#but until then the guilt has had a hard grip on me -- why didn't you start editing in early june? why aren't you editing right now?

[variousqueerthings]

smthinsmthin when considering my mindbody's inability to conform to the grind simply because it struggles to be productive or function on things at all, outside of a complex set of understandings/calculations it makes around spark of inspiration at the moment in time when not exhausted plus some kind of sense of urgency minus guilt = ability to do thing (calculation goes up if replacing inspiration for motivation perhaps?)

there is also the variable that has the guilt take the place of inspiration or time, as we all know when the guilt takes over it's the anxiety's turn to take the wheel - less great than inspiration or motivation + adds to exhaustion

anyway, my mindbody cannot conform to the grind, cannot even mask the grind, has tried, has barely scraped through basic work hours, not good for the things I want to do of course, because exhaustion levels so high, but

it's still quite nice to know that my mindbody categorically refuses the capitalist mindset, not even on a political, philosophical level (although that too), but on a simple physical nope. we're in agreement on that inside the mindbody. it wants more rest, regardless of anything else, it cannot be forced to do anything else, have tried. no good on a survival level, for sure, but not incorrect. have a great deal of affection for this, although there are still mechanisms that are being worked out around functioning at all outside of bursts of inspiration or anxiety (both of which don't work great for memory/loss, sustainable functionality/exhaustion, emotional regulation etc). and the guilt, how to speak gently to the guilt and remind oneself that even it is there to try and help, albeit by making the mindbody feel sick

reading about crip time does wonders for the guilt

[generalsmemories]

Unwanted reunion

✧ jing yuan x gn!reader

✧ prompts: “catching the other one crying shortly after an argument and immediately feeling an overwhelming wave of guilt crash onto you.” + "it's okay, we can fix this..." + “playing with their hair until they fall asleep”|| 1k event

✧ contents: hurt/comfort, angst, established relationship, implied character death

✧ a/n: if u wonder how in the world i came up with the scenario below. i genuinely don't know either it's a mystery to even me. CREATIVE LIBERTY WINS AGAIN THE PROMPTS WERE LITERALLY INSPO AND NOT WRITTEN DIRECTLY INTO THE SCENARIO. also implied that this took place after the battle with phantylia so keep that in mind.

NOT BETA-READ AS USUAL FELLAS I WANTED TO HAND THIS OVER TO YA'LL ASAP AS AN APOLOGY FOR STARVING YOU ALL FOR SO LONG!! it's mild angst though, so sorry.

Jing Yuan's can feel a familiar heaviness weigh on his body as well as the feeling of someone wrapping a roll of gauze on his arm. However opening his eyes proved to be a challenge in itself and it's only with great struggle that he can manage to force them slightly open to the bright light.

The first thing he notices is the familiar ceiling of your shared home. A bit weird since whenever he did get injured he would immediately be rushed towards a private room by the Seat of Divine Foresight - which was the safest place for him to stay. Perhaps you had gotten your will again to take care of him - seeing as you're a high ranking healer yourself and quite a stubborn soul.

But his eyes still widen a tiny bit when he sees you sitting by the edge of the bed, one hand gripping his gauzed wound while your other hand is busy trying to find something to keep your hard work in place. You're humming a soft tune again, he never knows what sort of melody you're humming, only that it had become a habit for you after the amount of years you had spent by his side bandaging his battle wounds. Something about helping your mood and staying positive.

"Your recklessness knows no bounds, Jing Yuan." the sternness of your voice snaps him out of the daze he's in, immediately rising up from the bed only to groan in pain when the wounds that you had just wrapped up react to his body folding, "... And still don't know when to rest - even when I'm in the middle of treating you."

"...How much time has passed?" he asks, voice hoarse after having slept for who knows how long. You only hum, setting the bandages aside - the gesture causing Jing Yuan to follow your hand movements which makes him notice the bloodied bandages inside the trash by your legs.

"A couple of days, I was just finishing changing your bandages when you finally woke up. Here, some water." you inform, raising a glass towards his lips, patiently waiting for him to move closer.

You only start to speak again after he's taken several gulps, placing the cup of water back on the nightstand beside his bed. "Why are you so willing to throw your life away?" you ask after a moment of silence, helping Jing Yuan rest against the headboard, eyes never leaving his own that don't dare to even look into your own.

"It's my duty-"

"Your duty is to make sure as many of the Cloud Knights survive a battle. Not gamble your life on a piece that you weren't sure had the capabilities to help."

Jing Yuan bites his tongue at your immediate rebuttal, you were right after all. "The Master Diviner was right there by you. A troop was enough to guard the entrance, you didn't need to leave the master diviner with them to go on this-"

"... Can't you be happy for once whenever we meet like this?" he asks quietly, effectively stopped you from saying anything more. His gaze is cast downwards whenever he mutters the same question to you whilst shrinking a bit after asking. There's no sign of the proud general in your presence - in front of you is just Jing Yuan asking a supposedly harmless question.

Perhaps that's the reason why you can never shove him away immediately.

"... You know what my answer is."

Jing Yuan was no crier. In fact, you think he stopped crying or showing any visible sign of discomfort or uneasiness the day he got the title as General. You're pretty sure you can count the amount of times you've seen Jing Yuan cry on one hand.

Perhaps his ability to hide his own needs and wants so often day by day for the past centuries makes your dismissal of his simple wishes that more gut-wrenching for you. You try to ignore the overwhelming guilt that washes over you every time you have to say the same thing to him.

"... You have a lot of things that you want to get done on the Luofu, Jing Yuan." you murmur softly, extending a hand to run your fingers through his locks, breaking apart any knots that may have formed in his sleep.

"You know we can meet again, but now is not the time - especially now," you gently remind with a sombre smile, your hand moving from his hair to rest against his chin to make him face you.

"It's gonna be alright, okay?" he scoffs at your reassurance, finally coming to terms with your conditions once again like always, wrapping his arms around your waist to fall down back on the bed with you on top.

"Remember the last time you said those words to me?" he says, almost sounding offended at your choice of words to which you only smile against his skin in guilt.

"It was the first time I saw you cry so hard," you try to joke, pressing your hands against the mattress to push yourself off of Jing Yuan, choosing to hover above him instead.

"... I'm sorry," you decide to say in the end after a moment of silence, once again threading your fingers through his hair - an act you knew used to calm him before. At this moment though, you're not so sure.

"Why? Shouldn't I be sorry?" he asks in return, a small yawn leaving his lips as his eyes struggle to stay open. You smile bitterly as you shake your head, still threading your fingers through his hair.

"No, none of it was your fault - what happened back then was out of your control. But this time it isn't. I can wait for a long time, Jing Yuan. I know you're aware of that so don't try to rush anything to meet me again." you tell him, leaning down to press your lips against his forehead.

"So it's time to wake up, dear. Luofu is waiting for you."

[satoruxx]

pairing: gojo satoru x reader summary: best friend!satoru is everything to me, fluff, teeny tiny bit angsty, but only bc of pining (my favorite), here to add to my simp satoru agenda, he’s trying his best but reader is oblivious (same), pls notice him rheya’s note: i cant stop thinking about best friend!satoru so i’m here to share this silly little blurb LMAO that’s it enjoy !! part 2

if satoru had known that being your best friend would be this difficult, he would have turned away from you when you said hi to him on your first day at jujutsu high.

it's not that he doesn't care about you. no, quite the opposite actually. he's always cared about you more than he'd like to admit. he can remember the way he used track the eyes of fellow students trailing you when you walked by. he can remember the sting of his nails as they dug into his clenched palms, and how suguru would pat his shoulder sympathetically when he noticed. he was sixteen at the time.

back then it seemed like he would grow out of his teenage crush, after being dismissed as your good friend for so long. but no, just his luck that these stupid feelings would grow and grow until they were tangled up around his very soul. a vice-like grip.

and now almost seven years later, nothing has changed.

"and he told me that if i wanted to be more interesting i should learn to fence, like he does!" you rant, throwing your hands up as you pace the length of his kitchen. satoru leans against the counter, arms crossed as he watches you vent your anger over yet another failed first date.

"uh huh." he acknowledges, trying to stay focused as you continue your annoyed speech. his fingers flex against his biceps, a thinly veiled attempt at controlling his frustration. whether he's frustrated with you or the man you were with, he has no clue.

"then he asked me where i was from, and then said i didn't look like it!" you rage, face hot as you finally unload the frustration you've been carrying all evening.

satoru huffs in mild irritation, trying hard not to roll his eyes. but you hear it and turn to him, half ticked off and half curious. "what was that?"

he clicks his tongue.

"you do this all the time. you always pick guys who treat you like shit. i'm not even surprised anymore." he snaps, a bit more forceful than he intended to be.

there's a silence that follows, and satoru’s unlucky enough to catch the mildly surprised look on your face. he tongues his cheek, brows pinched as he watches your expression fall. an ugly feeling that reminds him suspiciously of guilt rolls around in his stomach.

"you’re right…" you sigh, shoulders slumping as you cross your arms with a defeated shake of your head. "it's just tiring, you know?"

he turns his back to you, reaching across the counter to start slicing up an apple, trying to keep his hands occupied because they're itching to touch you. but he can't keep the bitterness out of his tone when he answers with a clipped, "yeah i know."

he can practically feel your confused stare on his back. but then you chuckle in amusement, mirth clear in your tone. "what do you mean you know? you literally get attention from random people on the street. you can have anyone you want." you laugh.

"are you serious?" he asks, eyes wide with disbelief as he spins around to face you again. you only blink at him, expression so annoyingly clueless it makes him sigh. he turns away from you once again, going back to cutting the apple.

"what?" you cock your head, not understanding why he's so forlorn about it. "most people would jump at the chance to date you. everyone wants you, you know?"

"not everyone. not the one who matters." he mutters bitterly as he places the apple slices onto a plate. you said all of it so casually, like it's supposed to be obvious, but all satoru feels is an overwhelming wave of disappointment wash over him.

"you…never mind." he relents, biting his tongue. "it's not important."

he hears your sharp intake of breath as you gasp, curiosity no doubt brimming in your barely concealed grin.

"ooh interesting! are you telling me you have a thing for someone, toru?" the teasing in your tone is palpable, and satoru feels his stomach flip pleasantly when you say his name. he turns around to face you, letting his shoulders drop as a helpless smile stretches across his face.

he walks up to you, pushing an apple slice past your lips and chuckling quietly. you're still giving him those curious little eyes as you chew, and he tries to swallow down the overwhelming wave of pure affection that threatens to burst from within. clearly today wasn't the day you were going to realize what kind of feelings he's been keeping a secret for so many years.

that's okay. he'll wait as long as you need him to.

he flicks your forehead gently, before reaching down to tug on your cheek. "don't worry your pretty little head about that, sweet thing. you'll figure it out soon enough."

[mikareo]

౨ৎ⋆ ˚｡⋆ midnight love ⠀ ꒰ . . geto suguru x gn reader ꒱ . . . word count; 0.7k

⊹ ⠀⠀ heartbreak is a cycle. over, and over, and over again.

contains; geto suguru x gn reader, angst, geto dumped you and you can't get over it, mentions abandonment and attachment issues, lots of reader insecurities, womp womp author's note; hey ! XD

"you really can't be calling me at this hour anymore." suguru's voice is faint. he's likely just woken up from a deep slumber, probably dreaming of something far more interesting and attractive than you are, but that isn't a dream that you'd like to picture. he did this to you.

sometimes, he needs to see what your nightmares look like.

"i'm sorry, it's just that i've been thinking about everything again." clearing your throat, you can't help but notice that your voice can't stop shaking. get a grip of yourself. you're embarrassing. "i feel like we made a mistake. it's not crazy to try things again; we know what went wrong so let's just fix it this time. right? we can be even better this time around."

you know the hopefulness slipping from your tongue is something that suguru has grown to hate. he hates the guilt that it makes him feel. he hates the reminders of a time where he was so madly in love with you that he couldn't imagine sleeping through one of your sporadic phone calls in the middle of the night. he hates how it reminds him how hard you sobbed when he said those three little words. not 'i love you'...but 'let's break up'.

he hates that it makes him regret things.

so instead, he forces you to bottle it all up.

"i'm not interested anymore, i've told you that." the sound of your poorly mended heart shattering once more is far too familiar. "seriously, we crashed and burned so let's just leave it at that."

this is the third time he's said these words. the first being an hour after he dumped you over the phone, when you called him back amidst uncontrollable sobs and he didn't seem to care all that much. the second being a month after what would've been your first anniversary together, to which he was careless with your heart as you poured it out to him on his doorstep. now, the third, where it's been a whole three months since your untimely break up and your sleep has been lost to you for yet another night.

...and he still doesn't care.

he doesn't care about you.

he doesn't care at all.

why doesn't he care?

"suguru, please." it's pathetic to beg, but what else can you do? "i love you. i want to be with you and i'm willing to do anything to make it work. c'mon, work with me, here." just say yes. just say yes and maybe you'll smile again.

he takes a deep breath. you can count down the seconds until he exhales.

three.

you envision a scenario where he bolts from his bed, frantically grabs his jacket, and drives straight to your house. his hand hovers over the front door, ready to knock, when you fling it open and then fling yourself into his arms. suguru laughs at your eagerness, gently gripping your face beneath your jaw and kissing you tenderly. god, it's been so long since you felt his kisses. you could cry from the overwhelming happiness in your heart. the overwhelming joy that he never fails to make you feel when he's truly and completely in love with you, too.

two.

you recall one of your favorite dreams, one just a few nights ago, where suguru had never broken up with you in the first place. in fact, he thinks the mere thought is comically funny. he'd never ends things. you're the best thing that's ever happened to him and he never fails to tell you that at every hour of the day. he's the perfect boyfriend. he's the ideal husband. he's the man that you've been wishing for for your entire life...but he really is just that. he's a dream.

one.

"i don't love you anymore."

oh...

oh.

you wish this were a scenario. you wish you were sleeping. you wish he could've said anything other than those awful words, but this is reality. dreams don't reflect reality. dreams aren't real. his love for you isn't real. he doesn't love you. he doesn't want you. he doesn't need you. give up. give up. stop making a fool of yourself.

"but i love you."

pathetic.

you're pathetic.

the sigh he exhales is pitiful.

he's so obviously aware of how clingy you've become in your lonesome life that he's not even surprised by your behavior. he's not surprised by your confession. it's almost as if he expected it. he knows your flaws. he knows your stance on abandonment...on attachment...on absence. he knows you can't possibly function in a world without him...

...and he hangs up.

⋆⋆⋆⠀ ⠀thank you for reading! reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[ilovebuckers5]

*•♡never be like you ♡¸.•*'

nika muhl x cheerleader!reader

"I wanna hold the hand inside you. I wanna take the breath that's true"

word count - 3.4k

themes :

-fluff

-comfort

-toxic rls

warnings :

-arguing

-mentions to abuse

-explicit language

-iowa winning

A/N - did I get you guys. y'all really thought I would wait any longer to post this....

"can we please not do this ash."

i practically pleaded for my boyfriend to not argue with me before a big performance.

it was the day I had been waiting for since I was ever even notified that there would be a uconn game against iowa. I couldn't be dealing with relationship issues right before.

i attempted slipping on my skirt in the bathroom while my boyfriends voice was ringing in my ear no matter how much I tried to ignore it. I hate arguments. especially when they are stupid and have no point in even happening.

"no we are doing this now I don't care! you need to tell me the truth before you leave." Asher growled from outside the bathroom door. part of me wanted to swing the door open and break his nose but I knew that I didn't have time for that. so I gently but swiftly opened the door and forced my eyes into his with probably the most 'i'm not fucking around right now' look I'd ever given him. which is shocking with all of the arguments we've gotten into.

"Asher just fucking stop! I wasn't anywhere, I was literally sitting on the bench waiting for katie to pick me up! why is that so hard for you to comprehend." I pull my face away from his and before I could close the door and continue getting ready I whisper under my breath "its like you want me to cheat on you." the door was about to latch onto the door frame when his pale and veiny hand gripped onto the wooden edge. "what the fuck did you just say?" shit.

he then swung the door open with a force I've never seen before and a wave of fear flushed through my head. there were already tears welling up in my eyes from the yelling and now this just made them fall down my face. inside I was screaming incoherently at his face, slamming the door on his fingers and bashing his head around the room.

this has happened too many times. where we argue and I end up bruised or crying and I have to walk to Natalie's place and cry even more but into her arms instead. there's been too many times where Asher gets away with shit that no other man could get away with. and too many fucking times have I stayed.

his hand was peeled away from the edge of the door and I swear there was hot lava falling out from his eyes instead of guilt tripping tears. "why do you do this to me y/n? it hurts." he dramatically let his hand fall into his palms as more tears fell from his clearly angered eyes. most times I would let myself feel guilty and sorry for him as if I was the one that did the hurting. but this time I was done. nothing was officially over but the moment definitely was. he's going to have to find a way to win my attention back this time.

i tightened my pony tail and grabbed my cheer bag before walking out of our apartment, slamming the door behind me. it was so early in the morning that the sun was only rising as I walked out the door. I'm almost positive that everyone else on the team was asleep so I had to walk to practice. I was only a couple steps into my long walk when a car pulled up in front of me. well not in front but beside me. I continued walking until a window was rolled down and I heard a familiar voice call out.

"yo are you good?"

i was not. I had tears streaming down my face and I probably looked like I was just thrown in a pit of piranhas, but I cant say that.

"huh?" I turn my head to the side to see a white BMW pulled over. the voice I had heard earlier had a very memorable accent in it. Nika Muhl. 5'10 point guard. pretty hair. pretty eyes. just pretty.

"are you okay?" another voice reached out from the drivers seat of the car. Paige Bueckers of course. I finally looked down from my own height and saw a the brunette looking up at me with kinda eyes. her head was slightly tilted to the side while she waited for me to answer her question. "oh. uh." I waited a moment.

just before this I was telling myself that I wasn't going to put up with asher's bullshit anymore. that included hiding what was going on. Asher put me through shit. I mean he curb stomped my head on a pile of shit and dragged my face through it with his bare hands and never felt any regret.

"n-no not really." yeah I did that. fuck you Asher. the feeling of just admitting that I wasn't made the rest of my tears started to drain back into my eye sockets. I could see it in Nika's eyes that she felt bad even if she was smiling and laughing. she popped open the car door and tapped her lap. "well c'mon." she swayed her head, gesturing for me to literally crawl over her lap and get into the backseat, as there isn't a back door. I didn't want to be rude so I sighed and crawling over Nika's lap and into the backseat. I was hovering over her long enough to smell the beachy sunscreen smelling perfume she had on. her hands grazed my thigh that was exposed after my skirt had started to hang down from my position. thank God the cheer uniforms had shorts under the skirts because when I was almost in the back seat next to Ice Brady and KK Arnold, my skirt lifted up right in Nika's face. I almost fell face first into the backseat before I felt Nika's hands grip onto my waist to support me until I was sitting down. I let out a sharp and quick sigh while fixing my hair and and un-ruffling my skirt, I looked into the driver seat to see Paige holding back tears of laughter. I could practically see how red Nika was from the back of the head rest she had her hair pressed against.

i didn't expect the car ride to be as comforting as it was. the entire drive was basically just the girls either singing or asking me questions about cheer. it was all fine before Nika decided to speak up about why I was sobbing on the sidewalk.

"so what was going on with you earlier? before we very obviously saved your ass." I couldn't help but laugh at her remark but quickly got more serious when Paige turned down the music so everyone could hear me. I felt like I was put on a stage with a microphone in a pretty pink dress waiting to win Miss America with everyone's eyes on me while they waited for me to answer.

"oh it was nothing just stuff about my boyfriend...." I tried to shake off the question even though a part of me wanted to scream how much I hated him. I trailed off and glanced to the side to find an unconvinced KK staring at me. KK is funny, I always see her jumping around after a win and shes always filled with energy.

I shrugged and threw my head back before actually giving in. "fine. he's like, really shitty honestly. I want to break up but I can't." the car was silent for a couple seconds while I patiently waited for someone to speak. "what way of shitty? like wants to break up constantly but wont or like- another way of shitty" Paige asked without making any eye contact.

another way for sure. every other way that you could think of Paige.

"guilt tripping manipulative way I guess?" I said, my voice slightly cracking. Nika clicked her tongue as she reached around her seat and looked back at you. "you know you don't have to stay. I know its hard to not stay but you aren't obligated to stay." thank you. that the only thing I was needing to hear in the past year I had been with Asher. I know I'm not obligated to stay with him but Jesus it feels like it. "thanks." the car ride was silent for a couple more minutes before Paige pulled into the driveway of my cheer practice building.

I was just about to get out of the car before realizing that ice was in front of the door I should've been getting out of. I had to crawl over Nika's lap again. I tossed my duffel bag into her lap and its like she could read my brain when she opened her door and gently set the bag out side. but this time she put down her car seat so that there was a (mainly) flat surface for me to crawl over. instead of crawling, I lifted my feet over Nika's body first and then slid myself over her. my ass gently bumps against her lap, almost sending a loud gasp from my lips. there her hands were again. I thought everything was going by quickly but she still had enough time to wrap her fingers around my waist and lifted me from the back seat out the door.

it was honestly hard for me to speak after having to be that close to a practical stranger in the span of 20 minutes but I tried my best.

"thank you guys for the ride. good luck on your game!" as I was waving goodbye while walking down the sidewalk towards the door of the building, Nika yelled out.

"y/n? I'll see you there right?"

oh my fuck she wants to see me at the game. she actually WANTS me to be there.

all I could manage to do without folding over and passing out of the concrete was throw a thumbs up from behind me and continue walking. the moment I stepped or slid out of that car, all the thoughts came back, rushing through my head. how the fuck was I supposed to focus on cheer when my relationship was on the brink of ending. I felt tears well up in my eyes just thinking about it. obviously I wanted things to end but its been a year and a couple months. I don't know how I was going to just break up and be fine. when I swung open the doors to my cheer studio I saw coach and couple other girls sitting down, tying their shoes and fixing each other's hair. coach waved at me once I got through the door. I made my way over to the other girls and gave them each a hug with a very fake warm smile plastered on my face.

"hiii, are you okay you look like you've been crying?" Taylor spoke in a soft, caring mom kind of tone. why is everybody so worried about if I was crying or not. its not that big of a deal just let me cry. I nodded aggressively "mhm. yeah I'm good." the two girls, Taylor and Caydence, looked at each other and they obviously could see through me. I held back even more tears when they shrugged their shoulder continued talking, I knew they didn't believe me but they didn't push an answer out of me like Nika and Paige.

a part of me has always been interested in basketball but the other part kept telling me that I was talented enough or masculine enough. Nika was always an inspiration to me even before I started cheering for UConn. sometimes after practice, as long as there is no performances and I'm not being held back by my coach, I like to go to the public gym and practice basketball by myself. every time I do, I always wish that there was someone there to practice with me. that is part of the reason I went on to cheer for UConn basketball.

i was still stretching when some more girls off the team walked through the door. makeup done, lashes curled ready to go. I still sat in the corner with a couple mascara streaks running down my face. sadly, there weren't any wipes anywhere in the studio so I had to sit with dried cracky mascara on my face instead of my lashes. I stood up after stretching and actually set my bag and water bottle down at some benches before going up to my best friend, Farah, and squeezing her tightly. she had just walked through the door holding a bag with her cheer supplies and another that had a bow tied around it. it wasn't too big but definitely noticeable. my eyes were immediately drawn to it but I waited for her to bring it up after we finished hugging.

"don't act like you aren't wondering what's in here." she shook the yellow back in front of me, letting me take it out of her hands. I scrimmaged through it and found a piece of paper in the bottom. it looked blank until I flipped it over.

mother fucking Farah.

"YOU GOT ME TICKETS TO OLIVIA RODRIGO? WHAT THE FUCK?" I squealed loud enough for the entire team and coach to hear. all eyes were on me but I didn't care. there was literally no reason for Farah to do this at all. shes just a really fucking nice person. she bent over, holding her stomach with laughter pouring out of her mouth. I felt all sorts of feelings rushing through me. confusion, happiness, more confusion, a little bit of sadness because there was only one ticket at the bottom of the bag.

that when everything died down. I realized that she only got one? no way.

"wait did you-" I began to question but Farah stopped me by shoving her finger over my lips.

"nope." she pulled out her hand from her bag and there were two other tickets. why two? why two. two. fuck.

"for Asher!" she held onto my wrists more excited than she was walking inside of the studio. that giddy smile on her face fell quickly. there is no way I'm bringing Asher with to a concert that he wouldn't even give a shit about. all he'd care about is getting in my pants afterwards because my feet will hurt too much to walk away and say no. I pulled myself towards Farah's ear and whispered softly "Asher cannot come with. I'm planning on breaking up with him."

Farah's eyes widened once I pulled my mouth away from her ear. all she did was nod and dropped my hands back to my side. we walked over to the bench and continued waiting for the rest of the team to show up.

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

practice went smooth. now its about to start. UConn and Iowa. fuck I'm nervous. I've been a UConn fan for years and this game is one of the things I've always wanted to see in person. they start introducing players while the cheer squad was doing our main routine to the rhythm of a random Taylor swift song. I think it's I knew you were trouble. ironic. the one thing I was not allowed myself to think of was Asher. if I wanted to think about him I would just trick myself into thinking about Nika. wait that came out wrong. anyways. I was just let down on the floor after doing a thigh stand and the team continued dancing until it was finally tip off. I scurried off the court with the rest of my team and sat to the side while a couple girls above me kept moving around with pom poms. we got the ball first and stayed in the lead for a while.

as much as I was pretending to focus on the shots all the players were making, I couldn't peel my eyes away from Nika. she was on Caitlin Clark's ass. not even letting her shoot a three pointer. shes doing so good. she had her hands surrounding the ball, barely letting Clark shoot at all. I admire her for her defensive skills. I believe her aggression really helps with that. shes passionate. she obviously wants to win but on court it looks like shes playing with her life on the line. but she does it with ease. the one thing I kept forgetting was that this could be her last college game. ever. no one knows where shell go after UConn. lots of people are saying overseas and I think that would be the death of me. I watched every move she made. not in a stalker way but in an invested in her game way. the way her hair swayed back and forth while she shuffled around Caitlin. the way she already had a couple balls of sweat falling off of her forehead. I would be lying to myself if I didn't think she looked really hot right now.

and I'm up again. Caydence was holding onto my hips before she tossed me in the air, I landed on her and angels palms before flipping off and landing feet flat on the floor. still holding a pretty fake smile on my lips. once it was someone else's turn to do a crazy flip, I took the chance and looked back at the bench, watching as Nika took multiple sips out of a Gatorade water bottle. her hand rested on Paige shoulder while she shot something that probably motivational and worded beautiful to Paige's ear.

the game was going smooth until the 4th quarter. I could feel my blood boiling while watching the timer tick lower and lower without our score going higher. this cant be happening. 3.9 seconds on the clock. I could practically feel the vibrations of every UConn fan tapping their feet waiting for someone to shoot a three pointer and give us the win. but no. a foul was called on Aaliyah. I don't think it was a foul but what do I know.

as much as I was desperate for us to win, I knew we wouldn't be taking home the win this time. 4.6 seconds. now Paige. what is it with these bullshit calls.

i never liked Iowa. in my opinion, Clark is good at basketball but can be conceited and over hyped. of course I didn't want anyone to come at me with that when Iowa "wins the natty" so i'll have to keep that in my head for now.

i started calming down, trying to accept the fact that there wasn't a point going on but they from the far side of the court I saw Caitlin Clark. the basketball player dubbed as the goat and a women's basketball savior, bounce a basketball off of her so called friend? fuck that shit. I almost stood up and sprinted across the court. me and Paige may not be close but I cant take shit like that. Farah rested her hand on my thigh, telling me to not do anything. because its "out of my control"

it could be in mine. just saying.

and just like that, number 20 gets the ball, throws it in the air, and declares the win for Iowa. I could physically feel my face getting hotter with each tear I saw fall from Nika's eyes. Iowa doesn't deserve this. they have everything. and UConn gave up everything. I couldn't stop myself from crying too. I shoved my face in my hands trying to dry the tears that were slowly ruining my eye makeup/ I feel fucking terrible. how could UConn give so much for this and barely get anything back. just the noise of all the Iowa fans cheering and laughing and the sight of them smiling made me sick. I wont even hide it. I was jealous. jealous that they had such dick riding refs.

who said that.

i wanted, so badly, to stand up and wrap my arms around Nika and Paige and Aaliyah and all the others to just give them some sort of recognition but we had to go. coach led us through the tunnel and that was it. I sat on a bench in our locker room, debating what to do.

and I figured out what to do. right then and there.

even with my hands on my forehead, crying and stressing, the inside of me was happy because I knew that someone wouldn't be feeling so bad on April 22nd.

[beom-s-author]

☆txt reaction☆- you got into a car accident

warnings:blood,f-words,accident,siren,police,hospital

choi beomgyu

He was in the recording room as usual. The music was his allworld. Composing new songs for the comebacks and playing his guitar while the room got lighthing with the candle light. Unfortunately, he keeps his phone on silent mode and doesn't notice the constant glow of the screen, a sign of countless calls and messages from your best friend and brother. They were calling him countless again and again.They were hoping that he will answer their calls.

By now it was two in the morning when Taehyun walked into the studio with a cold look, but now Beomgyu is used to it. He wasn't used to getting his out of without a schedule. And that was what unsettled him more than anything else, so he turned the chair around and fixed his own gaze on his friend.

"Is phone optional, Hyung?"

He raises an eyebrow and grabs his phone from the table,holding his breath when he finally sees the countless missed calls and messages from your brother and friends.He opens the first message and guilt immediately invades his veins,causing him to shake from head to toe. Without saying anything, he gets up from the chair and runs out of there hearsal room, calling his own manager because he has to rush the hospital. He needed to make sure you were okay,despite the ridiculouenoce of it wasn't your last kiss in this morning.

He doesn't even stop asking for information, he already knows the room number and when it comes to the plan seeing your family sitting, who is crying and falls to his knees.

Your best friend approaches him and starts yelling at him,but he stays silent. Normally he would reply for nursery rhymes, he hated the disrespect and rude attitude, but at that moment he knew he deserved every word he threw ather.

"Just tell me.. Just tell me she is alive." He knees fixing a spot on the wall without saying anything, he is thinking worst case scenario.

choi soobin

He was in the recording room and chuckling with his vocal teacher. Everything was too good for him until, Taehyun came in. He was holding Soobin's phone in his hands.

And when the news manages to breach his mind, everything turns dark. Taehyun gets upset but manages to keep the composure necessary for him.

"Hyung, come on, I'll take you to the hospital."

Tears began to silently flow down his cheeks, but he still didn't say a single word. It was as if his world had suddenly lost its color. When they arrive at the hospital, Taehyun directs him to a room that will be locked by a doctor who emphasizes that it is the intensive care unit. The fact that you're in that department destroys his heart even more, and he whispers for Minghao to help him sit down somewhere because his own legs feel weak as jelly.

As Taehyun tries to get information from any doctor or nurse he meets, he finds himself fixating on an obscure spot on the wall while everything around him flows quickly and devoid of any value. he's crying, wringing hiw hands and wondering why it's you. He just wants to know that you're okay because the idea of ​​having to live without you is incredibly unbearable.

choi yeonjun

You are driving while talking about the movie you just finished watching. He loves your voice, so he just lets you talk and looks at you with all the love he has for you. No one will notice that you're still at the traffic light when a massive backlash surprises you.

What he soon realizes, slightly dazed by the sound and slight pain he feels in his neck, is the face pressed against the tension and blood coming from your ear.

It's hard to take off the belt, cursing that you still have to wear it as you've just left the cinema and you hear a strangled voice telling him not to touch you as you bring your hand closer to your face. And that's what bothers him the most, he has to help you and make sure you're okay because he has a feeling of pain gripping his chest or heart.

He hears ambulance sirens in the distance and calls your name over and over without the slightest result as he waits patiently.

Several hours pass, guilt engulfing him as he waits in the waiting room for your news. And no matter who came, he had to say it without warning the other Txt member because he didn't want to disturb them.

Still, they reveal themselves there, and the moment finally comes when it collapses. he doesn't cry, he doesn't despair, but he appreciates the gentle embrace of Hueningkai, who approached him first.

"They're not telling us anything.. It's just a rear-end collision, so why aren't they telling us anything...?"

"Try not to think about it, she'll be fine." Kai's answer to him is as tender as his embrace, but he's confident.

He doesn't give it, in fact, his anxiety continues to swallow him even more. Anxiety and guilt, because as long as it's about you, the one who doesn't know about it, it almost doesn't hurt. And that's when he realizes how his world revolves around you.

kang taehyun

He was already at the hospital with his manager to check on an ankle problem that had been bothering him for days. He wasn't worried about your lack of texts, he remembered you were in the middle of an exam session and didn't want to bother you that much. And when he sees a familiar face, it's with his own manager.

“..Can I check something?"

His voice is sincere, clean, quiet. He nodded and told her that he was waiting by the elevator and to hurry up because he had to get back to rehearsals.

"Eunji?"

And when the girl returns, Taehyun smiles gently, because he always loved your sister from the first moment you let him know. But the smile dies on his lips when she takes note of his hopeless look. He immediately approaches her and puts his arm around her shoulders, without thinking that you are the reason for this despair.

"What's going on?"

But the answer comes not from Eunji, but from your body as you are carried on a cot into the room in front of them. At first he completely freezes at that sight, thinking that he saw wrong, but when he enters the room, he then knows that he has never seen the little and petite girl wrong before. He approached the bed and the nurse smiled disapprovingly, but he didn't even notice. His gaze is entirely on you, the bruises on your face, your broken leg, your body that looks full of bandages. He doesn't cry or scream, he doesn't have a mental blackout, he just sits next to you and holds your hand, smiling as his lips rest on it. He saw your eyes are getting opened.

Taehyun acts like he's fine because you've actually opened your eyes again, but inside he's making a deal with the fear he's never tried, and it makes him consider every priority he has.

kai kamal huening

They are practicing in the rehearsal room together with Taehyun, Yeonjun and Beomgyu, looking for new ideas for the next comeback, they definitely want to be better than the previous one. He talked to you a few hours ago, so he's quiet, relaxed, and doing his best.

None of the four are aware of your best friend, who is now one of the 5 members of the band of sorts, walking into the rehearsal room and observing them for a few seconds. Hueningkai sees her image and immediately notices her red and extremely swollen eyes and that she is shaking. So he stopped the music and the other three walked towards him, feeling the anxiety quickly rise.

"Aera, what is going on?"

"She... she..."

Hueningkai feels a lump in his throat stopping him from speaking as he clenches and shakes his shoulders, and he can talk about it because he understands that it's about you. Still, he didn't want to hear it inside himself.

"She had an accident .. This .. In critical conditions .."

He cries silently in the car, looks out the window at the panorama, and perhaps captures every moment with you out of masochism. The laughter, your kisses, your teasing about everything. And every memory is a blow to the chest. When he sees your already heartbroken parents in the hospital, it hurts even more, your parents immediately hug him, but he cannot return the hug. He just wants to be able to see and enter the room without waiting for an answer, he approaches the bed and tries to ignore the excruciating pains he feels when he sees you unconscious and with a breathing apparatus. He lies next to you in bed, paying attention to every thread, wheezing and continuing to cry even more hysterically, even though he doesn't make a sound.

[sugar-omi]

(I’m on my 🩸so please excuse the hornyness)

I woke up this morning with cove on my mind (who doesn’t) and just thought of a funny scenario. imagine the step 2 moment where MC and Cove can cuddle but they weren’t quietly told that it’s not ok by Cove’s mom. Skip to step 3 they love cuddling as friends. (they are still secretly in love with each other tho) this leads us to my dirty little thought, Cove and MC as friends having a little sleepover at Cove’s house and cuddling. Poor sweet Cove has a dirty dream about his dear friend MC, when he wakes up from it he finds himself hard as a rock and his hips grinding on their own into MC’s ass. And of course cove would quickly run to the bathroom without waking MC and panic to himself and try to get it down.

Or MC wakes up before cove because of the movement and lowkey doesn’t mind it, MC pushes back against cove a little and just listens to the little sounds he makes in his sleep

OMG TWINS 🤭🤭 omg maybe thats why my cove posts have been so unhinged lately... so excuse ME for the feralness im about to drop rn because youve planted a nassssty seed in my head..

cove usually doesn't have dirty dreams, always dreams about the beach or his fish, or something asinine. can count his dirty dreams on his fingers with some leftover.

before, they'd always been faceless. couldn't tell a single detail of who it was, even if it didn't matter.

but this time it wasn't a question of who it was.

the dream is so vivid, and the pleasure shooting through his veins feels way too good when he realizes it's you grinding against his bulge.

in fact, it feels better than when he gets himself off, and dream-you isn't even touching his cock yet, your crotch grinding along the length of his bulge in his sweatpants.

every roll of your hips is so fucking delicious he feels like he could collapse. can't help but grab onto your hips, helping you move and roll his hips into yours.

and when you lean forward, hands on his chest under his shirt, feeling up the dips and valleys of his lean muscle, your lips inching closer until they finally meet...

he definitely thinks this is as close as he can heaven. your plush lips move against his, the kiss becoming more passionate, more heated as he tries to match you.

if anyone could see inside his dream right now, they'd think you're passionate lovers, your lips slotted together perfectly, like you're meant to be, and he wonders if you'd feel like this in real life too. if your kiss would be this good, this enticing, and when your tongue slips past his lips, invading his mouth, he wonders if you'd taste this sweet too.

you break the kiss, leaving him hot and panting, his chest rising and falling like he's ran a marathon, your lips trailing from his mouth down his jaw, quickly finding a sensitive area under his ear, right behind his jaw.

doesn't even realize you're shoving down his sweatpants, your own pants disposed of at some point in this dream, until he feels the heat and wetness of your sexes rubbing together

let's out such a pretty and loud whimpery-moan, curses and bucks up into your cunt, making his length glide against your wet, hot core. / hand, thrusting up into your tight fist wrapped around both your cocks.

forgets this is a dream for a moment, distantly thinking he wants to see the end. and his stomach feels so hot, so tight like he's gonna burst.

eyes rolling when dream-you says his name right in his ear, your voice breathy and desperate...

when he opens his eyes, hoping to see your blissed out face, all he sees is a dim room. his room. and the back of your head...

his heart is beating out his chest, and he doesn't even need time to wakeup before he realizes what happened. especially when he feels his hard length pressed right against your ass, the heat and bit of pressure from your ass against his cock has him losing his grip on reality a bit.

but the guilt crashes on him, can't believe he had a dirty dream about you. much less with you in his arms.

it's a miracle if you don't wake up, cove's a big clumsy mess all the time, but this time the shock has him moving a bit more calmly. calmly as in he doesn't scream or squeak, and doesn't flail or fall off the bed like he otherwise would.

but he does unwind his arms around you, carefully pulling his arm from under your body and trying to untangle himself from his bedsheets and your legs.

really, it's a miracle this hadn't happened before. especially when you were 13 and your hormones had more control of your body than you did.

slips out of bed, so thankful that his bed is close to the door and there's minimal creaking of the door and floorboards. all but dashes to the bathroom.

i wonder how he'd deal with his. well.. big problem.

he'd been leaning on the counter, his shaggy hair hanging in his face and he's painfully aware of how hard his cock is. he's fucking throbbing in his sweats, his hard length heavy against his thigh.. he couldn't fucking forget about it. and can't forget that dream.

thinks about waiting it out or a cold shower. but a cold shower doesn't sound appealing at all, and he really doubts his hard-on is going anywhere...

resigns to getting himself off. hoping just once will be enough.. hopes that maybe he can finish quickly before you wake up, he's still pumping after his near orgasm in that dream.. fuck he's kind of glad he woke up now, realizing it'd be really fucking embarrassing if you woke up to cove creaming his pants of you dry humping him (and then some) in his dream

his eyes roll and flutter shut when his hand wraps around his length, his shirt muffling the moan on the tip of his tongue. it doesn't feel nearly as good as it did in his dream...

but he really tries not to think about that. it's so fucking disrespectful to you to keep thinking about it, let alone get off to it.

focuses on all his ero spots, that way he can finish faster and even if he's shaking in his hands because he's running his thumb over his sensitive mushroom head, and giving his cock short, tight pumps, and his nimble fingers find their way to his chest..

well he just needs to hurry up and finish before you wake up and so he doesn't think about that dream, trying to replace all his senses with himself in lue of you. albeit dream you, but still you.

hates that he thought about his best friend like that, and hates that he can hardly get off without distantly thinking about how this would probably feel so much better if it was you touching his cock...

thrusts up into his hand, biting down around his shirt as he groans lowly, but the sound is still loud in this quiet house, and he hopes you didn't get up at some point, walking by and hear him..

if only you could see what a pathetic sight he is.. panting, shirt bunched up and wrinkled, his pants sloppily shoved down his thighs and his cock flushed and throbbing in his hand, covered in his thick, bountiful load.

even he can't help but curse because fuck he feels like a fucking degenerate. feels dirty. he doesn't eve. know how he's gonna look at you, and fuck you definitely can't cuddle anymore until he gets a grip on himself.

but how would he explain that? "hey i had a wet dream about you, sorry bestie, let's not cuddle anymore unless you wanna wake up to my hard dick on you"

that's too weird, and creepy. God he'd hate if you found him creepy and disgusting, the thought of what your expression could be makes him said and he makes his stomach twist...

can't even return to the room, it feels too awkward to do so now. he'd really feel like a creep if he slipped back into bed with you.

ends up setting up camp in the living room, either doing his abandoned homework or trying to find some way to distract himself, wouldn't be surprised if he ends up falling asleep on the couch.

but regardless of how he spends the rest of the night. what if you are awake, and realize what's happening?...

doesn't matter if you're a night owl or a gentle sleeper, although either help because you realize it so much sooner than if you're asleep

i mean, who wouldn't realize their best friend (and crush), gasping in their ear and then moaning softly, his hips bumping into you..

whatever the case, you're awake now when he tightens his grip around your midsection, his hips easily and expertly rolling against your butt, and his legs, which are tangled with yours, easily forces you to move against him, his cock so obviously hardening, getting thicker and so fucking prominent, against your ass.

your heart is beating against your chest like a drum. you're losing your fucking mind, you can't believe what's happening..

your teeth sink into your lip when you hear cove call out a soft, cut-off call of your name.

he's dreaming about you. and clearly it's something dirty if his bulge is anything to go by.

you can't deny that it's turning you on either. it's be weird if it didn't. your crush pressed against you, grinding his fat cock into your ass while having a nice dream about you? it's surprisingly flattering, and you're loving it

as it goes on, cove's hips progressively get more.. aggressive. almost. your head is spinning.

you wish you could know what he's dreaming about and wish it'd happen in real life, right here and right now. but for now, you'll settle for your own mind. afterall, you have plenty of fuel to run off of.

cove's moans and gasps are so pretty, even his indistinguishable mumbling is making your blood pump. his murmurs are usually a good sign after all.

and his cock.. you didn't expect him to be small. he's a big guy, after all, and to say he's packing a third leg might be an exaggeration, but fuck if he's not coke bottle thick and clearly long enough to hit all those deep, deliciously impossible spots inside you.

you wanna wake him up. but if you do.. you wonder what he'd do. run away? probably. you're not even going out, so his first reaction would definitely be to apologize profusely and go hide.

of course, he does wake up, though. you realize that when the grinding stops suddenly, and he tenses around you, and eventually, he starts prying his limbs from under you.

you reprimand your heart for being disappointed that he doesn't check if you're awake and proceed to do something with you, anything at all, maybe even recreate that dream.

and you are torn between logic letting you let him slip out the door, and your desperation wanting to pull him into bed.

he's gone for awhile, you're not sure how long, but it's a few minutes that make you think maybe he's.. taking care of his problem. and then it makes you think that you could take care of your own problem if you're quick enough.

there's definitely a line crossed. tonight has blurred the line between you, knowingly.

you let him keep grinding into you, even if he doesn't know that.

so whats one more thing he doesn't know, your body shifting to his side of the bed, his body heat and the scent of his shampoo and cologne thicker now that you're on the side he slept.

and your hand slipping under the sheets.. your eyes fluttering closed as you try to imagine a scenario between you. surely, you can imagine it just this once, balance out the scale?

[inactivewattpadauthor]

Revenant Kung Lao x Reader: Sweet Laollaby

Warning: Partial angst and plot confusion ~~~~~~~~~~~~ The spectators of Outworld all cheered loud down to the circular arena of the Kolosseum. Winds pushed up the sand, narrowly tampering with your sight, but you could make out who was the focus.

Your close one, Kung Lao, victoriously standing beside the defeated Tiger Shokan, Kintaro. The very first time you were proud. Relieved even that your human lover didn't fall to some fire breathing beast. But you knew how this scene plays out. Your curse was having to watch it over. And over. And over.

Yet, everytime you tried to scream and cry for him to lookout, not a noise came out your mouth as you're forced to watch and feel the same shock and grief when the cruel tyrant went up behind Lao and snapped his neck like he was nothing but an empty plastic bottle.

  Everytime, guilt surrounds you as everything around you darkens. Remaining beings were you and his body as it darkens unnaturally with red streaks forming on your skin. As his eyes open with glowing red orbs that dart to you with immediate hatred, his neck twists back to its normal position and he stands, stalking to you with spite. "Why...didn't..you.. do anything?"

And as he pounces at you, that's when everything is over.

You gasped awake in bed, breathing harshly and feeling yourself to confirm the regular. Just another nightmare on the trauma. Though, it will always leave you feeling terrible even if you're safe in bed at your home.

After the terrible event of watching your own lover die before your eyes, Raiden and Liu had to practically beg you to step down as a kombatant. You didn't like it but it ruined you mentally where it clearly has an affect on your skills. And you showed no signs of recovery. You weren't alone though, having the same deal as Jax from the Special Forces.

Groaning, you shifted out of bed. There's sleeping pills in the kitchen cabinet that could maybe assist on a well rest. Even if sleeping at night isn't great anymore when the same ugly nightmare would be waiting to haunt you.

After gulping down two tablets with some cold water, you walked around for a bit until you felt the need to lay down. Standing in the living room near the slide door, you pushed aside the curtains and gazed at the dark. You zoned out.

Within one blink, your eyes looked into the glass and it took you a minute to see two faint red glows. Nothing clicked right away until those eyes moved close in the reflection and you could clearly see a body step out.

Immediate fright struck you with adrenaline and you screeched, turning around and pressing your back against the glass door. There standing, was the man in your nightmares. The result of when you couldn't help Kung Lao.

The revenant's face was blank and chill, but you knew how revenants were. Evil. Not the person as they were before death. But from the same constant dream you had over and over, maybe you should've seen this coming.

"You're here to hurt me, aren't you?" The whine couldn't be suppressed down. Your hand clutched dangerously on the curtain behind you. "Hurt me because I couldn't do anything at the Kolosseum? Because... I couldn't save you?"

The undead man doesn't answer right away but watches as the curtain you were gripping too hard fell off its hanging rod, making you fall with it and covering your frame as you yelped with surprise.

Slight amusement roamed his eyes when he steps forward and lifts the drapes off you. Lao looks at your scared face and calmly responds with his own question. "Do you want me to hurt you?"

Bafflement replaced part of your fear. Shouldn't he be using his hat and tear you in half as punishment by now? Why isn't he attacking? "N-No..."

"Then I won't, my sweet." Lao chuckles under his breath and tosses the fallen curtain aside and standing you up. He had the same gentleness handling you as when he was alive.

"I don't get it. The common dream... nightmare- you ask me why I didn't do anything... tell me it's my fault. And you kill me right after. Aren't you going to do that?" You look up at him, taking in the slight smirk he has. The same smile he uses with you whenever he's taking in your beauty.

"It's a dream, Y/n. It isn't real. And Raiden's the real blame here. Not you."

Wait, what?

"Huh? But it was Shao Kahn that-"

"Raiden claims he could see the future. Getting visions of what is soon to come. So how is it he did nothing but stand there rather than preventing my death?" Kung Lao cuts you off and explains.

The explanation leaves you wordless. It's a fair point, but surely Raiden didn't actually want you love to die so suddenly like that. After all, you recalled him nearly striking down Shao with his powers before Liu Kang went up first. All while you looked horrified at the dead loved one, feeling your body stiffen with all the emotions like you were him.

"I guess the only thing that incompetent thunder god did to repent was leave you out of this mess." The cold man lures behind you, grabbing your wrists and spreading them like you were a mere puppet to him. He looms to your ear, careful to make sure his hat doesn't graze your head. "I'd hate for something to happen to you when I'm not around."

You turn back to glare at him. "Why are you here?" You tug your hands away for him to stop playing with you, and he does let go.

He shrugs. "Well, it's been a while since I've got to see you. You still remain beautiful as ever."

Holding your glare, you knew it wasn't all. "Okay, what are your intentions with Earthrealm?"

"If I told you that, I'd have to kill you." Lao dismisses and walks away from you. It looks as if he was going to leave already. 

Your heart immediately told you to stop him. You didn't want him to leave now. Not ever. Even if you knew it had to be some sort of treason to associate with a revenant, reborn in the hellish Netherrealm under a necromancy's command. "Wait! Don't go! I missed you!

Revenant Kung Lao stops in his tracks. You sighed and made an interesting request. "Can't you just stay and sleep with me?"

He slowly turns back and looks at you with appeal. You just knew you'd have to clarify right away.

"N-Not like that! I'm just tired of sleeping alone without you. And you're here. Please? You can leave when I fall asleep if you can't stay."

The former monk thought for a moment but with a face like that, even as reincarnated evil, he couldn't say no. "Very well. 'Only' sleeping." He repeats the request.

Gently holding you hand, you walk to the bedroom. Safe to say, you didn't have a nightmare this time when you fell asleep. The man in your dreams didn't seem too scary anymore. ~~~~~~~~~~~~

[criticallyacclaimedstranger]

All The Fear and The Fire of The End of The World [Joel Miller x artist!reader]

Read on Ao3

Sequel to The Artist and the Builder

Fandom: The Last of Us

Ship: Joel Miller x you/artist!reader who is his age and has arthritis and allergies (although that's not really addressed in this one)

Tags/warnings: ANGST, bit of h/c, Panic attacks, reader is sick, Joel has anxiety. That's about it, but please stay safe is panic attacks is something that triggers you <3

Summary: Joel has told Ellie about what happened in Salt Lake City, and she is livid with him. Seeking comfort with you, Joel however finds you in the grips of a nasty flu, and has to put his own needs aside to nurse you.

Words: 3,799

A/N: Title is from Hozier's Wasteland, Baby! Couldn't resist: All the fear and the fire of the end of the world, happens each time a boy falls in love with a girl...

Thank you to @pazizz for having a read before it was finished!

Joel hasn't had an attack like this in a long time - not since he and Ellie settled in Jackson - but now, it's bad.

His heart is being squeezed like a stress ball, his lungs are not taking in fresh air, his throat is constricted. Panic floods his brain as he clutches at his collar. He can't breathe, can't think, can't -

Ellie's screamed words echo in the fiber of his being.

How could you? I hate you! Don't talk to me ever again!

He had finally told her the truth about what had happened at the hospital, why she didn't get to save the world. And Ellie shut him out.

You took my decision away from me!

How could she even consider dying for a cure that wasn't guaranteed? How could she not see that she was the light of his entire life?

How could he not tell her the truth from the start?

Joel stumbles onto one knee, the guilt taking his legs from under him. He fights to breathe, his right fist closes, and he bangs it into the floor. Again. Again. Pain reverberates through his hand and arm, and that jerks him out of his mental anguish.

He punches the floor until the skin of his knuckles break, and he can breathe normally again. Greedily gulping down air in a way that sounds like sobbing - but he is not fucking crying - Joel slowly gets back onto his feet. His knuckles are aching, his arm feels battered, but he grabs his coat, and heads out. Hurrying through the snowy streets of Jackson, he barely notices anyone passing by. He's in a hurry, hurting hand hidden in his jacket pocket, internal compass pointing to your house.

He needs comfort, your soothing hands. He needs to know that he did what he could.

Even if it was you who pushed him into telling Ellie, he knows you were right to encourage him to do it. And he needs you now that Ellie has denounced him. You won't judge him for waiting so long.

He walks into your house without knocking. His throat feels almost constricted when he enters the living-room, expecting to find you in front of the fireplace, immersed in one of your projects. But you're not there, and the fire is nothing but a heap of embers. Frowning, Joel calls your name again. It's not like you to leave the fire unattended or leave on the lights. He walks over to the bedroom door and pushes it open.

There's a pile of blankets on the bed. When his eyes get used to the twilight in the room, he sees that there's a body underneath the layers of covers.

He speaks your name, and the pile of blankets moves. For a second his heart seizes, and panic rises within him. Not you too, he can't stand it!

Then you croak his name, and he knows what's up.

You're so cold. You've never been this cold in your life, and no amount of blankets is helping. Good God, how is it even possible to be so cold, to shake so hard? Your muscles are aching with how much you're shaking, and you can't do anything about it.

You hear Joel's voice close to you, and you will your eyes open, even if using your vision is making your headache worse.

Joel's face swims somewhere above you. Through the brain fog, you hear him ask you how you are.

"Just a slight temperature," you mumble, then feel Joel's callused hand on your forehead.

"You're burning up."

He takes off his jacket, and gets in bed with you, digging himself underneath the blankets until he's right next to you. Fitting his form to yours, he wraps his arm around you to bring you in even closer.

"You're shaking!"

"Jus' need a nap..."

"You need a lot more than that, darlin'."

You mumble something as your eyes fall shut. His body heat has already started to spill onto you, and slowly, you stop shaking, and start relaxing.

"How long have you been like this?" His voice is soft, his breath so warm against your skin. You want to crawl into his voice, melt into the rich, deep syllables, dissolve from this aching body.

"Had to leave the clinic around midday," you slur. Speaking seems difficult. Your throat is sore, your head feels like it's about to explode.

"Are there any meds?"

"No."

"Then it's rest and liquids for you."

You're already drifting off, secure in his arms. Joel feels you relax and become heavy, your audible breathing slowing down. Gently, he strokes a couple of stray hairs from your face, tucking them behind your ear, and notes that your hairline is damp with sweat. When he's certain that you're not waking up, he carefully disentangles himself from you, and gets up from the bed.

His own heartache is forgotten when he rummages through the cupboards of your kitchen, finding your teas made from dried herbs and flowers. He gathers towels, finds a bucket for water, gathers whatever he can find that will help him take care of you. He returns to the bedroom to check on you before leaving your house to get something to eat from the dining-hall, and see Jackson's doctor.

The doc has, naturally, nothing to prescribe except bedrest and liquid, which Joel had already figured out. What little drugs there are, must be saved for the truly sick. He's luckier at the dining-hall: he gets a big portion of chicken broth from one of the women working there.

"This will cure anything," she promises, and Joel thanks her gruffly. He hurries home to you, finding you exactly where he left you.

You sleep for hours. Focusing his attention on you, wiping your forehead whenever it gets too shiny, listening to your wheezing breaths, Joel forgets about the pressure over his own chest. He can't forget about Ellie, her anger, her words, but he doesn't succumb to anxiety over what happened.

When you wake up, the things Ellie said are pushed to the back of his brain.

You're like a cat waking up from anesthesia: unable to walk but hell-bent on doing it.

"Need the toilet," you mumble, and Joel supports you to the bathroom. You're freezing once you slump down on the toilet seat, and he turns around to give you some privacy.

"Go away," you moan, bent over with you aching head in your hands.

"I've seen women piss before, so do what you have to so that I can help you back to bed," he retorts, and you scoff weakly before releasing a stream of urine that seems searing hot. You manage to wipe yourself and wash your hands before you have to lean on Joel again.

"We need to get you out of these sweaty clothes," he tells you, but you're loath to get undressed.

"It's so cold," you whine, but you're in no position to fight him on it.

He puts his own flannel on you before taking you back to bed, where he coaxes two spoonfuls of broth into you, and almost half a cup of tea, until you shake your head. He gives up, and lets you curl up to sleep. The winter darkness is falling but he turns on the bedside lamp so that he can see your face, its lines stressed by the lamplight and sickness, your forehead shiny with fever, your lips separated as you snore. For a long time, he just watches you, like he's looking for an answer in your features.

Eventually, he turns off the light, rises from his chair, and leaves the bedroom to start a fire in the living-room fireplace.

Your temperature is up the next day so Joel brings the doc, who can't do anything except encourage him to continue doing what he's been doing so far. You're mostly asleep, delirious when you're not, and still so, so cold. Joel does his best to get fluids in you, and a couple of spoonfuls of chicken soup, but it's hard when you're either limp in his arms or shaking.

By afternoon, he's exhausted. Tommy comes by to check on both him and you, and he brings food. Joel never even thought about eating himself.

Sitting on opposite sides of the kitchen table, Joel opens the lunch box and devours its contents.

"I saw Ellie earlier today. She seemed upset, what's up with her?" Tommy wants to know. Joel winces from the painful stab in his heart.

"Nothing's up with Ellie."

"Liar."

Joel looks up from the food at his brother. Tommy knows him too well.

"I told her. About what happened in Salt Lake City."

"That didn't go well."

"It didn't."

Joel looks down again and stuffs his mouth with the rest of the food. The conversation is over for his part, and Tommy knows better than to push it.

"She'll come round."

Joel grunts, and they both sit in silence for a while before Tommy rises.

"I gotta get back to work. Lemme know if you need anything."

Joel clears his throat. "If you see Ellie... tell her I'm not coming back to the house for a while. I don't want her to have to move out."

"Sure, bro."

Tommy pats Joel on the back as he passes him by, and when the front door closes, Joel follows to lock it. He then comes to the bedroom, kicks off his boots, and crawls into bed next to you. His fingers tremble slightly when he touches your forehead, still finding you burning hot. Carefully, not wanting to wake you, he fits himself to your body, puts his head down, and watches you through the grey winter light.

Caring for you has kept him busy enough to not dwell too much on what happened with Ellie, but now his brain is buzzing with her last words to him, her rage and disappointment, his failure. He owes Ellie so much, and he failed her.

His unavailable heart has been locked inside his closed chest for so long, until Ellie cracked it open. Ellie, with her courage, innocence, those stupid puns that she loves so much, and that Joel can’t help smiling at. How could he have surrendered her to the Fireflies? His relationship with Ellie had developed from duty to decency before finally unfolding into love. He has already known the worst pain in his life, and he wasn’t going to live through that again. He simply could not give Ellie up.

And now he has lost her anyway, and he might lose you too.

"You get well," he whispers, assured that you can't hear his dramatic, pathetic plea, even when it's directed at you. "My heart can't take it if you don't make it, you hear me? Don't you dare die on me."

You offer him no sign of having heard him. He swallows, his throat tight, and presses his eyes shut, praying that sleep will take his worries away.

Your violent coughing wakes him up. He blinks blearily in the dark room before he gets his bearings, his arm going around the body that is convulsing next to him. It's a wet cough, rattling in your lungs, and it's new. He sits up in bed, hands on you, like that's going to help. As if anything he does helps. He hates the feeling on not being able to help.

When your coughing subsides, you groan and mumble something.

"What's that, darlin'?"

"My head," you repeat, voice raspy and thin.

"Just lay still."

"Thirsty."

Joel promptly rolls out of bed and goes to get a fresh glass of water from the kitchen. When he sits by your side to help you drink it, he realizes that you're no longer shaking. You take little sips before slumping back against the pillow, your face ashen and your eyes matted, but when he feels your forehead, he can tell you no longer have a fever. That has to be a good sign, right?

“How are you feelin’?” he asks, knowing immediately that it is a stupid question. You open your mouth, but instead of words coming out, there is a bout of coughing. Joel grimaces sympathetically as he takes the glass from your hand to avoid you spilling on yourself.

“Been better,” you finally wheeze, reaching for the glass again as soon as the coughing subsides. He gets up to go refill it, and you drowsily look around the room.

“What day is it?”

“Tuesday,” he calls back from the kitchen.

You let that sink in. When Joel comes back in, he clearly sees your confusion.

“You’ve been out of it for a few days, yeah.”

“And you’ve been here the whole time?”

He hands you the refilled glass but averts his eyes when he replies.

“Someone had to look out for you.”

You drink more greedily now, the cold water lashing its way down your scratchy throat in a way that makes you feel more alert despite the discomfort. Joel takes your glass when you’re finished, puts it on the nightstand, and pulls the covers more snugly around you.

“I’m fine,” you tell him, somewhat amused at his fussing. “You should go home. Has Ellie even seen you since I got sick?”

He freezes, pain flashing across his face before his features turn to cold, hard stone. But you saw it, plain as day.

“Joel?”

He doesn’t answer, and your fear rises.

“Joel, is Ellie alright?”

“Yes.” The answer comes promptly, but the three letters contain a world of events and emotions that you, despite your current state, need to know more of.

“What happened?”

“We’ll talk about it later, darlin’. You need to rest.”

“We’ll talk about it now.” You stress the last word with a rise in volume and pitch, which brings about another bout of coughing. When you’re done, Joel gives you a disapproving glare.

“You’re not well.”

“Duh. Now tell me, or do I have to get out of this bed and go find Ellie myself?”

He sighs deeply, jaw squared as he stares out of the open bedroom door. You wait as he gathers himself.

“I told her. About Salt Lake City.”

“And she didn’t take it well?”

“No. She never wants to see me again. She hates me.”

“Joel…”

Joel can’t look at you. Not even his brother knows the whole story, but he has told you, one late night after the two of you had fucked and were sharing whispered secrets in each other’s arms. He couldn’t keep you in the dark, you’re too important. With all that he has lost in life, with all of his scars and traumas, he got to know Ellie, and he got to know you. When he least expected it, you came along, with your way of seeing the world, its light and its shadows, your body as aching as his but your mind nowhere near as broken. Your ribs bend open so easily for your heart to do what hearts do best. And that kept his chest from closing again now that Ellie hates him.

He’s so grateful for you. And so ashamed.

Tears burn in his eyes and when you sit up and put your hand on his shoulder, he draws a sobbing breath. Goddammit.

“It’s okay, Joel,” you rasp. “We’ll figure it out.”

He passes his hands over his face, wills his tears away, but the more he fights it, the more constricted his chest feels.

No, not now, not when he needs to stay strong for you!

“Joel?”

“Be right back,” he presses, standing up so quickly that the world spins for a second, and his first two steps are wobbly. He hears you speak his name again, but he hurries out to the kitchen, finding support from the sink, his head swimming, his heart beating so fast he thinks it’s going to explode but at the same time he can’t breathe, his throat is closed, he can’t breathe, he can’t breathe, Jesus fucking Christ he’s having a heart attack –

“Joel!”

Your hands are on him, turning him around. At the end of his tunnel vision is your haggard face, and through the roar in his ears – where did that come from and what is it? – he can hear your voice.

“Joel? Listen to my voice. Feel my touch. You’re okay, baby, you’re okay. I promise. You can breathe. Just take a deep breath, that’s it, just like that, and exhale. Good, go ahead, take another one. That’s great, Joel, just like that.”

Without even noticing, your hoarse voice has pushed through the panic and the pain and the noises, and he finds himself breathing deeply, consciously, his heart slowing down. He blinks a couple of times, and his eyesight is back to normal. You’re in front of him, nodding your encouragement. He wets his lips, wants to say something, but then his knees buckle under him, and before he knows it, both of you are on the floor, you from trying to help him, your still weak body no match for his weight.

You’re coughing, and he collects you in his arms, ignoring the smarting in his elbow. It keeps him sharp.

“You okay?” he asks you as soon as you’re done coughing. You nod against his chest, wheezing breath keeping you from speaking. He holds you closer when you shiver slightly, and when you embrace him back, he feels a lot better.

“What about you?”

“I’m good, darlin’, don’t worry about me.”

“That was a panic attack, Joel, and not a small one.”

He frowns, looks down at you.

“I have a heart problem.”

“Maybe so, but that wasn’t a heart attack. It was a panic attack.”

“How would you know?”

You roll your eyes at him, even though it hurts your head.

“I’m a nurse, Joel.”

He has to chuckle at your tone, but you’re not amused.

“I also had a sister who suffered panic attacks from a young age. It differs from person to person, but what I did to you worked on her. Seemed to work on you as well.”

“It… did. Thank you.”

“How long have you – “ you start, but he interrupts you, though not unkindly.

“Can we… not talk about it right now? I’m exhausted, and you need to rest.”

You agree, and with combined forces, the two of you manage to get off the floor and drag yourselves back to the bedroom. You collapse on the bed together and just barely find the energy to arrange yourselves comfortably before both of you are out.

You sleep uneasily, your cough waking you up constantly. Your head is still aching, and your throat is lined with needles when you swallow, not to mention how much your lungs hurt when you cough, but you’re hungry for the first time since you got sick.

You hear a light snore next to you, so you turn your head. Joel is deep asleep, turned away from you, sleeping on his good ear. Your hacking must have disturbed him because you’re quite sure that he was holding you when you went to sleep.

Slowly, gently, you place your hand between his shoulder blades. He’s warm, sweaty even, in his flannel and no doubt from his attack earlier. But he seems at ease now: his broad back is relaxed, his breaths are deep and even, and he doesn’t move when touched. Carefully, you scoot closer, a tickle in your throat threatening to grow into a cough, but you manage to keep it down. Your arm goes around his waist, and you mold yourself to his form, spooning him tightly, your hand finding a soft spot on his belly to rest against. His breath stutters and changes, but other than his hand clumsily finding yours, he doesn’t move.

He smells of old sweat, and you don’t feel too fresh yourself. The thought of taking a shower with him once he wakes up sets off a pull deep within your lower belly, and you smile as you feel your cheeks heat up. Even when struggling through the worst flu you’ve ever experienced, you can’t keep from fantasizing about the things this man can do with his hands, his mouth, his cock…

You take it he’s to stay with you now, which means that you have to tidy up the living-room, make room for him, but you find yourself not minding. You want him there, you want to go to sleep and wake up with him next to you, and once you get well you want to wake up with your hands all over each other, his mouth on your skin, his rare smiles over breakfast.

The thought of breakfast makes your stomach growl, and you feel a little faint. It’s definitely time to eat something. Gently, you move away from Joel, rousing him when your arm leaves his waist. He rolls over onto his back and rubs his eyes before looking at you.

“Hi,” you smile, patting his arm. “You sleep if you need to. I gotta eat.”

“What time is it?”

“No idea, but it’s still light outside.”

“I’ll fix us something.”

“It’s fine, I’m on it.”

You get out of bed, your legs a little weak but still carrying you, and go to the bathroom first. Joel’s heavy steps are heard making their way to the kitchen, and when you appear in the doorway, he’s already making tea and heating up broth.

“I’ll get something from the kitchens,” he tells you without looking up. “Better see my brother too, let him know we’re alive.”

You walk up to him, feeling a little bit like Bambi on the ice, but you make it, and you wrap your arms around him from behind, and rest your cheek to his back. Joel stops what he’s doing, muscles flexing before relaxing, and his hands come to rest on top of yours.

“You okay, sweetheart?”

“Uh-huh.”

He turns around until he’s facing you, and there is something soft in his eyes when he cups your cheeks with his big, warm hands and leans his forehead to yours. Both of you exhale audibly, then smile together. You lick your lips, clear your throat.

“Joel…”

“I love you.” His fingers make small, soothing circles behind your ears.

He beat you to it, the rascal.

“I love you, Joel. We’ll fix this. You’ll stay with me, and we’ll figure it out.”

“Thank you.”

He tilts his head a little, lips ghosting over yours. You draw back.

“I don’t want you to catch what I have.”

“I don’t care.”

He kisses you, and you let yourself melt into it, into the assurance that Joel Miller is yours, body and soul.

[gamerbearmira]

Now no one gets the apron

This title will make more sense if you read it I SWEAR

Very sad, I'm in the mood for angst today 😛😛 and who doesn't love some Mamabuela. Seriously, it has been a hot MINUTE you know I had to hook y'all up 💪💪💪

Anyway, sadness, mean words that weren't meant to be said. You guys know the drill 🤥

eh ge ie

—————

Isabela and Mirabel tugged at the apron. Their late mothers apron. They were gonna help their abuela in the kitchen, but they both wanted to wear their mothers apron.

"You wore it last time, it's my turn!" Mirabel said, her small hands gripping the blue apron with surprising strength. Isabela, now 14, was pulling it back in her direction.

"You always get to wear it! It's my turn!" Isabela seethed, tugging at the apron. By this point, the commotion had gather some attention from other family members, who peaked into hallway by Julieta's room where they were arguing in front of. Luisa seemed distressed, trting to find ways to break them apart without causing more tension.

"H—Hey, maybe we should calm down, I mean I'm sure you guys can-" Luisa was cut off by Isabela who shot her a look.

"No! She wore it already! I want to wear it this time!" Isabela argued and Miravel stomped her foot, pulling the apron again.

"My gift is closer anyway, that's why I wear it more!" She said. She wasn't really wrong, her gift was essentially Julieta's.

Alma by this point had exited the kitchen and began walking up the stairs. She had knew this was going to happen, it wasn't the first time. Last time Luisa and Mirabel had faught with it. She should've expected it.

"Girls, what is going on?" Alma asked, and the two stopped, though still held the apron, looking towards Alma.

"She won't let me wear the apron this time!" Isabela said, pointing to Mirabel who pouted again.

"It's not like she wanted to wear it anyway! She wasn't even thinking about it until I came out of the room with it!" Mirabel said and Isabela didn't like that answer.

"Give it!" She said yelled, her voice raising and she used her vines to pull back, cacti sprouting in a nearby pot. Mirabel quickly noticed, yanking back. Alma, nor anybody had any time to react before a loud tearing sound ripped through the room. The ribbon that went around the back had tore, now in Mirabel's hands while Isabela held the other, larger part, the two girls having fell to the floor.

There was silence before Isabela stood, her eyes glassy. "Look what you did! You ripped it!"

Mirabel looked offended, stepoing forward. "I ripped it? Your stupid vines pulled too hard!"

Alma decided to finally physically step in. But before she could fully even get a sentence out, Isabela had shoved in finger into Mirabel's chest, not to hurt her, but more out of anger.

"Why do you even care?! You didn't know her!" She screamed and Mirabel blinked. Bruno and Alma had stepped forward at this point, and Dolores took Luisa and Camilo and pulled them back. "You stole her gift!"

"Isabela, that's enough—" Alma had been cut off once more, not that she could formulate any words after Isabela's.

"It's all your fault she's dead anyway! If she wasn't pregnant with you, her and papá would've been able to move out of the way!" Isabela screamed, tears spilling from her eyes.

Casita was quiet. No one spoke a word, and everyone's eyes were on the two girls; mostly Isabela. She finally seemed to process what she said and her hands flew to her mouth and she stepped back, looking at Mirabel, who had begun to cry. Her lip quivered and tears began to spill out of her eyes as Isabela's words hit her like a freight train.

Thunder crashed as Pepa finally processed what her eldest niece said to her youngest and Mirabel threw the ribbon to the ground, running to her room.

"Mirabel, wait, I didn't mean—" Isabela words were drowned out by another crash of thunder and Mirabel's face twisted into one of pure sadness and guilt. Guilt that Isabela had never intended to make Mirabel feel, especially not for their parents death.

"Keep the stupid apron then!" She wailed, slamming the door to her room. There was more silence, aside from the now pouring rain and Isabela's faint crying.

Pepa had quickly taken to running to the other side of the house to Mirabel's room, Luisa and Camilo on her heels. Bruno seemed conflicted, glacing between Isabela and his mamá, Alma, before turning and walking back into his room, clearly in the verge of tears at the reminder of the death of his and Pepa's sister.

Felíx had quickly followed after him, Dolores by his side. That left Alma and Isabela in the hallway, alone. Casita was quiet, not even move a single tile or floorboard. Alma's face was that of disappointment, and maybe even confusion as she looked at Isabela, who was crying, soaking wet from Pepa's storm.

"I...I didn't mean to say that, Abuela, I...I waan't trying to..." Isabela wasn't even focused on the apron anymore, she didn't care. She had hurt Mirabel her youngest sister who was a miracle from God Himself. And she just blamed the death of their parents on her, knowing full well that it wasn't even remotely her fault.

She looked up at Alma, who was just staring at her. Her gaze shifted to Mirabel's room, where loud crying and soft voices could be heard. Alma rubbed her eyes, and Isabela wasn't sure if she was crying or wiping the rain from Pepa's rain away.

"Abuela? Wh—What do I do? I didn't mean to...to say those things, I swear!" Isabela said between her hitched breathing, hiccuping softly. Alma looked up at Isabela, her gaze conflicted, more than Bruno's.

"Just...go to your room, Isabela. We'll talk about this later. It's not a good time for anyone right now," Alma said, her voice low. Isabela opened her mouth to protest, to say she wanted to run into her youngest hermana's room and apologize. But the look in Alma's eyes told her everything, and she quiet nodded.

"Ok Abuela," Isabela said softly, dragging her feet to her room. The door shut quietly and Alma leaned against the railing, doing her best to hold back her tears and control her emotions. She had to. She couldn't break down. Not right now.

—————

OK. Isabela didn’t mean it, I promise she apologizes. She loves Mirabel’s and does not blame her 😭 it’s just one of those moments where you’re arguing and say something you don’t mean.

Everybody was hurt in this situation 🙏

[icarustypicalfall]

LAPSE OF SOUL

Alejandro Vargas x fem!reader

based on a request 𓆩♡𓆪

summary: lost between your love for him and the dangers surrounding you, your heart couldn't know peace.

reader's callsign: Leal

warnings: sfw, angst, description of weapons, injury, infertility, wounds, slight blood, hospital, hurt and comfort, guilt, reader Inserted, no use of yn.

note: i spent more than a week working on this and i kida hate the end .. hooe you enjoy and find it at your liking, might rewrite it oneday .. 🫶🏻

“Until the flower of this love has blossomed this heart won't be at peace”

You left from the jeep, brushing off the dust that had settled on your dark uniform, proudly displaying the patch with your callsign, "Leal," affixed to the right side. Though seemingly simple, you cherished it dearly. The Colonel had chosen it for you, and you couldn't help but secretly admire it a tad too much. Like a delicate lily amidst a thorny bush, he had handed you the patch with a wink.

You still vividly remember the moment he enthusiastically patted your back, grinning, after witnessing you effortlessly bring down his largest men with a swift but powerful punch to their guts. You were indeed an underestimated soldier, a courageous little mouse among towering elephants.

However, your Colonel, Alejandro, appreciated your confidence and loyalty, which earned you not only a unique name but also a special place in his heart. He couldn't deny the profound admiration he held for you. He fell hard, with your presence penetrating his heart like an arrow, finding its infinite home amidst the layers of muscles and veins, awakening the deepest recesses of his being.

Alejandro Vargas was, without a doubt, a romantic. Growing up in a family where love took precedence, he believed in soulmates, and he believed that you were his destined love, his heavenly abode. What had you done to him? He watched the walls he had erected around his heart crumble effortlessly, disappearing at the mere glimpse of your eyes.

"Such unprofessional sentiments," he pondered. "Leal would never love me."

"Alejandro would never love me, honey," you whispered to Maria as you brushed her hair. "Besides, we're just friends. Ignore what Uncle Soap says."

The little girl pouted, and you smiled, hugging her with a laugh. Maria was an orphan, her parents having lost their lives during the cartel incident four months ago. You didn't have to beg to let her stay at the base; Alejandro knew how deeply you cared for children and allowed you to take care of Maria alongside the medics and the chef.

Whenever you accompanied him for routine inspections around the city, you wore a smile on your face while passing by little children. Under your breath, you cursed the cartel men for their vile games and showered affection upon those innocent souls. Growling in frustration, you earned a chuckle and a pat on the knee from Alejandro. Unconsciously, he would place his hand on your thigh, while the other firmly gripped the steering wheel.

The six-year-old child looked at you, perplexed. "But why? Is it because you are not from here?"

You sighed, shaking your head with a smile. "No, things don't work that way. We are just teammates."

"Does that mean I can't marry Uncle Gaz?"

You burst into laughter, attracting a few stares from the other Vaqueros. Alejandro glanced up from the opposite end of the mess hall. He gazed at you, cradling Rudy's baby in his arms, Pedro. His closest friend gave him a knowing look, and he smirked.

"You're zoning out again, hermano," Rudy remarked.

Alejandro was startled for a moment, but he took a deep breath and sighed. Pedro, the newborn baby, looked at him with his big dark eyes.

Maria ran towards them, followed by a giggly "Leal." She was the godmother to every baby at the base, always caring for them and cooing at their tiny faces. She carefully lifted Pedro from Alejandro's arms, their hands brushing against each other, bodies almost touching. He inhaled her scent, almost intoxicated by its sweetness. Rudy smiled, observing his teammates' flushed and nervous faces. Asking them to be his son's godparents had been a brilliant move, nearly costing him an eye after Alejandro delivered a five-minute nervous monologue on why he shouldn't be the godfather. This man was a bundle of nerves, aware that he would be close but never close enough, by your side but never entirely with you. You were a star beyond his reach, and he was just a boy tethered to the earth, bound by fear.

Maria gazed at you, her grin widening. "Uncle Ale, you should marry Auntie Leal, and I'll marry Uncle Gaz. Everyone will be happy," she babbled, earning a laugh from Rudy and a scowl from you and Alejandro.

You could barely conceal the blush that crept onto your cheeks, dismissing it with a nervous laugh as you cradled the baby in your arms. Oh, how elated you were to be his godmother, alongside Alejandro. The nerves were undeniable, but amidst them, you still felt a glimmer of excitement, of hope. Maybe one day, you would stand before Alejandro, nodding along to the words of a priest as you gazed into each other's eyes. Perhaps one day, you would hold your own child, whose laughter would resemble his father's. Oh, God— that laughter that melted your heart and tingled in your chest.

Maybe you would have twins, or triplets, or perhaps a little girl who would be immersed in the love of her gentle parents.

Snapping back to reality, you realized that you had been staring at Alejandro's chest while lost in your daydreams. Apologizing softly, you brushed off the tightness that had settled in your chest, clutching your heart and squeezing, as if trying to suffocate the fleeting hope of you. You knew these were mere daydreams, and this love would never bloom.

You sighed, gently patting the baby's soft hair and breathing in his sweet scent. It brought you a sense of solace. Bearing the children of your beloved was the silent prayer of hope. Perhaps reaching the moon on foot seemed easier than making that sweet dream come true.

𓆩♡𓆪

The mission proceeded smoothly, with Alejandro successfully forging alliances with both the Brits and the Americans to dismantle their long-standing nemesis, the cartel's leader, Valeria Garza.

Seemingly effortless, wouldn't you agree?

However, the situation took an unexpected turn, causing every plan to crumble into chaos. What in the world happened to make soldiers scatter in all directions, their sole objective being to survive amidst this war and bring the cartel to it's downfall?

Valeria Garza, the astute yet malevolent woman, and you, a virtuous soul, were almost equals, each with distinct paths and objectives. The sole factor that set her apart from you, making her superior, was her past connection with Alejandro. It was a realm you could never reach.

Observing the slightest change in Alejandro's countenance whenever Valeria Garza's name was mentioned, you reluctantly acknowledged that you would never have an opportunity to rival her. Though not prone to jealousy, you silently yearned for even a fraction of the affection Alejandro held for Valeria.

Your assigned duty was to remain vigilant, stationed in the corridors, ever watchful for any potential threats that could endanger your beloved.

Alejandro and Sergeant Mactavish ventured deep into the building, their voices issuing stern and furious commands over the radio. In that moment, a fleeting desire emerged within you, wishing that those whispered orders were directed to your ear, the warmth of his breath gently caressing your ear, his gloved hands delicately brushing against your burning flesh. You would have absorbed his words, even if they concerned Valeria, as long as it meant he held you close, so very close.

Meanwhile, Alejandro seethed with anger. The original plan entailed infiltrating and neutralizing Valeria, yet it appeared she was attempting to flee. Time was not on his side, and he lacked the energy to devise an alternate takedown strategy. Clutching his weapon tightly, he sprinted through the corridors, urgently calling for backup.

You, however, were the first to abandon your post, exposing yourself to enemy fire and eliminating any threats encountered along the way. Moments ago, your radio malfunctioned after smashing it on a guard's head. Your objective was to reach Valeria's office on the top floor and stand by Alejandro's side. Taking refuge in a storeroom, you clung tightly to your rifle, awaiting the next move.

A race, that's how it could be described. An exhilarating race against time, where rational thoughts and principles dissipated, making way for primal instincts. Gunshots pierced the air, mingling with incessant shouts. Alejandro pursued Valeria, cursing and bellowing as he dispatched her henchmen. She reached the elevator while he struggled to elude the guards on the staircase.

Meanwhile, you remained concealed in the storeroom, peculiar noises reaching your ears. Frowning, torn between adhering to regulations and the overwhelming need to stand by Alejandro's side, you muttered a curse under your breath. Succumbing to the commotion, you cautiously ventured forth, diligently scanning for any potential threats.

"Looking for me, papi?" Valeria sneered sarcastically, as one of her men delivered a precise punch to Alejandro's gut, sending him crashing to the ground. He coughed, tasting the metallic tang of blood in his mouth, wincing at the pain. He watched his former lover walk away, leaving him once more on the brink of death.

Consumed by fury, Alejandro gradually reached for his gun, his mind still reeling. Unbeknownst to him, he inadvertently pulled the trigger, and the lone bullet remaining in the chamber found its unintended target— you.

As your body crumpled to the ground, your attempt to intervene and push Valeria came to a tragic end. The bullet struck your lower abdomen, eliciting cries of agony.

"Leal!"

Alejandro shouted, dropping to his knees beside you. He frantically clutched your hand, striving to calm his racing heart and staunch the bleeding in your abdomen, all the while whispering apologies. It was an unintentional error, as mistakes are prone to happen. He had even accidentally shot himself before. So why did this overwhelming sense of darkness engulf his heart, as if he had committed an unforgivable sin? Was it because the one he had wounded was you, or did he loathe himself for causing you harm? Your tears immersed him in a sea of guilt. Abandoning the mission, he delegated it to his men and swiftly gathered you into his arms, rushing toward the nearest vehicle.

You didn't recall much of the surgery, for hospitals had always been an unpleasant environment for you since childhood. The sterile white and gray walls, along with the peculiar odors, had always made you feel queasy. However, your discomfort paled in comparison to the throbbing pain emanating from your abdomen. Every movement proved torturous, and you had to stifle your cries of agony and bite your lip as you gingerly adjusted your bandaged form between the white sheets.

Having just woken up, you noticed the faint light seeping through the curtains, indicating that it was already daytime. A blanket lay haphazardly on the couch, suggesting that someone had spent the night there. However, your memory of events since the accident remained hazy.

The door creaked open, and a weary-looking Alejandro entered the room. He coughed nervously, avoiding your gaze as he spoke. "Good morning, leal," he began, sighing and settling onto the couch while taking a sip of his coffee. "I... I am sorry. I should have been more attentive. I apologize for shooting you."

A chuckle escaped your lips before you nodded, trying to ignore the pain once again. "It's alright. As long as you'll pay me well, I don't mind," you replied.

Alejandro smiled, relieved to see that you weren't upset. He nodded, standing up as a doctor entered the room. Although you weren't exactly sure what was wrong, the doctor's expression indicated that something serious had occurred.

You had always strived to maintain a positive outlook, believing that there was a silver lining to every situation. However, as soon as the words hung in the air, you found yourself slapping a hand over your mouth, suppressing a cry of agony.

"I am sorry to inform you, miss, that you are no longer able to conceive. The bullet wound has caused irreparable damage to your reproductive organs, and we had to take necessary measures due to the severity of the injury."

The doctor slowly retreated, allowing you to process the news. The unexpected nature of the revelation almost tempted you to laugh at the absurdity of it all. Silent tears streamed down your face as you stared at your hands, feeling a sense of hopelessness overwhelming you for the first time in a long while. Confusion and melancholy intertwined within you, leaving you unsure of what exactly you were experiencing—hatred or pure desolation.

Alejandro, too, was overcome with anguish. He collapsed onto the couch, the burden of guilt weighing heavily upon him. He had not only caused you physical harm but had also deprived you of something you longed for. He remembered the conversation you once had, where you expressed your deep desire to have triplets, giving them matching names and creating a nurturing environment for them. That night, he had drifted off to sleep, envisioning himself, you, and your little family living happily in a cozy countryside home.

Now, Alejandro was at a loss for words or actions. His mind seemed to freeze, leaving him in a state of confusion and pain. He slowly sat on the edge of your small hospital bed, reaching for your hand and whispering, "I am sorry, amor." The name tugged at your heart, simultaneously tempting you to push him away and yearning for his comforting touch.

"I know that nothing can truly make up for what you've lost, and you may come to despise me for this, but I want you to know that I am genuinely sorry," he confessed truthfully, looking into your eyes while gently cupping your chin.

"I would never hurt the ones I love."

Your gaze snapped to him, wondering if this was a figment of your imagination. His face exuded serenity, as if a burden had been lifted after his confession, feeling now lighter than a feather. Alejandro's fingers caressed your cheek, his cold touch against your burning flesh causing you to shiver. You managed to whisper, barely audible, "You... you love me?"

"If I had been blinded the moment I laid eyes on you, I would not grieve, for in that instant, I truly beheld perfection."

As if testing the waters, you leaned in closer, cupping his cheek and running your fingers through his short beard, feeling the softness of his skin beneath your touch.

Slowly, you leaned in, finding solace in a gentle kiss—an embrace filled with agony and burning passion. In that moment, there was no need for explanations, for it simply felt right.

• masterpost • requests are open • <3

[the-masked-ram]

Speak Up- Sebastian (stardew) x GN!reader

A/N: Vent drabble to deal with too many emotions CW: Angst with a happy ending, Anxiety, mentions of sebastian leaving (doesn't happen), kissing ---

You reach out to him, desperate for him not to walk farther away. Your fingers search for his skin in the darkness that separate both of you. The shadows are of your own creation, they come with the short breaths and the thorns that tangle around your heart. Those prickling vines that twist around you ribs and spread up your throat.

You can't speak but relief floods you, pushing tears to your eyes, as you feel your fingers touch his palm. Sebastian turns, surprise fills his gaze, followed quickly by recognition.

He isn't going far, he is just going to Zuzu, the long distance will hurt but it's not the end. That's what he promises at least, but the wrenching of those horrible and nasty thorns in your tender flesh remind you of the pain, only the pain. They take away your hope.

You open your mouth, nothing but a strangled whine leaves your lips. You told him to go, you didn't want to hold him back, but here you are with your hands tangled together and tears streaming down your face.

He doesn't wait another beat of your frantic heart. He drops his helmet to the ground and drags you to him, so hard that you almost collapse against his chest. His scent of freshly cut pine, cinnamon, stale cigarettes, and the leather of his jacket fill your lungs, making you finally breathe. The exhale comes out in a wracking sob, it's ugly and twisted but it's such a relief because you no longer feel like you are drowning.

"D-don't," you breathe, it's too late you know it, but you say it anyways. "D-don't go-o."

Your words are broken by your wails on the mountain top behind his house and his fingers sink deep into your skin, finding purchase in the nape of your neck and your barely cotton covered shoulders.

"You mean it?" he asks, hazel eyes searching yours as if this is the words he's been waiting for.

You are the catalyst that's always been able to sway him from the path he always thought was his only choice. You nod, the guilt and shame at your selfish answer unfurls inside you but that you can deal with. Not the crushing agony, not the fear you might never see him again.

"Fuck," he sighs and runs a hand through his hair. "Why the fuck didn't you say so sooner? I could've..."

He shakes his head and wipes away your tears with gloved hands, ones that let his fingers peek out and allow you to feel the direct contact of his warmth.

"I won't go, but I need to...," he looks to the side and purses his lips. "I need to switch to a remote job. And I sure as hell need to move out of that house."

He shoots a scathing glare toward his mom's house behind the two of you.

"So that means you are stuck with me well and good, right? You ready for that?" he breathes, his lips hovering over yours as he uses one hand to angle your face towards him. "You ready to live with this mess?"

You laugh and every fear that had been building these last few months shatters, "I would only be so lucky."

He crushes his lips to yours, the kiss deep, slow, and he strokes his tongue against yours until you can't think of anything but the way he tastes. You can't think of anything but your fingers in his hair and the way his grip on your jaw and neck has tightened. It almost hurts but this pain is worth it.

[mythicglyphs]

I published my first fanfic! Marrow of Despair, a Raphael x Tav oneshot.

Read on AO3 (Link)

Summary: Alone by the fire at night, fevered and weak, Tav is afraid she is on the verge of transformation. Raphael's appearance seems to confirm her worst fears, but perhaps the devil has other reasons for paying her a visit.

The fire was low. Tav was frozen to the bones.

It was already cold for a summer night and the others had retreated to their tents early. For the last few hours, she had been in the grip of a sickening chill. She shivered uncontrollably. Every gust of wind made her feel as though icy tendrils were creeping across her skin. She could hardly think straight. Amidst the dizziness and the pounding in her head, one question was pressing itself to the forefront of her mind.

Is this it?

The splitting headache, the chill, the delirium that seemed to be filling her head with white mist. That was how it began, wasn't it? There was sickness, fever, gut-wrenching pain...and then dissolution. The total loss of self, the reformation into something new. Something soulless.

She should tell the others.

But then what? What if it was happening to them too, and they were all in their tents, consumed by the same cold terror as she was? Or what if she was the only one? Would they protect her, insist that they keep up the search for a cure until the very end, or would they simply kill her? Would she let them? She didn't know whether it was hope, or simply the animal instinct for self preservation, that kept her from calling out for her companions. Visions of what would happen to them if she transformed right there in camp began to bloom in her imagination, and fear and guilt ate at her.

Her head thudded. She was so weak. She thought she could feel the squirm of the parasite behind her eye, and her stomach turned over.

Don't let this be it. Please, don't let this be it. I'll do anything.

As soon as the thought had flittered across her mind, there was a strange crackle in the air, followed by the faint scent of something burning. Then, a familiar voice.

"My, what a pitiful sight."

Her heart turned ice cold.

Of course, he would show up now. There could be no doubt now. All hope was gone, and true to his word, he was there. Her last remaining choice.

She forced herself to look up. The devil was standing some distance from her, in the shadow of a tree, looking at her with cool amusement.

"I...Raph..."

"Raph? We've become familiar awfully quickly, haven't we?"

Tav glared at him and opened her mouth, but no words came out. It was such an effort to speak, even to think. He smirked and sat down on a nearby log, looking as much the picture of elegance in their makeshift camp as he did in his own house. She knew how she must look; glassy-eyed, drenched in cold sweat, and weak. Easy prey, like an injured animal.

"But, I'm glad about that," he continued. "You look as though you're in need of a friend. A saviour, even."

She summoned the last ounces of strength she possessed. Yes, it was hopeless, she knew exactly why he had come, but whatever he wanted, be it her soul or something even more costly, she wasn't giving it up without some semblence of a fight.

"Hellspawn," she spat. "Get out of here."

Her voice was weak and cracked. She knew there hadn't been much power in it, because he was looked more amused than ever as he gazed down at her. Forcing herself to ignore the splitting pain in her head, she gave him the filthiest glare she could muster.

"You know," he said, with feigned indignance. "When you look at me like that, I can't help but think your face would be improved by the presence of a few tentacles."

It was too effortful to respond. Tav pressed her hands hard into the sockets of her eyes in an effort to relieve the pain, though it gave her the horrible feeling that she was pushing the tadpole further in. She could hear Raphael moving, leaves and grass crackling under his boots as he approached her.

"Where are your loyal companions?" he asked. "Resting peacefully in their tents, leaving you alone in such a terrible state? It hardly seems fair. Shall I wake them?"

Resting peacefully. So she was the only one. The first to succumb to ceremorphosis. He seemed to read her thoughts on her face.

"I wonder," he said slowly, sounding as though he was savouring her fear. "What would they think if they saw you like this? What would they do?"

She couldn't transform. She couldn't. All of her courage, her resolve and determination, wound as tightly as the strings of a lute, suddenly snapped.

"Raphael - do something, please," The words were tumbling out of her mouth before she could stop them. "I'll take your deal, I'll give you whatever you want. Just don't let this happen. Don't let me transform."

His smile widened slowly.

"Why, just moments ago, you still had some fight in you."

"Please." She didn't care how she sounded, couldn't hide her desperation any longer. "I need your help. Just tell me what you want."

"I don't want anything," he said, flippantly. "Other than your rapid recovery, of course."

He wasn't going to refuse, surely? He couldn't abandon her to that fate.

"You said...you said you could help. That you'd save..."

Raphael chuckled.

"Charming as it is to hear you beg for my help," he said. "It's unwarranted. You need not be so eager. We have time yet for deals and contracts, for despair and desperation. In the meantime..."

He knelt down, gazed at her for a moment, then surprised her by placing the back of his hand against her forehead.

"The brave adventurer," he murmured. "Bold enough to stand in a devil's house and threaten to rip out his tongue. Brought this low by a mere fever."

"I...what?"

"A common occurence, I suppose, when one spends their days trawling through goblin camps and ancient crypts."

Tav peered at him through a delirious haze, trying to find some sense in his words. A fever? If that was all it was, then why had he come? Was he toying with her, giving her a little taste of false hope to make the game last longer?

"You mean - this isn't - I'm not - ?"

"Transforming? Not tonight." He trailed his fingers down her cheek. "I'd wager that you'll retain this precious mortal skin for some time yet."

That couldn't be true. There could only be one reason for his being here, on this night.

"You're lying," she said, feeling her cheek grow hot where he touched her.

"I assure you, I'm not," he replied.

"I...I don't trust..."

"Why, you wound me," he said, removing his hand and leaning back. "I've been unfailingly honest to you since we met. Besides, do you think if your soul really were about to turn at any moment to an empty shadow, that I would dally on claiming it?"

She didn't trust him, not one bit...but something in his voice told her that he was telling the truth.

It was a fever. That was all. Relief washed over her, followed, a moment later, by the strange urge to laugh. Raphael, for all his teasing and toying with her, had sought her out in their middle-of-nowhere camp simply to assure her that she wasn't about to sprout a head of tentacles.

"So, shall I wake your companions?" he asked.

"No," said Tav. Her head was still pounding, but she felt lighter. She wanted nothing more than to close her eyes and sleep. "No...I'll be fine. It'll pass."

"I would feel dreadful leaving you alone in this condition," he said. His voice, although retained its usual ironic quality, was somehow less mocking than it had been moments ago. "Especially on such a cold and lonely night..."

Before she could register what was happening, he had taken her firmly by the shoulders and manoeuvred her down onto the bedroll again. Lying there, weak, but calm, she listened to the sound of Raphael moving around the camp. There was the sound of logs being thrown on the fire, and an accompanying blaze of heat. The clink of a pot, the rustle of a bag. A moment later, he was lifting her head and holding a cup at her mouth.

"Drink this."

Too tired to protest, or even to ask what was in the cup, she drank. It was tea, sweet with honey. There was the slight medicinal edge of something else, but whatever it was, she was too exhausted to care. She drank the whole cup and felt a warmth spread through her insides.

"Why are you..." Tav began, trailing off as her head sank down into the pillow again. Raphael seemed to understand what she meant.

"I told you before," he said. He had moved behind her, his hand was resting on her shoulder. "My compassion is boundless. Particularly where my very favourite client is concerned."

"I'm not your client," she mumbled.

"Not yet."

There was a burst of heart and a flash of light bright enough to register even through her tightly closed eyes. A moment later, she felt something extremely warm at her back. Arms were encircling her and holding her tight. The cold, cutting winds were suddenly stopped by a large, leathery wing, draped over her like a blanket.

"The others," muttered Tav, vaguely imagining her companions emerging from their tents to this unexpected sight. "If they wake..."

"They won't."

She felt the tips of razor sharp claws trailing down her arm, raising goosebumps on her skin, although she didn't feel cold anymore. The intense infernal heart was thawing her. Every muscle was relaxing. Was this really happening, or was it some feverish dream?

She felt something around her waist; a thick, sinuous tail, tightening around her, holding her in place. If this was real, then what did it mean?

"Tell me why you..."

She drew a sharp breath, cut off mid-sentence as Raphael's claws dug into her skin. His tail lashed. He pulled her closer. Perhaps it was not the time to question the devil, not while lying in his embrace in the dead of night.

"Go to sleep, little mouse," he whispered. She closed her eyes and obeyed.

[ilovebuckers5]

*•♡never be like you ♡¸.•*'

sneak peek!

nika Muhl x cheerleader!reader

word count - 811

themes :

-toxic relationship (for this part at least)

warnings :

-arguing

-mentions of abuse

A/N - bad news. I still have to finish that essay so I'll give you this while I work on that.... ENJOYYYY

"can we please not do this ash."

i practically pleaded for my boyfriend to not argue with me before a big performance.

it was the day I had been waiting for since I was ever even notified that there would be a uconn game against iowa. I couldn't be dealing with relationship issues right before.

i attempted slipping on my skirt in the bathroom while my boyfriends voice was ringing in my ear no matter how much I tried to ignore it. I hate arguments. especially when they are stupid and have no point in even happening.

"no we are doing this now I don't care! you need to tell me the truth before you leave." Asher growled from outside the bathroom door. part of me wanted to swing the door open and break his nose but I knew that I didn't have time for that. so I gently but swiftly opened the door and forced my eyes into his with probably the most 'i'm not fucking around right now' look I'd ever given him. which is shocking with all of the arguments we've gotten into.

"Asher just fucking stop! I wasn't anywhere, I was literally sitting on the bench waiting for katie to pick me up! why is that so hard for you to comprehend." I pull my face away from his and before I could close the door and continue getting ready I whisper under my breath "its like you want me to cheat on you." the door was about to latch onto the door frame when his pale and veiny hand gripped onto the wooden edge. "what the fuck did you just say?" shit.

he then swung the door open with a force I've never seen before and a wave of fear flushed through my head. there were already tears welling up in my eyes from the yelling and now this just made them fall down my face. inside I was screaming incoherently at his face, slamming the door on his fingers and bashing his head around the room.

this has happened too many times. where we argue and I end up bruised or crying and I have to walk to Natalie's place and cry even more but into her arms instead. there's been too many times where Asher gets away with shit that no other man could get away with. and too many fucking times have I stayed.

his hand was peeled away from the edge of the door and I swear there was hot lava falling out from his eyes instead of guilt tripping tears. "why do you do this to me y/n? it hurts." he dramatically let his hand fall into his palms as more tears fell from his clearly angered eyes. most times I would let myself feel guilty and sorry for him as if I was the one that did the hurting. but this time I was done. nothing was officially over but the moment definitely was. he's going to have to find a way to win my attention back this time.

i tightened my pony tail and grabbed my cheer bag before walking out of our apartment, slamming the door behind me. it was so early in the morning that the sun was only rising as I walked out the door. I'm almost positive that everyone else on the team was asleep so I had to walk to practice. I was only a couple steps into my long walk when a car pulled up in front of me. well not in front but beside me. I continued walking until a window was rolled down and I heard a familiar voice call out.

"yo are you good?"

i was not. I had tears streaming down my face and I probably looked like I was just thrown in a pit of piranhas, but I cant say that.

"huh?" I turn my head to the side to see a white BMW pulled over. the voice I had heard earlier had a very memorable accent in it. Nika Muhl. 5'10 point guard. pretty hair. pretty eyes. just pretty.

"are you okay?" another voice reached out from the back of the car. Paige Bueckers of course. I finally looked down from my own height and saw a the brunette looking up at me with kinda eyes. her head was slightly tilted to the side while she waited for me to answer her question. "oh. uh." I waited a moment.

just before this I was telling myself that I wasn't going to put up with asher's bullshit anymore. that included hiding what was going on. Asher put me through shit. I mean he curb stomped my head on a pile of shit and dragged my face through it with his bare hands and never felt any regret.

"n-no not really." yeah I did that. fuck you ashe

[waywardprintmaker]

So. About uncle Solomon.

I'll preface by saying that I'm a Sebastian Apologist. I like him and I didn't send him away on my playthrough. I don't think he deserves Azkaban, definitely not, and I hope we see more of him in the future.

However, I oftentimes see people attempt to fully justify his actions and almost completely erase his crime by saying stuff like "it was self-defense" "Solomon was abusive" "he wouldn't look for a cure"

Sebastian cannot come to terms with the fact that his sister is dying. He won't have it. He probably knows it's true and as the game progresses, he looses grip of the last bits of denial he has. He goes from "she'll get better soon" to touching Sith Holocrons in less than a year. And I know the curse doesn't explicitly say Anne will die, but the words "all we can do is make her comfortable" is code for "it's terminal" in my eyes, like, people who have heard them irl can attest how hard they hit.

And Solomon, being a no-nonsense ex-cop, probably decides that the only reasonable way to deal with this is to face it head on. Anne *will* die, boy, you have to accept that, there shall be no bargaining and no denial in this house, be a man. Not the healthiest way to deal with grief, but therapy hasn't been invented yet.

The whole situation (and this is a weird example, I know, but I immediately thought of it when I made my way through Seb's quests) reminds me of 2017 IT, where Bill keeps coming up with increasingly unlikely theories on where his little brother might be, until his father angrily yells at him that "Georgie is dead" and to just accept that.

And like... I mean, sure, Solomon was absolutely shit at parenting, he failed Sebastian, he offered him 0 support, compared him to his dead father and some people would say that being a terrible parent constitutes as abuse in and of itself. But I really think the game wants us to see things beyond "Sebastian good Solomon bad". I think Solomon was dealing with his own pain, he probably felt guilt for failing to protect his niece, him visibly favoring her over Sebastian is evidence to that, imo, but now his nephew is slipping away and why did his brother had to die, if only he weren't such a nerd...

I am not excusing Solomon's actions, but I'm also firmly against the idea that it excuses Sebastian's actions in any way. Starting from continuously lying to Ominis and ending with murder. We know he regrets it, we heard him in the undercroft, he accepts Anne not wanting anything to do with him, his voice breaks a little, he's sorry. But such a mistake isn't something a few sessions of ugly-crying can wash off, that shit stays with you forever.

And I think that makes him more interesting? I want him to have an arc, to grow and fix his mistakes. I think that makes fanfiction of him more interesting, ya feel me? :) I love a good redemption, I'm an absolute sucker for it.

Anyway, half of this is probably just headcanon and I'm not intending to step on anyone else's headcanon, so don't take it the wrong way.

[nakachuchu]

CHAPTER FIVE: GIVE AND TAKE

Black Swan series

SYNOPSIS: You had always been the support system on the field, so why would they change off the field?

WORDS: 1k

WRITTEN: 11/19/2023

Despite being revived, the death of Riko still hung heavily in the air for you and Suguru. While Satoru was mourning in his own way, the toll of her death took a lot from Suguru.

He was visibly getting worse. He couldn't stomach food. The Curses he was consuming was the only substance in his stomach most days.

Dark circles hung under his eyes, which had lost their usual determined glint. His shoulders slumped, as if the weight of his guilt was a physical burden.

You ached for him.

Riko had been a stabilizing force, keeping Suguru's dangerous impulses in check. Her death had unleashed something unhinged in him. You knew he blamed himself for failing to protect her.

"Suguru," you said softly, resting a hand on his shoulder. "This wasn't your fault. Riko wouldn't want you to tear yourself apart like this."

He didn't meet your eyes. "I should have been stronger. What good am I if I can't even save the people closest to me?" His voice was raw with pain.

"You can't save everyone," you replied sadly. "No one has that power."

You knew that now better than ever, having glimpsed the inevitability of Death firsthand.

Suguru's breath hitched, tears welling in his eyes. You pulled him into an embrace.

"But we can keep living for those we've lost. We can honor their memories."

At this, Suguru finally broke down. He clung to you, sobs wracking his frame. You held him tightly, your own tears falling.

You and him stayed in that position for a while until he was ready to let go.

"I think I'll take a shower," he murmured with a pained smile.

You smiled back and nodded, letting go of his weak body. "I'll see you later?"

He nodded and walked away from you. You watched him walk down the hallway, and once he rounded the corner and disappeared, you stood up from the bench and got ready to go back to your room.

As you took a step forward, a random wave of nausea hit and bile rose up. You covered your mouth and forced yourself to swallow the putrid liquid.

With trembling breaths as you uncovered your mouth, your head remained frozen as you looked to the end of the hallway with the corner of your eyes.

A dark shadow lingered there. As quick as it came, it disappeared into nothing.

A shudder wracked your body at the lingering memory. Death had sunk its claws into you, however briefly, and left its mark on your psyche.

You hurried back to your room, eager to be alone. You grabbed all the necessary supplies for your shower and ran to the female shower room.

Suguru's breakdown had shaken you, stirring up your own lingering trauma. Under the stream of hot water in the shower, you finally allowed yourself to break.

The tears came all at once, gut-wrenching sobs tearing from your throat. You slid down the shower wall, curling into yourself on the floor as water cascaded over you.

The water burned your eyes and blocked your nose, making it hard to breathe.

The shadow you saw in the hallway lingered in your mind. Death's grip on you had left wounds no one else could see. You hugged your knees to your chest, overwhelmed and afraid as you laid down on your side.

Even back among the living, you were irrevocably changed by your brief glimpse of the other side. Cold tendrils of dread still gripped your heart. You wondered if you'd ever feel warm again.

You jolted at the sudden feelings of hands on your body, getting glimpses of the cold, bony hands that once gripped your skin.

“Y/N.”

Soft brown eyes stared at you with sadness and pity. Shoko’s soft hands gently gripped your forearms to pull you back up onto your ass.

Your naked body didn't bother her. She had seen you naked when she was preparing your body in the mortuary.

Regardless of your death, she still wouldn't have been bothered, especially if you were in need of support.

“Shoko,” you cried, in fear and embarrassment.

She was fully clothed, but she was not shying away from the scalding water that marked your skin red.

You shuddered in Shoko's gentle grip, mortified that she was seeing you at your most vulnerable. But her eyes held no judgment, only compassion.

"It's okay," she soothed, brushing the wet hair back from your face. "You don't have to hide your pain from me."

You took a few gulping breaths, trying to rein in the sobs. “I'm useless,” you admitted.

Shoko's expression was filled with sorrow. She moved to turn off the shower and helped you stand on shaky legs, wrapping a towel around you.

Leading you back to your room, she sat you down and simply held you as you cried, stroking your hair soothingly.

No words needed to be said. She knew the horrors you had endured and accepted you wholly, trauma and all.

When the tears finally subsided, you clung to her, afraid to let go. "Please, don't leave me alone," you whispered hoarsely.

"Never," she promised.

Shoko stayed with you through the night, keeping the terrors at bay with her comforting presence.

In the morning, you felt strong enough to face the others again.

“Thank you,” you whispered to Shoko.

She smiled and shrugged. “We're friends, aren't we? I need to freshen up. I'll see you at breakfast?”

You nodded. “See you.”

You closed the door to your bedroom to get some alone time before breakfast. You couldn't let the others see you like this. They needed you to be strong as they grieved Riko.

You knew you would stumble again, but Shoko would be there to catch you when you fell.

With shaking breaths, you pushed yourself back up. As you washed away your tears, you rebuilt your walls. Your expression was neutral once more.

You dressed and went to meet the others, keeping your swirling emotions contained. In your dreams you would relive it all - the darkness, the cold, the sheer terror.

But waking, you would not add to their pain. Death would not take you yet.

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