toxicgutz69

[toxicgutz69]

Aren't we all.

New gym shirt haha

(And yes it does say i am afraid of women haha)

[toxicgutz69]

Hhhhoooly moley-

AGRGRGRGGRGDGDGRGRGRGRGRGFRGFR

THIS IS WHAT I LIVE FORRRR!!!!!!!!!

Reinhardt with an S/O that Bites HC

NSFW UTC.

SFW

Reinhardt had heard quite a few things about you being a little bit feral before the two of you got together. Your public persona did have a bit of a wild gimmick that you learned early on to just lean in to.

You threaten to bite people quite often, but most of the time, it's taken as a joke. The only people who seem to take it seriously are ones who you've bitten in the past.

Still, Rein is shocked when you actually bite him. It's in the middle of an argument about him rushing in after getting hurt. You just get mad and want him to stop so you can explain yourself, but he won't, so you grab his hand and bite the side of it, hard.

Ana can't stop laughing when she tells the rest of the team what happened after she patched him up. She gets you a nice cup of tea to soothe your anger a bit and wash out any trace of a metallic tang in your mouth (she has a scar from where you bit her on her side during a sparring session once.)

You don't just bite when you're angry, and Rein learns that pretty soon after the incident. He much more prefers your playful little bites to the big ones, and sometimes he refers to them as nibbles.

Reinhardt likes it when you bite his biceps because he knows that you're really taking in all the hard work he puts in at the gym. One time he tried to convince you to hang off his arm by your teeth, but several people shut that idea right down.

You have different bites for different things, and you have a tendency to chew on things like pens or pencils constantly throughout the day.

Gabriel once dared Jack to call you a rat as a joke, and it ended with Reinhardt charging into both men in the middle of the cafeteria, which you thought was hilarious until Ana reprimanded all of you.

Rein does decide that he's not a fan of you putting things in your mouth like that, so he looks into getting you some sort of snack to replace that because you have had pens explode and get ink everywhere.

NSFW

The first thing Rein does after learning you don't just bite as an attacking someone sort of thing is ask if you'll bite him in bed. You're honestly kind of elated when you let your teeth scrape against his neck before you bite next to a pulse point.

You learn that the beard is definitely to protect his very sensitive neck, and he starts making sure there's always a few bare spots for you to nip at (they're the most sensitive on his neck.)

You accidentally bite down hard enough to leave a scar by collar bone once, and Reinhardt runs his fingers along it whenever he has to masturbate because you're not there.

There are always going to marks all over him from you biting and sucking on every inch of him that you can get your mouth on.

You have an oral fixation, and Reinhardt is happily the reaper of that particular reward. He'll let you spend all night with your mouth wrapped around him, but expect to be overstimulated the next day because Reinhardt refuse to let you leave before he's repaid your kindness.

[toxicgutz69]

Would anyone like to send me pics of their OC to draw them? Its free, but im not the best at drawing.

Here's some examples of my art

Just repost with pics of your oc or send me a DM! <3

[toxicgutz69]

COD VACATION AU | PRT. 2 — PREPPING

— poly!141 x fem!Reader

— 18+ | established romantic relationship; eventual smut; fluff; humor; cussing; all the good stuff:)

× PREVIOUS PART

Packing for yourself and three grown men—(Kyle is very much capable to do it himself without you having to worry that he's packing nothing but cargo shorts, black shirts, and one pair of combat boots)—for a ten day vacation proofs to be much more chaotic and difficult than you expected.

Simon doesn't own one pair of swim trunks and keeps saying he won't go swimming or out in the sun anyway. You also had to wrestle his thick black hoodie out of his death grip to keep him from bringing it.

John refuses to unpack his green boonie hat, telling you it's a better protection than any other cap or hat can provide, "I wear it on every op, darling. It's my lucky charm.", so you eventually settle on a deal.

"Fine. Bring it, but you're wearing that Hawaiian shirt that I bought for you all without any complaints or so help me God, John."

Johnny has packed his Crocs and Adidas sandals, ten pairs of white socks and fifteen boxer shorts when you catch him staring at his side of the wardrobe.

"Babe, what do you need that many socks for? You didn't even pack any trainers yet," you muse peeking over his left shoulder.

"Now that ye mention it." He hums in thought, gears turning in his head as he glances back and forth between you and his open suitcase, shoulders slumping with a deep sigh.

"I fuckin' hate packin', luv," he whines, pulling you against himself to rest his head against your shoulder blade. "Need yer help."

Kyle finishes packing even before you do—from beach and gym wear to some nice outfits for the evening, a full skin care kit, sunscreen and his designer toiletries bag, perfume and even jewellery.

In the end, he's the one offering his help to you.

"Thank you for booking and planning all this for us, baby," he murmurs against your neck as he hugs you from behind. "You always take such good care of us. Can't wait to return the favour once we're there," he says while his fingers skim along your sides teasingly, fingertips dipping below the hem of your shirt to caress your soft belly.

You lean into him with a sigh, eyes fluttering shut as you allow yourself to relax against him, now that your suitcase is fully packed, too.

"I just want you all to have a good time."

"And we will," he murmurs, peppering a few sweet kisses behind your ear. "As long as you're with us."

[toxicgutz69]

bring back tumblr ask culture let me. bother you with questions and statements

[toxicgutz69]

Simon Ghost Riley x you

"Still here"

The clock blinked 2:43 a.m.

You hadn’t moved in hours. Neither had he. The bed was warm but everything inside you felt cold. Like your body was here, but your mind was somewhere miles under.

Simon lay beside you, facing the ceiling, arms folded behind his head. You knew he wasn’t asleep. You could feel it - tight in the way he breathed, his silence too loud, too practiced.

You blinked at the dark.

Then, quietly - barely audible:

“I wanted to die once.”

Silence.

It cracked the room like a bullet.

You swallowed, throat raw.

“Not… not just once, actually. A lot of times. And not in some dramatic way. I just… wanted everything to stop. The noise in my head. The weight. I didn’t want to wake up and feel like I was failing at breathing. I didn’t want to hurt anyone, I just… wanted it all to stop.”

You didn’t cry. Not really. Your voice wobbled, and your chest ached, but no tears came. Just that dull, heavy guilt for saying it at all.

“I didn’t even think anyone would care,” you added. “Like, really care. It felt like I was nothing. Just background.”

Simon was still silent. Heavy. Like he was searching for words with hands that didn’t know how to hold them. And you regretted it instantly. Your heart thudded. “Sorry,” you whispered. “I shouldn’t have said - ”

Then:

“I know that feeling.”

You closed your eyes.

“I sat with a pistol in my lap for four hours once,” he said, flat. No emotion. Just fact.

You stopped breathing.

“Wasn’t drunk. Wasn’t even panicking. Just… numb. Quiet. Like, ‘maybe this is the day.’” He exhaled. “I had no one left. Not really. Didn’t think anyone would notice if I just vanished.”

You turned your face toward him slowly, eyes wide in the dark.

He kept staring at the ceiling. “But I didn’t do it. And I never really knew why. Something stupid always stopped me. Like remembering the sound of a laugh. Or the smell of rain. I don’t know.”

Silence again.

Heavy.

Like both your hearts were bleeding into the same hollow space.

Then he turned, finally facing you. His eyes didn’t shine. They didn’t need to. You saw the storm behind them. Quiet. Constant. Worn.

“Why’d you stop?” he asked.

You shrugged a little, voice barely holding. “I think I realized I wanted someone to fight for me. Just once. Not fix me. Not talk me out of it. Just… sit next to me and not be afraid of how fucked up I feel.”

Simon reached for your hand under the covers. Found it, held it - not like something delicate, but like something anchored.

“I’d sit with you,” he said low. “No matter how fucked up it gets.”

Your voice broke. “Even if I don’t talk?”

“I’d still be there.”

Your heart cracked. You reached up and touched his cheek.

“Thank you for not leaving,” you whispered.

He blinked, and something in his throat worked, like he was swallowing the words he didn’t know how to say. “Same goes for you.”

He reached for your face, slow and unsure. Like he was afraid he'd to break you.

“I didn’t have a reason back then,” he said hoarsely. “I do now.”

The tears came then - quiet, shaky, unwanted. And he let them. He pulled you in, held you close, forehead to yours, your broken edges scraping gently against his.

No fixing.

No promises.

The two of just needed to be seen. And held. And loved exactly as you were.

And now, you were.

Still here.

Still breathing.

And in that small, stolen space between two hearts that almost gave up - you both knew:

You were never truly alone in the darkness.

You had found each other.

And that was enough to keep going.

[toxicgutz69]

EPIC FANS GATHER ROUND !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! witness my insane character designs and say NOTHING about my obvious lack of Greek mythology knowledge thank u

[toxicgutz69]

LETS FUCKING GOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

WOOOOOOOOOOOO YESSS

I am eating this fic, rn thank you for the meal!!!!!

Scars

BoP!Victor Zsasz x Reader adoring his scars

words count: 1300

It was really refreshing to write some requests, thanks a lot for asking! I wasn't posting anything in a while but I'm working on some stories in all the free moments between working, planning my wedding and well living. I have 2 or 3 drafts of NSFW Victor fics (and the last chapters of the fic I started where they mostly just fuck) that I would want to finish so maybe your request will kick me to do so.

I mean just look at him, this man is making me feel things and crawls my toes while giggling.

Hope it will be into your liking! Enjoy and have a nice day!

The air was filled with a bitter, scratchy smell of cigarettes, mixed with the sweetness of a passion that you had just experienced. You were laying on the bed, still wet in all the right places, and lazily running your fingers over Zsasz's naked body. His exposed chest covered with light hair was rising up and down at a slightly quickened rhythm, similar like yours. His warm skin, slightly glistened with sweat, was smelling of the expensive, heavy perfume you knew so well. Working as a bartender at Black Mask was giving you this opportunity. Every time he was ordering drinks, he would lean over the counter close to you to cut through the loud music. You allowed yourself to inhale this captivating fragrance for a short while he was making the order. It was a powerful fragrance that encouraged you to free yourself from the shackles of everyday life and jump into the unknown, a call stronger than reason and the instinct for self-preservation.

Victor was no man you introduce to your parents, not the guy with whom you would plan a peaceful future in a three-room apartment bought on credit in an attractive area of the city close to good schools. He was a rollercoaster ride, a madness that made your blood run faster, an escape from reality into the darkest corners of your not yet discovered fantasies.

Everyone has heard of his reputation and only the cloak of security thrown over him by Roman Sionis prevented from serving his sentence in Blackgate or Arkham Asylum. All rumors couldn’t be true, the calculus of probability said so, but it also said that some of them must have been. Such a collection of scars certainly can’t be gained by leading a righteous and peaceful life.

You traced the scars on his stomach with your fingertips, following the maze of patterns which they formed. The cuts were straight and not accidental, as if someone was cutting them with big caution and a concrete plan. Most of them weren’t deep already faded, but they were few that were telling a more painful story, probably souvenirs from a shooting or a serious stab. In those places the skin was uneven and slightly torn on the edges, despite they weren’t fresh wounds. Your finger came across one of these scars, which looked like a bullet mark. You circled it with great caution and delicacy, as if the mere touch of your skin of could cause the pain from the past again.

“Does it hurt?” you asked Victor without taking your eyes off the painful souvenir.

“Scars? No.”

Victor stretched out his arm towards the bedside table reaching for the pack of Marlboros and a lighter without changing his position. He took one out, stuck it in his mouth and lit it. He took a long drag allowing the nicotine and smoked tobacco to fill his lungs. He didn't ask you if smoking would bother you, for the record it didn’t. He was in his house, he could do whatever he wanted, and besides, he didn't strike for a type who asks for permission.

“Can I ask you something?” you asked, completely unfazed by the irritating smell of cigarettes.

“What?”

“Did you cut them yourself?”

“Most of them.” He replied while holding a cigarette over an ashtray standing on the bedside table. His other arm was comfortably resting under his head. He wasn’t particularly careful, because some ash was falling on the furniture missing the ashtray, but it did not seem to bother him.

“Did it hurt?” you continued, absorbed in the mosaic adorning his body.

“Not really.”

“Why did you cut them?”

“Do you always talk that much?” Victor took a drag on his cigarette, then exhaled the smoke through his nose, partially on you.

“Not always… “ you hesitated “Do I talk too much?

“Yes.“

“Oh. Sorry. “

Your ears lit up red, burning with shame. The last thing you wanted was to be annoying.

Stupid.

For a moment there was only overwhelming silence interrupted only by Zsasz puffing out smoke. You didn't want to speak up again fearing to annoy him even more or worse - what if he tells you to get out? Your self-esteem probably wouldn't survive that. Surprisingly it was Zsasz who spoke up after some time.

"Every scar is one person I killed.”

His words hung heavily in the air. There was something distinctive about his tone that indicated he was testing you and your reaction.

It was a thought that was subconsciously allowed by your mind, but it was probably only now, hearing the confirmation from his mouth, when it really dawned on you. His words reverberated deafeningly in your head like an echo, while you kept staring at the straight line that was cutting through the skin beneath his left collarbone. Raised and lighter than the intact skin around, it was looking out from under the fine hairs on his chest. It was one of many that marked his neck, chest, stomach, face. You kept staring at it, feeling a sudden seriousness, as if you were looking at someone's identity. Each scar had its own story, its own name, its weight.

It was a list of his victims, carved in his own skin.

“Are you scared of me now?” he asked in a low voice, not hiding notes of mockery.

For the first time, you raised your head to see his face and your eyes met. Zsasz must have been watching you for some time. His face was stretched in that lazy, natural grimace, his brand bad boy look causing the flock of butterflies in your stomach start a storm. Piercing eyes were showing curiosity and something you couldn’t identify. Confidence and control? It was still hard for you to guess what he was feeling.

The burden of this knowledge began to be overwhelming but lying naked in bed with him now, seeing him in the most vulnerable moment was making it hard to reconcile these two conflicting visions into one. He fascinated you as much as he intimidated you. Every touch of his hand, every word he spoke was making your blood run faster.

He was the danger your parents warned you about and to which you clung like a moth to a light on a dark night. He was like no one else you knew, everything about him was interesting. He even seemed elusive to someone from your world, and yet here you were, right now, in his bed, after having dared to ask for his phone number. He invited you later to his place. It wasn't a date, it was rough sex in his apartment and you were more than happy with that.

Maybe he did scare you but that was what was turning you on.

Was that screaming that you had issues? Of course, but that wasn’t the point.

“No.” you replied trying to tone confident.

Zsasz snorted.

“That’s stupid of you. You should be.”

"It's just scars.”

Victor finished his cigarette and crushed the butt in the ashtray. Freeing his hand now, he placed it on your bare shoulder in a comfortable position.

“You like them, huh? The scars?” He asked, gently brushing  your skin with his calloused fingertips. ��You keep staring at them.”

You looked at his chest again and ran your hand gently over it, staring at the various patterns they created.

“Yes. I think they suit you.”

Victor smiled with half of his mouth, shining some of his gold teeth. He rubbed your shoulder in a gesture that could be considered showing affection.

“You're a weird girl.” He stated.

You took it as a compliment and smiled back.

credits:

dividers: @cafekitsune / link to dividers

tags: @toxicgutz69 @thegreatwicked

[toxicgutz69]

tumblr users will reblog anything. have half a peanut

[toxicgutz69]

Hey sweet girl

For some reason Tumblr won’t let me answer to your ask so I’ll answer here I hope that’s okay ^^

I feel very flattered by what you said ^^

I had a very nice day, thank you, sweet girl ;)

Hope you had an amazing day too ^^

🤭🤭🤭

(Ofc it's okay, ik Tumblr is weird sometimes and even eats asks)

Im glad you had a nice day :3 and my day was okay, I've had better but that's okay ^^

Sorry for replying late im kinda omw to a comic con

[toxicgutz69]

Honestly feeling great today 🥰✨️

[toxicgutz69]

BOOM SHAKALAKA OHHHH LAWWWDDD

I NEEEEEEDDD HIM

[toxicgutz69]

Misread bluebells as blueballs. Was really confused for a sec-

Howdy, Mr. MacTavish!

I was doing a wee bit of stalking scrolling, and I got curious about your reply to the 🍮 anon saying you asked a lass out with bluebells so... How'd it go?

[P.S. Are you still willing to have more anons? If you are, is ☄️ available? Many thanks and take care !! x]

weel, she ended up bein' allergic... telt me if i wis even a wee bit as bricht as mah eyes, i widnae hae shoved it in her face. ah dinnae 'no!

[toxicgutz69]

1. Cod Ghost's is absolutely ✨️✨️ CHEFS KISS. Divine, and they need to make another one. Without killing keegan off ofc (why do they always kill off the favorite characters?

2. You have the correct opinion. I personally like Bo1 cuz I'm just a slut for the classics

So, you obviously know and love mw2, but I have a question my dear fav. What are your thoughts on Call of duty Ghosts

OR!!! Call of duty black opps (nothing past vanguard. Everything after that is...*shudders*)

:]

Tbh i will never get the hate towards COD Ghosts. I actually enjoyed it especially the campaign ^^ (i’ll prolly get hate for that haha)

And Black Ops series is and has always been one of my favs multiplayer wise

I grew up with BO2 and BO3 and I loved the games ^^

[toxicgutz69]

Can you imagine being a BlackBlood, along side Zed?

Opening the portal, originally trying to summon the Lu-Qiri but instead this stupid hot fucker comes through???

Can you imagine??

His stupid hot moves. How easy fighting is for him. Going on missions to find the key.

Can you imagine being more understanding, and bringing Vikka back from the plane of ashes when you guys are out of the outpost?

Can you imagine laying at night, in the forst next to him. The only sound being the fire crackling lightly, the sounds of breathing, and the music of the forest to surround you.

Can you imagine, that one scene, being so bewildered by his ears. Touching them, making soft remarks of them.

Can you imagine his voice, soft, hushed, asking if you'd ever even touched a BlackBlood man. A man of your own species. Not a human.

Can you imagine the look on his face when you tell him you haven't. You thought you were the last one till you started opening the portals.

And- hear me out, can you just imagine leaning in to kiss him, and he meets you halfway. His hand not wasting a moment to snake it's way up your waist, pulling you closer to deepen the kiss and sit you on his lap. Could you imagine hearing him mumble about how "your in for a treat. Blackbloods have a connection no humans could ever have"

Could you imagine!!!!!???

Cause I can

And I have.

Hhrgrhrbrjehdgdjkabs

[toxicgutz69]

Ahhhh good that's great wonderful. Like I said, just for science thank you have a nice day my fav

Could you theoretically lift 130 pounds, or 59 Kilograms?

For science. This is all for science.

Tbh i could probably throw that too haha ^^

[toxicgutz69]

YES, YES, GOD YES

THIS IS WHAT I LIVE FOR

Part 3 of fuck buddies with Simon

You didn’t wear anything fancy. Just jeans, a sweater you didn’t have to think too hard about, and your hair pulled back because you didn’t have the energy to fight with it.

You weren’t even sure why you texted him. It was impulsive, sort of. A moment of weakness, maybe. Or maybe it wasn’t weak at all—maybe it was brave, letting him back in even just a little. You told yourself it was just coffee. Just a talk. Just two people who used to mean something meeting up like civil adults.

But your hands were shaking a little on the steering wheel the whole way there.

You parked down the block from the coffee shop, needing the walk to settle your nerves. It didn’t help. Your stomach was twisting up like it always used to when he’d come over—when you didn’t know if he was going to be gentle or cold, if he’d stay the night or leave without a word. You hated that the nerves felt the same now, even after everything.

When you pushed open the door to the café, the little bell overhead jingled like something out of a movie. And there he was—already sitting at a table near the window, back straight, fingers wrapped around a cup. He looked up as soon as you walked in, like he’d been watching for you, like he hadn’t taken his eyes off the door since he sat down.

And he smiled.

But something about it made your chest tighten. Your legs felt suddenly heavy, and you paused just inside the door, your fingers curling in the sleeves of your sweater like you needed something to hold onto. You stood there for maybe three seconds—maybe four—and then you turned around.

You couldn’t do this. You thought you could, but you couldn’t. Not when your heart felt like it was ready to give itself away again, not when your head was screaming that he could still break you with a single word.

Your phone was already in your hand as you pushed back out into the street, your fingers moving fast.

I’m sorry. I can’t do this.

You hit send, and at the exact moment, it started to rain.

Of course it did.

It wasn’t even dramatic rain—just that soaking kind that gets into your clothes and hair and makes your shoes squish with every step. You didn’t have an umbrella, nor have the presence of mind to pull your hood up. You just walked fast. Like if you could get far enough away, none of this would feel so raw.

And then you felt it—arms wrapping around you from behind, firm but not forceful. Strong, familiar, and warm, even through the wet fabric of your jacket.

“Don’t go,” Simon said, his voice low and right against your ear. “Please, just… don’t walk away again. Not like this.”

You didn’t say anything at first. You couldn’t. Your whole body was tense, like you were stuck between wanting to lean back into him and wanting to shove him off.

“I get why you left,” he said, and his voice was a little shaky now. “I deserved it. I didn’t give you anything to hold onto. I made you feel like you were just... convenient. And I fucking hate that I did that to you.”

The rain kept coming, dripping down your face and clinging to your lashes, and still, he didn’t let go.

“I don’t want anything from you right now,” he said. “I’m not trying to push. I just wanted to see you. Talk to you. I miss hearing your voice. I miss the way you laugh when you’re annoyed and the way you go quiet when you're thinking too hard. I miss knowing that you were somewhere in the world thinking about me, even if I didn’t deserve it.”

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

“I’m scared,” you said, finally, voice soft and small in the rain.

“I know, love,” he whispered, arms still around you. “I’m scared too. Scared I already lost the best thing I ever had. But I’d rather take a thousand chances to show you I’ve changed than go back to pretending I don’t care.”

You didn’t answer; you didn’t have the words. But you turned slowly in his arms, your hands resting lightly on his chest, and he looked down at you like you were something fragile, something he was terrified of breaking again.

“Come on,” you said after a long moment. “Let’s get out of the rain.”

You brought him back to your place, not because everything was fixed, not because you’d forgiven him, but because you wanted to be warm and dry and maybe not alone tonight. You gave him a towel and made coffee the way you always used to—strong, with just a little bit of sugar because he never took milk.

You didn’t sit on opposite ends of the couch. You sat beside him. Close, but not touching. You talked for a while. About small things. Big things. He told you he started seeing a therapist. You told him about work. You both avoided talking about what would happen next.

For the next few weeks, it was like that. Texts. Calls. The occasional late night spent watching old movies without touching. He didn’t try to kiss you. Didn’t push. He just... showed up. And stayed.

And then one night, you were both laughing about something—some dumb story from years ago—and you turned to him, and he was already looking at you. Not with hunger or desperation, but with a much softer look.

You leaned in first.

Just a little.

And he met you halfway.

And when he kissed you, it wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t like before. It was slow, and warm, and full of everything he hadn’t said and everything you hadn’t asked for. Like a promise he didn’t know how to make out loud, but was trying to anyway.

And for the first time in a long time, you let yourself kiss him back.

He pulled back just a little, like he was giving you the space to change your mind, like he was scared you’d vanish if he touched you for too long. But you didn’t move. You just looked at him—really looked at him—and felt your heart beat so hard it hurt a little.

“You okay?” he asked, voice low and rough around the edges.

You nodded, even though everything inside you felt scrambled and upside-down. “Yeah. I think I am.”

He smiled—barely—and brushed a thumb across your cheek like he was memorizing the feel of your skin. Then he sat back, but not far, not like he was pulling away completely. Just enough to give you space again. And you knew right then he wasn’t going to ruin this by rushing. He was trying, really trying, and you felt it in your chest like a weight slowly lifting.

You both stayed on the couch for a while after that, talking about nothing and everything, voices soft and close.

Eventually, it got late. You stood up to stretch, and he watched you, his gaze lingering on your face, not your body. Like he was trying to read your mood before he made a move.

“I should head out,” he said, standing slowly.

You bit the inside of your cheek. “You don’t have to.”

He looked at you, eyes flickering with surprise. “You sure?”

You nodded. “Yeah. Just… don’t make it weird.”

He let out a breath, something between a laugh and a sigh. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

So he stayed.

You handed him an old T-shirt and a pair of sweats you forgot he left behind once, and he changed in the bathroom while you got into bed. And when he climbed in beside you, he didn’t touch you right away. He laid on his side, just close enough that you could feel the warmth of him under the covers.

“Do you want me to—” he started.

You reached for his hand under the blanket. “No talking now. Just stay.”

And he did.

You fell asleep to the sound of his breathing. Not tangled up like you used to be, not desperate for skin or heat. Just… close. Like two people learning how to be near each other again without breaking apart.

In the morning, you woke up before him.

For a moment, you just watched him sleep—his brow still furrowed a little, like even in rest he was carrying something heavy. You could see the edge of an old scar near his temple, one you never asked about, and you wondered how many more there were now. On his skin, in his mind.

You weren’t sure what would happen next. But for the first time in what felt like forever, you didn’t feel like you were waiting for the other shoe to drop.

He shifted a little, eyes fluttering open, and when he saw you, he smiled. That same small, quiet smile.

“Morning,” he said.

“Morning.”

And when his lips found yours, it didn’t feel like a beginning or an ending—it just felt like finally coming home.

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

my girl @daydreamerwoah gave me an idea about the rain scene <33

@kylies-love-letter @ghostslollipop @kittygonap @alfiestreacle @identity2212 @farylfordaryl @rafaelacallinybbay @hiraethvita @scaleniusrm @cosmic-sleep-demon @roastyyytoastyyy @salfetkablog