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#please come home someday sob sob
writemekpop · 13 days
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Cold Feet | Mark Lee
Summary: With just one week to go, you call off the wedding. You’ve just realised that you know nothing about your fiancé.
Genre: Angst, established relationship AU
Word count: >1k
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KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK
You stood outside Mark’s door, shivering. Icy rain was slamming down, drenching you, but you didn’t care. You just needed to see your boyfriend.
“Come on, open up!” you cried, banging on the door again.
The door swung open. Mark was standing there, in nothing but his grey pyjama bottoms, rubbing his eyes sleepily. His dark hair was splayed out in all directions.
“Y/n, whatchu doin’ out here? It’s three in the morning.” Mark said. He stood to the side, ushering you in. “Come inside, you’re soaked.”
You shook your head, ignoring his outstretched hand. “We’re getting married in a week!”
Mark smiled. “I know. Baby, wedding planning is all we’ve been doin’ for months.”
“No, you don’t get it. Mark, we’re supposed to be getting married, but… but… we can’t!”
Mark frowned. “Why not?”
“Because we don’t know anything about each other!” Tears slid down your cheeks, mixing with the rain.
“What are you talking about, Y/n? Of course we do,” he said softly.
“No we don’t. We’re making a huge mistake!”
“Please just come inside so we can talk about this properly.”
You followed Mark into his apartment. He handed you a towel and one of his spiderman T shirts.
“Put this on, you’re gonna catch a cold,” he said.
Your heart twinged at Mark’s kindness. You got changed out of your clothes and sat on Mark’s bed, wearing his T shirt that smelled just like him. You gulped.
Mark rubbed his neck. “Y/n, this is just pre-wedding jitters. Freaking out in the middle of the night ain’t helpin’ anyone. Can we just talk in the morning?”
“You’re not listening to me! Mark, we’ve been dating for a year, but we haven’t talked about anything important. I mean… where are we going to live once we get married? One of us is going to have to give up their apartment, but who?”
Mark stared at you in silence. You went on.
“We’ve never talked about whether we want kids, or if we’re gonna send them to private school or not. Whose family are we going to visit on the holidays? And what about money?”
Mark shook his head. “Y/n, I don’t care about all that stuff. All I know is that I love you, and that I wanna be with you for the rest of my life.”
Mark touched your arm gently, but you shook him off.
“All that stuff, Mark, is our entire life,” you spat. “Love isn’t enough.”
The temperature in the room fell to zero.
“Do you not love me?” Mark asked, voice small.
“I do, but Mark, what even is love? We don’t live together, we’ve never been on holiday together, heck, we’ve never even had sex!”
Mark gulped; eyes glued to the floor. “I thought you said you were okay with that…”
You sighed. “Mark, don’t you get it? We’re rushing into this lifelong commitment when we’ve barely thought it though. I should never have… said yes when you proposed.”
“Are you saying you don’t wanna marry me next week?”
You let out a shaky breath. “Not next week… but maybe someday?”
“I have never doubted us, Y/n.” Mark stood up, stuffed a pillow under his arm, and walked towards the door.
“Where are you going?”
“To sleep on the couch,” Mark said, rubbing his eyes.
“But this is your apartment…” you said.
Mark groaned. “Fine, you sleep on the couch! Actually, why don’t you go back to your own apartment!”
“Mark, I-“
“Why are you sabotaging our wedding like this, Y/n? You should have talked to me earlier, instead of waiting till the week before our wedding. You’re being so… selfish.”
“I’m sorry,” you said, tears beginning to fall again.
“Go home, Y/n. I can’t be with you right now.” Mark pushed you out of the bedroom and slammed the door shut. The lock clicked.
You looked around Mark’s living room. There were pictures of the two of you on every surface. You felt sick.
You sobbed the entire way home in the taxi. When you got inside your apartment, you flopped onto your bed, not even bothering to take off your shoes. You had just pushed a good man away. What had you done?
---
The next morning you were awoken by a thumping on the door. You jolted out of bed, head throbbing from crying so much.
Could it be…? You tried not to let yourself hope as you ran to the door and pulled it open.
Yes! It was Mark, looking adorable and tired with his circle glasses and stubble.
“Mark, what are you doing here?”
“I think we should move into your apartment,” Mark said.
You raised your brows. “What?”
“Yours is bigger, so it just makes sense,” Mark said. “And I do want kids, but no more than three. I’d wanna send them to private school if we can afford it. Let’s go to your folks for the holidays, and for money? We can figure it out together.”
You sighed. “Oh, Marky.”
Mark took your hand in his and pressed a kiss to your palm. “I’m sorry for gettin’ mad last night, Y/n. Everything you said was totally reasonable. We… need to talk about this kinda stuff before rushing into anything.”
You sighed.
Mark looked at you, brown eyes glassy. “We can postpone the wedding if that’s what you want. We don’t even have to get married. But, please, I need you in my life.”  
You pulled Mark into a tight hug, too overwhelmed to speak. You breathed in his familiar peach shampoo smell, and basked in the warmth of his body.
“How was I lucky enough to find you?” you whispered; face buried in his neck. “I must have done something amazing in a past life. Saved a bunch of orphans from a burning building or something.”
Mark snorted.
You were beaming as you pulled him into your apartment, shutting the door behind you.
“I want to kiss my man, but I don’t wanna give the neighbours a show,” you said, smirking.
Mark just smiled, and leaned in to kiss you. His lips were eager, and his hands roamed your hips. You could feel his tongue against yours, sending shivers down your spine. You pushed your hands into his hair and kissed him back, hard.
When you pulled away, you were both panting.
Mark leant his forehead against yours. His eyes were closed.
“There was one more thing I wanted to talk about… about what you said last night,” Mark whispered.
“What is it?”
“The fact that we’ve never… you know…” Mark bit his lip.
You pulled away to look your boyfriend in the eye. You cupped his cheek. “Baby, I’m fine with that. You said you wanted to wait till marriage, and… I respect that.”
Mark’s fingers were toying with the hem of your blouse. “Are you sure you’re going to be able to resist me for that long?” His pink lips were pushed out in a smirk.
You giggled, wrapping your hands around his broad shoulders. “It’s true, you are irresistible. It’s going to be torture.”
You dragged out the last word, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to Mark’s neck. He shuddered with pleasure.
“It’ll be worth the wait,” Mark said, his eyes slipping shut.
“Don’t I know it.” 
MASTERLIST
Let us know what you thought in the comments or on anon! 💋
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deviantly-inspired · 8 months
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Dreamling concept
I absolutely love the 600 year slow burn to friendship and then wildfire romance that's in dreamling fics (it's IMMENSELY satisfying) but also, please consider:
after they finally (finally) become friends after 600 years they just... take their time, with romance. They spend years getting to know each other, genuinely, as friends. They don't know eachother, not really, until Dream has held Hob while he sobs over a loved one dying AND when he's seen Hob in his PJs eating ice cream out the pint because his students have stressed him out to the point of needing either ice cream or violence and Hob likes to think he chooses violence less often these days. And Hob doesn't really know Dream until he's heard that awful laugh, some unholy mix between braying donkey and the sound of magma shifting beneath the earth's crust OR until he's watched Dream scowl at the tele because they got to the last episode of "Game of Thrones" and Dream isn't any happier then anyone else is about a lot of those decisions.
And they spend days and weeks and years of being in one another's pockets. Choosing to come together again and again for a pint or a season binge or a silent supporting friend when the weight of living is a little harder. They earn each other's trust, and because they're both a little dense and maybe a lot more walking-wounded, the moment that each of them realizes that the other trusts them is, well, it's something that makes life worth living, for both of them.
Hob realizes Dream trusts him first, something small, something like Hob going to guide Dream out of the way and Dream just goes without any sort of hesitation. Not mountains or meteors could move Dream if he didn't want to, but he just goes to where Hob guides him out of the way so Hob can take the carrots out of the oven. It's enough to humble a man, and Hob might have a little cry over it later, in private, but for now he grins and tells Dream he has to try the carrots with the lamb, he hasn't lived until he's done so.
And Dream is a little slower to realize, I think. Because Hob is pretty open and friendly, it's a bit harder for Dream who's not so good with interacting with people face-to-face, to tell that Hob doesn't really get close to very many people for all that plenty seem to like him. There's a few exceptions, but even they are kept at a distinct distance. And it's maybe something small, like a small party or gathering of some of Hob's friends and it's late and folks are tipsy and Hob just kinda... dozes off against Dream. And Dream doesn't think anything of it, Hob does this quite often but Hob's other friends are immediately very surprised: Hob doesn't sleep in front of others, they explain. A relic from the war/traumatic past/whatever Hob's used to tell them. No matter how late or how tired or even how drunk he is, Hob would rather drive/bus/walk home then sleep where others can see him. You must be pretty special, one of them says. He even fell asleep on you like that: I've never seen him look so relaxed.
And I think that there's something beautiful about the slow, inescapable draw of it. It's like two meteors from opposite ends of the galaxy that have been on a collision course for eons. They both have moments of realizing that they're falling in love. They know it's going to happen, and the tension is slow and sweet and lovely. And there's no need to rush, because there's trust there too. Sometimes they'll meet gazes and they'll know, both of them, in that moment that they're in love. That, someday, what's growing between them is going to be a bloom unlike anything the universe has ever seen before. And they'll smile together and continue watching bad tv dramas or swapping gossip or sharing their pints and maybe their shoulders brush and their touches linger a bit longer that night but it's okay. There's no need to rush. They have forever after all.
And I think also that Dream is just a dramatic romantic enough of a bastard to confess to Hob on June 7, 2089 and i think Hob is just enough of a dramatic romantic to tell Dream that he certainly took his time.
I'm not late, am I, Dream will ask.
Of course not, Hob will laugh, you're exactly on time. We've plenty of it.
And in the Dreaming there will be a quiet warm breeze and gentle sunshowers as in the deepest heart of the dreaming a flower never before seen blooms awake. And in the waking two friends close the gap between them and talk about how Sally next door really needs to stop over watering her flowers she's going to drown the poor things, really.
And then they'll have the absolute longest courtship and engagement of anyone in the universe. There will be entire religions that will rise and fall before they get married. Pantheons will come into existence and be utterly dumbfounded when they're invited to Dream of the Endless and Hob Gadling weddings because weren't they already married? They've been together since the beginning of it all.
It's be great.
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rin-fukuroi · 4 months
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𝐓𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧 [𝐉𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐘𝐮𝐚𝐧]
Please do not translate or publish my works without my permission.
The originals of my works can be read here
Fandom: Honkai: Star Rail
Pairings: Jing Yuan x fem!reader
Warnings: NSFW, oral sex, pussy drunk, fingering.
Note: English is not my native language, so I apologize if there are errors in the text qq
I think this man is rlly capable of sucking his beloved dry, can I say this? And I doubt that anyone will mind.
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Jing Yuan is truly insatiable when it comes to you. Your smell, your taste is his addiction, which he will never get rid of. His big palms will constantly rest on your sides, no matter what you do, while his face will brazenly stick into the curve of your neck, tickling your sensitive skin with disheveled hair. The General will greedily inhale your body odor, spreading a childish, satisfied smile on your shoulder, completely not caring that he might interfere with you.
No matter how you squirm and swear, his firm grip will never let you move, insistently pressing your back against his chest while his curious fingers slide along the curve of your hips. The soft fabric of his huge shirt, which he kindly allowed you to wear at home, will roll into an accordion on your belt while his fingers squeeze, massage and feel the soft flesh of your belly and plush sides.
And today is no exception. You really tried to convey to the stubborn General that if he continues to interfere with you, then cooking dinner will fall into his inept hands.
— Honey, what are you saying? You know I'm a complete zero at cooking.
He grins velvety into your neck, showering wet kisses on the soft skin, enjoying your irritated grunt while you desperately try not to hurt yourself by chopping vegetables.
And all this always precedes what is happening now.
Your hips are spread wide on either side of Jing Yuan's head, comfortably ensconced under you on your bed, smirking now into the soft flesh of your crotch, reveling in your displeasure as you irritably press your hips into his face.
— Honestly, Jing Yuan… Someday I'll strangle you in this way for your disobedience.
— It will be a glorious death, my dear.
His chest shudders with deep laughter, then slowly heaves as you feel his hot breath on your sensitive skin. A slippery, warm, skillful tongue slowly slides between your folds while strong fingers press firmly into your hips. You placed your hands comfortably on his head, running your fingers through the soft gray curls, squeezing and unclenching the shock of hair whenever his tongue teasingly touches the trembling clitoris. You hiss, writhing, sitting on his face as his tongue makes an excruciatingly languid and slow path from your shrinking entrance back to your clitoris, around which the sharp tip now circles, making you tremble and emit incoherent moans, sobs and curses under your breath.
If only you really realized how delightful the sounds coming from your lips are to Jing Yuan. His lips hungrily close around the soft flesh while his tongue wriggles and draws small circles around your sensitive lump.
Having had enough fun with the way you fidgeted impatiently on his face, one of his palms descends from your hips to allow his fingers to penetrate inside. Your nails scratch the skin of the General's head when he pretends to mumble with displeasure, sending pleasant vibrations through your body. The squelching sounds of your moisture and obscene smacking filled the silence in the bedroom as you unknowingly began to sway towards his delicious tongue and fingers, causing the poor but contented General to suffocate under the weight of your body.
He felt your walls clench so sweetly around his fingers, exulting at the thought that you were so close to your orgasm, although only recently, in the kitchen, you tried so sweetly to push him away. This game amuses the cunning General so much every time, encouraging him to do it over and over again, and although you pretended to be touchy every time, in fact, you never minded.
The salty-sweet taste of your arousal, in truth, more than satisfied Jing Yuan as an ideal substitute for even the most delicious dinner that you could cook if you weren't writhing, screaming, and cumming on his face right now.
— I could do this all day, darling, — the smug General purrs maliciously, leaving a soft, gentle kiss on the sensitive skin of the inside of your thigh. And if his strategic advantage was often flattering speeches, which were not always true, said only to distract the opponent's attention, now he was more than honest in his sugary compliments.
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ohbo-ohno · 4 months
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in reference to the last Serial Killer!Ghost Captive!Soap ask: first off, HOLY FUCKING CHRIST. Second: I’m already thinking about how a reader may factor in.
Maybe she’s there with her friends, partying it up in the woods by a bonfire, and everyone is too drunk to notice she wanders off after hearing some whimpering from the thicket. She stumbles on Soap, muzzled tight and filthy and frantic and cradling his twisted ankle, and knows something is seriously wrong.
Immediately she drops everything and starts trying to help. She asks him if he’s okay, what happened to him, don’t worry, she’ll get him out of that muzzle. She picks at it with her fingers and nearly gets it off before she hears and FEELS a gunshot whizz right past her head.
Ghost found them. And seeing this precious little thing trying to help his good boy, immediately putting herself in front of him to keep him safe if need be, makes him start to wonder if Johnny could use a friend. And he hoists his rifle again, misses on purpose to make her yelp, and watches her back into a tree while he checks on Johnny. His ankle is fine, just a bit sprained, he’ll be back on his feet in no time. But he’s whining and shaking his head, trying to plead with Ghost through the muzzle not to kill this kind stranger who almost cut him free. He doesn’t want to see her die!! And Ghost turns back to the Reader, trembling against the tree and trying to hide behind her arms, and he comes closer like the menacing brick shithouse he is and she nearly sobs and begs that she’ll do anything, god, just please don’t shoot her!!!!
Maybe Ghost goes and kills all her friends first, comes back to find her still curled up against that tree with Johnny next to her, and she screams when she sees him fucking drenched in blood. Or maybe he takes her home first, puts her and Johnny in a crate together and locks it to make sure they stay out of trouble, and then goes out for blood; maybe he comes back to them dragging the bodies of Reader’s friends and it’s all she can do to keep from passing out. Maybe she gets included in their little chase game later on…
~🦋
someday i'll write my actual serial killer au but it is NOT TODAY so let's indulge in some variances <3 (ask is referencing this post)
i don't usually puppify my reader inserts to the extent that i do soap but holy SHIT if this ask doesn't beg for a puppy reader
ghost hunting his hound down, finds his poor boy injured and what seems to be an equally feral girl standing above him, totally protective :/ even when soap tries to shover her away, she stays crouched in front of him, hardly even flinching at the gun in ghost's arms
and isn't that interesting? this little thing so eager to protect what's his? oh, ghost is hooked immediately. (what's better than one guard dog? two guard dogs!)
manages to finally scare her away from soap with a few well placed bullets, poor thing tries hard as she can not to go skittering away but instinct gets the best of her eventually. she's not quite brave enough to tackle ghost when he gets closer, but he sees her eying his gun. ghost is quick enough checking soap that she doesn't have a chance to try anything
he'd come with a leash for soap (always makes the man crawl back to the car after their little hunts, just to keep him in that puppy headspace so he doesn't start struggling) but doesn't have an extra. good news is, soap is so desperate to keep ghost from killing his new friend, he's perfectly willing to follow without the leash when ghost hooks his collar and leash on the new girl
she doesn't have a muzzle (ghost doesn't have an extra, and none of them would fit her anyway), so he ends up tugging this wriggling and shouting thing along while his pup stays right at his side, providing such a good example for their new pet. ghost is already planning his rewards
he tucks them both into johnny's crate after wrapping the pup's ankle. gives his new girl a bone to chew on (plugs her nose and stuffs the gag between her teeth, tightens it until she growls at him and then ruffles her hair, locks her hands into some paw gloves so she starts to understand what's happening) and covers the crate in a blanket. smiles when johnny looks up at him nervously and his girl tries to cover her fear with anger
takes about an hour to kill & get rid of all her little friends.
and oh how she howls when he comes back home without hosing himself down. she squirms and writhes, kicks johnny's ankle and goes still when he whimpers. ghost can't help but laugh when she taps her forehead to his, an apology. his pups already get along so well, he can't wait to see how she'll fare after a little training
it's about time he got soap a friend, anyways. pups are social creatures, and he knows johnny needs someone to play with when ghost's busy. the new pup showed up at just the right time <3
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meowlod · 5 months
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furina x fem!reader | comforting your girlfriend.
(angst + alot of comfort, fluff, hugs and kisses) god i think im going to cry again.
“Ma chérie, where are you?“ You yell out to Furina, whos nowhere to be seen in the pretty house she lives in recently. Looking around and trying your best to find your girlfriend, you see her hat on the ground, and a bunch of pieces of her hair next to it, making you even more concerned. You run outside at the dark night to search for her, because there is a chance she could be outside. No birds chipping, no human talking, no one is outside as you walk around. Until you stop to hear a couple of familiar quiet whimpers and sobs nearby, possibly Furina crying. You run to the place where you hear the sad noises, only to see Furina sitting on the grass alone, her hair short from cutting them, darker clothes, hugging her own knees as she doesn't notice you until from your concerned voice. “H-huh…?“ You run towards her to crouch down, sitting next to her and giving her a tight hug, making her sobs quiet down, but not stopping as she slowly wraps her own arms around your body, burying her messy face into your shoulder, continuing to sob. “F-furina..! Why are you— are you okay? please don't cry, you know i hate seeing you cry..just, please..its okay, everything is okay..“ You tell her, patting her head and caressing her hair, trying everything to calm her down. “I'm sorry..i'm sorry…i don't want you to see me like this..“ she mumbles into your shoulder, making your heart break while you're slowly starting to tear up yourself. “Shh..shh..tout va bien…it's okay..i'm here for you, i love you, and you should remember that.“ Your own tears falling down from your eyes, you hug Furina more tighter, rubbing her back gently back and forth to comfort her. “R-really..?“ “Really. And it's a promise. I will never leave you, even if i'm on the edge of dying.“ From the answer she got, her eyes widen, making her eyes water once again. “No! No, no..don't say you will die! You will live with me, forever..please…“ Hearing her voice break, you sigh and let out a small laugh, giving her a kiss on the cheek a couple times. “I'm sorry, so sorry, really. I won't die, i will live forever with you, live a happy life and it's a promise.“ “…Promise?“ she looks at you with those pretty puppy eyes of hers, making your heart melt from the cuteness. “Pinky promise. Now, do you wanna make some macarons with me? Hah..i remember when we both tried, but the kitchen was so messy..“ She wipes her tears away and smiles, scoffing playfully. “…Hmph, but it was your fault, you couldn't cook!” You laugh at her pretty face, giving her a kiss on the lips to show her more affection. “Oh, really? But i saw you accidentally dropping the bowl of the egg whites we were gonna use for the macarons, making the floor all mes—“ “TCH. Thats not true! Are you seriously saying all this only to make me feel ashamed?! Oh come on, please, just spare me some sympathy..“ She whines and playfully slaps your shoulder. ”Pff— pfft..fine. Then we should just stick to buying macarons, and go shopping together, even get your favourite desserts, okay? We will try again in 2 days.“ She smiles and kisses your lips before standing up, taking your hand and running through Fontaine, to her house. “Tomorrow, you're gonna buy me all the desserts and macarons, my love..oh, i've been thinking about so much…we should get married someday.” “Is my lovely Furina already thinking of a marriage? How cute.“ “Tsk..no- well, maybe- but- ugh, stop messing with me! …yes, yes! I want to marry you, okay?! I just love you alot, you take care of me, help me with my insecurities..i've never had such a sweet and pretty person such like you care for me. I trust you so much.“ “Flirty now, are we? Haha, i love you too, my sweet.“ “…Hehe. I love you too, ma chérie. Now, can we go home and cuddle together? Yawn…huh…i feel so tired.“ She clings onto your arm as you both walk home together, to cuddle with eachother and start a new day tomorrow.
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v-dkja · 9 days
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take a chance with me
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“Oh, why can't we for once, say what we want, say what we feel?” kamisato ayato x gn!reader. slight angst, arranged marriage, hurt/comfort, arguing, mentions of death, open ending.
Those vague memories flashed through your head; young Ayato who smiled at you. A smile that makes you willing to die for him. he flashed a sweet smile, while his hand gave you a flower he had just picked. You remember that moment well, reluctant to ever forget it.
You also remembered young Ayato's face when he found out that the two of you were engaged— and would be getting married someday in the future. You don't know whether it's a good thing or not. Actually, at that moment you felt happy, because you had kept your feelings for him, without thinking about Ayato's true feelings for you.
And here you are, waiting for Ayato— who has now become your husband, to come home. You haven't seen his beautiful face that looks like a painting by a famous and skilled painter, and you should be used to it. You wait for him with sadness, knowing that when he comes home, he won't hug you and say, "I'm home” like he used to do.
And here you were, looking at Ayato who had just arrived; his face showed clearly that he was exhausted, and needed rest. This can be seen from the start of the appearance of eye bags. You've always refrained from telling him all your thoughts all this time, but seeing him always come home like that, your heart couldn't bear it and decided to hold it for another day.
“Welcome home, Dear.” to which he only responded with a ‘hm’.
He then walked past you without saying anything. Leaving you alone, again.
Feelings of anger suddenly appeared suddenly. You didn't really want to feel that feeling right now, not with Ayato's current condition.
The mouth that had opened unconsciously now closed again, giving up the intention of saying a word. Maybe another day, you thought.
And here you were, lying on the bed facing Ayato's back. His breathing started to become regular, indicating that he was asleep. Doesn't he intend to sleep facing you and hold your hand just once?
Your eyes start to feel heavy, not because of sleepiness but because you are holding back the tears that want to come out. You don't want to look pathetic now.
Your hands want to hug him from behind and whisper ‘i miss you’ just once. But you don't want your ego to win this time.
Your tears just came out without your permission. That fragile body that was originally standing upright is now starting to shake from crying, your breathing is starting to become irregular and even your mouth is almost making a sound, but luckily you can hold it in.
Your hand moved of its own to wipe the tears that had come out, but a strong hand that was bigger than yours prevented you from wiping them. You vaguely see the figure of the man who has made you happy all this time, also suffering at the same time. Ah, it turns out he's still awake.
“Why’re you crying?” The audacity to ask like that after his attitude all this time.
“It’s nothing..”
“Don’t lie,” His voice was commanding. How much you hate that voice, but that voice was once your savior.
“I said— it’s nothing!” Your voice rises, your hands trying to free Ayato's grip.
“Then why’re you crying?!” Ayato's voice also rises. It was clear he was also angry.
You remain silent. Your voice wanted to come out to explain but it could only be replaced by sobs. “T- tell me..”
“Do you… actually l- love me? Do I have to die first so you can pay attention to me? Tell me.. Ayato.”
Ayato looked confused in response to your question. "What do you mean?”
“I'm sorry for feeling neglected all this time. I'm sorry... Please, forget about this.” And i thought love will always feel beautiful.
“I can't just forget this! My wife is crying,” Ayato shouted. “Look, i’m sorry for making you feel like that, okay?”
“I…” Ayato's voice trailed off. For some reason not a single word could come out of his mouth, as if he had been bewitched. “I love you. I always love you. Please forgive me. I don't know what happened to me that time. I’m sorry, love. I’m sorry.”
“Maybe because I was tired, I became like that. I never meant it like that. I just want you to know that you’re appreciated, okay?” Ayato's hand wiped away the tears that had fallen from your eyes.
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seokmthw · 10 months
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daisy | sung hanbin
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this is part of the zb1 flowers series!
⇢ meaning: daisies represent new beginnings and innocence
⇢ pairing: hanbin x reader
⇢ warnings: exes to lovers, angst, fluff
⇢ synopsis: after not having time for each other in your college years, you and your boyfriend break up. by some twist of fate, you meet again a few years later.
⇢ word count: 2.4k
⇢ note: hanbin is genuinely so perfect and so easy for me to write for. i hope you all enjoy this little addition to the flower series, up next should be matthew! i am loving writing this so far :) this was kind of inspired by for the first time by the script so if you wanna listen to that while you read you can!
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“i just don’t think this is working out, hanbin.”
those were the words he never wanted to hear from you, although he knew deep down that there was a strong sense of truth behind them. you both were going to college and invested in your own extracurricular activities, you had to go to classes and do homework and projects, and you also had to work in order to survive throughout your schooling. 
the harsh reality was, there was never really any time for just the two of you.
you were pacing the room back and forth, your eyes flitting to anything and everything that wasn’t hanbin, because you knew the moment your gaze met his, you would start crying. you didn’t want to have to do this, you wanted so badly for it to work out, but all of your attempts had proven this entire situation to be a lot more difficult than it originally seemed. 
you huffed out of frustration, finally deciding to sit down on the edge of the loveseat in hanbin’s living room. you found interest in the way a corner of the throw rug curled up, desperate to find the words to tell him that you didn’t want this to come to an end, but they never came. instead, your wants died in your throat and were replaced with the words you never dared speak until now, “i think we should break up.”
silence clung heavily to the air surrounding the two of you. hanbin knew it was coming, as did you, but it didn’t prepare you for the utter heartbreak either of you felt. you blinked, and a stray tear dripped down onto your cheek, much against your will, and alerted the boy next to you. 
in all honesty, he was trying to keep himself together too, but the moment he saw you crying he was able to easily forget about himself. within mere seconds he was on the floor in front of you, one of his warm palms made its home on top of your thigh, “hey, don’t cry, it’s okay.”
“that’s the thing, bin,” you sadly laughed, glossy eyes finally meeting with his, “it’s not.” 
he sighed, soon taking a seat next to you on the cushion of the loveseat, pulling you into his chest. almost immediately, you were a sobbing mess, and hanbin would be a liar if he said he wasn’t crying too, but it was mainly because he hated seeing you hurt so much. the two of you sat like that for a while, relishing in the last moments you would have as a couple, because you knew you would never get this back. 
it just wasn’t in the cards for you. 
the room had gone silent once again aside from an occasional sniffle erupting from the both of you. managing to get the strength to make eye contact with him, you couldn’t help but feel tears well up once again the moment his expression softened and the look of adoration in his eyes was reflecting back to you. 
parting your lips, your voice was barely above a whisper as you said, “i’m so sorry.”
“please don’t be,” hanbin was quick to respond, “you don’t ever have to be sorry for something like this. i know this is for the best. right person, wrong timing, right? maybe someday in the future, you and i can start over and see where it takes us, yeah? for now, we can just focus on college and trying to get through the next couple of years.”
you nodded, albeit reluctantly, and leaned up to press a sweet kiss to his lips, “i will always love you, hanbin.”
“and i will always love you, y/n, no matter what.”
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after breaking up with hanbin, it was rare you were ever able to actually talk or see each other. college got far too busy and overwhelming for the both of you, and the little time you’d had to see each other before was completely diminished the more time went on. 
your heartache was finally beginning to subside, and you even attempted dating a couple of times since hanbin, but none of them worked. you’d managed to end up with people who you just didn’t have chemistry with or who were complete assholes, there was really no in between when it came to that. 
with college graduation coming up, you knew you would see hanbin. he would be walking across the same stage as you, having his name called, and his face plastered on the big screens around the arena the ceremony was being held in. 
he looked good, there was no doubt about that. he always did. you couldn’t help the way you gawked at him, or how well his graduation gown fit him, or how his hair was perfectly parted to the side how you remembered liking it to be. part of you wondered if maybe he did it on purpose, knowing you would be there to see, but you knew he wouldn’t be petty like that because you ended on such good terms. 
you didn’t expect to get so teary eyed seeing him for the first time in a little over a year, but you were dabbing away tears moments before you walked to receive your diploma, managing to play it off as being proud of yourself and your accomplishments.
you knew it was better off this way, but god, did it hurt.
as you were walking back to your seat, you made eye contact with him, offering a small, shy smile to him as you did you so. he returned it, his eyes forming into the pretty crescent shapes you loved so much, and he gave you a nod of acknowledgement, hands coming up in front of him to give you a clap. 
but little did you know, the moment you were out of his sight, he burst into tears.
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“shit, shit, shit,” you hissed under your breath, one hand gripping your iced coffee and the other rummaging through your bag for your keys, but they were nowhere to be found.
this was the icing on your cake today; you’d missed your bus this morning, somehow managed to break the printer at work - which would be coming out of your paycheck, by the way - and had now lost the only way to get into your apartment after a long and stressful day.
you groaned in frustration, looking through your belongings once more before finally admitting defeat and deciding to walk back downstairs to the front desk in hopes of them having a spare so you could crawl into your bed and sleep for the rest of the night.
you messed around inside your bag as you walked, not paying any attention to the path in front of you, and inevitably ramming into someone, your coffee exploding in your hand and soaking your clothes and most likely your neighbors’.
“oh my god, i’m so sorry,” you exclaimed, eyes scanning the damage that had been done, feeling a pang of guilt wash over you at the sight of a giant wet patch on the stranger’s crisp, white t-shirt.
there was a chuckle from the other person, “that’s okay, y/n.”
your head snapped up at the use of your name, eyes nearly falling out of your head from how wide they had gotten at the sight in front of you. sung hanbin, your ex-boyfriend, and now the person you spilled a cold coffee all over. to say you were surprised to see him was an understatement - you had thought he was abroad somewhere to broaden his teaching practices.
“h-hanbin?” you managed to stutter out, looking around the hallway to see if anyone else was around and whether or not you were imagining this, “do you - do you live here?”
“i do, i suppose we’ve just never run into each other,” he flashed the same smile that still somehow made butterflies go crazy in your tummy.
you blinked slowly, somehow still unable to believe that this was happening to you, “how long has it been since we last talked? a couple of years maybe?”
he nodded, “i think so,” he quirked an eyebrow up in question, “if you don’t mind me asking, what were you in such a hurry for?”
you laughed, defeatedly looking back down at the mess you’d created in your haste to get downstairs, sheepishly replying, “i kind of lost my keys and was going to see if there was a spare available.”
hanbin chuckled, and you knew by the way he did so he was about to say something you didn’t want to hear, “i hate to be the bearer of bad news, but the front desk is closed for the weekend.”
“of course it is,” you remarked, “this is just how my day is going.”
hanbin appeared to be contemplating something, almost as if having a battle within his own brain, before finally stating, “if you need somewhere to stay, you can stay in my apartment for the weekend. you can have my bed and i can sleep out on the couch.”
if there was something you would never, ever forget about sung hanbin, it was his kindness. no matter what the situation was, he was always putting others before himself and offering a helping hand whenever anyone needed, and you were sickeningly reminded of how he’d always treated you so well when you were together despite not getting to spend much time together.
you were baffled, to say the least.
“i don’t wanna be a burden or anything, so i-” you began but he cut you off almost immediately.
“i knew you would say that, and i promise you that i wouldn’t have offered if i didn’t mean it.”
your gaze met with his, and the sincerity behind his eyes was hard to miss. you tried to suppress any past feelings for him that threatened to rise up as you nodded, merely following him to his front door and into his apartment, which was so wholeheartedly hanbin.
it smelled of his cologne and was neat, not a single thing out of place, just like it had been in his college apartment. you shyly walked in behind him to the living room, taking a seat on his plush couch the moment he motioned for you to do so.
“is there anything i can get for you? i want you to be as comfortable as possible while being here,” hanbin asked, taking a seat next to you, his eyes glittering in the dim lighting, taking shape of those pretty little crescents you remembered so vividly.
“i think i’m okay for now,” you answered honestly, “i just appreciate you letting me stay here, you honestly saved me a lot of trouble.”
a little while later, after a small debate between the two of you broke out about borrowing one of hanbin’s shirts since yours was soaked with coffee, a comfortable silence had fallen between the two of you; he was cooking up a meal in the kitchen and you’d found interest in a book he had sitting on his table.
you couldn’t help but steal a glance at him every once in a while, having memories of moments exactly like this from your college years flooding your brain. you shook your head, training your eyes back onto the words of the page you’d reread over and over because you just couldn’t focus.
“am i right in thinking you don't like onions?” he asked, eyes now gently trained on you as you registered his question in your mind.
how he remembered such a miniscule detail about you blew your mind, though you tried not to let that show, “yeah, they’re disgusting.”
hanbin chuckled at your response before he finished up making your dinner plates and sat down next to you on the couch, handing you the meal he had made for the two of you to eat. you thanked him quietly, digging into your meal with a content sigh. you couldn't help but take note of the way hanbin’s gaze stared into you.
you finally had the courage to meet your eyes with his, a shy smile forming on your lips as you chewed on your rice, “is everything okay?”
“can i say something, y/n?”
you nodded, nervous for what he might say to you. maybe he was just gonna tell you to find somewhere else to stay for the weekend, but you knew hanbin, and your thoughts couldn't have been further from the truth.
“i never got over you from college, you know,” his words were carefully articulated, making sure to get his point across, “and seeing you a few years later, i think i’ve fully come to the conclusion that i never will.”
you swore you were going to choke on the bite of your food you had just taken. you blinked a few times, finally managing to spew out a response to him, “really?”
he laughed lightly, “of course. when i said i would always love you, i meant it,” he paused to gauge your reaction, “you’re just as lovely as you were back then.”
“i think i could say the same about you,” you answered honestly, having now set your utensils down on your plate, fully engaged in the conversation, “i’ve been thinking it since i ran into you in the hallway.”
hanbin had mirrored your actions, though he had set his entire plate on the coffee table. he scooted closer to you, hand finding it's home on your cheek, and you instantly melted into his touch. his gentle demeanor was something you missed so dearly, and feeling some form of physical contact with him after so long was something you didn't think you needed.
he leaned forward, a small smile adorning his lips before he met them with yours, causing your stomach to do backflips. you inched slightly closer to him, resting your hands on his chest, and allowing him to fully kiss you the way he intended.
he pulled away, pressing his forehead against your own, and asked, “would you like to try us again? see where it goes? maybe do all of the things we never got to do together in college?”
“i would love that.”
“good,” he responded, kissing you once more, “because you’re stuck with me regardless."
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balanceingrace · 2 years
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Balance In Grace Masterlist
Posts with * are smut
Up, Up, and Away
For all chapters of Up, Up, and Away, please visit the multi-chapter masterlist below
Waves
For all chapters of Waves, please visit the multi-chapter masterlist here
Waves Universe One Shots
-Hills of St. Helena*
-What I Did On My Summer Vacation*
-Spooked
-Holidazed
Joe x Reader Originals
-Someday at Christmas
-Lovers and Friends
-Close Up
-Bases Loaded*
-Par For The Course*
-The Flow*
-Head Space*
-Ex-Factor*
-Good Behavior*
-Tomorrow
-Kiss and Cell*
-Surly Bird*
-Up In Smoke
-Froot Loops
-The Crawl*
-Over.
-Drop-Red Gorgeous*
-High and Bye*
-Marked Up*
-The Secret Garden*
-Interception Connection*
-Upset-Me-Not*
-Shrug Life*
-Alpine For You*
-Sorry Seems To Be The Hardest Word*
-Hotter Than July*
-Arm in Arm*
-Fight Night*
-Signing Day*
-Sweet, Then Sour*
-Short Stuff*
-Sunday with Joe*
-That Damn Hat*
-Back Home In Tiger Stadium*
-On The Road Again
-Hands On*
Prompts
-At your lover’s complaining, running a spot where they ache
-You're naive if you think he just wants to be your friend
-I just want to have a good time, I don't need your jealousy all night
-Hey, look at me. I’m yours and no one can change that
-Gentle wipe of your spilled tears
-Opening up about personal details
-On a whim, pulling your lover into an alley and pressing your lips firmly against theirs
-Hooking a thumb in your lover's belt loop/pocket
-You look good with my hands around your throat*
-I brought two sandwiches…by accident, of course
-Reaching for each other in your sleep
-Have I already told you how cute you look?
-When I said I wanted everyone to leave me alone, i didn’t mean you
-Undressing each other
-Smoothing your hand down your lover’s tie
-Tracing invisible shapes on your lover’s skin
-Unflinchingly settling your head into your lover's lap while they watch television/are reading a book/doing their favorite hobby
-You know you can kiss me
-You never have to fear that you are losing me
-I’ve been thinking about you all day 
-What would make you happiest right now?
-Be a doll and do a spin for me
-Baby I could do this all day*
-Not accepting that it's time to start the day, and pinning them onto the mattress with either your whole body, a leg, or more risqué touches*
-C'mere, I don't mind letting you sleep on me
-Very softly placing butterfly kisses on your lover's skin
-Shh, you don't want the others to hear, do you*
-After coming home from work/a long trip, finding your lover sobbing on the couch
-Softly resting a hand on your lover's shoulder
-You can pretend all you want, i can see the fucking mess you're making of yourself*
-What's the matter, love? you get nervous when i look at you like this?*
-Cry all you want… i'm starting to think you're enjoying this*
-Good girl—that's a good fucking girl*
-Aw, it hurts? too bad. you're gonna keep taking it until i’m satisfied*
Requested fics are linked here!
Here are some prompts for you guys to request from; had to pull these off due to the link limit (you can also send your own ideas in!)
© 2023 Balance in Grace 
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kairiscorner · 8 months
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my brother in christ, please, do a oneshot in which gabriel (miguel's brother) courts us after the wedding (from the last miguel oneshot) PLS!! !! !! ILL DO ANYTHING
hello <33 MMMMMM OK SURE WHY NOT >:D I HOPE YOU LIKE THIS AAAAAAAAA
(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)
i'll love again someday — gabriel o'hara x reader
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summary: he saw you standing there, in all your glory—in all your tear-stained and sobbing glory; trying to put on a brave face as you watched his big brother, who you loved for years, be taken away from you in the blink of an eye. he sympathizes with you, but at the same time... he rejoices at the fact he can now show you all the love you've deserved and will ever deserve. word count: 1,051
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he believed you were heavensent, soaking in all your beauty as you stood there next to him as another person of honor at his big brother's wedding; though he knew you were more than just some person to him. you were gorgeous, even as your eyes glistened with tears, tears filled with emotion that went undisclosed over the years. it's poetic, really, just seeing how filled to the brim you were with unfathomable sadness—you were statuesque, you were the image of his perfect somebody, that somebody he vowed to cherish forever before he even met them truly.
he remembers your face quite clearly, you were that one friend of his older brother who always came to their place over breaks and occasionally when your parents weren't around. gabriel was a little nosy, in complete honesty; he always snooped around when miguel would come home with a new face, especially if it was a pretty one. he remembers he was sketching that day, just being in his own little world without a care in the world. he doesn't remember what he was drawing, though, none of it was worth remembering—except for that one sketch he drew of somebody that taught his heart how to skip a beat for a second, that somebody who his gaze landed upon and changed the trajectory of his life forever; that person who he vowed to love before realizing he was even really in love.
and that somebody was you. his somebody was always you.
he could still recall how wide your smile was when miguel told you a crappy joke even he didn't understand, how bright your eyes shone when you stepped foot into their house, and how sweet your voice was when you greeted him after you caught him staring at you and miguel from behind a column in the living room. your lips looked so supple, and curved into a perfect smile—your hair was luscious and was probably so nice to touch, to run his hand through, and bury his face in; and your hands, oh your hands were his favorite part. your hands were so welcoming, warm, and kind.
he remembers feeling so hot in the face when you smiled up at him and asked him what his name was. he really forgot what his mother named him when you asked him, every word that was ever written in the lines of his mind that he usually hardly puts effort in to remember was all just erased; you made him into a blank slate when he caught your gaze. "...hermosa," that was the first word he ever uttered to you as he stared into your beautiful irises, his face flustered and his eyes wide. your face was all he could think of that day, so much so that when he was around you and miguel with his sketchbook, you filled all the blank spaces in the pages, not one bit of it was wasted with anything but drawings of you, trying to capture you in all your magificence.
he never forgot that day, especially with how embarrassing it was for him, and he still finds you so, so beautiful.
"hermosa!" he called out to you as the wedding had concluded, and the guests were pouring out of their seats to head to the reception. you tried to wipe away the tears that were now falling, ceaselessly, in fact. you hoped your mascara wouldn't streak down your eyes, and it did a little, but you couldn't conceal it right now. you turned around, and there, in front of you, was the once shy little boy whose mind went blank at the sight and sound of you and your voice.
you smiled and sniffled back your cries; gabri didn't deserve to see you sad, you thought, he was a good kid, and he... he deserved nothing but to see happy faces of his loved ones for as long as he lived. "hello, gabri." you greeted him as his smile widened. "you... wow, i honestly couldn't believe you got prettier with age. you look wonderful." he commented as he extended his hands out slowly towards you. you chuckled, it felt weirdly nice to hear you being complimented before you were going to burst into tears at the fact the man you loved would never know how you felt, and still feel, for him.
"and you... you got more handsome, gabri." you complimented him back, which sent sparks flying in his heart as he got more embarrassed and smiled widely. "hush, now, i'm nothing special..." he said as you shook your head and tried to tell him how handsome he had become, which just flustered him even more. "hah, keep complimenting me and i might just melt all over you." he said as you placed your hands in his. "i wouldn't mind that." you answered as gabri's eyes widened. "you... wouldn't?" he asked you with a chuckle. you shook your head as you smiled. "gee, well... if you want, i can keep you company all night. y'know, as much as i love mig, i really think this wedding is a drag. he hates this color arrangement, and so do i. wanna, um... head somewhere else before the picture taking at the reception?" he asked you with a heat creeping up in his cheeks.
and it was here, finally, that you felt something other than grieving over your lost love. you felt a spark of hope, a ray of sunshine in your gray, cloudy skies. you held his hand tighter, and as tears kept welling in your eyes in spite of your shining smile, you nodded. "i'd really, really love that, gabri." you said as gabri smiled and walked with you down the aisle as you held onto his arm now—as if you two were the newlyweds, as if you two... were each other's future; as if you two had exchanged the vows that gabri had promised to his somebody in the future—that he'd love them forever, and ever, and would never, never in a million years, hurt you or leave you alone.
it would finally be your turn to have your happily ever after, and for gabri to shoot his shot and love you, endlessly and unconditionally, just like how you deserve.
tags !! @binibinileonara @miguelswifey04
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i'm outta my head over you Pt. 3
prologue (Pt. 1) | Pt. 2 | AO3 | playlist for this fic
btw, this whole concept is definitely not based on my own steddie playlist and masterpost for why i added each song 👀
today's @steddie-week prompt is: angst
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Steve’s dealing with his feelings just fine, thanks.
He’s not pissed at Eddie for the stunt he pulled back in the upside down.
Not at all!
Steve snatched Eddie up in a bridal carry, yelling at Robin and Nancy to help Dustin up to follow them back to the gate, because he’s head over heels for the stupid man bleeding out all down the front of his shirt.
Steve brute forces his way through the Munson’s ceiling one-handed and lands a bit too hard on one knee on the other side because he can’t imagine a life without Eddie Munson now that he’s in it.
Steve keeps his fingers pressed into the mangled wounds on Eddie's side all the way to the hospital to keep him awake and sobbing for Steve to “Let go! Why are you hurting me?” because he’s pretty sure he’s in love.
Or at least, he could be. Someday soon. He’s certain of that.
He loses time after finally letting Eddie go, safe on a gurney that was speeding into the ER.
He was standing there, watching as Eddie was wheeled away through big double doors, then he was on the floor. The collapse onto his ass does not exist in his mind; one second he was standing, and the next, his legs were crumpled under him and his right asscheek hurts. Nancy and Robin are there too, crouched in front of him with twin looks of worry on their faces and he can see Dustin behind them, trying to shove the nurses who are looking at his ankle away in order to get to Steve.
“Dusty,” his voice is a cracking whisper, “Dusty, stay there, I’m fine.”
“Steve, Steve, what happened, are you alright?” he sluggishly turns his head toward Nancy’s voice, but never gets there. His memory goes blank again.
When he comes to, he’s laid out in a bed of his own. The flimsy papery gown already slipping from his shoulders and the thin hospital blanket he was given doing nothing to stave off the cold feeling of IV fluid rushing through his veins.
He blinks the crust away from his eyes and looks around.
He’s in a hospital room, naturally, a couple empty chairs sit opposite him along the wall, there’s a window out to the setting sun (rising sun? How long was he out??), and beside him is another bed, a familiar head of curls atop an unfamiliar small form.
“Eddie?” he tries to say, but no sound comes out. “Eddie!” he tries again, only getting a hoarse whisper this time.
Eddie doesn’t move, but Steve sure as hell does. He needs to get up, needs to get to his friend, is he okay? Why does he look like that? Eddie's nowhere near this small or fragile, he’s loud and nearly as tall as Steve is! He needs to help him, needs to–
“Steven, Steven!” there’s a hand on his arm, stopping him from rolling out of bed fully.
Later, he’ll kick himself for his total lack of response, but at the moment, all he does is freeze.
“Mr. Harrington, please sit back, relax. Please.”
Steve does as the voice asks and lays back down, looking over at the person at the side of his bed.
The older gentleman is familiar somehow, but his still-foggy brain isn’t pulling up the name.
“Good morning Steven, or should I say Good evening?” the man’s eyes crinkle up at the corners with his smile.
“How long was I out? Where is everyone? Is Dustin okay? What about Max? Why does Eddie look so small? He–” Steve’s voice started out okay, an audible whisper, but completely fell off by the end of his questioning and the man cutting him off with a shake of his head and a hand on his shoulder.
“Calm down, Mr. Harrington.”
“Steve.” Steve manages to whisper. Damn his throat is sore.
“Steve. Everyone’s okay, it’s after visiting hours so your ‘party’? I think I heard one of your younger friends say? Have all gone home for the night. Including Mr. Henderson; his mother picked him up with a cast on his leg. Broken ankle and a fractured tibia.
“Ms. Mayfield is just down the hall, with a couple broken bones herself. As for Mr. Munson, he’s stable, heavily bandaged, and will likely be out for a while more. You’ve been out for about 20 hours.”
Steve stared at this man, he must be a doctor, while his brain processed that information. He wanted to relax back into the uncomfortable hospital mattress and pillow but, “Who are you?’
The man’s immediately apologetic. “Oh goodness, I’m so sorry. I should have introduced myself. I’m Dr. Owens from the Hawkins Lab.”
Again, Steve starts to move, shuffling backward as best he can with all his limbs still feeling boneless, but he needs to get up! Get between this man and Eddie.
“Steve, Steve, please relax, I’m here to help you.”
Steve sits back, though reluctantly since he physically can’t do much else. “Forgive me for being suspicious of that.” His voice is getting a bit stronger now from using it around the pain.
“That’s fair,” Dr. Owens chuckles, mostly to himself. “Please, hear me out.”
Steve says nothing, so Owens takes this as his sign to continue.
“You lost a lot more blood than either you or your friends realized. The adrenaline kept you going until you were safe at the hospital–”
“Until Dustin and Eddie were safe in the hospital.” Steve corrects on instinct. He was definitely not there for himself.
Owens smiles. “Of course. Yes, once your friends were safely being taken care of, or taken back to be in Mr. Munson’s case, your adrenaline dropped off rapidly, and you passed out in the ER lobby.
“Ms. Wheeler called me when they took you back too, worried about what the staff would start to think when they saw your injuries, so I came as soon as I could.
“I got here just as your friends were being asked to leave, so I only got bits of what happened from Ms. Wheeler and Ms. Buckley.”
Steve’s gaze had drifted back to Eddie while Dr. Owens talked, looking over the visible bandages wrapped around him, the equally thin blanket tucked around his frame, the bags under his eyes, the handcuffs linked from the bed frame to his wris–
“What the hell is that doing on him..”
“I’m sorry?”
“What in the HELL is that doing on his wrist?” Steve manages to yell, whipping his head around to glare at Owens.
“What are you–oh, I see. The handcuffs…we’re still working on that.”
“Well work faster. Eddie didn’t do anything wrong, he saved this fuckin’ town!”
“I believe you, Steve. Please calm down. We’ll get Mr. Munson’s name cleared.”
Steve focuses on steadying his breaths, watching the rise and fall of Eddie’s own chest.
Owens seems to know what it is he’s doing, as once he’s calmed down, he speaks again. “Steve, can you tell me what happened?”
Shit, he focused too hard on calming himself down. “Not now, sleep.” Steve says, already fading back out. “Morning. Nancy, Dustin.” 
He’s asleep after that.
The next day finds him being bombarded (painfully) by Dustin (“OOf! Dusty, careful, I’m all bandaged up, remember?”), and joint upside-down rundown to Dr. Owens (who pales at the mention of Henry/Vecna/001) with Nancy, Robin, and Erica.
A plan is made in the next couple days, Owens, the newly not-dead Hopper, and Nancy heading up the ‘official’ story about what happened to Chrissy, Fred, and Patrick and what to do about Jason Carver and his mob-starting mentality against Eddie.
Lucky for them, Jason was in the hospital too, after the beating he took from Lucas. The assault of a minor really didn’t look good on him, and the hits to the head helped scramble his memories enough that he mostly forgot about Eddie (Plus some extra secret government influence sprinkled in for good measure).
Until everything was sorted, an unconscious Eddie remained in cuffs. Something that irked Steve to no end.
After he was discharged himself, Steve basically lived at the hospital. 
He’d greet the nurses that were kind to Eddie, and snub the few others who weren’t. He thought about getting his mom on the phone just for her to say some choice words to the hospital’s Chief of Medicine, the Head of the Board of Directors, someone about the exactly zero doctors here who really showed any care for his friend, but he didn’t think she would be counted amongst the few people who were.
He haunted the hall between Eddie and Max’s rooms from first thing every morning to just before security is called to escort him out every evening, sharing his time between the two of them about 70/30 (Lucas was in Max’s room constantly, and if Steve hovered for too long Max would start pelting him with tongue depressors), spending a majority of the day at Eddie’s side with a couple others; mostly Dustin, but all the party would visit Eddie as often as their parents would allow; Steve made himself scarce when Eddie’s bandmates would come to visit, not wanting to make them uncomfortable with “King Steve”s presence.
Some days were just he and Eddie and the steady beeping of the heart monitor.
Steve’d sit beside him, listening to music, or reading, or attempting to read aloud that Hobbit book Dustin brought by. He’d make sure Eddie’s wrist under the cuff didn’t get raw and chafed by rubbing lotion into the skin there and over his cracked knuckles (he also wanted to do something about the dreadful cracking that was happening to his lips around the tube in his throat, but worried that’d be taking it a step too far).
And he thought.
He thought a lot.
A lot about how he felt about Eddie, over and over about what he could do after he was safely discharged too, would he even have the guts to tell him his feelings?
Steve knew he could wait, wait until Eddie was much healthier, far more healed. He’d waited this long, what was a little longer?
Steve debated not telling Eddie at all. He heavily debated it, actually. Within a few short hours of really knowing Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington knew his life wouldn’t be the same. He could not imagine any version of his future without Eddie in it now that he was there. Why risk the awkwardness if Eddie didn’t feel the same? Why take the chance?
His few hours away from the hospital would be where he did most of his agonizing over it; barely able to sleep, able to function besides his basic needs. 
Two of their party, their little family, were in the hospital right now and Steve couldn’t stop himself thinking it was his fault they were there. The hospital staff constantly told him that they both were stable and well on the mend in Max’s case, but all he could think of when he wasn’t there was that somehow both of them would crash; an invisible, undetected infection had taken hold way too fast to act, or bone shard had wandered off somewhere it wasn’t supposed to.
His thoughts made it near impossible to sleep, the echoing empty of his house was no help either. He could really only calm down when he was at the hospital and could easily put eyes on both Eddie and Max.
Then, because of the lack of sleep away from the hospital, he’d always end up crashing there in Eddie’s room, twisted into the chair at his bedside with his fingers curled into the sheets next to Eddie’s hip.
It was after one of these chair naps that Steve first met Wayne Munson.
Steve fell asleep later than normal, so he woke up a bit later than he normally would. Somehow, he was skipped over during security’s rounds that night and awoke a good bit after visiting hours were over.
Not wanting to make things worse for himself if he wanted to come back later, he uncurls and reaches for his bag. 
He rubbed the lotion into Eddie’s wrist under the cuff as best he could, over his cracked knuckles, and over the rest of his hands, trying to warm them up a bit and not-so-subtly also checking for bedsores on the backs of his friend’s arms at the same time.
He was just adjusting the pillow under Eddie’s head like he always does before leaving for the day when a voice boomed into the room.
“Who the hell are you?!”
Steve whips around to look at the source of the voice from where he’s hunched over Eddie’s head. 
The older man in the doorway is tall, the top of his bald head only a few inches shy of the doorframe, though that could also be due to the heavy-looking workboots on his feet, poking out from under the legs of a well-worn, grease stained set of coveralls.
“Who are you, and what’re you doin’ with my boy?!”
Steve immediately stands straight, his hands up in surrender. “I’m Steve Harrington, sir,” he starts, putting one hand out for Wayne to shake, “You must be Wayn–”
“A Harrington, huh? Get the hell away from my son, Harrington.” Wayne hisses and steps forward between Steve and Eddie’s bedside in an impressive three strides and immediately worrying over the bandage on Eddie’s cheek.
Steve backs up as requested, both hands back up. “Please, Mr. Munson, I’m his friend, I was only–”
“Don’t lie to me, boy. No Harrington would ever dare to be friends with someone of our kind.” he says over his shoulder. Steve knows that tone, someone’s said that to him before. ‘One guess as to who.’ Steve’s brain supplies, very unhelpfully.
“You ain’t hurting my Eddie if I have anything to say about it, now get the hell out of here before I get you thrown out!”
“Yes sir, of course. I’m sorry..” Steve acquiesces immediately, he’s not about to fight the man on this, especially not with what he’d gone through.
He grabs up his bag and leaves, rushing out to his car before his thoughts finally catch up with him.
‘That’s it. That’s all the time I’ll ever have with him. Wayne Munson won’t let me near him again and I’m already going out of my mind without him.’
Steve’s in his car now, staring blankly out the windshield. He slowly lowers his forehead to the wheel in front of him, onto the backs of his hands.
“…Fuck…”
-----
Eddie listens intently to the first four songs, imagining what about each of them Steve is trying to tell him beyond what is written down, laughs at the inclusion of Runnin’ with the Devil (though he really hopes Steve’s note about Ozzy was just there by happenstance and not because he thinks Ozzy is part of Van Halen).
‘Damn he’s cheesy as hell.’ Eddie thinks fondly.
His eyes glance over to the little blurb for the next song when Out Of Touch starts to fade out.
“...the fuck?” He says, and pauses the tape.
Under Be My Baby - The Ronettes, Steve had written “Teddy, your uncle is fuckin terrifying...but he’s got great taste in music.”
“What in the hell??”
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Part 4 here!
wayne can be a lil' scary. as a treat.
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meownotgood · 1 year
Text
thinking about how aki has never heard anyone tell him they love him, not since his family did. not since they passed away. it's been thirteen years, thirteen years since he's heard anyone say those words. no-one has ever confessed their love to him, no-one has ever told him, love you, be safe as he's walking out the door.
aki has accepted it. honestly, he's forgotten how I love you even sounds like. he assumed it was something he'd never hear. it's alright. it's not like he deserves it, anyways.
that was, until you showed up. that was until you came into his life, all soft touches and gentle words, with feelings strong enough to shake him, deep enough to drown him, soft enough to kill him. and when, on one of those dark, quiet nights, the kind meant to be spent beside one another, you whisper to him, I love you, I'm in love with you, aki — everything comes crashing down, and he doesn't even know what to do with himself.
he's not sure, should he say it back? he should, shouldn't he, but the problem is he doesn't know if he can. he should tell you he loves you, too, but he doesn't know how to say it, he's never learned. hell, he doesn't even know what love is. what it means, what it feels like, how it manifests itself. how was he supposed to know? there's something that he feels for you, something deeprooted, something he can feel under his skin, in his veins. but it's all inside, so how is he supposed to know what it is, or how to express it?
aki tries to speak, but his lips tremble, the words won't come out, nothing will form. everything is stuck in his throat, even though he doesn't even know what he wants to say in the first place. come on, you fucking idiot. shouldn't you be happy right now? you're so selfish, just say something. it's not that hard, so why can't you do it? what's wrong with you?
should he laugh, should he cry? should he start laughing because this is awkward, this is so stupid, so dumb — you've just told him you loved him, and he can't even say anything back. or should he cry, because this is just so, so stupid. how could he just sit here, how could he be unable to muster up anything? nothing at all, he can't say a damn thing. he's such an asshole, such a stupid, undeserving piece of shit, and you love him. why him?
why, of all people, him? why would you fall in love with someone who's going to die in two years, who has no idea how to love, who doesn't even know how to say three stupid little words? you can't be in love with him, you can't. it's too late for this, it's too late for him to hear someone say, I love you. he was supposed to die without ever hearing it, he was supposed to be torn apart by some fucking devil before someone ever... before you ever...
"aki?"
your voice stirs aki from his thoughts. aki meets your gaze, only to find that you're staring at him with worry, but with some sort of look in your eyes like it's okay. you understand.
aki still can't say anything, so he does the only thing he can think to do. he wraps his arms around you, tugging you in, holding you close to himself. his whole body shakes. his hands grab tight fistfuls of the back of your shirt.
he buries his head in your shoulder to muffle his weak sobs, his quiet whispers of, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. and then, he's speaking through the tears; acting selfishly, again, but he needs to make sure it was real, he needs this: please, say it again. just say it one more time. please.
and when you do, when you hold him close and rock him back and forth gently, pathetically, and say, I love you, aki hayakawa, I love you, I love you, I love you — aki feels his heart break, and break, and break.
thirteen years. it's been thirteen, long years. thirteen years, and he's finally home.
aki hopes this is good enough. he hopes you'll wait for him. he'll figure out how to say it. he'll spend the last few years he has left learning how to love you. he hopes that his embrace will be able to convey what he can't, until someday, he'll be able to tell you himself.
581 notes · View notes
valmare · 11 months
Note
Happy 100! 🎉😊
Please and thank you for the following -
Bradley and “Is that all you want baby, is for me to kiss you?”
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Alrighty! So. I did a different thing and am not sure how I feel about it. Let's hope I didn't do it any injustice, because randomly this turned out to have ALL THE FEELS.
Countermeasures
“Bradley? Rooster! Roo, oh my god!” 
The little squeal of joy you release upon sight of Rooster leaving the carrier that’s held him captive reaches levels maybe only dogs could really hear, but you don’t care.
It’s been eight weeks, and you're starving for him, any of him, all of him in ways you didn’t think possible. 
Cutting through the hive of people who have gathered at the dock, you barely register any of them reconnecting with their own loved ones before Rooster rushes you, dropping his gear to the dock to wrap thick arms around you. Holding you against his chest, your arms snug around the back of his neck, your face buried in that soft place between his neck and shoulder as you breathe in the scent of soap, what you think is jet-fuel, and ocean. 
Your heart hammers erratically against your ribs while your breath is thin in the back of your throat. Overwhelming, hot tears pull at the corner of your eyes, but you blink them back—you spent a lifetime on your makeup today, wanting to look drop-dead gorgeous for Rooster’s arrival home. 
In hindsight you probably should’ve worn no makeup at all, anticipating you’d cry on sight. But they said hindsight was 20/20 for a reason—you were actively drawing in breath after breath of him as he rocked you back and forth on his feet, his chin resting in curls. For now that was keeping you from sobbing in relief. 
He’d deployed to the Roosevelt for eight weeks, running patrols that, to you, had seemed wholly unnecessary. A waste of tax dollars, certainly, but that was beyond either of your paygrade, or reproach. When the Navy asked him to jump, Rooster’s response was always “How high?” like any good little Naval aviator’s was. 
Not everything the Navy did made sense to you, but you were an Army brat. You supposed that was the dichotomy between branches—you’d spent four years in Iraq working your ass off in a war that still didn’t make sense, and had chosen to leave, after the hellish repercussions that found you in the Middle East trailed you home. 
You’d been sick of it all, but Rooster—Rooster was a lifer. His heart of gold beat for the Navy and its fighters, his veins were nearly pumping with jet fuel. You’d never seen him so beautiful and fulfilled outside of talking about flying. He loved the Navy. It was who he was—his dad had been Navy, his grandfather had been Navy. It was part of the Bradshaw legacy. 
Somedays, you wondered if any amount of love from you could ever compare to that tail-on-fire sensation. Trying not to actively think about him ever having to choose between you or the Navy, you worked hard to make sure you supported his career and the decisions of that career. 
You’d followed him to Virginia for a year, when he’d been stationed East—thankfully your job allowed you to work from anywhere, and you didn’t have many roots anywhere other than Bradley. You’d been happy to follow him—really, happy to follow him anywhere as long as he was yours. 
And you’d trailed him back to San Diego, to the opportunity that would lock in his career, to teach at Top Gun. He’d been ecstatic, nearly vibrating with joy as Maverick had told him the papers were coming down the pike and the decision was his. He’d wanted to discuss it with you, but you’d made him pick up the damn phone before the call ended screen had even blipped out of existence. 
“I’ll follow you anywhere, B—just pick up the damn phone!” 
You were happy to do away with the last box you’d thrown out yesterday afternoon. Finally, the house was unpacked—and it couldn’t have come sooner. Bradley may have been living out of a duffle and a backpack miles out on the ocean, but if you had to flip open one more box for the damn can opener, you’d collapse into a hot pile of mad. 
Kicking the last of the kitchen boxes out the screen door of the military housing unit, you’d barely had time to reflect on one chapter of your life before thoughts of Rooster coming home consumed you. The house was a wreck, still, and you’d wanted to go grocery shopping for ribs and a few of his favorite things—all of which would, ironically, come to a screeching halt. 
Phone buzzing on the island counter, the call came in right when you were reaching for a Blue Moon from the fridge. Thinking about letting it ring, thinking instead you should snap a picture of the last boxes and send it to Rooster, you’d almost let it ring to voicemail. 
But, you’d picked up the call that could very well determine the rest of your life. 
Your old Staff Sergeant wanted you back. 
In Afghanistan. 
The squad was desperate for snipers, with real combat experience, and you’d been one of the best. Mullens had basically begged you, had done the checking—the paperwork would be fast tracked, you could be in country by the end of next week with limited reentry protocol. 
He’d promised a short tour-–six months, in and out. Gaping like a fish out of water, you’d stared at nothing. Thinking Bradley, of your life here, of saying over and over that you’d never go back. Promising Rooster that you’d never go back. 
Six months. That wasn’t a long time by any stretch of the imagination for a tour,  but it was a devastating amount of time to ponder, considering you’d just moved back to Cali, and Roo was just getting back from eight weeks on the water. 
There was a distinct difference between being stationed on a carrier for months and flying planes, and being on the ground in country, eating and sleeping and existing in  hostile environments 24/7. It was hell on your emotions–it had taken a year for the nightmares to stop when you’d come home the first time. 
But, you are a soldier. It’s as much in your blood as flying is in Rooster’s—there was nothing more fulfilling than knowing you were making a difference. That because of you and your decisions, families home are safe. Rooster could fly his planes safely, could live beneath the sun in California on a beach somewhere, happy and healthy and free. 
Part of you had always imagined going back, even if you were glad to be home. Knowing others chose to stay, that others didn’t come home, played on a broken loop. Survivor’s guilt came and went, mostly in your dreams, but you’d managed to keep it in check—loving Rooster, loving domesticity, had helped you cope. 
But if you were honest, as much as you hated your tours in Iraq, you’d always suspected that someday, you’d go back. That being a soldier was seared into you like a brand—it wasn’t something you could shake off. 
But going for the right reasons, even if you despised it—was that right? Did it make you a liability? 
All of this followed you to bed, kept you awake at 3AM as you just caved and made some coffee and cleaned the kitchen floors. Mulling around the quiet of the morning had become a habit you’d developed in Iraq, always working the ass o’clock watch, and while you were an early riser, Rooster was a late sleeper—always. 
You’d been white knuckling the steering wheel of the Bronco all the way here. Wondering what he’d say. Wondering if you’d fight, if he’d ask you not to go. Part of you wanted him to ask you to say, but a larger part longed for him to show you the same commitment to go. 
You’d never challenged any of Rooster’s deployments. IUt wasn’t your place. But you had understood even if you didn’t want him to go—would he do the same, with the tables tipped? 
You’d been trembling violently at the dock, trying not to think about it. You’d gotten lost watching the activity on the massive carrier bobbing on the water like some behemoth of an ocean toy as men and women prepared to disembark. Sun on your face, the smell of salt and humid air had given you life when all you’d been able to remember is the desert and its dry, unforgiving scorch.  
But now, Roo in your arms, finally home, you felt better. Grounded. Like you could take on the world and not miss a beat. For a moment, that damn phone call didn’t exist as you listened to Bradley breathe into your hair, felt his heart hit home against your breast. You could taste the sting of jet fuel on his flight suit. 
Tipping your head back to stare into his face, you beamed at him. “Hey, soldier,” the low rasp tickled down your spine, sending chill bumps down your arms as he squeezed his arms around your waist a little tighter, “you look gorgeous. Prettiest damn thing I’ve seen in weeks,” he leaned forward to gently nudge his nose against yours. 
“I doubt that,” you nodded to the carrier over his shoulder, his eyes tracking yours to the flight deck above, which was beyond sight, “those fighters are pretty damn pretty, Bradshaw. Watch your mouth.” Scrunching your nose teasingly, he snorted and shook his head before he smooth his hands over your hair. 
“I missed you, B,” you whispered, clinging to his arms as he held your face in your hand. “I missed you so frickin’ much.” Your toes curl in your shoes when he gently tugs you up to meet his mouth hovering over yours. 
Your heart is in your throat like it is every time he’s thinking about kissing you, and wild horses can’t drag you away from looking at that damn stache of his just aching to be kissed. 
Your tongue skips out along your bottom lip, and the corner of his mouth lifts as he chuckles. 
“Oh, pretty girl, it’s good to be back to you,”  somehow the words hit funny in your chest, but any sensation other than phenomenal replaces it when he groans a little, his mouth pressing yours in a deep, hungry kiss that nearly rocks you back on your heels. 
The kiss separates you from reality and every negative thing that could ruin him holding you, and for a second you feel like you’re falling through time and space–like God Himself has rolled back the sky to peer into heaven, because heaven is exactly what Bradley’s tongue tastes like in your mouth, lathing your bottom lip. His mustache tickles you deliciously as you draw him down, harder against your mouth, trying not to remember that there are people who can see the two of you. 
He breaks the kiss with an overexaggerated smack, drawing you into the crook of his arm as he stoops to haul his gear over his shoulder. You take the backpack from him, which weighs only what you can assume is the weight of a small world against your shoulder, and shrug off his protests as you guide him back to the Bronco. 
He’s plucking the keys from you, kissing you again, when he guides you to the passenger seat and leans into the open door for a final kiss. You’re struggling to breathe, with the seatbelt, to think as he bats the door closed. Aching in all the right ways when he slides into the driver’s seat, your hands immediately find him, as if they have nowhere else to land. 
He’s groaning when you straddle his thigh, sucking on the pulsepoint of his neck in a way that could only equate to a starving person. Palming your ass with one hand, his other is gripping your thigh as he’s unraveling, quickly, in the driver’s seat. 
The flight suit is cumbersome and in the way when you try to slip your hand to his chest, aching to feel the heat of his skin and the curls of chest hair you know are just there for you. 
When you can’t manage it and your fingers skip down the suit to his cock, he releases a heavy moan and grabs your hand, stilling the action. 
“Not right now, sweetness,” it sounds aching, painful, and stabs a hot knife of denial into your ribs, “eight weeks is a long damn time….” you nod, understanding his meaning, and steal the words from him with an open-mouthed, hot kiss to his lips. 
“Then take me home and fuck me senseless, Bradshaw,” you breathe over his mouth, watching his pupils dilate as his eyes widen at the headiness the statement produces in the atmosphere, “and then maybe I’ll cook you some of those Texas ribs you love so much.” 
“You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?” 
He’d never driven so damn quickly. Twenty five  minutes later you’re stumbling into the house as he’s ripping at the hem of your t-shirt, and the jolt you feel when your back hits the semi-open door makes you giggle against his mouth as you bounce it closed.
Pressed up against the rigid door, his massive hands are exploring your hips, dipping beneath your jean shorts, playing at the soft skin your thong is currently cradling. Far too busy curling your toes into the mud room’s rug, you feel his cock, fully hard and nearly twitching, brush up against the inside of your leg. The very idea of him, hard and so ready so quickly, as you dripping with want. 
Nudging it with your knee, his sharp hiss and breathy groan hits you straight in that little sensitive place between your legs, and your fingers slide possessively into his hair when he shrugs the top half of his flight suit off. Looking comical as the arms of it drag along the floor, he’s down to nothing but compression garments, which you’re ripping off over his head as he presses his full weight into your hips.
“Good god, Bradley,” barechested, brushing against your pert tits in a hardly-there lacy bra has you nearly vibrating when his fingers slide up the curve of your finger. He’s bigger than you remember, far more tan and muscular—downtime on the carrier, no doubt. “You’re so frickin’ beautiful, Roo,” 
He’s chuckling, smiling when he’s trying to kiss you, “All for you,” taking your hand, he guides it to his pec and holds it there firmly, his other moving to trace a slow finger over your nipple and beneath the curve of your breast, “Always for you, baby girl.”
“Mmmm,” you giggle when his mustache skips down your cheek to nuzzle against the soft spot behind your ear, “kiss me, Roo—kiss me good, please.” 
He manages a small chortle, “Is that all you want, baby girl? For me to kiss you?” before humming against your pulsepoint, tongue lathing thick, heady circles into your skin. He’s content to kiss you, hard and fast and rough, until you nearly growl when he’s taking his sweet damn time ripping off your jean shorts. 
Finally just shoving his hands away, you’d kicked them off, grabbed a handful of his hair, and pulled him down for a hard kiss, grumbling that you were going to die of starvation of him if left to his devices. That amuses him, because he’s laughing as he presses you fully against the door, hands moving to grip your thighs tightly. 
In little to no time at all, your screaming his name as he fucks you, literally, at the front door. Fairly certain the neighbors can hear through the poor excuse of a front and screen door, it hardly takes any time at all before he’s finishing prematurely, disappointingly. 
He’s fisting the door when you angle your head to allow him to rest his forehead on your shoulder, feeling the inevitability of him slackening inside you. It’s disappointing, yes, but it has been eight weeks—and you know, beyond any semblance of doubt that may shadow the back of your brain, that Rooster will get you off. He always does. 
And somehow, it’s always as orgasmic as the first time, something he prides himself on regularly. 
Breathing hard, sweat is nearly glistening off his chest when he slides out of you to step out of the flight suit, leaving more of a mess than you’d anticipated. Aching, spiraling downward from your almost-high, you offer him an understanding smile as he is trying to fight the flush of his fucked out face in front of you. 
Looking sorry, looking desperate, you shake your head softly and move to drape your arms around your neck. “It’s ok, Bradley,” you say between kisses along the hollow of his throat, “there’s plenty of time to get me off, later,” eyes tracking to his, the corner of his mouth lifting amusedly as you’re nodding to the kitchen, “are you hungry? I can start dinner—” 
“Nah, not really,” he takes your hand, guiding you through the house, and somehow you’re nearly floating up the stairs into the on suite bathroom where Bradley is starting a scalding shower, touching you slow and deep as your toes sink into the bath mat in ways you didn’t think possible. 
Somehow, shower sex has become a part of your staple coming-home routine, and Rooster is able to last a little longer this round. He gets you off, which has you reeling as he carries you, legs wrapped around his waist, back into the bedroom—only to drop both of your dripping bodies to the King matress with a fucked-out groan. 
It takes immense strength not to climb him like a damn tree, but you curl onto your side to prop your head into your hand as he collapses fully into the mattress. You know he needs a minute. The lingering droplets of shower on your skin start to chill in the cool A/C, and you reach for the end of the duvet and pull it over yourself, smiling at Bradley taking slow, full breaths. 
You really should discuss the phone call. It’s been hanging over your head all day. A part you knows the timing is bad, that it’s the last thing either of you want to discuss the day Bradley comes home. But, Mullens needed answers, the cogs of the Army churn slow—if you’re going, you need to send word. 
Gut flopping at the unpredictability of Rooster’s answer, you swallow the thick breath that’s been bubbling up the back of your throat since Jeff had called you. Your toes curl and uncurl, trying to pluck up the courage. You shouldn’t be this uneasy—Bradley loves you, supports you. You’re not afraid of him. 
But you are afraid of what he might say. Of how this may impact things. Of actually going and falling in love with the Army again, even if it had ruined parts of your life you still don’t talk about. You aren’t afraid to die, you aren’t afraid of getting hurt—you’re afraid of Bradley getting hurt, by how this may affect him in ways only deployment can. 
That feeling that’s not quite hunger, but is instead a queasy emptiness in your midsection, opens fully in your gut and hollows you to your knees. All at once your head is pounding with each ragged heartbeat behind your ribs, and you’re numb and cold and hot all at the same damn time. 
You’re body is on fire when Bradley’s gead lolls to the side. He offers you a crooked grin before reaching to brush his fingertips over your lips. 
“I missed you so damn much, pretty girl,” 
Your nose scrunches up a little and you swear to God you feel your heart breaking in your chest.
 “I missed you too, B,” your eyes drop for half a second, your voice quiet in that way that let’s him know you want to talk. He doesn’t have to ask the question, his brow just furrows in that little way of his before you’re whispering, “Bradley. I—I don’t know how to tell you this.” 
You watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows, his hand moving to play with your hair. Every part of him is thicker, stronger, broader than you remember and you want nothing more than to skip your fingers over the veins in his hands, the corded muscle along his arm. Instead, you curl tighter into the duvet, as if it’s a shield that may absorb whatever reaction of his isn’t favorable. 
He doesn’t say anything, gaze just tracking you as your eyes lift to find him. “I, um—yesterday. I, shit—damn. Fuck, well—Jeff called me yesterday.” 
‘Jeff’ doesn’t need more explanation. Bradley has met your Staff Sergeant. He knows by name alone who Mullens is-–but maybe, maybe today he has forgotten and you’ll be lucky. 
But it seems he hasn’t, because his face drops all color for a microsecond before hot flush raises on his cheeks. Bolting upright, he turns to lean on an elbow, his brow popped curiosity while his soft whiskey eyes darken with uncertainty. 
Your statement may as well have painted WORRY across his forehead in striking neon lights. 
You watch the moment the words hit home in his brain, and the muscle in his jaw ticks as he sets it, gesturing for you to sit up. You do, cross legged, the blanket falling partially from your shoulder. 
“Mullens,” he confirms, eyes tracking you as you fiddle with the end of the duvet. 
You nod, once. “Jeff wants—”
“—he wants you to reenlist,” his voice is quiet when his eyes drop to the bed, away from yours. 
“Yes.” 
There’s a heartbeat of silence that seems to drown the room before Bradley collapses back onto the mattress. His fingers slide through his hair as he stares at the ceiling, and your heart throbs so painfully in your chest you wonder if he can hear it from here. You can hear him swallow a breath before his cheeks puff out a heavy sigh, and his eyes slide over to consider you, weightedly. 
“They need snipers, Bradley,” your voice is quiet, and you hold his attention firmly. Your voice is small when you sigh and continue to fiddle with the end of the duvet, “snipers that aren’t dumb and won’t hesitate. That they don't have to ship home in bags.” You swallow the very idea that illuminates in your brain. 
“You want to go.” 
Your bottom lip rolls inward beneath your teeth. “I don’t not want to go,”
His gaze goes hard, suddenly. Tension, fear, concern cracks through the room like a whip when he groans hard, covering his face with his hands. 
“There’s a dozen others besides you ,” he challenges, rocking up to sit crossed legged on the bed, mirroring you. “You don’t have to deploy. Reenlistment is a bitch, babe.” He reaches across the lingering daylight between you, hand cupping your cheek lightly. “I thought you said you didn’t want to go back? Not after—”
Flatlipped, you nod tightly. “I don’t want to deploy, Bradley,” you angle your cheek harder into his palm, “I don’t want to be halfway around the world from you. From us.” Your hand folds over your chest and you shake your head once, admittedly, “But I also don’t want to sit on my ass and do nothing when people—our people—needs me. Men and women are dying, B—and I can help prevent that,” 
Your tone goes quiet as your jaw sets. Bradley’s expression says he knows what decision you’ve come to yourself, the little pull in the middle of his brow, the resigned smile. While he isn’t happy about it, the sigh and drop of his shoulders says he understands. That he’ll support you. That while it will kill him to have you gone, across the world, for an unimaginable amount of time, he knows the feeling burning in your gut like sulfur. 
“Sounds like you’ve decided to go,” he reaches for your hand, tugging you across the space between the two of you, “anything I can say that’ll make you reconsider?” 
Sighing, you move to hands and knees as he drapes your hair over your shoulder, knuckles skipping over your clavicle. “I don’t think so,” the smile on your lips is thin, “not really?” A beat of silence as you situate on his lap, legs wrapped around his middle as your core presses flush against his abs. 
“You think I’m a hypocrite?” 
His face contorts, “What? No! I just—I just want you to be sure, sweetheart,” he leans forward to touch his forehead to yours. “It’s a big decision to make in less than twenty four hours.” 
“I know,” 
“But I’m glad we got to talk about this,” he smiles and presses his lips together in a sloppy smooth against yours, “As long as you’re sure, baby. I just need you to be sure. Please.” 
Nodding, your arms firm up around his neck, guiding him forward to press your chest against his. “I’m gonna give it one more go, Lieutenant Commander,” your nose wrinkles up and your brows lift, wondrously, “you gonna miss me? Kiss me goodbye before I leave?” 
He laughs before rolling his eyes, Bradley guiding you to the mattress easily before crawling over you to stare into your features. His eyes are alight, sparkling in that whiskey way of his, exposing every one of the thoughts you choose not to address the remainder of the night. 
“Missin’ you comes easy, darlin’, ” the words rasp low as he dips to nuzzle that soft spot behind your ear, “now let me ask you,” 
“Hmm?” 
“Is that all you want, baby? Is for me to kiss you?” 
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hypnos333 · 3 months
Text
Run away with me
1610 Miles Morales x Reader
Synopsis: You were always a free sprit and Miles worried about that until his worries was confirmed
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You always liked the sound of freedom, like traveling and such. You eyes would always light to old people talking about they’re travels. It made you excited. And Miles knew this and he was scared of what to come.
He was scared you’ll disappear or leave him behind. He still remembers the day he asked you out.
It was the full moon dance that vision academy hosted all students attended this dance. He remembers you wore this black bodycon dress which fitted your body so well.
He noticed that you were alone so he offered you a dance and the way your smile brightened up made him smile. He loved that smile.
The way your arms were around his neck as his arms were around you waist as you waltzed around the dance floor the slow song making it the perfect moment.
It was just you and him
He finally leaned in kissing your lips, the kiss was slow and soft but full of passion
“___ will you make me the happiest spider in the world and be my girlfriend?” He asked making you smile ten times wider.
“Of course my spider” You said back making him kiss your lips again
That night was 5 months ago and even so you were getting restless and the fighting with your parents didn’t help anything.
He remembers the day on the rooftop where it was just you and him having a picnic and was watching the stars. You were wearing his jackets and his ear muffs holding his hand as you both laid there watching the stars.
“One day, someday I’m gonna leave brooklyn and follow my heart elsewhere” You stated as you continued looking at the stars even when Miles looked at you silently.
“Run away with me?” You asked as he held your hand more tightly and you knew the answer already “I understand Miles, protect brooklyn for me” you said smiling sadly.
Tears rolled down your face and without knowing a tear rolled down Miles face too.
That was 3 months ago…..
Miles seemed to forget about the moment til now. You haven’t been to school today and he thought you might’ve been sick. You haven’t responded to his good night text or morning ones.
Until everyone was ushered to Visions assembly room. No one knew why and Miles was getting restless of you not responding. It’s been almost the whole day.
“Students we have some bad news, If you have heard any awareness of ___ Miller please report to the police immediately. Miss ___ have been missing since yesterday and no one couldn’t seem to get a hold of her. Her parents are extremely worried so please if you hear anything go to the authorities” The principal stated.
Miles heart dropped down to his stomach, tears was about to pour down his face as he got up and rushed to your house.
This couldn’t be true….. You couldn’t have left.
This had to be a bad dream as he made it to your house. He had an extra key. Your parents wasn’t home still in the police station worrying about their baby random disappearance.
He rushed to your room to see you left everything here. But your backpack and some of your clothes and his are missing. Your phone was left on your bed.
He cried, he held onto your blanket and cried, he should’ve tried to make you stay. He thought you would’ve gotten over this thought.
His sobs could be heard around the house, he didn’t hold back. He needed you, he only wanted you.
The next day he was depressed, he was a mess, his appearance didn’t matter to him no more without you.
Everyone asks the same questions “Did she run away?” “Did she run away” “Did she run away”
And his answer is always the same. “I don’t know”
The teachers seemed to notice his change and was trying to encourage him saying “They’ll find her” “Do it for her” “Take a break for awhile”
And they did send him home and even with his parents they look at him with sadness and pity seeing they’re son go through this awful time and they loved you like a daughter is law.
He’ll reread your texts, or wear your large sweaters for your scent or cuddle your stuff animal you left in his house.
He prayed you’ll come home and all he could do was look for you as Spider man.
Maybe he should’ve ran away with you because he can’t seem to live or function without you.
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red--story-writer · 7 months
Note
Can I request baki and kozue having three kids and the oldest is a boy and the other two are twins a boy and girl and the girl had a boyfriend who cheated and is upset and cries to her mom and is scared if she told her brothers and especially her dad and grandpa they would kill him and his entire bloodline.... I just though it would be pretty cute👉👈
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that is so adorable 🥺🥺
I will grand your wish UwU
'First broken heart'
i apologize when It's a bit confusing bc the kids don't have names-
the sound of crying and sobbing wakes Kozue from her deep sleep. she rubs her eyes and looks after her husband Baki, a smile forming on her face as she sees his relaxed and calmed face. she gives him a kiss and gets out of bed.
she dresses in a black and light nightgown and makes her way to the bedrooms of her kids. she silently checks on in each,first the oldest,then the second and at last the room of the youngest, her daughter (name).
she already hears the Crying from outside the door and knocks "(Name)? Sweetheart?....are you alright?..." the sobbing stops like at the push of a button, but kozue is not satisfied with that at all. she slowly opens her daughter's door and looks inside.
her daughter, wrapped in her favorite blanket and handkerchiefs all over her bed, sits with swollen eyes on her bed,holding herself tight.
Kozue closes the door behind her after entering her room and sits down by her daughters side.
" Sweetheart...." her soft fingers stroke through her daughters hair moving them out of her face and behind her ear. "what is it that makes you cry so bitterly?...."
(name)'s eyes close and she bursts out in tears again...Kozue pulls her close into a warm and long hug,wrapping her arms around her daughter to comfort her and make her feel safe.
with a weak and tired voice, the words she speaks barely make it over her lips... "h-he cheated.....he cheated and threw me away like trash...." her eyes get watery and big tears roll down her face.
her mother understands this feeling more than well "oh Sweetheart....." she caresses her daughters cheek and kisses her forehead "it hurts....I know......but if he treated you like this.....then he was never meant to be the one...."
she whipes the tears off of her daughters cold cheeks and moves her head up "the right one will come..... someday...when you don't search...."
" ....please don't tell (name) and (name) ....nor dad or grandfather.....they will search and hurt him!.. everyone in his family!"
" but he would deserve it, wouldn't he?" Kozue tillts her head and looks at her little beautiful girl, she can't help but smile a little
" he would....but.... that's not me....." she tillts away her head and looks at all the little White dots that were once a full pack of handkerchiefs
"when you don't want it....then I won't tell them...." she caresses her daughters cheek once agsin "but now....you need rest.....you can stay at home the rest of the week....and tomorrow you'll get yozr favorite breakfast.... Alright?..."
(name) slowly nods at her mothers words and smiles a little. Kozue gives her little girl a kiss on the forehead and clears away the handkerchiefs spread out on the bed. (Name) lays down in her bed,the blanket tight around her and her pillow tight in her grib.
"good night Sweetheart..." Kozue opens the door and steps out of the bedroom "night mom...." a slight smile shows on her soft lips until she closes her eyes and manages to fall off to sleep.
Kozue closes the door and spots her sons standing in the hallway "shouldn't you ve-"
" we can't sleep when we hear our sister cry...what happened?" the oldest looks at his mother Concerned while his younger is still half asleep
Kozue takes a deep breath and walks pass the boys " i promised her not to tell anyone....now go Back to bed or you'll eat bread for breakfast" with a grin she closes the door to her bedroom where her husband is waiting already.
she goes towards him, takes off the night dress and lays down by him " same for you" she smiles and before Baki can say anything,she wraps her arms around him tight and falls back to sleep again.
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cupoftaae · 11 months
Note
8? With Jungkook?🤞🏻
"please dont go....I cant be alone right now" x Jungkook
thank you for the request! Hope you enjoy <3
warnings- jungkook has a bad day waaa, fluffy, minor angst, reader and him are cute
The thud of Jungkooks backpack at the front door could be heard throughout the house, making you jump.
"kook?" you called out, "you home?"
After no response, you left the office room and made your way to the kitchen, where you saw your boyfriend searching for something to eat.
"Hi baby, I made dinner" you come up behind him and rub his back
He flinches a bit, making you frown. "oh, hi baby, thanks" he turns to see you-your height in perfect lining for his lips to meet your forehead.
"how was work? you alright my love?" you asked quietly, hand gently rubbing the skin under his shirt.
Jungkook hummed, "it was ok I guess..."
"yeah?" you looked up at him lovingly
"I just missed you" he shrugged, mumbling a bit
"oh sweet boy I missed you too..." you kissed his cheek and hugged him closer.
He released a shaky sigh and hugged you back, the strength of his arms squeezing you tightly.
"are you sure youre okay?" you whispered "because...its ok if you arent" you pulled away from his chest to see his face, his eyes now watery as he tried to even his breathing, almost as if he spoke he knew he would end up sobbing.
"honey..." you pouted and brushed his bangs away, cupping his face, "whats going on? talk to me so I can help"
He shook his head, looking down as a stray tear fell, making his hastily wipe his face with the back of his hand. "its just" he began quietly, "work....everything. its stressful"
You nod, "I know sweetheart"
"I kept messing up the vocals today and everyone was getting mad with me, I just felt like....i dont even know, I felt like a burden to be in the studio" he wiped another tear, sighing and looking at the ceiling.
"Kookie you know that you arent a burden, right? the boys all love you so fucking much...they need you, and they were probably just tired and cranky because you all need sleep and wont rest despite me scolding them" you breathe out a laugh, making him half smile
"I promise, you are so loved and important, so many people admire you, especially me" you pointed at yourself, making him giggle. "its ok to have tough days, its what makes us stronger, its part of being a human, however its how you react to it- thats how you grow and learn and become a better person, right?"
"right" he nodded, looking at you and squeezing your hands.
You scanned over his face and smiled softly, "do you want to take a bath?"
"yeah" he smiled
-
You placed a few towels on the counter near the tub, where your boyfriend sat.
"the lavender is nice" he spoke, eyes closed as he rested his head against the railing of the tub. "I told you, bath bombs arent just for girls" you giggled
"well it had a unicorn on it for christ sake" he opened one eye to see you, smiling.
"hey unicorns are uni-sex, get it?" you poked
"you...are so fucking corny" he laughed
"but you found it funny!"
"whatever"
you smiled at him, watching his face and admiring his beauty for a moment while his eyes were shut, he was so amazing and loved by you, and he would only know half of it.
"well baby, im gonna go wrap up work in my office, call me if-"
"no, please dont go....I cant be alone right now" he frowned, eyes opening up to see you at the door.
You frowned before nodding, silently making your way to sit in front of the tub. You werent gonna push him to talk, you knew he was struggling today and thats all you needed to hear.
He just needed a little extra love and affection like we all do somedays, its human.
We need hugs, we need to be told we are loved, we deserve to be loved, and valued.
He always made you feel his appreciation for you in any way possible, so you of course wanted to pay it back.
You carefully washed his hair and mindlessly chatted about random things, he seemed to have calmed down a lot in the time being, which made you happy.
He had insisted you join him in the tub-so you did.
"its getting cold, the water..." you mumble, head against his chest.
"meh.....its like lukewarm" he looked down at you, giggling, "are you about to sleep right now?"
"probably" you whisper
"no baby, lets get into bed" he smiled, jokingly patting your butt to get you off.
You pulled away to look at him, smiling, "I love you, you know that?"
the slight pink tint on his cheeks didnt go unnoticed, "yeah...." he giggled, "I love you too...you know that?"
"everyday"
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Text
Recuérdame 
Pairing: Jack Russell (MCU) x FemReader (she/her) | SoulmateAU!
Summary: After losing his soulmate a little over a century ago, Jack has long forgotten about love, unable to move on. One night, in a nightclub, life gives him a second chance.
Warnings: Age gap (I mean, the man is 357 here), if you squint your eyes there are some sexual innuendos at the end, mentions of death, non-descriptive reader (but reader does drink tequila at some point)
Translations: Corazón (endearment term) - Heart | Mi vida - My life | Amor mío - My love | Querida - Dear | Por favor - Please | Te amo - I love you
Inspire by: "Recuérdame" cover by Natalia Lafourcade ft. Carlos Rivera
Tags: @littlenosoul | @bitchyglitterfox | @lilpunkrock | @kingtwhiddleston
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«How terrible it’s to love something death can touch», especially if one is immune to it. Jack knew from the moment their eyes locked with each other's that he was bound to lose her eventually, that someday he’d have to watch her die, and there was nothing he— or anyone else— could do about it. He convinced himself he'll be prepared for it, let her go in peace when the time came. But heavens, did he underestimate how cruel destiny could be. 
She started coughing on Monday morning, and by Wednesday night, she was gone. Jack couldn’t understand how it all happened so fast and why life had been so vicious with them both. The doctor, the best money could pay, said it was just the flu and that she’ll recover in days without further problems; yet, Jack could feel her slipping through his fingers with each passing hour. The cough gave place to a burning fever that forced her to bed, and by the next morning, she had trouble breathing as she came in and out of consciousness. 
Desperate, he called every doctor, nurse, and healer in town and begged them to save his dear wife's life in exchange for whatever riches they desired. They tried everything their knowledge and skills allowed them to cure her and, at the very least, ameliorate the symptoms, but it was useless. He could see it in their faces, in the way they avoided certain words around him and their worried glances towards her. 
Wednesday afternoon, everyone was sent home at her request, leaving them all by themselves in the mansion they had shared for seven blissful years. Enveloped in the darkness of night, the halls and rooms felt cold and devoid of life, the only sign of their presence coming from their bedroom: The faint light of a candle. It stood up by her bedside table, lighting up her wan face as he sat on a chair next to it, his head resting on her abdomen. 
“I’m sorry.” Her voice came out as a breathy whisper as her tender fingers scratched behind his ear. “I’m terribly sorry, my love.” 
“Don’t be; it’s not your fault.” It took everything in him not to break down into a puddle of tears and a mess of sobs. “You’ve been nothing but good to me.” 
"Promise me you'll find another to keep you company." The request caught him off guard, his teary eyes turning to her in disbelief. "You're too pure for this world, my love. I'm afraid to leave you for all those terrors out there to feast upon you."
"Corazón, mi vida..." He took her hands between his to kiss her knuckles, his heart shattering into a million pieces inside his chest. He couldn't believe that even in her last moments, she was worried about him, the utter devotion and love she had for him. "I... I can't. I could never..." 
"Jack, please, please." How could he deny her anything when she looked at him with such profound despair? "I want... No, I need you to be happy. I'll always be with you, no matter what; whenever you may be, I'll follow... But you can't be on your own for who knows how long, my love. I don't want you to be alone."
"Alright." He kissed her chapped lips delicately as he nodded. "I promise I won't be alone; you don't have to worry about me no more, amor mío." 
"I love you." 
"I love you too. You're the most beautiful thing that could ever happen to me." 
He couldn't hold it anymore: a sob escaped from his lips as the first tear slid down his cheek. She was quick to dry it, and while he leaned against her palm with closed eyes, she softly stroked his hair. 
"There better be a sea of marigolds and tequila on the altar this November, or I'll haunt you for the rest of eternity." She tried joking in hopes of seeing his smile one last time. 
«Haunt me then! Be with me always— take any form— drive me mad! Only do not leave in this abyss, where I cannot find you!» Never had he understood Heathcliff's pain as much as he did then. Still, to avoid disturbing her further, he smiled and hugged her waist tighter. 
"Whatever you desire, querida." 
They remained silent after that, her loving touch and faint breath lulling him into sleep not long after. It was the rays of dawn that filtered through the closed curtains that woke him up hours later, the candle far extinguished. He didn't even need to look; her cold and stiff hands revealed that his greatest fear had come true. 
"Vuelve a mi, corazón. Por favor, por favor..." He'd never cried so hard in his entire life, his face pressed against her chest as he repetead as a chant: "Te amo, te amo, te amo..." 
Jack buried a part of himself with her, but the truth is, all he wanted was to end his misery and lay with her three feet underground. The first few weeks after the funeral, he found it impossible to get off their shared bed in an aching attempt to hold onto the lingering scent of her in the sheets. But when it vanished, along with all the remains of her presence in the mansion, he sold it and moved as far as he could. As for his promise, he couldn’t keep it; he couldn’t find it in himself to even look at any other, no matter how much time passed. He carried her deep in his chest, in that corner of his heart where he had built her a perpetual altar. 
Years, decades, and a whole century passed, but the sorrow never truly disappeared; he just learned to live with it. Still, if one is observant enough and looks at him closely, one would find an ever-present mourning in his eyes. 
In the darkness of this club, though— he thinks— you won't even be able to see your own shoes. 
Every year since he met him, Ted will drag him and a bunch of other monsters to this particular nightclub in his town for Halloween. It's the only night of the year in which they can easily blend in with the humans without fearing the hunters, and a dark, crowded club is an excellent place to hide in plain sight. Typically, Jack would never set foot in a place like that, but for his friend, he'd withstand all the noise for some hours. 
"Why is it that with every year, it gets stinkier in here?" Simon asks as they make their way to a table, the neon lights flashing them occasionally. 
She's right; it reeks of alcohol and sweat, but it isn't even that bad. Besides, something sweet and pleasant is hiding among the crowd, luring Jack deeper into the place; it's familiar and welcoming, but he can't identify why. 
"What is it, doggie?" Shiklah questions him after noticing his distracted demeanor, his eyes scanning the place. "Too much for an old wolf?" 
"No, it's just... Can't any of you smell that? There's a weird scent in here." 
"Yeah, no shit, Sherlock." Satana mocks him, making the others laugh. 
As they sit and start catching up with each other, Jack finally identifies where he had smelled that aroma before, making his heart stop for a second. 
An interesting thing about humans (and monsters, too) is that each one possesses a unique scent, and while their noses cannot identify this, his canine nature allows him to easily make the distinction. This is why he believes to be hallucinating when his brain finally puts a name and face to the aroma currently invading his nostrils. He knows that scent to its core; it's embedded in his skin and memory like a scar, one he had pushed to the back of his mind long ago for survival. It lights something within him, a part of him he believed to have been buried in a faraway land beside the one and only woman he's ever loved. 
Jack jumps out of his seat, looking around him in confusion and longing. Whoever smells like that is getting closer, approaching their spot as he circles the table and tries to locate them. 
"Yeah, I'm fine, don't worry," He answers Ted, who asked him if he's alright as the others look at him baffled. "I just need to..." 
Distracted and blinded by the darkness, Jack bumped into a woman as he tried to excuse himself away from his friends, something spilling on his shirt. 
"Chin! I'm terribly sorry!" 
"Oh, no, don’t be; it’s not your fault!" The voice makes him freeze in his tracks, hands trembling. "I didn't see you there; it's too dark in here." 
His gaze slowly lifts from the dark floor to the face of the woman in front of him, her face slightly illuminated by neon blue light. Her eyes lock with his, the faintest sign of familiarity in them, and god was he convinced for a moment to have died. Before him, there's a ghost; literally, she's dressed up as one: flowy white dress and dark makeup. Even in the dim, he can recognize all the marks and lines he'd traced so many times with his fingers, the curve of the lips he'd kissed endless times, and the irises he woke up to for seven years in what seems like a lifetime ago. 
She looks just as when he first met her, her tone and movements are identical copies of hers, and she scents the exact fucking same. It drives him wild; it makes him hot and needy. He just wants to jump at her and hug her, smell her, kiss her, taste her... 
"Lucifer!" Shiklah's voice wakes him from his trance. "You are the walking portrait of..." He steps on her foot to shut her up, earning a yelp from her part. The others turn to check on her, allowing Jack to apologize without feeling their stares on them. 
"Damn it, I think I stained your shirt." she points to his chest, where a big wet spot lies: tequila, the smell tells him.
"It's nothing, really; I was distracted as well... Could I offer to buy you another?" 
"You know? There are better ways to approach a woman than spilling her drink, pretty boy." His cheeks immediately burn; heavens, did he miss her coquetry. 
"It worked, didn't it?" She laughs, a sound that crosses directly to his death-hollow heart and reanimates it from his century-long sleep.
"I usually don't accept drinks from strangers, but I think I could make an exception for you." 
"I'm Jack Russell, at your service, señorita." Slowly, he took her hand and kissed the back of it, his gaze fixed on hers. "And you are...?"
She gave him the same name his lips were used to pronounce as a prayer in another life, one his tongue rolled off with such naturalness it seemed tailored to it.  
"Not so much of a stranger now, eh? Now, how about that drink?" 
"The bar is over there." She pointed to his left. "Want me to lead you, Jack?" 
His heart fluttered as she looped her arm with his, guiding him across the floor with a seductive smile on her lips. 
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