#sorry this is so late my phone was dead for several hours

[pictureofdoriaaaaaangay]

happy St Mark's Eve, everyone <333

[lloydskywalkers]

drywall

went to go work on raising hell and ended up missing Skylor, so!! I will always have so many emotions about s8/9 and the aftermath of it, here's another gallon of them.

Two months after they’ve taken back the city and the street lights are finally starting to work again, Lloyd shows up at the restaurant an hour past closing time, sporting a spectacular bruise and enough blood across his gi to make the Ninjago City Blood Drive team’s day. 

“Hi, Sky.” Lloyd waltzes — or attempts to, it’s more of a stumbling collapse — right in as if nothing’s amiss in the slightest. “Sorry, I’m, uh. Was in the neighborhood and I wasn’ sure…where else t’ go.”

Skylor, still frozen over a stained tabletop with her dishtowel in hand, stares at him. 

All things considered, she should be fully prepared for something like this. It should practically be in her restaurant’s training manual, that at some point you’ll end up confronted with a bloody, half-dead ninja in your door. But given how slow the past few weeks have been, coupled with the sheer exhaustion of dealing with the lunch rush and the dinner rush and the late-night somewhat-inebriated people rush, her guard is apparently down enough to leave her reacting with a simple, useless, “Oh god.”

“Tha’s my grandfather,” Lloyd says. There’s blood at the corner of his mouth — coupled with the bruising, Skylor thinks (hopes) it’s simply from split skin or a bitten cheek, instead of crippling internal bleeding. 

Crippling internal bleeding is enough of a concern to finally spur her into action, dropping her towel and rushing over to help Lloyd finish stumbling through the door. She spares a moment of thanks, that there’s even a door at all — repairs in the city have been slow, since Harumi’s brief reign of terror, and the insurance provider is still holding out on her. 

But the door was a good thing to prioritize, she thinks, bolting it firmly behind them. 

“Sorry, again,” Lloyd murmurs. His jaw is working in the tight way it does when he’s biting back pain, his bottom lip bruised and bleeding. Skylor’s stomach twists. 

You’d think, after all she’s been through, she’d be more accustomed to seeing the people she cares about in pain. That she’d be desensitized enough, to fight back the aching nausea and the gnawing desire to look away. 

Or maybe she’s just a coward. That would track, she thinks. 

“Shush,” she says instead, maneuvering Lloyd further into one of the nicer booths, careful of the blood that’s…everywhere. “What did you do to yourself this time, huh?”

“I didn’t do anything,” Lloyd grumbles, his voice steadier now that he’s sitting down. Unfortunately, he’s only paler under the yellowy restaurant lights, and the blood looks about ten times worse. “I just…slipped. A bit.”

Slipped. Skylor could smack him, if he wasn’t already hurt. 

“Lemme see, then.” She bends down to where she can tug the folds of his gi back, trying to trace the blood to a source. She finally finds it — an ugly wound in his left shoulder, several long gashes across his forearm. A knife, maybe. Possibly a sword, but it looks close-up and quick. It’d need to have been quick, for whoever was wielding it to land this many hits. 

Or Lloyd would have to be sloppy. 

Lloyd gives a stifled, shuddery exhale, a dangerous preamble to tears. Skylor pauses, just for a moment, and deliberates. 

She’s got Nya’s number, carefully keyed into her phone ever since she and Kai started visiting the noodle house. There’s no doubt in her mind that she’d want to know about this — and there’s less doubt that Kai would want to know. if anything, she’s surprised he hasn’t burst through the restaurant doors already, summoned by whatever sixth sense he has that goes off when Lloyd’s in danger. 

But Skylor also knows there’s got to be a reason that Lloyd came here, despite his claims. Just as there’s probably a reason he didn’t call Kai or Nya, or any of the others. 

And perhaps she feels just a little proud, that Lloyd’s chosen her to come to. 

It’s quickly lost in the blood that coats her hands as she begins patching the wound in his shoulder, but the feeling’s there nonetheless. 

It’s a nice feeling, being relied on. Being trusted. 

“Who got you this bad?”

She speaks up mostly to break the quiet. Lloyd isn’t quite like Kai, who likes talking simply to fill a space, but she knows he isn’t fond of silence, either. It’s one of the things they share in common. 

“No one.” Lloyd sucks in a breath as she draws the bandage tight across his shoulder, wrapping it beneath his arm and back over. His eyes close briefly as she ties it off, forehead scrunching up, before he lets out another shuddery exhale. “Some guy, uh — guy on the way home, near the subway. I had answered a call earlier, and I guess — ow, hey—” 

“Sorry,” Skylor winces, as she finishes dumping antiseptic across the slashes on his arm. “It hurts less if you aren’t expecting it.”

“That’s a lie,” Lloyd says, pointedly. 

She shrugs. “So, random subway mugger?”

Lloyd looks away, his cheeks darkening. It’s a relief, to see any color in his face at all. “Sort of.”

He leaves it at that, lapsing back into silence. Skylor looks down, focusing on the butterfly stitches she’s placing across his arm. Were it anyone else, she’d have panicked for actual stitches, but Lloyd heals with an uncanny quickness. She remembers Nya complaining about it, back during the Resistance — how Lloyd threw a fit when his skin healed over the stitches, and they’d had to cut him open all over again. 

She’d probably throw a fit of her own, to be fair. 

“Well, if you see him,” she says, reaching for the roll of bandages. “Point him out. I could use a punching bag.”

Lloyd’s lips quirk, a ghost of a smile. 

“Thank you.”

It’s quiet enough she might’ve missed it, if they were any further apart. Skylor doesn’t miss the meaning, either. She simply shakes her head, wrapping another layer around his arm. 

“I’m just glad you came to someone,” she says. “Instead of half-assing it yourself.”

Lloyd’s fingers twitch. “I wouldn’t do that.”

“Uh-huh.”

She can’t pretend she doesn’t understand. Her childhood is filled with fun little memories of patching herself together, hiding wounds from Clouse or her father in an attempt to convince them she was better than she was.

Not that the people Lloyd is hiding from are anything remotely like her father, of course, but there’s an overlap between people you fear and people you love, and trying to convince them you’re stronger than you are. 

“That should do it,” she nods to herself, surveying her work. She feels unusually proud of herself — Skylor’s never really stayed with a team long enough to have many chances to patch people up. It’s rarer that people are so open to her touching them, once they’ve learned what her power is. The ninja are an exceedingly kind exception, but it still makes her feel warm, being given this kind of trust. 

She glances up, eyeing her patient. Lloyd’s still pale, but it’s far better than the ashy color from earlier anymore. “Anywhere else?”

“No.” Lloyd stares at the strip of bandages across his arms, shoulders hunched over on himself.

“I have Nya on speed dial, you know—”

“Its just a few scrapes,” Lloyd rolls his eyes. “It’s nothing.”

Skylor sighs. “Lemme see.”

Lloyd grumbles, but he lets her grab his arm again, wincing as she dabs antiseptic over the smaller cuts. There’s nothing serious — just a few nicks and scratches, the kind you get from eating the ground mid-fight. He’s got one uglier scrape, but it’s about as nasty as a skinned knee, and easily eclipsed by the scar it bleeds through. 

Her fingers falter. She knows this scar — she was there when Kai struggled to patch the wound it once was, back on her father’s island. It’s an ugly, jagged scar, a testament to how Kai’s hands had shook as he’d tried to be gentle. 

In hindsight, it had been a terrible moment. Kai wasn’t sure if Lloyd had picked up the wound from the underground tunnels, Chen’s cultists, or his own brief slip into the madness of the staff. Lloyd wouldn’t say where it was from, even if either of them had been much for talking. And Skylor had been an awkward, purple-scaled fixture next to them, holding the medical kit while the others planned how to kill her father. 

And yet, it was the lightest she’d ever felt. 

Skylor bites her lip. 

She’s never told Lloyd, what exactly he’d meant to her. He likely has no idea, what he’d represented when she’d first met him. 

The son of one of Ninjago’s greatest villains — and people loved him. 

Kai loved him. 

If Lloyd could overcome the hurdle of his parentage and choose to live the way he wanted, if people could look past the dark stain of his legacy and love him anyways, then maybe—

He’d been hope, when she needed it most. And Kai had lived up to that hope, taking Skylor’s half-formed, frail dream and fueling it into a blaze.

Her eyes close, briefly, and she shivers. 

“Are you okay?”

Blinking her eyes back open, she comes face to face with Lloyd’s concerned expression. She shakes her head, looking away. 

“I’m fine, I’m fine.” Embarrassment pulls at her. “Just a bit of…aftershocks. You know.”

Lloyd frowns, clearly not knowing. “Aftershocks,” he repeats. “From…”

His eyes go wide, only for his expression to immediately crumple. “Oh.”

Skylor waves her hands. “It’s not bad,” she reassures him. “I can barely feel him — his power — anymore. Just pins and needles in my hands sometimes, that’s all. Totally…totally normal.”

She hopes. Garmadon’s power had burned, in the way bitter cold feels against your skin, so a bit of numbness is pretty decent tradeoff, if she says so herself. 

Lloyd looks down, expression shadowed and hidden. Skylor could curse herself — she knows better, than to bring up—

“Here.” Lloyd’s suddenly holding his hand out, looking at her earnestly. It’s an almost childish expression of sincerity, one that makes him look much younger — a little more like the Lloyd she met on her father’s island, who beamed when his father ruffled his hair. 

Her chest aches fiercely, and Skylor holds out her hand before she can hesitate. Lloyd takes it carefully in his own, and she watches in fascination as the low shimmer of green engulfs her fingers. Lloyd’s power is as gentle as he is — nothing like the ravaging purple storm that was his father’s. 

“Oh,” she says. “That’s nice.”

Lloyd makes a humming noise. “I’ve been practicing. H-his power doesn’t get along with mine, that much. So it kinda…makes room. For whoever’s stronger, at the moment.”

Skylor fights back a shudder. Realistically, she knows she shouldn’t feel ashamed, that Garmadon overpowered her — he’s Garmadon. The reminder of how his power felt still stings, though. 

It’s a reassurance, that Lloyd’s power is stronger now. His element, if you can even call it that, is probably the one she’s the least familiar with — she’s never tried to copy Lloyd’s power. She isn’t entirely sure if she could, or if she should. Dipping into Garmadon’s power was dangerous enough. Skylor isn’t stupid enough to pretend she has the willpower to meddle with the power of the FSM’s family much more than that. 

“It feels like cheating, kinda,” she finally says. “That fighting fuels his power. How are you supposed to fight back?”

Lloyd shrugs, letting her hand go. “You don’t. You get really good at dodging.”

Skylor leans forward, propping her chin up in her palms. “That’s stupid.”

“Well,” Lloyd’s lips twitch, just the slightest bit. “That’s Garmadon, so.”

His expression immediately fractures, and Skylor can spot the battle in his eyes as he tries to grasp for composure. Her teeth worry at her lip.

She should really call Nya, now. Or try to track down Kai’s number. Or anyone else — it’s nearly two hours past closing, the kitchen’s still a mess, and Lloyd’s blood is all over her dishrags. Lloyd himself is hardly in better shape, the ghostly pale of his skin reminding her horribly of when she first saved them from the Sons of Garmadon, and Skylor is—

Not enough. 

She ought to know that, by now.

But the fact still stands, that Lloyd came to her. A part of her clings to that, and another selfish, awful part of her, the part that festered on her father’s island for so many years, the part that still flinches beneath the weight of her last name — well. 

Misery loves company, is probably the best way to put it. 

“I should…I should probably get going,” Lloyd says, uncertainly. He doesn’t make any move to get up, though, still small and weary where he’s hunched up in her booth. 

Skylor stares at him, and thinks of sitting for hours on the edge of her father’s island, staring at the sun on the water until her eyes ached. 

“Hey,” she says, a bit breathless, twisting her fingers together. “Wanna go skip rocks?”

Quite fairly, Lloyd stares at her like she’s lost her mind. 

They end up on the rickety end of one of Ninjago City’s abandoned docks anyways, a mismatched selection of somewhat flat rocks spilling out of a Chen’s to-go bag. Lloyd’s left arm is tied up in a mangled sort of sling they fashioned from Skylor’s old sweatshirt, leaving him to turn a rock over in his right hand awkwardly. 

“So, funny thing,” he says. “I don’t, uh. I’m not very good at this.”

“That’s okay,” Skylor says, sifting through the rocks they’ve gathered. “I’m not, either.”

“Yeah?” Lloyd sounds hopeful. “I mean, you at least know the trick to it, right?”

“I don’t,” she shrugs. “I’ve never…I’ve never skipped rocks before.”

Lloyd stares at her. 

“It’s not that weird,” she huffs, fighting back the urge to hide. “I mean, I never really had the chance, but I aways thought — I grew up near the ocean, and all these lakes, so I always thought it’d be fun to, y’know, skip rocks, since I didn’t really have…anyone else, to…”

The rest of the sentence is about to turn even more humiliating, so it’s a relief when Lloyd interrupts her. 

“I haven’t either.” 

He immediately flushes. “That’s why I’m not good at it.’Cause I’ve never actually skipped rocks.” 

“Oh.” Skylor looks at their bag, then back up at him. “Well, cool. We’ll both suck, then.”

“How hard can it be, anyways?” Lloyd says, sorting through their rocks. “You just find a flat one, right?”

“Yeah,” Skylor says. “Then you sort of just, frisbee it. I think.”

“Hm.”

“You haven’t thrown a frisbee either, have you.”

“Oh, like you have.”

Skylor presses her lips together, snorting. “Was wondering when your snark was gonna show back up.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Do you not remember half the stuff that came out of your mouth, back at the tournament?”

“You would’ve been out of your mind too, if you had to herd the guys around then — also, bold words coming from you, ooh, how dare you call me a traitor, even though it’s totally dead-on—”

“That wasn’t even close to what I said, and also—” Skylor snatches a smooth rock before Lloyd can, hefting it up. “It’s not like I was gonna admit to you all I was a traitor. That defeats the whole purpose of betraying. Lying my way out of a corner was the smart choice.”

“You’d be surprised,” Lloyd mutters, as Skylor flings her rock across the water.

They both watch as it splashes sadly, sinking instantly like, well. A rock. 

“Okay,” Skylor cringes. “That was a warm-up.”

Several warm-ups later, neither of them have made any progress whatsoever, save to torment whatever fish are hanging out on this side of Ninjago City’s harbor with relentless rock barrages. 

“This is ridiculous,” Lloyd huffs, watching as his rock all but torpedoes into the water. “What’s wrong with us, that we can’t get one stupid rock to skip?”

“Maybe it’s in the wrist?” Skylor flexes her hand, angling it one way then another. She winds ups, throws the rock out, and — nope. 

“I think we’re getting worse,” Lloyd remarks as Skylor sputters, wiping the seawater that splashed up from her face. 

She can’t help but agree. They’re down to a few rocks left, and neither of them have made any progress, much less skipped a single rock. At some point, they give up altogether, seeing who can throw their rock out the furthest instead. 

“This one’s going…” Lloyd raises his arm, closing one eye and squinting as he angles higher. He finally pauses with his hand pointing upwards toward Ninjago City. “Right through that weird oval thing on Borg Tower.” 

“Don’t hit it too hard,” Skylor says. “They just got it back up last week.”

“I’m not hitting it, it’s going through it, weren’t you listening?”

“To you? Nah. I’ve heard you suck at public speaking.”

“Wow, after you forced me into the live broadcast and everything—”

As if to emphasize his distress, Lloyd takes a running start, hurling the rock forward. They watch as it arcs across the skyline, before plummeting somewhere in the harbor. 

“So close,” Skylor murmurs. 

Lloyd flops on the ground with a dull thump, legs sprawling in front of him as he leans back on his elbows. Skylor’s makeshift sling isn’t doing much at all anymore, though it looks like he doesn’t need it to.

That, or he’s hiding pain stupidly well. Which wouldn’t be surprising, if disappointing. 

“Defeated,” he mourns. “Overthrown by rocks.”

Skylor dusts gingerly at the ground before sitting next to him. “They sure got the best of us, this time.”

“Maybe it’s a learning curve,” he says. “That or we missed, like, the optimal rock-skipping development time.”

“Mmh. Maybe we need to recruit a teacher who actually had a decent childhood.”

“If you find someone, lemme know.”

They both laugh, breathless and hollow, because they’re not much else they can say, to that. 

Lloyd sits up suddenly, pulling his knees to his chest. His arms wrap tightly around them, eyes glued forward. Instead of asking, Skylor follows his gaze to the skyline of Ninjago City, the darkened scars left behind by Garmadon and Harumi painfully pronounced this late at night. 

It couldn’t have been longer than two weeks, could it? Their rule over the city?

It feels like years.

She can’t imagine what it must’ve been like for the others — can’t imagine what it was like, ending it. 

It pains her, but Skylor doesn’t remember much of Garmadon’s defeat. She’d thrown everything she had into controlling his power, and when it had snapped back on her, ravaging through her like a cloying poison, everything had gone dark and hazy. 

It kind of sucks, because she’d done all that just to miss the most important parts, but…it is what it is.

What she does remember, besides Nya’s steady voice and Dareth’s panicked yelling, is the blazing warmth that was Lloyd carrying her.

That and his painfully bony shoulder digging into her stomach. 

“I was trying not to get us crushed,” Lloyd mutters, cheeks turning pink. “Sorry my shoulder wasn’t up to cushion-y standards.”

“And I’m trying to say thank you,” Skylor sighs. “But seriously. Put something on those bones.”

“Meh meh meh,” Lloyd mocks. There’s a lack of his usual energy in the action, the dullness to his eyes only made worse by the bruise-like circles beneath them. But it’s still very Lloyd — a flash of the friend she knows. 

“I really do mean it,” she says. “Thank you. For carrying me out of there. For saving me.”

Lloyd stares at her with dark eyes. Not as dark as they were, back when he’d lost his power, but the glow is almost entirely absent.

“You shouldn’t—” he bites off, frustrated. He tosses the rock he’s holding, up and down. “It was never a question.”

He glances at her. “Besides,” and there’s the closest she’s seen to a real smile. “You saved us first.”

Not nearly soon enough, she thinks. 

She should’ve told him, should have asked — should have let him know how it felt to watch her father fall deeper into madness, told him what it felt like to lose hope — what it meant, to move on. 

To cut ties, before they strangled you. 

“How are you,” she says, as gently as she can. Then, because gentle doesn’t always get you through the walls they build— “For real. Not how people want to hear you’re doing, or the answer you think they want. How are you.” 

Lloyd stiffens. There’s a flicker of fear in his expression, his mouth moving on instinct. 

“I’m doing okay.”

Tremors lace through his hand where he holds the rock, shuddering fingers tracing over the rough surface. 

“Okay as I can be.” He looks down, the rock slipping from his fingers as his arms wrap around himself. “I know that isn’t the answer you want, but I don’t…”

He looks back up, the lights of Ninjago City misty in his eyes.  

“I don’t know what people want me to say,” he whispers. 

Skylor wishes he’d screamed it. Wishes he’d snap, wishes he’d find the anger where it simmers inside him and turn it outwards against the world, rather than violently projecting it inwards like a masochistic missile all the time. Anything at all, instead of this hollow brokenness. 

It reminds Skylor a bit too much of—

Well. 

“I know I — things are—” Lloyd swallows. He pauses, raising his hand to scrub at an already-bloodshot eye. “Everything happened so fast. It was like — like getting hit with a bus, then another bus, then she — put the bus in reverse and ran me back over, and I never really had the chance to…to…”

“To get back up?”

Lloyd nods. He picks absently at a bloodstained patch on the leg of his gi. “And I know that’s just a stupid metaphor, but getting back up is…it’s really—”

Lloyd’s pulling threads loose now, tugging hard enough that he’s likely to start unraveling holes in his gi. 

“Can I tell you something? Something that’s not…not so good.”

“Hey, you know me.” Skylor elbows him. “I’m an expert at not-good.”

Lloyd’s eyes are a little too knowing. “You’re really not.”

And she’d turn a mirror on him, if she could. “What is it, then?”

Lloyd looks away, one unusually-sharp tooth gnawing at his lip. 

“I know my dad — my dad I used to have — he loved me. I know he did.” Lloyd sounds, rather devastatingly, like he’s trying to convince himself. “But now that he’s…now that he’s like this, and after everything that happened, I almost wish — I almost—”

He cuts off, covering his face with his hands. “Never mind.”

Skylor stays still, her gaze fixed ahead on a dark spot in the city skyline. If it were her, she’d want—

Lloyd’s voice is a muffled whisper. “I wish he’d never loved me at all.”

Skylor lets out a long, shaky breath. 

Lloyd gives a dry, horrible kind of laugh. “That’s terrible, isn’t it? It’s so selfish, it’s — I’m a horrible person, for thinking that way. But it — it hurts now, to think that — that maybe, now that I’m different — and her — that even my dad—” 

“It hurts,” she murmurs. “To lose it. To think that it’s your fault.”

Lloyd brings his arms over his head, the bandages on his left arm a stark white in the dimness as he buries his face in his knees. Curling up, as if he can make himself small enough the world will finally forget he exists. 

Skylor’s…familiar. 

But then again, is she? 

She swallows. Her father was one thing, but if — if he came back now, after she’s worked so hard to move on — at the height of his madness, what would she do? 

She’s out of her depth, as she’s always been.

But there was a reason she answered the call so fervently, a reason she followed Lloyd without hesitation. Skylor doesn’t put much stock in the Green Ninja, doesn’t put much in any kind of prophecy. But she does care, very much, about Lloyd, and she thinks that’ll take her a bit farther.

“You know.” She looks down, running her finger over their last rock. “You were one of the first people that gave me any hope that I could change. That, uh, someone could love me.”

Lloyd startles, emerging just enough that she can see the green of an eye. “Huh? Me?”

She nods. “Back on my father’s island, during the tournament. I was convinced that…that after everything I’d done, with who I was, there wasn’t a chance I’d find someone who loved me.”

Lloyd frowns, lowering his arms so he can look at her fully. “But I didn’t — Kai was the one who reached out to you. He was the one that saw you. I didn’t…I didn’t really do anything.”

“Yeah. He did. But he reached out to you, first.”

Lloyd stares at her, eyes wide. Skylor smiles at him. “You were good. No matter how bad your family had been. And it…it had been okay, for you.” 

The mistiness returns to Lloyd’s eyes as he looks back to the skyline, his lip caught tightly between his teeth. 

“We’re doing okay, right?” Skylor pulls her own knees up to her chest. “You and me. I mean, we helped, a lot. We fought back for the city. You did a lot more than me, obviously, but—”

“Don’t say that,” Lloyd sounds pained. “Don’t compare it, like I’m — I do a lot more harm than good, sometimes.”

“You don’t say that,” Skylor snaps. 

Lloyd flinches. She bows her head, staring down at her feet. 

“We’re good,” she says, hating the way her voice wobbles. “We’re different.”

It’s occurring to her, how cold it is out here on the water. She hopes Lloyd doesn’t get home with a cold, on top of everything else. 

“We’re different,” Lloyd echoes.

“Yeah.” Skylor swallows. “That has to count for something, right?”

Lloyd makes a small noise, but it isn’t one of disagreement. There’s a rustling as he reaches for the bag, then holds out their final, sad rock. 

“Wanna give it the last try?” He gives her a crooked, half smile. “Make it count?”

Her fingers close over the rough surface, cold against the warmth of his hand. 

The brightness of the sun against water on her father’s island in her eyes, Skylor flings the rock as hard as she can, far enough that it’s swallowed entirely by the harbor darkness. 

If she tries, she can imagine it skipping, just once, across the freezing waters. 

She tells herself, it counts anyways.

[gloomwitchwrites]

Tattoo Artist Simon "Ghost" Riley x Female Reader

Chapter Specific Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): foul language, death of a spouse, brief descriptions of death & injury, symptoms of grief, brief suggestive themes

Word Count: 5.1k

A/N: Part Three of Ink & Needle

A tragedy pulls you back to England. A certain masked man follows your arrival.

Chapter Two // Chapter Four

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // ink & needle masterlist

Three Years Later

Outside the café window, the sky is a dark gray, threatening rain. Across the street is the Cambridge train station. Commuters move to and away from the station, many of them jumping into cabs, waiting at the nearby bus terminal, or entering the pedestrian areas. Several even enter the café you’re currently waiting in.

Your fingers tap on the plastic lid of your coffee cup in a steady, nervous thrum. Your sandwich is off to the side, hardly touched. You’ve only managed a few bites. It’s not that the sandwich is bad but that you’re so exhausted that even food turns your stomach.

At the moment, sleep is an elusive creature, and you certainly cannot curl up in your chair and fall asleep in the café.

You haven’t slept in hours. Anxiousness simmers in every part of your body. On the flight into O’Hare International, you almost puked up your breakfast. Then, on the connecting flight into London, your stomach was a roiling mess. You spent the whole flight staring at the ceiling of the plane praying that you didn’t need to quickly run to the bathroom. The train from London to Cambridge was no better. Your stomach still isn’t cooperating.

You sigh and try again anyway. Tearing into the sandwich, you chew slowly, thinking that maybe if you only focus on the flavors, you’ll sense something.

The bite is dead in your mouth. Bland.

Perhaps you’re getting sick.

You glance out the café window, your gaze scanning the sidewalk and street. Evie is late, which is so unlike her, but entirely understandable. She just buried Archie less than a week ago, and the whole reason you’re back in London is because of the fucking shitty situation Evie is in now that Archie is dead.

It isn’t fair. Evie doesn’t deserve any of this. The two of them should be celebrating their three-year wedding anniversary next month.

You don’t have the ability to track Evie on your phone—the cellular fees alone would be astronomical. All you have is Evie’s “on my way” text and a hope that she’ll turn up soon. You miss her. You want to hold her in your arms and remind her that there are still people in her life that love her.

Evie still hasn’t made an appearance after another ten minutes, and you turn back to the offending sandwich, taking another bite as if this one might be the one that does it.

Nothing. You almost spit it back onto the plate.

You run your hand over your face. Now that you’re sitting, and at your destination, your body is screaming out for rest. Every muscle and limb aches, and you know your eyes are likely bloodshot from the lack of sleep.

“There you are.”

The soft, melodic voice draws your gaze away from the café window. There’s Evie, beautiful even though she looks a mess. There are deep bags under her eyes and her chestnut-colored hair is bunched up on the back of her head in a bun. Worse, Evie’s eyes are watery, like at any moment she’s about to burst into tears.

Evie stands right in front of you, and as your gaze roams down her body, taking note of how disheveled she looks, you land on the one thing that makes this situation so much worse.

With one hand, Evie cradles her pregnant belly. The other rests against the bulging curve. Eight months. Her due date is coming up quick. On her and Archie’s three-year anniversary of all things.

You stand quickly and throw your arms around your best friend, squeezing her tightly but minding the belly, oozing every ounce of love you have for her into the embrace.

“I’m sorry, Evie. I’m so sorry.” Your voice nearly breaks but you manage to reel it in before it shatters.

No number of apologies could ever replace what happened. Wrong place, wrong time is what Evie was told. The bullet wasn’t even for Archie. The person aiming the gun shot wide of their mark, striking Archie in the back of the head.

He died while on a business trip for his family’s consulting firm in the United States. Archie was on his way to meet up with a few friends when his skull was blown off. Evie was told that he died quickly. That he probably didn’t feel a thing.

You draw back a bit and smile softly. “Please sit.” You pull away but keep one hand on Evie’s back, gesturing at the chair across the table from yours.

Evie winces into the seat. “How was your flight?” she asks, rubbing the top of her belly. “And the train?”

“Fine. All fine,” you reply quickly. A lie. You’re bone-tired. Aching in all sorts of places. “How are you? Are you doing okay?” You desperately need to know.

Evie has no family. None. She’s an only child. Her mother died when she was young, and her father died of Coal Worker’s Pneumoconiosis after his retirement. The only family she has in the world is Archie’s, and most of them despise her working-class roots. You distinctly remember Archie’s mother calling Evie a “leech” to her face minutes before the ceremony took place.

That hag of a woman sat in the front row of the church like she hadn’t just spit venom.

Reaching out, you rest your arm across the table, presenting your open palm. Evie stares down at it for a brief moment before sliding her hand into yours, squeezing. Her eyes are wet, close to spilling over, and you decide that this topic of conversation is not appropriate for such a public spot.

“We can talk about it later. If you want,” you murmur, not wanting to draw unneeded attention to her.

Eve sniffles and nods, releasing your hand to dig around in her purse for a tissue.

You slowly draw your hand back into your lap. “I can tell you about work,” you suggest. Evie daps at her eyes and then blows her nose. “Want a bite of my sandwich?”

The offer falls flat. Evie shakes her head. “You should eat it.”

And you need to eat something Evelyn Green.

“You need it more than me,” you insist. “Honestly, I’m not feeling it. Don’t want to let it go to waste.” You push the plate across the table to her.

You don’t need to ask to know Evie isn’t eating. Her cheeks are sunken and her skin is on the paler side like she’s fallen ill. Evie holds the sandwich in both hands and takes a pensive bite. She chews slowly, and then digs in as if starved.

Without Archie here, has no one checked on her? Has Archie’s family completely cut her off? It makes your blood boil.

In the States, you can’t really do anything, but now that you’re here—now that you’re actually witnessing the state she’s in—you’re fucking furious.

The best thing for you to do is to not linger on it or bring it to Evie’s attention. This is something you can tackle later when you’ve had time to calm down.

You adjust in your chair and clasp your coffee cup with both hands. “The technical writing work pays but isn’t that exciting, unless you’d like to hear about the furniture instructional manuals I’ve been editing.”

Evie grins around a bite of food and that small, amused smile is enough to ease some of that internal anxiousness.

“I do have come fiction clients. Pay isn’t nearly as good, but very enjoyable.”

Evie chews and swallows. “I’m glad you’re staying busy.” Her smile softens a bit. “And that you’re here.”

“I’ve missed you, Evelyn Green.”

“I’ve missed you, too.”

You take a small sip of your coffee. It’s gone cold.

“I’ll grab another for the road.” You lift the coffee cup. “Once you’re finished, we’ll leave.”

You take Evie’s car to her house near the outskirts of Cambridge proper. Even though Archie helped his father run the family business, he had his own ambitions when it came to his career. He took a part-time teaching job at the university. He and Evie moved out to Cambridge quickly, mostly to escape his family.

While Archie loved them, he did not love how they treated Evie. He spent a great deal of time away from them, but coming from privilege has its own issues. Archie was always called to attend this or that event, and Evie always came along.

From the street, all you see are tall hedges. When Evie pulls into the drive and stops at the gates, you glimpse a small sliver of brick. Evie presses a button on a small remote and the gate opens inward. The hedges are only a natural fence, and once you’re past them, you finally see the house Evie has called home for the past two years.

It’s all brick with wide windows and a flowerbed that follows the outline of the house. The tall hedges mark the property boundaries, and you cannot see into any of the neighbors’ yards. The property itself is deep, stretching vertically back from the road.

Evie pulls up to the garage but doesn’t pull inside. Instead, she parks the car and starts to get out. You follow suit, moving to the trunk to withdraw your suitcase.

“This is gorgeous, Evie.”

“Thank you,” she replies softly. “Archie picked it out.”

The mention of Evie’s dead husband immediately puts you on edge. You glance at your friend and frown. She’s staring off into the distance.

Chewing on your bottom lip, you go over to her and slide your arm around hers. “Show me around.”

Evie seems to melt a bit, whatever it is that held her slipping away for a moment. She tilts her head toward you and smiles. Over the next few minutes, Evie shows you the private backyard complete with garden and pool. From there, the two of you enter through the mudroom door, kicking off your shoes and heading into the living room.

The space is rustic with deep browns, greens, and golds. There is no minimalism or modernness to this home other than the appliances. You do a small turn, admiring the organized yet maximalist-leaning décor.

“Evie, I—” Your voice cuts when your gaze falls on her.

She is focused on the fireplace mantel. As your attention shifts from her to the mantel, you realize what Evie is staring at. The entire mantel is lined with framed phots of their wedding. There are pictures of just Evie and Archie, some of his family, and ones of the bridal party.

Sighing softly, you move toward her, taking her upper arm to snag her attention.

Reluctantly, Evie’s gaze pulls away from the photographs.

“Can you show me to my room? We can go from there.” You make sure to not sound condescending or worried for her. Evie needs a bit of normalcy.

“Of course,” she nods, showing you to the spare bedroom on the second floor.

You promptly set your stuff down and unpack after Evie slinks away. You’re worried about her and the baby. It’s why you came out here after all. Evie has no one, and with your work, you can easily pack up and travel, taking it with you.

When you return to the first floor, you head into the kitchen. Evie stands in front of the open fridge staring at nothing.

“Evie,” you call out. She doesn’t reply. “Evie.”

She glances over at you and promptly shuts the fridge. “Sorry,” she mutters. “I spaced out.”

“You wanna order takeout?” You slide your phone out of your pocket and wave it in the air. Evie nods and the two of you go to the couch, settling in.

“What are you in the mood for?” You open a food delivery app and begin browsing.

“Whatever you want,” replies Evie.

You tap away at your screen. “What if I’m craving sushi? That would be a problem.”

“True,” she smirks, rubbing the curve of her belly

“What about a super greasy pizza with lots of cheese?”

“We’re in England,” laughs Evie. “Not America.”

“So? There has to be a good pizza place around here.”

Evie leans in a bit and watches your phone over your shoulder. The two of you bicker back and forth but finally decide on the pizza idea.

“How’s baby?” you ask, locking your phone and setting it to the side.

Evie lightly taps her belly. “Good. Healthy.” She winces. “Pushing on my bladder,” she mutters.

“As they do.”

“Archie and I made a list of names. Narrowed it down a bit but never got to finish before…well…now I’m not sure what I like.”

“Do you know what you’re having?”

Evie nods. “You know we wanted to keep it a surprise, but with Archie gone and everything that’s happened, I decided I want to know now. To prepare.”

“Of course. That’s understandable.”

There is so much that still needs to be done, and your arrival only scratches the surface.

Evie gently elbows you in the arm. “Do you want to know?”

You gently elbow her back. “Only if you want to tell me.”

Evie pauses briefly before speaking. “It’s a girl.”

“I’m so proud of you,” you murmur. “You’re going to be an amazing mom, Evelyn Green.”

Evie starts laughing, which quickly turns into crying. You sit up, ready to comfort her, but she’s already starting to laugh again.

“Fuck. I think I peed,” she hiccups as she tries to get off the couch. It’s more of a roll and you hop up to assist her. She totters off to change.

The pizza arrives during that time, and the two of you snuggle into the couch, creating a bed of pillows and blankets as you eat pizza and watch a reality show on Netflix. Evie starts to soften, becomes happier, and you love to see it. The pizza is loaded with extra cheese, lots of garlic, roasted tomato, spinach, and a white sauce.

“You know,” you say around a bite of crust. “The fact that ranch is not a staple with pizza here is an atrocity.”

Evie arches an eyebrow and wipes away a wayward strand of cheese from her chin. “You want to eat ranch with this?”

“Not this specifically,” you mutter.

Evie snorts and takes a large bite of her slice. “What I really miss most about the States is the food.”

“Like what?” you press.

“Tacos. And not that hardshell bullshit you get at the grocery store. I want the cilantro, sliced radish, and lime with a salsa so hot it melts your face.”

“Don’t forget the onion.”

“And extra onion,” adds Evie.

You wipe off some grease from the corner of your mouth.

Evie sighs, her shoulders heaving before she turns to look at you. “Thank you. By the way. You didn’t have to come.”

You roll your eyes and give her your best smile. “I’d do anything for you. Plus, I work remote. I can literally go anywhere in the world at any time and still be able to do my job. Honestly, it’s fine. Plus, I’m not paying rent or anything. It’s amazing.”

Evie shakes her head in amusement. Her plate is carefully balanced on her belly. “Are you seeing anyone?”

The abrupt change startles you.

“Nope,” you reply quickly, nibbling on the reminder of your crust.

“Remember that man with the balaclava at Riot Room?” Evie gestures toward her face as if she’s wearing one. “The one Jade, Sam, and I all convinced you to have sex with?”

You drop the pizza crust onto your plate. “Yes.” Why is Evie asking about him?

“Do you ever think about what happened to him? Like, what he might be doing now?”

All the time.

You lick your lips and rub your fingers together over the plate. Crumbs fall from your hands. “Sometimes.”

It’s a total lie. You think about your wraith all the time, especially in the dark when your hand is between your legs. The memory of him is like a deep, poorly healed scar. It is a slash across your heart.

Ghost.

His touch will never fade. He marked you, made you his, and you won’t forget a single moment you spent with him.

“I can’t believe you missed Sam making a move on his friends. What was his name?”

“Gaz?” you offer, vaguely recalling the man that spoke to you when Ghost wouldn’t let go of your arm.

“Was it? I thought Sam said his name was ‘Kyle.’”

You shrug. “The man I ran away with called himself ‘Ghost.’”

Evie nods, yawning. “That’s true.” She shifts slightly in your direction. The plate on her belly stays put. “We have an early morning.”

“Do we?” you ask nonchalantly, thankful for the pivot in conversation.

“Did you ever meet Archie’s grandmother? Amelia?”

There are only a handful of times you’ve met anyone from Archie’s family and most of them were during those last few weeks leading up to the wedding.

“I don’t believe so,” you reply slowly.

Evie rubs at the side of her belly in agitation. “You can’t stay with me forever. And while I appreciate you, I’ll need support when you’re gone.”

Sighing, Evie removes the plate from belly and tries to sit up. Knowing her efforts will be in vain, you take the plate from her and set it on the coffee table.

Evie murmurs a quiet ‘thank you’ and falls back against the couch. “We’re going to stay with her. She lives in the Clapton area of London.”

You’re surprised. Evie loves this home. When her and Archie first moved in, it’s all she could talk about. “You don’t want us to stay here?”

Evie’s mouth turns downward and tears start to form in the corner of her eyes again. You understand the moment the words leave your mouth. This place holds too many memories.

“It’s not like anyone else will have me,” she sniffles even as she tries to laugh it off like it doesn’t bother her.

“They’re a bunch of idiots. And don’t deserve your tears. Fuck. Them.” You stuff the rest of your half-eaten crust into your mouth.

It might not be the nicest thing to say, but the majority of Archie’s family are assholes who deserve to be called by an insult rather than their names,

Evie turns back toward the television. You snuggle in next to her and Evie’s head falls against your shoulder. A single tear rolls down her cheek and you absently wipe it away.

The next day is all business.

It keeps Evie busy enough that she can’t stop to cry, but you still make her take frequent breaks. It’s clear that Evie hasn’t been taking care of herself since Archie’s funeral. She may be eight-months pregnant, but she’s abnormally sluggish and forgetful. Evie keeps losing her train of thought, or she starts to mumble to herself instead of speaking directly to you when you ask her a question.

It’s upsetting, but it mostly makes you angry. It means that Archie’s family has completely abandoned her now that he’s dead. They have no reason to interact with her.

On top of that, there is too much to do, and Evie needs all the support she can get. You don’t want to make England your permanent place of residence, but Evie is like a sister to you. She is family. You won’t toss her to the side.

The biggest hurdle is making sure Evie has adequate help. You’re not the only person Evie should need to rely on. After Evie went to bed last night, you promptly messaged Jade and Sam, detailing the situation. Both of them want to come out, but their jobs are not nearly as flexible as yours.

With the essentials packed, and the car loaded, you and Evie clean out the kitchen, tossing out all the open perishables while boxing up everything that is still good and unopened. The two of you will stop at a local food bank and drop it off.

At midday, the two of you are in the car, driving to London. By American standards, the drive isn’t that far, but the traffic is horrendous. Evie drives, and you take notes of everything that needs to be done while being the perfect passenger princess.

Everything in the house will need to be organized and gone through. Evie plans on staying with Archie’s grandmother which means she needs to downsize. You’ll need to contact an estate agent to appraise and ready the house for the market. All the furniture will either need to be sold, donated, or brought to Ameila’s home. With Archie’s death also comes an enormous amount of wealth all tied up in various assets. None of it makes any sense, and Archie’s personal solicitor will need to be contacted.

None of that includes setting up a nursery or supporting Evie through the rest of her pregnancy. Plus, there is your job to think about. Yes, you do mostly freelance work, but you’re usually sent work by the company that contracts you. There are deadlines that you need to hit.

The GPS beeps and Evie turns onto a massive thoroughfare, crossing a large bridge before coming to a massive roundabout. From there, Evie follows the road a few minutes. She turns onto a side street lined with various business and homes. You recognize nothing. This city is completely foreign to you.

“We’re here,” says Evie, nodding to a two-story brick house. She pulls into a tiny driveway and turns off the car.

Amelia’s home is what you picture when you think of houses in England. Maybe you’ve watched one too many movies, or maybe the stereotype holds true, but it fits the bill. On the outside, it’s clean and taken care of. The short driveway and path to the store is perfectly lain without a single weed. Even the stunted hedges under the front windows are perfectly trimmed.

You’re out of your seat and to the driver side of the car before Evie has the chance to open her door. When she tries to head to the back of the car to empty the trunk, you politely chase her away. You’ll make multiple trips if you need to, but you’re not allowing Evie to lift a single thing.

The front door opens and a short, stout older woman steps out onto the stoop. Her graying hair is clipped to her shoulders. She wears tan pants, the knees of which are patched over with sunflowers on white fabric. The rainboots on her feet are splattered with mud, and the yellow coat and white linen shirt she wears are speckled with a bit of dirt.

Amelia grins as she removes the gloves she’s wearing. “Evelyn!” she calls out.

“Amelia,” greets Evie, her arms outstretched.

Evie waddles over to Amelia and the two of them embrace. Amelia pulls back at the same moment you approach the two women.

Amelia smiles. “Can’t forget you.”

“You—” The words leave your mouth in a huff when Ameila wraps her around your waist and squeezes like she’s trying to snap your spine.

“Evie’s friend,” breathes Amelia, stilling holding tight.

“That’s me, ma’am,” you manage, the sound of your voice mostly strangled breathing.

Amelia abruptly stops hugging you and the sudden release of tension is a perfect inhalation. “Blimey! Hear that, Evie? She called me ‘ma’am.’” Amelia tuts. “None of that ‘ma’am’ nonsense around here. Call me Amelia.”

She glances to the left of you and then the right. You only managed to snag a few bags from the car before walking over to them.

“Well,” begins Amelia. “Hand me a bag and let’s get inside. I have the kettle on. Along with some biscuits and jam.”

“Good,” you sigh. “I’m starving. Ran out of car snacks halfway to London.”

Evie glances over her shoulder and grins at you. “That’s because you ate them all.”

You make a face and Evie laughs, entering through the front door.

The first thing you notice about the place is how many goddamn doors there are. Just inside the front door is another door that enters the living room, then another that leads to the stairs. None of it is open. It’s bizarre. Tight and cramped.

You have to wiggle your way sideways into the living room.

“Drop the bag there dear.” Amelia points to a spot near her sofa. “We can grab them later. Take a seat at the table. Enjoy a cuppa before I start dinner.”

The kettle whistles loudly as you enter the kitchen. Evie stretches a bit before she slides into a chair. You select the chair next to her. Amelia grabs three mugs from a cabinet and sets them on the counter. From a different cabinet, Amelia grabs a tea tin and drops a bag into each mug. She removes the kettle from the stove and starts filling the mugs with hot water.

Steam rises into the air. “Now I know all about Evie, but I know nothing about you other than what she’s told me.”

“Whatever she’s told you. It’s isn’t true.”

“It’s all good stuff.”

“Like I said. None of it is true.”

Evie tries and fails to stifle a snort.

Amelia’s mouth forms an amused smile. “She told me you were a writer.”

“Not exactly,” you say slowly. “I’m an editor. I usually do technical work, but I occasionally branch off into the publishing world of fiction. Especially if I’m looking for a little extra cash flow.”

Amelia ambles over to the table, expertly carrying all three mugs. She sets one down in front of Evie first and then you before herself.

Amelia settles into the unoccupied chair.

“She said your job allowed you to move around. That’s good. Glad you’re here. Evie needs more than me looking after her.”

You swallow, the mug hot against your fingers. “I’m glad I came.”

When you wake in the morning, it’s early. The sun is just starting to ascend.

Evie is still asleep, her breathing even and calm. You slowly unfurl yourself, walking on quiet feet to the bathroom with a change of clothes in tow. You brush your teeth and wash your face. It’s a bit cold but not overly so. You open the small window in the bathroom to check.

You head downstairs, a knee-length cardigan wrapped around your body. The kitchen light is on. There is a hot kettle, two mugs, and tea bags set out. The gesture is lovely but you cannot live on tea. You’ll need coffee eventually or you’ll go insane.

The back door is propped open and you walk up to it, poking your head out into the early morning chill. Amelia is out in the backyard tending to her garden. You step out onto the top stair and call out to her.

Amelia glances up and waves you over.

As you approach, she starts talking, her warm breath creating steam before her face. “Checking on the tomatoes. Bit chilly this morning. Plants don’t like it much.”

You wrap your cardigan a little tighter around yourself. “Can I do anything to help you?”

“That’s sweet of you. But no. At least not out here.” Amelia gestures to the raised garden beds with an outstretched hand. “Could you go to the bakery just across the way? Grab some pastries for today and tomorrow?”

You nod. “Of course. Where is it?”

Amelia removes her gloves and tosses them down onto the edge of the wood garden bed. “When you go out the front door makes a left until you come to the first cross-street. Turn left again and then an immediate left at the small corner store. Just walk that and you’ll see it.” Amelia shrugs. “Usually a line by this time.”

“Is there coffee?”

“They do indeed,” replies Amelia with a knowing grin.

“I’ll just grab my coat.”

“Take your time.”

You head back upstairs to the bedroom to grab your coat. Evie is still asleep. Silently, you snag your coat off the back of a chair and slip it on, leaving through the front door.

There is surprisingly little traffic as you follow Ameila’s detailed instructions. You take a left and follow the row of houses all tightly packed together. When you make it to the cross-street, you turn left again. The corner store comes up quickly. Turning left again, you keep your gaze on the storefronts that line the street. After the corner store is a pub, another pub, a salon, a few restaurants, another pub.

Then, a tattoo parlor.

141 Ink the sign reads. It’s dark inside but it’s fairly early. The sun is much higher now but it’s still not late enough for a tattoo shop to be open.

You shrug and walk on, noticing the line Amelia mentioned almost immediately. It’s not nearly as long as you expected it to be, and you’re through faster than you anticipate.

When you step inside, the smell of roasted coffee beans, baked bread, and cinnamon greet your nostrils. There are so many options and for a moment, you’re a little overwhelmed. But with more people lining up behind you, you make a few selections and collect a coffee for yourself.

With bag and coffee in hand, you start to walk back the way you came. The pastries smell delicious and it takes you a second to realize that the door to the tattoo parlor stands open.

You frown and stop right outside the door. Checking your watch, your eyebrows rise at the time. It’s still incredibly early. Who opens a tattoo parlor at this hour?

Curiosity gets the better of you. You walk up to the entrance and glance inside.

The first thing you notice is a dog. It’s an all-black German Shepard that lays in the early morning sun from the window. His eyes are open and he’s looking at you with interest but not enough to lift his head.

There is the sound of metal clanking against metal. It draws your gaze upward and away from the dog. Your eyes catch a bit of movement. You narrow your focus as your sight adjusts to the shadowy interior.

A man is there with his back to you. He shifts. Turns. And then your heart drops into your stomach.

It’s him. And that is impossible. Of everyone it could be, how could it possibly be him.

Your wraith.

You are frozen. Utterly shocked. He turns a bit more and notices you standing there in the open doorway.

There is zero doubt. None. This is him.

This is Ghost.

Fuck you think. Shit shit shit shit.

You step back and Ghost takes a step forward, his hand falling to his sides, his back straightening like he’s about to move toward you.

Everything about him is the same. All broad shoulders, towering height, and imposing darkness. You know it’s him because of the balaclava. That’s the same, too.

You shake your head and take another step backward.

Ghost takes two.

You turn on your heel, and bolt.

Chapter Two // Chapter Four

taglist:

@glassgulls @km-ffluv @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @spicyspicyliving @childofyuggoth @lialacleaf @sharkbitesblog @coffeecaketornado @wren5650

[ladymarvel27]

Flowers 🥀 Carlos Sainz

Carlos Sainz x Reader

Series Master List

Description: With your situation, is even the dinner date feasible?

Word Count: 1610 (oopsies🫢)

f1 masterlist

Carlos is waiting for his luggage. He is already dressed for the date, his brooch shining bright above the pocket of his blazer. His phone vibrates in his pocket. But he has to ignore it as his luggage arrives and he rushes to get it. He checks his wristwatch. “Half past seven!” He mutters under his breath as he takes his luggage and leaves.

After settling in his car, he takes out his phone from his trousers pocket. He keeps pressing the power button, but it won’t turn on. “C’mon! C’mon!” He muttered to himself as he continued pressing the power button. Finally, the screens lit up:

He cursed under his breath. He had to get you a gift. And a bouquet of your favourite flowers. Also, it was getting late too. So, he chose to ignore it. He revs up his car and drives away.

He fixes his collar, holding a small bag with a bouquet tucked under his arm. He presses the doorbell and takes the bouquet in his hand, waiting for you to open the door.

He is met by silence. No shuffling, no thuds, no footsteps. He presses the doorbell again. Same. “Amor!” He calls. “I am back!” He repeatedly presses the doorbell several times before he stops and huffs in frustration.

He opens the front door with an extra key he had. His eyes dart around, your flats lying around near the entrance, and your sandal is neatly placed on the shoe rack. “Y/N!” He calls, “Where are you?!” He goes upstairs, and keeping the bouquet on a table nearby, places the bag in the refrigerator. He went inside the bedroom. Looking around, he noticed the skirt of your dress on the balcony floor. He rushed there to see you lying on the floor. He turns you around to look at your face. “Y/N?” Your eyes were closed and you looked tired.

“Carlos,” you managed to speak out. “Dios mio!” He muttered under his breath and scooped you in his arms. He helped you lay down on the bed and rushed to bring a glass of water with a bottle filled to its brim. He rubbed your back as you rapidly gulped the entire glass.

“You should rest,” he lays you down, covers you with a thin blanket and turns on the air conditioner, closing all the doors. After some minutes of rest, you sit up.

“Hey,” he spoke up, sitting on the edge of the bed near you, “are you fine?” You take a deep breath, resting your back against the pillow. “Why weren’t you picking up my calls?” You ask.

“Oh, mierda! Sorry,” he says as he places his phone on a charger, “my phone was dead.”

“Carlos!” You shouted at him. “You have no idea how worried I was! I called your parents and they had the freaking same problem!” He gets up and wraps his arms around you. “Calm down!”

“Why the hell should I calm down?! I thought you were messing with me again like Tuesday-” “I am sorry,” he hushed and kissed the top of your head, his grip around you tightening, “it was just- I was careless.” You relaxed.

He sat down in front of you and took your hand in his. “I didn’t have time to charge the phone. I was already late. It was already half past seven when I was settling in the car.” He gets up and rushes outside. Your gaze follows him. He returns a few moments later with a bouquet and a bag. “Also, I had to get you-” he says, handing you the flowers, “and your favourite,” he places the bag on your lap. You opened the bag and your face brightened with a smile, it was your favourite dessert, “my favourite indeed!”

He rushes and grabs a plate and spoons. You placed the dessert on the plate and divided it into two parts, taking the bigger one for yourself. He takes the smaller one.

“By the way,” you spoke as he looked up, “you dressed quite well for tonight. You look handsome.” He smiles and blushes.

“For you mi amor.”

After an hour of taking a lot of fluids and some rest, both of you glanced at the clock.

“It’s way past nine now,” you breathed out.

“We can still make it on time if we leave now,” he spoke, taking your hand in his, “only if you’re feeling well now.”

You huff and rest back on the pillow, breathing out. You removed the thin blanket and went to the bathroom while his gaze followed your movement. You stood in front of the mirror, leaning on the sink. Time was running out, and your makeup was ruined indeed. You hastily opened the drawers and took out makeup wipes. There was a knock on the door. You opened the door. “Need any help?” He asked as he looked down at the wipes in your hand. He immediately placed a stool for you to sit in front of the mirror. He took one, and you wiped off the makeup together rapidly.

“So are you well enough to go?” he asked.

“Yes,” you replied. He smiles. “Well then, I must do some touch-ups then, we have only ten minutes.” You nod and get back to washing your face and he leaves.

Some minutes later you come out of the bathroom, your face moisturised and a light lipstick on your lips. But the room was empty. The room door was open and he was nowhere in the house. The doorbell rings. You go downstairs and open the door. He was standing there. “Hi,” he spoke and gave you the bouquet. You take them and reply, “Hi,” placing the flowers in a vase. When you turned you were suddenly scooped by him in his arms. He placed you on the couch. “The pink one, right?”

“What?”

“The sandals,” Oh. You nod. He leaves and comes back with the sandals. He helps you put them on.

“Have you taken everything you want to?” He asks and he opens the car door. “Yes,” you say as you settle on the passenger seat.

“So,” you breathe out, “we still have time?”

He blows air and replies, “For the dinner date, yes. But we will miss the dance.”

“So no couple dance?”

“Hmm,” he says, his focus completely on the road in front as he speeds up. You felt sad and sank into the seat. It was one of the highlights of September that you used to enjoy. The nights were perfect for dancing. You waited so long for this date, and both of you dressed up perfectly to dance together.

“We should have left after it.” You closed your eyes but immediately opened them when you felt a hand on yours. He rubbed the back of your hand with his thumb.

“Hey, it’s okay. Your health matters more than it.”

He opened the car and took your hand, leading you to a private dimly lit dining spot. The server brings the food and you two eat in silence. The two of you have small banters. He places his hand on yours and pulls to place a kiss on your knuckles. “I missed you.” He tells you about yesterday’s events. You pick up the glass of water and take a sip. His gaze follows your movement and he says, “You are feeling well, right?” You gulped the water down your throat and putting the glass down you nodded.

He takes your hand in his as you two get up. Your eyes roam from his hand to his face. He smiled as soon as your eyes met his. “Let’s go,” he says and two of you walk out. Even if the night wasn't going on as you two had planned before, you were happy in this moment, walking out after a good dinner date and holding his hand.

You felt him tug and you stopped before turning, “Not there princess.” You raise your eyebrows.

“This way.”

“Why?”

“Just come.” You sigh and follow him.

 He leads you to the backside of the restaurant near a gazebo.

“Good,” he smiles, “no one is here.”

You smirk, “Why are we here?” A lighting chandelier hangs in the middle of the ceiling. His hand goes into the inside pocket of his blazer and retrieves his phone. “Don’t worry, It is fully charged.” You chuckle. He taps on the screen. In a few moments, a song starts playing on the speaker, ‘Until I Found Her’. He places it on a small sill nearby.

“Mi Senorita?” He brings his hand forward, “Will you give me the pleasure to dance with you.” Your face brightened up with a smile as you nod. “Sure,” you take his hand, “I’d love to.” You gasp as he pulls you suddenly towards himself and his other hand finds your waist. You place your hand on his shoulder and start moving to the song.

“Ready for the final song?” You press your lips to his and pull away to nod.

He taps on his phone and ‘Havana’ starts playing. He pulled you closer as you rested your head on his shoulder. He loops one arm around you while the other hand intertwines with your other hand.

“Why didn’t you tell me before we would be doing this?” You ask while the two start to walk out of the gazebo. As soon as you step on the edge, flowers fall on you.

“Surprise makes you happier,” he chuckles.

“Oh my, Carlos!” You laugh as you brush them off from yourself.

“Especially when it is least expected," he says, smiling ear to ear.

Seperators credit: @saradika-graphics @saradika

Taglist: @faithshouseofchaos @itsjustvs4 @sunny44 @raynetargaryan2 @chaoswithus

A/n: Sorry for the delays everyone. School and sickness came together.😞 It was my first time writing Carlos fic series, I know this is mini but I enjoyed writing it.

[ttjisung]

back 2 u 𝜗𝜚

p. jisung x fem!reader smau

in which jisung does his best to avoid you, his ex, until he realizes his mistake far too late cw: suggestive themes, bad angst, cheating, swearing

i'm not going back, back, back, back, back

masterlist

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chapter i. (wc: 1.1k)

“I just don’t get it Yang… He was supposed to be my soulmate.” You sobbed into your best friend’s shoulder for the hundredth time in the day, more tears forming at the memory of your abrupt break-up. 

Yangyang simply sighed, holding you closer while offering you another tissue. “He’s an asshole, Y/n. Just forget about him.” You quickly shook your head in denial, forcing yourself further into the male’s arms. Dejun, your other best friend, cringed in pity at the scene. You looked horrible - your hair disheveled, your eyes puffy and red, and your clothes very obviously dirty. 

It had been three days since Park Jisung called you to his apartment, telling you he knew about your ‘secret’ and announcing your relationship was over. You were left confused and heartbroken outside of Jisung’s door, holding a random cardboard box full of your own belongings. You tried reasoning with him for well over half an hour until he seemingly got tired of you and kicked you out to the curb, leading you to cry your heart out to your friends instead. You wondered if this was affecting him as much as it was affecting you. Although he seemed reserved to others, you had spent enough time with him to learn about his emotional nature. Nonetheless, there was no way to know about his state, considering all of your mutual friends had taken his side, blocking you after cussing you out. It was as if your world had completely shifted that day, only leaving behind your own two best friends to pick you up and take care of you, because God knows you weren’t going to. 

It didn’t take a genius to figure out why Jisung broke up with you. For some reason, he thought you had cheated on him. Unknowingly to him, there was no truth behind this accusation considering you were deeply in love with him and would never think about hurting him in such a manner. The fact that you were innocent only added to your frustration, trying to reach out to him in several ways to explain yet he wouldn’t allow you.

In a desperate last attempt, you messaged your old best friend Huang Renjun who had actually set the two of you up, only to find out your message never went through. He had blocked you as well, alongside every other friend of his you knew. Dejun, furious at them for not even listening to you, took your phone as soon as you arrived at his shared apartment with Yangyang, blocking them all back except for Jisung, only because you begged him not to. In your head, soon he’d realize his mistake and message you, reconciling immediately. It had been two days since you last messaged him though, and the hope was slipping through your fingers due to his radio silence. His threat to block you was a sign enough that he had no interest in speaking to you.

“I… I know he said not to message him, but maybe I could show up to his place? He can’t block me in real life…” Your friends were quick to voice their disagreement with your plan, Yangyang taking the lead. “Look, Y/n, I’m sorry but maybe it’s time to maybe contemplate moving on. If he truly cared he would have listened to you by now.” “You don’t get it Yang, obviously he thinks I cheated on him so naturally he won’t believe me. I just have to show him I didn’t.” You reasoned, earning concerned glances from your friends. You didn’t realize how delusional you sounded, yet you were too sensitive to get made fun of so they held back, simply consoling you further.

Despite the constant warnings from your friends, you were dead-set on getting Jisung to listen to you, so you did as you planned, buying his favorite food and some flowers as a gift and making your way to his familiar apartment. Alongside the gifts, you had written him a letter explaining the situation, just in case he wasn’t home.

It took you fifteen minutes to gain the courage to enter the elevator, yet you eventually did it. Pressing the number to his floor, you fidgeted uncomfortably at the silence until the doors slowly opened, allowing you to walk to his door. 

Just as you were about to gently knock your fist on his door, you heard three familiar voices. Huang Renjun, Lee Donghyuck, and of course, Park Jisung. You subconsciously smiled, having missed hearing them, and although it added to the nerves, you felt more determined to walk inside and prove your innocence. That was until you heard what the familiar voices were saying. 

“She was kind of annoying sometimes, honestly.” Donghyuck was the first voice you were able to make out, although muffled, making you press your ear closer to hear what he was saying. “You cursed Ji by setting them up, Jun.” A laugh came out from his mouth. “It’s not my fault dude, I didn’t know she was weird like that.” “It’s fine. I won’t be answering her anyway.” It had been so long since you had heard Jisung’s voice, and although the familiar tone made you want to smile, understanding what he was saying had the opposite effect, and before you realized it, there were several tears running down your face. “I have some chicks that asked me for your number, Ji. Maybe it’s time to rebound.” Your heart broke at Donghyuck’s suggestion. You two hadn’t been as close as you and Renjun, yet you still considered him someone you cared for, so to hear him sabotage your relationship in such a manner made you deeply upset. You held your breath waiting for Jisung’s response, hoping he’d deny. “I think I’m good.” Your heart swelled with hope for a second before it broke again at his next words, “Actually, maybe. Text me their numbers.” 

Not wanting to hear anything further, you left the gifts at his door. You muffled your own sobs with your hands, slipping the letter on top of the items, yet a cry made it through and you panicked realizing footsteps were approaching the door. Quickly rushing to the end of the hallway where there was a blind spot, you heard it opening. “Holy shit, she’s a stalker Ji.” “That’s it… I’m blocking her.” 

You regretted coming, cursing yourself for not listening to your friends. After hearing the voices stop and the door shut again, you waited a minute before returning to the hallway. It wasn’t until you neared the elevator that you saw your gifts in the trash can near his unit, with the letter sitting idly on top of the other garbage. 

You dissociated for the rest of your walk home, falling onto your bed and immediately falling asleep, yet making sure to block him back before. You decided you would listen to Yangyang and Dejun from now on.

Maybe it was time to move on.  

a/n: haechan when i catch you...

[minisugakoobies]

Timezones | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader (Gender Neutral)

Genre: a little angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, established relationship, Non-Idol!AU

Rating: T

Warnings: mentions of illness (not specified), mentions of ill parent, a very soft Jungkook and reader dealing with sudden long distance, special guest appearance by Bam, yes there is a noraebang and fried chicken because last week's lives honestly felt like something a fanfic writer wrote, sorry if this makes you sad but I needed to write it

Word Count: 1.4K

Disclaimers: Obviously I don’t own BTS - they just inspire me

Summary: Only thing that keeps us apart / Is a different timezone

A/N: I'm never getting over Jungkook's lives from last week. The absolute boyfriend vibes, combined with me listening to "Timezones" by Måneskin today, led me to write this. Thank you @sugalaritae for lending me your talented eyes!

I didn't specify what country reader is meant to be from, just that their family at one point while they were a child lived several time zones from where they lives now, long enough for them to think of it as their childhood home.

There are some things going on in my life that have inspired some of the plot, so… I hope when the time comes that you have to deal with such things, you have someone like Jungkook here to support you. It makes all the difference in the world. 💕

The notification comes in at a little past noon. You stare at it for a second before tapping the screen. A familiar pair of brown eyes come into frame, blinking slowly beneath a cloud of dark fluffy hair.

"Koo? Why are you awake?"

"Hi, baby," Jungkook grins, deflecting your question with the sweetness of his smile. His head rests on his tattooed forearm as he gazes at you. "Miss you."

The words make you sigh, releasing a tension you didn't even realize you were holding. Carrying your phone into your bedroom, you sink down onto the mattress of your childhood bed. "I miss you, too."

It's been over a week since you said goodbye at the airport. Eight days, six hours, and thirteen minutes, to be precise. Every tick of the clock sends that number higher and higher.

"I was just thinking about you. Wanted to check in. How're you feeling?"

You shrug, burrowing deeper into the pillows. "I'm okay. Woke up late. Just killing some time before the appointment this afternoon."

He hums, nodding. Your boyfriend opens his mouth and then closes it again. You know what he wants to say, but he doesn't need to. You know he'd be here with you if he could.

This trip came up unexpectedly. But that's how it always goes when a parent gets sick. Everything's fine until it's not. It was easy enough for you to drop everything and fly halfway around the world, but Jungkook's just starting his career now, after a long period of false starts and dead ends. He didn't have the time banked and you weren't about to ask him to give up his job to come home with you.

Home. There's that word again. It's disorienting, being back in the place where you grew up, and feeling like you're somewhere new. So little has changed here, yet it feels completely unfamiliar. Home is now several time zones away.

Home is where he is.

Jungkook's voice pulls you back to the tiny device in your hand. "What time is it there?"

"Just past noon." You don't ask him what time it is, fully aware that it's the middle of the night there. "Why are you still up?"

"Eh, got home a while ago from drinks with Jin-hyung and was hungry, so I got fried chicken. Now I'm too full to sleep."

You give him a look. "How many times do I have to tell you, you can put some of that in the fridge? You don't need to eat it all in one sitting!"

Jungkook scrunches his nose in delight at your reaction. "I know I don't need to. I want to."

You just roll your eyes in defeat. It's not a new topic of discussion. Your boyfriend has a big appetite.

There's a gentle clicking sound from offscreen, nails tapping on hardwood, and then a big brown nose pops into frame as Bam puts his head on his dad's arm, wanting to know what he's looking at. Bam's technically your dog, too, since the two of you adopted him when you'd moved in together three months ago, but you're not a fool. He's Jungkook's baby.

"Bammy!" you coo, and Jungkook tilts the phone so Bam can see your face. His tail whips Jungkook's side in his frenzy. "Hi Bammy, I miss you!"

"Bam's been such a good boy, keeping me company while you're gone, haven't you?"

Jungkook buries his nose in Bam's face while planting kisses on the dog's snout, and you laugh when he sniffs the dog. Someone else might find it weird, but you're used to his sensitive nose. He's always sliding up behind you in the kitchen or bathroom and pressing his face against the back of your neck to inhale deeply. You stopped wearing perfume at his request, when he told you how much he loves your natural scent.

Right now, you'd give anything to feel his arms around you and hear that little snff snff up close. Your sigh is a little louder than you intend, because it draws Jungkook's focus away from his dog.

"You okay, baby?"

"I am. Really. I should… I should probably eat something." Food always helps. It's one of the things your father taught you. "Keep me company while I make lunch?"

Jungkook grins again, twirling something in his hand. "How about I do you one better?" he asks, and you realize he's holding his karaoke mic, and likely has been this whole time, just waiting for the perfect moment to reveal it. "Any requests?"

As you warm up your leftover takeout, Jungkook serenades you with a selection of your favorite songs. He incorporates little bits of choreo in some of the performances, like the risqué moves he does while crooning "Unholy" that make you choke on your rice. As always, his sweet tenor makes your heart flutter while he effortlessly riffs his way through a private little noraebang, just for you.

When your lunch is done, you sit in your father's old armchair, tucking your legs up on the sagging cushion. Jungkook's eyes are closed as he sings, and you know he's lost in the music. It's one of the things you love most about him, the way he gives his all to whatever he's doing. No matter what it is, he's always committed. Devoted.

You're so lucky to have him.

"Koo," you finally say when he pauses to pour himself a beer. "Baby. It's so late there. As much as I'm loving this concert, you should get some sleep." As a graphic designer, he works from home, so he doesn't have to wake early for a commute, but he's still human. He still needs sleep.

He fiddles with his frosted mug, pushing it back and forth on the table by where his phone is propped. "I know. I just… I don't like sleeping in our bed without you. It doesn't feel right." He frowns, dark brows knitting together in a look of anguish. "It doesn't feel like home when you're not here."

The last bit of tightness in your muscles dissipates as you melt at the heartache in his voice. "Oh, babe, I wish I could be home with you right now. Take you to bed, wrap my arms around you, and cuddle you to sleep."

"I wish you were here, too." The stars in his eyes seem dimmed by the sadness that hangs there. "And I'm - I'm sorry that I couldn't be ther-"

"I know, babe. I know." He falls silent at your gentle interruption. You've never hated the miles between you more than this very moment, wishing you could hold him close. Knowing he feels the same. "But this, you calling me like this to check in on me, singing to me - this means so much."

"Be better if I could hold you."

"Mmm. True." You smile playfully, chest warming when he smiles back just a little. "But don't worry. Even though you're there and I'm here, I still - I still feel your love." Of the two of you, he's the crier. But you find yourself swallowing thickly around your words. "So thank you."

Jungkook nods, letting his chin fall to his forearm again. "I'm always here, baby, any time you need some love. Time zones can't keep us apart."

"I know." You mirror Jungkook's position, watching his eyelashes flutter as exhaustion finally seems to hit him. "I love you, Koo."

"Love you too. Let me know how the appointment goes."

He yawns, and in the corner of the screen you see Bam curling up next to him on the couch. As soon as you end the call, you know they're going to fall asleep right there together.

"I will. Go get some sleep, babe."

He murmurs something that sounds like a very sleepy goodnight, and then the call disconnects. The screen fades to black, but in your mind you still see his soft smile.

Stretching, you peel yourself out of your father's chair. The appointment you have today is the one you've been dreading, but you'll be okay. In just a few more days, you'll be back home.

Masterlist 💜 Find me on AO3 💜 

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© 2023 by minisugakoobies. Crossposted to AO3. Please do not copy or repost.

[writingsfromhome]

Golf on TV

Ask: fluffy piece based on Lennon Stella’s Golf on TV (sorry I deleted the original ask but this song is so fluff so ty!)

—————————

I wake up to the bed made, for a second I don’t know where I am. My sleep-addled brain tries to catch up to the present moment. The present morning.

I was in bed, in my new home. It was Saturday morning.

Last night had been a late one. I was the co-lead in an intense case at work and the plaintiff’s team had been smoking our ass in court. Last night we’d gotten boxes of newly admitted evidence and every single person stayed well into the AM to sort it out. The other side liked to play dirty and this is how they did it. Little did they know we’d found our smoking gun. Never underestimate Stewart, Stone, and Nowak.

But I’d gotten home and passed out on the couch. Well, I’d gotten home to Harry passed out on the couch with the TV on. He must have tried staying up for me even though I had told him to go home. But he stayed.

I remember the tension leaving my body just seeing him snuggled on the couch, his face a kaleidoscope of colours reflecting off from the TV. I’d met Harry less than a year ago, a meet cute moment where both of us had gone for the same taxi. He’d waved me in like a gentleman and I’d invited him to share it. Turns out we were only going a few blocks from each other.

He was from London, in San Francisco for work. The taxi ride had been 27 minutes in total but in that time it felt like we’d known each other for 27 years.

As soon as I saw him on the couch, I’d dropped my jacket there, and gotten in beside him. He’d barely stirred, and I passed out pretty quickly thereafter.

I sit up and the sham that was draped over me falls over the side of the bed. I check my watch, still on my wrist. It was past 7. A solid 4.5 hours—that was a restful night for me ever since I took this case on.

Harry must have carried me to bed, I realize. And I’d been dead to the world while he did.

I never expected to see him again after that taxi ride. Until a few weeks later, he was waiting for me in the courthouse lobby. He’d looked me up, saw I had a case that morning, and waited. It was his last week in San Francisco and he wanted to take me on a date. He hadn’t stopped thinking about me, he’d said. I hadn’t either.

I’d dated plenty before him, had several boyfriends, even a situationship. Harry was the first guy I ever felt relaxed around. From that first date he made sure I felt cared for, that I was happy—he was unafraid to put me first. Even when he had to go back to London and we were long distance for three and a half months, we were always talking.

I’d felt unwanted before. Those were the days I chased after boys that only liked me for doing the chasing. Never did they actually want me. Because when they got me, they’d leave and keep me chasing them forever. Harry had never once been shy about the fact that he wanted me. That he chose me over everything.

We were always running towards each other. Never after each other.

I blink away the sleepiness and notice Harry had put me in a tshirt. It was the little things.

That’s when I hear the voices coming from downstairs. Harry…and my mom.

It was time to get up.

“Good morning princess,” my mom spots me first. I looked bad this morning—even though Harry had attempted to take my makeup off whenever he’d taken me to bed, and replaced my slacks for shorts, I still had craters for eye bags and a tangled bedhead, and dehydrated and inflamed skin from sleeping with makeup. But mom never stopped calling me princess.

“Harry and I were just making pancakes,” she points to the griddle behind her. God, mom loved Harry. It was weird because she’d only ever met 2 of my boyfriends since I started dating as a teen. She hated both of them and was never shy about it. All the others she’d heard about over the phone or a late night snack at her house back when she lived close to where I worked. She hated them all equally. “We’re worried you’re not eating enough.”

I catch eyes with Harry, it was a constant argument with us. But it was hard to eat with a regular appetite when I was so close to the end of big cases. He knew that. He used my mom as a shield to push his own agenda, they worked as a team like that.

But it never made me mad. It was more caring than any ex had ever been.

“Pancakes are your favourite,” Harry says while towel-drying his hands. He’d been ‘washing up’, as he would say with his accent.

“They are,” I say as he walks around the island to me and kisses my cheek. He was always weirdly chaste around my mom, nothing like his behaviour late nights in bed.

Mom grins at me from behind him. She was obsessed.

So was I though.

“Let’s eat!” Mom says. “C’mon, we gotta eat before they get cold. Y/N grab the fruit behind you.”

“Sure mom,” I grab the bowl she prepared. Harry watches mom leave the kitchen with the pancakes and syrup. As soon as she’s out of sight he tugs me right against him.

“Y’know you don’t have to wait for her to leave to be my boyfriend?”

“Is that what I am?” He nuzzles my neck. “I thought I was just your boy-toy.”

“Nah,” I let him kiss me even though we’re both smiling. “My boy-toy’s like, 5 years younger than you are.”

“Yeah well, he’s not the one trying to take your makeup off at 5am while you talk about invoices and flash drives.”

“Oops,” I must have been talking about our smoking gun in my sleep. I couldn’t even rest unconscious. “Thank you for that. You could have left me on the couch.”

“Maybe if I was your boy-toy. But I’m your strong English boyfriend, I take you to bed.”

“And you do it so well,” I pat his arm condescendingly, stealing one more kiss before skirting away. I leave him chuckling in the kitchen and gathering the coffee for breakfast.

Before Harry, I didn’t realize love could be so selfless. That it didn’t have to hurt all the time. That one person could be enough.

“Y/N?” Mom asks. “What do you think?”

“Huh?” I’d gotten lost in thought and I see Harry smirk. I guess I was just staring at him.

“For your dad’s birthday coming up?!” She sighs. “I’ve been talking about his dinner—Harry said he has to go back to London the week before. I thought we could do a birthday dinner early so Harry can be there. You know your dad would like that.”

He would. My dad was just as keen on Harry, telling me that he was good for me—the way a man should be. Those were his exact words.

I remember I’d been confused at first when Harry and I started long-distance dating. He was more stable and consistent than relationships I’d had where we lived inches apart. Being long-distance, I’d only missed him physically when we were apart, he was still there for me in every other way.

When he officially transferred to his San Francisco office 5 months ago, he had surprised me. I remember opening my door to him standing there with flowers and macarons—my favourite dessert. I’d nearly smashed them all when I screamed and threw myself onto him.

After that moment I knew I was done with romanticizing dysfunction and compromising. His love was healthy and pure, and it was for me.

I tried my best to give that to him in return. Lately I’d been a bad girlfriend working long hours and barely seeing him. But I’d make it up to him. He didn’t know this but I’d booked the same flight to London with him, that’s why mom was trying to move dad’s birthday dinner up. So I’d be there too.

“Sounds great,” I say. “That way we can all make it.”

“Perfect I’ll make us a reservation.” Mom picks up her phone and begins typing on it with one finger, one key at a time. She tsks, “Oh why is it doing this now.”

“Here Mrs. Y/l/n,” Harry holds his hand out. “What are you trying to do.”

“This new update has been driving me crazy,” she hand her phone to Harry. He glances at me and we bite back a smile. Mom was notorious for being Bad at Technology. But Harry was always patient and tried teaching her.

“The search bar’s on the bottom now,” Harry shows her. “That’s where you type it in.”

“It was fine at the top why do they always have to move it around, gah I’ll just do this on a computer.”

“Yeah no rush mom,” I say.

“Well I’ll clear the table now. I need to get going soon I have a squash game at half eight.”

“Yeah I need be in by then.” Court opened at 9:30 today and I had to be there a half hour early to submit what we had.

“You two stay here,” mom begins piling plates. She’s surprisingly strong when she snatches the mug Harry’s trying to take away himself. “Let me clean up. Then I’ll be out of your hair.”

“Thanks for the breakfast mom!” I shout as she heads away. Harry echoes a thank you.

“Don’t thank me,” I hear her mumble as she walks away.

Me and Harry are left grinning at each other. He holds his hand out on the table and I clasp his.

“Your mum’s sweet.”

“My mum,” I tease him. I keep his hand held as I go around the table to his seat. He tugs me down onto his lap. “Did you actually call your mom mummy as a kid?”

“Did you call your mum mommy?” Harry asks in a decent American accent.

“Maybe,” I smile.

“Maybe.” He replies.

“I’ll just ask your mum when I meet her someday.”

“She really does want to meet you.” He says seriously. “She thinks I’m deliberately keeping you away.”

“Maybe you are, so she can’t answer all the burning questions I have about you.”

“I can just imagine you and her teaming up against me. My sister will join in too.”

I’d met his sister a few months back when she visited. We hit it on immediately just like Harry and I had. It was a bit of a relief.

“I can’t wait to swap stories over breakfast with your mom.”

“Oh you’d love her breakfast,” Harry smiles fondly. I feel a twinge then, sometimes I wondered if he ever got homesick. Especially when he talked about memories from home. “She does the best English breakfast. You’d have to try black pudding though.”

I crinkle my nose, “Isn’t that the one with the blood?”

“Mmmm it sure is,” he grips my hips and a shiver shoots up my spine.

“Gross! Why would anyone eat that? Or your-what’s that other pudding thing? The one you tried making last winter that’s all puffy-“

“Yorkshire.” He smiles.

“You literally poured hot oil on your mixture. It’s clogging my pores just thinking about it.”

“That’s it. You’re coming to London before the year is over and you’re going to be begging for more when you have a proper roast. What I made at home was a pathetic attempt.”

“Mmm I don’t get it.” I wrap my arms around his neck. “I just don’t get English food. It’s like people who wear crocs, or golf on TV, I don’t get it.”

“You just descibed,” Harry tucks my hair behind my ear, “the perfect date. We’re sorted for the weekend.”

I laugh. “You’re ridiculous.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“But I love you.” I kiss him. He pulls me back to him when I part.

“I love you.”

“I really do need a shower before I head in though,” I remind him.

“Maybe I’ll join you,” he says low enough so my mom can’t hear.

“If you’re brave enough with mom still here.” I tease.

“Okay hon,” she pops out of nowhere. “I’m heading out. Good luck with court today.”

“Thanks mom.” I get up and give her a big squeeze. “I appreciate you dropping by.”

“Of course. And I’ll drop dinner by tonight I saw the state of your fridge, you should clean that thing out y/n.”

“Yess mom,” I roll my eyes. Harry snickers behind me. Mom should see his fridge, it was half beer cans and takeout containers.

While mom tells Harry about the dinner she would drop by for us I get a headstart on my shower. It was already quarter to 8 and I couldn’t waste any more time.

Harry joins me shortly after, he lowers my hands when he gets in and washes my hair slowly with care. I nearly pass out in the shower with how good his fingers feel on my scalp.

“Thank you,” I turn to him after I wash it out.

“Don’t mention it love,” he kisses my temple.

“Harry,” I suddenly feel choked up. I think his scalp massage had unblocked some chakra stuff because I’m suddenly overwhelmed with feeling.

“What?” He tilts my face up.

“I’m just…I’m the luckiest girl in the world.”

“Nonsense.” He swipes my tear away even though the stream of water makes it all the same.

“No I…I never thought I’d meet someone like you. I used to think love was hurting. It doesn’t make sense anymore-“

“Like golf on TV.”

“Yeah,” I laugh and it breaks up the knot in my throat. “Yeah like golf on TV. Now being in love feels like soccer-“

“Football.”

“Soccer,” I correct him. He grins. “It makes sense to me.”

“If you didn’t have work in 30 minutes,” Harry pulls me into him and crushes me against him. It feels good, like being held together. “You’d be face down in bed in the next 10 seconds.”

“Where’s this Harry when my mom’s around.” I tease.

“This Harry’s just for you.” He says just as he turns the shower off. I draw away as he grabs us some towels and I watch him with an unbreakable joy; if it was physical it could illuminate this tiled shower and bounce around the whole room.

He was the reason I got through all these gruelling hours for court. Because I knew I had someone waiting for me, that I could steal an hour away with, and it would leave me refuelled enough for another 24 hour work-day.

“Why are you smiling at me like that,” Harry asks as he hands me the towel. I shake my head and wrap it around me. He watches as I blow dry my hair, kissing my shoulder when I’m done.

“I’ll leave when you leave. Should I drop you off to the office?”

“Please?” I ask. “That’d give me an extra 5 minutes.”

His face lights up.

“No,” I say as he picks me up and throws me over his shoulder. “No Harry I have to be early!”

“I only need 2,” he says as he launches me onto the bed. “Maybe 3.”

I pretend to be annoyed but I inch up in bed as he makes his way over and I can’t think of a better way to spend the extra 5 minutes. Or 10. Oops.

If the old me ever met the new me, she’d probably try to stop me. She didn’t know what love could look like. That it could be a gentle smile, a drive in to work, making sure you’re eating, helping your mom out with her phone, or washing your hair for you in the shower.

I’d tell her—the old me, that it was as simple as this: I wanted him, only him. And he wanted me too.

[ohbo-ohno]

Bo, I had a dark au idea that I really love but I’m too shy to post it on my main so I’m sending it to you because I think you might like it.

Soap and Ghost who are ready for the next stage in their lives now that they’re retired from the military. Setting up a nursery in the new house they bought and filling it with all sorts of cute toys and plush blankets to welcome a sweet little baby into their lives.

But there are so many problems that arise from this because of the fact that Ghost is, technically, dead. They can’t really adopt and it’s hard to find a surrogate who is willing to carry for them discreetly, even when they’re offering more then the usual prices. And even when they do, they have an even harder time finding one that they actually like. They can’t have just anyone carry their baby!

So they’re disheartened after months of searching and Soap is starting to think that it may never happen when Ghost comes home from the store one day and says that he thinks he found the perfect girl to carry their baby. Reader. Soap is immediately excited, he can’t wait to meet this mystery person. The overworked and run down cashier that rang Ghost out earlier that day. Younger then both of them and, as they were soon to find out through a little research (*coughstalkingcough*), struggling horribly. A shitty apartment in the bad side of town, little to no furniture, and working double shifts at at least 2 jobs just to make ends meet. It hurts Soap to see the future carrier of their child (because he decided the second that Ghost said he wanted you that you would be their surrogate) in such bad condition. He wants to take you home with them the minute he sees your horrible living conditions and Ghost has to physically hold him back by the scruff of his neck to keep him from ruining his plan.

His plan being to sabotage your whole life. Call and write in several complaints to your jobs from numerous phone numbers and email addresses, making up scandalous rumors to get you fired and pretending to be your previous bosses when you try to find new ones, ensuring that you can no longer even try to sustain yourself. And all of it will peak when you’re three months behind on your rent and your landlord finally evicts you. With nowhere to go, you’re forced to live in homeless shelters, crying your eyes out when Ghost finally lets Soap approach you.

And he’s so nice to you, pretending to be a volunteer at the shelter, offering you a warm meal with him tonight, a better bed to sleep in, a hot shower. It sounds like heaven to you, you can’t help but agree. Even smile when Soap says his husband will probably be there to meet you in the morning.

And met him you did, several hours later, waking up to his cock filling you, Soap’s hands on your belly, cooing to you that it would all be fine. They’ll take care of you, keep you safe and warm and happy, they just need a little something in return. This is the least you could for for them, isn’t it? They’ll get you anything you could ever need or want.

Anddddddd then they end up never letting you go, even after a baby is born ♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️. Sorry I got a bit carried away, but I’m going feral over this idea - 🕸

sorry for the semi late response spiderweb!!! this is such a cool idea, tysm for sending it to me! i really don't have anything much to add, but i want everyone else to get to see it too lol

[sara-wishes]

Lego Flowers. - 성화

Seonghwa x Female!Reader

genre: fluff

warnings: sick seonghwa, spoiled wooyoung, really late for sh's birthday, overall just fluffy.

word count: 2.6k

now listening to: Alldaylong by Dreamcatcher

a/n: Sorry this is really late... but I still wanted to publish it even if his birthday had already passed. Hope you enjoy reading and late happy birthday to Seonghwa!

The day had started beautifully. The early birds chirping, the sun shining down upon the newly bloomed flowers -a sign of spring's arrival-, and a gentle and fresh breeze blowing through the streets. 

Well, it was a beautiful day for every person that could go out and enjoy it. For a sick Seonghwa, it already was a terrible birthday. Honestly, things weren't looking bright right now. Not only had he caught a cold right before spring's start, but the only comfort he could find in these trying times was missing. You were nowhere to be found. His carer, his guardian angel during the harsh and restless nights of endless coughing, had disappeared.

He had a vague idea as to where you could have gone, since he remembered having slightly awakened to your form telling him you'd go to buy some food for today's meal. Of course, he hadn't complained at that time, he had been half-asleep, his brain's clarity blurred by a dense fog of tiredness and you had promised to only take a few minutes before coming back to his aid. He had groggily waved you goodbye and had gone back to snoozing mode. 

So now, his only question was, where exactly were you after three hours had passed? 

Regrettably, since you were gone, he would have to make some food himself, in between sneezes and sniffing. 

Struggling to rise out of his bed, slowed down by his sore muscles, he wrapped his blanket around his frame, letting it fall over his head, and slowly began to pat his way across the hallways. 

To his surprise, when he arrived at his destination, the kitchen, he found plastic bags filled with food on the countertops. You really had gone and bought ingredients like you promised. He was glad he had some nutrients to feed his empty and hurting stomach, which had already growled in protest several times because of being forced to have breakfast at 2 p.m. Still, the sight only made him more confused as to where you could be. 

Wrapped in his blanket burrito, he decided eating could wait. He had to call you now, the growing worry over you overpowering his hunger. 

Retracing his steps back to your shared bedroom, he approached his nightstand. He recalled having left his phone charging there. But once again for a second time that day, he was surprised at the sight. Sitting atop his phone he found there to be a dull yellow sticky note filled with your handwriting. Picking it up, it read:

"Good Morning Babe!! I'm sure that by now you have noticed my absence (i hope) and were about to call me to find out where exactly i am right now. But fear not! I had to get some stuff done and I'll be back soon. P.S. Don't worry about the food, I know how much your muscles ache in the mornings so I cooked you some soup and left it in the microwave for you to heat up. 

Promise not to take long! 

Love you, Y/N"

Great, he still didn’t know where you were. But at least he figured you weren’t dead. Although he was still worried and not entirely convinced of letting the issue go and wait for you, his stomach once again reminded him he had slept through the morning without a bite or a single drop of water to satiate his system’s basic needs. Besides, his morning medicine was due and he couldn’t take it until he had something to eat, and being honest to himself, that soup you had mentioned in your note sounded really good right now.

Seonghwa reassured himself that you were doing just fine and once again walked towards the kitchen, now his ailments caused by the cold getting stronger as he woke up fully.

The idol heated the soup and sat on the table you used to share your meals together in the living room. His current plans were to eat, take the medicine, and sleep until Y/N arrived. Yep, what an amazing birthday.

Seonghwa wasn’t entirely disappointed by the day’s events. If you both could not go on your ‘Amazing Annual Date’ at your favorite restaurant today, you’d go when he was feeling alright again. Although he had a lot of work to catch up on, and he already felt terrible about missing out on it because of his illness, he could still take a day off for his birthday. Thankfully they all were taking a few rest days between practicing for any new comeback, promotions or concerts. He still had time to make up for the lost days. He loved you dearly and causing you to stay at home taking care of him was what actually hurt him the most about this whole ordeal.

Sighing, Seonghwa left the now empty dish in the sink, and slowly settled on the soft couch of your living room, gulping down his pills. He could doze off to an animal crossing gameplay or an old The Mandalorian episode until you arrived. Still wrapped in his blanket burrito, with the spring sun shyly peeking through the blinds, he was warm, the tasty soup having also added to his comfort. Seonghwa guessed that as soon as you arrived, the day could still look bright. Slowly, almost without him noticing, his eyelids began to drop and he allowed sleep to take him once more.

❁

A soft clanking of keys woke him up from his peaceful slumber. His brain wasn’t really registering what was going on, his previous dream continuing to play behind his closed eyelids. He even believed the sound was just a figment of his imagination, not trusting himself just yet.

“I’m back!” You announced, opening the door. At this, Seonghwa finally opened his eyes and started to force his body to start functioning once again. “Y…/N..?” He muttered drowsily. 

“Oh! Sorry love, I didn’t realize you were sleeping. I’m sorry I woke you up.” You worriedly rushed to his side by the couch, feeling guilty from interrupting his much needed sleep. 

Although Seonghwa could hear you approaching the couch, still facing away from you, he also could hear the rustling of heavy plastic bags. Curious and now aware of his surroundings, he turned to look at you. You, the love of his life, who was currently holding two giant plastic Lego bags. Star Wars Lego bags.

“What’s this, Y/N?” Said the male, his orbs lighting up at the sight. “Well…I felt terrible that you couldn’t enjoy your birthday due to your cold, so I thought I could cheer you up with some gifts we could build together.” You sheepishly answered him, raising the squared bags over your shoulder level. 

Seonghwa was perplexed. You had disappeared for -he checks the watch- 4 hours?! and had gone off to store after store just to find him the best present you could to cheer him up. Oh god he loved you. Rising from the couch and letting the blanket he had draped on his shoulders fall, he ran to engulf you in a hug. “I love you so much.” Laughing gleefully at his sudden display of affection you asked him. “Do you like them? I got you The Razor Crest and-” turning your voice into a higher squeak, you continued- “the cutest Baby Yoda ever!”

Chuckling at your childish antics Seonghwa hugged you tighter to his weak form. “I love them, thank you darling. For this and for everything.” He answered you, now getting away from your figure, not wanting to risk passing his illness onto you. 

“I’m glad. Now, you go back to the couch, I’m gonna organize the bags in the kitchen and brew you some herbal tea to start building the ship with you!” Gathering the two plastic containers, you left one on the tea table, and strangely, took the other with you to the kitchen, leaving Seonghwa slightly confused and shouting back an “I’ll be quick, you just don’t move!” He decided against questioning you for your weird actions, not thinking much of the happenings, and chose to start opening and arranging the lego pieces for when you came back.

❁

Minutes later -a little bit longer than he expected you to take- you emerged from the kitchen with a wooden tray, containing his favorite mug and a modern glass kettle. “Incoming!” Seonghwa scooped to one side of the couch, leaving you some room to sit, and making a small spot on the table to fit the tray. “Okay, now we can start.” You told him with a smile, settling on the cushion of the sofa.

Along with the soft background music Seonghwa had chosen from your shared playlist, you both started to browse through the blue booklet, which contained the instructions you had to follow in order to create The Crest. 

In the middle of your lego building, the idol chose to address a matter that still bothered him to this moment. “I’m not at all complaining but, I just have to ask, what took you so long while shopping?”

“I’m not really proud of it but- can you disconnect these two please?” Handing him two small lego pieces mid-sentence, you continued as he took them in his hands. “I had to call Wooyoung so he could tell me which lego builds you already had. But that sneaky bastard decided to make me wait for him outside the dorms so I could take him for some Starbucks, instead of telling me over call. Starbucks I paid for, by the way. He’s lucky he’s my favorite.” 

Seonghwa smiled brightly at this. He got so happy when you started to warm up to his members too, and seeing you get along so well with them made him content. Besides, he knew just what you were talking about, Wooyoung would always be Wooyoung. “You should really stop spoiling him like that, one day he’s going to come and make himself at home like we are not even here.” 

“I know but, he knows just what to say to make me cave in, that kid. Anyway, after making me pay for his food, he accompanied me to the mall to get your gifts, so that’s why.” Now finally having cleared things up, you once again fell into a peaceful silence and conversed there and there, continuing to work on your craft.

❁

Some hours later, when the sun had already hidden for the day, and the clock marked 10:08 p.m., your Razor Crest was at last finished. “Aaaaand, the last piece for the birthday king, c’mon you place it.” Seonghwa brushed your fingers and took the small, gray piece and with a satisfying ‘click’, fitted it onto the figure. “Done!” he clapped as he finished, you joining him. The male restrained himself from taking the enormous ship and doing the cute animal crossing move, not wanting the 4 hours of work from both parts to go to waste. Suddenly aware of having sat on the couch, crouched, for two long couple of hours, his muscles felt cramped and his bones ached, so he began stretching like a cat to get rid of his soreness. You got up and followed along, both of you beat from all of the work put into your piece.

Now both of you away from the sofa, having settled The Razor Crest in a glass cabinet you kept in the living room, admired it from your positions next to each other.

“It looks amazing.” He spoke.

“I hope building it didn’t make it worse for you. We spent a lot of time on it.” Resting your head on his shoulder you asked him. “Don't worry, I’m good. I had an amazing birthday after all.” You both smiled content.

“Before we call it a night, I have one last present for you.” After seeing you rush to the kitchen, Seonghwa could only hear some rustling noises you were making and wondered what you could be talking about.

Under the dim lightning of the room, you handed Seonghwa a carefully crafted lego flower, its stem green, white and soft pink petals settled on its top. “A flower for a flower.” 

You couldn’t have chosen a more terrible pick up line. There really wasn’t, but as he picked it up, he smiled and chuckled brightly at you. And at that, unknowingly to him, lit up your whole world.

“So this is what you were doing when you disappeared in the kitchen… I could kiss you right now.” He told you, tightly gripping the plastic flower.

“I would love you to, but we still have to celebrate our ‘Amazing Annual Date’. Wouldn’t want to get sick for it. I’ll settle for a forehead kiss tho.” Grinning widely for getting what you wanted, Seonghwa gently grazed your forehead with his lips, in his mind, only a single thought remaining.

‘I only needed you and your love, to have a perfect birthday. Thank you Y/N.’

[hanasnx]

tw vent below. death of a friend

today would’ve been my best friend’s twenty fourth birthday. i remember when i heard she was in the hospital. and how my busy schedule prevented me from getting out there to visit. i thought it was going to be a routine thing, and she’d be out in a day. she stayed off her phone for the most part, but we still played games like eight ball. and she thanked me for keeping her company.

i remember the day i got the call while i was on the way to take my dog to the vet. my dog was severely sick, my job was up my ass, and when i told them i’d be late, i had no idea the news i was going to receive an hour later.

jay had passed away. and i never thought it would happen. i was maybe nineteen years old, having had this friend for my high school years and on, i had expected to grow old together. for a chunk of my life jay was more than an important person and dear friend to me, she was part of my family. birthdays, christmases, every hang out and every party, we were together. jay introduced me to my friend group that became part of that family and then my eventual roommates.

she opened up so many doors for me, but she also taught me a whole lot about being a person. about having an identity. about being real. i still see galaxy patterned items and think of jay first, i see her in crystals and wood beads and i still smell her shampoo. i eat what she would’ve eaten on her birthday, what we would’ve shared. i get boba and i try to get pho and i think it’s for her too.

i remember the emptiness in my grandfather’s eyes when i told him she died from covid-19 as he’d gone on and on about how its not a real thing and no one needs to wear a mask. my friend, my age, had died from it. and he didn’t even say sorry.

i remember my brother told me that he didn’t even recall my loss, even though he was one of the first people i confided in about it.

i remember my mom came to the funeral with me when i wasn’t strong enough to go alone. my mom who had seen my journey with jay up until the end. my mom who cried hearing jay’s mom sob into the shoulder of her sister. my mom who held my hand until it was my turn to speak.

i remember my boyfriend supported me through it all even though we had only been dating four months. he didn’t run scared when i went through one of my worst experiences, he held me through it and showed me i could trust him through genuine despair. through hopeless depression. through bone aching cries.

i cant remember the last time i got to hang out with jay, but i remember the last time i saw her. and how it was in passing, and how we yelled at each other from far away about how we were gonna make plans, that i missed her. and then the last time we spoke was over text. i didn’t even get to see her in the hospital.

i thought working today or acting like everything was cool or normal would help. i thought staying busy would mean i could avoid her birthday while spending appropriate time to celebrate it later, but grief is not on a schedule, and i regretted taking a shift. i was spacey, and ill-equipped to handle fast pacing. i was prone to irritation and impatience. and as soon as i got to the safety of my home i broke. my friend is dead. i’ve seen her urn. the body i hugged isn’t here anymore even though i can still feel the shape of her in my arms.

she never got to live on her own like she wanted to, she never got a place to be herself like she wanted to, she never got to be free like she wanted to. maybe now, after shes passed, shes gotten the peace that she deserved.

my favorite thing about her was how much we’d laugh. i experienced pure joy when i was with jay, and she was my first real friend. i don’t think there will ever be a time in my life when she isn’t with me. happy birthday jay.

[zaevauhm]

Rain Drabble

you’re an f1 driver, partnered up with lewis, a crash happens that brings you close to your biggest rival

word count 1.5k

mentions of accidents + sex

sidenote: this was a dream I had a year ago, and my friend asked me to write it all out ahhahshs,

i am not a max fan (dont necessarily dislike him either) but yeah, enjoy my loves

Rain. Lots of it was pouring down, straight into the Red Bull Ring. Completely zoned out, you watched it pour down the windows, as the last fans with worried expressions on their faces were making their way out of the circuit. You were sitting in a conference room, Lewis to your left and Max to your right. Christian and Toto fighting each other right in front of you. What were they even yelling so hard for? And why couldn’t you stay with the medics for a little longer, again? It felt like your head was slowly being ripped from your body. The pain was starting to kick in badly, as the adrenaline wore off. Still, it felt like you would pass out any minute by now. It was so hard to keep your eyes open.

There had been an accident, either Max or Lewis, your teammate, had squeezed you into the wall at a certain point, without a thing you could have done about it. Numb and frozen in those milliseconds, you allowed the car to fly into the wall at 250 km/h, you in it.

Toto was furious, banging the table in front of you, having Lewis trying to calm him down. ‘’This is completely unacceptable! It is obvious that your boy is the one who caused it, Christian, just look at the fucking footage!’’ He ranted and ranted. You noticed an apologetic Max opening his mouth, before immediately being shut down by his team principal, with nothing more than a face that screamed thunder. ‘’That nearly fucking killed my driver, Christian. Measures need to be taken. It can’t go on like this. I can’t send her out again, risking her life in every lap just because your boy doesn’t know how to keep his distance.’’

It felt as if the meeting took hours, your pains only increasing. Lewis gestured for you to lean against him, but it was the last thing that you wanted. Your on-off relationship with your teammate was something you’d rather forget about, completely. He wanted to keep you a secret, so be it. As you stared back out of the windows, you noticed that Max caught your eyes. You stared him dead in the eyes, for a moment before he whispered to you softly. ‘’I’m really sorry.’’

‘’I know.’’ You gestured, beneath your breath.

Lewis noticed, as he was watching your every movement. He leaned back in his chair, obviously displeased by the fact that there was any communication between you and your rival. You couldn’t care less about his feelings at this point.

Finally, several hours later, you were released of everything. You had showered, changed, and took some more pain killers. It was nighttime by now, the circuit dimmed. Most drivers were inside of their motorhomes, resting or still having brief conversations.

You walked by yourself, keeping your eyes on the ground, holding a water bottle under your right arm, squeezing it against your ribs, as well as your medical files. You were feeling completely drained, tired, wanting nothing more than to lay your head down and sleep for days. The soreness in your back and neck was almost unbearable. You took your phone out, 11:39 PM. 8 Missed calls, Lewis. You locked your phone again and put it back in the back pocket of your jeans.

You got interrupted from your thoughts as someone bumped into you, quite roughly. ‘’Watch where you’re going you piece of…’’ You couldn’t finish your sentence as you noticed who was in front of you. Broad shoulders, a bit taller than you, piercing blue eyes staring you down. Max.

‘’You pushing me into the wall just doesn’t do it for you, huh? You had to make sure to knock me over here as well.’’ Your tone dead serious, although you didn’t mean to come across as angry, not necessarily. It was too late anyway, and frankly, he deserved it.

‘’I thought you weren’t mad at me anymore.’’

You raised one eyebrow at the Red Bull driver, utterly confused. ‘’Just watch where you’re going next time, you might actually keep us alive.’’ You spilled, before walking off towards your motorhome.

‘’Y/N.’’ A voice echoed right behind you, as you walked up the stairs, about to enter through the front door. It was almost completely dark at this part of the circuit. Without a single soul in sight, the familiar voice startled you. ‘’What do you want from me?’’ You looked over your shoulder, down at him.

You had never actually spoken to him, nor did he ever linger in your mind. You didn’t know him at all, why was he suddenly following you around? He had already apologized, after all.

‘’May I?’’ He asked, waiting for your permission to follow you up the stairs. You nodded, still zoned out, as he slowly walked towards you, before standing awfully close in front of you. Was he trying to intimidate you? If so, it was slightly working.

‘’I wanted to apologize.’’

‘’You already have, Max. It’s fine.’’ You tried to shake him, but he wouldn’t have it.

‘’Properly.’’

Your eyes widened, as you knew exactly what he meant. Was he being serious?

He took all of your stuff out of your hands and placed it on the table next to your door.

Slowly, he made his way back towards you. Step by step, you stepped back until your back was leaning against the glass window of your motorhome. His breath was awfully close to your neck now, sending shivers down your back. What was it about him?

You gasped when you felt his lips touch your bare neck, as if you hadn’t been touched for years. He took his head back, examining you, smiling at you devilishly. He was everything Lewis wasn’t. The polar opposite, in fact. Maybe that was it? Maybe you longed for something different, after years of being with Lewis in secret. Well, he was willing to give it to you.

He allowed himself to come close to you again. ‘’Does that feel good?’’ He whispers onto your lips, making you smile a little. ‘’Yes.’’ You just noticed how big he was in comparison to yourself, his body was blocking any view you had before by now.

He grabbed your waist and pulled you closer onto him, gently squeezing you in the process. He slowly made his way to your chest, leaving a trail of kisses as he went down, before releasing you from your jeans, your phone falling down with it. He looked up at you, asking for permission again before pressing soft kisses onto your thighs. His eyes sparkled something in you, that left you wanting him to do with you as he pleased.

He continued kissing your thighs, before gently pulling your string to the side, leaving you filled with anticipation. You were surprised to learn that he actually knew what he was doing. You felt his tongue drawing circles around your entrance, soft moans leaving your mouth as your hands were clinging to the glass behind you. Did you just hear something move inside of your home? He lifted his head up a little, licking you from entrance to top, making your legs weak. Suddenly, he got up, roughly turning you around and pushing your face onto the glass, pulling your arms behind you. You gasped. ‘’So this is what it’s like to be Hamilton.’’ His voice was filled with anger. You gasped within yourself. The fact that he knew, somehow, was something that couldn’t bother you at that moment. You wanted more. He entered you with two of his fingers, deeply, making you curve your ass up towards him. You moaned, leaning your head back against his shoulder. ‘’This is what he gets to taste, huh?’’ He whispered into your neck, making you even weaker. He stopped his movements, forcing you to answer him. ‘’Tell me.’’

‘’Yes.’’ You moaned, shyly. For sure your cheeks were bright red by now. The mixture of pleasure with the amount of pain killers and medication the medics had pumped you full of, left you in a strange, unknown state of mind. You loved being touched by him, somebody other than Lewis. He shook you from your thoughts as he sped up, getting you close to the point of orgasming right there. Your phone was staring right at you, lingering on the floor, as Lewis’ caller ID was shown on the screen. It just made you feel shyer than ever, the fact that two men wanted you more than anything, at the same time. And which men… They hated eachothers’ guts. ‘’Are you going to listen to me?’’ His voice filled the atmosphere around you. You nodded, slowly. ‘’I want to see you cum.’’ He whispered as you saw him looking down in the reflection, to your phone. You did, Max holding you firmly, feeling how weak he had gotten you. It felt as if you got your senses back, right there in that moment, leaving you confused and wanting to run. ‘’I’m sorry, I have to go inside.’’ You stumbled, as he grabbed you by your arms, making you face him. ‘’It’s okay, you don’t owe me anything. I just wanted to make you feel good. Also, no one is hearing about this.’’

‘’Okay.’’ You trusted him.

You opened your door; Max still right behind you, as your breath got stuck into your throat, almost bumping back onto him as you saw who was staring you down from behind the glass. Lewis.

[vibratingskull]

Mermaid!Thrawn x f!reader part 6

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

Well, let’s just say your mother didn’t appreciate you coming back drenched to the bones in her home. For that you earned 3 months without the right of going out except for college and work, with a tracking app on your phone as a bonus. Seriously?

But today is the day your punishment is lifted, so you pedal like a maniac in the street of your small town to the library, texting Eli on the way. You roll along the cliff, near the chasm to admire the ocean as you ride your bike, you inhale the scent of ocean spray as you hurtle down the hill. Today will be a good day!

“So what do you search for exactly?” Eli asks, putting the microfilm in his reader, “I’m searching for articles on the death of the priests.” you explain, he stops mid-movement to look you dead in the eyes “You mean about this story my great uncle told you about?”, you nod and he sighs “Why?”, “I’m taking interest in true crimes lately, I just want to see if it could make a good episode to tell.” you lie. He sighs again but helps you nonetheless.

You spent around 3 hours searching through the archived articles of the gazette but found nothing potent, you press your lips into a thin line, disappointed, “The Gazette is more right-leaning, surely they would have talked about an incident at church…” he whispers, “Maybe the church opposed to the idea?”, “And lose an opportunity to play martyrs? Surely not!” Eli counters “We must have missed something.” You go back to your microfilms with more focus and it pays off! One hour later you got something

“Look at that! It says a gang of rioters put the town upside down on the night of the 6th, they tried to penetrate into habitants homes several times and even abducted an infant following “the incident at church” of the day prior,” “You think this is it?” he wonders, “The dates could match!”, “What happened next?”, “The parents fought off the abductors and saved their child, but it suffered grave cuts on the chest and back. They had to go to the hospital. The gang disappeared in an unknown location towards the sea.”,“Huh… Funny.” Eli comments. He doesn’t understand, it only makes sense to you for now. You change microfilms on your machine “Help me find the one published at this date, it should confirm my suspicions.” but impossible to find it. “You’re sure we got all the microfilms?” Eli asks suspiciously, “Yeah… I helped the librarian, there wasn’t any other box of microfilms.” then why one edition was missing? “You think the archives are incomplete?”, “That would surprise me a lot! You know how old towns love their archives.” he laughs. You bite your lips pensively, why does it have to be especially this one? Especially the one that could confirm the date and the incident. Crap! Is it a coincidence?

You rummage through all the microfilms, to no avail. You have to come to your sense : this edition is definitely lost. “Don’t be like that” Eli tries to cheer you up “I know! The University got a club of journalism, no? We could try their archives!” You nod feebly as you walk out the library, disappointed. Eli circles your shoulders with his arm “I’m sorry, I didn’t know it was so close to your heart. It is a new hobby of yours?”, “Well you know how my mother hate when I paint. She threw all my art furniture in the bins after an argument one month ago…”, “Even the merman you were painting?” your heart pinch at that memory “Yeah, even this one… She knew I put a lot of my heart in this one…” Sometimes you can’t wait until you gather enough money to run away to the city and away from your family…

“Say… You know what could clear your spirit?” He proposes “Coming to church with me!” Eli smiles broadly. You gauge him up and down not amused “You know I would burn as soon as I step foot into the buildings? I’m an impious harlot, remember?” He winces and joins his hands together “Please… Don’t let me go alone… The new priest is terrifying!” he begs you with his eyes. You look at him with a light grin. Fearless Eli who would face up an ouragan on his fish boat is trembling before a man? You can’t miss that! “Alright, but only because it’s you.” you squeeze him back.

You sit down on the bench of the church, it feels more fresh inside! You tend to forget Eli’s family is pretty religious. Except his grand uncle. You always stayed together outside of church while Eli’s inside when you were young. He told you fairy tales and legends, your parents trusted him to take care of you during this one hour outside of Eli’s parent supervision.

When you rise your head to the altar  you understand what Eli’s meaned by terrifying. Perched up, judging everyone and their sins is Priest Tarkin, as cold as ever. You lower your gaze as your eyes meet, you realize everyone do the same. Nobody dares looking him in the eyes. You wanna whisper something to Eli but he’s already praying next to you, eyes closed shut, hand clasped before him, so you remain silent, looking at your feet. You discretely let your gaze navigate the room as Tarkin starts the mass to pass time.

And you froze.

Here… On the other side of the room, a few rows before yours… The gang that hunts Thrawn!

Eli yawns deeply, clearly not pleased to be on a bark at this hour of the night. “Tell me again why I accepted to follow you?”, “Because it will be worth it” you simply respond by paddling further away. He begrudgingly follows.

When you’re far enough you stop and take out your ukulele and start singing under Eli’s wide, confused eyes. He remains silent for 20 minutes and then explodes. “You have talent, I’ll give you that! But if you wanted to give me a show, my room would have been as good! and less cold.” He almost sneezes. But you don’t listen to him, you lean overboard and tap water to create waves.

You hope he will come

Surely he will come…

You then feel a claw grazing your palm and two red orbs under water. “Hi, Thrawn! Would you please hop on the bark? I got someone I would like you to meet.”, “Who are you talking to?” Eli grumbles, hugging himself in the cold “Fishes?”. 

You shout him a smile and take Thrawn's hand to help him on the bark. He jumps in easily and sits in like a king, slouching with his tail resting in water, floating lazily. You turn towards Eli with hope. He looks at Thrawn with round eyes and a mouth agape. Thrawn looks back to him with a thin smirk. Eli remains silent before finally speaking “What the fuck is that?”, “Not what: who! Eli I present you Thrawn. Thrawn, Eli.” Thrawn immediately leans towards him with his hand extended to him like you teached him. Eli jolt away. “Santa Maria, It moves!”, “Yes he moves, he’s a living being” you tempers, a bit annoyed “Isn’t he marvelous?” Eli gulps, eyes fixed on the claws of Thrawn’s hand “Seriously, who the fuck is this?”. “He’s my friend!” you exclaim joyfully, Eli cross himself “You’re friend with a monster?” he asks, utterly terrified. “He’s not a monster” you protest “he’s a person!”, “I’m sorry, I don’t know any person with claws, a tail and shark teeth!” he counters. Touché! You wince “He’s a sensible person with sentiments, you’ll see when you’ll know him better. Come closer! He won’t bite!” Eli remains still “Come on, shake his hand!” you encourage. Eli tentatively extends his hand, shake it with Thrawn and takes it back as quickly. “So? What do you think?” you shout, full of excitement. “I… I don’t know…”, “What? Aren’t you excited?! Isn’t it incredible? I mean, he’s a merman! A goddamn merman!”, “Incredible, that’s for sure…” He gulps “Listen… I think I will head home.” He takes his paddles, “You… You don’t stay?” you ask, your hopes getting crushed. “No… No, I’ve got a long day tomorrow, I … I’ll call you later, okay?” and he paddles away.

You look at him disappearing in the horizon, all of your excitement melting like ice under the sun. You turn to Thrawn who observed you both behind his folded hands with an embarrassed smile “I’m sorry it happened like that. I swear he’s a great guy!” You defend Eli, Thrawn tilts his head “He’s just… He’ll need a bit of time I think.” you murmur “I shouldn’t have thrown it to his face like that…” you sigh, saddened.

Thrawn remains silent, looking at you intently. You shake yourself up and offer him a smile “Let’s not talk about that!” you take out your little white board, some markers and your sign language book “I’ve find something for you to understand me better!” you laugh.

“It is quite useless. I understand you well.”

@blueninjablade3 @al-astakbar @thrawnspetgoose @readinglistfics @pencil-urchin @twilekchiss @ineedazeezee @mssbridgerton @dance-like-russia-isnt-watching @Cortisolcosplay

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[lashysdomain]

Sing me a Song of Sentiment: Shattered

Book of Songs Solitude | Sympathy | Success | Scrutiny | Sentiment: Saccharine • Shattered | Severing

Tw for manipulation, emotional abuse, and gaslighting

Artinos' senses are muddied and dull when thought returns to him, a faint gasp of air escaping as blurry eyes wander the interior of his home. His home being dead silent would make him uneasy if it weren't for the dull ringing echoing around skull.

Throbbing like that of a limb that's been asleep for hours pricks its way through his nerve endings inch by inch sending the violet stumbling against the nearest surface of the kitchen island. The pain of movement rips through any thought that makes its way into his ringing skull as he sinks to the floor, waves of that dull numbness spreading across limb and organ.

And then— In an instant— it’s all gone, replaced with the feeling of Isatol's hands cupping his face. His muscles give from the relief, left only upright by the lime bloods hold on his head.

"Oh Arti.... What am I to do with you, cuttlefish...."

His words cut through the fog in Arti's mind, eyes turning upward to meet his mates. Giving a half mumbled apology he sits up proper, running a hand down his arm to make sure that prickling feeling is truly gone.

"Guess I was more tired than I thought..."

"This is why I told you to come back sooner... You're going to overexert yourself..."

"Oh, nah, I've done that before, I know my warning signs for it-"

"Is fainting not one? You looked like a man possessed when I came in."

"Naaah, just... Start drying out real bad. I feel f-"

A wave of dizziness strikes the seadweller mid sentence pitching him forward into Isatol's chest, that same fuzziness he'd only just gotten rid of returning.

"Or perhaps you're feeling so bad you aren't even noticing it.... Lets get you into bed to lay down, Artinos."

With a nod Isa helps Arti stand, keeping him close as they move deeper into his home and toward his room.

"I... But I.. I really was feeling fine...."

"Artinos.... You need to lay down."

"I... Need to lay down."

------

For hours now the seadweller laid at the bottom of the pool in his room, the faint buzzing of his phone from his nightstand never reaching below the waters surface.

He felt so odd... So off... Like his mind was running on autopilot and he was sat in the passenger seat waiting for his destination to arrive. Finally having enough energy to open his eyes, the ceiling Arti had last seen dark blinked with the familiar light of a notification. Through more strain than it would normally take he swims to the surface, hauling his heady body onto the surrounding tile of the pool to grab his phone from the nearby table to answer the incoming call.

"He-"

"Where the hell are you?" his moirail hisses into his ear, the phones sound having been up so high from his drive earlier that he cringes back from the speaker for a moment.

"I'm… At home…? Oh- Shit-- I'm so sorry I didn't text you. I'm fine; I laid down for a nap. I. Think."

"For six hours? You think?"

"S. SIX!?" In a confused panic Arti immediately pulls the phone away from his face, setting his rail on speaker to check the time. Six hours. Six whole hours he's laid at the bottom of his pool simply breathing and unable to think straight.

"I didn't think I'd laid there for that long.... I got home with snacks for Isa and when I got inside I was feeling woozy so I laid down.... I'm so sorry I worried you Justya.... I was going to head to the garage tonight too but now it's... So late..."

"It's fine. I'm just glad you're alright." There's a pause between the pair as Arti slowly takes in Justya's tone- She's worried still, he can at least tell that much from just how irritated she sounds. "You are alright, yeah?"

"Ah-Yeah! Yeah, I'm fine now... I've still got like. A brain fogginess to me, but I'm alright!" He knows his tone betrays just how uneasy and desperate he is for this to be true. For this to be nothing to worry about, just his body being. Weird.

"Right. Well. Do you need me to come by? You don't sound like you should be alone."

Silently he thinks for a moment, Arti knowing with her tone what Justya is saying is more a declaration of her arrival than asking. It would be nice to have her over so he has someone so impor—

His train of thought is cut short when Isatol's hand sets down on his shoulder, the seadweller jumping as the deep rumbling growl of his voice in Arti's ear sends a shiver up his spine.

"I'm here, he's not alone."

"I uh... Maybe you should still come over. I'll coo-"

"Artinos."

The violets ears begin to ring from the boom of Isatol's voice in his ear, that fog slowly taking back over his mind as any line of thought other than being alone with his mate leaves him.

"Yeah, it might be... Best it's just the two of us tonight, huh...?"

The air feels heavy as Artinos becomes extremely aware of his own breathing, his lungs almost struggling to gain air as Justya's last remark cuts through.

"Yeah. Sure."

Beep

[asena-graywolf]

Be Up All Night At Door

You had to work until late at night. The computer had been on his lap for hours and his engine was overheated from long work. You could feel the heat of the engine in your lap.

You felt a tiredness in your eyes and thought that a little tea break would be good for you.

In fact, the reason for working so hard was not just the reports you had to produce. Because of an argument you had with your boyfriend, you hadn't answered his calls or texts for several days. He was still texting and calling. He kept saying that if you didn't answer him, he would come to your door as a last resort.

The reason you were arguing was that Kuro spends more time playing volleyball than usual these days. Therefore, he neglected both you and your relationship. Whenever you wanted to meet him, he always had work to do with the Nekoma team. You were out of patience now and you couldn't hold back your anger any longer and you lashed out at your boyfriend.

You both said hurtful words to each other. It was you who said, "Let's not see each other for a while if possible". But that sentence Kuro said in return broke your heart even more.

“Let's not talk. I can handle my work more easily. At least there won't be someone who constantly nags at me"

After a week, you hadn't said a word to each other. You had been separated. But afterward, Kuro was indescribably regretful.

He was constantly texting you how sorry he was, apologizing every minute.

You never responded to his messages, after a while Kuro's apology messages became so annoying that you almost decided to block him. For some reason something was keeping you from blocking his number from your phone.

Even the possibility of ending your relationship crossed his mind. Because you were almost on the way to ending your relationship. Until that night

You went to the kitchen and put water in the kettle and boiled it. Then you put a cup of green tea in a bag. After mixing sugar in your tea, you listened to the torrential rain outside.

It was spring rain. It was your favorite weather

Unfortunately, your enjoyment was interrupted by a knock on the door. The clock was showing 02:00 at night. Who would come at this hour?

Whoever came, what right did you have to disturb them in the middle of the night?

Anxiety and some fear arose in him. You slowly approached the door. You looked through the peephole. It was Kuro who came to your door. This kid was insane. He was really serious when he said "I'll come to your door"

Even though you wanted to pretend you weren't home, it was in vain.

“Y/n! Open the door, I know you're inside. I saw it coming. The house lights were on. Please open this door and let's talk"

You flatly refused

"No! Get out of here, Kuro. Neighbors will hear. You have no right to disturb anyone in the dead of night!”

Kuro knocked on the door

“Y/n. I beg you open. I need to see you. Let's just talk. I want you to listen to me for a minute. Then I'll go if you want and I won't bother you again. Please just listen to me"

“I said go, Kuro. I will not say it again. Because of you, I'm going to be a disgrace to the whole apartment. I guess you don't want them cursing behind my back"

“All I can think about right now is you y/n. I have nothing on my mind but you. Y/n…I love you. I didn't sleep every day without cursing myself for hurting you. I'm a vile man. Maybe I didn't deserve a person like you. But I'm really begging you. Please forgive me. Hurting you is the last thing I want in life. I never wanted you to be sad"

Kuro's voice trembled. You felt like you had a stake in the middle of your chest. Both of you were hurting

“I admit y/n. I am the only one responsible for what happened to us. I shouldn't have said that word to you. You didn't deserve this. I'm very regretful. I made my decision. I will wait at your door until you forgive me. I'll be here in the morning if necessary"

Your patience was starting to run out.

“Look how you are, Kuro! You should have thought of that before you broke my heart.”

Kuro knocked harder on the door

“Y/N…damn! I hate myself! I'm a vile bastard! Don't do that, please. Enough that I miss you so much. Please forgive me, lemme go inside. Lemme hug you like in the old days."

“Go and hug the volleyball ball. Damn Kuro! The whole apartment heard our voice! I am disgraced because of you! Get out of my door or I'll call the police"

“Y/N!”

The last word you heard from him was your name. He had been felt like crying. Even you didn’t pay no attention. You went inside and continued to work at an intense pace.

You fell asleep, unable to keep your eyelids open any longer than the last time you were tired.

When you wake up in the morning, you realize that you don't even remember how you fell asleep. Everything that happened last night crossed his mind within seconds of waking up.

Could Kuro still be at your door? Or had he given up and left? There was a torrential rain last night and when she got to your door he was soaked.

Even though you were angry with him, you worried that he might be sick.

As soon as you got out of bed, you went to the door. You didn't dare to open it up.

Gathering all your courage, you slowly opened the door and as soon as you opened it you were met with Kuro lying on the mat. You were so angry with him for putting yourself in this situation.

You nudged him to wake him up

“Kuro! Hey! Wake up!"

Kuro muttered and opened his eyes.

“Huh? Y/n?”

"Damn! You fool! What sanity are you lying on the mat?”

“You didn't let me in. Also, didn't I tell you that I won't be leaving your door until you forgive me?"

You sighed nervously.

"Ok! Get in there you idiot"

Kuro got up from the ground. You moved to the side of the door to let him in, and you let him in.

As soon as she walked in, Kuro hugged her tightly around her neck. He buried his head in your neck and inhaled your scent.

“I missed you so much, you know? Please tell me you forgive me"

You raised your hands to rest on his back when you remembered you were still angry with him.

“I'm only worried about you right now, Kuro. You're chilled! You're gonna be sick!"

"Can we stay like this for a while?" ' he asked, without breaking his breath.

Your heart slowly began to soften. You were so close to forgiving him

“If you want it that much…I'll warm you up in bed. You need warming up. I can't let you get sick"

He suddenly stopped hugging you and grabbed you by the shoulders.

“Does that mean you forgive me?” he asked excitedly

"What else would it mean, idiot!" you said patting your chest

"I can't live without you Kuro"

“God! i love you y/n. It's hard for me to even breathe without you. Welcome back to my life darling"

He kissed her on the forehead and you smiled at her

"Come on. Let's go to bed. Get some sleep too"

"Okay" he said smiling at you

You went to bed together. Kuro took off his clothes. He was left in only his underwear and t-shirt.

You hit the space next to the bed. Kuro got under the covers and lay down next to you. He pulled you to his chest and started playing with your hair

When you played with your hair you started to mash and muttered

“Kuro…sleep now my love”

He kissed the top of your head

“I'm going to sleep too now baby. It's so nice to sleep with you. Your bed is cozy too. Just like you"

If you had answered, you would have woken up. Instead, you snuggled closer to your boyfriend's chest and you both fell into a peaceful sleep after a long time, each other's scent and warmth.

[sukunastoy]

What's your biggest regret? 😈

It’s probably depressingly sad, and maybe not want anyone wants to read. Trigger warning ahead. Talking about my dads recent death.

But, currently my biggest regret is not answering my dads phone call the day before he unexpectedly died. I was having a bad day, and was taking a nap. I remember the call waking me up, and I remember thinking “I’m just not in the mood to talk. He’ll understand. I’ll call him tomorrow when I’m not in such a bad mood.”

And it was Father’s Day weekend mind you.

The next day, I went to work at 6 am, and me and my bf had made movie reservations prior anyway right after my work so I thought, “well, by the time I actually get home, I’ll be tired from work and the movie and trying to eat dinner. So, I’ll call him the next day so it’s not so late.” We usually talked at least once a week. But the last time we did talk on the phone, he was asking if I could talk him through how to download Steam onto his laptop so he could play a couple war games that he enjoyed. I told him of course, and when he had some time we’ll get it figured it out and I’ll send him pics and videos if needed. (We live 14 hours away from each other, he lived with my sister. So..at least he wasn’t ever alone.) But…his final words to me were “hey, you should be calling me more often. I know you’re busy, but I hope you can make some time.” And I said “yeah..I know. I’m sorry, my days just blend together sometimes.” He said he understands, just misses me and wants us to talk more.

So…I get home at the end of the day, tired from work and the movie, and, just finishing eating dinner. My sister called me and I didn’t answer cause I was finishing up my food, but she called back again immediately which she never does so I figured was urgent and answered. And it was her letting me know my dad had a massive stroke, and he was found outside in their backyard, covered in ants, and he had wet himself…(imagining my strong father in such a way, being alone when it happened, and being found in such a way, fucking haunts me). He had been mowing the grass for her while she was at work, preparing for a little party they were about to have with my sister and brother (who was going to see them the next day). He had been out there for about 5 hours without breathing, and his dog -who normally ran away when not in a locked fence- was running around the front yard -not a fenced area- barking hysterically, and not even trying to leave the yard. I imagine the dog was trying to stay with my dads body while also not sure what the fuck was going on and also trying to get someone’s attention.

He wasn’t “physically” dead, but, his brain was. He had gone too long without oxygen.

My goddamn heart broke in that instant. Felt like some horrible movie plot meant to destroy the main character. I cried so hard I almost threw up, and i frantically scraped up money (thanks to a lot of kind souls here on tumblr donating to me in that instant) so I could take a flight the next morning to go down to him, BEGGING, whatever god or entity in existence that SOMEHOW, the doctors could bring some life back to him.

Obviously…they couldn’t. They did multiple tests and scans over the span of 3 days, keeping him on breathing tubes and other machines to keep his body alive. They have to have x amount of failed tests before legally declaring him “dead.” Though they did tell us from the beginning, they’re about 99.9% sure he’d never recover. And they said if he did by some miracle get a little brain activity back, he’d basically be a vegetable on a machine the rest of his life. And we all knew he would have NEVER wanted to live the rest of his life like that. So..we more or less just prayed for it to end already. To end his suffering. Let him move on. Cause he HATED being in the hospital and not being able to move or do something. (he had already gone through severe cancer surgery/treatments 10 years prior and he said he’d rather die than live in the hospital under such duress ever again.)

And so for 3 days, me and my brother and sister, sat in the hospital room with my dads body, waiting for the legality of it all to end. We watched his body twitch and move, though no control of his own. Just his brain completely shutting down. When they ran the last test, had the several different doctors sign off to keep it legal, they said it’s up to us when to pull the plug. Me, being the baby sibling, got to make the final decision. Cause they weren’t gonna do it til I said I was ready. Of course I wasn’t fucking ready. But…I had to be.

I knew he wasn’t there anymore. But, his heart was still beating. I remember once they pulled the breathing tubes out, and turned off the other life support machines, I held my dads hand, and laid my head on his chest to listen to his heartbeat as it faded and then finally stopped only a couple minutes later.

And it’s only been a little over 4 months since he died, but I hate myself and regret so much I wanna throw up every day for not answering his call. When it was going to be the last time we ever got to speak. And I ignored it cause I was in a bad mood. And we had been playing phone tag for the whole week before that. So, the last chance I had to talk to my dad, the only real parent I ever had that loved me, and the only person who was ever 100% there for me, I fucking blew it.

And…Ive been crying every singe day over this since.✌️

So…that’s my biggest regret. It sounds corny and cheesy af. But..if you love/care about someone, truly treat each moment as if it’s the last. Cause, it might be…and I promise, if you don’t, and regret it, the pain is so goddamn fucking unbearable you won’t want to live. Luckily I’ve been on 3 medications for a couple years now that have already helped me through my suicidal depression, cause I probably would have already offed myself trying to go through this if I didn’t have them.

And well…that’s why I’m so randomly active/inactive on here. Cause some days I’m just not “here.” I’m fucking struggling hard. But…being obsessed with JJK and that 2D monster that is Sukuna, has kept me going for whatever reason. I appreciate everyone that obsesses with me. Helps distract from the pain.

✌️✨ Sorry for this depressive shit. I’ll get back to drawing/writing naughty shit here soon. It’s a great pain reducer. No one is required to comment, or say anything in regards to this. Lmao, I won’t be sad if you don’t. I know this stuff is awkward and for some it’s weird to handle/respond to. If you don’t want to say anything, or scared/uncomfortable, I totally get that. Cause I’m weird about stuff like this too. I handle death in a weird way, and everyone has their own way to cope/comfort. Don’t feel pressured to say anything. Cause I understand.

I’m just blessed to have some amazing people here on Tumblr help me through the days without them even knowing it. ❤️‍🩹

Big fat smooches and hugs to you all.

[glennriley49]

The Descent

Inspired by the video game Platform 8

Sarah Winters clutched her phone tighter as she hurried down the rain-slicked street, her heels clicking a staccato rhythm on the wet pavement. The amber glow of streetlights reflected in puddles, creating an eerie, shimmering landscape. She glanced at her watch – 9:47 PM. Much later than she'd planned to leave the office.

Ducking under the awning of a closed storefront, Sarah dialed her husband's number. The phone rang several times before his groggy voice answered.

"Hello?"

"Tom, it's me. I'm so sorry, but I'm running late. Mr. Carlson dumped a huge stack of files on my desk right as I was packing up to leave. I couldn't say no – you know how he is."

There was a pause, then a sigh. "Sarah, it's almost ten. We were supposed to have dinner together tonight, remember?"

Guilt twisted in Sarah's stomach. "I know, I know. I'm really sorry. I'll make it up to you, I promise. I'm heading to the subway now. I should be home in about 40 minutes."

"Alright," Tom said, his voice softening slightly. "Just... be careful, okay? It's late, and you know how weird the subway can get at night."

Sarah smiled despite herself. Tom always worried about her. "I will. Love you."

"Love you too. See you soon."

As she hung up, Sarah noticed the street had become unsettlingly quiet. The constant hum of traffic that usually filled the air had faded to nothing. Even the patter of rain seemed muted. A chill ran down her spine that had nothing to do with the damp night air.

Shaking off the feeling, Sarah hurried toward the entrance to the subway station. As she descended the stairs, the familiar musty smell of the underground enveloped her. But something felt... off. The usual cacophony of squealing trains, echoing footsteps, and indistinct chatter was absent. Instead, an oppressive silence pressed in around her.

Sarah's footsteps echoed loudly in the empty station as she made her way to the ticket barriers. She swiped her pass and pushed through, the mechanical click seeming unnaturally loud in the stillness. The fluorescent lights flickered erratically, casting strange shadows that danced along the tiled walls.

"Hello?" she called out, her voice bouncing off the curved ceiling. No response came.

Sarah's heart began to race. Where was everyone? Even at this hour, there should be at least a few other commuters, a station attendant, someone. But the platform stretched out before her, utterly deserted.

She walked to the edge of the platform and peered down the dark tunnel, straining her ears for any sign of an approaching train. Nothing. The digital display board was blank, offering no information about arrivals or departures.

A soft squeaking sound made Sarah jump. She spun around, but it was just a rat scurrying along the edge of the platform. She let out a nervous laugh, trying to calm her frayed nerves. "Get it together, Sarah," she muttered to herself. "It's just the subway. You've done this a thousand times."

But she couldn't shake the feeling that something was very, very wrong. The air felt thick, almost syrupy, as if reality itself was warping around her. Sarah blinked hard and rubbed her eyes, wondering if she was more tired than she realized.

When she opened her eyes again, she gasped. For a split second, the entire station seemed to ripple, like a stone dropped in a still pond. The walls bulged and contracted, tiles shifting in impossible patterns. Sarah stumbled backward, nearly falling onto the tracks.

"What the hell?" she whispered, her voice trembling.

As quickly as it had appeared, the distortion vanished. The station looked normal again – or as normal as an eerily empty subway station could look. Sarah's breathing came in short, sharp bursts. She fumbled for her phone, intending to call Tom, to call anyone. But when she looked at the screen, it was blank. Dead. She knew she had at least 50% battery left when she'd called Tom just minutes ago.

A low rumble began to build, vibrating through the soles of her feet. Sarah's head snapped up, hope and fear warring within her as she saw headlights approaching from the tunnel. The train glided into the station with an unsettling silence, no screeching of brakes or hiss of hydraulics.

The doors slid open with a soft whoosh. Sarah hesitated, every instinct screaming at her to turn and run, to get out of this place that felt so fundamentally wrong. But where would she go? The city streets were deserted, and she was miles from home. At least on the train, she'd be moving in the right direction.

Taking a deep breath, Sarah stepped into the carriage. The interior lights flickered, casting alternating patterns of shadow and sickly yellow illumination. As she moved further inside, she realized with a start that she wasn't alone.

A man sat at the far end of the carriage, his face hidden by the brim of a dark hat. He didn't look up as Sarah entered, didn't move at all. For a moment, she wondered if he was even real or just some kind of mannequin left behind as a bizarre prank.

The doors closed behind her with a finality that made Sarah's stomach lurch. She gripped a handrail tightly as the train began to move, accelerating far more quickly than usual. The station disappeared into darkness, replaced by the featureless black of the tunnel rushing past.

Sarah kept her eyes fixed on the man, waiting for him to move, to acknowledge her presence in any way. But he remained perfectly still, like a statue. She couldn't even tell if he was breathing.

"Excuse me," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Sir? Are you alright?"

No response.

Sarah's knuckles were white on the handrail as the train hurtled through the darkness. She tried to focus on her breathing, on staying calm, but panic clawed at the edges of her mind. This wasn't right. None of this was right.

A flicker of movement caught her eye. Sarah looked down and let out a strangled cry. Her hand, still gripping the rail, seemed to be... melting. Her fingers elongated, twisting and merging with the metal of the handrail. She tried to pull away, but her hand was fused to the rail, her flesh seamlessly blending into the cold steel.

"No, no, no," Sarah whimpered, tugging frantically at her arm. "This isn't real. This can't be real."

A low chuckle came from the other end of the carriage. Sarah's head snapped up to see the man slowly rising to his feet. He lifted his head, and Sarah felt the bottom drop out of her world.

Where his face should have been, there was only a swirling vortex of darkness, like a miniature black hole. It pulsed and writhed, tendrils of inky blackness reaching out toward her.

"What are you?" Sarah screamed, still struggling to free herself from the handrail.

The figure took a step toward her, its movements jerky and unnatural, like a marionette controlled by an unskilled puppeteer. When it spoke, the voice seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once, reverberating inside Sarah's skull.

"The question, my dear," it said, the words slithering into her mind, "is not what am I, but what are you?"

Sarah's vision swam, the interior of the train car warping and twisting around her. Her legs gave out, and she slumped to the floor, her arm stretched awkwardly above her, still fused to the handrail.

"This isn't happening," she muttered, squeezing her eyes shut. "I'm dreaming. I fell asleep at my desk. That's all this is."

"Oh, but it is happening," the voice whispered, now impossibly close. Sarah could feel cold breath on her cheek. "And you are most certainly not dreaming."

She forced her eyes open, coming face to face with the swirling vortex. This close, she could see flashes of imagery in its depths – fragments of memories, nightmares given form, impossible geometries that hurt to look at.

"What do you want from me?" Sarah asked, her voice barely audible.

The figure cocked its head to the side at an angle that should have been anatomically impossible. "Want? My dear, I don't want anything from you. I simply am. And you... well, you're finally starting to see."

"See what?" Sarah's voice cracked, tears streaming down her face.

"The truth," it replied. "The cracks in your reality. The lies you've been living."

As if triggered by its words, the world around Sarah began to fracture. The walls of the train car peeled away like old wallpaper, revealing a roiling chaos beyond. Memories flashed before her eyes – her wedding day, her first day at work, childhood birthdays – but they were wrong, distorted. In each one, she could see that swirling vortex lurking at the edges, watching.

"No," Sarah moaned, shaking her head violently. "Those are my memories. My life!"

"Are they?" the figure asked, amusement coloring its tone. "Are you so sure?"

Sarah's certainty wavered. She tried to recall Tom's face, the sound of his laugh, but the details slipped away like smoke. Had she ever really known him? Had any of it been real?

The train shuddered and groaned, metal twisting as reality continued to unravel around them. Sarah felt a tugging sensation and looked down to see her body beginning to lose cohesion, edges blurring and shifting.

"What's happening to me?" she cried out, desperation clawing at her throat.

The figure leaned in close, its featureless face inches from her own. "You're waking up, Sarah. The question is: are you ready to see where this train really goes?"

As the world dissolved around her, Sarah closed her eyes and screamed.

****

Sarah's scream echoed through the disintegrating train car, reverberating off surfaces that no longer seemed solid. Her mind reeled, desperately grasping for something familiar, something real. With a herculean effort, she wrenched her hand free from the handrail, leaving behind strips of flesh that melded seamlessly with the metal.

Stumbling to her feet, Sarah lurched toward the end of the carriage. She had to get away, had to find some semblance of normality. The figure with the void for a face made no move to stop her, its eerie chuckle following her as she fumbled with the door between cars.

"Run all you like, Sarah," its voice whispered in her mind. "There's nowhere to go but deeper."

She ignored it, focusing all her energy on the door handle. It felt slippery under her fingers, constantly shifting shape. After what felt like an eternity, she managed to slide it open.

The gap between carriages yawned before her, a chasm of swirling darkness punctuated by flashes of impossible colors. Sarah squeezed her eyes shut and leaped across, feeling the void tug at her, trying to pull her in. For a moment, she was suspended in nothingness, her very existence in question.

Then her feet hit solid ground. Sarah's eyes flew open as she stumbled into the next carriage. Relief flooded through her for a split second before freezing in her veins.

The man was there.

He sat in the exact same position as before, head bowed, face hidden by the brim of his hat. But this time, his arm was extended, holding a smartphone pointed directly at Sarah.

"No," she whispered, shaking her head in disbelief. "That's not possible. You were... you were just..."

The man slowly lifted his head. Where the swirling vortex had been, there was now a face – but it was wrong. Features shifted and rearranged themselves constantly, as if unable to decide on a final form. Only the eyes remained fixed, boring into Sarah with an intensity that made her feel naked, exposed.

"What's the matter, Sarah?" the man asked, his voice somehow both familiar and alien. "Don't you want to be a star?"

Sarah's gaze fixed on the phone. On its screen, she could see herself, but the image was... wrong. The Sarah on the screen moved when she did, but there was a lag, a disconnect. And her face – it was melting, features running like wax, revealing something underneath that Sarah's mind refused to comprehend.

"Stop it," she pleaded, holding up her hands to shield herself from the camera. But her fingers were elongating again, twisting into impossible shapes. "Please, just stop!"

The man stood, phone still trained on Sarah. "But we've only just started," he said, a grin splitting his ever-changing face. "Don't you want to see who you really are?"

Sarah backed away, her distorted hands scrabbling at the walls of the carriage. But the surfaces felt soft, yielding under her touch like flesh. She looked down to see the floor rippling, faces pushing up from beneath as if trying to break through a membrane.

"This isn't real," Sarah muttered, her mantra becoming more desperate with each repetition. "This isn't real. This isn't real."

"Oh, but it is," the man countered, advancing on her. "More real than anything you've ever known. Look."

He thrust the phone toward her, and Sarah found she couldn't look away. On the screen, her form continued to warp and shift. Layers of skin and muscle peeled away, revealing a writhing mass of tentacles and eyes, mouths opening and closing soundlessly.

"That's not me," Sarah whimpered, even as doubt gnawed at her. "It can't be me."

The man's laughter filled the carriage, distorting and multiplying until it seemed to come from everywhere at once. "But it is you, Sarah. The real you. The you that's been hiding beneath the surface all this time."

Sarah's legs gave out, and she slumped to the floor. The faces beneath the surface pressed up against her, whispering words she couldn't quite make out. She could feel her grip on reality slipping away like sand through her fingers.

"What do you want?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

The man crouched down in front of her, his face now a swirling kaleidoscope of features. "I want you to embrace the truth, Sarah. To stop hiding behind the lie of humanity."

As he spoke, tendrils of darkness began to seep from the edges of the phone's screen, reaching out toward Sarah. She tried to move, to get away, but her body felt heavy, unresponsive.

"No," she moaned, watching as the tendrils wrapped around her arms, her legs, creeping up toward her face. "Please, no."

The last thing Sarah saw before the darkness engulfed her was her own reflection in the phone's screen – a creature of chaos and madness staring back at her with too many eyes.

And somewhere in the distance, a train whistle sounded, heralding her arrival at a destination she never knew existed.

****

Sarah's eyes snapped open, a gasp tearing from her throat. She found herself sitting upright in one of the train's seats, her heart pounding frantically against her ribcage. Disoriented, she blinked rapidly, trying to make sense of her surroundings.

The carriage looked... normal. Fluorescent lights hummed overhead, casting their harsh glow over rows of empty seats. No writhing floors, no melting walls. Sarah's hands flew to her face, feeling smooth skin instead of the horrific transformation she'd witnessed earlier.

"Just a dream," she muttered, relief washing over her. "It was just a nightmare."

"Was it now?"

The voice, low and amused, came from right beside her. Sarah's blood ran cold as she slowly turned her head.

The man sat there, mere inches away, his face once again hidden beneath the brim of his hat. He was perfectly still, hands folded neatly in his lap.

Sarah scrambled out of her seat, nearly falling in her haste to put distance between them. "Stay away from me!" she shouted, her voice shrill with panic.

The man made no move to follow her. He simply sat there, an island of calm in the sea of Sarah's terror. "Now, now," he said, his tone maddeningly conversational. "Is that any way to treat a fellow passenger?"

Sarah backed away, her eyes never leaving the motionless figure. Her mind raced, trying to reconcile what she was seeing with the horrors she'd experienced. Had it truly all been a dream? But then how had she ended up seated next to this man?

"Who are you?" she demanded, hating the tremor in her voice. "What do you want from me?"

The man tilted his head slightly, and Sarah caught a glimpse of a smile beneath the shadow of his hat. "I thought we'd been through this already," he replied. "But if you insist on playing this game, by all means, continue."

A chill ran down Sarah's spine. This was wrong. All of it was wrong. She had to get away, had to find help. Her eyes darted to the door leading to the next carriage.

As if reading her thoughts, the man spoke again. "Running again, Sarah? You should know by now that it won't help."

But Sarah was already moving, lunging for the door. Her fingers closed around the handle, cool metal grounding her in reality for a brief moment. She yanked it open and threw herself through the gap between carriages.

The transition was instantaneous this time – no yawning void, no moment of non-existence. One second she was leaving a carriage, the next she was stumbling into an identical one.

And there, in the exact same seat, sat the man.

Sarah's mind reeled. She spun around, looking back the way she'd come, but the door had vanished. There was only an unbroken wall where it should have been.

"Impossible," she breathed, panic clawing at her throat.

"Is it?" the man asked, amusement coloring his tone. "I'd think you'd have a broader definition of 'possible' by now, Sarah."

She whirled to face him, anger momentarily overriding her fear. "Stop saying my name like you know me!" she snapped. "What is this place? What's happening to me?"

The man stood slowly, his movements fluid and unsettling. "Oh, but I do know you, Sarah," he said, taking a step toward her. "Better than you know yourself, I'd wager."

Sarah backed away, her heel hitting the wall behind her. There was nowhere left to run. "Please," she whispered, hating how small her voice sounded. "I just want to go home."

The man paused, cocking his head to the side. "Home?" he repeated, as if tasting the word. "And where exactly is that, Sarah? Can you even remember?"

Sarah opened her mouth to respond, to tell him about her apartment, about Tom waiting for her. But the words died on her tongue. She couldn't picture it. The details of her life, her home, even Tom's face – they were all hazy, indistinct, like a fading dream.

"I... I don't..." she stammered, confusion and fear warring within her.

The man took another step closer. "It's alright," he said, his voice suddenly gentle. "The forgetting is part of the process. You're almost there."

"Almost where?" Sarah asked, dreading the answer.

Before the man could respond, the carriage was plunged into darkness. The fluorescent lights flickered and died with a sharp buzz, leaving them in total blackness. Sarah's breath caught in her throat, her eyes straining to see anything in the oppressive dark.

"What's happening?" she called out, hating how small and scared she sounded.

The man's voice came from somewhere much closer than she expected. "The veil is thinning," he whispered, his breath hot against her ear. "Look."

As if commanded by his words, a pale, ghostly light began to emanate from the windows of the carriage. Sarah turned, her eyes widening in horror at what she saw.

Faces pressed against the glass, dozens of them, their features twisted in silent screams. They were translucent, glowing with an eerie, otherworldly light. Eyes bulged, mouths gaped open, hands clawed desperately at the windows.

Sarah stumbled backward, a scream building in her throat. She collided with something solid – the man. His hands gripped her shoulders, holding her in place.

"Do you recognize them?" he asked, his voice low and insistent.

Sarah shook her head violently, trying to look away from the nightmarish visages. But her eyes were drawn back, again and again. And with each glance, a terrible realization began to dawn.

She did recognize them.

There was Mr. Carlson, her boss, his face contorted in an expression she'd never seen on him in life. Next to him, Sarah's college roommate, eyes wide and pleading. And there – oh God – there was Tom, her Tom, his features warped by terror and something else... accusation?

"No," Sarah moaned, sagging in the man's grip. "This isn't real. They can't be... I didn't..."

"Didn't you?" the man asked, his tone maddeningly calm. "Think, Sarah. Really think. What do you actually remember?"

Images flashed through Sarah's mind – fractured, disconnected. The office, staying late, the empty subway station. But before that... nothing. Just a vague sense of a life lived, but no concrete memories. No childhood, no first kiss, no wedding day. It was all a blank.

"I... I don't know," she whispered, tears streaming down her face. "I don't remember."

The man's grip on her shoulders tightened. "That's because it wasn't real," he said. "None of it was. Just a story you told yourself, a comfortable lie to hide from the truth."

Sarah's legs gave out, and she slumped to the floor. The man released her, stepping back. Through her tears, Sarah could see the ghostly faces pressing closer, their silent screams growing more frantic.

"What truth?" she asked, her voice barely audible. "What am I?"

The man crouched down in front of her, and for the first time, Sarah could see his face clearly. It was her own face staring back at her, but wrong – older, harder, with eyes that held infinite darkness.

"You're like me," her doppelganger said, a sad smile playing on its lips. "A traveler between worlds, a being of chaos and change. But you forgot, lost yourself in the lie of humanity."

Sarah shook her head, unwilling or unable to accept what she was hearing. "No," she insisted weakly. "I'm Sarah Winters. I have a husband, a job, a life."

Her double laughed, the sound echoing strangely in the darkened carriage. "Sarah Winters is a mask, a role you played for a while. But the play is over now. It's time to remember who you really are."

As if triggered by these words, pain lanced through Sarah's head. She cried out, clutching at her temples as memories – real memories – came flooding back. Centuries of existence, countless lives lived and discarded. Worlds explored and left in ruins. The intoxicating freedom of chaos, the thrill of transformation.

And the loneliness. The crushing, endless loneliness that had driven her to try and forget, to lose herself in the comforting lie of mortality.

"No," Sarah sobbed, curling in on herself. "I don't want to remember. Please, let me go back."

Her double placed a hand on her shoulder, its touch both familiar and alien. "I'm sorry," it said, genuine regret in its voice. "But you can't go back. The only way is forward."

The ghostly faces at the windows began to fade, their silent screams diminishing. As they disappeared, Sarah felt pieces of herself – the human self she had crafted – go with them. Tom's smile, the pride she felt at work, the simple pleasures of a life well-lived – all of it slipping away like sand through an hourglass.

"What happens now?" Sarah asked, looking up at her double with eyes that were rapidly losing their human appearance.

The other her smiled, extending a hand. "Now? Now we go home. Our real home."

Sarah hesitated for a moment, a last flicker of her human self resisting. But as the final traces of Sarah Winters faded away, she reached out and took the offered hand.

The world around them began to dissolve, the train carriage melting into swirling chaos. Sarah felt her body changing, shifting into something beyond human comprehension. And as the last vestiges of the reality she had known disappeared, she heard a voice – her own voice, but older, wiser, infinitely more powerful:

"Welcome back. The journey is just beginning."

The darkness swallowed them, and Sarah Winters ceased to exist. In her place, something ancient and terrible and wonderful emerged, ready to explore the infinite possibilities of existence once more.

And somewhere in the depths of the multiverse, a subway train continued its endless journey, carrying the echoes of countless forgotten lives.