#im still unhappy with his face

[lununnunna]

pro hero shouto magazine cover pro hero shouto magazine cover pro hero shouto magazi— *shot*

like what you see? follow me! (inspired by @andypantsx3 )

[visionsynth]

soft brushes are the bane of my existence

[gontagokuhara]

thought slightly too hard about hajime hinata

[yanderespamton78]

ive already shown this to anyone who actually cares pretty much loll (anyone following the addison arg) but i might as well post it on here

this is actually the first proper animation ive done :'D like other than this ive animated a ball bouncing but that was more to test the software than anything,, lucky for me i consume animation memes more than i consume water so i know the basics B)

[trentcrimminallybeautiful]

i have this silly little undeveloped au in my brain that's just like. tedependent but it's the sarah jane adventures. sort of. not literally in the doctor who universe necessarily but like. local intrepid reporter trent crimm investigating weird shit except the local neighborhood kids will not leave him alone.

i have so many thoughts about this but none of them are coherent enough for a proper fic i think:

i just think trent being good with kids, generally. go mentor figure trent! (what this has nothing to do with my thesis what do you mean)

trent, like sarah jane pre-series, having a sort of reputation in the neighborhood (or in general, since i'm also incorporating his actual canon vibes/story) as to being standoffish, aloof, cold, etc., and generally anti-social, keeping to himself. and as the kids keep dragging him into things kicking and screaming he might also be dragged kicking and screaming into a community <3

if his daughter is essentially luke does that mean he adopted her under Strange Alien-Related Circumstances? absolutely it does, yes.

see i've got two great ideas for ted/tedependent. on one hand, although in the context of SJA/nuwho i'm not so much one for sarah jane and the doctor as a Thing, ted playing the role of like. someone from trent's Mysterious Past who he won't talk about who set him on this path? someone who was kind and wonderful and changed his life but then--at least it feels like to him--abandoned him? someone who made him a better person--from doing whatever journalism he used to do to this--someone who he's still kinda in love with... but trent can no longer even really talk to......until he shows up again? that's some good shit, not gonna lie. although i'm jimmying that into a happy ending somehow, goddamn it.

ALTERNATIVELY. henry being one of the Neighborhood Kids (as if we're using "canon" kids, we've got limited options) and ted being an oblivious parent. trent is trying to get these kids to STOP POKING INTO DANGEROUS ALIEN NONSENSE PLEASE THIS IS HIS JOB PLEASE STOP BREAKING INTO HIS HOUSE but they're stubborn and smart and they may or may not have saved his life once or twice and oh GOD THIS IS SO IRRESPONSIBLE but he can't just TELL THESE RANDOM NEIGHBORS about ALIENS. but like anyway this just painful secret identity-esque nonsense where ted knows henry's taken a shine to that nice journalist down the street and his daughter but does NOT know that henry is getting into Shenanigans(TM). this could lead into all sorts of drama about, you know, his kid being in danger... or, alternatively, ted has worked with some unit/torchwood-esque place before and is like OHH you know what? this explains that time i thought i heard you speaking an alien language. cool, cool. and trents like. .....WHAT

etc. i'm not wording this well but i think you get the idea.

if you really really wanted to make it complicated you could do both, considering the doctor's whole thing--either a fob watch or a regeneration--but honestly, i don't want to do that, so i won't

some of the adults do definitely get involved though. keeley either clocks that shit right away or thinks she's clocked it but she's actually clocked something entirely different. she's like i know you're mi6 babe ;) and he. is not. meanwhile roy having ten freakouts in a row and then being like nvm i'm fine with this. (is not fine with this, but will be eventually). jamies like yeah aliens. everyone knows about those. and they're like what?? no they dont?? and so on.

is beard an alien? genuinely no one's sure. he's not telling.

HOLD ON can i give trent k-9???? can trent crimm get a robot dog?????? yes please i think he deserves a robot dog

also see the trickster episodes? bet you could do something real fucked up with those.

i feel like i had more when i started this post but i don't remember

this not well thought out at all and i have no idea where everyone would fit in

anyway my point is. trent crimm, intrepid journalist, running around trying to stop alien shenanigans while Those Meddling Kids keep following him around. trent crimm doin a little Breaking And Entering. scooby doo shit. and he has such an interesting mix of seeming suave and badass and then immediately doing something embarrassing. trent crimm--via shenanigans and also Those Meddling Kids dragging him into their lives (aka he tries to keep his distance SO badly and only is involved when dangerous shit is going down but like then it's all. child knocking on his door like IT'S AN EMERGENCY OPEN UP and hes like WHAT WHAT IS IT and theyre like can you help me with my homework :( and hes like. fuck. yeah fine what do you want help with. (some subjects he's very helpful on others he's VERY not) until they're like okay but you're coming to this bbq right. and he's like? no? and they're like you're coming to this bbq right. and so on) ANYWAY the point is they keep dragging him into their lives and now oops! trent actually knows his neighbors and has to go through the mortifying ordeal of being known. but that also means that when he gets badly hurt or sick he's used to the empty hospital room but now he actually gets people showing up and forcing baked goods on him and shit and i'm just feeling a lot of things about this extremely hypothetical au based on my already existing feelings about trent gaining a community in s3/post-canon,

wait does this mean trent gets sonic lipstick? HELL YEAH IT DOES

[carebearbussy]

ᥫ᭡ thinking about heian era! sukuna destroying your swollen pussy while uraume talks you through it.

you were being absolutely manhandled at the mercy of sukuna, who was currently indulging himself in the sharp thrusts of his hips ramming up into your cervix. all that was audible in the large bedroom were your whimpers and pleas for him to slow down, and at this point, you could not keep up with your king, so he had to call in reinforcements.

with a loud yell, he calls for uraume to come to his quarters, and assuming it is for the usual of helping you take sukuna, they come prepared. holding a tray, consisting of a glass of water, a fresh robe, and a warm towelette for your forehead. sukunas harsh movements on your body can be seen from outside the shoji doors of your large bedroom, the noisy sounds of your pleasure coming closer with every step.

uraume opens the door, unfazed by the way sukuna was completely crumbling your exterior as well as interior walls. your body shook as each thrust made the bed rock. sukuna would revert his attention to uraume with his bottom set of eyes. "make sure shes doing okay. i dont need her passing out on me now." he said, his eyebrows furrowing as you grip onto him tightly. "at once, my lord."

walking over to the opposite side of the bed, uraume feels the vibrations of the bed creaking with each step on the floor. they place the trey on the nearby nightstand, as they sat up on the bed, propping their legs below their knees, seating in a criss cross position, your head resting on their lap. your head bobbed as sukuna forcibly moved you in and out on his cock. "hold her head still- shit-" he groaned, as uraume held your head still, each of their hands on either side of your head.

you whimpered as you felt him rearrange your insides, your eyes rolling upwards to look uraume in the eyes, barely holding eye contact due to the pleasure bubbling up inside you. you felt sukunas cock hit your sweet spot repeatedly, making your forehead bead with sweat, your mouth agape, at a loss for words at the fulfillment sukuna is handing you. but you manage to mutter a small, "please... need towel..." you say in a short whimper, shaking your hand in the direction of the trey. uraume grabs the moist towelette from the nightstand, placing it on your forehead.

you reach out to grab uraumes hand, squeezing onto it for dear life, shaking it as uraumes thumb brushes over it .you look down at sukuna, who is amused by your reactions, whereas uraume is not the least bit worried. "hmph. looks as if she's enjoying the attention, huh uraume?" he says, an evident smirk crossing his face. uraume reaches down with their free hand to brush the hair sticking to your sweaty forehead off of your face.

"yes, my lord, she does seem like she enjoys it." they say, focused on the way your nose scrunches, and the way your eyelashes flutter with embarrassment, the same feeling etching across your face. you move your free hand up to try to muffle the sounds you are making, making sukuna unhappy. he grabs your wrist with his upper left hand, the control over it leaving your body. "m'close, 'kuna- please"

"hold it, im about to- fuckkkkk-" he groans as he fills your cunt to the brim with his seed. the warm feeling of his cum inside you pushes you over the edge, making you see stars as your orgasm hits you like a truck. you practically lose vision at the pleasure you are given. sukuna pulls out of you, making you whimper.

"uraume, get her cleaned up, and run her one of her 'bubble baths'. 'dont need to carry a limping brat the next day."

[sukunas-wife]

What about the idea that baby Yuuji overhears the screams in the bedroom and thinks Sukuna is hurting mommy?🥺Mommy's little protector. Or the baby asks why they need a collar on the bed, but the mother lies that it is for their future dog/cat. Sukuna is unhappy, but is forced to get a pet because Yuuji is too happy

Hehe pervert 🤭 I’m joking 🥹🤍 but I love the idea

This is the first time your little sweet heart Yuji wasn’t by your side. Today his heart was set on following Uraume around, he was set on following him convinced at times of the day he was just a ghost who would vanish into thin air. Uraume didn’t have a problem with letting his young master follow him as long as he didn’t have to slow down his own business.

You’d see them cross your path a few times that day, Yuji always waving his chubby hand at you with a bright smile before running off to catch up.

The first time Sukuna saw you that day was just before midday, you were out in the garden under the plum tree fingers grazing the fruits you craved. He strolled over scaring you when you felt two of his hands on your waist, the third reaching up with ease to pull down the golden plums you struggled to reach.

“Thank you,” you reached up to his face bringing him down to kiss his lips, he bit at your bottom lip before he pulled away looking at you amused, “Where’s my son?” You turned to face him, smiling as your eyes moved away from him, “OUR son wanted to assure Uraume is not a spirit. Yuji is set on following them around from dawn till dusk.”

You looked back up at Sukuna, he brought a hand up to each side of your waist, “Is that so?” You felt like prey when he pressed you back against the tree, his third arm pressed over head against the bark, his fourth hand came up grabbing a strand of your hair running it between his fingers. “Well, now that you don't have our little brat with you, what are you going to do?” He leaned down closer to your face, his scent filled your air accompanied by his low suggestive tone, “More importantly what are we going to do together.” All it took in that moment was for his lips to meet yours while he brought you closer to his body, holding you close and whispering filthy words against your lips.

It was four or five hours past midday, one or two hours before dinner. Uraume was still on the move with purpose in their step and their mind set on completing whatever tasks Sukuna had assigned them that morning.

One of those tasks was to bring fresh robes to Sukuna’s separate chambers. Which lead Uraume to enter though your shared chambers and they would’ve gladly ignored the sound of wooden frame of your bed creaking. Not have batted an eye at Lord Sukuna’s muffled grunts and your quiet cries. Uraume, the master of “I mind my own damn business but I DON'T HAVE TIME FOR THIS” went about business until they heard the small voice.

“Uwaume! Mommy’s crying! We need to help her!” Uraume quickly snapped around snatching up Yuji, “Don’t worry Young Yuji, your mother is perfectly-“ Both of them were cut off by the sound of wood cracking and a slam. Followed by Lord Sukuna’s voice reverberating clearly through the heavy wooden doors to your private chamber. The last thing was your weak voice saying Sukuna’s name. The string of curses and your name from his father had Yuji shoving his way out of Uraume’s hold and running to your doors.

Behind closed doors you almost peed yourself hearing the bangs on the door and Yuji’s screams. “MOMMY MOMMY ARE YOU OKAY!? DADDY IF YOUR HURT MOMMY IM IMA! IM GONNA…” the banging stopped, “LEMME GO LEEMMEEEE GGOOOOAAAGGGGHHHHHHH” you could almost see the way Yuji was kicking and squirming in Uraume’s hold.

Your heart was racing, and you took a deep breath, “Su,” you looked down at him where he was still laying on you. He looked up at you amused, “Your son just threatened me through a door for hurting you.” His chest rumbled as he let out a breathy laugh. You rolled your eyes, “OUR SON, just heard you trying to give him a sibling and your humoured that all that came from it was he was threatening you?” Your eyebrows raised with a slight smile, you were amused but still concerned for what your little Yuji heard.

Sukuna groaned rolling off your body to avoid crushing you entirely, your bed creaked and finished falling to the floor as the last two legs gave out. You tried not to laugh at Sukuna’s slightly widened eyes. “Your next bed will be one of those made of solid cedar. These raised beds are flimsy and break always.” Rolling over to his side you placed a hand on his chest, your head resting on his shoulder, “Or maybe, you shouldn't let your ego get so big and see if you can break every new bed you bring into my chambers?” Sukuna looked away, both arms on the side you were pressed up against holding you close, “I’ll think about it. Now come here, take that collar off before it taints your skin red.”

Almost an hour passed of Uraume holding Yuji like a sack of potatoes under his arm to keep him from running to your room. In that hour you briefly fell asleep under the graze of Sukuna’s hands. The red leather Sukuna had his name branded into was pulled off your neck and thrown onto your bed to be cleaned up later with your bed.

Waking up from your short rest you got up, Sukuna helping tie your Obi and managing to loosely tie your hair in a nice manner. Of course you couldn’t walk away from him without having your ass smacked. Your walking was cut short the moment you tried and couldn’t take more than a few steps and your own legs caving causing you to fall into your husband who was smirking down at you with lidded eyes. The puff in chest, pride in his lidded eyes, the smug “heh,” you almost missed made you side eye him. “You were the one who asked me,” he mimicked your voice poorly, “Please please fuck me Sukuna, give me everything.”

While he snickered he assisted in helping you sit in your shared chambers bed while poking and prodding at you and your sensitive bruising body.

Sukuna was chuckling to himself as he pulled the blanket over your lap, “I’ll call for Uraume or one of your little maids to bring you dinner. I’ll tell them you’ve fallen ill and it’s best to let you eat and rest.”

There you sat, watching your husband look back at you one last time with a faint smile before he left. You sat in the silence taking a breath, that was until you heard a familiar scream and the sound of little feet running in your direction, “OI BRAT! I JUST TOLD YOU YOUR MOTHERS ILL!” You laughed silently at Sukuna’s yelling, Yuji who let out a little grunt and shoved with all his weight against the wooden doors, “mmoommyy!!?!” He ran to your side of the bed doing everything to climb up, even pulling your blanket down so he could hold on and pull himself up. When he was finally on the bed he sat on your legs looking up at you with those big round eyes, “Are you okay?” His little hands came together, he was looking at you with so much concern it squeezed your heart making you wanted to kiss all over his face and fawn over him.

So you did, he laughed being pulled into your chest as you kissed all over his face and squeezing him in a tight hug that he did his best to hug you back. “Yes baby I’m alright, daddy and I were just having a discussion and you know your daddy.” Yuji laughed, eyes closing while he smiled big “hehe he breaks things.”

It wasn’t long before Sukuna walked in with one of your ladies, she was holding a tray with your dinner, Yuji bounced off your lap and onto the floor “Wanna go see what daddy broke.” You watched as he ran to your room, pushing past the door. Your lady in waiting helped you adjust yourself to be able to eat whatever was served. That was until you heard Yuji’s loud cheery voice “WERE GETTING A DOGGY!?”

You were confused as you looked at Sukuna and he seemed equally confused until you saw his eyes widen slightly before he went back to a neutral expression.

“Yuji, we are not getting a mutt.” You watched as he got closer to your door and you understood why he came to that idea, you looked down at your food feeling heat rise in your cheeks, “but it even had a name!” Yuji came running out of your room with the bright red collar in hand, an oval token hanging that said “Princess” . He had the biggest smile and was visibly excited.

Your lady in waiting was quick to dismiss herself as you waved her off, “We ARE getting a dog Yuji, come here.” You waved him over moving your tray off your lap, “Y/n- we’re not getting a- we are Ryomen.” You gave him a look and he gave you a look. You were both stuck in a stare off, the tension was there, “Ooouu that’s why daddy broke the bed, he can’t say no.” Sukuna looked taken aback, “I said no! And No is no!” He crossed his arms over his chest staring down at You and Yuji who sat in your lap holding the collar. Yuji looked up at you with a smile kicking his feet waiting to hear what you would say.

“Sukuna.” Your brows raised before you angled your head taking the collar from Yuji, “Why wouldn’t we get a DOG if we have a COLLAR.” you spoke through gritted teeth and he kept a hard stare on you, Yuji brought his little fists up to cover his smile, he was looking up at you with stars in his eyes, if anyone could bend his father like bamboo it was you.

Sukuna sighed and rolled his eyes, “FINE- but I'M choosing it, and NO ONE gets a say.” Yuji’s cheer of pure joy made him kick out his legs and throw out his arms. He was quick to hug you and kiss your chefs before running to his dad hugging his leg, “thank you daddy.” Sukuna couldn’t deny he had a soft spot in his soul for his son, especially when he placed a hand on Yuji’s head giving his head a rub. “Sure brat.”

A week had passed and you were outside with Yuji, he was using a stick like a sword attacking a tree making all sorts of sounds as if he were really fighting for his life.

“Oouuuuaaahhh” Yuji’s hands dropped to his sides when he saw his daddy emerge from the path.

“Mommy…” you were just as shocked. Here came Sukuna tether in hand. Until he got to both of you, “well?”

“Sukuna…” you looked at Yuji who looked excited, his eyes were wide and shining, his smile was big and his little fists were shaking in excitement as he stood there basically vibrating in excitement, “That’s not a dog..”

“IT'S A TIGER!!” You didn’t catch Yuji as he ran and hugged the tiger, your eye was twitching while he buried his face in the tiger's neck, his little arms not enough to encircle the beast.

“It’s better than a mutt,” you watched as he knelt, on arms resting on the tigers back, the other leaving firm pats on the tigers chest. Keeping the tether in his hand. “It’s tame also, she came from a palace where she was used to guard someone’s children, so she’ll take care of Yuji.”

You wanted to reject the idea just to hear Yuji’s little voice “I love you princess.” It squeezed your heart to see how cute he looked hugging her, she sat bringing one of her big paws over his shoulder like she was actually hugging him.

“I don’t think… I don't think it's good.- you hear that Yuji? I don’t think your mom wants us to keep her?” He looked at you while hugging Princess, his eyes started to tear up, dammit you never thought he’d use that against you, much less would it be that effective., “Please mommy?” He was looking up at you, and Sukuna was too, behind his son he had a sly smile, turning your plan against you, then there was princess, who looked up at you, purring while Yuji held on tighter, “Fine- but no Tigers on my bed, and maybe a new name… I don’t think the collar we have was meant for a fully grown… tiger..”

Yuji ran hugging you, “Daddy can get her a new collar and we can think of a new name like… like… lightning!” You snorted trying to not laugh, “Lightning is cute Yu, but I think she needs a better name.” He hummed, thinking while looking around, “What about lilies like the flower?” His little finger pointed past you, you turned to see the tiger lily he was pointing at, “It’s a pretty name if you like it.”

He walked over to Lily, his hands on her cheeks fluffing the tufts of fur, “What do you think lily?” The only response he got was Lily nuzzling his face with her nose, “I think she likes it.”

You looked at Sukuna and didn’t miss the smile on his face and the soft expression on his face. He loved his brat. You knew that he didn’t just find a tiger in some palace, he had to have already planned it to some extent.

Walking to his side you hugged his side, “I love you.” Doing your best with your free hand to pull him down, you kissed his cheek and he let out a “heh” sound. “So how long have you really had this planned?” You cocked a brow with a sure smile, “From the day of Yuji’s birth it was made known to me, one of those fools that live scared behind palace walls imported more than just a few.” You saw the smug look on his face and shook your head with a smile, “You are beyond belief.”

“LOOK” both of you turned to Yuji who had jumped on Lily trying to ride her, “Go lily go!” She only looked back at him and you looked away with a smile before Sukuna dropped the tether, “You heard the boy Lily.”

All you heard was Yuji’s scream when Lily started a decent pace run. Your mouth opened slightly, “su- he’ll be fine.” Was all Sukuna said cutting you off before wrapping both arms on his side around you. “Now, let’s talk about your punishment for defying me so openly in front of my son.” He took your jaw in one of his free hands, making you look up at him, those lidded eyes and sly smile made your nerves tingle, “Oh?”

Tag List: @sad-darksoul @satorisgirl @bontensbabygirl @lupita97lm @queen-luna-007 @venus-seeks @bofadeezs @sakuxxi @mercymccann @certainduckanchor @najiiix @bakugou-katsukis-wife @amitiel-truth @souyasplushie @mylovelessnightmare @ynjimenez @dolliira @princessluvz @furiousblacktiger @anyaswlrd @shytastemakerthing

Here’s my shop btw ����

[windchesterluver]

Just you

Summary: dean fails to understand that you need more then a body guard, you need your boyfriend.

Notes

Word count: 1.1k

Warnings; arguments, mention of s€x



Dean slammed the door of the motel room as you walked in behind him. "You don’t think I care!?" he shouted, louder than intended. "Dean, don't," you pleaded, your exhaustion evident in every breath. You had said the wrong thing in the moment, accusing him of not caring. After that, he had remained silent for the rest of the drive back to the motel, with an iron grip on the wheel. Now, all that pent-up emotion was erupting.

He froze hearing the exhaustion in your voice, but he couldn’t let what you said slide. He cared way to much and took your accusation as a personal attack. “No dont bullshit me…” he tried to keep his voice low but found it hard to control his emotions “of course i care! I care way to much!” He stated firmly taking a step towards you unhappy with the distance. “Can you blame me? Youve barely said anything to me dean!” You exclaimed taking a step closer. Your chests less then three inches from eachother. “Thats what this is about? That im not good with words?” He questioned with clear annoyance. You scoffed crossing your arms “your being mean” you whispered under your breath unable to look him in the face. “Well look in the mirror sweetheart” he said coldly. Your head snapped back in his direction “excuse me!” You shouted in disbelief. “Come on, you've called me mean and uncaring, like i wouldn’t take a bullet for you,” he explained smacking his hands to his side.

“You dont get it!” Your accusation was full of anger, but your face displayed distraught, eyes fixated on your boyfriend. You had to turn around, unable to face him without the feeling of tears gathering in your eyes. His cold expression dropped as you turned your back to him, his chest pang with guilt. He never meant for things to go this far. “Enlighten me, im not a frick’n mind reader” he explained, still with a hint of annoyance. He grabbed your forearm, turning you to face him. He waited in silence, letting you gather your thoughts. Your lip quivered looking up at him, scared of how he might react to the truth.

“I dont want you to jumping infront of a gun, or slaying a demon…i want you to show me you care by talking to me…and we never talk” Dean's expression fell, his once intense glare now fading into a look of quiet hurt. Keeping loved ones safe was all he knew; it was his only way of loving, never knowing you needed more then that. “Just to talk?” He questioned almost not believing you. You crossed your arms and bit your lip to hold back tears as you nodded “just one conversation that dosnt lead to a hunt or fùcking…i just want you” you explained whipping a stray tear from your cheek. He swallowed the lump in his throat “i didnt know you wanted that” he said quietly, taking a step towards you.

“De..” you tried to protest, but your words were swallowed by his actions. Drawing you into his arms, holding you with a grip that conveyed more than words ever could. You relaxed against him “i don't need a hunter…i need my boyfriend” you mumbled into his shoulder. His hand found its way to your hair, smoothing over it softly “I'm sorry” he whispered in your ear with a wavering tone. He was filled with such anger towards himself that holding you was the only thing preventing him from breaking something.

“Can we talk now?” You asked softly, removing your head from his shoulder but remaining in his embrace. He nodded silently “I'm all ears.” He reassured you. A small smile appeared on your face “About you” his eyes narrowed “About me?” He repeated back. You silently nodded looking up at him with wondering eyes. “Anything Dean” you explained seeing how long it was taking him. “You know, when i was a kid, i wanted to be a fireman” he admitted with a small smile. Your eyes widened “Really?” He nodded “i thought rescuing people was pretty badass, oh and the fire trucks were sweet” he explained staring into your amazed eyes. You chuckled at his comments “You’d be a great firefighter Dean” his smile dropped slightly “Yeah, maybe in another life”

“This.” You mumbled quietly. Deans head tilted not understanding what you meant “i like this.” You restated, moving back and taking his hands in yours. He smiled at your words, finally understanding. He liked. This too, just being here with you, holding you, talking with you. He felt like such a fool for not realizing sooner. “Yeah, me to…” he spoke softly bringing his thumb under your chin, tilting it up slightly so he could connect his lips to yours. His hand traced down to your hips, pushing you against him as his lips continued to graze yours.

“Your everything” you breathed against him. He pulled back, taking all of you in. “But let's not fûck tonight” you smiled placing your hands on his chest. He chucked leaning his head back “How dos dinner and a long late-night talk sound” he suggested raising his eyebrows. You smiled widely, reaching your arms around his shoulders to bring your lips back to his. “Id love that”

[parfaitblogs]

illicit affairs ❀ s. reid x reader

in which you want more than spencer reid can give you. 

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader genre: angst (18+ for suggestive content) tags: relation(situation)ship. s7 spencer. mentions of past intimacy. unrequited feelings. spencer's not the best person ever. kinda fade to black & unhappy ending (welcome back june parfaitblogs). reader has kinda bad self-worth. word count: 2.5k a/n: soooo fucking cliche man chases the girl after she leaves. im sorry. except im not. so sorry for whatever ooc thing spencer reid does in this. except it isnt ooc. tell me he didnt have a whore phase in s7. u cant. im sorry this is soooo dialogue heavy LOL.

Fractured shards of your soul scatter this apartment. 

This Godforsaken green-walled, quaint apartment, that you had spent so much of your time in. Nights, not days, because his days were spent yearning for an engaged woman. His nights, however, were reserved for you. Most of them, at least. Some of them. A few of them. Not many of them at all, actually.

It was a little embarrassing; how much of yourself you were willing to disrespect for some attention from a man who probably didn't think much about you outside of your presence inside his walls. But then he would touch you, and he would kiss you, and all self-deprecation will go out the window. For he is so gentle, and he knows every single crevice and button to press on your body like he speaks its language. 

Embarrassing.

It started innocently. A night spent with him after you had been broken up with, resulting in one awful decision that led to the other. Crying in his arms, to kissing him, to having sex, which he was rebutting all up until it actually happened. Rambling about transference while still leaving open-mouthed kisses down your neck, shaking his head because you two should not be doing this. 

A week later you went back to him. You were sad, in your defence, and Spencer Reid was your friend first. He was good at distracting you, you learned. You would cry, and thus, he would make you come to forget about it. Like clockwork. 

At some point it changed from a coping mechanism, to an emotional necessity. You stopped thinking about your broken heart, and instead about how good Spencer was to you. Which might've been your biggest mistake.

You were not to him what he was to you anymore. 

And maybe he knew that. A laughable idea, because Spencer Reid, who could be slapped in the face with a poster that said I am in love with you in big bold letters, would still be oblivious to it all. But maybe he knew.

You had to ask this time to come over. Maybe pathetic, how much of your self-worth you relied on whether or not a man you weren't even dating wanted to see you. How much of your world had crumbled around you because it had been two weeks and he hadn't spoken to you outside of discussing a case. 

It was definitely pathetic how small you felt as you sat in the corner of his couch, a glass of water you didn't really want to drink encased in your palms, condensation seeping into your skin. In your defence, it didn't usually go like this. Usually, it took you all of three seconds to get insidehis apartment before he started kissing you. Why wasn't he kissing you?

You could hear the faint sound of shuffling behind you, glasses clinking together and ceramics settling on the marble countertop. The only other indicator Spencer was even there was his irregular breathing. Irregular from what, you didn't know. 

Another beat of silence passed, and with it, your patience. You set the glass down on the coffee table — something he would’ve scolded you over if not for the thick layer of tension between you two.

"Did you not want me to come over?" You regret the words the second they're out of your mouth, and they uncomfortably pierce the air, only to be followed by another thick blanket of fucking silence. You had already said it — you might as well commit. "Spencer?" 

You lifted your gaze from its fixated position on your lap to find him standing still in the kitchen, a bowl in his hands, still damp from its time in the dishwasher. 

"You know you're always welcome here," he replied when you had locked gazes. 

"That's not what I asked," you said, readjusting your body, chest pressed up against the back of the couch, chin resting atop its ledge. You watched as he dried the bowl and put it away, his shoulders deflating, before he turned back to face you. 

"I do want you here," he said, but even with the finality in his voice, you were sceptical. 

"Are you sure?" you despised the insecurity that seeped into your tone.

He stilled again, and even with the distance between you two, you could see gears turning behind his eyes, coming up with a response that wouldn't break your heart, probably. Because he knew.

He could lie. Say that yes, he is sure, and he does want you in his apartment right now, and he wasn't simply entertaining your own desires. Desires that he seemingly had grown tired of. But you would figure him out immediately, and maybe he knew that as well. Stupidly smart Spencer Reid thinking ahead, frustratingly so. 

Instead, he said your name, in an awfully cautious tone. Maybe lying would've hurt less. He took a step around the kitchen counter, ever so slowly closing the distance between you two. 

"It's okay if you don't want me here," you tell him, forcing a reassuring smile and stopping him in his tracks. "You're not forced to amuse me."

"Do you think that's what I'm doing?"

"Yes. You've hardly said a word to me, and I've been here twenty minutes," you rebutted. 

"I told you on the phone that I had some maintenance chores to do." Okay, true. "Once they're done, I'm all yours."

You shouldn't say anything. You knew that. The words on the tip of your tongue would cause an argument, and he had just technically promised to do what you both knew you had come to do, and after two weeks of hearing nothing, any attention from him was good attention. You shouldn't.

But you did. "Are you really?"

His eyes closed and a harsher breath of air expelled through his nose, his hands flexing by his side as he took a moment to respond. "What does that mean?"

"Are you really all mine?" you cringed even as you asked the question. And, you already knew the answer. 

"What do you want my answer to be?"

You could scream. "That isn't fair, Spencer."

"Do you want it to be yes?"

You didn't want to answer that honestly, too afraid of the rejection that was sure to follow. "Does it matter?"

"Yes, this is a relationship, and relationships need communication—"

"—A relationship?" you repeated back to him, incredulously. "You think this is a relationship?" 

Fingers dug into his eyes, and his shoulders sagged further. "What is it, then?"

"Convenient." The word stung even you, despite being the one to have said it. 

Or maybe it didn't hurt him. For he responded, in an achingly calm tone, "Explain that to me."

"Don't use profiling techniques on me," you countered, and he watched as your walls shot up around you. 

"Asking you to explain something to me isn't a profiling technique," he said, taking another step towards your residence on the couch.

"No, but the tone of voice you're using is."

"Would you rather I yell at you?"

"No—Spencer," you stammered so frustratingly in an attempt to come up with a response, emotions taking authority of your brain functions. "I come here when I'm sad, we fuck, I go home. That's all this is. That isn't a relationship."

"I could argue what a relationship legitimately is."

"Please don't."

"Okay," he agreed with a short nod. "Do you want more out of this arrangement, then?"

"Can you give me more if I do?"

His silence was answer enough, and so slowly but surely, you were untangling your limbs from themselves on the couch, and planting your feet on the floor.

"Where are you going?" he asked as you stood up.

"Home," you replied, curtly, and he watched in a still silence as you left. 

The slam of his apartment door was loud, and it echoed throughout the hall. Feet pattered against the stairs as you descended them, quickly, because your tears were forming fast and you were attempting to beat exposure to the outside world before they started to fall down your face. 

But the universe had other plans for you, and your named reverberated throughout the final staircase you had to descend. Your lips pulled into a line in an attempt to neutralise your expression, and you turned at the base of the stairs.

"You want more with me," he said, admittedly a little breathless from chasing you the way he did. 

"Glad you could deduce that one, Doctor."

A frustrated huff left his lips. "Stop shutting me out."

"I'm not doing this here," you replied, taking another step back — that he matched, stepping down a step. "Spencer."

"No, we are. If you are going to walk out of my apartment, then we're having this conversation here."

"I don't even want to have this conversation," you argued. 

"Yes you do."

"You don't know me."

"Yes I do." When you opened your mouth to argue again, he was quick to cut you off. "You want more with me, but you're too scared of me rejecting you, so you're brushing it off as something unimportant, in hopes that I'll forget about it so things can go back to what they were before."

"God forbid."

His lips pursed. "Can you be an adult about this?" 

Your heart stuttered uncomfortably in your chest, and he stared expectingly at you for minutes. Minutes that you let pass, your breaths shallow as you stared up at him, boring holes into his own eyes. Then, "Are you going to reject me?" 

"Yes, but—"

Oh.

Somewhere your name was said once, then twice, but it all sounded far too distant, submerged underwater, maybe. Your brain muddling with every single thought it had ever conjured up in all your years of living, to the point where you couldn't even figure out if the tears burning your eyes were actually there, communications in your brain on lockdown. 

You were detached from your own body as a hand was placed on your shoulder, your eyes flickering over to Spencer's face, which was an alarming amount closer than before. It was his hand, you figured, which meant he was watching you have this breakdown, and suddenly the thought of being like this in front of him was far worse than anything he could've said to you. 

"Okay," you said, almost breathlessly, stumbling back a few steps, nodding your head, and blinking away the tears all at once. "Which is fine, by the way. Because this isn't a relationship. And we agreed on casual sex, so really, you're not doing anything surprising, and I should've expected this. Yeah."

"Can you please look at me?" You hadn't even realised your gaze was flitting around the place until he said it, and you forced your eyes to rest on his face again. "Yeah, there you go. Hi. Deep breath."

You took in the gulp of air, despite it still being shallow from your onslaught of emotions, matching your rhythm with his own. He repeated the act a few more times, until you had settled into less violent gasps, and he was sure you were grounded with him again. 

"You back with me?" he asked just in case, his voice horrifically gentle, and you wordlessly nodded your head. "Can we talk about this, now?"

"In your stairwell?"

"I don't think you want to walk all the way up to my apartment again," he said, and he was correct; you didn't. "I would reject you. That's true."

"Which you're allowed to do," you answered, quietly. 

"I am," he agreed with a nod. "If that isn't okay with you, then tell me. We can call this off right now."

"And what?" you asked, ugly emotions clawing their way up your throat again. "Go back to how things were before?"

"Well, yes—"

"—No, Spencer!" you snapped, and he seemingly hadn't expected it. At all. "I can't go back to normal with you, not after this. Sex is fucking intimate, and it is scary, and you have seen me at my absolute worst and still slept with me these last few months. You have seen parts of me I refuse to share with anyone, because I trusted you."

"I didn't force you to do that," he countered. "You showed me every single side of you on your own accord. So do not paint me to be a villain."

"I'm not trying to," your voice was desperate, and if you weren't so busy using your hands to talk animatedly, you might be tearing out your hair by now. "I just—I don't get it. How was it so casual for you? How can you go back to what we had before all of this like it's nothing?" 

"All of this was never anything serious. We agreed on that."

"No. No, don't explain what this was to me. I know what it was. Answer the question."

How was he so calm? His eyes searching your own now tear-filled ones, but the crease in his brows was the only indicator of any emotion, for his body was alarmingly relaxed. 

He exhaled, "I don't know what to tell you. What do you want to hear?"

"The truth."

"I don't have feelings for you," he said, voice so curt you wondered if it was the way he said it, or what he said, that shattered your barely mended heart. Again. 

"Which is fine," you repeated the phrase, because maybe if you said it enough, you'll start to believe it. 

"So, do you want to call this off?" 

"We should."

He only nodded in agreement; a violent reminder that you weren't imagining the things he was saying to you. This wasn't a bad dream, and he was actually telling you the relationship you had built up in your head wasn't real. 

"I don't want to," you murmured, voice pathetically small, shrinking in your shoes beneath him. "I really like you, Spencer."

"Which is why we should call this off," he reasoned, and you wanted to scream.

"Are you going to be even a little sad if we do?" He parted his lips, and a beat of silence passed. And then you were stepping back, puffing out a strained breath of air, nodding your head in understanding. "I should go."

"You won't talk to me if we call it off," he said before you could get too far from him. When you turned to look at him again, he added, "Will you?"

"No."

"Then yes. I'll be sad."

"Because I won't talk to you?"

"Yes."

You stared at him for a beat longer. "Not because you won't have a fuck buddy anymore?"

"You were never just a fuck buddy," he said, exasperated, the phrase sounding foreign on his tongue. Sorry for exasperating you.

"No. But I'm not enough to like, right?" 

He said your name, and stepped off the staircase he had been residing on, lowering the height difference between you two. "You are enough to like."

"Not to you!" "I am not the only man in the world."

The bottomless pit in your stomach grew larger, only because to you he was. To you, he was everything. And you felt things far too big, and the realisation that he had never and will never see you that way was a world-shattering discovery. 

You sighed, lowering your gaze to the floor. "We never should have started this."

"I agree." 

"I'm gonna go."

He opened his mouth, then closed it, seemingly deciding against arguing with you any more. He merely nodded his head, and forced a smile. "Yeah."

"Bye, Spencer."

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated ♡

[r4fe-cam3ron]

— YOU WERE THE BEST, BUT YOU WERE THE WORST. | ex-boyfriend!r. cameron x reader

warnings; this is not canon to ‘outer banks’! this will definitely be a slight ooc rafe, slight fluff (short lived, i’m so sorry), hurt, no comfort </3, angst this is so long i apologize.

an; starting off my exbf!rafe masterlist RIGHT (hopefully, maybe) with this piece. honestly don’t know where the plot came from </3 i was thinking of what to right and was listening to ‘i love you, im sorry’ and it popped up in my head thankfully. feel free to leave requests for rafe/ex!rafe as well! but again — i am only on the second season sadly (soon i’ll be on the third! i’m just bad about watching shows). so any rafe requests will pertain to s1 & s2 as of right now! okay, i am done ranting - apologies </3

Double date night - something that you rarely look forward to, even if it’s just once every four months. Especially since it’s still slightly awkward between John B and Rafe, though, you don’t mind the boy. And you love spending time with Sarah. 

Sarah glances at you from the other side of the table, lifting her brows slightly. “We’ll be right back.” She stands from her chair, holding her hand out towards yours. You take her hand, standing with a small smile. 

“You both have to go at the same time?” Rafe asks, brows pinched slightly as he glances between the two of you, crystal blues lingering on you. John B discreetly nods in agreement. 

“Yes,” Sarah answers before you could say anything. “You wouldn’t understand. We’ll be back in five,” She pulls you with her but stops and turns once again. “Try not killing one another while we’re gone.” Her eyes stay on Rafe longer than John B. 

“Mhm.” He waves his hand, slumping back into his chair slightly. Sarah grins and pulls you towards the bathroom once again, stepping inside. 

“So?” She drops your hand. You turn towards her. “Did you open it?” 

“No,” You shake your head quickly. “I don’t…” Sighing, your shoulders drop. “I don’t know how to tell Rafe I even sent in an application,” Sarah’s smile slowly fades and her head tilts slightly. 

“He thinks I agreed on staying here with him while Ward is giving him more opportunities. After a year,” You lean against the sink. “I don’t know if he’ll be happy about it. Especially with it being so far.” 

“It’s a six hour drive,” Sarah deadpans. You stare down at the ground. Sure, it wasn’t that far. But you’d truly be homesick. She leans next to you. “Who knows, he might go with you.” 

“Yeah, right,” You scoff. “His home is here. He’s made that clear already, Sarah. Besides, I don’t even know if I’m going to go.” 

Sarah stares at you - eyes narrowed. “This is your future,” She points at you. “Rafe…he loves you,” She nods, face softening. “And he wants the best for you. He’ll understand. But the longer you wait to tell him…” She trails off, lips pressing into a tight line. 

You sigh and nod. Rafe will be, well, angry - even if the anger would be unnecessary. “I’ll talk to him,” You nod. “But, it’ll only be just a…hypothetical question I’ll ask.” 

Sarah groans slightly, shaking her head. “Insufferable, I tell you,” She mutters, pushing her hair back. “Alright, let’s get back out there so they’re not alone much longer.” 

You nod and follow her back to the table, sitting back down next to Rafe. His arm slings around the back of your chair within a matter of seconds and you lean into the touch, goosebumps raising slightly from where the tips of his fingers trace across your arm. 

Fumbling with your fingers on your lap, you’re unaware of how zoned out you are. 

You’ve always wanted to go to college - prove and make something of yourself and not end up like another woman on Kildare Island who marries for money and then stays in an unhappy relationship with a man who could care less if she even went missing. 

Your mother and father as an example. 

You’re not unhappy with Rafe, and you also know he’d do anything for you if you asked him - the food on his plate, the shirt off his back, anything. 

But, again, this is a chance to prove yourself - especially after many demeaning comments made in passing by friends or family. They always burned even if you laughed them off, nodding in agreement, then cry yourself to sleep that night. 

University of Georgia. Sarah was right. It was only a six hour drive - you could come back on weekends and stay. Yet, you still weren't sure if you’d gotten in. The letter was on your desk, sealed, and waiting to be ripped open with anxious hands. 

“You okay?” You blink a couple of times, looking over to meet Rafe’s gaze, his face melted with slight worry. 

“Yeah,” You smile softly. Sarah watches quietly. “Yeah, I’m okay. Just tired.” You whisper softly. 

Rafe nods and takes that as his cue, reaching into his wallet. “Here’s our half,” He passes Sarah the cash. “I have work early in the morning, so we are gonna go ahead and head out.” 

Sarah nods and stands, pulling you into a hug as Rafe stands off to the side, waiting patiently, though his stance was awkward. “Text me.” She whispers. You only nod, pulling away. 

“Bye, John B.” You wave as Rafe’s arm wraps around your waist, pulling you towards the exit. John B waves with a soft smile. 

You shiver when you step outside. “Dude is so weird,” Rafe mumbles, shaking his head as he pulls open the door for you. “Didn’t even talk the whole time you and Sarah were in the bathroom.” 

You roll your eyes and look at him. “Did you even try talking to him?” 

His bottom lip pushes out slightly as he shakes his head. “Nope,” He shuts the door and you watch as he rounds the truck, getting into the driver's side, quickly starting the engine. “Seat-warmer? On or off?” 

“On, please,” You watch as his finger presses the button. “And how do you expect him to start a conversation when he doesn’t know what to talk about with you?” 

“He could’ve said or asked anything. I’m an open book - I’ll let you know if I want to talk about it or not.” 

You hum and nod, leaning your head back into the headrest as your eyes slowly close. 

“Hey,” Slowly opening your eyes, you peek over at him. “Are you okay? You seem…” He trails off, trying and thinking of a word that doesn't seem offensive. “off?” 

“Oh,” You nod, reaching your hand over to grab him. He grips softly three times. “Yeah. I’m okay.” 

Rafe stares at you quietly. He knows you’re lying but he’s not the type to push unless it truly affects him. You’ll come to him when you want to talk about whatever is on your mind. 

Nodding, he squeezes your hand back three times. A smile pulls at your lips as your eyes drop to your hands. 

—

“I’ll be back. I’m gonna go grab something to drink,” You step out of the bathroom, dressy clothes switched for one of Rafe’s shirts and some shorts - movie attire. “You want anything?” He shakes his head and puts his phone down on the nightstand. 

“I’m good.” 

Nodding, you walk down the steps, leaving Rafe alone in your room. You move quickly, grabbing a water bottle from the refrigerator and a pack of gummy’s that were still in the bag from the quick grocery run you both had made earlier. 

Jogging back up the steps, you smile and kick your door shut gently. “Did you find a—” You stop when you see Rafe closer than expected, standing by your desk with an envelope in his hand. 

He holds it up. “What is this?” 

You shift, gulping quietly and averting your gaze but quickly look back. “Uhm…a letter.” 

“Yeah,” He scoffs, stepping closer. “I see that it’s a letter. When did you even apply?” 

You lift your right shoulder - a quick shrug, eyes now looking at the envelope he now holds rather than his face. “F…four months ago?” You wince, peeking up at him quickly before looking back down. “I was going to tell you—”

“Oh, you were?” 

“Yes,” You quickly nod. “Yes, I was. I haven’t even opened it. But even if I did get in, I don’t know if I’d truly go, Rafe. You’re overreacting.” 

“You never even told me you wanted to go to college,” He shakes his head, fingers itching to either crumble the letter or rip it. He was trying to hold it together. “We had a plan, remember?” 

“What plan? The one where we stay here while you work and I stay home and do the same thing over and over everyday? Have a kid or two?” Your eyes now lift to look at him. 

“Yes! That one,” He holds his arms out towards you. “The one we both agreed too.” 

“I never agreed to that. You made that plan yourself and just filled me in on it - never once asking what I wanted,” You scoff, pushing past him. “If you truly believed that’s what I wanted, you don’t know me at all.” 

“Then tell me what you actually want.” 

“I want a life!” You drop the stuff in your hands onto your mattress, turning towards him. “A life! One where…where I get a degree in something I enjoy! Or even own a little shop and sell…antiques or food or whatever,” 

“I don’t even know if I want kids, Rafe. I want…” You trail off, looking at him as you feel your eyes begin to sting. Don’t cry, don’t cry, do not cry. “I want someone who wants to…move, explore, do something that they want instead of listening to their parents because they think it’ll make them happy.” 

“You think I’m working there just to make my dad happy? You don’t think working there makes me happy?” 

It doesn’t. He’s been more angry - even at the littlest things. He looks more drained, tired. He doesn’t enjoy it, but if it gets his fathers praise or attention, he’ll do it. 

“No. I don’t,” You shake your head. You debated on even answering that question, but you notice how his expression changes slightly, the anger wavering. You step closer, staring up at him. “I know you aren’t happy, because I know you,” You place your hands on his chest softly. 

“I know you. But you don’t even know what I want.”

Rafe is silent now. You notice he’s grasping at straws to find something to say. Something to fight back with. You wait patiently, allowing him to conjure up something. 

“Me,” He lands on, brows slightly pinching together. You notice how tears line his waterline. “Me. You want me. A life with me.” 

“I do…I do so badly, Rafe,” You whisper, hands lifting to cup his cheeks. The tears roll down his cheeks now. He rarely ever cries. “But I also don’t want a life like my mom and dad,” Your thumbs push away at the tears. 

“I can’t have you getting upset or angry with me because I want to do something with my life,” You drop your chin slightly to follow his eyes when he looks away. “Georgia isn’t far away and you’re acting as if it is.” 

“That’s not…” His jaw clenches and he pulls away from your hold. You drop your hands by your side, watching as his eyes shut and he forcibly shakes his head quickly. “No. You’re being confusing. I’m not…I’m not angry or upset with this,” He holds up the letter. 

“I’m angry that you didn’t even want to talk to me about it.” 

“I have,” His head quickly turns to look at you. “I’ve told you so many times, Rafe, that I wanted to go. Because of how many times I’ve been told I’m not even smart enough to get into a school like that - that I’ll end up just like them.” 

“That’s being hypocritical, don’t you think?” 

Your face drops into confusion, head tilting. “What?” 

“You want to go to college to…prove yourself or whatever,” He waves his hand in the air. “But…you’re telling me I’m working for my dad because I want to get his praise or attention.” 

“That’s different—”

“It’s not any different,” His voice raises slightly, your mouth quickly shutting and eyes darting away as your arms cross over your chest. “We both want to prove ourselves to our parents and whoever else has doubted what we could do,” It feels weird to Rafe to admit that out loud. 

He looks down at the letter and holds it out towards you. Your eyes glance at him before his outstretched arm. “Open it.” 

Your eyes quickly look at him once again. Hesitantly, you reach out and pull the sealed letter from his grasp. Flipping it over, you try not to seem too desperate when ripping it open. The envelope falls to the ground as you unfold the paper, eyes darting over the words. 

Congratulations. 

Congratulations. 

A smile pulls at your lips, eyes looking up at Rafe who stands there, watching quietly. “I got in,” You whisper. He nods slightly and looks down at the paper that shakes slightly in your grasp. “I got in.” You voice a little louder, looking back at the letter. The tears that finally break loose and slide down your cheeks, drop onto the paper. 

“Congratulations.” Rafe nods. You quickly look back at him, placing the paper on your desk, stepping closer. 

“You could come with me,” You nod quickly, smiling softly as your hands cup his cheeks once again. “Yeah. You could come with me. We could get a small apartment close to the college - I wouldn’t have to live on campus,” 

He stares at you quietly. “We could actually live together. Come down every two or three weeks to visit friends and whoever else,” Your smile would usually be contagious - now it just makes him angry. Your touch is making it feel as if you’re burning him. 

“We could also stay for the weekend since it’s only a six hour drive,” You let out a small laugh, dropping your hands to his shoulders. “Rafe, come on. Act a little more—”

“What, happy?” His tone causes the smile to slip from your lips. His hands lift to wrap around your wrist, pushing your touch away from him. 

“Well, yeah,” You stare at him. “I’m…I’m telling you we could actually live together in our own space and you’re not even…” You trail off. 

“Yeah, well, I’m not exactly too happy that you decided it would be okay for me to just uproot my life from here to go with you.” Oh, Rafe, shut up, shut up, shut up.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“That I’m not doing that!” He throws his hands up. “I’m not leaving everything behind here that I’ve slowly worked through! Dad would never let me hear the end of it.” 

“Is this about me or your dad? Do you not remember when you used to come here just because he would kick you out for weeks before even letting you come back home?” Your own voice begins to raise. “Do you seriously trust him enough to work with him or is it just for the money that he is able to provide?” 

His jaw clenches and he shakes his head. “I don’t have to listen to this,” He walks past you and grabs the duffle bag that sits on your chair. You turn and watch him, lips parting as he begins to stuff his things into his bag. “I don’t have to listen to your version of a ‘perfect life’ when I can have that.” 

It’s like he’s trying to convince himself that he would still have that perfect life when you decide to leave everything behind - leave him behind. 

“You don’t think we could build something up together and have that be perfect?” You walk over towards him as he turns. He stops and stares down at you. “You don’t think we could build our own home together? Something better than here?” 

His lips pull into a tight line so he doesn’t say something he regrets. He steps into the bathroom, removing his stuff before stepping back towards his back. 

“Rafe…” You watch him. “Rafe, please. Why are you being like this? I just want you to talk—”

“I’m angry because you can leave but I can’t!” He turns towards you. You stumble back slightly but quickly regain composure, eyes widened slightly. “You can leave everything behind and you’ll be fine. But if I do…” He lets out a laugh which sounds more like a scoff before shaking his head. “I’m not you. I care too much.” 

“You…” You watch as he zips up his bag. “You think I don’t care? Why do you think I wanted you to come with me?!” 

“Money.” 

The anger that builds in your chest makes you feel as if you’re sweating profusely. “I would never be with you just because of the money and you know it, Rafe,” You jab your finger into his chest. “I love you! That’s why I wanted you to come with me! This whole argument could’ve been avoided if you’d just understand me!” 

“Yeah, well,” He grabs his keys from your desk. “You said you didn’t want to end up like your parents.” 

“Rafe, don’t do this,” You step closer. “You’re being irrational for no reason.” 

He glances back at you one last time - watches how your lip quivers, eyes pleading with him. “Please.” You whisper. His eyes drift over towards your desk, the letter on top taunting him. 

He steps out of your room, slamming the door behind himself. You stand there, staring at the closed door waiting for the moment he steps back in, laughing in your face about how he got you and you’d punch him in the arm. The night would continue with a movie and sour gummy worms. 

Yeah. That sounds perfect. 

But the sound of the front door opening and closing downstairs and the start of his truck has that wish shattering. You rush towards your window, peeking out the curtains. His tires squeal on the pavement as he backs out and speeds off. 

Pulling back, you slowly walk towards your bed and sit on the edge. Your eyes stare at the floor as your hands rest in your lap. Your heart beats uncomfortably fast. 

You slowly reach for your phone, immediately texting Sarah to come over. 

After the texts she sent go unanswered, she’s there within ten minutes and running up the steps. Opening the door, her eyes dart around the room, before they land on you. 

You slowly look over at her. “I got in.” 

Her smile is immediately, mouth parting to speak but she quickly stops when she watches your face crumble, a sob leaving your throat. The door shuts and she quickly walks over, pulling you close to her.

You cry until your eyes are heavy and your throat hurts. You pull away slowly and Sarah looks at you sadly. Your eyes linger on her skin, reaching over and wiping away your tears that had fallen, making a slight face. “I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t apologize,” She shakes her head, reaching for your hand. “What happened?”

The explanation was hard to get through, some tears and pauses along the way but Sarah nods, face remaining morphed into sadness. 

“Then he left.” 

Sarah lets out a small sigh. “I mean, he was rejected from that college. Maybe he’s just…” Your brows furrow slightly, head tilting. “Maybe he’s angry at himself - which doesn’t excuse—”

“Wait,” You quickly cut her off. “What do you mean, he was rejected from that college? When did Rafe even apply?” 

She stares at you quietly. “Uh,” She shifts. She thought Rafe might’ve told you - she thought wrong. “He applied last year. He was so excited when he got the letter. He had me open it because he was so nervous,”

Looking down at the loose thread on Sarah’s shorts, you frown at the thought of Rafe being excited then learning that it wasn’t what he was expecting. “He thought I was being mean,” Sarah nods. “I actually felt bad for him. He was…Rafe is smart - when he puts his mind to it. He had the grades for it. Especially when you two started talking,” 

Your eyes lift and she smiles sadly. “He hammered down then,” She nods. “Dad offered to, uh…” She shifts uncomfortably and messes with the bracelet on your wrist. “He offered to pay the school a lump sum of money.” 

“Rafe told him no, because he wanted to get in without that kind of help,” Sarah nods. “Dad laughed. He told Rafe he wasn’t sure why he thought he would be able to get in. He left for four days after that.” 

Thinking back, you remember one time when Rafe had come to your home closer to his graduation. He seemed more sad than what he usually did. When he stepped in, he mumbled some excuse about Rose wanting him out. 

“I never knew any of that. He didn’t tell me.” 

“I know,” Sarah nods. “That still doesn’t give him any right to say and do what he did to you though.” 

You nod, looking towards the picture frame on your dresser, shoulders dropping slightly. “I don’t know if I can leave now.” 

“Hey, no,” Sarah grabs your face and turns it back, lowering them to your shoulders once you’re staring at him. “You’re not backing out on this. This is your chance to have a future. You can talk to Rafe, but do not let him change your mind about going.” 

“This could’ve been avoided, Sarah.” Your lip quivers and head shakes. 

“It could’ve,” She agrees with a small nod. “But him seeing that letter did not need to cause this,” She motions towards your face. Did not need to cause crying for almost an hour straight. “He has every reason to be upset or jealous - whatever he feels. But he should feel happy for you.This is a big accomplishment.” 

Nodding a bit, you smile softly. “I’ll try talking to him,” She nods. “Thank you for coming. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” 

She smiles. “Not a lot.” She teases. 

You laugh softly, leaning your cheek over onto her arm that remains close to you. “Do you mind staying?” You whisper. 

“Not at all.”

—

| FOUR MONTHS LATER. 

| I know you’re not speaking to me. But I'd really like to see you before I leave. 

| Say a proper goodbye. 

| Please come with Sarah. 

READ AT 12:30PM. 

Your heart breaks but it’s something you’ve grown used to over the four months away from Rafe. Quickly dropping your phone, you look over when the door opens. 

Your mom smiles softly when she sees you folding a shirt, stuffing it into a suitcase. You’re leaving some clothes home, in your room, but taking some with you. Your dad had given you a free range of spending after learning about getting accepted. 

That’s the first time you’ve ever felt as if he was proud of you. 

“I can’t believe you're leaving me,” You turn and send your mom a small smile. “I’ll be home every four weeks unless something important comes up. And for holidays. You could also come see me.” 

“I don’t like driving and neither does your dad, you know that,” There’s something that wavers in her voice that has a frown pulling at your lips and fingers gripping the material you hold. She steps closer and clears her throat. “Are you sure you want to leave early?” 

You stare at her quietly for a moment as you actually think about backing out of this whole thing. You wanted to leave a month early so you can explore a new place, maybe meet some new friends. But you also didn’t want to leave everyone else behind. 

But you wanted to leave everyone behind at the same time. 

A part of you felt bad for leaving your mom - although another part doesn’t. She never really showed she cared, but maybe that wasn’t her fault. 

“I’m sure. I want to make sure I know where everything is,” You nod, turning back to your bag. You finish with the shirt in your hand, zipping up your bag. “Sarah, John B, and everyone's on their way to say bye.” 

She doesn’t know about the fight with Rafe. And you did not want to tell her - she’d find some way to blame you for it. 

You also didn’t feel like crying once again. 

She nods and smiles softly. “Come with me. Your dad said he’d get your bags.” 

You're surprised, but nod and follow behind her down the steps. Your dad was in the kitchen, giving you a small smile in passing before he walked upstairs. 

You turn your attention back, eyes dropping to a box. “What’s this?” 

“A care package,” She nods. You eye it before looking at her. “Do you…remember those homemade cookies we used to make with one another?” 

“Oh, I don’t—”

“I made some,” She quickly cuts you off. You, of course, remember making those cookies. They were the best cookies you’ve ever tasted - nothing has yet to top them yet. You were smush surprised she even made them. “Last night. I was…I was up late making this with some of the other snacks you used to like as well.” 

You pull the box closer, opening it and peeking inside. Your heart stops for a moment before glancing up. “Mom—”

She circles around and grabs your biceps softly. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there the most when you needed me,” Your eyes begin to sting. “When you were older. I should’ve stuck up more for you and been there. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” 

She pulls you towards her quickly, squeezing you tightly. You can’t remember the last time you hugged either one of your parents. Not one of those side hugs, or hugs that you do for a family portrait and quickly pull away after the flash goes off. 

An actual bone-crushing hug. 

Your arms slowly wrap around her, before your eyes slowly squeeze shut, moving closer. 

“My baby,” She whispers, pulling away and pressing a kiss to your temple. “I’m so sorry.” 

You smile softly, shaking your head quickly. “It’s okay.” You whisper, breath shuddering slightly as you wipe your tears with the back of your hand. She reaches up and wipes at your other cheek. 

“I’m so, so proud of you, you know?” 

It’s strange. The words she says have your face crumbling and another shaky breath escaping you. You never knew if she was truly ever proud of you or not - you still wasn’t for sure, the words could just be in the moment - but it still renders you breathless all the same. 

You jump slightly when you hear a honk outside. Your eyes dart towards the front door before glancing at your mom. She nods. “I’ll get your dad to carry this out too.” 

You nod and start to walk out of the kitchen. You pause and turn back around, hugging her tightly. “I love you, Mom.” You whisper softly. 

Her arms tighten once more for a second before releasing slightly. “I love you, sunshine.” Suddenly, you’re a little girl again, beaming at her when you pull away. 

You quickly walk outside, smiling softly when you see the people who are standing outside, waiting by your car. Walking over, JJ is the first to see you. 

“Hello, Miss Georgia.” He grins, walking over. Everyone glances over. You embrace him in a hug, smiling softly. 

“Hello, JJ,” You laugh softly, pulling away. “Thanks for coming. Sorry that it’s gonna be a short goodbye too - I want to get going before traffic hits.” 

“Then we better get to it,” Topper says from the side. “There’s a concert going on today.” 

You hum softly and hug JJ once again, patting his back softly. “Don’t get yourself into too much trouble.” 

“No promises.” It sounds like he sniffles at the end, but you pull away to hug Pope next as JJ turns and fixes his hat. 

“Make good choices and study.” He reminds you. You pull away and stare at him, grinning. 

“You’re so studious, Pope.” 

He smiles softly and pulls you into another quick hug, patting your back before moving to stand next to JJ. You hug Topper and Kelce next - a side hug, but it was still nice of them to come tell you goodbye. 

You hug Kiara next, promising to text her and send her pictures of the sunsets - mountains, too, if you go hiking. 

John B gives you a small smile. Sarah pushes him slightly. “She doesn’t bite,” She shakes her head. “Well—”

“Hush, Sarah,” You warn, hugging John B. You lower your voice. “Take care of her, okay?” 

He nods and steps away. You smile at Sarah and hug her tightly, feeling her fingers grip at the material of your shirt. “I’m sorry he didn’t come. I tried.” She whispers. 

You nod. “It’s okay…” You whisper. Pulling away, you smile and take a look at everyone. 

“I love you guys,” You nod. “Thanks for being here. It means a lot.” 

“Anything for you,” JJ smiles. “But we can’t watch you leave. Otherwise, we will follow you.” 

Letting out a small laugh, you nod. “Then you guys better go. I’m about to leave after I tell mom and dad bye.” You motion over your shoulder. 

They all walk towards their cars, goodbye’s and ‘I’ll see you soon’ filling the space. You watch as everyone disappears before turning. You see both your mom and dad standing and waiting patiently. Walking over, you smile. 

“Okay…I guess this is the part where we hug and I promise you I’ll see you both soon?” 

The man chuckles and pulls you close. “Exactly,” He pats your back, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. You allow yourself to be selfish and indulge in his attention. “I love you. Text when you get there, okay?” 

You nod. “I will. Thank you, dad.” 

He presses another quick kiss to the top of your head, pulling away. You step towards your mom first, pulling her into another tight hug. “Call me whenever you need to. When you want to come back.” She whispers. 

You smile and nod. “I will. I love you.” You feel her nod and you pull away from the both of them, walking towards your car and slipping inside. You glance in your rearview mirror, watching as your mom lingers on the doorstep as your dad passes by, stepping inside. You frown slightly. 

The attention he had given you was short lived. 

Sighing, you turn on your car and hover your thumb over the START button on maps. Your eyes lift once again towards the house. The door shuts once again. 

Your eyes begin to sting as you look away once again, clicking the button. 

“In .3 miles, make a left…” 

Rafe pauses as he watches your car make a quick left, disappearing from his view. Rubbing at his face, he looks over at the packed bags in his passenger seat. 

He backed out. 

He packed his bags. Drove to your home to see if the offer still stands - to see if you still wanted him to go with you. Then he stopped before he even pulled into the driveway. 

He didn’t know why he couldn’t push himself to do it, no matter how many times he kept saying that’s what he wanted. He wanted you. He wanted to make a home with you. Have that perfect life that you believed in. 

He didn’t know what was holding him back. 

Starting up his truck, he stares at the mailbox in front of your house. He clears his throat and quickly pulls into the driveway, getting out and making his way up to the door. He knocks and waits. 

Your dad answers, brows slightly lifted. “Oh, Rafe,” He then pinches them together in confusion. “Didn’t you already say goodbye?” 

“No,” He shakes his head quickly. “I, uh…I was at work.” He lies. 

“Well, I’m sorry, kid. You just missed her,” He motions towards the end of the driveway. “I could call if you want—”

“No,” He quickly stops him. “No…I don’t want to hold her up if she had a timeline she wanted to follow. Thank you, though, sir.” 

He nods and begins to shut the door. “Wait,” The door opens once again. “This might be…” He trails off. It wouldn’t be weird. As far as they know - hopefully - you both are still together. “Would it be okay if I go up to her room?” 

The older man’s brows lift slightly, shrugging. “I don’t see why not.” 

Rafe nods and steps inside when he steps away. “Thank you, sir. I’ll be quick.” He makes his way towards the steps, quickly jogging up them and towards your room. 

He opens the door, stepping inside before closing it behind himself. He slowly steps in and stuffs his hands in his pockets as he looks around the room. 

Sitting on the edge of your bed, he smiles to himself softly. It did feel strange sitting in your room, without you. 

His eyes land on the photo on the nightstand, picking it up carefully. It had been moved from your dresser, closer to your bed. He didn’t know if that was good or bad. 

His chin quivers and drags his thumb across the dried flowers that had been stuffed under the glass. They were from your second date - Rafe had been late, Ward holding him up to do something that could’ve waited.

He wanted Ward's approval and put you last. He thinks that was the first time he ever did that. You never held it against him. 

Kicking off his shoes, he shifts around in the bed as he lies on his side. He holds the frame close to his chest, arms crossing over it protectively. 

He was never the one to get close to people. It was a surprise that he had even let you get close enough that you knew his little tics he would do when he was nervous, lying, or joking. 

Close enough that you knew him better than he knew himself. 

More than he knew you. 

The thought makes his eyes squeeze alongside the painful squeeze of his heart, the heel of his palm pressing in between his brows. His phone is weighing heavily in his pocket - his mind screaming for him to just call. 

But he didn’t want to hold you back. He knew you were meant for something greater than this place. Your friends. Him. You deserved to prove yourself in a way he never could or never will be able too. 

He loved you too much to hold you back. 

He loves you too much. 

His eyes grow heavier, the hold on the frame loosening as he slowly falls asleep to the scent of your sheets that smelled of both you and him. 

That smelled of home.

— tags; @starkeyvhs ; @clairoscharm ; @oceanblvd111

| please do not steal my content! feedback, requests, comments, & reblogs are appreciated & very welcomed. ᢉ𐭩

[danikamariewrites]

Falling

Cassian x reader

Note: sorry for my absence, I’ve been busy and unmotivated the last weeks. I don’t like to talk about politics but I want you all to know that I’m very unhappy with the election and it’s upset me. I really have nothing else to say because quite frankly im speechless. Know that my blog is a safe space and you can reach out to me any time if you want to vent because I will vent right there with you.

On a slightly better note, this has motivated me to keep being creative. Writing and being in a creative space has truly kept me going over the last few years and I refuse to stop. Mainly because if I stop I think I’ll just give up. And I’m not fucking giving up because this has been the best distraction. Sorry for the long note but I just wanted to get that out there and know you’re not alone in your frustration. ❤️

Warnings: some angst

Cassian was exhausted. He knew he was when he looked into your bright eyes as you excitedly waited for him to pick you up to fly home and couldn’t bring himself to lift you.

His mind wasn’t in the right place to enjoy the closeness of you in his arms. You always deserved him at a hundred percent, especially when your life was in his hands. Not while he was still actively thinking about Devlon getting in his face about their disagreement.

Even now, only minutes away from home, Cassian was still clenching his jaw, ruminating about the words Devlon spat at him.

Cassian was pissed that Devlon ruined his day. He had big plans for you that included a dinner reservation and him finally telling you how he feels about you. Only took him two years to gain the courage to decide he would tell you how in love with you he is. And now he’s too in his head to even fathom saying “I’m in love with you y/n.”

Azriel flying next to him with you in his arms wasn’t helping his mood either. Every time he heard you and Az talk or laugh his jealousy grew. It was his own fault though.

Flying over the Sidra the House of Wind finally comes into view. The monstrous house on the cliff had relief flowing through Cassian. Almost home, Cassian tells himself over and over.

Looking over at you and Azriel he sees a smile bloom on your face as you look down at the glittering water, you point out the fish jumping from the surface, making ripples that you can see from way up in the sky. The sight of your joy eases Cassian’s anger.

A gust of wind hits them hard enough to knock Az and Cass off balance. Without your added weight Cassian has no problem balancing himself out, controlling his wings on instinct.

Your scream has him pivoting against the gust, whipping his head in time to see Az lose balance as you tumble from his arms.

Azriel tries to dive but the wind fights against his wings. Cassian wastes no time to dive for you. Tucking his wings in as tight as he possibly can, he free falls with his hands reaching out for you.

You don’t stop screaming until Cassian grabs on to you, pulling you flush to his chest. You cling to Cassian, wrapping your arms tight around his neck.

“I got you,” he murmurs in your ear. “I got you, baby, it’s okay.”

Without looking back at Azriel he flys hard for the House. Cassian should check on his brother, he feels guilty not doing so. But the love of his life just tumbled from his brother's arms and he couldn’t care less if Az was in the Sidra right now or behind him.

Landing on the balcony closest to the bedrooms Cassian readjusts you in his hold. He can feel you trembling as he rushes to get you in a comfortable place.

Cassian kicks your door hard, rushing over to your bed. Gently placing you down he pulls away to see you staring off, a blank look on your face and teeth digging into your bottom lip.

He backs away to get you a change of clothes until you grip his arms tighter, letting out a small whimper. “Don’t,” you plead. Cassian wraps you in his arms, rubbing soothing circles on your back.

The two of you sit like that for a long, long time. Once your trembling stops you slightly lean away from Cassian, shaking out your arms and rolling your neck.

His heart breaks at the sight of fear still lingering in your eyes. Cassian slowly brings his hands up to gently cup your face, resting his forehead against yours. “You’re ok, you’re safe. That’s all that matters.” You nod, molding yourself into Cassian’s body.

“Thank you for catching me.” You whisper. Cassian squeezes you tighter to his chest. “I’ll always catch you, y/n. Always.” The fierceness in his tone sends a chill down your spine.

You won’t let Cassian leave you, even long after the sun sets. The only time Cass left was to get you dinner and to change into his pajamas. Once you’re asleep Cassian can’t find it in himself to leave you.

Tomorrow, he decided. Cassian will tell you everything tomorrow.

[mononijikayu]

die with a smile — geto suguru.

As you were washing up after dinner, Suguru spoke, his voice hesitant. "You know, I never thought I’d let anyone into this place. It was supposed to be… just for me." You looked at him, surprised by the vulnerability in his tone. "What changed?" He didn’t answer right away, drying the dishes in silence before finally turning to you. "I guess… I got tired of being alone." There was a raw honesty in his words that made your heart ache. "I know the feeling too well, I suppose." you admitted, your voice soft. "I didn’t realize how much I needed this—needed someone—until I found you."

GENRE: alternate universe - modern au!;

WARNING/S: nsfw, fluff, angst, romance, hurt/ comfort, post - apocalyptic world (zombie take over), isolation, hurt, physical touch, illness, loneliness, sadness, pain, pining, getting together, unhappy ending, character death, depictions of apocalyptic world, depiction of mourning, depiction of isolation, depiction of apprehension, depiction of romance, depiction of illness, depiction of chracter death, depiction of taking one's own life, mention of apocalytic world, mention of loneliness, mention of grief, mention of loneliness, mention of pining, mention of character death, mention of taking one's own life.;

WORD COUNT: 7.5k words

NOTE: i wrote this a long long time ago, but i feel like now it's seeing the light of day and im just excited for you to read it. i'll be working on plans for my first ever kinktober and other ideas i have in between. i hope that you're always well and that you enjoy this!!! love you <3

masterlist

if you want to, tip!

┌────── ∘°❉°∘ ──────┐

IT WAS SURVIVAL OF THE FITTEST NOW. The world had become a wasteland, overrun by the dead. Every day was a fight for survival, every night a battle against the darkness that crept into the mind as much as the world around.

You had been on the move for what felt like an eternity, traveling alone, scavenging for food, and fighting off the relentless hordes that had once been people. You had become a ghost in your own skin, haunted by memories of a time when the world was alive.

It was by chance that you stumbled upon the compound—a fortress of steel and stone, hidden deep within the woods, far from the crumbling cities and the walking dead. Exhausted and on the verge of collapse, you approached cautiously, knowing that desperation made even the living dangerous. The compound's walls were tall and unyielding, and it seemed impossible to breach. But desperation drives people to do reckless things, and you need safety, if only for a moment.

You had barely stepped into the clearing when you heard the unmistakable click of a rifle being cocked. You froze, heart pounding, every muscle tensing as you slowly raised your hands in surrender.

"Don’t move." The voice was low, firm, and edged with the kind of cold precision that came from years of surviving on instinct alone. You turned your head slightly, just enough to see him—a tall figure, half-hidden in the shadows of the trees, with a rifle trained directly on you. His eyes, dark and unreadable, never wavered as he took you in, calculating, deciding.

"I’m not here to cause trouble." you managed, keeping your voice steady despite the fear tightening your throat.

"That’s what they all say." His words were clipped, distrust lacing every syllable. He took a step closer, still keeping the rifle leveled at your head. "Turn around, slowly."

You did as he ordered, moving slowly, deliberately, until you were facing him fully. He was closer now, close enough that you could see the weariness etched into his features, the hardened lines of someone who had seen too much, lost too much. But there was something else, too—something in his eyes, a flicker of recognition, as if he saw a reflection of himself in you.

"How long have you been out here?" he asked, his voice rougher now, less controlled.

"Long enough." you replied, your gaze locked with his. "Long enough to know when I’ve met someone who’s been through the same hell."

He frowned, his grip on the rifle tightening as he studied you, weighing your words against the danger you might pose. But then, slowly, the suspicion in his eyes gave way to something softer, something that looked almost like… understanding.

"What’s your name?" he asked, the question coming out more gently than you expected.

You hesitated for a moment before answering. "Does it matter?"

"It does if you want to live." His tone was blunt, but there was a trace of something more behind it—a quiet offer, a tentative step toward trust.

You swallowed the weight of the past weeks, months, pressing down on you. "I’m just trying to survive."

He nodded, a slight, almost imperceptible motion. "So am I." He let out a slow breath, lowering the rifle slightly but not entirely. "Suguru. Geto Suguru."

You didn’t dare move, watching him carefully as he took another step closer, his eyes never leaving yours. "You’re lucky I found you before the dead did."

"Maybe." you said, your voice barely more than a whisper. "Or maybe you’re the lucky one."

He raised an eyebrow, the ghost of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. "We’ll see about that." Then, after a long pause, he sighed, finally lowering the rifle completely. "Come with me. But if you try anything, I won’t hesitate."

You nodded, relief washing over you despite the lingering tension. "I won’t."

As he turned and motioned for you to follow, you could sense the caution in every step he took, the way he moved with the fluid grace of someone always prepared for the worst. And yet, there was something else—a strange comfort in the fact that, for the first time in a long while, you weren’t alone.

He took you in, but it was clear that trust was not something he gave easily. The compound was his sanctuary, built with his own hands, and he guarded it with an intensity that bordered on obsession. The first few days were tense; you were wary of each other, moving around each other like predators unsure of whether to fight or flee. He was quiet, watchful, and kept his emotions locked away behind a wall of suspicion.

But you were no stranger to walls, and slowly, brick by brick, the two of you began to dismantle them. It started with the small things—shared meals, the exchange of supplies, moments of silence that were less about fear and more about understanding. You discovered that beneath his tough exterior, Suguru had a passion for music. In the evenings, when the world outside grew too dark to bear, he would pull out an old guitar, his fingers strumming out melodies that spoke of a time before the end.

You, too, had your own love for music, and in those quiet moments, the two of you found a connection. The songs you shared became a language of their own, one that spoke of loss, hope, and the fragile bond forming between you. Music was your refuge, a reminder that there was still beauty in the world, even if it was buried beneath layers of fear and grief.

The days began to blur together, a steady rhythm of routine and survival. Each morning, you would wake to the faint light filtering through the thick curtains of the compound, the sounds of the outside world muffled by the walls that separated you from the chaos beyond. The danger was always there, lurking just beyond the gates, but within the safety of Suguru’s compound, life had found a different pace.

At first, your interactions with Suguru were brief and cautious, a necessary coexistence born out of mutual need. But as the days turned into weeks, the initial wariness between you began to fade, replaced by a tentative friendship. The man who had once held a gun to your head now greeted you each morning with a nod and a hint of a smile, a gesture that brought a surprising warmth to your otherwise cold and uncertain world. His presence, once a source of tension, had become something you looked forward to, a strange sense of peace in the midst of madness.

One of the few luxuries you both shared was a love of food—a small pleasure in a world where every meal had become a fight against starvation. In this new reality, the art of cooking had taken on a different meaning. It was no longer about indulging in flavors or crafting elaborate dishes, but rather about survival, about making the most of what little you could find. And yet, even in this, there was comfort.

Together, you would scour the surrounding areas for supplies, salvaging whatever you could from the abandoned homes and overgrown gardens. It was a slow, careful process—one wrong move could attract unwanted attention, and resources were scarce. But the shared task brought a sense of camaraderie, a quiet understanding that neither of you had to face this alone.

In the evenings, when the world outside grew dark and foreboding, you would gather in the small kitchen, working together to prepare your meals. The ingredients were humble—canned goods, dried beans, the occasional fresh vegetable from a patch of land Suguru had managed to cultivate—but it didn’t matter. The act of cooking became a ritual, something that grounded you both, reminding you that life was more than just surviving day to day. 

Suguru was surprisingly skilled in the kitchen, his movements efficient and precise as he chopped vegetables or stirred a pot over the fire. He had a way of turning the simplest ingredients into something comforting, something that made the compound feel more like a home. You would watch him sometimes, marveling at the way he found solace in such a small task, and slowly, you began to join him, contributing your own skills to the process.

"How did you learn to cook like this?" you asked one evening as you worked side by side, your hands busy preparing a stew from the last of the potatoes you had found.

Suguru glanced at you, a small smile playing on his lips. "Necessity, mostly. My parents weren’t around much, so I had to fend for myself. Turns out, I’m pretty good at making something out of nothing."

You nodded, stirring the pot as the aroma of the stew began to fill the room. "It’s a useful skill, especially now."

"Yeah, I suppose." he agreed, his tone softer now. "It’s one of the few things that still feels normal."

The meals you shared became more than just a way to stave off hunger—they were moments of connection, brief respites from the harshness of the world outside. As you ate together, you found yourselves talking more, sharing stories of the lives you had left behind, the people you had lost, and the hopes you still held on to, however fragile they might be. These conversations, once stilted and brief, grew longer, more personal, as the walls between you crumbled bit by bit.

Each meal was a small victory, a reminder that despite everything, you were still alive, still human. The warmth of the food, the sound of your voices filling the silence, and the flicker of the firelight against the walls—all of it made the world outside seem a little less bleak. And in those moments, you realized that within the confines of the compound, you had found something precious: a sense of normalcy, a connection with another person that transcended the mere act of survival.

One evening, as the sun dipped low in the sky, you both sat by the fire in the small living area. Suguru was strumming his guitar, the soft melody filling the space between you. The sound of the music was soothing, a rare comfort in the chaos that surrounded you. You found yourself watching him, the way his fingers moved deftly over the strings, his brow furrowed in concentration.

"Where’d you learn to play like that?" you asked, breaking the comfortable silence.

Suguru glanced up, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Picked it up a long time ago. It helped… before all this." He gestured vaguely to the world outside, the unspoken horrors hanging heavy in the air.

You nodded, understanding what he meant without needing more words. "I used to play too, back when things were different." The memories were bittersweet, but they didn’t hurt as much as they used to, not here, not with him.

Suguru looked at you with a hint of curiosity. "What did you play?"

"Mostly piano. But I messed around with the guitar a bit too." You shrugged, trying to sound casual, but there was a lingering sadness in your voice that you couldn’t quite hide.

"Maybe you should give it a try again." he said, holding out the guitar to you.

You hesitated, your fingers itching to touch the instrument but also afraid of what it might bring up. Suguru noticed your hesitation and added softly. "It’s okay if you don’t want to. I just thought… maybe it would help."

His words, spoken with such gentle understanding, made something inside you soften. You took the guitar from him, your fingers awkwardly finding the chords, the muscle memory slowly returning. The notes came out shaky at first, but as you continued, the music began to flow more naturally, filling the space with a warmth you hadn’t felt in a long time.

Suguru watched you, his expression unreadable but his eyes soft. "You’re good." he said quietly, and for a moment, the world outside seemed distant and unreal, like a bad dream you could wake up from.

You smiled, a real, genuine smile that felt strange on your face after so long. "Thanks. It’s been a while."

He nodded, leaning back against the wall, his gaze still on you. "It’s nice, having someone to share this with." His voice was low, almost as if he was speaking more to himself than to you.

You met his eyes, something unspoken passing between you. "Yeah, it is."

With each passing day, the bond between you and Suguru grew stronger, weaving a tapestry of shared moments and growing intimacy. The days, once filled with routine and duty, now held a deeper meaning. You found yourself eagerly anticipating his presence, whether it was during the long, often monotonous hours patrolling the perimeter or in the quieter, more serene moments spent together in the kitchen.

During these patrols, the silence between you was no longer uncomfortable but rather a comfortable companion. You’d exchange glances and smiles, the unspoken understanding adding warmth to the cool, night air. These simple interactions became a cherished part of your day, a reminder that even in a world fraught with danger and uncertainty, there were small, precious joys to be found.

Cooking together was a ritual that both of you cherished. Every meal you prepared was more than just sustenance; it was a shared experience, a small victory over the harsh realities of the world outside. Suguru, with his surprisingly deft culinary skills, brought an element of surprise and delight to these moments. His laughter would fill the kitchen, mingling with the aroma of whatever you were preparing, creating an atmosphere of warmth and camaraderie.

These cooking sessions were more than just about the food. They were about the small, tender moments that punctuated your days—Suguru's playful teasing as you fumbled with ingredients, the quiet, shared satisfaction of a well-made meal, and the deep conversations that flowed as easily as the spices you mixed. Each meal was a testament to the connection you were nurturing, a symbol of your growing closeness.

In these shared moments, whether in the midst of patrols or while cooking, you found solace and joy. The simple act of preparing food together became a grounding ritual, reminding you both of the warmth and safety you had found in each other’s company. Through the laughter, the shared tasks, and the quiet companionship, your relationship deepened, finding strength in the everyday moments that brought you closer together.

As you were washing up after dinner, Suguru spoke, his voice hesitant. "You know, I never thought I’d let anyone into this place. It was supposed to be… just for me."

You looked at him, surprised by the vulnerability in his tone. "What changed?"

He didn’t answer right away, drying the dishes in silence before finally turning to you. "I guess… I got tired of being alone."

There was a raw honesty in his words that made your heart ache. "I know the feeling too well, I suppose." you admitted, your voice soft. "I didn’t realize how much I needed this—needed someone—until I found you."

He stepped closer, the distance between you shrinking until you could feel the warmth radiating from his body. "We’ve both lost so much, you know?" he said quietly. "But maybe… maybe we can find something here. Something worth holding on to."

You looked up at him, your breath catching as you saw the way he was looking at you—like you were something precious, something worth protecting. "Suguru…" you began, but the words caught in your throat, the intensity of the moment overwhelming.

He reached out, his hand gently brushing against your cheek, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. "You don’t have to say anything." he whispered, his voice filled with a tenderness that took you by surprise. "Just… stay with me."

You leaned into his touch, closing your eyes as the world outside seemed to fade away. "I’m not going anywhere, Suguru." you promised, your voice barely more than a whisper.

And in that moment, as Suguru’s arms wrapped around you, pulling you close, you knew that despite everything you had lost, you had found something here—something real, something worth fighting for. The world outside was still a nightmare, but in his embrace, you felt safe. You felt… home.

The fire crackled softly and the scent of a simple stew filled the air, you sat together in the small kitchen. Suguru’s hand brushed against yours as he handed you a bowl, the brief contact sending a jolt through you. His eyes met yours, and for a moment, the world outside ceased to exist. There was no fear, no death—only the warmth of his gaze, the unspoken understanding that had grown between you.

You reached out, your fingers gently grazing him, and this time, he didn’t pull away. The kiss that followed was soft, tentative, as if testing the waters of a new reality. It wasn’t born out of desperation or fear but something genuine, something that had been building between you since the day you met. In that moment, you realized that amidst the ruins of the world, you had found something worth fighting for—each other.

Suguru was still the survivalist, still cautious, still guarded. But with you, he was different. He let you in, allowed you to see the man behind the walls, the one who had survived not just the apocalypse, but the loneliness that came with it. And in return, you gave him the one thing he had lost faith in—hope.

In the silence of survival, you and Suguru found a new life, not just as survivors, but as something more. The world outside was still a nightmare, but within the walls of the compound, there was music, there was food, and there was love. And that was enough.

┌────── ∘°❉°∘ ──────┐

THE WORLD CHANGED IN A BLINK OF AN EYE. The years passed, and in the midst of the crumbling world, you and Suguru had found a fragile but undeniable happiness together.

Despite the constant fight for survival, the fear, and the uncertainty, you had managed to carve out a life within the walls of his compound—a life filled with small moments of peace, warmth, and a deep bond that had grown stronger with each passing day.

The two of you had become each other's anchor, weathering the storms of the world outside and the storms within yourselves. There were still fights, of course—heated arguments born out of the stress and the pain that never quite left—but they always ended the same way: with apologies, with understanding, with the reassurance that no matter how much the world tried to tear you apart, you would find your way back to each other.

You wanted to stay together, no matter what. The future was uncertain, but you had each other, and that was enough.

Or at least, it had been. Until the day you found out.

The sickness began as a dull ache, a persistent discomfort that you initially attributed to the everyday strains of fatigue or stress. You tried to dismiss it, telling yourself it was just a part of the routine hardships you faced. But the pain didn’t relent. Instead, it began to spread, a creeping malice that invaded your very bones, draining your energy and will.

As the days turned into weeks, the ache evolved into a relentless torment. Tasks that once seemed trivial became monumental efforts, and the weight of the pain became increasingly unbearable.

It was as if every step you took, every breath you drew, was a reminder of the encroaching shadow that threatened to envelop you. Eventually, the denial you clung to was no longer tenable. The truth, harsh and unyielding, crashed down upon you with the force of a relentless storm.

The diagnosis was a devastating blow—terminal, with no hope for a cure. It felt as if your world had crumbled, leaving you in a hollow space where hope once resided. The words of the doctor reverberated in your mind, each syllable a brutal reminder of your fate.

You struggled to process the enormity of what was unfolding before you, your mind overwhelmed by the realization that the future you had envisioned with Suguru was slipping through your grasp.

The dreams you had nurtured—of a shared life, of enduring together through the hardships of this cruel world—were now tainted by the bitter reality of your diagnosis. The vision of growing old side by side, of finding solace in each other amidst the chaos, seemed like nothing more than fragile, shattered illusions. The life you had carefully built, the hope you had cherished, were being torn away by a fate you could not escape.

Each day became a battle, not just against the encroaching illness but against the crushing weight of despair. The future that had once seemed so vibrant and full of promise now appeared as a distant, unreachable horizon. Your heart ached with the knowledge that the time you had left was no longer measured in hopes and dreams, but in the stark reality of counting down to an inevitable end.

In this bleak landscape, the love you had with Suguru became both a source of immense comfort and profound sorrow. It was a bittersweet reminder of what you were losing and what you still cherished.

And as you faced the unbearable truth, you clung to the moments of shared love and companionship, knowing that while the future was uncertain and fleeting, the bond you had forged with Suguru was a source of strength in your darkest hours.

Telling Suguru was the hardest thing you had ever done. When the moment came to share the news, you felt a heavy weight pressing on your chest. Each word felt like it was tearing apart the fragile fabric of hope that had been woven between you. You struggled to find the right words, but the gravity of the situation rendered you almost speechless. Finally, with a deep, shuddering breath, you uttered the truth.

As you spoke, you could see the light in Suguru's eyes dim, his once-vibrant gaze becoming clouded with an overwhelming sense of despair. It was as if your words were a heavy fog rolling in, obscuring the clarity and warmth that had once defined his expression. The impact was immediate and devastating. The hope and dreams you had shared seemed to drain from him, leaving a hollow, heart-wrenching emptiness in their wake.

Suguru’s reaction was one of stunned silence. He didn’t say anything at first. His gaze was fixed on you, but it was distant, almost as if he were looking through you rather than at you. His expression was frozen, a complex mix of disbelief, shock, and profound sadness. It was as though the words you had spoken were so unfathomable that he struggled to process their meaning, as if accepting them was too great a burden for his heart to bear.

The silence that followed was heavy, laden with unspoken words and emotions. You could see him grappling with the reality of what you had just revealed, his mind racing to comprehend the magnitude of your situation. The anguish etched on his face was a mirror to your own, reflecting the profound sense of loss and heartbreak that had suddenly become your shared reality.

"No." he finally whispered, his voice cracking. "No, this can’t be happening."

You reached out, your hand trembling as you took his, squeezing it tightly. "I’m so sorry, Suguru. I wish there was something we could do, but—"

"But there has to be." he interrupted, his grip on your hand tightening almost to the point of pain. "There has to be something. We’ve survived so much… we can find a way through this too."

You shook your head, tears welling in your eyes. "I wish that were true. But this… this is different. There’s no fighting this."

He pulled you into his arms, holding you so tightly that it almost hurt, as if he could keep you with him through sheer force of will. His breath was ragged against your hair, and you felt the way his body trembled with the effort to hold back his tears.

"We were supposed to be together, baby." he choked out, his voice thick with grief. "We were supposed to make it."

"I know, I know." you whispered, your own tears spilling over. "I wanted that too. I still do. But…"

"But what?" he demanded, pulling back just enough to look at you, his eyes desperate. "We can’t just give up."

"I’m not giving up, Suguru." you said, your voice trembling with the effort to stay strong. "But we have to face the truth. This is happening, and we can’t stop it."

The devastation in his eyes was almost too much to bear, and you saw the way he struggled to keep himself together, to be strong for you even as his world fell apart. "What do we do now?" he asked, his voice small, almost childlike.

"We keep going." you said, trying to sound more certain than you felt. "We make the most of the time we have left. We keep fighting, but… we don’t fight each other. We spend every moment we can together, and we make them count."

He nodded, though the movement was slow, reluctant, as if he still couldn’t quite accept what you were saying. "I don’t want to lose you, baby." he whispered, his voice breaking. "I can’t lose you."

You cupped his face in your hands, your thumbs brushing away the tears that had started to fall. "You won’t lose me, Suguru. Not really. I’ll always be with you, even if… even if I’m not here."

His eyes squeezed shut, and he pulled you close again, his grip almost desperate. "I love you. I love you more than anything in this world." he whispered, the words heavy with all the emotion he had been holding back. "I love you so much."

"I love you too, my love. My Suguru." you replied, your voice trembling with the weight of everything you wanted to say but couldn’t find the words for. "I always will."

And so, in the midst of the overwhelming sorrow, you held each other, finding solace in the warmth of each other’s embrace. The world outside still raged on, but in that moment, you had each other, and that was all that mattered. You would face the darkness together, hand in hand, and whatever time you had left, you would make it count.

┌────── ∘°❉°∘ ──────┐

BY THE TIME SPRING CAME, EVERYTHING UNRAVELED. The sickness had steadily worsened, each day stealing more of your strength and vitality, chipping away at the life you had fought so hard to hold onto. The once-manageable discomfort had evolved into a constant, gnawing ache, a relentless companion that shadowed your every move.

The pain was unyielding, a dull throb that seemed to seep into every corner of your existence. Alongside it came a profound exhaustion, a weariness so deep it felt as if you were weighed down by a leaden blanket, sapping your energy and spirit.

As the days passed, you became acutely aware that your time was running out. The inevitable reality of your condition loomed ever closer, and the thought of leaving Suguru behind was almost unbearable.

The idea of him witnessing your slow decline, of watching you waste away, was a source of deep, unrelenting sorrow. It was a burden that neither of you should have to endure, and the thought of him bearing witness to such suffering made the situation all the more poignant.

One evening, as you sat together in the small, dimly lit living room, the fire crackling softly in the hearth provided a stark contrast to the heaviness of the moment. The flickering light danced across the room, casting warm, gentle shadows, but it did little to ease the weight of the decision that loomed over you. You glanced at Suguru, his presence both a source of comfort and a reminder of the pain you were about to inflict.

The warmth of the fire seemed to mock the cold reality you faced. Each crackle of the flames was a stark reminder of the life that was slipping away from you, a life that you had shared so intimately with Suguru. The room, once a sanctuary of shared joy and quiet moments, now felt suffused with a profound sadness. You could see the concern and love etched into Suguru’s face, and it made your heart ache even more.

You knew that making this decision was necessary, even though it would hurt him deeply. The thought of continuing in your current state—becoming a burden rather than a partner, an encumbrance rather than a companion—was untenable. The inevitable end was approaching, and you could no longer ignore the fact that your suffering was taking a toll on both of you.

As you faced Suguru, your heart felt like it was shattering with the weight of your decision. You had chosen to speak the truth, to acknowledge the unbearable reality of your situation. It was a choice made out of love and respect, even though it meant confronting the deep, painful truth of your own mortality and the heartache it would cause Suguru.

In those quiet moments by the fire, the decision was clear, but the pain of it was profound. The love you had for Suguru and the desire to protect him from further suffering guided your choice, even as it tore at your own heart. The warmth of the fire contrasted sharply with the chill of the reality you faced, a reminder of the fleeting nature of the life and love you both had cherished.

"Suguru, my love." you began, your voice weak but steady, "I need to ask you something."

He turned to you, concern etched in his features. "What is it? Do you need something? More water? Some painkillers?" He was always trying to do something, anything, to ease your suffering, even when there was little that could be done.

You shook your head, reaching out to take his hand. "No, it’s not that. It’s… I want you to help me end it. When the time comes, I don’t want to… I don’t want to linger."

The words hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. For a moment, Suguru just stared at you, his eyes wide with shock. Then, he pulled his hand away, his expression hardening as he shook his head violently.

"No, baby." he said, his voice firm and almost angry. "No, I’m not doing that. I’m not giving up on you. We’ll find something—there’s got to be something out there that can help. We’ll go out tomorrow, search the surrounding towns. There has to be something… anything…"

"Suguru, my love. Please. Understand me." you interrupted gently, your heart breaking at the desperation in his voice. "We’ve tried. We’ve been searching for months, and nothing has changed. You know it as well as I do—there’s nothing left to find."

"I can’t!" he snapped, his voice rising. "I can’t lose you like this! We’ve survived so much together. We can get through this too. I’ll find a way, I swear."

You reached out again, this time cupping his face in your hands, forcing him to meet your gaze. "Suguru, my love." you whispered, tears filling your eyes. "I’m dying. We both know it. Please… don’t make this harder than it already is."

He broke then, his shoulders shaking as he crumbled before you. "I can’t live without you, baby." he choked out, tears streaming down his face. "You’re all I have left. If you go… if you leave me… I don’t know what I’ll do."

"You’ll keep going. You must." you said softly, your own tears spilling over. "You’re strong, Suguru. You’ve always been strong. You’ll find a way to survive, even without me."

He shook his head, his hands gripping yours tightly, as if he could anchor you to the world through sheer force of will. "I don’t want to survive without you, baby." he whispered, his voice breaking. "I don’t want to live in a world where you’re not there."

You pulled him into your arms, holding him close as he cried against your shoulder, his grief tearing through him like a storm. "I know. I know that." you whispered, your own heart shattering with every sob that wracked his body. "I know it’s hard. But you have to promise me you’ll try. Promise me you’ll keep going, for both of us."

He clung to you, his breath ragged as he tried to pull himself together. "I don’t know if I can." he admitted, his voice small and broken. "I don’t know how to do this without you."

"You can, my love." you insisted, pulling back just enough to look into his eyes. "You’re stronger than you think, Suguru. You’ve already done so much. But before I go… There's something I want to do. Something that will give meaning to all of this."

He frowned, confusion flickering in his tear-filled eyes. "What do you mean?"

You took a deep breath, your heart pounding in your chest as you gathered the courage to say the words. "I want to marry you, my love." you said, your voice trembling. "I want to be your wife, even if it’s just for a little while. I want to give meaning to this life, to what we’ve been through together. Please… let’s do this, Suguru. Let’s make it real."

He stared at you, his eyes widening in surprise and disbelief as if trying to process the gravity of what you had just said. The silence stretched between you, heavy with unspoken fears and raw emotions. You held your breath, the weight of his potential rejection pressing down on you. The thought that he might find the idea too painful to accept was almost unbearable, adding to the already intense sorrow that filled the room.

But then, as if struggling to come to terms with the inevitable, he began to nod slowly. The initial shock in his eyes gave way to a profound sadness, and his expression softened, becoming a mixture of resignation and tender understanding. The lines of his face, once tense with disbelief, relaxed as he reached out to you.

With gentle, deliberate movements, he cupped your face in his hands. The warmth of his touch was a stark contrast to the cold reality of the situation, a soothing balm against the sharp edges of your sorrow. His hands, though trembling slightly, were steady in their tenderness, conveying a depth of love and acceptance that words alone could not express. 

As he held you, his gaze locked onto yours, searching for reassurance and finding it in the depths of your shared experiences and unspoken bond. The moment was both heart-wrenching and profoundly intimate, a testament to the strength of your connection and the pain of facing such a difficult decision together.

"Okay, baby." he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "Okay. We’ll do it. I’ll marry you. We’ll do it right here, right now."

Tears filled your eyes as you nodded, a small, trembling smile breaking through the sorrow. "Thank you, my love." you whispered, your voice cracking. "Thank you, Suguru."

He pulled you into his arms again, holding you close as you both cried, the weight of what was to come hanging heavy over you. But in that moment, you were together, and that was all that mattered. You would marry him, give meaning to your lives, and in the time you had left, you would make every moment count.

Even as the darkness closed in, you knew that you had found something beautiful in the midst of the horror—a love that would last beyond the end, a bond that would never truly be broken.

┌────── ∘°❉°∘ ──────┐

IT WAS SUCH A NICE DAY FOR A WEDDING. The morning light filtered softly through the curtains, casting a warm, golden glow over the room as you and Suguru prepared for the day that would be both your wedding and your farewell. It was a day you had both dreaded and longed for, a day that would bring a bittersweet end to the journey you had shared together.

Suguru had spent the early hours of the morning in the kitchen, determined to make this day as special as he could. He cooked you the best meals he could manage with the limited supplies you had, pouring his heart into every dish.

The aroma of roasted vegetables, tender meat, and freshly baked bread filled the small compound, a testament to the love and care he had poured into every bite. He even brought out the best wine he had been saving in the cellar—a bottle that had survived the apocalypse, waiting for a moment just like this.

When he returned to the bedroom, he found you dressed in your best—an old dress you had found while scavenging, simple but elegant, its soft fabric hugging your frail form. Suguru had dressed in his finest as well, his dark shirt and trousers clean and pressed, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The sight of him took your breath away, and you smiled, despite the sorrow that weighed on your heart.

"You look beautiful, baby." he whispered as he approached, his voice thick with emotion.

"And you look handsome, my love." you replied, your voice trembling as you reached out to straighten his collar.

The two of you stood there for a moment, taking in the sight of each other, committing it to memory. Then, with a deep breath, you took his hand, and together you made your way to the small living room, where the morning light streamed through the windows, bathing the space in a soft, golden glow. There were no guests, no officiant, no flowers or rings. It was just the two of you, standing together in the light, your hands clasped tightly as you exchange your vows.

"I, Suguru, take you, my love, to be my wife." he said, his voice steady but full of emotion. "In this life, and whatever comes after, I promise to love you, to hold you close, to cherish every moment we have together. No matter what happens, you will always be my heart."

Tears welled in your eyes as you repeated the words, your voice trembling. "I, take you, Suguru, to be my husband. I promise to love you, to be by your side, to find joy in the little things, even in this broken world. You’ve given me a reason to keep going, and I will carry that with me, always."

With that, you both leaned in, sealing your vows with a gentle kiss, a promise made under the watchful eye of the morning sun. When you pulled back, there were tears in both your eyes, but there were also smiles—small, fragile smiles that spoke of a love that had endured the darkest of times.

The day passed in a blur of quiet joy and melancholy. Suguru insisted on dancing, and you found yourselves swaying together to the soft, nostalgic notes of Vera Lynn’s "We’ll Meet Again," playing from an old record player Suguru had somehow managed to keep running.

The song filled the room with its haunting melody, a promise of reunion in a world beyond this one. You held each other close, moving slowly, savoring every second, every touch, as if by doing so, you could make time stop.

As night fell, the reality of what was to come settled over you both. There was no turning back now, no more delaying the inevitable. You returned to the bedroom, where the bed had been carefully made, its soft blankets a welcome comfort against the cold that had settled into your bones. You climbed into bed, and Suguru followed, sitting beside you, his hand resting gently on yours.

You turned to look at him, your heart aching with the knowledge that these were your final moments together. "Suguru, my love." you began, your voice barely a whisper. "I want you to live. Even after I’m gone, I want you to find a way to keep going. Please… promise me you’ll try."

His grip on your hand tightened, and he shook his head, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. "What sort of life is that without you?" he whispered, his voice breaking. "You’re everything to me. I don’t know how to keep going if you’re not here."

"You’re stronger than you think, my love." you whispered, reaching up to cup his face, your thumb brushing away the tears that had begun to fall. "You’ve always been strong, Suguru. You’ve saved me so many times… now, you need to save yourself. Please… for me."

He closed his eyes, leaning into your touch, his breath shuddering as he tried to hold himself together. "I don’t want to let you go, baby." he admitted, his voice barely audible. "I don’t know how."

"You don’t have to let me go, my love." you replied, your own tears slipping down your cheeks. "I’ll always be with you. In every memory, every moment we shared. You’ll carry me with you, no matter what."

He nodded, though it was clear the idea of life without you was unbearable. "I love you, baby." he whispered, his voice filled with a depth of emotion that words could barely contain. "I love you so much."

"I love you too." you whispered back, your voice trembling. "Now… let’s make this last moment count."

With that, he leaned in, kissing you gently, as if trying to pour all the love he had for you into that one moment. You kissed him back, holding him close, feeling the warmth of his body against yours, the steady beat of his heart—a rhythm you had come to know and love, a sound you would carry with you into the dark.

When the kiss ended, you settled back against the pillows, the familiar softness providing a modicum of comfort in the midst of your pain. Suguru lay beside you, his arms wrapped around you with a tenderness that spoke of his deep, abiding love. Together, you both faced the uncertain future, finding solace in each other's presence as the night stretched on.

The silence of the room was broken only by the soft sound of your breathing, a gentle rhythm that seemed to anchor you both in the present moment. Despite the gravity of what lay ahead, you felt an unexpected sense of peace settle over you. In those final moments, the relentless tide of fear and pain receded, leaving only the pure, unadulterated essence of love.

There was no longer any room for fear or anguish—only the profound understanding that you had found something truly beautiful amidst the horror. You had loved deeply, and you had been loved in return. That realization, though bittersweet, provided a profound sense of fulfillment. It was a reminder that, even in the face of the inevitable, the love you shared had given meaning to your time together.

As the night deepened, you clung to each other, savoring the last precious moments of closeness. Suguru’s presence was a comforting embrace, a final refuge before you slipped away. The world outside seemed to fade into the background, leaving only the cocoon of your shared love.

When the end finally came, Suguru was left with a heartache so profound it felt almost unbearable. He gazed at your lifeless body, the weight of your absence crashing over him like a tidal wave. Tears streamed down his face, each drop an echo to the depth of his grief. He struggled with the harsh reality of living without you, the very thought of continuing without you seemed inconceivable.

In a final, tender gesture, he brushed the hair away from your face, his fingers lingering in a gentle caress. A faint smile touched his lips, though it was laced with sorrow.

“I’m following you soon, my love. Forgive me.” he whispered, his voice breaking with emotion. He lets out a smile against the tears.

He takes a look at the drink you drank, laced with laudenum and whiskey. A last hurrah took you away. And he wants that too. He wants to be with you. He stands up to take it and tells himself that it would be okay. Soon, you'll be together again. He gives himself visions of paradise, where you aren't sick anymore. A paradise where you could enjoy life together.

He smiles again, wiping his tears with his free hand and drank the same drink. He puts away the glass and lays down beside you. Everything was going to handle itself somehow, he knew that well enough.

His left hand lingers against the tips of your hair, brushing them as he would have when you were alive. He would be doing that for eternity in the afterlife. Like he always wanted.

For the last moments of Geto Suguru's life, he catches a glimpse of the shine of his wedding ring and yours. As though the light leading him to the other side. He closes his purple eyes slowly for the final time and feels everything be in its place for the first time in a long time.

Years later, when survivors find your bodies lingering in the eternal warmth only both you could provide, they read words on a small card on a coffee table.

"Leave us be on the graveyards we chose. Let us live eternity like this together."

And they do. They leave you be. Because the smile on your faces was enough to know this was where you belonged. Together.

[jenzcoxg]

NCT DREAM (00 line): When you moan their name in your sleep

WARNINGS: All scenarios include smut.

Renjun

Renjun wouldn't really know what to do or what to say. He would be reading a book because he wasn't really as tired and you. The book is some spicy novel he bought the previous day, he thought he should get a book because he doesn't really read often. Earlier tonight, you and Renjun went to a party. The party was boring af but it seemed to wear you out. "Renjun" you moan. "Yes?" He asked. You didn't answer. all you said was "Renjun~" This time is sounded more like a whine then a moan. "You okay baby?" He asked then tapping your shoulder. Still no response. "Fuck right there!" You yelled. Renjun realizing what was happening, he groaned. "Renjun?" You ask, awake now that he accidentally elbowed you. "Babe~, you were dreaming of sex!" He said in a groan. "How do you know?" you ask. "You were moaning OUT LOUD!" "IM SORRY! I CANT HELP YOU LOOKED SO FINE AT THAT PARTY! I wanted to get your attention but you were to busy talking to your friend! So I went and talked to this random guy I found and danced with him to get you to pay attention to me!" You admit more of what you wanted to say. "Please don't be mad" you whine. "Oh your getting it now missy."

Jeno

Jeno was in the bathroom, brushing his teeth, washing his face. You know, basically his night routine. He put the towel back on the shelf, and that's when he heard it. "Oh my God, Jeno!" He thought you were hurt, so he ran into the bedroom. "Y/n! Baby! what happened?!" him yelling startled you. "AHH! WHAT THE FUCK JENO? I WAS TRYING TO SLEEP!" You yelled at him thinking he was schizophrenic. "Are you okay? I thought you were hurt!" He asks, putting his hand on your shoulder. "Jeno, I'm not hurt." "What?" "I think you heard something else..." You said with frown. "What are you talking about?" He asks. "I was-" you tried to say before he cut you off. "YOU WERE HAVING A WET DREAM?" "YES! Bro I can't help that you looked so good in those grey sweatpants!" You said to him, avoiding eye contact. "Oh! You could have just said you wanted me." "Fine! I want you!" He smirked "I want you too baby."

Haechan

Haechan is a light sleeper so the second he hears your voice he wakes up. "Haechan" His eyes open, he turns to you and looks the other direction before closing his eyes once more. He wasn't sure if it was you or a noise in the house that woke him. "Haechan" you moaned a bit louder this time. Again, Haechan"s eyes were wide open, he turned to you "Hm?" thinking you were awake, he hummed again, but louder, incase you didn't hear him, he was loud enough for you to hear him. "Haechan? Are you okay?" you ask, "Do you want something? You've said my name alot." Haechan said, adjusting his position to see you better. "Oh shit." "Wait a damn minute, did you just have a wet dream?" you cover your face in embarrassment. "You just did!" Haechan said while laughing. "Okay maybe I did. But, I bet it would be way better if the real Haechan was fucking me" Haechan smiled at your words "Bet."

Jaemin

Jaemin was playing his game. He was on a call with his friends as well. He was so close to getting a kill, when all the sudden, "Jaemin~" It sounded like a whisper, but Jaemin still heard it. It caused Jaemin to die in his game. It was really quiet in the room. All you could hear was Jaemins friends yelling at him through his headphones. "Yes, baby?" He didn't hear a response. "Baby-?" "Oh god, Jaemin!" He got cut off by you moaning once again. "Y/n? What's wrong, baby?" Jaemin lightly tapped your shoulder. He woke you up, causing you to groan. "What?" you asked, unhappy that he woke you up. "You were saying my name like, 200 times." Jaemin said, making you gasp. "Oops." You covered your mouth. Jaemin raised a brow at you. "What? Wait?" Jaemin sat down next to you. "You were dreaming about me!" Jaemin started to laugh. "Yes! Jaemin, I was gonna ask if you could fuck me but you were playing your game!" Jaemin got on top of you. "Well, what are you waiting for? Ask."

-------------------------------------------------------

AUTHORS NOTE: Hi guys!!! Thank you for reading. I will try to post sometime again this month. Please ask anything!

- @jenzcoxg

[artificial-transmutations]

Your stories and images are beyond incredible. My favorite blog on tumblr BY FAR. Truly incredible work. I guess it’s kind of selfish, so absolutely so absolutely no worries, at the very least I got to tell you how much I appreciate and love your content. But I’m a short, nerdy, thin, art student in college right now. I’m tired of being in the closet, I’m tired of being a push over, Im tired of being weak and submissive, I’m tired of being a virgin, and I wanna change. Maybe you could help with a story by turning me into one of those jaw dropping beautiful confident men that you make the pictures of, I would very much appreciate it. But no worries if you can’t, I just love your content!

Confidence

Nathaniel sighed quietly, as he came over his hairless stomach. Of course, he had to be quiet! The dorm walls were paper-thin, and he certainly didn't want the guys from the neighboring dorm rooms to hear him. He looked at the website once more, with the story and the hot buff men before he closed the incognito browser tab and proceeded to clean himself up.

When he looked into the bathroom mirror, he sighed again, but this time, it was a sigh of sadness. There really wasn't anything remotely impressive about him. He was thin and weak, and pathetic really. If it wasn't for his lack of boobs and his sorry excuse for a dick, he could very well pass as a woman. In fact, he had been mistakenly called "Madame" more than once, and one time, he had even been asked "how his transition was going".

No, Nathan was a cis man, just not a very impressive one. He was gay, of course, and loved to look at 'real' men while jerking his small cock. Most of the time, he fantasized about some hairy brute rough-handling him, pushing his face against the bed and fucking his tiny ass into submission. However, even though the thought was exciting to Nathan, he even more wished to *be* such a man. The rational part of Nathan knew that both fantasies would not happen anytime, though. It was physically impossible to just *become* a 'real man', and it was impossible for Nathan to even admit to anyone that he was gay. So, he would probably just stay a closeted virgin forever - doomed to masturbate to some kinky stories he was so embarrassed about that he only dared to look at them from an incognito browser tab.

He sighed a third time when he crawled into bed. Perhaps someday he would accept his fate.

Nathan was already almost asleep when he heard the firework starting outside. Right. It was New Year’s Eve. What a way to start the new year.

The next morning, Nathan was feeling a bit better. Of course, his deep-rooted unhappiness still lingered within him, but Nathan decided to try and enjoy the day. He liked new year’s days. Everyone usually was at home after having celebrated the whole night which meant that the world outside was very quiet. Not much happened on New Year’s Day.

Nathan decided to go to a nearby cafe. There, with a steaming mug of hot chocolate next to him, he got out his drawing utensils and looked around the place. There weren't too many people. An older couple sat together, the man reading a book, and the woman reading a magazine, while an elderly lady sat at the counter. She was probably the owner. However, there was one more guy, a young adult like Nathan, who sat on a nearby table all by himself and was playing on his phone. He had his chair tilted back a bit, stabilizing himself against the wall and rocking a bit. He had earphones in his ear, so he was probably listening to music while doing so.

Nathan's first instinct was to draw the old couple, but then he looked at the other young man again. He looked a bit like one of those men from the internet, the kind that Nathan would fantasize about. Just a bit. The other man wasn't burly and muscular and assertive, but instead he had a lean, fit build. Nathan was a bad judge of character, especially without having spoken to the person in question, but the young man didn't look particularly assertive or dominant either. So, all in all, not too much like the men Nathan longed for on the internet. But still, he had a certain charm to him. Nathan liked the fit, lean body and the aura of positivity the man seemed to exude and wanted to capture that on paper.

Nathan began sketching the man, while occasionally looking up, making sure the man wouldn't notice. However, it was hard to keep his eyes off the guy. Every now and then, he would laugh a bit or make a funny face when watching something on his phone, which Nathan couldn't help but find very attractive.

He was just working on drawing the man's hands, when Nathan suddenly heard someone address him.

"Hey, what are you drawing?" The voice didn't sound rude or unfriendly, but plainly interested. Still, Nathan flinched visibly. The attractive man on the other table had removed one earplug and turned towards Nathan.

"Uh, sorry?" stuttered Nathan, not quite sure how to react. The guy pointed at Nathan's drawing pad and smiled: "You're an artist?"

Nathan could feel the blood rushing to his face. The drawing pad was tilted towards Nathan, so his unvoluntary model could not have seen what exactly Nathan was drawing. He could - no, he should - just lie and tell him he was sketching something in the room. But he just couldn't think of anything and the time for a good answer was running out. Almost involuntarily, Nathan stuttered, with his head red like a tomato: "Uhm, yeah, kind of. I was sketching you, actually."

The guy laughed a short and friendly laugh: "Really? Cool! Can I see it?"

Nathan could feel his heartbeat quicken, and his face got even redder. This was so embarrassing! But he couldn't very well refuse now, could he? So, he placed the pad flat on the table, just as the guy came over and sat himself down on Nathan's table.

"Oh wow!", he sounded impressed. "You're really talented! It's like looking into a mirror."

"Thanks" - Nathan hated getting compliments. Not only didn't he know how to react to them, but he also found them mostly fake. He was an art student, but he wasn't that good really, at least in his own opinion. In the dictionary, there was probably a picture of Nathan right next to the entry for "Imposter Syndrome".

"But why are you drawing me?" Although Nathan had feared that this question might come up, he didn't have a good lie to answer it. It was almost as if his mouth was acting on its own, when Nathan heard himself stammer: "Uh, eh, it's because I... I find you quite handsome actually. Good-looking I mean."

Nathan wished for nothing more than to be swallowed by the earth here and now. But to his big surprise, the guy just laughed again and said: "You think so? Thanks! The name's Oliver by the way." Oliver had, apparently, much less of a problem taking a compliment.

"Nathan." said Nathan and started to relax a tiny bit. However, the situation suddenly got even worse, when Oliver continued, in the same light-hearted voice. "Nice to meet you, Nathan! Are you into guys?"

Nathan froze solid. He hadn't expected that. And even worse, the answer was, of course, yes. But there was no way he could say that, was there? So, instead, he just stared at Oliver with his eyes wide open and a deer-in-headlights look.

"I mean, I'm gay - are you as well?" Oliver explained. "With the whole drawing dudes and all."

Nathan's brain had stopped working properly, so he couldn't help but nod and mumble a faint "yes".

Oliver's smile broadened and he said: "Really? Cool!"

Nathan's mind was racing. He had just admitted his homosexuality. To a complete stranger. Out of the blue. He didn't plan to come out that way, it just... happened.

A moment of awkward silence radiated from Nathan, but, thankfully, Oliver salvaged the situation pretty elegantly.

"Listen Nathan, I'll have to run now. But are you free tomorrow around 2? We could grab a coffee and you could show me some of your drawings if you like."

A spark of bravery, completely foreign to him, awakened in Nathan and he answered: "Y-yes. I think I would like that."

Oliver smiled another of his broad smiles. "Awesome! Let's meet here then tomorrow!"

With that, Oliver nodded at Nathan and left the cafe, putting in his headphone again while humming happily.

Did that really just happen? Nathan looked from the unfinished drawing towards the cafe door. Did he really just... got invited to a date? With a handsome guy named Oliver? Nathan wasn't sure whether to be happy or not. On the one hand, it was a miracle, a once in a lifetime opportunity. A cute and hot guy was actually interested in him! But on the other hand, there was no way he could make a good impression. How desperate had that Oliver guy to be to actually ask *him* out?

A small voice in his head insisted that he could just not show up tomorrow and avoid the whole disappointment. But the spark of bravery was still there, and Nathan fought down the feeling. No, he was going to show. If it turned out to be a disaster, he could still flee the scene - it wasn't like Oliver knew literally anything about him.

Nathan quickly packed his things and returned to his dorm room. Once he arrived, he noticed that he was completely covered in sweat of fear. His shirt showed wet spots under his arms and felt cold to the touch. Disgusted, Nathan immediately went for a shower. Only there, standing under the hot steamy water, Nathan could appreciate what happened. He got *asked out*. On a *date*. With a *guy*. Yesterday he had been certain he would die alone and lonely but then, today, he got *asked out*. Was this really a thing? Did it really happen?

He wasn't sure. He had a hard time believing it. Perhaps the whole thing was just a weird dream? A figment of his imagination. But no. The half-finished drawing was proof enough that Oliver really existed.

When Nathan exited the shower cabin, the whole bathroom was covered in steam, blinding the mirrors. Perhaps this - or the spinning of his thoughts - was the reason that he didn't notice that his hair had changed. Instead of his usual medium length brown-ish hair, he now sported a much shorter hairstyle - in a much darker color, almost black. Be it as it may - Nathan had other things on mind than checking his hair. He spent the whole afternoon and even the evening researching on how to make a good impression on a first date.

The next morning, Nathan slept in, which was pretty unusual for him. His whole frame felt weird, when he crawled out of bed. It wasn't too late, either - he had a comfortable 3 hours until the date. When he passed the bathroom mirror on his morning routine, however, he stopped for a moment. Something was... off about his face. His hair. It looked kind of... different?

Nathan stared at his reflection for a few seconds, straining his mind. Somehow, the shape of his jawbone seemed unfamiliar. And was his hair always that dark, almost black?

Finally, he shook his head. No, he was just seeing things. Of course, that was as it always had been. After having finished his bathroom business, Nathan went for a shower and prepared himself.

An hour later, he stood in front of the mirror, trying out a bunch of outfits and felt slight panic rising inside of him. None of his clothes fit very well, it was like he was cursed! It wasn't that his shirts and pants were much too big or much too small, but for some reason none of his clothes really felt comfortable. Both his favorite shirt and his usual jeans felt somewhat constricting today. Finally, Nathan just put on an outfit, and left his room.

When he entered the cafe, Oliver was already sitting there, two coffee mugs in front of him. He smiled, waved and gestured for Nathan to join him.

"Hello, Nathan!"

"H-hi." said Nathan, his nervousness returning.

"Here, I bought you a coffee!" Oliver pushed one of the mugs over the table.

"Thanks." Nathan was somewhat distracted by the ill-fitting clothes, and he could pretty much feel the nervous sweat practically pouring out of his pores.

"No problem!", said Oliver. "I was early, anyway. How are you doing today?"

"Fine." said Nathan and took a sip of his coffee, trying to hide his nervousness. He vividly remembered all the good advice he had read yesterday, but all that felt just impossible to him.

"So, you're an artist? What do you do?" Oliver asked with genuine interest.

"Well, I study art, I guess. I want to be a concept artist, you know, for games or movies or so. But, eh, right now, I'm just a student, and I'm not really that good."

"That's not how I remember it!" smiled Oliver. "Can you show me more of your work?"

Nathan nodded as he got out his sketchbook. Talking about his art was something he was comfortable with and allowed him to warm up somewhat over the course of the conversation. Oliver appeared to be quite a nice guy and had a lot of questions about drawing, so, Nathan, in turn, started to relax and talk more freely. He found out that Oliver was a veterinary technician and had a part time job at a dog shelter. That, combined with the fact that he was, in general, a really nice and positive guy, made him incredibly appealing to Nathan.

After the two had talked for a while, Oliver suddenly remarked: "You know, I really like your stubble! It really suits you!"

Stubble? What was he talking about? Nathan rarely needed to shave, but he had done so this morning, so, it was absolutely impossible that he should have visible facial hair. And yet, as he felt his chin, his fingers met with bristly short hair, so dense and long that there was no way he could have missed it this morning. Nathan found it strange, to say the least, but didn't want to make a scene in this situation. His spark of courage was a small candle flame now, as he just smiled while he felt his chin and said "Thank you!"

The two continued to chat a bit. While doing so, Nathan tried not to think too much about the fact that his clothes were, somehow, tighter than before.

Finally, Oliver's phone buzzed, and he looked at the screen.

"Damn, it's that late already?"

"What is it?", asked Nathan.

"Oh, the dog shelter. I have a shift soon, I need to go!"

Nathan sighed inwardly. He was really enjoying the date and didn't want it to end. He was pulled out of his thoughts by the feeling of Olivers hand on his. It felt... good. Good and strange, like the texture of his own hand was somewhat wrong, somewhat rougher than before. When he looked up into Oliver's eyes, he found the other man smiling.

"I really enjoyed this. You are a wonderful person, Nathan. We should do this again."

Nathan nodded. He didn't trust his voice right now.

"How about... tomorrow?", Oliver continued. "There's an art exhibition in town, perhaps you would like to go there with me?"

Nathan's heart jumped a beat. He didn't have time or courage yet to go to the exhibition and the prospect of seeing Oliver again so soon was wonderful.

"I would very much like that", Nathan replied and smiled.

"Great! Let's meet there, say at 5?"

"Sure!"

Oliver smiled his beautiful, broad smile, and stood up, leaving some money for the coffees on the table. Nathan too got up, but before he could leave, Oliver stopped him with a warm expression in his eyes. "You know, I really think I like you a lot." He said, and his hand touched Nathan's somewhat bristly cheek. Almost automatically, both of their faces drew closer to each other, until their lips met with the slightest touch. It was a chaste, short kiss, but Nathan could feel Oliver's lips smile when they broke apart.

"See you tomorrow!", said Oliver and left the cafe.

Nathan's knees felt weak, and his heart was beating rapidly. There were a thousand feeling, all happening inside him at once and Nathan needed a moment to sort through them before he was able to move again. There was a part of him that couldn't quite believe what just happened, but the biggest part was just euphoric. He basically jogged back to his home, full of a never experienced energy.

When he arrived in his room, his body was feeling even weirder than before. All of his clothes were way too tight. It was not just that he felt constricted, no, the clothes actually were much too small. He quickly got rid of them, noticing that, again, he had sweated like a pig. As Nathan glanced down on himself, he could almost see that his body was somehow different. Fitter, healthier. It was probably just his imagination, though, caused by his ecstatic mood. He briefly considered taking another shower but postponed it to tomorrow. There would be plenty of time and Nathan felt really glad and tired for today.

Nathan woke up from two different feelings the next morning. First, he felt itchy and sweaty all over his body and was subconsciously scratching himself in his sleep. Second, and perhaps even more importantly, Nathan was experiencing a severe case of morning wood. His manhood was rigid and pulsating under his sheets and was begging for attention. Nathan had a hard time remembering when he last experienced such an urgent urge to jerk off. He wasn't sure, but the memories of their kissing yesterday came to his mind as soon as he woke up, so, he couldn't resist closing his hand around his hard cock and started pumping. His hand felt rough and big, and Nathan couldn't be sure, but both length and girth of his tool seemed increased, too. However, Nathan could hardly concentrate on that due to the waves of pleasure washing over him.

It didn't take very long for Nathan to shoot a big load onto his stomach, with a moan. It was a big and sticky load, too, mixing with the little dark hairs on his stomach and chest. Nathan blinked in post-nut clarity. Hairs? He didn't have body hair.

Nathan got up quickly and went to the bathroom. Something about his perspective was off, too. It was like the ceiling was closer than it was supposed to be, and the ground further away. Once Nathan had used some toilet paper to wipe away most of the cum, he took a look at himself in the mirror. There was no denying that he looked different. He was definitely somewhat taller and broader than before. He didn't have a scale, but he was sure that he had gained quite some weight as well - not only due to the increased height and broader shoulders but also because his previous stickman-like appearance had been altered quite somewhat. All over his frame, a lean definition was visible, hinting at muscles even. His chin was covered in visible stubble and there was a bit of body hair visible, mainly on his chest and stomach as well as peeking out under his armpit.

Speaking of which, as Nathan raised his arm to look at his pits, a certain smell reached his nose. A musky, manly, slightly sweaty odor that wasn't quite unpleasant but was certainly unfamiliar.

Nathan had a hard time wrapping his mind around what he was seeing. There was no denying he looked *good*. He just didn't look exactly like *himself*. And for some reason, this didn't bother Nathan quite as much as it probably should. He should be panicking or calling a doctor. People didn't just grow taller overnight or put on definition without working out. And yet, Nathan only felt a slight bit of curiosity and a weak impulse that he probably *should* work out then.

Nathan shook his head and went back to his bedroom. He didn't bother putting on clothing and tried to pass the time until afternoon. The only thing that he *really* regretted about his sudden changes was that his favorite shirt and jeans would definitely not fit anymore.

He ended up watching a bit of TV and browsing the internet, before he decided it was time to prepare himself. Finding clothes that would fit now proved to be quite a challenge, but in the end, he settled on a plain t-shirt and some cargo pants. He had bought both of them a number too big by mistake, which came in quite handy now.

Walking through the city was a strange experience. He felt good about himself and held his head high. Combined with the fact that Nathan's head was, indeed, higher than before, it was like seeing the city in a whole new perspective. Less looking at the ground and more looking straight ahead.

His new posture seemed to have another effect, too. Where before he had to avoid people, trying not to get in their way, now they seemed to be stepping aside for him, which was a foreign but not unpleasant experience.

Finally, he arrived at the exhibition and found Oliver already waiting for him. They greeted with a hug and a short kiss, both fully reciprocated by Nathan, and went inside. Although Oliver seemed to notice something was off about Nathan, he didn't mention it and apparently forgot about it quickly.

Today, Nathan found it much easier to talk to Oliver and brought up topics by himself.

The exhibition however was kind of a let-down for Nathan. Although he could judge on a rational level that the art presented here was really well-done and interesting, on a purely emotional level, Nathan found it mind-numbingly boring. The conversation steered away from the art quickly, and more towards personal matters, which was a relief. So, even though they didn't care much about the paintings around them, the two of them ended up wandering around the exhibition for hours, talking and having a good time.

During the date, however, Nathan was quickly experiencing an unfamiliar feeling. The company of Oliver was... exciting. Exciting on a sexual, primal level. Nathan's larger manhood grew semi-hard in his underwear quickly, so Nathan had to readjust himself more than once. At first, he was very self-conscious about it and tried to be as subtle as possible. However, with every push his cock needed in order not to be too obvious, Nathan actually cared less about who saw him readjust himself. He was a guy after all, and all big-dicked men had that particular problem from time to time.

Besides forming a bulge in his groin, however, his constantly semi-hard cock did one more thing: Nathan was leaking precum in his underwear. First, it was just a drop or two on an involuntary throb, but it quickly became more. His underwear was feeling damp before long, and a faint note of sexuality mixed into his still present smell.

After a while, Oliver even commented on it, in his usual upbeat way: "Hey, Nathan, I have to say, you smell pretty good. Are you using cologne?"

Nathan hadn't noticed his own smell too much. His first impulse was to apologize, but the burning campfire of courage inside of him quickly told him otherwise. Oliver didn't complain. In fact, he liked it.

So, Nathan answered with a grin: "Nope. That's just how I smell."

Oliver took another whiff of the mixture of sweat, dried cum and precum and smiled. "Well, I like it!"

Nathan wasn't quite sure how to react, and just said: "Thanks!"

The exhibition was closing down soon, and Nathan offered Oliver to accompany him to the train station, which he gladly accepted. When they parted, they kissed again. This time, it wasn't a small, timid kiss like before, but a long, sexual one that made Nathan's dick twitch like mad in the confines of his pants. Since their bodies were pressed closely together, Nathan could be sure that Oliver felt the movement against his own groin.

Only after they broke the kiss, Nathan noticed that he was now looking down on Oliver slightly. He could have sworn that Oliver had been slightly taller than him yesterday.

There was no telling on how the evening would have continued hadn't it been for Oliver's train to arrive just then. Before Oliver could board the train, however, Nathan grinned at him and said: "Dinner tomorrow? The Italian place downtown, at 6?"

"I would love that!"

They kissed again and Nathan watched as the train pulled out. Then, he went back to his dorm, whistling a happy tune. It didn't even occur to him that he had taken the initiative in asking Oliver out for a third date. The fire of confidence was burning bright inside of him.

When he came home, Nathan immediately stripped out of his clothes. Even the larger shirt had become somewhat tight. He took a short look at it. There was a wet patch under both arms from his constant sweating, and the t-shirt had adapted his smell. There was something else in the smell, though. At the chest region, there was a medium sized stain, machine oil from the smell of it. Nathan wondered briefly how he could have missed it this morning but then diverted his attention to more pressing matters. His cock was fully hard and was poking out from the waistband of his briefs. Nathan hadn't had an erection like that since puberty and, if he was honest with himself, the feeling was rather nice. Without hesitation, he closed his hand around his hard meat and gave it a few experimental pumps. A low growl escaped his mouth, and a shiver went through his body. He didn't want to go slow, he wanted to fuck. His mind was focused on the task at hand. He didn't even bother to close his curtains, as he went for it. Nathan was jacking himself off, fast and hard, growling and groaning, until he finally exploded all over his chest and face, shooting multiple loads of thick white cum everywhere.

As Nathan was catching his breath, the smell of cum was heavy in the room. God, he needed that. Ever since he met Oliver today. He wiped his face and chest with his discarded t-shirt and briefly considered if he wanted to take a shower. The smell emanating from him was rather strong now, but still, he didn't want to. Oliver seemed to like his body odor, and, if Nathan was being honest, he did so himself, too.

Nathan was woken by his alarm the next morning. As his mind came to focus, his hand reached for the smartphone automatically and dismissed the alarm. He yawned and stretched. He was really looking forward to today. Given, it was the last day before classes started again, but he was going to a third date with Oliver this evening!

When Nathan crawled out of bed and went for his bathroom, however, his body felt weird again. The muscles had become more defined over the course of the last two days and now, the whole body structure felt *strong*. The few hairs from before had become a small forest of body hair and the stubble had grown thicker. He still didn't feel the need for a shave, though.

Nathan wasn't quite sure about the whole situation. Of course, he was enjoying the change. On the other hand, ... No, fuck the other hand. This was great, plain and simple. He finished his morning business standing up while peeing, which he usually never did. But right now, it just felt *right*.

After that, he inspected his wardrobe. He had half-feared that he would need to go and buy new clothes, but apparently, overnight his wardrobe had changed as well. It was filled with sturdy cargos or work pants as well as simple shirts and the occasional overall. Good!

His underwear choice had also changed. Instead of briefs or boxers, the drawer was now filled with jockstraps. That made sense, of course - only a jockstrap would set his large dick in the right scene.

None of the clothes qualified as "clean". Sure, they had been washed before they went into the wardrobe, but permanent grease or oil stains had permeated the fabric just as Nathan's manly stink - both marks no washing machine could ever erase entirely.

Nathan grabbed one of the pants and smelled it. He couldn't help but smile. This was his smell. This was *his* smell. His manly, sweaty, dirty, horny smell. He even felt his ever-present dick twitch a bit at the smell. Nathan wasn't sure if he would ever get used to this new reality. Or if this even was the final reality.

The hours passed quickly. Nathan was keeping himself busy, playing games or listened to music. Not once did it occur to him to draw something or even look at his art. This new him wasn't particularly creative, it seemed.

Nathan's mind wandered back to the date this evening. He couldn't wait to see Oliver again. In fact, he couldn't wait for more than that. It was a third date and Nathan wanted to go all the way with Oliver. He wanted to take his ass and fuck it into oblivion.

At around 5 pm, Nathan stood in front of the Italian place, waiting for Oliver. When Oliver finally arrived, the two men greeted each other with a passionate kiss. Nathan could tell that the kiss was having an effect on Oliver, as his breathing was quicker than usual.

They went inside and sat down on a table. Almost automatically, Nathan's legs spread wide, taking up space, establishing presence and, most importantly, giving his equipment the necessary space. The *old* Nathan would have sat with his legs closed or even crossed, in order to not draw any attention to himself. However, the new Nathan didn't want to draw *less* attention.

The two chatted a bit, with the main topic of the conversation being the menu, before ordering. When he spoke, Nathan noted that his voice had dropped an octave, making his voice gravely and his laugh a low rumble. When Oliver had chosen, Nathan summoned the waiter and ordered for the both of them, his lower voice full of confidence. For Nathan, it was a large meat pizza and a beer.

"You know, I have never seen you drink before", remarked Oliver.

"I don't usually", replied Nathan. "But I thought I'd have a beer today."

"You're not driving, are you?"

"Na, I'm here on foot."

Oliver smiled his usual smile. "I'm here by car, so if you like, I can give you a ride home afterwards."

There seemed to be some subtext to this offer, but it went over Nathan's head. Not that it was necessary, because he had the exact same plans, anyway.

"Sounds great!"

A couple of minutes later, their pizzas arrived, and the two dug in.

"I really like your style, Nathan." said Oliver after a while.

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know, the way you dress. The way you talk. The way you act."

"Oh. Thanks."

Nathan thought for a moment before he added: "You know, I go by Nate these days."

"Nate, eh?", smiled Oliver.

"Yeah. Fits better, you know."

"I guess so. I like it a lot!"

"I like your style, too."

"What do you mean by that?", Oliver laughed.

"Just, the way you talk, the way you walk. Everything. You're cute, you know."

"Why, thank you!"

The conversation was definitely a lot more flirtatious than yesterday. When they had finished their meals, they didn't linger much longer in the restaurant but got into Oliver's car.

Nate proceeded to give Oliver directions to his home. However, at a certain crossing, he had to stop and think for a moment. He knew for a fact that his dorm was to the left. But he also knew for a fact that his *home* was to the right. Nate decided not to overthink it and directed Oliver to the right with a firm voice.

They didn't get very far from that point, when suddenly, the car stopped with a jerk.

"Damn, sorry!" said Oliver. "The engine is acting up again. It's probably too cold or something like that. I'll just try to start it up again."

When after the third try, the engine didn't start again, Nate laid a hand on Oliver's. "Let me try." he said with a confident voice and left the car. When he opened the hood, the problem became clear to him right away.

"The carburetor is a bit clogged, I'll unclog it real quick and we're ready to go."

While Oliver was staring at Nate in surprise, as the latter quickly and with trained skill removed a few parts and then, with a flex of his mighty arms, applied percussive maintenance to the part in question. After Nate had reassembled the engine, he cleaned his hands on his pants and got into the car again, filling out the passenger seat with his presence.

"It should work again for now, but I'll have to clean it thoroughly tomorrow. The thing is just old and worn down, it needs replacing soon. Just try starting the engine."

Oliver was still staring at Nate with a disbelieving look on his face. Finally, however, he tried starting the engine again, and the car did indeed start running smoothly.

"Wow, Nate, that was amazing! Where did you learn that?"

"What do you mean", grinned Nate. "That's what I do!"

Oliver stared at him for a moment. "Wait, you're a mechanic?"

"Yeah, sure, didn't I tell you when we met?"

Oliver seemed to think about it but then slowly nodded: "Yes, I... think so. Weird. I could have sworn..."

Nate shrugged and pointed down the road: "Shall we go?"

They arrived at Nate's place shortly after. He had a cheap apartment directly over the car garage where he worked. Nate did try to clean up a bit the afternoon, but the place still screamed "Manly bachelor" all over the place with the occasional beer can or jockstrap scattered around.

Neither of them had time to care, though. As soon as the door closed, the two kissed. It wasn't just a chaste, romantic kiss. This was a heated, passionate kiss, full of desire and lust. Nate took Oliver's body and pushed him against the wall, grinding their bodies together. Both were hard and their breathing was rapid. Nate's hands wandered up and down Oliver's body, squeezing and grabbing his body. His fingers were strong and forceful, and he squeezed the smaller man's buttocks and his dick with the same intensity. Oliver responded by moaning and pushing his groin against Nate's, humping him.

Suddenly, Nate broke the kiss. "Oliver, I... I want you. I want to fuck you."

Oliver didn't answer, but kissed Nate again, harder this time. Nate's tongue invaded his mouth, and the bigger man's hands were ripping Oliver's shirt and pants off him. Once Oliver's dick was free, it was enveloped by Nate's big calloused hand, and Oliver's breath hitched in his throat.

"Oh god, Nate, yes!" he moaned.

Nate had enough of foreplay, and he wanted to fuck, now. Without wasting any time, he quickly pushed his pants down and pressed his dick against Oliver's. It was massive, even compared to Oliver's not insignificant size. While Nate's balls were big and heavy, his cock was thick, long, and veiny, with a fat mushroom head. It was also rock hard, and the head was already drooling precum.

With one hand, Nate stroked the two cocks together, rubbing them and smearing the precum all over his dick and Oliver's. With the other hand, he pulled Oliver close and kissed him again, a long, sensual, passionate kiss, which made Oliver moan into his mouth.

The two stood like that for a while, but finally, Nate's need to fuck was stronger than anything else.

"Bedroom. Now!" he growled and dragged the smaller man with him. Once there, Nate simply tossed him onto the bed and followed quickly, his cock pointing up. He positioned himself on top of the other man and kissed him again, their tongues dancing in their mouths.

When the kiss broke, Oliver was panting.

"You really are a big boy, huh?"

"Damn right I am."

"Oh god, I need your big dick inside of me!"

"Yeah? You want me to fuck you?"

"Please! I've wanted to feel your huge meat in me for days."

"Fuck yeah. You're gonna get it."

Nate reached under his bed and produced a bottle of lube, which he applied liberally to his dick.

"You're ready?"

"Do it, big guy."

Nate placed the head of his massive cock against the tight pucker and started to push. Slowly but steadily, his dick invaded Oliver's ass.

"Oooooooooh god, Nate, yesssssss!" moaned Oliver.

The pressure around Nate's dick was unbelievable. Oliver was clearly tight, and the way his asshole was massaging his dick felt heavenly.

Finally, Nate's dick was balls-deep inside Oliver. Both were breathing heavily, and Oliver was moaning incoherently. Nate gave him a moment to adjust and then started moving his hips, first slowly, but increasing his pace quickly. Soon, he was slamming into Oliver's ass as hard as he could, pulling almost completely out and then thrusting back inside the smaller man.

"Fuck yeah! You like that? You like my huge dick pounding your tight little ass?"

"God, yes, Nate, fuck me, fuck meeee!"

Nate was groaning and growling, a sound that came deep from his chest and made Oliver moan even louder.

"Oh shit, Nate, I'm so close! Don't stop, please don't stop, don't st- ooooooooh gooooooood!"

Nate felt Oliver's muscles clamp down on his dick, and that sent him over the edge. He buried his dick as deep as he could and shot a big load of cum deep into Oliver's guts.

The two of them collapsed on each other, spent but happy.

A lot had changed for Nathan in this new year. He had gotten a new body, a new job, a new identity even. But most importantly, he had found love. Nate the manly mechanic sighed. If he were to describe his feelings, looking into the future, there was only one fitting word: Confidence.

I actually generated a ton (okay, 50) of images for this story. If you want to check out the alternate versions of the different stages of Nathan/Nate, check out my tip jar, where I posted them!

[sixosix]

happy 5k, six! i remember finding you randomly one day bc i wanted to read more genshin fics and look where you are today!! you absolutely deserve all the love n support you're given rn /p /happy

in any case, i can't resist the event calling out to me frfr, so if it's possible, may i please request a badtzmaru plushie, wanderer, and fluff?

wc 300, modern au; THANK U SO MUCH ANON WHATTT that means so much to me!! so glad u were w me thru my journey... and also im sorry LMFAOO u sent this ask a month ago,,, i hope u'll be able to read this anon<3

5K EVENT SPECIAL | EVENT MASTERLIST

“What the hell is that,” Kunikuzushi said blankly.

“It looks like you! Doesn’t it?”

The badtz-maru plush stared back at him, daring him to deny it. Kunikuzushi glared at it with contempt rolling off of him in actual visible waves. “No. No, it really doesn’t.”

You held the plushie by his face and compared the unhappy expressions. They looked terrifyingly similar. It was hilarious, and so you burst out laughing at Kunikuzushi’s face.

Bullied, Kunikuzushi snatched the plushie off your grip and reared it far from your reach. “Why do you even have this?”

Kunikuzushi was scowling and trying his best to come off as intimidating, but with the badtz-maru plush in his grip, it was excruciatingly difficult to take him seriously. Or maybe it was because you’d gotten too used to him that it didn’t affect you. His attention was still attention from him.

You grinned and batted your eyelashes in a way you knew would make him falter. “I told you already. It reminded me of you.”

Kunikuzushi was still scowling, but his arm no longer extended like he was seconds away from chucking the palm-sized stuffed toy. It was still staring at him, and you were reminded of those pets looking like their owner videos.

“How long have you had this?” he asked, voice much quieter. His ears were red.

“Probably since you left to visit Japan.”

“A week?”

“A week!” You gasped. “That’s shorter than your last trip. Did you miss me that much?”

He cocked a brow. “This is more home than that shithole.”

You wanted to coo and tease him for that rare glimpse of vulnerability (even when veiled by his indirect wording), but you knew what he meant—you knew what it felt like. Your quiescent house only ever felt like a home when Kunikuzushi was here.

“Should I buy you a plushie that looks like me for you to take?” you wondered aloud, genuinely considering it. The stupid badtz-maru plushie you bought out of a moment of weakness from missing him, no matter how ridiculous, helped you when your arms felt a little lonely.

“No need.” Kunikuzushi threw the plushie to the bed, ignoring your alarmed shout. He drew you in by the waist and smiled in that deceptively sweet way only he could really pull off. “I’ll just take the real deal along with me instead.”

[urdepressedslut]

I Get Scared Too

♡ Pairing: tfatws!Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

♡ Summary: You have a close call during a mission, and back at the compound Bucky seems to be distant and cold towards you.

♡ Warnings: angst, fluff, reader injury, mentions of gunfire, hints to anxiety attack

A/N: this idea was from a dream i had (im a lucid dreamer). i have been writing in a dream journal since elementary school, so you can imagine the dreams i have jotted down 😭

The mission hadn’t gone to plan, shocker, but everyone kept all their limbs and were able to walk back to the quinjet.

You had a close call, you didn’t see the previously passed out agent sitting back up raising his gun to your back. Obviously before he could fire somewhere vital, Natasha had taken him down, faltering his aim. Although the bullet had skimmed you deep on your hip.

It was hardly life threatening, but Natasha being a protective best friend, scolded you for being reckless. You knew her intentions were good, and that she cared about you, but it didn’t stop you from being annoyed at her treating you like a kid.

She eventually walked to the other side of the quinjet, leaving you to your thoughts. You thought you had done really well, taking down twice as many enemies than last time. But of course, everyone always focused on your flaws, what you had done wrong.

When the quinjet finally landed back at the compound, you were the first one out, having a slight limp from the discomfort in your hip. But otherwise didn’t mind it, you wanted to find your favorite person and tell them all about the mission.

“FRIDAY, where’s Bucky?” You called out to the air once you were inside.

“Bucky is currently in his room, Miss (Y/n).” She announced, making you smile in excitement.

The mission had only been a three day trip, but you had missed him the second you stepped on the quinjet.

Arriving at his door, you knocked three times, hearing shuffling from inside. The door swung open to reveal an unhappy looking Bucky, causing your smile to waver. Assuming he was just having a bad day, you smiled wider and stepped forward to hug him.

“Hi Buck, I missed you.” You mumbled into his chest, squeezing him tighter when you didn’t feel him hug back.

His body tensed, and immediately you released him and stepped back. You were confused at what was wrong, his face was cold. You were hurt that he hadn’t hugged you back, wondering if you had done something to make him mad.

“Missed ya too um... You should go (Y/n).” He spoke finally, his voice holding annoyance.

You blinked up at him and shook your head, fully confused now.

“Buck wha— what’s going on?” You asked hesitantly, anxious that Bucky was being so short with you so suddenly and you didn’t know why.

“Nothing, I just wanna be alone.” He told you, and your heart broke for two reasons.

One, the thought of Bucky having an episode and you weren’t here for him made your heart hurt.

And two, he always came to you when he was upset and the fact that he didn’t want you with him… It stung.

You stared at him as your eyes started to water, your bottom lip starting to quiver. Your heart ached, but you wanted to respect his need for space. You didn’t know what else to say, and considering the lump forming in your throat, you decided to keep it short.

“Alright yeah, of course. I’ll… See you at dinner then.” You told him, watching him retreat back into his room and slam the door, making you flinch.

You were frozen in place, staring at the door expecting him to come back out and tell you it was all a prank. But several minutes passed and you were still staring at the door.

_____________________

You pushed the food around on your plate, keeping your eyes casted down. You had tried to get Bucky's attention, ever since you watched with glossy eyes as he passed his usual seat next to you, and instead sat at the other end of the table. He was avoiding your direction and never attempted to make eye contact.

Bucky giving you the cold shoulder, being silent with you was extremely painful. Considering how well you two communicated and talked, you were the one who had brought him out of his shell. It hurt so bad your chest ached physically.

Out of nowhere, you were slamming your fork down on the plate with a loud clank, causing everyones attention to snap to you.

"What's the matter with you cupcake?" Tony asked you, taking a sip from his wine glass.

Feeling embarrassed from everyones stares, you snuck a glance at Bucky at the end of the table, surprised when you met his concerned eyes.

You scoffed, shaking your head in bewilderment. He had no right to act concerned, after ignoring you. You almost felt bad for him, thinking he was having a bad day, but after you watched him chatter playfully at dinner with everyone, you realized it was only you he didn't want to speak to.

"Hello? Earth to (Y/n)!?" Tony announced, banging on the table to get your attention when he noticed you spacing out.

Everyone was concerned about you by now, all watching you carefully. You glared at Bucky and stood up without answering Tony, pushing your chair back and quickly exiting the dining room.

"Must be her time of the month." Tony mumbled, earning a slap to the back of the head from the redhead next to him. "Ow... What?!"

"Shut up Tony." Natasha rolled her eyes, turning to Bucky and giving him a 'What did you do' look.

_____________________

Laying in bed on your side, you pulled the blanket tighter to your chest with a sniffle. You began to turn over on your other side when your hip throbbed painfully at the movement. The waves of pain had your body shuttering, your eyes filling with fresh tears, rolling down your flushed cheeks.

You blamed your tears on your hip pain, but all the emotions you’d piled up since you’d gotten back from the mission was weighing on you now.

Light knocks sounded from your door, causing you to tense up and turn your back to the door. You didn’t feel like talking to anyone, especially if it was him.

“(Y/n)? I know you heard me.” Natasha muttered, opening the door, letting herself in.

“What do you want Nat?” You snapped, not meaning to take out your frustrations on her.

“You wanna tell me what’s going on? Your little scene downstairs has everyone worried.” She told you, earning a scoff from you, still refusing to face her.

“It’s nothing.” You sighed, wishing she could leave so you could attempt to sleep your issues away.

“Didn’t seem like nothing.” She retorted, huffing in annoyance when you stayed silent.

You were staring at the wall, biting your lip, trying to hold in your built up emotions. Too busy to notice Natasha whispering to another person entering the room. It was when you felt the edge of the bed behind you dip down that snapped your attention back.

“Hey doll,” Bucky greeted, “How’s your hip?”

You twisted your body back facing his worried form, but your eyebrows were furrowed on how he even knew about your injury.

“How did you…”

“Nat told me.”

Rolling your eyes, you were cursing under your breath. Throwing the blanket over your head in attempt to hide.

Your blanket cocoon was quickly ripped away by Bucky, pulling the blanket all the way down below your knees. His eyes dancing around your bandaged hip, clenching his jaw at the red seeping through the white gauze.

“(Y/n), is your hip feeling okay? Do we need to change it—“

“I’m fine!” You snapped, “Now go away.”

You we’re looking everywhere but his eyes, knowing you’d break down if you saw the disappointment in them.

Bucky was taken a back, but he couldn’t be all that angry when he’d brought all this on himself. He just got into this weird headspace when he’d heard the mission report, hearing that you’d been hurt. He realized it wasn’t fatal, but he didn’t like seeing his girl hurt at all. He realized he took it a little too far, he didn’t mean to make you upset the way he did. He’d shut you out and he felt like his old self when he’d first arrived at the compound again. Anxious and closed off, pushing you away when he really wanted to pull you into his arms and tell you how much he loves you.

“Doll, talk to me.” He practically begged, his metal arm whirring, having to stop himself from reaching out to touch you.

“Why are you ignoring me?” You rushed out, your voice louder than you intended it to be, “Is it because I messed up on the mission? A-are you disappointed in me or something? Huh?”

Your chest was rising and falling in a fast rhythm, your mind going haywire at the possibilities of why Bucky was suddenly indifferent with you. Your throat felt like it was tightening up.

Bucky stayed silent, his heart hurting, feeling terrible for making you feel this way.

You couldn’t stop your mind from producing the awful thoughts, and like a switch had been flipped, the dam inside of you cracked. The tears wouldn’t stop, your sobs painful sounding

“Is it… Is it because you— I— Do you not love m-me anymore?” You wheezed out.

Bucky snapped out of his silent trance, his hands cupping your face, brushing away the tear streaks.

“Baby no…” He hushed, trying to stop your mind from torturing yourself.

“I’m so sorry Buck, I-I love you so much and I…” You hiccuped, “If I did something— If I’m not good enough—“

“No Doll hey… Stop that,” He cooed, “You haven’t done anything wrong, okay?”

“Bu-but you…”

“I know baby, I’ve been a dick. I shouldn’t of shut you out like that I was just… I was scared.” Bucky confessed, your tears and breathing slowing down, you sitting silent besides the occasional hiccup.

“I still… I don’t understand?” You thought out loud.

Bucky breathed heavily, swallowing the forming lump in his throat. He scooted closer to you, pulling your form closer to him, and you let him.

“(Y/n), you have no idea how scared I was when I heard you had gotten hurt.” He started, watching your face soften at his wavering voice.

“Buck, I’m okay though.” You reassured him, grabbing his palms, rubbing your thumb comfortingly over the back of his hand.

“I know baby, but… I couldn’t help but think if you got hurt on a mission and—“ He panted out, “And you didn’t make it.”

Your heart ached at the pain laced in his words, him holding onto your hands in a desperate grip.

“Buck..”

“I know that doesn’t give me an excuse to be a dick to you I… I just get into this headspace every time you are headed back from a mission, when I’m waiting to hear that you’re alright and… When I heard you had gotten hurt— I just assumed the worst.” He finished.

The disappointment was clear on his face, but it wasn’t directed toward you, it was directed to himself.

You understood that he meant no harm, and you felt incredibly bad that he suffered so much while you were gone, you thought it was the other way around. You felt extremely loved in a sense, feeling lucky enough to have someone worry as deep as he did for you.

“Buck, you should’ve just told me how you were feeling from the start. You know I’d listen,” You paused, doubt clouding your thoughts, “You still trust me enough to talk to me… Right?”

Bucky immediately nodded his head, cupping your face, hearing your faltering voice.

“Of course I do baby, I trust you with my life.” He reassured you, “I don’t know why I got like that.”

“I know why,” You started, cradling his face, watching him snuggle his cheek deeper into your palm, “You have a good heart, and sometimes having a good heart can be overwhelming, because you can care so much about something.”

“I don’t want a good heart if it’s going to make me act that way.” He whispered sadly, lowering his eyes.

“That’s the thing about having a good heart,” You lifted his head slightly so his eyes met yours, “Its not something you can just change, it’s a part of you.”

He gazed from each eye, to your lips, then back up to your eyes, mesmerized by your beauty and soul. How could you be so forgiving and caring towards him?

“I’m so sorry I shut you out (Y/n), I love you and I will never do something like that again.” He promised, lifting and pulling you into his lap, curling his arms around your frame. Sitting his chin on top of your head.

You snuggled your face into his neck, wrapping your arms around him protectively.

“It’s okay Buck, I get scared too.”