cod oneshots n imagines ✨

all that you leave behind

hey y'all ! thanks so so much for all the support ! i see all the saves, comments and votes n it warms my lil heart 🥹💗 i also hella appreciate the patience ! my life has been crazy with the start of the new year but once i have my shit slightly together i'll probably be more frequent with updates n such.

this one is... neat ! it's a little sad, angsty piece and i've drifted apart from the norm, it's a bit of a wild card. i'm a firm believer in the fact that they only really get to you if it's about your favourite, and so i've made... this. LMAO. i don't know what you'd really call it. the fun thing about this is that it's neutral (as you may have noticed from the title). basically i'm giving you the written scenario and you get to fill it in with someone of your choice! i couldn't overly decide who would've fit this one best since there are so many, which led me to the idea of leaving it up to you; the reader.

enjoy ! <3

The dust had settled, piled, rinsed and repeated, only drifted under the day and night cycles through the subtle movements and shifts of the recycled cup of water — or transitions of unfriendly sedatives — and pill bottles beside the bed. The dishes in the sink had seen another week... or two and the state of melancholy had filled every corner, room and doorway and incomplete chore. It'd been months since the news had found it's way to the doorstep of the house, once occupied by laughter, harmony and passion but now, the memory of him had taken a turn and instead haunted the empty space in the bed next to her, in the crooked frames on the walls, the clothes stained with leftover cologne and his absence quietly screamed at her with every waking moment. In her dreams — and nightmares — was where she met him, and only for a moment was she able to embrace him one last time.  In the meantime, when she couldn't escape, she clung to the sheets, his clothes and her favourite photo of him next to the debris of sedatives and cried, pleading with the universe for his return. Regretting every petty argument, the times she never got to say 'i love you' and the times she didn't, the things she had done out of spite but most of all; not being able to at least say goodbye. After all they had been through, was she not deserving of one last embrace? One last kiss and one last whispering of 'I love you's before parting ways?

At times, she'd even been angry with him and his inability to leave it behind. It changed him for better or for worse and with each passing day she'd watch him get lost and caught up with affairs she didn't — couldn't — understand but had tried to. For once, she'd wished he'd leave that life alone and encouraged him to stay.  With her.  With the future they had planned so enthusiastically for. Now, she'd really wished that even if he only listened and saw things from her perspective that it'd been this time. That the phone would ring, (character) wouldn't be paying her doorstep another visit with empty promises, and they would tell her that they had indeed found him out there after the weeks they'd been searching, waiting. That they'd bring him back to her and — too hopeful — that they'd pick up where they left off. She'd wake up, roll over and find her head on his chest, taking in his scent and occupying the minimal space between them. She would wander her hands over his sculpted physique and he'd guide her to all the right places and vice versa. They'd make breakfast together and she'd playfully smear the pancake batter across his face and that would annoy him, she'd find it adorable. They'd tease each other and laugh together. Argue and make up for it in the dark. Fill the house they'd picked together with the memories and dreams they'd talked about under the stars those many times. Instead, the hours were consumed with alcoholism, painkillers (despite their ineffectiveness), sorrow and grief, sleep, tears and the skip of her heartbeat every time the phone had rang. She'd originally hoped for the best but prepared for the worst and was very wary of the position she could be put in if anyone had caught her this way.

Truthfully, if certain circumstances had been different, and if it were up to her, she would be the one out there. Searching, waiting, desperately looking and running to the ends of the earth to find even a single sign of him. She was selfish, deranged and had resented their actions. As if his disappearance wasn't of any importance, as if they hadn't cared in the slightest just how badly it affected her. As if there was something they weren't telling her. Like they knew, but held their breath in fear of setting fire to the desire that had burned strongly inside her. Or fear of putting it out. For if they'd lost her, too, they'd lost every reason.