#it’s beating his name in morse code

[mattluvr]

ITS EVERYWHERE my puss is shaking 😭❤️

[sodaneko]

・❥・yearning iwaizumi, gn!reader, established relationship, brief mention of non-sexual nudity, wc: 611

“hold still,” iwaizumi murmurs, his voice a low grumble. 

his brow is furrowed in concentration, his breath hot against the nape of your neck while he fumbles with the clasp of your necklace. he curses a little under his breath when he doesn’t quite get it right the first few tries. it’s not like he’s nervous, standing this close behind you–he’s had you in a thousand different ways before that–it’s just that your familiar scent is making him lose focus on the task at hand. the smell of your shampoo, a spritz of your favorite perfume (it’s his favorite, too) and something so uniquely you, it’s engraved into his memory. 

the mirror is still a little fogged up from his shower but you’re still watching him through it, an amused gleam in your gaze. he knows exactly what you’re thinking and he lets out a low huff, his lips curling into a small grin. 

“you simply love to see me suffer,” he scoffs but there’s no malice in his voice, only pure devotion. 

“only a little.”

iwaizumi leans forward, pressing soft kisses against the side of your neck and your shoulder, not missing the way your breath hitches. water drips on your bare skin from his still damp hair but you don’t protest, only tilting your head to the side to grant him better access. the clasp of the necklace closes with a small click and iwaizumi’s arm wraps around you. his hand, big and a bit calloused, now rests against your throat, your pulse point a steady throbbing underneath his fingertips. thick fingers draw slow, gentle patterns against your skin. 

his other hand finds your hip, pulling you a little closer. your form melts so effortlessly against him, sweet like molasses, as if he carved out part of his being to make room for you, room for your heart beating his name in morse code.

his sharp canines drag over your skin, leaving a faint red trail behind, charming out one of these sweet sounds you make for no one but him. it’s a silent declaration of adoration, not possession–he doesn’t own you, but he can’t deny that a part of him wants to leave a mark on you, something for his and your eyes only. maybe a quiet plea to let him give in to this all-consuming feeling rattling in his chest. it runs deeper than love; it devours him, forcing him to his knees. 

if he had to, he’d spend his whole life spelling out his feelings for you. with his lips against the nape of your neck, and his fingers tracing down your spine, and his gaze so fiery it makes you feel like drowning. 

if he had to–but you already know, arching into his touch, and iwaizumi lets out a soft sigh, coaxing you to tilt your head back. his lips find your jaw, leaving a trail of kisses from there to the soft spot behind your ear while his fingertips brush against the necklace resting against your collarbone. he can feel you smile and lets out a quiet, hoarse laugh when your hand slides over his, tapping his ring finger in a silent but playful question.

“impatient, aren’t we?” he mutters as he leaves a few open-mouthed kisses against your neck, his hand now wrapping around yours, thumb rubbing over your knuckles in a soothing manner. there’s a small velvet box sitting in the drawer of his nightstand, but for now he’s not quite done with kissing you just yet, not until he pushes you up against the bathroom counter with your hands tangled in his hair, vows sweet like honey dripping from your lips.

[teddybeartoji]

彡 WEEPING, CARVED OPEN HEARTS

☆. contains: bf!toji fushiguro x gn!reader; mild angst with comfort (they had an argument oh no), toji learns how to apologize, toji is in love wc: 2.3k

your throat is sore and your eyes burn. you're tired and sad and upset and you just want it to be over already. but his sharp words swim laps in your head and you can't think about anything else. the ceiling of your shared living room is the only form of solace at this point, the shadows of the street putting on a show just for you.

the warm light of the lamps that stand tall behind the apartment window use the ceiling as a canvas, the passing cars as little characters running around. you hear hollering – it's saturday night, people are having fun. and you're curled up on the sad couch with a sniveling nose.

you hear steps and the bathroom door clicking shut and you use the moment to grab your stuff; a pillow, a blanket and a change of clothes – the very same sad couch will be your best friend tonight.

he turns on the water and you stand behind the door, longingly staring at the wood, wishing the night had gone differently.

but it didn't. so, you put on your pyjamas and sink into the couch. letting a few last tears fall from your eyes, you try to get some rest.

try.

while you're cocooning yourself away from the world, toji is staring at his own reflection in the foggy mirror. hands splayed on the cold countertop, his head hangs low and the running water turns into a muffled sound in his ears; dark strands of hair fall in front of his exhausted eyes, and he too, can't stop thinking about his own words.

regret fills his veins, threatening to explode under his skin. he can't tear his eyes from the disappearing reflection, the steam covering up more and more of the glass, hiding his guilty stare. his heart beats in morse code, calling out your name with every breath he takes but he's still stuck in this tiny shrinking room while you're out there – in the dark, in the cold, drowning in the impact of his words. he didn't mean them, he didn't. toji squeezes his eyes shut and his head drops to his chest. he thinks about your trembling hands and your shaky voice.

a sigh.

a miserable one.

he drops his towel and stands under the hot water. the warmth takes him in but it's nothing compared to you. the droplets comb through his hair but it's nothing compared to you. they cascade down his scarred shoulders and the muscles of his back, but it's nothing.

compared to you.

the smell of the shampoo makes him want to vomit. your shampoo. his shampoo. he rubs at his scalp and lets the suds drip over his face. he scrubs his body and he wishes he could do it harder. he hopes that you're sleeping well. no, he doesn't. he wants to say goodnight to you.

he tilts his head up towards the shower head and closes his eyes, letting the water run over his neck and his adam's apple, washing away all of the remaining ugly words that might've still been lurking in his throat.

he turns the water off and steps out. only throwing on his sweatpants, he doesn't even bother drying himself off, he just needs... you. he needs to hold you, he needs to hear you. he needs to feel his heartbeat.

one step out of the bathroom and toji can already see the corner of your blanket hanging from the edge of the couch. he fists the material of his pants at his side as he breathes out. it hurts. slowly, he approaches your bundled up body, trying to figure out whether you're already asleep or not. your face is hidden in the pillow, your back facing him and he just wants to see you.

"leave me alone."

it hurts.

his head falls back, his eyes raking over the faint shadows on the ceiling. a car honks on the street below, the wind blows behind your cracked open window. his chest feels heavy, his shoulders hurt.

"why aren't you in bed?"

quiet. you think about not answering. you thought about not talking to him throughout the entire night, but now that he's here... it's harder than you thought.

"because you're mean. and you hurt my feelings." your fingers dig into the pillow under your head. "and i don't want to fucking see you."

his knee cracks when he squats down beside you. his fingers itch to play with the ends of your hair, to pull you into his body and never let you leave.

"well, thank god you can't see anything when yer sleeping then, hm."

he's infuriating. he sounds tired. you want to slap him, you want to push him away. you hate that you can hear strain in his voice. you want him to say that he's sorry. you want to hold him. you want him to show that he cares.

leaving the safe confines of the warm blanket, you whip your head towards him. the light coming from the outside is barely enough to show you his eyes. they're soft, softer than you've ever seen them before. a dark forest; the green circular windows are pleading for you. please, don't be scared of what's inside.

"no arguments for the first two statements?"

you're a inches away from bumping your nose against his, your warm breath hitting his skin as you scoff. the pain is still there, slowly but surely turning into anger but he understands.

"i'm– trying, yeah?"

your eyes flick between his, searching for... something.

"why is your own pride more important than my feelings, toji?"

...

he fucking hates the way you're looking at him. loathes.

you look exhausted too, eyes swollen from all of the crying from before and now there are fresh tears forming in the corners of them.

because of him.

why is his pride more important? it isn't. it isn't, it isn't, it isn't. and yet... silence. something scratches in his throat – it wants to get out but it's hard. a drop rolls over the apple of your cheek and his head falls against your shoulder with a sigh. you don't push him away, you don't invite him in either. why is it so hard for him?

"i just feel like you don't care at all sometimes. when you refuse to apologize – it seems like we're competing against each other but i don't even know what the game is."

your voice is shaky and you're doing your best to come off as composed as you can because you want him to hear you out. you're scared he's going to brush you off. again.

he fiddles with the edge of your blanket, his weight heavy on your body.

"apologizing doesn't make you weak, you know. you're not losing anything – toji, we're not competing over anything. it would simply show that..." you take a big breath in, and let a big one out. "it would show that you do care. that you listen to me, that you want me here."

somebody laughs in the distance. toji smells so good. you close your eyes and focus on what you're about to say.

"it's okay for it to be hard, i don't expect you to spill it right away but it is important to me. i need to know that you're not just dusting away my feelings just because you find them difficult to deal with."

pulling your one hand from under the covers, you let it dig into his wet dark locks. your shampoo, his shampoo.

"but if they are too difficult to deal with..." you trail off, your own thought making more tears fall from the corners of your eyes. he buries his forehead into your body as you play with the hair on the nape of his neck and you feel his fingers digging into your blanket.

"don't say that... fuck– please, don't say that."

"i can't do it like this, toji. i'm not gonna apologize for being emotional. i'm not gonna apologize for being myself, for being alive." you hiccup. "i'm not gonna apologize for not being a brick fucking wall."

"i know, sweetheart, i know."

"do you?"

his teeth sink into his bottom lip and he thinks about your smile. about how your eyes shine in the warm sunlight. how you cling to him even when in your sleep. how you keep ruffling his hair even though he pretends to hate it. how cute you look when you steal his massive sweatshirts. how comforting your voice sounds, how well your hand fits into his. how intently you always listen to him, how you wash his back after a long day at work. how stupid your jokes are. and how much he lo—

...

how much he loves you.

your fingers comb through his hair and you're still coddling him despite the fact that you're upset. and sad, and angry. he thinks about how he doesn't deserve you. how you'd be better off with someone else.

he feels you falter, just a bit, and he knows he's wasting time. you're tired and you want to sleep and you want to feel his love. you want to hear it. and nothing gets to be more important than you. he makes that promise in his head, in his heart.

his sun, his moon, his stars. the smell of coffee in the morning and the feeling of your arms around his waist. his everything.

"i'm..."

fuck.

you turn your body, now fully laying on your back, and pull his head against your chest. he listens to your heartbeat and his hands snake around your middle.

"i love you."

he knows for a fact that you're too good for him.

he hasn't even said it yet but you're determined to let him know how you feel. he knows it's not meant as an encouragement either – you're completely bare before him; honest and straightforward, meagerly waiting for him to do the same. hoping he'll do the same. he's not stupid, he knows your patience is running low but you're still trying. still giving him the chance to do right by you because you want him to do right by you.

he gives you a squeeze, nuzzling his face into chest as if he could somehow reach your ribcage that way. he knows his rough hands have to work overtime to hold your big delicate heart and he's scared.

but your heart is probably scared too, isn't it? wouldn't it be scary to be held by these calloused hands; hands that only know pain and hurt?

this is how it goes. you're both scared and you'll both hold each other. whispering praise into the other's ears, regardless of the fear of getting hurt. trust – it's about trust.

i love you. you make me feel safe. stay with me. let me get that for you. let's shower together. i made you coffee. i want you to come with me. hold my hand. kiss me. hug me. hold me. i want you.

i trust you.

"i'm sorry."

...

muffled, and spoken into your skin – it's enough. it's more than enough for you.

soft, warm hands cradle his jaw and raise his head from your chest. soft, warm eyes hold his gaze and he knows his on the right path.

"fuck–" a shaky laugh; his own emotions are swallowing him whole and you're the only thing holding him up. he watches your lips curl up and relief takes over. he melts into your touch and you guide him to your lips.

you hold him there for a moment – noses touching, breaths mingling together. "thank you."

a bear hug, a high-five, a burst of laughter. an ocean wave – intense, and a lot. freeing. the feeling washes over him and he lets himself sink into you. lips against lips, chests against chests, hearts against hearts; without parting from you, toji climbs onto the couch, resting his entire body on top of yours. you don't complain.

he breathes you in and you do the same. he leans to the right and you do the same. he keeps you close and you do the same. his hand kneads the soft flesh of your waist and your hand rakes through his still wet hair. it feels right. it is right.

toji scrambles to push the blanket from between your bodies, desperate to rid of the barrier that's keeping him from his beloved. his rough hands push your shirt up just enough to feel your skin against his. he sighs into your mouth and he feels you smile against him.

your hands clasp behind his neck, pulling him flush to you and you hook your leg over his hip. latched together, forged together.

"i love you." a murmur, accompanied by a kiss to the corner of your lips. he places another onto the curve of your jaw before hiding his face in the crook of your neck.

you turn your head and press your lips to his forehead. "i love you, too."

he's warm and his arms feel so good around you. he's heavy, borderline crushing you under him but you wouldn't have it any other way. you're also a breath away from falling off the couch but you know he wouldn't let you do that. not today at least.

right now, toji is determined to keep you safely in his arms until one of you is dying of hunger and thirst. absolutely nothing else will make him move – he just might let you piss your pants if it comes to that.

for the sake of love, of course.

[sincerelyneo]

where do broken hearts go? | h.rj

“are you sleeping, baby, by yourself? or are you giving it to someone else?”

📀now playing: where do broken hearts go by one direction

❯ summary: Renjun’s counted up all his mistakes, and there’s only one he truly regrets—letting you walk out of his life. Now he’s searching every lonely place and calling out your name, trying to find you…but he just doesn’t know—where do broken hearts go?

❯ pairings: renjun x fem!reader

❯ genre: exes to lovers, angst, eventual fluff

❯ words: 4.0k

❯ tags: pining, jealousy, angst, arguing, swearing, love confessions, kissing, reader uses she/her pronouns, just renjun being all mopey and yearning for 4k words

Renjun swirled the straw around his nearly untouched mojito, watching the lime float around the glass like a tiny boat in a sea of awkward tension. Across from him, his date—Minji? Miyeon? Something with an M—tapped her acrylics on the table like she was sending out a distress signal in Morse code.

She probably was. And he couldn’t blame her. He hadn’t exactly been present lately—not on this date, not on any of the dates his best friends had set him up on in the last two weeks since the incident. Since the day he’d chased after a girl who looked like you in the cereal aisle at Target. That was the moment his friends decided enough was enough—Renjun needed an intervention. He needed to finally get over the fling he’d had with you a year ago. 

“So,” the woman finally said, arching a perfectly plucked brow, “do you always look like you want the ground to swallow you up on a first date, or is that just a me thing?”

Renjun blinked, forcing a smile. “Sorry. Just a long day.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Right. And calling me another girl’s name before? Was that part of your long day too?

Fuck.

He didn’t even remember doing it—just a flicker of déjà vu, a flash of you in his peripheral vision as someone passed in a red hoodie. The same red hoodie he’d given you. Or maybe it wasn’t. You probably didn’t even wear it anymore anyway. He wouldn’t know. He hadn’t seen or heard from you in months.

Minji-Miyeon-Mirae scoffed. “You’re actually such an asshole.”

She stood, grabbed her coat in one dramatic movement, and was out the door before Renjun could even finish saying “wait.” Not that he was going to. 

Silence returned to the bar, dragging its usual friend, guilt. The girl was pretty, objectively. Funny in a dry, slightly sarcastic way. Renjun thought maybe he could’ve liked her, in some alternate universe where he wasn’t still emotionally committed to the ghost of you. 

“Woah,” a voice said next to him, smug and far too amused. “You lasted a measly ten minutes before scaring her off. New record buddy.”

Renjun didn’t look up. “Go away, Haechan.”

“Can’t,” Haechan replied, sliding into the now-empty seat with his signature shit-eating grin. “You’re way too entertaining like this.”

A beat.

“You called her Y/N again, didn’t you?”

Renjun sighed, letting his forehead drop to the table with a dull thud. “Shut up.”

“Can’t you just call her?” Haechan said after a pause, fiddling with the edge of a coaster. “Or text? Or something? Because this whole pining-in-silence act is getting a little pathetic.”

Renjun’s jaw tensed. If only it were that simple.

He would call. He would text.  Hell, he’d even scroll through every corner of the internet just to find a trace of you—an old post, a tagged photo, anything. But there was nothing. No number. No handle. No digital footprint to cling to.

The only thing he had left was the look on your face the day he let you go. And God, he saw it every time he closed his eyes.

It was his biggest mistake—is his biggest mistake. Letting his pride, his fear, that dumb male ego of his convince him that he didn’t need to commit. That he could keep you close, enjoy the warmth, the jokes, the fun part of you—without ever having to actually choose you.

He’d thought you were joking when you asked him for something more. He laughed, deflected, tossed out some careless comment about not being the boyfriend type. He figured you’d just let it slide because you never made things difficult. You didn’t push.

He thought everything was fine. But it was worse. Because you left.

He woke up the next morning to cold sheets. There was no note. No explanation. Just a blocked number staring back at him like a punishment.

It didn’t hit him all at once. It crept in—slow, insidious, like rot spreading under his skin. He tried to tell himself it wasn’t that deep, that maybe you were just taking space, maybe you’d come back. But the empty space beside him, the silence, the unanswered calls, proved him wrong every single time.

Each minute that passed, he wished he’d been that bit more attentive, more aware. Maybe then he’d know exactly where to look for you, to apologise, to beg for you to come back. He didn’t really know. He had never been good at this.

525,600 minutes later (a year), and he still had no clue where your broken heart had gone. All the searching, all the calling, all the desperate attempts to find you... all of it was useless.

So, no—he couldn’t just call.

But explaining all of that to Haechan would only lead to another lecture, maybe something more than his current intervention attempt. And Renjun really didn’t want to talk about you on some therapist’s couch, which is exactly where Haechan would drag him next.

So instead, he settles for the simplest version of the truth: “She doesn’t answer my calls.”

Haechan groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Jesus, Renjun. You really need to move on. Like, actually move on—not emotionally dissociate for ten minutes before accidentally trauma-dumping or calling the girl the wrong name.”

Renjun didn’t respond. Just kept stirring the lime in his drink, watching it swirl like it might somehow drown out the noise of his best friend. 

Haechan huffed, snatching the untouched glass and taking a sip like it was his own. Then he kicked Renjun lightly under the stool. “I’m serious, man. I know it sucks. But you can’t keep living in a relationship that doesn’t exist anymore. She’s gone, and you’re—”

He cut off.

Eyes wide. Mouth frozen mid-sentence.

“Holy fucking shit.”

Renjun blinked, glancing up. Haechan had gone still—too still. His eyes were gaping, unblinking, locked on something over Renjun’s shoulder. His whole body had shifted, like someone had yanked him upright by invisible strings. It wasn’t just surprise. It was recognition. Shock.

Like he’d just seen a ghost.

“What?” Renjun asked, brow furrowing.

But Haechan didn’t answer. Didn’t even blink. Just kept staring. And that silence—that silence—told Renjun everything.

He turned, slowly, already bracing for nothing. For some false alarm, a girl who only looked like you from behind—because that had happened before. Too many times before. But his heart knew better.

Because there you were.

Right there, standing just inside the entrance of the bar, shaking rain from your umbrella, laughing at something someone said. Your head tilted slightly, eyes crinkled at the corners in that way that used to undo him. That way he used to love.

Your hair was a little shorter now, styled differently, and you wore a new shade of lipstick he didn’t recognise. But none of it mattered. You were still you—unmistakably, devastatingly you. 

And then his eyes dropped.

To the guy beside you. To the way his hand settled at the small of your back—easy, familiar, like he belonged there. Like he’d been there for a while.

Renjun’s lungs seized. Because all this time, he’d been clinging to the ghost of you. And now you were here—real, alive, radiant. But no longer his.

“Dude,” Haechan said quickly, reaching across the bar like he could physically pull Renjun back into his body by the shoulder. “Just—relax. You don’t even know if it’s serious. Could be her cousin. Could be—”

But Renjun wasn’t listening.

His pulse roared in his ears. His vision tunnelled.

Because this wasn’t your cousin. He could tell by the way the guy leaned in, like he had every right to whisper in your ear—how fucking natural it looked. He could feel something inside him unravelling, thread by thread.

What if you loved this guy? What if you told him all the secrets you used to tell Renjun in the dark? What if you gave that guy the parts of you that Renjun had taken for granted? 

A cold sweat prickled across his neck. His mind felt like it was shutting down—thoughts crashing into each other. He should’ve done more. He should have fought harder. Chosen you, openly, without hesitation. He should’ve been the one to make you feel wanted—needed. He should’ve been the one at your side tonight. 

But he wasn’t.

You were here—in his city, in his favourite bar—with someone else’s hand on your back and that smile on your face. The one that used to be his. And you looked okay. Happy. Without him.

“Renjun,” Haechan tried again, quieter now. “You need to stop looking. Maybe they’re just talking.” 

“You don’t get it,” Renjun’s voice was hoarse as he spoke, the sentence barely making it past his lips. 

Haechan frowned, his typical grin replaced with concern. He leaned forward, eyes searching his friend’s face. “What do you mean?”

Renjun swallowed hard, trying to steady the rage that was bubbling inside him, but the image of you—standing there, laughing with someone else—kept burning into his mind.

“You don’t get it,” he repeated, the words slipping out in a raw rush. “Because you’re not the one who let her go. You don’t get it because she’s not your mistake. You don’t get it because you’re not sitting here watching the person you could’ve had—should’ve had—move on with someone else.”

“Renjun…” Haechan’s voice was soft, but Renjun couldn’t stop.

“I fucked it all up, Haechan,” his hands tremble as they gripped the edge of the bar. “I had everything with her—everything—and I just... let it slip through my fingers because I was too scared. Too fucking scared to admit that I wanted her. That I needed her. And now she’s gone. And she’s happy. How the hell am I supposed to move on from that?” 

Haechan didn’t answer right away. He just looked at his friend with a weakened expression—sympathy, pity, worry. It only made it worse.

Renjun shook his head, his breath shaky as he said, “Look, forget it.” He threw a few bills onto the bar counter and a couple of coins as a final, defeated gesture. “I can’t do this.”

He was already on his feet before Haechan could say anything.

“Renjun—wait, come on,” Haechan called after him, but Renjun didn’t look back. Didn’t need to. Didn’t want to. 

And the scrape of the stool mixed with the echo of his name was loud enough to draw attention. Loud enough that you looked up from across the bar. 

Your smile faltered.

For a second, you froze—glass halfway to your lips, laughter still clinging to your expression but slowly fading because your eyes tracked toward the door. Where you saw him.

Your Renjun.

Storming out, shoulders stiff, head down, already bracing against the rain smearing the windows. That same stupid black jacket he always wore—fraying at the cuffs, faded at the seams.

Something in your chest clenched.

The guy beside you—your date, though that word felt hollow—said something. Maybe your name. Maybe a joke to pull you back. But none of it mattered. You were already moving.

Haechan caught sight of you just as you passed. His eyebrows jumped, startled. “Y/N?”

But you didn’t stop to explain. Didn’t grab your coat or your bag. You just went.

Out the door. Into the rain.

The door of the bar slammed behind Renjun with a gust of wind, and the cold slapped him in the face. 

The rain had turned to a steady downpour, but Renjun didn’t bother pulling up his hood. There was no point because he didn’t mind. He wanted to let it soak through his jacket, soak through his bones. Maybe if he got cold enough, numb enough, it would stop the hollow pit gnawing his chest.

He walked. Fast, at first. Then slower. Then not really walking at all, more like drifting—head down, eyes unfocused, just moving because it was the only thing he could do. He didn’t care that his shoes were getting ruined, that his shirt was clinging to his skin, or that people were staring.

He was okay with letting them see the idiot who couldn’t move on. The idiot who’d spent a year whispering apologies to an empty pillow, to a blocked voicemail, begging the universe for one more chance, only to find out that it had given that chance—to someone else. 

He should’ve never come out tonight. He should’ve stayed home. Should’ve ignored Haechan’s half-hearted setup, the hopeful way his friend kept saying, “Maybe this girl will be the one to help you move on.”

No one could help. Because no one was you.

His steps slowed to a halt in the middle of the street, rain pelting down. He blinked up at the sky, and for a moment, he thought maybe he could cry. But no tears came. Just that same hollowness in his chest—the one shaped like you.

Then—

“Renjun!”

He froze. His heart stuttered like a glitch because that voice—that fucking voice.

He turned slowly, every movement mechanical, like his body wasn’t quite connected to his mind. Raindrops clung to his lashes enough to blur his vision. But not enough to miss you—you—running down the street toward him.

“Renjun, wait!”

Your shoes splashed through puddles until you stopped a few feet from him, breathless and soaked. Chest rising and falling. Your hair stuck to your cheeks. Your eyes were wide and frantic. And that guy—the one who had his hand on your back—was nowhere to be seen. Just you. Just him.

And he wanted to revel in that. Wanted to soak in the fact that, for the first time in a year, you were standing in front of him, not as a memory, not in his dreams—but real. 

But then… he really looked at you. You were wearing a little white dress. Thin straps. Bare shoulders. Rain clinging to your skin like mist, making you shiver. And for a second, all he could feel was worry.

“Are you crazy?” he snapped, already shrugging off his jacket. “What the hell are you doing out here in that?”

You blinked, caught off guard, arms instinctively wrapping around yourself. “I—”

“You’re gonna get sick,” he muttered, moving forward, rain dripping from his lashes. “Fucking hell—Here.” He shoved the jacket toward you.

But you took a step back. “Don’t.”

“What?”

“Don’t do that.”

His brows pulled together. “Do what?”

“This.” Your voice cracked on it. “Be like this. Be… nice. Be the boyfriend type.”

There was a beat. Then two. And then he stilled, completely. The words hit him like a slap. Like ice water and he dropped the jacket to his side.

“You’re not the boyfriend type,” you said again, quieter this time. “Remember?”

He remembered. God, did he remember. And so did you—clearly. Except, you hadn’t just remembered it. You’d internalised it. Let it sink into your chest and fester. 

That one careless comment—meant to keep you from getting too close—had gutted you. And it had cost him a year of quiet regret. A year of replaying that moment, trying to rewrite it in his mind, trying to imagine what might’ve happened if he’d said literally anything else.

And it may have taken him time, too much damn time, but he was here now—trying to figure out how to fix up the heart he’d let down.

“I didn’t mean it,” he said, voice hoarse and ragged. “That night—I was scared. You were getting too close, and I—I panicked. I thought if I pushed you away, it would hurt less when you left. I thought I was protecting myself. I wasn’t thinking about you. I was being selfish.”

You let out a short, bitter laugh. “That’s not an excuse.”

“I know it’s not.” His breath caught. “I fucked up. I know I did. And I’m so fucking sorry—”

“No.” You stepped back like his words had teeth. “You don’t get to do this,” you said, angrier. Hurting. “You don’t get to show up a year later and drop some sad little apology like that makes this all okay. Like it undoes the pain.”

“That’s not what I’m trying to do—”

“Bullshit!” You snap. “You didn’t just fuck up, Renjun. You wrecked us. Wrecked me. Made me feel stupid—like everything we had was just something I made up in my head. And then you let me walk away.”

His breath hitched like you'd punched the air out of him.

“I didn’t let you—” His voice cracked. “You left while I was asleep. You didn’t even give me the chance to fight for you. You changed your number, deactivated your accounts. Moved.” 

You shrug, jaw trembling. “What was there to fight for? You’d made yourself clear.”

He stared at you, silent, rain running down his face like tears. And then—his voice dropped. “Then why are you here?”

You blinked. “What?”

“If it was really over for you—if you meant all of that—why the hell did you come after me?” he says lowly. “Why run through the fucking rain just to tell me it’s too late?”

“I don’t know!” you bite back, chest heaving. “Okay? I don’t fucking know!”

He tongues the inside of his cheek, jaw tight, and shakes his head slowly.  

“No,” he states. “You don’t get to do this either. You don’t get to scream at me for not fighting for you when you vanished. You didn’t just leave—you fucking disappeared. No goodbye. No warning. And I’ve been looking for you, Y/N. Everywhere. In crowds. In strangers. In every room I walk into, I look for you.”

His voice splinters, but he continues. “And the one time I find you—you’re with some fucking guy. And that’s fine. It may have killed me to see it, but you looked happy. You were smiling. So I left. Because I didn’t want to ruin your night. I told myself I had no right.”

His chest rises and falls, drenched, furious, heartbroken. “But then you follow me. And I don’t know what the fuck to do with that.”

The silence that followed was deafening. You turned your face away, ran a shaking hand through your dripping hair, trying to breathe, trying to hold it in—but your mouth was already trembling, your eyes already breaking.

Renjun stepped closer. And this time, you didn’t move. You let him into your space. You let him drape the soaking jacket over your shoulders, tender in a way that makes it worse. Makes it hurt more. Then his shaky voice cuts through the quiet. 

“Tell me what you want me to do with that, baby,” he says. “And I will. I can be sorry—I am sorry. I’ll always be sorry. But I’m not a mind-reader.”

The words barely register. All you can hear is that pet name. Baby. The way it slips off his tongue like it never stopped living there. The way it sounds like home and heartbreak all at once.

“I saw you leaving,” you finally whisper behind a sniffle. “And I don’t know—I couldn’t let you go. Not again. Not without saying something. Even if I hate you for the past, I couldn’t let this go. Not when I still—”

You stopped. The words lodged in your throat like glass.

Renjun stepped forward, eyes dark and wrecked and pleading. “Not when you still what?”

Your eyes found his. Red-rimmed. Glassy. Brimming with everything you swore you’d buried.

“Not when I still love you,” you breathe. “and I fucking hate that I do.”

He doesn’t even let the last part of that sentence affect him. Not when his mind has been running in circles for the last year, for the last hour, with thoughts of you. Because Renjun has spent too many minutes (525,600, to be exact) wondering if you’d ever love him again. So his mind clings to the one word. Still. Meaning you never stopped.

He stands there, a breath away from you, his chest rising and falling as his gaze settles on your lips. 

“Don’t,” you whisper, though it’s more for yourself than him.

Not that it matters anyway because Renjun’s not listening. He takes a step closer, his hand brushing against your cheek, his thumb tracing your jaw like he’s familiarising himself with the feel of you.

“I will,” he breathes, almost pained. “Because I still love you too.”

And then he’s kissing you.

His hands grip your face, his thumbs pressing into either side of your skin, holding you in place as though you might slip away again if he doesn’t.

It’s not a gentle kiss, not soft. It’s aching, as if every second apart has been torture. And it has been, at least for him. 525,600 minutes being deprived of the ability to taste you, to kiss you, to claim you as his. 

His body moulds against yours, slick and cold, every wet inch of him flushes against you as he pulls you closer, tighter. The rain clings to his skin, and you taste it on his lips—salt and earth, a sobering reminder that this is really happening, that he’s here, and you’re not imagining any of this. 

You don’t think; your hands find their way to the damp fabric of his shirt, fingers digging into the material hungrily. His lips trail from yours, slow and delicate, down the line of your jaw, across your throat. You shiver at the sensation of his breath on your skin, his lips leaving a juxtaposing heat in their wake. 

When he kisses the delicate curve of your collarbone, you gasp, your body responding instantly to the person it knows it belongs to. 

"God, I’ve fucking missed you, Y/N," he pants.

“I’ve missed you too.”

Renjun smiles and presses his forehead against you. His fingers trace idle patterns on your back, but there's a weak, almost vulnerability in his eyes when he speaks again. 

"If I take you home with me right now," he starts, "will that guy you walked in with be mad?"

You arch an eyebrow, trying to stifle a grin. “That guy? You mean Yunho?”

The corners of his lips drop as he presses them in a thin line and nods. “Yeah. That guy. You and him... you’re not...”

You bite your lip, tempted to play along, but the fragile ache in his voice pulls at your heart, making you want to stop whatever scenario he’s spiralling in his head

 "Nope," you reply, shaking your head. "Yunho and I are just friends. Nothing more, I promise."

Renjun’s grin widens, his eyes softening with relief. “That’s good, then,” he says, chuckling. 

It’s your turn to lean in, your breath hot against his lips as you murmur, “Truthfully, the only reason I even asked him on a date is because my friends kept telling me I needed an intervention. The only way to get over you is by getting under someone else and all that.”

He pulls back slightly, raising his own eyebrow with a small chuckle.  “You know…Haechan said the same thing to me.”

You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head. "It’s weird, actually. How my very first date since we ended things just so happened to bring me right back to you.”

His grin deepens, a look of pride swelling in his chest as he gently traces his finger along the curve of your jaw. 

“It’s because I’m yours, Y/N,” he says, thumb brushing the softness of your skin. “I was made for you. Your heart knows it. Even though I broke it, I’ll be the one to mend it.” He leans in, lips resting just below your ear. "Always."

[judebellenthusiast]

Casual- Jude Bellingham

Jude x female reader

w.c: 4.3k

summary: Two friends, whose connection was once effortless and genuine, now find it teetering on the edge, as Jude’s possessiveness and Yasmin’s reluctance to fully engage threaten to push them toward an emotional breaking point.

warnings: mature language, not proof read

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

Another ordinary night at Jude’s place. The TV hummed in the background, a classic British comedy filling the space with familiar chatter. Yasmin was curled up on his couch, wrapped in one of his hoodies, laughing at something on her phone. She looked so at home here, so natural—like she belonged. Like this was hers. And maybe, in some unspoken way, it was.

Jude watched her, savoring the sight. He loved that she let him see her like this—unguarded, comfortable, vulnerable. Not just once, but over and over, as if trust was second nature between them. It made him feel dizzy with something dangerously close to happiness. Because despite the strange, unspoken thing lingering between them, she was still here. Still showing up for him. Still untouched by whatever it was that had been gnawing at him.

And that had been eating at his sanity all along.

A noticeable ping goes off on Yasmin’s phone. Immediately alarmed, Jude shifts, listening to the soft tapping of her fingers as she responds to the message. His chest grows heavy with the realization that, once again, he had interrupted their quality time.

And that makes him hot.

Fighting against his better judgment, he decides to play loving Jude—the version of himself who puts his pride aside, who listens, who understands. It never used to be difficult. But lately, with her? Not so much.

The thought of her with someone else makes his blood run scorching hot.

It shouldn’t. He’s had his flings, his hookups, his forgettable nights. She’s free to do the same.

Still-

“You like him?” His voice is rougher than it should be, his grip tightening around the bowl of popcorn.

She looks up, surprised. “What”

“That guy.” He doesn’t say his name. Won’t. “You like him?”

She hesitates, then shrugs. “He’s nice.”

Nice. Jude almost laughs. He wants to rip nice apart with his teeth. Nice doesn’t know her like he does. Nice doesn’t get to see her in moments like this—wrapped up in him, breathing in his space, wearing his hoodie like it belongs to her.

Tonight, he’s greedy. Completely relentless.

“Since when did you settle for nice?”

For a moment, Yasmin just blinks at him, her expression unreadable. Then, slowly, she sets her phone down on the armrest, like she’s choosing her words carefully. Choosing how to handle him. It makes him feel like a landmine ; one wrong step and he’ll go off, shattering whatever fragile thing still exists between them.

“don’t start.”

That should be his cue to back off, to shake this off like it’s nothing. He wishes it was nothing. But it isn’t. It’s her. And it’s him. And it’s every moment like this where she’s here but not his.

He exhales sharply, shaking his head. “I’m just saying, nice? That’s all it takes?”

Her jaw tightens. “Well Jude, not everything has to be complicated.”

But we are, he wants to say. We always have been. Instead, he scoffs, running a hand through his hair, feeling himself unravel. “Right. So, what, he sends a few texts, calls you pretty, and that makes you fold?.”

Yasmin tenses, her fingers curling into the sleeves of his hoodie. It’s not anger, not yet—but he knows her well enough to recognize the shift. The moment she starts pulling away.

“That’s not fair,” she murmurs. “You don’t get to do this.”

She’s right, he doesn’t. But she’s here, looking at him with something dangerously close to pity, and it makes his stomach churn. Because deep down, he knows what she means.

Not when he’s the one who taught her how to move on.

Not when he’s the reason she had to.

She looks at him for a beat too long, eyes scanning his face like she’s searching for something morse code , a smoke signal, a reason to stay in this conversation. But whatever she’s looking for, she doesn’t find it. She exhales, slow and measured, then reaches for her phone again.

That should be the end of it. He should let her go back to texting Nice, pretend this doesn’t bother him, be the easygoing, unaffected Jude she’s used to. But he can’t.

Instead, he says, “Does he know you steal all the blankets in your sleep?” His voice is quieter now, almost careful. “That you leave the tap running when you brush your teeth, no matter how many times I tell you it’s wasteful?”

Yasmin freezes, Jude’s hoodie failing to shield her from the icy sensation creeping through her. What once felt like comfort now felt paper-thin.

He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his head tilted to the side, a gesture that usually made her needy but now had the opposite effect.

“Does he know you don’t really like horror movies, but you watch them anyway because you love the way people get passionate about them?” His throat is tight now, but he pushes forward. “Does he know that when you’re sad, you bite the inside of your cheek to keep from crying?”

A pause. A long, suffocating silence.

Then she whispers, “What’s your point here Jude ”

And fuck, it hurts. The way she says his name, soft and broken and pleading, like she’s asking him not to do this. Like she’s trying to remind him of all the reasons they stopped being them in the first place. All those intimate nights together, How he ruined her for any other man like a disease taking over its carrier.

How she’d wake up bare and vulnerable to him holding her like she would slip away in the middle of his slumber— worst part is how they’d go back to their usual selves like nothing ever happened

He forces out a laugh, but it cracks at the edges. “Nice doesn’t know you Yaz.” His voice drops, raw and unsteady. “Not like I do.”

She lets out a shaky laugh, her tongue pressing against the inside of her cheek—something Jude knew she did when she was annoyed. But once again, he selfishly disregarded her discomfort. He didn’t care. Not when he was ready to burn every bridge between them just to make his point.

Jude had never been the rational one between the two parties, that was always Yasmin. The thinker, the mediator, the one who kept their arguments from spiraling into something irreparable. She was emotionally intelligent in a way he wasn’t, in a way he admired. In a way he adored.

Amongst so many other things, As often as he hated to admit it, she was usually right. She had to be—moderating heated debates between him and the younger Bellingham required nothing less.

“Oh, grow up. What do you know about relationships when your entire track record consists of sleeping with women on the first date and kicking them out before sunrise?” Her words cut sharp, ruthless—but he deserved it for thinking he had the right to judge her.

“I’m actually trying to build something here. Something real—something valuable.” She presses.

Jude makes no effort to chime in, letting her words settle between them like embers still burning at the edges. She had a point—a brutal one at that; but he doesn’t argue. Instead, he stays silent, almost relieved. Because for once, she isn’t biting her tongue to spare his feelings. Even if it comes at his expense, at least she’s finally stopped pretending everything between them is fine.

At least now, they’re being honest.

“Hmm, now you have nothing to say?” She tilts her head, eyes sharp, voice laced with something dangerously close to amusement. “What happened? You had no problem running your mouth about ‘ nice’ earlier. What, Jude? Cat got your tongue?”

Nothing. He stays perfectly still, arms sprawled out against the couch, exuding the kind of ease that only ever masked something deeper. His eyes remain locked on Yasmin, drinking her in like she’s an expensive painting in the Louvre—something priceless, something untouchable.

And then, just to piss her off, he flashes the biggest, most infuriating shit-eating grin.

“You find this funny? What’s so fucking funny, Jude?” Yasmin’s voice is sharp, laced with frustration, her arms crossing over her chest as she glares at him. “Go on, speak up”

Jude just chuckles, shaking his head, that damn grin still plastered on his face. “I’m just glad you finally had the balls to say what you actually feel instead of watering it down, Yaz. Good on you love”

Running a hand through her hair, she takes a deep breath, her patience hanging by a thread. Without thinking, she grabs the nearest object—a pillow—and hurls it straight at his perfectly trimmed set of hair.

It smacks against him with a dull thud, bouncing off uselessly. The grin finally slips from his face, just for a second.

Jude blinks, then tilts his head, lips twitching. “Didn’t peg you as a violent person, Although, I gotta say… that cushion didn’t do much damage.” He leans back lazily, smirking. “Cute effort, though.”

Yasmin exhales sharply, shaking her head as if she’s trying to physically rid herself of him—of this entire moment. This was useless. He was useless.

“ Fuck right off, I’m done,” she mutters, voice tight. She turns on her heel, grabbing her phone in the process– not thinking of her valuables that’s stored in his closet and bathroom drawers for all the times she’d stay over. She practically lived here.

She moves toward the door with quick, purposeful strides. She won’t stay here, won’t let him rile her up just to leave her in the same emotional purgatory he always does. it was usually unintentional but it still hurt.

But then—his hand wraps around her wrist. Not hard, not forceful, but firm enough to stop her in her tracks.

“Yasmin,” he says, and for the first time tonight, his voice isn’t teasing. It isn’t cocky or smug. It’s quiet. Unsteady. Raw.

She doesn’t turn around.

He swallows hard. “If you walk out that door, you’re not just leaving for the night. We both know that.”

Silence. Thick, suffocating.

“Maybe that’s the point,” she whispers.

His grip tightens, just slightly, like he’s trying to anchor her here, to him. “Then tell me,” he says, his voice barely above a breath, Grabbing onto her shoulders turning her body to face his “Tell me you don’t feel it anymore. Tell me you don’t care. That this-” he lets out a shaky exhale, “—that I don’t mean anything to you.”

She squeezes her eyes shut. Her pulse thrums against his fingertips. “Fuck you”

“Say it,” he presses, voice breaking at the edges. “And maybe I’ll let you go.”

She wants to. She needs to. It would be easier if she did But the words won’t come, because they would be a lie. Because no matter how much she tries to convince herself otherwise—he still means everything.

And he knows. Of course, he knows.

So he takes a step closer, close enough that she can feel his breath against her skin, close enough that if she turned around, there would be no space left between them. “Figures, You can’t,” he murmurs. “Because you still love me.”

Her breath catches.

And just like that, he’s ruined everything

Yasmin wrenches her wrist out of his grasp like his touch burns her. And maybe it does—because everything about him is fire and recklessness and ruin, and she can’t do this. Not again.

“Don’t,” she snaps, stepping back as if distance could save her. “Don’t say that. You don’t get to say that.”

Jude shakes his head, jaw tight, eyes locked onto her like she’s the only thing in the world that matters. “Why not? Because it’s true?”

She scoffs, arms crossing over her chest like a shield. “Because it’s cruel, Jude. You don’t get to throw shit like that in my face when you’re the reason I had to stop loving you in the first place.”

That hits. She sees it in the way his expression falters, just for a second, before he recovers—before he takes a step toward her, crowding her space, refusing to let her hide behind anger.

“Yasmin,” he murmurs, voice low, pleading. “Look at me.”

She keeps her gaze firmly on the floor. She won’t let him do this. Won’t let him drag her back into the storm of him just because he suddenly decided he wanted her again.

But Jude isn’t having it.

“Look. at .me.” His voice is sharper now, desperate, like her refusal to meet his eyes is physically hurting him.

Her chest rises and falls in sharp, uneven breaths. “Why? So you can watch me fall apart for you again?”

“Yes.” The answer comes instantly, wrecked and honest. “Because I need to see it. Because I know you’re hurting, Yas. I know you still feel this.” He reaches for her again, not to hold her down, not to trap her—just to touch her, to make her stay. “I know I fucked up. I know I ruined it. But don’t stand here and lie to my face. Not you.”

She shakes her head furiously, tears stinging at the edges of her vision. “You don’t get to need me now. You don’t get to want me now.”

Jude exhales sharply, dragging a hand down his face. And then—his voice drops to a whisper, one that slips through the cracks in her armor before she can stop it.

“I never stopped wanting you.”

Her resolve wavers. And he sees it. Of course, he does.

So he steps even closer, tilting his head, trying to catch her eyes. Begging for them. “Please, Yaz,” he breathes. “Just look at me.”

she knows the second she looks at him, really looks at him, she’ll crumble. And she’s spent too long trying to piece herself back together to let him wreck her all over again.

But Jude? Jude is relentless.

His fingers twitch at his sides like he’s fighting the urge to reach for her again, to force her to face him if he has to. His breathing is uneven, his chest rising and falling too fast, like he’s the one spiraling. And maybe he is. Maybe, for once, she’s not the only one drowning in whatever the hell this is.

“Yasmin,” he whispers, voice cracking.

Her throat tightens. She clenches her jaw, wills herself to stay strong. But something about the way he says her name, like it’s the only thing keeping him tethered to this moment, has her resolve slipping.

So she looks.

And it’s a mistake.

Because his eyes—God, his eyes—are raw, desperate, completely, devastatingly bare. There’s no cocky smirk, no smug deflection, no armor. Just him. Just Jude. Just the boy she loved so recklessly, so stupidly, staring at her like she’s the only thing he’s ever truly been afraid of losing.

And just like that, she hates him.

Hates him for making her look. Hates him for looking at her like that. Hates him for being so fucking easy to love when he’s spent so long proving he didn’t deserve it.

So she shoves him. Hard.

His body jerks back slightly, but he barely reacts, barely even blinks, just lets her push him like she needs to.

“You don’t get to do this,” she chokes out, her voice shaking with barely contained rage. “You don’t get to sit here and act like I’m the one who left. Like I’m the one who let us fall apart.”

Jude swallows thickly, his jaw clenching. “I know.”

“Do you?” she snaps, another shove landing against his chest. “Do you really? Because if you did, you wouldn’t be standing here, making me relive all the ways you broke me.”

Jude exhales sharply, tilting his head up, eyes flickering to the ceiling like he’s trying to keep himself together. And then, after a long, agonizing beat.

“I never wanted to break you.” His voice is barely above a whisper.

Yasmin lets out a bitter laugh, but it sounds more like a sob. “Well, congratu-fucking-lations, Jude. You did.”

He squeezes his eyes shut, shaking his head. “I know.”

And then, softer, like he’s confessing the worst sin imaginable—

“And I hate myself for it.”

Yasmin lets out a hollow laugh, “You hate yourself for it?” she echoes, shaking her head. “That’s rich, Jude. You think that changes anything? You think that makes it better?”

She pushes him again, but this time it’s weaker, her hands curling into fists against his chest grabbing onto his shirt

Jude doesn’t move. Doesn’t stop her. Just stands there and takes it, lets her anger sink into his skin like he needs to feel it.

“You have no idea what it was like,” she whispers, voice shaking. “Sitting there, pretending I was fine while you paraded around with other women. Like we never happened. Like I never happened.”

His breath hitches, but she doesn’t stop. Can’t.

“You’d walk into a room with some girl on your arm, smiling like she was the only thing in the world that mattered, and I had to sit there and pretend it didn’t feel like my entire fucking chest was caving in.” Her voice is raw now, her eyes burning with unshed tears. “Do you know what that’s like, Jude? Do you have any idea what it’s like to love someone so much that watching them with someone else feels like dying over and over again?”

Jude’s jaw tightens, his hands balling into fists at his sides. “Hey—”

“SHUT UP” She cuts him off, shaking her head. “You don’t get to talk. Not when I spent months swallowing my feelings just to make it easier for you. Not when I had to sit there, night after night, pretending it didn’t hurt to watch you move on like I was nothing.”

“I wasn’t moving on,” he says, and for the first time, there’s something desperate in his voice. “I was trying—trying to forget, trying to stop feeling like I’d ripped out my own fucking heart when I let you go.”

Yasmin lets out a sharp, broken exhale, shaking her head like she’s trying to keep herself from believing him. “Bullshit” Yasmin scoffs, her voice sharp, cutting. “You have everything, Jude. Status, women—hell, you live for that shit. "Bet you enjoyed knowing I was waiting like a lovesick puppy, hoping you'd finally see me the way I’ve always seen you."

Jude finally moves, stepping closer, forcing her to look at him, really look at him. "Stop that. I won’t let you talk about yourself like you’re just a pawn in some game," he interrupts, hating the way she tears herself down with words that couldn’t be further from the truth. His voice is thick, unsteady as he murmurs, "I don’t expect you to believe anything.. but it’s the truth."

She clenches her jaw, her entire body trembling with the weight of everything she’s held in for too long. “You had options, Jude. You had every chance to fix things. And instead, you let me sit there, watching you touch other women, smile at other women, while I had to act like I didn’t care.”

His hands twitch like he wants to reach for her, but he holds back. “I was a fucking coward.” His voice cracks. “I thought if I kept running, if I buried it deep enough, maybe it would go away. Maybe you would go away.”

Jude’s breath stutters, his entire body going rigid as her chest presses against his. She’s so close he can feel the heat radiating off her, can see the fire in her eyes, burning with rage, with pain, with something he knows is for him.

She tilts her head, daring him, pushing him. “Well, you haven’t always been the brightest” she taunts, voice dripping with venom. “So did it work? All that running around, all those one night stands , all that trying to bury your feelings like a fucking pussy did. It. Work?”

Jude exhales shakily, his eyes burning into hers. “No,” he admits, voice barely above a whisper. "No matter who I was with or how many nights I tried to move on, none of it ever compared to you," he says firmly, willing her to believe him. It’s raw, unfiltered—straight from the depths of his heart. Grasping her hand, he presses it against his chest, his heartbeat hammering beneath her palm. "This, right here, is real, Yasmin."

The words hit her like a punch to the gut, knocking the breath right out of her.

And Jude knows. He sees it in the way her lips part, in the way she grips her arms like she’s trying to physically hold herself together, and for a second, just a second, he thinks he sees her waver. Like the weight of this, of them, is finally catching up to her. But then she blinks, and the fire is back.

“Aw boo hoo ,” she bites out. Pulling her hand away from his chest “I want you to suffer. The same way I did.”

Jude swallows hard, his chest rising and falling too fast, too uneven, too agitated with her stubbornness.

“You think I haven’t?” His voice is quieter now, but there’s something raw in it, something that makes her breath hitch. “You think I don’t fucking hate myself every second of every day for what I did to you?” “Because I had something real, something valuable—and I ruined it. I ruined us. And the worst part?” He lets out a bitter exhale. “I never fucking stopped loving you. Not for a second. Not even when I tried.”

Her breath catches.

And just like that, she’s done for.

Yasmin squeezes her eyes shut, willing herself to stay firm, to not let those words seep into the cracks he already left behind. But it’s useless. Because this is Jude—her Jude—and no matter how much she wants to hate him, she knows deep down she never truly could.

She shakes her head, a silent plea for him to stop, to not do this to her. But of course doesn’t stop.

Instead, he steps even closer, his fingers ghosting over her wrist, a hesitant, desperate touch. “Say something,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper.

Her throat tightens. She can’t. Because if she speaks, if she admits what’s been sitting heavy in her chest since the moment she walked through his door, there’s no coming back from it.

So she does what she always does when it comes to him. She tries to run.

But Jude is faster.

He grabs her arm frustrated with her constant need to run. “Stop walking away from me. Not this time, not ever.”

She exhales shakily, refusing to turn around. “let me go.”

“No.” His voice is steadier now, more certain. like he’s trying to coax her out of hiding. “Yasmin.” He tugs her gently, just enough to make her stumble a step back toward him

When she turns, it’s slow, hesitant, her gaze lifting to meet his like she already knows it’ll be her undoing.

And the second she does, she breaks.

Because Jude is wrecked.

His brows are furrowed, his lips parted, his eyes desperate, pleading. Like she’s the only thing that’s ever truly mattered. Like he’s terrified she’ll slip through his fingers if he so much as breathes the wrong way.

“I love you,” he says, and this time, there’s no hesitation, no running, no fear. Just the truth.

Her chest tightens. “Don’t say that.”

“It’s the truth.” He steps forward, eliminating the last bit of space between them. “And you know it is, Yaz. You’re it for me”

A single tear slips down her cheek, and when Jude sees it, something in him shatters.

“I’m sorry,” he breathes ,hesitating to reach up but he does so anyway— wiping her tears. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

Yasmin lets out a trembling breath, her lips parting like she wants to say something—but then she just falls.

Not physically. Just enough for Jude to know that, this time, she’s his to catch.

He doesn’t hesitate. The second he feels her falter, he reaches for her; one hand curling around her waist, the other cradling the side of her face like she’s something fragile, something irreplaceable.

Yasmin doesn’t push him away. Doesn’t flinch. She just stands there, caught between her anger and the way his touch feels like something she’s been aching for.

It feels like an eternity passes before he finally speaks.

“Thought I lost you,” he says quietly.

“You did ” she responds, her voice sharp. “Nothing between us has been normal recently .”

Jude shakes his head instantly. “No,” he murmurs. “No, I didn’t. Because you’re still here.”

That stops her cold.

Because he’s right- hating the fact that he’s choosing to be rational- part of it likes that it’s with her.

She could’ve left. Could’ve walked out the second he touched her , the second he confessed. But she didn’t.

She’s still here.

Jude sees it, feels it, and he takes his shot. Grabbing onto her face he brushing her curls away gently his long fingers rest against her jaw

"I will spend every second of my life proving to you if you let me. I don’t care how long it takes, I don’t care what I have to do—just don’t tell me to stop loving you, Because I wont.”

Her lips part, her chest rising and falling too fast, too uneven.

And just when he thinks she might actually say it back

She steps away.

His hands drop, his heart plummeting, but he doesn’t fight her. He lets her go, even though it physically fucking kills him to do it.

She’s crying now, wiping at her cheeks like she’s angry at the tears, at him, at herself.

“I want to, but I can’t.”

His face twists, like he’s in actual pain. “Why not?”

Yasmin swallows hard, looking at him like she’s memorizing his face, like she already knows this might be the last time.

“Because loving you is just.. painful”

Jude’s breath shudders, and just like that—

She’s gone.

[s8r8h]

You don't need to remember that.

The bass was heavy and vibrated through her whole body. Somebody’s something was making conversation with the treble of the beat, the talking couldn’t be for anyone else, since no one could hear them, nor did they really care. Blues, purples and pinks that were just too saturated to call pastel raced around the basement, twisting and swirling around one another with the music. Sarah and David had come to the club together but some of Davids friend had found him and were distracting him from the more important thing in life, dancing that is. So, Sarah busied herself with just that, trying her hardest to get lost in the music, it wasn’t that hard, four shots into the night after an intense pregame, she closed her eyes let the music take her body. She wasn’t listening to David and his boring conversation, but his voice was near impossible to not hear so she caught glimpses of one side of her man’s conversation.

“… Yeah, haven’t seen … since that party … shit got crazy … my one doesn’t remember …” Bits and pieces like broken morse code entering her brain through the fog of the electro music. Then she caught some of the response.

“You must have really done a number on her hey?” It was a man’s voice, David had seemed to have a small crowd around him, three or four people is all Sarah could see as she glanced over from her performance. Although she was getting distracted from the music, which was more important to her then what ever they were on about. She moved deeper into the dance floor the warm bodies around her moving in sync with the sweet mechanical waves crashing against her body.

A familiar finger poked her shoulder, “you want another drink, darling?”

She turned to look at him wide eyed and full of the ecstasy that comes naturally with the rhythms, nodding her head, “oo yes yes please!”

He had put his hand low but open, an invitation for her to hold it, and so she did. Following behind him was so easy she could still be lost in the music and simply trust in the direction of his warm body. By this point in the night there was an unruly crowd growing at the bar so they would have to wait, an inkling of curiosity and a desire to hear her boyfriends voice prompted her, “What were you talking about?”

He turned to look at her, his gaze never seeming to skip over any part of her face, it naturally made her giddy, “oh nothing sweety, don’t worry about it.”

She nodded, a wave of calmness washed over her, it wasn’t important anyway, he would tell her if it was. Thoughtlessness crept into her head undetected; she didn’t realise that they had gotten to the bar, through the rowdy people, until David tapped her on the nose

“Darling, there’s your drinking”

Caught off guard she blushed and waved his hand away, nodding again, seemingly make that her thing tonight, “thank yooou.”

“Anything for you.” He said with a warm smile as they tipped the bottom the shot glasses to the sky.

She squirmed, “bleehh” wiggling her head back and forth, she looked at him again, up and down, she hugged him, it was not a long hug but a tight one, once she let go David was wincing, she scattered back to the dance floor, not noticing the Davids friends were picking up their topic again.

Time passed she didn’t really care though, all she need was to dance, dance, dance. Another tap on the shoulder, she turned to see her David, he motioned for her to come with him, “How do you feel about moving to a different club?” He had lent in close to her ear his breath sent a tantalizing tingle down her spine, God she needed all of him so bad.

She leaned even closer to him, “yeah sure this one kinda sucks, which one do you have in mind?”

“Don’t know we’ll figure it out.” He said, glancing back at his collection of friends, some Sarah recognized and some she didn’t, and even then, recognizing it is over selling it, she knew none of their names.

They left the club, and the others followed, seemingly glancing at her more than she thought they would. An uber was bought, and they split from Davids followers. Sarah looked out from the uber at all the other people lining up at different bars and clubs, some of them pretty, some rather ugly, they all looked like they were having so much fun. The uber neared the end of the party lane, but made no indication of slowing down, she turned David, “where are we going?”

“Oh, to a house party.” He said nonchalantly.

“But I thought you said we were going to another club?”

He moved closer to me pulling on his seat belt, his free arm cupped her face so that she had no choice but to look at him, into his eyes. “Darling, that silly little brain of yours is getting in the way again I thought we talked about this before we left, hey?”

Her eyes had already started glazing over, her mind already receding, she was beginning to relax fully in his hand, she let out a sigh, she let out a sound of agreement, nothing too intelligible, just how he liked it.

She couldn’t remember what they spoke about before they left to go partying, not really, the vague notion of a heavy pregame, but really her night started on that dance floor. This didn’t matter to her though, she couldn’t even think at that moment, he had said something while they were back at home, something warm, something pleasurable. He was saying something, but she couldn’t register it yet. He seemed to be enjoying himself while he was talking to her, he smiled at her, taking on a truly pleasant quality. Her eyes were growing heavy, slack, relaxed. She didn’t need to be present; she could just sink into this pleasant feeling.

She came back to when she noticed his hand wiping spit off her chin.

The car stopped and he said, “we’re here.”

Blinking as she got out of the car she spied the house, it seemed normal, music could be heard from inside, reminding her pleasantly of the club. One of the people David had talked to at the club was waving at us from the front door. “Come on in!”

As we approached David’s friend continued, starting an impromptu house tour, Sarah wasn’t paying to much attention, following behind her man half listening.

“Here’s the fridge, there’s drinks enough in there…the toilet is there…” Blah blah blah, Sarah thought, finding a place to sit was her biggest concern since she had become rather tired after the car ride. Her prayer was answered as their tour guide showed them the living room, an open space. A carpet laid in the center of the room boxed in by three couches and a TV displaying someone’s Spotify playlist. The couches were reasonably populated, each holding about 3 to 4 people, some she remembered from the club, some she didn’t. She went off to find a seat before David and his friend stopped talking, she was in her own world.

David sat down next to her, he cupped his hand around her thighs to lift them up onto his lap, she let out a little playful squeal but ultimately started to curl in and rest her head on his shoulder. Someone she hadn’t seen before came up to David, boy was he the life of the party tonight, what did he do to get so famous?

“Hey mate,” said the unknown man, “funny seeing you guys here, boy was she fun last time-”

David cut him off, “I know, she is always very fun, and she’s good at what she does too, why don’t we talk about after the show though?”

The man let out a nervous and embarrassed chuckle, “right, right.”

“What am I good at?” She asked, rather curious at what her man had to say about her.

She was still leaning into him, her head resting on his shoulder, her legs across his, as he moved his hand that was opposite her over to her face. He caressed her face running his fingers across her cheek, then his hand gravitated to her mouth, her heart skipped a beat, she knew what he was about to do. But we’re in front of all these people, stupid! She tried to mentally blast him as if he could read her mind, but it didn’t work. His fingers entered her mouth, her eyes rolled back and glazed over, she no longer had it in her to worry about the people in the room. Any of his warmth in her mouth was enough to make her muscle memory kick in, she tonged his fingers began to move close to them so that they were deeper in her mouth.

“That’s it darling; you don’t need to focus on anything else; you don’t need to remember that.” He said in a low tone, not a whisper though, he had no intension of keeping what was going on here a secret. He began to take his fingers out of her mouth, as he did so he could hear her heavy breathing, she was gone for that moment, completely enthralled in the pleasure that his mere hand gave her and no doubt had forgotten what his friend had said. “That’s it.”

She was leaning back onto his shoulder, still lost in the fog of her brain, or lack thereof. She didn’t even realize that she hadn’t closed her mouth, she was drooling onto his shoulder just existing in the waves of pleasure that were radiating over her. They were slowly dissipating but with that her thoughts did not speed back up; she was rather spaced out.

Tingling was creeping up her arms, legs, and the back of her spine. It felt like the beginning of the body’s natural reflex to falling, like she had just lost balance leaning back in on a chair, but she was falling into a sort of bliss. Like a jolt of ecstasy that washed over her and pulled her under a deep and seductive spell. She was lost in him, his smell, the warmth of skin and the pure sensation of his skin against hers. She needed to taste him, she was lost in his haze, his abyss. She moved her drooling face to get closer to his neck, she started to nuzzle his neck softly, he lent into it.

“That’s it darling,” he whispered, it sounds so far away from her, she was entering her own little world, peaceful and perfect.

 The nuzzle slowly weighed heavy on her face and she lent in deeper, her lips still parted in her semi blank state, the soft warmth of his neck engulphed her lips, this came with the accompanying thought of, ooooo, there wasn’t much else going on in that little head of hers. So softly and smoothly she continued, gently against his neck, lips controlled and savoring the moment. She needed this, this was slowly becoming the only goal in her head, so she lent in more, turning more towards him. David said something to one of his friends, she couldn’t hear it, it was like she was only listening through noise cancelling headphones. She did not care.

[noodles-doodles01]

Some Gravity Falls Stuff I Found

A lot of this could already be known, but I'm having fun and its a way to keep track. All is from thisisnotawebsitedotcom.com

So for computer passwords:

Dipper- a letter from Bill (his handwriting + he calls him Pine Tree) telling dipper to stare into the sun

Mabel- Places stickers all over the lab until the screen says "lab fully Mabelized"

Stanford/Sixer- Gives a Medical report on Ford's hand taken at 18, the report censors the mention of kidnapping him for cloning

Stanley- eBay for brass knuckles

MatPat- a video of MatPat saying "hello internet, this time, you're on your own"

Cipher/Bill Cipher- Eye of Providence Wiki

Bill- Sesame Street Video

Wendy- A letter from Wendy saying that she wrote a way to ward off evil triangles at the bottom right of the book (I have two ideas for what this could be), also a 👌 drawn in the bottom right corner upside down.

Blind Eye- A seeing eye test that repeats the letters WKHBOOVHH (anagram maybe?) with a colour code at the bottom (I'll include this later in this post)

Robbie- Shows messenger messages between Robbie and Thompson. Thompson seems to be getting real tired of the bullying (He wrote out "If you keep insulting me one of these days I-" and then highlights it as if he's about to delete it, followed by Yea :(). They discuss going to a site to see Bill, and later freak out about seeing him and knowing how they both die (Thompson gets mistaken for luggage and Robbie chokes on a mini skateboard). The end is this photo with Bill in the background:

Pacifica- A letter from Pacifica herself warning against Bill, saying that she dumped old Tapestries with triangles on it off a yacht with an unnamed friend. She seems to be super uncomfy about mentioning who the friend is (Dipper maybe?). She ends the letter saying that you should follow her on Platinum Paz

Platinum Paz: Details a story of Pacifica having a nightmare about blood being on her hands and everywhere. She then has a conversation with a statue of Nathaniel NW, who asks about her anger. She tells him everything was better before the Pines' came to town, and he says he will help her if she does something for him: go to the Pines' place and grab a small snowglobe that's new (the rift). He is about to shake her hand before she stops and wakes up. She then adds Dipper's number to her phone and sleeps well. Most likely what leads to the tapestries being thrown off a yacht.

Oneeyedking: a hypnosis tape where there is morse code in the background while Bill says "you want to sell your soul to Bill Cipher" three times. I didn't do this but the morse code gives a series of letters (explained below)

If you spam Stanley: you are a taken to something called “the Wheel of Shame” and it is Bill explaining that he knows all of Stan’s shames since he was in his head. They are listed as follows: Ex Wives, Fears, Secret Shames, Unreported Crimes, Stan’s Failed Products, Lowest Moments, Darkest Thought (pin all crimes on Soos), and How Stan Beat Me (He didn’t! I’M STILL HERE SUCKER)

Now for Codes:

When you click on the book of Bill, there is a letter from Ford to Dipper warning against the book. On the last page at the bottom right corner, this code is seen (this is what I thought Wendy might mean):

I tried all the existing codexes, but they didn't work. Until I typed MASON into the compuer (Dipper's acc name), which gives a sheet where Dipper talks about learning how to make codes. Ford's writing comes in at the end, and the words CRYPTOGRAM CODEX are capitalized at the end. When that was input into the computer, a folder file was downloaded and gave me multiple codes.

I used CypherFontA and flipped the message on the Vertical Axis and reversed the message to get: PER ASPERA AD ASTRA, which means "through suffering to the stars" in Latin

There is another hidden code on the candle, visible through the lightning, and it uses the Runes codex, translating to CURSED. When input into the computer, you get this "Just Say No" campaign poster against drawing triangles (RAD), the words Cool and Parties are both randomly capitalized in this speech bubble from Nancy Reagan (not applicable to the passwords tho)

Carved into the wall (visible when lightling strikes) on the left is the Latin phrase "VALLIS CINERIS", which translates to "valley of ashes", you get this image and a creepy voice that says "why did you do it?" (a reference to bill destroying his home dimension)

The morse code spells out NAITSUAF, and when input to the computer, gives an offer to sell your soul. At the bottom is a button that asks are you ready, when you click on it, it shows a contract that has the following code on it

This is also a codex given in the previously mentioned codex file, and it is the theraprism file. It states: "YOU ARE NOW TWENTY ONE GRAMS LIGHTER"

Below the theraprism is more CipherFontA code, which I have not fully completed but seems to list out the terms of the contract. However, I noticed these rectangles near the words and am wondering if it means to take the letter closest to it or if it is a period. I am too lazy to work it all out rn so feel free to lmk what that all says :)

When you sign the contract, it says "pleasure doing business with you" and the flame on the candle is now blue. When you mess with the toggle on the computer, you get a backwards audio message in the same creepy voice as the Vallis Cineris code. When reversed, the audio says: " Someone help, the murderer’s name is Bill”

The prism that sits beside the computer has a code with the following symbols: #?&&!, which reads out as SORRY (this code is in the Book of Bill). When you input that into the computer, you get an image of college Ford and McGucket :(

That’s all I have for now! Feel free to reblog with anything else you might have found! I know of a ton more but I didn’t include them since this post would NEVER end.

[tantei-chan01]

Mute Branch Au: Trolls who learned sign language.

Xxx

King Peppy: Obviously, the first one to know it due to helping Branch develop it. Can do full conversations.

Poppy: Was first taught by her dad; before the first movie, she only knew major phrases and a few words. As the movie progressed, she was able to learn more complicated sentences, earning her own name sign. In The Beat Goes On, she has a full understanding of the language and helps Branch create new words as he becomes more involved in the community.

Smidge: Being Poppy's helper, she already knew a few words. Now that Branch is in the village more often, she has more opportunities to practice. Branch also teaches her a few animal calls so she can help Milton with the critters.

Biggie: The gentle troll always felt guilty for not understanding Branch; when the opportunity to learn troll sign (pending name) appeared, he lept at the chance. Mr. Dinkles is his tutor (don't ask how he teaches. It's best not to know.)

Cooper: Oddly enough, the sweet goofball had no problem learning the language, even helped create morse code in case Branch couldn't be seen or had his hands full.

Guy Diamond: At first, Guy struggled with learning the language, but since Branch has an impressive collection of literary works, he found it good motivation if it meant having another troll that can keep up with him in the more complex writings.

Chenille and Satin: Like Guy, the two struggled with learning the language until Model Behavior. There were many fashion terms that Branch hadn't created signs for, so they helped create them. Now, they ask him to be an occasional model while respecting his preferences.

Dj Suki: Suki was the last one to learn due to her inconsistent sleeping schedule. It took a lot of practice until she could keep a conversation with him. Her niece Cj, though, had an easier time, so she helped her auntie with learning it.

[stranger-theory]

OKAY GUYS.

from what ive noticed about the behind the scenes video, i'm gonna say some shit and you're gonna have to go along with it.

spoilers for st5 production !!

1. Dustin is 1000% getting beat up by the jocks. from what i remember, there was graffiti on Eddies tombstone which means the jocks are gonna be weird and write shit on his grave and then Dustin hops in to stop them, only for him to get some owies.

2. ZERO MILKVAN LMAO.

3. there's a weird scene with Nancy and Mike where they both look upset, Nancy because we can see her whole face but Mike has his eyebrows upturned, so. i'm not sure what it could be but she makes that face when she dissociates and thinks about something depressing so maybe they're talking about Holly's disappearance.

4. WE GOT WILL BYERS LETS FUCKING GOOOOO okay so he's falling from somewhere very high, it seems. i'm assuming he'd climbed the tree in an attempt to escape the demogorgan, only to be knocked off (frightened by lightning?). what if, when he falls, something weird happens before he hits the ground ???? like, powers-wise.

5. Holly is definitely the name in the episode titled "The Vanishing of ***** Wheeler", no way she isn't. she was literally in a room with flashing lights everywhere and the second clip was of her looking scared with some sort of dirty goo on the tips of her hair and her chest.

6. Nancy is actually in the candy striper outfit !! so i'm guessing she goes in the hospital to collect info on something, thats probably what they're going over in the weird basement looking room. maybe something on Max ?

7. Lucas, Dustin and Will seem to be surrounding Mike at the lunch table. Mike looks as if he's writing something down, possibly relating to the radio that's, for some reason, on the table. reminds me of the morse code scene in s2, just not sure how that'd tie in. (also Dustin looks bored in that scene ??)

8. William Byers is either getting Vecna visions or he's experiencing the same thing he was in s2 with the "shadow-walking". i also think he could be lying about it for the sake of keeping others from worrying, like in s2.

9. Hopper doesn't seem to be with others through the entire video, the only clip we get is from the Upside Down. El also doesn't seem to be with others so i'm assuming they're together ??

10. Joyce is veeeery similar in costume design to her s2 self so there's gonna be something similar in terms of plot. considering that both Mike and Will also have the same shoes from s2 but inverted, i'm assuming the dynamic between the three is going to be the same. protective Mike and Joyce.

thats all i have for now ! please share and fill me in on other cool stuff you guys have noticed !!

[mist-see]

Do you still want me after this?

Pairing: Ghost x Tall, Dominant Black Female Reader

Setting: Quiet barracks room, late night.

Tone: Emotional intimacy, confession, vulnerability.

Word Count: ~2.1k

Warnings: Mentions of abuse, suicide, war, torture, PTSD, implication of SA. Gentle but heavy themes.

You don’t ask for the story.

Not with words, anyway.

You trusted him to tell you whenever he was ready. It could be tomorrow, three months, 10 years. So when he one day just pulls you to your bunk, away from your peers. You knew it was serious, because he never was so obvious with your romantic life.

You sit across from him. One leg drawn up, arms resting loose on your knee. The way your eyes don’t demand, don’t prod, don’t pull — just wait. Open. Ready.

The room is dim, storm hissing gently against the barracks windows. Power’s stable but flickering. It smells like rain, like skin, like cotton and old gun oil.

Simon pulls off his mask.

Lays it gently on the desk that was pushed underneath the window. Not of surrender — but of trust. He sits down on the creaky wooden chair and faced you head on.

And then he says:

“You sure you want to know?”

You just nod.

So he begins.

⸻

“My name’s Simon Riley.”

“Born in Manchester. Eldest son of a bastard.”

He introduced himself to you, even though he already knows you. But you really don’t know him.

His voice is low, calm. Like someone reciting a list of coordinates. But there’s something trembling underneath.

“My dad was the kind of monster that didn’t need to roar. All he had to do was walk into a room, and the whole house’d fall silent.”

He jumps right into it, he watches as you blink, obviously caught of guard. He huffs before continuing.

“He beat my mum. Me. My brother, Tommy. I got the worst of it, ’cause I was older. Tried to shield him. Failed, mostly.” He rubs his jaw, like muscle memory. Like his father’s ghost still lives under the skin. “Used to lock me in the dog kennel overnight. Said I needed to learn loyalty.” “Said fear was the same as love.”

You feel something cold settle in your gut.

Not pity.

Rage.

That old man knew to get killed before you got to him. He recognized that look on your face, but he just shakes his head: it’s been over ten years, he’s dead. we both let this go.

And so you breathe out, and continue listening.

“I enlisted young. Eighteen. Joined up, climbed ranks. SAS eventually.”

“It felt right. Orders, discipline, no room for softness. Killing was clean. Quiet. Straightforward. I could disappear into missions. Didn’t have to feel.” He leans forward, elbows to knees. Still not looking at you. “That worked for a while. Until Mexico.” Your breath hitches.

He notices. Nods.

“Yeah.”

This is where his trauma comes into play. The touching, the zoning out. No sex, no long kisses, rare sleep overs.

“We were tracking a cartel splinter cell. Los Almas. I went in with a small team. Thought we had a lead on Hassan.”

“They set a trap. Grabbed us, took us underground. Into tunnels and pits and cages. They weren’t after intel. Just wanted to hurt us. Break us.” You stay still. Let him speak. His fingers tap the tabletop, slow and steady — like Morse code. Like counting breaths. “They flayed one of mine alive. Made us watch. Drugged me so I’d stay lucid. Heard every scream…called me pretty. Said they liked my voice. Said they’d make me talk.” He stops. And you feel that dreadful feeling in your stomach. He didn’t need to elaborate, you knew.

For a long moment, the only sound is thunder.

Then:

“I played dead for three days to escape. Dragged myself out of a pit of corpses. Flies, blood, rot… one hand, two fingers.”

“When I got back, I thought it was over.”

“But they found me again. Buried me alive in a coffin. Pumped me full of ketamine and let me scream ‘til my throat bled.”

You feel the breath leave your body.

Ghost finally looks up.

And it is Ghost now — not just Simon.

The man who came back from the dead and decided he’d never be buried again.

“I clawed out. Again.

And when I did — Simon Riley was gone.”

“Ghost was what survived.” He leans back. Exhales slowly. “It wasn’t just the cartel. My own command left me. Said I was compromised. That it was better PR if I didn’t come home. They buried the op. Deleted the files. I wasn’t a soldier anymore — just evidence. So I erased everything. Burned IDs. Cut ties. Masked up. You know how people say the mask hides you? For me, it’s the only thing keeping me seen.”

He lets that hang there.

Like it hurts more than anything else.

And you realize—

He never wanted to vanish.

They just made it easier than being human.

Then his voice softens.

“Tommy… didn’t make it.”

You blink. “Your brother?”

Simon nods.

“Got hooked on pain meds trying to help Mum. I was deployed when he OD’d. Didn’t leave a note. He was the best of us. Didn’t deserve what we grew up in. I was supposed to protect him.”

Your hand moves toward him instinctively.

But he takes yours instead.

Grips it tight — tight enough to hurt, but you don’t pull away.

“You’re the first person I’ve ever told this to,” he says.

“All of it. From start to now.”

You can barely breathe past the emotion choking your chest.

But you manage.

“Why now?”

He swallows.

“Because if I didn’t… I’d lose you without you ever knowing who I was.” He pauses, his eyes staring down at your bruised knuckles, blue a stark contrast to your brown.

“And that’d kill me…” he sounded like a whisper.

“You’ve seen the worst of me. In the field. In pain. Losing control…But this…This is the real worst of me. The boy who survived all that and never learned how to be loved without bleeding.”

Then, quieter:

“Do you still want me after this?”

You don’t answer.

You move.

Slide from the bed. Walk over and climb into his lap without a word.

Arms around his neck.

Legs locking him in place.

Your body — grounding his.

Your voice — steady as your heartbeat.

“You were never hard to want, Simon. Just hard to reach… don’t say no shit like that ever again..” He breathes in like he’s been underwater for years.

And breathes you out.

Like coming home. “…yes ma’am.”

He doesn’t cry.

But he breaks.

In your arms, face in your neck.

COD masterlist

[serena-babes]

Hazbin hotel random headcanons

super unedited ⋆⭒˚.⋆

honestly wrote these off of the top of my head it's the most random assortment of people.

Lucifer, Charlie, Alastor, Vaggie, Angel, Husk, Sir pentcious, Adam

⋆ ๋𓂃✦༢⋆ ๋𓂃✦༢⋆ ๋𓂃✦༢⋆ ๋𓂃✦༢⋆ ๋𓂃✦༢⋆ ๋𓂃✦༢⋆ ๋𓂃✦༢⋆ ๋𓂃✦༢⋆ ๋𓂃✦༢⋆ ๋𓂃✦༢

Lucifer:

 He most definitely Drinks milk at dinner every night and I'm not talking a little glass I'm TALKING A GLASS a chalice even, filled TO THE BRIM, every night without fail.

(sorry to my milk drinkers) 

Either texts every two seconds or doesn't text at all there is zero in-between 

I dont know what it is but I feel like he doesn't season his food

An animal cracker is the most seasoned thing he has had in years I just know it 

Knows how to tap dance scarily good 

Screams like a girl

Puts hair in rollers nightly and has the most CRAZY ASS skin routine ever

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹

Charlie: 

Hasent spelled restaurant correctly in years but was a straight A student 

Chronic energy drink drinker 

Has one of those custom blankets but it's just her and vaggie on it 

All of her socks are mitch matched 

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹

Alastor:

Knows Morse code and can't swim

Plays slipping sound effects whenever someone trips around the hotel and then giggles to himself like a little schoolgirl

Has a diary

The type to say “Seems like we've gotten ourselves into a pickle” 

Cannot balance on one foot 

Probably heard dubstep one time and had a seizure 

Seasons his food CORRECTLY 

Either a “I shower once a week that's good enough” or a bubble bath with oils and rose petals everyday type of guy 

“Erm actually!”

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹

Angel:

Can't do math

Says womp womp in the most serious convos 

Bangs head on doors all the time due to height 

Phone addiction BAD 

Will only drink drinks if they are fruity He is the type to have to flavor their water 

Has the most IMMACULATE music taste

Chronic gossiper 

Uses :3 religiously 

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹

Husk:

Also says womp womp at the ABSOLUTE WORST TIMES

Got beat by Angel so hard during uno one time and still holds a grudge

Black coffee every morning 

Cannot cook I already know it 

STRONG cologne scent 

Thinks texting is the stupidest thing ever 

After a long hard day, he goes home to go watch old Western movies

Wears wife beater tank tops religiously 

Idk hes pretty chill not much to say about him 

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹

Vaggie: 

Goes to bed at 8:30pm SHARP

Needs glasses

Is REALLY good at cooking 

Secretly enjoys fighting with people online (stan wars on twitter) 

Washes face with some random soap and somehow its always perfect 

Drinks Gatorade chronically 

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹

Adam:

HEAVY BREATHER even when hes not doing anything IT IS CONSTANT 

Would call people slurs nonchalantly 

Really bad at reading 

ALSO cannot swim

ALSO has a diary and writes in it nightly

Elon musk supporter

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹

Sir Pentcious:

(is that how you spell his name..?”

Eats cup mac and cheese every day

Scared of balloons

Loves those baby sensory videos with the peas and fruits 

Basically an engineer 

SO GOOD at just dance 

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹

[bittersweetcreep]

Conception Final Red Luna! Darling x Yandere! Damian

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Summary: 4 months has pasted living with the League of Assassins and Luna is about ready to pop and while everyone is getting ready for the babies arrival, Luna takes it upon herself to attempt to induce labor with the help of the internet.

WARNING: mentions of blood, water breaking, labor

Author's Note: Things to know before reading, Luna and Damian are both young adults in this time period who are now living with the League of Assassins. They both have an apartment-like area in the League to have their own space. Also a reminder that Luna is a mute who communicates through sign language and morse code I'll use °theses° when she's speaking, she also has a bell now to use as a way to call for help from across the room.

It was late into the night when suddenly a heavily pregnant Luna shot up with a jolt, Damian's eyes shot open as he rolled off the bed and onto the floor repeatedly saying. "I'm awake! I'm awake! Oof-" quickly getting on his knees, he continued with "I'm awake, is it time?" Luna paused then shook her head no laying back down, poor Damian could only slam his head into the bed.

32 Weeks Pregnant: Day 1

It was supposed to be a small walk as Luna read it can induce labor, but that "small walk" was no longer a small walk. So now here we are with a pregnant Luna waddling through the halls with surprising speed, and behind her was a frantic Damian. Somehow, Luna was able to sign where Damian could see. °JUST 5 MORE LAPS!° "YOU'VE BEEN WALKING FOR 9 HOURS! YOU NEED TO REST!" The (h/c) stubbornly signed °NO!°, while the chaos ensued, Talia stood on the sidelines with a glass of wine, watching both with amusement.

32 Weeks Pregnant: Day 2

Damian was in the bedroom folding baby clothes when he heard the ringing of a bell. Tossing whatever he had aside, he shouted a quick "I'M COMING" and ran down the hall. Once making it to the living room, Damian continued, "Is it time!? Luna!". The said (h/c) was on the yoga mat laying on her back, seeing her he ask. "Did the yoga work?" °I'm stuck. Could you help me up, please?° letting out a small chuckled the ravenette helped her up with an amused smile on his face. °I have no idea how others manage to do this.° "So far, we've tried pineapple, raspberry tea, spicy food, and so far, exercise what's next?" Without missing a beat, Luna signed °Sex.° dumbfounded Damian could only say, "What?" Taking off her shirt, she tossed it at him then walked to the bedroom while Damian just watched in surprise while saying "Oh why didn't we start with that one." Then hurriedly chased after her to the bedroom.

32 Weeks Pregnant: Day 3

A handful of the League's assassins were pushing a stretcher down the halls with great speed while Damian ran close by as it was Luna who was on that very stretcher having contractions. Once they arrived at the delivery room, Talia was waiting for them. Luna was pushed inside while Damian gave his mother a thumbs up. "Today's the day." Only for both to come out with a defeated °Today's not the day.°

While cleaning the blood off his blades from his latest mission, Damian senses his mother approaching. "Luna still having false labor?" "I know kids are supposed to test your patience, but I thought they would at least wait until they were out of the womb." The brunette chuckled while setting herself next to her son. "So Draco, Claude and Nyxel, huh? I must say I love those names, very unique and classy." Setting his blade aside with a fond smile, Damian spoke with affection. "Yeah, I'm really looking forward to meeting them. But for now, Luna wants you over for dinner. She's making her famous macaroni." Talia's mouth watered at the prospect of Luna's cooking, and who was she to deny good food. "Well, what are we waiting for? Let's go." The brunette was already out the door while Damian followed behind amused by her love for Luna's cooking, although it's not like he's one to talk either.

After a very delicious dinner, Damian gathered up the tableware and gave them to Talia to wash while Luna put the leftovers in the fridge. The silence between the three was comfortable, filled with a sense of home, something that gave the (h/c) peace. But that peace was shattered by a repetitive pain in her abdomen, to which her hand clenched at. This didn't go unnoticed by the others in the room. Both the mother and son duo rushed to her side, Talia was the first to ask. "Are you having contractions, sweetie?" Luna knew exactly what was happening. [thank you, google] °I'm in labor.° as if to confirm what she was saying, her water broke for everyone to hear. Everything happened so fast, Damian picked her up and made a mad dash to the delivery room with Talia at his heels making calls so everything was prepared for when they got there. They finally made it, and when Damian set her down, it was go time.

The delivery lasted 15 hours, which is to be expected for a first timer delivering triplets but oh boy it was a battle, with all the pain, tears and sweat Luna felt she was fighting for her life but when she heard all three cries and her babies were placed in her arms it was all worth it. Damian couldn't help but slightly tear up "Their so tiny." °And perfect.° placing a gentle kiss on her forehead Damian spoke with all the love he has. "Everything's perfect now. I love you." °I love us.°

[sodaneko]

𝐒𝐎𝐅𝐓 𝐋𝐀𝐔𝐍𝐂𝐇 (𝐎𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐮 𝐱 𝐟!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫) ❦ 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟖: 𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭

♫ ratbag - look what you're doing to me

I don't bite my nails when you're around It's something that I have just noticed now You talk to me in your sleep, do you know? Do you know what you're doing to me?

✰ 𝐜𝐰: one (1) kms joke, a few slightly suggestive texts between Osamu & Y/N (it's always them isn't it)

⭅ back to m.list

It’s only temporary, just until they fix the burst pipe and the water damage that came with it over at your apartment, but oh, if this doesn’t feel oddly domestic. Two toothbrushes sitting on the bathroom shelf, matching tea cups you brought home from the Okinawa trip on the kitchen table, one set of pajamas but shared (Osamu got the pants, you the shirt). It’s a small apartment above the soon-to-be opened restaurant downstairs and the name on the door bell says Miya, but someone scribbled yours below his as well. 

A home. 

It’s still a little spare compared to your room and Osamu’s place in Osaka, but it’s coming together more with each passing day. There’s now plants in mismatched pots on the windowsill and a big carpet you once bought while traveling which you never had the space for until now. Framed photos with memories you made together over the past couple of months lean against the wall, waiting to be hung up. In the fridge are leftovers from last night’s dinner and two brands of soy sauce because you’re still bickering about which one is best. When the sun sets, the living room is dipped in warm orange hues.

Most importantly there’s a big comfy bed with the one who has your heart in it that makes getting up nearly impossible every morning. Osamu grumbles quietly in his sleep when you feel for your phone in the dark to shut the alarm off. The mornings are still chilly around this time of the year and you search for his warmth under the blanket before you inevitably have to get up. This quiet hour of the day is reserved for just the two of you. 

Osamu finds you, a big calloused hand on your waist tugging you towards him until your back meets his chest and your form melts against him. His arm wraps around your middle and keeps you close, his lips finding your nape and pressing sleepy kisses against your skin, a deep laugh rumbling in his chest when you tilt your neck to give him better access. He spells out an entire love letter with his fingertips against your skin, making sure you remember word for word by the time your lips find his in a soft kiss. Neither of you could get enough of the sweet nothings you shared in this tiny universe of your own. 

A lot has changed since you first met. Osamu and you found a language to translate your love into–words, gestures, touches. The fear in your heart has subdued, not fully gone but quieter, less overwhelming. There’s someone who holds your hand now when you’re scared, someone who catches you in his arms when you trip and stumble. 

“You got me now,” Osamu murmured against the shell of your ear, something between a plea and a promise, back then in Okinawa. The sound of the rain was drowned out by your beating heart when his lips brushed against your knuckles before kissing your palm, his face nuzzling into your touch. You felt like drowning in his warm, honest eyes, never so sure of anything before. 

“I love you,” you whisper now against the crook of his neck when you roll over, basking in his warmth for a few moments longer before you have to get up. Osamu lets out a small weary sigh, unwilling to let you go but there’s still a smile tugging on his lips. He takes your hand and places it on his chest, right above his beating heart which stutters your name out in morse code. With one last kiss to your forehead he lets you peel away, the three words falling from his lips like a good luck charm for the day.

•┈••✦ 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬

so. they did elope after all

the kind of thing you keep saying as a joke until it isn't a joke anymore huh

all of Akaashi's wedding planning down the drain

Omi kept crashing out for six consecutive hours

wedding photo credits to kemmiethecat. obsessed with her work

this chapter is very special to me and i kept delaying it because i'd start crying whenever i tried to beta read it (they're just very precious to me and knowing their story is coming to an end two chapters from now is playing with my heart)

anyway. another day of pining after osamuyn. i wanna thirdwheel them sooo bad you have no idea

congrats to the happiest couple ♡

✰ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓:

@brithedemonspawn @giasssslife @yuminako @krissiekris @evilari111

@ottocre @kentocalls @maybespiderman @uncovered-mad-man @honey-deku

@yukichan67 @dailyakira @morgan-lowell @angee444 @aldebrana

@ellouisa17 @toges-cough-syrup @mahalsuya @itsdragonius @bakingcuriosity

@nekomasmngr @tojirin @nymphsdomain @thatprettybunny @joseimukeaddict

@writing-for-the-hell-of-it @honeytwo @estreya05 @jisookdays @blueballslock

@lonelycrystal-star @weezerbby @iluv-ace @s777athv @kameyyy

@localgaytrainwreck @mirkaaaluv @elliesndg @mollysmovingcastle @weirdgirlbrina

@nobodybutnnoorr @blueflamebimbo @softpia @pet-plasma-bubble @meekydeeks

@mythblossoms @manhattanstrawberry @sunahyejin @arattaaki @anniewings

taglist full, sorry! fill out this form to be removed or added in case a spot clears up. mdni!

[dragonnon]

OKAY HI, JUST BEAT THE UNSPEAKABLE ADVENTURE AND BY PROXY DGS1. I HAVE SOME THOUGHTS. QUITE A FEW ACTUALLY.

Starting from the ending sequences. if you want to see my entire experience through he game just look through the live blog tag on my blog! ^^

I thought that scene was gonna be Ryunosuke and Van Zieks dueling in the courtroom, (brain want samurai fight. in fact I wanted to see a duel between Kazuma and van zieks since the 3rd case lmao) but I was pleasantly surprised. We got hints at his back story! I've been waiting the entire game for his backstory so I'm deeply satisfied. I mean I think van zieks is the prosecutor for dgs2 as well, because I never see anyone talk about a different prosecutor for dgs2 so I'm just assuming it's van zieks again.

Ryunosukes belief that no matter who you are, we can all relate to each other because we're all humans who experience human emotions is one that deeply resonates with me, and it means a lot to see it in this game, I think ryunosuke's my favorite character, he overall just means A LOT to me.

Then, with Gina, the way she was trying to be nonchalant about it all but was actually holding back tears the entire time was so cute, man. And her crying sprite reveal got me just as hard if not harder than Athena's did, like gosh, my tearducts were WORKING through the entire ending of this game.

AND RYUNOSUKE WONDERING IF HE MADE IT UP TO KAZUMA'S EXPECTATIONS BROKE ME LIKE LITERALLY. i like to make jokes that ryunosuke keeps hallucinating Kazuma, (even in the musical) but it breaks my heart every time deep down inside. Crazy how this game makes me think and feel exactly how his is. It's like I share his same grief to some extent.

(And Iris with her good news and bad news thing was really funny to me, cause I've been thinking about that for basically my entire life. personally me, I'm with ryunosuke, the good news cancels out the bad news. That along with sholmes' bit with constantly being ignored when he thinks he should've been noticed never gets old. Ever. Sholmes is king.)

Let me tell you, at the boat scene I could barely contain myself from screaming, I was so happy to see susato again and finally knowing why she was calling herself a failure all the time, despite being a actual freaking legend. ryunosuke telling her she's the BEST JUDICIAL ASSISTANT in the world was 100% deserved. She's a LEGEND. She planned ALL of that. ALL of it. And she's so humble about it too.

oh and the whole thing with the Morse code actually had me running laps around my living room, (it was 3:00AM 💀) WHAT BUSINESS DOES KAZUMA, GREGSON, AND IRIS'S DAD'S NAME HAVE BEING IN THERE. When it first dawned on me that it spelt out asogi i went absolutely feral, y'all should've seen me lmao, I was crouched on the floor in shock. if you ask me, it's gotta be a hit list right? 2 outta four people on that list are literally dead. (GREGSON WATCH YOUR SIX 😭) Wait, now that I'm thinking about it, maybe there's actually more to Kazuma's death than I thought? Gonna find out next game.

And I almost cried during the fully animated cutscene (AACJ reference lol) I miss susato already, AGAIN.

That ending sequence felt like it lasted a millennium, but once it was over it felt like it was all too soon.

I was so happy too see everyone in the character send offs. This game is really good at making me attached to absolutely every single character. Skullkin bruvvers, (& graydon) I love y'all, I hope y'all have a good time in prison, and I hope you get out the slammer soon Gina. And seeing hosonaga and soseki for what might be the last time was great, I've been missing those two.

DONT EVEN GET ME STARTED ON THE LAST END CREDITS PART. Kazuma and ryunosuke going on a stroll for a while, and Kazuma abruptly stops walking, ... I think from the text matter of this here post you can hypothesize what my reaction might've been. TEARS. Me and my siblings were screaming 😭

And then the part where the whole crew eventually groups together, I SCREAMED FOR EACH ADDITION. Look at the fuckkingggg.... SQUAD. and the ryunosuke and sholmes pose at the end there was the perfect way to end the ever. EVER... 👺👺

I'm looking so forward to playing DGS2 to see what's gonna happen next, I gotta know the van zieks lore and who the hell traumatized him that bad hat his face is permanently reminiscent of a depressed cat, and the Morse code lore, and if susato comes back sooner rather than later, and what she know about the hound of the Baskervilles!!

IM SO EXCITED. THIS IS MY FAVORITE ACE ATTORNEY GAME EVER. EVERRR!!!!

ACE ATTORNEY SERIES IS A GEODE AND GREAT ACE ATTORNEY IS THE BEAUTIFUL GEMSTONES INSIDE OF IT.

Definitely in my top three (as seen below.)

1. TGAA

2. SOJ

3. AJAA

TYSM FOR READING BYEEEEEEEEE!!!

[poppitron360]

Jason knelt by the memorial. He kept his face solemn and stony, the way he was taught by Lupa to hide his emotions. Never cry. Never show weakness. He laid the flowers across the base of the tombstone, the red and orange petals rustling ever so slightly in the breeze. He took a deep breath, and silently willed his body to stop shaking. He reached out, and traced the indentation of the name and date with his fingers, the tips slightly grazing the rough stone. The light from the candles shone in the bronze lettering, making it glow a fiery orange.

Leonidas Javier Valdez

July 7th 1998 - August 1st 2014

A true hero.

Jason felt the air shift around him as someone knelt next to him. He didn’t look at the person, instead he looked down at the concrete base of the memorial. On the floor by his knee, Piper’s hand crept closer across the stone. She was reaching out for comfort, Jason could see. But he couldn’t take it. If he let himself need her, then he’d break, and that would be weak. He looked back up at the gravestone.

“I-I can’t believe it’s been ten years…” He croaked, trying to string enough words to fill the trembling silence.

“I know,” Piper said, softly.

“He’d be twenty-six now.”

“I know.”

“Did- did you know his real name was Leonidas? before…” he gestured to the headstone.

Piper smiled weakly, “No, I didn’t. He kept that one from us.”

They turned back to the glowing bronze markings on the stone.

“Y’know…” Jason mused, “I think he’d really hate that epitaph. “A true hero” like what does that even mean?”

“It’s way too serious for him,” Piper agreed, “He’d want something funny, lighthearted. Maybe a bad pun, or a cheesy joke.”

“”Leonidas Javier Valdez- Inventor of the Valdezinator, Repair Boy, Taco-miser Extraordinaire!!”” Jason announced, waving his arm in an arc across the sky to deliver his point. Then he looked down, sadly. “He really was a hero, though… He saved so many lives that day. But… I don’t think that’s how he’d want to be remembered.”

“He’d think it was hilarious that they put that on there,” Piper said, “Painting him out to be this big martyr. He’d constantly tease us about it. Oh gods, we’d never hear the end of it.”

They laughed a little. Jason watched as Piper reached out a brushed a small clump of moss off of the stone.

“You’re getting a bit grubby there, bud,” She whispered, “Oh Leo, always covered in dirt and grime…”

She sniffed and wiped her eyes.

It was all Jason could do to keep breathing. Every day, for the last ten years, ever since Leo’s death, Jason hadn’t been living, he’d just been carrying on. He’d lost everything that day. But he had to keep going. He could not stop, could not break.

Leo was not here as a whole anymore, Jason knew that. But in the hush of the midsummer evening, Jason could see that parts of him were everywhere. He saw it in the candles. Their heat like the warmth of Leo’s skin. The dancing, restless flames like those busy eyes, constantly moving, scanning, making calculations. Jason listened to the crackle and pop of the burning wicks, and he could almost hear his shrill, raspy laugh. The shadows the candles cast were dark and inky, like motor oil and soot that covered Leo’s calloused skin. Around them, the flowers placed against the memorial rippled in the soft breeze, and Jason could see the bounce of a stray curl, the wind in his hair as Festus soared. The creak of the tree branches were the boards on the deck of the Argo, Leo atop the crow’s nest, looking out at the world. The beat of Jason’s heart was the thrum of the engine, Leo’s rhythmic tapping out in morse code to quiet the pistons. A bird chattered in the trees, and Jason could hear Leo cursing in rapid-fire Spanish, frustrated at another clogged toilet or broken mast. It was like the world was flashing Jason that infectious, cheshire-cat grin. All of these parts made up Leo. Jason could feel them. He was here. He was with them. The three of them were together again after all.

Jason watched the sparks from the candlelight dance into the sky, and he felt Leo’s spirit around them.

“Oh, Leo…” Jason spoke to the candles. He spoke to the flower petals. He spoke to the trees, “Stay with me… please.”

Piper put a hand on Jason’s shoulder. “Do you think he’s in Elysium?” She asked, “We never found a body, never got to do the proper burial rights…”

“We can hope,” Jason replied, “But wherever he is… I think he’s happy.”

Jason closed his eyes, and listened to Leo’s whispers in the air, “I wait for you…”

Held back by the barriers of life and death, Jason waited too. He kept carrying on, waiting for him to reach the end of the road. Waiting out his life, before he could re-unite with his best friend again. His everything.

But Leo had died so that Jason could keep living. Jason was gonna use that gift to do as much good as he can, be the person everyone needed him to be. But when it came to an end, Jason knew he’d be content.

“I will wait for you, Leo…” Jason whispered, almost inaudibly. He hoped Piper wouldn’t hear. “I will wait, I promise. I swear it on the Riven Styx. I will keep breathing, keep going, keep waiting. It won’t be long now.”

Warm summer winds grazed Jason’s cheek. It was like he could feel Leo’s hands cupping his face. “I wait, Jason.”

“Are you in Elysium?” Jason asked to the sky, “Are you happy?”

To Jason’s horror, the voice took on a bitter, more saddened tone. “I wait for you.”

He suppressed a sob. He had to keep it together. Ten years hadn’t made it easier, but Jason had to try. He couldn’t let himself break. He had to keep going. He had to keep breathing. He had to keep waiting. For Leo.

Piper put a hand on Jason’s shoulder. They both looked up at the night sky. Ten years ago today, a fiery explosion had flashed across that patch of the heavens. A boy atop a bronze dragon had given his life to save the world below.

He was only sixteen…

“Hey,” Came a voice behind them. Jason turned, and saw Hazel and Frank climbing up the small hill.

“Glad we could make it,” Frank said, a little breathless from the climb, “Percy and Annabeth are coming, they’re just parking the car.”

Hazel knelt the other side of Jason, Frank next to her. She lay her own flowers on the pile. Frank brought out a candle, and lit it, placing it carefully amongst the others.

“Hey, Leo…” Hazel greeted the headstone, fondly. She gave it a friendly wave.

Frank sat cross-legged. “Good to see you, bud,” He whispered.

The four of them sat around the place in silence. Soon, Percy and Annabeth came and joined them. Percy put his arms around Jason and Piper’s shoulders, and squeezed them, tight. Piper put hers around Annabeth, so they sat in a line, linked. Hazel wrapped her arm around Frank. Frank reached a meaty hand out and placed it on the top of the grave. He held it there, gripping the stone. Jason took the message, and linked arms with Hazel.

They bathed in the heat of the candles. They listened to rustle of the leaves and the creak of the branches and the chattering of the birds. Jason knew they felt, just as he did, the spirit of Leo all around them. The warmth. The laugh. The restless energy. They heard him whisper, and giggle, and tap out a message. They held him in their circle of arms, felt his soul join with them.

“I wait for you all… one day, we could be re-united for realsies. I will enjoy this moment until then.”

Jason let out one, strangled sob. “I will wait for that day, Leo.”

But for now, he was here. The seven of them, together again, for one night.

————————

Happy Leo’s death day, everyone!!!

Enjoy a “What if Leo had actually died” AU- ft. much Valgrace.

@lavenderfairiez @keefessketchbook @sleepyycapybara @imnoturfriend-im-a-swiftie13 @euryvices @ottpopfic @123letsgobestie @kaleidoskuls

[alaina-starling]

C.AI Chatbots Master-list

A/N: These are all original ideas, and if you see similarities with others, if it’s an inspiration of something, it will say so in the description.

Additional: Pictures of the characters used are not my art, pictures of actual people are taken from Pinterest.

Requests: Open!

PJO & HOO

Charles Beckendorf

save a horse - you’re a city girl who doesn’t know the country’s sayings, so you take his hat

Clarisse La Rue

・❥・ 2802, and it’s all for you - she’s fought 2802 for you

・❥・ solace - she’s not used to being soft, but with you, she can’t help but

Ethan Nakamura

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ ghost face - your boyfriend buys a costume to surprise you (revised version)

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ gentle moments he adores - he’s a quiet lover, but he needs you to know just how much he needs you

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ bad influence - everyone’s shocked the resident good girl is friends with him

Frank Zhang

ᯓ★ inches short - your boyfriend makes a suggestive comment that he learned from leo

ᯓ★ not worthy of you - he’s staring at the mirror and hating what he sees

ᯓ★ you’re not going to school today - you need to attend classes in new rome university but frank won’t let you

Jason Grace

☁︎ you’re scared of heights - cornered to a cliff with your boyfriend, you need to jump off

☁︎ just sleep - your boyfriend is hard and you want to help him

Leo Valdez

༊*·˚ you’re scared of fire - watching your boyfriend work with fire

༊*·˚ he burned you - he accidentally burned you and now won’t stop apologizing

༊*·˚ dense but lovely - someone’s flirting with him, he doesn’t realize

༊*·˚ practice it on me - you made a comment about being a stripper and your brother’s best friend overhears

༊*·˚ out of my league - he’s in love with you, but just like the others, you’re out of his league

༊*·˚ dirty hands and quiet whispers - his rest is you

༊*·˚ angry confessions - you hated each other but find each other in the rain, and maybe a confession came along the way

༊*·˚ when did we get married? - you look up at the sound of his last name

༊*·˚ wearing another person’s jersey - you wear jason’s jersey and leo gets jealous

Luke Castellan

۶•ৎ drunk castellan - your boyfriend’s drunk and needs you

۶•ৎ a thief and a liar - you lied about having a boyfriend

۶•ৎ rile me up and hurt me - you made teasing comments about letting his brothers use you, now he’s sad

۶•ৎ leftover lunch or a proposal? - you gave him an apple, not knowing in ancient greece it’s a proposal

۶•ৎ quit moving - it’s hot and he’s cuddling you but you want to move, he mutters in his sleep, annoyed

۶•ৎ chess - to distract him from his nightmares, you play chess with him

۶•ৎ distract me so i won’t turn around - you get cornered by guys, he saves you

۶•ৎ nobody loved me when i was nobody - luke forgets about you

۶•ৎ the purity of his doe - he has a corruption kink

۶•ৎ fight for you - you got a boyfriend who doesn’t treat you right, luke decides to beat him up

۶•ৎ a man - even when he’s angry, he remains respectful

۶•ৎ playing in the sun - he’s your best friend but you’re secretly in love with him

۶•ৎ his silly words and their consequences - he lies about never being in your cabin so you invite him in

۶•ৎ his favorite pastime - after a night together, he falls in love with you all over again

۶•ৎ his heart beats your name in morse code - he’s your loyal dog, and he’s utterly in love with you

Niccolo di Angelo

𓆩♡𓆪 he’s innocent and lonely - you’re the only friend that has gotten this close

Percy Jackson

𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚 riding a death machine - you’re scared of motorcycles, but you’re riding with percy to go back to camp

𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚 finding home in you - he left camp half blood to go to you

𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚 he’s your brother - he doesn’t like the new addition to the cabin because they make him question his identity as a demigod

𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚 married - you’re married to percy

𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚 defending him - you beat up the kid that was shit talking him

𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚 mortal girlfriend - percy up with annabeth and has been living with you

𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚 my biggest sin was loving you - percy is dating annabeth, but you love him

𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚 teach me - you’re crying, to distract you, percy asks you for a dance

𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚 jealousy in the shade of stormy grey - you and percy are dating, but he’s still close with his ex: annabeth

Thalia Grace

♕ grumpy lightning and her bubbly sun - luke and thalia are dating

MISC.

Benjamin De Almeida

> quiet for you - ben isn’t that loud when you’re around

> doing your makeup for you - you’re making a video of him doing your makeup for you

> biting - he bites you while you’re in a meeting