#all the angst

[berryispunk]

She Keeps His Shirt, He Keeps His Word

pairing: Frankie Morales x f! reader

This is the final part of the "Complete Mess" series readable here. But definitely also enjoyable as stand-alone.

summary: This is not the way it’s supposed to be, or the time it’s supposed to be. Everything seems wrong. Maybe they will find a way to make it right.

tags: explicit ! 18 + ,unplanned pregnancy, talking of abortion, arguing, angst (lots of it), smut, unprotected PiV, sprinkle of dirty talk, nicknames (hermosa, baby, mi amor, mi vida), inner turmoil, mention of addiction, some (possibly) childhood trauma, social class talk (kind of), did I mention angst?, idiots in love, breakup, established relationship, getting back together, slight pregnancy talk, brief mention of birth, all the feelings, love confessions, ALL THE ANGST, fluff (a tiny bit), soft Frankie, Frankie and his girl, angst and smut

notes: It's happening guys, my series "Complete Mess" is ending and we're finishing like we started with ALL THE ANGST. The title is part of a TS song, thanks to my bestie who suggested the title months ago. If you didn't read the other parts I highly recommend reading them first here and here !!!!

word count: 4,4 k (oops)

That’s not how it's supposed to be. This is not how you wanted this to happen. 

It’s too soon, too much, not enough. 

This should be one of the most important moments in your life, you should overflow with joy but instead you stare at the second line wishing it’d disappear.

Fucking fuck. 

It’s been two weeks since your encounter with Frankie in the club, two weeks since you got back together. 

Five days since your period should’ve started. You’ve taken three tests, all with the same outcome. 

One unmistakingly has the word “Pregnant” on it. Pregnant, as in, a little life growing inside of your womb. It feels like a sick joke. A twisted turn of events. 

You sink to the ground, the last test still in hand as tears start to blur your vision. 

Your head feels like it’s spinning, the weight of it all threatening to crush you.

You feel numb, but at the same time you feel every emotion imaginable.

Anger, frustration, fear, sadness, all mixed up in a dangerous maelstrom of feelings.

You wanna scream, but you also wanna say nothing at all. 

Your hands are shaking as you start to sob and the test hits the ground with a noise. 

This is rock bottom, you think. You’ve hit the ground, both figuratively and literally. 

How the hell could this happen? 

How could you have been so careless ? 

You’re almost 28. You should’ve known better. 

You curl up in a ball, trying to soothe yourself but it’s to no use. 

Your sobs shake your whole body and your head is so loud, screaming at you.

The chaos of voices inside you raging. 

One voice is clear, overpowering all others. It’s repeating one simple thing, a name, one thing you can’t mistake for anything else. 

Frankie. 

You pull yourself together and frantically search for your phone. 

You finally find it on the sink, the lockscreen of it like a punch to your gut. 

It’s you and him, happy, in love, with not a care in the world. A fragment of happiness you both long for so much, but never be able to reach fully. 

Tiny glimpses of it scattered through your mess of a relationship.

With still shaking hands you dial his number and he picks up on the third ring, your stomach dropping.

“We have to talk,” you simply state. “Can you come over?” 

“Sure, hermosa. Everything alright?” The worry in his voice is palpable and you feel like you suffocate on the sob that leaves your throat. 

“I don’t know… Just come here, okay ?”

“I’m on my way,” he says with conviction and the line goes dead. 

Only twenty minutes later the front door opens. He’s let himself in with the spare key you gave him a while back. 

His brows are furrowed in confusion, his dark eyes scanning the room for you in the dim light.

“I am here,” you say quietly, standing in your small kitchen with a glass of water in your hand. 

“Baby?” he hesitantly asks as he steps closer to you. You don’t need to look up to feel his questioning eyes on you. “You scared the shit outta me on the phone��� What is going on?”

Without saying a word you point towards the kitchen counter where the three pregnancy tests lie, offensively all spelling out the same result.

You don’t dare to look up. You’re not strong enough for whatever reaction he’s having. 

You expect the same emotions you experienced just minutes ago. 

But as Frankie stays threateningly silent, definitely uncharacteristic for him, you turn around to watch him look at the objects on the counter. 

His dark brown eyes are analytical, searching and possibly confused.

His brows lift up high before he looks at you. His gaze flickering from your stomach to your face, gauging your own reaction before there’s a wide smile spreading over his face and it throws you off way more than any anger could. 

Is he… happy?

“Is this real?” he asks and you scoff. 

“I peed on three of these dumb sticks, so I’d say so.” 

His smile only widens as he closes the distance between you and lifts you up, swirling you around like you weigh nothing as he exclaims, “We’re gonna have a baby!!” and his voice is so full of genuine joy it makes your stomach twist. 

You wrap your arms around his neck but your energy definitely doesn't match his.

“Wait- You are.. Are you happy?” 

“Of course I am happy! We’re having a baby, mi amor! This is probably the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” He takes a short breath and then adds, “Besides meeting you of course,” he laughs and the corners of your mouth twitch in the slightest hint of a smile. 

You wish you could mirror his excitement. 

But you can’t.

“Frankie, I–” You break off and pat his biceps to signal him to let you down again so he obliges and you take a small step back.

“I don’t know if… If I wanna keep it.”

His facial expression switches from joy to pure shock instantly, his eyes darkening.

“What?”

You suddenly feel so small under his intense gaze.

“What do you mean you don’t know if you wanna keep it?” 

You can’t look at him so you focus your gaze on the wall, on the kitchen counter that serves as your breakfast table. Anything other than his face. 

“I am not ready to be a mom,” you mumble.

“Nobody is ever really ready for this,” he objects and you sigh in response.

“You still struggle with the whole drug stuff…”

“I’ve been clean for weeks and you know that.”

“Yeah, but what if you relapse? Then what? I can’t take care of a newborn alone.”

He frowns heavily at this.

 “You won’t have to do it all by yourself. I am here and I will be with you every step of the way.”

“Your job?”

“I’ll quit.”

“We’re already struggling to make ends meet as it is, Frankie. Now imagine a baby on top of that. All the diapers, clothing, furniture,…” you drift off, trying your best to reason with him.

He crosses his arms in front of his chest, his face hardening, taking on the defense. 

“You’re just searching for reasons that this won’t work out. You’re not even considering it, are you?”

Ouch.

“Frankie, I–” 

But he stops you by lifting his hand. 

“Look, my parents were immigrants. We never had much but there was still nothing lacking, most of all there was love. Love, baby. That’s what created this new life in the first place…”

You scoff. 

“You mean your childhood in poverty was worth it because of all the love? Love isn’t enough, Frankie. It doesn’t pay the bills and it doesn’t feed another mouth.”

He looks at you as if you hurt him. His sad soulful eyes make you regret your harsh words instantly. 

“Besides,” you add, “I don’t know if you remember but I also come from a lower class family with a single mom. I remember vividly all the times I had to go to bed on an empty stomach. I don’t want this for a child. Nobody deserves that.” 

His mouth opens but you interrupt him before he can speak up.

“And don’t tell me about how this formed you as a person, how it made you resilient. That’s romanticizing. I don’t want our child to experience the same shit.”

He runs a hand over his face in frustration. 

“Fine. But you’re not alone in this. I am here and I will do anything to give you and the baby a good life.”

Your eyes narrow on him. 

“Yeah? How’re you planning to do this? Taking another of these risky and highly illegal jobs?”

He frowns again. 

“No, smart-ass, I will look for a steady job. One with decent pay.”

You snort sarcastically. 

“Yeah, right. Because your criminal record is so clean!”

The moment the words leave your mouth you realize it was a low blow, even for you, but it’s too late to take it back now. He looks hurt, defeated and lost as he looks at you. 

“Why did you tell me about this when you already decided to get rid of it?”

“I haven't decided yet. I just…" 

You don’t even know how to finish the sentence.

He takes a few steps back, pacing around the kitchen, the gears visibly rattling in his head.

“What can I do to convince you to prove that I’m serious about changing?”

“Frankie, I know you’re trying.”

“Yes, I am trying. And I will try harder because I have a reason. A reason to do better.”

He’s sounding so sincere and confident that for a millisecond you dare to dream about the three of you as a family. Maybe a life in a little condo apartment. Or even something with a backyard, so the tiny human can have a sandbox to play in and their own puppy. But reality catches up faster than you’d like and you’re reminded why this won’t work out, no matter how much you want it to. 

“Look, if things were different I’d be over the moon given the prospect of having a baby with you. Yet, in this life, you know as well as I do that the circumstances we’re in right now are far from ideal to start a family. We just got back together-”

“And?” “And, given our history it’s only a matter of time until we fight and break up again. You know how it goes.” “I would never leave you alone with a baby. You’re thinking that lowly of me ?”

You immediately shake your head no.

But Frankie already tenses up as the words begin to spill, every one of them more hurtful than the other.

“You’re thinking I am a lost cause, right? Doomed to repeat his own mistakes again and again and too dumb to learn a lesson for good. Is that it?” His voice is trembling with emotion and you feel like the biggest douche.

You open your mouth to say something, but Frankie interrupts you. 

“You claim you love me, that you’re proud of me for even the small victories but still you treat me like a damn child, wrapping me in bubble wrap afraid I might implode first chance I get. But let me tell you, I am trying. I am working so hard to be a man deserving of your love. Showing up, going through withdrawal, even considering therapy and all you do is think of me as the big screw-up, worth less than the dirt under your shoe.”

You feel hot tears building in the corners of your eyes.

“Frankiiiieee…” you whine but he shakes his head, his expression hard and  unapproachable.

The warmth in his eyes is gone.

“For you I’m just an idiot who’s in love with you but to me you’re all that matters, all I ever think about. The reason why I do all of this crap because hell, it’s fucking hard. But I constantly think about you, about your pretty smile and your soft words whenever I feel I am not strong enough. And now you’re standing here in front of me, telling me you’re pregnant with my child and you don’t wanna keep it because, still, after everything I’ve done I am not good enough, not worthy enough for you and it fucking hurts.”

You’re speechless for a moment, his monologue hitting you like a ton of bricks, taking your breath away so you just look at him, taking him in. His brokenness, his sadness and all you wanna do is to hug him, make this right. Do him right, like he deserves. But you can’t. Maybe the two of you were never meant to last anyway, maybe your fate was already sealed long before this moment in time. Your heart breaks the longer you look at him and you’re surer than ever of your decision. 

You are both too broken to be parents. Too caught up in your own wreckages that calls itself life. You can’t bring a baby into this. A life whose survival depends solely on the two of you, each struggling themselves to stay afloat. 

As your gaze finds his again, every emotion you’re feeling is mirrored in his eyes. You inhale sharply before you step towards him to wrap your arms tightly around his midsection and he holds you close, his face nuzzled in your hair, placing tiny soft kisses on your neck.

You’re equally searching for comfort in each other, even though you’re each other's reason for breaking in the first place. 

“I am sorry,” you mumble, your voice muffled against the fabric of his shirt.

You feel him shaking his head, hugging you just a little bit tighter, his face in the crook of your neck. All your broken pieces squeezed together even if only for this moment. 

You feel whole, you always do. His arms are your home and nothing beats the feeling of his body heat enveloping you and making you feel like maybe it’s all gonna be okay. His familiar scent fills your nostrils, so earthy and musky, so unmistakingly him, you’ll never tire of it. Sleeping in his worn shirts is the closest you have to tranquility when your mind is troubled yet again and you want to forget the woes of the world.

Eventually Frankie nuzzles his face against your ear, placing a feathery kiss against the sensitive spot behind it before his mouth wanders along the side of your neck and in a habit you tilt your head to give him better access, your hands finding his tousled locks which is always his weakness. 

“Frankie…” you mewl, your voice already betraying you. “What are you doing?”

He smiles against the skin of your neck before he whispers hoarsely, “Let me have this. Please, hermosa…” 

You shake your head but it’s a weak attempt at protest.

You could never say no to Frankie, no matter the circumstances. 

The two of you attract each other like magnets. Never really complete without the other. 

He gently pushes you towards the kitchen counter until the back of your legs are reaching the edge and you sweep the fucking test off the countertop before you hop onto it, not caring where they land. It’s not as if they would change anything now. His hands immediately find your hips as he stands between your legs and continues his assault on your neck. His mouth explores every bit of your skin taking his time before he helps you take off your shirt over your head and his mouth immediately latches back onto your skin, sponging hot open-mouthed kisses on your now exposed chest. 

Your every nerve ending is already on fire at this point as you eagerly open the zipper of his jeans and pull it down so it hangs onto the back of his knees, quickly followed by his black boxer briefs. Your hand finds his hardened member, pumping him a few times to which he answers with a hiss at the mere feeling of your hand around him. You kiss him messily, swallowing his moan as you keep stroking him, his hips bucking into your hand. 

One of his hands finds your hair, tangling in it to deepen the kiss, pulling your head back a bit and making you moan. The whole thing is a mess of tongues and teeth at this point and you don’t even remember the last time you were kissed like this. 

“Take this off,” he commands as he tugs at your shorts and you lift your hips so he can pull them down, revealing nothing underneath. 

His hand that was on your hip just moments ago finds your center, already wet and leaking for him and he hums in appreciation. “Always so ready for me,” he purrs as he sucks at your neck again, coaxing the neediest moan out of you as his hand simultaneously starts to explore your folds. His thumb on your clit drawing circles paired with the slightest bit of pressure before two of his digits sink into you and you gasp in response, your hand pulling at his shirt in a desperate attempt to hold onto something. 

“Fucking beautiful,” he praises as his fingers curl inside of you and find the spot that makes you see stars instantly. 

“Frankie, please,” you whimper frenziedly. 

“I know, baby. I know,” as he places another, now way softer kiss on your neck, before he tilts your chin with his free hand and with the other guiding his cock towards your entrance. 

“Look at me, I want to see you when I fuck you like this.” 

His goddamn fucking filthy mouth. 

You just nod and without another word he pushes into you, torturously slow at first, your eyes still locked and you feel like your whole body burns up with need. 

You wrap your legs tightly around him as he’s bottoming out, giving you a moment to adjust to him, taking him as deep as you can. 

He starts moving because you start wiggling impatiently, his hands on your hips as he pushes in and out of you.

This feels different, even if you can’t quite pinpoint why. It feels like a confession and a redemption at the same time. Like he knew all along how this would end.

You let your bodies talk and explain where words aren’t enough as your lips find his again, your hands slightly pulling at his hair as you keep kissing him like you’re drowning and he mirrors it perfectly. Without even noticing tears start streaming down your cheeks as he picks up the pace and fills you completely, satiating the void only he can fill. 

As he notices the tears on your face he stills for a moment, his brown eyes full of worry. 

“Are you okay?” he asks, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. “No,” you breathe and you’re not able to look him in the eye so you bury your face in his neck. 

“Did I hurt you?” 

You shake your head.

How can you explain to him that this feels like a goodbye?

“Don’t stop,” you whine, your voice thin. 

You can feel his hesitation, his hand gently caressing the back of your head but you can’t look at him, you simply can’t or it will shatter you completely. 

“Please. Frankie.” Are the only two words to make him nod and start moving again. 

It doesn’t take long for the two of you to find your release and you would lie if it doesn’t feel like coming home, like this is supposed to be like this, two people connected in the simplest but also most powerful way. He pants against your collarbone, trying to take back some control over his breathing again. You just hold him tight, your hands caressing his back gently as you place a kiss on his hair, inhaling his scent. 

But then something changes, the softness of the afterglow gone as he lifts his head, his dark brown eyes boring into yours. 

“This is it, isn’t it?”

You frown, not exactly grabbing the magnitude of his question, but you nod as tears blur your vision once again. He shakes his head, lost for words himself as he puts his clothes back on and hands you your clothes as well. 

The silence is heavy between you, so much to say but there are no words to pinpoint how you think or feel right now. 

“I wish things were different,” you finally say quietly. “Yeah, me too,” he answers shortly, way too distant given the fact how close you two were mere moments ago. 

“I am sorry.”

“That’s not enough,” he retorts, his voice hoarse. 

You lower your gaze as you finally hop off the counter to put your bottoms back in their place.

He walks towards the front door, his steps heavy and you follow him mindlessly. You don’t want him to leave, but open the door for him, both of you standing in the doorway now. You look in his direction, but you don’t look at him, as he looks outside. There weren’t any clouds earlier but it has started to rain and it’s literally pouring now. 

How fitting, you think to yourself. 

His gaze shifts towards you again before he takes a step towards you, his big hand resting on your cheek, his thumb caressing it and makes you look at him for a long moment, really look at him. 

Are you trying to memorize his features or is he trying to memorize yours, you wonder and try to give him a weak smile before leaning more into his touch and kissing his wrist. 

“I love you, mi amor. I always will, no matter what.” 

You take a shuddering breath before answering with a shaky voice, “I will always love you too, Frankie.” 

You watch him leave, the rain soaking his clothing, drenching him completely in the time it takes him to reach his car, he takes one last glance towards your front door before you close it, sinking down on the linoleum floor and drowning in your own tears as the sky mirrors your agony. 

—

Abortions aren’t glamorous and they aren’t easy. 

The whole process is longer than you’ve thought it would be and all the questions are draining. 

Is the father involved? Did you ever have an abortion before? When was your last period? Were you sexually active in the last four weeks? Did you have sex without contraceptive? 

You grumble slightly to yourself while filling out the questionnaire. You didn’t tell anyone about this, because you were convinced you’re fine on your own. 

But as your gaze drifts around the waiting area you see that almost everyone brought someone along and you feel more lonely than you ever did before. 

Your leg impatiently bounces up and down and without giving much thought you cover your stomach with your palm, lowering your gaze and whisper, “No worries, little bean. We’ll be fine.” 

As you look back up again you pray that no one heard you talking to yourself. 

What the fuck was this? You talked to this little bundle of cells like it could hear you. 

You clearly lost your mind, finally. 

As you look back onto the paperwork again, your vision starts to blur and a single tear drops onto the paper. You’re caught off guard. Why are you so damn emotional all of a sudden?

In that instant you wish for one thing only.

Frankie being here with you. 

He would hold your hand, caressing your back in soothing circles and tell you he’s here for you. 

Shit. 

You miss him more than you’d like to admit. 

You fish your phone out of your pocket, your thumb hovering over his contact. 

What are you even going to say? 

“Hey Frankie, I sit at the abortion clinic and guess what, I am not so sure anymore. Did you know their heart starts beating at 6 weeks? A whole fucking heartbeat…” 

“I know,” a familiar voice suddenly ringing in your ear. 

“Frankie?” you ask back, still in disbelief that you really called him absentmindedly. 

“Hey,” he chuckles softly through the speaker and your heart skips a beat.

“Hey yourself.. Sorry, that was… I don’t know what that was.” 

“It’s alright,” he assures you, although you are pretty sure it isn’t but you can picture him smiling faintly. 

“I sit here all alone filling out that damn questionnaire and I swear I never felt more alone than I do now and all I wished for was…” You can’t finish that sentence, because if you’d do, you’d give in. To him, to everything you desperately fought for to forget, trying to not feel anymore. 

But the second you heard his voice it felt like all reason flew out the window. Your mind subconsciously decided for you.

“I wished you were here with me, holding my hand,” you press out of your lips, your voice nothing more than a whisper. 

“You want me to accompany you?” 

“No. Yes… Urgh, I don't know,” you stumble over your own words. 

There’s a laugh at the other end. 

“Make up your mind, hermosa.” 

And in this very moment you do. You see clearer than you did in weeks.

Him kissing your baby bump, massaging your feet when they’re too swollen to walk on. 

You painting the walls in the spare room, him admiring you and stating you’re glowing, even if you feel like a damn whale. 

Him with your baby in his arms, rocking it gently, soothing it back to sleep and your heart hurts, it physically hurts to even think about it because you long for it, you crave this new life more than anything else. 

“I did. I have,” you finally say. “We’re having a baby, Morales.” 

—

9 months later you’re giving birth to a baby girl. The perfect mix of both of you. His dark brown curls crowning her tiny head and your bright eyes looking back at you. 

Her first cry is powerful, announcing her arrival, taking her rightful space in this world and you never saw something as perfect as the baby that rests on your chest. 

Frankie is a crying mess next to you full of pride as he kisses your hair. 

“You did so good, mi vida,” he praises and his voice is nothing more than a muffled whisper against your hair before you start to cry yourself. 

“She is beautiful,” you say in awe as you take her teeny tiny hand in yours, kissing it gently. 

“Almost as beautiful as you are,” Frankie whispers, watching his two girls with nothing but tenderness. 

You feel like you’re exploding with love, your heart suddenly living outside of your body and you swear to yourself no matter what, your daughter will have a good life. 

One worth remembering. She’s the center of your universe now and as you tilt your head to Frankie you smile softly, leaning against him. 

“We’re a family, Frankie,” you say as your voice chokes up with all the emotions. 

“We always were, but now we’re parents too,” he answers and the weight of his words hangs heavy in the air. But you’re not afraid of the responsibility anymore. 

You are happy, truly happy because for the first time in your life you feel like you’re exactly where and who you need to be. 

my masterlist in case you’re hungry for more :)

[mermaidgirl30]

✨Saving What Was Lost✨

Pre-Outbreak! Joel Miller x fem! reader

A/N: This was very much inspired from reading Hunting Adeline. Thank you to @alltheirdamn for screaming with me about this and bouncing ideas with me. I’m so so excited for it 😭 This one is for all the girls who’ve ever been taken advantage of, used, and are healing from unspoken trauma. This is very much all about healing and being taken under the wings of a man that breathes life into you again 🥹 This one’s for you, my healing girlies 🩷

“Left Behind” by The Plot In You was the song that really pushed me to write this 🥹

Summary: You never expected to get auctioned off in a room full of filthy rich, vile men after being taken over a year ago, but it happened. And the man that buys you, the one with soft brown eyes, just might’ve saved your life. He doesn’t want to hurt you. No. He wants to show you what it’s like to fall back in love with life.

Tags: Mentions of being trafficked, flashbacks of being abused, non-consensual touching, a boat load of angst, soft and protective Joel, tons of emotions, trust issues, PTSD, eventual smut (consensual and gentle), no use y/n, age gap (reader is late 20’s, Joel is late 40’s), pre-outbreak au, more tags to come with each chapter

Ch 1: You’re Safe With Me

Ch 2: A Million Shades of Red

Ch 3: You Trust Me?

Ch 4: Bubble Baths and Faded Scars

Ch 5: Friday Night In

Ch 6: New Introductions with a Cup of Hot Chocolate

Ch 7: Your Hand In Mine

Ch 8: (Coming Soon!)

Ch 9

Ch 10

Ch 11

[eyesthecolorofarson]

Dp x DC where Danyal Al Ghul is born as the son of Talia Al Ghul and Thomas Wayne. At age seven he's killed by his rampaging grandfather and comes back by a mixture of Lazarus water and All-Caste magic. He meets John Constantine on a mission, and learns how to use his ghost powers and other forms of magic. At age ten he's dropped off in Gotham with Thomas Wayne, The Batman and his arch nemesis Martha Wayne, The Joker.

He and Thomas talk, because he still looks identical to Bruce, and Thomas admits he doesn’t want to call Danny his son because he knows he'll start using Danny as a replacement for Bruce. Danny understands that, and admits he sees Constantine as more of a father figure. He calls Thomas 'old man' from then on, not dad, but still family.

He meets Martha when she's Martha, and later when she's Joker. Martha is very tired, sometimes unsure of where she is but kind and polite. Joker is ruthless, creative and cruel, but never hurts children. Danny has to wear a full face covering around both of them. They know Bruce's face far too well.

Everythings going great, until he has to help another timeline and meets Bruce and Damian. He brushes past introductions, immediately going to Batman. "Hey, old man!" Batman stares at him. Danny stares back, then tilts his head, confused. "Old man Thomas?"

[murd3rouscrow]

Hey folks! I got some juicy angst for you all today, as always, spoilers for sign of four part 10, under the cut

I got a mostly headcannon-y aftermath of Mary's death for you all.

- After Mary's death, John went to stay with his mum for a bit. Not a long time, just a week or two. He just needed to be away from the city, away from cases.

- Sherlock and Mariana stayed. They took on a lot of smaller cases. Like Mariana said, they'd go broke if they didn't.

- Mariana spent a lot of nights at 221B, she slept in John's room, just so Sherlock wouldn't have to be alone. Sherlock thinks it's cause she doesn't want to be alone. He's not entirely wrong.

- They'd call John every night. They didn't talk much, mostly have him on facetime while they ate dinner. John would eventually start crying again and, Sherlock and Mariana tried to help him as much as they could.

- All three of them blame themselves. Obviously John blames himself for getting Mary wrapped up in all this. Mariana blames herself for letting Mary come with her to the Spanish ship. Sherlock blames himself for not being able to stop Mary from getting hit.

- John comes back to 221B. Mariana doesn't stop staying the night, usually on the couch now. They still eat dinner together. Sherlock goes on small cases, alone mostly.

- John thinks a lot. He thinks about what if he stormed in with the girls. He thinks about what if him and Mary ran away together. He thinks about what if Mary showed up for that first date, and he never met Sherlock.

- Sherlock doesn't think at all. He's gone entirely on autopilot. He doesn't speak to John often. He barely speaks at all. He's not sure what he can say.

- Mariana edited some of the last episode. John did most of the complicated stuff but he couldn't listen to some of it without crying.

- John wants to blame Sherlock. He knows he shouldn't, and it's not rationally his fault. But he's only human.

- The three spent a lot of time just sitting together in silence. It was comforting in a way. At least, to John it was.

- John finally comes to Sherlock's room to talk. There's a lot of tears (mostly from John) and a lot of hugging (also from John, but some from Sherlock).

- The three take a week off cases. They don't go anywhere special. The movies, the park, cafes and restaurants. 'Friend dates', John calls them. All the dates he would've taken Mary on. Instead, he takes the other people in his life he loves as much as he loved her.

[cupidsblonde]

so do i look like him?

after katsuki’s death, the only thing your parents can see in you is him

when you used to imagine giving a speech about your younger brother, you have imagined it everywhere but here.

maybe a wedding

at an award show  

anywhere but here.

“i remember when katsuki first got his quirk, we all knew he was destined for greatness… but he was ripped away from us to soon.” you say lip quivering.

“he will never be able to live out his dream. or live out the life that had so many great things ahead of him. ripped from the arms of his loved ones, from his greatness, from his determination.” voice breaking, tears falling down your face.

“tomura shigaraki, i promise that if i ever find you, you will be ripped from the hearts of the people motivated by you, just as you did my brother” you say staring straight into the broadcasting camera, which was showing your brothers funeral all across the world.

since he was a nation wide hero. but he never got to be the hero he wanted to be, rich, famous, doing what he loved. 

for he was famous. this just wasn’t how anyone imaged it.

 was this all he was going to be to the world? a dead kid, who had a dream of being a hero and died on his way there in a war he had no place fighting in? 

is that kid the only thing your parents will ever be able to see in you?

being the eldest was great, until katsuki was gone. 

incident one

 you where all sitting around the dinning table. katsuki’s spot next to your empty. nothing but his lingering smell of caramel, which was fading, and quickly. it was quite. you just wanted to eat, and go to sleep. 

you pick up your fork and go to put the food into your mouth, clamping your mouth around the fork and unbeknownst to you, the scratching food. 

you groan, grimace and catch your parents eyes. they’re both staring at you. like you did something wrong. you can see the tears welling in their eyes. your mom slams her fork down and gets up from the table 

“excuse me” she says in a hushed tone. you didn’t know what happened. you looked to your dad for an answer. 

“you just looked a lot like him right then” you dad almost whispers to you.

incident two

you missed katsuki a lot.

his grunts

his anger

his determination 

his want 

his excellency.

you and everyone in your house avoided his room like the plague. scared that if it was changed even a little bit, something would happen. 

but you just couldn’t take not even smelling his scent around the house anymore. you went into his room one day. 

16 years of coming into his room, annoying him, crying to him, watching movies with him. had come to end. you sat on the floor, sat in his bed, sat at his desk and you made your way to his closet. that’s where it smelt the most of him. aside from his bed, but even that was fading.

all you wanted to do was cry. there was no way he was coming back, you know that. right? 

you continue to go into his spaces. just hoping your going to find your younger brother there. watch him study maybe, even hope you would be able to hear him yell at you to “get the f out of my room”. 

but you would never get to have that’s again. 

this time it was your dad. 

you had said something that you picked up from katsuki and your dad froze where he stood. 

you could tell he had been cracking his shell he made when katsuki died. push everything down to hold the family together. so he needed to get away. he stopped what he was doing and went to he and your mothers room. 

“you just looked a lot like him, with that look on your face, saying that.” your mother quivered out to you. sobbing and choking at the end of her sentence.

incident three

you had been falling back into a place that katsuki an you both worked so hard to get you out of mentally. 

you where drinking again

back on drugs

it started slow. just how it always did. 

you had been clean for nearly 2 years. you obviously didn’t need your younger brother to keep you a normal ass person, who wasn’t drinking all the time, sleeping all the time, back on drugs.

bakugo katsuki, your younger brother, your best friend. was one of the only things that kept you on the earth. 

but now, it was your parents. not because you where happy all the time with them as you where with katsuki. 

but having to bury both of their children? you couldn’t do that to them. 

so you began getting sober again. the drugs stopped and the drinking stopped, you had been reminded that katsuki helped you out of that dark, dark place and if he saw you just fall right back into it as soon as he’s gone, he would be disappointed.

it was hard, because it wand ike he was gone on a trip. he was gone, for good.

this time, it was both of them. both of your parents. 

you grabbed any random hoodie one day, not even realizing it was your brothers. you came down the stairs and your parents where right in the view of the stairs, and stopped when you came down. 

you then realized. 

you wouldnt ever be your own person now. atleast not to your parents. 

you understood, their child was gone. and you reminded them of him. and that’s … hard.

not only for them but also for yourself.

this is the first time you started to catch on 

“do i look like him?” 

both of your parents nodded quickly, tears filling their eyes and they both walked away very quickly. 

of course you went to go change.

but that’s when you realized, 

his scent wasn’t on the hoodie anymore 

the more that you thought about it. his scent wasn’t anywhere around the house anymore, aside for his room, which was fading. 

incident four

you where going through an old photo album, you all missed katsuki in with all of your hearts. 

there where a bunch of pictures of katsuki but it started getting easier to look at them. easier to, accept.

but there was this one problem, this one picture. that had your mother sobbing, your dad with tears streaming down your face and you, your face plastered with an a thousand yard stare. your mouth fell open, you wanted to say something. 

anything, but you couldn’t. it felt like your vocal cords had been ripped out, your throat was burning. your eyes where being filled with tears. you closed the picture book slowly. 

you don’t remember much after that.

 all you feel right now is the pain in the balls of your feet from the heels your wearing, continusally having to pull your to short and to tight dress down and the feeling of your back side grinding up against a man that you meet at the bar merely a half hour ago.

“wanna get out of here ma?” the man who you didn’t even know who’s name.

next morning

you woke up next to this man, who you still didn’t know the name of. 

these type of nights continued on for weeks. 

you didn’t see your parents much, you where staying with your friends more and more and they are worried about you. they are always supportive, they understand what your going through. but they are worried.

and they had every reason to. especially tonight. 

when you didn’t come home, after you sobbed in mina’s arms are the first time. saying you wished it was you who was gone and not your brother. she was first your brothers friend, but she ended up being yours as well. 

you missed him, so so much. and you didn’t know how to handle it.

you had taken care of him for his whole life. being the eldest was hard. it was always hard. it was so much harder when the one thing keeping you going was now gone. 

you could see it in your parents eyes. the only thing in their eyes was sadness. so the only you could ask yourself now was 

“do i look like him?”

[ricksmarlene]

THE WALKING DEAD: THE ONES WHO LIVE (2024) title sequence

[seraphinitegames]

what was going through A’s mind if during the LT route, you train with N and hook up on the grass?

A very odd mix of being glad that the two of them are so happy and the heart-wrenching agony wishing that it didn't happen!

A is really torn between the depth of their feelings for the MC, wanting both their oldest friend and the MC they care for to be happy especially together, and their desire to be the one in N's shoes.

There's a lot of added angst in this route, hehe! :D

Thank you so much for the ask! :)

[karxx]

This quote from Kaiba on DSOD makes me sooo sick 😭😭

Kaiba is so dependent on Atem for his happiness. Like I joke about “haha Kaiba gay for the pharaoh” but it runs so deep. He truly believes he has no meaning without him— he has no goal. Who is he without his rival? In a way, it’s like a one sided partnership. Atem can exist without Kaiba, but Kaiba can’t exist without him, or so he believes.

And so he tells the grieving Yugi that he needs him too. He can’t even begin to understand why Yugi isn’t agreeing to be a vessel in the first place. WHO is Yugi without the man who made him who he is? Who is he without his partner? Kaiba probably deems him as selfish, selfish to just move on from Atem.

Lord I could go ON about them.

[sherlockruiningmylife]

What is currently killing me about merthur is the whole Merlin fell first but Arthur fell harder. Because if this is true (which I fully believe it is) and Merlin was so so broken over Arthur's death. And waited dutifully and solemnly for 1500+ years. Then just imagine, imagine (!) what Arthur would have done if Merlin died. Broken wouldn't begin to describe it. He would have raged and torn the world apart to bring him back. If Merlin turned dark in s5 trying to prevent the end, then imagine how dark Arthur would become if he lost Merlin. Nothing, I mean nothing would have stopped him from bringing Merlin back.

[zombiejaws]

Optiratch angst from the memory loss eps… 😔🙏

DONT EVEN GET ME STARTED THE ANGST I CAN COOK WITH THEM U DONT UNDERSTAND. I REMEMBER NOT TOO LONG AGO I WAS DUMPING NOTHING BUT SOUNDSTAR, MEGASOUND, AND OPTIRATCH ANGST IN MY FRIENDS DMS. It was crazy bruh

So basically Orions memories r wiped and Megatron is using him for the decoding, all the while they r back together bc Orion doesn't realize hes been married for the past 4,000,000+ yrs.

Megatron uses Orion without actually loving him, usually leading to neglect and Orion not really knowing why there was such a change in behavior

Soundwave is horribly pining after Megatron, whos now completely unobtainable due to being with Orion once more

Starscream hates all of it because its so obvious that soundwave wants Megatron, and starscream is doing everything he can just to impress soundwave and its not working bc that mech is hopelessly in love w someone else

Ratchet is home upset as shit because his best friend/life partner genuinely thinks hes not a good person and its back with his ex and hes got no idea what to do

Thats all i got for now, Thank u for listening to my angst rant that makes me so hapoy to talk abt bc my little multishipper heart skips a beat when i can rant abt all the angst

{Have a question? Pop into my askbox!!}

[polubrony]

Chaggily art prt. 2? Just love seeing the three of them together

Just posted one! But here is another similar angsty sketch

[lulublack90]

Prompt 30 - Breakup

@wolfstarmicrofic May 30, word count 352

“Enough, Remus! I’m done with the secrets and the lies.” Sirius shook the tears from his eyes. “I’m done.” He grabbed his leather jacket and stormed out of their flat. 

He knew they had to keep secrets. It was Dumbledore’s orders. But Remus literally never told him anything but lies these days. This had been the final straw. Frank Longbottom had seen him hanging out in a muggle bar with a group of known werewolves. Sirius had asked him about it, and it had not gone well. He replayed the conversation in his head. 

“So where have you been all day then?” He asked as he peeled the carrots for dinner. 

“Guard duty, you know how it is, totally boring. I’m glad I took my book with me.” He slurred slightly as he opened the fridge, looking for another beer. 

“You smell like a brewery,” Sirius bit back. Remus paused. 

“Well, yeah, Frank and I went for a pint when our shift was done,” Remus answered as he cracked open the beer. 

“Frank had a meeting with Moody all afternoon,” Sirius said blankly. Remus blanched. “I actually met up with Frank earlier,” Sirius put the knife down, not trusting himself to chop while he confronted Remus. “So, where were you?” 

“Dumbledore’s orders, can’t tell you.” Remus snarled at the look on Sirius’s face. That was the moment that Sirius knew something was wrong. They’d always trusted each other, always. Remus hanging out with other werewolves was one thing, but not trusting Sirius enough to tell him was something else. He couldn’t take it anymore. It was killing him. 

He apparated to the Potter’s. He’d go back and get his stuff when Remus next left the flat. He knocked on the pretty red door and waited. As soon as James appeared, bathed in the soft glow from within, he broke down. 

“We broke up,” He sobbed in his best friend's arms. James gathered him up and took him inside. He wrapped him in Sirius’s favourite fluffy blanket and sat down with him on the sofa, holding Sirius while his heart shattered into pieces. 

Part 2

[ohraicodoll]

Prompt request from the angst portion of that list: “you can’t be bitter now, this was your decision.”

I’m mostly just ill for both Joel and your writing so do with this as you please but bonus points if you make it hurt. 🥲 🖤

You and your angst 😂 You asked for it!

Bitter Joel Miller x f!Reader/OC The Last of Us 3.2k Words Feral Reader Masterlist Summary: Joel makes a decision for all of them when they finally find Tommy in Jackson. Part 2

There were only a few minutes in Jackson where Joel was actually happy. That initial reunion with his brother, where he had hugged him and smiled so big it had eclipsed the sun, had been the happiest he’d ever been. She’d never seen Joel smile. Smirk, yes, but it was never joy that turned his lips. Reluctant humor, small satisfaction, but joy wasn’t an emotion she had seen on Joel Miller’s face in the time she’d been with him and Ellie. It lit his whole features up, took years off his face, turned his usually dark eyes brighter where you could see the hints of hazel. She watched from the horse, never feeling more like an outsider. But that only lasted a short while.

The hesitance, the discomfort, caution all sank back in as the reality that he had found his brother who hadn’t been in danger at all settled in. They’d offered them food. The soup from the older couple had reawakened her taste buds after months of eating questionably aged canned goods or whatever small animal they’d managed to kill. Her mouth practically flooded at the warmth of the meal put in front of them.  She knew how they looked. Ellie barely breathed, she was shoveling food into her mouth so fast and even Joel was having a hard time, standing on the border of looking respectable and desperately sating the hunger they’d felt for weeks. She didn’t bother and had long since given up caring about what looked respectable. But that didn’t stop her from eyeing their hosts, keeping track of everyone around them, feeling the eyes on their backs. 

Tommy hadn’t outright questioned Ellie or her presence but there was a hint of one towards her when he introduced himself. A prodding that made her itch as to what her relationship was with the gruff man next to her and the kid between them. “I keep the kid safe,” was the answer. Nothing more, nothing less. She had joined them because of Ellie and Joel had made it clear he let her come along because of Ellie’s attachment. It hadn’t been his choice exactly. But there was no need to delve further into her and Joel’s connection. 

They’d butt heads from the start and continued to even after that night where he’d helped her relax to sleep, making her come on his fingers and then on him, and then subsequently had done so frequently after in the small private moments they could get. There was hardly anything gentle between them. They weren’t anything. She watched his back and he watched hers, both dragging each other along through life against the other's wishes. 

She knew about Tess. Ellie had caught her up, told her of the smuggler who had been Joel’s partner and how she was no longer around. In the spaces between her words, she could see exactly what Tess had been to Joel and how that role, in a way, had switched to her reluctantly. Someone to have his back, help release the tension and satisfy that need for another person even if it was only through sex and her presence. But the woman whose ghost lingered had been smart, calculated, using Joel as a battering ram rather than get her own hands dirty but wasn’t against doing so. That wasn’t her. She wasn’t clever. She was nothing but instinct and claws and rage. So often it was Joel pulling her back, leashing her, telling her what to do even while she gnashed her teeth even at him. It was him in control. She was a weapon but somehow one he so often didn’t want to use. He yelled at her for her recklessness, for each scrape and bruise and cut she received like it was his job to keep her safe as well as Ellie. Each morning he checked her over, making sure her weapons were in the correct spot, the straps of her bag secure, enough bullets in her cartridge. And now, she noticed Joel’s back stiffening at her answer and the obvious lack of connection to him. Caught his eye and the furrow of his brow. They’d learned to read each other so well over the months and could communicate silently and she could see the slight flicker of anger in the line of his jaw. Maybe it had been the wrong answer. Maybe she shouldn’t have answered at all, had put too much emphasis on Ellie or downplayed Joel’s role as the protector and escort. People weren’t her expertise and she was already on edge from there being so many of them and having Joel’s brother of all people staring down at her. She didn’t know what she was to him, but could at least define what she was to Ellie. And that’s what she answered. She wasn’t sure why that tick of anger was on his face and wasn’t going to get into it with him while Maria was staring them down, particularly Joel. Especially after he tried to excuse the woman, saying the conversation he wanted to have was for family. Except he didn’t excuse Ellie or her from the table as if it didn’t register that they weren’t.  Then Tommy shared the news that Maria did, in fact, fit in that category. More so than she did.

Somehow Ellie was the most cordial of the three of them, nudging Joel into congratulating them with gritted teeth. She kept eating, head down, ignoring the itch of too many eyes.

Throughout the tour of Jackson she could see the wall that had been slowly unraveling around Joel come back up. He stayed behind with his brother, brow furrowed, distance between him and the two girls with him. She watched Ellie take everything in, laughing at the sheep, loving on the horse, but her companion only seemed to withdraw more.

That silent communication they had was gone, cut off.

Maria had suggested they get cleaned up, giving the boys the opportunity to split off and catch up. Instinctually, her eyes went to Joel to see what he thought of the suggestion. They never split up, were never far from each other, and now this woman she didn’t know wanted to take her somewhere else away from him. Ellie was hesitant too, looking at the man as well.

But his eyes stayed on the ground and he walked away.

She didn’t see him for a while after being carted away by Maria.

They both took a shower, a hot shower, and the girl in the mirror staring back at her afterwards was unrecognizable. No longer a girl, but a woman in her middle age. Twenty years, come and gone. Scars, so many scars, and spots dotted her skin all over. Her eyes were a little dull and hair lackluster, a bit too long. There was a faint fading bruise on her collar bone under the stars tattooed there from where Joel’s teeth had bit days before. Buried underneath that flesh had once been a girl who was shy and smiled at strangers for no reason and was warm. A rose, all blushing and bright, who only worried about her military family’s approval and writing down her songs in her journal. Now she was all thorns and crumbled petals. Meant to draw blood and nothing else. She’d gotten dressed quickly before she could shatter the mirror. Finding out about Sarah from Maria…a part of the picture that made up Joel snapped into place and things began to make sense. He was a dad, was always going to be a dad because it was engraved in him, and the young teenager traveling with them was a constant splinter in an open wound. No matter how much he pushed and yelled and raged, he always made sure Ellie was okay. She’d caught him on more than one occasion staying up to keep watch when the girl was anxious. He taught her to make a fire, how to use and take care of her gun properly, what to look out for. Joel Miller was a dad to the very foundation of his being and he was terrified because he’d already lost one daughter. The panic attacks were making sense. They would flare up at the possibility of danger, of uncertainty, not for him but for them. All the close calls. After the older couple’s house. The infected that almost got her in the woods. All had triggered one and she hadn’t known why, only that she had to calm him down and be there to center him. If anything, the knowledge made her feel more protective of him and their small group. It was a vulnerability and that meant something she had to guard it. It’s what it meant to watch each other’s backs. She didn’t miss the way Maria didn’t trust him and accused him of being a bad person. The things she had heard were probably no different than what she still did. Survival was ugly and Maria knew that from the bodies scattered alongside the river, but couldn’t seem to let that go for Joel.

If Maria only knew what she was capable of doing, the blood that covered her own hands. Killing meant so little to her now. The movie theater made her skin crawl, filled with sound and laughter and too many bodies. Ellie was the one to give her permission this time, telling her she was okay to go back to the house where it was quiet. She’d fought hard with herself over that. Joel was who knows where and letting someone else watch Ellie felt like blasphemy, but her heart was in her throat and she couldn’t focus with so much sound. 

So she’d gone back, huddling on the worn dusty couch with her knees against her chest, and unable to stop feeling her clean skin as if it were someone else’s. Her mind didn’t stop imagining every awful situation that could happen while she was gone. Ellie came back first and barely managed a nod at her, mouth tightly pressed together and silent as she climbed the stairs to the room that had once belonged to another teenage girl. Another dead one. She tried not to think about that, how Ellie always seemed to inhabit the echo of another dead daughter. First Sarah and now the room’s owner.

Even for her, Ellie was an echo of her younger sister.

She understood that. Inhabiting the shadow of a dead Tess herself. 

Joel came back next. He stopped, looking at her still with her knees drawn up. His face was darker, more heavy, like he had aged five years in the time she’d last seen him. Grief and pain and indecision lined the crow’s feet around his eyes and her fingers tightened, feeling like a bomb was about to drop. “She good?” he asked in a voice that was all gravel. “She’s whole. Upstairs in the room on the right,” she replied, eyes on the ground. He nodded, hands on his hips, and silence took over. Joel’s presence always felt like a cold fire. She could feel where he was in the room constantly. “You're gonna stick by her, right? Protect her?” Joel’s voice was harsh but not angry, just tired. 

She frowned, brow furrowed, and looked at him fully. There was a look on his face that she had only seen during his panic attacks. Like the weight of the world was crashing down on his shoulders and he was a second from not being able to hold it up, about to be crushed from it. “Is that really a question?”

“Just answer me, Red.”

His eyes were dark and he looked so tired and she was overwhelmed by this place. So she nodded, sighing out a simple, “Yes.”

He seemed to chew on the word, rolled it around his mind before nodding in answer, “Good.”

His steps were loud drum beats in her ears as he ascended, a door opening a bit later followed by the distant sound of Ellie and his voices.

She didn’t know if she should follow. Didn’t know if she’d be climbing into his bed that night or take the separate room on the first floor so far away from them both. Finding Joel’s brother had been the goal, was supposed to be a good thing, but all three of them only appeared to be in worse moods.

The bomb dropped a few moments later.

Ellie and Joel’s voices raising drew her from her spot on the couch and up the stairs. She could hear them arguing and hear the pain in the kid’s voice.

Joel was handing them over to Tommy.

Joel was handing both of them over.

Joel was leaving. 

It felt like a limb had been chopped from her. The ghost of where it was still there, a phantom pain, but its absence felt even stronger. He was leaving them. When he rushed out the door of Ellie’s room, he stopped abruptly at seeing her in the hallway standing stock still. The air had frozen around them dangerously, her anger a silent thing poised to strike and his own tinged in grief. “Just like that, huh?” she bit out, face blank and voice eerily emotionless. A muscle in his jaw ticked, teeth clenched as he spit out, “Just like that.” He moved to go to his room across the hall but something had snapped, urging her to follow like a shark scenting blood. She slammed the door behind them and it reverberated throughout the house, enclosing them in the room together. Something like betrayal coated her tongue and in the back of her mind she wondered at it, wondered if it was her trust or the trust of the teenager across the hall. “Are you really that fucking stupid, Miller?” she hissed at him, “She’s followed you for months and you’re just going to kick her out the door at the first chance? We were supposed to get her to the Fireflies-” He whipped around to face her in the dark, taking an angry step towards her, “I’m sending her with Tommy! That was the job! He knows where he’s going, he can take you both, but there’s no we. Never was.” The smile that slid onto her face was aggressive, canines showing, and he was reminded of those images of wolves snarling and licking their fangs, “Wouldn’t have pegged you as being a quitter, Tex, but glad you cleared that up.” “What’d you think was gonna happen, Starshine? A happy fucking ending?” His tone was mocking, condescending, and it was one of the few times he used his height on her to his advantage to look down his nose, “You, me, and the girl settling down somewhere while the Fireflies cure the world?” She had never thought that far, never allowed herself to think that far, because she hadn’t wanted to think about what the end of the journey would mean. For years it had been surviving one day to the next, long term plans were meaningless. But she knew enough that she wasn’t ready for this to be over and it made her angry. Because Tommy wasn’t Joel. Tommy was good and cared about being good and that wasn’t her. Joel chuckled bitterly, “You that girl’s protector? Then go protect her with Tommy. It ain’t got nothing to do with me. Jobs done.”

“So that’s it?” her fists were clenched so hard her nails made cuts in her skin, “You pass her off and leave me with your brother and simply walk away? Wipe your hands clean of us?” “You don’t get to be bitter, it was your choice to come along and watch that girl,” Joel put his hands on his hands, teeth grinding, “That’s what you wanted. I didn’t ask you to join us. I didn’t want you.” She huffed a laugh, mouth twisted in a bitter smile, “That’s ironic.” His features darkened and she knew she was touching something they didn’t talk about out loud. They never really discussed those moments in the dark, acting like they didn’t happen during the day and especially around Ellie. But they’d happened. Over and over again. “What? You think because I put my dick in you this means something? You ain’t-” “Tess?” In the darkness of the room, the walls felt like they were pressing into them. Both their rage filled the space around them and settled in the air but she could almost see the heat coming off of him. She knew it was dangerous grounds, especially after the conversation with Ellie, but this was it. This was the last bit between her and Joel Miller and if he was making her hurt, she wanted to hurt him right back. His nose wrinkled, voice low and quiet as he hissed out, “You shut the fuck up if you know what’s good for you.” Joel was so close, almost nose to nose, but spitting mad and muscles tense. She almost wanted him to hit her, give her an excuse to fight him and deal with this invisible pain she was feeling and didn’t know how to cope with. It hurt. Him leaving them hurt and she hated that he had somehow managed to wound her without even trying. “You’re right, Tex,” she spit the words out like they were covered in blood, “This didn’t mean anything. I didn’t ask for you. It was you that crawled into my bed.” A laugh left her as if mocking him would make her feel better, “This how you want it to be? Fine. But don’t you lie and say that girl means nothing to you because that’s a pile of shit no one is going to swallow.” His eyes were black in the darkness, but she could feel them as he snarled, “We’re done.” With a smile that was more a grimace and rage lining her face, she backed up, “Fine. Have fun in that hole you’re going to sink into, Miller.” The door shook as she slammed it behind her, pausing to breathe in the space of the hallway between both rooms. She was shaking. From anger, pain, sadness, adrenaline, she wasn’t sure, but she stared down at her hands as they shook unsteadily and the tiny cuts shone red with blood. He was making a mistake. She knew that but words weren’t her forte, violence was, so it was hopeless to try and convince him otherwise. The ghosts of Joel Miller’s past loved ones had haunted them for so long, she should have known he would choose them in the end. That didn’t keep the reality of it from hurting any less. She knocked softly on Ellie’s door, opening it upon hearing her tentative reply. They didn’t speak. Ellie only silently scooted over on the bed, giving her some of her space. In the darkness of the room, she tried to ignore the pain in her chest and hold onto the rage she felt. Because it was better than feeling the alternative, than acknowledging the feeling of abandonment. When the young girl curled into her and held her tightly that night, she didn’t say anything about it later or when she felt her shoulders shake quietly. She simply held her back and tried to ignore the empty space on her left where Joel usually occupied. ______________________ Feral Tag List: @alouise20

[soaps-mohawk]

I just know, feeling it in my tits, that these next chapters are gonna Ruin me. Capital R.

Your tits are right, I fear. They probably will

[night-market-if]

Chapter Two

The second chapter of Book 2 is now up on Patreon. Join the Bog Witch tier to read it early. The public release is slated for December 1st.

In this chapter, join MC as they discover more about artisan alley, and go see their RO's. :)

🪷✨🪷✨ If you want to support me 🪷 ✨🪷✨ 

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