#when i make eyes contact with him i feel the reality collapse

[saltiestbread]

SANS FUCKING UNDERTALE???!!!??

[thenerdyselfinsert]

You're Home (Simon "Ghost" Riley x GN! Reader)

After John Price came to your home a few months ago and told you Simon was MIA, you thought your entire world was ending. You feel yourself going mad, crazy without your partner. Sometimes you feel yourself hallucinating, imagining he's there. One morning, the hallucination feels more real.

Word Count: 876

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x GN! Reader

Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Not beta read, reader is a crybaby (but a valid crybaby)

The sight of John Price at your door wasn't unusual. Sometimes Simon would invite him over for drinks, or you would invite him and the other members of TF141 for dinner. But here, on one of the cloudiest days of the year, it created knots in your stomach.

You had felt weird when you woke up this morning. At first you thought you were just being paranoid, a symptom from missing Simon. He had been radio silent for the past couple weeks, said he was supposed to be going on a solo mission and wouldn't be able to contact you until it was over.

But now, with John Price at your door, you knew your feelings were not unfounded. Price stood at your door, a somber look on his face. He wrung his hat in his hands, and though he was stoic and still, you could tell he was just as distraught as you.

"John," you said softly, "I... where's Simon?"

Price reached out a gentle hand towards you, "I'm sorry-"

"John-" you recoiled, shaking your head and covering your mouth, "John, please no-"

"Simon is missing in action," Price said softly, his hand resting on your arm, "The mission in Urzikstan went side-ways and-"

"He's not dead?" you asked, a little too hopeful.

Price's face softened, "I- we don't know for sure. I don't... I don't want you to get your hopes up..."

Your eyebrows furrowed as tears welled in your eyes. Price opened his arms, silently offering you a hug which you took. Sobs wracked your body, fear and grief washing over you like a tidal wave.

"I'm sorry," was all Price could mutter as he rubbed soothing circles on your back. You sobbed until you collapsed, the energy sucked out of your body.

That night with John Price was five months ago. Simon still hadn't come back, and each day that passed made you feel more and more hopeless. It drives you crazy, your brain playing tricks on you.

Sometimes, in the deliriam of another restless sleep, you swore you could hear his footsteps in the hall, or hear him murmuring sweet nothings in your ear.

Sometimes it brought comfort, letting yourself pretend like he had come home to you safe and sound.

But sometimes, it just cut open old wounds and left you sobbing hysterically. You tried everything to bring yourself comfort. You sprayed his pillow with his cologne, hugging it tightly as you tried to fall asleep. When it got cold, you chose his pair of skeleton print gloves over your own. Nothing worked.

One night, the hallucinations felt all too real.

You layed in bed, tossing and turning, drifting in and out of reality. As you lay in the dark, you heard the sound of the front door open, a heavy set of footsteps following the sound.

You've had nights where this has happened before. You hear the shuffling downstairs before heavy, tired footsteps approach the bedroom door. It squeaked open, and in the dark bleary night, you open your eyes just slightly to see the hulking figure standing in the doorway.

"Simon?" You mumbled softly, like you had a few nights before. Sometimes the hallucinations spoke, sometimes they don't.

"It's me, love," the hallucination said, his voice sounding as if he was holding back tears. You hold your hand out to the hallucination, inviting it into bed with you. Through your impaired vision, you could see the hallucination shuck off its shirt before climbing into bed with you. It radiated a familiar warmth, one that was…different than usual. Strong arms wrapped around you, making your eyebrows furrow. You turned in the hallucination’s grasp, staring at it through bleary eyes. You rubbed your eyes, blinking a couple times. Though that usually chased away the visions, this one held firm.

“Si— Simon?” you asked in disbelief. His hand came up to caress your face, his thumb running along your cheek. You reached up to hold his face in your hands, tears welling in your eyes after landing on the solid planes of his face.

“I missed you so much,” Simon whispered, tears welling in his eyes as well, “Every. Single. Day. All I could think of was returning home to you.”

Your bottom lip quivered, one of your hands running through his hair.

“You’re real…” you whispered in disbelief.

He let out a breath of laughter, taking one of your hands in his, a smile gracing his face.

“It’s me love,” he said, “I’m here, and I’m real.”

You let out a sob, your arms wrapping around him as you buried your face into his chest. He smelled like fresh Earth, sweat, and a hint of his cologne. You inhaled, reveling in the familiar smell.

Simon’s arms instinctively pulled you in tighter as he buried his nose in your hair.

“I— I thought— I thought—“ you sobbed, holding him tightly, as if letting go would make him disappear once more.

He shushed you, rubbing your back as he pressed firm kisses to the top of your head. He gently took your face in his hands, tilting your head so he could kiss you properly. His lips were warm and desperate, kissing you over and over again to make up for lost time.

When he pulled away, you looked up at him through tears.

“I’m— I’m so glad— I’m so glad you’re home,” you hiccupped.

He pressed another chaste kiss to your lips before he said, “I’m glad I’m home too, love.”

And with his body pressed firmly against yours, you could feel yourself relaxing. You moved yourself to lay against his chest, listening to his heartbeat, a firm reminder that he was here, in your arms. And for the first time in a long time, you both slept easy.

Thank you for reading! Likes and reblogs are always appreciated.

[caramelkoo]

before we shatter — jjk [two]

genre : established relationship, idol!jungkook

word count : 5.1k

summary : dating an idol is fun, they said. having a family with one is fun, they said. Until you're falling face forward because of your reality. A reality where Jungkook dreams of a future and a reality where your own future is collapsed.

chapter warnings : ANGST, eventual fluff, mentions death of a loved one, mentions of Alzheimer's disease, strong language, mature, cheating (not by the main characters), jungkook will piss you off but he's deserving of love too :((, slight making out but nothing else. i think that's it, please mention if i missed anything.

a/n : OH MY GOD IT TOOK ME FOREVER !!!! here it is my pookies <333 i hope this will heal the past trauma that part one caused yall omfg. i love you so much and send an ask if you want to. You're so so cherished.

Jungkook’s fingers press on the digital lock before it beeps, indicating the door has been unlocked. 

“Babe, I’m home” 

He expects his girlfriend, Nicole to say anything in response but, on the contrary, all he gets is pure silence. Not a single person breathing the same air as him inside the house. His eyebrows crease in utter confusion and he wonders if he she went outside in order to run any errands.

Nicole is a fashion designer who he met when she was appointed to design his concert outfits for the group’s previous world tour. At first, there were some stolen glances, eye contacts, and innocent touches but when he found himself looking for her in the room full of people, it had to be more than that. 

At the risk of sounding like a nervous wreck with zero experience with women, Jungkook had walked back and forth approximately 46 times before he took up the hatchet to ask her on a date, to which she’d smirked and whispered a yes in response.

Listen, Jungkook is a confident man. Add a confident yet adorably shy woman beside him and you have got yourself the perfect mix of charisma and charm. Not to say that he was not totally enthralled by her. He genuinely wanted to get to know her better and that’s not only because she was confident, of course. 

Ordinarily, he’d find her on the couch going through her designs or making herself the 50th cup of coffee. It all really depends, but tonight the eerie silence surrounding him makes his stomach hurt. A nagging feeling arises in his chest and he hopes everything is okay. 

He releases a breath and walks further in towards the bedroom. Who knows, she got tired of working all day and went in there to take a nap. 

Much to his disappointment, just as his hands grip the doorknob, a moan comes from the other side of the wall and he freezes. 

“You’re so good to mommy, aren’t you?” 

He can’t mistake the voice even if he tries to. He hears it all day, every night by his side. 

Nicole has complemented him in every spectrum of their relationship. She’d been equally successful, equally fun and adventurous, and matched every desire and aspirations of his.

Tow bodies, one soul if you will.

Turns out, she lagged behind on the spectrum of honesty. 

Knowing he can’t be just standing there and not find out who she’s been fucking behind his back, he twists the knob and pushes the door open. The moan which earlier caused his heart to momentarily stop now turning into a full blown scream. 

“What the fuck?” 

You might prefer to think that Jungkook was the one to exclaim that, but no. Sitting on the bed with wide eyes and no clothes is his manager, Tae moo. Next to him is Nicole, trying to cover herself up with the help of the duvet as if she’d not spent the majority of nights sleeping beside Jungkook in the very same state after he’d made love to her. 

“Jungkook, baby. I can explain” 

His jaw goes tight, voice turning shaky. “Get out of my house.” 

Fierce eyes are pointed at the manager the whole time and he doesn’t even bother to look at Nicole. As if someone had set his non-existent pants on fire,Tae moo hurries and plucks whatever fabric he can from the floor and rushes outside. 

When Jungkook finally glances at Nicole, she’s got the same look on her face which she does when she wants something from him but can’t get herself to form the words. Desperate and pleading. 

He pinches the bridge of his nose, tone acidic when he asks, “Why are you still here?” 

“What?” 

“Why? Did he fuck the common sense out of you?” 

She blanches at his words, clearly not expecting him to talk like that. “Please don’t talk to me like that. I told you I can explain.”

Jungkook can’t help but let out a chuckle infused with bitterness and disbelief, “What could possibly justify you fucking my manager, Nicole. Were you lonely? Did I not give you enough love and attention? Was my dick not enough for you that you just had to jump on another one?” 

Every word that comes out of his mouth has an intention of hurting the woman in front of him. Standing there when Jungkook tries to figure out any possible cause of this betrayal, he registers something.

While Jungkook was thriving because of the fact that he has a woman who supports him and keeps him on his toes, holds him when the world gets mean to him, the said woman was using him to feed her ego. He had been indispensable for her to gain the popularity that was left for her. The truth that he'd been a ladder all along for her in order to climb till success hits him like a torrent and an ache throbs through his chest. 

“Why would you need another designer when I’m here?”

“Jungkook c’mon, all my friends are gonna be there. Don’t be a spoilsport.” 

“Do they not let you post your girlfriends on your official instagram profile?” 

Everything falls into place like a missing piece of puzzle fitting into space. Additionally, Nicole had not even gotten close with any of Jungkook’s friends��� girlfriends and he’d decided not to dwell on the fact for his own peace.

Arguably, some people just don’t click and that’s fine. Except, those people don’t denounce other women behind their back. Her adulterated personality was oozing out of her and he managed to miss it. 

“I don’t know, babe. Her dress was too revealing. Take it from a fashion designer when I tell you she was not fit for that dress” 

“Isn’t she too touchy with her boyfriend in public? I mean I understand you’re in love but jeez” 

It is often said that when you’re in love, you’re unable to see your lover’s flaws because you get blinded. Blinded by their beauty, their charm, and their affection towards you. Safe to say, Jungkook can relate. 

“Get out”

‘Please just liste-”

His pitch goes higher. “RIGHT.NOW” 

Subsequently, he had been off the market for two whole years. Unfortunately, though, he couldn’t escape the endless amount of impolite and not to mention personal questions about his relationship during the interviews. 

“Jungkook, you were seen coming out of several restaurants and clubs with a woman a few years back, but we’ve not seen her for a while now. Is there something you’d like your fans to know?”  

“The ladies out there are having a field day because it seems our favourite superstar, Jeon Jungkook is single again” 

“Is there any chance of us getting to see the mysterious woman again?” 

Fucking exhausting. 

Then, one fine day, he met you.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚

Maybe, the trust issues made home inside of him after he found his ex-girlfriend naked and sweaty on his bed with his manager. Maybe, you can blame it on the fact that he had still not gotten over the agony caused by his past relationship.

It’s almost like the words that come out of his mouth throw him two years back to the very same room where he tasted the vile taste of betrayal. 

“Tell me, honey. Is it the important thing you wanted to talk about but held back just to get a good fuck out of me?” 

The sentence is so absurd and disgusting that you can’t stop your hands from connecting with his face with a hard force. His face turns sideways as his skin stings because of the slap.

“Watch your tone with me, Jeon Jungkook.” The words are barely a whisper as you gulp, flying into a rage and hoping he eats his own words. 

You’re half naked, your hair's a damn mess and you probably have a swollen face with boogers in your eyes, but at this moment, you have to stand up for yourself without caring about any of that. You can’t be the person to take first hand beating of something you haven’t even thought of doing.

When he looks back at you, you wish someone was holding you because your legs feel weak. The look of betrayal and anger is long gone and now the only thing that exists behind those big doe eyes is hurt. A pain which makes you want to disintegrate. 

“Baby, I didn’t mean-”

“You know what, _____? I would have seen this coming. I was a fucking fool to even wish for a normal bond with someone without some shit happening to us.” 

You watch him storm out the door, slamming it so hard it rattles on its hinges after throwing the blue file on the bed. Your feet remain frozen to the wooden floor and you hope he comes running back in, says he’s sorry and he wants to talk it out. 

“Some shit”. He just called the whole situation shit.

A terrible labyrinth of anger, guilt and grief traps you as you find yourself wishing that a tight hug could fix the scattered pieces and mould your relationship back into one beautiful piece.

The words on the report stare back at you as they somehow feel more painful now that your boyfriend is aware of them. He knows he’s got into something he hasn’t signed up for and the thought that before you could even explain everything to him, before you could even tell him that you would rather die but hide anything let alone information as huge as this, he’d walked out. 

Placing the file on the nightstand, you go through your usual morning routine. Take a shower, change into fresh clothes and take your supplements.

Everything is blurry to you, the feeling of loss lingering deep in your chest, slightly aware of the fact that physically, Jungkook is nearby, mentally? You’re not so sure.

Despite your better judgement, you walk towards the kitchen with the motive of making your breakfast and you find Jungkook looking for something under the couch with two suitcases standing in front of the door. Was he gonna leave without letting you know? When did he even pack?

You take a deep breath and release, knowing exactly what he is looking for, “Are you looking for your glasses?” 

He straightens back up and holds your gaze. There’s a bit of delay before his answer reaches your ears. “Yeah um, I can’t seem to find them anywhere” 

A minuscule smile forms on your face, “They’re inside the bedside drawer. I kept them there cause you know, you tend to lose them” 

He doesn’t share the humor as you feel a pang in your chest intensifying. It’s suddenly so quiet that you can hear your as well as his breathing. And it’s uneven. Has your home always been this quiet? 

You clear your throat, eyes finding the suitcases behind him, “Heading somewhere?” 

He does the same and looks back at you. “Yeah uh, you remember Jimin calling me yesterday when we-,” he pauses, “Well, I have to go overseas to promote the album and get done with some other formalities” 

You flash him an understanding smile, feeling utterly shattered inside and not sure if you should ask him as to why he didn't bother to let you know or just let it slide. The question is right at the tip of your tongue but thinking better of it, you gulp it back down. 

“Of course. How long will you be gone?” 

He slides his hands inside his front pockets and sighs, “Probably a week. You can’t be precise when it comes to promotions.” 

“Alright,” you halt, “Uh.. do you want me to get the glasses for yo-” 

“No, I've got it.” He says as he excuses himself. When he comes back, the glasses are resting on his nose making him look even more beautiful than he already is in your eyes. 

A faint memory of you wiping his glasses for him with your slip dress comes to the surface and you hide a smile.

You watch him round the kitchen counter and pick up his jacket. As he grips the suitcases with both of his hands, the gleaming bracelet catches your attention. 

What are the odds of him preparing to live without it on his wrist? What are the odds of him preparing to live without you? 

You’re not surprised when he begins walking out the front door without saying a word. But you know you have to. You have to let him know that you don’t have any intention of giving up on him. 

With your palms turning clammy, you speak and prepare yourself for whatever comes back as a response, “Wait” 

His feet come to a stop, but him not bothering to turn around does nothing to ease your ache if not adds to it.

Swallowing, you continue, “Whe-when you come back, I want to talk it out. I want you to know that you mean too much to me for me to hide such a major information from you and one that has to do with both of us at that. Yes, I held back for a while but that’s just because I wanted to forget,” the damn tears are threatening to fall yet again, “I wanted to feel for the last time what it's like to be in your arms, your warmth before I break your heart and mine in the process,” Your fastening heartbeat causes you to grip your cardigan in a tight fist, 

“Can I at least get a hug?” 

His shoulders visibly go tensed as he admits over his shoulders, “I’m afraid if I so much as look at you for more than a second, I will break.” 

With that the front door opens and closes, leaving you with nothing but warm tears. You try your fucking hardest not to take his statement as face value but god you want to curl up and die. Although, you know none of this is your fault. If only you could see what the future holds, everything could have been much more bearable. 

You’re scared you’ll lose everything— him, your happiness, your future together. 

You’re scared you’ll burn.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚

For as long as he can remember, Jungkook’s childhood had been filled with vivid memories of his parents’ kisses, them being madly in love with each other, dancing in the kitchen, planning picnic dates and thousands of giggles. He had been blessed with a mother who loved his father more than Jungkook has ever seen someone loving the other person, and his father reciprocated the love tenfold. 

Along with the love he also had another emotion wrapped around his heart in a tight grip. Fear. Fear that all of that would dissipate. You know, how sometimes when you’re too happy, there’s just a fucking voice inside of you screaming, “It won’t last long”? 

That’s exactly what he used to feel. The root of the fear was a mystery to him and he even tried to forget about it, thinking it might be just a pipe dream.

Except, it was not. 

And then one day, like a bolt from the blue, Jungkook’s dad was gone.

He still remembers the day very clearly when he saw his dad’s body being carried away on a stretcher, heavy and cold. Meanwhile, he just stood there with fat tears streaming down his cheeks, his mom arms stopping him from running behind his father.

Then, if that was not enough to break him, he lost his mom. Not physically but mentally when her mental state started to deteriorate over the next few years. Before he knew it, his mother totally forgot about his identity as well as his father’s. Apparently, that left a scar far too deep.

What’s it like to forget the ones you love?

Even though Jungkook had made peace with the fact that his mother will never return the same way he’d known her for, a small part of him still hopes. After all, what’s so wrong in hoping? 

His feet drag him down the long hallway filled with wooden brown doors until he stops and stands before one. He clears his throat as he watches the woman just lie there and stare into nothing in particular. 

When he gains her attention, a smile breaks out from her lips, “There you are. I knew you would come, Jimin.” 

Jungkook runs a palm over his chest, a futile effort to soothe the ache.

“It’s Jungkook, mom. Your son” 

“My son? How do you know my son?” The vivaciousness long gone from his mom’s voice.

He swallows and gets further inside the room. He doesn’t try to push it because he knows for a fact that even if she recognizes him today, if tomorrow he comes back he’ll be either Jimin or Namjoon or some random man he’s never heard of. 

“How are you doing?” 

His mom sighs, a pout on her lips as she looks down, “Still the same. I asked the nurse for a cup of tea hours back but she seems to have forgotten about it. That witch.” 

He chuckles, sitting himself on the stool. “I’m sure she’s bringing it in for you.” 

Her eyes move over to the window and settle on the maple tree outside. Just watching it. Jungkook ponders if she remembers chasing him under the maple tree when he was a child. It’s his favorite memory.

“A kind woman stopped by a few days back. God knows what her name was but she had this.. sad look in her eyes, as if someone had snatched something away from her and she’s broken over it. I wonder if people look at me and feel the same amount of sympathy that I did towards her that day. I’m not a fool, I know I’m sick. I could be dead by tomorrow for all you know,” she releases a small sigh as Jungkook waits for her to continue. 

Except she doesn’t and in that moment, Jungkook just…. knows. 

˚୨୧⋆｡˚

Jungkook’s eyes have not left the silver bracelet on his wrist for a while now, brushing it with his fingers lightly as if that would help him rectify his mistakes. He wants to slap himself whenever he remembers the look on your face when those cursed words left him. You looked so broken, so tired.

The woman his mother mentioned is you, it’s so obvious. Something about the way she told him about you made him want to swallow a fistful of iron nails. Fuck even that would hurt less. For a second he saw himself at her place and that made his insides twist in such a way that he didn’t understand. 

What if one day he just wakes up and doesn’t remember you? What if it all just disappears? Her memories, your smile, your sweet giggles, your moans, your touch. 

The thought itself makes him want to rip something into pieces not to mention rip his own heart into pieces. 

Jungkook can hardly walk through the veil of darkness which fills the hall. He holds his phone screen up for light, calling out for you.

“Honey, you home?” 

No response. With his heart in his throat he starts moving towards the bedroom. Gripping the doorknob, he twists it as the door clicks open. Before he can start panicking because of the empty room with nothing but his own stuff scattered around, a cough reaches his ears. 

His brows crease into a frown, confused. “_____, I’m starting to worry.” 

Another cough follows, making his breath pick up its pace. Following the sound, he finds himself standing outside the guest room’s door. Wasting no time he pushes the door open as he watches you on the bed covered in layers of blanket with sweat all over your forehead.

He rushes to you in a quick second, heart beating fast. “Hey, hey baby,” voice coming out as gently as possible, “You okay? Why are you here?” 

Your eyes land on his face as you sniff. “This is what happens when you eat your weight in a bucket full of ice cream on a Sunday night.” 

Jungkook’s expression flashes with relief, grateful that it’s nothing more than an unfortunate cold. 

“You should leave.”

He blinks, “What?” 

“You're more contagious to the cold than anyone I know, baby. Go. I’ll be fine” 

To be honest, he could give zero fucks about catching a cold right now. He holds your gaze for a long moment before standing up. 

A quick look of hurt passes through your eyes, but you recover just as quickly. 

“If you think I’m gonna leave you here in this state then you underestimate my love for you, honey. I don’t know if you remember, but you wanted us to talk once I come back and I want you to get better and get talking, alright? God knows how I managed to have survived two weeks without you by my side, but now that I’m here, you’re going nowhere out of my sight.” 

“Jungkoo-”

He interrupts, “As for those reports, I don’t give a fuck. I don’t care if we can’t have kids normally as most people do,” he runs his hands through his black locks, messing them up as he continues,

“In every sense of the word, I just want you. I want you right here with me, holding my hand and making me the happiest motherfucker ever. We’ll try something else. We’ll adopt, we’ll go with IVF, we’ll-” 

“Jungkook” 

“Yeah?” 

“Breathe, baby” 

So he does as he fills his chest with air, taking a moment to relax. Reaching over, you take his hands in your soft and warm ones, caressing his knuckle tattoo.

“Do I have the permission to be selfish just for one more time?” 

He offers you a weak smile, “You were never selfish to begin with, my love.” 

Your hands pull him towards you until he’s lying down by your side. He wraps his arms around you, holding you so close you’re almost one.  

Jungkook presses a kiss on your clammy forehead followed by one on the tip of your nose, “You okay?” 

“I am now” you whisper, letting your head drop weakly forward to pepper kisses across his hoodie clad chest. 

“I’m gonna speak now and I want you to listen, okay?” 

“Okay.” 

Your fingers clutch his hoodie in a small fist as you begin, “I lied about babysitting Coco and I’m sorry about that since I know we promised to never lie to each other, but I had a reason for that. I was at the hospital when you called. I knew you would be at the studio and I didn’t want to put you through that when you’re working,” 

You look up at him, eyes full of love and affection, “When I was young, my mom showed me an orange butterfly which I immediately fell in love with. I played with it for hours before I went back inside the house. I let it go, wishing it would visit me again. I had to let that butterfly go, Jungkook. Because I knew I couldn’t keep holding onto it. I was gonna do the same with you that night. I had it all planned out, I was gonna let you know about my infertility and then I was going to ask you for a breakup. Thankfully, I didn’t. Do you know why?”

Resigned, Jungkook shakes his head as a teardrop falls. 

“Because some things and some people are worth staying for. You’re worth staying for. I was stupid enough to think that I would survive without you, that I would be able to weather the storm without you by my side.” 

You’re sobbing now, sniffing as your fingers wipe Jungkook’s tears away. 

He cups your cheek, his fingers brushing featherlight on your skin as the most tantalizing caress. “You don’t have to. I’ll never leave you, baby. You’re it for me. I can’t breathe without you, _____. Do I want a family one day? Of course, Do I want it without you in it? Over my dead body. You’re my present and I very much have the intention of making you my future too. With all due respect, but something as trivial as that report is not gonna stop me from doing that.” 

A heavy moment of silence hangs in the air as he just stares at the love of his life, he didn’t even realize when the power came back, illuminating the whole guest room.

You are the first one to say, “I love you.” 

“I love you the most.” he declares as his lips brush with yours with immense gentleness and love. 

“Jungkook?” 

“Yeah honey?” 

“What do you think about calling our daughter, Ji woo? If we ever have one?” your voice comes out muffled because of the way you’re snuggled against his chest. 

His lips stretch into the biggest grin ever, chest filling with pride because the woman who he loves the most in his life asked to name the girl he’d love the most in his life after a woman who loves him the most in her life. Even if she doesn’t know it. 

“I’d love that.” 

˚୨୧⋆｡˚

Few years later 

“What-” you gasp as your body goes tense for a quick second before relaxing against Jungkook’s chest. His arms circling around your waist, making you feel cozy and at home. 

“You really need to stop scaring me like this.” 

“Why? I can’t hug my wife now? I know you secretly like back hugs.” 

Wife. The word still holds the same love and power as it did the first time he asked “Will you be my wife and make me the happiest man in the world, honey?” 

You let your head fall back against his chest and look up at him, “You know what? I do.” 

“I know you like the back of my hand, wifey.” he says, leaning down to drop a light kiss on your forehead. 

“I love it when you call me that, but right now you’re distracting me.” Your hands start running over his forearms, caressing. It’s like a habit for you. You need to touch him whenever you can, feel him close to you as much as possible. He’s always so warm and soft, it makes you all fuzzy on the inside. 

His mouth nibbles on your ear, making you shudder. “I don’t think so. Besides I barely get to have you for myself these days.” 

You sigh and just let yourself relax in his hold. The past few days have been hectic to say the least and nothing can heal you better than being in your husband’s arms. “How was practice, baby?”

Jungkook has been working on a new album resulting in him spending most of his time in the studio. You miss him, of course, it’s only normal, but you’re also beyond proud. He took a momentous break from his work the same year you guys were facing issues and he didn’t so much as leave your side, promising to always stick around. Through thick and thin as he said in the wedding vows. 

He ignores your question and sucks on your neck, making you groan. 

“Jungkook” His lips find yours and he steals a kiss, hands pushing under your sundress as he caresses the back of your thigh. Goosebumps break out all over your body and you curse at the fact that he still holds so much power over you. Your legs go weak and your clutch onto his shoulder for support. 

As he lets your lips go with a loud pop, you open your eyes and look at him. 

“What are the chances of me getting lucky tonight?” he asks, hands still under your dress, now grazing your ass. 

“It-”

Before you could answer him, the sound of tiny footsteps running towards you both reached you. And there she is, your prettiest five year old letting out the biggest shriek after she sees her daddy all but falling down from enthusiasm.

“Da!” her feet pick up the pace as she runs towards him with arms wide open. 

You detangle yourself from your husband’s hold and he takes a step back.

He crouches down and catches your little girl, Ji woo, in his arms. Groaning as she crashes into him. “Ooff” 

“Da, I missed you. You’re coming to the picnic with us, right? Mommy says you are.” 

You watch him laugh and peck her chubby cheek. “Of course, sunshine. Nice daddies never miss picnics with their daughters, do they?” 

As they talk like their goofy selves, you just take a moment and watch. By the grace of all things good, you’ve had the chance to visit almost everywhere in the world, but this right here is the best view. After musing about it, you and Jungkook decided to go with IVF and you’ve not regretted it ever since. Hands down the best decision of your life. 

Waking up and seeing your husband with your daughter sprawled on his chest as she lets out tiny little snores, watching her fall in love with the same eyes as you did, going on family dates, going to his concerts wearing the same outfits and whatnot. It’s more than enough for you to thank your lucky stars that you stayed. 

“Mommy, daddy says he’ll not steal my strawberry this time.” 

You offer her a gentle smile. “Daddy is a little liar, baby” 

She lets out the cutest gasp ever, cupping Jungkook’s face with her tiny hands. His face is so big in her hands it’s almost chucklesome.

“Is that right, daddy?” 

He playfully narrows his eyes at you as you stick your tongue out. “Mommy’s just jealous because you love daddy more. Now, what do you think of making those bracelets together?”

Ji woo’s face lights up like the fourth of July and she starts squirming like a little butterfly in his arms, flapping her arms. She’s been asking for her own bracelet after seeing the silver one on Jungkook’s wrist for years now. He suggested custom making one and she got so excited one would think he got her a pet dog or something. Although, he’s considering that too. Nothing surprising there.

When it comes to Ji woo, Jungkook is a loser in love. You’ve never seen him looking at another girl the same way he looks at his daughter. Besides you, of course. It’s innocent, pure and all things perfect. 

Before they both leave, she gives you a kiss on the cheek, covering her eyes when your husband pecks your lips.

Your eyes find the butterfly tattoo on your wrist, sometimes seeing it in your daughter. Excited, lively and someone who makes you want to wish it never disappears, the only difference?

Jungkook’s not afraid that everyone will let him go and you’re not uneasy about how you will have no reason to not let go. 

You’re healed.

He’s healed. 

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[dreamwavesexploringreality]

UNCERTAINTY

Chishiya x Pregnant!Reader

Requested: Where Y/N struggles to tell Chishiya about her pregnancy, fearing his reaction since he doesn’t want kids.

Y/N would never have thought that after her experience in Borderlands anything could make her feel that adrenaline again. The accelerated heartbeat and the breath stuck in her throat. She was a responsible adult, at least that's how she considered herself, and she couldn't understand how that could have happened. It wasn't that she was naive; she knew the effectiveness rates and the warnings on the birth control pill boxes: "No contraceptive method is 100% effective." She saw the letters of the message dance, as if mocking her while she read and reread the same line, holding the pregnancy test in her other hand: Positive. She felt her heart drop into her stomach when she thought of him, Chishiya. How was she supposed to tell him?

The next four days after the big discovery, Y/N behaved like a zombie. It felt as if she was living in a parallel reality: she would get out of bed, make breakfast, and go to university. She walked the same streets and retraced her steps to go back home. The shared apartment was always empty when she arrived; her boyfriend had a complicated schedule as a resident at the hospital, and she didn’t mind going to sleep in a cold and empty bed where she would let the tears she had held back during the day flow until she fell asleep. Then she would wake up, the other half of the bed undone, the only proof that her boyfriend had spent the night at home. Then she would have breakfast and go to university. That was until the nausea started. The reality she had been floating through for the past days, behaving like an autonomous being, came crashing down. That fifth day, she skipped class, and then the weekend arrived.

Chishiya had Saturdays and Sundays off, which meant he would be home for those two days. Y/N, therefore, had to make sure she spent as much time outside as possible. She wasn’t ready to face that situation, which was weighing more heavily day by day. It wasn’t difficult. She made sure to leave before he even got out of bed, and when he asked where she was going, she babbled a string of incoherent words, avoiding eye contact as she left through the door, slamming it behind her. She walked through the park until she felt her feet begin to ache, then sat on a bench. The sun’s rays caressed her cold face, and she closed her eyes, trying to clear her mind and absorb the energy she needed to return home. The first thing she noticed when she entered the apartment was the smell of raw fish, which hit her, tensing the muscles in her body and leaving her frozen in the doorway.

“I ordered sushi,” the man said as he opened a plastic container and placed it next to two others on the dining table.

Y/N felt herself pale when she remembered that article that had popped up on her phone after a brief search she did about pregnancy: pregnant women shouldn’t eat raw fish. With quick movements, she took off her coat and shoes and walked past the man without looking at him, mumbling something about not being hungry. Then she entered the bedroom and shut the door, letting herself collapse onto the bed. Instinctively, she placed a hand on her stomach and closed her eyes. She knew very well she was behaving foolishly and childishly, that she should face the situation like the adult she was and get this weight off her chest. But she was scared, terrified of how Chishiya might react… They had never discussed having children, but she knew his stance on the matter. Having children was an idea Chishiya had dismissed from a young age, focusing on his professional success. In fact, she had been surprised when he told her he chose pediatric surgery at the hospital, and when she asked him about it, he just shrugged and spoke about the lack of emotional attachment. He was cold and rational, just as he was, but she couldn’t help but feel her skin crawl hearing him talk so analytically and pragmatically about the life or death of his patients. So it was easy for her to dismiss the idea of a future pregnancy as well; it wasn’t her dream either, and as a busy university student, it was easy for her to let go of the idea that had, for a brief moment, taken some vague shape in her mind.

She took a few deep breaths and eventually let herself fall asleep.

On the other side of the door, Chishiya ate the sushi with a carefree attitude to the untrained eye. However, anyone who observed him more closely would see the man tense in his place, his head almost steaming as he thought and reviewed every situation in the last few months that could give him a clue as to what was going on with his girlfriend. Chishiya had noticed something was wrong from the very first day. He didn’t know exactly what the problem was, as there didn’t seem to be anything out of the ordinary, but for some reason, he couldn’t silence the voice in the back of his mind that warned him that something was out of place. Maybe it was seeing his girlfriend’s breakfast cup on the table instead of finding it in the sink as usual, maybe it was finding her in bed, deeply asleep, her back turned to him, or maybe it was how she had spent the entire week avoiding looking him in the eyes. That night, Chishiya ate sushi alone, with his thoughts.

Days passed slowly, too slowly for him. He was an analytical person, and not knowing what was happening around him frustrated him immensely. Chishiya leaned back in the break room chair, holding a small, steaming coffee in his hands. He looked at the phone he had taken from his bag, now resting on his thigh, while trying to sort his thoughts. He licked his lips and, biting the inside of his cheek, set the coffee aside: "I’ll be back soon tonight. I’ll bring Chinese food." Sent. He sighed once more. He hoped to resolve the matter that very night.

By the time his shift ended, he still hadn’t received a reply, which made him huff in annoyance. He packed up his things and took a moment to fold his white coat carefully while studying and analyzing what his next steps should be.

When he arrived home, carrying a bag full of food, he was surprised to see the woman lying on the couch in her pajamas.

“You didn’t go to class today either?” His voice sounded harsher and more accusatory than he expected. She didn’t take her eyes off the television.

Chishiya sighed as he took the food from the bag and served it on plates. The room quickly filled with the unmistakable aroma of sesame oil and spices, and if it weren’t for his constant state of alertness, he might have missed how Y/N rushed out of the couch, running to the bathroom and kicking the door shut behind her. The man stayed silent and still while holding the container of noodles in his hand. He didn’t need to sharpen his hearing to hear her vomiting. In one calculated move, he gently placed the food down and tiptoed to the bathroom door. He knocked once. Again. No answer, only gasps and weak groans, followed by dry heaves.

“Y/N…” Chishiya called again.

Then the sound of crying came through the door. The man felt his heart twist, it had never felt so heavy.

“Y/N, open up,” he said in an authoritative voice.

He heard the water running, and after a few seconds, the door unlocked. The girl stepped out, pale as ash, her eyes swollen from crying. She passed by him without acknowledging his presence and walked tiredly to the bedroom. Chishiya followed her in silence.

“You have to tell me what’s going on,” he pressed once more as he sat on the edge of the bed, and she settled in, giving him her back. A pitiful moan escaped her lips, and Chishiya feared she might start crying again.

“Talk to me…” he whispered, watching her back.

The movement was subtle and quick, so much so that no one else would have noticed, but Chishiya, being the observer that he was, clearly saw how the girl placed a hand on her lower stomach only to quickly pull it away as if it had burned her. The last piece of the puzzle he needed to complete.

Chishiya sighed and carefully lay down on the bed. He pressed his back against her chest and gently placed a hand on her hips. The girl’s breathing became erratic, and he felt her tremble in his arms.

“When?” he asked, wrapping his arm around her waist and resting his elbow on the pillow to keep his head elevated and look down at her.

She never really needed words to communicate with Chishiya. Once more, fresh tears slipped down her cheek, her gaze fixed on the wall in front of her, avoiding meeting his eyes.

“A week, right?” He tried to push her, pulling her a little tighter against him.

Y/N had no choice but to turn around. With a deep sigh, trying to wipe away the tears on her cheeks, she turned to face her boyfriend. His relaxed and stoic expression surprised her; that was definitely not the reaction she had expected. They stayed silent for a few moments.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he finally spoke, trying not to sound accusatory. Chishiya really wanted to know the answer to that question.

“You don’t want kids,” was all she said, her gaze shifting to the buttons on his shirt.

“I never wanted them,” he replied softly after a pause, reflecting to himself. He stayed silent for a few more seconds. “But if I did want them…” he paused, “…I’d want them with you.”

The girl looked up, surprise and disbelief painting her face. Chishiya gave a mocking smile, and with one hand, he smoothed her messy hair, muttering about how stubborn and incredulous she was.

“Did you plan to tell me when the baby was born?” he teased, earning a soft laugh from her.

“I wanted to tell you, but I didn’t know how,” she responded, trying to free herself from his playful hand, which was now messing with her hair. “So… is all of this okay with you?” she asked when he finally moved his hand, gently resting it on her hip.

There was no response for a few seconds, which made the girl wonder if she had really asked the question out loud.

“If it’s okay with you, then we’ll be okay,” he finally replied, never breaking eye contact.

One single tear, this time of relief, slid down her cheek. Chishiya sighed as he wiped it away with his thumb and spoke.

“I think I’m going to have to throw away the Chinese food.”

Y/N laughed once more.

“You’d better, just thinking about its smell makes me want to throw up.”

The man smiled as the girl hid in his chest.

“We’ll have to order something else, you’re not going to skip dinner,” he said as he stroked her hair.

That night, they ordered pizza, with lots of melted cheese, as Y/N requested. When they settled on the couch, together for the first time in a long while, Y/N felt the world begin to spin again. And when she woke up in her bed the next morning, the man was still by her side, eyes closed, tracing carefree patterns on her stomach with his fingertips.

If she had known he was going to react like this, she would have told him much earlier.

© 2025 [@dreamwavesexploringreality]

[maroonpascal]

But I miss screaming and fighting and kissing in the rain

Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader

Summary: you and Frankie have broken up but one night a panic attack makes you resort to the only person who can calm you

Warnings: panic attacks, breakup, a bit of angst, fighting verbally, pet names (darling, honey, babe, mi amor)

Words count: 3.8k

Notes: does the ending deserve a second part? Let me know ❤️ // lyrics in the title: The way I loved you - Taylor Swift

Update: second part is here

You’re grasping for air, everything feeling like it is collapsing on you, chest tightening as you hold a hand over your chest, trying to ease the pain but failing as it is not a pain that comes from the surface: it comes from within, it’s inside your chest and nothing could ease it right now, nothing could make your heart go slower and make it stop pounding in your chest, your rib cage hurting for the fast breathing.

Nothing but his touch, that familiar touch that would bring you calm and would bring you back to reality. But you don’t have him next to you, not after the breakup. Fights were never a thing between you two, there was never the need to raise your voice, until when three weeks ago you both did that. And right now you’re so caught up in the panic attack that you’re hating even more the reason why you fought, because it is denying you from having him next to you.

Hands tremble as you take the phone from the nightstand, and among the blur of the tears you scroll your contacts, and there is no one else that you would want to call, if not him.

You shouldn’t, after everything that’s happened and especially at such hour of the night, but eventually you press on his name, that name followed by heart emojis that you refuse to change, no matter how cheesy it can look.

The phone rings once, twice, three times and with your chest tightening even more you’re about to put it down, when the line gets picked up on the other side.

“Darlin’?” His husky voice lets you take a big breath.

But it is not enough, still unable to even pronounce a single word, let alone formulate a phrase.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he picks up immediately what is going on, having known and seen you having these attack more than once.

“Breathe with me, alright?”

You follow his instructions, letting that voice guide you and still, it is not enough, you would need him right by your side, holding the bedsheets close to your chest, trying to search for some comfort.

“Everything is alright, one more.” He says, you following his breathing. And you haven’t uttered a word since you picked up the phone, struggling to breathe and not being able to say anything.

“There you go, honey, there you go.” He coos when your breathing is starting to slow down, your eyes watering with tears, and a sob escaping your lips, covering your mouth with your hand but not in time, hot tears marking your cheeks and your fingers.

You hear him sighing on the other side, “Let it all out, it’s okay.” He keeps reassuring you, as you hold yourself with your arms, shaking your head as if he could see you, because nothing is okay. You miss him like hell, that lacking lacerating your chest and carving your heart, making it hurt even more than the panic attack. Your throat is hoarse, burning for the breathing and the tears that you had tried to hold back, failing.

“I’m coming over, darling, I’m coming over. Just keep breathing, I’ll be there in a minute.”

“Frankie you don’t have to-” Your voice croaky, but he is having none of that, clicking his tongue on the other side of the line, “I do, instead. Wait for me.”

The room is silent again after you close the call, holding your knees to your chest, silence so hollow that it feels like it’s gonna swallow you, and that just reminds you how it would have been different if he was already here, if he had been sleeping by your side, holding you. And well, sometimes you wanted to hold him too, him bantering about the fact that he couldn’t be the little spoon, but he would shut up really quick when he would feel your arms around his torso, nuzzling behind his neck and delivering kisses all over his skin. He wouldn’t admit that, but he secretly enjoyed it even more than holding you, melting in your arms while being lulled to sleep and letting go of all his fears and nightmares. Because if you have yours, well he definitely has his, after whatever happened on the Andes.

So Frankie knows what it feels like to have one of these, to be trapped in your thoughts and your fears, in a cruel realm.

Those damn expeditions were the reason why that day you were arguing so much, you exasperated by another “trip” he was organising, as you shook your head at him, tears running on your face at the thought of what had happened last time, how you thought you had lost him forever. You would never tell him what he has to do, never prohibiting him anything, but this is the only thing that you’re gonna prevent him from doing. Frankie putting himself in danger for whatever reason and you having to wait for him to come back, hoping that he will come back in one piece? Not on your watch, not another time.

“Frankie I don’t want you to go, and you know why.” You had argued, your throat tight because of the tears.

“I came back last time, what are you so afraid of?”

Those words made you not only sadder, but even angrier at him, “You came back, you say? And tell me, how did you come back, uh? With nightmares so bad that you would sleep one hour per night,” you start counting the things on your fingers, your chest rising and falling quickly, “You would flinch at every single noise and your hands would tremble every time that the memories got the best of you, taking you somewhere else; you couldn’t even stand the rain because somehow even that reminded you of that trip.”

“Have you forgotten all of that?” You had pledged when he was giving you no response, “I haven’t,” he raised his shoulders, “But this time it will be different.”

You clicked your tongue, “Different? As in you will not come back at all? What is gonna be the difference, catfish?” Your blood pumping faster, feeling it in your jugular, so loud.

Frankie went on the things he would have gotten out of this trip, but you already lost him, you lost him the moment he had decided to go.

“You know what, Frankie?” You thundered, rising your hands in defeat, “Go on that trip, if that is what you want.” You took the keys from the kitchen isle, pointing then one at him, “But do not expect to find me here, waiting for you.”

You slammed the door of his house behind you, eyes burning with tears as you made your way to your car, parked along the sidewalk. Once in, you had placed your head on the steering wheel, crying silent tears that soon had become sobs, and God only knows how you managed to arrive back home safely that day.

A few water drops start hitting the window, that sound almost making you company, rhythmic like the thud of your heartbeat still ringing in your ears, still feeling it in your throat. He didn’t go on that trip though, you think right now, as you had accidentally met his friend a couple of days ago, telling you that it had been cancelled for good, and you wonder if he had done it for you, if some of your words had had an effect on him.

You’re still holding your phone when the noise of the door being unlocked reaches you, steps approaching the bedroom.

“Darlin’?” He calls from the hallway, and you let out a “I’m here.” Weak, but loud enough for him to hear it.

Your heartbeat for some kind of reason slows down the moment he crosses the bedroom door, his hair a little damp, like his denim shirt with raindrops staining it temporarily.

There’s in you the urge to stretch your hand towards him, to pull him close to you, but there is also the distance between you two blocking you, a metaphorical distance, a distance that is letting its eerie presence between you two, like the fog rising outside.

“You came.”

“You called.”

Frankie looks at you from the doorframe before taking few steps towards the bed, his look studying you, apprehension lingering on him; he’s close enough to sit on it, but he still hesitates, unsure about what to do in a room where none of you two have ever been unsure about something. Your bottom lip quivers at the sight of him so close to you, but still so unreachable.

“How are you feeling?” He croaks, holding himself in his arms, fighting the urge to hug you, thinking that it would be too much all of a sudden.

You clear your hoarse throat, “Better, I think, I’m- I’m breathing at least.”

He nods, now finally sitting on the edge of the bed, just on your side, “Was it a bad dream? Or a plain attack?” He asks, smoothing his hand a bit on the bedsheets, your eyes following his movement, that hand that you would love to hold and that you have pressed so many times on this very bed, intertwined with yours.

You clear your mind from that thought, “Just an attack, no nightmares.” You utter, costing you so much to pronounce some words.

But your eyes betray your emotionless words, being glimmering for the tears that still are coming up.

His hand keeps smoothing on the tissue, now closer to your knee, and it goes just above it, rubbing it gently, and even a gesture like that brings you comfort right now.

“Frankie, I- it felt so horrible, I thought I wouldn’t have ever breathed again.” You blurt out, chest burning.

He furrows his eyebrows, fighting his brain telling him to not come closer to you, and his heart instead telling him to embrace you in a hug, beating fast just at the thought.

And with Frankie, the heart always wins.

He can’t bear hearing that soft crying without doing anything, so he gets up and then sits next to you, embracing you in a hug that takes your breath away and then gives you oxygen at the same time.

He brings a hand behind your neck, circling his thumb there, “It’s okay, I’m here now, it’s okay.” Voice warm like the hug you’re in now, his heartbeat close to your ear making you forget about everything else for a moment, stilling in you that calmness that you need so much.

You instinctively grip on his shirt, hiding on his chest, the smell of rain on him mixed with his perfume as you nuzzle your face on it.

Frankie lets the back of his hand going over your shoulder, in a soothing movement up and down over your arm, “You’re alright, babe, I’m here.”

The thought of him leaving sooner or later makes you grip the shirt harder in your fist, “Don’t go.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” He promptly says, and he breaks the unspoken rule of not kissing you, as he lands a kiss on your forehead, thumb passing there right after.

You sink in that hug, even though you’re not sure about his words, he’s gonna go once you’re gonna be calmed down, and the fear that this might happen again plants itself into you.

“But you will go later?” You echoes, your breathing much better now, but keeping yourself in that hug for as long as possible, until your tears will dry up.

“Honey, you know that-” He doesn’t even know how to finish the phrase, because he knows that he will have to go, to leave you.

Your brain works through all the things that could happen if he stayed, and none of them is as worrying as him leaving you.

He’s your ex, you have broken up and him staying doesn’t mean getting back together… or does it?

You raise your head, your chin on his chest, “Just for tonight?” Bottom lip quivering, and his big sigh makes his chest rise and then fall down.

He doesn’t answer though, pressing his lips against your forehead again, your hand instinctively reaching for his cheek, how you have missed the feeling of his beard under your palm.

His warm hand wraps around your wrist, moving your hand gently way, and he can’t even bear to look at you as he does that, his inner moral telling him that if you broke up there’s a reason, or make it plural, and there is no need to fall back into that.

You smile bitterly as he unwraps you from the hug, pulling up the bedsheets over your lap, “Feeling better?” Not an answer, just another question.

You silently nod, seeing him getting up and adjusting the pillows behind you; his hand goes over your shoulder, gently pushing you down, closer to the mattress, “Then you should try to get some sleep.” He utters, and his lucid eyes betray him, betray his reluctance to admit that nothing has completely ended between you two, that all that you’re doing right now is a construction, thinking this is how you’re supposed to act as a broken up couple. But everything feels forced, the denied proper kisses, the hands reaching for each other but never holding and the eyes saying so many words even with just a sparkle.

“I’ll be here until you fall asleep.” He reassures you as you’re on the soft pillows, passing a hand over your face and cocooning in the bedsheets.

Frankie sees you closing your eyes and he absently reaches out his hand, retracting it immediately from brushing it on your hair. And he thinks that this is so stupid, at the same time cannot helping thinking there is no other way.

The darkness swallows him as he turns off the light on the nightstand, having seen you breathing slowly and not moving; the rain is still pouring outside, rhythmically hitting the window and he closes a bit the curtains of the bedroom, since a few lightnings have started to break the sky now.

He gets away from the window, pacing a little in the bedroom, not even sure on what he’s supposed to do right now; well, his head tells him that he should leave, he came here to check on you and calm you down, mission accomplished, and now it would be time to go back to his home, but his heart tells another story as always.

He sits on the edge of the bed, sighing and taking in the perfume in this room, your perfume, and passing a hand through his hair.

But eventually as he fights an inner battle, he gets up, feet feeling heavy and every step towards the living room and then the door requiring so much effort, the house pulling him in with some kind of force.

Hand around the handle, he only has to push the door open and everything would be fine, he can do it.

—

Frankie is many things, he’s messy, he’s stubborn and passionate, but there is one thing that he is not.

He is not a hypocrite. That is why he never pushed open that door, thinking how hypocrite it would be to come all the way here, and leaving like nothing happened when instead his heart is heavy and at the same time warm. He never got to his car under the pouring rain, driving while fighting back the tears.

He is not a hypocrite, he turned from the door and headed back to your bedroom, checking on you, and then sitting on the armchair in the corner. Sure, he had to move some of your clothes left there, eyes crinkling when he found a t-shirt of his, a bit wrinkled, but with your perfume on it. It’s not the most comfortable solution, but he doesn’t think that it would be right to lay in bed, especially when you’re already asleep, so he will bear it for one night. He wouldn’t be able to sleep at his home either, so why bothering much.

—

Humidity is sticking his clothes on him, making him feel colder, and that is what wakes him up, squinting his eyes a bit at the light coming from outside; the sun is rising, and there is no trace of any storm right now, the dark clouds having left place for the warm light.

He stretches, and obviously he’s welcomed by back pain, a gift from spending the night on the armchair; it’s all worth it though when he lays his eyes on you, seeing the peaceful expression on your face as you’re still sleeping, chest rising and falling at a slower pace and he takes in that image, knowing that could be the last time he sees you like that.

And still, Frankie doesn’t have it in his heart to leave, he thinks as he paces until the kitchen, taking the necessary to prepare some coffee, muscle memory as he takes all the tools and the coffee from the shelves. He’s sipping on it when he hears some footsteps in the hallway, “Darling, it’s me.” He says loudly, not wanting to scare you or making you think somebody else is in the house.

You stop in your tracks for a moment, your heart skipping a beat only to beat faster again when you find him in the kitchen, leaning back on the kitchen counter, sleepy look on his face. And he has never looked this gorgeous.

Only few feet separate you from him, and you would love to just run to him, jump in his arms because such is the happiness of finding him still here. But you won’t do any of that, not right now.

Your common sense stops you, but your face lights up, “You stayed!” You beam from the doorframe, shifting your weight from one foot to the other.

“I did,” he says, “I know you want to, so… come here.” He gives in, widening his arms, and one second after you’re engulfed by his arms, hugging him tight, that warmth against your cheek and his lips just landing a brief kiss over your hair.

He rubs his hand a bit on your back, “How are you feeling this morning?” He checks in, and you leave his arms to have a better look at him, “I’m good.” You sincerely utter, “And you’re here so…”

He smiles softly, “Took the liberty to make coffee, you want some?” He asks, diverting the talking.

So you’re now sipping the coffee that your ex boyfriend made in your kitchen, while he’s looking at you with that longing glance in his eyes, like he’s looking at something now forbidden.

“Thank you for staying, by the way.” Your hands now warmed up by the mug.

Frankie waves his hand, letting his mug in the sink, “I did what my heart told me to.” His arms now wrapped around himself, hugging himself. That is something you’ve seen him doing many times when he’s in need of comfort.

“Your heart told you to make coffee too and to wait for me to wake up?” You jokingly ask, him shaking his head, mirroring your smile.

“Maybe it did, yeah.”

Fighting the urge to kiss him right now might be the hardest thing you’ve ever done, seeing him in this warm light.

“And you’re not leaving.” You absently say, it’s more something that you just thought but somehow it left your lips too.

“I mean, I’m up, you saw that I’m alright and everything and still-”

“Do you want me to leave, because of course I can-” He anxiously says, but you gesture your hand at him.

“No, mi amor, no.”

And you realise too late that those words have left your mouth, that you called him my love.

He raises his head in a heartbeat, look softening but a bitter smile now on his lips, “I loved when you called me like that.” He murmurs, still his arms wrapped around himself.

Your hand now covers your lips, almost as you got burned by those words.

“So you don’t want me to leave… where is this gonna lead, darling?” He asks, and you notice a glimpse of tears in his eyes, shutting your eyes for a moment at that sight.

“I- I don’t know.” But your answer hides the truth, you both know that. “I just want you here with me because I miss you, and I don’t want to imagine my life without you again.”

Frankie pinches the bridge of his nose, and he wishes that things were easier. “Should we act like the breakup never happened then? Should we go back to normal ignoring why we broke up?”

And the feeling of losing him another time hurts even more.

“No, but we could learn from the mistakes, because that was a mistake, Frankie. Like, look at us. You ran here for me, spending the night sleeping on the armchair and you would have taken the pavement if there wasn’t one, and now you’re still here and-”

And you want to kiss him so bad. You’re dangerously closer to him, your fingers reaching his hair and brushing it from his eyes, getting even closer and standing on your tiptoes.

“Aren’t you gonna stop me?” You whisper, landing a kiss on his cheek, and Frankie shakes his head.

All it took was one look at you, and he had gotten rid of any reasoning telling him to not get closer to you again. He had pushed it aside, and maybe, just maybe, this will mean nothing.

But he highly doubts it when finally he has your lips over his, hand cupping your cheek and the other on your waist, pulling you even closer. It’s like breathing for the first time after ages, the kiss getting deeper real quick and that is an euphemism for two people who swore to have broken up and not wanting to be back together.

You breathe him in, his hand digging on your tshirt, and soon you’re all attached to him, bumping on his crotch.

“Fuck.” You exhale, feeling him, “So much for wanting to leave, uh?” You briefly tease, before kissing him again, hand in his hair.

His hands go lower, reaching behind your thighs, and that is when he lifts you up, landing you over the kitchen isle, still kissing you.

He’s now between your legs and well, you definitely didn’t expect to end up in this situation so soon.

“You asked where this was going to lead…” You utter, leaving his lips and starting to give pecks over his neck, Frankie gripping the kitchen isle. “I have quite a few ideas.”

“You do?” He teases back, and in response you start unbuttoning his jeans shirt, going on with the kisses, now tracing his collarbones and chest.

“Yeah,” you kiss him again on his neck, then whispering over his skin, “But let’s take it to the bedroom.”

[yiichan]

KYII'ᔕ TᕼOᑌGᕼTᔕ Oᖴ TᕼE ᗪᗩY 🌷💌 — ANGST

IMAGINE — friends!95line x gn!you.

WARNINGS — hanahaki au, vomiting,/puking, blood.

WRITER'S NOTES — since i got no time to write again here is some scenarios lol. and also let's have a break from NSFW guys please you're flooding my requests when i said that it's full ):

speical mention — @sousydive

back | navigation | main page | kofi | ao3

YOU had a crush on Seungcheol for a very long time. You had been childhood best friends, attending the same schools together throughout your lives. You were there during his most vulnerable moments as well as his proudest achievements. Over time, Jeonghan and Joshua joined your little group, making it complete.

Jeonghan was like the Loki of your group, always coming up with sneaky ideas. Most of his shenanigans got the four of you in trouble, but you never once regretted them.

Joshua, on the other hand, was the calm one. He often watched as chaos unfolded (most of the time, it was between you and Seungcheol), occasionally deciding to join in. In those rare moments, you found yourself enjoying a different, more playful side of Joshua.

As you grew older, you began to realize your feelings for Seungcheol. Through all the time you’d spent together, you had fallen deeply in love with him. But on the day you finally gathered the courage to confess your feelings, fate had other plans.

Seungcheol confessed to you first—he was in love with Jeonghan.

You could only swallow your words as Seungcheol confided in you, sharing his feelings. A dull pain spread through your chest as you listened. When he asked for your support, you gave it without hesitation, even though it hurt.

Before long, the two of them started dating. You teased them alongside Joshua, masking the ache in your heart with laughter. But no matter how much you smiled, the pain lingered.

Then, one day, you noticed something strange. You began coughing up petals.

At first, you dismissed it. But as time went on, the pain in your chest grew more intense, and more petals emerged from your throat. You hid your condition from your friends, pretending everything was fine—when, in reality, it was anything but.

When the four of you graduated from high school, you made the excuse of wanting to study abroad. Seungcheol, Jeonghan, and Joshua saw you off at the airport, and as your plane departed, you couldn’t help but feel a whirlwind of heartbreak, loss, and relief.

The separation helped, at least for a while. You avoided any news about Seungcheol and Jeonghan, choosing to text Joshua only when absolutely necessary. Over time, your condition seemed to improve; the frequency of petals appearing dwindled. Though you still coughed them up occasionally, you believed you were getting better.

But then Joshua sent you a wedding invitation—for Seungcheol and Jeonghan.

The moment you saw the invitation, a wave of nausea overwhelmed you. Your phone slipped from your hand as you rushed to the bathroom. The retching was violent, your chest engulfed in excruciating pain.

Petals spilled from your mouth once again, now stained with vomit and streaked with blood.

You felt pathetic as you collapsed onto the cold tiles of your bathroom, clutching your chest. Silent tears rolled down your cheeks.

You were dying.

When you boarded the plane back to Seoul, you knew there would be no return for you.

At their wedding hall, you appeared thinner and sicker than Seungcheol, Jeonghan, and Joshua remembered. You approached your old friends with a brave smile, meeting Seungcheol’s eyes as you congratulated him and Jeonghan on their marriage. You also apologized for the long silence and loss of contact.

“You’ve lost a lot of weight,” Seungcheol remarked, his hand brushing against yours. You discreetly recoiled from his touch, keeping a light smile on your face.

“I wasn’t really used to the food overseas, and work’s been overwhelming,” you replied simply.

Jeonghan pouted, his hand coming up to gently squeeze your shoulder. “Don’t be so hard on yourself,” he said with concern.

You managed another faint smile, but the familiar metallic tang rose in your throat. You excused yourself quickly, slipping away to the bathroom.

In the first empty cubicle you could find, you fell to your knees and retched violently. Blood and petals spilled into the porcelain bowl as you clutched your chest, the pain tearing through you.

A warm hand landed on your shoulder, stopping you mid-breath. You froze, dread pooling in your stomach as you slowly turned to look behind you.

Joshua stood there, his face pale, his eyes wide with shock as they darted between you and the mess in the toilet.

“You...” he whispered, his voice trembling. “What’s going on? What's happening to you?"

© yiichan, 2024 origin of divider

[starsetven]

angst, angst, angst ✨

the cast dreaming about loosing/dying (the) MC? Tho when they wake up the MC is sleeping besides them peacefuly :3

the number of angsty scenes I have in mind is making me question my own sanity 🧍‍♀️

Dreaming about death:

Below the cut:

(Cause it got kinda long)

Vic would jolt from the bed, quickly snagging your sleeping form the moment he woke up. He’d gently cradle you as if you had died, all the while holding you close with the upmost dreadful thoughts racing through his brain. Vic would cautiously glide his hand over your cheek to study you. Despite how warm you felt in his embrace, pure anxiety would continue to course through his bones for a solid hour after his dream, consuming any attempt at rationing his nightmare.

He would snuggle up to your body and hold you close until dawn stretched over the horizon. Vic would watch for every subtle sign your body made to be sure you were still breathing, by memorizing the feeling of your skin underneath his fingertips- intricately taking in every small friction and detail your skin offered. He wouldn’t function well, chipping away at his nails with his teeth. All his thoughts circled back to you, as he painfully waited for you to wake.

Avery would wake up groggy and disoriented, reaching out to you as if you were a beacon of light, desperately feeling the bed for your form. A sharp cry of fear would escape their lips through their disoriented state, but the warmth of your body would momentarily calm his anxieties. Just for good measure, Avery would drape their arm over your body to hold you close to him. But it wasn’t enough to keep their anxiety away. Avery would cave, he’d gently wake you up to just ensure you were safe.

The sight of your grumpy face was more than relieving- you were safe. You were here alive and well, right beside them. Hearing your voice melted away any fear they once were burdened with. Soon enough, Avery would slip back into a deep peaceful sleep.

Tyler would scramble out of bed in a cold sweat. He’d grasp the sheets beside your body, convinced you were dead. Silently eyeing over your unconscious form with a shattering resolve, He’d place a soft hand to your cheek to feel your presence- stopping himself before he made contact with your skin. “This was all my fault…” unable to differentiate his dreams from reality, his nightmare would consume him alive, until you peacefully stirred in your sleep. You were breathing… he hadn’t… tyler would collapse next to your form, intently gazing over your sleeping face. Every ounce of his being would want nothing more than to reach out to you- to hold you close.

But he couldn’t bring himself to touch you.

Link would light a cigarette. After years of quitting, he’d break his streak that night. Ever so quietly he’d slip out of your shared bed, making a beeline for his back patio. ”fuck.”

Raking a shaky hand through his thick fluffy hair, he’d let the sounds of the outside world drown out his spiraling thoughts for a while before returning to your side.

A long moment spent staring at your sleeping face would pass by before he felt ready to rejoin you in bed. His hesitant fingers would trail over your face, momentarily locking in place from the sheer fear that rattled thoroughly through his core.

“Don’t die on me. Don’t you dare.”

A silent prayer shared between you, words that could never reach you. He knew how selfish this request was- he didn’t care. You were all that mattered to him. Dreams be damned.

You were all he had.

[wh1msic4lwasab1]

𝐀𝐰𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐀𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐥 𐙚 ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖

synopsis: you missed your boyfriend Caelus a little too much while he was gone for a mission that you make up for the missed time in the astral express bathroom

tags: dom!reader, sub!Caelus, blowjob, bathroom sex, penetration, creampie, vulgar, explicit

wrd cnt: 0.7k

a/n: this was a request!! i never thought id write for caelus LMFAO but i get it

You've been waiting on the Astral Express for weeks, eagerly anticipating the return of Caelus. Of course, it was fun having sleepovers with March and talking more closely with Himeko but you missed your boyfriend. Early this morning you heard the express door open, the sound of steam and a visible light making your head almost snap in way it whipped back to check. When he finally steps off the ship, you can't help but rush into his arms, feeling his strong, warm figure engulfing you. But as you pull back, you can see the exhaustion in his eyes, and you know that he needs rest.

Despite this, you can't shake the desire that's been building up inside of you. It's been weeks since you've been able to be intimate, and you're starting to feel restless. As you make your way to your next meeting, you see him come out of his room after a long nap and make eye contact with him.

You get a really bad idea too.

As he smiles toward you getting closer, he lets out a small yelp as you grab his sleeve and pull him into bathroom, locking the door shut behind you.

'What are you doing?' Caelus asks, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips behind his curious eyes.

'I need you,' you reply, your voice husky with desire. 'Now.'

You push him up against the wall, your hands roaming over his chest and abs. He groans as you undo his belt, your fingers quickly working to free his cock.

It's already hard, and you can't help but palm over it, wanting to savor the feel of it against your hand.

'Fuck, y/n-' Caelus breathes, his head falling back against the wall. 'You're so eager.’ He chuckles.

'Shut up!' you retort, sinking to your knees.

You take him deep into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the head of his cock. He tastes so good, and you can't get enough. You suck and lick, your hands stroking his shaft as you take him deeper and deeper. He's panting and groaning above you, his hands buried in your hair as he fucks your mouth.

'God, yes,' he growls. 'missed you so much.'

You can feel him getting closer with his erratic movements, the way his stomach sucks in as his breathe is shallow and wanting, but you're not ready for this to end yet. You pull back, standing up and stripping off your clothes. You're not wearing any underwear, and Caelus' eyes widen as he takes in the sight of you, completely bare and ready for him.

'You're so fucking hot,' he says, his voice rough.

You push him back onto the cover of the toilet seat, climbing onto his lap and sinking down onto his cock. You both moan as you bottom out, feeling him fill you up in the most delicious way. You start to ride him, your hips rolling and grinding as you fuck him.

'Yes, yes, yes,' he chants, his voice getting raspier snd more worn out.

Caelus' hands are on your hips, helping you move as he thrusts up into you. He's hitting all the right spots, and you can feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge. You're so close, and you know that you're not going to be able to hold on much longer.

'Come for me, baby,' Caelus growls, his eyes locked onto yours. ‘Please.’

You do, crying out as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over you. Caelus follows soon after, his cock twitching inside of you as he fills you up with his release. You collapse onto his chest, both of you panting and trying to catch your breath.

As you pull back and start to get dressed, you know that you're going to be late for your meeting, but you don't care.

For a moment, you can do nothing but cling to each other, your bodies trembling as the aftershocks of your orgasms wash over you. But all too soon, reality comes crashing back down.

'We need to get to that meeting,' you say, your voice still husky with desire.

Caelus nods, his breathing still ragged. 'Yeah, we do.'

whimsic4alwasab1 ™ - do not copy, translate, modify, or claim any of my work as your own.

[doctorgirlsblog]

When Loyalty Fails (series)

Chapter 6: Things have taken a weird course

Max stumbled back to his hotel room, the silence stinging like her rejection. He didn't bother checking his phone, collapsing onto the bed fully clothed. He replayed the kiss, the slap, her tear-filled eyes, trying to understand why he did all that.

''You fucking idiot...'' he muttered to himself. Yet, the mere thought of her, how her soft lips felt against his after all these years, made his brain go into spiral. He debated calling Danny to confide and get some advice, but decided against it. He slid under his covers, simply hoping to sleep this shitty day off. As he drifted into a sleep, last thing he saw before his eyes was her trembling form as she pulled away from him and left.

A loud knock pulled him out of his dazed sleep, as he groaned, managing to open his sleepy eyes and pull himself up to the door.

But as soon as he pulled the door open, all sleepiness left him instantly, when he saw Lina at the door. His eyes widened. ''Lina? You - what are you doing here?'' he asked, a flicker of confusion mixing with a surge of hope. She said nothing, stepping closer to him, making him instantly step to the side to let her in. Lina had but no intention to step beside him as she turned towards his still confused form, before she smashed their lips together. His eyes widened at the contact and he kept still for a second, but then he was kissing her back, his hands snaking around her waist pulling her closer to him.

''Max..'' his name rolled off her tongue in soft whimper, and Max swore he could die right then and there. He shut the door behind them with his leg, hoisting her up in his arms and walking over to the bed. There, she lay under him, blonde hair spread everywhere as she looked at him with addoration, smiling at him gently, body arching up in invitation. He didn't have to think twice about it, before leaning down and kissing her again, his hands gliding on her sides, going under her shirt, finally feeling that warm skin underneath his fingers.

The buzz of the phone could be heard, and Max decided to ignore it, leaving whoever it was at the side. But the buzzing got louder and louder and he groaned, ready to apologise to her, but then her form started fading underneath him, and he looked dazed as she completely dissapered before his eyes.

He sat up, panting hard, sweat rolling down his forehead. The buzzing continued, this time loud and insistent, but he paid no attention to it.

It was just a dream.

His heart was hammering in his chest, the phantom warmth of Lina's body, the soft pleading whimper in her voice, still echoed in the silence of the room, a cruel mockery of his reality. He scrubbed a hand across his face. The insistent buzz of his phone once again, finally snapped him out of his daze. He snatched it from the bedside table, his breath catching in his throat when he saw her name flashing across the screen. Why was she calling?

''Max?'' her voice was tight and strained, and the background noise was loud, music blasting. "You..I..need to talk.''

''Lina?'' Max asked confused that she even called.

"You crossed a line today, Max." She said, her voice trembling slightly, words coming out slurred. "A line you had no right to cross. You kissed me and..and I have Cha.." her voice trailed off, replaced by heavy pants, as if she was struggling to catch her breath. "So why the fuck do I keep thinking about it?!"

Max's heart pounded in his chest as he heard her words. She was drunk.

"Lina, where are you?" He repeated, his voice laced with concern.

"Doesn't matter," she snapped, the anger returning, though laced with a hint of unsteady defiance. "Just..just listen. You have no right to do that, Max. To kiss me, to make me feel...feel things I don't want to feel."

"Lina, I -"

"No, Max," she interrupted, her voice thick with emotion and alcohol. "You don't get it! I.. I thought I was over you. I moved on. But then you kissed me, and...and it all came flooding back. All those feelings, all those memories..it's like I'm 18 again, and you're the only person who matters." She paused, a choked sob escaping her lips. "I hate you for doing this to me, Max. I fucking hate you."

"Lina, please, tell me where you are," Max pleaded, his voice now desperate.

"I don't know," she mumbled, her voice barely audible over the music. "Some club, near the beach..i think." Then the line went dead. Max panicked. He couldn't leave her alone. Not like this. He grabbed his key and wallet, rushing out of the hotel room. He had to find her, to make sure she was safe.

He drove towards the beach, scanning the streets for any sign of a crowded club. He parked his car nearby, running into the first club he saw, eyes scanning the chaotic scene. The club was a pulsating mass of bodies, the music deafening. Max pushed through the crowd, searching for her black curls. Finally he spotted her at the bar, swaying slightly, a half-empty glass in her hand. Her eyes were glazed, her cheeks flushed, and she was laughing too loudly. Way too loudly.

"Lina!" He called out, reaching her side, placing a hand on her arm. "Come on, we're leaving."

She turned to him, eyes narrowing in anger, her words slurring slightly. "Leave me alone."

Before he could react, she grabbed a bottle of tequila from the bar and took a long swig, her eyes silently daring him to stop her.

"Lina, stop it!" Max tried to grab the bottle, but she pushed him away, her movements surprisingly strong for someone so intoxicated.

"You want me to leave?" She yelled, her voice rising above the music. "Then I'll leave!" She pushed him away and stumbled past him towards the exit. Max followed behind.

When they stepped into the cool night air, she turned to face him once again, her eyes flashing with a dangerous mix of hurt and anger. "You think you can just waltz back into my life and fix everything?"

"That's not what I'm trying to do-"

"Liar!" She screamed, her voice cracking, tears welling in her eyes.

"You always do this, Max! You always come back when it's too late!"

She raised her fists, trying to hit his chest, but he took hold of her hands tightly, pulling her closer, getting angry himself. His voice was raspy as he murmured into her ear. "You want to teach me about crossing the lines? That was crossing a line."

Then, before he could scold her more, she grabbed the colar of his shirt, pulling him in and crashing their lips together. The kiss was desperate, almost violent, a chaotic mix of anger and pain and something undeniably familiar. She pulled away, her warm breath grazing his cheek, her eyes searching his.

"God, Max," she whispered, her voice trembling. "Why do you still do this to me?"

Neither of them tried to move, eyes locked onto each other.

Max reached out, his hand cupping her cheek, his thumb tracing the delicate curve of her jaw. "I don't know, Lina." He murmured, his voice hoarse. "But I can't seem to stop."

She leaned into his touch, her eyes fluttering closed for a fleeting moment, before snapping open again, filled with a sudden, sharp clarity.

"Don't," she said, her voice firm, though tinged with a slight tremor. "Don't make me want you again." She stepped back, breaking the contact.

"Please just take me back to the hotel. I can't do this right now."

He nodded, his heart aching. He knew she was teetering on the edge, the old feelings threatening to pull her under. He led her to the car, the silence heavy with unspoken desires and the fear of what they might unleash.

Tag list: @janeh22 @samriddhisingh @anamiad00msday @anunstablefangirl

[moonlitdesertdreams]

Thankful

A/N: Everyone wanted more soft Astarion, so how's traumatized instead? Tags: Astarion Ancunin, Astarion, BG3 Astarion, BG3 Imagines, Astarion x OC, Astarion x Tav, Astarion x Reader WARNINGS: Canon-typical blood, mentions of grieving/loss. ACT III/ 'THE PALE ELF' QUEST SPOILERS Summary: You comfort Astarion and talk about emotions after the events at Szarr Palace.

Word count: 2.1k+ (GIF credit to @silverformymonsters)

Leaving Szarr Palace is both a weight off your shoulders and the biggest burden you’ve carried since this adventure started. Cazador is dead, and Astarion is free as last. No master, and no more being used as a means to an end.

 But it’s never that simple, is it?

Shadowheart and Lae’zel, mercifully, take Astarion’s second wave of heart-wrenching wails, after all the spawn were set free, as their cue to leave. You give him space as he cries and wait until it’s only a soft whimper to approach. He’s on his knees at that point, Cazador’s bloody body inches from his. The daggers still sticks out of the vampire lord’s chest, begging to be used once again. 

You come to a stop behind Astarion’s left shoulder and let your fingers barely brush his skin. For once he feels warm, filled with anger, denial, fear and vulnerability. When he doesn’t brush you off, you press more firmly, moving to the front of his body. Astarion’s hands creep up to your hips and use them as leverage to stagger to his feet. It isn’t until he’s upright that he makes eye contact and breaks your heart into two. 

Blood runs in macabre trails down his skin and clothes, puddling on the floors around him and his fallen master. His eyes, normally alight with mischief and mirth, are downcast, swollen and dripping with tears. The pain is apparent, tied together with confusion and grief for the end of an era, even if it was depraved and lonesome. 

“... I should be happy.” He whispers, pinching his eyes shut. “I’ve wanted this for so long.”

“Oh, Astarion.” You murmur, reaching to envelop him in your arms. 

Your vampire crumbles, arms wrapping tight around you to the point you’re fairly certain you’re not getting enough oxygen. Astarion clings to your clothes, to any concrete fragment of reality that can ground him from what he’s been through. His face buries itself into the crook of your neck, hiding the tears from your prying eyes. One hand comes up to cup the back of his head and strokes his blood-stained curls. 

“I-I… I feel numb. Empty.”

Keeping him close is the only thought in your mind. It’s not the time to delve into the implications of grieving an abuser. You decide it’s best to get back to your lodgings above the Elfsong Tavern to let him have privacy instead of being surrounded by the exact place causing him so much pain. 

And a long journey it is. Past the Gur leader Ulma waiting at the dais, and through the bustling streets of Baldur’ Gate.

Astarion barely makes it into the washroom before he collapses, and you just do your best to keep him on his feet. 

“Here, here. Sit down and I’ll draw you a bath, yeah?”

Astarion drops on the floor where you’re lowering him. You think he nods, but don’t stay long enough to confirm it. The other members of your rag tag team are dotted about the lounge area when you walk in and beeline straight towards Astarion’s chest of clothing. 

Karlach is the only one brave enough to approach you, tapping long talons nervously against her leg. 

“Well? How’s he doin’?” 

“As well as can be expected…” You sigh and sit on his bed, fresh clothes in one hand. “It’s a complicated situation. He hated Cazador, but the man was also some of the only constant interaction Astarion had in damn near two centuries.”

“Sometimes I fell empty, not having orders and all. Not having something constant that tells you where to go and what to do.” Karlach rubs her arms and shrugs. “Then I remember freedom and how much that means. I’m done being bound to some wretched leader. But there’s still a spot that feels empty. It’s healing, but it takes time. Hells, mine’s gotten better just having all of you around.”

Her words kick your brain into gear. “Yeah, that makes sense. Thanks, Karlach.”

Much to your surprise, Astarion’s already in a warm bath upon your return. You close the door behind you and slide the lock over, ensuring privacy for you both. The vampire’s eyelids only lift slightly when you drop his clothes onto the fireplace hearth and drag a wooden chair close. 

“That was fast.” You observe and nod towards the water. 

“Mhm. I caught Gale on his way up from supper. He waved his fingers around and made it work.”

You’re thankful for Gale’s presence and quiet affinity for the vampire, as it would’ve taken you twice as long manually. 

“You don’t have to sit here, you know. I’ll be alright.” Astarion says quietly. 

“Is that you nicely asking me to leave?”

His answer comes quickly. “No. I just don’t want to be a burden.”

The words are like a shot through the heart. “You could never burden me. No matter what.”

Astarion opens his eyes then. “Not even with a century of fucked up emotions? Trauma, as I’m sure you’re thinking?”

Ah, he needs the direct approach. You begin undressing, tossing your belongings in a messy pile on the floor. 

“Fuck off and move over.”

Astarion stares at you and blinks comically before sliding over. 

Once naked, you climb into the still-steaming water. There’s not an over-abundance of room in the tub, but enough that you can both put your backs against opposite sides and face each other. His long legs stretch to either side of your bum while yours remain crossed beneath. With both of you inside, the water easily rises above your chest, licking gently at sensitive collarbones instead.

“Talk.”

He sulks, but you can see the redness in his eyes and the swelling beneath. “And what should I talk about? How I’m not feeling as free as I should despite killing my slave-driver? I don’t need a psychic to tell me something is wrong with me.”

Astarion’s anger is familiar and raw, defending the vulnerable emotions swirling like a whirlpool in his gut. You don’t flich at its bite, nor retreat from its bark. It only rolls off your shoulders, dripping like rain right back into the bathwater. 

“Yes, exactly that. You’re allowed to be upset. To be sad. Cazador and his necromancied skeleton guard were the only constants in your life for a long time. And now they’re gone. You’re allowed to grieve that loss. Even if it feels wrong.”

He draws in a breath, water rippling around his bare chest. “It feels atrocious. After everything he’s done - I’ve done- killing him should be a relief. Joyous, even. And instead I feel like this.”

You reach a hand onto the table to grab soap. Its smell is a pleasant break from blood and gore, and you start towards Astarion with it in hand. 

“You’re still in shock. Everything we saw and did in that dungeon, all those people you knew. It’s natural to be sad and feel guilty.” You lather up your hands and bring them up to his neck, starting a slow and cautious massage. “Releasing them into the Underdark was the best chance they had to survive… and the best way to redeem the sins forced upon you.”

He leans into your hands as they rub the soap into his chest and shoulders. “I suppose it was.”

“Turn.” You tell him softly. He complies, drawing his legs to sit cross legged and face away from you. 

Knowing it might be easier to hear your sentimental words while facing away, you lean into his ear. “No matter what, I’m proud of you. You’re a hundred times the man Cazador ever was.”

Astarion heaves a breath at your words, scarred back rising into your hands as you continue to spread the lather across his skin. You pretend the horrific rune isn’t there, doing your best to prevent another angry outburst His shoulders hitch when you start scrubbing at his hair and gently cupping water to wet his curls. 

“I think I’m glad it’s over. I just….” He’s at a loss for words and flounders. One hand waves aimlessly in the air. 

“Need time?” You supply, gliding your hands across his trapezius. 

One of his strikes upwards like lightning, grabbing onto yours and squeezing. “Yeah. Time.”

You use a small cup from the tray to rinse his snowy curls without getting soap in his eyes. He hums at the warm water rolling down his scalp, and spins to face you as soon as you’re finished. 

“Tav?”

You’re leaning to grab the soap when you pause to look at him. “Astarion?”

“Will you come to bed with me tonight?” Astarion stops and corrects himself. “Just to keep me company.”

“Of course I will.” 

Much to your surprise, Astarion pushes himself through the water until you’re chest-to-chest. The liquid swirls and sloshes, splashing onto the floor and no doubt dripping onto a table at the tavern below. He draws your close, arms winding around your waist and pulling you into his lap. 

You smile and wrap your legs around his middle, ignoring the discomfort due to limited space. Astarion’s head finds its place on your shoulder, nose brushing against the delicate side of your neck. His cool skin is a reprieve against the steamy bathroom. You nuzzle his damp curls and rub his back softly. 

“I’m glad you didn’t stick to your original plan when we slept together that first night.” You hum, “You’ve become quite important to me on this journey.” 

“How could I have? You’re too perfect.” Astarion’s breath sends goosebumps shooting in all directions from the joint of your shoulder. The feeling is similar to that of his bite, but less intense. 

It hits you that he’s probably famished, not having fed on you the night before and being partially drained by Cazador’s profane ritual. Not to mention the amount of strain that’s been put on him both emotionally and physically in the last few hours.

You brush your hair away from your neck. “You need to feed,”

Astarion lifts his head. “That wasn’t what I was-”

“I know. But you’ve been through a lot.” You insist, rolling your head to the side. “Humor me.”

“I suppose I could be tempted.” Astarion’s eyes darken, and he shift back in towards your neck

His cool breath washes over your skin, and combined with the water it’s so chilly that it’s almost numb while he prepares to sink his teeth in. You feel his nose brush your skin, seeking out the delicate vein carrying the liquid he needs so desperately. He marks his target with a gentle kiss, and one hand holds your hip as he bites down. 

Ice shoots through your veins, spreading slowly from collarbones to belly button, and eventually your toes as he drinks. The freezing quickly turns to ecstasy, shooting arousal into every corner of your body though you know it's not the time. Your hand knots in Astarion’s hair, unconsciously encouraging him to keep going. Somewhere in your brain, you realize this is how people fall so easily to vampires. With a blissful numb that rivals the best Opium and a feather-light sensation overtaking all your limbs, what wouldn’t someone fall for?

But luckily, your vampire would never let you fall.

Astarion’s fangs pull away from your skin but his mouth remains on your neck, lapping at the weeping blood until it stops. You’re woozy for sure, and allow yourself a few moments to be dead weight in his embrace. 

“I apologize, darling. I got carried away.”

You shake your head and press a kiss to his chin. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“Are you going to be able to navigate back to bed?” He asks, tipping his chin towards the shared space. “While you understand me, I’m not sure the others will be so friendly about my choice of dinner.”

“I’m willing to pay the barkeep for the private room across the hall for tonight.” 

And you do, without thought. Anything that provides Astarion with comfort is worth the price for you. So you both trek across the hallway, leaving the bathroom mess for morning. Exhaustion has completely taken over after Astarion’s bite, and you take a moment to wrestle with the sheets until you’re able to climb under them.

“Comfortable, darling?” Astarion asks as he lays down. 

“Delightful.” You reply, “Now get some rest.”

Astarion does as you say, but keeps you within arms reach at all times. He might be having trouble with his feelings towards Cazador and the missed opportunity for power, but he’s thankful. 

Thankful for his choice, and thankful for you.

As always, if you enjoy please like/reblog and check out my links for more :)

Masterlist | Send me ideas

[familiarscars]

Lost In Control | Bad Omens | CHAPTER 28

adult content | minors do NOT interact.

⋆ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆. Bad Omens X ex-girlfriend and singer!Reader.

⋆ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. You and Noah had a difficult ending but you still need to support each other for the band.

⋆ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆(𝐒). melancholy, ex-boyfriends, difficult relationships, alcohol abuse, swearing, drug addiction, violence.

It's okay to not agree with the characters' attitudes during the fic. It's good to remember that the story is fiction from the author's sick mind and of course they will make dubious decisions according to my fantasies. Nothing is done to be compared to reality.

Sydney, May 18, 2022.

NOAH

"Your call has been forwarded to voicemail..." the automated voice announced for the eighth time in under five minutes.

I paced back and forth, fists clenched, gripping my phone with such force that it wouldn't be long before I wore a hole into the floor. My impatience gnawed at me as I failed to get through again. I raked my fingers through my hair, exhaling a heavy sigh.

We had been away from home for five months, touring non-stop. Five months away from Los Angeles. Five months since I had last heard from her. Five months of her ignoring every attempt I made to contact or reconcile with her. It felt like a game—a twisted game designed to drive me insane by vanishing completely from my sight.

"Try her phone again, please!" I said, my voice trembling with exhaustion, my chin jutting toward Jolly as he pulled his phone from his pocket. He’d always been closer to her, and lately, I was clinging to the thin hope that he might have better luck reaching her.

“We’ve tried, Noah. She still won’t answer,” Jolly reminded me, his tone calm but firm.

I shook my head and lowered my phone from my ear, pressing my lips together.

“We’re going home tomorrow. You’ll have your chance to talk to her face-to-face,” he said, stepping closer and patting my shoulder.

“I don’t feel right…” I muttered, swallowing the tightness in my throat as I turned my gaze to the window. “Something feels wrong.”

“You’re probably just anxious. How about you get some rest? Lie down, try to sleep. I’ll keep calling her and let you know if I hear anything. But you need to rest.”

There was no order in Jolly’s voice, no harshness—only concern, evident in the lines of his forehead and the tightness around his eyes. I nodded faintly, giving him a small, strained smile to reassure him enough to leave me alone in the room again.

Empty and jagged.

I knew this wasn’t guilt—not the kind that gnawed at your conscience. I didn’t regret anything I’d done so far. My conscience was clear. But still, I felt it—something was missing.

The truth is, we’re never satisfied with anything.

We tie our happiness to external things, believing that once we achieve certain goals or acquire what we desire, we’ll finally cherish those accomplishments. We put our ambitions above logic, battling tirelessly until we reach them. But when we do, the thrill of victory dulls the joy of having won.

That was how I felt.

Even though I had accomplished everything I’d set out to do, I still felt hollow—like a tree trunk eaten away by termites.

“Your call has been forwarded to voicemail…” The voice interrupted my thoughts again as I collapsed into the chair by the window. “Leave your message after the tone.”

“I haven’t seen cloudy skies and drizzle the same way since you left, little storm. Today, more than ever, I woke up thinking of you, with a feeling that claws at my chest with every breath. Every day in a message like this, I tell you how much I miss you, but today it feels unbearable. I’m sorry.” I sighed.

I breathed deeply, my eyes drifting between a blank spot on the floor and the fogged window, blurred by the rain.

“If your plan was to punish me, congratulations—you’ve succeeded. I haven’t stopped feeling like a worm since the moment you walked out of our house on a day just like this.”

I inhaled sharply, dividing my gaze between the rain-washed glass and the suffocating silence on the other end of the line.

“I feel like something’s terribly wrong. I can’t explain it, not to anyone. But you’d understand. It feels like a part of me is dissolving, and I can’t put it back… just a gaping, hollow hole left behind.” My head tilted upward as I whispered, “I’d leave you alone forever if I could hear your voice just one last time. Even if it’s to call me selfish or tell me to disappear from your life. Not that my promises have meant much lately.”

A notification buzzed, cutting me off—voicemail full.

My breath quickened. Fury rose inside me like a storm, and I launched my phone against the wall. It shattered into fragments, leaving a jagged hole in the dark paneling. The sound of impact was deafening, but I barely noticed.

I sprang to my feet, adrenaline surging. Rage coursed through my veins as I tore through the room, toppling my desk, sending my laptop crashing to the ground. Glass splintered into sharp shards, scattering across the floor. I grabbed them and hurled them at the mirrors, cracking the glass until my reflection was a distorted mess of fractures.

I couldn’t stop. I didn’t want to stop. It felt as though the world was collapsing, and I was determined to bring it all down with me.

When the storm passed, I stood amid wreckage, my chest heaving, my hands slick with blood from the shattered glass. I slumped onto the bed’s edge, gripping the mattress so tightly my fingers pressed through the fabric.

The door creaked open. In my peripheral vision, I noticed curious heads peeking in. Gerard stepped forward, closing the door behind him, leaving the others outside. He weaved his way through the glass-strewn floor, his eyes locking on mine as my grip on the mattress tightened further.

“You’re paying for the damage,” he said, his tone flat. “Every cent the hotel charges for this mess.”

I shrugged.

“Why aren’t you dressed?” Gerard asked, grabbing a few shirts from the back of a chair and tossing them into my lap. “We’ve got a show in a few minutes and an interview on the way. Now’s not the time for tantrums.”

“I’m not feeling well.”

Sometimes, a single event sets off a chain reaction. The stress of not hearing from her had worn me down completely.

I wasn’t just tired—I was spent, hollowed out. Every show over the past five months had drained me, each performance pulling the worst out of me. I was exhausted, and there wasn’t much left to give.

I just wanted to go home. I had an almost delirious urgency to go home.

"Did you see a doctor?" Despite the concerned tone, he had little real interest.

"Yeah, after I got sick during last week's show. He said it’s something like burnout."

Gerard sighed, his shoulders slumping.

I nearly jumped when he sat beside me on the edge of the bed, placing a hand on my shoulder. If he was tense, his presence made me twice as uncomfortable. I caught a glimpse of his empathetic expression out of the corner of my eye.

"Noah, I’ve known you long enough to think of you as a son..."

"Think of?" I raised an eyebrow, skeptical.

"It’s normal to feel tired. You’re working hard—onstage, offstage, promoting the new album. Look, the band is growing the way you always wanted, making new strides every day... This isn’t the time to lose steam." His voice was low, deliberate, as if weighing every word. "This dream has always been more yours than anyone else’s, hasn’t it? I’ve always noticed you’re the one who puts in the most effort."

"I disagree."

"She may be a good singer, Noah, but she’s never been a real professional. She never treated the band as a priority, never made it her life’s purpose. She’s always been more concerned with pleasing you. I never got involved because I’m not here to give relationship advice. My job is to focus on your career. But now the inevitable has happened. Your personal life is bleeding into the stage." His words felt like a blade carving into my skin.

Confusion must have filled my eyes. I turned fully toward him, studying his face. He wasn’t angry—nor did he wear his usual smirk of indifference. That only made the conversation feel even more surreal.

"I was your age once, and I loved someone so deeply it felt like the rest of the world didn’t exist. But looking back, I don’t think it was worth it. You know why? We wanted different things. She believed she had the right to suffocate my dreams. That’s what happens when you put people in places they don’t belong." Gerard took a deep breath before continuing. "I don’t think her distance is a coincidence. You should see it as a reason to move forward."

No. No. Not even close.

"You don’t know us—not enough to compare my story to yours!" I snapped, rising to my feet. I grabbed clothes and belongings from the mess around me, stuffing them into my bag. With every piece I collected, the tightening in my chest worsened.

He spoke about her decision with such conviction that it gnawed at me, as if he knew something I didn’t.

"I know enough to say this is the smartest decision she’s made in years. You both function better apart, and more importantly, the band doesn’t suffer." He shrugged. "Frankly, I’d suggest we keep the lineup as it is now, but I figure you’d make that a headache, just like these past five months chasing after her!"

"Do whatever you want with the lineup. I’m taking the first flight back to Los Angeles."

"If you can afford the cancellation fee for the show, you’re free to go wherever you want, darling!" He mocked, wagging a finger. "I’ve already lost enough covering for one absent member. You won’t make it two!"

I could afford the fee by now, but one thing held me back—I wasn’t alone.

The band was bigger than my whims. It wasn’t fair to drag my friends into my chaos.

"I’ve tried putting a sliver of sense into your head, but if you insist on this path, that’s your problem," Gerard muttered, standing and dusting invisible specks from his hands. "Just get the job done. I don’t care how much you cry backstage..."

He moved toward the door but paused next to me, leaning in with a smirk, his voice dripping with mockery.

"And unlike her, I’m not worried about how you’ll handle this pathetic heartbreak after the show."

The punch I delivered struck before he could retreat. My knuckles collided with his face in one swift, solid motion.

Gerard staggered backward, and I pinned him against the wall. He licked the blood from his lip as I shoved my hair out of my eyes, my chest heaving with fury.

"Don’t ever talk about her like that again," I growled, leaning so close I could see his eyes widen. "You can hate her all you want, but you’ll swallow every insult. Because the day she walks away for good, I’ll be next. Without her, there’ll be no album, no tour, no shows—nothing to keep padding your bank account. So don’t you ever speak about her like that again!"

His brief smirk faded the moment I jabbed my finger into the fresh cut on his jaw, pressing into the tender skin.

"You don’t know me, baby. Not even close," I whispered, shoving his face away with enough force to send him stumbling into the door.

Gerard straightened his posture, took a breath, and left.

Alone at last, I leaned my forehead against the wall, the weight of it all finally crashing down on me.

After the show, I refused all fan photos. I didn’t stay to watch the other festival bands with the guys, didn’t record any interviews, didn’t say goodbye to anyone. I simply grabbed my things from the hotel and rushed to the next flight home. No layovers, no delays, desperate to breathe in the familiar scent of my city. As soon as I got off the plane, I kept trying to call her over and over as I waited for a taxi, but every attempt ended in silence.

That drive from the airport to home had never felt so long.

When I finally arrived, sitting still inside the car on the other side of the street, I noticed the closed windows and the pile of letters in the mailbox. Dry leaves scattered across the porch. I tried to push the thought away, but the signs were clear—maybe she hadn’t left the house in days.

Because of me.

Each step along the short path to the porch tightened the ache in my chest. A hundred terrible ideas raced through my head of what she might have done to herself, alone in that empty space. I quickened my pace, hesitating only a moment before forcing the door handle until it gave way.

Silence.

Everything was exactly as I had left it before I traveled. Clothes still lay draped over the sofa, and the plants on the table were wilted. But something stood out—her shoes weren’t behind the door, and her jackets weren’t hanging on the rack.

If I had felt anxious and agitated before, this realization only made it worse, my heartbeat thundering so loudly I was sure it could be heard from across the room. Dropping my bag, I bolted up the stairs to the second floor and into our bedroom.

The bed was made, everything in its place. But something felt wrong.

The closet held only my clothes. None of hers. The shelf beside it was empty of everything but my shoes. I blinked several times, stumbling backward, my feet weightless as I moved toward the bathroom. The counter beneath the mirror, where her makeup, perfumes, and hair products had once cluttered the space, was bare. Nothing remained but a toothbrush and toothpaste.

"No... no, this can’t be..." I whispered to myself.

I tore through every corner of the house in a frenzy, my throat burning from the lump I fought to keep down. I didn’t want to cry. Her suitcases were gone. There was no trace of her—no sign that she had ever shared this space with me.

Pacing the floor with my hands tangled in my hair, I let the most painful tears I had ever known flow freely. I hated myself for this. It was all my fault. I had been the one to turn my back on her, to sweep her aside like she didn’t matter.

But I never imagined I’d come home to an empty house.

I felt it. The street stretched endlessly, each step echoing in the hollow silence of the night. Low fog clung to the sidewalks, and the cold air tore through my lungs. I walked as though I were the last person alive, revisiting places that had once been ours, chasing even the faintest flicker of clarity.

The park where she laughed at my terrible joke and made the world feel lighter. The café where she dared me to abandon my habits and try something new. The bridge where we swore we would never be just another passing moment in each other’s lives.

Now, all of those places were as empty as I felt.

My mind was chaos. Every time her image surfaced, it felt like the noose around my neck tightened a little more. I was drowning, spiraling into a despair without end.

Then, an idea flickered to life.

"Why didn’t I think of it sooner..." I whispered, my voice barely audible.

I broke into a run. My body protested, but I didn’t stop. Her old house. The one she left behind when we decided to build something together. Maybe—just maybe—she had gone back there.

When I arrived, the sight of the familiar façade hit me like a punch to the gut. It was like confronting a ghost from my past, only this time, it felt far too real.

My ragged breathing filled the silence as I stood before the door. The house seemed smaller than I remembered, compressed by time into something stifling and suffocating. My hands trembled as I reached for the handle. I forced myself forward.

It was unlocked. The door creaked as it opened, the sound cutting through the heavy stillness of the night.

And there she was.

For a moment, my vision blurred as my mind struggled to reconcile the image I had held of her with the person standing before me. She was in the hallway, a living shadow, likely coming to see who was at the door.

Her sweatshirt hung too loose on her thin frame, swallowing her frail shoulders. Her hair was carelessly tied back, and deep shadows under her eyes marred the face I had once memorized. Her lips, once vibrant, were pale, drained of life and color.

She looked like a distorted version of herself.

Her eyes met mine—wide, guarded, and wary, like a cornered animal. My chest clenched.

"You left." My voice broke, a mere whisper, but heavy with anguish. "You left, little storm..."

She didn’t move. Her gaze drifted over me as though deciding whether I was real or just another ghost haunting her mind.

"You shouldn’t be here, Noah." Her voice was cold, fragile. The pain she tried to hide was as plain as the exhaustion etched into her face.

"Not supposed to be here?" I repeated, my voice catching in my throat. "You just left—disappeared—and wouldn’t answer my messages, driving me insane these past months. How do you expect me to..."

I stepped closer, unable to hold back, and cupped her face in my hands. Her skin was ice-cold, sending a shiver down my spine. She didn’t react. Her eyes darted away from mine, refusing to meet my gaze for more than a fleeting second.

"You can’t do this to me." My voice cracked. "You can’t leave me alone in that house."

She stirred, trying to pull away, but I didn’t let go.

"Look at me." I begged, my voice thick with emotion. She didn’t budge. "It was just a stupid fight like all the others, wasn’t it? You’re coming home, right? We’ll work it out like we always do, and everything will be fine… won’t it?"

She sighed, weary, as if the weight of the conversation was too much to bear.

"For God’s sake, answer me!" I tightened my grip before loosening it immediately, horrified as she shrank further into herself, shame radiating from her every movement.

My hand fell to my side. I watched as she rubbed her face, as if trying to erase me from the room.

"I know I messed up, okay? I know I disappointed you, acted like an idiot. But I need you. I can’t do this alone." My voice broke, my last defenses crumbling. "Come back home. Please."

She shook her head slowly, resolutely, without ever meeting my eyes.

Then I saw them.

Bruises. Faint at first, shadowy traces through the sleeves of her sweatshirt when she raised her arms. Some purple, others faded to yellow.

I didn’t think.

I grabbed her arms, panic surging as I held her frail body. She didn’t resist. She couldn’t even slip from between my fingers.

"Who did this to you?" I demanded, barely able to keep my voice steady, my eyes roaming from one mark to the next. I pushed her sleeve higher, finding more bruises staining the delicate skin of her arm.

Then I saw the cut.

A deep, vertical gash, a row of stitches trailing along it in mid-healing.

The world went cold.

"What happened?" My voice rose, frantic, my heart thundering as I grabbed her shoulders. "What happened to you?"

"Answer me!" I shook her, my desperation pouring out.

And then she smiled. A weak, hollow curve of her dry lips.

"You already know the answer."

"Me?" I whispered, my own voice foreign to my ears. "It doesn’t matter." I shook my head fiercely. "We’re going home. We’ll talk there."

I fought to control the tremor in my hands, my dry throat constricting as I began grabbing whatever I could find. A bag. A pair of shoes. Anything that belonged to her—anything that proved she still had a place with me. My mind raced, a blender of jagged thoughts spinning wildly out of control.

But her words stopped me.

"This is my home now."

I froze, the weight of her statement crushing every thought that tried to form.

"No..." The word slipped out, broken, more to myself than to her. "No, it’s not. It can’t be."

I ignored her and continued gathering her things, convinced that if I just kept moving, we could fix it.

"We’re going home. Now." My voice was firm, a brittle mask over the chaos inside.

"No."

It sliced the air like a blade.

I stopped, a bag still clutched in my hand, and turned to face her. She stood with her arms crossed, her posture rigid, as if trying to shield herself from everything I was unleashing.

"I’m not going anywhere, Noah." She swallowed hard, her gaze fixed on the floor. "You told me that time alone would help me think. And I did. I think we..."

"Don’t finish that sentence!" I cut her off, my heartbeat spiraling.

"We’re not working anymore, Noah. We’re out of sync, and as much as I’ve tried to be someone worthy of you, I can’t keep pretending." Her voice wavered, her tears falling freely now. "These years haven’t healed me. I can’t change. It’s not fair to keep you tied to someone like me."

I stood there, her words echoing inside me like a verdict.

"No..." I whispered, the denial a plea. "Don’t do this."

Tears burned my eyes as I took a step closer. "Please, little storm... don’t leave me."

She looked away, wrapping her arms around herself like a fragile barrier.

"You don’t understand, Noah. This isn’t healthy for either of us anymore."

"Don’t say that!" The shout ripped from me, raw and agonized. "You’re all I have! I need you!"

The words tumbled out in sobs, the anguish clawing through my chest like poison. My legs gave way, and I leaned against the doorframe, my heart racing too fast, too hard.

"I know I screwed everything up..." I choked, fingers running through my hair. "I hurt you. I was selfish. But tell me how to fix it. Just tell me."

She wept, and it destroyed me.

"It’s not about fixing it." Her words were knives, each one sharper than the last. "It’s about what I’m doing to you."

"Turning your back on me will destroy me!"

"I’m not turning my back. I’m giving you a chance—to be so much more than I’ll ever be. I can’t keep you chained to someone marked by her past, who ruins everything she touches." She shook her head, despair dripping from her voice. "Look at me, Noah. I’ll never be more than this."

"I don’t care!" I shouted, my face wet with tears. "I don’t care about any of it. I just want you."

I couldn’t hear her anymore—not her words, not her reasoning. All I felt was the gaping wound in my chest, bleeding out with every breath.

"You love me, right?" I whispered, the words a trembling breath of panic. "Tell me you still love me."

"Noah..." She shook her head, her eyes even more filled with tears, clutching her chest as if each word tore her apart from the inside, as if avoiding my gaze would somehow ease the pain.

"ANSWER ME!"

She hesitated, and that single fraction of a second was enough to send my world crumbling further.

"If you loved me, you wouldn't be saying this. You wouldn’t be leaving me like this!" I pressed forward, my voice sharp and desperate. "You would try one more time and finally understand that I chose to be yours despite your flaws. I didn’t care about your past, I didn’t care how far apart our dreams might have been—I just wanted to be yours..." I argued. "I don’t care how far we are from perfect. I never wanted to give up on you."

She turned her face away, tears streaming down her cheeks as she slowly shook her head.

"Tell me you still love me," I repeated. "Little storm."

"I... I don’t love you anymore, Noah."

Everything stopped.

The sound, the air, the ground beneath my feet. Just an all-consuming, deafening void. A chasm opened inside me, dark and endless, swallowing everything I knew.

"No..." I whispered, shaking my head as my throat tightened to the point of pain. "That’s not true. You can’t even say it looking me in the eyes."

She didn’t respond, and the silence that followed was worse than any words she could have spoken.

My legs finally gave way, and I collapsed to the floor. The hardness of the ground didn’t matter—nothing mattered. I buried my face in my hands, the sobs tearing through me like a storm I couldn’t weather.

She was there, only a few steps away, but it felt like she was already a million miles from me.

I had lost her.

⭑ @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard ; @iluvmewwwww75 ; @anarchydomainglory ; @foliosgirl ; @lacy1986 ; @chey-h ; @supersquirrel1996 ; @zozaline​ ; @just-randomm-stuff ; @do-it-jakey-baby

[partially-controlled-chaos]

Think Nothing, Feel Nothing

Pairing: Lucanis Dellamorte/unnamed f!rook

Rating: G for now but might get bumped to M for later chapters

Warning: Hurt and very little comfort for a while. Eventual happy ending. Lucanis is absolutely feral in the first days rook is gone.

Reposting because I was having link issues that aren’t completely fixed, but here we are. Please ignore the double posting.

Read below the cut or on AO3!

Raw energy flared upwards and out from the lifeless body sprawled at Lucanis’s feet, humming with power that grew in intensity with each pulse. The air surrounding him crackled and hissed with residual electricity, making the hair on his arms and back of his neck stand on end, his skin prickling at the feeling. Adrenaline coursed through his veins as his heart pounded against his chest, hands shaking from the residual force of dealing a killing blow to an elven god. He could taste the metallic tang of iron in the air against his tongue, the taste seeping from the spilled blood covering the ground and soaking into the dirt between stone tiles beneath his boots. The taste of iron mixed with the distinguishable rotten smell of blight as the previously pulsing boils began to wither and dry into blackened ash.

Lucanis frantically scanned over the body, searching for any lingering signs of life or reanimation fueled by blight and corrupted magic. Instead, Ghilan’nain lay motionless on the ground; broken and defeated. Despite the odds against them, Lucanis and the rest of the team had slain the elven goddess. It took a greatly combined effort from everyone and a fair amount of luck to get them this far as well as one notably honorable sacrifice by Lace Harding. In the end, Ghilan’nain was finally dead. Her lifeless body now a crumpled heap of tentacles and twisted flesh only a few feet from where he stood. The ritual dagger was lodged deep in the mage’s chest, stopping her heart as her writing body had stilled, but also begun to rip open the Fade at its contact with blighted elven blood.

The magic and power erupting from Ghilan’nain’s corpse grew rapidly, the very edges of reality that separated the real world from the Veil were beginning to thin, warbling and rippling along in thin threads. Wind began swirling around her body, harsh and sharp as a blade against tender skin. Shielding his eyes from the growing force, Lucanis took a struggled step forward, his free hand blindly swatting at the space next to him in a desperate attempt to find Rook in the resulting chaos.

After he had twisted his blade deep in Ghilan’nain’s chest, Lucanis sprung from her torso and landed firmly on his feet, Spite’s wings recoiling and disappearing back into the Fade as he rushed to Rook’s side. She had been flung to the ground like a discarded scrap of paper, her body hitting the stone with an audible thunk. He had helped her to her feet, quickly running his gaze over her to check for injury. In the brief time they had before the stability of reality began to shred, Rook held a hand to his cheek, her bright smile pulling across her lips as she congratulated him on his victory.

The moment was short lived when Elgar’nan made himself known, stepping beside Ghilan’nain as they shared a few final words before she collapsed with a dying breath and the first few licks of energy began sputtering from the dagger. Elgar’nan’s grief and fury then shifted to Rook, his eyes narrowing as his lips curled into a wicked snarl. Lucanis had stepped in front of Rook, his arm and accompanying hand acting as a makeshift shield between her and the remaining god. Rook, however, had neither time nor patience for coddling. She had stepped to the side, her own face twisted into a snarl as she approached Elgar’nan, never once flinching even when threatened with his red lyrium dagger. As the dagger began to chip away in the power emitted from the rotting god, Elgar’nan hid the weapon in his robes and vanished, not before muttering a final threat to Rook.

Time seemed to have stopped as Lucanis tried to walk against the winds, each step sluggish and slow as if he were walking through knee deep mud in the Hossberg Wetlands. He squinted against the light being emitted from the tears opening in the sky above, the brightness almost searing against his eyes as the energy began to pulse even harder, threatening to explode. Lucanis could hear the whirring of air and magic the closer he got to the body, the noise high pitched and shrill, yet almost hypnotic.

“Rook!” Lucanis shouted against the whirring of the chaotic magic swirling him. He heard nothing in response, but as his eyes cracked open against the light, he could see the faint outline of Rook just within his grasp.

With a final blast, a bolt of energy shot into the reddened sky like a beacon, the sheer force of the blast knocking Lucanis off his feet and slinging him back effortlessly. His back hit cold stone tiles, knocking the wind from his lungs and forcing a pained gasp to rush past his lips. His vision flashed a searing white as the back of his head cracked against a piece of debris from a nearby wall, dragging him to the edge of unconsciousness. Something warm and wet trickled down the back of his neck and into the collar of his undershirt, the taste and smell of iron intensifying.

For a moment, Lucanis simply lay there as he tried to get his bearings as the white of his vision gave way to a darkness that was tunneling quickly, threatening to engulf him completely. His eyes snapped open as he took in a sucking breath, the freezing cold air burning his lungs as the darkness in his line of sight began to fade and was replaced with a blur. His head throbbed with each frantic beat of his heart, the adrenaline still coursing wildly through his body. He was lightheaded and dizzy with an ache starting to form behind his eyes, the world around him spinning rapidly. His limbs felt like lead weights stuck in wet sand and it took nearly all of his energy and concentration to move the dead weight.

A sharp ringing emanated from deep within his mind and pierced his ears, muffling the sounds of disorder around him. Although muffled, Lucanis could faintly hear someone talking, more than likely yelling, off to his side. He shifted his gaze in the direction of the voices, his vision eventually settling enough for him to see Emmrich slowly fighting his way towards Rook, his mouth moving at a frantic pace. Bellara stood beside him, also shielding her eyes from the steadily growing energy, her expression a mixture of fear and confusion.

Mustering a bit of strength, Lucanis managed to roll onto his side, a groan rumbling deep in his chest as the movement agitated the freshly opened wound to his skull. Through blurred vision, he could see the silhouette of Rook fighting her way to reach Ghilan’nain’s corpse, her body being blown back by the raw magic being released into the air. He watched as Rook’s hand wrapped around the hilt of the dagger, pulling on the weapon with as much strength as she could find. Lucanis felt a change in the air as Rook pried the dagger from the dead god, the blade dripping with blackened ichor. Spite could feel it as well, the demon stirring in the back of his mind as everything began to still.

Smells like. Blood. And rot. Like. The Ossuary. Spite’s voice hissed in his mind, making Lucanis realize much too late that something was dreadfully wrong.

“Lucanis?” Rook’s questioning voice rang out and pierced the hazy thoughts of his mind, seemingly snapping Lucanis out of his stupor.

“Rook?” Lucanis called back, hoping to reach her ear. But again, he was met with no reply.

With an agonizing grunt, he managed to slip one arm underneath himself to allow for a bit of leverage, but had to pause when his head swam again and his forehead collided with the ground. The all too familiar pain behind his eyes had started as a dull ache now throbbing and searing. They itched and burned with an intensity he hadn’t felt since he’d faced Zara in Treviso. There was blood magic in the air, but Lucanis couldn’t see the mage responsible.

“Lucanis!” His name tore from Rook’s throat in an anguished scream, the sound making Lucanis’s blood run cold. His head snapped up quickly, eyes frantically searching for Rook, but was met with nothing.

“Rook!” Lucanis and Spite yelled her name in unison as he began to crawl, her scream and his inability to see her made another surge of adrenaline shoot through his body. Spite’s wings had unfurled and beat frantically against the dying winds, giving Lucanis more momentum as his arms and legs scrambled against the stone. He could feel his fingernails tearing from inside his gloves as he clawed at the ground below him, the toes of his boots scuffing as he pushed his overly tired body as fast as he could.

With a final burst of energy, the tear in the Fade sealed itself shut and Ghilan’nain’s body began to wither and decay like the surrounding blight boils, flakes of her ash floating upwards into the sky. With the dagger now free from her corpse, the air had stilled and the hum of magic had quietened, as if it had never occurred. An eerie silence blanketed the battlefield, almost deafening when compared to the excessive screeching of only a moment prior.

Lucanis’s chest landed firmly against the ground where Rook once stood, the clatter of his breastplate against the steps leading to the remnants of Ghilan’nain cutting the sudden silence. Pushing himself up on his hands and knees, Lucanis took in his surroundings; cold stone, ash, blood, and blight. Nothing had the thrum of a heartbeat or the inherent warmth of a living body. There was no sign of Rook or the dagger that she had plucked from Ghilan’nain’s chest. It was as if both had simply been snapped from existence and vanished into thin air. It almost felt like Rook had never been there to begin with.

He watched as Spite circled around him, his head wound seemingly left the demon untouched. On a normal day, Spite was erratic and twitchy, flitting from one space to another as he tried to understand the physical world. But now, the demon was almost completely feral. He jumped from stone steps to piles of ashy blight to the wall and back to the stairs, repeating these motions over and over as he sniffed at the air. Spite’s teeth were bared into a ferocious snarl, almost frothing at the mouth as a deep, unsettling anger took root.

No. He growled. Not here. Not right. Gone.

“Emmrich,” Lucanis rasped, “where’s Rook?” Emmrich had been the closest one to Rook when Lucanis had lost sight of her, surely the necromancer must have seen what happened.

Lucanis watched as Emmrich took a few tentative steps forward, his eyes growing wide as he processed recent events. For once, the professor was left speechless, his mouth agape as he searched and scrambled for the right words. Yet again, Lucanis was met with a soul crushing silence.

“Emmrich!” Tears formed in his eyes as he shouted at the necromancer, fear and sorrow beginning to fester in his heart as Lucanis toyed with the idea that Rook was simply gone. The idea was somehow worse than if Rook were lying dead at his feet. At least if she was dead and her body sprawled across the stone, he had something he could mourn. Something to hold for a few remaining moments while whispering apologizes and unsaid confessions of love through a shower of tears. But instead, Lucanis was left with nothing but t a gaping wound where his heart should be and regrets.

The silence of the moment was suddenly shattered as a great roar could be heard in the distance, a dancing parade of orange and yellow clashing against the reddened sky of the eclipse. Flakes of dusty ash landed in Lucanis’s hair and on his cheeks, something he hadn’t even realized were falling until someone behind him spoke up. Instead, he felt nothing at all. He was numb, frozen in place by the reality of the situation. He let tears freely fall from his eyes as he simply rested on his hands and knees. His eyes remained locked onto the place Rook had been, hoping and praying that she would return at any moment.

Elgar’nan’s unfathomable rage was quite literally burning across the island, the lush foliage of the trees had been quickly set ablaze as smoke began rising to the heavens. Sounds of engulfing flames steadily approaching filled the air, silencing the cries of the Antaam on the opposite side of the beach. The coldness of the moment was quickly being replaced by a scorching heat and a sense of dread.

Suddenly, Lucanis felt a firm hand grip his shoulder, abruptly yanking him back. Lucanis swung his elbow with a snarl in an attempt to break free of whoever had grabbed him. He made impact with a plate of armor, but his limbs and body were weakened from the wound on his head. The adrenaline that had coursed through his veins and given him sudden strength had started to wane, making his counter attack weak and useless. His fingers had started to grow cold and the heaviness of his eyes had returned.

“Lucanis.” Davrin’s deep voice cut through the every growing noise, “We have to go. Now!”

“Not without Rook.” Lucanis swung again as he felt Davrin grab at his armor again and give another sharp tug. But, like before, Lucanis’s attack held no weight.

“We don’t have time! Elgar’nan will burn us alive if we wait. We have to get to the boat while we still can!” Davrin was always calm, but even dazed Lucanis could sense the fear that shook his voice.

His breath started coming in shallow pants as he tried to get enough oxygen in his lungs to stay awake, but knew it was a losing battle. His arms and legs had grown heavy, his head bowing greatly as consciousness evaded him. With one final, fleeting burst of energy and a bit of demonic influence, Lucanis broke free of Davrin’s grasp and lunged forward, falling flat on his chest one again.

“We can’t leave…” His voice wavered as his vision once again began to tunnel, “without Rook.”

Numbness crept up from his fingers and into his arms, making Lucanis lose what little mobility he had. As his vision fully blackened, his eyes closed slowly and his head made one final dip towards the ground. His cheek settled against cold rock and the icy memory of his name being torn from Rook’s throat rang in his ears until he finally slipped into darkness.

[mythicalcowboyatheart]

The theory

Warnings: smut, age gap (Herbert is like inm his 40's reader is in her 20's), teacher and TA/student type relationship, reader has dirty thoughts

An: more Herbert stuff ig.... enjoy!

»»———-►»»———-►»»———-►»»———-►

You always thought he was hot. In like your dad's nerdy friend kida way......but that didn’t stop you from getting yourself off thinking about what his cock looked like. You would imagine it so many times. Imagining how big it would be. How good it would feel inside of you. It wasn’t until last week when you had finally seen it that your dreams became reality.

It all happened one night after class. You were working on homework in Dr. West’s office while he finished grading papers. After finishing up his work he came over and sat next to you on his desk chair. “I need to ask you something,” he said

“Yeah? What is it?” you asked as you looked up at him. He was wearing a white dress shirt, black tie, and slacks. His brown eyes seemed to pierce through you as he addressed you .

“Would you like to help me out with some research?” he asked.

“What kind of research?” you asked curiously.

“Well, I need someone to test my latest theory.”

“Okay? What does that mean exactly?” you asked.

“Basically I need someone to help me see if my theory is correct.” he explained.

“So what does this testing involve?” you asked nervously.

He leaned forward and put his hand on your knee, “Well, there will be some physical contact involved.” he said as he rubbed your thigh.

You swallowed hard and nodded, “Okay.” you replied.

He smiled and stood up, “Great! Would you like to start now?” he asked as he took his jacket off.

You bit your lip and nodded as he turned around and locked the door behind him. He walked back over to you and sat down on his desk chair again. “So what exactly is this theory Dr. West?” you asked batting your eyes at the scientist.

He grinned and shrugged, “Oh well, we’ll get to that later. Right now I want to make sure you are comfortable.” he said as he undid his belt buckle.

“Comfortable?” you asked raising an eyebrow.

He laughed and stood up again, “Yes. I want to make sure that you are okay with everything before we proceed.” he said as his hand went up your skirt, and he ran his thumb up and down your inner thigh getting higher and higher

“Oh my god,” you gasped as he reached the edge of your panties.

"Do you still want to participate in this theory?" You practically moaned out a yes

He chuckled and pulled them aside, exposing your pussy to him. He bent down and licked his tongue along your slit causing you to shiver. “Mmmm, delicious,” he whispered against your flesh as he sucked on your clit making you moan softly. He continued to lick and suck on your clit until you were dripping wet and begging for more.

“Please,” you panted, “Fuck me.”

Dr. West smirked and stood up, “Not yet. First, I want to make sure that you can handle what I have planned for you.” he said as he unbuttoned his pants and pulled them down revealing his hard cock.

“Holy shit,” you gasped as you stared at it in awe. It was longer than any cock you had ever seen before.

“Do you like what you see darling?” he asked smirking.

“oh, yeah,” you moan

He chuckled and shook his head. as he grabbed your hips and pulled you closer to him. He then pushed his cock inside of you causing both of you to moan loudly.

“Fuck,” he groaned, “This feels so good.”

“Oh my god, yes,” you whimpered as he began thrusting into you faster and harder.

“Oh fuck,” he moaned, “You’re so tight darling.”

“Please don’t stop,” you begged.

“I won’t,” he promised.

He kept thrusting into you harder and deeper until you couldn’t take anymore and came all over his cock. He felt your walls tighten around him causing him to cum too.

“Oh fuck,” he groaned as he filled you up completely.

You collapsed onto the floor panting heavily trying to catch your breath.

“Are you okay darling?” he asked concernedly.

You nodded and tried to speak but all that came out was a soft moan.

“Good. My Theory was proven correct”

"And what's the theory?"

"That you had sexual feelings towards me" he gave you a smirk.

[mackjlee9]

|Part 2|Leon Kennedy x Male!Reader [?]

Warning; I struggled with this one so- I apologize in advance! I was thinking between Vendetta!Leon or Death Island!Leon, so either one is fine. 3.2k words.

Masterlist.

«««

Resident Evil 4

With ragged and rapid breaths, (M/n) collapsed inside the lift hoping the wooden roof of it would work as some sort of barrier, but even without it, (M/n) had already given up on making it out the island alive. He hates that he wasn't able to keep his promise, but at least... He knew he would remain a part of Leon's life, even with him gone.

He sighed, hearing the explosions going off everywhere, watching pieces of the mountains fall to the bottom of the ocean, and feeling the heat of the fire despite not being extremely close to any.

(M/n) stayed conscious for as long as he could, observing how his body was consumed by those black veins, and he sighed again, a long, drawn-out sigh as he thought of Leon. His eyes, his hair, his smile, his laugh, his voice... His lips.

His sight started getting blurry and his eyes stung with tears at the image of Leon in his mind, making him close his eyes, feeling those warm teardrops falling down his face.

"Goodbye, Leon..." Now that he said it, the knot in his throat got tighter, and he just let the tears freely make their way down, his body shaking with every sob that left him, his fists closing as he took in his reality, his final moments before everything turned black.

//////

Hours later, a few rescue helicopters find their way to the island, barely anything of it left standing above the waterline, collapsed on itself.

These people had been assigned there just to make sure the evidence had been destroyed, and that's where the land team comes in. All of them are walking around wearing suits and masks as a way to prevent any kind of direct contact with la plaga or any other virus that could linger in the air, they take careful steps where the ground feels more solid and stable, moving away pieces of rubble from the buildings that blocked their paths, kicking some small rocks that they found bothersome.

The more they walked in, the more things were found. Including bodies. Many of them actually, and most of them were unidentified corpses, with signs of bullet holes in their rotting bodies, leading them to assume this was Agent Kennedy's doing.

There were finding most of the buildings destroyed, the floor that hold them up had caved in and now they were submerged, and they were unable to go anywhere inside them, with the top of the mountain collapsed and chunks of it burying them further. They were about to leave when there was nothing useful and everything seemed to be gone, when one of the men that had wandered off on his own recognized one of the bodies.

"Captain! I found something!" He called through their radio, and the captain stopped before any other men could head over.

"What did you find, kid?" The man asked with severity, he was tired and wanted to leave, so he wasn't in the best mood to deal with any kind of "funny business".

"I found Lieutenant Colonel (L/n)!" He hurried to explain, kneeling and pressing his fingers on the male's pulse. It was there. "He's still alive!" He exclaimed before his superior told them what everyone already knew.

(M/n) was dead. He died saving Agent Kennedy, they were informed of that... But also ordered to bring his body in case they found him. Be able to give him and proper burial and say their final goodbye to the men that helped rescue the President's daughter, they weren't expecting that he would survive such an explosion.

But the moment they ran to where he was found, they understood why. Four foreign claw-like appendages had spurted out of his back, the flesh pulsing and twitching, black veins throbbing all over (M/n)'s skin.

For a moment they were scared of getting closer to him, but the way the claws were struggling to get him out and failing made the youngest of them run toward him, holding onto the slimy claw and pulling, groaning at the strength he had to use to move him barely an inch.

"Come on...! Come on!" He yelled whilst getting a better stance, "I won't...! Abandon you here, Lieutenant...!" The kid's will shook other soldiers that had served under (M/n)'s command or had the pleasure to meet the man, and they ran to help him.

They carried (M/n) on their way to the helicopter, meeting with the medic unit as they brought out a stretcher so they could carry him easier into the chopper and back to safety. But they couldn't help but think about what would actually happen to him when others see the appendages that grew on his back...

He would be safe, but he won't be treated like a human anymore. Only like a test subject. Like they've seen had happened to other infected soldiers.

The whole team got back onboard, and the medics hurried to stabilize (M/n) enough for him to receive a more adequate treatment.

Their captain turns on his radio to inform them of the situation, they had explored the remains of the island, made sure evidence was destroyed, and how they had found Lieutenant Colonel... Alive. But barely, explaining how (M/n) was in critical condition, holding a thin thread as he fought to stay alive, but left out the changes that occurred to his body. He didn't want to deal with that for now.

//////

Rushing through the halls of their base, they took (M/n) to the hospital room they had, equipped with anything (M/n) could need to make sure he stays alive.

While the doctors rushed around to get everything they needed when a man in a suit walked in. He looked at (M/n)'s body laying on the hospital bed, the claws coming out from within him catching his attention.

"Take him to the laboratory for testing once you make sure he's alive," he said, his voice not wavering even for a moment and the doctors looked at each other before nodding at the orders they received.

Everyone watched as he left, in complete silence they observed him walk out, but they still had stuff to do and a life to save.

A few of them had discussed the removal of the claws on his back, but before that, they had to do a full body scan of him to be able to see if the surgical removal was possible. And it didn't seem like they could.

All four of them were working as an extension of his spinal cord, and the parasite was still moving inside him, very slightly, twitching around and curling on itself, it appeared... To be dying.

For now, they just made sure (M/n) survived, only to later be used as a test subject.

It didn't sit right with either of them, but they had orders.

//////

When (M/n) finally woke up, he was surrounded by machines, locked in a completely white room that didn't have anything other than a metal door and a one-way mirror. He wasn't stupid, he knew where he was or had an idea of the facility he was being kept in.

He had never liked being on the other side of the mirror, observing an infected patient, a friend, or even a family member, and now he was the subject.

That was something he always feared, but it didn't make him as scared as the thought of losing Leon... Speaking of...

Where could he be?

The people in the monitoring room got a reading of (M/n)'s heart picking up, signaling he was awake, and soon, one of them rushed to his room, followed by armed guards, clipboard in their hands, ready to write anything that (M/n) could tell them or they could notice about him.

But it was useless.

Despite the physical changes he had gone through and being awake, he never responded, still as a rock, completely unresponsive to anything external from his own mind. He was lost. Whether it was temporary or permanent, they didn't know, the only they could do was wait for a signal of human behavior.

And just like that, years flew by, but it's not like (M/n) knew how long it's been since he woke up. He never responded to any questions or external stimulation used to get a reaction, he never moved aside from the automatic body movement like breathing and blinking. (M/n) didn't even sleep either, the first week they had monitored when he woke after six months he had spent the whole week awake, so it resulted in them giving him sleeping medicine through his IV.

He somehow ate, but no one was sure why or how, but one of the appendages had a mouth far behind the claw, and they weren't sure if it was moving on its own controlled by la plaga, or if (M/n) was doing that.

But the truth is, (M/n) didn't know either, he had moments where he was somehow conscious and then he was gone for long periods of time. Many had wondered why this happened, and someone had decided on checking the state of the parasite.

It was dead. Everyone knew that, but (M/n) should be somehow aware of his surroundings, nothing they had tried worked to "wake him up".

They discovered that, not only had the parasite died inside him, but while they had been waiting for it to shrink or shrivel up, it had expanded, and it managed to fuse itself with (M/n)'s spine and skull, as if it was still trying to control (M/n) during its last moment, and even after it died it refused to let go of its host. Removing it was impossible before and it was even worse now.

Many had given up on helping him, but someone was interested in his case and wanted to help an old friend back to life.

While scientists and doctors tried their best, (M/n) has short periods of lucidity he just sees flashes here and there, people going in an out of the room, talking and yelling, the feeling of foreign substances being injected into his blood, but he's not entirely sure what's happening, and when he starts to panic at not being able to understand what's occurring to him, his mind takes him to Leon and he's calm again. He's sure he has never thought of him more than he has done for as long as he stayed there.

He just wants to see him, or at least know that he's okay. That he's still alive.

Even if there was nothing he could do in this room where he was monitored 24/7 with specialized equipment to treat and investigate his case. One of the rarest cases of infection.

And of course, one of his close friends had found out about his current situation.

Rebecca had stumbled into this laboratory room he was kept in after six years of his "death" and for years she has tried doing everything she could, and even if a cure wouldn't fix the damage to his nerve system it could someone give him his consciousness and motor control back.

Of course, her superiors had other motives and those were getting more information about las plagas, despite what Leon had told them and what Tricell had done to it. But when ten years had passed since the day (M/n) was found, the hope she had vanished. And she couldn't keep the secret from Leon either.

Every time Rebecca sees (M/n)'s state, she remembers all the times Leon had talked about him, always with a sad look in his eyes, and yet, they were full of love for him.

She had done everything everyone had already tried a handful of times, holding more determination than others to help him, because it would only hurt Leon more to see him like that, but after being a test subject to many scientists and doctors for a decade, if a treatment or a cure hadn't been found by now, the chances of finding one later were even lesser than she previously thought.

So deciding this was something Leon had to know after years of keeping it a secret, Rebecca stood outside of the facility, waiting patiently for the roaring of Leon's bike, and after twenty minutes of anxious waiting, there it was. Leon arrived in his red Ducati and got off, showing a small smile toward the brunette who tried to smile back but couldn't, and Leon realized.

With a frown on his brow, he walked up to her and placed his hand on her shoulder.

"Is everything alright?" She took a deep breath and looked up, staring into Leon's blue eyes, full of concern for her.

"You remember why I called you here, right?" Feeling more confused, Leon nodded, watching her sigh and turn around, "Follow me."

Well, Leon was certainly weirded out by this, she wanted to show him something... What could be so important to cause this behavior in her? Although he'll rather not come to conclusions on his own.

Walking around a laboratory facility always had him on edge, especially when he was aware of the things that were in it, but being with Rebecca made him feel more at ease about the place he was currently walking into. He followed Rebecca down many halls and down the elevator, where he tried to come up with something to say, but the tension made him unable to, so he kept quiet, taking steps behind her as she approached a door labeled "R.Chambers" so clearly it was her office.

All the equipment he saw there made him question what it was for, but some X-rays on the board caught his attention. Front and side view of someone's torso, specifically their spine. A weird fusion of a parasite on the spine and skull of the patient, and placed on a nearby table was a picture that showed the person's back, the claw appendages they had brought grotesque memories of Spain, of Saddler, of Ashley, of Luis and... Of (M/n).

"Is this what you wanted to show me?" He turned toward Rebecca, who glanced over her shoulder as she input the code on the automatic secured door.

"Not exactly..." The door opened, but there wasn't a light on that could make anything visible inside it, and from where he was, Leon could only see the heart monitor attached to whoever was in that room, "The day you and Ashley escaped the island, a rescue and research team arrived at what was left of it, to... Make sure there was no lingering evidence of la plaga," Leon remained quiet, but his frown got deeper, the gears in his brain moving frantically as he processed every word Rebecca was saying, "Everyone had their orders-"

"What are you trying to say, Becca?" He said in a rather harsh voice, and she reached her hand to the panel, where she could control the lights in the room.

"The rescue team found a survivor among the remains of the island," she pushed the green button at the bottom of the panel, and the lights started turning on one by one, as if making fun of him, "They found (M/n) alive."

That was all he needed to hear to run toward the opened door, stopping in place when he witness what had become of (M/n). He was connected to all sorts of machines, his heartbeat slow and steady, his body completely immovable. He didn't look alive at all. But the claws coming from his back that were slowly moving against the restraints around them told him that he actually was alive.

"After all these years..." Rebecca placed her hand on Leon's shoulder, like he had done before entering the facility, and her eyes glanced from (M/n) to Leon over and over again.

"He has remained unresponsive for the past ten years, and I took his case fours years ago, trying to find a way to bring him back to normal but... Nothing worked," Leon decided to not comment on the fact that she knew (M/n) was alive for so long, but he couldn't blame her for not telling him, only recently they had gone back to being in contact, "I've been informed that... He will be disconnected from the life support that keeps him alive for now, so I-... I had to let you see him one more time."

Rebecca felt a knot in her throat as she watched the tears falling down Leon's face, and she blinked her own tears away.

"I will leave you with him for a while..."

Rebecca walked out and the door closed behind her, she sat down on her desk and watched for a moment as Leon slowly approached (M/n), before looking away and she tried to distract herself.

Leon stood next to (M/n)'s bed, unsure of what he should do, but there was only one thing he wanted to do at that moment. Hug him. He wanted to hug him and cry in his arms, like the old times when he was still a rookie in the academy, where he met (M/n) and fell in love with him.

"(M/n)..." He whispered and leaned down to wrap his arms around him, and his ears picked up the sound of his heart monitor going crazy, the claws on his back wriggling erratically. Both Leon and Rebecca worried for a moment, but Rebecca saw something that had never happened before.

(M/n) moved his head back, blinking a few times and looking around the room he was in, before he felt the familiar feeling of Leon's warmth, leaning against him and sighing in contentment.

"Hey, Leon..." This was the first time he had spoken since he was practically brought back to life, and Rebecca almost couldn't believe it. She tried to think of a logical explanation, there had to be a reason as to why now, so suddenly, he was able to act as if a decade hasn't gone by to him.

But maybe... He just needed some sort of closure, knowing that Leon was okay. The loud and rapid beeping of his heart monitor reminded her of all those days when (M/n)'s heart rate would suddenly go crazy, and yet he wasn't reacting at all, it was almost fairytale-like to think that all he needed was Leon.

But not to (M/n), who was only able to think about him and miss him, everything had been like a dream to him, as if he was in a constant loop, trapped in his mind, as if... La plaga had done this to him.

But he couldn't think of that right now, not when he felt Leon's hot tears wetting his neck and shoulder, his body trembling as his sobs echoed in the room. (M/n)'s arms slowly lift up, wrapping around Leon's waist, stroking his back to reassure him that he was there.

That he was still alive.

++++

Tag list; @jnyuan, @soulsnipr, @sw1tch3roo, @iwanttittes, @bigdickbruce, @burningglitterphantom, @doomdragon999, let me know if you didn't wanna be tagged and I'll remove it!

[m-ayo-o]

1 stranger

meeting Toji // female reader wc 3400 chapters m.list -> next

wrote this last winter, it was chilly. i was sick.

nb: I placed Toji in his 40s. feel free to imagine whatever age you're comfortable with

You’re feeling totally wiped out, it’s the end of another long year and you really need a break. You have a few more jobs to do before you can start your holiday, but you’re so exhausted you’re not sure if you can get through them. Your morning has been spent recovering from another late night at work, now traipsing around the shops attempting to find some flu medicine.

Your eyes are blurry as you’re walking around, feeling so weak. Your legs tremble and the edges of your vision starts to cloud over and turn black. Clinging onto the nearest shelf your knees buckle and you fall. Black swathes cover your eyes like curtains, reality fades away as you feel yourself collapsing.

This may be more than a simple flu.

⋆⁺ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆★

The next sensation you feel is stinging pain in your head. You slowly open your eyes and blink, taking in the light as your pupils contract.

“Ugh…” you mutter, your head is killing. You’re obviously in a hospital bed, but next to you is an unfamiliar person.

He looks up seeing you’re awake.

“You fainted,” he states flatly, looking at your dazed expression.

Well, that much seems fairly obvious. You turn to face him slowly. “And you are?” You ask cautiously, your voice cracking as you’ve just woken up.

“Your hero,” he extends a hand to shake yours as you sit up.

“I just found you passed out in the shop back there…” he continues, “I took you to the hospital. I’m Toji.” His big hand squeezes you tight. As your gaze trails up his arm to his face you’re greeted by striking green eyes, dark spiky hair and a slight smile with a red scar on the edge of his lips.

“Oh,” you’re a bit lost for words as you look up at him, “well, um, thank you...” you manage, looking down from his intense gaze.

“Don’t mention it,” he replies, releasing your hand, standing up, “well, I should get going now you’re up. I’ll tell the doctors to check on you.”

He turns towards the door, ready to leave. “Wait!” You squeak before he exits. He turns to face you again, locking eyes with yours.

“Please can I pay you back? If it weren’t for you I’d be in trouble… there are all sorts of creeps out there,” your voice is shaky as you ask him.

“How do you know I’m not one?” He questions with a teasing laugh.

“Because you brought me here! You didn’t have to do that,” you look down again, mumbling a little, “and now I owe you. So please, let me have your last name, or your number?” You ask, hoping that you can at least find him again to repay his kindness.

“It’s no big deal. I’m sure plenty of people would do the same thing,” he lies through his teeth, “but I’ll give you my number in case you need my services again,” he smirks as you pass him your phone. You text him your number and thank him again, managing a weak smile as he leaves you to the doctors.

You can’t believe somebody actually picked you up and took you to the hospital, let alone someone like him. He looked so intimidating and serious, but when he spoke his voice was soothing and alluring. You knew you really wanted to see him again.

⋆⁺ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆★

You’re discharged from the hospital fairly quickly and you rest up for a few days in your apartment. You forget about your work and just try to relax, feeling better in time for the weekend, which is the start of your time off anyway. Now you’ve pretty much recovered, you really want to contact the mysterious man who looked after you so kindly.

You decide to call him, choosing the most direct route and hoping to hear his voice again.

“Hello, it’s y/n, from the hospital,” you explain as Toji answers.

“Oh hey, girl who passed out in the shop,” you hear his teasing tone through the phone.

“Yes,” you sigh, feeling embarrassed, “just... please tell me what I can do to repay you,” you know your voice sounds whiny over the phone, making you cringe.

“Hmm,” Toji thinks about what he can get away with, “how about you cook for me, at your place?” He asks bluntly.

You pause for a few moments as you’re a little taken aback. “Um- uh, ok. If that’s what you want?” You ask tentatively, thinking about his possible motives for coming over. He can hear your embarrassment over the phone.

“Look, I just want dinner. I don’t like crowded restaurants, that’s all,” he explains. “Oh, yes! Ok!” you feel your cheeks going red, feeling dumb for assuming he wanted something else, “yes, I, I’m not an amazing cook but I can try my best,” you stutter out. He agrees and you wrap up your call. You text him your address and decide what to cook.

⋆⁺ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆★

Toji said he'd arrive at 7pm after work, so you've got everything ready, allowing enough time to get changed into something a bit more presentable than a baggy jumper and fluffy socks.

You slip into a dress, applying a little mascara and lip gloss, tidying up your hair. You study your reflection, thinking you look pretty good, but this is the kind of outfit you’d usually wear for a date. The dress hugs your figure nicely and frills out at the bottom. You sigh and think, too much? But it’s too late, as you hear a knock at the door.

Toji looms over you, seemingly filling the entire doorway with his large figure. Your gaze travels up his body, over his well fitting shirt, his arms and torso.

The size difference between you is ridiculous as you feel like a child standing in front of him. You try to stop gawking as you smile up at your guest and greet him.

He looks down, unashamedly checking you out in your cute dress.

“You look…” his eyes linger over your waist, “much better now.”

The corner of his lip twitches into a little smirk as his eyes snap up to your pretty face again.

“I, I feel much better, thank you, please come in,” you manage, turning to hide your blush.

You enjoy your meal together and chat about work and whereabouts he lives in the neighbourhood. He seems pretty reserved but Toji explains that he’s a bodyguard for some political official during the day, sometimes picking up freelance work if it pays well.

Now you’re sitting up close to him, after hearing about his life, you realise Toji's probably a fair bit older than you. You think he might be around 38.

You both settle in the living room section of your open plan apartment, pulling up a coffee table to your big sofa. Toji reclines and relaxes as you get some dessert for yourself– he’s finally full after eating what would’ve been a week’s worth of food for you.

You find some dessert then turn back to sit on the sofa, seeing him standing up and stretching, his shirt lifting as he reaches his arms up above his head. Your eyes hover over his figure for a second, quickly returning your attention to your ice cream.

“I should probably get out of your way, it’s kinda late,” Toji sighs as he finishes stretching. You didn’t realise it's already 10:30, but it's Friday, and Toji seems really nice.

“Would you like to stay… for a drink?” you ask tentatively.

“You want me to stay?” His eyebrow arches as you push the ice cream around your bowl.

You nod, “if you want to…”

“I’ll stay, but not for a drink,” you get comfy on the sofa together and enjoy your ice cream.

“So, you know a little about me now, is there anything you’re curious about?” Toji asks, turning to you. You take another mouthful of your strawberry ice cream and look up at your handsome guest. Your eyes travel over his muscular arms, up his neck, over the scar on his lip, settling on his emerald eyes. 

“How old are you?” You finally ask.

“How old do you think I am?”

You hesitate for a second. You actually think he’s 38, so you decide to go a little lower in order to avoid any offence.

“36?” You ask.

“Honestly?” He knows you’re lying.

“38.” You state more confidently.

“45.” Toji replies with a toothy smile. Your eyebrows fly up as you let out a laugh that quickly dies down when you realise he isn't kidding.

“45?” You can only repeat, searching your mind for something smart to say, only to end up looking pretty dumbfounded.

“And how old are you?” He asks in return, curiosity getting the better of him. You repeat your little game, Toji near enough guessing your true age.

“Um, so is there anything you’d like to know about me?” You ask back.

“Hmm…” he tilts his head, “how many people have you slept with?”

You almost choke on your ice cream. You end up swallowing it as you laugh at his question. “You really want to know that?” You finally ask.

He nods, “mm, please do tell. I’m curious.”

“Why don’t you guess that, too? See how close you can get,” you suggest, wanting to know what he thinks.

Toji tries to dodge around the question for a while, not wanting to answer. Although he seems fairly blunt and straight talking, he doesn't come across as rude. So you give him a little clue, helping him guess just a few shy of the actual number.

“And you?” You return his inquisitive question.

“What do you think?” Of course, let’s guess again.

“Well, you’re older than me…” you trail off, gazing over his handsome features, “and much more attractive…” you sigh, thinking aloud.

“Excuse me?” He asks with a smile, wanting you to repeat yourself.

“You, you’re better looking than me. That’s just a fact,” you say again as you look up at him, trying not to get embarrassed.

“You think I'm attractive?” He asks with a grin, making you lose your cool and look down. Toji leans over, tilting your chin up with a finger and thumb. You just nod your head, your eyes avoiding his intense gaze.

“Maybe I haven't lost my touch...” he mutters, releasing your chin, “but you’re much more attractive than an old geezer like me,” he shrugs, complimenting you so casually.

Your eyes dare to meet his as you continue, “Ok, so you’re attractive, and a smooth talker,” you count on your fingers, “oh, and you’re some kind of hero,” your list gets longer.

“So…?” He asks as you attempt some quick calculations in your head.

“Um… I really don’t know!” You whine. You hazard a few guesses that all seem way off the mark as he just laughs and rolls his eyes.

“Not even close, doll,” he pauses, hesitation crossing his features, “to be honest, I don’t have an exact number, probably triple figures. But I'm not sure…” his voice dips lower as his eyes lose contact with yours.

“wow” you can't help but let out a little whisper.

“I know. When I was younger... I made a habit of sleeping with someone new whenever I could,” he sighs.

“Mm, were you trying to get over someone?” You ask quietly. He just nods and looks up at you with a rueful smile.

“Yeah, exactly that. But, it didn’t really work, so I stopped… and just got on with my life,” he sighs more contentedly now.

“Sorry, I didn't mean to pry,” you apologise as he shakes his head.

“I brought it up, right?” he shrugs.

You finish your interesting conversation and ice cream, starting to tidy up a little.

“I really should get going, I have to work so early in the morning,” you hear Toji groan as you're washing up.

“Oh shit! I’m so sorry!” You didn't realise he was busy tomorrow. “No problem, how about we continue this another time?” He asks.

You agree, feeling a little disappointed as Toji leaves your apartment, but you understand he’s busy and his job must be tiring. He says goodnight and you thank him again for his help the other week as he waves and walks down the hallway.

⋆⁺ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆★

As the weeks progress, Toji and you seem to be getting closer, meeting up for drinks, he asks you for coffee the following weekend, then you invite him for dinner again the next Friday. You learn that Toji has a 25 year old son, which boggles your mind a little, who lives on the outskirts of the city.

He sees him fairly often but he explains they’re not that close. You’re very curious about the son he talks about as he’s around the same age as you. You presume the woman he mentioned before is his mother, and you don’t want to seem too nosy.

Along with his family background, you start to see different sides of Toji– how he is with strangers is downright off-putting, coming across arrogant and intimidating.

But behind his brazen and nonchalant exterior, you discover that he can be polite when he wants, seemingly pushing his ego down to show respect for others.

He doesn't seem to acknowledge it, but you swear you've never met anyone so hardworking. His profession in security takes a certain level of commitment, but Toji seems like he's on the clock 24/7, being vigilant and assertive everywhere you go.

You learn that he can be snappy and standoffish at times, mainly with strangers or whoever's unfortunate enough to be on the other end of the phone when his patience has worn thin.

But, no matter what mood he's in, you're never on the receiving end of any ill tempered outbursts. He seems so calm when he's talking with you, his body relaxing with your slight touch, his eyes softening as they linger over your pretty features.

You really innocently hope you’re the only girl he’s seeing right now. From his track record, you’d assumed otherwise. But, from his explanation you really hope that that phase is in the past for him. You carry on hoping, anyway.

⋆⁺ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆★

After spending another evening at your apartment, Toji has to leave once again. This time when he gets to the door he hesitates, turning to look down into your eyes. He reaches a large hand out to you as you stand close to him near the door. His hand seems to cover your entire shoulder as he pulls you into him gently. Toji wants a hug? You think to yourself.

You excitedly wrap your arms around his waist and squeeze him tight, but you feel him pushing you away again. Oh, damn it, you think. He didn’t want that?? 

“C’mere, doll,” he murmurs as he snakes his hands down to your waist. He lifts you and hoists you up with his hips, making you wrap your legs around him for support. Your hands reach up around his shoulders that you can now reach and Toji wraps his arms around you, squeezing tightly.

“Mm, that’s better,” he mumbles into your neck, your head right next to his.

“‘m too short,” you murmur back, feeling sorry that you couldn’t reach around his shoulders properly without help. Well, you don’t feel too sorry now you’re in this position.

“Mm, no,” he turns his head to you, “you’re the perfect size f’ me,” his lips lift into a little smirk, your noses touching.

“Toji…”

“Mm?” his voice sounds much deeper now you're up close.

He kisses you passionately and gently slips his tongue into your mouth. You eagerly kiss him back and slide your tongues together as he holds you in his arms. You pull away and he sucks your lip, not wanting to stop.

“Can I kiss you?”

He just smiles and leans in, closing the gap between your lips.

“I thought you’d never ask, doll,” he sighs and kisses you again, then sets you back on your feet, “I really do have to go, though…”

You have a slightly pouty expression as you look up at him, his black hair hanging down over his face as he leans over.

“How about you come to my place next week?” he asks.

Huh, you realise you haven’t been to Toji’s yet. “Oh, ok. Sure.”

He leans right down and kisses you again, saying goodnight. He knows he’s left you eager for more as he walks down the hallway, waving goodbye.

keep reading: sweet

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likes, comments + reblogs appreciated! ♡

[phoenixfangirl]

I wish there was a WTTT discord 😭

but anyway Here is a Short Texas/Cali Hypnosis show Aftermath fic.

Texas jolted as he came back to reality. He looked around at his fellow states he came with and just saw some of their mouths a gape while Florida was snickering and messing with his phone. He suddenly didn't feel as confident as he did when he first volunteered for this nonsense, as he called.

"Sir, you can go sit with your friends again." The hypnotist smirked snapping Texas out of his musings.

Texas just nodded and slowly stood to his feet before walking off the stage. Walking down he went to sit next to Tennessee, But he just kept laughing which caused him to keep falling into both seats. He rolled his eyes and took a seat next to Kentucky who was trying not to make eye contact.

He turned to him and asked. "What in sam's hell could i have said to cause this level of chaos?"

Kentucky finally looked at him and winced. "... well he made you act like a cowboy."

Texas snorted before he interrupted. "Thats it, you'd think with how y'all are acting I started stripping."

Kentucky shook his head. " That wasn't all, he then had you announce your biggest secret. Which almost gave Virginia a heart attack cause he thought you were about to announce you were Texas to all the humans....But imagine out surprise when you basically gave the biggest most cheesiest love confession about how much you love your Poppy."

Texas kept turning paler and paler as Kentucky went on. He put his head in his hands and groaned.

"Why the hell did I let Y'all convince me to do this? at least I didn't say his actual name."

Kentucky just laughed. "Who is poppy anyway? Florida apparently knows because he started laughing right away. Most of us were just shocked you could be so .. open about your love for a man."

"None of your business, also y'all are ones to judge considering your screwing Nevada and Utah on the daily, Virginia is married to Mass and dating Pen, and Tennessee is sleeping with Missouri." Texas said in a huff before turning his head away.

Kentucky shook his head and grabbed Texas's shoulder and turned him back.

"You sure as hell know thats not what I meant.. You've just never been very open about your preferences, honestly it's like you've been living like a monk for the last 100 years." Kentucky explained with a eyebrow raised

Texas was about to respond before Florida bounced over smirking.

"So, is your love for "Poppy" really stronger than your stance on gun control?" Florida said in a mocking tone.

Texas groaned even louder before he glared. "Florida, Imma take one of my pistols and shove it up your *** if you don't knock it off. I'm really not in the mood."

Florida pouted. "Oh come on it was a serious question... Poppy wanted to know if you were serious? "

Texas sat straight up at that comment.

"And tell me, How in the **** would Poppy know about was i supposedly said Florida." Texas said glaring dangerously at Florida.

Unphased Florida smirked. "Because I face timed him the entire time you were up there... I didn't know that shade of red existed until he turned it during your little confession."

Texas immediately stood up panicked. Kentucky was trying to get him to sit and relax to no avail. He just glared at Florida before giving a gruff goodbye to the group. He teleported to back to the ranch house near Austin that most didn't know about.

Texas walked up to his porch. He collapsed down on his swinging bench. The tears started to flow before he covered his eyes willing them to stop.

"This is so ******* stupid, imma idiot" Texas said to himself frustrated. 

"I mean sometimes you are, but this time it wasn't really your fault Bonnie." California said as he popped in and took a seat next to Texas handing him a old looking handkerchief

Texas snorted before taking it and wiping his face. He then let his head fall back against the back of the swing.

"I shoulda known you wouldn't let this go, how'd you figure I'd be at the Austin ranch Poppy? " Texas said with a sad wistful smile. 

"You'd be right about me not just letting this go, but to answer your question.. this house has the best view of the stars. Any time you're upset you always just go outside and just look at them for comfort. I know you." California said while looking up at the stars then back at Texas's face with a knowing smile.

"I don't really know what to say to that Cal, or this who situation in general." Texas said unnaturally quiet.

"Then don't said anything Tex, you already gave one of the most beautiful  confessions I've ever heard. Listen everything the last 150 years has been crazy, but I've never loved anyone like i loved you and I'm tired pretending like I don't. So if you game for it why don't we just sit here for a bit, then go inside and sleep on it. Then we can wake up and you can tease me for just drinking coffee, and I can pretend to argue like I'm not just gonna steal the extra bacon you grabbed on purpose off your plate. does that sound good Bonnie? " California pleads as he takes hold of Texas's hands. Texas and Californias eyes were both equally teary-eyed now. 

Texas looks over at California hopefully. "I reckon that sounds like a good plan Poppy"

They both smile and just look out at the stars.

outtake next morning.

Texas: ( chasing Cal around for his phone) come on Cal gimmie your phone, I wanna delete it

Cal: Neverrr imma replay it at our wedding... its sweet Hun

Texas: ( Grabbing him into his arms) Not that darlin ..the part where I'm riding the chair like a horse it's embarrassing.

Cal: Mmm I'll delete it if .....you wanna ride something a bit more fun instead ( Cal winks as he breaks free and runs up the stairs)

Texas: ( left a frozen blushing mess) Oi get back here darn it I wanna make sure you deleted it, you can't say **** like that and run away you tease.