#hanging back but I just wanted to be alone bc when I’m in pain and tired I lash out but I kept it in

[sweet-jolly-fucken-ranchers]

I knowwww I’m about to have my period because my MOOD IS BURNING but I’m keeping it together so well I am a bird I am zen i am not going to crack

[highhhfiveee]

Mike x reader, with reader who works long hours during the daytime and Mike working at night which results in them barely having time to see eachother besides from dinner and bedtime

oh, you wanted angst fr 🥲 i think it could go either way, but honestly angst is what stood out to me first. i’m going to make this sadder too, just because i can 💜

to crumble

pairing: mike schmidt x blackfem!reader summary: y/n and mike find their relationship at a dead end. wc: 2.3k tags: angst, pain, prescription drug mentions, fluff and cuteness in the beginning but not for long. mdni. part 2 here: 🏳️

all i can think ab is the unbearable pain that replaces the love in your hearts as time goes on.

you’ve been together for half a year. things were fun at first, but once you decide to move in to help with abby, you start to see the cracks in the foundation.

in this one, reader works two jobs (bc let’s face it, this is unfortunately realistic); teaching from 9-4 and cashiering from 5-8:30. mike doesn’t want you working two jobs and you didn’t want to, but you knew that your salaries combined wouldn’t keep you afloat. abby’s school is expensive, and so is everything else in life. the extra money you get from cashiering gives you guys flexibility. 

every morning at 6:30, monday to friday, you wake up alone. even though you know it’ll probably be empty, you still reach your arm over to run it over mike’s side. it’s always cold and flat, completely untouched. 

you brush this off at first; it's one of the things that comes with him working overnight and you know he needs this job so that he can keep abby. you want that for him and know that love is sacrifice. 

you wake abby up and start getting her ready in between fixing yourself up; brushing her teeth while you brush yours, letting her get a few more minutes of sleep in while you throw on your clothes, guiding her through packing her bag while you make breakfast. by that time, closer to 7:30, mike is finally walking into the house. 

his eyes are hooded and surrounded by dark bags and you can tell he's exhausted from the way he hangs his things up lethargically. he kisses abby, who's running around collecting things, on the head, then ambles over to you, wrapping his arms around your waist and kissing along your neck. 

they're soft, gentle actions that make you forget about not being able to do things like this at night. it doesn't matter when you have mornings with him, even if it's only 30 minutes before you have to go. you giggle and reach a hand up to his cheek, kissing him on his other one. 

"missed you," you whisper.

"missed you too," he mumbles back, planting a kiss on your lips before stalking away to ask abby something. 

you all eat breakfast together, and then you're slipping abby's coat over her shoulders before you put on your own. you usher her to the car and give mike one last kiss before you leave, a deep one that you hope he feels all day. when you pull away, you can see the affection sparkling in his eyes, low and tired but expressive nonetheless. 

"i love you," he whispers, his sleepiness masquerading as love-drunkeness. 

"i love you, mike. get some rest, okay?" 

you drop abby off, wishing her well, before you're alone for the next 12 hours. it often drags. at your teaching job, you feel as if it's just passing you buy in waves, everything whizzing past you at light speed. you're aware that you're in front of the kids, but then you just blackout. you're thrown into autopilot, and you do this over and over until your lunch break at 1. you text mike to pass the time.

sometimes it's something silly, like "god i do not get paid enough" or "a kid just ate glue /: send help", to which mike will respond "😂😂😂" or "lol you deserve millions (:". he makes you laugh, and it's enough to help you push through the end of the day. 

he picks up abby from school, asking her all about her day and what she wants for dinner. he'll text you what she says so you know what to expect when you get home, like "meatloaf 🍖🍞 (:" or "chicken alfredo 0: fancy". 

for you, transitioning from teaching to customer service was easy; all you had to do was maintain that same autopilot: smile on, eyes alert, prepared for anything. no one suspected a thing when you could keep up and answer their questions. 

mike helps abby with her homework, scratching his head with the eraser of a pencil when he draws blanks on a math or history question. abby only sighs, telling him about something off-topic. "art class is much more interesting." 

mike starts dinner while you're closing up at work, sweeping the front end of the store and counting down your drawer. he lets abby help sometimes, and they usually have it ready for you by the time you're home at 9. 

abby meets you at the door, and you hug her tight, picking her up and waltzing her back into the house. mike is setting the dining table, greeting you with a sleepy smile and, "the queen has arrived."

you all sit down and eat, and it's another one of those moments where everything feels okay. the last 12 hours didn't matter when you were able to have this at the end of it. 

you tell abby and mike about your day over spaghetti, spilling details about prideful parents and spiteful customers. abby laughs all throughout, asking questions about being a cashier. mike just listens, eyes and heart floating between the two of you. 

you clear the table while mike goes to get ready for work, and a wash of dread passes over you. your brain knows what's happening next. you'll kiss him goodbye, clinging to his hoodie sleeve for a second longer than you should, and then you'll settle down with abby, bathing her and reading her to sleep. then you'll be alone. it will just be you and the screech of infomercials until midnight, and then you'll be off to sleep, snuggling into a pillow that smells like mike. 

you push the feeling away, shaking your head and hands and doing just as you know. there's the kiss, the night routine with abby, and the moment you sit on the couch, surrounded by tv light and the croaking of cicadas. 

mike doesn't text during his shift unless it's an emergency. it makes you sad, but you understand. security requires focus, and you require sleep. 

for a while, this works. it's what you and mike have to do to make ends meet, and while you both think that it'll only get better with more time at it, it doesn't. 

you still wake up alone and go through the same rhythm, but when mike comes in around 7:30, it's not 7:30 anymore. it's 7:39, then 7:45, then 7:58. the latest he's ever been, so late that you're not able to eat with him. he shrugs it off when you mention it, kissing your cheek and retreating to the bedroom to sleep.

you drop abby off as usual, and go to work. work. work. work. 

mike starts missing your lunch break texts, sometimes dozing dangerously close to when abby's school lets out. while your class works, you bitterly stare at your text conversation. your unanswered "shaping america's future is kinda sick" message stares back at you until it's replaced by abby's school calling. your heart drops to your stomach as you step out of the room to take the call, answering the phone with, "is she okay?" 

mike didn't pick her up. she's out at 2:30 and it's 3:30 now, and she's crying and scared because he didn't pick up the phone, and she always calls him first. 

you leave work in a flurry, asking a fellow teacher to take over, and you speed to abby's school, not caring about tickets or police or anything. you only want to get her home.

mike is dashing out of the door when you pull up, wrenching a sobbing abby out of your backseat and clutching her close. "i'm sorry, i'm sorry, i'm sorry," he breathes, smoothing her hair and looking up at you with regret etched into every feature on his face.

you try your best to hide your upset, ushering everyone inside before changing into your work clothes. you were going to be late, but you shake it off. abby was home and that was all that mattered. 

"hey," mike reaches out to you when you're on your way out. his fingers graze their way down to your hand, and it makes you wish that you could stay home. "thanks for that. i've just been super tired lately and i overslept and---"

"it's okay, baby," you give him a tight lipped smile and a kiss on the knuckles. "just don't let it happen again." 

it happens again. and again. and again. it happens so many times that abby starts to think mike is forgetting about her, and you don't know how to get that out of her head. she cries about it more and more with each time you have to pick her up. he stops running out to apologize, still asleep inside. 

you rush into the bedroom. he's splayed out over the bed, snoring loudly with his arm hanging over the side. you find an orange pill bottle on his nightstand. an old ambien prescription. 

you argue with him before work sometimes.

"what do you need ambien for?"

"i can't sleep." 

"but every morning, you skip breakfast to sleep."

"i do fall asleep, but i started waking up out of it. i just take the ambien to help me fall again."

"what time do you take it?"

"i don't know, y/n."

"why are you lying to me?"

"i'm not." 

"what time?" you cry, grasping at your chest. a sharp pains thud through your ribcage, and you literally sob. it feels like your heart is tearing in two. "you stare at times, mike. what time do you take the ambien?" 

he doesn't answer you and he doesn't know why. it would be so easy to tell you that he takes it at 9 or 10, and that he believes he'll be able to wake himself up around 2 but he doesn't. he can’t sleep without the ambien. he needs it now because he kept himself up in the early days of this, mind toiling over their situation, the endless reassurance that this would work sending him into insomnia. 

you leave when he doesn't answer, wiping at your watery eyes and runny nose. 

you cashier as a shell of yourself. abby stops asking mike for homework help, and eventually he stops cooking dinner too, trading all that time in for extra sleep after picking her up. you have to explain the situation to your retail store manager, just in case mike forgets again, and start looking after abby more. mike only ever made time to spend with her on the weekends, content with awkward moments over lunch and low energy bickering.

the lunch break texts stop. the dinner texts stop.

he's dressed and ready to leave when you get home these days, prepared to exit as you enter. you don't know what to say as you face each other in the doorway, eyes focused on anything but each other. you don’t even kiss anymore.

"i think abby's asleep already."

you shake your head. "i think she's really sad. she hasn't been coming out of there like she used to. she misses you." 

"i miss her too, of course. i'm just busy." 

"all you do is work, mike," you deadpan, exhausted with him. you never thought you'd ever get to a point where you looked at mike, the sure love of your life, with disdain, but you felt it creep into you ever so slightly. 

"yeah, i know. it fucking sucks, but it's what i have to do to keep abby."

you scoff, scooting past him to take your coat and bag off. "as if you're going to keep her by leaving her at school everyday." it's supposed to be under your breath, but the disdain creeps onto your tongue, bitter and raging, and you say it aloud, to his face. 

his jaw clenches and his brown eyes burn, staring you down with an unrelenting severity. you hunch yourself over, dropping your head and sighing out, "mike, i'm sorry. i didn--" 

he leaves without another word. 

how it got to this, neither of you know. not even the weekends healed anymore. mike caught up on sleep, you caught up on grading, and in your downtime, you avoided each other. for him, it felt easier than being around you. you were irritable all the time, a quick fuse with any word he could think to speak. 

for you, it seemed like it was what he wanted. time away from you, from abby, from everyone; time to be alone and recharge for the only thing he ever did, the only thing that was keeping his sister in his care. 

you didn't even remember what his touch felt like, what he tasted like. the man that you loved had become but a memory, a ghost that passed through your plane. you’re able to imagine his fluffy hair, his perfect smile, his laugh, his rich smell, but none of it mattered. he didn’t feel like yours anymore. 

you suppose it was the same for him, with you existing in the same space but only tangible to him some of the time. he would catch glimpses of your smile, laughing at something on your phone, or talking to abby, meet your eyes when you shuffled back to the bedroom from the bathroom, rimmed in red from crying for the last 30 minutes.

he starts sleeping on the couch, unable to even lay beside you. 

mike does a lot of crying. a lot of screaming into his pillow, wondering why he fucks these things up so badly. you do the same, wondering why you stay in situations that hurt you.

this goes on for longer than you two would like, so long that you don't even celebrate your one-year anniversary.

the day passes without noise, mike sleeping and you working.

a prequel of sorts : x

THIS WAS SO FUCKING LONG MY BBBBBBBB OMG. i did NOT mean to go this deep in, i just felt SOOOOO MUCH! my little brain got sad ): i could go deeper into this too one day, breaking up moments into specific little blurbs or ficlets d: let me know if y'all even enjoyed this lmaooo off to write for Halloween lol

[lcvejoy]

speak now

wilbur soot x gn!reader

tw!: alcohol, throwing up, angst? hurt/comfort. kinda makes no sense; not proofread.

word count: 1,336

a/n: i hate this but i rlly just wanted to post bc i miss it. more stuff coming! this is just to get me back into the groove of writing and sharing lol. clearlyyyy i write too much angst im sorry i just thrive in it. ill write more fluff! expect more!

wilbur is lying on the vinyl kitchen flooring when he calls.

he’s wine drunk and crying like an overtired toddler. wails of grief and laboured breaths, clutching his phone with one hand and gripping his hair with the other. the cold surface of the floor giving him some relief for his overheated body.

“hey, you’ve reached y/n! i must be super busy, but leave a message and i’ll get back to you when i can!” he’s heard that voicemail hundreds of times this week. he loves hearing your voice, even if only through a phone speaker.

“baby?” he sniffles, wiping his snot on his sleeve, “hey darling, hey y/n.”

a shaky breath, “listen i-“ he looks at at the ceiling, silently cursing himself, “i need you to tell me where you are, okay?” he catches a sob before it escapes, trying to display strength. “we’re all so worried about you. i-i’m so worried about you.” he’s dizzy, the room is spinning now. he reaches his hand out to lay flat against the floor in an attempt to steady himself.

“just call me. or text one of us. anyone. w-we just want to know you’re okay.” wilbur can no longer hide his misery. his voice is wobbly and it cracks at the beginning of each sentence.

“i love you, y/n. i-i love you so much it hurts.” he begins to feel the bile rise in his throat, “come home, okay?” he hangs up. he gets up from the floor on shaky legs, stumbling his way to the bathroom, and lets out of the contents of his stomach. he’s coughing and spitting, hugging the toilet and resting his head on the side of the seat.

he flushes the toilet and scoots back to lay his back against the opposite wall. he leans his head back, closing his eyes, before crumbling again. loud sobs, fat tears, hiccups and laboured breaths. the pain and grief hits him like a train.

there was an argument between you two the night you left. he hasn’t seen you since, and nobody has heard from you. your phone, however, has remained on - proven by the fact that wilbur has been able to leave you voicemails and each of his texts deliver. both, however, go unanswered and unread.

he is riddled with guilt - his brain playing every possible scenario. hurt, kidnapped, murdered, lost, alone. although, his hopeful side prays you’re at your parents house and you just don’t want to talk to anyone.

he picks up his phone and calls again. he leaves more voicemails. he does this for hours until he���s sober with a pounding headache and a broken heart.

until, finally, “wilbur, please stop calling.”

you answer. he’s frozen, sitting up from his leant over position quickly.

“y/n?” he’s convinced he’s hallucinating, that this isn’t real, that you didn’t actually pick up your phone.

“i’m fine, wil. i’m safe. please stop calling and go to sleep.” you seem annoyed, your voice is heavy with exhaustion; like he’s woken you up multiple times with his constant calls.

“w-where are you?” he’s frantic.

“i’m safe.” you respond, sternly.

“stop calling, wil.” it comes out like a warning.

“are you going to come back?” he asks, the emotions bubbling in his gut, “please, y/n. please come home.”

he hears you sigh. he holds his breath as he waits for your answer.

“i’m sorry i worried you” you began, “i just needed some space. i’m coming home in a couple days.”

wilbur falls apart with relief. he cries without the pain and grief present.

“we will talk more about it when i come back. just-“ you pause.

“just give me some space, okay? get some sleep.” you speak gently.

he nods, wiping the tears spilling down his cheeks.

“i love you” he sobs.

“i love you, too” you whisper. you hang up, and wilbur cries more.

two days later, wilbur hears keys jingling at his front door as he sits on the couch. he rises to his feet so quickly that he stumbles slightly, nearly tripping. he watches the lock switch, the door handle twist, and the door begin to slowly swing open. he’s frozen as he watches, wide-eyed.

you walk in, a small bag in hand. you haven’t yet noticed wilbur’s presence as you lock the door and remove your shoes, setting your bag down on the floor next to you.

finally, you look up. you freeze upon meeting wil’s eyes. you both stand there - staring in each others eyes, mouth slightly agape, feet planted in place.

wilbur’s mouth opens as if he’s going to say something, but the words get caught in his throat. he gulps, feeling the emotions rise to his eyes.

“hi wil” you break the silence with a small whisper.

his lip quivers, a tear falls down his cheek.

“hi” his voice cracks as he whispers back.

there’s a beat of silence as you both remain solid in your places. wilbur is silently crying, staring at you. you can feel your eyes welling with tears as you speak again; “i’m sorry i left” you begin, “i just needed some space. i should’ve told you where i was going. that was incredibly selfish of me.” you look down, your fingers anxiously playing with the hem of your shirt. you swallow before beginning again, “it killed me to not talk to you, but we both needed time apart.” you look up to meet wilbur’s eyes again. he has tears steadily streaming down his cheeks, his mouth is slightly open. you are finally taking in just how broken he looks; his hair is a mess, he has dark eye bags as if he hasn’t slept since the night you left, his skin is pale and dry. you feel like the shittiest human being on earth for having caused him this pain. you quickly wipe the tear that falls from your eye.

wilbur gulps again before speaking in a hushed voice and broken tone; “i never want to go that long wondering if you’re okay again. w-wondering if i’ll ever see you again. i-“ a choked sob leaves his lips. he breathes deeply before continuing, “i was s-so scared that the only time i would ever hear your voice again was through your voicemail message.”

you can’t stop the tears from flowing down your cheeks as he speaks. you nod as you look down.

“i’m so sorry” you crumble, both of you letting out soft sobs and hitches of sharp breaths.

“let me hold you” wilbur speaks up, “please, l-let me hold you.”

all you can do is nod. the words won’t form. so you do; you nod as he quickly steps forward.

and as he reaches you, he pulls you into him. his hands wrap themselves around your middle as his head buries into your neck. you wrap your arms around his neck and pull your face into his chest, breathing him in. you can feel his hot tears on your skin and his body jump as he lets out quiet sobs.

you stand there, in the living room of your shared apartment, holding each other and crying together for an unmeasurable amount of time. until eventually, the sobbing subsides and all that is heard is sniffles.

wilbur pulls away from the hug and instead, brings his hands to your face and rests his forehead against yours. you hold his forearms and close your eyes. you missed this - you missed being close to him, feeling him, smelling him. you missed him.

he missed you equally as much.

“never again” he whispers, as his thumbs begin moving against your cheeks.

“never again” you repeat in an equally quiet voice.

you both smile slightly. wilbur moves his head up to leave a long, lingering kiss on your forehead before returning his forehead to yours.

a silent vow of forgiveness, a silent vow of “i’m sorry.”

and yet, there is a quiet but heard vow of a promise to never let this happen again.

[from-the-clouds]

texas sun - joel miller x f!reader - vol. xiv

series masterlist | series playlist | writing masterlist | previous chapter | chapter summary: The final chapter pairing: joel miller x f!reader words: 9.2k (I love being insane) chapter warnings: SMUT (18+only) - unprotected sex. Insecurity/Jealousy. Angst/arguments. Discussions of death, blood and injuries. Alcohol & Marijuana use. Fluff. Bisexual reader (happy pride ya'll!). As always please dm for more specifics. a/n: This could probs use another round of proofreading but it would've delayed this even longer sooooo.... Here we go! I feel pretty emo right now and I might make a more in-depth post about my thoughts at a later date bc I just finished writing this in a hot daze so I can't put all my thoughts coherently together. But I just wanna say thank you to everyone who supported and gave love to this story. This is by far the most popular fic I've ever written, and I don't really know how? Or what I did to deserve all the love but I just want you to know how much I appreciate it. Thank you for sticking with me through all the angst and delayed updates and everything. I'll never forget you and I'll never forget Joel x Reader!! Thank you so much, I hope the finale lives up to your expectations! ❤️

**I DO NOT HAVE A TAGLIST. Please follow @ftcwriting and turn on notifs if you would like to be notified when I update my works :) **

I’m not the kind of man who tends to socialize I seem to lean on old familiar ways….

-May 16, 2024-

“Are you sure you’re okay if I leave you here alone?” 

Ethan’s voice jolts you out of a daze, and you blink your eyes open, realizing that you’d dozed off while sitting upright in a patio chair, the cheesy romance novel you’d been reading still lying open on your lap. Turning to look over your shoulder, you find him standing with one foot on the deck, and one foot still inside, cut in half by the sliding glass door.

Clearing your throat, you straighten up and nod. “Of course. I’ll be fine.”

Ethan studies you carefully, like he’s not entirely convinced. He’s been hesitant to leave you alone unless it’s absolutely necessary – only stepping away from the house to go on patrol shifts and to bring home meals from the mess hall. Recovery has made you feel like a burden to him – to all your friends in the community, really. Everyone….well, almost everyone, has been supportive, but you’ve never been comfortable being openly vulnerable.

Unfortunately, it’s too hard to deny the pain that you’ve been in since the accident, the trouble you have getting around, the exhaustion that clings no matter how many long naps and twelve-hour nights of sleep you get. According to the doctors, being so tired is just part of recovery – rest is important, but the concoction of pain medication you’ve been prescribed only makes your drowsiness and confusion worse. It had been a big deal that tonight you’d mustered the energy to drag yourself outside to sit in the fresh air. 

“I’m fine,” you assure Ethan, once again. “Have fun on your date.”

“It’s not really a date,” he says, almost a little too quickly. “We’re just hanging out.”

“Right,” you say, matter-of-factly. “Do I know who this person is?”

Ethan looks at his feet. “You remember the day this shit happened?” he asks, gesturing towards you. “Before you left on patrol, the girl that said hi to me? It’s her. Her name is Alex.”

“Oh?” you tilt your head, give him a small smile. “She was cute. How’d you ask her out?”

“Well,” he begins, scratching the back of his neck. “I may have…uh, gotten some advice.”

“You didn’t think to ask me?” you’re able to muster up a small smile.

“I would’ve, I just…..” he shakes his head. “It seemed stupid…with everything you have going on.”

“It’s not stupid,” you say, feeling a wave of guilt. Even though he’s the one looking after you, you haven’t spoken to him much about anything going on in his life. In fact, you haven’t really spoken to anyone in a long time, beyond thank you’s and blanket statements like I’m doing better. You feel disconnected, and more lonely than ever. If you ever get enough energy to leave your house, you expect most of the people in the community to have forgotten you exist. “Who’d you ask?”

“Uhm….” Ethan runs a hand through his long dark hair, shifts his weight. “….I’ve been assigned on patrol with Joel Miller a lot lately….so….”

You almost laugh when he uses Joel’s full name. Joel has been such a huge part of your life – sometimes the hero, sometimes the villain – that you don’t need to hear his last name to know who Ethan’s talking about. You could know a thousand Joel’s, and he’d still be the first person that came to mind. But Joel is still a sore subject, and Ethan knows it, which is why you suspect he’s avoided telling you this in the first place. You feel your eyebrows knit together, only able to let out an unenthused. “Oh.”

“I just, you know….he’s a guy. And it sounds like you even liked him at one point so….he must know something, right?” 

“That was a long time ago,” you say quickly, regardless of the fact that he’s right.

It’s probably not fair to blame Joel for everything that has happened to you. You know this, deep down. But you’ve been so helpless and isolated since you’ve woken up in that hospital bed that you’re desperate to find someone to hold accountable. And Joel hadn’t visited you in the hospital once. By this point, he’s abandoned you so many times that your resentment feels justified, even if your current state is not directly his fault. Because it was you, after all, who had walked into the path of those men, too angry to think clearly, too weak to take them down alone. The only person you can blame is yourself, and you really don’t want to.

“Did he tell you to take her out on patrol, make her cry, and almost get her killed?”

Ethan clicks his tongue, looks down, almost ashamed. “No. He did not.”

“You should be careful with Joel,” you warn.

“I was…” Ethan says. “But I don’t think it’s that simple. I think he’s actually alright.” 

“So you’re friends with him now,” you state, hoping he refutes. But instead, he looks up at you, frowns, and lifts his chin.

“What happened to you was horrible. It shouldn’t have happened. And yeah, maybe you think he’s the reason you almost died…. I don’t know the specifics so you can believe whatever you want. But I know that he’s the reason you’re still alive.” Ethan’s voice breaks, and you feel tears brimming your eyes before he continues. “He brought you back here, he donated his blood, he-”

“What?” you cut him off.

“What do you mean, what?” Ethan asks. “He was the only person there who had your blood type. You would’ve died if he didn’t. They didn’t tell you this?” 

“Whatever it took to make him feel less guilty, sounds like,” you say, dismissively.

Something hot burns in your veins, something that must have always been there since you woke up, but you’re only feeling it now. It’s unsettling, Joel being a part of you that way. Your lives had already seemed intertwined enough already. But now, he’s inescapable.

“Well, he stayed by your side every night while you were asleep. Fuck, I mean, he was probably there just as often as I was. He made sure I ate, and slept and showered and… and he never once asked for anything in return. He cares about you as much as I do, clearly, so I don’t think it’s wrong to think he’s a good guy….”

You must not care about me that much, you want to say, but you stop yourself. Because it’s not true, and you’d only be saying it to hurt him. You have nothing to defend yourself with, no way to convince him otherwise, and so you just stare at him until he shakes his head and slips back inside.

Ethan is stubborn, he always has been. And it’s a special kind of stubbornness, fueled by anger – so common in most of the young people you meet these days. You understand why they’re all like this. When you’re robbed of your childhood – you get stuck there….waiting….. Like someday you’ll have a chance to do it all over again, regardless of how obvious it is that you won’t. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

-May 25, 2024-

Things get better, albeit slowly. You begin to wean off the pain medication, which makes you more alert. It’s still difficult to leave your house, but you can move around it more easily, and you don’t spend all your days sleeping. Luckily, you aren’t as stir-crazy as you’d been expecting. 

One afternoon, Ellie Williams shows up on your doorstep with a bag full of groceries. 

“Maria wanted me to bring these to you,” she says when you open the door. “She told me to tell you she’ll be over tomorrow, but she wanted me to give you these to tide you over.”

“That’s very nice. Thank you for bringing them to me,” you try to take the bag from her hands, but she steps back just a little, like she’s unsure if you should be carrying anything. You let your hands drop to your sides. “Would you like to come in?” 

Ellie hesitates for a split second, adjusting the bag in her arms, and then nods. “Sure.” 

Stepping to the side, you allow her into the home. Because of how warm it is outside, you’ve opened all the windows to let the breeze through. 

“Sorry for the mess,” you say, Ellie following you into the living room. There are stacks of books and pill bottles with instructions scattered on your countertop. You haven’t swept the floors in awhile and all the hard surfaces are covered in a thin layer of dust. It’s not really that bad, but you don’t have the energy or strength to be on your feet for long – let alone to clean the house. 

“I don’t mind,” Ellie says. “It’s not even that bad. I don’t know why older people worry about leaving your house messy and shit….no offense.”

“There was a time it used to matter,” you tell her. “And I see where you’re coming from, but my thing is – if you’re going to live somewhere, you should do what you can to make yourself feel comfortable.” 

Ellie purses her lips, as if you’ve made a good point but she doesn’t know how to answer. Instead, you continue. “Can I get you anything? Water?” 

“No, I’m okay,” she puts the bag on your kitchen counter.

“You can sit if you’d like,” you tell her. “I just need a moment to put these away.”

When you walk into your living room a few minutes later, she’s hovering near your record player, looking through the vinyls. The turntable was already in the house when you’d arrived years ago, but it was buried in the closet and broken. Ethan had managed to fix it after a little troubleshooting and scavenging for parts. Now, you both were always looking for records to bring home, and had amassed quite the eclectic collection – jazz, funk, hip-hop, and everything in between. 

“Wow,” Ellie says, running her fingers along the shelved records. “You found all these?”

“Some of them were already here. But yeah. Ethan and I are always on the lookout on patrol. I can play you something. What do you like?”

“Eighties, I think,” she says. “But…I also haven’t heard as much.” 

“Well here,” you thumb through the records, pull out a worn copy of Speaking In Tongues. “How about some Talking Heads?” 

You pass the record over to her, and she stares at you blankly. It’s only then that you realize — she’s never used a record player before. There’s a familiar pang of sadness before you show her how. 

“Are you feeling better?” Ellie eyes you wearily once the music starts, and you settle onto the couch, feeling a little worn out after being on your feet.

“Yes,” you say. “I’m older now, so it seems like healing takes a lot more time.”

Ellie nods, then bobs her head to the music a little. “This is better than most of the stuff Joel likes.” 

“Oh yeah,” you smirk, and instinctually, you recall his enthusiasm for all things old-school country. “I remember that,” you say softly.

With so much time on your hands lately, you’ve found yourself thinking of Joel a lot, reminiscing on the time you’d spent with him and Sarah. What Ethan had told you about him staying by your side was definitely making you reconsider your assessment of him, even if you were still hesitant. It was probably a trap to think you’d ever be able to feel those things with him again, but if remembering them brought you comfort, you weren’t going to resist it. 

“You’re more than welcome to come over to listen anytime,” you offer, and she nods excitedly. 

Ellie stays for longer than you expect. You talk a fair bit. She tells you about what she’s learning in school – but mostly how ‘fucking useless’ it is. She wanders around your living room and pokes through your stuff without asking, but you don’t think to stop her – you just answer her questions and let her be curious.

Eventually, the sun dips below the horizon, and she excuses herself to go home, insisting that Joel will ‘fucking kill her’ if she’s out too late. Even though you’re exhausted after entertaining her for a few hours, you find it feels nice. Being on house arrest, essentially, had left your starved for connection outside Maria and Ethan.

You see her out the door before returning to your refrigerator to look for something to eat. Ethan will be back from patrol any minute, so it may be nice to make him something even if you have almost no energy.

But when there’s another knock on your front door, you’re shocked to see who you find staring on your porch. 

Joel.

You almost forget to speak at the sight of him. It’s been weeks since your accident and he might as well have moved away from Jackson since you hadn’t seen him at all. 

“Hey,” you say, tentatively, taking him in. He seems preoccupied – cheeks flushed, hair rumpled, and out of breath, like he had run all the way to get here.

“Have you seen Ellie?” he asks, not even greeting you in return. “I’ve looked everywhere and I-

“You just missed her,” you cut him off, not because you’re trying to dismiss him, but because he's clearly distressed. “I’m surprised you didn’t see her on your way over.”

Joel sighs, eyes closing in relief. “Thank God.” For a second, you glimpse the frazzled and overworked father you used to know. “She stayed out too late, had me worried sick.” 

“She’s fine,” you say. “Although she did say you might kill her if she didn’t get home soon.” 

Joel gives you an almost imperceptible smile, but seems mostly irritated by Ellie’s suggestion. “I would do no such thing.” He shakes his head and takes two steps backwards. “Thank you. Didn’t mean to be a bother.” 

Your mind floats to a memory of Joel on your front porch, late getting home from work and looking for Sarah, and you can’t help but feel a bit of sadness and longing for a simpler time, a surge of affection. 

Joel is halfway down your front porch steps when you speak again. “You aren’t bothering me.”

He pauses, turns to look over his shoulder. There’s something he wants to say, you can feel it, and you step outside, letting the door fall shut behind you and remaining huddled against the siding, and he turns to face you fully, sighing. “I’ve been meaning to stop by, actually….” 

“Oh…really?” you can’t keep the surprise from your voice, and he notices.

“Yeah,” Joel rubs his fingers together, a nervous habit of his you know all too well. “Yeah. I- well, I wanted to apologize to you.”

You’re so startled by the words you can’t answer right away. But the split second of hesitation causes Joel to continue, looking to fill the empty space. 

“I’ve been waiting to find the right thing to say….but it doesn’t seem like that’ll ever happen. I’m not even sure I know where to start.” 

“Oh,” is all you can manage, still taken aback. The only thing that doesn’t surprise you about his admission is the sincerity. You could say a lot of things about Joel, but he isn’t a liar. He always tells the truth. Maybe it’s why he pulled away from you to begin with. It’s easier than the alternative – spending time with you, which would force him to be honest. For how much you’ve changed, you’d probably do the same. 

But the thing with Joel is that you’re exhausted. You’re tired of the back and forth, of the push and pull, of the constant struggle to hold your care over each other's head, hoping the other will break first. Maybe this is a fresh start. 

You step closer to him, and you see him study the way you move. Of course, you’re trying to look strong, but he can surely sense the weakness. He’d always been good at that, better than any of the others. Your hand comes to rest on the porch railing for support. 

But…..

There’s that voice in the back of your head, the one that tells you this is a mistake. The one that reminds of the pain you’ve often earned through vulnerability. It likes to think it’s served you, protected you, and it has. But it’s not always right.

“I suppose I owe you an apology, too,” you say. “At the very least I should thank you for what you did.”

Joel shakes his head, dismissively, but looks to where your hand rests on the porch railing, looks back up to you as he reaches out. “I’m just glad you’re okay.” 

His hand clasps over yours, and to anyone else, this might be nothing. It’s so innocent, unassuming. But the effect it has on you is palpable. He squeezes once, and you flip your hand over, squeezing his back, giving him a gentle smile. “I am too.” 

Joel’s eyes fill with a warmth you haven’t seen in twenty years, and your stomach flutters, your heart races. A part of yourself that you’d considered long dead seems to rouse.“Would you like to stay for dinner?”

“I told Ellie we’d go to the mess hall together,” Joel says. “Otherwise I would.”

You blink once, and Joel sees it, immediately continuing on. “But maybe Ellie and I can come another time, join you and Ethan?”

“Yeah. He’d like that,” you say. “That might be nice.” ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

-June 20, 2024-

You think that at the end of a long winter, bears must hate coming out of hibernation. 

It must suck. They spend months sleeping, doing almost nothing, and then suddenly they’re forced to function again – to hunt, to eat, to roam, to survive and socialize. You imagine there has to be a learning curve, a desire to crawl back into their den and never leave again. 

Or maybe you could be wrong, and they love it. And you’re just a wimp who hates feeling uncomfortable.

All you know is that you’re huddled in the back corner of the Tipsy Bison, nursing a whiskey – and it’s the last place you want to be. 

You’re overwhelmed. 

And despite the fact that you regularly used to attend community events, it’s been so long since you've been out in Jackson that you feel like you don’t belong. To some extent, you’ve always felt this – too hardened by the outside world to fully assimilate, especially when the town throws dances. But in the past, you at least attempted to convince yourself otherwise. 

Two weeks back, the doctors had cleared you to go about your daily activities as normal  – within reason, of course – but you hadn’t exactly jumped at the opportunity. Tonight, Ethan had accused you of becoming ‘antisocial’ and ‘reclusive’. You had agreed to attend – but only to beat those allegations. So far, you are definitely not. 

You scan the crowd, taking in the people spinning around the dance floor. Some of the women are wearing dresses. You can’t help but feel a little envious of how easily they’re able to perform femininity, which is something you’d given up on a while ago. It hadn’t exactly served you before arriving in Jackson, and you predict it would be humiliating to start trying now. After all the things you’d experienced, you were left marred with scars and wrinkles, stretch marks and loose skin. Since then, you’ve remained loyal to the combination of men’s denim and tank tops with flannel-button downs overtop. 

It doesn’t always stop the men in the community from descending like vultures. You might be the last pick – there are plenty others who are younger and prettier – but you’re still an option. Bea, your old partner, had always theorized that some men were particularly drawn to sapphic women, that it was ‘the ultimate challenge’. Maybe there is some truth to her theory, but you like men….sometimes. So there is always a part of you that yearns for their validation, for as many times as you tell yourself you don’t want it. But it never feels good to get it after you’ve watched them exhaust all their other options.

It’s pathetic, but it makes you think of Joel. He and Ellie had been over to yours and Ethans last week for a nice dinner, and you had tried to gauge whether there was any romantic connection between you still. Occasionally, you’d caught him looking at you with a wistful smile, but he could have been lost in thought. It’s not like you needed that from him or anything, but it might be useful information. After all this time, Joel is still so handsome, and probably has an impressive selection of potential partners here in Jackson – women of all ages. You hope he’s not here tonight – you can’t see much besides the dance floor at this point – because the thought of him cozied up to anyone here, combined with the acrid taste of the drink in your hand, makes you want to gag. 

You take another look around the room. Eugene, your partner in crime – quite literally – is walking towards you, which helps quell your spiraling mind . If you talk to him, say hello to Tommy and Maria, maybe Ethan will see the effort you’re making and you can sneak out without having to deal with anyone. It’s wishful thinking, but it’s worth a shot. The sooner you can get home tonight, the better.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Joel can’t stop staring. 

He knows it’s impolite. He knows that he’s not being subtle. He knows that if any other person in this bar followed his eyeline, they’d pick up on what he was doing in an instant. But every minute he doesn’t get called out for it, he becomes more and more emboldened. 

It’s the first dance he’s ever been to in Jackson, and the only reason he’s here is to placate Ellie and Tommy. But even they have abandoned him in favor of better companions – his brother is deep in conversation with Maria, sitting across from him in a booth, and Ellie is out on the dance floor dancing with one of her new friends, Dina.

Joel just can’t help himself. He still feels guilty for what he’s done, but he can’t shake the feeling of a soft hand clasped within his own – the first time he’d felt any semblance of hope since arriving here. Tommy and Maria had already slyly let him know about all the women who were interested, but he couldn’t bring himself to entertain their advances. There’s only one he wants, and she won’t even look in his direction.

When he’d first noticed you, you were whispering with Eugene on the opposite side of the dance floor. According to Tommy, you spend a fair bit of your time with the old man, which Joel initially thought to mean that you had some sort of entanglement. At first, Joel thought that couldn’t be possible. But you were deep in focus as you listened to Eugene’s words, nodding and leaning in closer and closer, and Joel thinks Tommy might be right. He wants to understand what you see in this man – tall and unkempt, covered in tattoos with long, graying hair and a beard to match. But Joel catches himself in his judgment, he’s probably just as unappealing – not just because of how he’s aged, but because of how horrible he’s been to you in general. 

The next time Joel sees you, you’re at the bar, chatting with a man who Maria had introduced him to not long ago, a resident who is new in town. Joel had been too busy focusing on the fact that he’d been in Jackson long enough to not be its newest resident that he couldn’t remember his name. He wishes he had, so he could keep tabs on him. Of course, he can’t blame the man for being drawn to you – Joel knows very well that you’re hard to miss in a crowd. 

Still, Joel bristles when you both step away from the bar, and the man’s hand lands just above your sacrum. He actually finds himself tensing up, resisting the urge to intervene, because it’d likely only make you angry. Plus, maybe you are interested. That question is answered quickly when you reach behind your to clasp the man's hand and place it back at his side. Where it belongs, he thinks.

“Joel!”

He snaps his attention to what’s in front of him – interrupted, and probably for good measure, lest he get himself too worked up. Ethan approaches with a girl his age, her arm linked through his. Joel stands to greet them. 

The terse understanding between himself and Ethan while you were still in the hospital had somehow turned into a friendship, especially after they’d begun getting paired up on patrol. Ethan reaches out for Joel’s hand to dap him up, slinging an arm briefly over his shoulder.

“How’s it going, kid?” 

“Good, good,” Ethan nods, pulling back, and gestures to the girl next to him. “Joel, this is Alex.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” she says. “Ethan’s told me all about you.” 

“Really?” Joel asks, feeling a little bewildered. 

“Only good things,” Alex says quickly, as if she senses his apprehension. Ethan puts his arm around her waist. Joel recalls a few weeks back when he’d asked for advice on how to ask out a girl. Joel hadn’t pried at the time, but now he seems to understand, and is surprised by the swell of pride he feels. “Ethan says you’re a fucking badass,”she giggles after she swears.

Joel looks over at Ethan. “I don’t know about that.” 

He shrugs, changes the subject. “Since when do you come to these things?” Ethan asks.

“Ellie dragged me out,” Joel answers.

“I did the same with my aunt,” Ethan chuckles. “But now I can’t find her, and I’m pretty sure she’s escaped.”

“Oh, is she here?” Joel plays dumb, like he hasn’t been aware of exactly where you have been all night. “I haven’t seen her.”

“I think she was with Eugene earlier,” Alex has to stand on her toes to speak into Ethan’s ear. Joel watches Ethan’s nose wrinkle. 

“Do you know Eugene at all?” Ethan turns to Joel. “I’m trying to figure out what’s going on there, but she won’t say anything.” 

Joel wishes that he had more information. “Tommy says they seem close.”

“I know that,” Ethan says. “I wish she would just be honest with me. It’s not like I would be mad. Whatever,” he shakes his head. “We can talk about it another time. I just want to find her so I can introduce her to Alex.”

“We should say hi to Tommy and Maria first,” Alex says, and Ethan nods in agreement before saying goodbye to him. Joel claps a hand on Ethan’s shoulder as he moves past him, and Alex gives him a shy smile in acknowledgement. 

Focusing back on the crowd, Joel realizes that you’ve vanished in the short span of his last interaction. Maybe you’d rejected that guy, and then he’d retaliated. Maybe you’d gone home with Eugene. Joel shakes his hand. It’s none of his business. He doesn’t need to get involved. It’s not his job to look after you, regardless of how much better he feels when he does. Old instincts. He can’t help himself.

He settles on watching Ellie and Dina spin each other around on the dance floor. Eventually, Tommy and Maria, then Ethan and Alex all trickle out of the booth to go get another round or head to dance. Joel stands to release the booth to someone who actually needs it – and is left in the corner, nursing a nearly empty beer that’s now flat and warm. He looks towards his family and friends, but for some reason, he still feels alone. 

Joel isn’t sure how long he stands sulking, but he starts when someone approaches from behind.

“Having fun?”

You’re a pace or two back, one thumb hooked through a belt loop, a whiskey in your opposite hand. Joel looks back at the crowd a moment, then at the ground. “No.” 

“Neither am I,” you commiserate, stepping alongside him. 

Joel considers offering that Ethan was looking for you, but selfishly does not want to give you a reason to leave, so he stays quiet. You observe the dance floor like he is, smiling slightly at the sight of Ethan and Alex dancing. The flannel you’re wearing over a gray tank hangs loosely off one shoulder, and Joel wants to reach out and touch the exposed skin. You take your last sip of whiskey, bring a finger to swipe under your bottom lip, and Joel wishes he knew what you might taste like right now. He scolds himself for fantasizing.

You don’t speak either, and you stand in silence for a while, until you eventually pop your hip, shifting closer to him. Maybe you don’t realize it, but you’re already standing so close that your arm gets pressed up against his. Neither of you acknowledge the contact, but Joel is acutely aware of how your skin burns hot against his own. He feels comforted by the affection, even if it’s unintentional.

“Want to leave?” Joel asks, and can hardly believe that the words came out of his mouth, even if he wanted them to. 

You look over at him, not bothering to hide your surprise, but your expression evens out quickly, and you give him a single nod. “Yeah.” 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Joel’s still not convinced this is real. It feels too much like a dream, the weather outside is so pleasantly warm it feels like he’s floating as you walk down the street. He had never expected you to agree to leave with him, and now he doesn’t know what to do, or what to say.

The greater distance you put between yourselves and the bar, the quieter the town is. Most of Jackson’s residents are at the dance, save for the guards at the front gate and the handful of people that had been mingling just outside.

He heads in the general direction of the neighborhood, even though he lives on a different street. 

“What are we supposed to do now?” you wonder out loud, and you sound a little incredulous, like you’re equally as shocked to find yourself beside him. The question carries a bit more weight than it would have coming from anyone else.

Joel contemplates. He’s not sure what he wants from you – there are a lot of things, actually – but he doesn’t know if he really deserves any of them. For now, your companionship is more than enough.

“You’re welcome to come back to mine,” he offers.  “But if you’re looking to keep drinking, all the booze is back at the bar.”

“I’m good.” You shake your head like you’re uninterested, but look over at him with a sparkle in your eye. “I have something better….” 

You reach into the pocket of your flannel and produce a rolled joint between two fingers, looking over your shoulder. “Those dances are usually terrible, so I always come prepared.” 

Joel can’t help the chuckle that escapes him, and the sheepish grin he gets in return makes his cheeks feel warm. “Where’d you even get that?”

“You’ve never been on patrol with Eugene, have you?” you ask. “He has a place just out of town where he grows it. I’ve been helping him since we first got paired up, and in exchange, I get to sample the supply.”  

Of course. Joel would’ve never imagined that was the reason you were so close with Eugene, but it suddenly makes incredible sense. He shakes his head in a combination of relief and amusement. “You really haven’t changed.” 

“Oh, I’m sure I have,” you answer, smiling to yourself and looking at the ground. “But of course I haven’t shaken all my bad habits.”

“That’s not true,” Joel mutters.

“Well, you haven’t changed either, for as much as you’ve tried to convince me,” you nudge him gently, offering him the joint. “What do you think?” 

Joel plucks it from between your fingers and puts it between his lips. “I think I have a lighter at home.”

“Sounds perfect.” 

In the front hallway of his house, you slip out of your tennis shoes, shuffling behind him in your socks, pausing occasionally to study some of the doodles that Ellie had drawn and hung on the walls – it wasn’t exactly a priority to decorate these days, but they certainly livened up the place. He knows how much Ellie likes you, despite the fact that she doesn’t gush, but the odd comment here and there says as much. Joel remembers how difficult it had been to keep Sarah away, and Ellie now is no different. He doesn’t seem to be able to help himself, either. 

You sit next to Joel on his wicker couch, curling your feet up under you as he lights the joint and study him while he takes the first few puffs. He does it without thinking. That’s how soft Jackson has made him. Normally, he’d be too stressed about being out of his wits. But he can’t see how hypervigilance has served him since settling down. He feels safe here, and somehow especially because he’s with you. 

When he passes the joint your way, you look at him wistfully. “Old times,” you say with a grin. 

Joel nods as he exhales, coughing. “Old times.” 

“Oh yeah,” you say, as if you just remembered something. “You can’t tell Ethan about this. He doesn’t know, and he will give me shit about it. I need him to take me seriously.” 

Joel shakes his head. “Well, you know, it sounds like he and Tommy both think you and Eugene are together.”

“What?” your head jerks forward in shock, eyes going wide. “Oh my god, no. Do people think that?”

“I’m just sayin’,” Joel wants to mention how he had seen you whispering to each other at the bar earlier, but then realizes it’d give a bit too much away. “That’s what they think.”

“Well....historically speaking I might’ve liked older men…. but not that old.”

Joel purses his lips. “You’ve lived here awhile, huh?” When you nod, he continues. “Has no one caught your eye?” 

“Uhm….not really. But….” you trail off, looking into Joel’s backyard. “To be completely honest, I  don't think about that much these days. I guess I feel like I have a lot to be grateful for. I don’t want to push it.”

Joel understands, and nods pensively.

“What about you?” you ask. 

“I guess I feel the same.”

That causes you to smile a little bit, look over at him. “I bet you already know this. But the women here would line up down the block for you.”

Joel can’t help but roll his eyes, though he wonders if you would, too. Even if you did like him, that didn’t seem like your style. 

“I’m serious. I’ve heard the things they whisper behind your back. All their fantasies about you are pretty creative...”

“Fantasies?” He grimaces. He imagines none of them know anything about who he really is. You’re the closest thing, and all he’s done is hurt you. “I’m sure you were quick to set them straight.” 

“I don’t say anything,” you say, then continue on, a little quieter, looking at him from under your lashes. “I like to keep you to myself.” 

Joel isn’t sure how to respond to that. You have every right to tell all of them that you were once together, and all the ways he’s hurt you since. Yet for some reason, you’ve chosen to protect him. 

“So….all this time….” you wonder. “You had to have been with other people, right?”

Joel doesn’t think to hold back. “I had a partner for a long time. Tess. First, it was all business, I helped her smuggle things in and out of the Boston QZ…and then, I don’t know….we got along, we trusted each other and…” Joel trails off, hoping you’d put together the rest before he has to go into too much detail. “She was real fuckin’ tough. Scared me a little at first. You would’ve liked her.”

“Well, we already have one thing in common. What happened?”

“She’s the whole reason I ended up out here….with Ellie,” Joel explains. “But I lost her a little over a year ago.”

He hopes you don’t ask how. Maybe someday he’d be willing to go into detail, but talking about it generally is hard enough as it is. But fortunately, you seem to pick up on his hesitance. “I’m sorry, Joel,” you say softly.

He shakes his head. “I was an asshole. To her. I should've....after Sarah died I didn’t want to get attached, so I kept her at arms length and I... I wished I hadn’t in the end. It only made things worse.”

“Yeah,” you nod, look down. “I’ve made that mistake before.”

Joel doesn’t want to linger any longer on the memory. “What about you? Were you with anyone?”

“Uhm, yeah,” you fidget, looking uncomfortable. “I had a partner….for like ten years."

Ten years? He had been with Tess for more, but something about that information feels jarring. He’s shocked Tommy never told him this. Did Tommy even know? Suddenly, it dawns on Joel everything that could’ve happened to you since you’ve been apart. Entire lifetimes. And he’d said such horrible things when you’d fought. He remembers your face when he’d told you that you didn’t know what it was like to lose a child. Maybe you had. He’d been so cruel and inconsiderate just because he was uncomfortable. 

His throat feels tight, almost scared to learn anymore. “What…what was his name?”

“Well, Bea….was her name.” 

Joel is sure he doesn't hide the shock well. “Sorry, I didn’t know…”

“Yeah,” you say. “I don’t think I did either. Well, I sort of did, but I was too young I think when I first realized to make any sense of it, but…. I met her and…yeah,” then, you smirk. “I mean, I went to an all-girls school and I had a really bad relationship with my dad so…it definitely makes sense. ” 

Joel considers this, smiles along with you. “But anyways. Her and I met shortly after my brother died and it was kind of the same. We kept each other alive, things developed from there. We ended up getting involved with this group who lived in the middle of nowhere. That’s a whole other story, but…” you wave your hand. “I loved her, and I lost her right before Ethan and I got here.” 

Joel sees all the pain in your eyes, and wishes he could say something to take it all away. He knows he can’t. You look back out into the woods in his backyard, take a deep breath, and reach back towards the joint that you had put out not long before, lighting it again. Joel gets the sense that both of you had done the most amount of sharing possible for the time being. 

“Look at us,” you take another drag before passing it over. “Old times.”

“Old times,” he repeats, a smile working its way onto his face. 

“This used to be my favorite thing to do with you.” 

“It was nice,” Joel agrees….hesitates before continuing. “But I can think of some things I liked better.” He gives you a knowing look, and you roll your eyes, laughing easily at his joke. It feels so good to make you laugh, to see you smile. Why had he spent so much time resisting?

“Touche.” 

What happens next spills out of Joel so quickly he doesn’t think to stop it. “I tried to look for you….after all this happened. I didn’t have Sarah anymore, and I thought maybe….I don’t know. It was the only thing that kept me going for a while.”

“I did too,” you confess. “But…I was with Vincent and Ethan, and I felt like I couldn’t leave them alone for something that might just be…. I always hoped you both made it. And I’m so sorry she’s gone. I really did love her.” 

“I know you did,” Joel reaches out to take your hand. “I know. And I shouldn’t have said those things I did. I’m still not sure why you’ve been so patient with me.”

“Hmm,” you shift so that you’re closer to him. “You waited around for me back then. It’s only fair that I’d wait around for you now. I want you in my life. I don’t care what that looks like. But it’s too hard to forget about a person that you loved.” 

Joel wants as much from you as you’re willing to give, and he can’t tear his gaze away from you. But he wants you to see him, all of him, before he takes it. 

“I’ve let a lot of people down. I’ve done a lot of h-horrible things,” his voice cracks, and tears well in his eyes. 

“I have, too, you know? Those things still live with me. But I think what matters is who we are now,” you reach out, fingertips brushing the scar on his temple, and Joel swears that even if you don’t know the story behind it, you can see right through him. “And I know who you are.” 

“I don’t want to hurt you anymore than I already have.” 

“You won’t,” you say. “No more than anyone else has. And if it makes you feel better…when people hurt me, I’ve gotten pretty good at hurting them back.” 

“If I do, I’d hope you would.”

“I will. I promise,” your thumb strokes his cheek, marveling at him. “I would suggest a blood oath or something but….I heard we kind of already did that…”

He’s given you every warning, every barrier, and you’re still here. He can’t believe it, and he doesn’t think he can hold back any longer. “Come here.”

He kisses you. He wishes that he could be slow and tender and gentle like he used to be – and certainly he’s still capable, but he realizes that he’s been depriving himself of something he wanted for so long, and can’t seem to control himself. 

Your hands land on the side of his face, and he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you onto his lap. Maybe you’re somewhat taken aback by his urgency, you hum against his lips, but you don’t resist at all. Joel maneuvers you so you’re straddling his thighs, and he grips your hips, your ass, coasts his hands up your side. Your lips part in a moan, and he slips his tongue into your mouth. 

For a while, he stays there, savors the taste of you, whiskey and smoke still lingering on your lips. His hands cup your jaw, feel your body, grip and squeeze and stroke and you let him, continue to let him. He tries everything, wondering if you’ll tell him to stop, if you’ll decide you’ve had too much, but you don’t. Then again, he should know by now that you’re a woman who knows what she wants. He just finds it’s hard to believe that he’s the thing you want.

You break away from him, just a little, and Joel presses his nose to your neck, kisses your pulse point. 

“Should we go upstairs?” your voice is raspy and breathless. “Will Ellie be home soon?” 

“Probably not for a while. We can be quick.”

“Hopefully not too quick,” you raise your eyebrows. Joel can’t help but laugh a little. He relishes in the way your hands rake up and down his arms, exploring him, touching him. Of course he wants you, but even just this would be enough. He’d be content with less, he hadn’t realized how starved of affection he’d been.

You’re able to pry yourselves off one another to make it up the stairs, and Joel guides you with a hand to the small of your back. When you get to his bedroom, he opens the door, but stops you before you go inside. 

“Hold on,” Joel mutters, winding one arm around your waist, the other behind your knee.

“Joel, what-no, you’ll–” he pulls you into his arms. 

“Do you really think I’m not strong enough?”

“I didn’t say that,” you chuckle as he carries you over the threshold and into the bedroom, breath puffing against him before he lays you down on the bed. 

When he hovers over you, your fingers wind into his hair, nails raking against his scalp. He savors every sweet sigh he’s able to pull from you, hands cupping your breasts and squeezing your hips. You’re so pliant and open beneath his body, it makes it easier to not feel guilty about what he’s doing. He knows he shouldn’t feel guilty, you’ve said as much, but it might take some time before the feeling will die completely. Hopefully, he has enough time with you to see it off completely.

Clothes are removed quickly, intentionally, as you both bare more and more of yourself to each other. And while he wishes he could’ve been there to see the ways in which your body has changed, you’re still as beautiful as ever. 

Joel, however, is hesitant to give himself away completely. When you tug at the hem of his shirt, he hesitates. 

“I don’t know if-” he pauses. “If you want to see all that.”

“Joel,” you stare at him knowingly, kneeling across from him as he stands at the edge of the bed. “I do.” 

So he releases your hand, and lets you pull it over his head. Carefully, you study him, his body littered with scars. He knows he’s not as in shape as you remember. These days, he hardly can look at himself in the mirror after a shower. He expects you to be disgusted, or at least see it flit across your face before you compose yourself, but you don’t. Your fingertips drag through the smattering of hair on his chest and down his torso, tracing several prominent scars – each one with a story – but you linger on the one at his abdomen, frowning. 

He sees the question on your face, but you don’t ask it. Instead, you return to press yourself against him. “I’m so glad you’re still here….”

You kiss him, then, and Joel can only kiss you back. 

Joel isn’t the only one with battle scars. Some of them he feels are his fault, but you seem less self-concious about them, which gives him a surprising amount of confidence. Maybe it’s just a reality of what happens when you make it this long. 

When you’re finally bare beneath him, he admires how you look, stretched out and waiting, chest heaving and shivering with anticipation. He slides his hand between your legs – feels you already wet and warm, sinking two fingers inside. Your walls flutter around the intrusion, back arcing off the bed when you sigh out his name. Joel.

He’d forgotten how nice it felt to hear that. 

Joel is already thinking about what he’d like to do to you next time. He’d be more careful, more patient. He’d bury his face between your thighs to see if you tasted as good as he remembers, he’d let your fingers curl into his hair. But right now you both seem desperate for the same thing. 

He pumps his cock a few times with his hand, he can’t remember the last time he’d been this hard – the last time he’s wanted anyone this badly. Even with Tess, it had always felt like the both of them were hurrying to scratch an itch, her eyes would wander like she was thinking of other people, and maybe he was, too. 

Joel lines himself up with your slick cunt, teases you a little, and you roll your body down to meet him, gasping when his blunt head slides in – just a little. 

He can’t hold back. You practically suck him in, so tight and hot around him he finds it immediately overwhelming, but he doesn’t even think to pull out. Only when he’s fully seated inside you, and given you a chance to adjust, does he start to move. 

It’s euphoric. You’re both older now, more mature, but he still remembers all the things you liked, even if it takes a moment for him to find the spot inside you that makes you cry out, legs wrapping around his hips. 

Unlike before, you don’t bother trying to hide from him. You kiss him, hold him, touch him, look him in the eyes, tell him how good he feels – you don’t hold back. Joel relishes every word you say, clings to the praise and gives it back. Your lashes flutter when he tells you how pretty you look.

He can think of nothing else other than bringing you pleasure, can tell you’re getting close when you begin to rut against him, and he reaches down to let the pads of his fingers slide over your clit.

When you come, you whine his name, lock your lips with his own and he swallows your moans. The feeling of you so impossibly tight and wet and pulsing and squeezing him so tightly has him following closely after. 

His head is still buried in the crook of your neck when you speak again. “God, I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you, too.”

The second Joel pulls out, he starts missing how close he felt to you. But you fix that by rolling over onto your stomach, curling up at his side, head on his chest, and arm across his stomach. 

“Joel. Fuck, you’re so perfect.”

He’s far from it. But he’s starting to think if you say it enough, maybe he’ll start to believe it. He turns his head to kiss you gently, slowly. “So are you.” 

“We can do this again, right?” you ask. 

“Yes,” he says. “Yes, we can.”

“Good,” you settle back against him, and very slowly, he dozes off with you right beside him. He doesn’t want to sleep alone again, and luckily, he doesn’t have to. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

-December 4th, 2026-

When you return home from patrol, you find Joel in his living room – boots off and socked feet propped on the arm of the couch. You don’t notice his eyes are closed, that he’s asleep, until you get closer, see the book he’d been reading resting on his chest as he snores lightly. You can’t help but feel for him – he’s probably exhausted from constant patrols, so he must be tired. 

But mostly, you’re just overwhelmed by the love you feel for him, catching him in a quiet moment of vulnerability. Hesitantly, you reach out and squeeze his foot. It’s gentle and tender enough that he blinks his eyes open and looks around, taking in his surroundings, rather than jolting awake like he often does. When he sees you on the opposite end of the couch, he melts back into the pillow he’s propped against. 

“Hey, stud,” you lean against the arm of the couch. 

“Hey,” Joel answers, voice still gruff with sleep. “How long was I out?”

“I don’t know,” you shrug. “I just got in.”

“Hmm,” Joel closes his eyes again, folds his hands across his stomach.

“You’re wearing the glasses I got you,” you point out. They’re simple. Rectangular black frames. You’d found them on patrol, and brought them home after Joel had been complaining that he could barely see when he read before bed. But he’d tried them on and insisted he hated the way they looked, so you’d ended up using them most of the time.

“They do work,” he grumbles, like he’s ashamed to admit it. “But I still think they look stupid.”

“You look like a sexy librarian,” Joel rolls his eyes, but you can tell he’s suppressing a grin. There’s always a bit of defiance about him, he can’t fully admit how you get him so flustered even after you’ve spent so much time together. You press your thumb into the arch of his foot and he groans. “That feel good?” you ask. 

“Yes.”

“Whatcha reading?” You gesture towards the book. 

“Some book about the moon landing,” Joel lifts it off of his chest, where it lay face down and open, looks at the back cover. “For Ellie.”

“How sweet.”

“It’s a little dry,” he deadpans. “But she likes this stuff.” 

You shift your massage to his other foot. Joel stretches, his arms lifting above his head, the shirt he’s wearing rides up just so, so you see a sliver of his lower belly before it disappears again, throwing an arm over his eyes. 

“Are you tired?” you ask. 

“Always,” he says through a yawn. 

“Me too,” you yawn along with him, since they’re contagious. He pulls the glasses from their perch on the bridge of his nose and shuts the book, placing them both on the coffee table in front of him. You take your hands off his feet and he sits up a little straighter, holding out his hand. 

“Come ‘ere,” he says, and you do. 

He grunts as you settle into his arms, head nestled against his chest, sprawling out almost on top of him, the only way you both can fit like this on the couch.

“You’re so warm,” you say softly, letting him wrap his arms around you. 

“You’re cold. Your hands are freezing,” he holds them in his own.

“It’s cold out.”

“Don’t know why you left today.”

“Obligations. Patrol.”

“Fuck that.”

You laugh into his chest, pausing for a moment before speaking again. “You know, I think we might be boring.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Well, we don’t really leave the house. We spend all day reading. And we’re old.”

“We’re not that old.”

“But we’re getting up there.”

“Sure, but…” Joel trails off. 

“Everything’s so quiet, so calm.”

“I think that’s what most people would describe as content.” 

“Are you content?” you ask, lifting your head to look him in the eyes. 

“I’m happy,” he says softly, tucking a piece of hair behind your ears. “Are you?”

“Of course.”

“Good. Then don’t worry about the rest.”

“Okay,” you settle back against your husband's chest, feel his lips brush your forehead.

His fingers search absentmindedly for the ring on your finger he’d found while clearing out a pawn shop not too long ago. The one he wore looked nothing like your own. But the marriage had been long overdue, and neither of you cared what the rings actually looked like. 

Nowadays, you split your time between his place with Ellie, and your own with Ethan, but end up in his bed every night. At this point, you don’t think you could sleep without him. 

Years ago, another lifetime, you’d had a conversation underneath a sky full of stars. You’d told him that for you, good things had never lasted. Joel had made a promise. 

This will.

It took time. There was a lot of pain. But in the end, he had told you the truth.

-

-

-

[janovavalen]

im gonna be like the little devil on your shoulder politely asking for grover fics (im the person who requested the hurt/comfort one :D) I WANNA SAY A) THE FICS FANTASTIC LOVED IT SM B) DO YOU ONLY WRITE FOR FEM READER?? ASKIN OUT OF CURIOSITY BECAUSE IM NON BINARY IF NOT TOTALLY FINE OBVI

now askin for another one because im silly like that grover x gn(if you do gn if not then fem obvi) reader angst. i want to feel pain AND TYSM FOR READING THIS AND SOING THIS IF YOU DO ILYSM FOR DOING GROVER /P 🫶🫶(ps sorry for making this rly long i have lots to say)

a/n: omg HIII i was hoping you liked it anon!! i literally was like ‘bro what if they hate this sm imma be mad embarrassed’ bc i was rubbing on coffee and water when i wrote that😭 BUT YES ILL TRY TO WRITE WHAT U ASKED FORR, i’m a little scared bc i never wrote gn reader before and i don’t wanna like fuck it up for anyone but i’ll try<3

✧I WISH YOU SAW YOURSELF HOW I SEE YOU || grover underwood x gn!reader

summary: when grover comes back from his quest with percy and annabeth, he can’t help but notice that y/n has grown closer and closer to luke, causing him a bit of worry for the two of them.

word count: 1237 (this was rushed bc i was trying to get something out to you guys in so sorryyy)

warnings: misunderstanding, HORRID CLUTCHING jealousy, reader not knowing, grover giving the cold shoulder, slight hurt but comfort and hugs in the end<3

grover had just gotten back to one of his quests with annabeth and percy. and he was esthetic to get back to camp.

they meant everything to him. when they first met, they had been very quiet, reserved but polite and never ever put one in their place if needed. they didn’t take up bullying and they wouldn’t stop now.

when grover had met them however, they had been in the lake taking a small swim on the hot day, he had been there to just sit under the sun. which they allowed, the two of them didn’t talk until they had decided since they were both there and in the same camp, the two of them might as well know each other.

and from then on, they had been nonstop talking to each other, hanging out, laughing and chatting at all the meal times and sooner or later, grover felt his crush on them developing faster and faster. they had been eighteen, the prime age for an adult so he didn’t feel weirded out—even though they told him not to feel that way.

when he looked around for them, he found that they were nowhere to be found which concerned him a little. usually y/n is always waiting for him at the front of the cabin but this time, they weren’t ?

a little concerned he began to ask around for y/n, everyone saying they didn’t really know or they saw them just a second ago.

‘where could they be…’ he asked himself while turning around to look over his shoulder.

just as he walked near the bows and arrows and there they were. standing there with a wide warm smile on their face, only..they weren’t alone? once somebody moved away from where this mysterious person was there stood luke castellan. a wide smile on his own face while he shook his head at y/n who must have told a joke.

grover wouldn’t particularly care or mind in this situation but…he felt something was a bit different about the way y/n had been laughing. it was over excessive and a bit different then the way they laughed at him?

when y/n laughed at him—with him, they usually would look away or clear their throat, but with luke? they stayed their eyes locked and or they’d bend down to laugh while covering their mouth.

y/n usually didn’t cover their mouth with him. could this be a sign that he was in the friend zone the whole time.

clutching his hand into a fist next to his side he walked away, unknowingly to him, y/n had called out his name with a smile but it immediately dropped when he didn’t turn their way making y/n extremely confused a the tiniest bit of embarrassed at how they was ignored so openly.

ㆍ୨୧ㆍ

later that day at dinner time, y/n had happily made their way over to grover and percy who had been speaking but when she sat down he got quiet. started to pick at his horns very subtly but noticing to y/n.

‘uhm…so how did the quest go?’ y/n asked while looking over at percy who shrugged and to grover who didn’t look up.

‘i hope good?’ they said once more to get grover’s attention only for him to not even stop picking at his food. with a sigh of sadness, they grabbed their food and got up to another table with their siblings.

percy looked and was dumbfounded—‘grover? what was that?’

‘nothing?’ grover shook his head while frowning his eyebrows.

‘nothing? dude, you flat out ignored y/n and on top of that hurt their feelings? i thought you were all…on the side of doing nothing but making them happy?’ percy asked once more while setting his blueberries down.

‘okay…well, they seemed to have enough happiness with luke when they were talking…they can find happiness with him better than me apparently.’ he sighed while trying his hardest not to look over at y/n who’s mood had completely died at that table he sat at.

percy scoffed and rolled his eyes—‘are you kidding me? dude y/n is literally in love with you? and for you to think they like luke castellan more than you when they specifically stated they saw him as a brother and nothing more…is insane.’ percy finished shaking his head at grover who had sat up more and groaned.

placing his hands on his face while mentally beating himself up at the fact he treated y/n that way with no hesitation.

‘your kidding me…oh my’ grover mumbled while slowly looking over to y/n who wasn’t there. getting up in a hurry, grover went to ask luke, annabeth and the others sitting at the table with y/n where they went.

‘oh…they went to take a walk in the forest, said their head was hurting…you wouldn’t be the reason right…’ annabeth eyed him dangerously and warningly, making him hurry and shake his head but annabeth could see through him.

‘what did you do’ she groaned. grover sighed and explained leaving luke a bit speechless and annabeth to roll her eyes with a sigh.

‘well stop standing here any longer and go find her you pea brain’ annabeth pointed over to the forest leaving grover to hurry and run to it.

ㆍ୨୧ㆍ

‘y/n!’ he shouted while cupping his mouth to make it a bit louder. when no answers came through he shouted their name over and over until.

‘what?’ along with a sniffle and a shaky voice. feeling his heart burst and his strings pull, he say y/n sitting with their legs close to their chest and their face pressed on their knees. seeing them this way because of him made him almost cry.

‘y/n…listen i’m so, so sorry. i—i thought you’d move on from me when i was on my quest to luke so i was so upset and so jealous because luke is a great guy and who wouldn’t want to be with him—‘

‘me grover…i don’t. i want you, i made that so very known and i don’t get why you can’t see that—‘

‘i know! i know, im so sorry, okay? i’m sorry’ he whispered while making his way over to y/n who’d shed a tear but wiped it immediately with their hand. when grover placed himself next to y/n, he was quick to hold them in his comfortable arms.

as y/n buried their head into his neck they mumbled—‘i wish you saw yourself how i see you’ they mumbled making him almost cry with a huge smile.

not being able to stop himself he ambushed y/n with hundreds of apology kisses while y/n laughed and fell back into the grass with their arms trying to push him away.

he did pull away, but only to close his eyes and make his way down and over their lips. y/n kissed back immediately with their hands cupping his cheeks.

‘i think i really love you y/n l/n’ he confessed. y/n let out a small giggle and licked her lip.

‘and i think i really love you too grover underwood’ pulling his face in for another kiss which he took.

[kylelovskii]

idk but now that kyle finally asked reader to be his gf, what if they were just hanging out and stuff so then kyle leaves to go do something but ends up coming back and sees reader masturbating and theyre just like a total hot mess on his bed waiting for him… just a thought bc im feeling pretty freaky atm LOL i need kyle hes such a meanie

-❤️ anon

been a while.. :3

i’ve missed writing about mean kyle, so let’s do this! 😈

the fuck do you think you’re doing?

“hey, baby, i’m gonna get some snacks for movie night, okay?” kyle told you, cupping your plush cheeks and kissing your forehead.

“okay..” you respond, closing your eyes as he plants his lips on your temple. you watched as he walked away. his white wife beater hugging him perfectly, and the way his basketball shorts hung perfectly around his waist. you’d been so desperate for him the entire day, but still so shy to even say anything. despite all the change, that old, shy, innocent (y/n) was still down there.

he shut the bedroom door behind him as he waltzed out. you knew he’d be gone for a bit. he usually likes to cook something up for the two of you on movie nights, then have extra snacks on the side. what to do with all this time?

who’s to say you couldn’t rub one out real quick? if he didn’t catch you, no harm no foul, right?

and with that last thought, you sunk more into his bed, reaching your hand down your baggy pajama pants. you pushed one finger between your folds, already so slick from just the mere sight of kyle a few moments prior. you massage the bundle of nerves between the pudge of your pussy, then push your middle finger into your hole.

you sigh at the relief you’ve been craving for the past 4 hours. sure, it wasn’t as good as kyle’s fingers, but it got the job done.

you add another finger, speeding up to make this process go faster so kyle wouldn’t catch you. kyle’s rule was, and i quote: “if i ever catch your fucking your self without my permission, you’ll be in a world of hurt, you get me?”

and you did get him, you just didn’t want to burden him when he probably didn’t feel like it. besides, it’s movie night, and why would you ruin that?

you were on the edge, so caught up in the release you were about to get, that you didn’t hear the bedroom door swing open. so caught up in how good you felt that you didn’t hear him yelling at you.

“hey! what the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

you yelped, scrambling up against the headboard, staring at kyle, horrified.

“who said you could do that, huh?” he spat, slowly walking over to you, his fists clenched.

“wait— i’m sorry! i didn’t want to bother you, and—” you were cut off by the painful sting in your scalp when he grabbed your hair, pulling your face up to his. “don’t be fucking stupid. get up, strip.”

you were quite terrified to say the least, so you quickly got up and stepped back away from your fuming boyfriend. you took off your t-shirt, then your pajama pants. you stood there, half naked, staring at him.

“why are you looking at me like you can’t understand english? i said strip.”

oh. he wanted you naked naked. okay. you brought the straps of your bra down, your perky tits bouncing out. you then pulled the pink cotton panties off your waist and kicked them to the side.

“you wanna get fucked so bad? then you’ll get fucked. lay down,” he ordered, pointing to the bed. you whined and climbed on the bed, laying down, vulnerable for him.

he tugged off his shirt, then took off his silky basketball shorts and threw them in a laundry basket along with his boxers.

“i think you’ve had enough prep, yeah? being greedy all alone in here, not even bothering to ask me. you know the rules, don’t cha?” he asked, smooshing your face together with one hand, stroking his cock with the other. “answer me, bitch.”

“yes! yes i remember! i’m sorry, ky— please!” then you felt a sharp pain against your face. “i don’t care if you’re sorry. you broke a rule, and now you’ll get punished. nothing has changed,” he forcefully explained before shoving his dick inside you. you cried out which turned into a long whine.

“aw, yeah? see? your fucking fingers can’t do this, only i can.” he reached his hand up and held your neck tightly, but not tight enough to stop your breathing. he pounded into you, harder and faster with each thrust.

“hah— ky! i’m gonna— you’re—” you tried to speak, but he was fucking you so good you couldn’t even form a sentence. “no you’re not. not until i do. you don’t deserve it.”

he slid his hand up, prying your mouth open more with his thumb, and with that a small fetching noise came from his throat before he spit in your mouth. “swallow,” he demanded, and you did.

each time his cock went back inside your cunt, it only pushed you more to the edge. you didn’t know how much longer you could hold out, but then you heard a high pitched groan come out of kyle’s mouth and then a warm sensation shoot inside you. that did it for you and you hit your high, legs shaking, locking them around kyle’s waist to make them stop.

but he kept going.

“stop! stopstopstop! kyle— please, wait—” he covered your mouth with his hand to shut you up, which didn’t really work, but you stopped talking at least. “what’s wrong? can’t take it? this is what you’ve been so desperate for, right? so you will take it. shut up and take it.”

orgasm after orgasm, kyle finally let up and pulled out, but he hadn’t cum yet. he inched up near your face, took off his glasses, and shoved them on your face. lean leaned his head back, stroking his cock until he came all over your face, recreating the scene that happened at cartman’s house many moons ago.

he let out a guttural moan as he did so, sighing when he finally came down from his high.

“go..go clean up,” he slurred, flopping down next to you as you looked at him confused. “you’re not gonna help?”

“no. you’ve been a bad girl. besides, i cooked. that’s enough of caring for one night. and clean my glasses too!” he shouted after you as you walked into the bathroom connected to his room.

kyle always took care of you, but bad girls know how to take care of themselves, right?

[creative-caramel-coffee]

I miss your writing😂 I need me some weems, now idk if you’ll consider writing age regression ? Bc I have another idea if you do.

So r is depressed bc they ran out of medication and forgot to refill it since they’ve become ill (me rn it’s horrid and messing with my head) no one’s seen or heard from r and weems has to do a welfare check. Here she finds a depressed and very sick reader. She knows of readers bad back ground (they are a shifter and was found hanging onto life after being abused in a facility like hydra for shifters) so when r becomes all clingy and very child like it confessed weems. R is so touch starved it’s insane, but with weems rn she’s like a child wanting and craving the affection just needing to be held. So naturally weems does that and that’s how she discovers the fever r has and that r ran out of her meds so weems nurses her better. Oh! Could also add r isn’t sleeping bc of nightmares due to their background?

Sorry for the long request and I’m not even sure it makes sense. I need my Damn pills lmao.

🕯️

A little sick

Pairings: Weems x Reader (platonic)

Word count: 1.4K

Summary: you're sick and regressed.

TW: agre? Sickness, depression, medicine (prescription),

A/n I’ve never written this kind of thing before so tell me if any of its wrong. Cute request tho :) let me know if you like it or want to see more of this kind of thing.

Part 2

Waking up and feeling like your bones were made of lead was not the way you wanted to start the day. It took all of your strength to pull yourself upright. Standing on shaky legs you wobble over to your dresser pulling out the pouch of pills that helped you with the aftermath of the facility and the depression it left. You knew firsthand how bad it could be to be a shapeshifter. Hunted and experimented on. You drew a deep breath pushing the thoughts away and exhaling slowly and shakily.

Unzipping the pouch, you frowned. All the blister packets were empty. You were out. You slouched dejectedly. It was going to be a long day. Yoko had already left for classes and to be honest you didn’t really think you could make it to the wardrobe to get changed let alone all the way to class. You sighed dejectedly and hobbled back to bed and laid down on your back staring at the roof. The feelings were getting harder to push away.

Your chest felt hollow, and you choked back a sob. The last time you were sick … was back there and to be honest you had no idea what would happen if someone found out here.

You zoned out feeling a familiar fuzzy feeling swallow your mind. You tried to push it away which only seemed to make you headache unbearable. The pain was what made you slip. Dropping hard, you felt your body shift. Soon the bed felt much bigger as you curled into a ball and cried. You were tired but scared to sleep, the nightmares seemed to be ever persistent.

You had no idea how long you had been crying, small sobs wracking the tiny body on the bed. Soon a knock sounded on the door.

Weems had had reports all day that you had been absent. Knowing your history with depression she knew it was imperative to do a welfare check as soon as she could. Looking at her calendar she swore. She had a copy if the nurses schedule for meds and prescription refills. Yours were out and it looked like nobody had picked up more for you.

She finally signed off the email she had spent the morning drafting to the mayor. Closing her laptop she toed on her heels, opting to take them off to give her feet a break when sitting and stood smoothing out her skirt. She hurried out the door and to your dorm. Hearing small noises inside she hesitated before knocking, she knew you were in there was was slightly terrified of what she would find inside the dorm.

Hearing the soft knock on the door you wiped a small fist over your eyes and sat up still silent tears running down your cheeks. You waited and heard the door open.

Weems peered into the dimly lit room; the windows still drawn. She saw a small lump on the bed and slowly walked over. The closer she got the more shocked she became. Why was there a toddler in the dorm and why did she look exactly like … y/n?

Small sad eyes looked up at her and sniffled. Weems stood awkwardly not really knowing what to do. She had a suspicion. She knew you were a shifter like herself. She looked down at you and it clicked. It made sense with the amount of trauma you had. You had regressed both physically and mentally to a child. Looking down at the sad child, you looked up at her and extended your arms.

“Up?” You asked with childlike innocence. Weems felt her heart melt. Gently she placed her hands under your arms and lifted you onto her hip. Almost straight away you buried your face in her neck, and she let out a soft gasp.

You were face too warm. Gently she peeled your face from her neck so she could look you in the eyes while she bounced you on her hip. You let out a soft whine at the loss of contact and weems shushed you as she placed a gentle hand against your cheek then forehead.

“Oh honey. Are you not feeling too good right now?” She asked. “Do you feel icky?” She said and you nodded and sniffled, the tears slowing.

“Alright. Well, we are going to get you some medicine then we are going to come back to my place for some sleep.” She said and you whined.

“No sleep.” You pouted and Weems frowned. “Cuddles?” You asked.

“Ok sweet girl you can have cuddles but why no sleep?” She asked.

“Mean dreams.” You pouted and she felt her heart break. Of course, you had bad dreams, that was almost assured with what you had been through. Why didn’t she think of that. Patting you back she used a hand to guide you back to her neck as you put your thumb in your mouth.

Weems winced knowing it probably wasn’t clean but there wasn’t much she could do about it right now and she preferred it to the crying. Holding you on her hip with one arm and the other on the back of your head she saw a small white fluffy thing under your blanket walking over and pulling out the stuffie you brightened as she tucked it between you and her chest as you wrapped you free arm around it.

“Alright honey let’s go get some medicine for you.” She said and left. She knew the school week enough to make sure nobody would see the two of you, God the rumours would be endless if students saw weems with a child. Careful to avoid any class windows Weems made it to the infirmary. As a shapeshifter herself she knew that the doses of medicine would need to match the physical size of the body. Balancing you on her hip she looked into your eyes.

“How old are you sweetheart?” She asked and you looked at her shyly holding up four fingers and puffing your chest out.

“Im four.” You grinned.

“Wow. Big girl huh?” She asked and you smiled wider.

Weems pulled out the bottle of medicine labeled 3-6 and any other supplies she would need. Carefully making her way back to her office she slipped back into her own quarters to take care of you.

You whined as she set you down on the couch but stopped as she lifted you back into her lap. You sure were clingy like this. Measuring out a dose of medicine Weems coaxed you into drinking it which made you stick your tongue out in disgust after.

“Yucky.” You said. Weems chuckled.

“Im sure it was sweet girl.” She said and stroked your hair. You buried your face in her chest and fisted your hands in her shirt.

“Alright bedtime. I think someone needs a nap huh?” She said and you whined.

“Nooo.” You said.

“Alright how about some cuddles instead?” Weems asked and you smiled.

“Cuddles?”

“Yes. Cuddles.”

“Yay cuddles.” You celebrated.

“Alright sweet thing lets go to my bedroom and we can cuddle.” She said knowing you would fall asleep in no time. Curling into her chest more and wrapping you small arms around Weems she felt her heart melt again as she ran her nails up and down your spine. You shivered and enjoyed the touch.

After a few minutes you seemed to be fighting sleep, eyes drooping before flying wide open again with a small whimper.

“Honey whats the matter? Why won’t you sleep love?” Weems asked softly.

“Bad dreams.” You whimpered softly and weems patted your back running her hands through your short hair. It was much shorter than normal probably from the shift.

“Honey, you need to sleep, I’ll be here the whole time. I won’t leave your side, ok? Do you think you could be a brave girl and get some sleep for me?” She asked softly.

Burrowing your face into her neck you nodded and shuffled around to get comfy. Weems knew either way based off how exhausted you seemed you would be asleep soon regards of what you wanted.

And as predicted after about five more minutes weems felt your breath even out against her chest and heard small snores coming from you. She smiled softly down at you and decided then and there she would never let anything hurt you again.

MASTERLIST

[foggieststars]

another girl charles snippet? 🥹🤲 i miss her

ok so in my mind this is the backstory to my girl charles x max wip. it's a very long snippet bcs i don't think this will actually be in the fic because it sort of doesn't fit but like. i feel it gives Insight so i wanted to post it.... <3

-

When Charles is twelve years old, she punches a boy at the karting track in the face for grabbing her chest. They both get disqualified from the race, but he’s the one with the bloody nose. When she licks his blood off her knuckles, it tastes better than her inevitable victory would have anyway.

Her parents tell her off, but she sees the way her mother smiles whilst cleaning off her hands properly, so it doesn’t truly sting. He’s not the last boy she punches; he’s just the last one she gets in trouble for hitting. She gets really good at identifying the spots that will cause the most pain, grinding her heel down into the bridge of their feet, jabbing them in the small of their backs with her elbow to watch them double over in pain. It earns her a bit of a reputation as a crazy fucking bitch, but it gets them to leave her alone. 

Charles is used to being the only girl, but it never stops sucking. Pierre gets in several fights to defend her honour, but he leaves for single seaters eventually. By that point she’s fourteen, and they might not grab her anymore, but sometimes they say things to her instead. And that’s worse. 

She holds her head high, ponytail swinging as she walks past them. She ignores it when they wolf-whistle, when they ask what she’s hiding underneath her race suit, whether she got on her knees for team leaders to get her spot. Not all of them do it, but the ones who don’t just sort of ignore her, which sucks even more. She sees the way they all get together outside of races, and wishes so badly she could be a part of it.

When she meets George, things are better. George is gangly and coltish, and says things that Charles doesn’t always understand - things like blimey and oh mate, I’m knackered, but Charles likes her. They’re better than most of the boys, which they hate, and the boys don’t seem to think George is pretty, so they say worse things to her than they do to Charles. 

Charles wonders if it’s bad that she’s sort of grateful to be the pretty one, and then wonders why she fucking cares what those idiots think about her looks. But still, when the boys laugh behind their hands at George’s pageboy haircut, call her flat-chested, Charles tugs George away from them and feels privately ashamed for being glad that at least they don’t call her ugly. 

With George comes Alex. And Alex is taller than anybody else on the track, so nobody wants to fuck with him, even though he’d fold like a tower of cards if anybody tried. Lando hangs around sometimes too, but he’s so young that he just sort of annoys Charles. Plus, Charles can tell that he has a crush on her, and so he goes nonverbal whenever she’s around, which annoys her more.

She wishes people would just treat her like a boy, the way they do George when they’re not busy calling her butters, which George told her means ugly. Charles doesn’t want to be called ugly, but maybe she does, if it meant that they’d be normal around her.

The same year Charles meets George, she meets Max. She’s known him for years, really, but they’ve never properly spoken before. But this year, they’re racing in a couple of the same championships, and he’s good. He’s good in the same way that Charles is, and something inside of her sings in recognition when they end up on podiums together. 

Max doesn’t treat her like a girl. He gets right up in her face in Val d’Argenton, snarling at her when she pushes him into that puddle. He shoves her, two hands planted firmly on her shoulders send her spinning to the floor. She lands funny on her tailbone, and it sends a numb shock running through her, makes her mind go blank. She hardly even registers it before she’s on her feet again, thumb tucked around the outside of her knuckles, delighting in the way his teeth rip open the delicate skin of her hand when she punches him right in the mouth. 

Max lunges for her again, but she’s taller than him. She squares her shoulders, ready to receive it, when someone grabs Max by the waist and pulls him away. They’ve already been disqualified for pushing each other wide, so there’s nothing much the stewards can really do, apart from insist Max apologise to Charles. 

Charles loves it, that they never make her apologise to the boys she hits. Max’s dad holds him by the shoulders and squeezes so hard his knuckles go white when he apologises to Charles’ parents. Max spits out something that sounds sort of like sorry. Spit mixed with blood flecks Charles’ face. She smiles back at him with all of her teeth.

Max gives a scathing interview afterwards, saying she pushed me, I pushed her back, and after she pushed me off the track. It’s not fair, huh? with blood still dripping from his mouth. It makes Charles’ stomach clench when she watches it back, but it’s not unpleasant. 

It’s not the last time they end up fighting. She knows it’s a bit silly; she’s fourteen, she’s probably too old to be getting in physical fights with stupid boys. But something about Max just irritates her so much, everything he does gets under her skin and makes her itch. And she likes the way that Max never lets the way people say you shouldn’t hit a girl stop him rubbing her face into the dirt.

Max doesn’t treat her like a girl - he treats her like what she is. A worthy competitor. His only worthy competitor. He doesn’t treat anybody else with the same level of contempt and jealousy that he does Charles. And Max is the only one who’s ever pushed her to train harder, drive faster, work for it. When it’s 6am on a Saturday morning and Charles is lazing around in bed, avoiding getting up to do her cardio, she pictures Max’s smug face on the top step of the podium, and it pushes her to do things like hit a personal best mile time. 

She’d been complacent before he joined, happy to collect her trophies and go home, safe in the knowledge that she was better than all of them. But Max proves that it’s no longer true. She has to get serious if she’s going to make it.

She finishes second, behind Max, in their final karting championship. The way Max smiles down at her when they’re on the podium makes her teeth hurt with the urge to do something insane, like bite him. 

They go their separate ways then, with Charles heading into Formula Renault and Max debuting in F3. It stings to be leapfrogged by him like that, but Charles has to be sensible, like her papa is always telling her. It’s going to be harder for her no matter what, so she has to keep her head down, keep paying her dues. Keep chipping away, keep proving that she’s better than all the boys she races against. She doesn’t win everything - but she wins enough.

When they’re seventeen, Max trades F3 for F1. Charles devours every article she can find about it, oscillating between rage and awe. Nobody gets a chance like this. It stings that Max is the one to get it. 

And then Max turns around and pushes for his team to give Charles his old F3 seat. She hates feeling indebted to him, so when she’s on holiday with Pierre’s family during the summer break, she tracks down his number and texts him a perfunctory thanks. And then, awkwardly, its charles btw. 

She doesn’t get a reply for three days, but when she does, it makes her flush with rage. 

try not to embarrass me

Fuck you, she sends back, and he replies instantly. 

😂 good luck

Pierre catches her smiling at her phone, and she nearly throws it into the ocean to stop him finding out who she’s texting. She stuffs it down her bikini top and crosses her arms firmly over her chest, so Pierre just keeps teasing her about the mystery boy for the rest of the day. 

Whatever. It’s better than Pierre knowing who she’s actually texting. 

Later that night, Pierre’s snoring drunkenly in her ear, and she can’t sleep. So she takes her phone out under the covers, and texts Max again. 

good luck to you too, btw. you deserve it, i guess.

Charles doesn’t know where Max is in the world right now, but his reply is instantaneous.

thanks. see you there soon. 

Charles drops her phone like it’s red-hot, and presses her face into her hands, cooling the embarrassed blush frantically. She curses herself for her reaction. What is she doing, getting flustered over Max Verstappen? He didn’t even say anything to provoke this sort of response. 

She should be used to it. She’s gotten older, moved through the racing categories, and there are still some boys who fall over themselves to tell her she must have conned her way into her seat. They ask her if she’ll send them pictures of her tits, tell her they’ll let her pass in the next race if she sucks them off. She screenshots the texts and reports them for harassment, and passes them during the next race anyway. See you there soon doesn’t even rank in the top one-hundred things her competitors have said to her that should have made her blush, so she’s not sure why it’s getting to her quite so much. 

Locking her phone, she tosses it aside with a quiet groan, ignoring the way the words are making something funny stir in her stomach.

[mrsnancywheeler]

Ok I’m back with the songs 🫡

I can’t remember if anyone else has mentioned this, but finnick/sweet girl are very much giving this is me trying by miss blondie herself

—————— 

I've been having a hard time adjusting. I had the shiniest wheels, now they're rusting” “And my words shoot to kill when I'm mad. I have a lot of regrets about that”

This reminded me a lot about their recent argument at the end of chapter 6, where sweet girl called him a liar and accused him of purposely playing mind games with her :(

—————— 

“And it's hard to be at a party when I feel like an open wound. It's hard to be anywhere these days when all I want is you. You're a flashback in a film reel on the one screen in my town”

THIS MIGHT JUST BE FINNICKS ENTIRE INNER MONOLOGUE AFTER THEY BROKE UP #IDK !! OR !! HIS THOUGHTS DURING READER’S GAMES! How he has to keep up appearances and his playboy persona to make sure his sweet girl gets sponsors, but he’s actually feeling so much grief and stress. 

—————— 

Another song they remind me of is  Wasteland, Baby! But specifically:

“I’m in love, I'm in love with you. And I love too, that love soon might end. Be known in its aching”

Just reminded me about how they’re meant to go through tragedy :(( 

—————— 

BONUS SONGS!

we can't be friends (wait for your love) by Ariana Grande’s SCREAMS young!reader going through the breakup with Finnick :((

—————— 

“We can't be friends, but I'd like to just pretend. You cling to your papers and pens, wait until you like me again. Wait for your love”

Just her initial reaction to the breakup and how she still loves him :((

—————— 

“I don't like how you paint me, yet I'm still here hanging”

“Me and my truth, we sit in silence. Baby girl, it's just me and you. ‘Cause I don't wanna argue, but I don't wanna bite my tongue, yeah, I think I'd rather die. You got me misunderstood, but at least I look this good” This reminds me of when Finnick was saying all those things he didn’t mean about his sweet girl, and although she’s hurt by it she still loves him (and deep down she knows he doesn’t mean it!)

—————— 

And Comfort Crowd by Conan Gray is so them coded like PLEASE mainly about how reader keeps rejecting any comfort because she doesn’t feel like she deserves it + how she was afraid to voice that she wants said comfort during her hijacking

—————— 

“Wellin' up in tears as I lay upon your belly. Telling you, ‘I’m fine I don't really need nobody,’ But you say through a sigh that I said that lie already”

Need I say more. 

—————— 

“And even if I cry all over your body. You don't really mind. Say you like your shirt soggy.”

This could go for both Finnick and Reader! About how they both feel guilty for receiving comfort from the other person (Finnick bc he wants to give comfort too, and Reader bc she feels like she doesn't deserve it)

—————— 

I hope this isn’t too long hehe but these were my #thoughts. I’m a yapper at heart <3 lmk what you think!!

BUT SIDENOTE I SAW HADESTOWN FOR THE FIRST TIME LAST NIGHT W JORDAN FISHER AND !! His performance was fr giving me finnick vibes bc he was really giving that obsessed yearner vibe IDK HOW TO EXPLAIN IT LOL but it was so good!!

-🦅

buckle up folks because I love a lot to say 🫡❤️

this is me trying is so them, like very heavily

they're both really at their core such sunshiney people who've been so broken down and used by the world that they've really been dulled. and reader is always quick to bite back, especially when she's scared or frustrated or doesn't want to reveal her emotions, she doesn't have a complete grasp on reality yet, she's scared of being left behind, scared that finnick will die, scared of being alone and frustrated that he broke his promise to her so she lashes out.

110% to both of those, like he's so broken up, aching for her, in pain, blaming himself for everything, but he has to be what's expected of him. some drinks, laughing, flirting, smiling, when all he wants to do his curl up in bed crying as he holds into some remant of hers that he held onto all this time.

in the context of the most recent chapter "I just wanted you to know that this is me trying" is so very much both of them for different reasons

finnick says the things he does and does what he does because he wants to help her get better, to be delicate with her, keep her safe, keep her protected from the dangers of the time and her mental state. he's trying his hardest even if he doesn't always handle it in ways that bode well.

reader is trying to be herself again, she just wants to be treated normally regardless of how that affects her. once she's her she'll be less paranoid, more trusting, she's trying so hard to replicate that so she can get there and feels like he's not letting her. that her attempts are being shut down.

they are the tragic lovers, so in love, so obsessed, and constantly fated for hurt after hurt. all I'm saying is to watch moulin rouge and think of them because it's so finnick and his sweet girl in another life.

LITERALLY THOUGH if she could've she would've followed him around like a lost puppy dog, it would have fed into the narrative about her, but she's so desperately in love that she would have waited so patiently. in a way she did, but if he'd told her he was breaking up with her for other girls she was so young and so already achingly in love with him that she would have kept trailing around waiting for him to come baxk

(side note, finnick is really the love sick puppy, but reader reminds me of a stray cat who picks someone to love, always waits to be fed by them. given a little bit of attention and now will be attached for the long run. I thought googles description was really funny because it's just so her "With time and patience, a stray cat may trust you and want pets consistently. If you have grown close to a stray cat, it may feel upset or distressed if you suddenly leave it." so yeah she's a stray cat who finally got some love before being suddenly stranded again)

ANYWAYS yes, the way he talks about her and paints the portrait of their relationship is so hurtful. she totally cries about it consistently because to her he's perfect, and although she largely wants to believe what he said when they broke up and trust he still loves her, a part of her can't help but feel so stupid for letting herself be lead on by someone who's been said to be a playboy anyway. it makes her so insecure, so much more guarded, but she doesn't hate him, no she could never. she's in love with him. no matter what he says or does she's long placed her roots and won't tear them up.

that's literally the most them interaction to have never ever interacted, some of her tears have welled up, she's choking on pushed down sobs, and insisting that she's okay even though Finnick can read her like a book. he's softly scolding her for lying while she continues to try and insist until she's completely broken down into sobs.

reader could have the roughest day ever and still insist that she's fine, comfort finnick, love on him, hold him, and he spends the time hating that he's enjoying the loving when she's so obviously lying, masking everything. it's such a paradox. meanwhile she feels terrible for aching comfort because of things she does, she wants to suffer, but the lure of giving into finnick's arms is too much sometimes. especially knowing that he loves her so much and so well. she just has to let herself take what she needs even if she hates herself or it later.

ofc this isn't too long pookie, I love hearing y'all's thoughts no matter how long, yap to me endlessly pookie, I'm a yapper too. ❤️

YAY EXCITING I would love to see Jordan Fisher as Orpheus, he's so talented. I'd die, and yes it's just so Finnick 😭💕

[zukkaoru]

oooh prompt 28: “It’s okay, you will move on. We will move on.”? with whatever fandom you want lol

ummm it's bungou stray dogs bc this prompt just gave me post-doa arc kunidazai feels fdgfhgjhk also it got a bit longer than intended but it's fine we're fine we're doing great!

tw: dazai-typical suicide mentions/suicidal ideation

-

“It’s okay,” Dazai whispers, his fingers carding through Kunikida’s hair. He isn’t good at this—he has never known how to comfort another person—but he refuses to leave Kunikida to suffer alone. Not when there’s something hanging heavy between them, not when Kunikida is trusting Dazai enough to be this vulnerable around him, not when Dazai is the only one Kunikida will come to for help.

Kunikida sniffs, but he doesn’t respond verbally, so Dazai continues.

“You will move on,” he says, because he knows this to be true. He knows what it is to face the empty void of loss and not see a way forward. He knows what it is to be trapped in the darkness, unsure if you’ll ever make it through to the light. “We will move on.”

Kunikida nods, faintly, which Dazai feels more than he sees. He stares at Kunikida’s glasses, abandoned on the floor nearby, unsure if he should say more. Unsure if there is anything else to say. It’s been months, and no one in the Agency has fully recovered. Kunikida is not the only one losing sleep to nightmares and spiraling anxieties. Dazai would be lying if he said he hadn’t noticed the growing bags under most of his coworkers’ eyes.

“How do you…” Kunikida’s muffled voice trails off. He tightens his grip on Dazai’s shirt, then lets out a shaky breath. “How do you deal with this?”

“The trauma?” Dazai asks, his tone lighter than it should be for such a topic. “Or the insomnia? Or the knowing your body will never work as good as it used to?”

“I don’t know. All of it?”

Dazai snorts. It’s not funny, really, except—

“I don’t.”

Kunikida lifts his head. He offers Dazai a half-hearted glare, made weaker by the wetness of his eyes. “That can’t be true. You’re still here.”

Dazai blinks.

Something in his chest tightens. It’s almost painful, but vaguely pleasant too. He scoffs, looking away.

“I don’t deal with it,” he whispers. “I just ignore it. It’s not healthy, but I’ve never planned on living long enough to deal with the consequences. So.” He shrugs. “It’s not genuine. No part of me is genuine. Not for as long as you’ve known me, at least.”

“I don’t believe that for a moment,” Kunikida argues. He sighs, leaning his head back against Dazai. “And anyway, how can you assure me I’ll move on if you haven’t?”

“Well…” Dazai frowns. Instead of answering, he pinches Kunikida’s arm and mumbles, “You’re mean.”

Kunikida hums. The lack of an argument is enough to tell Dazai that he’s still shaken from whatever nightmare woke him. So Dazai swallows down a joke that wouldn’t have landed and searches for something honest to say. If Kunikida thinks he can be a truthful person, maybe he should give it at least half a shot.

“It takes time,” is what he finally settles on. “Grief, loss, pain—only time can lessen the weight. And even if they never go away, you will learn to live with them as time goes on.” It’s a miserable sentiment, knowing that there is nothing you can do to ease your ailments. Knowing that the only solution is to wait them out and hope death doesn’t come for you first.

(Or, in Dazai’s case, hope death does come for you.)

But it’s the only advice Dazai has that is true. Any other claims he could make would provide Kunikida with nothing but false hope.

“I was afraid you might say that,” Kunikida whispers. “I don’t have time.”

“Nonsense! You’ve got your whole life planned out, and I’m sure you didn’t plan your death before thirty.” Dazai pokes his cheek. “That gives you at least seven years.”

“Not what I meant.”

Dazai ignores that comment. “Me, on the other hand? Well— I’ve only got til about twenty-five before I—”

“No,” Kunikida cuts him off, lifting his head sharply. He reaches for Dazai, then stops himself midway, curling his hand into a fist and dropping it back into his lap. “Don’t…don’t say that. If I have to take all that time to heal and move on, then so do you.”

Dazai grimaces. It sounds nothing short of torturous—living to thirty? Three decades spent walking through such miserable existence? He never even wanted to make it to eighteen.

But he did make it to eighteen—he made it past eighteen. And now he’s twenty-three, still putting in the effort to navigate the new life he’s found himself in. Maybe hanging around for a few extra years wouldn’t be the worst fate he could suffer.

After all, his dream of a completely painless suicide cannot be fulfilled if the people he leaves behind will grieve him.

This isn’t about him, though. This is about Kunikida.

“Fine,” he relents, the lie falling easily from his lips. “But that won’t make it any easier to pass the time.”

“It will,” Kunikida says. And before Dazai can argue, he kisses him softly. “It’s easier, knowing I’m not alone.”

Dazai’s brain short-circuits, for a moment, and then he buries his face in Kunikida’s shoulder to his whatever horrid expression he must be making. “Stupid,” he mumbles, his cheeks burning. Traitorously, his heartbeat won’t slow like he wants it to.

Kunikida chuckles. “You said yourself that we will move on. That means you have to be there too.”

“Shut up.”

“My point still stands whether I continue talking or not.”

Dazai purses his lips. Kunikida doesn’t say anything else, but he doesn’t need to, because he’s right. He already made his point. Dazai included himself in Kunikida’s healing process, and he can’t quite bring himself to regret it, though he knows he’ll be no good at helping. Even now, when he was trying to offer Kunikida comfort, the conversation got turned onto him instead.

He sighs, allowing his eyes to slip shut. “Kunikida-kun?”

“Hm?”

“You’re too kind to me.”

“I’m not,” Kunikida argues. “But perhaps we can have this conversation when it’s not two in the morning?”

Dazai nods. Then, for good measure, he turns his face so he can press a kiss to Kunikida’s neck. “In the meantime, can we—?”

“No,” Kunikida interrupts. He peels Dazai off of him, and Dazai whines, but he allows it to happen. “We still have work tomorrow. Or…later today.” He shakes his head. “We should try to fall back asleep.”

Dazai pouts, but when Kunikida only glares back, he gives in with a melodramatic sigh, flopping back down on the bed. “Fine.”

He goes completely limp, forcing Kunikida to maneuver him back into a normal sleeping position. He half-expects him to just give up part way through, turn over onto his side, and leave Dazai to sort himself out. But he doesn’t, of course, because Kunikida is too kind and when he’s finally comfortable, his head is lying on Dazai’s chest.

“Goodnight,” he whispers.

Dazai’s response gets stuck in his throat, so he just resumes running his fingers through Kunikida’s hair and listens to his breathing until it evens out and he’s drifted back to sleep.

[liliansun]

the only promise we ever made | l.dh

sequel to maybe I want that

warning: bring the tissues bc angsty

angst/slight fluff

1.4 wc

a/n: this is for my two moots who hearts I broke w the cliffhanger in the first and hope to mend it w this 🫶

It had been days since you and Haechan last interacted. I mean, can you really call it an interaction when you ran out on him after dropping your feelings in his lap. It was harder than you thought it’d be to tip toe around him when you share an apartment, but to your surprise he seemed to be walking around in the same sense. When you first noticed that, it hurt. You knew it was your fault that he was now on edge when the two of you barely made eye contact in passings, but never did you think you’d loose your best friend in the boy you loved.

You thought after a couple days, maybe it’ll get better and you can brush it under the rug as if it never happened—boy were you wrong. After the first week, your friends wouldn’t stop bombarding you with texts and missed calls asking why you and Haechan weren’t hanging out with the group together. When the second week rolled though, everyone basically got the sense that something happened and judging by the somber messages they would send, you knew they had a feeling that he knew about how you felt.

When a whole month and a half had passed, you didn’t realize the routine that the two of you had silently created was now throwing you completely off balance. You didn’t really leave your room much unless it was to the bathroom or to go outside, hating having to run into him as if he was a stranger instead of the one you used to find comfort in. You guess that’s what he’s boiled down to, nothing more than a stranger who shares a space with you and avoids all interactions and contact as much as possible.

Now, you stand in the middle of the kitchen as he stares at you with little to nothing in his eyes. You are trying to wrap your head around the words that just fell out of his mouth, making you feel almost nauseated. “What did you say?” Your voice came out almost as a stutter, clenching the counter to keep you from falling to your knees. “I said I’m moving out soon, once I sign on the new place it’ll only be a matter of weeks till-“

“Oh.” You could feel the tears stinging in your eyes, threatening to roll down your cheeks and leave a trail of your emotions down with them. “Oh? Is that all you have to say?” His faced was unreadable, almost as if he was angry with the lack of your response. “I’m happy for you.” You mutter the words, trying to find some truth behind them through all the pain and confusion that was mixed in. The tension filled the air, sending chills up your arm when you heard him scoff.

“I don’t know what I expected, honestly.” He turned his back to you, going to walk off while the paper in his hand crumbled between his fingers. You don’t know what exactly compelled you to stop him, moving across the kitchen to grab ahold of his wrist. Very k-dramaesque of you. “What did you expect then, please tell me because I hope you didn’t forget you’ve been avoiding me.”

“I’m avoiding you? Are you hearing yourself? You left me, alone in my room for hours only to run away after telling me something so important and you think I’d be okay after that?” You couldn’t hold them back anymore, trying to stop your nose from scrunching up as the tears fell. “I was trying to figure out what to do, it wasn’t exactly easy to tell you, ya know.” Haechan was hurt and it showed. It showed in the way his eyes were searching yours, looking for something only he’ll know. It showed in the way his shoulders dropped and his eyes starting to gloss over.

“It’s not supposed to be easy, y/n—nothing ever was supposed to be easy, but we could’ve worked on it together, we could’ve talked about it and yet,” You bit your lip, trying to choke back the pain that bloomed in your chest and encased your heart. “You left me, the only promise we ever made to each other and you broke it, it broke me.”

You fell apart at his confession, sobbing as you tried to keep yourself up. Haechan wrapped his arms around you almost immediately, pulling you against his chest and soothing the back of your head with his hand. He too was crying, resting his chin on top of your shoulder as the two of you let every emotion you bottled up all out. And you stayed that way for what seemed like hours, clenching onto one another in fear the other would let go and you’d wake up to this only being a dream.

When you finally calmed yourself down, the sound of his heart brought you back in and it felt like that alone had anchored you. “I’m sorry.” When he pulls back a little, you look up at him and finally take everything about him that you’ve missed over these two months in. His hair had gotten longer, nearly covering over his eyes, but you thought it was cute. His face looked thinner, probably due to him over-gaming and not getting enough sleep which in turn messed up his eating schedule. The rest looked the same, familiar even. His moles still scattered his face in places you only wish you could kiss, his eyes still were your favorite pair on anyone you’d ever met.

“Don’t apol-“

“No, let me just say this.” This time, he didn’t protest, staying quiet as you gather the courage within yourself. “I never should’ve left you after confessing like that, I guess I was just scared that you’d hate me and somehow running away made more sense than talking it through and it going in the garbage.”

His hands pulled you closer, rubbing circles on the small of your back with his thumb as you relish in the familiar feeling. “I don’t get why you ran, but I can understand it and I forgive you for it, but if you ever do something like that again I’m throwing away your skincare products.”

“Fair.”

He took in a deep breath, scanning your face as you gave him a confused look. “Over the time we didn’t talk, I was hurt and confused and just didn’t understand why you didn’t want to see me, but it gave me a lot of room to think and I think I didn’t see it before because I too was too scared to ruin what we have.” You felt a weight come off your chest, the relief of him not outright hating you letting you have a little room to breathe. “I can’t say exactly when, but I know for a fact that I like you too—the boys said we were kinda slow on getting to this point which actually leads me to my next question.”

You gave him a smile to which he returned, stepping back to take him all in. “Do you want to be my girlfriend?” You couldn’t hide how wide you were smiling, nodding as his eyes lit up. “C’mon, I need to hear you say it.” As if nothing had changed, we went from being incredibly sweet to slightly annoying and if you’re honest, you’ve missed it. You’ve missed him. “Well, looks like you don’t want to, I guess I’ll go have to find another gir-“

Pulling him by the front of his shirt, your bodies closed the space between as your lips collided with one another. Kissing him felt exactly how you always imagined it and that sent your heart skyrocketing. The softness of his plump lips moved against yours as the two of you held each other close in a kiss that neither of you wanted to end. You were the first to pull back, looking up at him as he smiled at you. “I guess I’m your girlfriend now.”

“Oh yeah? How so?”

“Friends don’t just kiss each other after confessing, so you’re stuck with me now.”

“Fine by me, just means I’ll never have to let you go.” And he didn’t, not for a second for the ten minutes that followed the kiss. For once, everything had felt right. You got the boy of your dreams and your best friend all in one person, not everyone could be so lucky, but to you, you hit the jackpot with Haechan.

©︎𝐋𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐔𝐍., 2022

[courtingchaos]

random idea that i would like to share with the class (or just you, you lovely human being 💕):

river monster!eddie but reader hasn’t come to see him in a while. she wants to, but she’s hardly had any time to go exploring thanks to her new job (or some other thing that would pull her away for a while… maybe family drama??) frankly, she’s hardly had time to even breathe with all the shit that’s been going on. but eddie doesn’t know that… no, for all he knows she’s been hurt… or killed… or, worst of all, mated by another. what would our favorite river monster do to get his girl back? does he leave the river in search of her, even though that’s horribly dangerous for him to do (maybe he can’t breathe for long out of water?? or maybe just having people see him is dangerous… ya know, cause he’s a monster. fuck it, maybe it’s both)? if so, how does he plan on finding her? does he have a plan or is he just being horribly rash and winging it bc nobody takes my mate away from me or fuck, she could be hurt, she needs me?? does he find her?? or does he stay put? sulking in his lonesome river, all alone without his one source of happiness: his precious sunshine, his sweet landling. does he worry about her? or does he think that she’s abandoned him? if so, is he sad or is he angry? what if she comes back? does he rush to her? embrace her? mate her so that she can never leave him again? or does refuse to see her, to hear her out? does he scare her off as a way to protect his own cold-blooded heart?

I’ve been thinking about this ask since last week when I got it. I started a little drabble response but then it turned into a lot of key story telling aaaaaaaaaaaand…

Yeah. I’m keeping some things close to my chest for this. But let me paint you a couple little pictures instead?

So starting at the top. What would he do to get her back?

Well, he’s used to her being gone for varying periods. I mean she just showed up one day out of the woods and she keeps doing it randomly so he tends to wait her out. At least in the beginning. He swims and he sleeps and he hunts and if he’s lucky he finds an unwitting human he can lure and eat and uh…other things.

This Eddie can speak English, he understands it he’s been around too long to not. Plus he has Wayne. No I won’t be explaining this yet, it’s a plot point. So Wayne assures him multiple times that she’s a human. She has a job. She has a community. She can’t just break away from it and sometimes she can’t be there at the exact same time every day.

Once they’ve been together though it’s almost like he can sense where and how far she is. She’s staying close to the river but he knows when she leaves his perimeter. He knows when she’s on solid, dry land. The first couple of times he fights with himself to not leave because he knows he wouldn’t survive. Wayne’s explained how the world works and Eddie has been on the receiving end of pain from humans before he kills them. He’s aware he’s othered so as much as he would like to run ashore and find her, he’d be dead and unable to protect her.

He’s definitely sulking in his den. He’s collected a lot of things over the years. There’s pieces of trash he’s found in the river that interest him. A radio that she’d gotten working, something someone had with them and lost while they were tubing one summer. He’s found gold teeth in mouths before that he hangs on to because they’re shiny. Rocks and bones and the occasional fossil or geode. He’s got a lock of her hair she’d given him, tied up in a thin piece of grass. There’s little things she’s left that he keeps safe with the radio and he’ll sulk with that.

Sometimes she comes back smelling like so many things. Strange scents he’s never encountered and numerous people and it sets his teeth on edge. He wants to remind her that she should only ever smell like her and him. He knows she’ll be back, she’s already promised it and let him mark her so she knows, she has to, that when she comes back smelling like all the others he’s going to fix that. Maybe he plays a little hiding game when she shows back up. Lays low in the tall grass along the edge to watch her search around. He’ll run a claw over her toes when she gets to close to make her jump. He does like scaring her sometimes, likes the way her heart rate spikes because he can almost taste the sharp scent she gives off.

Getting down to your last few questions I will say at the beginning when they’re becoming acquainted and Wayne is explaining things Eddie is very wary. She smells like a mate but she’s human so what the fuck? She’s never once terrified of him, just wary. She holds her hands out to him like he couldn’t pull her right in and kill her. So he’s standoffish. Doesn’t come fully out of the water for a while. He doesn’t understand who she is and why she smells the way she does and why she makes him care, but that changes very quickly when she willingly gets in his water with him.

I know this went a different way a bit, but again, you asked some real deep questions for me and I don’t want to give a lot away yet. But yeah. Eddie loves her and once he’s claimed her he won’t turn her away for anything.

💚

[ajkamins]

Yea right.| eddie munson x fem!cheerleader.

summary: eddie never believed someone like you could even find it in your heart to love someone like him, so he puts you down. but he doesn’t know what he says is just confirming what you say to yourself everyday.

warnings: extremely angsty, sh

reader has depression and anxiety and harms herself.

today is the day, i have to do it. i can’t keep hiding my feelings i HAVE to do it.

i did the same old same old like every thursday morning, put on my outfit and went downstairs to enjoy my breakfast. but what happens everyday happens this morning i can’t ever avoid him. my dad.

i walk downstairs excitedly for the first time in days, just for the smile to falter when i see him, stupid piece of shit father of mine, “hello father” i say in the most monotone voice i can.

“oh look at you, still haven’t lost any weight i see.” he says to me “fat ass” he mumbles knowing i can hear him. i ignore him because i will not let him ruin this day for me. i walk past him and grab a couple strawberries from the fridge i try to move around him but brisk his shoulder on accident “watch yourself fat ass, your so fucking fat i can’t even stand here without your huge ass shoulder bumping into me” he tells me

whatever i roll my eyes and just in time i hear a horn from outside thank fuck i tell myself. i walk out the door to steve’s car “hey rob, hey stevie” i say to them like every morning

“hey y/n what’s got you all smiley this morning, your dads truck is still there so it must not be him” steve says to me, how does that boy know everything

“ oh nothing just excited for today you know” i say back but they obviously know something’s up but don’t question it.

we arrive at school me and robin hop out of the car and steve says goodbye we wave back and head our separate directions, i walk over to chrissy and hug her “ oh my gosh y/n you scared the crap out of me” chrissy says giggling. we walk in together and like always everyone is staring, jason comes up and kisses chris on the cheek we part our ways and i head to first period mrs o’donels, english i hate english but i only stay there for one reason eddie munson

the most beautiful boy i have ever seen, i know he probably doesn’t know me but i hope he will today .

skip to lunch bc i’m lazy asf

i walk in the lunchroom and there he is in all his glory eddie laughing it up with the hellfire club, i can’t help but smile a bit myself when i see that big grin on his face. i just keep telling myself i i have to do it and get it over with.

i walk up to him. all of the boys stop talking and look at me. and then i meet his eyes eddie’s eyes

“hi” i say nervously, he looks up at me with i’m assuming is a confused face

“what do you want” he says with a painful tone

“uh- umm- i- i was wondering i-if, maybe yo-y-you wanted to uh-uh”

“spit it out i don’t have all day” he says

“i was just wondering if you maybe- wanted to um hang- hang out sometime— you know- just-uh just you and me- like-like on a date?” i finally get it out and can’t help but look away

he just stares at me a starts to laugh, i can’t help but frown a bit in embarrassment “yea fucking right princess go tell your jackass jocks i’m not falling for their stupid tricks- and you, you i can’t believe you out of all people would have the heart to come over here and embarrass me infront of all my friends like this i thought you were a sweet girl y/n, but i was wrong wasn’t i, it’s obvious now your just a bitch who loves to make others feel bad do you enjoy this huh?” he says standing up now towering over me, i start to back away scared and cowering down with tears in my eyes “ your worthless y/n, your fucking worthless and you thought i would fall for this stupid trick get the fuck out of my face” he says sternly and i now feel the ache in my heart it hurts but i can’t deny it anymore. i walk away shaking and out of the cafeteria and eventually out of the school doors to the woods far away so i can be alone

all those things he said, they were all the same things i said to myself everyday “your worthless” “your a stupid bitch” “he was never gonna like you” “your so fucking stupid!” i yell the last words to myself punching myself in the face and head “your stupid!” another harsh blow to my face “Fucking worthless bitch!” pounding myself in the face with my own fists “so fucking stupid!” “so stupid, so stupid, so fucking stupid” i keep saying until i have no more strength to keep swinging i let my head fall back against the tree gritting my teeth with angry tears running down my now bloody and swollen face fists clenching.

but not knowing what’s happening in the cafeteria right now.

back in the cafeteria

no one’s pov

chrissy and robin just saw that whole thing go down, chris felt terrible because she was the one who told y/n to tell eddie her feelings, her and robin walk up to the now proud of himself eddie

“What the fuck is your problem Munson?!” says chrissy angrily robin walks up shortly behind her putting a hand on chris’s shoulder with the same anger in her eyes

“The fuck are you talking about chrissy, what are you apart of that?” he says with a questioning quirk of his eyebrow

chrissy can’t help herself anymore and slaps eddie right across the cheek. the whole lunchroom goes silent with gasps.

eddie is now holding his cheek looking up at chrissy “the fuck was that for” he says with anger raising up, jason’s already on his way over to the lunch table with his team mates

“ your the fucking idiot munson your god damn oblivious, i can’t believe you just said all that shit to y/n infront of everyone, your the dumb ass, she actually likes you eddie she has forever and is never able to stop gushing about you when she’s around, like ever, i actually told her to tell you about her feelings thinking you would be different eddie, your an asshole eddie munson” chrissy says with heated anger, jason walks up to her and holds her away

“yea man god damn i don’t even like you but the way that girl talked about you was crazy never stopped talking ever that was really fucked up munson” jason surprisingly says, eddie is now in shock he really thought this was all jason’s idea her asking him out eddie the freak munson was being asked out by y/n y/l/n, he thought it was definitely a huge fucked up joke because they knew how much he liked her, he couldn’t believe it the girl he actually liked asked him out and instead of him actually accepting he rejected thinking it was all to good to be true.

“fuck”

y/n’s pov

i just started walking home but can’t help but notice the hideout on my way, i remember all the nights i went there to watch him and his band play staying hidden where he couldn’t see me, i also remembered the change of clothes in my bag so i walk towards the bar and go to the restroom to get changed, i come out and sit at the bar and order a beer they didn’t ask for ID which i’m assuming is because my face is severely fucked up, i couldn’t help myself but get lost in the alcohol beer after beer,

some guy bumps into me and i can’t help but get angry “hey fuck face watch yourself” i say turning back around to the counter to continue sipping on my 6th beer.

“woah pretty princess no need to get so angry what happened to that pretty little face of yours” he says back with a smug grin on his face

“keep standing over here and i can make you look as pretty as me” i say still facing the counter finishing off the beer and asking for something stronger two glasses of their top shelf whisky. i down them both and the guy just stares at me and walks away, i order even more but just before i can lift up my glass a hand stops it,

“no more y/l/n your done, and for you i should have you arrested for serving underaged adults” i look up and see hopper my uncle, he lifts me up but even with all my protesting he gets me out of the bar, some how it’s dark out now. “let’s go surprisingly enough to me your father is actually worried about you, so i need to get you home, not only did you go missing from school today you also are all beat up and drunk out of your head, so your going to tell me what happened or i’m going to lock you up in a cell for the night- and don’t say i won’t because you know i will.” he’s right i know he will he’s done it before.

“it’s nothing hop” i say as he places me in the passenger seat but he knows there’s obviously something wrong, he decides not to push it just yet and luckily enough he doesn’t take me home to my dad, he takes me to his and joyce’s place.

we get there and i see steve’s are parked out side, hop takes me out of the car and opens the front door all i hear is a bunch of people gasp and bombard hopper with questions “i don’t know but she will be fine leave her i’m putting her to bed” with that voice i’m assuming he doesn’t want to talk about it either, he walks me to the guest bedroom and tucks me in “ i know that didn’t happen from someone else-“ he says gesturing to my face “- your too tough to let that happen, i know you did it to your self, i’m not happy about it but i want you to get some sleep and rest it out till the morning, then we can talk, and you know joyce is probably going to be in here any second now with a bag of frozen peas, but what i’m trying to say is just don’t worry yourself about your dad and all that other stuff, i’m here now and i’ll keep you safe till you feel better ok, i don’t want you worrying about your dad i’ve got that all taken care of, goodnight kid, i love ya” he says and kisses my head and leaves just like he said joyce comes running in seconds later with a bag of frozen peas wrapped in a rag littering me with all the ‘i love you’s and other stuff but eventually i drift off

i wake up with a killer headache and and warm hand on mine and hearing sniffing, i try not to make any sudden movements to try and figure out who if is without them knowing i’m awake

“i’m so sorry y/n/n, i shouldn’t have said all that shit, i’m sorry, i’m so so sorry” i know who it is but i’m afraid to look him in the eyes just yet, he keeps muttering apologies. but i give his hand a gentle squeeze, he gasps a bit and take my hand in both of his now, i slowly look up at him, i see his teary red eyes and a face full of regret, “y/n?” he says with a wobbly voice i give him my full attention now,

“it’s ok eddie, i forgive you” i say grasping his hand a little tighter now.

“no, no, no don’t say it’s ok y/n it’s not ok what i said, it’s not ok at all and this is not an excuse i just- i’ve been fucked with so much i don’t even know who to trust anymore, god i’m so stupid”

“no-no,no your not stupid ed your kind, brilliant and smart, you were just afraid to be hurt again, i understand, i really do” i say with a genuine light smile

“i just- i don’t even know what to say anymore” he says looking down

“ you could tell me if you want to go on that date with me?” i say with a grin and a little chuckle when he looks at me with a sad grin

he chuckles a bit “of course i would love to go on that date with you y/n, i’ll do whatever you want” he says looking deep into my eyes

“don’t say that or you’ll be in it for life munson” i say laughing

“maybe i want to be in it for life y/l/n” he says.

[marsgod]

Idia, jamil and rook w/ sick reader pls?

JAMILLLLL<3

⇢ Idia, Jamil, Rook x Sick! Gn! Reader

⇢Warnings; no specified relationship, gn! reader, sick! reader, fluff

Idia Shroud

I’m so sorry if you were expecting him to coddle and take care of you, but no, Idia will see an opportunity to not hang and to stay inside. But like, he has no idea how to actually take care of a sick person.

Idia will get you a bowl w a plastic bag, a cup of water, and might put some pain reliever on the night stand (that’s if you tell him to get it) and then stays in the corner doing whatever.

He thinks that this is the best possible way to get you to full health, and if you ask for anything else besides more water, medicine, or food then he doesn’t know how to help you

srsly it might just not be in his capabilities

Idia is queasy and he looks like he’s waiting for his turn to puke while holding your hair or holding water for you

he might actually throw up once you’re done..

on the off chance he doesn’t feel queasy, he’s still not looking at you cause the guy knows that his face is one of absolute disgust but he doesn’t want to offend you

He also doesn’t want you touching his game station, at all, he barely wants you in his room bc you might infect his everything

“.. What do you mean you’re “bored”? You get to play games and watch TV all day!”

-718373782/10, it’s boring w him (unless you find watching him do whatever from the bed is interesting)

Jamil Viper

Jamil is the best at taking care of you, not so much as being there for you bc he will make you stay in bed, but he’s not staying in there with you. At all.

Jamil will walk into your room long enough to give you water, food, whatever and will consistently check up on you

but will not stay or talk w you unless needed

it’s not that Jamil gets sick easily, he doesn’t, he just doesn’t see the point in staying unless you’re in obvious pain

and he has stuff to work on and other Jamil things🥲

He hates throw up, he’s not like Idia where he’s extremely queasy w it

Jamil just really hates the smell and the probable mess

That being said, he’s making you brush your teeth and will force you to down mouth wash before giving you water bc he doesn’t want you to accidentally swallow your own vomit

(what a nice guy)

He also restricts your diet temporarily to easy to make soup (except he, for whatever reason, makes it more complicated and delicious than need be)

Chicken noodle, etc. it doesn’t rlly matter cause he’s not making you anything else, besides maybe different soup, and you’re not allowed in the kitchen until you’re not infected anymore

“No, go brush your teeth, you don’t need to swallow your own vomit, that’s going to make you vomit more.”

In summary, not the worst and actually knows how to take care of you so 181737272/10 better than Idia.

Rook Hunt

Probably the best caretaker here tbh, Rook is careful and obviously takes care of himself and has to know how to not.. die? ig, when he’s sick and has to know how to not drag it out longer than needed.

Rook knows how to cook (not as good as Jamil but whatever) and does it often

he’ll do constant checkups for you, to the point where it’s a bit annoying but endearingly? Kinda cute ngl

Rook also doesn’t get sick very easily, like, almost never- which is prob why he’s taking care of you, and really, are you complaining?

he’s not fond of vomit, but he’s used to other absolutely horrid smells and is desensitized

Rook will hold your hair back for you, or at least pat you on the back while comforting you

he already has both mouthwash and water ready for when you’re done<3

Rook might need to leave ofc to make food or something, but he won’t leave you alone for long til the next checkup

whicg is really when he’ll move in your room “to make sure you’re not lonely”

“Ah, worry not, I shall prepare some soup for you!”

[broken-clover]

Solaxl Week- Day 4

Haha get befuddled, you assumed I was gonna do hurt/comfort, didn't you? Well, I'm doing something different!...mostly bc I couldn't think of any ideas I hadn't already done before.

It was fun to give these two a slightly different dynamic, because a lot of the gruff op solitary behavior of Sol couldn't happen back when he was a kid, and his knowledge of music and inclination for the sciences indicates that as a young'un he was probably a massive nerd. Axl, meanwhile, seems like he was always a little scrappy brat. Don't need an education to be a delinquent. It's fun having Sol be the one out of his league and awkward for once.

4- Band AU, Hurt/Comfort, Snowball Fight

-

It didn’t matter how much college prep bit into his schedule, he still wasn’t giving up on band. Frederick refused to give up on one of the few things that still made him happy.

With how studying had begun bleeding into any snippets of free time he had left, some corners still had to be cut. Study hall had been the most recent casualty, following in the footsteps of lunch period. Sure, he still brought food, but as soon as the bell rang, he’d tuck his books under one arm and head for the band storage closet. It had been his routine for a couple months now. He knew how it was supposed to go. Drop his stuff at the door, flick the switch, head for the guitar rack. Maybe a bite or two of lunch could get squeezed in. It depended on how he felt.

Frederick halted, staring. For the first time, he’d arrived in a storage closet that was occupied by more than just inert instruments.

“You can’t be in here.”

“Eh?”

The guy was perched on the chair’s two back legs- his chair, the same one he used every single time. That alone was enough to veer his confusion into annoyance. Frederick didn’t recognize him, but in fairness, it was a big school. The more he looked, the guy looked less and less familiar and more and more greasy.

Perhaps he didn’t want to sit in that chair after all.

“Was just chillin.’” The stranger replied, shrugging.

Frederick shuffled uncomfortably from foot to foot, unsure of what to do with his routine interrupted. “Band isn’t until sixth block, nobody’s supposed to be in here.”

“Yeah? So why’re you, then?”

It felt rather ass-backward to have his own motives questioned, but he chose not to say it, or to start a shouting match. He still had a bit of a reputation for being asocial, but not a total delinquent (in part because if he ever tried that, his parents would never let him live it down)

“I just came down for practice,” he replied. “Are you in study hall? I had all my work finished, so they let me go.”

The other boy snorted. “Heh! Nah, supposed to be in calc. Boo-ring. Hopped out the window, just gonna hang out here until lunch.”

Frederick was definitely sure he hadn’t met this person before. The rough edge to his voice and the thick accent was hard to mistake for someone else.

It suddenly struck him that there were only so many more minutes before the next class started, and he’d already wasted too many talking. Trying to regain some semblance of normalcy, Frederick left his books at the door and dragged a chair off of the pile by the wall. The rhythm of routine almost let him forget the intrusive stranger until he’d sat down again. The guitar’s weight was familiar in his lap, as was the music stand placed before him, but beyond the top of his sheet music, he could still see the guy staring at him with an oddly curved smile.

“Can’t you do that somewhere else? I don’t want someone to walk in and think I’m associated with you.”

“Why not? I’m awesome!”

“You’re a pain.” Frederick strummed the strings and felt along the instrument’s neck to tune one of them. “And I don’t want to get in trouble because of you.”

The other boy leaned forward in his seat, expression halfway between amused and angered. “Bloody hell, are you forreal? You’re one of those guys?”

Frederick paused his tuning. “What do you mean, ‘one of those guys?’”

“One of those little whiny crybabies that gets all bent out of shape just thinkin’ about getting told off. Lemme guess, you’re a straight-A student? Can’t even think about getting anything less than a hundred on everything?”

B-plus, and his parents wouldn’t let him hear the end of it. “M’not taking life criticism from someone who can’t sit through simple math for half an hour. What, does playing delinquent make you feel special?”

“I do it ‘cause I feel like it, you can’t tell me what to do!” Though his voice stayed steady, Frederick could see how the stranger was starting to go red. “And I’m not takin’ this kinda flak from someone who’s probably too much of a teacher’s pet to even swea-”

“Shut the fuck up.”

To his credit, he automatically did, too startled to speak. Frederick kept his scowl for a few moments more, then gave the guitar another strum. It sounded a lot better. He looked back to his sheets and tentatively repeated the first couple of notes…all the while he could still see himself being watched. He sighed in annoyance. “Like I told you already, I don’t want people to think we have anything to do with each other. Can you just hang out somewhere else?”

“Tch.”

Not much of an answer. The proper answer seemed to come in the form of the stranger sliding off his chair and cracking his neck. Instead of heading for the door, though, Frederick watched him approach the instruments. For a moment, he wondered if he’d start smashing things just to cause trouble.

“Well, then we will have something to do with each other, then!” He swiped another guitar off of the next hanger over. The chair he’d just been sitting in was hip-checked over closer to Frederick’s, and sat down far too close for his personal taste. “Whattaya playing? Got a second copy?”

Frederick jerked back. “You trying to breathe down my neck? Dammit, and be careful with that, don’t break anything! Do you know what you’re doing in the slightest?”

“Oh, you shut the fuck up, bloody poindexter.”

Before Frederick could think of sending a jab back, he was interrupted as the stranger started to play. The first few notes were rough, but…he hadn’t seen anyone else in band handle a guitar so carefully. Personal appearances were one thing, but Frederick had enough experience to recognize someone familiar with a guitar. And even if it wasn’t his favorite band, he’d recognize the iconic twangs of Cream’s ‘Sunshine of Your Love’ in his sleep.

He couldn’t hold back an impressed whistle. “Wow. Not bad, dirtbag. Surprised it wasn’t grunge.”

“Grunge’s fine, but I didn’t wanna scare ya~” Though he still had a smugness about him, Frederick could feel a little more warmth in the stranger’s tone. “So whatta you play?”

I like the classics.” He replied with pride. “Queen’s the best.”

“Nice, same boat. Folks tell me I like ‘dad music’ ‘n I tell ‘em their taste’s shit.” Frederick was offered a hand. “Guess you ain’t all bad. ‘m Axl, Axl Low.”

He took what was offered and shook. “Frederick Bulsara.”

Axl started to laugh. “Of course yer name’s Frederick.”

“H-hey, stuff it. I don’t believe for a second ‘Axl’ is your real name, either.”

“Okay, okay, I get it, Freddie. So, you said you came down fer practice, this a hobby?”

Frederick adjusted himself in his chair, settling the guitar across his lap. “Kinda. I like doing it for fun, but band class gives it a little more structure. And I’ve been doing it long enough that Professor Ringo lets me submit songs for us to do. Don’t think I’ve seen you in the orchestra, have I?”

“Don’t do band.” Said Axl. “Don’t like ‘em tellin’ me what to play. But I guess if you’re doing good shit this semester…”

“Yeah, here, lemme show you the stuff I got- “

The moment he tried to reach for his sheet music, the bell began to ring. Frederick looked down at his watch. “Shit, how’s it been that long?! I didn’t even get any practice in!”

Axl snickered, taking both of their guitars and putting them back on the rack. “Careful, Freddie, people are gonna think you’re some kinda delinquent, late for class and using dirty words like that.”

“Oh yeah, you’d know all about that-” He frantically gathered his things, shoving the music stand back with the others. In his haste, he’d forgotten to take the sheet music off first, and the motion sent them flying “Dammit!”

“Got it, I got it,” Axl knelt down and started gathering them up. From his pocket came a cracked pen. Frederick didn’t have a chance to say anything before he’d already started writing something on one of the papers.

“What are you doing? Don’t mess it up!”

“Chill, yeesh.” Once his self-appointed task was finished, Axl handed everything back to its owner. “Just giving you my contact info. Uh, hey, drop me a text later, got it? Dunno how to sign up for classes, maybe you could show me? Or heck, just send me some vids of the stuff you play, I wanna see your technique.”

He spoke too fast for Frederick to keep up. “Huh? What- “

“See ya, mate!”

Though he was still worried about next class, he was too bewildered to do anything but stare at the empty doorway where Axl had just been. Turning over the stack of sheet music, sure enough, there was a string of numbers and under the strange boy’s name.

What a peculiar encounter. He still wasn’t sure what to make of it. Though he did have a softer spot for someone who could appreciate the classics. Maybe it would be worth keeping in contact? When he had a moment between classes, Frederick would try to memorize Axl’s number and put it into his contacts…He’d have to ask why there had been a scratchy heart scribbled next to it, anyway…

[conditionaljewel]

(Headcanons abound)

Thinking about my disabled mini AU again, and I just think it would be really neat if Laudna had a cane made out of wood from the Sun Tree.

Like in my own little headcanon, I imagine that Chetney makes her a cane using some wood he was allowed to (legally?) obtain from the Sun Tree, and he carved and whittled it so that the cane looked like the Sun Tree’s trunk, and the handle were branches, that would also make it so that when she uses her Form of Dread, the cane becomes part of her. He presents it to her after a battle one evening when he notices she’s limping a lot more than normal and thought maybe it’d help. “I didn’t want to impose but, I couldn’t help but notice you were relying on Imogen a lot to help you walk, so I thought maybe…” She takes it and admires it for what it is, and thanks Chetney for it genuinely. She takes to it hesitantly at first, feeling a hesitation about not wanting to be more visibly different but she does not dispose of or hide it from view. She starts to use it here and there but still clings to Imogen quite more often than normal still.

But then after a few weeks she notices she still isn’t walking right and those pains in her leg aren’t going away, so she starts to use it more and more and falls in love with it. She’s comfortable, she’s walking without pain, and Imogen’s noted that she’s bouncing around their cottage with it like it’s a dance partner now, she’s grown to be so comfortable with it. Not long thereafter, she asks Chetney on one of his visits for just one little adjustment. “Sure, is something wrong, did it break? Oh no, is it too short? Too tall?” And she tells him no, it’s perfect, she just would like one minor, cosmetic addition: a “C-Pop Industries” logo on it, so everyone knows who made her beautiful cane. He sheds a tear in joy and happily engraves his insignia on it.

Then I’m imagining Laudna and Imogen walking around Jrusar going shopping for Zhudanna and themselves (bc even though they now live alone, together, independent of Zhudanna, they still help take care of her as a thanks). Just watching Laudna slinging her cane on her forearm as she and Imogen parse through loaves of bread or bundles of herbs and spices, holding onto Imogen loosely as they stumble-step from booth to booth in the crowds making their purchases where it’s too crowded to step comfortably otherwise.

Then suddenly a little child spies Laudna from a little distance away in the market and is caught staring at her: not because she’s a ghostly pale undead lady holding a pretty purple-haired lady’s hand, but because Laudna is walking with a cane and has a limp just like this little child seems to. So instead of her being afraid, the child “runs” up to Laudna very clumsily with her cane and loudly declares “i like your cane,” as she wave hers at Laudna. And then Laudna would be all cute back and wave hers at the child, “i LOVE yours,” and fuss and make a big deal of it and ask the little girl about it like it was the best cane Laudna ever did see, and the little girl getting absolutely elated and overwhelmed by not feeling so out of place “because she’s not old and she walks like me!”

And then I think about Laudna and Imogen hanging out with Ashton, in their little chronicLu disabled club as the three of them do in secret once a month, and Ashton finally realizes after a long while “wait? That’s from the Sun Tree?!” And then Laudna will Form Of Dread as she holds the cane and tower over him, juuuuust so he could be impressed with how ~cool she looks with it. “That’s fuckin’ awesome.” And they’ll spend the next forty five minutes discussing her cane, his use of his hammer as a walking stick, Imogen’s frequent headaches from the constant buzzing and chatter in her head. Ashton’ll mention having seen someone riding around in an wheelchair that was “also an automaton” in Bassuras — could go way faster than any old wheelchair. “I bet if you did it right you could enter one in the Deathwish, now *that* would be interesting.” And they spent the next forty-five minutes and remaining bottle of wine inventing Murderball for Exandria.

Then Fearne comes over for (girl) dinner one evening. Lots of food and drinks and wine and gossip. Fearne being Fearne, and knowing damn well Laudna needs it, she still tries to swipe the cane anyway because her love language had spread to all of Bells Hells now, and she couldn’t not try. That’s part of the fun. And she nearly gets away with it except that, at the end of the night, perhaps a little too drunk off of Whitestone’s very best wine to offer, she attempts to leave their home by casually just strolling out the door with it under her hand as though it were hers and she walked in with it all along, only to play it off to the girls with a laugh and a “damn” under her breath to Mister. They share a laugh at their doorstep with one last hug, and Laudna says to hear “ask Chet, maybe he’ll make you one.”

Orym visits with Dorian, and of the whole group, they’re the ones who just “seem” the most adjusted when it comes to Laudna in general but certainly to both the girls. Dorian sees her cane for the first time and, being unfamiliar with Whitestone and the history, particularly her history there, he just admires it purely from a craftsmanship and design aspect, essentially complimenting Chet. He calls it “quite a beautiful craft of love for a mobility aid.” He particularly loves the detailing in the bark pattern Chetney had painstakingly added. This makes Laudna smile. Orym, knowing it’s and Laudna’s origins, doubles down on that sentiment and shoots the girls that knowing look with a smile. And then conversations move on, dinner continues.

But then there’s Letters. Poor Letters who just wants to help. He tries to convince Laudna, perhaps a little too aggressively, to get new feet and legs with him, “so we can fix ya! we could ask D or Dancer, maybe Imahara Joe?” But the girls sit them down and explain to him that while Dancer and Joe are unique in their crafts and capabilities, and while Dancer seems happy with her prosthetic, Laudna doesn’t see the need for all that. “I’m quite happy as I am, FCG,” and they explain over some tea and copper bits why some people who are disabled don’t necessarily want or need to be fixed, but it’s okay for those out there who do. Laudna then reassures FCG that she is happy, she doesn’t ~need fixing, and that sometimes people with disabilities and disabled people would just rather have the things they need and the world to be more accessible to get by, rather than any attempts as “fixing” something that they don’t see as broken within themselves.,FCG kind of understands and just says “okay… well, I’ll pray for you.”

I don’t know, disabled!Laudna (and Imogen and Ashton) is/are so important to me and ever since I’ve started to recognize my own disabilities and physical and mental limitations, I’ve just been thinking entirely too much about Laudna using a mobility aid (not even just a cane as presented here) and trying to get myself more confidence to use my cane when I need it rather than continue to suffer.