#apologies if this is late i was working today
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Punches & Apologies
Batboys x reader
Notes: this was a commission fic that I forgot to post lol. Buckle up bc she’s a long one with lots of Az angst
Warnings: angst, training accident
Heavy pants and the rush of your blood fill your ears. You are exhausted. Your body begging you to stop. The muscles in your arms and legs screaming and pulsing, never being pushed to this extent before.
Azriel is pushing you as punishment for your latest mission to the Continent. You made a mistake, a miscalculation. One that got an emissary killed and put you within death’s grasp.
But that does not give Azriel an excuse to push you like he has never made a mistake before.
Cauldron, your mates must be feeling your pain. At least Cassian is. You’ve been sending everything to him down the bond in the hopes he stops Azriel.
Slipping to take a knee on purpose, Azriel brings the practice sword to rest against your throat. His nostrils flared as his breathing turned heavy, angry that you would blatantly yield instead of fighting until the end like you were taught.
You just stare at each other for a moment that seems to go on for an eternity. Cassian clears his throat but you two just keep staring each other down. “I think that’s enough for today.” His voice is strained, telling you Cassian was certainly feeling the echoes of your pain.
“No,” Azriel said tensely. “We keep going.” He draws back the practice sword, stepping back to pace in front of your still kneeling form. You screw your eyes shut, putting all of your effort on slowing your heart rate.
“Azriel, I don't think it’s wise to continue. Take a break and cool off.” Cassian gives Azriel a glare reserved for his soldiers. “No.” Azriel replied shortly. His piercing gaze never leaving you. “Get up.” He commands.
“Az, please,” You beg. “Up now, or I’m suspending you from missions indefinitely.” Your eyes widen at his threat. Cassian opens his mouth to interject but you hold your hand out to him, rising from your spot on the mat.
If Azriel wanted your all, fine. You’re done pulling punches. Throwing your practice sword aside you ball your fists. A wave of anger rushing through you, motivating you to beat the ever-loving-shit out of your mate. “Let's go then.” You bite out. “No weapons? Fine.” Azriel says smugly.
The two of you square up, circling each other slowly as you assess the other’s weak spots. You were determined to land the first punch. Not wasting any more time you launch yourself at Azriel with your fist pulled back. Letting your fist fly straight for his nose, Azriel dodges you, dipping to your right.
You stumble, quickly regaining your balance, whipping around to face him. A nasty scowl contorting your features. Azriel throws a series of punches that you duck under. Your arms raised in front of your face for protection.
Between punches you pop up, landing two quick jabs to his ribs. There wasn’t much behind the punches, but enough that you could put some distance between you. Over Azriel’s shoulder you could see Cassian standing rigid, his hands behind his back. A torn look pulling at his rugged face.
Part of Cassian roars to put a stop to this before someone gets hurt. The other part of him whispers that this is between you and Azriel. That you two need to work this out so the anger doesn’t follow you around.
When Cassian focuses again the two of you are getting more and more violent. Punches getting faster and faster.
You can tell Azriel is getting even more frustrated with you. By continuously dodging him you aren’t truly facing off against him. His pace picks up so fast you can feel the wind from his punches. You go to step left, thinking Azriel was going to throw his right hand. It was too late for you to notice the change. Azriel throws a left hook, his fist connecting with your jaw. A loud crack stunning the three of you.
You let gravity pull you down to the mat. Laying flat on your back, tense and in shock waiting for the adrenaline rush to wear off so you would feel the pain. There was a slight ringing in your ears along with Azriel and Cassian’s screaming match that you tuned out.
Looking at the sky you focused on the clouds passing by. Their different shapes and how soft they seemed. Anything to get your mind off the pain that would be taking over any second.
“Rhys,” you whispered in your mind, “Rhys…the training ring…” Even in your mind your voice was weak. When you focused you saw soft violet eyes staring down at you. “Hi darling.” Rhys says softly. “Rhys?” Your voice cracks as pain has your mouth snapping shut. Tears sting your eyes as you try to breathe through your nose to stay calm.
“Hey, hey it’s ok.” Rhys coos. He softly runs the tips of his fingers against the blooming bruise on your face. You whimper at his touch. Rhys winces at your pain, feeling your distress through the bond. You can still hear Cassian and Azriel arguing. “QUIET!” Rhys’s voice booms through the training room. The pair immediately fall silent. The severity of what has happened settled over them.
Rhys carefully scoops you into his arms. As he heads for the entrance to the house he yells at Cassian and Azriel, “Do not disturb me or her for the rest of the day. I will deal with both of you later.” Rhys’s tone left no room for argument. The Illyrians bowed their heads murmuring “Yes High Lord” in unison.
Trying to focus on anything but the pain you look at the hallway Rhys is walking. The floor is lined with an ornate carpet. The walls are covered in old paintings you’re sure his father collected, along with vintage sconces giving off a soft glow of fae light.
That’s when you realize he’s taking you to his personal wing. Rooms Rhys has rarely used in the last few years since the bond snapped.
You make a small noise to get his attention. Unable to move your mouth in fear of something in your jaw popping. You push yourself further into his chest. Focusing on the feel of Rhys under you.
Gently laying you on the large four poster bed Rhys hesitantly lets you go. “I will be right back.” He says, disappearing in a wisp of black swirls.
You knew he would be back soon. That Rhys wouldn’t leave you to suffer alone. To ease your anxiety you use the technique Cass taught you. Five things you can see, four things you can touch, three things you can hear, two things you can smell, and one you can taste.
There wasn’t much you could do for a few of the numbers, but what you could do caught your attention immediately. It’s been so long since you’ve visited Rhysand’s personal wing of the House of Wind. Longer since you’ve spent the night here.
Looking around the room you noticed the paintings – his favorites from his father’s collection – the curtains half drawn for the balcony doors, a blanket Rhys would always wrap you in hanging off the end of the bed. The canopy on the bed has changed from thick, velvet black fabric to a gauzy, airy white fabric you would see in the Summer Court. Lastly, you notice how brightly lit the room is.
You feel the softness of the comforter under your fingers. You had thought it would feel scratchy or dusty from not being used. But that wouldn’t be like Rhys to let anything in this massive house seem unused.
You can feel your training leathers clinging to your skin from sweat. Feel the heaviness of your boots pulling at your ankles.
Before you can move to unlace them Rhys reappears with Madja by his side. The old healer was fuming, her eyes going wide as she spotted the bruise on the side of your face. Rhys must have told her about training.
“I swear to the Cauldron,” Madja mutters. Striding over to you she plops her bag down on the bed, her gentle hands softly cup your jaw. Rhys stands behind her. Anxiously biting at his nails as he watches the glow from her hands.
Madja straightens, her lips pulled into a frown as she thinks. “It’s not broken or fractured, thank the Mother. But the bruising inside and out will cause you pain for a few days.” You nod at her assessment. Placing her hands on you again you hold back a new wave of tears as Madja healed what she could.
You didn’t pay attention to her when going over what tonics to take and when. Rhys was clinging to her every word for the both of you. You were too busy thinking about how Azriel pushed you so hard that you ended up hurt.
When Rhys came back from escorting Madja to the city he helped you out of your leathers and into a hot bath.
An hour later you were back in bed with Rhys holding you to his chest, an ice pack resting against your jaw to help with the swelling. Tears silently stream down your cheeks as Rhys smoothes down your hair to help calm you.
“Do you want to stay here or in your own room?” He asked, finally breaking the silence. Sniffling your answer, “Here.”
“Ok,” Rhys presses a soft kiss to your forehead. “You’ll stay with me, right?” You hold his shirt in a death grip. Praying Rhys won’t leave you alone. “Of course, darling.” You let out a shaky exhale in relief. You weren’t ready to face Cassian and Azriel. Staying in Rhys’s wing ensured that. They wouldn’t dare enter his personal wing for fear of being punished by their High Lord.
For a week you stayed curled up in Rhys’s old bed. He opted for working in his smaller study next to the bedroom while you recovered. Though the bruising went down and the pain went away you couldn’t bring yourself to do any of your daily activities. Your failed mission and fight with Azriel depressing you too much, along with the absence of two of your mates. That was your choice though.
You weren’t ready to face them. Still angry at both of them. Angry at Cassian for not stepping in. Angry at Azriel for thinking he could push until he gets his way.
Once you were able to actually chew your food, you thought maybe it was time to leave bed. “Are you sure you don’t want to take a few more days?” Rhys asked. He wrapped you tightly in his arms, resting his cheek on the top of your head.
“Yes, Rhys. I’ll go back to High Lady duties, but I’m not training for now. I don’t particularly want to be around Cass and Az.” You huff. Just thinking about them makes you angry. Rhys leans away from you, holding you by your shoulders. “I know darling. They do feel guilty and are beside themselves.” Rhys frowns.
You knew they were. You could feel them through the bond, Azriel the least. You knew he must have built a wall of steel around his heart. Cauldron, he must be a ghost of himself right now.
After a few days of being back in the usual parts of the house you seek out Cassian. Finding him in the dining room you sit across from him. Cass pauses eating, shocked to see you. You send him a reassuring smile along with a pulse of love down the bond.
“It’s good to see you sweetheart.” He breaks out into a wide grin, reaching across the table to hold your hands. “Hi Cass,” is all you can manage. Overwhelmed by the happiness you’re feeling through the bond to see him again. “How are you feeling, sweetheart?”
“Better,” you answer honestly. “The pain is gone but the bruising is still there a little.” You turn your head to give Cassian a better view of the yellowing skin. His fists clench and his face contorts in anger.
“I should’ve stopped him myself. Az was in his own head and I knew it,” Cassian says more to himself tha you. It seems like this is the first time he is truly admitting his thoughts outloud. “Cass,” you say gently, “It isn’t your fault. This is between me and Azriel.”
“I’m sorry.” He chokes out, silver lining his eyes. You quickly round the table, placing yourself in his lap. You wipe away a stray tear, kissing his nose. “Cass, I’ve forgiven you.” Cassian pulls you into his chest, hugging you and sending all his love down the bond. It was almost too much. You felt like your chest was going to explode.
As the days pass and your temper cools, you find yourself craving to have all three of your mates by your side again. Rhys and Cass were keeping you company. You’re back to your old routine, but still sitting out of morning training. You felt like a piece of you was missing.
You had only seen Azriel in passing once. And the male couldn’t even look at you. Your heart clenched at the lack of recognition. You tried to reach out to his end of the bond but you were quickly met with an impenetrable wall of shadows.
Azriel had taken to spending his days in his office, throwing himself fully into his work, and sleeping in his own room.
Packing for your trip to the Winter Court you called Rhys and Cassian into your bedroom. You give them a sweet smile as you fold your clothes, putting them in your bag. “I have a request for while I’m gone.”
“What’s that, darling?” Rhys’s smooth voice sends a shiver down your spine. He presses his chest to your back, hooking a finger under your chin to tilt your head back to look at him. You give him a knowing smirk and swat his hand away. “I’m trying to be serious Rhys.” The High Lord holds his hands up in surrender. “What do you need from us?” Cassian asks earnestly.
You stand straighter, eyes hardening. “I want you two to bring Azriel out of this dark spot. He’s hurting and I don’t think he’ll talk to me until he knows you two have forgiven him.”
They suck in a breath, giving each other a look that tells you neither are sure Az will talk. A long moment of silence passes before they look back at you.
“We will.” Rhys hesitantly agrees. “Do you forgive him though?” Cassian asks with a sad expression. You nod slowly. “I do. And I need you two to forgive him.” They agree to your request, promising to make things better.
Azriel watched from his balcony as you and Mor winnow away. It had pained him to stay away from you. He couldn’t bring himself to face you.
His stomach has been in constant knots. Azriel hasn’t eaten a proper meal in a week thanks to the incident with you. If he didn’t talk to you soon the guilt was going to kill him.
Azriel hadn’t slept properly either. The purple bags under his eyes were painful proof. Every time Azriel closes his eyes he sees the shock set in from the punch. He feels your jaw bone cracking under his fist. He sees you laying on your back, stunned from what your mate had done.
Azriel is your mate. One of three males that is supposed to protect you. Not cause you harm.
A knock at the door pulls him from his morbid thoughts. Opening the door Rhys stands there giving him a tentative smile. Azriel bows his head slightly before looking back at him.
Rhys clears his throat. “I know the last week has been tough, so I thought we could have a night, just the three of us.”
Azriel tenses at the thought of being around Cassian. His murderous eyes flash in his mind along with calloused hands grabbing him, wanting to throttle him. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Rhys.”
Rhys holds in a sigh, annoyed that Azriel doesn’t see the peace offering he’s trying to make. “Az, look at me,” he hooks a finger under the taller Illyrians chin, “You can’t avoid us, or y/n for that matter, forever. Please, come have dinner with us. We miss you.”
Azriel gives in, nodding in defeat. Rhys grabs the Shadowsinger’s hand, pulling him to the dinning room. Az tenses when he sees Cassian in his usual seat. Taking his place across from the General, Azriel keeps his gaze glued to him. His shadows ready to protect Azriel at any sign of a threat.
Cassian gives him a reassuring smile, “It’s good to see you, Az.” All Azriel can do is nod. A lump growing in his throat. He reigns in his emotion, keeping them behind the wall he’s built up.
Rhys flicks his wrist, making platters of food appear. “Eat up. I made sure the cooks made everyones favorite.”
The trio falls into an awkward silence. Only the clatter of cutlery against porcelain filling the cavernous room. Cassian breaks the silence, trying to naturally clear his throat. “So…” he drawls, “How was everyone’s day?”
He and Rhys fall into easy conversation with Azriel following along to avoid being consumed by his emotions. When Azriel eventually gets roped into the conversation he’s his typical quiet self.
Moving to the sitting room after the meal Azriel opens up more. Becoming his usual self around Rhys and Cass. Once the whiskey comes out the trio are back to their usual banter. Like there hasn’t been a huge rift keeping them isolated from one another.
Rhys sets his crystal glass down on the side tabel. Leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees, he levels Azriel with an interogative look. “Not to ruin the evening, but we do need to talk.” Azriel freezes, that lump returning to his throat making it harder to breathe.
He knew this was coming. They needed to discuss it at some point. Az nods, urging Rhys to continue. “We know what happened, but we want to know what was going on with you.” Rhys says gently, not wanting to drill Azriel.
Azriel swallows hard, screwing his eyes shut to keep tears at bay. All calming techniques from years of training leaving his mind, losing all control on his emotions. Something Azriel isn’t known for. Grappling for words he finally finds his voice.
“What happened on the Continent stuck with me. It wasn’t a typical slip up, you didn’t see her. I thought we were going to lose her. And I wouldn’t have been able to come home and face the two of you if that happened. I thought when we got home things would be better and everything would fine.”
Tears escaped his tightly closed eyes.
A heavy, comforting hand rests on the middle of Azriel’s back. Opening his eyes he finds Cassian giving him a pained, sympathetic look. Something in Cassian’s soft hazel eyes broke Azriel. His tears started falling faster as he attempted to blink them away. Rhys rested a hand on his knee, telling him to let it out.
“Stepping back into training with her I knew I had to teach her how to avoid an accident like that again. I needed to know she could keep up if push came to shove. So I pushed and Gods do I regret it. I got so mad that she wasn’t taking it seriously and Cass you should’ve stopped me.” Azriel anguished. “I got mad and I punched, hard. I hear it all the time. I see her laying there when I close my eyes. I can’t…just,” Azriel breaks down, dropping his face into his scarred hands. Heartbreaking sobs rip from his lips as he leans into Cassians side.
The males cry with him. Feeling Azriel’s guilt and turmoil through the bond.
When Az calms down he looks to the males for guidance. Rhys moves to the couch from his usual armchair, pressing a long kiss to Azriel’s forehead. “Talk to her. Y/n desperately wants to see you too. Being away from you has pained her as much as it has you.” Rhys whispers.
Two days later, with a chill you can’t seem to shake, you return home from the Winter Court. You bid Mor goodnight in foyer and head to your bedroom. Pushing the door open you find Azriel sitting on the edge of your bed, his head down as he nervously pulls at his finger nails.
“Azzie,” you say, hopeful that he truly is here and not an image your very tired mind made up. Leaving your bag on the bench at the end of your bed, you rush over to your mate, holding his face in your still cold hands. “I’ve missed you,” you whisper.
Az leans into your touch, covering your hands with his own. You’ve missed his touch. Those rough, loving hands holding you tight to his chest. “I’m sorry,” his voice breaks, silver lining his eyes. The wall keeping his emotions from you fianlly breaks. Letting you feel everything he’s kept to himself.
“I’m so sorry. I should have stopped when you and Cass told me to. I shouldn’t have let my anger and fear get the best of me. I am so sorry, my love. So sorry.”Azriel’s arms wrap around your waist, pulling you to stand between his thighs. You let him hold you, wrapping your arms around his neck.
The two of you cried and clung to each other for what felt like an eternity.
Azriel pulls away, holding you by your waist. You wipe away his lingering tears. “I forgive you, Azriel. Promise me that if something like this happens again you won’t let it build. We’ll talk first before we let our feelings get the better of us. Because I don’t know what will happen is there’s another incident like this.”
“I will, I swear it. And i’m going to make this up to you for the rest of our lives.” Azriel’s tone is a strict promise to you. “As long as you don’t push me in training anymore we’re ok.” You joke with him. Azriel’s face stays serious, not a smirk in sight. “Never again.”
He stands from the bed pulling you into sweet embrace, tucking your head under his chin. “If you’re up for it I want to take you to dinner tomorrow night. Just me and you,” he asks, hopeful. You squeeze Azriel tighter, “I’d love that Azzie.”
Unwrapping yourself from Azriel you look up at him with big, tear filled eyes. Batting your lashes at him. Azriel looked at you with hazel eyes full of nothing but love. He cups your jaw, running his fingers over the spot where the bruise from his punch once was. “How are you feeling? I dove right into my apology I didn’t even ask.”
“I’m good. The pain is gone, so is the bruise on the inside.” Azriel’s eyes widened. He didn’t get a full update from Rhys when Madja had healed you. “But it’s ok,” you assure him quickly. Azriel pulls you against his chest again, kissing the top of your head. You giggle lightly at his action.
You pull away again, going to your closet to change for bed. It’s been a long day and you could leave unpacking until tomorrow. Right now you wanted to sleep with Azriel by your side. It had been two long weeks without him.
Coming back to your room you find Az sitting back on your bed awkwardly. You climb onto the mattress, crawling up behind him. You rest your chin on his shoulder, “Will you stay in here tonight? I don’t want to be without you.”
Without a word Azriel shoots up, stripping his leathers from his body. He pulls the covers back waiting for you to settle in next to him.
You quickly snuggle into his side, resting your head on his bare chest. Azriel pulls the covers up around your shoulders tight to keep you warm. You gently pull his face down to meet your lips in a sweet kiss. “Goodnight Azzy. I love you, so much baby.”
Azriel cradles your head, letting out a small hum. “I love you too, sweetheart. More than you know.”
#acotar#acotar fanfiction#acotar reader fic#acotar reader imagine#acotar imagine#azriel x reader#azriel acotar#azriel shadowsinger#azriel x you#cassian acotar#cassian fic#cassian x you#cassian x reader#acotar cassian#rhysand fic#rhysand acotar#Rhysand x you#rhysand x reader#batboys#batboys x you#batboys x reader#poly!batboys#poly!batboys x you#poly!batboys x reader
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[fic] Impact Factor
Impact Factor
Love and Deepspace | Zayne (Li Shen) x Main-Character!Reader | G | 4k words | ao3 link
god, i'm so lovesick. what have you done to me? You tell Zayne that you're co-authoring a research paper. He finds himself wanting and waiting to read it.
A/N: For @seraphiism 's 2024 writing event. I chose Lovesick by Laufey. I know. Zayne? Lovesick? Lmao I don't know if I pulled it off, but I have to write for Zayne at least once.
I gave this fic a single, cursory proofread. Any mistake is still my fault. Divider by @/saradika
“By the way, a professor of mine in college reached out to me last week and asked me if I was interested in co-authoring an article with her on the phenomenology of vocation of the people working in Hunters Association.”
The clacking of the keyboard is crisp and loud in the silverlined office, accompanied by the low hum of the airconditioner. Zayne's attention remains on the computer, updating your status condition. He makes a brief noise to indicate that he's listening, and when he takes his gaze away from the desktop he finds you watching him with a faint grin on your face.
“Do you want me to guess your reply?”
That faint grin grows wide and whole.
“What do you think?”
Zayne leans back and rolls his chair a little farther, reaching out to turn on the printer. The machine whirls to life, chatters.
“You accepted the offer, of course.” He returns to his laptop and clicks on the print icon. “You don't have the heart to refuse your professor.”
“Dr. Zayne, you know me so well.”
Something in the way you said it compels him to turn to you again. Your expression hasn't changed, but the fall of your hair frames your slightly narrowed eyes that sparkle under the bright fluorescent light, like rare midday stars. It staggers the beats of Zayne's heart for two seconds, seizes his throat, and in that sliver of a moment Zayne forgets to breathe.
“Maybe it's because you're transparent,” he says, after retrieving the prescription from the printer. He hands you the paper, and surprise stretches your features. He clarifies: “Supplements. Undoubtedly you will need it when you begin your research.”
“Nothing less from my doctor.” My. The word is malleable around your mouth. And then: “I'm transparent? Is that a bad thing?”
“It's not a flaw.” He signs the healthcare forms you passed onto him. “But neither is it a virtue.”
“Hmm. Then, I guess I'll watch myself.”
His head jerks at your response, and Zayne has something to say to that—something like your not needing to be conscious of how open you are—but then your watch beeps and you apologize for the sudden departure.
Alone in his office, Zayne sinks into his chair and closes his eyes.
▼
That exchange, brief yet odd, lingers in Zayne's mind, like a stone at the base of his brain, next to the stem and cerebellum. He can feel its weight, its matter, solid and bothersome that at one point Greyson stops and asks him, “Are you okay, Dr. Zayne? You seem to be distracted today.”
A flash of memory; the word transparent, your answer. Were it not for the emergency mission, he would have hastened to add that transparency is closely associated with sincerity—and that is a virtue. He imagines a version of you as secretive as a glacier, as closed-off as a fortress, and the dissonance it invites rings discordant in the history between you—you who have always reached out to him first.
His hands itch for the phone that's secluded in one of his drawers, away from distraction, from memory. Zayne is, after all, duty first, the rest a distant second.
“It's nothing,” he tells Greyson. “I'm fine.”
“Maybe it's time for a vacation? You've been busy—busier than usual—lately.”
“I'll take a vacation at the end of the year. Right now, you're needed in the meeting room for a briefing.”
When Greyson clears the area, Zayne turns and sees Yvonne near the entrance of the lobby, studying him, her face arranged in a way that invites him to defend himself for some reason. But he resists the irrational urge.
He meets her scrutiny with a long and stoic gaze, and she shakes her head, wordless, then continues on with her work.
Left in the hallway, Zayne sighs and goes back to his office.
▼
“Dr. Zayne!”
Shapes of different colors coalesce into your reflection on the glass that displays the myriad cakes Zayne's been deliberating upon for the last fifteen minutes. The figure looms larger and larger, until it sidles up next to him and he straightens up, turning to his side.
“What a coincidence,” you continue with a glancing smile, hand on your chin as you survey the available pastries for purchase. “Are you buying desserts too?”
Earlier, Akso Hospital had a rare moment of slowness that allowed its personnel to indulge in a breather, which afforded Zayne to clock out on time. As a treat—and he will never admit this to anyone—he's stopped by the bakeshop on the way home, and to his surprise, here you are as well.
To your question he can only give a noncommittal sound; then to the cashier he points at the sea salt caramel vanilla slice that he's wanted to try for a while now. Both you and the cashier let out an intrigued Oh! before the purchase is processed at the register.
“Sea salt caramel vanilla,” you say with an evaluatory seriousness, “good choice.”
Zayne pinches the bridge of his nose.
“By the way, I've started on the research project. Been doing some preliminary reading since I don't want to disappoint my former professor. So far I'm doing well—the supplements are a great help!”
The supplements. He had an inkling that, as you are wont to do with every mission, you were rushing into this project with all your mind and body, tunnel-visioned, only the end goal visible in your sights. This unfortunately excludes concerns regarding your health, and Zayne is correct: all nighters and skipped meals, both of which erode the state of a person's health. When you are focused on something, that something takes the highest priority, and he can't always be with you all the time to remind you to take a break, or eat healthy food, or drink water. Which is why: supplements. They're not preventative, but at least they mitigate.
And it seems you're telling the truth: no tightness in your eyes and tautness in the shape of your mouth. In this case—in the case of your aspiration to conceal—you have not changed—or at least attempted to hold yourself back. Something in his chest loosens, smooths the tenseness out of his muscles that Zayne hasn't realized is there.
This is something to ponder, but not at the moment.
“I don't have to remind you that supplements are not substitutes for healthy food and proper sleep, do I?”
“Of course not! Even I know that.” But then your expression turns sheepish. “In practice, that's a little ...”
Zayne pinches the bridge of his nose again.
“But don't worry too much about me, Dr. Zayne! I'm taking care of myself just fine!”
“That doesn't instill much confidence.”
“How about this, then?” And you face him fully, a ready smile brimming with its own confidence and assurance, as radiant as an aurora. “If something happens, you will be the first person I'll turn to.”
At that Zayne pauses. The easy trust you bring between the both of you warms his neck, the back of it, climbing up, up, up to the tips of his ears and to his cheeks. He moves on to the cashier, his back on you.
“Try not to let that 'something' happen, but I know you're too stubborn to listen.”
A chuckle, and then: “I can't make any promises, but I'll try.”
This time, Zayne turns back.
“'Try' implies effort, so I am expecting effort.”
You snap a salute, grinning. “Got it, Doc!”
▼
The day after that, Zayne begins to read up on the subject of phenomenology.
▼
It won't be a couple of weeks until Zayne sees you again—but this time it's under the harsh hospital lights and the din of frantic footsteps and rolling wheels, the mixed scents of blood and antiseptic stinging his nose. A Wanderer surge disrupted the southern part of Linkon, and of the hunters dispatched you had been one of them.
Zayne glides around the moving bodies, steps never faltering until he finds you tucked in a corner, cradling your broken arm.
When his shadow falls upon your involuted frame, you lift your head and a rueful grin greets him. Your glass-sheen gaze doesn't escape his scrutiny.
He's wearing his white coat, and both of his hands retreat into its pockets, where he closes them into tight fists. If Zayne tilts his head a little more to the right, he can see a lengthy gash that lines along your temple and into your scalp, covered by your blood-crusted hair. He is painfully aware that this is part and parcel of your profession, the risk that endangers a hunter during a mission. A part of him is thankful that today it is only a broken arm and a couple of wounds. It could have been much worse, and Zayne refuses to imagine a scenario where you come into the hospital drained of vitality. A frustrated sigh threatens to spill out of him, but he endures, and just pointedly shoots you a disappointed look.
“So this is all the effort that you mentioned just amounted to.”
“To be fair I was doing well for a couple of hours until I had to rescue a civilian trapped in a damaged building.”
“That is commendable.” And he means it. But—“Follow that nurse with the brown clipboard. He's in charge of injuries like yours. Can you walk that far?”
Your uninjured hand braces against the wall and you pull yourself up, the motion not quite fluid but not a slow stagger either. Zayne would have assisted you, but it seems that you can do it on your own.
“It's my arm that's broken, not my legs.” A wincing smile, and you start to make your way forward. “I know that you have to take care of other people, Dr. Zayne, but thanks for checking up on me.”
Behind him, a nurse calls his name, a signal to go back to his work. There are other patients who need his attention more than you do, and overall you seem fine, still put together. A broken arm can heal over time, given proper medical care. And Zayne knows, intimately, that Akso does not lack for anything.
Still. It's not entirely on purpose, but Zayne calls your name.
“I—” he begins, as you slow down to wait for whatever he's going to say. His throat struggles, constricting and opening in subconscious reflex. “I'd still rather not worry about you like this.”
In and around the space between you and him, the hospital remains astir—shadows and silhouettes slipping in and out of Zayne's sight—until they give way to the blossoming smile on your face, eclipsing everything from the back to the fore, a pinpoint mark on the map.
Later, even as he tends to his patients, your smile persists in Zayne's mind, an afterimage that refuses to disappear behind his eyelids.
▼
Exactly one week after that incident, Zayne receives a bouquet of jasmines and a box of banana bread. Attached to it is a pristine white card with a line written: Don't forget to take care of yourself too!
The card stays in his breast pocket well beyond his working hours, right next to his beating heart.
▼
Days pass, weeks, months, and Zayne finds himself browsing through phenomenology journals during his break in the hopes of seeing your name in one of them. He knows that you'll tell him once it's published, but there's a part of him that clamors for the first touch of knowledge, the letters that make up your name woven in the glowing screen of his tablet.
At the same time, Greyson and Yvonne have bitten into their suspicions—whatever they are, Zayne refuses to ask—and swallowed the succulence as if it's a juicy truth. Often he sees Greyson glancing at him with a shadow of a smile, a quick sleight of hand that when Zayne fully faces him his expression is already ironed out and professional. Yvonne is no better: all glimmering eyes and knowing grins and incessant questions about his mood. Once, he asked the reason for the barrage of questions and Yvonne ignored the frost in his voice and tittered, telling him that sometimes in life, they have to combat the monotony with exciting things.
It worries him somewhat that you and Yvonne and even Greyson have been getting along quite well for a time now.
But your name still doesn't appear, and it doesn't seem to be appearing in the foreseeable future. Still Zayne searches, his fingers already making a habit of typing your name in the bar, his heart beating for a yes.
▼
At some point, he's asked about your progress.
“It's been going well,” you answer. “Professor made some comments about the part in my results and discussion, so I'm going to revise that. I think we can submit it by next month if we maintain the pace.”
After a thoughtful pause, you rest your arms on his desk, cushion your chin on them, and angle him a sly look.
“Are you offering to proofread my work, Dr. Zayne?”
“I may need a box of red pens for that.”
That jolts a laugh out of you, and you recover by sending a mock pout his way.
“I’ll have you know that I was a diligent writer in college! I won in essay writing competitions!”
“Is that so? Then I suppose your first foray in academic publishing will be a successful ‘accepted with minor revisions’ reply from the editor.”
“Of course! Oh, fine, fine. I won’t ask you to proofread the manuscript. You can just wait until it’s published.”
A small, genuine smile. “I’m looking forward to it.”
▼
Eventually, he receives a text that says, We finally submitted the article! Now we just have to wait 🫣
He excuses himself from a cluster of medical professionals talking about the latest breakthroughs in oncology and parks himself beside the long table of drinks. He texts back: Watch out for Reviewer #2. They’re always the culprit.
It takes a full ten minutes before you reply, and during that period of anticipation four individuals have come up to him and attempted to pull him into a conversation about his accomplishments and recent research—one even braving to entice him into applying to another hospital.
Zayne shakes them off as politely as he can (and to that one poacher he gives a cold and resolute no). When his phone beeps, he turns away and redirects his undivided attention to the screen. All your latest message contains is a single salute emoji and the single-word sentence Gotcha! A laugh startles out of him, which Yvonne—having developed an eagle eye for Zayne in the recent weeks—notices and she scurries over to Greyson, bowing their heads in hushed whispers, glancing at him every now and then.
He's realized what they'd been talking about whenever he's in their vicinity, and he's tempted to refute their assumptions and retaliate accordingly. But the stone-weight in his mind had transformed into a persistent itch that does not choose when it strikes. In most cases it's merely annoying, but on rare occasions it is, frankly, merciless. A good-night text echoes in his dreams, and Zayne wakes with a thick sweetness coating the inside of his mouth. A fleeting touch from your worried hand burns the skin of his arm, the heat seeping into the layers until it reaches the subcutaneous tissue, where it spreads all over his body through the veins. He has to evade your glare to hide the ruddiness of his cheeks. Capitulation is the only option he had to choose in the end, and the idea of surrendering to this melts away the reflexive inquiry of when and how and why—a trait he had to hone as a doctor and a researcher.
What else is left when all the signs are pointing to this one immutable conclusion?
▼
On the day and hour your article is published Zayne is in the middle of a delicate surgery that takes him five hours and two hysterical family members of the patient—even with Evol involved. He emerges from the operating room with good news and exhausted-yet-relieved colleagues, Greyson's smile emerging from the doors the first indicator of a successful operation.
The patient's mother clings to him in tearful gratitude.
He orients the family on the next steps, and as he signs the healthcare forms he discovers a new slice of wound on the back of his hand, thin but lengthy. He has long since accepted that his hands, his arms, will forever be spattered with scars, and if that's the price he has to pay for saving lives, then it's of no consequence to him.
(Once, he had caught your gaze glued to his hands, so he snapped his fingers, startling you into looking at his face.
“What was that for?” you demanded.
“You're not paying attention.”
“I was just—” you bit your lip, torn. A pause, then: “Did they hurt—each one of them?”
He glanced down and studied each scar. Too many, you'd probably think. But not once had they bothered him.
“I never even noticed them in the first place, so no.”
“Okay.” Your eyes were crystal glass and the deep breath you took was stuttering in all its inelegance. “Okay.”)
A sliver of a break provides him the opportunity to sink into reprieve, and his hand gropes for his phone on the desk, peeking out under a sheaf of documents that he has to fill out later.
A cursory look at the screen, and then Zayne is leaping for the computer.
The research article you and your professor had written is kept behind a paywall. Zayne spares a moment to shut his eyes in irritation. He's fortunate that his university library account is still active, so he utilizes that privilege to gain access to the article’s full version, made available by the university’s database.
When the file loads, he syncs it to his tablet, after which he leans back on the chair and settles to read. He can locate which parts you had a hand in writing, and the parts where your style comes out. It isn't his field, but he has read enough to venture that the insights of this paper are valuable. Unwittingly, a proud smile surfaces on his lips.
At the end of the article, in the acknowledgment section, something is curiously written:
The co-author is grateful for the moral and medical support of Akso Hospital's Dr. Zayne. Dr. Zayne, would you like to have dinner with me? As a date. Yes, I'm asking you out.
Zayne’s mind blanks out and the itch returns, scrabbling at the walls of his skull, loud and frenetic and overwhelming all his senses. His entire body warms and the sensation of crawling needles prickle at his skin. Everything is white noise; his heart threatens to jump out of his ribcage. He gets the ridiculous thought that he can't perform a surgery on himself.
The next thing he knows, he's driving his car at the same time dialing your number. The car speakers amplify the ringing tone once his phone is attached to the dashboard. Both his hands tightly grip the steering wheel.
When the call connects, he opens with “What would you do if I hadn't read your article?”
He can practically hear the smile in your voice; it resounds around the car interior. “That's not an option, Dr. Zayne. You would have definitely read the article.”
Laughter bubbles up inside him; he tamps it down. “Confident now, are we?”
“Of course!” A pause; a shuffle of feet. You must be heading to another room. “I hear car engine, where are you now?”
“On the way to your apartment.”
“Wait, don't—go to this restaurant instead. I'll text you the address. I have it all reserved and ready.”
He blinks once, twice, surprise slackening the muscles on his face. “... You haven't even heard my answer yet.”
“You can tell me at the restaurant. And then we'll celebrate with excellent food, excellent wine, and scrumptious desserts.”
“You sound so certain about receiving a positive response.”
“I'm optimistic that way, Dr. Zayne. I'm heading out now—I'll see you in a bit!”
You hang up, and the speakers beep into silence. Two seconds later Zayne presses the hazard switch. The car slows down and then comes to a halt on the side of the road. Other vehicles zoom past him. Without the need to drive, Zayne can finally give in to the urge to exhale aloud and let out a brief yet astounded laugh, forehead pressing against the leather smoothness of the steering wheel.
You've always been transparent. But Zayne has made the crucial mistake of neglecting the fact that you are also clever. If this were a competition, you've already won.
▼
You're already at the restaurant when he arrives, sat on the corner facing the floor-to-ceiling windows, the shifting lights outside dancing over your serene profile. Your elbows rest on the table, where everything is already set up except the food. A vase of red roses at the center completes the picturesque scene.
You lift your head and welcome him with a triumphant grin once he's a few steps away. And when he settles on the chair opposite you, you lean forward and stare at him expectantly.
“You could have asked like a normal person,” Zayne begins.
“I could have,” you agree, nodding, “but I like it this way. I like to get closer to you through the things you do.”
Another moment of Zayne getting caught off-center: the warmth flushing outward from the core of his body like vibrant ink on clean, clear water. He has to lower his gaze from the sheer brilliance of your certainty, the way your patience and care have allowed this moment between the two of you, something that he has never imagined culminating like this: two people sitting opposite each other, in this softly lit restaurant while the world bursts into festive lights outside it. The tender way your hand moves across the table, stopping right before the flower vase, as if affording him the liberty to arrive at a decision Zayne has already made, many, many months (years) ago, just buried under the strata of responsibilities, boundaries, and improbabilities.
Never the when, never the how, never the why. It is, only, sublimely, this.
Zayne sighs with a rueful shake of his head. “It's not yet too late—maybe I should answer by publishing my own research article.” But the hand meeting yours belies his words.
Your smile: pleased, pleasure, like the sun emerging from the winter sky.
He's too occupied with the touch of your hand and the radiance of your expression that Zayne misses the throwaway comment that tumbles past his lips:
“If we're talking about getting closer through doing the things the other does, then I suppose I should propose to you when we're in the middle of a Wanderer invasion.”
And then he realizes what he just said.
Zayne whips his head up, heart in throat, and scrambles for an excuse. “What I meant was—”
“Getting ahead of ourselves now, are we?” Your face is pure indulgence, pure bliss. Your hand squeezes his, not letting go. “Don't worry, Dr. Zayne; I'm looking forward to it.”
And that lustrous smile, sustained. Zayne relaxes and you release him to clap your hands together, delighted.
“Now then! Shall we have our dinner?”
▼
(You have, indeed, delivered in all aspects: excellent food, excellent wine, and scrumptious desserts.)
#love and deepspace#love and deepspace fic#love and deepspace zayne#zayne love and deepspace#love and deepspace x reader#love and deepspace zayne x reader#lads zayne#lads zayne x reader#lnds zayne#lnds zayne x reader#lads zayne x you#lnds zayne x you#zayne x reader#zayne x you#love and deepspace x you#love and deepspace zayne fic#lads zayne fic#lnds zayne fic#fic#my fic
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UNSPOKEN- Ellie x Reader
Part 2 (coming soon)
Warnings: some cussing, use of weapons, angst???
♡ i apologize for any mistakes it's midnight 🫠 also because I feel like I have to clarify... reader is not male.. duh
Summary: Tension and miscommunication strain your relationship with Ellie. After a dangerous encounter and a heated argument at a bonfire, unspoken feelings and frustrations leave things unresolved.
The air in Jackson was biting this morning, cold enough to cut through even the thickest layers. You tightened your jacket, your fingers tingling as you rubbed warmth into them. The faint buzz of the town’s early risers filled the background: soft conversations, the distant hammering from the workshop, the gentle whinny of horses as they were prepped for the day. The familiar scent of hay and leather lingered in the cold air, grounding you in the fragile normalcy Jackson offered—a normalcy you hadn’t dared dream of until you arrived.
But today, even the comfort of routine couldn’t shake the knot in your stomach. As you neared the stables, your heart sank. She was already there.
Ellie was bent over Shimmer’s saddle, adjusting the straps with the same sharp efficiency that had become her signature in recent weeks. She didn’t notice you at first, or if she did, she didn’t show it. Her posture was tense, her movements brisk, like she was bracing herself for something—or someone.
It hadn’t always been this way. When you first arrived, she had been one of the first to welcome you. Shared jokes, easy smiles, and a camaraderie that felt like it could withstand anything. You two were growing, growing into something more than just friends. When suddenly Ellie had become cold and angry, leaving you hurt and confused.
“Morning,” Dina’s voice broke through your thoughts, cheerful as ever. She led her horse by the reins, her presence a welcome distraction.
“Hey,” you replied, forcing a smile. “Ready for this?”
“Always,” she said, her grin infectious. Behind her, Jesse appeared, his easygoing nature a stark contrast to the tension radiating from Ellie.
“Let’s make this quick,” Jesse said. “They’re making pork belly tonight, and I’m not missing that for the world.”
You laughed, but the warmth didn’t last. Ellie finally looked up, her green eyes flicking over you for the briefest moment before snapping back to her work. “Guess they allow everyone on supply runs now," she muttered, just loud enough for you to hear.
You stiffened, your fingers tightening on your reins. Dina shot you an apologetic glance. “Play nice, Ellie. It’s too early for this.”
Ellie shrugged, mounting Shimmer without another word. The group moved out, the clop of hooves on frozen ground filling the silence.
♡♡♡
The path out of Jackson was quiet. Frost clung to the trees, glittering in the morning light, and your breath puffed out in small clouds as you rode. Dina and Jesse kept the conversation light, talking about patrol schedules and the latest gossip from town. You stayed quiet, your eyes on the trail ahead, but your mind was elsewhere.
Ellie’s hostility gnawed at you. It wasn’t just the cold remarks or the way she avoided your gaze. It was the loss of what you’d had before—the easy camaraderie, the shared smiles, the feeling that you could count on each other. Now, every interaction felt like walking on broken glass. No matter how hard you tried, Ellie wouldn’t hear it.
“So,” Dina said, turning in her saddle to look at you, “you up for a bonfire tonight? It’s been a while since we had one.”
You shrugged. “Is it going to end like last time? Up in flames.”
Jesse snorted. “I’ll never late Nate live that down. What a clutz.”
Dina laughed. “Eugene promised to never give him a joint again.”
Ellie’s voice cut through the lighthearted banter like a blade. “Focus on the job, this isn’t playtime.”
The smile slipped from Dina’s face, and she exchanged a quick glance with Jesse. You tightened your grip on the reins, the familiar frustration bubbling up inside you.
“We’re allowed to talk, Ellie,” you said, keeping your tone even. “It doesn’t mean we’re not paying attention.”
Ellie turned her head slightly, just enough for you to see the edge of her scowl. “Whatever. Just don’t screw this up.”
“I won’t if you don’t,” you shot back before you could stop yourself.
The silence that followed was heavier than the morning chill. Dina cleared her throat awkwardly, trying to ease the tension. “So, uh, anyone remember where we’re headed first?”
Ellie’s eyes stayed on the trail ahead. “There’s an old convenience store a few miles out. Might still have something useful.”
You bit your tongue, swallowing the retort that was on the tip of your tongue. This run was going to be long enough without adding more fuel to the fire. Jesse and Dina didn’t deserve it, they already put up with the two of you for the past couple of weeks.
Dina was the one who tried her hardest to get the two of you to work it out. All she was able to manage was to get the two of you on somewhat speaking terms. Said speaking terms were usually just sarcastic remarks and full blown arguments. But… It was progress.
♡♡♡♡
By the time you reached the convenience store, the sun was higher in the sky, casting long shadows across the cracked asphalt of the parking lot. The building was half-collapsed, its windows shattered and its sign faded to near illegibility. Weeds grew unchecked through the concrete, and the faint smell of rot lingered in the air.
“Looks promising,” Jesse said sarcastically, dismounting his horse.
“We’ll split up,” Ellie said, tying Shimmer to a post near the entrance. “Dina, you’re with Jesse. We’ll take the other side.”
You opened your mouth to protest, but Dina gave you a warning look, shaking her head slightly. Reluctantly, you nodded and followed Ellie into the crumbling building.
Inside the convenience store, the air was thick with decay. Dust hung in the faint shafts of light filtering through cracks in the boarded-up windows. Shelves lay toppled, their contents strewn across the floor, long since picked clean by scavengers.
Ellie’s flashlight cut through the dimness ahead, her silence heavier than the gloom. You followed, your own light darting over the shadows, your grip on your weapon tight. The oppressive quiet between you felt like a second danger, one just as likely to strike as whatever lurked in the dark.
“Find anything?” Ellie’s voice broke the silence, sharp and impatient.
“Not yet,” you replied evenly, though your irritation simmered beneath the surface.
She huffed. “Figures.”
You couldn’t hold back anymore. “What is your problem?”
Ellie whirled to face you, her flashlight beam momentarily blinding. “My problem? You’re the one who—” She cut herself off, her jaw clenching.
“Say it,” you challenged, stepping closer. “Whatever it is, just say it.”
Ellie’s jaw tightened, her knuckles white against the flashlight. “You wouldn’t get it.”
“Well just try me.”
Her eyes burned with anger, but before she could respond, a guttural growl sent chills racing down your spine. Both of you froze, your weapons snapping up as the sound grew louder. A clicker.
You and Ellie exchanged a glance, all hostility forgotten in the face of danger. Without a word, she gestured for you to hide. You hesitated, not wanting to split up, but there was no time to argue.
The clicker stumbled into view, its grotesque form illuminated by your flashlight. You quickly circled around, trying to stay quiet as Ellie moved to flank it. But then your backpack brushed against a shelf, sending a can tumbling to the floor.
The sound was deafening in the silence. The clicker screeched and lunged, its grotesque maw snapping inches from your face. You screamed, scrambling backward as its claws tore at your jacket. Panic overtook you, your hands fumbling for your knife as the creature pinned you to the ground.
The world blurred in a frenzy of movement and noise. Ellie’s voice shouted something you couldn’t make out. Just as the clicker’s teeth lunged toward your neck, a gunshot rang out, its head jerking violently before collapsing on top of you. Blood splattered your face, the coppery tang filling your senses.
Ellie stood above you, gun smoking, her face twisted in fury. “What the hell were you thinking?”
You shoved the clicker off, your breath coming in ragged gasps. “I was trying—”
“Trying to get yourself killed?” she snapped. “You can’t ever just listen, can you?”
Her words hit like a slap. You climbed to your feet, anger flaring in your chest. “Are you kidding me? It was an accident, Ellie. I didn’t mean for that to happen—”
“Don’t.” She cut you off, stepping closer. “You never mean for anything to happen, and yet somehow, it always does. And guess who has to clean up the mess? Me.”
You wiped the blood off your face, your hands trembling. “What are you even talking about? I seriously don't understand why you're mad at me right now. Maybe you should’ve let it kill me.”
“Maybe I should have,” Ellie shot back, but the moment the words left her mouth, her jaw tightened like she regretted it.
You froze, her words sinking in like ice. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
Ellie’s nostrils flared. “What’s wrong with me?” Her voice cracked, raw and sharp. “Are you serious? You don’t get to play the victim here.”
You roll your eyes in frustration,“Victim? What are- God, just explain it to me!”
You stepped closer, refusing to back down. “Because I’m done guessing! One minute we’re fine, and the next you’re treating me like I’m some burden you can’t get rid of fast enough!”
“You are a burden!” Ellie snapped. The words came out too fast, too loud, and her face paled as soon as she said them.
You recoiled, her words cutting deeper than you wanted to admit. “Wow. Glad we cleared that up.”
Ellie shook her head, her voice quieter but still sharp. “You don’t get it.”
“Then make me get it! Stop dancing around whatever this is, and just tell me! Why are you so angry? Because at this point, you're just being angry to be angry.”
She looked at you then, her eyes blazing with something you couldn’t quite name—anger, hurt, fear. But instead of answering, she shook her head and turned away. “Forget it.”
“Ellie!”
“No!” She spun back around, her voice rising again. “Just drop it, okay? We have a job to do. That’s all this is.”
You swallowed hard, your throat tight. “You don’t get to just walk away from this.”
Ellie’s expression hardened. “Watch me.” She turned and stormed down the aisle, her boots crunching over broken glass.
You stood there for a moment, your chest heaving as you tried to pull yourself together. But you weren’t done with this—not by a long shot.
“This isn’t over,” you muttered, grabbing the nearest can off the shelf and shoving it into your pack before following her.
The rest of the search passed in tense silence, both of you working quickly but avoiding each other’s eyes. By the time you pushed through the doors into the daylight, Dina and Jesse were already there, their horses loaded up. Dina waved, her expression faltering when she saw the tension still etched into both your faces.
“Find anything good?” Jesse asked, clearly trying to keep things light.
Ellie shoved her pack onto her horse. “Nope.”
You tossed your own bag into the saddle and mounted up, not even looking in her direction.
Dina leaned in, whispering, “You two good?”
You forced a smile. “Peachy.”
Ellie didn’t say a word as the group rode back toward Jackson, but you could feel her presence like a weight pressing against you. Whatever this was between you—it wasn’t finished. Not even close.
#ellie williams#ellie tlou#ellie x reader#ellie willams x reader#the last of us#tlou#tlou2#ellie x fem reader#ellie x y/n#ellie fanfic#ellie angst
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Hi! Idk if u take writing/drabble requests but I'm chronically ill and have wondered how the LaDS boys would treat a chronically ill MC. Thank u for reading!
Hey! I've never taken writing requests (primarily cause I have no idea if I could do them justice or offer what people are after). As a chronically ill person myself, and as someone who writes their main mc as chronically ill, I'm a little bias, in that I personally think the boys would treat their partner with understanding, love and affection regardless of who that person is or what they're dealing with!
For basic pov overviews though! (All chronic illnesses represent differently! I'm working mostly off personal experience without being TOO specific.)
- Zayne is probably the most initially knowledgeable about the nature of chronic illness. He'll have seen plenty of people struggling and managing their own around his job. He's also shown to research topics that are important to him. There's very little doubt in my mind that the man would pull up every medical document and every study done, working late into the night in his free time to make sure he has a specific understanding for what you'd be going through.
- He's also probably the one who pushes more to make sure things get done. Medical appointments, any medication that's required. He's harsher on things that can harm you, cause a flare-up or increase the strain on your body. He cares and he worries, and he just wants to help alleviate what he can.
- It can be frustrating and overwhelming, he's not perfect, no one can be when it comes to offering support, especially for things that have no cure. If you explain to him how it makes you feel, he walks back and tries to find alternatives. Softens his approach somewhat. He's a logical man so he'll always jump to trying to give a solution, but he cares so deeply, if you say you just need an ear. He'll be there.
- Raffy is interesting because his reactions to his lemurian biology make my brain go 'oh he probably gets it' but instinctually. That sometimes things hurt more, sometimes days are just harder, sometimes it takes more energy and willpower to exist than expected. Thinking about his recent card especially, and the way his health dipped in and out. The way it was obvious he's weaker and gets sick without moisture or water. It's a different reasoning, but he understands to some degree.
- He's the king of creative solutions and the one most likely to focus on trying to inject joy and laughter into your life. He's also a man who doesn't care about money, canonically this boy is the 'what does it cost 10 dollars'. So whatever you might need, he's bought before you've even thought about it. (Even if he does tend to buy those really useless trend items that absolutely don't help with your condition and they're just a scam... so so many out there.) He may not have the best ways to help, but he'll never ever treat you differently. Love in his eyes, a masterpiece in his heart. Raffy will absolutely never stop wanting to paint you no matter what.
- His words can be harsh, he might say something that hurts without meaning too, a joke that doesn't land, or a tone that itches more than you'd like. Somedays you aren't bothered, somedays it hurts. He'll always give a heartfelt apology, and adjust the way he acts so it doesn't happen again. I can imagine him making a mood tracker, how are you feeling today? Move the smilie face if you know.
- Xavier is the one who sits you down and wants to talk about it most. Not because he won't do his own research, he's happy to, but he needs to know how you feel above all else. He needs to know how to support you, especially out in the field. He's your combat and mission partner. He's also incredibly observant. He'll notice when a flare up starts. He'll notice if your mood is dropping. He'll notice when you're starting to feel like you're drowning. He's also nearby, at all times. He checks in on you constantly. Through messages or just dropping in. (He promises the food he brings is takeout and not a remnant of a burned down kitchen.)
- Do you want someone to keep you company at night so it's less lonely? Do you want him to stay around and help ease aches and pains. He and Zayne especially know good massage techniques. Xavier because fighting can destroy your body without good upkeep. He'll go out and grab things for you. He'll assist you happily. He totally didn't buy more cleaning robots so you can worry less about the stuff around your house when you can barely leave your bed.
- He's wary on the battlefield, probably initially treating you like glass. It's because he worries and he cares. He doesn't want anything to happen to you. Sometimes that bothers you though. You live with this, you have for years, and you know how to live with it. He's protective by nature, but he also trusts you to tell him when you've hit your limit. While he's always ready to step in, it has to be by absolutely necessity or your permission.
- Sylus is a researcher too, but unlike Zayne, he has no basis to work off. As evidenced by his stories and texts, however, he will learn ANY skill in order to help the MC, or make his own life easier to control. This is no different, I think the only difference would be, his first instinct is not to go to medical documents and studies. He goes to people. Finds leading experts, no matter the cost, learns from others with conditions similar or as close to yours as he can. He wants to be able to have a proper conversation with you about your chronic illness, so feels like he has to have a good basis of understanding before he starts. He wants to be able to ask important questions, to piece together context. To sit you down and give you OPTIONS. Because sometimes it's really hard to know what you need, and sometimes someone telling you what they can offer is better to give you somewhere to start.
- He's also another 'throw money at it' kind of person, but he will buy you the kind of equipment to help that hospitals use. This man buys top range shit, that he KNOWS will have some effect on lessoning your strain or alleviating some degree of pain. Is there a tool the doctor suggested that you think could help? He bought it yesterday, he got five, he doesn't want to leave them in his other bases incase something happens but he's willing to have Luke and Kieran bring them to you wherever you are. Will set up grocery shop orders for you, doesn't care how much it is, does it make your life easier? Alright, it's done. While admittedly he leans a lot on money to help, it's the best way he knows to help.
- Probably struggles initially with his job, with the stress of his general life, his degree of injuries and how stress and strain can directly impact a chronic illness. It probably causes him to pull away a little bit. He cares a lot, and because of that he worries he'll be a hindrance more than a help. Would be the type of person to try to help from afar, forgetting how deeply important it is to have a support system that's available and physical to help. While he'll try to keep the worst away from you (I don't want to give you anymore nightmares of me), he'll listen and stop pulling away when he realises that him being there means everything. So becomes far more physically present as well, though the amount of money he wants to spend on you probably does not go down.
Fundamentally though, the boys are all people who even with their flaws, would listen and learn and attempt to be as supportive as they possibly can be. Days are hard, and life can be tough, and chronic illness is exhausting to combat. It could never make them love you any less, they're in to the long haul. They just might occasionally need a little nudge to really understand what you want from them.
Every last one would understand things like cancellations because of bad days or mood swings and low moods, would be willing to do your grocery shops, would go to doctors appointments with you, assist with physical therapy if needed, so this is less about how they'd treat you, and more the methods they go about it.
I hope that was kind of what you were after! 💖
#zayne#zayne x reader#rafayel#rafayel x reader#xavier#xavier x reader#sylus#sylus x reader#love and deepspace#lnds#lads#wonder writes#Zayne lads#rafayel lads#Xavier lads#Sylus lads#wonder asks#I now have to go to bed#I genuinely am awake at 1am trying to get this out#chronic illness fucking sucks#so I hope this gave some joy comrade in shit arms 😭
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✨ not so smol general update ✨
Hi witches, I just wanted to pop in and take a moment to apologize for a couple of things: my ridiculously slow update schedule, the delay in replying to comments (both here on Tumblr and on AO3), and all the messages and requests sitting unanswered in my inbox.
I promise I’m not ignoring anyone, and I’m really sorry if it feels that way. The support I’ve received over the past few weeks has been incredible—way beyond anything I ever expected—and I appreciate it so fucking much.
That said, life’s been a bit of a mess lately. I just wrapped up my long-standing job and started transitioning into a new one that’s basically the polar opposite. On top of that, the holiday season has hit me like a ton of bricks—it’s always the hardest, saddest, and most draining time of year for me. Long story short, I haven’t exactly been at my best recently.
Oh, and let’s throw a creative slump into the mix, because why not? Writing’s been rough lately, and I think it’s just reflecting how I’m feeling overall. I also got an anon msg today asking for updates on When We Collide, so I’ll reply on that specific fic soon.
I just wanted to say sorry, let you know that I’m working on getting back on track, and remind you that I see you. I see all of you. Every like, every message, every repost, kudos, comment, subscription, and bookmark. And honestly, those little things have been some of the brightest spots in my days recently.
To try and shake off this creative block, I did manage to write a one-shot this past week, which I’ll be posting tomorrow— just FYI!
Thanks for sticking with me, you’re all amazing 💜
#agatha harkness x reader#agatha harkness x you#agatha harkness x female reader#agatha x reader#agatha x you#aaa fanfic#agatha all along fanfic#agatha harkness fanfic
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P.S. Do You Still Love Me| Pt4
メ𝟶メ𝟶メ𝟶メ𝟶メ𝟶メ𝟶メ𝟶メ𝟶メ𝟶メ𝟶メ𝟶メ𝟶メ𝟶メ𝟶メ𝟶メ𝟶メ𝟶メ𝟶メ𝟶メ𝟶メ𝟶メ𝟶メ𝟶メ𝟶メ𝟶メ𝟶メ𝟶メ P.S. I never stopped loving you... メ𝟶メ𝟶メ𝟶メ𝟶メ𝟶メ𝟶メ𝟶メ𝟶メ𝟶メ𝟶メ𝟶メ𝟶メ𝟶メ𝟶メ𝟶メ𝟶メ𝟶メ𝟶メ𝟶メ𝟶メ𝟶メ𝟶メ𝟶メ𝟶メ𝟶メ𝟶メ𝟶メ pt1 pt2 pt3 bonus メ𝟶メ𝟶メ𝟶メ𝟶メ𝟶メ𝟶メ𝟶メ𝟶メ𝟶メ𝟶メ𝟶メ𝟶メ𝟶メ𝟶メ𝟶メ𝟶メ𝟶メ𝟶メ𝟶メ𝟶メ𝟶メ𝟶メ𝟶メ𝟶メ𝟶メ𝟶メ𝟶メ
Han sat at the studio, tapping his fingers lightly on the surface of the desk, the sound of the beat from the speakers filling the space around him. For the first time in months, his posture wasn’t slumped. His shoulders weren’t weighed down by the invisible burdens that had been dragging him into darkness. Today, his eyes were bright, his hair brushed, his energy different, even though there was still a lingering hesitation in the way he spoke.
But it was a hopeful hesitation.
Felix and Jeongin shared a knowing glance as they watched him hum along to the track him and the other two boys of 3Racha were planning for the next album, his fingers moving swiftly over the keyboard, as Chan tweaked a few things next to him.
"Hyung-ah, what if we layered this over the last portion? Or I think the same layering could work on the title track if you wanted a more upbeat song."
It had been so long since they’d seen Han actively participate in the studio sessions, and it felt like a breath of fresh air to everyone.
Although they still kept quiet, hoping not to break the fragile peace they saw Jisung experiencing. Chan was privy to information that only Jisung and Minho had experienced; due to his fatherly nature and Jisung's attempts at finding a solution to the problems he had created.
Chan had quickly agreed with Jisung leaving early to fix things, but the other members were unaware per sake of focusing on deadlines. Jisung would tell them later. Maybe over a dinner apologizing for the way he distanced himself.
Although no one had said anything, the familiar sight of his focus, the way his hand scribbled notes across scrap pieces of paper- his mind working behind his quiet demeanor, gave them hope.
It was like the Han Jisung they knew before everything had happened was slowly coming back, piece by piece.
"Is it just me," Felix whispered to Jeongin, "or is Hyung actually... working today?"
Jeongin nodded, his eyes wide with a mix of surprise and relief. "He’s not just here physically. He’s... here here, you know?"
Felix smiled softly. "I missed him being like this."
Jeongin’s face softened, and he looked down at his hands nervously, before muttering, "Do you think it's becuase he let go of Noona finally?" The fox eyed boy looked up at his older friend. "I don't want to say anything but...I miss noona, too. She's family."
Felix’s expression changed to one of gentle understanding. He knew exactly what Jeongin meant. Since everything had happened, there had been a strange emptiness in the group, and your absence had made the tension between them all palpable.
Han turned slightly in his seat and noticed Felix and Jeongin’s quiet exchange. He raised an eyebrow, the corners of his mouth lifting into a small, almost imperceptible smile.
"You two look like you’re talking about something serious," Han teased, his voice light but still tinged with a certain hesitance as he scratched behind his ear.
Felix chuckled, leaning back in his chair, clearly more relaxed than he had been in a while. "We were just talking about how it's good to see you like this again, Hyung. You’ve been...distant recently. We missed the old you."
Han paused for a moment, the smile faltering slightly before he shook his head, chuckling softly to himself. "Yeah, I get that. I’ve been... not myself lately."
Jeongin quickly asked, like ripping a bandaid off, "Did you let Noona go?"
Felix shot Jeongin a look and sighed. "There are better ways of asking that..."
Han chuckled and looked at the two.
Felix leaned forward, a little concerned. "But I'm curious as well...are you okay now? Truly? I mean, we’re all happy to see you working again. But, uh…is...you won't go back to the way you were? Did you really let her go?"
Han’s expression softened, and for a moment, his eyes drifted down to the track playing on the screen. There was something quiet, something almost sad in his gaze, but it wasn’t the hollow emptiness it once was. It was more like he was still finding his way through the wreckage but managing to keep himself grounded, little by little.
"How could I." Jisung said quietly. "It was a stupid mistake on my end to begin with. I hurt her a lot. The only right thing to do is to make it up to her for the rest of my life if she lets me, isn't it?" He let out a soft chuckle. "We’re...going to be okay," Han said slowly, the words not coming easily but feeling like a small relief once they left his mouth. "I think we’re getting there. Just, uh...took the wrap around way because I am an idiot.
"YAH, FOR REAL?!" Jeongin exclaimed excitedly bouncing in his chair.
Han couldn't help but laugh at the youngest's excitement.
"Yes. From what I gauged last night..."
"Omo, you slept together?" Jeongin asked, jaw dropping.
"What! No she was drunk and I had to pick her up because some prick kissed her." Han pouted and crossed his arms.
"Someone kissed, Y/N?" Changbin asked suddenly from across the room. That caused everyone who hadn't been paying attention to start now, as Han nodded.
"Yes! Her coworker! As if he could even compete with me. She hated the kiss too." Han said triumphantly, sparking a conversation about the event of last night, and how exactly he planned to woo you over and beg for his forgiveness.
Unbeknownst to Jisung, you were standing outside the JYPE building, a letter in your hands. You walked up to the desk, a little nervous since it had been a minutes since you were there.
"Uh...hello?" You asked the receptionist, who looked at you with a bored look.
"How may I help you."
"Um, I have something to give to my boyfriend."
The receptionist looked at you if you were utterly delusion and scoffed. "Boyfriend?"
"Y-yes..." You said shifting on your feet uncomfortably.
"Listen, we get a lot of crazies like you. I'm gonna give you a minute to leave or else I'm going to call security."
Meanwhile, Chris was ushering everyone back to work, so Jisung could get home quicker. Felix had rushed out to go grab some water for everyone when he heard a familiar voice.
"Please! Can you just call them or something! I'm not a sasaeng I swear!" Felix looked to the floor below and saw you, a looking tense and about ready to break.
Did you really leave the apartment to come see Jisung?
Felix rushed back towards the studio, forgetting about the water. "Hyung! Hyung! Noona she's downstairs!"
Han looked up as did the rest of the boys. He immediately rushed out the studio, not giving a care in the world for what was surrounding him.
Why didn't she stay home? I was coming back? Did she come to breakup with me? Is she leaving? Is it too late-
You were trying desperately to explain your situation to the receptionist, but it was of no use since you and Jisung hadn't been public.
You didn't blame her for you sounding crazy. She probably felt like you were lying when you weren't you were just trying to find a way to get to Jisung to solve things once and for all without outing your connection.
"Please!"
"I'm gonna have to ask you to lea-"
"Jagiya!" You froze and turned to the voice you had memorized like the back of your hand. A voice you could pick out in the sea of millions.
Jisung stood there looking at you, as if you were the only on in the lobby. As if there wasn't dozens of eyes on you. The receptionist quickly brought her hands to her mouth and bowed in apology. But you weren't concerned about that.
Rather you were concerned about why Jisung's eyes looked so frantic and troubled. You made your way to him and he dragged you to an empty meeting room.
You stood in silence looking at each other for a moment his eyes troubled.
"Baby, are you okay?"
And with that he broke down. Covering his face in his hands.
"How do you still care for me so effortlessly after everything. How can I feel deserving of you when you're like this. So perfect when I'm not."
The words hung in the air like a thick fog, suffocating the space between you both.
Jisung's voice cracked with emotion as he spoke, his face a mixture of disbelief and guilt. "I'm horrible."
You opened your mouth, but the words caught in your throat. You had imagined this moment countless times, where you could finally address the root of all these problems, but now that it was happening, everything felt too overwhelming. The confusion, the heartbreak, the longing- it was all too much, too soon.
"Jisung..." you whispered, your voice barely a breath. "I read your letters."
You expected him to be in shock, or question you, but instead he gave out a defeated sigh.
"Ah." He looked at you for a brief moment, eyes clouded with self-doubt, before looking away once again. "I'm a coward aren't I? I pushed you away," he said softly, almost as if the words themselves hurt. "I let everything slip through my fingers because I was scared. Scared that I wasn’t enough for you. That I couldn't give you everything you deserved. And I couldn't even tell it to you to your face."
You took a step closer, your heart aching for him. His vulnerability was something you hadn’t seen in so long. It made everything you’d been through seem even more painful. How could someone so full of warmth, someone who made you feel safe, feel like he wasn’t worthy of your love?
"Jisung, stop," you said, reaching out to him. "You don’t get it. I never stopped caring about you. I never stopped loving you. And I never will."
A breathless laugh escaped his lips, but it was bitter, filled with regret. "But I hurt you, Y/N. I hurt you when you needed me the most. I was so caught up in my own insecurities that I pushed you away without thinking about how it would make you feel."
His eyes were wide now, desperation and guilt etched into every line of his face. He stepped forward, grasping your hands tightly, as if afraid you might slip away from him. "How do you still love me after everything? After I broke your heart? I can’t wrap my head around it. I don’t deserve you, Y/N."
You shook your head, your own emotions rising to the surface. "You don’t get to decide what you deserve, Jisung," you said, voice trembling with the weight of it all. "I do. And I still choose you. Even after everything."
You held out your letter, tears clouding your vision. "Read it. I wrote it for you. So just...read it."
He swallowed, his eyes red rimmed and hands trembling as he grabbed it, a pit forming in his stomach in anticipation.
Jisung, I guess, somewhere along the way, we lost the chance to truly understand what it meant to love each other. We got caught in the noise of everything that came with it—the questions, the doubts, the silent thoughts we never voiced. And maybe that’s why we ended up here. Because, somehow, we never really addressed the most important thing: what it truly means to be enough. For the longest time, I convinced myself that you left because of something I did. I spent nights turning over every little thing in my head, wondering if I wasn’t enough for you. If I wasn’t the right person. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I had somehow failed you, failed us. But I never, not in a million years, thought that it would be you asking yourself if you were enough. If you felt like you didn’t deserve me. I never imagined that you would carry that weight, not when you’ve always been the one I leaned on. And here we are, and I’m holding your question—Do I still love you?—in my hands, unsure of how to respond in a way that you’ll understand, in a way that you’ll believe. I don’t know how to say this without sounding like I'm exaggerating, or trying to make you feel like this is some grand, impossible thing, but... I need you. I need you the way I need the air I breathe. It’s almost embarrassing to put it into words, to let you see just how deeply ingrained you are in me. But you need to hear it. You need to know that even after everything, even after all the confusion and the pain, my heart still beats for you. It always will. When I think about the time we spent apart, I can’t help but wonder if there was something more I should’ve said, something I could have done to keep you from feeling this way. If only I had seen it sooner, if only I had known how much you were struggling. I hate that I didn’t, but I also realize that it isn’t anyone’s fault. It’s not about blaming either of us. We’re both human, Jisung. And sometimes, we get lost. We make mistakes. We doubt ourselves, we doubt each other. It’s a part of loving, a part of being vulnerable. I never wanted you to feel like you weren’t enough for me. I wanted you to know that, for me, you were always more than enough. And now, as I sit here and think about everything, I wonder—can we go back to what we were? Can we fix the pieces that fell apart? And part of me hopes we can, but another part wonders if going back is even the answer. Maybe it’s not about reliving the past or undoing what’s been done. Maybe it’s about moving forward. Maybe it’s about growing from what we’ve been through and figuring out how to love each other in a new way, a way that feels whole. So here I am, writing you this letter—something I should’ve done a long time ago. I’ve spent too much time thinking I needed to be perfect, thinking I needed to fix everything before it was too late. But maybe the answer isn’t in fixing everything; maybe the answer is in accepting that we don’t need to be perfect. You’re enough, Jisung. You’ve always been enough. And I’m sorry if I didn’t show you that in the way you needed to see it. But I’m telling you now: I need you. I love you, and I always will. And I hope that, somehow, you can find a way to believe that, even after all the time apart, after all the silence, that you still have a place in my heart. I’m here. I’m still here, and I want to move forward with you. Always, Y/N
He drew in a shaky breath.
P.S. I think you always knew the answer...
He stared at you, eyes searching yours for something, anything-
Then, without warning, he collapsed into your arms, his body trembling as he let go of everything he had been holding in. The tears bursting from you as well. "I'm so sorry," he murmured, his voice muffled against your shoulder. "I'm sorry."
You wrapped your arms around him, holding him tightly, as though you were both afraid that if you let go for even a second, everything would fall apart again.
"I love you," you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. "We both made mistakes. I’m here. And you're here. It'll work. We'll be okay this time."
For a moment, neither of you spoke, letting you sobs and
the weight of your shared pain and unspoken love pressing in on you both. It felt like the world had paused, giving you a fleeting moment of peace. The chaos of the past few months, the confusion and the silence- it all seemed so distant now, as if it belonged to someone else.
There were no easy answers, no quick fixes. All you had was each other, and for the first time in months, that felt like enough.
Jisung pulled back slightly, his face still clouded with uncertainty. "I want to be the person you need me to be. I want to make up for all the time we’ve lost."
You looked at him, your heart swelling with a mixture of love and caution. "You already are, Ji," you said softly, smiling at him as you held his cheek. "And we have forever to prove our love for each other, hm?"
His eyes softened, a flicker of hope lighting up behind them. "Hm," he echoed, his voice barely a whisper, but it was all you needed to hear.
You let out a shaky breath, finally allowing yourself to believe in the possibility of a future. You didn’t have all the answers, and neither did he, but one thing was clear: you were both willing to fight for this. For each other.
But before you could say anything else, there was a knock on the door, interrupting the fragile moment you had created. The sound startled both of you, but Jisung didn’t move. He kept his gaze locked with yours, his hand still tightly holding yours, as if he wasn’t ready to let go of you just yet.
"Hyung?" a voice called from the other side of the door. It was Jeongin, his tone slightly hesitant, as though unsure of what he might walk in on.
Jisung sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration, the small moment he had with you ruined, but his grip on you remained firm.
"They missed you too." He murmured.
He looked back at you one last time, his gaze searching yours for reassurance. You nodded slightly, the unspoken understanding passing between you two. You weren’t ready for the world to know yet, but you were ready to face whatever came next- together.
"Yeah, just a minute," Jisung called out, his voice a little rougher than usual.
But without a second of hesitation, Jeongin rushed in without a care for the world, the rest of the boys behind him.
The room seemed to pause for a beat as everyone rushed towards you. The tightness in your chest loosened with every familiar face. Minho, the ever-present big brother, was the first to give you a noogie, ruffling your hair as he grinned.
You laughed, even as tears threatened at the corner of your eyes. Changbin pulled you into a warm hug, and you could feel his steady heartbeat, a comforting presence. "Missed you," he mumbled into your hair.
Felix was next hugging you like no tomorrow, just to get pushed out the way by Jeongin who slipped his arms around you like a safety net. His embrace was gentle, but there was an unmistakable tenderness in the way he held you. He pulled back slightly, his voice soft but filled with sincerity. "You’re back, noona. We missed you."
You looked up, meeting Jisung's eyes. His gaze was intense, but there was something softer in the way he held you now. "She’s my girlfriend, Innie-ah," he said, his voice a little rough but proud, as he pulled you closer to him.
Jeongin stuck out his tongue.
You let out a shaky breath, your heart swelling with the truth in his words. The guys were all there, their presence overwhelming in the best way. You felt safe, loved, and, for the first time in a long time, enough.
Jisung kissed the top of your head, gently stamping his affection on you. The weight of everything you’d been through, the distance, the silence- it seemed to fall away with that one small gesture.
You other were the human embodiment of everything he’d both hoped for and was scared for- everything he needed. And as you were wrapped in his arms, with the guys surrounding you, he finally felt it- the reassurance that he was enough. That he was worthy of this love.
Of your love.
メ𝟶メ𝟶メ𝟶メ𝟶メ𝟶メ𝟶メ𝟶メ𝟶メ𝟶メ𝟶メ𝟶メ𝟶メ𝟶メ𝟶メ𝟶メ𝟶メ𝟶メ𝟶メ𝟶メ𝟶メ𝟶メ𝟶メ𝟶メ𝟶メ𝟶メ𝟶メ𝟶メ@abovenyx @wolfs-archive @oddracha @iyeeeverydee @parisanmorovati @seungmincenteric @panbish-1209 @fxiry-vtt @sseawavee @shuporanporang @amarecerasus @softkisshyunjin @whoa-jo @meanergreener @rikibun @ayyonoona @shinywombatcrusade @y4yayael @skzstan12345 @mariteez @allys-reads @jazziwritesthings @skzstannie @yongbokkiesworld @kkkeopi @neverendingstay @moony-9 @minsungsthirdwheel @everlastingspring143 @joyofbebbanburg @leezanetheofficial @tr-mha-fan @bubbly-moon @night-storm7 @missmajdastark @axel-skz @rockstarkkami @emilyywhyy @holly-here メ𝟶メ𝟶メ𝟶メ𝟶メ𝟶メ𝟶メ𝟶メ𝟶メ𝟶メ𝟶メ𝟶メ𝟶メ𝟶メ𝟶メ𝟶メ𝟶メ𝟶メ𝟶メ𝟶メ𝟶メ𝟶メ𝟶メ𝟶メ𝟶メ𝟶メ𝟶メ𝟶メ
#skz imagines#skz x reader#skz stay#stray kids#skz angst#skz fluff#skz#skz reactions#stray kids reactions#han jisung#jisung skz#han skz#stray kids jisung#stray kids han jisung#stray kids han#skz han#skz jisung#skz han jisung
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Born Too Late - Chapter 12
pairing/au: neighbor!joel x reader // no outbreak
Warnings: none I can think of for this specific chapter but still no minors. lmk if there should be some.
Summary: Days after Joel apologized, you're still weighing your options. He asks you if you can take Sarah home for him, and you enjoy your afternoon with her. (2.1k+)
a/n: hiiiii. so this is just a lil filler chapter i guess. i wanted reader to bond more with sarah. also didnt want to jump right back into joel because he was not kind. sorry if theres typos/formatting issues. both nights i worked on this i was sleepy as hell. ill try to get one-two more out before next week! im headed out of town and when i get back classes are starting. xoxo
Chapter 11 - Masterlist - Chapter 13 (coming soon)
The weekend flys by quicker than you’d like. Your alarm rings and you groggily turn it off, sequencing the day before crawling to the kitchen and starting a pot of coffee. The aroma fills your house while you shower, washing the events of the past 4 days away for the millionth time.
You haven’t heard from Joel but you aren’t bothered by it. You appreciate that he’s giving you the space and time, but you have a weird complex surrounding him. You’ve seen how good he can be to you, to Sarah, to others- but you’ve also seen how unpleasant he can be. You try not to think about it on the way to work, but you see him loading his truck up when you head out. He throws up a small wave with a smile, you nod back. Unlocking the car door, you throw everything into the passenger seat and set your travel mug in the cup holder, and head to work.
The day is pretty uneventful. The kids are wild but it’s expected after a longer break. You take it as an opportunity to go back over rules and expectations in the classroom, and even turn it into a game. You don’t have lunch duty today so you head back to your room to eat and hear your phone ring from inside your desk.
New Message From: Joel
Your stomach flips.
Late notice but anyway you can bring Sarah home today and keep her at my house until I finish up? Theres a key under the flowerpot on the porch, you can keep it just in case. I’m gonna be home later than expected. I'd really appreciate it.
As nervous as you are to be in Joel’s house, to have a fucking key to his house, you don’t even have to think about it. Because the answer for Sarah is always yes.
Hey! Sure thing. Do you want me to give her dinner?
You click send and anxiously wait on a response, scarfing your lunch down before you have to go get your class.
Ding
Dinner would be great, and help yourself to anything you want. Theres chicken nuggets, pizza, and some leftover pasta. Sarah really struggled to get up this morning so she’ll need to be in bed before I get home. I shouldn’t be any later than 9 or so, so bedtime around 8:30 at the latest.
Before you can respond, you have to head to the cafeteria to get your class. They all walk groggily down the hallway back to class, bellies full and eyes tired.
The rest of the day drags. You do independent reading, recess, and a little social studies before the secretary drops the afternoon notes off.
“Kiya, you’re a car rider today” you say, looking at her to make sure she heard you. “Dylan you’re going home with Oliver, and Sarah, you’re riding home with me.” Dylan and Oliver high five and Sarah smiles and nods.
“Why does Sarah always get to go home with you?” a voice from the back of the class exclaims.
“Sarah is my neighbor! And sometimes her dad has to work late so I take her home until he gets home.” Before you can pinpoint who asked, the bell rings.
“Have a good afternoon everyone! Remember to fill out your reading log!” You say over the shuffle of feet and echos of voices.
Sarah knows the routine, so she pulls a book out of her backpack and sits quietly reading until its time to go.
In the car, she asks for the Spice Girls and you both jam out the whole way home.
You pull into your driveway first. “I thought I could grab my nail polish and we could do a girls day at your house. How’s that sound?” you say. Sarahs eyes light up, and she begins vigorously shakingher head up and down.
She follows you into your house. “We won’t be here long” you declare, walking down the hallway. “So leave your shoes on!” You notice her look at the flowers on your counter, the ones from Joel.
You’re walking back up the hall, nail polish in hand. As soon as Sarah sees you she blurts “Are these from my dad?” her head cocked to the side, her eyes wide. “They are. Why do you ask?” she turns her head back upright, and a grin spreads across her face. “No reason.” She says giggling, and walking back out the door. You roll your eyes and follow behind her.
You pull into Joel’s driveway and turn the car off. Sarah jumps out. “How are we gonna get in?” she asks, inquisitively.
“Your dad left a key under the flower pot!” You tell her as she heads to the front door while you grab your purse and the bag of nail polishes.
Once inside, you shoot Joel a quick text just to let him know you’ve got Sarah and are home.
Hey Joel, just wanted to let you know that we’re home. Are you sure about the key? And is there anything specific I need to know about her night routine?
You set your phone down and sit at the island with Sarah, setting out all the nail polishes. She picks a deep purple with sparkles. You pick a baby blue. The color reminding you of the hydrangeas that your mother used to grow. You let Sarah paint yours first. She’s quiet; heavily focused on perfecting her technique.
She finishes your hands and the look great, especially for her age. Before you can do hers, yours need to dry. You tell her she can grab a snack and work on homework until its her turn, that way she can watch TV after dinner. She jumps up and grabs some chips and her backpack.
Ding
You pick your phone up, skimming Joels response.
Yes, I’m sure about the key. Id rather you have it and not need it than not have it and need it. As for nightime, nothing really. No TV past 7:30, and she needs to shower and read before bed.
You send a quick “Got it, see you in a few hours!” and sit your phone back down. You help Sarah with her math homework. It’s not your strong suit but you get the job done.
After about an hour, she finishes her homework and its her turn.
“Are you enjoying the school year so far?” you ask, painting a thin layer of purple on each of her fingers
“It’s better now. It kind of wasn’t good at the beginning..” her voice trails off, and she looks down. You dont question her, or push her to tell you why. You already know why. “But its gotten a lot better since being in your class” she says, looking up and smiling. “Im glad!” you say, fanning her nails with your hands so the first layer will dry. She continues talking about school, her favorite subjects and her friends. You’re so thankful to have her. She’s like the little sister you never had. Her kindness radiates into everyone she comes into contact with, and her smile brightens a room.
“Pizza, chicken nuggets, or pasta?” You ask her. It’s 6:00 so you know if she wants time for TV, dinner needs to happen.
“Mmmm can I have chicken nuggets?” she asks
“Sure! And do you want carrots or cucumbers with it?” You ask, pulling the nuggets from the freezer for her and the pasta from the fridge for yourself. She sticks her tongue out. “Can I have broccoli instead? Dad buys the frozen bag ones, they’re in the freezer I think.” She says. “Of course!”
You preheat the oven, and line a cookie sheet with foil. You line up 10 chicken nuggets and stick them in once the oven beeps. You throw the broccoli in the microwave. The scent of the 2 filling the house, making your stomach grumble.
You put 5 nuggets on Sarahs tray to start, along with a scoop of broccoli and some strawberries. Your pasta beeps in the microwave and you pull it out, sitting down beside Sarah. Few words are exchanged during dinner, but its a comfortable silence. You’re both content with the humming of the refrigerator.
Dinner finishes and 7:00 comes quick. You tell Sarah she can have TV until 7 but then its shower and reading. Sarah turns the TV on to Cartoon Network, and you put the 3 nuggets Sarah didnt eat into a bowl and stick it in the fridge, along with the remaining strawberries and broccoli.
Washing dishes is such a daunting task to most, but not to you. Its therapeutic, the warmth of the water and the mindfullness of the task. Each dish you wash, each plate you clean, feels like a small act of care—care for Joel’s home, care for yourself, and even care for those who will use the dishes next. As the last plate is washed and the sink is cleared, there’s a sense of quiet accomplishment.
Sarah finishes her show and heads straight for the shower, you wipe the counters down and check your phone.
New Message From: Joel
Should be home by 9:30. Do you need anything from the store?
You smile. Joel’s thoughtfulness is something you missed. The way he anticipates your needs, and is reassuring.
No thanks, Im good. But I appreciate it. Drive careful.
You hear the shower water turn off and grab Sarahs books and reading log from her backpack. You pull out a book about Egypt, and the first book in the Boxcar Children series. You smile, remembering reading the same book with your mom before everything went to shit.
Sarahs PJs are on and shes in her room. Her nightstand light on, dimly lighting her pale pink room. You knock on the door before peaking your head in. “Hey kiddo, you alright in here?” you ask, sittingon the edge of her bed beside her legs. “Yeah, Im okay. Just really-” her sentence interrupted by the worlds biggest yawn. You laugh. “Tired.” she says, laughing with you.
You look at the clock beside her lamp
8:17
“Do you want me to put your books in your bag? I can have your dad fill out your reading log for you.” You say, standing up.
“Yes please.” Sarah says, handing her books to you. She lays down and pulls her comforter up to just below her face.
“Goodnight Sarah, see you tomorrow” you say quietly, turning her light off.
“Goodnight. Thank you for always hanging out with me. She says, turning over.
You turn around, smiling. Closing her door gently behind you.
You log her reading and put her things back in her backpack, peaking at the time.
8:46
Not bad you think to yourself. You finish cleaning the kitchen, sweeping and wiping the stovetop. You then settle into the comfiest fucking couch ever, turning on One Tree Hill. You grab a blanket and it smells like Joel. You wrap yourself up in it, inhaling deeply. Your eyes slowly begin to drift. You fight until you cant and drift into a hazy slumber.
“Hey darlin”
“Im home, it’s time to wake up”
You startle awake, throwing the blanket off and jumping up.
“Woah woah. I ain’t mean to scare ya girl” Joel says, laughing. He walks away, holding a handful of groceries.
“Hey. Sorry, you scared me.” You say, folding the blanket and throwing it back on the couch.
“How’d it go?” Joel asks, putting groceries in the fridge.
“Good! We did each others nails this afternoon and she really enjoyed that.” you say quietly. It’s not awkward being with Joel, but it doesn’t feel like it used to.
“She ate 7 chicken nuggets, 2 helpings of broccoli, and some strawberries. She also read for probably 20ish-30 minutes. I filled out her log already, she was really tired.” You say, turning to grab your bags and put your shoes on.
“Hey, thank you, again. For all that you do for Sarah.” He begins, “Her mom is around but she isn’t very consistent so I think it really helps to have another positive female figure in her life.” He finishes, smiling.
“I told you, it’s really no problem. Im glat to help when I can.” You say lightly, walking to grab your keys off the entryway table and opening Joel’s from door.
“Oh I almost forgot” Joel says, walking toward you. “I know you said you didn’t need nothin’ but I just wanted to get ya somethin’ to say thank you. He opens a grocery bag and pulls out a 4 pack of blueberry muffins.
“Joel, you didn’t have to do that.” You say, taking them from his hand.
“Oh don’t worry about it. You always are here for Sarah and I cant thank ya enough.” He says, smiling.
“How’d you know blueberry was my favorite?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.
“Lucky guess” he says, chuckling.
“Well, goodnight Joel. Thank you again for the muffins.” You say, opening the door.
“Goodnight Yellow.” He says, smiling and waving as you pull the door behind you.
#joel miller#joel miller x reader#joel miller fic#last of us#neighbor joel x reader#neighbor joel#pedro pascal#joel miller x you#the last of us#neighbor!joel#joel x reader#daddy joel#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller x f!reader#my writing
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A/n: This is a requested piece, thank you so much for it and I really hope you enjoy! Also, I apologize that this took so long to get out, I've been busy with a lot of work at the moment.
@starheadsstuff: Hello i am here to propose a request about our boy Izaki Shun in the Crows Zero II. Not much people write about them and i saw you we're taking request so here i am !!
Izaki Shun x Fem!Reader
40 DAYS AND 40 NIGHTS
The rhythmic sound of the train tracks is almost expected, the same noise I'd heard for as long as I can remember. It rocks and squeaks slightly with age, the district not having enough funds to get a newer model. No one really take this train anymore, it's off the main routes and most don't put in the effort to take a scenic ride on the outskirts of the city. But that's what I like, no one's ever there to bother me. Well that was until six months ago.
He'd shown up on a hot summer afternoon, looking confused at the empty train. It'd only been two stops since mine, having just finished school for the day. His gaze was calculated, looking down towards where I sat, then back the other way. I'd looked away when his gaze brushed over me, my mind suddenly finding the window interesting. A seat by the lengthy windows, far from where I'd sat, was where he chose to sit. The entire ride until my stop, he barely made a noise and had his eyes glued to the scenery that passed by, he was like a statue. After that ride, I didn't see him for a few days and I almost forgot about him completely. Until he showed up again. This time when he stepped into the again empty car, he spoke.
"Is this a ghost train or something?" He had asked, a short chuckle leaving his mouth.
"Or something" I responded with a small smile. He'd returned it before taking the same seat he did last time.
It went on like that for months, small conversation that lead into him moving to closer seats. Then it was full conversations and sitting in the same booth as me. Now it's like routine for him to take this train, talk for the thirty minute ride until I get off and repeat the same process the next day. There was no denying he was strategic and nice and... attractive. We'd gotten close over the months and I had to admit, it was pleasant having someone to talk to.
Today wasn't much different from any other and as I sat down on that worn seat I'd sat in for years, I felt myself relax a bit. It was normal for me to feel at ease on this always vacant train, but as of late, as we approach his stop, I grow nervous. Do I look good today? Is my hair a mess? What if my clothes are dirty and I just can't tell?
A flurry of shallow doubt comes on, even when I'm sure he wouldn't notice even if I was in absolute disarray. Would he even care? Does he care? A heat rises to my cheeks at the thought of my unsure feelings being somewhat reciprocated.
The trains breaks screech, signaling the stop is here already. Suddenly I find myself fixing my hair quickly, restraining myself from fiddling any more than I already am. The slight hiss of the door opening and the sound of heavy sneakers is the only sound that draws my attention to the entrance. And there he is, taking calm strikes towards where I'm sat, his usual small smile plastered on his lips.
"Hey, Train Guy, what sensational stories to do have for me today?" My tone is beyond sarcastic, a smile making its way onto my face. He'd told me about many instances that have happened at Suzuran, bloody fights, the hierarchy, his goals. They were all very entertaining.
"I told you already, my name is Izaki. And not much, Genji's doing my head in" His answer is delivered casually as he slips into the seat in front of me, the train beginning to move.
"So the usual then?" I respond with a smirk. His only reaction is a short nod and an equally as wide smirk that mirrors mine. A short silence stretches on between us before he decids to speak.
"How's school?" His question is short, but genuine and he clears his throat afterwards, like it was hard for him to say. I narrow my eyes slightly at him, trying to read him. He'd never really had trouble saying what he wanted.
"It's good, exams are over finally so I'm basically free for the rest of the term" I answer with a tone of relief, enjoying the thought of no more stressful papers to complete.
He again nods shortly, looking out the window at the passing environment, while I watch his side profile. God, he's so handsome. I wonder what he might be thinking right now, where his mind has escaped to. The gentle sway of the train's movement is calming and I try not to stare too much.
"Still no boyfriend?" He asks suddenly, his voice inquisitive. It catches me so off guard I almost choke on my own spit.
"Uh- No, definitely not" My voice shakes slightly with nervousness, who the hell asks that out of the blue?
"Good" The one word answer pushes me further into shock, I keep my eyes on him as he turns his head to face me again. And he looks pleased, an expression I don't see him wear often. "Because I want you to be mine"
It's blunt and leaves my mouth agape, my mind struggles to process his words without malfunctioning. I close my mouth finally, looking down at my lap with heated cheeks.
"You shouldn't joke about that" I say softly, deflecting his obvious confession. I can feel his eyes on me and I keep my gaze away.
"I'm not joking, but I will understand if I'm not who you want" His voice is lowered, like he's trying to calm me.
"I do want you- you just can't be so blunt all the time" I respond, finally looking up at him. There's a wide smile that sits on his face, like this is the happiest moment of his life. I can't help but mirror his expression.
"Being blunt is easier than beating around the bush" He says conclusively, this time keeping his eyes on me and I can't seem to break away from his gaze either.
I give a small nod, it's the only reply I can muster. The rest of that train ride was a sort of bliss, the kind that follows a tense moment. We discuss where we should go for a date and he slips in a few jokes, meant for someone who's more than just his friend. And for once, I'm glad to not be the only one on this train.
#crows zero#crows zero 2007#crows zero 2007 x reader#crows zero x reader#izaki shun#shun izaki#izaki shun x reader#shun izaki x reader#sousuke takaoka#takaoka sousuke#sousuke takaoka x reader#takaoka sousake x reader
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I HOPE YOU ENJOYED THE LIE WHILE IT LASTED!
I HOPE YOU ENJOYED THE SHOW!
my gift exchange piece for @smile-files of her characters from geometropolis: race to the third dimension!!! ^_^ (i super recommend it.. go read it here!! -> @geometropolis)
#apologies for having this posted so late in the day.. i forgot to schedule it and ive been at work most of today -_-#i hope u enjoy!!!#i LOVED reading through grt3D... i wanna make some more fanart of other scenes i loved... gwehehe...#grt3d#geometropolis#osc gift exchange#osc#mayart
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I wanna give him a blanket. Can it maybe just materialize outta nowhere?
(I know fabric wrinkles suck to draw. You don't gotta 😵)
#i uh#i got carried away. Oops. wtf is wrong with this guy??#Lmk if you need translations for the particularly glitchy part.#also just to clarify the physical glitch is not what /caused/ him to say that it just particularly irritated him and so he lashed out-#-before he could think ab it. i almost contemplated a frame of him apologizing & then i thought about it... he would not. nuh uh.#Last ask with this setting for now. It /will/ come back though because he sleeps there.#stayed up a little too late to finish this... i was so excited all day to do this one lmfao#it wasnt supposed to go past where he calls you a plethora of names but i needed to make it somehow transition back to the storefront later#thank you brave anon for your attempt. not really how it works here though. The fabric folds isnt really the issue lol.#as an apology you get the longest one to date. thanks o7.#spamton#spamton g spamton#[you've got mail!]#he switched up so quickly after it dissapated beause he realized he was just yelling at a camera... embarasing.. what a freak#going crazy in the tags today not sorry
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Melotober - Day 21 -Night Sky
Sometimes you just need to stop, and breathe
#Melotober#'Margot why is this image so randomly big-' because this was the amount of canvas left over on my Week 3 file. So I made it 1 big bg day#Rune Factory 3#RF3#Rune Factory 3 Special#RF3s#Rune Factory Micah#RF Micah#I've been wanting to work RF3 in this year somehow and am glad to finally grab Micah!#I need to draw him more as I don't have easily accessible colors for him- all his art with layers are on devices I no longer use#finally this will be able to help me out in the future#but YEAH I knew this day was going to be 'what skyline against some of the nebula brushes I haven't used in a while?'#and this morning I felt like 'TREE'#purple and orange because I said so#Also be proud of me. I didn't watch baseball while drawing this. I CAUGHT SOME HOCKEY HOORAY#Margot's RF Art#today is the day I give you long posts and I apologize#but yesterday's lynguna was small so it evens out#WEEK 3 EVEN IF A DAY LATE. STILL SURVIVING
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well. did you fucking miss me.
#random thoughts#apologies for sounding in such a sour mood. life is fucked as of late.#scheduled post. i made this on 10.08.2024.#everything has just gone to shit. so far i've been eating less than ever. feels like my stomach is eating itself augh (':#(technically the so-called relapse started on 24.12.2023. but we are not unpacking that today or ever.)#and i am filled with this desperate urge to cut myself. really really deep. not sure how to cope with it#i also?? hate how i look??#and yet i spend all my time?? in this dark dark room?? taking pictures of my face?????#i'm not killing myself off just yet don't worry. i considered it but it won't be happening any time soon.#i originally planned on disappearing for twelve days. partly to make my friends feel bad because i'm awful#which. obviously didn't work. as i don't think anyone noticed or cared particularly.#but mostly because i can't fucking handle it. it being everything. my future feels so uncertain#i am barely alive. i love all the people in my life. but they're too far away physically and emotionally.#but yeah. back finally. although ciel disappears for a lot longer than me and if you know hym my absence would be a small stint.#ciel if you're here when i post this i love you please come back. ):#this place is so scary to come back to. i'm not sure why. i'm just. scared.#i'm not even sure if i want to return really. i'm having second thoughts now. i haven't gotten worse enough#and i can't say what that means. because in theory there's nothing wrong with me that's been speculated upon. so.#i don't think anyone would care if i disappeared for longer than this.#but being away is torture. and then again being here also sort of is. it's scary#fuck.#i can't get out of bed without feeling like shit. i don't know if i can come back. i'm so sick of everything.#if you're seeing this i'm so sorry.#I NEED TO CUT MYSELF I NEED TO CUT MYSELF NOW. I NEED TO. I MADE SO MANY PROMISES BUT I NEED TO DO IT NOW#I'VE GOT THE SCISSORS I NEED TO DO IT#I NEED TO DO IT RIGHT THE FUCK NOW#(<- tags canceled for now)
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.
#bjk talks#going to my parents house is proving a more and more stressful business of late >.<#my grandmother is really not doing so good lately#and it has my dad on edge#and when my dad is on edge everyone else ends up on edge too#my mom is compulsively playing peacemaker and my grandmother is compulsively apologizing and worrying#real dark mirror for me to look into of all my worst conflict aversion and insecurity tendencies XD#my brother is buried in some work project that is spilling into his vacation and has kept him upstairs the whole visit#I haven't gotten any writing done either cos I'm sharing a room with my grandmother#and she gets anxious if I stay up a lot longer than everyone else#[sigh] I'm glad to be here but it's just... a lot#</vent>#had a nice time at the theater yesterday though#and went out and saw some high school friends today which was fun#I hope y'all are having a lovely holiday time also <3
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Not sure if you already know (I tried looking, blame tumblr search) but i found a live audio recording of ouatis from late 2014
https://m.soundcloud.com/standuptragedy/tragic-horror-act-3
One song was posted on The Void Sings youtube but i couldn't find anymore from the recording
Yes! This is probably my personal favorite recording of OUATIS. Not to fear, it is safely archived. To those who haven't heard it yet, though, take this as a sign to listen! It's, if I recall correctly, the only performance we have full audio of to feature all nine Mechanisms, features Raphaella as Cinders and Ashes as Briar and dials up Jonny and Nastya sibling moments to ten <3
#mod miralines#I was listening to it on my way home from work literally today#on a side note apologies if we've been a bit slow on asks lately-- school has been keeping both of us quite busy#on the audio-- hnoc live audio might have all of them. I may be thinking this is the only one where all of them speak. nonetheless i love i
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🥲
#aaaaa apologies for inactivity and to anyone waiting on prompts#I've really had to focus on work lately; huge deadline next Friday that im trying to wrap up early#i also bought a pass to my local rec center; little nervous going there by myself later today#won't have my gen vanrouge figure to scold me into continuing my exercises lmao#mentally i am Burnt
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🙃
#just want to apologize to anyone who has tried to reach out lately#just like I texted my friend I’ll tell you guys the same#haven’t been talking to a lot of people lately tbh#pretty sure I’ve mentioned php a few times by now#monday was my last day#and I was feeling on top of the world on Monday#I don’t remember the last time I was so genuinely happy#figured it was the med change or something#so I was feeling pretty optimistic#I’m in between programs now#and today was not the best#not as bad as some of my days#but definitely not even near the day I had on Monday#I just wish I could feel that every single day#I’m working on it but still#waiting to start ‘adult day treatment’ and case management#and I think case management will help me find a place??? I’m not sure exactly but that’s kinda what I was getting#which honestly? I know I’ve bitched about how badly I need to move#but while I was in php I realized I don’t think I’ll truly be able to heal while I’m living here… and that’s a scary thought#idk there’s a lot more deeper things that I don’t wanna talk about#but the fact I don’t have space and I don’t feel safe and comfortable here is hard….#my ‘safe’ space was my car but now that I’m trying to quit smoking my car isn’t the best place for me#I’ve been kinda getting used to my room and I’m finally trying to move a few things around#(now that I have a little energy again)#it’s just……. my arachnophobia is KILLING me here#in the past week I don’t even know how many spiders I’ve seen and killed#they haven’t been crazy and I recognize I don’t live in Australia or places where the spiders are as big as fucking cars#I came home and I was in a good mood until I saw a spider in my room 🙃🙃🙃 tried to vacuum it but not sure if I got it……..#so guess im sleeping on the couch….. again…. but can’t help think if out here is any better…#shut up rosie
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