet. “Don’t worry about that; I’m done for the day.” He approached you and kneeled next to you. “Hey, how bad is it?”

“It’s bad. I don’t wanna get you sick again,” you replied, your throat hurting every time you spoke.

“You’ll be happy to know that I don’t care.” He joked, but you remained silent. “I assume you didn’t have any breakfast yet.”

“No”

"Well, I bought you some soup. You should eat it while it’s still hot, it will be good for you.” He stared at the blankets, waiting for you to come out or at least say something "Baby, come on, let me see you.”

You appreciated him being there to take care of you; it truly warmed your heart, and all you wanted to do was show him how thankful you were, but what if he got sick again because of you? What if you look so bad right now that he will break up with you on the spot? “I don’t look good,” you finally muttered.

“What?” He chuckled, thinking you were joking.

“I’m sweating an insane amount; I can feel my hair sticking to my face.”

“Let me braid your hair so you feel less sticky on the face. I promise you’ll feel better.”

You thought about it for a moment and figured he wouldn’t leave even if you directly asked him to, so you uncovered your face slowly and shyly looked at him. “I feel really ill.”

“I know, baby. Tell me what hurts.”

“Everything. My entire body, the headache is terrible, and I get really cold, but after a second, I feel like I’m boiling.”

He touched your forehead as soon as he noticed your blushed face. “Baby, you’re really hot.”

“I know that,” you joked with a smirk on your face.

Lando rolled his eyes but couldn’t contain his laughter. “Good to know your sense of humour remains untouched.” He stood up and left the room, coming back in a heartbeat as he held a bowl of soup. “You’re gonna eat your soup while I braid your hair and I promise it will make you feel at least a little bit better.”

“My hair is all covered in sweat, though.” You sat on the bed, waiting for him to give you the soup.

“That’s okay. It’s hot, so please be careful.” You carefully took the bowl from his large hands, and you could see the steam that came off of it.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your eyes avoiding his as you blew on the hot liquid.

“You might feel hotter for a moment, but this is good; you need a lot of fluids. Now, I’m gonna sit behind you, okay?” You nodded, making enough space for him.

He struggled a little to get behind you, moving softly so he didn’t make you spill any of the soup. “Are you comfortable?” He asked when he finally settled.

“Yes”

“Ok, should I do one or two?” He started brushing your hair. You were right; you were sweating a lot, but he didn’t care; he just wanted to take proper care of his girlfriend, just like you did when he was sick. 

“Two”

“Okay. They might not turn out the best, though. I’m not a great hairstylist, but they will help.” You chuckled, knowing he was right, but that was the least of your worries. 

You stayed like that for a few minutes. It didn’t take him long to figure out how to put two braids on you without pulling your hair or making your headache worse. "Done,” he said, getting back on his feet and taking a good look at how you looked with braided hair. His heartbeats began to increase. “You look really cute,” he said as he tilted his head, admiring you.

Your face was burning, and it wasn’t the fever. “Thank you. I actually do feel much better.” And you did; you were surprised at how lighter your head felt without all that hair resting on your face or shoulders.

“See? I told you.” He then kissed his fingertip and tapped your nose with it, making you melt at his touch ”Finish your soup. I’m gonna see if we still have that humidifier.”

He stepped out of the room once again, leaving you alone. Somehow, you already felt better, even though everything hurt the same. But you had to admit that the hot soup was a good call.

Once you were done with it, you laid back down carefully, not wanting to ruin the freshly styled hair. And only a few minutes later, you heard the door again, “No luck with the humidifier, but this will help too.” You paid attention to his hands. He was holding a bucket and a dry cloth in one hand and a bottle of water and some pills in the other. “Just this one last thing, and I’ll let you go back to sleep,” he said, as if he was bothering you; you didn’t feel like he was. If anything, it was the other way around, and you should be the one apologising. He put down the bucket next to the bed and waited for you to sit again, this time paying attention to your damp shirt. “Why don’t you change into some new clothes?”

You looked down at your shirt and felt embarrassed when you noticed how much it looked like you had been drowned in a rainstorm. It didn’t look that bad before, but it must’ve been the hot liquids. “Okay,” you agreed, about to get up, but he stopped you.

He wandered around your shared room, grabbing clean clothes that he believed would be comfortable for you to wear. He didn’t want you to feel too hot or too cold again, so he went for a happy medium. A shirt and underwear. You probably shouldn’t deal with too many layers anyway. “Here, I’ll help you change.”

He helped you with everything, which you were really thankful for since your body was too weak and in pain to do it by yourself. Tossing the dirty clothes somewhere in the room, he proceeded to grab the pillows he had previously set on the bed and started arranging them around you to make your uncomfortable state a little more pleasant.

“Are you comfortable?” He asked, looking down at you, and you nodded in response, “Sure?”

"Positive.” Even your voice was weak.

After you were settled, he grabbed the pills and handed them to you, going for the water bottle next “This is for your headache.” He waited for you to take them and watched you get comfortable again. He then reached into the bucket and completely submerged the cloth, making sure all the excess water was cleared before moving it away from the bucket. He stroked it over your face a few times. “You’re all good now. Why don’t you try to sleep?”

You looked up at him in pure admiration, “Thank you, baby.”

“For what?”

“For taking care of me,” you rasped out.

“What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t take care of my sick girlfriend?” You could swear you had literal heart eyes right now. “You took care of me when I was sick, and I´m pretty sure this is my fault.”

“It’s not your fault, but you should probably get out of here. I don’t wanna get you sick again, your home race is next.” 

He shook his head and sat on the chair that was a few feet away from the bed. “What if you need something and I’m not here?”

You smiled at him again, but suddenly remembered what you were supposed to be doing. He must’ve noticed the change in your face. 

“What’s wrong?” He asked, kneeling next to you again as his hand rested on your cheek.

“Are you mad at me?”

“What? Why would I be mad at you?”

“For ruining our date.”

“Darling, we have a lifetime ahead of us. We have plenty of time to go on dates.”

Those words made you feel a million things at the same time, tears threatening to leave your eyes. “I love you.”

“I love you more,” he replied, his smile so big and sincere that his dimples made an appearance. “Try to get some sleep, yeah?”

You went back to sleep, and luckily this time you managed to rest for hours. In the meantime, Lando stayed on the bed next to you, doing some work to stay busy and awake, while he kept an eye on you in case you needed him. 

The hours went by, and your fever went away, finally. You woke up around 4 PM, slowly opening your eyes and squinting at the sudden brightness.

You scanned the room looking for Lando, but he was nowhere to be found. You figured it made sense that he left. You didn’t really expect him to stay there all day and waste his free day just to be with you.

You tried to get up, but your body still felt heavy. You groaned in pain and fell on your back again, strangely still feeling tired even after sleeping for hours. Before you could try again, Lando was entering the room.

“You came back,” you managed to say.

“Yeah, sorry. I was just getting you some tea.” He approached you and touched your forehead, relieved that you weren’t hot anymore. “How are you feeling?”

"Better,” you replied, not so sure you wanted him to get worried. “I guess my throat still hurts.”

“I figured, but this honey and lemon tea will help with that.” He smiled at you but when you didn’t move, he could feel the worry come back to him “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t like tea.”

“Tell your cold that.” You pouted like a little kid, but Lando’s face remained neutral as he waited for you to take the cup. “I know you don’t like tea, but I promise this will help. Besides, weren’t you giving me tea all the time when I was sick?” 

You gave in and took it, knowing he was right, and honestly, you would do anything to ease your sore throat.

You started drinking it, slowly but surely. It didn’t taste as bad as you remembered, and you started wondering if your mom was just bad at making tea. “Would you cuddle with me? If it’s not too gross.” You asked out of nowhere.

“Gross? Why-?”

“Because I have been sweating a lot, and it’s not like I took a shower yet,” you explained, a little embarrassed.

“Were you grossed out when I was the sick one asking for cuddles?”

You answered immediately, “No, but you weren’t this sick.”

“C’mon, don’t be silly.” He was happy you wanted to cuddle. Since he got there in the morning, he was concerned that you just wanted him out of there. Carefully, he got in bed with you, sitting against the headboard and getting into a comfortable position. He waited for you to lay down and nestled you between his legs, with your back against his front.

“Thank you for staying with me. I feel much better with you.”

“Really? Because for a moment there, it felt like you didn’t want me here.”

“I do, I really do. I just-” You stopped for a moment to think about your words “I don’t wanna be a burden.”

“Y/N, you know I would never think that.” He was brushing your check.

“Still, you wasted your free day and stayed here all day… for me. We couldn’t even go out like you wanted to.” You then felt guilty about your realisation. “Did you eat something today?”

“I did; I ordered something while you slept. I wanted to get some lunch for you too, but I wasn't sure for how long you’d be asleep. Are you hungry?”

“Not really,” he nodded, even though you couldn’t see him. “I’m still tired.”

Lando had been sick before, and he knew it was exhausting to deal with it, but he doesn’t remember a cold taking him down like that. Still, he agreed to stay there with you while you went to sleep. Again.

A while went by, and he didn’t notice when you started to drift off, but when he felt you shivering on top of him, he opened his eyes quickly.

You were freezing cold, to the point where your teeth were chattering, but your skin was so hot that he could melt chocolate on your forehead. He knew that your fever coming back and your temperature going up so quickly were bad signs.

“Y/N?” He whispered, softly moving you, “Y/N, are you okay?”

“Mhm?” You hummed. You were holding the blanket tighter and closer to your body.

“How are you feeling?” He kept a low voice, not wanting to overwhelm you.

“I’m freezing.” He was about to embrace you again, but was interrupted when you abruptly sat on the bed. “I think I’m gonna throw up.”

He followed your actions and reached down for the bucket that was still next to the bed and placed it between your legs. ‘Not good,’ he kept thinking, rubbing your back for comfort “If that’s the case, then you’re worse than I thought, sweetheart; we might have to go to the doctor.” You didn’t like the seriousness of his voice.

“I don’t like hospitals.”

“Well, I don’t care whether you like it or not; your fever is coming back and you’re feeling nauseous. I don’t think that’s normal for a cold. You are literally shaking.”

“I’ll be fine. I just need to sleep a little more.”

“I know you don’t want to, but we really need to see a doctor.” You didn’t say anything, hoping he would just forget about that, but of course he wouldn’t. “Everything is gonna be okay. You’re here with me right now, aren’t you?” You stayed silent. “Come on, I’m gonna take you to the hospital, and I promise you’ll feel better, okay?” You nodded. You knew he was taking care of you, good care of you, but anything related to sickness, doctors, or hospitals scared you for some reason. “Hey, I’m not gonna let anything bad happen to you. You’re safe with me. I promise,” he said, raising his pinky in front of you, satisfied when you locked it with your own.

[livin4woso]

Scarred for life (mapi x ingrid x leon!Reader)

Summary - When mapis' younger sister decides to come drop off some clothes, she had stolen off her older sister she ends up interrupting something she shouldn't have, and it leaves her slightly scarred.

You hadn't thought anything of it it was a normal day off, no special occasion or any media, just a random Thursday. You had borrowed mapis jacket a couple of days ago for a photo shoot and decided to return it. However, you had your own key to the place, and you had shown up unexpectedly to her and ingirds apartment many of times, and there had been no issues until today.

You were mapis younger sister, and she raised you to be just like her, a footballer. You had grown up idolising her, and you had captured the football world by storm as the lèon sisters a formidable pairing, some even referring to you as the brick wall of Barcelona. It was only a couple of years ago when her and ingrid got together and you wished it had happened sooner because ingrid was the balance to mapi that she needed. You and ingird got along far too well for mapis liking, even ganging up on her the odd few occasions, leaving her to fake pout with her arms crossed.

The drive from yours to mapis apartment was relatively short, but there was still roadworks that added time to your journey. You had finally reached her apartment and because you're her sister you had a spare key not for emergencies or anything just because you and mapi were close siblings and liked spending time with each other outside of football which may be for the reason yous had amazing chemistry on the field with eachother.

The key finally turned in the lock, opening the door with a satisfying click. However, unlike usual, there was no immediate sign they were home, so you thought you would just leave the jacket in her living room with a note to know that it was you. However, you wished you never showed up after what you saw.

As you stepped into the living room, it was if your life flashed before your eyes. "EURGHH OH MY GOD.. IM GONNA BE SICK, " you shouted. The sight before you was ingrid between your sisters legs on the couch, something you didn't want to see. "ON THE COUCH ASWELL UREGH IM NEVER SITTING ON THIS COUCH AGAIN NOT UNTIL YOU GET ANOTHER ONE," you continued to shout with your hands over your eyes as large amounts of scuffling happened.

It was about 5 minutes later, and it was like the scene was repeating in your head. "Im so sorry y/n ermm we weren't expecting you." mapi started this time in clothes. "Yeah no its okay im just never going to be able to come back here ever again... sooo goodbye and have a nice time just next time do it in the bedroom!!" You stated walking out the door.

Once you had left ingrid had started laughing to herself "well atleast your sister knows you're not as tough as you look and the fact you're a massive bottom" she said and mapi retaliated by smacking her arm "its not funny" "oh it really is amor".

That night, it might have seemed dramatic, but it was replaying in your head, causing a lack of sleep, which wasn't helpful for training the next morning. You trundled into the changing room, barely even noticing where you were going. "Whats wrong with you chica" said pina slinging an arm around your shoulder "i don't want to talk about it but if you want to know id ask my sister about it" you said groaning as you tried to shake off your tiredness.

You had came earlier than usual to try to avoid your sister and her girlfriend, which had worked as you were the first one on the field which had never happened before. Meanwhile pina couldn't help herself so she went and aksed mapi "sooo whats wrong with y/n the poor girl looks traumatised" "its nothing she's just being dramatic from yesterday" mapi said trying to blow the conversation over but pina had caught ingrid snickering to herself so she knew it was interesting.

"Pleaseee ingrid you have to tell me i wont say anything" she practically begged the taller girl "okay okay so basically y/n walked in on us in the living room" she said not even embarrassed "oh god no wonder the girl is traumatised" pina said through laughing.

"Well, she did shout at us that she was now scarred for life and is never coming back over until we get a new couch," ingrid said, laughing at the flashback of you shouting in pure disgust.

[missberrycake]

Absolutely outraged to learn that the little headcanon I dreamt up in bed this morning doesn’t work timeline-wise but screw it, I’m doing it anyway.

When Eddie was small, his mom always used to sing him Rainbow Connection from The Muppet Movie. They’d watched it together over at Uncle Wayne’s trailer when it first came out on VHS and Eddie had been entranced. He’d parked himself right up in front of the small TV, his eyes glued to this little frog playing the banjo.

His mom noticed, of course, and made it theirs. Their song for when his dad was away and they could dance in the kitchen without being yelled at. For when Eddie was sick in bed, or couldn’t sleep, or had woken up with a nightmare. For when he came home from school with grazed palms and tears in his eyes.

“Who said that every wish, would be heard and answered?” his mom sang to him, brushing away Eddie’s tears the day she told him that she was very poorly. That she had to go into hospital, just for a little while, for the doctors to fix her up.

Eddie had asked for the song to be played at her funeral, in his small voice, tugging at his dad’s shirt sleeve. He’d said no, of course. He’d never understood either of them.

But later that night, when everyone had left and his dad was asleep, Uncle Wayne led Eddie out into the backyard and picked up his old guitar. He’d smiled at Eddie as the familiar chords rang out in the night sky and Eddie’s voice trembled when he started to sing, “Why are there so many, songs about rainbows?”

Uncle Wayne’s voice soon joined his, strong and sure. “And what’s on the other side?”

Eddie smiled. Maybe it could be their song, too.

So, years later, when Eddie was shuffling around Steve’s vast kitchen, trying to find where the hell the Harringtons kept their mugs, he found himself humming along to the familiar tune with a happy heart.

“Oho, I see we’ve got another Tammy Thompson fan on our hands here,” came Steve’s voice as he and Robin sidled in and leant against the countertop.

Robin snorted. “Someday we’ll find it,” she sang, her words taking on a pitchy, mocking quality.

Steve joined in, squeaky and off-tune, “The rainbow connection.”

They were grinning at each other as they carried on. “The lovers, the dreamers -”

“Stop,” Eddie yelled, red-faced, his heart beating wildly as he clutched the empty mug in his hand. “Stop it.”

They did, with matching looks of confusion. Clearing spotting the way Eddie was breathing too hard, eyes too glassy, Steve shifted. “Shit, sorry Eddie. We didn’t mean anything.”

And it was bullshit because Eddie knew that. How could they know about that song, about his mom and Uncle Wayne and everything it meant? They couldn’t, but now Eddie had made it weird. Made it awkward. But he was still too worked up, he couldn’t explain.

“S'okay,” he said. “I guess I just don’t feel well. Might go home.”

He didn’t let either of them get another word in before he fled the house.

The next day, Eddie was disturbed from his still-embarrased wallowing by a gentle knock on his bedroom door. It was Uncle Wayne, with a soft look on his face.

“The Harrington boy’s here,” he said. “Came to apologise. Called last night, you know. We talked for a bit.”

He disappeared and moments later a contrite-looking Steve shuffled in.

Eddie pushed himself up against his headboard.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “It was just a joke Robin and I have. I would never -” He cut himself off and sat down on the end of the bed, a little sheepishly. “I got you this.”

Steve pulled his hand out from behind his back to reveal a tiny Kermit the Frog toy, complete with a small, squishy banjo.

Eddie’s chest clenched. He reached out for the toy and smiled wide at Steve.

When the other man dragged him into a hug, Eddie let himself fall into it.

Maybe it wasn’t going to be a song for him and Steve, but it could definitely be the start of something sweet.

[Yeah, I'm scouring the archives and trying to salvage as many headcanons as I can from my old deleted account, but let's just pretend this is brand new content.]

[coeurify]

LACY, OH LACY

ellie williams.

·˚ ༘ * “like ribbons in your hair, my stomach’s all in knots. you got the one thing that i want."

pairing: ellie williams x f!reader. summary: you’ve got the one thing ellie wants, and it’s rotting her thoughts of you. based on lacy by olivia rodrigo. warning: my first go at true angst, but a happy ending! i took a much sadder direction with the song lol. reader is described as having a father figure. looks of reader never described beside that there’s ribbons in their hair. they/them pronouns used. for a GUTS writing challenge in writing server!

Envy was a nasty thing. Ellie knew that. Ellie knew that the way her lip curled down upon the sight of your frame disappearing into the Tipsy Bison in Jackson was unfair.

Ellie knew that the way her body tensed whenever you were followed quickly by an older man, one who grumbled and wiped at his sleepy eyes, wasn’t fair. The way she turned on her heel and walked away each time she saw you two, the pebbles under the toe of her converse being kicked away, that wasn’t fair either.

But god, did it tie her stomach in tiny little knots, ones that made it hard to swallow, hard to look away when your shining eyes met her’s across the street somedays.

Sometimes, she tries to blame it on sleep. She tells herself the angry feeling bubbling in her stomach is simply a result of the sleepless nights. Of the shaking and panting breaths that shoot from her as she awakes from another never ending nightmare.

But most days, she realizes it’s only an excuse. This sick feeling is reserved only for you, and Ellie wishes she could swallow it down like a shot, but it instead pools in her mouth, poisoning her movements, her thoughts, her everything around you.

When you smile the smile Ellie knew all too well, It only made her feel worse. It shouldn’t, really, Ellie should quirk her lips up in response, wave you over maybe. Joel would have insisted. But lately she just raised a hand in a softer, colder response before finding a new corner to escape down.

Hell, if Joel was here, if things were different, he would have tilted his chin up knowingly when Ellie’s own chin jutted down at the sight of you, her cheeks painted pink with something akin to affection, rather than the near constant shade of frighteningly pale her face seemed to be lately.

He had done so a million times.

When Ellie was only a measly sixteen, telling Joel she just couldn't let you stay the night while Joel and your old man went on a particularly long patrol.

“I barely even know them!” Ellie had fought, her arms crossed over the quickly beating heart in her chest. She knew you, she knew you liked to wear ribbon in your hair, she knew your favorite color was blue because your favorite shoes were that color, and she knew you were pretty. So fucking pretty, the kind that made her stomach turn all mushy and gross when she tried to talk to you over the semi regular shared dinners Joel and a few other older men around town had insisted upon.

Joel just shook his head, seemingly fighting back one of those chuckles that made it sound like he knew something Ellie didn’t. Ellie hated when he did that. “You know them well enough, kid.” was all Joel had responded, patting Ellie’s slumped back.

Joel did it when you coaxed Ellie out of her little garage for dinner inside of Joel’s, a few years later. He would never say anything, not when he could barely get Ellie to say hello anymore, but a look was all that was needed. Green meeting a more tired looking brown for just a split second, and Ellie knew. Joel saw right through the nervous looks Ellie threw your way, saw through how Ellie insisted on totally platonically complimenting you every time you walked through the door. Ellie’s knees were always pointed your way at the table, and Joel always saw.

“They’re pretty,” Joel said later that night, voice careful as he watched Ellie, who watched the dishes she silently cleaned off the table. “Sweet too, too sweet for a hell like this.” Joel could barely finish the words before he heard the creak of the door, before the house was quiet again.

The last time you were brought up, Ellie remembers being cold. She’s often cold now, but the night on the porch was one of the first truly cold nights in Jackson. It stung her nose while she walked outside of the Tipsy Bison, leaving a crowd of shocked faces.

She felt stupid, so stupid that it made the wind feel even icier against her skin. God, why did she have to dance with Dina? Her eyes had been settled on you all fucking night, but Dina was always a firecracker, always tugging Ellie to dance or talk loudly at the bar top. Ellie couldn’t stop heaving as she slammed the door. Did you think they were together too? Did you think Dina was leaning in to kiss her like Seth thought? Dina wasn’t. Ellie wanted to tell you that as soon as Dina’s lips came to her ear, “They’re watching, El.”

But Seth broke the dance before Ellie could. Joel only made it worse in Ellie eyes, and yet you still followed her out the building.

Of course you did.

“Ellie,” she remembers you saying so softly, as if she might break if you had raised your voice even a little. Maybe she would have, she was a fragile thing that night, something easily crushed in your hands. Hands that had been gripped by yours outside the Bar that night.

You were the only one who didn’t look at her like she had two heads after the Seth incident, after her face had gone red at the sight of Joel. Her harsh words to the older man didn’t scare you away, didn’t make you crumble her between your finger tips.

“You should talk to him.” Your breath hit her face, the only warmth in that fucking air, and ellie remembers smelling something that was just as delicate as a pastry, maybe a perfume your father found on a patrol, maybe just you.

You cared. Something Ellie had convinced herself otherwise of, something that didn’t make sense in her mind. Why did you have any worry about she and Joel? How did it concern you at all? But it did, and Ellie listened to you.

Ellie walked up that frosted porch, arms swinging nervously, searching for space on the wooden railing. Ellie let Joel join her, let him ask about you.

“You like them?” Joel’s hands cupped his coffee, his head tilted Ellie’s way.

Ellie remembers so vividly how she turned away, tucking her chin near her shoulder. “I’m so stupid.”

Ellie could see how Joel’s head shook lightly, “You ain’t. They’d be lucky to have you.”

Ellie wishes she answered him that night, wishes she would have sat back on the porch, wishes she didn’t call him an asshole. Ellie wishes a lot of things about that night. Maybe she would have hugged him, if she had known. Maybe she would have started that conversation with forgiveness, rather than a hint of it, thrown at the end of her scrambled words, swallowed by her eyes she willed not to cry.

Ellie wishes for a lot of things, but she knows it’s useless.

Just as useless as avoiding you, now.

You had worn a black ribbon in your hair, the day of Joel’s burial. You had hugged Ellie so tightly, and Ellie almost could feel the heartbeat she swore she lost.

“I’m so sorry,” you had blubbered into her solid frame, and she almost tucked her nose into the skin of your neck, almost let the scent of your perfume calm her. But she just thanked you, pulled back and wiped one of her shaking thumbs over your tear streaked face. She was wiping your tears that day, and somehow it felt like the only right thing to do.

But Ellie remembers that day for another reason. It had been the first day she noticed the sick feeling in her stomach. The first time the hue of pink that always clouded her vision around you was dusted green instead, jealousy clawing at her throat.

She hated it. She hated how she couldn’t look away from where you slumped against your father’s chest. How his hand rubbed your shaking back as his breath puffed out in cold little clouds.

She hated how it reminded her of him.

Ellie stood alone, and watched on, feeling the tightening green branches of whatever awfulness was growing in the pit of her stomach. She cursed whatever it was laying above space, she dug the ball of her feet into the freezing grass and she cursed the earth for leaving her here to have to see this.

She walked home alone that night, shrugging you off with a rather monotone, “Go home, don’t worry about me,” when your eyes met hers in the cold air. She saw how you deflated lightly, saw how your eyes dropped to the ground. It made her feel more nauseous. She swallowed her feelings, the good and the bad, and wrapped her arms around herself as she turned.

That night Ellie veered away from her garage, finding comfort instead on the old couch that sat in Joel’s living room, and she thinks it may be the quietest place she has ever heard. She wonders what you may be doing. Was the creaking of the walls all you heard in your Jackson home too? Surely you hadn’t ripped an old and faded jacket from a closet that did not belong to you to use as a makeshift blanket, like Ellie had.

No, Ellie is sure your father walked close to you all the way home, sure he pulled out the chair at the kitchen table for you and offered you dinner, she’s even sure he had managed to crack a smile from you.

Ellie goes to sleep with a sick stomach.

“You're jealous, that’s natural,” Dina told her a few weeks later, after another stint of that awful green vine rooting itself in Ellie, one that kept her from taking you up on an offer to help clean up Shimmer. The growing seed that made her shake her head at you and offer a small and untruthful, “Don’t need any help.”

Dina handed Ellie a cup of warm tea in the cold garage. Ellie wouldn’t drink it, and she also wouldn’t eat any of the meals the Jackson residents left at her doorstep. But everyone still tried.

“But I shouldn’t be,” Ellie’s voice didn’t sound like her own. It was void of any vibrancy, any spark that Ellie’s tongue usually made. It was empty, spoken coldly. cold for herself, cold for that feeling in her chest.

“You’re grieving, El, it’s ok.”

Dina pressed a kind hand to her shoulder, and despite the way Ellie poisoned you in her mind, she still found herself wishing it was yours instead.

And now, more weeks that all pressed confusingly together had passed. The flower’s outside Joel’s were covered by snow, wilted and drained of life. His house had been empty since Ellie stole some of his old clothes a week back, a jacket that embarrassingly laid on the edge of her chair as she swung open the door of her garage turned home, glancing at another container on her doormat.

It was from you, of course it was. Ellie was sure you had been sent from some sort of heaven she was far too damned to ever access. A small note held your handwriting, and Ellie leaned down, grasping the food, the warmth burning at her frozen fingers.

Maria said she didn't see you at supply day again. I think you’d like this. I remember you eating it a lot at the dinners.

ps. you’re doing great in patrols, glad you went back to them. you’re one of the best jackson has.

xx.

A strand of auburn hair fell across her cheek as her chin dipped down, eyelashes tickling her skin as they closed.

Ellie was avoiding you, you had to have known that. Jesse knew it, Dina knew it, hell, even Tommy had commented on it last time he came by. Sure, Ellie was avoiding nearly everyone still, but it was no secret she turned the corner whenever you and your old man were around.

But here you were, making her food, leaving her notes of praise, complimenting her as if you had any need to. It made Ellie’s always down pointed lip quiver for a moment. You still fucking cared. Just like always.

It didn’t feel nice, it didn’t feel like how it would’ve if she got this note months ago. Then she would’ve clapped a hand over her heated cheek, stuffed it under a notebook like a kid with a crush.

But now, it felt more like an ache. A burning in her chest that made her push the door back open and slide the container on the waiting table near her door.

She should eat it later, that would be the kind thing to do. But the little voice whispers in Ellie’s ear again, the voice that drips poison over the thankfulness blossoming in her chest, ‘You think he helped them make that?’ the voice asked.

The palm of her hand pressed to her eyes as she leaned on the doorway, “Fuck.” Ellie muttered.

She kicked the wood, “Fuck!”

Ellie slammed her already bruised fist on the cracked wood and yelped. The splitting pain broke the girl from her mini temper tantrum, and the empty hand cupped the throbbing skin, a pair of teeth sinking into her bottom lip.

Surely this wasn’t a normal way to react to something so kind, something as simple as food. She didn’t have to overthink every small thing, didn’t have to let her brain flip every positive to a negative, but how does Ellie stop what she has grown so accustomed to?

Ellie’s first attempt to rid her chest of the vines that constricted her ribs was a deep breath and a squeeze of her eyes. She pretends she can smell your perfume still lingering in the air, she imagines your cheeks turned up in a smile, she wonders what color of ribbon you found this week to turn into some new hair tool, and then she exhaled.

Maybe if she thought hard enough, the vines would retreat, the ache on her bones would feel more like the silk of your touch. Maybe she can let herself care more about what you give her, kindness, food, those stupid butterflies she used to feel whenever you spoke, that set of pastel oil paints from a year ago. Rather than letting that voice remind her of all the things you could not give her, things you could not repair.

You hadn’t taken Joel from her, your old man hadn’t either. You having that.. having him, it wouldn’t make any of what Ellie was going through change. She swallowed the truth down like nails as she turned away from the garage.

When Ellie opens her eyes again, her vision seems a little more bright.

By the time Ellie winds up at the stable, she is pressed closely by Dina who tends to Japan, brushing quietly

Ellie breaks the silence first, and it surprises both when the first word from her mouth is your name.

Dina’s gaze shoots over, and Ellie can almost see the thin ice she is debating stepping on, lips parting. You were never an easy topic, and usually when El uttered the syllables of your name, Dina was in for a long and drawn out conversation she never knew truly how to maneuver, the conversation layered with every confusing feeling Ellie had for you. The guilt, the jealousy. Everything in between.

Ellie beats her to speaking again, “They left me food again today. I woke up to it.”

Dina nods slowly, eyes falling back to her horse. “That’s nice of them.”

“It is,” Ellie agrees, flexing her bruising knuckles. “Left a note too, complimenting me and shit.”

The brunette to the side of her pauses for a moment, her boots turning in lightly as she judged her next step. “If you had told me this a year ago, I think you would’ve blabbered for like.. forty minutes about how they were ‘the greatest thing ever to exist’ or convinced me it meant they were in love with you.”

The air is silent, and Dina thinks she may have overstepped.

But the vines have taken on a softer sort of squeezing on Ellie’s chest now, one that felt like the ribbon you wore.

“Yea,” she smiled lightly, and Dina stumbled a bit, maybe out of pure shock. “Yea I probably would have.”

The silence finds them again, though there’s no thickness to it, and Ellie finds her heavy shoulders just slightly less pained for a moment.

Until the stable door swings open, and Ellie watches as Dina’s head turns. She can tell from the look on her face alone, on the way she blinks a few times and glances at Ellie.

You had just walked through.

You walk by where Japan and Shimmer stood, and you smiled like you always did.

This time, Ellie’s chest only tightened lightly. She only felt the small tug of ribbon when she recognized the flannel you had pushed up to your elbows, one she had seen your father wear on patrols many times.

This time, Ellie tries to smile back. She doesn’t let that burn find her stomach, doesn’t let the voice sneer at the clothing and remind Ellie of what she did not have. This time, Ellie speaks instead.

“Thanks for the food.”

You look almost as nervous as Ellie feels. You probably didn’t expect responses by this point.

“Oh it’s no problem,” you shake your head and smile. “Hope you enjoy it.”

Ellie nods, tensing up, useless to decide where this conversation should go, where it could go.

Just as the branches begin to curl around her lungs again, Dina cuts them down with her voice.

“El and I thought about sharing it after patrol today, maybe over some shitty movie. You in?”

The auburn haired girl shoots an aimed look at Dina, but the way you light up and step closer, the way she can smell that pastry scent again, it calms her lightly.

“It’ll be fun,” Ellie offered, voice cracking toward the end.

“Yea,” you smile, toes bouncing like they did when you were excited. Toes covered by your favorite shade of blue shoes. “I’d really like that.”

When you meet Ellie’s eyes, she can see pink instead of green again for the first time.

[leonw4nter]

maybe like a lil drabble (or whatever you’d like to do) where instead of hunnigan working with leon, it’s the reader. and they be all flirty and cute and kinda like 👉👈

tbh it can work for anything post-re2r, even if its still before re4r. you can do how he acts around you in different eras (if you want to at all, or just choose an era)

sooo whatever you have most inspo with! thank youu

RE4R!Leon x FOSAgent!F!Reader drabble

After Ashley and Luis had gone to sleep in the small ramshackle shed Leon had managed to locate for the night, he sat by the entrance of their temporary shelter and turned on his comms, waiting for his radio to pick up a stable wavelength to relay information back to HQ. The dingy little thing still wouldn’t pick up a frequency, which the blond didn’t wonder about since he’s been thrown around one too many times, the walkie-talkie probably also got a small beating along with the impact his body took. After giving a small pat to the black box in his hands, he finally managed to hear the static of his handler’s voice.

“Condor One to Roost, baby Eagle is currently taking shelter in this… dilapidated hut,” he sternly reports. “Along with Sera. Luis Sera.”

A moment of silence fills the air, accompanying the gentle pitter patter of the rain on the thickening mud before you respond to his reports.

“Hmm… aerial imaging tells me you’re near a lake, am I right? Can hear the rain from here,” you say.

“Yeah. We’re not too far from a lake,” he responds. “Guess we got eyes in the sky too, huh.”

He hears a faint little breath coming from you, probably a soft scoff. He smiles to himself, the first time in a long time before he brings his wrist near to his face.

“What time is it back home?” he asks.

“1300.”

“You should probably get some rest, baby. Don’t worry about me, I’m making sure we all get out of here in one piece.”

“I want to but I can’t bring myself to,” he hears you softly respond. “I can’t risk losing you, you know. I gotta keep guard on comms 24/7 even though I know you’re great at your job.”

Leon’s heart squeezes a little bit; he knows how important rest is to someone, which is ironic considering how he hasn’t had proper rest in over 96 hours and is desperately craving a good, lengthy sleep though he doesn’t mind if it means keeping Ashley and the flirty Spaniard safe and sound. He won’t mind, most of all, if it meant keeping in touch with you.

“And besides, I have reports to send to Graham– location updates, aerial view images, all that jazz. I have many things to work on,” you say before he hears you yawn quietly. “It’s not like I can just stop doing these because I’m tired; at the end of the day, the president is a father who wants to know how his daughter is doing all the way on the other side of the world. He’s worried sick.”

“And at the end of the day, I’m just your boyfriend who wants to make sure my girlfriend is still taking care of herself despite all her workload,” Leon responds. “I know baby, I know but still take some time to rest– even for a little bit.”

A soft sigh can be heard from your end.

“Fine. But aren’t you supposed to be resting too? Don’t see any threats within a 3-mile radius, you’re good.”

“Nah. Gotta keep watch, can’t be too vigilant. You’ll be the one resting for both of us tonight,” he says.

“Leon.”

“I’ll get rest later, honey. I promise,” Leon pleads.

Another sigh. Gosh, Leon hates how you’ve been sighing a lot more lately, which meant that a lot was weighing on your mind.

“Promise me that. Or I’ll personally fly there to beat your ass.”

“I’d rather you beat something else of mine instead,” Leon jokes.

“I’ll remind you, agent Kennedy, that we’re still on government-operated frequencies so I highly recommend communicating in a professional manner.”

“Ma’am yes ma’am agent Kestrel, the absolute love of my life.”

“I’m going to go on the break you’ve been forcing me to have instead.”

Leon chuckles to himself, a small puff of air leaving his cracked and pale lips.

“Okay, okay. Good night, baby. I’ll talk to you 4 hours from now.”

“Good night, hon. I… I miss you and… please stay safe,” you sincerely whisper to him, unable to switch off the frequency connecting you to him.

“Me too. I miss you. I love you,” he says before turning the radio off and placing it back in one of the many fancy pockets he had.

He props one leg up while he sits, resting his forearm on his knee as he looks out into the dark and foggy scenery. The rain would be nice if he was back home with his girlfriend, cuddling and joking in the bed of their shared apartment instead of this miserable hellhole infested with mutants and murder-crazed cult fanatics. As much as he wanted to bring along a locket or a small picture of you he couldn’t, out of making sure that there would be no traces of foreigners that the crazy locals could use to somehow involve all of America into this. A faint creak of the rickety wooden floorboards has the hairs on the back of his head standing, his hands flying to the sleek silver pistol on his holster to point it at the source of the noise, only for the source of the noise to be the nosy Spaniard who was unfortunately very much wide awake and conscious throughout the conversation he had.

“Didn’t know you had a ladylove, sancho.” was all the man said after raising his arms up as the agent pointed his gun at him.

Leon put his gun back down, the usual smoulder and frown taking its place back into his haggard features as he sat back down and stared out into nothingness again.

“Didn’t peg you as the type to call a lady ‘baby’ or ‘honey’,” he teases. He walks up to Leon, taking a spot beside him and placing a cigarette to his lips before lighting the end of it with his lighter.

“‘You should probably get some rest, baby’,” Luis repeats with a sly smirk as he shoots Leon a curious look.

Leon simply gives him a death glare, squinting his eyes before turning his attention back to somewhere that isn’t irritating or getting on his last nerve.

“That’s not what it was.” It was what it was.

“Mhm, Sancho.”

“You be thankful she hasn’t ratted your ass out to the president yet,” he hisses.

“Good point there,” Luis sneers. “No… no anything then?”, to which Leon responds with silence.

“Then… perhaps she’d like to go out for a jive, a little dance of bachata with me,” the Spaniard presses with a shit-eating grin. “Since you two don’t seem to be anything.”

“Back off from my girlfriend,” Leon blurted as he froze the man in front of him with his steel blue gaze.

Luis puts out his cigarette, chucking it somewhere and gets up as he walks back to where he ‘slept’ moments ago.

“Okay, sancho. I can clearly see that you’re hers,” he comments. “I guess only you have the pass to call her ‘the absolute love of your life’. Buenas noches, amigo.”

With a wink, he lays back down on the floor and turns to his side to fall asleep.

NOTES - It feels great to finally get back to posting again!!! It's been quite some time and since I'm finally finished with the third quarter and my tests, I'll be more active with posting fics :)) Requests have been marinating in my inbox and I know ppl have been waiting for quite some time so here's the request, more otw!!!! I'm also eepy rn so I'm going to go to bed after I post this <3 Neways, thanks for reading my works and I <3333 UUUU!!!!!! HAVE A GREAT DAY WHEREVER YOU ARE <3

[ilove-sexydilfsnmilfs]

-Star Crossed- chapter 1

Pairing- Oc!reader(afab) x Logan Howlett

Words- 1.9k (not proofread plz excuse any errors)

Summary- it’s been nearly 2 years since Cora(reader) and Logan both lost eachother in their own universe, both broken, angry and hated amongst their people, They would do anything to see one another again, little did they know that day would come sooner than expected, and shatter their hearts into pieces and drive their long hidden desires to the surface ….will they be able to forgive themselves for their past and finally be together? Or will the universe just tear them apart once again?

Warnings- mentions of death, blood, 18+ (smut) in some later scenes/chapters… tension!!!! ./trauma/ no use of y/n I will be using a name but I won’t be describing any appearances! / Logan is aged down to be atleast in his early /mid 30s in this story / will add more warnings when needed.

————————————————————————

You’ve been rotting in your bed for months now, you can’t bring yourself to do much…not anymore.. you feel so lost, so hopeless..all because he’s gone, and you blame yourself for everything that had happened , you blame yourself for losing Logan.

You stare up at the white ceiling, Logans dog tags rest around your neck, his old grey zip up wrapped in your arms, his scent slowly fading with each day that passes. You feel nothing but sadness, you’ve cried so much you genuinely don’t think you can bare to cry anymore you just want out. Out of this fucking world, out of your misery. But what can you do? Just leave? No…what would leaving do? You’d still carry the pain you’ve felt since the day Logan Howlett died in your arms. Sometimes you swear you can still feel the warmth from his blood pooling under you, his heavy body laying stiff in your arms…the feeling of absolute dread when he stopped responding to your pleas to stay with you a little longer, when his hand fell from your face, body going limp…thinking about it makes you want to end your own life sometimes but you know that’s not what he would have wanted for you…he would want you to live on, but how could you live when the only man you’d ever loved was gone …forever?

You rolled over on your side, your face sinking into your pillow while you held his jacket close to your body, your other hand clenching his bloodstained necklace it’s all you had left of him since you left the x mansion, you couldn’t be there anymore, not with all the memories and not with knowing none of your friends were there anymore either.. they were all gone, dead… you were the last one left, and you couldn't bear to be reminded of all the happy memories...not when survivors guilt was riddled in your body. when everyone had died, you felt like you at least had a reason to live giving you still had logan by your side, but then he got sick, adamantium poisoning....you don't know how it happened, but the adamantium inside of him started to break down, entering his blood stream, it weakened him, slowed down his healing factor...you hated seeing him in pain, it wasn't like him to show it so much, it broke your heart almost every day and that's when you decided to find a way to help him before it got too bad...but little did you know... that would be the very cause of his death.

You blame yourself every single fucking day for his death, sometimes you wonder if you even deserve to wear those dog tags he ripped from his neck and placed in your blood-soaked hands...."I'm so sorry Logan..." you whisper into the jacket, muffled cries echoed through the quiet dark room, cries that soon turned into loud gut wrenching sobs.. you stayed like that for hours, crying yourself to sleep, the way you did almost every night.

you were jolted awake the next morning by the sound of hard loud knocks on your apartment door. You look around frantically, knowing who it was already...it was them.. humans. Humans who hated you more than anything, more than any other mutant...why? because they blame you for the deaths of the other x-men, and they most definitely blame you for the death of Wolverine. "fuck...that fast??" you mutter stuffing your things into a bookbag that lay on the floor next to your bed, they had defintely found you faster than last time....fuck.

you tried to sneak out the window in your bedroom when the door was kicked open by a few bigger men, they ran inside trashing the place, calling out your name in a way that made your skin crawl "COME OUT YOU BITCH" one yelled like a raging brute "come out come out wherever you are Cora, we just wanna make you feel the pain we felt when you killed the x-men" another cooed, his voice was one you'd hear when taunting someone, it was fucking creepy.

"Fuck me!" you spit in a whisper, they seemed even more upset than before...to this day you don't understand why the humans decided to turn against you, I guess they just needed someone to blame for the deaths...and you were right there and unscathed. As you were trying to make your way out the small window, the door to your bedroom flung open and 3 men entered, a mob of people behind them, they grabbed you almost immediately, grabbing your hands and putting them behind your back, and covering your eyes knowing full well of all your abilities. "We got you; you bitch, you're not going anywhere" . Now this whole ordeal would be a lot easier if you could just use your powers against them, but you took an oath when Logan died to never use your powers to harm a soul ever again...and yea these people were horrible trying to kill you but they genuinely think it's your fault your friends are dead...and you know you'd feel the same way if you were in their shoes, so yea...you took an oath to never use your powers to harm these people...but no one ever said anything about using your combat skills...like cmon you were a fucking x-men...these people are really stupid.

you kicked your leg up into the air, uppercutting one person causing them to fall onto the ground with a loud thump. you then brought your head back to headbutt the man holding your arms behind your back and when you felt they were free you ripped the blindfold off and quickly grabbed a lamp that sat on your bedside table, bashing it against another's head. A few people came charging at you at once, but you dodged them with minimal effort, grabbing their heads and bashing them together causing their bodies to go limp and fall to the ground. your right elbow landed directly into someone's stomach making them gasp for air then you brought your knee up to bash it clear into their face, as someone tried to climb onto your back you stumbled from the sudden attack and fell back into a wall causing them to bring a knife right down into your upper abdomen "GET OFF OF ME" you screamed in pain , pushing yourself back into the wall again and again but the person still had a grip on you, that's when another person tried coming at you full speed to tackle you to the ground...you were getting exhausted, you hadn't properly worked out in months and this sudden fight was one you weren't expecting... you were annoyed, trying to fight all these people, finally getting the person on your back off you head someone yell "YOU MURDERER, YOURE KILLING US BUT WHERE WERE YOU WHEN THEY NEEDED YOU"

"ITS ALL YOUR FAULT WOLVERINE IS DEAD" those words, those seven words snapped something inside of you...and well that oath you took...it meant nothing to you now. you brought your hands up into the air, your eyes glowing a bright white, the humans looked at you with nothhing but fear in their eyes. they all stumbled over eachother in the small apartment, but none of them were fast enough, you brought your hands down with a swift motion and everyone in the room flung back, some hit walls, some crashed into furniture and others flew out of windows, an instant death giving you were on the 7th floor. "I DID NOT KILL LOGAN" you screamed, people tried getting up but you didnt let that slide, "I TREID TO SAVE HIM, I LOVED HIM” you swished your hand to cause the ones trying to escape to fling back to the ground. You saw the man that uttered those words that made you snap almost instantly, you had heard them so many times before but for some reason today was the last straw, you tilted your head to the side walking towards him slowly as you brought your hand up you balled it into a fist and watched as he was lifted off the ground, grasping hopelessly at his neck, he couldn't breathe and you only squeezed your fist tighter and tighter as you watched his face turn blue, you glared at him, your eyes narrowing until

'POP'

His head was gone within an instant, blood painted your clothes and face. You were in uncontrollable rage, and couldn't stop, matter of fact you didn't want to stop. you wanted them to feel the pain they have been putting you through when you were already going through enough.

The others screamed, but you quickly shut them up, you twisted your head to the side, and without really thinking about it you opened a portal...it was another one of your abilities you rarely used, but as you were throwing people through it, the screaming stopped....they were all dead and you began to come down from your high while the portal was kept open...you fell to your knees and watched as the golden sparks from the portal started to dim....but before the portal closed completely you saw it...him...a face you hadn't seen in almost 2 years....Logan Howlett.

you felt your heart skip a beat when you both locked eyes, his expression showing just as much shock and heartache as yours, ignoring the bodies you absent mindlessly had thrown before him, in his hand held a bottle of whiskey but it soon hit the cold ground, shattering into pieces. you absent mindlessly grabbed the dog tags that hung around your neck, shooting up to your feet before calling out, "LO-" you were cut off mid-sentence as the portal closed as quickly as it was made and once again you were left alone in silence. You fell to your knees, shaking, your mind raced thinking if what you saw was just your imagination paying tricks on you...logan was dead...there was no way ....you saw him die , you saw-..."no....that's not possible" you mutter to yourself, you stared blankly at the blood riddled floor....that's when your mind began to drift to something Strange said long ago to you...how your ability was one of a kind, how with your own mind you could create portals to other worlds without a type of device...at the time you thought he was just wrong...every time you used your ability you only opened portals to other places in your world...not any others, only he had the ability to do that and even so it was with an object... or...at least you thought. "How...I don't even know wh- I don't even remember what i did .... how?" you were at a loss for words. Did you actually do it... did you open a poral to another earth, one where...Logan was still alive? you felt tears swell in the rim of your eyes, soon falling down your cheeks and onto the floor...you felt sick, crazed and as you looked around...horrible...if what you saw was real, then Logan, The man you've craved to see , the man you once loved and still do love, the man you tried saving and the man that died in your arms...is out there and just in your reach.

(I HOPE YOU GUYS LIKE THIS, THE NEXT CHAPTER WILL HAVE MORE INTERACTIONS BETWEEN BOTH CORA (THE READER) AND LOGAN. IT WILL ALSO BE FROM LOGANS POV FOR A LITTLE WHILE let me know if you guys liked it!! 🫶🏼)

[lvnleah]

006. | changes

word count: 2.1k

find the masterlist here!

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December 14th 2023 | 24 weeks pregnant.

Pregnancy was hitting you harder than you’d expected.

Your hormones were all over the place and you could hardly sleep. You were only twenty-four weeks and still had sixteen weeks left of pregnancy to go, you were anxious about how you were going to get through them.

Whilst your morning sickness and nausea had disappeared, Insomnia had crept in along with your hormones being worse than usual. You found yourself crying over ridiculous things one minute and the next being angry at Leah for doing little things such as breathing.

You’d been awake all night and were mad at Leah because she actually got some sleep while you were awake, tossing and turning as your baby boy had a disco inside of you.

At five o’clock, you’d given up on sleep and decided to get up. You sat on the sofa for a while with a cup of tea before deciding on making some breakfast for you and Leah at eight o’clock.

Leah had to leave by nine thirty like she usually does so you thought it’d be a nice gesture. Her winter break was starting in a couple of days, meaning you’d get to spend more time with her. She was spending a lot of time at training because of her ACL and her rehab was coming on well, she was only a few months out from making her return.

You hummed softly as you moved around the kitchen, the scent of fresh pancakes filling the room. You carefully set the table, arranging plates of pancakes, scrambled eggs, and fresh fruit.

A vase with wildflowers added a final touch. Stepping back to admire your work, you felt a swell of pride. At 24 weeks pregnant, every task seemed monumental, and completing this breakfast felt like a triumph.

Leah emerged from your bedroom, her hair slightly tousled from sleep. She smiled at you, then glanced at the clock.

"This looks amazing, pretty," she said, grabbing a piece of toast and hastily spreading jam on it. "But I’ve got to run. I’m going to be late for training, I forgot to mention that I’ve got to be there earlier today."

Your heart sank as you watched Leah take a hurried bite. "You’re not staying for breakfast?"

"I wish I could, but I really have to go," Leah said, giving you a quick kiss on the cheek. "I’ll make it up to you later, I promise."

You forced a smile, but as Leah dashed out the door, the smile faded. You sat down at the set table, staring at the untouched food, a knot forming in your throat. The effort you’d put into making breakfast felt overlooked, and the rush of sadness was overwhelming.

Tears started to stream down your face and before you knew it you were a crying mess at the dinner table. By the time you’d calmed yourself down and stopped the tears from flowing, your food was cold so you decided to clear it all away and settle for a few plain pieces of toast.

Once again, you were mad at Leah. Yes, it was a simple mistake of her forgetting to tell you she needed to leave earlier but you still couldn’t brush it off. You felt like she hadn’t even acknowledged your hard work.

As you went on with your day, your anger with Leah grew. The simple things such as her leaving clothes hangers on the bed and socks on the floor made your anger bubbly up.

You felt like you were doing everything.

“Urgh!” You groaned, picking up another clothes hanger. “Why can’t one woman put clothes hangers back? It’s not fucking rocket science, it’s simple!”

Just as you finished clearing up the clothes hangers in the bedroom, your phone began to ring. You picked it up to see it was Leah, it was her lunch break so she was phoning you like she usually did.

"Hey, how’s it going?" Leah’s voice crackled through the speaker.

Your irritation flared. "Fine," you replied bluntly.

There was a pause on the other end. "You okay, pretty girl?"

"I’m fine," you repeated, your tone sharper. "Why wouldn’t I be?"

"I just wanted to check in," Leah said, her voice softening.

"Do you have to keep checking in on me? I’m not a child," you snapped, regretting the words as soon as they left your mouth. The frustration you felt about the morning spilt over, magnified by your pregnancy hormones.

Leah fell silent for a moment. "I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bother you."

You sighed, sitting down on the edge of the bed, “I didn’t mean to snap. I’m just tired, Le. I feel like a zombie because your son decided it’d be a good idea to have a disco last night.”

“Take a nap, pretty girl,” Leah suggested, “Oh, are you still up for going out with Beth, Viv, Jen and Steph later?”

You exhaled slowly, feeling a mix of relief and frustration. Leah's gentle tone and suggestion seemed to soften the edge of your anger.

"I'll try to nap, but I don't know if I'll manage," you replied, rubbing your temple. "And yes, we can still go out with the girls. I could use a distraction."

"Good," Leah said, her voice laced with relief. "Maybe some time with them will help. Just try to take it easy, okay?"

You nodded, though Leah couldn't see it. "I will. I love you, Le."

“Love you too, pretty girl.”

As you hung up, you leaned back against the bed, a wave of exhaustion washing over you. You decided to follow Leah's advice and lay down, hoping to catch some rest before your outing.

A few hours later, you woke up to the sound of your phone buzzing. It was a message from Beth.

Beffy 💗: can’t wait to see you tonight! I’ll be so lovely to see you, can’t wait to hear all about baby boy 👶🏻💙

You glanced at the time on your phone, it was four o’clock and you’d arranged to meet the girls at six so you decided to get ready. Things were going well until you had to choose an outfit.

You rummaged through your whole wardrobe and tried on many different dresses and tops and jeans but nothing felt comfortable. Anything you put on your body felt foreign and like it wasn’t you.

When Leah returned from training, she found you in the bedroom, sitting in a pile of clothes. You were staring at the heap, tears streaming down your face.

“Hey, what’s going on?” Leah asked concern written on her face as she walked in and saw the mess.

“I don’t know what to wear,” you sobbed, gesturing at the scattered clothes. “Nothing fits right, and I just feel so huge and ugly!”

Leah came over, sitting down in front of you. “It’s okay, pretty girl,” she said softly. “Let’s figure it out together.”

She helped you up before guiding you to sit on the bed and then began picking up the clothes, laying them out neatly. After a moment of consideration, she pulled out a soft, flowy dress that fell halfway down your thighs. It was something you hadn’t worn in a while.

“How about this?” she suggested, holding it up. “It’s comfortable and looks great on you.”

You sniffled, wiping your eyes. “I don’t know, Leah. I just feel so ugly. I’m like a whale!”

Leah knelt in front of you, taking your hands in hers. “You’re beautiful, and you’re carrying our baby. That makes you even more amazing to me. Trust me, you’ll look perfect in this.”

With Leah’s encouragement, you put on the dress. She helped you with the buttons at the back, smoothing out the fabric and adjusting the hem.

“See? You look beautiful,” Leah said, stepping back to admire you. “How do you feel?”

You glanced at yourself in the mirror. The dress was loose enough to be comfortable yet flattering. Leah’s supportive presence made you feel a bit more confident.

“It’s perfect,” you said, managing a small smile. “Thank you, baby.”

Leah smiled back, giving you a gentle kiss on the forehead. “More than alright. You sure you’re up for this?” she asked, gently tucking a stray hair behind your ear.

“I’m tired, but I want to see them,” you replied, managing a smile. “I think it’ll do me good.”

Leah squeezed your hand. “Alright, but promise me if you start feeling too tired, we’ll leave.”

You nodded, and with that, you both headed out to meet Beth, Viv, Jen, and Steph at a cosy restaurant downtown.

As you walked in, you were greeted by a chorus of cheerful voices.

"There she is!" Viv beamed, waving you over. "How's our mama-to-be?"

You smiled, feeling the warmth spread through you at their enthusiasm. "Surviving, mostly. I'm so ready for this pregnancy to be over. I still have sixteen weeks to go!”

Steph chuckled, pulling out a chair for you. "You look amazing, though. Sit down, we've already ordered some snacks."

“Have you got any baby things yet?” Jen asked as you sat opposite her.

Beth laughed, “Jen, she’s only twenty-four weeks! She’s got ages.”

“Alright Beth, not all of us are clued up on pregnancy!” Jen rolled her eyes jokingly.

For a while, you managed to push aside your exhaustion and enjoy the company of your friends. But halfway through the meal, the noise of the restaurant and the chatter around the table began to feel overwhelming. You could feel your emotions bubbling to the surface, and suddenly, without warning, tears filled your eyes.

“I’m sorry,” you stammered, tears spilling down your cheeks. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

The table fell silent as your friends exchanged worried glances. Leah immediately slid closer, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

“Hey, it’s okay,” she murmured, rubbing your back soothingly. “You’re just tired, pretty girl. It’s alright.”

You tried to compose yourself, but the tears wouldn’t stop. The rest of the meal passed in a blur. Your friends offered comforting words and gentle touches, but you could tell they were concerned.

After you finished eating, Leah took your hand. “Let’s get you home,” she said softly.

You nodded, grateful for her understanding. Leah settled the bill, and you said your goodbyes, promising to catch up again soon.

Once home, you changed into your pyjamas, your body aching with fatigue. You made your way to the kitchen, thinking some ice cream might help lift your spirits. But when you opened the freezer, you found yourself staring at the empty spot where the garlic bread should be. Tears welled up again as you realised you’d forgotten to buy more.

Leah walked in, seeing you standing there, sniffling at the freezer. “What’s wrong?” she asked gently.

You turned to face her, your face flushed and eyes brimming with tears. "I wanted garlic bread," you choked out. "But there isn’t any, and I don’t want to drive to the store."

Leah chuckled softly, a sound that made you bristle despite your tears. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to laugh,” she said quickly, seeing your reaction. “I’ll go get you some garlic bread. Wait here.”

You watched as Leah grabbed her keys and headed out the door. A part of you felt guilty for sending her out again, but the thought of having the garlic bread was comforting.

When Leah returned, she had a small domino’s box in her hand and the smell of cheesy garlic bread filled your apartment.

Leah brought the warm bread to you on the sofa. “Here you go,” she said, handing you a plate.

You took a bite, and to your surprise, tears began to stream down your face again.

“I’m sorry, Leah,” you said between sobs. “I’ve been so snappy and mean. I feel terrible about it.”

Leah sat beside you, pulling you into her arms. “Hey, it’s okay,” she whispered, brushing a tear away with her thumb. “You’re going through a lot right now. Your body is changing, and it’s making you feel all sorts of ways. I get it.”

“But I shouldn’t take it out on you,” you said, sniffling against her shoulder.

Leah kissed the top of your head. “I know it’s not easy for you. And I’m here for you, no matter what. We’re in this together, okay?”

You nodded, feeling a weight lift from your chest. “I’m lucky to have you,” you murmured, closing your eyes.

“And I’m lucky to have you,” Leah replied, her voice soft and reassuring.

“These stupid fucking hormones!” You grumbled. “They’ve got me all over the place, it’s so stupid.”

Leah laughed, pressing a kiss to your temple, “You’re doing an amazing job. There’s no one else I’d rather have to carry our bubba boy.”

“You can carry our next baby, never again am I doing this!” You joked, getting a laugh out of Leah.

[skeletonsloverockcandy]

Man, each year I get to it, I love the May 5th entry and what it means. I take something new from it each time. Like last year I noticed the sacrifices and efforts the Driver and the other passengers made to try and save Jonathan, a stranger to them, by showing up early, by giving him gifts, by blessing him, despite the danger that puts them in. Especially when Dracula, as the driver, points it out to the Driver of the first coach, what he was trying to do, and scares him by pointing out what he said (despite it being heard far out of normal earshot and over the sound of horses galloping).

This year though, I notice that, but I see some of the smaller details too. Like how the mountains are full of blooming fruit trees, and how we are so used to the “gothic” aesthetic we almost forget it’s Spring. How Jonathan takes notice and comfort in the view, despite the growing unease he feels because of the people around him. He is trying to distract himself from how scared he’s getting based on their warnings. Warding him from the Evil Eye.

"No, no," he said; "you must not walk here; the dogs are too fierce"; and then he added, with what he evidently meant for grim pleasantry—for he looked round to catch the approving smile of the rest—"and you may have enough of such matters before you go to sleep."

I also take notice of this from the driver, as it’s almost a morbid gallows humor that he clearly knows to expect the wolves, and knowing what happens later, I’m sure the people here have a horrible fear of them, knowing what Dracula can do…and what he does to that poor mother later.

There were dark, rolling clouds overhead, and in the air the heavy, oppressive sense of thunder. It seemed as though the mountain range had separated two atmospheres, and that now we had got into the thunderous one.

We also get here what might be our first indication that the Count can control the weather to an extent.

They were driven by a tall man, with a long brown beard and a great black hat, which seemed to hide his face from us.

All I can imagine is Dracula in a fake beard now lol.

"You are early to-night, my friend." The man stammered in reply:—

"The English Herr was in a hurry," to which the stranger replied:—

"That is why, I suppose, you wished him to go on to Bukovina. You cannot deceive me, my friend; I know too much, and my horses are swift."

But God, this must have been terrifying for the driver and the passengers. What would Dracula do to punish them for trying to escape him? Would he dare make an example in front of the Englishman right now, or would he grant them mercy to say nothing else as Jonathan is unsuspectingly led to his doom, so they think.

"Denn die Todten reiten schnell"— ("For the dead travel fast.")

The strange driver evidently heard the words, for he looked up with a gleaming smile.

It feels like they’re all in on some sick joke that they know the punchline to, but Jonathan doesn’t, so with the dramatic irony, it feels like we the readers are the same peasants, trying to do anything to save or warn Jonathan but it’s already too late.

I also notice how quickly Dracula tries to shift the power dynamic with Jonathan, and have him doubt his sanity so soon, and he’s not even in the castle yet.

He drives him in circles to try and disorient Jonathan and make him feel even more lost, also keeping him out for far later and making Jonathan question if he’s dreaming or if what he’s seeing is real. I’d also bet more than anything that wine he offer Jonathan on the coach that Jonathan didn’t end up taking was drugged. Because it’s far easier to disorient an unconscious passenger in the dark than it is to disorient a conscious passenger. But he still does a pretty darn good job.

Then there’s the blue flames, which Jonathan doesn’t know how to react to as they seem supernatural and he doesn’t know how to rationalize it yet, so he takes it as if he’s dreaming.

This gave me a sort of shock, for I suppose the general superstition about midnight was increased by my recent experiences. I waited with a sick feeling of suspense.

Jonathan also has already felt the fear and nerves associated with the supernatural and superstition after what all of the townsfolk have told him, and later he tries to brush this off and rationalize again, try not to get too scared, but a part of him already realizes something is wrong.

Then a dog began to howl somewhere in a farmhouse far down the road—a long, agonised wailing, as if from fear.

I also want to point this out, as it’s right before the wolves surround the coach, but it’s the second time a “dog” has been mentioned howling in the night, and with this evidence, I bet Dracula uses the wolves as a threat to keep the peasants and townsfolk in line, as he can’t munch down on everyone. But it shows how powerful he is and what a threat he poses. I wonder who the wolves kill in the night.

Also how Jonathan, as an Englishman where there were no more native wolves, can’t even imagine that’s what they were and thinks they are dogs.

And it makes sense now that earlier when Jonathan was getting out his good ol’ polyglot dictionary, how the two words mean the same thing.

"vrolok" and "vlkoslak"—both of which mean the same thing, one being Slovak and the other Servian for something that is either were-wolf or vampire.

As Dracula, as we see later, can transform into a wolf himself, and so there is probably less distinction between the two in this culture than we have tried to establish in the modern day.

Once there appeared a strange optical effect: when he stood between me and the flame he did not obstruct it, for I could see its ghostly flicker all the same.

Ah, I wonder if this is an early indication that Dracula cannot be depicted through traditional means? Like how he can’t be seen in the mirror. Certain lights just, pass through him.

I shouted and beat the side of the calèche, hoping by the noise to scare the wolves from that side, so as to give him a chance of reaching the trap.

We also see Jonathan taking an active and proactive approach, in this manner trying to be helpful and aid his (what he assumes human) driver. With these sorts of actions already, I can see signs of the man who will pick up a shovel to try and do what needs to be done. Who takes a knife and vows action, not hesitating.

He is polite right now, he’s on business. He doesn’t know what’s coming. But regardless, that person is still in him, and he’s capable of taking great action and doing great things for the sake of survival and doing what he thinks is right.

And Dracula commanding the wolves to stop as the driver, and the cloud passing overhead, I feel is like a subtle display of power and threat to Jonathan. He’s still playing pretend, but when Jonathan does figure out he was the coach the whole time, and he plays coy, the Count knows Jonathan will remember this threat, and it feels that much more sinister.

Jonathan still questions and thinks he fell asleep, as he doesn’t see how he’d have missed the approach of the castle otherwise, but I think he was awake because it was dark, and the count was intentionally taking him a winding and confusing path under a lot of fear. Though if he did fall asleep, I’m that much more terrified about how Dracula was driving him about, now secure in the knowledge that Jonathan would be thoroughly isolated and lost.

And the thing that nearly gives Dracula away twice as the driver is the strength of his grip on Jonathan’s hand, also lacing a subtle threat.

through these frowning walls and dark window openings it was not likely that my voice could penetrate.

Well this is just scary knowing how trapped Jonathan becomes later, knowing he wouldn’t be able to hear the outside world, and how the outside world might not be able to hear him, and how he’s already acknowledging that.

The time I waited seemed endless, and I felt doubts and fears crowding upon me. What sort of place had I come to, and among what kind of people? What sort of grim adventure was it on which I had embarked?

He already is expressing doubts and fears, he isn’t ignorant of what situation he might be in, and it’s only later when he tries to rationalize with the count and is given the comforts manipulation of food and sleep, that he tries to dismiss these fears and take the Count at his word.

Was this a customary incident in the life of a solicitor's clerk sent out to explain the purchase of a London estate to a foreigner? Solicitor's clerk! Mina would not like that. Solicitor—for just before leaving London I got word that my examination was successful; and I am now a full-blown solicitor!

Okay, this is just really cute. Mina said You passed the Bar, you Deserve to call yourself a Solicitor Jonathan <3

Also explains a lot that Jonathan is a fresh faced baby lawyer who just passed the bar and needs this assignment. He’s probably hoping that after this pay day he can marry Mina and have enough for them to start making a life together. Also says a lot for Dracula’s strategy to him to get someone young, inexperienced, and unfamiliar with the area, who might be seen as “expendable” so that Jonathan’s sudden “disappearance” might go unremarked by those in charge (though Mina would notice).

I began to rub my eyes and pinch myself to see if I were awake. It all seemed like a horrible nightmare to me, and I expected that I should suddenly awake, and find myself at home, with the dawn struggling in through the windows, as I had now and again felt in the morning after a day of overwork. But my flesh answered the pinching test, and my eyes were not to be deceived. I was indeed awake and among the Carpathians. All I could do now was to be patient, and to wait the coming of the morning.

Again, those early signs of doubt and fear from Jonathan, showing his unease already at the situation. We did not deserve to be clowning on him so much when this book club first started. It’s not his fault he’s not genre aware 😔 I’m sorry Jonathan.

And when Drac does show up to open the door:

"Welcome to my house! Enter freely and of your own will!" He made no motion of stepping to meet me, but stood like a statue, as though his gesture of welcome had fixed him into stone.

I wonder if he’s like that because he needs to be invited into places to be there, so if it’s almost like a supernatural hold of importance for him to offer the same thing. Almost like a subtle joke or curse with the knowledge that after Jonathan enters, he won’t be allowed to leave of his own will

holding out his hand grasped mine with a strength which made me wince, an effect which was not lessened by the fact that it seemed as cold as ice—more like the hand of a dead than a living man.

I also like how all the clues are there, and since Jonathan has written them down and taken note of them, the expression on them must be some of the things he’s piercing together about his own fears as well that he’s afraid to voice aloud or in his journal, because if he voices his suspicions, they might become more real to him.

The strength of the handshake was so much akin to that which I had noticed in the driver, whose face I had not seen, that for a moment I doubted if it were not the same person to whom I was speaking

See? He knows what’s up, he’s just afraid to say it.

I also didn’t pick up that Jonathan’s room is octagonal for some reason. I wonder if there’s any reason for that or symbolism with the 8 sides?

Also the letter from Mr. Hawkin’s feels very ominous in retrospect knowing what’s coming and how Dracula will treat Jonathan:

"I must regret that an attack of gout, from which malady I am a constant sufferer, forbids absolutely any travelling on my part for some time to come; but I am happy to say I can send a sufficient substitute, one in whom I have every possible confidence. He is a young man, full of energy and talent in his own way, and of a very faithful disposition. He is discreet and silent, and has grown into manhood in my service. He shall be ready to attend on you when you will during his stay, and shall take your instructions in all matters."

I feel like Dracula knew to take advantage of that, and also this feels like him basically reading the menu for an ideal victim once his business is said and done, so I get shivers, brrrrr.

Hitherto I had noticed the backs of his hands as they lay on his knees in the firelight, and they had seemed rather white and fine; but seeing them now close to me, I could not but notice that they were rather coarse—broad, with squat fingers. Strange to say, there were hairs in the centre of the palm. The nails were long and fine, and cut to a sharp point. As the Count leaned over me and his hands touched me, I could not repress a shudder. It may have been that his breath was rank, but a horrible feeling of nausea came over me, which, do what I would, I could not conceal.

I also like that while Jonathan is describing Dracula, he notice his hands. And I am also struck with how little it is brought up that he has hair on his palms, and I can see the more wolf-like nature of this vampire mythology. I wonder if Bram Stoker intended for werewolves and vampires to be the same thing in his novel? They are certainly compared and have similar powers and weaknesses, so it’s possible I guess.

Also Dracula has corpse-breath lol. Nasty.

I saw the first dim streak of the coming dawn. There seemed a strange stillness over everything; but as I listened I heard as if from down below in the valley the howling of many wolves.

Ah ha! Also the first foreshadowing we get for the importance of dawn and dusk in the novel, as we know later how important timing becomes for our protagonists, so seeing its affects already make me smile at the recognition of the signs so early.

"Listen to them—the children of the night. What music they make!" Seeing, I suppose, some expression in my face strange to him, he added:—

"Ah, sir, you dwellers in the city cannot enter into the feelings of the hunter."

And ah, an iconic line. Though I just get second hand angry and uncomfortable at Dracula’s insistence that he’s a “hunter” 🤢. God I just hate him haha.

I am all in a sea of wonders. I doubt; I fear; I think strange things, which I dare not confess to my own soul. God keep me, if only for the sake of those dear to me!

And literally Day 1 of being in the castle and Jonathan is already questioning his sanity and piecing things together he’s afraid to even voice in his journal. This is the second time in as many days he has already wished that those around him find this journal and laments should anything bad happen to him. It creates the impression of one who knows they’re walking into danger but must go on anyway.

But I love Jonathan so much, and I definitely really like the May 5th entry, and it does so much work to set up what happens later.

[issdisgrace]

Hi hello, would you mind writing sa male resder x Oscar piastri fluff? Like just something really tame, like cuddling in bed, or comforting him after a bad race, or taking care of him when sick, or maybe some angst? He gets jealous cause some guy is flirting with reader, but fluff would be really nice, hope this isn't too long 😭😭 thx

MY SICK BABY

WARNINGS: None

A/N: Sorry this took so long, have been neglecting my writing and basically all other aspects in my life. But I hope you like this none the less.

Oscar didn't get sick often. In fact, the last time he was sick was almost a year. But when he did get sick he wasn't just sick, he was sick.

So when Oscar started feeling ill Friday night, dread sunk its way into his stomach. He knew that this weekend would be hell for him and god was he right.

He woke up Saturday morning with a pounding headache and a stuffy nose. He took some meds to help with it before he went out to the track, which helped some. However, he still felt quite miserable and others could see it, but despite this he had managed to qualify pretty good. Anyway, it was later that night everything just got worse, and the coughing started. He felt like he was suffocating, his chest hurt, he couldn't sleep, so he ended up calling you.

You were really concerned when you got a call from Oscar at 1 in the morning. But as soon as he started talking it was clear why he was calling you. He was sick. You felt bad as you listened to him explain everything. You suggested a couple of things that would hopefully help, which he appreciated, and you ended up staying on the phone till he fell asleep.

Then Sunday came, and despite your suggestions and some meds he still felt and now looked like hell. But he pushed himself, ignoring everything his body and others were telling him. He was going to race today even if it killed him. When he got out on the track, he felt surprisingly good and raced his ass off getting p3. Then he came in and his adrenaline came down and he felt worse than he did before. He had just made it through podium before he yacked up the contents of his stomach. He was grateful that the team didn't force him to do media after and just sent back to his hotel.

He managed to get some rest, which did him some good but before he knew it he 8pm and he needed to head to the airport for his flight home. Oscar was happy to be going home, and that flight was only 2 hours, but god those 2 hours were the absolute worse in his life. The turbulence was god awful, everyone and everything was just to loud, he had a hard time keeping whatever was left in his stomach down, and his nose just kept running.

By the time the plane landed around 11pm, he was ready to just cuddle up in bed with you and sleep for the next 24 hours. Picking Oscar up from the airport, you asked questions about how he was feeling wanting to gauge what you needed to do to help him feel better. Oscar told you and you made a mental note of everything as you headed home.

Once you guys were home, you got Oscar into pajamas and then got him some cold medicine and some soup that you had made earlier. He happily had to the soup as it was his favorite chicken noodle. But he reluctantly took the cold medicine because it tasted god awful. But he took it like the good boy he is.

You then got him all tucked into bed with the tv playing some old detective show that Oscar liked to watch. Kissed him goodnight and told him if he needed you, you would be asleep in the guest bedroom. Oscar wished you stayed with him, but he knew you didn't want to get sick as well.

Anyway, it was around 6 am when Oscar woke up. He felt hot and ill and quickly got out of bed to throw up the contents of his stomach into the toilet. Having woken up early and hearing the shuffling, then the throwing up, you quickly rushed to Oscar. Siting on the floor beside him, rubbing his back trying to soothe him.

You sit with him rubbing his back until he done throwing up. After he’s done you carefully get him back into bed. Then go and get the thermometer to take his temperature. You take his temperature and it reads 101 degrees Fahrenheit. It’s not good but it’s not as bad as it could be.

You get him some more cold medicine and water. You make sure he drinks all the water and then get a cool damp wash cloth on his forehead. You turn then turn the tv which shut off probably sometime in night. You put on some cartoons. They’re easy and you don’t got to think or follow much. Perfect for someone that is sick.

You then get everything set up for Oscar so he can take care of himself while your gone at work for the day. You’re a little reluctant to leave Oscar but you knew you had to work. You told Oscar to keep you updated in how he was doing.

When you got home from work, you immediately went and checked Oscar and found him asleep, cartoons still playing on the tv. You smile to yourself as you leave and go make dinner. When you’re almost done with dinner you hear the soft footsteps of Oscar coming down the hallway, you look up and greet him. He definitely looks better than he did this morning. You ask him how he’s feeling and he was better like you expected.

This routine of getting him set up in the morning and going to work and coming home and checking on him and then making dinner goes on for a 9 days, until Oscar feels completely better.

Oscar is really appreciative of you taking care of him while he was sick and took you out to dinner at a nice place as a thank you. Despite your insistence that he didn’t need to, that you were his partner and that taking care of him when he was sick came with that. While you were out for dinner you started sneezing a lot.

And by the next morning you were sick and it was Oscar’s turn to take care of you while you were sick.

[yikesmary]

FOUR: SHE FALLS HARDER — choi seungcheol x reader

summary: where seungcheol takes care of you while you're sick and it leads you to interesting realizations.

notes: hi yes hello this series might end soon because i don't want to drag it on. there might be one more chapter after this one but i don't know how to end it so please be patient. or if you want, share some ideas with me.

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"Cheol, you don't have to stay. You had plans and you shouldn't cancel them because of me,"

"I'm cancelling because I want to take care of you. What kind of person would I be if I went out with knowing you were sick," Seungcheol told you.

"But you've been looking forward to hanging out with your friends without me for the first time in awhile,"

Seungcheol gave you a look then said, "They're just not my friends, they are yours too, you know. I bet Joshua or Soonyoung would get offended you don't see them as friends,"

Giving you a glass of water and cold medicine, Seungcheol had made sure you drank a good amount of it without overdoing it. He then gestured you to lean forward, and then he fluffed your pillows.

"Go to sleep for at least a couple of hours. I'll call the guys and tell them I'm taking care of you," he instructed, before leaving the bedroom

You had somehow became sick overnight, feeling fine the night before and waking up with a headache and a stuffy nose. You tried hiding it from Seungcheol, in order to make sure that he was going out with the others.

But he knew you better than you thought, because he immediately noticed something was wrong that second you didn't tease him for his bedhead hair like you've done since he moved in. Which was why he basically shoved a thermometer in your hands and told you to check your temperature.

Knowing that you had no choice, you decided to listen to Seungcheol and take a nap.

The smell of something delicious being cooked woke you up. And when you opened your eyes and looked around, you forgot what was happening for a second. But then the events that had happened only hours before, where Seungcheol decided to take care of you took over your memory.

Standing up from your bed, you felt a bit chilly, so you took your blanket and wrapped yourself with it.

Shuffling out of the bedroom, you moved to the kitchen where the smell was coming from. And you saw a steaming pot of something which must be where the smell was coming from with Seungcheol stirring it slowly.

At the sound of your footsteps, Seungcheol looked up to see you bundled up in a blanket. He smiled softly at the sight of you before his expression turned into concern. "What are you doing awake and up? I thought I told you to sleep," he told you.

"The smell woke me up, it smells yummy," you said.

"I hope it is, or else my mother would kill me if I got her soup recipe wrong," Seungcheol said.

"You didn't have to do this for me,"

"Like I said, I wanted to take care of you. And the soup is no problem. When I was younger, my mom would make me the soup when I was sick and I always felt better after eating it. So, I thought you'd be the same," he explained.

The thought of him calling his mom and following the step by step instructions that came from her warmed your heart.

"The soup's almost done. I was planning to give the soup in bed but since you woke up, just sit there and don't do anything," Seungcheol said.

You followed his instruction, taking a seat at the table. You were still able to see him from your vantage point, so you settled on watching him as he prepared the soup.

He grabbed a bowl from one of the cabinets and was careful not to spill any of the soup when he poured it in. Seungcheol placed the soup on the table in front of you. "I hope it tastes good," he said, placing a spoon beside the bowl.

"Are you going to eat too?" you questioned.

"I'll eat later," he shrugged.

"How are you feeling?"

"I feel better than earlier. I think it was one of those one day sickness, so the soup would probably make me feel fully better," you said, taking a sip of the soup and you hummed at how good it tasted.

"This tastes so good, Cheol," you complimented.

Seungcheol beamed at your compliment, and he was about to reply when he was cut off by the sound of your doorbell going off. You looked at him confused, but he seemed to know what it was about, so he stood up and walked to answer the door.

You went back to eating the soup, but the sound of various voices stopped you. Just then, your 12 friends entered the kitchen, hands full with gift bags. "What are you guys doing here?" you asked, surprised.

"Cheol told us you were sick and we went to buy stuff to make you feel better," Minghao said.

"Aww, you guys didn't have to do that," you said, taking the gift bag that Seungkwan was offering to you.

"Well, Cheol couldn't be the only one to see you," Jihoon said.

"Trust me, he tried stopping us," Jeonghan added.

Mingyu then spotted the soup you had and turned around to see that still steaming pot of soup on the stove. He tried reaching out for your bowl, but Seungcheol smacked his hand away. "Not for you, only for her," he told Mingyu, who pouted.

"You've never made us soup before," Jun said.

"Well, he's in love with none of us so,"

You froze at that, realizing how domestic this all must look. Seungcheol sacrificed his entire afternoon/evening to take care of you.

This wasn't something someone would do for their fake relationship, so now you were thinking. You guys somehow blurred the lines of what was fake and what was real.

You knew that this wasn't going to last forever. You realized that, as long as this relationship was fake, there was going to be an end someday. And you didn't want someday to come.

Since you were in love with him.

taglist (crossed out names mean tumblr isn't letting me tag you for some reason): @geniejunn @whyisaah @goquokka @wnewoo @aurasblue @dkluvrsclub @slut4donghyuck @staurdvst @whippedforjihoon @cakeart12 @venusprada @buffhoshi @cherryredcheol @heeseungdiaries @pluviophile-xxx @tyongff-ff @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @youre-on-your-ownkid @lukeys-giggle @scorpiobitch88 @forever-in-the-sky2 @joonsytip @haolistic @becauseiloveyunho @alonelystarfish @samvagejkflxhrt @violetvoo @ohmyhuenings @minghaossv @laurasseditss @sanniekook

[sherewrytes]

ℙ𝕠𝕨𝕖𝕣 𝕋𝕣𝕚𝕡, 𝕆𝕟𝕪𝕒𝕟𝕜𝕠𝕡𝕠𝕟

(I'll always want you part Final)

Link for part three here

dividers by @Cafekitsune

Song inspo: Power Trip - J Cole

C.W: angst, drug use, smut. MORE ANGST.

Ony hadn't seen you since the party. Well, he saw you on campus, at mutual friends' parties, but y'all kept your distance from each other. It's been 18 months since you two broke up and almost a year since Armin's party. Ony had been back in the studio more than ever, working on his upcoming album. Between uni, social media, and studio time, he thought he'd be able to keep his mind off you. But he couldn't. His thoughts always wandered back to you. He'd stalk your socials every now and then and saw that you finally launched your brand, Xerar.

Ony was in the studio, working on a song called "Power Trip" with his producer/rapper best friend Eren for the final track on his album. He was smoking a blunt with Eren, Connie, Armin, and Jean when they started talking about your upcoming fashion show.

Eren: Aye Jean, you going to Xerar's launch man. Jean: Who's throwing that again. I don't keep up much with fashion Armin: You idiot, it's y/n's launch and her fashion show Connie: *Passes blunt to Eren* Man I aint missing that, she's been working on that shit forever. Plus, I gots be there since imma model and shit

Eren passes the blunt to Ony then watches his expression. Ony's eyes widened listening to his friend's conversation. He slowly realized everyone was invited but him. Everyone noticed his silence and quickly switched the topic.

Ony's mind momentarily had a flashback He remembered the nights working with you on your sketches, you bouncing ideas off him. Him helping you pick fabric swatches and the works. Ony felt sick to his stomach.

He moved away from his friends, put on his headphones, and started writing trying to clear his mind and probably work on another single.

Connie watched Ony over in the corner chilling with his headphones in smoking and writing. His aura a bit broken.

Connie playfully shoved Eren and said, "Man, you know he still holds a torch for her. Why you gotta mention it?"

Eren scoffed and said, "It's time he let go, man."

Ony left the studio when no one was looking and headed home. He found himself smoking a cigarette in bed, staring at the ceiling, mind running on times that no longer existed. He sighed, rubbing his hands against his face, he contemplated calling over someone to fuck the thoughts away, but he knew it usually left him feeling worse. He stubbed out his cigarette in the bedside ashtray stared into space hoping the pain would eat him alive.

Ony was smoking on the balcony of his apartment, looking out at the night sky when his phone rang. He answered without checking it. He heard your voice, "Hey Ony, what's up?"

Ony was shocked that you called but played it cool. "Hey, I'm good. Just on my balcony hittin' a blunt. What made you call me?" You heard Ony inhale through the phone. "Just curious to see how you're doing, Soro."

You calling Ony by his artist's name made him laugh a bit. You asked Ony to come over. You heard him hesitate, then he said OKAY and that the passcode for his apartment door was the same. You laughed and hung up.

Ony confused and in a fit of paranoia called Eren. "Hey man..fuck y/n called me now she's coming over. Idk what to do man."

Eren laughed then told Ony "Bro, calm down, probably take another hit of that blunt you're smokin right now and relax. Some of us sleep in the night man." Ony laughed and ended the call with Eren.

Thirty minutes later, Ony felt your presence before he saw you. You looked the same but different. You were wearing his old navy blue College Dropout hoodie from Kanye West that you stole from him and grey sweat shorts.

Ony watched you sit next to him, sparking up a blunt of your own. You both sat in silence until Ony said, "I'm glad to see you, Y/N." Ony smelled the faint scent of your usual perfume mixed with your favorite bedtime body mist and it had him tweaking a bit.

This was the moment he had been waiting for. The moment when he could really patch things up once and for all. He needed to be as honest as he could to make up for his mistakes. Ony was thinking to himself,

Why do I feel so nervous? I don't care. I have to speak my heart out.

His voice came out a little broken but heavy. "Y/N, I..." Ony's words failed him. It was so hard for him to speak when all he could see was your beautiful face.

"Hi Ony," you said. Hearing your voice in person sent him crazy. He tried to calm his mental. Ony wasn't sure what to say, so he just stared at you while you were smoking your blunt.

You felt him staring you up and down. He watched the moonlight hit your face, and it made him want you. Ony tried to speak again, but nothing came out. He thought to himself again,

Why is it so hard to say 'I love you' to her right now? This is frustrating. I need to say it. I've prepared myself for this. This is my second chance to fix everything. This is my one and only chance to make her happy again. It's time to stop hesitating and open my heart.

Ony watched you stub out your blunt and turn to face him. "Ony, what do you have to say to me?" Ony sighed and poured his heart out.

"Y/N, I know I messed up. I know I hurt you. I cheated, and I can't take that back. But I've been thinkin' 'bout you every damn day. I still love you, and I can't shake that. It's been almost two years, and I should've moved on, but I can't. Every waking moment, every dream is about you. I'm sorry for everything, for causing you so much pain. I just want a chance to make things right."

You sat there in silence, the words hanging heavy in the air.

Ony murmured, "Do you hate me, Y/N? Like, for real, do you?"

Ony was met with silence again. Ony sighed and started up again,

"I still love you, Y/N. I know it's been almost two years. I should move on, be more focused, but every waking moment, every dream is about you. I hate that I cheated and fucked up, Ma."

Ony watched you fix your hair and saw the Versace bracelet he got you still on your wrist. He thought to himself, "Why didn't she return that with all the other stuff?"

He wanted to ask about it but ignored it. He watched you rise from your seat, walk over to the balcony, and stare at the night sky.

Ony opted to change the music playing in the background. He switched it from "Dr. Suess" by Ski Mask to "Power Trip" by J. Cole ft. Miguel.

Ony sat there staring at you and continued smoking until he heard you say, "What do you really want, Ony?"

Ony thought his ears were playing tricks on him, then he responded,

"Are you askin' me what I want right now, Ma?" "Yeah, right now."

He took another hit, then said, "Honestly, I wanna hug you right now. I wanna hold you tight and feel your warmth as I tell you that I love you."

Silence again. Ony watched you fish a blunt out of your lil purse you came with while coming to sit next to him and said, "How about you smoke this with me?"

Ony pulled out his lighter and lit the blunt hanging from your lips in silence, his eyes locked with yours, he was the first to look away. He was lost in thought.

"She so damn beautiful takin' a drag. Missed this. Her lips, damn, so beautiful. First time in forever, I'm seein' it. Thinkin' 'bout kissin' her, scared 'cause we been apart so long. Don't wanna mess this moment."

Ony took the blunt from you and took a drag still deep in thought. *thinking to himself*

"View's beautiful now. Moonlight, city quiet. Us two, world feelin' small. Beautiful moment. Don't want it to end. Enjoyin' it, appreciatin' her bein' here, missed it so much."

With a smile on his face, Ony said, "You the most beautiful woman in this world. I swear you're perfect."

You turn to Ony and said, "Ony, it’s not just about the apology or just buttering me up with sweet words. It’s about trust. You broke it, and I don’t know if we can ever get it back."

He nodded, taking in your words. "I get it. Can't stop thinkin' 'bout us, what we had. What could've been. Tryna move on, stuck in the past."

You took a deep breath, the weight of his words sinking in. "Ony, I’ve tried to move on too. I’ve been focusing on my brand, on myself. But seeing you, hearing you say all this, it brings everything back. I don’t know if I can go through that pain again."

He leaned closer, his eyes pleading. "Y/N, I know I don’t deserve another chance. But I’m asking for one. I’m willing to do whatever it takes to make things right. I still love you, and I don’t want to spend my life wondering what could have been."

You looked away, the night sky providing a momentary distraction from the intensity of the conversation. "Ony, it’s not that simple. We can’t just go back to how things were. We’ve both changed."

He reached out, gently turning your face back to him. "I know we can’t go back. But maybe we can start over. Build something new, something stronger. Please, Y/N, give us a chance."

You sighed, feeling the weight of his words and the sincerity in his eyes. "Ony, I don’t know if I can. But I’m willing to try. One step at a time."

A small smile formed on Ony's lips as he nodded, hope flickering in his eyes. "That’s all I’m asking for. One step at a time."

You both sat there, the silence now filled with a sense of cautious hope. Ony leaned over to kiss you but you exhale smoke directly in to his face. Ony smirked then let out a chuckle. Ony whispered while taking a hit from the blunt in your hands "You know how that gets me ma."

Ony leans in again and kisses you this time exhaling the smoke directly into your mouth as you inhale and kiss him back. Ony watched as your eyes got low and red just like his while they were you were smiling at him made it obvious to him you were blushing heavily.

"I miss that look in your eyes a lot." blunt now forgotten, you and ony were making out heavily. Ony pulled you onto his lap. his hands roamed your body causing you to grind against his clothed body. Ony felt like he was losing his mind having you back with him like this felt like magic. Like a fever dream

As the night wore on, you and Ony talkin', reminiscin', fuckin,ownin' up to mistakes. No fix-all, but a start. Tiny step towards healin', maybe somethin' more down the line.

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

The shrill sound of Ony's phone alarm shattered the moment, dragging him out of his dreamy haze.

Ony shot up on the bed wiping his face, feelin' hot and sweaty. Thinking out loud he said "It was so real. Like I was really with her... but that ain't possible. It was just a dream."

He gotta admit he miss her so bad. He loves everything about her. Her deep brown eyes, her dark hair, her beautiful face, her gentle and soft smile. He misses the little things about her, even her annoying habits and the small gestures she does without thinkin'.

He wishes it wasn't just a dream. He wishes it was real...

Ony felt like he wanted to scream. He turned off his phone alarm and saw texts from Eren

Ony felt a scream building in his chest. He turned off his phone alarm and glanced at Eren's texts, irritation bubbling up. Connie had exposed his vulnerability without truly grasping it. Plugging his phone to charge, Ony considered rolling another blunt. He had class today but couldn't bear the thought of facing anyone. Deep down, he knew his self-destructive behavior was spiraling out of control, but he felt powerless to change it.

He roamed around his apartment, trying to clear his mind, then suddenly

BANG BANG BANG

He heard a banging on his apartment door. He kissed his teeth and went to open it and saw. Connie, Armin, Connie, Mikasa and Sasha at his door. He almost slammed the door back in the faces, but Eren pushed the door open letting everyone in. Eren walked straight for where Ony usually kept his stash and dumped out his weed and Eren saw the pills and his eyes teared up almost immediately.

Eren grabbed Ony by the shoulders, attempting to shake some sense into Ony but nothing registered for Ony.

HOW LONG HAS THIS BEEN GOING ON BRO, ONY, ARE YOU HEARING, ARE YOU HIGH ON SUM ONYANKOPON! BRO!

Eren raised his voice trying to talk to Ony but he just stayed silent. Mikasa looked through the pills. There was molly, percs and even some Xanax.

Connie chimed in asking Ony "Floch sold you these pills man like for real. He is the only dude on campus that got this shit."

Ony looked around the room at his friends and all he could think of was you. You'd hate to see him right now. This wasn't the Ony you fell in love with. The one who held your hand, stayed up when you cried about your finals. He was a far cry from that person.

Ony's world was shaken when he saw his older brother and sister walk in his apartment door. He knew what this was. An Intervention. All he prayed that his parents weren't here to see this.

His sister looked at him with sad eyes while his brother was furious.

All his sister said is "Mom and Dad knows, they were gonna disown you but Kwesi (Ony's older brother) explained everything to them. You gotta get help man. You're killing yourself. Are you sure this is all about y/n"

Ony stayed silent for a long moment then said "After finals. I'll get help. Let me just finish finals. That's all. This aint on y/n it's on me. I dont wanna hear anyone blaming her for shit."

Ony walked off, absentmindedly reaching for the cigarettes on the console table when it was pulled out his hand by Sasha.

Ony scoffed leaving everyone in the living room area, to sit out on the balcony alone. He needed a moment to just think.

He grabbed his iPad sitting on the table and mindlessly scrolled through IG when he saw a picture of you cuddled up with Lead Singer of the band ErrxR Reiner Braun. He dropped his iPad, watching the screen crack on the ground.

The little hope he had in his heart, that you and he could be once again is long gone. You moved on leaving him truly alone in the chaos of his own doing.

The End

[unreliablesnake]

I want you, but… [Ghost x reader (platonic)]

Summary: Ghost doesn’t like to see you date someone else. But when he has the chance to get what he wants, his common sense wins.

Note: We’re all sad bitches in this house (that’s me, I’m the sad bitch) so no happy ending. Ghost, I love you, but you’re an idiot. / If you want to know when I post new stuff, follow @unreliablesnakefics and hit the get notifications button.

Part 2

Ghost usually isn’t the jealous type, but with you it takes very little to lose his cool. You’ve never been together, he knew he had no right to be mad at guys who flirted with you, he had no right to be angry with you for letting them, but it still happened sometimes.

One of the new doctors at base who treated your wound was really nice to you. Ghost was there, he volunteered to escort you to sick bay, making sure you didn’t collapse on the way, and when he saw the way the doc was looking at you, the kind, humorous way he was talking to you, he immediately knew what this was all about.

You didn’t seem to mind the attention, in fact you encouraged him by keeping up the playful conversation despite being in pain. Ghost took a hesitant step forward, planning to ask how you were, if he could bring you something, anything that could break the spell you were under, but he changed his mind last minute. He should keep his distance, he had no right to stand in the way.

He had been more irritated lately as he had been before. Johnny’s usual jokes simply went over his head, he didn’t even feel like being around others. You and that doctor got pretty close, pretty fast, and there was nothing he could do to stop this relationship from blooming.

Ghost picked up women for one night only, trying to forget you at least until he was fucking someone else, but all he could think about was you. Your smile, your laugh, your stupid sense of humor. He missed you, especially when you were both back home and there was no way for him to reach you.

All he could do was stalk you on social media. You barely posted photos of yourself, but when he saw a picture of you and–based on the size of the hand–a man clinking glasses at a bar probably, his heart sank. You were happy with someone else, feeling so confident about the relationship that you were ready to share it with your family and friends.

But then he checked the caption. “Sometimes ‘let’s stay friends’ isn’t an empty promise.”

He sat up in bed and reread the sentence. Did this mean you broke up? Hope filled his heart at the thought, even though he wasn’t sure how this could help him. He was your superior, the two of you getting together would cause a scandal for sure. Price wouldn’t be happy, the others might begin to believe he would play favorites with you, so everything pointed in the direction that you could never be together.

A few weeks later you were back on a mission together, and Ghost didn’t really know what to do. He was nervous around you, always carefully thinking about what to say before opening his mouth.

One evening Soap pulled out a bottle of booze from his bag, inviting the core team for a drink to relax a little. That one bottle turned into two, then three, the number growing because you were having fun together and apparently everyone brought something to drink just in case.

“So what’s with you and that doctor?” Gaz asked out of nowhere, almost causing the lieutenant to choke on his drink.

His eyes were glued to you, and your eyes traveled from one person to another until they locked with his amber ones. “It didn’t work out,” you admitted before turning to Gaz again. “Also, he’s going back to a civilian hospital. Less stress, he said. But I’m not sad or anything.”

“He doesn’t know what he’s missing out on,” Soap noted casually as he raised his glass.

Around one in the morning Price told everyone to go to sleep, saying they all needed some rest to sober up. While Price, Soap and Gaz left, you stayed behind with Ghost, your hands folded behind your back as you watched him with an anxious smile. The lieutenant didn’t really know what to say to you, so he decided to remain silent.

Even though he turned his back to you, he could still feel your gaze on him. “What is it?” he asked when he turned around to face you.

You inhaled then exhaled slowly in an attempt to calm yourself. But then you took a hesitant step towards him and said, “Are you happy that I broke up with him?”

“Why would I be happy?”

“You liked the photo I posted weeks ago. You know, the one about let’s stay friends. Also, there’s another thing,” you began, but you stopped talking. Ghost raised an eyebrow, waiting for you to continue. “Peter told me something that made me think. He said you were giving him death glares ever since he first talked to me in your presence after I got hurt on the field.”

Fuck, he had noticed. It’s not like he tried to hide it, but he sure wasn’t expecting the doctor to pay so much attention to him. What was he supposed to say? That yeah, well, I’m sorry, but he wasn’t good enough for you? In the end he let out a long sigh and put a hand on the back of his neck.

“I hope he didn’t break up with you because of that,” he noted quietly.

You raised an eyebrow at this in question. “What makes you think he was the one who broke up with me? Maybe it was me who let him go.”

“Did you?” You nodded. “Why?”

“Maybe there’s a big, scary guy I would rather spend my time with,” you replied with a playful smile.

Ghost wanted to kiss you so badly it hurt, but he kept his urges under control. When he stepped a little closer to you, you did the same, and eventually you closed the gap between you. He reached out to push a stray strand of hair behind your ear, watching as your breath caught in your throat from surprise.

After gulping loudly, you reached out to take his hand. “Was he right? Do you like me, lieutenant?”

“It doesn’t matter. I’m your higher-up, it wouldn’t work anyway. Go to sleep,” he told you, even though this was killing him.

He could see the signs. He could pinpoint the exact moment your heart shattered into pieces because of his response. Biting on your lower lip to stop yourself from crying, you nodded and left him standing there, making him hate himself more than ever before.

[oddinary4bts]

When the End Comes | ch 2 (jjk)

☆summary: Seven years after you've started dating Jungkook, long distance creates a wedge in your relationship. When the only solution seems to be breaking up, you go your separate ways even though love still lives in the two of you. Will you find a way back together, or has the end come for you and Jeon Jungkook?

☆pairing: photographer!Jungkook x lawyer!female reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI, there is mature content in every chapter)

☆genre: breakup!au, slice of life!au, angst with a big A, smut

☆warnings: moving, curses, alochol, explicit content: female and male masturbation, pain kink (Jungkook), mentions of blowjob and penetrative sex

☆word count: 8.7k

☆series masterpost

☆a/n: I don't even know what to say about this chapter, just that I FEEL their pain so much :'( justice for my babies

☆a/n pt2: Thank you to @moonleeai for beta-ing this, you are the best <3

☆Read The Forgotten Spaces here, the prequel to When the End Comes! It does not need to be read to understand When the End Comes, but I think it still should be read first to have a better understanding of the characters in general!

☆Add yourself to the taglist here (if you were on the taglist for The Forgotten Spaces, you're already on the taglist for When the End Comes!)

☆☆☆☆☆

But love never leaves a heart, where it found it, found it You found it Someday, I'll fall into you That's where I'll be now when the end comes

When the End Comes, Andrew Belle

☆☆☆☆☆

Thursday, July 6th

                Days and weeks have passed. Apparently, even months have. Jungkook hasn’t really noticed – he’s been stuck in a daze, stuck replaying your breakup over and over again. Wishing he’d begged you to stay, though he could tell that nothing would have been fruitful.

You had made your decision already.

He hasn’t done anything since you left. Hasn’t left your apartment except for looking for a new one, when Yoongi forced him to go. Because alone, he can’t afford the one you had together. And it’s too filled with memories anyway.

All the pictures on the shelves by the window, turned towards the wall the night you left. The echo of your laugh, in every room he steps in. The ghost of you, just a silhouette he can’t ever reach when it’s dark and his mind is playing tricks on him.

The night you left, he thought it was a joke. A sick, twisted prank, and he believed you’d come back. When hours passed and dawn approached, he got up from the spot where he was sitting in, near the door, and turned the pictures towards the wall before heading to bed.

He hadn’t been able to sleep in the bed, and he’d slept with Bam directly on the floor.

A few nights later he’d made an actual bed with blankets on the floor, and he’s been sleeping there since then. But not tonight – tonight he’ll try sleeping in bed, in his new apartment.

A space that shouldn’t remind him of you too much.

He’s packed almost everything before today. He had nothing else to do, and it served to keep his mind busy during the long hours of the day. At night he usually has nothing to keep his mind from going to you, and he thinks he’s stuck in the moment when you left.

It’s a looped film in his mind, a horror movie that will forever haunt him.

The boys are helping. They brought most of the boxes he’s packed to his new place already, a small studio in the same building as Yoongi and Kiko. It’s on the other side of town, far from where he built a life with you, and he really hopes your ghost won’t follow.

Though he doubts he’ll ever escape it.

Everyone is currently doing a trip to the other apartment, except Jungkook and Yoongi. Mostly because Jungkook has been standing in the empty living room, save for the pictures on the shelves.

You left with the couch and the dinner table, telling him to keep the TV even though you were the one to buy it years ago. And that day you came to pick up your stuff…

Another haunting moment to add to the long list that’s been tormenting him since you broke up.

He shuts his eyes, pinches the bridge of his nose, jaw clenching as the familiar ache takes over his heart. He doesn’t want to cry today – at least not before he’s alone in his new place. Because he hates how his friends are concerned, hates that he can’t just stay home alone.

None of them understand the sorrow that’s been plaguing him – hell, all of them except Jimin are happily dating. A dirty, ugly part of him hates them for it, and he’s been trying to distance himself.

“You good?” Yoongi asks, startling him.

Jungkook’s hand falls to his side, and he forces his eyes open. Yoongi is next to him, an eyebrow cocked in question. “Yeah.”

“Do you want me to put these in a box?” Yoongi enquires, and Jungkook clenches his fist as Yoongi’s pointing to the pictures.

“I can take care of it.”

It takes him a few seconds before he does get in motion, and he heads to the shelves. There’s already a box waiting for the frames, one Taehyung put there earlier before Jungkook told him not to touch anything.

“Do you want help?” Yoongi asks carefully.

Jungkook steels himself as he grabs the first picture. He already knows which it is, from its placement on the shelf. It’s one of his exhibit’s pictures. The one he titled ‘Where I found hope again’. It’s the sunset from the living room of the apartment he’d found for you.

Seeing it hurts, but he barely pays attention to it, carefully putting it in the box before grabbing the next one. There you are, cheeks red and smile bright in the snow of December, and he feels like dying as he remembers the name of that one.

‘Where I learned to love again’. It feels like it’s laughing at him right now, like life is having a good laugh at his expense. He wants to throw it away, to burn and watch your beautiful form crumbling into ashes.

Instead, he puts it away, before moving to the next one. He thinks he goes blind – he doesn’t see the next pictures. Doesn’t focus on any of them, and lets the ache take over his action, over his heart. When he’s done, he realizes that the apartment is once again filled with voices – none of them being the right one, and he wishes to be alone.

Wishes to be allowed to crumble, to let himself be carried by the wind.

The rest of the day is a blur. He barely remembers getting to his new place, riding shotgun next to Jimin while Taehyung and Namjoon talked about something on the backseat. Jimin was silent, respecting Jungkook’s need to not speak, and maybe it’s for that reason that Jungkook says yes when Jimin asks if he wants some company when the others finally start filing out at the end of the day.

They all hug him tight, tell him that they love him and hope he’ll like his new place. With everything placed, Jungkook knows that he’ll always hate it, because it lacks the only thing that he truly wants – you.

And he’ll never have that again.

“Want to order something?” Jimin asks.

Jungkook is sitting on a kitchen chair, watching the condensation on his glass of water when Jimin speaks. He raises his head – his friend is scrolling on his phone, and he shoots Jungkook a look as he remains silent.

“Sure,” Jungkook finally answers. “Did you have anything in mind?”

Jimin nods. “There’s this great dumpling place nearby, and they deliver.”

“Oh.”

If Jimin notices Jungkook’s lack of enthusiasm, he doesn’t mention. Because Jimin is a good friend – he’s been one of Jungkook’s closest friends for years for a reason after all.

“Pork and green onion works for you?” Jimin asks.

“Sure.”

“I’ll get the marinated cucumbers too.” Jimin pouts at his phone as he focuses, and then his gaze darts once to Jungkook. “Anything else you want? They got bobas too.”

Just thinking about drinking boba makes Jungkook feel nauseated, so he shakes his head no. Jimin purses his lips, nods curtly and then says the food is on its way.

His statement is followed by silence, until the front door opens as Yoongi returns with Bam, as promised. Kiko was taking care of him all day, since she and Yoongi live in the same building. Yoongi promises that Bam was a good boy, and then he leaves again, nodding his head at Jimin.

As if to say ‘thank you for being here’. Jungkook hates the gesture, hates that he let Jimin stay, but he figures he can always just ask him to leave when they’re done with the food.

He had to eat anyway, right?

Needless to say, his appetite has been off, since the day you left. He’s been working out more though, something to keep his mind busy, but he’s been unable to eat like before. Jimin forces him to eat half the dumplings though, and Jungkook reckons that even after everything, dumplings still slap.

Not a lot of things in life still slap without you around.

One thing that does suck is, Jimin tries to make conversation through dinner. He asks Jungkook if he has any project coming up, if he ever plans on returning to Europe. The answer is easy, and Jungkook gives it without an ounce of hesitation.

“No.”

Jimin cocks an eyebrow, as if surprised by his answer. “Why?”

Jungkook grits his teeth, but offers no answers. He thinks it’s obvious – he’s been hating the European continent ever since the night you left because he can’t bring himself to hate you instead. So he directed it to the place that took you from him, and so far it’s been keeping him going.

“You know…” Jimin carefully says. “We’ve all been avoiding talking about it. But how are you even doing, bro? Every time I see you it’s just…”

Worse. He’s convinced that’s what Jimin was going to say, and he doesn’t blame him. It’s worse every time because he has been getting worse. As if adding another mark on the calendar equals to adding another on his heart, and the wounds haven’t had time to heal.

He doesn’t think there’s enough time in a lifetime to heal from losing you.

“I’m okay,” Jungkook lies easily.

Bam offers him salvation, barking by the door. As he rarely does, Jungkook gets up, a frown moving on his features. Jimin lets him go, even as Jungkook mumbles he’ll take the dog outside. His friend remains silent, and Jungkook is able to slip into the evening without Jimin pressing him about the lie.

As Jungkook had assumed, Bam just needed to pee, and probably barked because of the unfamiliar environment. Jungkook debates taking him on a walk, hoping Jimin would be gone by the time he comes back, but it feels too cowardly, even for him.

So he takes Bam in right away – the walk would have been hell anyway.

Jimin hasn’t moved while he was gone, and Jungkook tries to avoid the conversation by cleaning the table, putting away the empty dumpling container in the recycling bin after he’s rinsed it thoroughly. He feels Jimin’s gaze boring into the back of his head, but he does his best to ignore it.

“You shouldn’t drop your job in Europe,” Jimin suddenly says.

Jungkook whips around from his spot by the counter under which the recycling bin is. “What?”

“Isn’t it…” Jimin winces, shaking his head slightly. “Listen, this will be tough love, but isn’t it losing everything if you just… drop it too?”

Jungkook sees red. “Get the fuck out.”

“Bro.”

“Get the fuck out,” he repeats, putting emphasis on each word.

“We’re just worried about you,” Jimin says carefully, still not moving from where he’s sitting.

Jungkook has half a thought that he could carry his friend out if he wanted to, but surprisingly enough his heart breaks in his chest, tears blinding his vision.

“I just can’t go, okay?” he chokes out, and his nails dig in the palm of his hands as he clenches his fists hard. “I just can’t.”

Jimin watches him carefully, before sighing deeply. “Okay. It’s okay. There’s plenty of stuff you can do here too.”

Jungkook gulps, blinking the tears away until Jimin is clear in front of him again. “Can I…”

He stops, because he knows he shouldn’t ask. Knows he shouldn’t care, yet he can’t help himself. Jimin doesn’t press, waits for him to be able to speak. It takes longer than Jungkook thought possible, and he has to shut his eyes and lean against the counter before he finds words again.

“Can I ask how she has been doing?” he voices, words falling softly, almost soundlessly, in the space between them.

“Jungkook…”

“Just,” Jungkook lets out, eyes shooting open. “Please tell me she’s okay.”

Jimin’s silence is telling enough – you must be going through it too. It fills Jungkook with bitterness, with something vile and disgusting that tastes like bile on his tongue. Because you don’t get to be suffering, you don’t get to have made this decision and suffer from it.

Why the fuck did you make that decision then?

“You know,” Jimin starts carefully. “You guys were together for a long time.”

“Why?” Jungkook asks. “Why did she do this?”

And then the tears are moving freely, and Jimin quickly gets up to hug him. Jungkook rests his forehead against his friend’s shoulder as he breaks in the embrace, like he’s been doing for weeks now.

“It’s going to be okay,” Jimin promises when the tears recede and Jungkook stops trembling, as if his body, too, is too tired to keep on breaking.

Strangely, he gets the feeling there’s nothing left to break anyway.

“How?”

Jimin remains silent for a while, as if searching for the exact right words to say. Jungkook doubts they exist – how can someone repair a broken heart such as his?

“Life finds a way,” Jimin eventually chooses to say. He pulls away from the hug, though he still holds onto Jungkook’s shoulders. “Life always finds a way.”

Saturday, July 15th

                You’re tired. Have been tired. Think you’ll forever be tired. A relentless exhaustion has settled over you like a mantle of snow settles on the land during the months of winter. With it comes an unshakable cold, and even though it’s summer you’ve been cradling your hoodie to your frame, draping yourself with it as if it’ll chase the cold away.

The cold is never going to leave. You think your heart turned to ice in your chest, and it pumps freezing blood into your veins. You’ve been trying to warm up, but heat is a mirage to you, an illusion you can’t reach.

Heather and Bridget are hosting a dinner at their apartment today. You’d wanted to avoid it, but considering they offered you a room for a few weeks before you found a new apartment, you couldn’t say no. Yet you dread the moment you’ll be faced with the other girls, some of them your friends because they are dating… his friends.

You’ve been trying not to think about him too much. It’s hard – he’s lurking at the back of your mind, a reminder of your failures. Of the places where you went wrong, the mistakes you committed. Not that the breakup was a mistake – you think you made the right decision, or at least you’ve been trying to convince yourself that you have.

But you didn’t lie to him – you love him. Still do, though now it’s more like grief. Though, what is grief if not the next step in the eternal timeline of love?

You worry at your lips, bury your hands in the pocket of the hoodie. You fumble with your keys as you wait in front of the door, as you try to knock but find you’re unable to. Because it means talking to them, it means pretending that you have been able to eat or sleep for weeks.

You reckon Heather and Bridget know, to a certain extent. Saw you wither like a flower when autumn comes, though you think now you’re settled in deep winter.

You think it’ll pass. You doubt a pain like this can last – no soul can withstand it forever. But that would be admitting that he was your soulmate, and you aren’t stupid.

Soulmates don’t exist. Because if he was, why then was the distance enough to break you up?

You sigh, eyes falling to the ground in front of your feet. You take a steadying breath – it does nothing to help.

You’re a coward. You’ve become a coward, and you think it might be because you put all of your courage in that night weeks ago. It broke you, broke the steel you used to be able to drape yourself with.

Now you’re stuck in the never-ending winter, withered and lifeless.

“Y/n!” Jo says, and you startle.

You turn your head to the side to see Jo as she’s walking around the corner, and she smiles at you as she makes her way towards you.

“Hey,” you reply as your throat goes dry.

If he has a best friend, or at least a female one, you think it’d be her. They’ve been friends since before you reconnected with him, since before you even knew her. Seeing her feels like it’s wrong, but then again everything has been feeling wrong lately.

“Did you already ring?” Jo asks as she stops next to you.

You purse your lips, shaking your head no. “Huh,” you let out. “I was about to.”

Jo nods, and you think she immediately senses your unease. She’s a good person though, and an even better friend. She doesn’t say anything, and she rings the door for you.

You don’t know what to tell her. All that you can think of is, if someone has news about him, it would be her. She’s the only one you believe there’s a chance he’s been honest to.

Before you can say anything, the door opens and Bridget ushers you inside. You realize that you’re the last ones to get there – you usually never are. Usually always make sure to be the first, only so that you can help the hosts.

It seems losing him changed that.

You greet everyone half-heartedly, quickly moving towards Jiho. Jiho hugs you, tells you she’s happy you came. You can’t return the sentiment, so you offer her a tight-lipped smile as Heather announces that dinner is ready.

Their chatter is lively. You feel like you’re watching the scene through a frosted window. Like you’re stuck in a blizzard, watching people reveling in the warmth of the other side, wishing somehow that they’d share it with you. And it’s not that they don’t try; multiple times throughout dinner the other girls try to talk to you.

You reply, you always do, but there is just so little to say, so little words your brain can conjure up. It’s like your thoughts are slower – you’ve been that way at work too. You’re lucky, you haven’t been working on anything big in the last few weeks. But next week you will be, and you don’t even know if you’ll be able to do it.

At least Harrison is on the case with you. As one of the most talented junior partners of the firm, you think he’ll be able to manage the case even with you at his side.

You eat what you can, though you’ve run out of appetite before you even broke up. You force yourself, mostly because you don’t like how Kiko’s looking at you. How you notice her leaning to speak in Jo’s ear more than once during the meal.

You’re aware that they’re speaking of you – do they hate you as much as you hate yourself?

You doubt they can.

When dinner is over, you offer to clean the dishes. Jo ends up on washing duty with you, and you work in silence, water sloshing around as you rub the plates clean while she dries.

You’re cleaning a wine glass when she says, “How have you been?”

The question is a simple one. The truth isn’t so, and you wonder if you should lie. You think it’d be a mistake. Jo’s perceptive, she’d see right through the lie.

“I’ve been better,” you answer, shrugging your shoulders as if it doesn’t matter.

That much is a lie, because everything about him mattered.

“I can understand.”

Heavy silence follows, and you pass the glass to her. You hope she won’t speak more, hope she’ll offer you kindness and let you dwell on your mistakes, but you know it’s unlike her.

Indeed, she speaks up after a minute. “You know…” She pauses, and you glance once at her to find her features troubled. “I was wondering… what brought you to this decision?”

You freeze, hands in the water. It’s hot enough that your skin is turning scarlet, yet you barely even feel it. “What?”

“If you don’t want to speak about it it’s fine,” she gently says. “But I’m just concerned about you.”

“Did he ask you to ask me this?” you enquire, accusingly. You frown at the tone of your voice, and apologize as you resume washing the glass you’re holding.

“No,” she answers. “He hasn’t really been talking to anyone.”

You shudder, with horror and compulsion at the person that you were weeks ago, the one that caused him to isolate himself.

“Oh.”

Jo waits a moment, but when it’s clear that you aren’t going to speak again, she says, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t prod.”

You wet your lips, swallow around the lump in your throat. “It’s okay.”

Perhaps that’s also a lie. Perhaps you believe nothing is okay, nothing will be okay again. But you don’t voice it – it’s all your fault anyway.

“It’s okay if it isn’t okay, you know,” Jo gently says as you hand her a glass.

Your vision blurs, but no tears fall. No tears are left – you cry them to sleep every night already.

“Long distance is a bitch,” is what you eventually say. “You think you can make it through everything, and then long distance happens.”

You want to clench your hand around the third glass, want to feel the shards of it cutting through your palm like the shards of him have been stabbing through your heart. You force your grip to remain loose, lest you stain the sink with blood.

“Like for real, without it we would have been fine.”

You’ve told Jiho the same thing. You think you’ve told him the same thing, but you barely even remember the breakup. Just remember holding onto him at the end, and then winter seeping in through the crevices in your soul.

“I’m sorry.” Jo looks at you kindly when you glance her way. She offers you a sad smile that you want to hate, yet it just makes you want to break. “I’m really sorry it came between the two of you.”

You take a deep breath to tame the aching in your chest, nodding once. “It’s whatever.”

“It’s not.”

She’s right, so you remain silent. Choose to seek solace in a wordless moment, one you spend finishing the dishes. And when you’re done, and she’s wiping the last one, you find yourself asking, “How has he been doing?”

She stops moving, meets your gaze before letting her gaze drop to her hands. “As I said, he doesn’t really speak to anyone.”

“Which means he hasn’t been great.”

You know him enough to know that. She does too – she nods, before shrugging her shoulders. “Jimin and Tae have been making sure he’s okay though. Surviving.”

Because sometimes all there is to do is survive.

You’re relieved that his friends are there for him. It lessens the pain somehow, to know he’s not alone. You aren’t either – Jimin is your friend too and, even though she’s a mom of two, Jiho has been there for you ever since the breakup.

The first time Lisa asked you where Jungkook was though… felt like heartbreak uttered in an innocent sentence. Like the universe had gone wrong, like left and right were interchanged. You were lost then, and you still are today.

All at your expense.

“Good,” you answer.

She looks conflicted, pained – you understand why when she asks, “What about you?”

You clench your jaw out of reflex, as if it’s an accusation. As if admitting that you’re going through frozen hell is wrong of you, somehow. You think it is. After all, this is supposed to be better than the distance.

“I’ve got Jimin too, and Jiho,” you reply, voice strained. “Bridget and Heather too. They’ve been helping.”

Jo nods. “Good. Don’t isolate yourself.” There’s a pause, and her features turn pensive. “And you know, you got me too. You have all of us.”

Tears blur your vision, but like your soul they turn to ice before rolling down your cheeks. “Thank you.”

Smile apologetic, she nods again, as if her job here is done. And it must be – Kiko and Bridget walk into the kitchen, and they clearly don’t sense the atmosphere that’s clinging to you. They strike conversation with Jo, happily, and her stance switches to one that’s more relaxed.

You decide to leave them alone, because these three have always been a little closer to each other than you to them, and you return to the other room, where Chaeyeon, Valeria, Jiho and Heather are lounging on the couches. You debate leaving, debate claiming that you have to work early in the morning, but somehow you choose not to.

Is it a sign that you’re moving on? You don’t know.

When you do leave, later that night, at the same time as Jo and Chaeyeon do, you find yourself walking next to Jo as you head to your respective cars. Lance is picking Chaeyeon up, and she waves you two goodbye as you walk away.

You stuff your hands in the long sleeves of your hoodie, as if the air outside is remotely cold. It is not – there’s been a heatwave around for a few days. Luckily enough for you, a freezing heart seems to be a good remedy for the heat, and you still seek the comfort of your hoodie.

“I was wondering,” Jo says as you near where your car is parked. “Are you still planning on coming to the wedding?”

The forsaken wedding. The thing that set everything in motion – the spark that caught fire on years of your relationship.

You purse your lips, shrug your shoulders. “I think so,” you voice. “Yeah. You two are my friends, even if…”

If you’re closer to him. You don’t say as much, but it’s needless. Jo nods, understanding as ever, and she tells you that you don’t have to, if you don’t want to.

You think she’s a fool for believing that you wouldn’t want to go. Because… what’s wrong with wanting to make sure he’s okay with your own two eyes? What’s wrong with needing to see him in another context than this never-ending winter?

That night, you lie awake for hours. Picturing him behind your closed eyelids, only to find emptiness where he should be. The blankets are cold, the fan overhead not needed, yet you can’t bring yourself to turn it off.

Can’t chase the feeling of his absence from your heart.

You seek solace in memories of him, in the thought of his lips on yours. Of the featherlight kisses you used to exchange in the dead of night, when sleep was evading you or him. You must be half asleep – because suddenly you can almost see him here. Can almost hear his voice as he’d call you baby, mouthing the word against your neck before he’d suck on it.

Your heartrate picks up with the memory – they’re flooding in. The smell of his skin, the taste of his lips, the inebriating sweetness of his kisses. You remember the weight of him on you, the press of his knee between your legs.

And then you seek solace with a hand between your thighs, trying to remember how he touched you. How his long fingers always dragged you to a land of pleasure, how he’d managed to keep you there until you were insane with his taste.

You breathe out his name, a soft moan, though it’s almost a plea. A plea for him to appear, for him to never have been gone.

For you to never have pushed him away.

When you come down from the high that finds you in your memories, you lie on your side, holding one of your plushies to your chest. They don’t replace him; they never have.

You end up crying yourself to sleep over the memories, over the July night sky and the dance crew and every night you took for granted, believing that he’d be yours forever.

You cry for your decision, no matter how right it was. Because you know it’ll always feel wrong.

Friday, July 28th

                There’s something about work that’s been setting you on edge. That’s been making you want to pull your hair out of your head – if only that was possible. It’s strange; you’ve been thinking about the breakup less now that you’re neck deep in work.

Now that you spend hours upon hours at work, after the usual closing time.

Luckily enough, you’re almost never alone. Harrison accompanies all of those late evenings as you work through the case, as he tells you what to do and you tell him you don’t need his help. He laughs at that – Harrison has an easy laugh. It makes its way to his lips whenever you speak, and it’s been like a ray of light in the otherwise dark land of your heart.

He’s a good coworker. Someone that’s noticed just how bad you are, but that’s decided to not treat you differently. To let you nurse your heart in peace, while he offers you the normalcy of what work should be.

Today, at lunch break, he suggested going out for dinner and drinks, along with the rest of the team that’s been working on the case. Mostly because you’re finally closing in on something that is clearly going to be good, and he believes it’s important to celebrate. You don’t have it in you to say no, and that’s how you find yourself squeezed between him and Anna, the paralegal that you’ve worked with the most, in the booth of a nice pub near the firm.

You’ve been sharing a nacho plate with Harrison and Ian, another one of the junior partners of the firm, and you’re sipping on a glass of the pitcher of sangria that Anna ordered for you and her. The buzzing of chatter and laughter makes the pub into a lively place, and you reckon you like the atmosphere.

You like the plants that cascade from their pots on shelves in the walls, like the hanging lights that shine brightly onto the tables, like the brick wall that gives the pub a nice industrial vibe. It just feels right, different than your usual.

Or maybe it’s the fact that the crew is different. That you aren’t with people that inevitably remind you of Jungkook, even though they shouldn’t.

Harrison’s English accent catches your attention as he says something to Ian – something about leaving work related conversation to the firm. As you turn your head towards the man at your side, he offers you a glance.

Harrison has clear blue eyes. Pale, like they hold the Caribbean sea in them. His eyes are beautiful, sparkling, and you offer him a smile.

He’s quick to smile back, and then he continues his conversation with Ian, who’s decided to speak about sports instead.  You decide to join in, even though you know practically nothing about sports, and the two men tease you for it.

There’s no bite to it, yet it feels familiar. Reminds you of someone that used to tease you all the time, and with the sangria coursing through your veins, you decide to jump on the occasion. To let the past be the past, and live in this moment, for once.

Perhaps it holds some sort of salvation for you.

“It’s not my fault if football is boring!” you insist. “It’s just dudes throwing a ball. Who cares about that?”

Harrison nudges you with his elbow. “Hey come on,” he says. “They don’t only throw a ball, sometimes they kick it too.”

He’s got a teasing smile on his lips, and to your surprise you find yourself rolling your eyes. “And the point system? Stupid.”

“It isn’t!” Harrison says, faking offense. “You wound me.”

You cock an eyebrow as Ian laughs, before turning to speak to Sam next to him as the guy asks him a question.

“Aren’t you British anyway?” you ask him. “Why do you watch football?”

“Because I like dudes that throw balls,” he jokes, before realizing that his sentence sounded wrong as you burst out laughing. “Well, not like that.”

“No, of course not,” you tease back.

“It’s just a fun sport,” he insists. “Used to watch it with my step-dad when I was younger.”

Now, the revelation eases the teasing mood that you’ve been diving into, and you offer him a small smile. “Sounds like fun.”

Because you can get that. You can understand the need to love something because someone you loved introduced you to it – dance was that for you, once upon a time. When your mother had introduced you to it, when you were too young to realize that to her, you dancing was just going to be an accomplishment.

Until it became a curse, as you chose to not pursue ballet the way she wanted you to. But that’s old history – even though you still don’t talk to your mother all that much, the hatred you’ve held for her for years after she’s kicked you out is lesser now. Practically non-existent, and you have your therapist to thank for that.

Years of therapy really did help, eventually.

You realize, tonight, how you haven’t really been living since you broke up. You’ve been a mere ghost, a mere winter wind, but tonight you think the air warms up. It warms up into a tentative spring breeze, and you cling to it.

You say yes when Harrison suggests heading to a club after, a VIP one where he’s a member along with Ian. Say yes to the shots offered to you, and you ignore the texts in the group chat with the girls saying that they want to meet up for lunch tomorrow. You focus on the now, focus on the fact that he’s not all you’re thinking of.

No, his big, doe eyes barely exist in your mind right now, replaced by ocean blue and an English accent. At least that’s what you tell yourself as Harrison says he’s a shit dancer, and you admit you were on a dance crew for years.

He cocks an eyebrow, says you’re full of shit, and that’s how you find yourself pulling him to the dance floor, not caring that his hair is paler than your usual, that his smile rings different.

Harrison is not a good dancer. He’s awkward, clumsy, and he steps on your feet more than once as you dance face to face, swaying to the beat of the club music. The flashing lights feel like a haven, like you don’t have to hide in the darkness left by Jungkook’s disappearance from your life.

You let Harrison put his hands on your waist, let him pull you closer, until he’s resting his forehead on yours. Your eyes shut from the proximity, and you can smell the alcohol on his breath. Somehow, that’s what makes you remember – not the dancing, but the intimacy of the position. It makes you crave another, makes you need to forget, and you’re the one that closes the gap.

You’re the one who kisses him first, and he kisses you back all wrong. There’s something missing – the piercing, perhaps – but you don’t let it deter you. Focus on the swipe of his tongue on your bottom lip, and you sigh as you let him in.

But Jungkook is there, in your mind. When Harrison’s hands tighten on your waist, it’s in Jungkook’s hair that you want to thread your fingers through. When he groans softly in the kiss, as you bite his lower lip, it’s Jungkook’s lips that you want to be sucking on.

And you think it’ll always be Jungkook. He’ll haunt you forever – a reminder of your weakness, when it came to the distance. A reminder that, after everything, you’re the one that ruined it.

You’re the one that put an end to what was supposed to be forever.

It aches, coldly. You think your heart barely knows how to beat anymore. It’s erratic, painful, and when Harrison pulls away from the kiss, his blue eyes finding yours, you think his irises are made of ice.

“Hey,” he says gently.

“Hey,” is all you can think to reply.

If he sees the torment in your eyes, he ignores it. Guides you back to the table, where he leaves you with Ian and the rest claiming that he’ll get a water for you. And he does – he comes back with two bottles of water, and he hands you one as he sits next to you.

You think that’s what undoes you. That’s what breaks you, spills the content of your aching soul right there on the club’s floor. You don’t know who’ll pick up the mess – the one it belongs to is far away from these flashing lights. Far, yet closer than he was when the ending came. Somewhere in the city, you believe, because you don’t think he’s gone back to Europe yet.

Would he answer, if you were to call him? Would he pick up right where you left off, whisper sweet nothings in your ear as if you haven’t destroyed his beating organ?

You hate it. Hate how, weeks later, the torture hasn’t diminished. Hate how you believed it’d be just a few rough days, when it’s been weeks and months and winter hasn’t changed.

So you do what you do best. You escape. Tell the table that you have to go, and make it outside before Harrison catches up to you. He asks if he can walk you home, which makes sense because you live in the same complex anyway. Not the same building, but Harrison lives in the one across the small square-like courtyard between the three condo towers where you’ve found a place to rent after Jungkook.

Up above, stars twinkle in the sky. They seem unaware that, after that cataclysm of a July night, the story came to an end. Like the universe never meant it, when it put you and him together. Or maybe it’s you – maybe you created a new cataclysm. Wrote your own fate, and all that crap.

You’re getting dizzy. Both with alcohol and spinning thoughts, but luckily enough the walk is short. Harrison grants you silence, sensing that you need it, probably. Because he’s gentlemanly. Not that Jungkook wasn’t – it’s just different.

And you shouldn’t be comparing him to Jungkook, but it’s far too easy. Especially as your treacherous little mouth asks him if he wants to share a drink in your apartment, as you tell him that you feel better now that you’ve breathed some air.

He says yes, though he seems unsure. He seems unsure all the way up to your floor, and even more so as you pull him in a kiss when the door closes behind you and him. Especially as you breathe against his lips, “Do you think you can make me forget?”

After everything is done, and you lie awake next to his naked form, both of you staring up at the ceiling in silence, you know the answer to that question.

And it’s quite simple – no. Because no one will ever be able to make you forget the one you were supposed to be with until you turned to stardust. Until all that would have been left of the two of you was etchings on a stone, and memories in the space between this life and the next.

Harrison is kind – he tells you that he senses you shouldn’t have done it, gently. Tells you that the only person that can make you forget is yourself, and time. And when he leaves, he tells you not to worry about anything. That he can be a friend, if you need it, but that he doubts you want anything more.

He’s right, and you cry yourself to sleep holding onto Totoro and Appa, hoping weeks ago you would have listened to Jungkook when he’d said not to break up. Hoping to turn back time, cursing the linearity of it. Remembering the punctuate events of you and him, wondering how the distance was enough to undo your timeline.

The sun winks at you when it rises, mocking you as night ends, with no answer for you. The what-ifs shine as brightly as the rays of the morning, all of them piercing through your darkened heart.

You shiver and hide your face in Totoro, hoping one day you’ll be able to evade winter.

Friday, August 18th

                Jungkook’s first thought when he steps into the restaurant is that it’s too loud. Too bright, with happy couples and smiling families sharing a meal as if life’s never ended, three months and ten days ago. He feels like an imposter – he hasn’t smiled since you left, and hasn’t laughed since before that.

He doesn’t know why he agreed to this, when Taehyung suggested it. Maybe because Taehyung and Jimin can be firmly persuasive, when they decide they’ll do something. Though, this time around, they’re not doing anything.

Anything other than having set this blind date with one of Taehyung’s coworkers.

Jungkook decides to find solace in his thoughts. Away from the bustling crowd of the restaurant, into the cool darkness where he’s been evading since he moved to his new apartment. Somewhere where the pain is lesser, where he doesn’t cry all the time.

That’s where she finds him. A shy smile, rosy cheeks as she voices, “Jungkook?”

He meets her gaze, finds her long lashes as she looks up at him innocently. He’s struck – she’s way out of his league. But so were you, and he’s got a whole story to tell about you now. He looks around as if to make sure the girl was speaking to him, as if she didn’t say his name, before he answers, “I assume you’re Emma.”

Another shy smile, and Emma nods her head. “The one and only.”

Jungkook wets his lips, and when the server comes to bring them to a table, he lets his gaze drop to the ground as he follows behind Emma.

He sits in front of her, feeling odd as she blushes and looks through the menu. Her shyness makes him feel awkward, and he doesn’t know what to say.

With you, he always knew what to say.

He shuts his eyes, takes a deep breath and then lets his eyelids flutter open so that he can look through the menu too. He thinks, he just has to make it through the evening. Doesn’t have to see the girl again, even though her shy smiles are cute.

She is cute, but she’s not you. No one will ever compare to you.

He takes a deep breath once more, tries to push you out of his thoughts. For the first time in weeks, it’s not as hard. Maybe because his awkwardness is winning over, making him all too aware of every glance the girl throws his way.

They order, barely exchanging a word, until the girl throws him a lifeline. She asks about his photography, admits Taehyung told her about it, and Jungkook settles in his comfort space as he tells her about it, as he answers her question.

It’s impersonal, almost professional, but at least it keeps the pain at bay for a while. He even thinks he’s enjoying himself – by the time they’re eating and he’s drank half of his beer, he does feel lighter. Like he can finally breathe, like the hand clutching his heart in his chest has loosened.

Or maybe he’s just been getting too good at burrowing his feelings deep inside of him. Still, he barely smiles, barely laughs. And he knows none of his smiles quite reach his eyes, and he knows the girl must have noticed. She doesn’t say anything though, focuses on telling him what she does for work, and then goes on to tell him about what it was like for her growing up.

He zones out, nods when he figures he has to, tries to smile when there’s a lull in the conversation. He’s clearly not good at that – he’s never really gone on dates before. Except with Laura, before you, but even that barely counted as a date. Perhaps because he already knew Laura, and he’s struck thinking that the girl in front of him is a stranger. A stranger, yes, but she’s kind. So when she suggests sharing a bottle of wine, claiming that it’s her favourite and that she’s wanted to drink it in a long time, Jungkook doesn’t have it in him to say no.

Even though they’re already done with eating. She does order dessert, and he watches her eat as he nurses his glass of wine, taking sips from it once in a while.

He hasn’t drunk in a long time, and the effects start to be felt faster than usual. Or maybe the beer he drank before the wine was strong. Either way, his head starts swimming with alcohol before they’re out of the restaurant, and he relishes in the feeling.

Revels in Emma’s suggestion to take a walk to clear their head, along the small river near the restaurant. The evening air is fresh, though clouds hide the stars from view. It smells of rain – there are leftover puddles from earlier today – but it doesn’t seem like the sky will cry again tonight.

A soft breeze plays in Jungkook’s hair. He hasn’t cut it in a while. It used to be a lot longer, but he’s not used to it anymore, so it feels weird whenever strands of his hair pass in front of his eyes. He tries to push them back but to no avail: the strands stubbornly always fall in front of his eyes again, and he ends up giving up after a moment.

Turns out Emma is a gamer. She suggests playing some games together the next time they hang out, and Jungkook doesn’t have it in himself to tell her that they, as a matter of fact, won’t see each other ever again. Not because she isn’t sweet – she’s just not what he wants. And he doesn’t even want the distraction.

He did that once, and it didn’t serve him good. Even if he managed to have you in the end.

“What’s your favourite game?” Emma asks as she stops next to some railing overlooking the water. She leans against it, forearms resting on it as she looks at the water, eyes following the ripples in the river.

“I don’t game as much anymore,” he admits. He shrugs, tries to ignore the way his lungs burn.

Because he used to game with you next to him, and he doesn’t need reminders of you.

“Mine is Valorant,” she says, and she smiles at him as if she expected that to make him happy.

“Oh,” he lets out. He offers her a tight-lipped smile, and feels bad when her face falls a little. So he quickly adds, “I took you more for a Sims girl.”

She fakes offense. “What? Why?”

There’s a twinkle in her eyes, and he’s struck silent as he watches it. She seems to take that as a cue for something else, because she takes a step closer to him, eyes dropping to his mouth.

He thinks he’s frozen on his spot when she tilts her head back, tiptoes, and presses a featherlike kiss on his lips. Eyes wide opened, he watches her, until he figures he should be kissing her back.

So he does, hesitantly, as lead forms in his stomach, making him think that he’s going to be sick. Because she kisses him all wrong. Tastes all wrong too, and suddenly you’re burning in his mind, bright magma that moves in his veins until pain suffocates his lungs.

He takes a step back, and Emma’s eyes shoot open, as if startled. They stare at each other for a time, and then she gulps.

“I’m sorry.”

He doesn’t care for her apology. Doesn’t care about anything other than the fact that he feels disgusted with himself. And for what? It’s not like he owes you anything anymore. As a matter of fact, he should be enjoying this. Should be enjoying that even though he was his most awkward self, he still was able to get the girl to kiss him.

Instead, he burns and he chokes on his saliva as he tries to swallow. He wonders why his vision is blurry, and he furiously blinks his eyes trying to keep Emma in focus.

“I’m so sorry,” she repeats. “Gosh, I read this all wrong. I…” she pauses, shaking her head slightly, and it seems she’s been wearing a mask all evening, because it crumples into nothingness. “I just got out of a long relationship, Tae said you too and I just… Fuck I just assumed we could comfort each other?” When he remains silent, she continues, “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed.”

She’s rambling, and Jungkook just hears his blood pumping in his ears. When he still doesn’t speak, she apologizes once more, and then tells him that she should go.

He doesn’t try to stop her, doesn’t even look as she walks away, head hung low in what he assumes is shame. All he feels is the deep burning sensation, as it settles under his skin. Like a sunburn – he wants to scratch at it, wants to rip it from his skin, but he can’t.

He can’t because you’re gone, and this ache is all that’s left of you. It’s all that’s left, so he clings to it. Tries to keep it close to his heart, where you belong. Picks at the scab, at the wound, until he’s bleeding all over again, breaking out in the city, where anyone can see that he’s lost you.

He doesn’t know how he makes it home. All that he knows is that he’s in the shower, later, head pressed against the tiles as cold water runs on his back. It mingles with the tears streaking down his cheeks, mixes with the saltiness of heartbreak.

It doesn’t cool the sunburn ache, doesn’t ease the pain in his chest. And you’re everywhere then – in the cracks on the wall, he believes he can see you. Believes he can reach out for you, though what he ends up doing is cranking the temperature of the shower up, until it’s not cold anymore.

Though he reckons he barely can feel it anymore.

So he forces his eyes shut, chases memories of you like a dog chases its tail – round in round, in a circle, because he thinks he’ll always circle back to you anyway. He imagines you, in all your glory. Imagines you’ve never left, imagines you’d still run your hands on his back, still dig your nails in his skin.

He doesn’t even know how his hand finds its way to the base of his dick. Doesn’t even know why he’s horny, why the pain makes him crave you more. Why it makes him touch himself, imagining it’s your touch. And with his eyes squeezed shut, you’re everywhere. The goddess of the land of his mind, and he can almost believe you’re still here.

He grunts, perhaps in pain, and picks up the pace on his dick. He remembers words whispered on your skin, your spit on his dick as you’d swallow around the tip. He remembers your tight walls, clutching him, holding him in as you’d ride him like there was no tomorrow.

He remembers a hot tub and the night that followed, remembers breaking and healing with you. Remembers the darkness of the accident, and the light you’d shine on him. The light is gone now, and only darkness remains. It’s not the same – it’s lonelier, somehow. Because he had everything, and now remains nothing. Just the ghost of what once was, and he wishes he could be taken back to the night on the hotel rooftop, wishes you’d never left.

And when he comes, it’s your name that he moans. Like a blessing, though now you’re a curse. A curse to him, and he wishes the pain would go away, wishes it would stay. Wishes it would bring you back, yet knowing he’d push you away. Because he doesn’t think there is pain as great as what you caused him, and then he curses himself for the thought.

That night, he lies awake in sheets cold as winter, weakened by his broken heart as he chases sleep that never comes.

Prev | Next

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Living with the aftermaths of breakup sucks, doesn't it? What did we think of this chapter? Let me know! All rights reserved to @/oddinary4bts, 2023. Do not copy, repost or translate.

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[jobesbabe]

Heyy, recently I’ve been thinking of ‚teen‘ dad jobe a little bit too much. He’d be so anxious about becoming a father, yet Jobe‘s so supportive and caring towards you and your child.

Although anxiety eats him up whole, he grows so attached to his baby; protecting you two, spending time with you and overall becoming the best father to be 🎀

My baby / Jobe Bellingham

warnings- established relationship, pregnancy, throwing up, fluff

summary- Jobe and you are expecting a baby and you cant decide if you are worried or excited.

a/n - In my head Jobe is 20 in this fic, just because and I think this is a great prompt. alr, thanks! enjoy!

Every morning that week you woke up with the stomach flu. You would be as quiet as can be, but Jobe would always know somehow and run after you to hold your hair up and rub circles on your back.

“You should be asleep,” You said, “You have a match at noon.”

Jobe shook his head. “I don’t care about a stupid match, I just care that you’re going to be okay.”

You smiled weakly. “This should pass, I’m not going to be sick forever.”

He nodded before kissing your cheeks lightly. “I will make sure of that.”

But the next morning and the morning after that, you threw all the contents of your stomach up.

You had barely been eating at night, just some of his mother’s chicken soup and plain crackers. Yet even that had ended up out of your system by morning.

You cried against Jobe’s chest in bed as he hugged you.

“Something is wrong with me,” You cried weakly.

He just pulled you tighter and hummed in response, kissing your temples.

“I mean, I’m throwing up every day, It’s even thrown my period off, it’s a week late!” You exclaimed.

“Wait,” Jobe asked while sitting up in bed. “A week late as in you have it now or a week late as in you haven’t gotten it?”

“Jobe I haven’t gotten it.” You explained tired. You snuggled into him, ready for sleep and he instead got up.

“I have to run to the store, don’t worry it’s for you, but it’s nothing bad.” Jobe told you before giving you a peck and then rushing off.

Jobe came back thirty minutes later with three different pregnancy tests. He picked you up out of bed bridal style and led exhausted you to the bathroom.

“Baby, I know this could be a long shot, but I remember one of the lads talking about how his wife was sick when they were first expecting. You don’t have to test if you don't want to, but whats the harm in it?” He asked excitedly.

Tired you took the tests and waited in Jobe’s arms for the results. You wanted to look at the same time. You didn’t know if you wanted a baby or not. Jobe didn’t either, he claimed, but there was a glimmer of hope in his eyes, wondering what a little Bellingham family would be like. Don’t get me wrong, he was still terrified. But the baby gave him excitement he’d never felt before.

As you two looked together at all three tests, the results all matched. Two lines.

Anxiety filled the both of you and you embraced each other knowing you were in the same boat.

Jobe put his hands on your stomach reassuringly.

“I love you,” He said, and you couldn’t tell if it was toward you or the little Bellingham.

Eight and a quarter months later, Your baby boy was born.

Thomas Luke Joseph Bellingham. He was the most beautiful boy, with your eyes and Jobe’s smile. He was perfect. Neither of you knew how to be parents and Jobe was constantly scared he would mess something up and hurt his little boy.

Tommy was a daddy’s boy though, always calming down when his dad was around and cooing at his father’s matches.

Once Jobe got the hang of parenting, he was always showing the both of you off saying, “This is my son Tommy, He adores me and football,” Even though he wasn’t even six months old.

The three of you had shaped up to be such an adorable family, earning aww’s everywhere you went.

You loved each other so much. The three of you against the world.

[shankss-magnificent-ass]

Imagine Shanks yearning domesticity

Author's note: I head canon that Shanks has ADHD, and sometimes for people with ADHD (and I'm speaking from 20+years of personal experience) have trouble identifying their emotions. And kind of like Luffy, that Shanks is some shade of demisexual and or aromantic.

After a scouting mission

Hongo: hey boss we got a problem.

Shanks: uh oh, what problem is that?

Hongo: we found this at a ship wreck on the other side of the island

Howling Gab: *puts a bassinet on the table in front of Shanks*

Shanks: oh no, we've done this before, and it did not end well. I ended up not getting any sleep for months. Put that thing back where you got it.

Hongo: there were no other survivors from the wreck, and there is no one else on the island. So leaving the child on the island isn't an option.

Shanks: *groans*

Benn: Are you going to be the one to take cared of the little shit?

Hongo: about that *his eyes drift over to you*

Benn and Shanks: *follow his gaze*

Benn: perfect, the rookie'll take care of it.

You: oh no, I didn't sign up to become a nanny.

Shanks: but you're so good at taking care of the rest of us, what's one more? *Picks up the baby wrong*

You: Shanks, you have to support its head! *Repositions the infant on to his shoulder *

Shanks: *shivers at your touch in a way that takes him off guard*

Benn: see, you're a natural.

You: well too bad, it's going to have to stay with you lot while I finish cooking dinner.

Lucky Roux: I can do that for you. *Doesn't wait for your answer, and just removes your apron and places the baby in your hands*

You: this is despotism by the way.

Shanks: probably, but the baby looks comfy

Baby: *fell asleep the moment you wrapped your arms around it*

You: *sighs and looks around for a place to sit down, only for every spot to be taken*

Shanks: *pats his knee in invitation*

You: *sits down across his lap, putting your feet in Benn's lap, and leaning yourself and the baby against his chest*

The crew: *coos at how cute the three of you look*

An hour later

The crew: * left the room to finish their chores*

You: *asleep with your head pressed into the crook of Shank's neck*

Shanks: *stroking the baby's cheek and periodically glancing over at your resting face*

Benn: You three look quite cozy *pulls out his cigarettes*

Shanks: no smoking around the wee one, and I know it won't last.

Benn: I'm sensing a 'but' coming.

Shanks: *shakes his head*, it's just that this feels... right. I almost don't want it to end, but we need to get the baby back to their family or at least somewhere safer than my ship.

Benn: the baby aside, you and (y/n) don't have to end. I know you've known you've had feelings for them for weeks. It's not like you to ruminate for so long, you usually know exactly how you feel.

Shanks: *sighs* this is different, they're different, and it feels like I'm different now too.

Benn: explains a lot about your behavior lately.

Shanks: my behavior?

Benn: you haven't seemed like yourself lately.

Shanks: because I haven't felt like myself for a few weeks. *Tucks a strand of your hair to the side* I have so many doubts and a lot of anxiety with them here. If they'll live to see tomorrow. If they'll get sick and need medication we don't have. If they're safe here, or if they'd be safer hidden away on an island only we know. But despite all of that the thought of them leaving fills me with even more anxiety. Like what would happen if someone showed up to hurt them, and I wasn't there to protect them.

Benn: you're in love dude.

Shanks: nah, I just want them to be around to bring me sweets, or to straighten my outfit before I go out to port. It's not like I want them to kiss me or ... *Looks at your sleeping face*... Oh, dear

Benn: dummy

Shanks: don't you have duties to finish up?

Benn: good night boss.

Shanks: *takes you to sleep in his bed and puts the baby in the bassinet for the night before crawling into bed with you* all of this makes no sense, but for once I don't mind.

List of Up-and-coming works

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[th3secr3th1story]

gojo when you come home from a mission injured

warnings: description of wounds, blood, more blood, just some badass y/n and gojo fluff. 1.9k words

gojo was convinced the higher ups hated him. well, he already knew they did, but this just made him all the more confident. there was no other explanation. he couldn't think of any other reason that they would assign you a mission on his first day off in months.

gojo had the best day prepared. he wanted to make up for all the lost time between the two of you, since you both were busy being the top sorcerers. you were better at making time for him, as gojo tended to get caught up in his work easily, which is why he wanted this day to be extra special. good thing he had it all planned.

he was ready to sleep in with you--and not just that...on a weekday, too!

he was going to wake up before you, cherishing a few more quiet moments with you in his arms, before silently slipping out of bed and making his way to the bathroom to freshen up.

he was going to make you the most delicious breakfast; he already had it prepared--

two eggs carefully whisked in a bowl, with just the right amount of spices and seasoning to create an amazing scrambled blend. sliced pieces of avocado with tomatoes on perfectly toasted bread. a steaming cup of tea, drizzled with honey and a small sprig of rosemary. just how you liked it.

carefully balancing the meal on a tray, he was going to walk over back to your room, placing the food on your nightstand while he climbed into bed to wake you up with soft kisses.

"g'morning, baby," he was going to whisper softly, chuckling at your groans.

"it's so early. five more minutes, please," your whines would've been interrupted as you smelled the breakfast, immediately sitting up. "is that food?"

hours later, the two of you were going to be tangled on the couch, his body sprawled on yours as your favorite show was streaming on the TV. of course, this was just his chance to appreciate you.

"satoru, you're not even trying to pay attention," you would've cried, "this is the best part!"

he would've merely hummed, the grip on your waist tightening as he continued to kiss your neck, relishing in your embrace.

"stop disturbing me, y/n!"

that night, after devouring delicious boxes of takeout, was going to end up back on the couch, but this time, your head would be in his lap, dozing off.

he was going to turn off the TV and lightly carry you back to your room, tucking you under the covers before sliding in next to you, pulling your back into his chest.

oh, what a lovely day it was supposed to be.

key word: supposed.

-

gojo was rudely awakened from his warm and peaceful slumber by your figure attempting to slide out of his arms--of course with much difficulty.

"hey, where're you goin'?" he mumbled sleepily, tightening his hold on you. "the sun's barely up."

"i know, i'm sorry, baby. i just got called in. there's a mission they want me to handle," you whispered, hoping that he'd fall back asleep.

instead, he shot up. "what? today? why?" he could already see the whole day he had planned waving goodbye as they galloped out the front door of his brain.

you merely sighed, "i'm sorry, satoru. i know it was your day off and i was looking forward to spending it with you, but i can't really get out of this."

"you could call in sick," he grumbled, pulling you back down underneath the covers into his warmth, kissing your shoulder blades softly. god, he was making this impossible. "please call in sick."

"baby, i wish. i don't want to go at all, but i still have a job to do, i'm sorry."

"you and your moral compass will be the death of me," he pouted, holding you impossibly closer.

chuckling, you turn around and kiss his forehead once, his neck twice, before sighing and lifting yourself out of his arms.

"i'll see you soon. i love you, satoru," you whispered, rubbing his side.

"i love you too. stay safe, traitor," he whined, glaring at you through sleepy eyes.

-

you were expecting to be back by 5 at the latest. it was barely dawn when you had left the house, and you prayed thought the mission would be completed soon enough to go home and be with your boyfriend on his rare day off.

unfortunately, you thought wrong.

all had been going well, and you thought the job was done, until a dark shape emerged from the shadows in the corner of your eye as you were getting ready to report back to the higher ups.

"oh, fuck me," you mumbled.

your sorcerer instincts immediately kicked in, conjuring an immense stream of cursed energy and launching it at the figure. it stumbled but continued approaching you.

its massive arms stretched out, flashing its razor sharp claws at you.

"i just want to go home," you sighed, your words directed at the curse in hopes that it'd magically drop dead for you. wishful thinking.

the fight was ferocious, possibly one of the toughest curses you'd ever dealt with. how is each strike getting faster? you thought, barely dodging its attacks.

out of nowhere, the curse let out an angry growl and charged right at you. you attempted to throw up a defensive shield, but it wasn't enough to completely block the attack.

"shit," you yelped. one of its claws managed to rake across your stomach, leaving a deep bloody gash.

you stumbled backwards, momentarily dazed by the situation, narrowly dodging its onslaughts.

with the shock having worn off, you focused your energy into hands, channeling a final, all-or-nothing attack. you released a massive burst of cursed energy, completely ravaging the monster's body by the sheer power of your strike. it was over.

you felt a particularly strong wave of exhaustion wash over you, your stomach beginning to sting with the adrenaline wearing off.

home, i need home, you thought. i need satoru.

-

a door click and your heavy sigh lets gojo know you've returned, happily skipping down the stairs, only to halt at the sight of you.

"babyyyyy, i missed you! what took you so long? it's already 9:30! how many curses were there? was it just you? are you hung-"

your body was battered and bloodied, scars from the battle still fresh and stinging. your clothes were torn, stained with dark crimson of the curse mixed with your own bright scarlet blood. your arms and face were covered in deep scratches. there was a long, ferocious gash seeping with blood across your stomach where your uniform had been torn.

however, despite your injuries and clear exhaustion, gojo looked into your eyes and the twinkle of triumph and satisfaction was so glaringly present he barely stopped himself from pouncing on you and kissing you until you passed out.

he settled with pulling you into a hug and pecking your forehead. you were already too close to fainting.

"hey," you whispered, "my body is killing me."

"let's get you fixed up, baby. you can't do anything without me, can you?"

"shut up," you attempted to push him away, but to your satisfaction (you'd never say that out loud), he just pulled you in closer, careful to avoid your stomach.

he brought you over to the bathroom, gently undressing you.

"well, this is romantic, isn't it?" he smirked, laughing at the glare you threw him.

the sight of your painful, bloody wounds covering your whole body made his heart sink a little and eyes fill with concern.

"how are you feeling?" he asked gently, the tone a stark contrast to his previous question.

"'m okay, just tired. i missed you," you smiled. "i doubt you wanted to spend your day off cleaning me up, 'm sorry."

"i'll always take care of you, y/n," he replied as he set the shower water to warm and lightly pushed you inside.

"what, a shower now? but i'm bleeding all over the place!" you argued, not feeling like standing up for a second longer.

"i know, baby, but i can't see where to patch you up if you have blood and dirt all over you. it'll be quick, i swear," he smiled with a short peck to your cheek.

he gently washed the dried blood and dirt off of your body, working carefully to avoid adding any additional discomfort. you found the water to be warm and soothing, the smell of the soap providing a temporary relief to mask the pulsing of your wounds.

once you had gotten out, put on some clothes, and had your minor cuts tended to, gojo turned his attention to the large gash on your stomach.

gojo carefully applied pressure to the cut, apologizing when you winced.

"god, what did you fight, y/n? this is insane."

"i don't even know, it had these massive claws and like, the weirdest eyes. it kind of reminds me of you, now that i think about it," you chuckled.

"wow, i'm standing here, fixin' you up, and you're just insulting me?" he whined, masking a smile.

after the bleeding had stopped, he carefully wiped the area and stitched up the deep gash, bandaging it with gentle care. he took his time, wanting to do a good job to ensure you would have a fast and safe recovery.

once he finished, his hands were stained with your blood, but he didn't seem to mind. he gave you a comforting smile, eyes filled with pure love. the same ones that made you fall for him.

but you should've known the scene was too peaceful. for a split second, you swore you saw a flicker of mischief in his eyes. that never ended well for you.

"should i lick my hands?" he questioned. oh dear.

"no! satoru, stop being such a freak. put your hand down--no!"

your eyes went wide in shock and disgust while gojo was sitting on the ground shaking from laughter.

"you--oh my god--you should've seen your face! my stomach hurts so much--well, i guess not as much as yours--okay, ow, okay, i'm sorry! stop kicking me!"

the two of you stared at each other for a few seconds before falling into giggles.

"you are the weirdest man i ever met, you know that, satoru?"

"i know. i'm honored," he winked.

after washing his hands--multiple times under your command--he turned to you, leaning on the bathroom counter, staring at you with a serious look in his eyes.

"you had me worried there, baby. it was so late and you still hadn't come home, and then you walked through the door and you were literally dripping blood. and god, for a second, i thought the worst thing had happened and my brain literally froz-"

you interrupted his rambling by pulling him into a hug, dispelling all of his fears with just a kiss to his neck.

"i know, i'm sorry. i thought the job had been done with, but then this random curse appeared as i was about to leave and it got the better of me for a moment there. but i'm okay thanks to you, satoru," you smiled. he pulled you in tighter.

"there's no way you're going to work tomorrow. stupid morals or not, you're staying here."

"but satoru, i'll just be sore tomorrow, i can still go in-"

"i don't care. i will lock you in the room if i have to!"

-

you and gojo were in bed, your bodies warm under the covers and limbs tangled. gojo held you close to him, feeling secure with you in his arms.

"i love you s'much, y/n, you know that, right?" gojo asked, turning your head up so he could kiss you. oh, how he missed you.

"love you too, satoru. thank you for taking care of me," you slurred, the exhaustion finally catching up to you after the long day.

"always, baby."