#but i didn’t pre grieve shit

[segretecose]

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[godmadeaterribleerror]

Just Too Important - A No Love Lost Bonus Chapter

Series Masterlist

Read on A03!

Author's Note: They're back! They're obsessed with each other! Ben once again is proving that he's the grumpiest old man to ever grumpy old man! Enjoy!

Title from Snooze by SZA

Word Count: 5.7k

Summary/Warnings: You and Ben head to Costco. Takes place about two months post-series.

Tags: Soldier Boy/Supe!Female Reader, canon divergence, tooth-rotting fluff, Ben being old, pre-established relationship, mentions of smut

There were only five things Ben had ever really fucking loved. Loved with his whole goddamn existence, so much he could probably kill himself with it if he tried.

He’d loved his mom. Loved her in a simple, pure way that he’d probably taken for fucking granted. She had been secure. The only person Ben had known wasn’t going to hate him for being a fuck up or problem. She’d pleaded with his father when Ben had been sent away. Kept in contact with him when she wasn’t supposed to. Still thought of him as just Ben, even when he’d given her every reason not to. Ben had loved his mom because she was his mom. He’d grieved her in drinks and silence when she died, and known that—compared to what he’d been before—she would’ve been proud of him now. Living a life that wasn’t violence and glamour. A life that was just stupid fucking ease and perfection, with a beautiful wife and smart son, in a comfort he’d never imagined he’d get to have.

He loved the movie Legally Blonde. His wife was never allowed to fucking know that.

He loved Ryan. The kid was a fucking genius, and Ben wasn’t sure how the hell Homelander had a single hand in creating him. He was kind and smart and determined, and a purely good fucking person. He’d been born from a long line of deeply fucked men, but he read books and cried when the dog died in a movie. He fucking loved school, and liked people, and tried so hard to be normal that Ben was sometimes worried he’d hurt himself. Ryan never needed to fucking apologize for having powers. He never needed to feel guilt for the shit Homelander had done, and never needed to repent like Ben had. He was just a fucking kid. A kid who sometimes woke up crying because he’d had a nightmare about his father—because they all did—and who’d apologize for waking Ben after. Ben really wished the people he loved would stop fucking apologizing to him.

He loved dancing. His wife already knew that one, but Ben was pretty damn sure she didn’t know just how much he loved it. It was reliable. Simple. Something his mother had made him learn, and something that he could use to make his wife fall into his arms and giggle against his chest. A way to use his body that wasn’t for destruction, an excuse to touch Her until she gave him a perfect, happy smile, and he somehow loved her more.

Because that was the thing Ben loved above every other goddamn thing in the universe. Loved more than the universe. The universe was fucking pathetic compared to how much Ben loved Her. Every single fucking thing about Her. How She smile and laughed and moved through the world. How goddamn kind and clever and perfect She was. All Her big fucking words and Her smart fucking mouth and Her sharp, beautiful features. How She was a fucking brat and a problem, and Ben would never want her any other way, because he was the luckiest fucking pussy in the world for this menace of a woman to love him back half as much as he loved Her. Lucky that She trusted him, looked at him like he was some sort of fucked up savior, and always touched him like she could never do anything better with her hands.

She was perfect. She was a fucking goddess, and every time Ben reminded Her of that she’d flush that pretty color and bury her face in his arm. Right where she goddamn belonged.

You can’t just say that, Ben-

I can say whatever the fuck I want, Sunshine. He’d press a kiss to the top of Her head, squeezing his hold on Her body. I fucking love you, and you’re a goddamn miracle. These pussies should be grateful to be in your goddamn presence.

I think you’re a little bias. She’d mumble between their heads, but Ben would hear the stumble of Her heart, feel her lean further into his body, and he’d smirk.

I don’t fucking care. He’d tangle a hand in Her hair, tugging it back so she was looking at him with wide, blown out eyes.  You’re fucking perfect. 

She’d smile at him, and Ben’s ribs would bloom and glow with how fucking beautiful She was. How She was all fucking his, to care for and tend to and love. For the rest of goddamn time, Ben got to fucking have Her.

You’re such a dramatic cunt, Benjamin.

He’d chuckle. You fucking love it.

And that would be the end of it. Wherever they were, Ben would find a place to fuck Her in peace, she’d cum all over him—filling the room with a million colors and dancing lights, bursting into flame and screaming his name—and Ben would make sure that she understood. Really fucking got that Ben had never been good at loving things, but loving Her was the easiest thing in the goddamn world. That he’d love Her until the world was fucking razed and scorched and She wasn’t there to love anymore.

Even then Ben would probably just fucking follow Her. That might be the only thing that one day got him. If She figured out a way to die, she wasn’t going to do it without Ben at Her side. She was alive inside of him—infinite and holy, fucking stronger and brighter than the goddamn sun—and Ben never wanted to know a life without Her again. 

She’d hate the idea of Ben going just because She went. She’d shove his chest and snap that he’d need to keep living without her, because she loved him too much to want him to die. And Ben would roll his eyes, grumble an agreement, and keep fucking knowing that if they went out, they were going out together.

Everything was so fucking beautiful when Ben had Her to share it with. Without Her he’d just be an old fucking asshole, chasing Her in shadows and songs, sitting at Her grave until he worked out how to turn the stone back into the only person in the world that really fucking mattered.

It was a damn good thing they were both immortal.

The world would not fucking like it if Ben had to keep living without Her.

He’d do anything for Her. He’d burn countless worlds to ash, then rebuild them just for Her to have. He’d refuse to destroy things, because She was good and would never want anyone to be in pain in Her name. If She demanded it, he would keep living, but he’d drive himself mad trying to bring Her back.

He’d learn to raise the dead. To find wherever the fuck She’d gone and pull her back to his side, where he’d keep Her safe and happy and smiling.

Christ, he’d do anything just to make Her smile.

He’d even let Her drag him here, to this massive square building that seemed to be some weird sort of grocery store. 

But Ben didn’t remember grocery stores selling TVs, or mattresses, or toys. Grocery stores didn’t sell watches. Or fucking pills and makeup, just a few aisles apart. 

Where the fuck are we. He muttered between their heads, and She looked back to him with an amused grin.

You drove us here, Ben.

Because I value my goddamn life, Sunshine.

Shut up-

No. He leaned down, kissing the space between Her eyes with a grin. Tell me where we are, brat, or I’ll fuck the answer out of you.

She wrinkled Her nose at him, even as Ben heard Her heart flutter slightly. No obviously public sex, you horny old cunt-

I never said we’d fuck in public, darling. This place is fucking huge, I’d find somewhere private, and then make you all dumb and pretty on my cock. Ben winked at Her, and Christ, she was beautiful. Wide, glossy eyes and a parted mouth, already putty in Ben’s hands just from his fucking words.

We’re at Costco. She said, a little breathless between their minds. It’s a superstore. 

Ben frowned. That didn’t make any damn sense, and he’d have a lot of time to fuck Her later. He needed to understand what in Christ she was talking about. 

What the fuck is a superstore. Did they figure out how to shoot up buildings with V and nobody fucking told me-

She laughed, wrapping Her arms around his neck with a shake of her head. No, Ben, it’s a physically large store that sells, like, everything.

Everything.

Pretty much, yeah. She shrugged. That’s why we’re here.

Ben nodded slowly. For the house.

Exactly. She smiled, Her voice soft and teasing between their minds. Good work, Pretty Boy.

Shut the fuck up, brat. Ben pulled Her half up his chest, kissing her until he got a breathy moan, and leaned back with a smirk. What do we need.

I, um… She blinked at him, her eyes a little glazed as Ben just grinned at Her. Fucking Christ, She was perfect.

Need some help there, Sunshine?

Fuck you-

Ben laughed, squeezing his hand on Her waist. No obviously public sex, darling-

Shut up. She muttered, and Ben’s grin only grew, because She tangled her hand in his and leaned further into his body at the exact same time. I made a list.

A list-

For what we need. And, She shot him a stern look, rising slightly on Her toes to hold his gaze. We’re sticking to it. No buying things we don’t need, just because you see them. 

Ben frowned. Why the fuck would I get shit we don’t need-

Because you’re a child, my love.

I am not a fucking child-

Yeah, you are. She gave him a soft, teasing grin, and Ben really didn’t know how to actually be annoyed with Her. Not when She was so goddamn beautiful, and looking at him with such adoration, and felt easy and happy around his skull. You’re a massive fucking man baby, Benjamin, and you’re going to see something shiny and try to buy it.

Fucking- I’m not a goddamn pussy with no self-

She pulled him into a slow, deep kiss, half climbing up his chest and molding into his arms fucking perfectly, and he groaned. She’d given him a blowjob before they left the house—Ryan was off at school for the day, and She was a horny fucking problem—and Ben could still taste himself in Her mouth. Mixed with coffee and chocolate, and Her. Always just fucking Her, smiling against his lips and safe in his arms. He could feel the cool metal of Her wedding ring when she tangled her fingers in his hair.

They had to finish this shopping shit right now, so Ben could carry Her to the car and fuck her stupid in the back seat.

You’re my man baby, Pretty Boy. She said between their minds, and leaning back to give him a wide, perfect smile. I love you.

I love you too, Ben grunted, leaning down to kiss to Her brow. You fucking brat.

She hummed, Her smile wide and unrestrained on her beautiful face. Ready?

Ben nodded, grabbing Her hand and pressing one last kiss to Her knuckles. There was Her ring. Both of her rings. Physical fucking proof to anyone who looked that She loved Ben. Wanted him. Fucking adored him. 

If She needed Ben for shopping, he’d walk with Her and do whatever she told him to. She’d know what she was doing. She always knew what She was doing, because she was a goddamn force of nature, and if Ben had a say in it, he’d make sure everyone did what she told them all the fucking time.

They didn’t—because most people were stupid fucking dumbcucks that Ben wasn’t allowed to just fucking kill—but they should. All of this post-Homelander shit would be so much easier if everyone would just fucking listen to Her. 

And Ben knew how hard She was working on it. How She was calm and collected when she testified before congress and recounted all the shit that fucking pussy had done to Her, but always fell apart after, sobbing and shaking in Ben’s arms. She’d crawl over his body and bury Her face in his chest, he’d feel fucking sick, and wish he could bring Homelander back to life just to fucking kill him again. Everyone demanded too goddamn much of Her, and she always gave it because she was too fucking good, and if all She asked for was Ben to go shopping with Her, he’d do it a billion fucking times.

Anything to make Her tap her fingers because she was picking out wall colors and not because she had to explain how She’d killed Sage. Anything to make Her flush because Ben was kissing her neck in the lamp aisle and not because a bunch of old fucking pussies wanted unnecessary details about Her alleged relationship with Soldier Boy.

It wasn’t fucking alleged. They were goddamn married. They had a son and owned a house together.

A house they needed to put things in. And decorate. And make theirs. So if that was what this trip was about, Ben could fucking do it. For Her.

It started simple. They needed more furniture, they found it. 

“We already have most of what we need,” She muttered, pulling Ben through the store. “It’s mostly decorations now. If you see something you like-“

“I’ll like whatever the fuck you like.”

She let out a long sigh. “That not helpful-“

Ben grunted Her name, spinning Her around in his arms and dropping his brow to Her’s. 

“Ben-“

“Listen to me.” He held Her gaze, drawing firm circles in her hips. “I could give a fuck what our house looks like, as long as you like it, and there’s no goddamn blue.”

“But it’s your house too-“

“I don’t fucking care.” He grunted. “I’ve told you, Sunshine, we could be living in a fucking dumpster, and I’d be good.”

She scanned over Ben’s face, and sighed. “Can you promise you’ll at least try to find one thing you want?”

“Deal.” Ben kissed Her, dipping her slightly in his arms and keeping Her tucked to his side when they pulled apart.

For Her, he’d try to find one thing. It couldn’t be that fucking hard. This place was huge. 

At first, there was nothing. She had opinions on the colors and style of their house, and Ben mostly just watched Her be perfect and smart and happy, grumbling low agreements and kissing Her until she smiled whenever he got the chance. That was what he cared about. Not whatever the fuck rustic or sleek meant. Not about what shade of green their bedroom should be, or if they should have the bird or sunset painting, or if a glass vase was better than a ceramic one. 

“Just lie and pretend you have an answer-“

“No. I don’t fucking lie to you-“

“It’s a vase, Ben. I’m not going to freak out and burn the building down because you lie about liking a vase-“

“I don’t give a fuck about the vase.” He snapped. “My job is to buy you the damn flowers-“

“Well,” She raised Her brows, giving him a pointed look. “Where can I put the flowers, if I don’t have a vase?”

Ben scowled. “Smartass.”

“You love it.” She gave him a sweet smile, and he really fucking did. “Choose a vase, Pretty Boy.”

Ben rolled his eyes, glaring between the options, and decided they were both fucking stupid. “No.”

“Benjamin-“

“Get that one.” He pointed to a third, smaller one. It was the same color as Her eyes, and had little golden patterns. He didn’t hate it. “It’ll fit on the dresser.”

She paused, tapping Her fingers on Ben’s arm, and nodded slowly. “Okay.” She gave him a wider, purely fucking adoring smile, and Ben felt his whole body grow radiant. “Thank you.”

“Don’t.” He grumbled, kissing the side of Her head, and a dam broke inside of him. 

Suddenly, Ben had a lot of fucking opinions. A red carpet would look fucking stupid in the living room, and Ben didn’t want a weird, twisting lamp on his bed stand. They’d get the shower curtain with little octopuses—octopi, Benjamin—because they made Her smile, but Ben would give MM a fucking blowjob before he used as towel with ducks on it.

“But they’re cute-“

“No.” Ben snapped, grabbing a stack on plain, monotone towels, and dumping them into the cart. “They’re fucking towels, Sunshine, they only need to dry us off.”

“I know, but look at them!” She held the ducks up, giving Ben a pretty pout that was designed to fucking kill him. “Please? Just one?”

Ben scowled. She knew what the fuck She was doing. Looking so fucking beautiful and leaning into his body and making Her sharp eyes soft just for him. He couldn’t say no to Her. He’d never really want to, anyway. Not when he grabbed the towel, tossed it in the cart, and Her smile had the same effect as fucking heroine.

“One.” He grunted. “Because I fucking love you, brat, you get one.”

She kept smiling at him, holding his face between Her hands and kissing him right on the nose. “Thank you, my love-“

Ben rolled his eyes, and dragged Her into a longer, firmer kiss. Until She was a sighing and humming and melting into him, before grabbing Her hand and tugging her to the next isle.

They got shampoo—Ben tried to pick his own out, She looked like she was going stab him or set him on fire, and he decided to let Her handle that shit—a bunch of picture frames, and a lot of useless decorative shit that they didn’t need. Small potted plants that would have to be kept out of the bedroom, a fuck ton of books that She’d probably already read, and some nice, dark green plates. 

Ben took over for groceries—that might be the only place in the world where She didn’t know what the fuck she was doing—and he kept it simple. Pancakes. Ice cream. Bagels. Strawberry cream cheese. Coffee. Chocolate. Something called Lunchables that Ryan seemed to like. Apple sauce, because on worse days that was all Ben could get Her to eat, and he’d be damned if he let Homelander keep haunting them like that. Whiskey. Burger patties-

“You know there’s only three of us, right?” She was hanging off of Ben’s arm, giving him an amused look as he tossed a second bag of apples into their slightly overflowing cart. “And we can come back if we host dinner with the team.”

Ben frowned. “You told me Butcher was hosting-“

“He is. I’m saying that’s why we don’t need so many-“

“We need to be fucking prepared.” Ben muttered. “Shit happens, Sunshine, and I’ll be fucking damned if I let us go hungry-“

Ben.

He grunted Her name, glancing down to see open, obvious amusements painted over Her pretty features. 

Are you fucking Cold War prepping.

Shut up.

She snorted. Holy shit, you are-

I said shut the fuck up. We need to be goddamn careful, and it’s my job to make sure you and Ryan are safe-

That’s not your job, Ben. She sighed, giving him a soft smile that lit up his whole fucking body. But, if it was, you already do an amazing job, without being an old, paranoid dinosaur. And remember, She squeezed his hand, raising Her brows slightly. Ryan’s literally invulnerable, and I fuck an atomic bomb every day. We’d be fine.

Ben scowled, but put the third bag of apples back. We fuck at least three times a day.

I know. I’m there.

You fucking start most of it-

You’re just proving my point, Pretty Boy.

Shut up.

From there, She made him go look at fucking pants and shirts. Only so She could send Neuman orders for their specialized, supe-proof clothing, but still needing Ben’s actual fucking opinions. He didn’t fucking care about clothing, and he trusted Her with his fucking life, so she ended up making most of the choices as Ben grunted in approval. 

They were almost done. And this had been fun—he’d never tell Her that, but he was also pretty damn sure she knew—but Ben wanted to go the hell home. To drop all this shit in the doorway, carry Her upstairs, and fuck Her until she screamed his name so loud all the glasses in the house fucking broke. 

All that was left was getting something called a Roomba.

“What fuck is that thing.” Ben muttered, frowning at the metal disc in Her hands. It just looked like fucking junk.

“It’s a robot.”

“A fucking what.”

“Robot. Robot vacuum. It’ll clean the floor-“

“That circle is going to clean the floor-“

“Yep.” She glanced at the label on the shelf. “Do you think we need max power? I don’t really know what average power would do- Ben-“

He’d grabbed the robot—fucking robot—from Her, and was examining it. He didn’t know what the hell he was looking for, only that he wasn’t finding it.

“Ben-“

“This thing is not a fucking robot.” He muttered. “Robots aren’t real.”

“They very much are real, old man.”

“There’s not a chance in fucking hell this thing can clean a floor-“

“Well, it does.” She took the circle back, placing it into the cart and giving Ben a teasing look of disbelief. “Are Roomba’s really going to be the thing that gets you about the 21st century?”

He scowled. “They’re not fucking real, Sunshine-“

“Benjamin, my love.” She moved to stand right before him, holding his gaze to Her’s with amusement dancing all over Her perfect face. She was so fucking beautiful. “You can throw nuclear energy with your brain, pick up trucks with one hand, and I’ve seen you jump off a building without flinching. We’re fuck-buddy-brain-connected. When I orgasm, I make both of us hallucinate. This,” She pointed to the so-called robot. “Cannot be the thing that gets you.”

Shut up, brat. Ben rolled his eyes, kissing the back of Her hand before glaring around the rest of isle. Are all of these things fucking robots.

No, these are just normal vacuums.

Does this place have other robots.

Yeah, probably.

Ben’s eyes narrowed. Where.

———————

You’ve made a grave error.

You don’t think you’re ever going to leave this Costco. 

After the Roomba, you’d shown Ben robotic litter boxes, and drones, and a smart speaker. You’re pretty sure that’s where you’d went wrong. 

“This thing can hear me?”

You’d nodded, watching him with a small smile you were having a hard time fighting. To any passerby, Ben would’ve looked furious, but you know him. Know that right now, his clenched jaw and narrowed eyes meant that he was shocked and confused. 

It helped that you could feel it, pricking on his skin and cloudy around his head. It was kind of adorable. 

“It can hear all of us.”

He’d scowled. “Why the fuck is it listening-“

“So you can tell it what to do. Here, look- Alexa? Play Steely Dan.”

“Playing- Steely Dan.”

Low music started to fill the space, and you’d had to bite your cheek to stop the snort at Ben’s expression. He’d looked like he’d been shot. It had been adorable. 

And now, two fucking hours later, you didn’t think you’d ever get sick of that expression on his face. He was like a five-year-old loose in a candy shop, walking from aisle to aisle and asking you grumbling questions about various technologies and appliances. If you’re being honest, the only time you’ve seen him look close to this was whenever he’d fuck you. It was a similar expression of pure, raw joy and wonder, but devoid of all the darkened, animalistic need. 

“What the fuck are these?”

“Security cameras.” 

Ben frowns. “They look like fucking doorbells.”

“They’re both.” You say, resting your head against his chest, and he nods slowly.

“We should get one.”

“Ben-“

“For fucking safety, Sunshine, it would be damn insane not to have cameras when all those fucking pussy Homelander supporters are still out there-“

“I agree, my love.” You smile at him, forcing yourself not the climb into his arms as his concrete concern and resolve wrap around you. “That’s why I asked Hughie to install some already.”

Ben pauses, something hot and sore flaring on his skin. “Why the fuck did you ask Hughie.”

“He’s a tech nerd, and Annie said he’d know the best ones to get.” You kissing the underside of Ben’s jaw, humming against his skin. Next time, I’ll ask you, Benjamin. It’ll be so fucking funny to watch you try to install them.

Ben scowls, adoration flaring in his chest as the soreness eases, and you manage to walk him away from the doorbells. 

Most of the afternoon has mostly become walking Ben away from things. For some stuff, it’s easy. Noise canceling headphones wouldn’t work on him. You don’t need a slightly larger TV, because your current one is perfectly fine. You don’t have the space for a hot tub.

“What about these.” He points to the third golf set, and you sigh.

“Ben, you hate golf. You’ve told me it’s a weak fucking pussy sport.”

“And it fucking is, but these things can be damn good weapons-“

“We are not buying weapons.”

“What if someone fucking breaks into the house with a gun-“

“You and Ryan are bullet proof, and I can’t be killed-“

“What if it’s a fucking supe-“

“Then you can blast them with your special sauce, and they won’t be a supe.” You wrap your arms around him, raising your brows. “We’ll be fine, Ben. No golf clubs.”

He scowls, and moves on. 

From the golf clubs. And the iPad, and other security cameras, and air hockey table.

But other things are harder. 

Because you make a second mistake. You agree with him that you should buy a generator, because it’s practical. But what Ben learns is that you can say yes to things. And now you have an ice cream maker, an air fryer, a truly unreasonable amount of batteries, and lawn sprinklers.

And a vibrator, because Ben had grabbed it, shoved it into the cart, and raised his brows in a silent challenge.

You’d sighed. Ben, I don’t need-

I’m going to have to travel, Sunshine-

I know, but I think I can keep it together until you get back to fuck me yourself.

Or. Ben had winked at you, and you felt his hunger spread in your gut. We could do that Zoom shit, you could imagine that thing is me. He’d lowered down, starting to leave wet, sloppy kisses up your neck. And I could tell you exactly how I’d want to fuck you. How I’d play with that perfect fucking pussy until you were begging for me, then I’d stuff that smart fucking mouth with my cock and start to finger fuck you, make your squirt on my hand while you choke on my dick-

You’d buried your face in his chest, muffling your whimper in his shirt. Jesus fucking Christ, Ben-

You like that, darling? Like thinking about how I fill you up, how fucking good I pound into that pussy, how I make you cum on my cock and hands and face-

You’d agreed to buy the vibrator, but mostly because if he had kept talking, you might have climaxed just from Ben’s voice.

You should’ve left Costco an hour ago.

But Ben still doesn’t seem to be done yet.

“How the fuck are they doing that.” He mutters, poking remote and watching the LEDs shift from green to pink to yellow for the fifth time. 

“Semiconductors.” You say, trying not to look like such a dopey, lovesick idiot as you smile at him. “We do have to go home soon. Ryan’s almost done with school.” 

Ben grunts, grabbing one of the LED light strings and holding it up for you to see. 

You take it from him, kiss his cheek—your lips barely brushing his beard before he’s moving you to his mouth, and you almost fall over—and place the box in the cart.

The total amount of money you’ve spent today is disgusting, but the grin on Ben’s face makes it worth it. All of this is so fucking worth it, because you’re happy in such an average, normal way. You’re happy because Ben’s happy—glowing and furious in your whole body—and he’s everything. He grabs you a chocolate bar in the checkout isle without you asking, and insists unloading everything into the trunk himself.

“Go wait in the car, Sunshine-“

You shake your head, trying—and failing—not to gawk at him. So goddamn handsome the broad daylight, muscles flexing as the moves bag after bag, all yours to climb like a tree when you get home-

You won’t have to get until your get home.

Ben chuckles as you stare at him, and the moment the last bag is in the car he grabs you by your wrist, tugging your back into his chest and slamming his lips down to yours. It a rough, heavy kiss that probably isn’t appropriate for a parking lot, but you can’t really bring yourself to care. Ben’s love is strong and focused and everything in the world that matters. He’s swaying you back and forth in his arms, grinning as he nips at your lower lip and tugs a little at your hair, and you don’t think you’re ever going to get enough of him. Of how forceful and bloody and devout his love is, just in broad daylight when you’ve done nothing but smile at him. 

When he pulls away, neither of you bother to fully separate. Ben grins at you, and you smile at him, and when he brushes a little hair away from your face you do the only thing you can think of, and kiss him again. Softer this time, moving your hands to hold his face, allowing yourself to feel so purely safe and warm in the best place in the world. In Ben.

Because you know this will never fade. The love for him in your body that only grows more and more powerful with every passing moment. That you’ll always feel Ben’s love for you, no matter if you’re resting in heaven—caged between Ben’s body and a bed, sleeping or fucking or just smiling at him—breaking down in a hell you’ve visited countless times in life and will visit more in sleep, or standing somewhere domestic and mundane. 

You have a life now where you get to be domestic and mundane. Where you get to make out with your husband in a public place, until someone rolls down their window and wolf-whistles, and you have to restrain Ben from picking up their car and throwing it across the lot. Where you get to drive home with Ben’s hand on your thigh and your head resting on his shoulder, and you get to act like that’s all your life has ever been.

It’s all it will have to be now. 

For the rest of your life—which will likely be simply the rest of time—all you’ll have to do is be domestic. You don’t think you can be mundane, not when Ben grumbles something and you can feel his love spark and flare in his chest, or when you park the car and Ben carries all fifteen of your heavy bags inside at once without even a grunt. You can’t be mundane when, the moment he puts the bags down, you jump on him, he fucks you against the kitchen counter, and you burst into a flame that sets off the smoke alarm and drenches you both in the sprinklers. 

But you can be domestic. You can dry off and cook dinner with Ben—like a normal husband and wife probably do—and let him wrap his body around you and kiss that spot on your neck until you give up on focusing and ride him on the floor. 

You can eat with Ben and Ryan, try not to laugh as Ben works out how the ice cream maker works, and curl in Ben’s arms on your couch. Watching TV and sitting easily in the dark.

Ben can tilt your head back for a deep, slow kiss, smirking against your lips when you moan, and mutter your name like a prayer.

“You’re fucking perfect,” he says, rubbing firm circles on your thigh, and you let out a long, slow breath as you flush.

“I think you abuse that word, Benjamin,” you mumble, and he shrugs.

“I don’t give a fuck. You are.” He frowns, turning you to face him in his lap. “I fucking love you, Sunshine, you’re my whole fucking world-“

I know. You smile, leaning down for another, softer kiss that makes Ben groan in your mouth and the whole world start to get a little hazy. I love you, too.

He grunts, but doesn’t bother to do his usual pushing about how you still don’t get how much he loves to you. You do get it. You can feel it, and it’s the most powerful thing in the world. Sometimes you worry Ben doesn’t understand how much you love him. How you can’t even begin to picture a world where you’d never clawed your way through blood and grime to find him. How you can feel his love and resolve and care all the time, and your own love is so eternal and vast you could probably power a universe with it. 

But you’ll have all of time to fight with him about who loves who more. 

Right now, everything can just be Ben and you on a couch, eating ice cream, and knowing that this—You and him, burning together—is forever.

End Note: Had to make the smart speaker an Alexa. We are in an Amazon based universe. I don’t think they sell Alexas at Costco, but we’ve established that Costco sells whatever I want it to sell. So, Alexas.

If you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3

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Taglist

@manicjk @lordofthunderthr @artemys-ackles @brtodd @sthefferrete

@lyarr24 @deansbbyx @bakugotypecrashout @foolinthera1n @globetrotter28

@youdontknowe @nyrtopia @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @panicking-outside-the-disco @Ambiguous-avery

@elle14-blog1 @impala67rollingthroughtown @dumb--blonde @heyimolive @alwaystiredandconfused

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@star-yawnznn @Chi-raz @Lori19 @wynnthewynnder @fultiana-kh @woaheasytig3r

@lovelywebber

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

Ok hear me out. Reader and Daryl go on a run for supplies with a few other people. Reader makes a mistakes and almost gets seriously hurt/ near death experience. Daryl gets pissed at reader, maybe yells at her. Reader laughs it off and acts like she doesn’t gaf. Daryl later finds reader all shaken up and crying by herself. Love if you don’t, love if you do!

I Might Change Your Life, I Might Save My World

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader (pre/early)

Setting: Alexandria

Warnings: Typical TWD Violence and Gore; Mentions of canonical character death; Some verbal aggression

A/N: I had them on the run alone. I hope that’s okay!

*gif is not mine

The run had so far been uneventful. You’d even dare say boring. That was a word that wasn’t used carelessly. Life in the apocalypse was rarely boring and usually consisted of running for your life while scrounging up anything possible to ensure you could just survive. At least you were out with Daryl. He was your best friend and could usually keep you at least mildly entertained whether or not it was intentional. 

You were a survivor of the Governor’s insanity at Woodbury. It had seemed safe enough, but he had fooled everyone. Or maybe he had at one point been a kind, reasonable man that was just pushed too far by the cruelty of the end of the world. Regardless, it was there that you had met Merle, the right hand man. You had always teased him about that. Right hand? Get it? To most people, it would have seemed cruel, but not to Merle Dixon. He would ruffle your hair with a gentle shove and tell you to get lost. 

You never did.

When Merle left, you had followed and he had allowed it. He even held your arm and dragged you out behind him. That’s when you actually met Daryl. You had seen him in the fight pit, eyes wide as the Governor revealed he was Merle’s younger brother. He had never mentioned having a brother. Maybe he had thought him dead. Most would say Daryl was everything Merle was not, but they just didn’t know the elder Dixon like you did. Merle was crass, sometimes downright unkind, but below that rough exterior, he had a big heart. He was learning, little by little. You would have liked to take some credit for that.

Daryl had left his group that day, following Merle, just as you did. You remained quiet, watching the younger Dixon watching you. He looked almost wary, but there was a naked curiosity there too. When the two butted heads, you trailed behind while Daryl led the way back to the prison. Where he belonged, he had said. 

You had fit in easily. Merle, not so much. It made your heart ache for him when you could see the poorly hidden love he had for his little brother. He was absolute shit at showing it, sometimes selfish, but it was there. When he proved it by trying to be better, trying to show Daryl that he could do the right thing, it had cost him his life. You blamed Daryl for the longest time. You knew it wasn’t his fault, deep down, but you needed someone to catch the fury of your grief. The archer had taken it willingly.

When the prison fell, you had tried and failed to save Beth. Grieving yet again, right on the heels of losing Merle and then Hershel and then your home, you found a way out with Daryl, leaving the two of you stuck together on the road, alone and with a dense cloud of animosity billowing between you. It wasn’t until one night in a rundown home that Daryl had said reminded him of where he grew up, moonshine was flowing and then so were the emotions. You had both yelled, thrown things, killed the walkers that the fight attracted while continuing the verbal onslaught. In the end, drained and resigned, the two of you had talked. 

And the rest was history.

Alexandria had been a saving grace. It had taken a while to adjust. For Daryl, he had never lived in a community like that. He slept on the porch most nights, fleeing the confined spaces that left his chest heaving and his skin damp with sweat. You felt as if it were Woodbury all over again, destined to crash and burn and leave the group nothing but ashes. So, you slept on the porch with him, if for no other reason than to keep a fellow outsider close. You both knew it was more than that. 

Months had gone by. You had both finally moved inside a house and were even closer now than you had once been to Merle, which was surprising. Rick was confident in sending the two of you out together. You got shit done. That day in particular, things just weren’t moving in your favor.

For one, it was cold. The seasons were changing and you hadn’t adequately prepared for the chill in the air, especially when on the bike. The two of you were scouting for places that could possibly still have necessary supplies. Daryl had—as always—been quick to notice your discomfort. Though he had usually sewn the sleeves of jackets right onto his sleeveless shirts, that day, he had actually worn a leather jacket. 

“Here.” He shoved the article toward you, prompting a raised brow in response.

“What for?” You queried. It was a stupid question, but useless banter always kept things light between the two of you, comfortable even if Daryl would always claim the opposite. The space that lingered was never oppressive, not anymore.

“You’re cold, idiot.”

“Daryl Dixon is being sweet to me. This is one for the record books!” You chuckled while slipping on the jacket. The hunter scowled and bumped you with his elbow.

“Stop.”

“Didn’t hear you disagree.” You would have continued to tease if he hadn’t held up a fist just in front of you, the signal to be still and silent. The telltale groans, snarls, and shuffling feet were growing closer, blocking the two of you from the bike. “Aw, crap.”

“Yup.” He agreed, leaning around the corner of the building just enough to see the sizable herd. “Need a plan.” He mumbled, unclipping the sheath of his knife for a quick draw when needed.

“Got one.” 

“What?” When Daryl turned, you were already rounding the opposite corner of the building with a quiet shout of get the bike. “That fuckin’ woman’s gonna be the death’a me.”

There were a great deal more undead than you had anticipated. “Well, hell.” You grumbled. It was too late to turn around, several of the milky yellow eyes already landing on you. As you walked backward, keeping a safe distance but close enough to hold their attention, you could see Daryl peeking out from the corner. You exchanged nods before you began to wave your arms. “Hey! Over here! Keep your eyes on me!!” The noise ensured that Daryl’s already near silent footfalls would go unnoticed. He would get the bike, circle the herd, and you’d jump on. Piece of cake. 

Until you bumped right into a walker that led the other half of aforementioned herd. 

“Oh, fuck!” Quickly grabbing its throat to hold it back, you pivoted, walking backward toward the open area at the edges of the corpses. Daryl was shouting your name, the bike roaring to life. You just happened to choose the wrong time to glance in his direction in an attempt to gauge the distance between you. The next walker had fallen somehow, levering clumsily to its feet just beside the one you were grappling with, your knife having just sank into that one’s skull. There was no time to react. You could only watch the blade slip free as the teeth came together on your arm. It was painful but nothing like you had expected, more pressure than anything. Still, it was too late. You were bit.

“Y/N!!” Daryl shouted, grabbing you away from the dead man, your arm slipping free from its jaws to throw it off balance. That gave you a chance to climb on behind Daryl, the injured arm cradled to your chest while the other wrapped tightly around his abdomen. “Just a minute, just hang on. We’ll take care’a this.” He was rambling anxiously, the cool wind whipping and stinging as the herd grew smaller and smaller in the distance.

“I’m bit. I’m bit. I’m bit.” You chanted against Daryl’s back, only barely holding back your sobs. The bike slowed to a stop, the kickstand lowered roughly before Daryl was scrambling off when you should have been the first to move. 

“Lemme see.” When your teary eyes met his, he growled through the sting at his waterline. “Lemme fuckin’ see!” He wasn’t as gentle as he could have been but he didn’t hurt you. Pulling your arm away from your chest roughly, he grabbed the shoulder of the jacket and yanked it down, ripping one of the seams in the process. You were both greeted with bruising flesh, the slightest indents of where teeth had vehemently pressed, but no broken skin. No blood. No scratches. While you stared in a shocked relief, Daryl wasn’t so graceful. His legs buckled and he went down hard to his knees. “Goddamn it, Y/N!”

“I’m okay.” You blinked, eyes transfixed on your arm. It hurt but it wasn’t a death sentence. You weren’t going to turn. “I’m okay, Daryl.” You smiled through the tears, now falling for an entirely different reason. “Daryl?” He was trembling fiercely, his shoulders moving in a way that suggested he might have been crying. You started to throw your leg over the seat to comfort him when he drew back his arm and planted his fist into the asphalt with a crunch that made your stomach turn.

“You’re so fuckin’ stupid!” He roared, barreling upright to stand with his nose nearly touching yours. You were too shocked to react properly. “Ya couldn’a waited for a actual plan, just had to go balls to the wall an’ run out there like a fuckin’ lunatic!” Your eyes followed anxiously as he started to pace.

“I’m sorry. I was just trying to get us out there in one piece. I didn’t even see the—”

His uninjured hand grabbed your wrist, tight and firm but not without care. He’d never hurt you. Not intentionally. Not physically, at least. “Ya call this one piece? I woulda had to take your arm, ya fuckin’ useless idiot!” That sent you reeling. Daryl had been angry with you before, but for things like keeping the squirrel over the fire for too long or kneeing him in the groin while trying to get comfortable enough to sleep. But that? That was different.

If Merle Dixon had taught you anything, it was to never show how you really felt. When you began to laugh, Daryl dropped your arm and stepped back, eyes wide and full of disbelief. “My god, you’re dramatic. I’m fine, Dixon. Let’s just chalk this up to a shit day and get the fuck out of here.”

“A shit d—are ya fuckin’ kiddin’ me?”

“Stop it. Get on the bike and let’s go.” You pulled the jacket back onto your arm, your red flannel peering through the tear in the shoulder. Now adjusted once again and ready to go, you looked back to find him still staring at you with the same incredulous expression. You chuckled and shook your head. “Stop being ridiculous. Let’s go.”

“Nah.” He was stepping backwards with his own head twisting back and forth. “Take the bike and go home. M’gonna walk.”

“It’s at least fifteen miles and it’s cold. Now who’s being stupid?” When he turned his back, leaving his crossbow strapped to the motorcycle, you actually began to panic. You could drive the bike, sure. He had taught you a few months back, just in case. Still, leaving him behind with nothing but his knife was not something you would do without a fight. “Daryl! Seriously, please, let’s go.” He ignored you, stalking off into the trees until the wings of his vest disappeared. 

Chasing him wasn’t a good idea. You knew him well enough to know that much. Or did you? It had been a long time since an argument like that, one where both of you had shut down in one way or another. You started the bike, toeing up the kickstand before propelling it forward, your chest constricting tighter and tighter with every mile. 

It had taken him far longer than necessary to make the walk back to Alexandria’s gates. Granted, he’d stopped for several smokes to calm himself down. He’d slide down the nearest tree and sit there—flexing his throbbing fingers—until he had drawn the cigarette down to the filter or he heard the incoming growls of the walkers that had been tailing him. He had to take an extra half hour to put down the ones he could and lose the ones he couldn’t. By the time Sasha pulled open the gates, Daryl was bone weary and more than a little ashamed of how he’d reacted. 

“Seen Y/N?” He asked in lieu of answering when she questioned where he’d been.

“She came back a while ago. Haven’t seen her since. Sorry.” She patted his shoulder and returned to her post. You were back, so that anxiety was at least remedied. 

Still, he needed to talk to you. The way you had laughed in the face of his anger had unnerved him. It reminded him so much of his brother that it hurt. That type of behavior didn’t suit you. Then again, who was he to tell you how to behave? He had spoken to you so harshly instead of just telling you that you scared the shit out of him. He should have hugged you and been thankful that you didn’t lose your arm, didn’t lose your life. But emotions and Daryl weren’t exactly on speaking terms. When he didn’t understand why or how something made him feel a certain way, he lashed out at it. He was conditioned that way, it was in his blood. He had been trying so hard to be better. He actually thought he was getting better. Boy, he couldn’t have been more wrong. He was still a work in progress. He needed you to know that. He needed to apologize, even if it burned coming out of his mouth to admit he was wrong, to admit to feeling anything at all. 

Damn you for wiggling your way into his useless heart. He thought he had crushed and buried the thing years ago. Then you came tagging along on his brother’s heels and challenged everything he thought he knew about himself. He chose not to acknowledge it, even when people like Carol and Rick did. Often. 

Sighing, he stopped on the porch of the home he shared with you and Carol, lighting up a cigarette and leaning over the railing on his forearms. He would have assumed that you’d already spilled everything to Carol but when she didn’t barrel out of the house with a rolling pin aimed at his head, it was easy to figure out that you hadn’t. Maybe you hadn’t even been home yet. He trampled that worry down quickly, not willing to let it compound into another wave of anger he’d have to answer for eventually.

The streets were quiet with the sun now completely gone, replaced by the waning crescent moon. There was enough light for him to see, of course. His eyes were trained from years of hunting and surviving out in nature. He could hear frogs close to the pond, even hear the paper of his cigarette sizzling with each drag. But then he heard something else. Something that shattered him to his very core because he knew immediately what and who and why it was.

He didn’t bother to keep his steps light. It wouldn’t do to surprise you. You’d just be even more upset without time to even try and compose yourself. Even so, it was possible you still didn’t hear him approaching. Your sobs and sniffles continued, probably barely audible to anyone who didn’t know how to listen and not just hear.

You were perched on the bench beneath the gazebo, knees drawn up to your chest with your face hidden behind them. Even in the dark, he could see your shoulders shaking. He wasn’t sure how long he stood there watching you but once it was clear that you hadn’t noticed him, he cleared his throat. Had it been any other day, any other situation, the way you unfolded and nearly climbed over the back of the bench would have been comical. Maybe it still would be when the two of you looked back on this, but that was only if he could make things right.

“Hey.” He rasped, still rooted to the same spot.

You sniffed, wiping at your face with the sleeve of your flannel. The leather jacket was nowhere to be seen. “Hi.” All the confidence from earlier was gone, leaving your voice but a tiny echo of the woman that had called him dramatic. “I’m glad you made it back safely.”

“Ya alright?” He chanced a step toward you, pausing after one when your eyes darted down to his boots and back up. God, he felt like an asshole. Were you afraid of him now?

“Mhm. I’m okay.” You sniffed again and settled back onto the seat, pulling your knees against you once again. “I hung your jacket on the doorknob of your room. I fixed the sleeve.”

Great. You fixed the thing he tore. Now he felt like a major asshole. “Listen, Y/N, I—”

“It’s okay, Daryl.” You interjected, offering him a small, feigned smile while your eyes betrayed you. “Carol has dinner ready. I put your plate in the oven.” It was just getting better and better. You had still thought of him enough to make sure he had something to eat when he got back. And the award for Asshole of the Year goes to: Daryl Dixon.

You stood so quickly that he nearly flinched. “I should—I have a new job assignment tomorrow. Need to get some sleep.”

That threw him. “New—ya ain’t goin’ out anymore?” You shook your head.

“I’m gonna work in the pantry, dabble in the armory too. Give Olivia a break sometimes.” Your tone wasn’t cold but bordered on emotionless. You’d asked Rick to take you off the run list, and you’d done it because of him.

“Y/N, don’t do that.” He watched as you approached, your head down. If you hadn’t seen his boots when he stepped into your path, you surely would have slammed into him. “Shouldn’a talked to ya the way I did.” Even while you looked off to the side, he could see the way your face screwed up like you were about to cry again, but after a moment, you settled.

“No, you were right. I should have waited. Things could have gone a lot differently. I didn’t stop to think about how you would have felt if I had been bitten.” Daryl deflated at the utter dejection in your voice. “Anyway, goodnight, Daryl.” 

Watching you walk away, your arms wrapped around yourself so tightly, he let himself think about it; allowed himself to think about what he would have felt if you had been bitten. It wasn’t anger then. It was loss, despair, guilt. Whether he’d had to have taken your arm or not, the prospect of possibly losing you was more than he could even think to bear. What was more terrifying was that he realized that your loss would devastate him more than his own brother’s had.

“Y/N, wait!”

He couldn’t let you think he had acted that way out of anger alone. Yes, he had been angry but he had been scared. He couldn’t say you were his closest friend. That spot was taken by Carol. You were something else entirely. Something that he would never get the chance to explore or define, fear and awkwardness be damned, if something happened to you.

His feet were carrying him toward you at a brisk pace, your eyes wide at his approach but you didn’t move. You didn’t flinch or cower, even when he grabbed your shoulder and pulled in against his chest, wrapping both arms around you to hold you there.

“M’sorry.” He whispered into your hair. You weren’t hugging him back but that was most likely because your arms were pinned between the two of you. “Ain’t no reason for me to ever talk to ya like that. Ya ain’t stupid. You’re quick on your feet an’ it ain’t fair’a me to fault ya on that just cause m’too scared to lose ya.” He felt your sharp inhale while his face and neck flushed at the admission. “I—Christ, ain’t no good at this talkin’ an’ shit.” When your shoulders shook, he knew he’d made you cry again and took a step back, his hands sliding up to hold your shoulders. While that was true, the movement was from the laughter bubbling up from your chest instead of the tears falling down your cheeks. “The hell ya laughing at?”

“I like you too, Daryl.” Goddamnit, you had a pretty smile. He’d make a fool of himself ten times over if it meant you’d give him that smile just once.

“Ain’t a thing ‘bout likin’ ya.” He swallowed hard and looked away, the pink hue on his cheeks deepening. “Don’t know what it is, but, uh—well, maybe we can try to figure it out together?” He sounded like a lovesick teenager and was two seconds away from rolling his eyes so hard that they would relocate permanently to the back of his skull.

“I’d like that.” 

“Really?” He straightened, expression embarrassingly hopeful.

“Yeah. Yeah, I would.” 

“Right.” He cleared his throat and stepped back, not feeling like he’d entirely lost the right to call himself a man. “So, uh—Guess we should tell Rick that Olivia can get Spencer to help her. Maybe he’d stop oglin’ ya all the damn time if he’s cooped up in the pantry.” You reached for his hand and he let you take it. “Maybe I could talk her into lockin’ him in there for a while.” The walk back to the house wasn’t a long one and all too quickly, you were climbing the porch steps just in front of him.

“What’s wrong? Don’t want other guys checking out your girl?” 

Daryl almost missed the top step. “My girl?” He didn’t mean for it to come out quite so breathlessly. He was mostly definitely losing his man card that night. You were blinking at him, your smile slowly faltering.

“I—I misunderstood, didn’t I? Jesus, Daryl, I’m—”

“Nah.” He quickly derailed that train of thought. “Just liked hearin’ ya say it s’all.” 

“Are you—”

“Yup.” The smile was back and Daryl could breathe again. Somehow, standing there with you on the porch and him on the top step, just staring at one another was more comfortable than he could have ever imagined. 

“So,” you began, twisting your upper half back and forth, “you walked me home. Are you gonna say goodnight and kiss me now?”

Daryl’s face contorted in confusion, a dark brow arching. “I, uh—I live here too.”

“Does that really matter?” You asked, stepping a little closer. 

“Guess it don’t, really.” When you leaned forward, he didn’t stop you. Found that he didn’t want to. Even as new and undefined as whatever this was, this felt right and he’d be damned if he’d let a chance like that pass him by. 

Inside the house, Carol swirled the wine around in her glass, watching the kiss happen with a sigh of relief. “Finally.” Picking up her book, she took a sip and placed the glass down on the table before opening to the dog-eared page. “Now I don’t have to lock them in the pantry together tomorrow.”

[lillaydee]

In Time Part 7

Rancher Joel Miller / Reader

You lost your dear Uncle. Your TV Star boyfriend dumped you. You needed a job. You got one at a ranch in Wyoming. Where you met Joel. A very grumpy man. Grumpy man has issues.

WARNINGS:

Grumpy Joel, Hurt Joel, Grieving Joel, Joel is Bad at Feelings (The Last of Us), Joel Needs a Hug (The Last of Us), Joel Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (The Last of Us), Mentions of Hostage Situation and Shooting, Alternate Universe - No Cordyceps Outbreak (The Last of Us), Mutual Pining, Fluff and Angst

SERIES MASTER LIST

Part 6

---

You made your rounds at the stables and cowshed, making sure no one needed medical attention, your tea in hand. The horses were happy to see you. The cows too, even if they only came to you when you brought them food. The chickens were… non-committal. There were maybe four people working today, all tipped their hats at you and went back to work. You were giving the barn cat some much needed affection when Joel came in, coffee mug in hand, an easy smile greeting you.

What a difference two days made.

He told you there’s a blizzard warning out for that evening, and he wanted to make sure you have everything you need should you need to hunker down for a day or two. The pantry in the kitchen was pretty well-stocked, if you wanted to raid it. You willingly took the offer, going with him to get some canned goods, pasta, milk and eggs, just in case. Two of the men went around the stables and the sheds, making sure the animals had everything they needed while you helped Joel clip thick, heavy ropes on the pegs from one building to another, beginning at your cabin, in case you needed to get around. The other two checked all the spotlights, making sure they all work. Joel made sure the generators for the stable and sheds were hooked up and ready to go, in case of a power cut, the water tanks filled and wrapped up.

After a quick lunch, where you made the five thankful, tired men some sandwiches, Joel went into the woodshed and chopped off some more wood, bringing as much of it to your cabin, and stacked more outside just in case.

If you’re being honest with yourself, they way the men were getting ready for this blizzard scared the living shit out of you. Would you survive this? The worst bout you ever had with natural disasters were the light earthquakes LA sometimes get, and those four days of heavy rain you had to suffer through in Bali, where you and Benny spent four days ordering room service, getting full body massages and sleeping in at your 5-star resort. Did those even count as natural disasters?

At about three in the evening, snow had started to fall. Heavily. The men left after going around one more time, double checking everything on their list, and shut the doors to the stables and sheds. Joel walked you home. As he was about to leave, he clocked the worried look on your face.

“Hey, it’s okay. It’ll be alright. Don’t worry. You’ll be fine.”

You nodded apprehensively, trying hard to look like you were okay, when in fact, you were definitely not.

“Do you want me to stay? I can stay,” he offered.

You were torn, you didn’t want to trouble him, but you were really scared.

“I’ll stay,” he said with finality in his voice. “Just let me go grab some stuff, okay?”

You nodded, still petrified, now at the thought of him driving off down the road in a pre-blizzardy snowfall.

“Shut the door. I’ll be right back.”

You watched him leave, your heart beating uncomfortably fast.

Forty minutes went by, he hadn’t returned. It shouldn’t take this long to drive to the main house, grab some stuff and come back.

You wanted to call him but didn’t want to interrupt what he was doing.

You were starting to panic.

Out of desperation for something to do, you put the kettle on, and made him some coffee. Just as you were putting the lid on his cup, a quick knock sounded. You rushed to the door, a snow-covered Joel stood there, bag in hand.

You stepped aside, and he rushed in, stomping his boots outside the door, and brushing snow off his raincoat, his face red from exposure.

“What happened? Why didn’t you drive?”

“Truck died on me. Had to walk,” he said, shivering slightly as he took his jacket off.

You felt horrible.

“Hey, don’t worry about it. I’m used to this, remember? I’m dry, see?”

He had taken the plasticky trousers he was wearing, as well as his thick, heavy boots off, the clothes underneath looking dry, every part of him looked dry, save for his face, a bit of his hair and very thick neck.

You nodded and gave him his coffee. He quickly took a sip.

“Hey, this is good coffee! Just how I like it!” he told you, smiling, clearly trying to make you feel better.

You managed to smile. You took his bag and placed it in your bedroom. He sat in front of the stove for a bit, warming his hands and socked feet.

He told you about the worst blizzard they had – Sarah was only five. No one got out for days. Thank God they were well prepared, and even then, they actually lost some cows. Time flew by when you talked to him, you found. Conversations were easy. Silences comfortable. He helped you around the kitchen while you made dinner, and dinner was filled with easy banter and laughter, so much so, you forgot that up until three days ago, you never actually had a full conversation with this man.

Come bedtime, he started taking sheets from your linen closet to set the couch up. You did some mental calculation and realized he wouldn’t be very comfortable on it. His feet would be sticking out at the end unless he slept with his back on the armrest.

“Erm, I don’t think you fit on that couch. Take the bed. I’ll sleep out here.”

“What? No! I’m not making a lady sleep on the couch. I’ll be alright.”

“Come on, I made you stay, I can’t let you sleep on the couch,” you pleaded, feeling so guilty you wanted to cry.

“It’s okay. It’s your first blizzard. I understand, please don’t worry about me.”

You contemplated the situation for a bit.

“Look, the bed is huge. Why don’t we both take the bed?”

He looked a bit shocked and flustered by your suggestion. You quickly put your hand up.

“No, really, think about it. We have enough pillows. We’ll put a pillow wall between us. You stay on your side; I’ll stay on mine. We can use two blankets. How’s that?”

He thought about it, too long for your liking.

“I promise I will punch you in the face if you got handsy.”

He looked scandalized by the suggestion.

“Hey! What if you got handsy?”

“Then you have my permission to punch me.”

He laughed. Deal.

The pillow wall was quickly made, and you both got in, both dressed rather warmly considering the blizzard that was covering everything outside. The view out your windows was basically TV static, black and white spots that wouldn’t let you see past your nose. You felt comforted that he was here. There was no way you could sleep in this condition. You kept imagining the windows breaking and the roof coming off and you were found frozen in your bed days later, your eyes wide open, a horrific expression on your face…

God, you shouldn’t have watched too many movies.

“Night Amelia.”

“Night Joel.”

---

Joel first conscious thought that morning was that he was uncomfortably hard. He had a very nice dream. One that involved you. The wind was still howling in the darkness outside. He could hear it. He opened his eyes and was met by your sleeping face. Somehow, during the night, both of you had ended up hugging the pillow wall and were now facing each other. Your face was squished on the pillow wall, your hand over it, resting dangerously close to his tented crotch, your leg between his.

Shit.

This was definitely not helping with the situation he had going between his legs. For the first time in his life, he cursed the fact that men get hard-ons. Women didn’t have to worry about their sexual needs being obvious for the world to see. What the fuck was he going to say to you if you noticed? Sorry I have a raging hard on because I had a wet dream about you? I couldn’t help myself because I hadn’t had sex in ten? Eleven? TWELVE years? Fucking hell Joel. How was he still functioning?

He couldn’t move. You shifted slightly, your lips opening and closing, settling with them slightly opened. And moist. He kept watching you. Even puffy from sleep, with crusts in your eyes, you looked gorgeous. He longed to touch you, touch your lips – just to see how soft they were. They certainly felt soft in his extremely realistic dream where you were down on your knees looking up, your mouth full of him. He wanted to kiss you so badly. But he couldn’t. He mustn’t. You met a month ago. And he had only heard you call him Joel once. Last night. As he was falling asleep. He liked the way you said his name. He wondered how you would say it if he…

“Hmm…” you moaned, your eyes closed, your lips pouting further, and damn it, you licked your lips. “Hmm… Joel…”

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

This was torture. He eased his leg off yours, and very carefully got out of bed. He went to the living room, and palmed his crotch, pressing hard, trying to persuade it to calm down. He could not, must not give in to his desire to just rub one out, you were right next door for fuck’s sake. He tried walking it off, didn’t work. He thought of his grandma, but only your pouty face, moaning his name came up. Fuck. What was he going to do? He couldn’t take a cold shower; your bathroom was right there next to your bed. What would he say if you woke up? I like taking showers at 5 am during a blizzard? He couldn’t jump up and down without alerting you, thanks to the wooden flooring. He’s equally desperate to get off and get rid of his erection without getting off at the same time.

He had to do it. He had no choice. He made sure the bedroom door was closed. He took several deep breaths, opened the front door and stepped outside.

The wind and snow pelted him like big blobs of water balloons. Ice-cold water balloons. He counted to five, and stepped back inside, shivering so much his teeth chattered. But the problem was taken care of. His dick shrunk back so quickly he would be surprised if they could ever rise to the occasion again. He sat in front of the stove, stoking the fire, adding more wood, and prayed to God he wouldn’t catch a cold. Although, that seemed like a much better option than having you catch him with a hard on after sleeping next to you. He’s supposed to be your friend. That’s all. He shouldn’t kid himself thinking you would ever fall for an asshole like him, especially not after the way he treated you when you arrived.

“Joel?”

His head snapped towards the bedroom door, you were standing there looking fucking angelic in your sweatpants and hoodie, hair all messed up and face puffy from sleep. He wondered if you would look like that after he…

Nope. No… no, no, no, no, no. Don’t. Do not go there Joel Miller. All that effort of almost getting blown off in a blizzard and risking frostbite would go to waste if he did.

“Why are you all wet? Fuck! Are you okay?”

You ran back inside and got him a blanket and a towel. He mumbled something about checking the firewood. You sat next to him, wrapping the blanket around his shoulders, and toweled his hair off for him. He let you, hands holding the blanket around his body, eyes closed, savoring this very private moment with you. You quickly dried him off and went into the kitchen to put the kettle on. You went back to him, and wrapped your body around him from the back, rubbing his arms and chest to warm him up.

Joel wasn’t actually that cold anymore. The stove was roaring with fire. But who was he to resist? He couldn’t help but close his eyes to the sensation. So, this was what heaven felt like.

---

You kept rubbing him, trying hard to warm him up. Was he cold, though? His body felt warm to your touch. So warm. You could feel his bulging biceps as you rubbed them, and his chest, oh… the definition of solid. You pressed right up to him, your hands spread open from the broadness of his back and shoulders, your own unsupported chest rubbing up on this brick wall that was his back. You felt warm. So warm.

Wait, were you warming him up, or was he warming you up?

Were you cold? Or was he cold?

Were your eyes closed? Why were your eyes closed?

Why were your rubbing motions slowing? At what point does rubbing turn into caressing?

Why was your nose pressed up to the back of his neck? Fuck, why did he smell so good?

The click of the boiling kettle broke you out of your Joel-filled stupor. You asked him if he was feeling better, and he breathed a soft yes. His eyes were closed, his hands holding on to the blanket covering his body tightly, knuckles white. Oh, he must be very, very cold.

You got up and made him his cup of coffee, and yourself, your cup of tea. Your face feeling hot – which had to be the effect of standing too close to the steaming kettle. Why else would your face be hot? Right?

You took your time making the drinks, and Joel took his time sitting in front of the stove, taking a lot of deep breaths before standing up and joining you in the kitchen, making sure that the blanket was still covering his torso, glad to discover that his ability to stand to attention wasn’t affected by his rendezvous into the blizzard earlier after all.

---

The blizzard passed that second night. You were awoken by the sounds of the snowplow and found Joel sleeping way at the other end of the bed, his broad back straining the shirt he was wearing. You had to actively get out of bed and go to the bathroom to stop yourself from scooting over and spooning him.

You hadn’t left the house in 36 hours. Time to see the damage. You put your jacket on and opened the front door. The whiteness you saw on Christmas day was nothing compared to this. Heck, even the poles on the deck were white. There was snow up to your waist at your front door. How the fuck were you supposed to get out?

The plow came closer, and you waved at Ed, one of the more senior guys at the ranch. He waved back and proceeded to carefully maneuver the machinery around your front yard, getting as much snow as he could out of the way, before jumping off with a shovel, and began clearing a path to your deck, and began shoveling there too.

A hand landed on your shoulder, and Joel, his hair mussed from sleep, his jacket and plasticky pants on, asked Ed for the shovel, telling him he got it from here. You went in and made him his coffee, and by the time you came out, he had cleared the deck, and was making a path down to your office.

Damn, you missed the show.

He came back in, very quickly had some toast, and told you he needed to get going. Lots to do after a blizzard. The family will begin arriving today, he should check everything was alright for them. He’ll make sure a path was cleared for you in case you were needed at the stables or cowsheds, although things seemed fine when he checked the CCTV footage, and none of the ranch hands had called him this morning. He quickly packed his belongings, and you handed him his thermos, filled with more hot coffee, and thanked him for keeping you company.

Before he left, you took his hand, pushed yourself to your tippy toes, and gave him a peck on the cheek.

“Thank you, Joel.”

He smiled at you, hesitated a bit, but finally just nodded and walked out.

Joel’s cheek burnt red hot throughout the twenty minutes’ walk to his house, keeping him warm all the way.

He was never washing that cheek again. Not until he could guarantee another dosage was coming.

---

You were at your office, checking that all was well with the place, sweeping snow on the outside after it had been shoveled. Your phone pinged. Many times. You opened the text app and saw that you had been added to a chat group called “Da Milla Famiglia”.

*Tess added you.

*Tess removed Joel

Tess: Video attachment

It was a wobbly video of Tess, Penny and Ellie driving up the road leading to the main house. Joel was clearly in frame, his coffee in one hand, the other on his hip, a wide smile on his face, waiting for them. The voices of the three could clearly be heard.

Tess: Are you recording?

Ellie: Yes, yes, it’s recording.

Penny: Good. We need proof.

Ellie: What is going on with his face?

Tess: Is he… smiling?

Penny: Noo… that can’t be.

Tess: Penn, he’s right there. He’s fucking smiling.

Ellie: Should we call 911? Did he have a stroke? Oh my God, he had a stroke. We should call 911. Fuck, I’m recording. Penny, call 911.

Penny/Tess: Language!

Ellie: Fuck that, JOEL is smiling! What is wrong with him?

Penny: Oh. My. God. Is that a thermos in his hand?

Tess: Noo… that’s impossible…

The car stopped. Joel was clearly smiling. He opened the door for Penny.

Joel: Hey, welcome back! (hugs Penny, and kisses her on the cheek)

Joel looked into the car, smile still wide.

Joel: How was your drive?

Tess: It was okay, bit icy… (mumbles as she gets out of the car).

Joel hugged Tess, who tensed like she was expecting him to punch her. Kissed her on the cheek too. She and Penny kept staring at him, looking for signs of trouble.

Ellie: Oh my God. Seriously. What the fuck is going on? Shit! He’s coming.

The camera was lowered. The door opened.

Joel: Hey kid, had a great Christmas?

Video ended.

Okay… Joel Miller was smiling. A lot. Wow. You were about to put your phone away when it pinged away again.

Frank: What. The actual. Fuck.

Maria: You sure that’s Joel?

Frank: Audio note

Frank: Tess, turn around and look at him from between your legs. See if his legs touch the ground.

Bill: What the fuck are you talking about?

Frank: I saw a horror movie once. If his legs don’t touch the ground, he’s not Joel. He’s a ghost.

Bill: Frank, stop recording!

You just laughed and went back to work, going on your rounds to make sure the animals were alright.  When you finally left the cowsheds, a very excited Ellie jumped you, wrapping herself around your middle, a box in her hands.

“Hello, excited girl.”

“Hi Doc. Missed you.”

“Missed you more.”

“I got you something. I helped Penny’s mom bake them.”

She produced the box, filled with blue macarons.

“You baked these?”

“Uhuh.”

You popped one in your mouth. The crunchy, gooey, nutty flavour burst in your mouth; the salted caramel filling almost made you swoon.

“Oh, my God! Ellie! These are amazing!”

“What’s amazing?” Joel appeared from behind the cowshed, peering over your shoulder, looking inside the box.

“Ellie baked these. They’re amazing! Try one!”

He took one and took a bite. His face contemplative for a second as he chewed, before popping the rest into his mouth, reached into the box and grabbed a few more. He ruffled Ellie’s hair, mumbled ‘good job, kid’, mouth full of macarons, and walked towards a large snowcat parked next to the field, popping another into his mouth before climbing in and closing the door.

Okay. First a snowplow and now a snowcat? Was he trying to kill you? You watched helplessly as he took off his jacket, started the engine and began maneuvering the large equipment towards the fields, your minds going so many places, far beyond what the eyes could see. You wonder what else he could drive…

“Er, earth to Doc?”

Hmm?

Ellie was staring at you, her eyes darting between you and the snowcat. Her eyes went back to you, and then lingered on the thermal mug in your hand.

A flash of recognition.

“Okay, what the fuck happened while we were gone?”

---

On New Year’s Eve, the family packed several picnic baskets and piled into several cars before heading to the retirement village where Joel and Tommy’s parents live. Apparently, you could see some spectacular fireworks from several villages and towns from there. Tess had asked if you wanted to go with them, but Joel opened his passenger door and gestured for you to get in. He very quickly got in himself and drove off before anyone else could decide if they wanted to go with you. You saw the family quickly gather around each other as Joel drove off.

You and Joel hadn’t spent as much time together as you did, just a few hellos while working and having lunch together when you happened to be in the hall at the same time, which, incidentally, was every day since Mrs Adler came back from her sister’s, not that you planned it or anything. So, it was nice to have some alone time with him again. Ellie kept hounding you about what happened over the break, and you had managed to avoid answering her thus far. She straight out threatened to haunt your dreams until you do. I’ll be your little mind gremlin, sneaking into your brain at night to find out what really happened, she said.

Joel had a new bounce in his steps. He told you he talked to Sarah, and you were right, he said, it helped. Thank you. There’s a lot he had to do to really move on, but small steps, right? You smiled at him, happy to see him this way.

When you arrived, you were met by an older couple. They greeted Joel with a hug and a kiss, Joel an exact copy of the older man. They turned their attention to you, Joel introducing you as the new vet. The lady practically ran to your side of the truck and gave you a friendly hug. Anita Miller, she said. And my husband, Jake. The older man gave you a small peck on the cheek, saying it was nice to meet you.

Joel and his dad got the stuff you brought out of the car, Anita wrapped her arm around yours and led you to the clearing where the picnic was taking place. You heaved a sigh of relief at the many, many temporary fireplaces set up along the area, having worried all day how the heck you were going to survive midnight outdoors again. You had only survived Christmas eve thanks to the hot water bottle and Joel the human incinerator sitting next to you. But this was a much more open space, and surely, Joel would want to spend his time with his family.

Joel helped you set up the tables and chairs. Just as you were done, the rest of the family arrived, and you went along setting the food and drinks, the ladies too, along with some of the residents, while the men set up the barbeque. The next thing you knew, you were being surrounded by Maria, Tess, Penny and Anita, a serious look on their faces. You gave them a questioning look, and they all just began speaking over each other.

“You need to tell us what happened during the break.”

“Yeah, we came back, and Joel was a different person.”

“He smiled – a lot. And you two are suddenly buddy-buddy? And he’s friendly to Ellie! What the fuck happened?”

“Did you say something to him? Did you put something in his food?”

“Did you kill him and replace him with someone else?”

“Did you guys fuck?”

“Tess!” you exclaimed, hand on your chest, your face horrified at the idea.

“What?”

You were looking around, looking for help, and saw that he was being cornered by Tommy, Frank, Bill and Jake. He looked at you, eyes pleading for help. You shrugged and gestured at the ladies. He just smiled and shook his head, before making himself busy with the food, ignoring everyone. So, you decided to do the same.

“Great, they beam thoughts at each other now,” Maria muttered.

“I’m not done with you. I’m getting answers one way or another,” Tess said to you. “And just so you know, you owe me one of those magic toasts Ellie couldn’t stop talking about, for the tampons,” she teased.

The picnic was really nice. His parents were very friendly, they made you feel very at home. Everyone did, actually. Joel really did look like a different person. You sort of understood the whole curiosity behind this, but you wouldn’t have questioned a positive change. What did it matter why he changed? He changed. For the better. Take it, run with it.

You helped clean up after everyone had finished eating. Tommy followed you around with a large bag, while you deposited everything in it.

“I won’t ask you what happened, even though I am really curious. But, these few days, it was like my brother was back. I’m going off a hunch, here, but I think I have you to thank for it. So, thanks Doc.”

“What are we talking about, here?” Joel came to join the two of you, helping you clear the table you were at. Tommy quickly shoved the bag at him and left, winking at you. “What was that about?” he asked you. You shrugged.

He wanted to know what you were thinking, if you would be offended at the thought that spending those few days with you alone practically made him a different man. But he couldn’t tell you how he felt, what if you retreated from him? He needed your energy now. He couldn’t imagine not spending time with you. He felt like himself again, and it was because of you. What if you didn’t feel the same way? What if he was only feeling this way due to his guilt? What if it was just his horny, pent-up energy talking? He couldn’t risk telling you unless he was sure. You didn’t know anyone else here, just them. What if you were just being friendly? You seemed the type. From what he had observed, it seemed more likely that you thought of him as a new friend that you could rely on.

So, he’ll stay quiet.

You wanted to know what he was thinking, if you played a role in him being a different man, as self-serving as that may have sounded. But you couldn’t tell him how you felt, what if he retreated from you? You needed his friendship now. You couldn’t imagine not spending time with him. You were beginning to feel a lot more at home here, and it was because of him. What if he didn’t feel the same way? What if you were only feeling this way because you were lonely? What if it was just your horny, pent-up energy talking? You couldn’t risk telling him unless you were sure. You didn’t know anyone else here, just them. What if he was just being friendly? He didn’t seem to have too many friends, and had rejected women again and again, not wanting to commit to anyone. It seemed more likely that he thought of you as a new friend that he could rely on.

So, you’ll keep quiet.

When the time came to ring round the new year, you went along with the countdown, everyone pairing up for the occasion. You looked for Ellie, not wanting her to be alone, but she had partnered with Mrs Adler, the two of them gleefully doing the countdown. You and Joel were the only ones without a partner. He came to where you were standing, his low, low voice reciting the numbers along. You felt a shiver run down your spine. It must be the cold. You wrapped your hands around your body, realizing for the first time how slow countdowns are. It took forever to reach 1.

Your eyes met his at 3, his gaze piercing into your soul. You found yourself unable to keep your gaze on him, what if he could read your mind? But at the same time, you couldn’t look away. You longed to drown in those eyes. Your heart was beating so fast you were sure your ears were pulsing.

When people yelled happy new year, he leaned in, his hands on yours, and brushed his lips against yours. You were stunned. You were electrified. You couldn’t move. You could feel all the nerves in your body fire. Goosebumps everywhere. Your body felt warm.

He pulled back before the fireworks even started.

“Happy New Year, Amelia.”

“Happy New Year, Joel.”

And he let go of your hands and turned to marvel at the fireworks.

You were suddenly cold again.

---

Part 8

[legend-the-dumb-jock]

The wishing well redux pt.1

Eric was driving home for spring break. Or rather what should have been home. He had no where to go when the college shit down for the week so he was forced to go to only place he had….his father’s house. Or rather mansion. His father was loaded. And demanded that he go to school for a degree in architecture so he could follow in his footsteps. Every part of Eric’s life was pre planned by his father. And he hated it. All he wanted was the loving father that he heard about his college friends having. But that wasn’t going to happen. Erin pulled up into the drive way and stared at the gothic style mansion. He breathed heavy trying to get up the courage to go in. His father was going to yell at him. He wasn’t doing so great in school right now. And his father was going by I give him the lecture about how “Morrison’s don’t make these mistakes. What makes you think you’re an exception?” It was a conversation his father had given him several times before. He knew it word for word. He got out of his black bmw. A car his father owned. One that Eric felt was punishment because he had to have a certain look being Morrison. And when he shut the door he just said “fuck” under his breathe. The was mud on the tires. And he had tracked mud through the the drive way. His father was going to be so mad at him. Maybe he would have time to clean it ? But that was quickly shot down as he heard his father clear his throat behind him. And as soon as he turned around. He was immediately slapped by the older man.

His father turned away from him leaving him with his head pointing to the ground. Welcome home Eric. The normal greeting. His father slammed the door behind him. The butler came up to him him with an ice pack. “Your father is really upset you master Eric. I’ll tend to things out here” said the older man as he handed him the ice pack. “I’ve already set aside some food in your room. I expect your father will tell you you’re not allowed dinner. But don’t let him know. You know how he is…”. The battle Grieves left his side to start cleaning the mud. He was an older man who had been in Eric’s life for as long as he could remember. This man was the one Eric always had to protect him. And the man had the scars from his own father to proofread. Grieves had a rightfully fitting man. Eric had asked him before why he never left and the old man just shrugged and said “where would I go?” Eric held the ice pack to his face. But knew had to hide it before he seen his father again. It was a sign of weakness and that was not some the Morrison men were. As Eric started to climb the steps to the gothic mansion his heart began to race even more. His palms already sweating when he turned the brass door knob.

When he got inside he quickly made his way to his room. His father was in the study at the bottom of the steps and he didn’t even look in his direction. He was halfway up the steps when he heard his father clear his voice. Instantly Eric stopped. “I expect you know that I don’t want to see you for the rest of the evening. You don’t deserve human interaction if you’re going to act like a barn animal. No food either”. Eric finished climbing the steps and slumped his way to his room where he shut the door as quiet as possible. Thank god Grieves has left him some food because he was hungry and couldn’t be seen leaving the room.

He finished the sandwich and just sat in his room playing on his phone. The good thing was that when he was sentenced to his room his father would not bother him. His father would refuse to have anything to do with him. It hurt though. Eric craved the attention of his father. To be loved like a son. That was the only reason he didn’t break ties and run away. But even though he was an adult, even if he tried his father would find him. And bring him back. His mother had tried the same before he passing and it got her locked on the grounds of the manor never able to leave again. Eric lost track of time when he fell asleep. Sweet sleep where he could be free and have the family he always wanted.

Eric found himself walking through a dark forest. Everything was black. But the trees were clearly illuminated. Grown with green leaves. But brown leaves covered the ground. He moved through the forest and came to an opening with a well. He slowly walked forward and he heard a rustling and from behind the well was what Eric could only describe as being a shadow. He couldn’t make out any of the features but there is was a moving shadow. “What do you wishhhh booyyy” it hissed at him. It pointed at him with claw like fingers and Eric could feel his breathe get heavy and his voice crack as he was forced to speak his truest desire. “I want my father to love me. I want him to love me for simply being me. And to stop caring about all the material stuff and just love his son”. Eric was sweating cold and heavy as the grasp of the shadow let go of him. And he heard a horrible cackle reverberate around the Forrest. Eric was instantly thrown back. As if being pulled back by an invisible force. Into the darkness from whence he just came.

Eric woke up to something smelling horrible. His back was hurting and when he went to stretch his hand hit the wall with a loud thump. Making whatever was on the wall shake. Eric’s eyes popped open. His father would allow something that would rattle to be on the wall. And that’s when he seen something that made him sit straight up. A hole in the ceiling on or his bed. When Eric sat up he was confronted with something that made him panic. Filth. Everywhere. In a corner he could see dirty clothes covered in mud and grease. Right next to an open pizza box with a half eaten pizza. When he sat up he could hear cans rattle and clink against one another. The room was small. There was stains on the wall that told him they had never been washed. A bed sheet covered a door way that he could only assume led to other parts of the house. The carpet was dirty and thread bar. His bed was on the ground. But that was the least of his worried. His body was so different. He was larger. A gut resting between his spread legs that were packed with muscle. His orca were huge and hairy. His hands and feet were so much larger than before and he could feel a beard tickling his chest. What was going on! As he managed to stand up he could hear the board creak under his weight. He felt weak spots in the floor that made him think he was going to fall through. And that’s when he heard it “ hey Eric. Come on in for breakfast!” It was his father. But there was a difference in the way he was speaking. Eric didn’t recognize it. He couldn’t find anything clear to wear and eventually settle on a pair of the dirty shorts from the pile. They had grease stains on them. He could find any underwear and it made him self conscious as he placed the shorts on feeling just much larger groin slapping his thighs. He could feel that he was sporting an obvious bulge in the shorts as they were almost too small for him.

He made his way out of the bedroom. The door opened into a hallway that had holes in the walls. The same dirty thread bare carpet that let to a kitchen. And when he got in there. He seen his father. Or what resembled his father. He smelt just as bad as Eric did. Or almost smelt as bad. An unkept beard with a gut that hung over his dirty jeans. Hair covered him too. He was smoking. Something a Morrison doesn’t do. “There’s my big guy ! I hope you slept well! I made your favorite. Bacon and eggs. Gravy biscuits. And a few cold beers !” He pointed to the seat across from him. Eric didn’t know what to think. He was being offered to eat with his father. In the same room. And his father even said that he made it ! “Well come on big guy! We don’t have all day. We have stuff to do ! “. Eric just looked at him. They had stuff to do? Like together ? “Oh and hear I got this for you. I found it in a bag at the thrift store. I think it will fit”. A Morrison never worse thrifted good. So of course Eric just stood there. But when the shirt was in his hand he put it on. It fit. But barely. He had a significant beer belly now. But the sleeveless shirt felt right at home. As Eric walked over to the seat he was offered and started to consume all the food his father had made for him.

When Eric was done eating he had consumed everything. Even the cold beers his dad had prepared for him. His gut was tight and the shirt was riding up slightly. It was such a differently feeling for him. Being able to eat whatever he wanted without his father telling about calorie intake so he would gain weight. His father took a long drag from his cigarette and blew smoke right in his face. “Well big guy. You ready for work ? I got a new place for us to go to !” Wait did he and his father work together ? His father told him to go ahead and put his shoes on. He didn’t have to get dressed in special clothes for work ? He went to living room feeling the floors and objects in the room shake. He was in a mobile home from the looks of it. When he plopped down on the couch the he heard the couch creak under his weight. His father handed him some shoes. Massive boat sized shoes that he’d never fill out. His father was being so nice to him tho. He even started to tear up. His father notice immediately. “Hey big guy what’s wrong ?! Those bastards aren’t picking on you again are they !? I’m going to talk to them.”

He bent down and start to undo the laces on the shoes. “Listen. There’s nothing wrong with needing help. That’s what Dad’s are for. And as long as I’m hear you’ll always have someone to help you do things like this. Now. What’s the rhyme ?” Drool pooled from Eric’s mouth. What the hell? Was he dumb now ? It just occurred to him that he was trying to remember this to tie his own shoes ….. and he had no idea. His father just laughed and sang a little catchy toon. It made Eric so happy he even clapped a little. “Alright. Let’s get going.” Eric followed his dad from the trailer and was greeted by a trash covered yard. Or rather what could be seen as trash but somehow Eric felt they were treasures. He followed his dad to an old white Ford pic up truck. His father driving of course. When Eric sat down you could see the truck do a noticeable plop from his weight. And then his father drove him to his new life. Eric then finally realized what that sound was in his fathers voice from earlier. Love. The first time he had heard it.

April 13th, 2021 10:00pm wishing well magic shadowwish

[mioakem]

anyone else ever think abt pre revival ctntduo? cause i do. like just think abt it. cq and cwil have always had their eyes on the other, but due to political rivalries and cschlatt, they never got to act upon their feelings. but then cq joins pogtopia and ya, they’re both a little bit fucked up, but they find solace in eachother. quackity sees it as love, maybe it’s cause he just got out of a shitty and abuse relationship, but he truly loves wil. Wilbur sees it as casual, right? he’s not planning on living past november 16th, so no use in falling in love now, right? wilbur begins to trust q, he trusts him enough to show him his plans. q is mortified, he tries his best to stop him. after that, q is more hesitant towards wil. they stop spending the nights together, and q starts avoiding him all together. it’s fine, ofc, it was casual, just like wil had thought. the nights are so much colder. when november 16th comes around, q is scared, mainly for wil. he doesn’t want to lose him, even though he already did. but, it doesn’t matter, wilbur dies.

quackity grieves, but only in the late hours of the night. no one knew about him and wil, and no one ever will. it was casual, no matter how much q didn’t want to believe that. q doesn’t let himself grieve forever, he picks himself up, he works with tubbo and tommy to rebuild what wilbur had destroyed. he tries to forget about the man he loved, but there’s always that lingering feeling. he starts seeing karl and sapnap, they’re good to him, they love him. he loves them as well, of course, why wouldn’t he? there’s no lingering smells of cigarettes, no grimy trench-coats, no matted curly hair. but there’s also no adrenaline to it, no stolen glances and secret meetings in the dark corners of the ravine. but he ignores it, and he stays with them, because they’re good to him, and he needs to learn that that kind of love is good for him.

then he shows up. at first, he thought it was his mind playing tricks on him, but no, he was face to face with wilbur’s ghost. quackity doesn’t know what to feel, so he doesn’t. he tries to ignore the ghost, but he’s a persistent one. quackity quickly learns that ghostbur’s memory isn’t the best. he learns that ghostbur remembers nothing of their time together. quackity pretends like it wasn’t a knife to the gut. of course he wouldn’t remember, just meant nothing, it was casual. it shouldn’t bother him anyways, he wasn’t in love with wilbur! and even if he was, it shouldn’t matter, he has karl and sapnap after all.

then everything falls apart. tommy burnt down george’s house, dream put up walls, tommy was exiled. quackity pushes everything personal aside, his country is what’s most important to him. he plans the hog hunt, he doesn’t think about wilbur for even a second, entirely focused on killing technoblade.

he fails, he loses his first life, he learns that tommy’s dead, and now he wants to kill dream. his injuries heal within weeks, but he refuses to take off the bandages, terrified of what lies underneath. he ignores ghostbur entirely, he doesn’t want the ghost to see him like this. he doesn’t want wilbur to see what’s become of him.

tommy is alive, tommy leaves his partnership with technoblade, l’manburg is destroyed, and ghostbur wants to be revived. quackity is mortified by the idea, he doesn’t want wilbur back, right? why would he, the man clearly doesn’t give two shits about him. ghostbur is nice, ghostbur is kind, he’s the better version of wilbur. quackity should’ve fallen in love with this version of wilbur instead. but why is he thinking like that? he has his fiancés, he’s happy in his romantic life.

dream is in prison, quackity creates las nevadas as a place for him, karl, and sapnap to live, they create a nation without him. He doesn’t care, it was never that serious anyways. quackity ignores ghostbur entirely, he’s too busy to think about the dead man, especially when there’s another one on his mind.

tommy dies, tommy is revived, schlatt wants to be revived. once upon a time, he was in love with schlatt, he was head over heals, one could say. once your in love, you never truly fall out of it, so quackity agrees to help schlatt. ghostbur begins to forget about quackity, and q is alright with that. what he doesn’t know can’t hurt him. it was never ghostbur that was on his mind anyways. at night time, quackity dreams of a ravine.

quackity begins visiting dream. he needs that book, he needs to make the man pay for what he’s done, he needs to avenge tommy. so many reasons for torturing the masked man, so why doesn’t it feel justifiable. he knows deep down he stopped being the good guy a long time ago, he just doesn’t remember when he became the bad guy

quackity leaves a note for his dead…rival? lover? fling? he doesn’t know what to call him, so he settles with dearest friend. he lets him know he was right. and then quackity lets him go. he moves on, he’s ready to let the smoke clear from his memory.

quackity had told tommy he was always welcome in las nevadas, so he was expecting his arrival sooner or later. quackity had wanted tommy to join las nevadas for a while, not just because he would be a viable asset but also because, well sue him, he actually cares for the kid.

he goes over to greet him, he wants to show him around, considering it would be his first time in the golden city.

he just hadn’t expected to see a fully saturated wilbur soot standing next to him, dawning a matching white streak in his hair

[cinnamontoastcrunch-15]

You know how with hippies they sometimes meet new people and instantly vibe with them because they're on the same spiritual level? Yeah this happened to Remus once with another person and Sirius was not having it. S was convinced that R would get it in their head that it was a sign that they're dating the wrong person and leave him so he just sort of tries to be a hippie for the day. Remus thinks it was adorable.

THIS THIS THIS

So this oneshot takes place much earlier in their relationship just to make it a bit more feasible because I fully believe that after a few years Sirius was part hippie by nature, so here’s hippie Remus and scientist Sirius a couple of months in :)

Sirius glanced around the small bookshop and bit back a smile. Of course Remus worked there. Everything about them was becoming less and less surprising. Remus had said he’d probably be on till, so Sirius strolled past the shelves adorned with vines and string lights, some with old books, some new, some full of crystals and cards called… tarot? The moment he saw the till, his face brightened. God, what was happening to him? He hadn’t been this sickeningly into anyone since he was 14!

Remus was stood with his elbows resting on the counter, talking to someone who was presumably a customer and laughing. A lot.

Why were they laughing so much?

Sirius stepped a little closer, catching the end of their conversation.

“Sorry, I just have to ask; are you an earth sign, by any chance? I usually get along really well with earth signs.” Remus asked the guy, and Sirius frowned, confused.

What the hell was an earth sign?

“Yeah! Are you a water sign?”

“Yeah, I am.” Remus said with a smile, and Sirius’ heart dropped just a little.

“I’m Edgar, by the way.” The guy introduced himself, as Sirius reached a conclusion that he really didn’t want to reach.

Sirius was… boring.

“I’m Remus.”

He stared at a fucking microscope all day. His house was full of notebooks and equations.

“Well, Remus, we’re meant to be friends.”

Remus was free, interesting. Amazing.

Shit.

“I was thinking the same thing.”

He wasn’t good enough for Remus, with his extensive jewellery, dark purple flowing skirt and white shirt, a gentle brown eyeliner accentuating their amber eyes. Remus lit up a room, Sirius just walked in and analysed stuff. Christ, Remus was probably going to leave him. It had only been a few months, he was probably going to get bored of him in five minutes. He was too sheltered for someone like Remus.

Throughout this very minor and not at all terrifying panic, Remus had looked over and spotted him.

“Sirius! Hi!” Sirius snapped back into reality, trying to slow his own heart. His eyes met Remus’, and everything melted into a smile.

How the hell they could do that, Sirius would never know.

Maybe he really was magic.

“Hi, Rem. You nearly ready to go?”

“Yeah, yeah, almost. As soon as Marlene arrives we can get out of here.” He said, reaching out and squeezing Sirius’ hand, sending a jolt of electricity through him and making his breath hitch. He really couldn’t think like a normal person when he was around Remus. “Oh! This is Edgar!” Remus turned and indicated to him enthusiastically, Sirius’ brain switching back on. He turned and smiled politely at Edgar, ignoring the fact that he wanted to scream. Edgar was covered in crystals. More so than Remus, to the point that it felt like he was 50% stone. Not only that, but they were the ones that Remus had said were his favourites.

It was like the universe was dropping people in between Remus and Sirius in an active attempt to split them up. Sirius almost wanted to start pre-grieving the relationship to prepare for the inevitable breakup. How the hell was he meant to hold on to someone as amazing as Remus when he was just… him?

That was when it hit him.

Surely it couldn’t be that hard to be a hippie. He loved it in Remus, he must have been able to do it himself. There went the next week, while he figured out what he was meant to do.

He was going to be interesting enough for Remus if it fucking killed him.

-

Sirius had been acting off all week.

Remus was good at reading Sirius, and he was pretty sure that Sirius ending any messages complaining about employees with ‘what an air sign’ or ‘the vibes are off with that one’ was pretty out of character. Still, it wasn’t anything too noticeable, not until Remus went over Sirius’ that Saturday.

The moment he opened the door, something felt different.

Firstly, the lights were dimmed, and there was… incense burning? What the hell was going on with Sirius?

“Uh… Sirius?”

“I’m in the kitchen!” He called, as Remus ambled over. The moment he got into the kitchen he stopped, stunned into freezing.

Sirius was wearing a skirt.

A long, flowing, sandy orange skirt.

While Remus’ first thought very well may have been that it was insanely fucking sexy, his second thought was what on earth he was doing. He really wasn’t one for wearing skirts, no matter what a crime it was that he didn’t, and he was baking. As in, not sitting and getting excited about his work like he usually was. It was nice to see Sirius trying new things, but there was something off about it. Like he was trying to fit in to something that he didn’t quite fit into. Not yet, anyway. It seemed like it was making him slightly uncomfortable. He turned around and his face lit up.

Okay, something Remus was used to.

“Rem! Hi!”

“Hey, Sirius. You alright?”

“Yeah, I’m great.”

“Are you sure?” He asked, wanting to get some sort of an answer. The switch had happened so suddenly it was like he had gotten whiplash, and he was desperate for answers.

“…yeah? Why, what’s going on?”

“It’s nothing, don’t worry about it. How was work yesterday?” Remus asked, walking over and kissing him quickly.

“Oh, I- I didn’t go.” Sirius admitted, cringing a little, and Remus almost cringed right alongside him, with the internal struggle Sirius seemed to have had with himself. “Gave myself a day off, you know? To be more… free.”

“Right, Sirius, what’s going on?” Remus asked. As much as he was enjoying Sirius baking in a skirt, him missing work was so odd that he had to get to the bottom of it. According to Sirius, the only other time he had was when he was so ill that James had forced him to go home.

“What d’you mean?”

“I mean you never miss work. You’ve found something you love, that you’re passionate about. That’s important. You’ve been acting different all week, what’s going on?”

“Different as in… bad?” Sirius asked, looking slightly stricken, and Remus’ heart immediately gave a slight tug.

“No, not bad!” He said hastily, quickly composing himself. “Just… different. It feels like you’re not being all that authentic to yourself.” He answered calmly. “You can talk to me. What’s wrong?”

“I just-“ Sirius’ breath caught in his throat as he let his eyes slide shut and took a deep, stabilising breath. “I’m so boring, Rem.” Remus frowned, confused.

“Sorry?”

Since when was Sirius boring?

“I- I saw you talking to that guy, Edgar, at the shop. He was just- he was interesting, and you two got along so well, and it just made me think.”

“Think about what?”

“Remus, you deserve someone like that! Someone who knows which signs are fire signs and won’t talk your bloody ear off about cells!” He exclaimed, going to pace and finally morphing a lot more into the Sirius that Remus was used to. “It felt like a wake up call that, at some point, I would get too boring and you’d leave. Rightfully so. So I took it upon myself to make sure I was someone who deserves to be with you.” Remus watched him for a moment, processing.

Honestly? That was so bloody endearing.

Sirius looked like he was about to start up again any moment, arms flailing just slightly as he paced, pushing Remus to step forwards and grab his wrists gently to stop him. Christ, how Sirius could think he’d ever want anyone else, he’d never know. Couldn’t he see just how completely and utterly perfect he was? Sirius paused, turning and facing Remus, slightly wide eyed.

“Sirius, I don’t think you understand how much I like all of that about you. I really love how passionate you are about your work, how much you care, and how much you care about learning about the things I’m interested in. Just because Edgar knew what they were doesn’t mean I’m going to run away with him, or something. Surprisingly enough, Sirius, I actually love listening to you talk about work. You should see the way your eyes light up. I’m not going anywhere, and you sure as hell don’t have to prove yourself to me.” As he spoke, he slid his hands down from Sirius’ wrists until he had both of his hands in his. He knew he was going to have to tell him. For someone who was typically pretty sure of himself, he was nervous as fuck to tell him. “Christ, Sirius, I don’t just like you, I’m in love with you.”

He had thought Sirius’ eyes were already wide, but it was nothing compared to once he had gotten the words out. Fuck, had he freaked Sirius out? He hadn’t meant to, he had just wanted Sirius to stop panicking about changing. He just wanted Sirius to know he thought that he was perfect-

“I love you too.” Sirius admitted softly, a smile starting to form on his face. Remus smiled straight back, breathing out a relieved laugh.

“Well then we’re set.”

“But what if-“

“No ifs, just kiss me.” Remus answered quickly, moving his hands to pull Sirius in and kiss him. He pulled away shortly after. “I do love the skirt, though. It suits you.”

“Y’know what? I do too. It’s making me question quite a bit about myself, though.”

“Question away, love, I’ll be here for it.”

[anamenooneowns]

Healed

A/N: hi! i've started watching the OBX and i wanted to just write something platonic for rafe bc i feel like a lot could have been prevented if this kid just had love in his life, lmao. uh, so previously this was with the reader as him mother but i'm changing it to just be a woman who is his stepmother and black. anyone can read this though.

Warnings: light talking of animal abuse, talk of therapy, she/her pronouns.

This is entirely platonic.

IN WHICH: Rafe is Loved.

-Coming into Rafe’s life when he was starting to go through his issues at ten. He wasn’t stupid, he could see that his father was focusing more and more on Sarah and less on him

-So what did a young kid who wanted his father’s attention do? He tried harder. He tried harder because trying harder must have meant he just wasn’t doing enough in the first place. He stopped playing video games, studied 24/7, read books in his free time, took care of four year old Wheezie and of seven year old Sarah

-His stepmother saw how desperate he was for approval. Waiting for even just a splinter of a bone, like a dog, to take away and nurture secretly from everyone else’s eyes

-She also realized that when he saw good things weren’t getting his father’s attention, he turned to bad things… really bad things

-Starting fights, locking Sarah in places like the basement or closet if she got on his nerves, telling Wheezie scary stories that made her too afraid to leave her bed and gave her nightmares she couldn’t sleep from, catching him outside one day torturing a poor stray cat that was always near the house by pulling its tail until she found him

-Rafe was still wary of her: the stepmother. Maybe not as wary as he was filled with pre-conceived notions. She had to think he was just a nuisance, an annoying boy who got into shit and was just acting out and being a spoiled brat. Rafe saw nothing meaningful in being a child because the adults around him were always staring at him like some big disappointment, whispering condolences to Ward as if he had died as a kid. That it was just a phase and when he was older it would stop

-That was where Rafe’s desire to become a man had blossomed, until she stepped in and squashed that bullshit right in the bud.

-She opened her heart to Rafe in a way that scared him. This had to be a trap. What did she gain from being so nice and sweet? Brownie points with his father because she was a good step-mom? A good reputation among the other parents for stepping up for these motherless kids?

-He responded the only way a wounded dog could. By biting.

-He was nasty and rude and mean in a specific way branded to her. Hitting where he felt it would hurt the most, wanting–needing–to drive her away because he knew if he didn’t then he’d have to face the most painful truth of all

-That someone loved him

-And she did love this precious boy. This ten year old boy who was a maelstrom of pain and hurt and anger and confusion and a bone-aching loneliness that she swallowed for him with every smile, every defense of his actions, every meal, every ruffle of his hair, and every unsaid ‘I love you’

-The early grieved childhood of Rafe Cameron turned around with the help of one woman who made being a kid have value again.

-She was incredibly patient. Soon, very early mornings became ones of meditation for her and Rafe, silence befriending both as them as they sat outside on specific, comfy pillows to start the day. Incense in the air from fragrances like lavender and vanilla to frankincense

-Rafe never thought himself to be the creative type, but he shyly found himself really enjoying pottery with her. Painting too

-He liked the idea of being able to make whatever he wanted and give it new life and redo it if he made a mistake

-He loves listening to old-school R&B and Hip-Hop with her while doing it. He has one of those reversable plushies so if it’s smiling then he wants the session to be a talking one, if it isn’t then he doesn’t want to talk but it can change mid-session too

-Rafe also never says anything about it, but he adores her curly hair and she only knows because she caught him trying to peek discreetly at her while she was doing the last braid of the row she was on

-He’s so sweet and shy too, telling her that he likes the products she uses because they smell really good and just quietly watching her do the rest

-As Rafe grows older, it’s clear he’s changed a lot but she actually forced Ward to do something about this disconnect that she sees he still has. Rafe isn’t a bad kid but he still doesn’t see that when he does certain things, they hurt people’s feelings, and his empathy isn’t fully there 

-Rafe initially resists it because his thought process is ‘they think I’m crazy’ until he actually attends with her–for support–and really enjoys it

-Rafe is kinder to his sisters and is more like a big brother now, bothering them by going into their room for no reason, messing something up, then leaving

-Rafe is always in the kitchen when she is, watching her cook and helping too at her gentle instruction

-Rafe’s best friends have been Topper and Kelce his whole life but with her intervention, he finds himself not caring at all about ‘Kooks vs. Pogues’ similarly to Sarah and I see him not choosing to be friends with them anymore because he doesn't want to become the same rotten apple. You know what they say-one (two) rotten apples spoils the whole barrel.

-Healed Rafe is completely about protecting his peace. This kid meditates, drinks tea, has been learning to not react impulsively, and is super responsible

-Rafe actually going to college and not just fucking around with Ward's money and doing drugs, all because someone saw him and helped him instead of just watching him drown

-Rafe chooses to head to college outside of the OBX and North Carolina in general to just get away from it all and on the last day, all moved into his dorms in NYC, he hugs her tightly and for the first time in the decade she's been in his family he says, “Thank you, mom, for–for everything, okay? … I love you. Sorry I didn’t say it sooner.”

-There’s a lump in her throat as she hugged her son, her baby, and just held onto him a little tighter

“Don’t apologize, baby. I already knew.”

[frogs-are-cool0]

Pre Jason death:

Jason is actually happy for the first time in his life, he has an actual father figure to look up to, he’s able to help people and he’s thriving. He is a happy go lucky kid with stars in his eyes who goes around telling people that “Robin gives him magic”. He is energetic, loving and happy.

Dicks the complete opposite, who he saw as his father has (in his eyes) just done the closest thing he could to disowning him by giving away his family’s colours and his mothers name for him to some random kid Bruce found on the street. He’s smoking, changed his name and has gone off on his own to prove a point to Bruce, he yells, he gets angry and he runs away from his issues.

Post Jason’s death though?

The jason people knew before is dead and in his place is the red hood, a man who takes no shit from anybody. This is a man who beheaded anyone who he didn’t like and left the heads in a duffle bag for some random person to find.

Meanwhile dick appears to be thriving, he’s made up with Bruce, he’s trying his best to be there for Tim and most importantly he looks happy.

What I’m trying to say is that after Jason’s death both dick and Jason wanted to reinvent themselves and leave who they used to be behind. Jason knew he had to be big and intimidating, someone who people would fear yet respect, and so (probobly without even realising it) took inspiration from his big brother. Dick understood that while everyone was grieving there had to be someone there to fill the void that Jason left and so he took inspiration from his little brother.

They became each other because the other person was who they looked up to the most and wanted to be like wether that was intimidating or happy.

———

Sorry if it’s not worded very well, I just needed to rant about that lmao

[enjoythesilentworld]

Wille's Month - Future

numero 11 here we go. @youngroyals-events <3

Wilhelm writes a letter to himself.

read below the cut or on ao3. (T, swearing, grief)

Hi.

It’s me, Future Wille. Or, I guess, it’s you, but in the future. Like, you are Past Wille and I, writing this, am Future Wille. Although, technically I can’t actually send this to you and the whole naming thing would make more sense if I was Past Wille writing to Future Wille. Whatever, you get it. I’m stalling. 

A few years ago, I (Past Wille but less Past than you are, you are pre-Hillerska Wille) wrote a letter that was meant for Future Wille, but I figure it got lost in the shuffle when the school was shut down (spoiler!). My therapist suggested that I write a new one, but to the past, and I thought, hey what a fun way to relive the most tumultuous and traumatic time of my life? Now I can see Simon watching me because he can probably tell I’m still stalling. How does he always know? (Just wait until I tell you about Simon.) 

Listen, the next few months are going to bring some of the best and worst times of your life. You’ll feel the greatest pain and loss you’ve ever felt, but also experience some of the most beautiful moments of love. 

You will lose your brother. It will hurt. Bad. You think those panic attacks you’ve had were tough? Just wait! You will feel like you’re no longer human. You’ll feel like no one fucking gets it. You’ll feel like you’ve forgotten how to speak, how to function, because how the fuck can he just be gone? You’ll think, what do you mean I just have to continue living without him? You’ll officially become Crown Prince and you’ll hate things even more. You’ll self-destruct a little bit. You’ll beg your parents to fucking see you. You’ll try to remember they’re grieving, too. You’ll continue on with your life, you’ll have to. The grief will get easier to carry and realizing that will almost hurt worse than anything else. You’ll learn to live with it, you’ll think of him every day. 

You will lose your brother a second time. I’m not sure I’m even ready to tell you all the things that will bring up. You will work on forgiving him because it helped you come to one big, important decision: You will step down from your right to the throne. 

It will be okay, just trust me. 

During that first year at Hillerska… where do I even start? You’ll be betrayed by someone you were told you could trust. Your parents will basically abandon you, too, and everything will go from periods of being actually pretty good to being absolutely horrible. Just know, this is proof, that you will make it through and be better for it. (maybe things didn’t have to go quite that shit for me to be ‘better for it’ – because holy shit – but isn’t that the way we’re supposed to talk about the past?)

You will learn so many things after leaving Hillerska. You will be happier than you’ve ever been. All of it will feel worth it, in a way. You’ll finish school and go to university like a normal kid. You’ll take a bunch of random classes because you’ve never really had a choice of career, so you’ve never really thought about it. You’ll still not really know what you want to do at 25. But you will be okay. 

I saved the best for last. Simon. 

Simon will appear in your life and he will be everything. He will be the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. He will challenge you, he will test you, he will make you feel things you’d never thought you could feel. You will lose him, three times, all of them your fault, in a way. You will cause a few national scandals (don’t ask). You will hurt him and he will hurt you. You will try to fix things and make it work. You will love him with every cell in your body. He will love you back. 

Listen, Simon will be the best thing that has ever happened to you. He still is the best thing that has ever happened to me. Keep him close. Kiss him as much as you can. Tell him you love him as much as you can. Make him sandwiches and make him laugh and try your very hardest to make him as happy as he makes you. Know that you end up together, in the end. 

I can’t warn you about everything. Just know that you will make it through. Be kinder to yourself. Take a step back, when you can, and let yourself breathe. Lean on Felice (but be there for her, too, she needs you). Forgive Mamma, forgive Pappa, remember they are just humans, too, and they are trying their best. Forgive yourself. 

Okay Simon is looking at me now in a way that means I’m done with this letter. Much more important matters to attend to. Namely, kissing the hell out of my boyfriend. You’ll understand soon. 

I believe in you. You can do this. 

Wille. 

[kairithemang0]

Hi I reblogged the post that I assume you’re pissed about. You wanted someone in your inbox.

My gripe is with the fact that Curt is portrayed as weak sometimes on tumblr (not by any one singular user) and I find that frustrating for my own personal tastes.

I have never read any of your saf fics, only some hatchetfield stuff. I couldn’t even tell you what you have saf fics about, I simply do not know.

If you portray Curt in the way that post describes, I would prefer to read

A) someone else’s fic

B) a different fic by you

C) something off my bookshelf

D) all of the above

I think it depends on the fic. I think that post fall especially curt FEELS weak. He’s not, but he’s lost all his confidence. He is a great spy, he wouldn’t have the title as one of the best if he didn’t. But post fall, with what happened to Owen, and how it was his fault, and how he feels like he ruined everything. He feels weak, he feels like a failure. He feels like he can’t do anything.

But pre fall? He’s not weak at all. He’s got an ego, he fucks up because he wants to be the best, when he already is, but it causes him to act irrationally and screw up.

Personally, I think Curt generally struggles with self confidence, pre fall especially around Owen and post fall with just… everything. He wants to be the old Curt, confident and brave and able to do anything. But now he feels like a fuck up, because of what happened to Owen, because of what happened to the prince. He spent 4 years grieving Owen, 4 years drowning in whiskey and the fact he feels like he can’t do anything because he let the one person that really really mattered go, and is only now realizing the weight of his feelings for him, only now really realizing how much Owen actually meant to him. You only know you love them when you let them go, as that one dog shit song goes (I hate that song)

Also I know the post you’re talking about, I’m not generally pissed about it but I have my other gripes relating to that person that’s me just being an asshole so it doesn’t matter

[kwop-kilawtley]

the movies robbed us of so many great bella x jake moments that were in the books… and some were just half-assed with no real impact, such as their breakup in the end of eclipse. the scene in the book is beyond heartbreaking, but in the movie it’s so? meh?? or on a lighter note, the training scene when jake was in wolf form and he licked bella’s face, that was some cute bff shit that i wish they had included. so if you had to pick 3 moments from the books that you wish were in the movies, which would they be? 

We were ROBBEDDDDDDD!!!!! Simply! Okay Literally the end of eclipse is the bane of my existence it ruins me every time and the movie scene was NOTHING. The entire purpose of eclipse was her fighting with the fact that she does love Jacob and that she DOES have to make a choice. So for them to just throw away that end scene with them was horrible. She doesn’t even say she’s in love with him or cry or give us ANYTHING. Also like in the book they were cuddled in bed and then afterwards she was grieving over him and depressed. It’s my biggest issue with all the movies. WE NEEDED THEM CRYING AND CUDDLING AND GRIEVING OVER THEIR LOVE AND LIFE AND FUTURE. WE NEEDED HER TO SAY WHAT SHE SAYS IN THE BOOK that Jacob is her soulmate and she WANTS to stay with him but that she didn’t have a choice. We needed edward being like are you sure? I never seen you so upset… and then bella being miserable about planning the wedding cause she never wanted it.

I also understand why a lot of this fandom is team Edward bc if you only watch the movies it makes sense bc it doesn’t even seem like Jacob is really all that important. In the books he is there ALL the time and all of Bellas best moments are with him. They have more of a romance than Edbella.

Idk if I can just pick 3 tbh….. also this is not counting the end of eclipse but that’s totally my main issue and wish we got it so bad

1. In new Moon Bella having that dinner with Jake & the family pre wolf. She was holding hands with Jacob giggling and being a cute teenager with him & she said she felt genuinely happy for once. GODD I love this scene so much.

2. In new moon where after she jumps off the cliff and they go back to jakes house and she’s changed into his clothes and they’re cuddling and he falls asleep on her.

3. Conversation hearts. Sorry but this has a grip on me and I wish they included it so bad 😭😭😭🫶🏻

But like there’s SOOO many tbh. So many scenes of them in the garage being real and cute. There’s a few scenes in eclipse I am thinking of that were so good.. like when she’s just with him on the beach when she shouldn’t be. There were a few beach meets with them and they’re just so tender ugh. That scene in eclipse where Jake and her are doing dishes together and he accidentally cuts himself and she’s like freaking out. Jacob is in eclipse a LOT and it’s so obvious how much she loves him and how much she’s really trying to be annoyed at him. Which is all revealed in the end ofc. Oh also them trying to find the meadow!! Hiking together unsuccessfully. There’s so many honestly ugh. Feel free to send me some more than you wish were included or scenes in the movies that did not properly portray. OH SPEAKING OF DUHHH THEIR FUCKING KISS IN ECLIPSE???? Bellas inner monologue is so intense it’s such an insane awakening for her and she sees their whole future and the fact they cut that out is HORRIFIC. tbh I think a lot of people skip over Jacob parts. I also think the producers knew that if they portrayed any of this then it wouldn’t be good bc exb is endgame.

[gayofthefae]

I actually really like the representation of the nuance - not in the actual person but in the perceptions - of Lonnie and his kids. Jonathan clearly took some shit too but from what we’re shown and told, the bulk of it was targeted at Will with Jonathan stepping in.

But Jonathan hates the man and Will tries to justify that “it’s fun to go with him sometimes”. It’s just so logical to me. Jonathan watched his little brother get hurt and it fueled anger in him. But Will was hurt and told himself “at least he said he’d hang out with me even if he didn’t. I mean, that’s nice too. I enjoy baseball sometimes going with him even though I don’t like it. I mean, it’s the thought that counts really.”

I just really like that balance. Where Lonnie is clearly shitty and nobody is arguing that. And Billy is clearly shitty and people should stop arguing that. So to the audience, we know that they are clearly shitty. But we can still watch Will and Max say “I miss you. I wish you could have been my brother” and “It’s fun to go with him sometimes” and grieve and look on the bright side no matter how illogical it is because that’s how that shit works. The victim will always cope. And it’s only sometimes by villainizing. And typically even if they do, they won’t do that the whole time - like Max with Billy pre vs post death.

I was just so relieved when I saw things like that they had allowed Max to grieve. And the hesitation when El dropped Papa’s hand and the way that she listened to him even if she didn’t concede or forgive. Because he raised her for 12 years. And Max still wanted Billy to be her brother - part of her didn’t want him to be gone, she just wanted him to be better. And Lonnie raised Will. And they can’t help it. They LOVE them. That’s what fucking happens. And I am sick and tired of people saying that these abusers were given redemption arcs. They weren’t. The people saying that don’t see them as redeemed and the writers know that which is why they can afford to tell the stories of their victims grappling with the nuance. Because to say that all someone feels when their abuser of years goes away is relief is just blatantly inaccurate.

And Will Byers and “a child abused doesn’t stop loving the parent, it stops loving itself”.

[theancientdarkbeauty]

💚🦈- Blood, Garnet, Scarlet, Wine, Lipstick and Poppy

Alright, first, I’ll do Tera, my Half Life OC. The quick background on her is that she is a biochemical engineer who was testing the Biology Department’s HEV suit when the Resonance Cascade happened, and thus survived by pure accident. Being Australian however, she was able to hold her own against the space Australians. You don’t run into her during the game because the Military slit her throat thinking she was Freeman, but she survived! Barely! With the help of GMan and some science (and morphine from the suit). Anyways, onto the ask game

Blood- what would she do if she saw a stranger’s corpse: originally, pre rescas, depending on the place, she would’ve panicked. Whose body is this, what killed them, am I in danger as well? That kinda stuff. Unless it was like a funeral she accidentally got invited to (she would go to see if she knew anyone there and if she didn’t she would apologies) post ResCas, probably after stasis, legit that would’ve been just par for the course. Unless it had a Headcrab on it. Then she would stab the Headcrab (she hates those things)

Garnet- if they had to kill someone, what method would they choose: the most quick and painless way possible. Not a stranger to mercy kills after the rescas, she has found that shooting someone in the soft part right between the skull and the neck on the back of the head is the least painful and most sure fire way to kill someone, aiming up thru the skull ofc. If she didn’t have a gun on her tho she would snap their neck.

Scarlett- how does she grieve: She used to get real quiet, cuts herself off from people, silently reflect on times she had with the person. However, after the rescas, most all of her friends had already died, and she was in Europe now instead of America or Australia, so she just assumed that her family was dead, so she forced herself to channel the pain and grief into rage, helping her get through her rather extraneous circumstances. She really just needs a hug and a good cry smh

Wine- How does she act when she’s drunk: She’s a happy drunk, but is also a heavyweight. Think of it like Brooklyn 9-9’s “# drink Amy” system. She gets real fun (a little loud) for the first 5 drinks. After 5 shit hits the fan, but she knows her limits. (She gets really competitive at drink 7 is the problem)

Lipstick- What is her love language: she is probably physical affection and quality time. Poor girl didn’t have the time to spend with people to fell fulfilled in a relationship before the rescas, and probably never will again.

Poppy- Does she believe in a god: After meeting up with Gordon after the rescas, he told her about the Nihalinth, and so she believes in some sort of higher being, but not probably the Christian god. She is a woman of science after all.

Time for Jaws! You all know Jaws (hopefully) but if you don’t, they are this crime gremlin I made for Payday. Common traits among all Jaws are: extensive scarring, multiple mental disorders, propensity for explosives. But the main point is just they’re a crime gremlin

Blood- what would they do if they saw a stranger’s corpse: they probably put it there. If it’s a civilian, they’d probably swear a lot because that’s coming out of my paycheck but otherwise they would just leave it there, bc they don’t want their finger prints on the scene

Garnet- if they had to kill someone, what method would they choose: shoot them. Or stab them. They aren’t above murder, they do it often. Chemical weapons are also fun, but they aren’t allowed to use them anymore after the Safehouse accidentally got filled with mustard gas that one time

Scarlet- how do they grieve: violently. Lots of murder, lots of stealing. At the Safehouse, where they can’t lash out violently, they have this thing called a “stab pillow”, it’s a throw pillow they started stabbing when they were mad. Also they have their dogs for emotional support (Rexy and Tatsuya my beloved)

Wine- how do they act when they’re drunk: they mellow out a lot actually! Get really tired, but also usually have enough energy to play like drinking games and stuff. Very much a lightweight.

Lipstick- What is their love language: they are aroace, but with their “family”, it’s quality time. They just like being in the presence of people (they aren’t physically affectionate but very touch starved so think of them like a cat on occasion)

Poppy- do they believe in a god: no. God abandoned them.

Anyways that was for both Jaws and Tera hope everyone is doing good! (Sorry if topics got a little dark both of them come from dark source materials)

[deadwife]

I’m waiting for my install of The Sims 4 to update with the new stupid EA launcher and am drinking a beer and digesting the weekend and planning this week and it got longer than I expected

Had off Friday and got my hair cut for the first time since July. Did laundry and hung out with my dad for a bit. Got a new dish from the local Chinese restaurant that was like 40% onions. Gross. Saturday I swept & vacuumed the house (stabbed the shit out of my finger on a pushpin that was stuck in the vacuum hose), cleaned the kitchen, and hung out with my friends & boyfriend. We saw the FNAF movie in the evening, which was fine. The animatronics were very cool and the story was accessible whether you were familiar with the games or not. I liked Foxy’s weirdly intimidating “dum-de-dum”, the YouTuber cameos, and the end credits song. I only ever watched like two playthrough of the first game and didn’t realize Foxy’s area was right next to the main stage? I thought he had his own room. Today I could not get motivated until the afternoon but made myself go out for a walk (and PokeGo), grocery shopping (soup was on sale!), and raked leaves.

Tomorrow I have a meeting at work at 10, then have to leave by 3:30 to make sure my mom’s dog gets to the vet by 5… Tuesday is Friendsgiving at my other office so Monday night I also have to bake two things (probably chocolate zucchini bread and a gluten-free cinnamon coffee cake)… Wednesday is normal I think. Thursday is a teleconference training 9-11, then a staff meeting on the afternoon???

Friday the current gov’t budget runs out and I haven’t heard yet about congress signing another continuing resolution yet so we may shutdown /blows a raspberry into my palm

my agency has prior-year funds that can be used to keep our salaries up which is COOL except I also had to work through the 2018 shutdown while my mom’s agency was furloughed. :/ I should be grateful to have job security and a paycheck while other people may not get paid until the end of the shutdown. But still. I want some time off where I don’t have to worry about my stupid email inbox.

Anyway while all this is going on, I’m basically waiting for my mom to let me know my aunt passed away since she was sent to a hospice facility last Sunday and the plan was for her to go back home on Friday to, you know. It sucks and even tho I’ve been waiting for this since she got diagnosed in the late spring, I feel like my pre-grieving is going to go about as well as Roman Roy’s did.

Here’s a picture of my cat if you read all that, her name is Piper.

[unohanabbygirl]

I feel like even if Luke could look past Aemond murdering him in the past, his horrific actions during the war, or the r*pe by deceit that happens between them before he remembers, I really can’t see him understanding the love that Aemond felt for him before he was discovered by Alicent. They hardly interacted for most of their life, Aemond wanted to actively hurt him, and DID cause his death and now Luke is supposed to believe Aemond began to love him in modern day without them interacting at all? He didn’t know the person Lucerys had grown into in his final years but somehow their interactions as children fueled enough of a fire for Aemond to become devoted to him? He’d be SO fuckin skeptical. “You love me? You hardly even know me! And you didn’t know me back then either.”

Aemond’s love for Luke is very complex and if we’re being honest here is built mostly from childhood memories, yearning/borderline obsession, and years worth of grieving what could’ve been. Not getting to know Luke for the guy he grew to be in the span of nearly a decade separated is the prime reason why out of everyone Aemond is one of few that’s had the easiest time accepting this new version of Luke for who he’s shown himself to be rather than forcing the identity of Lucerys onto him. Those like Rhaenyra, Jace, Corlys etc actually knew who Luke was, therefore had expectations start. Aemond didn’t.

This just goes to show that while Aemond does love Luke it’s mostly the idea of him that fueled a lot of that desire pre-reunion. Yea, Rhaenyra can tell stories about Luke in his later years during holidays where the absence of his presence hits the hardest, but it’s nothing like actually having known the guy for himself.

I like to think of it in a similar way to those older men who are still stuck on “the one who got away” from their college days. Their desire and yearning is driven by memories of who that person once was rather than who they grew to be after they went their separate ways. Understandably, Luke will be untrusting for the exact reasons you listed. Once the initial anger wears off and he just wants some clear cut answers he won’t hold back in making his doubts known and calling out what he feels is bullshit.

It’ll take a lot of hard work (begging) and dedication on Aemond’s end if he wants to prove what he feels is real and not just the work of blind nostalgia at play. Luke won’t be easy to win over, not after all the shit he’s been through.