#it it 3:13 in the morning i have been crying for around an hour

[chicken-magnet]

hey google, what are you supposed to do when it finally sinks in that one of the few relatives that you actually like* would never accept you if they ever found out who you really are and you feel like something in you just broke?

[myownwholewildworld]

12. MORNING DEW

chapter 11 | ao3 | series masterlist | chapter 13 (soon)

pairing: post-outbreak!joel x f!reader. summary: you and joel need to discuss what the future might look like for the both of you. whether that's together or on your own. a/n: HI! please accept my apologies, i know it's been like a month since i last updated this series. but fret not, here's chapter 12! hope you guys like it. as always, i appreciate comments, reblogs and likes, they keep us writers well fed and motivated! take care, lovelies <3 x warnings: 18+, mdni. fluff, some angsty hurt/comfort. smut because i got my period halfway through writing this. fingering. handjob. oral (m!receiving). edging. soft dom/sub dynamics. brief references to attempted suicide and attempted SA. reader is female, no other description given. reader is mid-late 20s, joel is 37. no use of y/n.  joel’s and reader’s pov. and a special guest’s pov too 👀 dividers by @\saradika-graphics w/c: ~6.5k. taglist aka the drama wagon at the end of the chapter (let me know if you want to be added/removed from the list pls!)

It never seemed to be the proper time to speak to you, Joel thought. Ever since his fuckup last night, he had struggled to find the words, to explain what his thought process was. A few hours ago, he had talked himself into ripping off the plaster and apologise to you, but when he called your name and you turned around with a composed expression, he froze in place.

He didn’t want to lose you too. Joel was afraid he would say something wrong again that would push you even further away from him. And then he would truly be alone, all because of his own actions, his own words. That fear clamped around his throat, preventing him from saying anything. From reaching out.

It was stupid, really. He knew that. Knew you were expecting him to say something, anything. Your blank expression was just a façade, a wall you had built around your heart so he wouldn’t hurt you anymore.

Joel hated himself for it, for your concealed hurt. Hated he had broken that trust between you two and made you feel like he was no longer on your side. He was, always had been, always would be. But he had let fear come between you, an abyss so vast he didn’t think it was salvable. It had to be though ― couldn’t be any other way.

The possibility of being a father again laid in front of him like a path full of dangers. Joel understood how much he could lose, because he had already lost Sarah. How suffocating that experience had been ― still was, every single fucking day.

He was frightened to go through it all over again. Having to hug another dead child of his; having to witness the light flicker away from her eyes. Sarah had been his everything ― his hope, his pride, the love of his life, the reason he would wake up in the morning to go to work, counting his blessings. And it didn’t matter in the slightest how good she was ― she was taken regardless. This world was cruel and unjust and greedy.

But there was also a sliver of hope, of dull excitement, shimmering underneath. One he wouldn’t allow himself to feel.

He still felt like a failure of a father who could not protect his baby girl when she needed him most. That emotional baggage would forever be with him. And he wanted it that way, because it meant he still remembered. This grief he carried was a reminder of the love he held. And he hoped it stayed with him, that she would stay with him.

Joel could still vividly remember digging with bare nails the grave Tommy had prepared for her. Elbow’s deep in the dirt, his fingers reaching for her as thick tears blurred his vision. The wails ripping his lungs apart, leaving his throat raw and tender. And Tommy hugging him from the back, arms clamped around his shoulders ― crying, begging him to stop.

“Little Sarah is resting now.”

“Let her be, Joel.”

“Stop unburying her, dammit!”

“I’m sorry, truly sorry. God I can’t―”

“She’s at peace now, Joel. No more suffering.”

Tommy’s slurry voice still filled his ears. His little brother had tried his best to comfort him, but at that moment in time, Joel had been too blinded by the gut-wrenching pain, the unbearable loss. He never really thanked Tommy for that. Never thanked you for stopping him from killing himself either.

Being an ass to the people he loved, apparently, was his only strength. Just like he had been with you when you needed him most.

Joel watched you as you struggled to unzip your sleeping bag, the soft material catching on the serrated teeth. You yanked the pull, almost snapping it from the slider, mumbling something to yourself.

He covered your tiny hand with a broad one of his, lightly squeezing your fingers.

“Let me help,” he muttered as you leaned back away from him.

Your subtle physical rejection stung, but he knew he deserved it. His hurt was nothing in comparison to yours.

Letting go of the bag, you faked looking for something in your backpack, avoiding his eyes when they searched for yours. Joel felt that the void between you only grew and grew, like darkness gaining ground to the light outside.

Could he mend your relationship? Your trust? Your love?

With careful hands, Joel managed to release the pinch on the fabric and tested that the zipper worked how it should do. When he glanced up at you, handing over the sleeping bag, Joel caught the rawness in your eyes, the slight dampness clinging to your eyelashes like morning dew on a petal at dawn.

It was now or never. He was hurting from seeing you hurt. Couldn’t take it any longer, he just had to say something, apologise to you. Ask to start the conversation all over again. One more second of this and he would lose his goddamn mind.

“Sweetheart, I―,” he managed to say out loud.

“I’m tired, Joel,” you quickly interrupted him. “Just wanna go to bed now, if you don’t mind.”

Your words were like a sobering, cold shower after a few beers ― stopped him right in his tracks before he could even begin to express what he wanted to say. Slightly shocked, Joel watched you fiddling around with your sleeping bag before you got inside it and turned around, facing away from him.

His slack jaw was soon gritting. But that brief anger quickly shimmered away when reality started to set in.

Perhaps he had misread the whole situation; perhaps you were not waiting on him to talk.

Perhaps you were past that ― past him, his bullshit and his doubts.

Perhaps your relationship was truly beyond salvation.

He paled in the face of such possibility, his hands shaking as they gripped his own sleeping bag.

Joel was up almost all night, eyes transfixed on you as his brain worked out all scenarios.

You faked falling asleep, but rest evaded you for hours until you finally gave in to exhaustion. Didn’t last long though, because a couple of hours later, you were, once again, wide awake.

The whole situation with Joel was overwhelming. You had hoped he would come to the car as soon as you left him behind, but he didn’t. Then that night you waited for him to say something, anything, and yet again, he didn’t. Not a fucking word when you both woke up this morning either, except for your name falling from his lips like a regretted whisper. Then complete radio silence and nothing else.

The silence treatment he had given you today was unbearable. Even if your doubts had lingered, pushing you to postpone the inevitable, deep inside you had hoped his reaction would be different. Shocked, yes, but then he would be… perhaps not happy, but at least a bit more excited? And after the shock had worn off, he would have soothed you, calmed you, told you everything was gonna be alright.

Maybe you had expected too much of Joel, your little delusion blinding you. After all, he had already lost Sarah. So now, in retrospect, this announcement might have unearthed bad memories, but especially regrets.

Was that it? Had you unburied his most primal fear? You had been so focused on what laid ahead, you had not stopped to consider what laid behind ― what this would mean for Joel. You had briefly contemplated he could perhaps see this as a blessing or a curse, but didn’t dwell too long on the thought, preoccupied as you were with other pressing matters.

You felt sick and it had nothing to do with pregnancy.

And then, when he had tried talking to you before going to bed, you had shut him down. But you were so tired, so mentally drained, you didn’t have an ounce of energy left to deal with a conversation like that. Because you truly didn’t know what he would say ― he wore such an impassive expression on his face, it was really difficult to tell.

You turned on the hard, creaky, wooden floor and faced Joel. One of his arms was resting on the wooden planks, extended towards you, as if he was trying to reach for you in his sleep.

You were in an abandoned cabin just outside Oswego. It was bare and completely stripped of furniture, but at least had a roof that would protect you from the cold, wet weather outside. It also had a covered chimney, but being so close to civilisation, it had to stay put out. Sleeping in the bag was not ideal, but it kept you warm.

Taking a deep breath, you then felt some sort of cushion under your neck that had not been there before you fell asleep. By touch, you realised it was one of those inflatable travel neck pillows that you had seen people use in airplanes. Frowning, you gathered Joel must have found one and tucked it under your head in your sleep.

You carefully studied Joel’s handsome, weathered face from the safety of your sleeping bag. Even in his sleep, his eyebrows were bunched together, a deep wrinkle ploughing through his skin almost permanently, giving him a worried look. His aquiline nose was buried in the fabric of his sleepsack, his long eyelashes caressing the top of his cheeks.

He would roll his eyes at you every time you called him “gorgeous” or “handsome”, but he really was. You loved to tell him, to help him see through your eyes. You knew he sometimes needed to hear it, to remind him of his own humanity. It was normal to lose sight of it in the current world you lived in.

And you loved him, the whole of him and his ghosts, even though he was a tactless prick sometimes. You had come to learn that when cornered, Joel could react like a beaten dog ― crouched back and showing teeth, ready to bite at the slightest provocation. Couldn’t blame him, even if you tried.

Feeling restless, you carefully unzipped your sleeping bag, not wanting to wake Joel up, and put your boots on. God knew you both needed some rest. Silently you stood up and stretched your back and arms, then one hand mindlessly stroked your belly. It wasn’t swollen at all, but the idea of a life growing inside you sat snugly in the back of your mind.

“What are we going to do, little one?” you whispered to yourself before grabbing your coat.

Needing some fresh air, you walked outside in the middle of the freezing night. It had been snowing, because there were at least three inches of white fluff blanketing the ground. Which meant the car battery could quickly drain and leave you stranded, so you went to check on the hidden Jeep.

Joel’s body jerked uncontrollably, one leg shaking as if he was falling off a cliff. Instantly waking up, he nervously looked around him, trying to recall where he was.

His hand patted the wooden floor in the dark, and when he located your sleeping bag, his breathing hitched at finding it empty. Then he heard the front door creaking, a sliver of moonlight coming through.

Were you leaving him in the middle of the night? Had he completely broken your trust, your relationship? Had he no chance of mending his mistake? Were you so hurt you would go without a word, without saying goodbye?

God knew he deserved it. He wasn’t cut for a relationship; he always ruined it. Should have known better than falling for you and giving in, but you were so warm, so effortless to love, so natural… How the fuck could he not? He was only human after all.

With a deafening pulse in his eardrums, he kicked the sleeping bag off as he got up with jerky, edgy motions, running towards the door to stop you from leaving him. For you he would fight, he would give you a whole motherfucking speech of why he loved you and how sorry he was. He at least had to try.

Joel swung the door open, and a frosty breeze greeted him, his skin bristled almost painfully at the feeling of frostbite.

You were walking through the snow, wrapped in your coat and with the hood on ― you looked so ethereal, your side profile bathed by the moonlight like a night fairy. Your features glowed under the lunar lustre, and he couldn’t help but fall for you even more.

Barefoot he followed you, his soles numb after a few steps through the snowy mud.

“Babe, wait,” he muttered, one hand reaching for your elbow.

You startled at his touch, and Joel didn’t know if it was rejection or that he had surprised you.

Your big, beautiful eyes widened when you saw him there. You wore a tired expression, and he knew himself the culprit.

“Where are you going?” he questioned in a whisper, heart still and lungs empty.

“I―”

“Please don’t go, don’t leave. I can do better. I’m sorry,” Joel stumbled with his words.

Had never felt this exposed as he was about to split his core in half, to undress emotionally in front of someone, allowing himself to be hurt by the only person it mattered.

But it had to be done to keep you by his side. So he did.

“I panicked. I wasn’t expecting― it didn’t even cross my mind that you… well, could be pregnant. It caught me so off guard, the news didn’t sink in. I’m sorry I reacted like a fucking idiot; I know I’ve disappointed you because of it. It’s just… ‘s hard, you know?” Joel swallowed to dissolve the dense knot forming in his throat, “I already had a shot at fatherhood, and I fucking blew it. I couldn’t protect her despite loving Sarah with all my heart, so the possibility of having to go through all that heartache again… I just, I don’t―”

Joel took in a deep, trembling breath as he unconsciously palmed his broken wristwatch, trying to soothe himself. He attempted to read your expression ― your lips pursed and eyes teary. Was he breaking your heart even further? You were about to cry, and he didn’t know if that was a good thing or a bad one.

Anxiety was taking hold of his throat and gut, strangling him.

“Look, I’m not gonna lie to you. I’m fucking scared, so scared I don’t think words do it justice. But I’m also thrilled, baby, I swear I am. I owe it to you, to myself, to this baby of ours… I ain’t going nowhere. Wherever you go, I’ll follow you both,” he husked, almost breathless. “I’m sorry I said what I said. Neither of us have a choice, but even if we did… I wouldn’t change a thing. This baby is happening for a reason and whatever that is, I’m all in, come what may. I love you, I really do, and I hate myself for having hurt you like this. I just suck at expressing my feelings and―”

You placed a gentle hand on his naked forearm, which made him lose track of what he was saying. Your fingers gently squeezed his cold flesh as you took a step closer to him. Your free hand slid across his left hip, dipping under the tee shirt he was wearing, until it reached the small of his back and you pushed him towards your body.

His taut muscles visibly relaxed at your touch and hug, his lungs filling up as he drew in the deepest breath of his life. Wrapping his arms around you, he held you close to his chest, chin resting on the crown of your head.

“Joel, I wasn’t leaving,” you murmured, cheek nuzzling against him, a tentative smile lingering on your mouth.

Joel’s eyebrows knitted together. From his perspective, it was more than obvious that you were actually leaving.

“Oh? I thought―”

“I was just going to check on the car battery since it’s freezing out here,” you interrupted him, glancing up at him.

Joel pursed his lips together, then licked them nervously.

“Well, everything I said still stands. I am truly sorry, sweetheart,” he said, mouth lightly pressed on your forehead.

A deep sigh after, you took a step back, your hand travelling from his forearm to his fingers, intertwining them with yours. Your palm was so warm in comparison to his, he just realised how little clothing he had on.

“For being a man who “sucks” at expressing his feelings, dare I say you’ve just spoken like a professional orator?” you jested, a grin curling the corners of your lips. “And I am sorry for not being straightforward with you. I was afraid of how you would take the news, and, well…” you shrugged, “you can’t blame me, can you?”

Joel shook his head vehemently. He definitely couldn’t ― the proof was there for both of you to see.

“But I understand how frightening this is for you. I can’t even begin to comprehend how you must have felt when… when Sarah left us. I was so blinded by my own insecurities, I didn’t dwell for too long on how this would affect you emotionally. So I apologise and―”

“Don’t. Don’t apologise, please. That’s a pain for me to bear, you shouldn’t have to think about it.”

“But I do, Joel. I want to bear it with you, so you don’t have to do it alone. That’s the whole point of this, of us. After all, we are going to be a family now,” your voice dropped to a low hum.

A pang of nerves traversed his stomach. No, not a pang, more like… butterflies? Joel had not felt that―the purest form of ecstasy―in a long, long time. The idea of being a dad… it always called him, always felt like that was what he was meant to be, nothing else. Sarah had been the center of his world and while no one could ever change that for him, the possibility of having another child to shower with the love he had buried… it was so overwhelming it brought tears to his eyes, his breathing shallow.

“A family,” he repeated, voice raspy with emotion.

You nodded and laughed, teary eyes too.

“A family, Joel. You’re gonna be a dad,” you snickered, now sobbing.

He couldn’t help but join you, draping his arms around you to bring you against his chest.

He didn’t deserve you, your forgiveness. The second chance you were offering him, in all the senses. A second chance with you. A second chance to form a family. A second chance in life, really.

Joel cradled your flushed cheeks, tilting your face up so his mouth hovered over yours.

“I can’t believe my fucking luck, honestly. You, the mother of my child…” he didn’t finish the sentence because he would choke on his own words if so. Took a second to compose himself. “If I’m ever such a dick aga―”

“Are you planning on being a dick often, Joel Miller?” you said playfully with a cocked brow.

He laughed, feeling completely at ease.

“I hope not. But if I ever attempt to be, just kick me in the balls so I may come to my senses quicker, please,” he replied with a lopsided grin.

His thumbs caressed the apples of your cheeks before bowing down to kiss you. A slow, loving stroke of his tongue over yours and he felt everything was right again. Your sweet taste soothed him, his mind finally at ease. How you achieved that for him with the mere brush of your soft lips, he didn’t understand.

You were the one to break the kiss, pecking his lips a few times before finally taking a step back.

“Let’s go back inside, you must be freezing only with those sweatpants and a shirt.”

And with that, all the anxiety, the mental struggle, was forgotten.

Joel took your tiny hand in his broad one and led you back inside the cabin. Dried off his feet quickly before helping you out of your winterwear and settle back in in the sleeping bag ― his sleeping bag. Luckily it was big enough for the both of you.

You hugged each other, trying to get back to sleep, but both of your hearts were fluttering so hard, it was difficult to ignore the excitement.

“I’m so thrilled right now, I don’t think I can go to sleep just yet. I can’t believe this is happening,” you whispered with a beautiful grin.

Joel couldn’t help but notice how you were beaming now, how much worry you had carried the last couple of days because of him. He felt infinitely better now that the joyful spark had returned to your eyes.

Dragging his thumb across your jawline, tracing an invisible line on your soft skin, Joel tilted your face towards him, his heart swollen with love. He hadn’t felt this alive in ages.

“Neither can I,” he admitted in a rasp.

His right hand roamed your body under the sleeping bag until it found the perfect spot to rest: your belly. Joel splayed his fingers over your lower tummy protectively, wanting to shield you both from any harm.

You hovered one of your hands over his, your palm stroking the back of his hand in a light caress. It felt like such an intimate moment, a respite among all madness and darkness, that he knew he would treasure it forever. When days would become hard, he’d only have to think back to this exact moment in time ― both of you cocooned in a sleeping back, warm and loving, calm and happy.

Fuck, was he happy and grateful. It still felt like a dream, but this was real. You were real. Yes, he was fucking scared out of his mind too, but the joy he was feeling right now eclipsed everything else.

With rough lips, he coaxed yours apart, the tip of his tongue tentatively swiping your teeth so you would let him in ― the place where he felt most at home. And you happily complied with a subtle sigh. Your tongues curled around one another, your sultry taste and sweet scent overtaking all his senses.

Joel felt your hand dragging his downwards and only took him one second to catch on. Soon his fingers were buried under your panties, his hand cupping your mound possessively while his middle finger dipped in your slit ever so slightly to faintly stroke your hooded clit.

Just one stroke.

“Joel,” you cooed, and he inhaled your breathless plea.

“I know, baby,” he hummed back, gifting you with another light stroke.

Your thighs trembled around his hand, and you parted them involuntarily, your body telling him everything he needed to know.

So he obliged, his finger slipping from your clit to your crying hole, gathering the wetness on the tip to bring it back up to your sensitive nub. With languid touches, Joel paid precise attention to your bundle of nerves with his thumb, while his index and middle fingers rubbed your dripping furrow incessantly, his fingertips hitching in your entrance from time to time.

You gasped, chest heaving and back arched, when Joel finally dived those two fingers in your slick, warm entrance. He groaned at your responsiveness, your eagerness, always ready for him. He could never have enough of you; of that he was fucking sure.

Joel nipped your neck, his stubble tickling your skin, then lapped at it while the rhythm of his hand increased. He knew you loved it when he curled his fingers, stroking that heavenly spot that would drive you wild with lust.

Then he suddenly stilled and you grinded your wet pussy against his palm, desperate for release, your hips tilting underneath.

“Joel, please,” you begged in a whisper, your walls clenching around his digits.

“Please what, sweetheart?”

“I wanna come, please let me,” you pleaded with half-lidded, glassy eyes, melting under his touch.

“What a good girl, asking for permission,” he grazed your slack jaw with his bare teeth, then soothed the bite with a kiss. “No, not a good girl, a good momma, aren’t ya?” he corrected himself, his erection swelling at the thought. “Not yet, baby.”

He teased you a bit more, dragging the pleasure, letting it build and coil inside you the way he knew you liked it.

“F-fuck… Joel…” you moaned, his fingers still and deep buried inside you, your hole squeezing uncontrollably.

Your pleas worked, because soon enough Joel was fingering you relentlessly, pumping in and out of you fast ― your gushing cunt making obscene, squelching noises under the sleeping bag. Your moans grew louder as the pace between your thighs increased, your back so arched Joel feared you might break it.

“You can come now, baby,” he spoke softly, knowing you were holding back until you got his permission.

Then your walls furiously fluttered around his digits, choking and clamping and clutching. And Joel fucked you with his fingers through your orgasm, his thumb smothering your clit, applying the right amount of pressure. You keened, breathing heavy, as you came down from your climax, eyes shut and mouth agape.

Joel leaned to kiss you, his wet, pruney fingers still embedded in your leaking hole while your hand teasingly caressed his tummy, his muscles straining in anticipation.

“Feeling calmer?” he asked, the tip of his crooked nose nuzzling your ear as his fingers slid out with a pop.

“Mhmm, way calmer now,” you husked, tipping your face to trap his mouth with yours. “Let me help you relax too, gorgeous.”

A deep rumble coursed through his chest as your tiny fist dove and wrapped around his swollen girth, your thumb gently caressing the leaky head under his underwear.

He was ready just by working you, that was the power you held over him and Joel was fully aware of it. And he didn’t care one bit, he loved that you could get him hard just like that. It was lust, but it was love too; a deep, shared connection ― something he’d not felt before with anyone else.

You pumped him slow at first, your teeth scraping the skin over his Adam’s apple, then his jawline, until you hunted down his lips, swallowing his gruffy moans. Your playful hand stroked him faster, your fingers gripping harder, and he was close to losing his mind.

Then you licked his neck and nibbled his earlobe, and Joel had to summon all strength he could muster to not come there and then. You giggled at his intense reaction ― his muscles so tight he could snap at any moment, his breathing heavier and erratic.

Your hand imposed a devilish pace upon his throbbing cock, jerking him off fast and furious now, seeing how far you could take him before he broke. His balls felt tight and heavy, ready to spill his warm load on your hand.

Joel couldn’t stop groaning even if he fucking tried ― it had only been five days since the last time he fucked you, but those were too many days already. He pursed his lips together, eyebrows knitting in concentration to not come yet, while your mouth ghosted his. A few moans ended up slipping out and you breathed them in as you masturbated him with a tight grip.

And whatever cue he gave you, you knew he was close ― his orgasm imminent. Swiftly you dived your head under the sleeping bag and Joel lost sight of you. You freed his erection and a second later he felt your plump lips seal around his mushroom head.

His hands curled into tight fists, your little licks, taps and laps maddening. Then you suckled the swollen tip as if it was your personal pacifier.

“Holy fuck,” he huffed, shutting his eyes, as your wicked tongue commended him to come, your hand working his shaft dextrously.

Joel couldn’t hold it any longer. With a deep moan, he blew his sticky load in your mouth, and you drank eagerly from him. He felt your plush lips pecking his balls, then his column, and finally the tip, showing gratitude to his softening dick. Tucking his cock back into his underwear, you patted his bulge, gently, for a sweet second.

Then you popped your head out of the sleeping bag with a sinful grin, your thumb swiping across the corner of your mouth to gather a drop of his cum and guiding it back inside. Joel cupped your chin to bring your face closer to his.

“Thanks, baby. Always so thoughtful,” he joked before tasting himself on your tongue.

“Anytime,” you snickered.

You settled across his chest, warm bodies and calmer hearts, and a comfortable silence filled the room. Soon after that, you both fell into a peaceful slumber.

You woke up first, Joel’s arms draped around your shoulders in a solid hug, almost suffocating you. The first morning light filtered through the bare window, casting elongated shadows of the trees outside across the floorboards. Morning dew condensed on the windowpane, frozen like tiny, sparkly snowflakes. Some birds chirped, their melody pacifying. The whole scene was so tranquil, you didn’t want this moment to end.

Loafing about, you nuzzled Joel’s sternum, his thorax slowly rising, then coming down. His heart beat steadily too, so calming it almost lull you back to sleep. Something about Joel sleeping so profoundly made you feel at peace. Both of you had a very much needed rest after a tense couple of days.

You stroked the hairy trail down his belly button absentmindedly.

Joel grunted and stirred under you, his curved eyelashes fluttering a few times before his beautiful brown eyes stared at you. A boyish smile curled the corners of his lips before he closed his eyes again, hugging you closer. Joel buried his nose in your hair, then inhaled audibly.

“As much I’d love to stay here forever with you, I think we should get going,” you laughed, palming his chest.

He groaned, pinching the bridge of his aquiline nose. He wasn’t a morning person.

“Alright. I’ll get up just ‘cause you’re asking nicely,” he conceded, one hand reaching out of the sleeping bag to unzip it.

The cold air hit you both and you regretted your decisions, but if you wanted to find Tommy soon, you were not going to achieve that from this cabin, as idyllic as it felt to be here, in your bubble with Joel.

Half an hour later you were both up and fully awake. Joel was packing away the sleeping bags when he suddenly stopped.

“Fuck. You didn’t check on the battery last night, did you?” he asked, rubbing the back of his neck.

You bit down your bottom lip and shook your head no.

“Shit. No, I didn’t. I, well― got distracted,” you replied apologetically, a nervous chuckle slipping.

“You mean I distracted you, right?” the teasing edge to his voice made you smile. “Don’t worry, love, ‘s alright. I’ll go check on it before we go into town.”

Joel brought you in for a hug, his hands lacing on the small of your back. He brushed his lips against yours in a chaste kiss and you wanted to laugh so badly, you sniggered. This man, pretending to be so decent now.

“What’s so funny?” he enquired, a cocked brow, not letting you go of his embrace just yet.

“You being so gentlemanly and proper now with your decorous kissing, as if you didn’t make me come with just your fingers last night. As if I didn’t eat yo―” you jested bluntly, butterflies filling your belly.

Joel growled at your provocation, interrupting you, his hips flush with yours.

“That nasty mouth of yours is gonna be my downfall one of these days,” he muttered. Then he kissed you, his tongue quick and ravishing. “Enough. Stop being so damn tempting.”

He let go of you, taking a step back and turning around. You took the opportunity to smack his ass before he walked off with a smirk on his lips.

You stayed inside, gathering all the bits and stuffing them back in your backpacks. You were going to venture into Oswego today again, stake out the town and the area where Joel thought Tommy and his group would most probably be.

Shuffling through your belongings, you found the pregnancy test you took a few days ago. The digital screen was still displaying the positive result ― one you dreaded, but then embraced.

In the span of forty-eight hours, you thought your relationship with Joel had crumbled down and reduced to nothingness, to then come back stronger like a phoenix rising from its ashes.

The look on his face when he thought you were leaving him still haunted you ― you hoped he would forget that feeling sooner rather than later. His confession had tugged at your heart so much, you had forgiven him after the first sentence. But you had let him keep on talking, because the self-indulgent part of yourself wanted to hear him say all those things. It wasn’t often that Joel Miller would make use of his mouth to verbally express his feelings.

You smiled to yourself, tremendously happy with how the situation had turned out in the end.

Throwing your backpack over your shoulders and Joel’s hanging from one arm, you walked outside with the pregnancy still on your hand, daydreaming ― your grin now permanently sculpted into your features.

Then you heard a voice you quickly recognised.

Tommy’s.

You froze halfway through the three steps on the porch, your gaze scanning the area until you found them.

Joel had a very schooled expression, almost blank, while Tommy frowned, gripping a shotgun close to his chest.

“You’ve been following me?” the younger Miller asked, visibly upset.

“Yes, we have, you dickhead,” Joel replied, his voice restrained. “You just left a―”

“We?” Tommy scoffed, taking a step back. “You’ve not ditched her body yet?”

Joel’s hazel eyes found yours, still glued to the steps. A silent plea for you to go back inside, sensing this would not end well. And you tried ― you took a step back to run back into the cabin, but Tommy was quicker.

Tommy turned around and almost jumped back as if he had seen a ghost. Probably because he thought he had.

You raised your hands up, showing him you were no threat.

“Hey, Tommy,” you greeted him with a feeble smile. “If you keep pointing that gun at me, I’m gonna start thinking it’s personal,” you joked to diffuse the situation.

“Tommy,” Joel’s firm voice made his brother looked at him askance, his pupils fixed right back on you. “Hey.”

Joel’s fingers wrapped around the barrel, pushing it down so it wouldn’t point at you anymore. You could see Tommy’s stiffness from the distance, ready to do whatever it was necessary.

When Joel yanked at the shotgun, Tommy broke eye contact with you to stare at his brother, not letting go of the shotgun.

“How’s she alive?”

“It’s a long story, bu―”

“She’s fucking infected. You’re fucking infected!” he screamed in a panic, stumbling back with his own feet and then directing the gun back at you.

Joel tried to approach him while you stayed as still as possible, your breathing hitching. Would he shoot? You hoped not, but he looked scared enough to do so.

“Tommy, listen to me―” Joel attempted to talk to him again.

“What’s that you’re holding?” Tommy snapped at you, ignoring his brother.

You paled. You had forgotten the pregnancy test was on your hand, lost as you were in your train of thought when you had walked out of the cabin.

No words left your mouth ― your orbs quickly found Joel’s. Both of you, frightened to death. Not for yourselves, but for your baby.

Tommy wouldn’t hurt you, would he? Unconsciously, your free hand dropped to your belly, wanting to protect this new life you were harbouring, growing.

Tommy’s façade fell, his jaw slack.

“You’re PREGNANT?!”

Joel reacted first, standing in the way, the barrel kissing the center of his chest. Then he pushed Tommy back, his composed expression gone. He was angry, you could tell. Really angry. You had only seen him that irate the night those two men almost raped you.

“If you ever point that gun at her again, I swear to fucking God, I’ll kill you myself with my bare hands, Tommy,” he growled.

Tommy blinked rapidly, his resolution coming back as he cocked the gun again.

“You both have lost your fucking minds,” Tommy scoffed, walking backwards towards the woods. “Don’t follow me anymore. Leave me the fuck alone.”

A minute after, the younger brother disappeared between the trees and Joel rushed to your side, his anger transforming into urgency.

“We gotta go.”

His words were impregnated with the same panic you were feeling.

Unbelievable, Tommy thought.

Had his brother gone mad? What the fuck was he thinking? And how were you alive? What kind of sinister magic was that?

He had so many unanswered questions, his head throbbed with an impending headache. Tommy needed the distance and the time to think this through. At first, he had been elated at seeing his brother after so long, but the excitement quickly shifted the moment he saw Joel accompanied by you. And fucking pregnant, by the looks of it.

Shaking his head, Tommy hooted like an owl, letting the people keeping watch know that he was approaching the two houses they all had been living in. The two buildings were on the forest boundary, far enough of other homes but close enough to town.

Bursting in through the doors, Laney met him in the corridor, hands on hips.

“So?”

“They are here. And what’s worst, she’s alive and pregnant,” Tommy almost spit the last word out.

Laney’s scowl deepened.

“Pregnant? Like, with a fucking zombie-like monster growing inside of her?”

The emphasis on that specific word made Tommy frown. He wouldn’t go as far as to say that. Laney could be a little dramatic sometimes.

“Well, I don’t know. No, I don’t think so? I mean, she looked fine, so I guess―” Laney walked past him, interrupting what he was saying. “Where are you going?”

“On patrol. Need to go into town for some supplies.”

“Need a hand?”

“No. Stay here, keep watch.”

And with that, she stepped out and closed the door behind her, leaving Tommy in the middle of the hallway with a nagging doubt picking at the back of his brain.

@yesjazzywazzylove-blog @pedrospurplerain @missladym1981 @fancyyoouu

@smolbeanzzz @guelyury @bishtrouille @harriedandharassed

@thepalaceofmelanie @eternallyvenus @theoraekenslover @vickie5446

[winchester-24]

Imagine accidentally waking Dean up while baking a pie for his birthday

It was 3:46 in the morning, and you were exhausted. You have been decorating the bunker all night, wrapping gifts, and baking a homemade apple pie for Dean’s birthday. Dean never wanted to celebrate his birthday. He always downplayed it and made a joke that it was just one more year closer to death. Not this year though. Your boyfriend was going to get the celebration he deserves whether he likes it or not.

You knew a little about baking, but you were not an expert. You didn’t know the first thing about making homemade dough or pie filling, and at 2 o’clock in the afternoon, it seemed like a great idea. Now, over 13 hours later, you realize you hate yourself.

Dishes were everywhere in the kitchen; ingredients spread about, and flour covered you as you accidentally spilled some, okay a lot, on you at your first attempt to make the dough. You will never underestimate the bakers that make these for a living ever again. You were kneading the dough when it started to smell like something was burning; you looked behind you at the stove and realized your filling was boiling over.

“Shit, shit, shit,” You cuss quietly as you rush over to take the pot off the stove. The flour and egg mixture on your hands did not help you hold the handle when it slipped from your grip and fell to the floor. The pot makes a loud noise as it hits the floor, and your filling goes everywhere. You were ready to cry and scream right then.

You walked away and took a deep breath, trying to regulate your emotions. You were just tired, and you were doing this for one of the most important men in your life. It was a good thing you bought extra of everything. When you heard him, you went to grab something to clean up the filling with.

“Uh, sweetheart? What’s going on?” You whipped around to see your half-awake boyfriend standing in the doorway. His shirt was gone, and his sweats hung dangerously low. You took in the most beautiful sight before you. You stared at him, completely forgetting he had asked you a question.

“Oh, um, I am baking?” You said it more like a question than a statement. Dean looked around and let out a little laugh.

“I didn’t know baking involved food being on the floor- wait, is that pie filling? Are you baking a pie?” You sighed.

“Yes, I am making a pie, and it's not that you need to be concerned about it. Go back to bed.” You try to usher him out so you can continue without giving too much away, but Dean Winchester was an intelligent man and quickly put it together.

“Baby are you making a pie for my birthday?” he said, walking over to you. He was going to put his hands on your waist, but then he saw the flour all over you and decided against it.

“Ugh, yes, but you weren’t supposed to see it until tomorrow. Surprise!” You pout. Dean looks at you and thinks you are the most adorable person in the world, staying up late to do something nice for him. You looked cute and covered in flour, trying to do something you never did for him. It made him feel loved and made him appreciate you even more.  Not caring about the flour any more, he grabs you by your waist and pulls you in for a kiss. Much to your displeasure, he ends the kiss too soon and looks at your darling face. He kisses the top of your forehead.

“Don’t stress over the pie too much, sweetheart. Come to bed soon; you need rest.” You nod your head, and he starts to leave the kitchen. You turn around to resume getting something to clean up the pie filling when he speaks again.

“Hey, baby?” You turn around and see him already with a cheeky smile.

“That’s not the only filling you can clean up.” You gasp and turn red in the face.

“Dean!” His laugh carries down the hall as he goes back to bed. Your mind is on things other than the pie the rest of your baking time.

[janeyseymour]

La Cosa Nostra- pt 13

(co-written with @schemmentis): Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4. Part 5. Part 6. Part 7. Part 8. Part 9. Part 10. Part 11. Part 12.

Summary: You and your wife spend some much needed time together, only for it to go up in flames.

WC: ~2.5k

When Melissa comes in, she finds you with both arms wrapped around your girls, them curled into your sides. She sees the tracks of the tears that had been pouring down your face earlier in the night, the pout of your bottom lip, the way that even in sleep and holding your girls you seem to be in distress. 

Melissa quietly gets ready for bed before slipping in between the sheets. Rosie gladly curls up to her when she gently shifts her to her chest so she can shuffle closer to you. The hand not resting on a small back reaches, the backs of her fingers lightly caressing your cheek, imagining she can wipe the now dried tears away from you. “Ti amo, vita mia.” She whispers in the dark of the bedroom.

You blink awake in the dark a few hours later. Your girls are still softly sleeping. You roll over and nearly start crying again when you see your wife asleep and holding Rosie. You knew she would be home, eventually. Still, seeing her is a relief. You curl in closer to her as you close your eyes again. Maybe you can get an hour or two of actual good sleep now that Melissa is here. Before your girls try to pry your eyes open again.

You somehow manage to wake before either of your girls, or your wife. You convince half awake twins to settle for kissing Melissa's cheek and whispering good morning before you get up and get them breakfast. You don't even have to remind them to be quiet when they go back to do the same to say goodbye before taking them to school. You know they miss her, even after only one late night. You do too. But you'd hate to take any more rest from her.

You hug the girls goodbye at school and are walking across the lot back to your car when your phone rings. Your brow furrows. Your phone hasn't rung since you were taken off the salon. You tug it from your pocket, your confusion growing at Tony's name on the screen.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Y/N. Could you come down to the salon? It's kind of important.”

“Isn't all that your job now, Tony?” You all but sneer. 

“Look, we gotta talk about some of the financials. So I need you to help me sort it out, alright?”

You roll your eyes. “I'll be there in a minute.” You reluctantly agree, hanging up before Tony can say anything else.

Despite you not being a part of the operation anymore, you still step through the back entrance of the salon. Tony wants to call you in? Then you're going to come in at the business end of it. 

You stop halfway down the hall at the door of the back office being open. When it was you; you never left it open and unlocked. Too many important things were kept there. You glance inside, raising an eyebrow at the near emptiness of the office. The file cabinets are gone, and so is everything from on top of the desk. The room is empty aside from that desk in the middle of it.

“There you are.” Tony says as he turns down the hall. “C’mon.” He tugs you lightly by the arm into the office, shutting the door behind him. 

“Quite the rearrangement, Tony.” You comment, putting your hands in your pockets as you pace around the desk. “What's goin�� on, huh? What'd you suddenly need me for?”

“The ledger.” Tony says, cutting to the chase. “We need the ledger for the other business.”

You look at Tony, head turning to the side. We? You think to yourself as you study him. Suddenly it's we. And you're not a part of that we. “No.” You finally say.

“What?? What d’you mean no? Look, Y/N, my ass is on the line now, and we need that ledger that you have to have.”

“Oh, I have it.” You say. For all intents and purposes, you do. Only you and your wife know where it is. “I just ain't giving it to you. Tell whoever you're answerin’ to that if they want it; they better talk to me directly. ‘Cause I ain't trustin’ it with you, Tony. I wouldn't have trusted you to balance the cash register drawer.”

He goes to argue, but your phone ringing interrupts him. You roll your eyes at him as you leave, answering it.

“Hello?”

“Babe, where are you? Why didn’t you wake me?” your wife nearly shouts into the phone. “I just woke up!”

“Honey, you needed the sleep,” you tell her softly.

“What I needed was to see my girls off to school and to check on my wife before heading into work- on time!”

Her shouting at you makes you tear up all over again as you slam the door to your car. “I’m sorry. I’ll come pick you-”

“Don’t even bother,” Melissa huffs. “I’ll walk the few blocks.” And then she hangs up on you. 

Your heart nearly shatters in your chest, and your eyes instantly well up with more tears that threaten to spill over. “Mel,” you whisper out softly.

You do still drive the way to her work, and when you get there, she’s just storming in. It’s clear she’s on a warpath as she slams the back door and throws her bag on the chair in the office. You step in a few seconds later, sending a sympathetic look at Valentina; she looks horrified.

“Mel,” you whisper as you wrap your arms around her waist, trying to stop her anger. She just shrugs you off. “Mel, please.” Your voice breaks as your heart actually does shatter this time. 

She turns around at the hiccup in your voice, and there’s a fire in her eyes that dies out as soon as she sees the redness in your eyes and the tears that are there.

“Mi amore,” she whispers as she pulls you in.

“Mel, I- I’m sorry,” you whisper. “I’m so sorry I didn’t wake you this-”

“Hey,” she hushes you gently. “Don’t worry about it. I’m sorry I got so frustrated and yelled. I just… this all has me stressed to the max, and I took it out on you. I’m sorry.”

You cry into her shoulder, and your wife is quick to kick the door shut with her heeled foot. You cry just as harshly and abrasively as you did last night, although this time you don’t have to stifle the sobs that come bubbling out of your body.

“Honey,” she whispers as she rubs your back soothingly. “Baby.”

“I- I don’t even know,” you continue to shake with the sobs that rack through your body. 

It takes you much longer to calm down than she hopes. But eventually she does, and after checking her progress on the ledger, she ushers you out of the building. She shouts to Valentina that she’s in charge, at least for this morning, and if someone comes in with an envelope full of money to just leave it on her desk.

“Melissa, you can stay,” you whisper as you wipe at your nose with your sleeve. “I’ll be- I’ll be fine.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Melissa answers, leading you to the passenger side of your car. “If anything big goes on; Val will call me. Right now, you’re more important, amore.” She squeezes the hand she’s been leading you out by lightly, her head nodding for you to get in.

It’s only once you do that she closes the door for you before rounding the car and sliding into the driver’s seat. She reclaims your hand once you’ve buckled your seatbelt, kissing your knuckles as she pulls out of the parking lot.

“You really could have stayed.” You say quietly.

She squeezes your hand again, glancing away from the road just long enough to raise an eyebrow at you before looking back. “I’m not gonna leave ya when you’re clearly not okay. And don’t go saying you’re fine. I know when you’re lyin’, remember?”

You sigh, leaning back in your seat for the short drive back to your home. “I’m just…over emotional with all the changes. It’ll pass. I’ll be fine.”

“You’ll be fine, that much is true.” Mel agrees though she keeps a hold of your hand held in her lap. “But I’m not going to just expect this to pass. It’s been a lot lately, yeah. But it ain’t like you to just…” She sighs, without finishing. “You’re gonna tell me ya weren’t this way last night, too? Before I got home?” She asks softly instead, her thumb gently passing repeatedly over your knuckles.

“It doesn’t matter.”

Melissa nods, with a half grin on her face. “Which just means yes.” She says. “This is more than just everythin’ goin’ on- even if it has been a lot lately. For right now, stop tryin’ to fight me on stayin’ home, and consider talkin’ to me and lettin’ me help instead, huh?”

You don’t say anything else on the rest of the short drive. Instead, you consider everything over in your mind. As if you haven’t already a hundred times. By the time you’re following Melissa into the house, you could have another anxiety breakdown without much push.

You gladly slip into her side on your couch, her arms that had been held out in invitation instantly wrap around you. You sigh, though you don’t begin crying again. You return your wife’s embrace equally, clinging to her as much as you’re curling up to her side.

“Talk to me, tesoro.” Melissa repeats quietly, kissing your temple as she holds you close.

“Did Sammy tell you I almost turned myself in the other week? When they had you in the station?” You can guess her answer before she gives it based on how you feel her briefly freeze against you.

“No.” Melissa finally answers, one of her hands gently rubbing across your shoulders. “He didn’t. Probably ‘cause he already knew I was seconds away from tearin’ somebody to shreds that day. You really almost did?”

You nod, sniffling slightly. “I just…didn’t know what else to do. All this pressure on us and then gettin’ you so involved….them tearing apart Twelve Tables… God, that was as bad as watching somebody beat you, Mel. It’s like the same thing. You worked so hard for it and they ruined it because of me and—”

“Shh,” Melissa murmurs, tugging you into her lap to hug you even tighter. “None of it’s because of you, amore. We talked about all this plenty before we got serious, didn’t we? Then all over again before we got married? Don’t go actin’ like I’m some innocent little housewife over here, huh? You treat me better than that. You treat me like your partner, your equal, in everything. Includin’ all this. I knew what we were gettin’ into when we started, baby. We both did.”

“I know,” you mumble into her side. “But now... it’s so much more than just us and the business. We have your restaurant now. We have the girls now. The only thing that stopped me from turning myself in was the girls. I- I couldn't turn myself in and miss everything for the next ten to twenty years... the teen years, graduating and sending them off to college, high school boy or girl drama... potential grandbabies.”

“If either of them has a baby before they’re twenty, we are going to have problems,” Melissa chuckles lightly.

“Well... if I wasn’t there, you know that data shows kids with one absent parent statistically are more likely to fall into...”

“Not our girls,” your wife states firmly. “If anything happens to one of us, I have full faith that those girls will stay on the right track because of whoever is left with them.”

You just sigh into her, inhaling the scent of the perfume that she has on. You take a few shaky breaths, tears threatening to spill over again. They don’t though. You have your anchor right now.

“What do you need right now?” your wife asks you gently, once your breathing becomes more regulated. “Comfort, a solution, or to just... sit in the shit together?”

You shrug against her, and she only kisses your head as a response. You end up falling asleep, and when you wake up, Melissa is no longer next to you. In fact, the only reason you wake up is because your two tiny terrors are jumping on the couch next to you despite your wife’s quiet protests.

“Girls, let Mam sleep,” you can hear the redhead sigh as she drops their backpacks at the door.

“We are!” Rosie protests. “We just want to cuddle her and make her feel better after last night!”

Your response is to pull them both close to your chest with a soft sigh as you keep your eyes closed. “Mam needs some Cat and Rosie snuggles.”

“‘See?” Cat tells your wife pointedly. “Mam needs us!”

You hear Melissa’s low chuckle before she exhales quietly. “Is Mam going to be okay if I head to the restaurant?”

“Can we come with you?!” Rosie asks. “I miss Auntie Val.”

“Stay with Mam,” you tell them gently as you pull them further into your lap. “Cuddles, some pizza, and-”

“I only like the Pizza that Vince makes at the restaurant,” Cat tells you.

“We can order takeout from Mommy’s restaurant then,” you try to placate.

“Why can’t we just go there?” Rosie whines out as she tries to break free from your hold. For such a small little thing, she sure is strong. She ends up getting out of your restraint, and she’s quick to put her shoes on and grab her backpack before taking hold of Melissa’s hand.

“Girls, why don’t you... go grab some coloring sheets and crayons from the basement?” your wife suggests. They run off.

“They are not going to the restaurant now that it’s the front,” you tell her.

When you expect your wife to agree, she merely shrugs. “There are usually other kids with their parents, and the guys drop off in the back.”

“Melissa!” you say sternly. “My girls are not going to a front!”

“They are our girls,” she tells you firmly. “And I think... I think that if they’re at the restaurant, and the Feds show up, having the girls there will help fool them into thinking we aren’t up to anything.”

“Melissa.”

She just shrugs. “You want them off our backs? I think this is the best way to get them off our backs.”

You go to protest her idea again, but the girls come running back with new boxes of crayons and a multitude of coloring sheets in their hands.

“Come on, sweet things,” she says softly. “We can all go to Twelve Tables.” The redhead takes both of their hands, grabs their backpacks, and leads them out the door. You fume as you follow behind her. You can’t believe she would go against your wishes and make such a big decision on her own.

Tags: @thesapphictimelady @marvel210 @itisdoctortoyousir @morgana-larkin @thesamesweetie @doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou @marvels--slut @gwennybriggs @megamultifandomtrashposts @lemz378 @http-sam @melissaschemmentisbranzino @imaginesmultifandoms @sexysapphicshopowner @lilfartbox1 @maybe-a-humanbean @imlike-so-gaydude @sapphicxrat @a-queen-and-her-throne @sunsol-22 @notinmyvocab @melanielaufeyson @dvrkhcld

[badbatchsprincess]

Heated ~ pt.21

Pt.1 ~ Pt.2 ~ Pt.3 ~ Pt.4 ~ Pt.5 ~ Pt.6 ~ Pt.7 ~ Pt.8 ~ Pt.9 ~ Pt.10 ~Pt.11 ~ Pt.12 ~ Pt.13 ~ Pt.14 ~ Pt.15 ~ Pt.16 ~ Pt.17 ~ Pt.18 ~ Pt.19 ~ Pt.20 ~ Pt.21 ~ Pt.22 ~ Pt.23 ~ Pt.24 ~ Pt.25

Masterlist

Summary: This is an ABO Bad batch!Poly x Omega Reader smut with a plot. This takes place as an AU before order 66. Y/N previously served under the 501st before being transferred to Special Forces 99. This is her adventure with these rowdy Alphas in a quickly changing universe.

THIS IS AN ABO AU ABOUT THE BAD BATCH (NO CANON OMEGA!) Due to the unfortunate situation of her name being Omega… Omega the child from the canon series is not going to be apart of this fanfic/porn with a plot. I feel obligated to put this warning in because it makes my skin crawl thinking anyone could make that mistake. 

Warnings: Smut! Short chapter my b.

IM NOT DEAD!!! woooo! Sorry there's been such a big break from my posting but I'm going to get back into finishing up this story and getting our precious pip back to her pack. Don't worry! And thanks to everyone sending messages and commenting you make my day and really help me stay encouraged to write. So thank you!

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

You stared at your reflection in the mirror, gazing at the somewhat hollow figure of yourself. 

The monstrous silver collar weighed heavily on your spirit and collarbones. 

You traced your fingers over the indents where you had used a butter knife in a futile attempt to pry it off. Stolen from the mess, of course—it had been confiscated immediately. (Imperials are no fun.)

This followed the explosive outburst after that dreadful meeting in Tarkin’s office. 

The fight you put up required multiple troopers to pin you down, with the help of Crosshair to calm you as they forced this constricting collar onto you. Your screams had echoed throughout the entire base like the roar of a Zillo beast.

That was two days ago.

You didn’t even have the strength to get out of bed. It was so dehumanizing to be reduced to this… breeding stock? 

You didn’t know. 

You couldn’t think about it without feeling sick to your stomach. It made you itch with rage. The fantasies of murdering Tarkin were becoming more gruesome by the hour.

The 104th tried to visit, but you just curled up in bed, trying not to cry. Their voices and concern only reminded you of the 501st. You did your best to stifle your grief. They left with forlorn expressions and a curt shrug from Crosshair when they asked when you’d come out again.

Crosshair tried to nudge you out of bed, but you just burrowed deeper into the blankets, determined to remain in solitude. He sighed and left you be, feeling your despair through the bond.

Now, here you stood in your apartment bathroom, wearing Crosshair’s clothing, poking at the reminder of your purpose here. 

Your neck was raw from tugging at the collar; Crosshair had smeared bacta on the open sores that morning, and you looked at the red healing lines. 

You were suddenly overcome with the need for your other alphas. You craved the security they provided. Even when you were on the run, doing strange jobs for Cid, you felt secure with them. 

You missed their warmth, their hands, their pleasure… your home. You just wanted to scent them again, curl up in your nest, and never leave.

You looked back in the mirror and ran your fingers over the Aurebesh engraved in the metal:

“Property of CT-9904.”

You stared into your own empty eyes and decided enough was enough. The Imperials were winning if they could break you.

Fascist fucks. 

You took a deep breath and steadied yourself, willing your spirit to lift. 

Enough moping. 

It’s time to fight.

Grabbing the leather tie belt from the counter, you wrapped it around the large shirt, tying it at the waist to resemble Jedi robes. Then you pushed yourself away from the sink and turned toward the main living space. You grabbed a pair of slippers, hit the door lock, and stepped out into the hallway, making your way to the training center.

Crosshair had been ordered to track down your pack and had to pretend nothing was different. His new team of stormtroopers were inexperienced and desperately needed Crosshair’s knowledge if they were going after the Bad Batch. He had been working with them for the past few days, preparing them for this high-risk mission.

It wasn’t long before the security detail filed in behind you, following Tarkin’s orders. Two 104th infantry men flanked both sides, keeping a respectful distance but serving as a reminder that you couldn’t run far without being caught. You chose to ignore that last detail, but whatever.

Omegas and Alphas pressed themselves against the walls to let you pass. This was the one change you noticed drastically since your little show in the cafeteria and your grand escape from the facility. You were not an omega to be trifled with. You noticed the other omegas didn’t dare meet your gaze. Good. Stay away.

You had a reputation to uphold.

Descending the metal stairs, you floated down the corridor to the training rooms. Inside were endless rows of workout equipment for the regs, but more importantly, the open training mat where Crosshair was running drills with his new squadron. He sensed you immediately and gave you a discerning glance before turning his attention back to his men. However, you scented the alpha you were looking for. On the viewing platform, Wolffe sat watching Crosshair in silence. You filed in next to him, sitting down in acknowledgment.

“It’s good you’re up,” he said, keeping his gaze fixed ahead.

You sighed. “Can’t let them win. Not even the small things.”

He nodded. “You’re right.”

You nodded in return. “Did it work?” he asked.

You nodded again. “Light turned green. It’s just a matter of time.”

“Good.” He smirked. “I heard all about it from my men.”

You stifled a laugh.

“You would have made a remarkable Republic spy,” Wolffe joked. “Missed opportunity.”

You hummed.

“So, you really had a thing with a reg?” Wolffe asked, turning to face you and leaning back on the bench.

“It was a long time ago,” you said, giving him a sidelong glance.

“Didn’t think regs were your type,” he gestured toward Crosshair with his chin.

“It wasn’t a relationship. Just an… understanding,” you explained.

“I get it.” Wolffe smirked, clearly remembering something fondly. “We may be clones, but we’re still men. Alphas at that… The Republic had a pretty big budget for bunker bunnies.”

You whipped your head around, wide-eyed.

“What?” he laughed. “Your boys didn’t tell you?”

You gawked. “No!”

He snorted. “Yeah, every permanent base, and sometimes they’d bring in a ship for extended encampments.”

You were floored. You had no idea. Then you looked at Crosshair, trying to picture shiny Cross, Hunter, Wrek, Tech, and Echo experiencing that for the first time. You giggled, knowing there was probably some trauma related to that topic.

“What?” Wolffe was amused with your musing. 

“I’m just thinking about my pack. Oh god. I can’t believe all of the 501st was getting down like that and I had no idea.” You buried your face in your hands and laughed. 

Wolffe laughed too, “You really didn’t know?” 

“No!” You shook your head, “I thought quarterlies was like random people!” 

Wolffe snorted, “No darling, there was a special sector just for the girls back in Coruscant. They had the whole floor to themselves. Hundreds of omegas.” 

You squealed, “Oh my god.” 

“Ya know, I recall seeing Echo and Crosshair there a lot now that I think about it. Even your Sergeant a few times I think.” 

If your jaw could hit the floor it would. 

“Yeah. They liked to pop the shinys early. Get them accustomed to being around omegas at an early stage. Nothing worse than the first rut ya know?” 

“And Kamino?” You scrunched your brows. 

“Yeah thats where the first ruts happen.” Wolffe said like it was obvious. 

“Maker.” You shook your head. Images of your pack loosing their virginity flooded your mind. You felt Crosshair’s curiosity spike the bond. He was probably wondering what had you feeling like that. You could feel his eyes on you from across the room.

“Is that not common for nat borns?” He asked curiously. 

“No Commander, it’s not.” You shook your head, “You usually just have it happen naturally, most go through the first heat alone. Then when you’re an adult you might find a partner.” 

“Hmm.” He pondered. 

You were overcome with images of a young Tech trying to understand his alpha instincts. Probably fumbling around confused… poor baby. You shook your head. 

Oh god… Hunter… poor thing with his hyperdrive senses. That must have been so overwhelming the first few times. 

Then you thought of Crosshair. There was no way young Crosshair was ever awkward. He probably knew exactly what to do from the start… that man was too cocky to be anything else. 

You knew he was a whore from the get go… you giggled to yourself.

You’ll never forget that time on one of your first missions with the batch, you saw the way he finessed an omega into banging in a bar bathroom with such ease. It had your mind reeling for days after that. 

You remembered having to rub one out in the marauder fresher to take the edge off after imagining him with that omega for hours. He had come back looking throughly fucked. His hair was mused, his skin glowing from sweat, and the strong alpha scent radiating off of him made the whole ship reek of Crosshair. The others carried on with dinner as usual but you couldn’t help but let your mind wander. That’s when your thoughts about your squad had started, actually. 

The thought made your body suddenly warm. 

Wolffe must have sensed your smell change as he peered at you softly. 

“Excuse me.” You said standing and walking towards the mat directly at your mate. Your guards stayed behind with their Commander while Crosshair ordered his squad to keep practicing their drills while he tailed after you. 

“What’s wrong?” He asked as you lead him over between a row of punching bags. 

You just grabbed this hand and slapped the door panel dragging him into the nearest supply closet and shutting the door behind you. 

The lights fluttered on as he peered down at you, confused by your sudden behavior. 

You felt your heart quicken seeing him in his all matte black imperial amor. It felt so wrong to be turned on by it but, damn did he look good. So tall, so masculine. So… Alpha. 

“What, omega?” His voice dropped an octave sensing your becoming flustered through the bond.

You looked up at him meeting his steely gaze. You felt your core pulse, “Echo said you all had developed feelings for me when I first transferred, but I never told you when it happened for me.” You felt your chest starting to heave trying to keep up with your sudden rush of arousal. 

His smell was crowding you in a delicious way, like a warm embrace. 

He narrowed his eyes at you and backed you slowly into the near by shelves feeling your pulsing through the bond. He could feel your desperation to cum. He could almost smell it. 

He raised a brow playfully. 

“Remember when we were on Nal Hutta picking up that weapons supply from that shady dealer?” You recounted feeling the steel shelving pressing up against your spine. 

“And you had tripped and fell into the baby sarlac hole?” His memory clearly differs from yours. 

You nodded, “My shoe had been chewed up and the others left you and me in that bar while they hunted down a pair of new boots for me?” 

“Always loosing your shoes huh ad’ika?” He smirked and joked.

“You picked up that omega at the bar.” 

He narrowed his eyes not sure where this was going but listened regardless. 

You panted feeling the heat radiating through the bond and the wetness growing in your panties, “When you finally found your way back to the marauder, I had finished up dinner with the others… You smelled so good and you looked so different. And after knowing what you were doing…”  You remembered the rush of heat that had flooded your cheeks that night. 

Crosshair ran a finger lightly along your jaw making you shudder against the shelves. 

“What about it, omega?” He trailed his fingers to your cheek where he rubbed your skin softly. He could feel the heat in your cheeks now. It made his trousers tighten. 

“Something had changed. I couldn’t get your scent out of my mind. I had to finger myself in the fresher just to get to sleep.” You admitted with a whisper. 

He flashed you his teeth in a wicked smile, “That wasn’t even two weeks after you transferred.” 

“I know.” You sighed as his hands ran down your sides spreading their strong warmth making you purr and flex into his touch. 

“You’ve been imagining me fucking you for all that time?” He asked reaching around to squeeze your bum. You mewled and reached for his breast plate. He slotted his leg between yours pinning your hips to the shelf. 

You nodded. 

“Poor thing.” He whispered. 

“I didn’t ever take advantage of quarterlies because I didn’t want anyone else.” You sighed into his lips. 

“You already knew you belonged to us ad’ika.” He claimed. 

You nodded pathetically. 

“Every mission. Every time you’d come back covered in mud or blaster residue.” You whimpered grinding yourself down onto his leg, “I felt bad hoping you’d need me to patch you up. I just liked being able to scent you.” 

He guided your hips up and down his thigh. You bit your bottom lip holding back your moans. 

“Why did you tell me this now?” He asked adding more pressure to your core watching your face scrunch up as the pleasure was bleeding into your system. 

“I just remembered.” You whimpered, “Then it made me horny again.” 

He chuckled, “It’s your heat coming love.” 

You groaned as a particularly nice ridge rubbed up against you, “Fuck.” Your head slumped against his shoulder. He used a hand to grab your hip helping to guide you along his thigh. 

“Why do you have to look so good in that?” You mumbled. 

“In what, love?” 

“The armor.” You whimpered leaning up to look at him with bleary eyes. 

He smiled and leaned down to kiss you. You moaned deepening the kiss desperately feeling your orgasm starting to approach. 

“You like it, huh?” He smirked pressing kisses to your forehead while he pushed your hips down harder against him. He loved the way you twitched and squirmed under his hands.

You nodded suddenly feel the crest of your orgasm. 

Then it all stopped. You whined as Crosshair pulled away only for a moment before flipping you around harshly and bending you over a stack of near by shipping crates. You gripped onto the cool steel as he flipped up the bottom of his shirt you were wearing and yanked your panties to the side before shoving his joggers down and pulling out his leaking cock. 

You bucked up against him feeling his tip rub through your folds. You let out a pathetic whimper as he continued to gather your slick… too slow for your liking. 

“Alp-“ you were cut off as he surged forwards filling you to the absolute brim. 

You both sighed feeling each other so closely and you tried your best to grind back against him but he continued on pinning you to the crates to create a steady rhythm with his hips. 

“You were always such a good little medic, cyar’ika.” He praised, “I also would be a little reckless sometimes just so I could feel your hands on me.” He ran his hand up your spine to your neck where he fisted the hair at your nape, “We all did.” 

He chuckled thrusting a little harder making you yelp, “Our little omega.” 

“Cross.” You whined pushing back against him. The need to come was all consuming and he, like the good alpha he is, could seem to feel it through the bond. He reached down between your legs and starting making circles against your clit making you jump from the pleasure. 

“Fuck.” You moaned barking down feeling the crest approaching. You also felt Crosshair start to tense up letting you know he was close. His energy was thrumming through the bond intensifying your own sensations making it nearly unbearable. 

Then finally, with a pinched yelp, you bit your lip harshly as you came. 

“Good girl.” He praised into your ear. 

You slumped against the shelves, letting him hold you up as you regained your footing. With the urge to mate now abated, you began to return to normal.

“It’s coming soon,” you said, looking up at Crosshair with worried eyes.

“I’d be lying if I said I wished we had more time,” he sighed, nuzzling your head. “My brothers will need enough time to make a plan.”

“They can do it, though, right?” You wondered, suddenly feeling skeptical.

“They can do it,” he said confidently. “I just don’t know how we can be ready.”

You nodded, understanding his concern. It was frustrating being on the inside and having no idea what was going on.

A ping broke the silence, making both you and Crosshair look down at his com.

“Nala Se wants you in her lab,” Crosshair said, sounding resigned.

You took a deep breath. This couldn’t be good.

“Try not to fight her,” Crosshair sighed, petting your hair and tucking it behind your ear.

“You’re not coming?” you asked, suddenly filled with anxiety.

“Only if you want me to.”

“I do.”

He nodded and then tilted his head toward the door.

You exited first, grabbing onto Crosshair’s arm as he walked the two of you to the lab. Fortunately, the walk was quick and short. Nala Se’s office was just inside the infirmary, where a few regs were getting their check-ups. A couple of mating bites were being cleaned and treated, while others had come in for deep scratches down their backs. Clearly, the regs had been busy.

It didn’t escape your notice that every single one of them turned to look as you passed by. Crosshair’s presence was intimidating enough, but they couldn’t help but be curious about his mate. You could smell their scents spike as you walked past, clearly intrigued by your unique smell. Some even tipped their noses up to get a better whiff.

Crosshair approached the private lab and opened the door, allowing you to step inside and leave the room of wandering eyes behind you.

“Y/N,” Nala Se’s floating voice made you tense.

You stared at her, keeping your grip on Crosshair.

Crosshair looked down at you before addressing Nala Se. “What did you need my mate for?”

“She’s been ordered to have her remaining birth control dissolved in anticipation of her upcoming heat.”

You couldn’t help but lean a little closer to your mate, feeling your anxiety increase.

“Shouldn’t it just dissolve on its own?” Crosshair questioned. “I’d like to avoid putting her through more stress than she’s already had.”

“While I would normally agree, these orders have come from the Admiral,” Nala Se explained. “He wants to be certain she’s fertile.”

Crosshair looked down at you again. Knowing you both had to go through with this, he gently nudged you forward, and you climbed up onto the exam table. Crosshair stayed close, while Nala Se prepared the injector.

You nuzzled into Crosshair’s chest, and he soothed you with gentle back rubs. You felt Nala Se approach and press the injector to the implant site. With a quick jab, the dissolver was administered, and you felt the cooling medication spread under your skin. You flinched slightly when she pulled away, and Crosshair quickly nuzzled your cheek to keep you still. A small badge was applied, and then you were effectively dismissed.

“Once her heat begins, we will need to be informed,” Nala Se reminded you as you practically yanked Crosshair out of the lab.

In mere seconds, your scenting abilities came to life. Everything around you seemed to brighten. Crosshair’s heady scent enveloped you, followed by the unmistakable smell of regs. It was overstimulating.

You winced as you entered the infirmary. Crosshair noticed and knelt down to get a good look at your wild eyes, sensing your panic through the bond.

“Is it happening?” he asked, looking worried.

You shook your head. “No, no. I just… I can smell everything.”

“Let’s get you back,” Crosshair said, standing.

“Actually, I require your mate for one other test,” Nala Se said, appearing with her holo pad.

“It can’t wait?” Crosshair snarled.

You patted him gently on the shoulder, reminding him to stay calm and that you were okay.

You followed the long-necked alien back into her office, letting Crosshair remain at the door like a glorified bodyguard.

“I require a sample of your DNA,” Nala Se explained, leaving you to stand in the middle of the sterile white office.

“Blood?” you asked.

“Yes,” she blinked before grabbing her tool.

You held out your hand, letting her draw blood from your palm.

“Why are you doing this, Nala Se?” you questioned, watching her take your sample and not the sequencer. “Why would you help these people?”

“The Empire destroyed my home, and they’re threatening my loved ones,” she deadpanned. “I’m not here of my own volition.”

You were shocked she answered at all. You had always thought she agreed to help because of the money promised to the Kaminoans by the Republic. You had no idea they had destroyed everything. You didn’t know she was a prisoner herself.

You nodded. “Then that makes two of us.”

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

Sorry this chapter is so short. I'm getting back into the swing of writing with my schedule, and according to my outline this was going to be a short/filler chapter anyways. Buttttt don't worry I'll be posting more regularly again.

Taglist: @substantial-exposure

@rains-on-kamino

@minimissmoo

@z-and-the-batboys

@aynavaano

@9902sgirl

@sideofhorny

@sxftiebee

@booksandtitts-blog

@subbing-for-clones

[chrissidepiece]

Bsf!matt bestfreinds

Smut… I did it (idk know if I like it but yeah)

Matt Y/n

Me and Matt fell asleep in each others arms last night he was warm

Warm

Warm

I was always cold and he was warm it felt soothing he fell asleep first then I drifted off to sleep but I couldn’t stop thinking about what will our future be like

I feel Matt groaning he’s trying to me make me lay back down with him June 13 2024

Nmmh y/n lay down it’s too early to be up, what are you doing anyway?

I’m just writing.

Matt sat up his arm around my waist looking into my eyes can I get a kiss he said whilst rubbing his eyes

I have morning breath

I didn’t want to kiss him if my breathe was stinky but matt said otherwise, y/n I don’t give a fuck if your breathe stinks kiss me,

Oddly that turned me on… i liked when he would be more harsh with his words I looked at him and said are you sure?

Y/n. He said looking at my lips with a straight face then he sighed and looked at my eyes

kiss me before I kiss you.

I grabbed his face and gave him a peck on the cheek. He looked at me not surprised he then put one hand on my cheek and the other remained on my waist keeping me close to him

He pulled my face closer I swear we were inches away I could feel his breathe trickle down my neck giving me goosebumps he looked at me my lips then my eyes again he pulled me closer and we kissed.. it wasn’t like last nights it’s almost as if he needed my lips on his and he kissed me roughly

We pulled away after some long seconds a I was out of breath i panted looking into his eyes..

Fuck

I said under my breathe he looked at me with a smirk as if he defeated me and he had won a prize he looked at me

Y/n don’t leave me I love you

I won’t I promise.

He looked at me again his eyes softened he put his hands on my waist and gave me a nose kiss and a quick peck on my neck before bringing me back down grabbing my journal and pen and giving it back to me

our hands brushed against one another I looked away and looked at him flustered

I cleared my throat and looked at his eyes and how his face was so perfect I wanted to kiss him again but I didn’t so I asked if he wanted to see inside my journal

Are you sure I mean. That’s personal I don’t have to look through it

Matt. I said with a stern- ish voice read it and write on your favorite pages

Okay

I got close to him he flinched cause of how cold my body and skin was I layed down and fell asleep

Matt’s pov

She dozed off in my arm I carefully set her down next to me I kissed her nose I opened the first page of her journal

May 1 2020

I got this journal cause of matt I like him and I wonder how long this crush will last I hope it wears off since he’s my best friend I don’t want to lose him he walking in my room

I was shocked that after 3 months she had a crush on me, my pretty girl maybe that’s why she acted so flustered when I flirted with her

I flipped The page wanting to know what she has written next

July 17 2020

I don’t think this crush is going away any time soon but. I think he likes Jess.. yes she’s our teacher but they might as well be the same age. I bet he likes older girls why did I think I had a chance I’m done writing about dumb stupid Matt I’m gonna go cry

Awh. I should’ve never talked about the teacher that way I only liked her because of the fact that y/n looked liked her

It’s been I want to say 1 hour and I’ve been reading her journal entry’s I’m at the one she wrote today I wonder what she was thinking about

June 13 2024

Me and Matt fell asleep in each others arms last night he was warm I was always cold and he was warm it felt soothing he fell asleep first then I drifted off to sleep but I couldn’t stop thinking about what will our future be like I feel Matt groaning he’s trying to me make me lay down

She’s so adorable I love her if I lose her I will never forgive myself.

I put her journal back and rubbed her shoulders softly and kissed her neck softly sucking on her neck harder leaving marks on her neck and shoulders

Y/n’s pov

I woke up to Matt giving me love bites I moaned softly he looked at me smiling at my soft moan from his affection he sucked the part of my neck and shoulder again i moaned again but slightly louder

Mhm Matt.

What do you want pretty girl? Use your words

I want I said in a low voice tripping on my words

This was humiliating considering Matt’s only seen me fully naked 4 times and they all were on accident except for last night so that makes it 5

I got closer to his ear and whispered in his ear softly and lightly I want you Matt, no Matt I need you inside me

He looked at me with glee good girl, are you gonna be a good girl and listen to everything I say?

Yes Matt.

Good girl now strip he watched me drop all my clothes seeing everything drop to the floor

One by one

Now I was only in my laced black panties he looked at me hungrily come here my princess I sat between his legs on my knees staring at him

Spread your legs

As he said this I opened my legs for him to see my glistening cunt I winced at the cold air hitting me

He moved his slender fingers towards my clit he rubbed and felt how wet I was his licked my slik off his fingers he played with my Pantie band

I bit my lip waiting for him to touch me

He dragged my panties down

lift up for me

I did as I was told now I was exposed I was scared but I trusted matt.

Lay down he ordered me

I layed down my legs spread he put my legs on his shoulders he looked at me with lowly lidded eyes he kissed my cunt and he stuck one of his fingers inside of me

I moaned softly as he kept going I stared at him waiting for another finger

You ready for another one baby?

Mhm I say as I moan lightly

He stuck 2 fingers in pumping in and out he found my spot curling his fingers touching my spot I moaned louder ffg fuck mh so good I say in heavy breath and Moans

He put his face to my cunt he sucked on my bud making my legs pull his face closer because I tried to close my legs as the pleasure got more intense

M- Matt I was panting This was the time of my life

fuck MaTt I’m almost t- oh! Y- yes I love you the knot in my stomach got tighter can I please cum I need to please Matt

I said asking for permission to cum cause I needed to be a good girl my eyes were rolling to the back of my head all that could be heard was me panting and Matt praising me

Yes you’ve been a good girl you can cum

Then the knot snapped he kept pumping me riding off my high and then he pulled away from my cunt my eyes were low but I looked down at his lips they had my fluid all over them he licked his lips and sucked on his fingers making a pop sound

I was panting trying to catch my breathe

Sweetheart are you sure your ready for me? I looked at him and nodded my head vigorously he took his shirt off and his boxers he was hard and it hit his stomach lightly

I gulped looking at it it was bigger than I expected

Get on your back

I layed on my back ready for him first he stormed himself then He rubbed the tip against my folds teasing me I licked my lips

Matt please I said needing him in me

He stuck a qauter of his whole self in I panted biting my lip trying not to moan too loudly as his brothers were in the house

He stuck it all the way in staring at me waiting for me to adjust to his size I nodded giving him an okay to move

He moved slowly at first it was a Mix of pain and pleasure then the pleasure washed over and I was going ballistic he looked at me groaning and soon enough he was ramming into me

Who does this pretty little pussy belong to?

Mhgh y- you matt fuck you feel so good in me

Good girl he picked up the speed even though I didn’t know could go any faster all that could be heard was skin slapping and our whimpers and moans colliding

One thing I know for sure is that his brothers heard us

he started whimpering I knew that he was getting closer to the end

I bit my lip trying to suppress my load moans Matt looked at me straight in my eyes

let me hear you

B- mmh your brothers

I don’t give a rats ass cause your mine they can give me shit all they want to but I’m with you right now

Him saying that meant like it has two meanings and fuck that turned me on even more m- matt

Yes sweetheart he said groaning and holding my legs he kissed me passionately then pulled away

He said grunting as he slammed into me my legs started shaking I- I’m close

Me too baby just hold on after a few more pounds he whimpered louder y/n w- where do you want me?

FUCK MAtt so good c- cum inside me

I moaned one last time as Chris cummed inside me he slowly slipped out and pulled his phone out and took a picture of his semen slowly dripping out my cunt

I closed my leg tightly i panted and sat up crawling and went into Matt’s arm he took a picture of me as I looked fucked out of my mind I couldn’t think all I knew is that I was in Matt’s arms

He gave me a kiss on my nose and put me down carefully I’m gonna get a rag and clean you up okay?

Mhm I said laying down he wiped my body off and picked me up he sat me on the toilet and ran a warm bath he set me in the bath smiling at me

Matt I love you so much

I love you more

My phone dinged he walked over to the bed and picked it up opening my phone since he knew my password and it was a text from nick

GIRL YOU DID IT?

I mean a win is a win but babes it 8 in the morning

I can’t believe you finally did it! So proud

I still can’t believe u just got freaky with my brother

Yknow what nvm

Text me back when u can

Matt looked at me confused so you texted my brother to help you get with me?

I covered my face from being ermbrassed

Steptember 2 2024

It’s been 4 months til me and Matt have been together and since I’m in the videos every one and then they see how I’m closer to Matt’s they ship us together I’ve seen edits of me clinging onto Matt and most of the fans ship us together

Matt walked in the room as I was finishing up writing in my journal Matt sat down next to me and kissed my nose in a way that was our way to tell eachother we loved them yes Matt? He looked at me

Soo we’ve been together for quite some time do you want to hard launch?

Are you sure I said because I knew how some of the fans would react

Yes I’m tired of having to wait off camrea to kiss you and love on you

Okay matt I leaned closer towards him and kissed his lips

I looked at my camera roll and found pictures of me and Matt together being a cute couple I posted a “small amount” of pictures of me and Matt

Hard launch luv u Matty!

30k likes

Matthewsturniolo love laying in your lap

^ yourusername than cmere and lay on my lap baby

^Nicolassturniolo finally I don’t have to do more work by editing you two out

^Christophersturniolo Finally they revealed their biggest secert

Sturniololife I KNEW IT THEYRRE SO CUTE TG

Lovingy/n wait I wonder how long they’ve been together?

Nickispooh why isn’t anybody talking abt the 2nd pic okay clingy matt I see you

^ yourusername he very clingy my clingy little Matt

Matthewsturniolo I am not

Yourusername Suree you aren’t.

Chriswife y/n is double caked up

Y/nsear MY DREAMS CAME TRUE

In the vlog we were trying baby food and Matt. Fed me my food everytime not letting me feed myself cause I’m his so called princess and princess get special treatment he wiped my chin and sucked off the excess baby food from his pinky finger

You’re so cute sweetheart

I smiled at him calling me that nick name ironically it made me feel sweet inside

and then nick and Chris rolled their eyes at us and called us love birds and fake gagged

the video was uploaded and the fans went crazy I’m glad we stopped being a secert I love Matt

GUYSS THIS TOOK FOREVER AND IM GONNA WORK IN SOME TEXTS WITH CHRIS AND A ONE SHOT SO BE READYY also here’s masterlist

[hesbuckcompton-baby]

I'm Your Man - Robert 'Rosie' Rosenthal x OFC - Chapter 4

Masterlist | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 |-| Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18 | Chapter 19

AO3

Summary: Frankie and Rosie grow closer in the aftermath of another tough mission

Warnings: Language

Word Count: 3.8k

Tags: @mads-weasley @xxluckystrike @curaheehee @footprintsinthesxnd @dcyllom @storysimp @latibvles @love-studying58

Rosie sat in the cockpit waiting for the order to depart, practically twiddling his thumbs as every minute that passed spurred his anxiety for his team's first mission. He had never been a nervous flyer - quite the opposite, it was the reason he'd been given command in the first place - but the seemingly endless wait left him growing irritable, the headset that covered his ears reflecting the relentless thump of his heartbeat right back at him.

The smell inside the bombers was a constant, permeating combination of sweat and smoke, a smell he could never quite get used to, no matter how much time he spent sitting in it. Pappy was in the seat beside him, using the cuff of his sleeve to wipe a wark off of his goggles that Rosie was fairly certain was a scratch, and no amount of scrubbing would make it yield.

His attention was caught by the sound of yelling outside, the exact words muffled by the glass barrier that existed between the pilots and the outside world. Looking out, Rosie spied Frankie and Lemmons, calling to each other as they approached from either side of the runway. They were each holding empty fuel cans in both hands, and clinked them together like glasses in greeting as they met in the middle. Frankie passed her weight from foot to foot, swaying slightly on her hips as if to a song only she could hear - she must have been hours into her work, and it seemed that on mornings this hectic once she had begun moving she didn't stop.

A huff of laughter escaped him, which drew Pappy's gaze away from his goggles, leaning forward in his seat to peer at the scene outside. The pair of mechanics were in such a hurry that they didn't even bother stopping for the duration of their conversation, still calling to each other over their shoulders as they went their separate ways. As Frankie passed, she noticed Rosie up in the cockpit and offered a wave, her bright, energised grin a far cry from the tired smiles she had offered him the first time they'd met. Sweat beading on her brow in the morning sun, she was practically glowing.

Rosie raised his hand to reciprocate with a shy wave of his own, watching his co-pilot in his peripherals as Pappy craned further forward still to watch her disappear from view around the side of their plane.

"D'ya think her and Egan are a thing?" The man asked. Rosie turned pointedly to look at him, raised brow tilting the rim of his hat.

"A thing?"

"Yeah. Yunno. Together, n' all. Nash told me some of the fellas have been takin' bets, apparently they sang a duet at one of them shindigs a while back."

"You fellas talkin' about the mechanic and Major Egan?" Nash's voice piped up, his head suddenly appearing through the gap between their seats. "Oh yeah, that's definitely happenin'."

Rosie gave Nash a playful shove, forcing him back out of the cockpit. "That is not happening, I promise. Have you even met her?"

Pappy raised a brow. "Have you?"

He paused for a long moment. "... Once. But it was enough to know that is not what's going on there."

"If you say so," His co-pilot shrugged, far from wholly convinced, returning to attempting to clean the mark from his goggles.

"It's a scratch, Pappy, you can't wipe it off."

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Frankie had been running inventory when the planes began to roll back in, tallying up what they had and in what quantities, writing up a list of things they needed to pass on to the higher ups. She stuck her head out of the hut, clinging to the doorframe as she counted the forts passing overhead, the list of supplies becoming crumpled as she shoved it into her pocket, rushing for the hardstand.

"Thirteen," She muttered, calling the number again as she spotted Lemmons. "Thirteen?"

"I counted the same," He confirmed, the colour drained from his face as they tossed their tools into the back of one of the jeeps. Climbing into the passenger seat, Frankie reached over and pressed the back of her palm against Ken's forehead, the younger mechanic batting her away as he tugged on the handbrake.

"No Cleven?" It didn't take a fool to figure out what had shaken Lemmons so fiercely. She had been in full support of his last-ditch effort to repair Cleven's engine, but it had been a makeshift move at best. If his plane had gone down, mechanical failure was far from out of the question.

"No," Ken shook his head, a slight tremor in his voice. "No Cleven."

How the hell were they going to break it to Bucky?

They'd certainly seen forts return in worse shape than this, although Frankie scarcely dared to imagine what state those that hadn't returned had ended up in. The mental image she had created of Curtis Biddick's final moments replayed in her mind, and it was near impossible to fathom the weight of that fear multiplied by the number of men they had lost. Frankie and Lemmons had split up near the interrogation huts, the creased list of supplies clutched in her grip as she slid out of her seat, promising to catch him up once her business was done.

Crowds of disoriented-looking soldiers made their way towards the Red Cross' hut, hopeful hands open and waiting to receive a cup of coffee or a bite to eat as a meagre reward for their feats. As much as she longed to search for familiar faces in the crowd, Frankie found she had more pressing issues at hand - she didn't quite know who to pass on her list to, let alone where to find them, but the longer the mechanics went without adequate supplies, the more forts would be out of commission when it really counted.

Entering through the side door, her gaze scanned the room, landing on the first man she saw with a high-ranking insignia. Squeezing her way through the exhausted men who filled the place like bewildered sardines, she emerged beside the man, pressing the paper into his hand before he even had a chance to register her arrival. Turning his head to her, he looked almost offended by Frankie's presence.

"Supply orders for the mechanics, pass it up to whoever's in charge," She nodded firmly.

The officer shook his head, spluttering slightly. "I don't have time to deal with your shopping list, we've got-"

"No one ever has time for it, but suddenly it's my bloody fault when half of your planes don't fly because we don't have the fucking rivets - take it."

His mouth hung open, but she didn't bother waiting for him to formulate a response, vanishing as soon as she had appeared. Just as Frankie was about to leave again, she caught sight of Rosie among the returning pilots, a weight suddenly lifted from her shoulders. A smile spreading across her expression, she was about to call out to him, when Helen - one of the Red Cross volunteers she had grown somewhat acquainted with - crossed the room between them, the Captain's gaze following her without ever noticing Frankie, moving to follow out through the side door.

Frankie's jaw snapped shut, and she nodded to herself, continuing to make her way outside. It made sense when she thought about it. Helen was a nice girl - pretty - she was sure she'd seen almost half of the 100th ogling her at some point by now. Everyone needed someone to come back for.

They were talking on the edge of the grass as she left, and Frankie kept her gaze purposely averted, glancing down at her hands, which were already dirty. Helen probably never had filthy hands. She kept walking.

"Frankie!" A familiar voice called with its American lilt, and she turned, brow raised. Rosie was jogging up behind her, exhaustion tugging at his features, sweat-soaked curls sticking up at various angles like a startled bird.

"Hi."

He let out a huff as he caught his breath, mouth open to speak for a few seconds before he was actually able to find the words. "H-... Hi."

"You alright?" She asked slowly, gesturing to Helen, oblivious to the way he was smiling at her, the tiredness in his eyes washed out by pure relief.

Rosie followed her gaze, brow furrowing as he nodded. "Nash didn't make it. Him and Helen they were... they were close."

Suddenly Frankie felt so deeply, horrendously stupid that she was almost nauseous. "Jesus. Oh, I'm sorry, I just- I'm really sorry, Rosie."

He shook his head slightly, and she could almost hear his voice telling her not to apologise again. "He was a good kid. Are you ok?"

"Me? Yeah, yeah, I'm ok - shit, all I do is sit around and wait for the action to be over." As she spoke, Rosie's expression grew more and more concerned, and she could tell exactly what he was thinking.

"... Have they told you about-?"

"Cleven? ...Yeah. Ken's really beating himself up about it, I just don't know how they're gonna tell Bucky."

He frowned, and neither of them spoke for a long moment. Sucking in a deep breath, Rosie reached into his pocket, retrieving a slightly squished Red Cross doughnut that he'd wrapped in a napkin. He held it out to her.

Frankie's eyes widened slightly at the offering. "Oh! Oh, no, it's yours, I couldn't. My hands are dirty anyway."

"Who cares? I smell like I just crawled out of a donkey's ass," Rosie joked, and she let out a chuckle as he tore the doughnut in two, holding out the bigger half to her. She felt her cheeks warming up, and prayed the flush wasn't noticeable as she accepted his offering.

It was.

Rosie hid his smile behind the hand he raised to his mouth as he chewed, savouring the taste of sugar on his tongue as it soothed the hoarseness in his throat. "Hope we haven't left you with too big a mess to clean up," He said, brushing the powdered sugar from his fingertips.

Frankie screwed up her face, shaking her head as she finished chewing. "Nah, I've seen much worse. Glad you're back, s'all. Might actually get to bed at a sane time tonight, wouldn't that be something?" She grinned, and he found himself momentarily sidetracked by the smear of sugar that streaked her lip until she wiped it away, his thoughts once again coherent.

"It sure would be."

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Rosie couldn't sleep. It was almost ten o'clock - barely late enough to class his sudden insomnia as problematic - but he found he simply had nothing else to do. As long as he was awake, the guilt of what happened to Nash, the guilt of simply making it back alive, tugged at him like a deadweight, and he was yet to find a pastime that worked as a sufficient distraction. His hope had been that an early night and a deep sleep would wipe his mind clear, or at least give him a few hours of peace.

But alas, it was not to be. Sitting up on the edge of his mattress, feet pressed against the cool floor, the idea of simply waiting for sleep to come, of drowning in his own thoughts until it did, seemed less and less appealing by the second. He got up, tugging on a jacket and some more socially acceptable trousers, and ducking out into the night air, the cool breeze hitting him as his curls blew back and forth.

It was quiet outside. Usually, on nights like this, you could barely walk ten feet without encountering a drunken airman staggering back from the pub, but it seemed the day's mission had soured everyone's spirits. With his hands in his pockets, Rosie strolled down the middle of the road, glancing at each Nissen hut as he passed, silently taking in his surroundings as a welcome distraction.

As he neared the women's huts, he spied another figure coming the other way, her blue uniform skirt swaying with each step, glowing embers dropping off the end of her cigarette as she tapped the ashes away. He was about to ignore her, when she called out. "Oi!" Brow raised, Rosie met the woman's gaze as she strode towards him, taking a final drag of her cigarette before tossing it into a nearby puddle. "You're Captain Rosenthal, right?"

He spluttered for a moment, taken aback. "Uh, yes ma'am."

The woman held out her hand, a smile parting her lipstick-red lips. "George Aarons. I'm Frankie's best friend, she's told me about you."

Suddenly it made sense. But wait - 'she's told me about you'? "Oh. Yes, hello," Rosie nodded, shaking her hand. "I think she has mentioned you."

George's brow furrowed, smirking. "She'd better have. If you're looking for her, she's still working on the hardstand," She added, beginning to continue her walk back to her hut.

He almost rolled his eyes. Of course she was. "Thank you, goodnight."

They had both begun to go their separate ways when her voice rang out in the darkness again. "Poppies."

Rosie turned, expression contorted in confusion. "Pardon?"

"Poppies," George repeated. "They're her favourite."

The corner of his mouth raised in a smile as he shoved his cold hands back into his pockets, beginning to stray towards the airstrip without even noticing.

He had only just made it to the runway, gaze scanning the dark horizon for any signs of life, when the road up ahead seemed to burst into flames, a roaring wall of red rising from nowhere. Rosie frowned, dashing forward, almost out of breath by the time he arrived, slowing gradually to a halt as he took in the scene before him.

The tarmac was indeed alight, the fire burning bright and high, but there was Frankie, sitting about fifteen metres away from the blaze in one of the rickety chairs from the mechanics' hut, a tartan blanket wrapped tightly around her shoulders.

Rosie paused for a moment, taking several breaths to calm his panicked heart before he spoke. "So much for an early night."

She looked up at him, face bathed in the orange glow. She had barely reacted to his arrival, almost as if she'd been expecting him. "This is my last job for the night."

"What, arson?"

Frankie snorted. "No. I'm burning the oil off the runway - it's the best way to get rid of it all, you don't want it all over the place when the planes come in next time, otherwise-" She made a booming sound, imitating an explosion with her hands.

Rosie nodded, gaze cutting sharply between her and the inferno still burning away, the smell of fuel thick in the air. "So this is... this is all good?"

"I'm definitely not about to burn to death, if that's what you're asking."

He realised it was, and it made him feel a little stupid.

"There's more chairs inside," She added, gesturing to the nearby hut. "You can stay if you want."

Rosie's lack of sleep seemed a foregone conclusion by now, so he obliged, heading inside and collecting the chair with the least amount of wobbly legs and bringing it back to where she sat, maintaining a polite gap between them as he sat down.

The burning oil truly did stink, but the longer he sat there, the fire became quite beautiful, really. It was silent for a long time, nothing but the sound of the wind filling the air. Sometimes when it dropped, he could hear her breathing over the whoosh of the flames, but the sudden scraping of chair legs against tarmac tore through the quiet altogether.

"Can see you shivering from over there," She muttered, dragging her chair to close the gap between them, and Rosie realised he was still cold. He had managed to trick himself, to accept the fire's illusion of warmth, but in reality, his jaw had begun to chatter.

Frankie's blanket was huge - folded twice over just so that it wouldn't drag against the ground - and as she stood up he watched her unfurl it, the outline of her body silhouetted by the flames' light. She held out one corner to him, the opposite end firmly in her grip, and as she sat back down the fabric encircled them both, bracketing them together as he was warmed by both the blanket and her shoulder pressed against his.

Her hands remained firmly in her lap, clasped together as she fiddled with the blanket's fraying hem, gaze unmoving as it remained firmly planted on the blaze in front of them. Rosie stared at her face in profile for a moment, unable to suppress his smirk as he leaned back against his seat, just letting the moment be.

"I met George on the way over," He said quietly. Frankie seemed to light up at this, suddenly grinning as she looked up at him.

"You did?!" She beamed, and he couldn't help but laugh.

"Yeah, yeah - she's nice."

"She is the best person in the entire world," Frankie asserted, nodding as if it were a universally acknowledged fact.

Rosie smiled back at her, letting himself lean back against her as she put her weight on his shoulder. "Y'know, I didn't know you could sing."

She scoffed loudly, throwing her head back in a laugh. "Now who the hell told you that?"

"Pappy said you sang with Egan at one of those parties."

Frankie wagged her finger as she spoke, so close to his face that he almost went cross-eyed from watching it. "Just because I did it, doesn't mean it was good."

He chuckled, their foreheads almost touching when he momentarily leant forward. "Alright, point taken."

"If there is one thing I do not have, it's musicality," She grinned. "I just make up for it with my myriad of other talents."

"And I would love to see those someday," Rosie teased, gasping mockingly as she thumped him in the shoulder. Without realising, they had both almost doubled over in their seats, practically cheek-to-cheek as their laughs echoed into the night air. He felt like he was drunk, although it had been days since he'd taken even a sip of alcohol. The stench of oil in the air had begun to subside, and looking up, they both realised the fire had almost wholly burnt itself out.

"Well, shit," Frankie murmured, her breath forming a cloud in front of her face as the temperature seemed to drop instantly, the air turning freezing as the last flame died. She shrugged her corner of the blanket away, rising to her feet, and for a second Rosie felt the urge to reach out and grab her wrist, tug her back down beside him. "Come on," She sighed. "You might have to fly tomorrow, I don't want you exhausted on my account."

He smiled gently at this, letting the blanket drape across his shoulders as he stood, picking up both chairs before she got the chance to take her own. Rolling her eyes, Frankie followed him to the mechanics' hut, keys jangling as she locked the door once everything had been stowed safely inside.

They walked side by side in the dark for a long while, nothing but the occasional barn owl overhead piercing the quiet. A new thought had begun to plague Rosie's mind, and he rolled it around in his head like a marble until he knew it needed to be released.

"Why do you do it?" He asked. She looked at him questioningly. "I mean, all the rest of the ground crew left hours ago, they always do, but you're always here. You must barely sleep, I don't get it."

Frankie frowned for a moment, and then shrugged. "The rest of the ground crew are Americans. It's different for us. Of course, everyone’s got skin in the game these days, but it is different. I mean, before the war I’d never even left Warwickshire, but they destroyed half of Coventry in one night - people walked with their kids and their bags to the closest town ‘cause their homes were just gone. Half the boys I grew up working the garage with are dead now. They joined up and now they’re never coming back... And almost anyone you ask around here has some link to someone who lost a home or died in the bombing raids. That’s why we’ll get up at the crack of dawn and work into the night, ‘cause we’re fighting for our homes.”

Rosie considered this for a while. There was nothing he could say to that. In fact, he felt rather silly for asking in the first place now. He'd joined up because he hated the Nazis - he hated what they stood for and what they believed in, and he wanted them gone. But they couldn't get him, not in his home. They couldn't touch his family. But the same just couldn't be said for people like Frankie. Every job they did, every hour they put in, it was all to maintain that desperate last line of defence, to protect the people they loved.

War was hell. War was fear. But it wasn't that kind of fear, not for Rosie.

He had been so deep in thought that he scarcely noticed when they arrived at the end of Frankie's row of Nissen huts, his footsteps following alongside hers without even thinking about it. Looking up from the ground, his eyes widened as he took in his surroundings for a second, barely a light left on as everyone else tried to sleep off the trying day.

"If I keep walking you to your door like this people are gonna start to talk," Rosie pointed out before he could stop himself.

Frankie shrugged, turning to face him as she began to walk backwards towards her hut, her hand skimming against his arm one last time. "I'd much rather they talk about you than Bucky," She grinned.

The place where her fingers had touched his arm seemed to tingle, and even through his jacket it was as if he could still feel her there, stuck frozen for a moment, mouth hanging open as his mind flailed to come up with anything to say to that. Nothing came to him. As she returned to her hut, he found he could offer nothing but an awkward wave, her giggle echoing in the night air as she waved back, disappearing through the opening in the door.

Rosie just stood there for a moment, passing his weight from foot to foot as he waited for his thoughts to slow down to an intelligible speed. He took a deep breath, puffing out his cheeks as he ran a hand through his hair. He was a pilot, a damn good one - he faced death every day and it never rattled him, not once.

So what the fuck was this.

[deadnymph8]

AEGON II TARGARYEN X READER

content warnings⚠️ loss of virginity (for you), small age gap (3 years), slightly older women/younger man, p in v sex, aegon being a pervy loser, we love it though, small use of Y/N, chubby aegon, always drunk aegon, small bit of public groping, no protection

Notes: Posted originally to ao3 but I took it down and fixed it up a bit. Still this was like my first fanfiction in 7 years so be nice or I'll cry (also haven't used this app in like 8 years forgive me)

In you're teenage years you were the next door neighbor to one of the richest family's in westeros. You weren't necessarily born rich you only lived next door because you're mom ended up re marrying some rich CEO millionaire and swiftly moved in with him.

You're step dad was pretty close with the owner of the house next door Viserys targaryen and due to that you had become accustom to all his children.

You were older then all of them closest in age being the eldest boy aegon, he was three years younger than you but you were close enough in age to get along and become somewhat friends.

You assumed that was why alicent the mother of the children and Viserys's wife came to you and asked you to babysit her kids for a weekend. You were a trusted friend and while yes they could hire a nanny you were told the last one ended up quiting after only a month. newly turned 13 year old aegon broke into the wine cabinet and got plastered.

You didn't get details on the rest but you knew it must have been a bad night since they were struggling to find a new nanny who could stay longer than a month.

Alicents last resort was to ask someone she thought could connect better with the kids, mainly aegon since he was the biggest problem. She needed a strong role model and someone aegon was familiar with. after seeing how aegon behaved in you're presence she thought you to be the perfect candidate for the job and so you accepted.

"I don't need a babysitter I'm 13 for fucks sake!" Aegon argued to his mother as you stood behind her.

"You aren't responsible enough to be trusted alone and that's the last of it!" His mother yelled back. Looking clearly frustrated and exhausted as if she had done this a million times.

You stood to the side of alicent now already feeling uncomfortable. You'd probably be upset aswell if you were in aegon's shoes but alicent insisted she needed a good influence like you.

Aegon stormed off slamming the door of his room. "I'm sorry dear, he won't bother you I've made sure all alcohol is put away...all you need to do is keep him in the house" alicent spoke giving you the rundown on you're job. You took in everything she said, she told you that you wouldn't be completely alone.

They still had a housekeeper that would come in mornings and clean up and you didn't need to worry that much.

That night actually went pretty smooth. Aegon was grumpy and hid in his room most the night while you played with the younger kids on their xbox. Things actually went so well that alicent asked you to come back again.

It actually felt nice getting some of you're own money aswell and to be independent for once

Babysitting had become a regular occurrence for you for awhile. Alicent always praised you for just how well you did with aegon.

Eventually though you turned 18 and you got into college, not the one you wanted but it was only a few hours away and finally gave you a chance to escape you're house and live on you're own.

And how did aegon feel about this? He should feel happy, You were nothing more than a neighbor his mother hired to hover around him and keep him out of trouble. He resented you for that, he hated how pretty you were, how sweet you were to him.

He should be cheering knowing he would have some freedom but with you gone the only thing he felt was this overwhelming feeling of emptiness and loneliness.

He always found himself searching for you're praise. He'd actually get himself to do homework just so he could hear you talk about how proud you were of him.But now with you gone he didn't have a reason to try anymore and almost immediately he fell back into bad habits. Drinking, partying, drugs and sex. He did it all and no matter how much he did over the next three years he could never get rid of that aching empty feeling deep down.

When aegon turned 18 his mother began demanded he go to college. Demanded he make something of himself. He didn't bother trying with any of the big colleges he just found the closest one and decided that was good enough for him to keep his mom off his back. Even if he didn't get in with his grades he'd get in easy being as rich as he was. His father could just drop a generous donation and he'd get in with no problem at all. So when he arrived of course aegon joined the biggest frat on campus. The partys, the girls and the drugs. It all came so easy to him now.

When his frat decided to put on yet another rager he didn't think much of it. After three months here it was becoming his normal. He walked passed the group of drunk college kids, a drink in his hand as he wondered through the halls of the frat house probably long faded by now. originally his mind was set on getting wasted and maybe he'd bang a cheerleader if he was still able to stand.

He turned to the kitchen wanting to refill his cup when his eyes wondered on the back of a girl grabbing a soda off the counter. Something about her was so familiar but he couldn't see her face to find out why.

Mabey one of his many one night stands? or an old classmate oh his? She wasn't dressed like the other girls around. She was dressed casual, Wearing some jeans and a baggy sweatshirt. She definitely looked out of place compared to the small crop tops and short dresses most girls chose to wear.

He began taking a few steps closer. He didn't know why but he felt drawn in to her and when she finally turned around nothing could have fully prepared him for what he saw. You.

It was you. an uncomfortable and nearly sad look on you're face as you opened up your coke and took a drink, eyes wondering around the room full of dancing college kids until they fell on him. For a moment you both just stared at each other, neither really knowing what to say.

"Egg? What are you doing here?" You finally asked breaking the small awkward silence that fell between you both.

That stupid little nickname. Hearing it after so long made his heart race a bit. He always hated when you used to call him that but now hearing it again after so long he'd grown to miss it. Crave it even. Aegon didn't know why but a part of him almost felt embarrassed. Shame even. Her seeing him absolutely wasted after three years of not speaking.

"I'm uh- I'm in the frat" he responded and snapped himself back into reality. "and why are you here? I mean clearly you don't want to be" aegon swiftly added leaning against the kitchen counter in an attempt to go back to his normal self.

"was it really that obvious" you thought to yourself self. "My friend dragged me here...said I should let lose or whatever" you sighed. "And are you? Letting lose?" Aegon couldn't help but smirk at the idea.

He always had a weird fascination with you. All those times you slept over and he'd sneak into your bag of packed clothes and steal you're little white lace panties.

All those times he'd jerk himself off into them imagining himself buried deep inside of you're soaked cunt. All those times he'd spy on you changing through the crack in the bathroom door.

All those dirty dirty memories rushing back to him all at once.

"Absolutely not" The truth was you never cared for partys, you stuck to you're studys and kept to yourself. If it wasn't for you're best friend Tina you'd never consider coming to a place like this on a sunday night before class. You haven't even dated anyone before. You went on a couple dates but ultimately you decided love had no place for you right now.

You needed to focus on you're studys not a relationship

"So...why haven't you left? If you hate it here why not just go home and watch those hot vampire movies you love so much" Aegon always did love teasing you on you're intrests.

It used to annoy you to no ends. "My friend is my ride and she's...busy" you sighed again remembering how you're friend Tina decide to completely ditch you to go off with some guy Leaving you to try and waste time as you waited for her to get done with her boy toy and take you back to you're dorm were you could sleep off the day and this party.

"Why not walk? The dorms aren't far from here?" He asked making you laugh slightly "Walking alone as a woman at night isn't the safest idea eggs" you had pepper spray yes but you really didn't want to risk any trouble especially with a bunch of drunk frat boys all over.

"Why don't I walk you? I need some fresh air anyway" aegon knew he wanted to talk to you, he knew he couldn't let you walk away so easily and now he finally had his excuse. He had spent the past three years missing you're presence and he wouldn't waste the opportunity to get it back.

You took a second to agree but as you looked around at the room of drunk people dancing and making you you knew what you're awnser would be

"Sounds good to me get me out of here" you smiled at him. Gods how he missed that smile. You followed him out of the frat house feeling a sense of relief to be away from the crowd and the loud music blasting in you're ears.

"Soo how's college been?" Aegon hummed walking side by side with you. He looked so smug he always did but what did you really expect from a rich kid who got everything handed to him.

You almost hated how attractive it was. Before you never thought of him of like that but seeing him now, grown. It was like something just broke inside you. It couldn't be attraction? Right?

"It's been fine I guess just a bunch of the same for me, studying and learning and more studying" you rolled you're eyes already feeling exhausted just thinking about it.

"So no boyfriend I'm assuming?" Aegon's smile grew wider. You couldn't tell if he was teasing you or mocking you but either way you rolled you're eyes and refused to give him a response.

He laughed seeing you go quiet "I knew it" he crossed his arms acrossed his chest making frown in annoyance.

"You don't need to rub it in eggs" you sighed as the two of you approached campus and walked up to the dormitories.

"I'm not rubbing in I'm actually glad you're single makes things easier for me" he hummed almost immediately his words made you tense up.

"Excuse me?" you tried to act calm seeing as you couldn't tell if he was being serious or if it was just another one of his many games.

You remembered aegon was always a bit of a flirt even a creep at times with the few times you had caught his eyes wondering to you're chest or hips.

You told yourself he was just a horny teenager and it didn't mean anything.

"Come on Y/N I know you heard me" he said back as you both walked down the hall of the dorms stopping as you reached you're door.

"What are you trying to do here" You finally asked but in response aegon only smirked at you

"you're a smart girl Y/N don't act clueless with me" Before you could speak aegon stepped closer and backed you into you're door frame making a small gasp slip from you're lips.

You told yourself it was the alcohol or whatever drug he could be on that was making him this bold but the way he looked at you let you knew just how serious he really was.

"Do you even know how much I've missed you these past three years how much I have yearned for you" aegon whispered his hands now wondering to you're waist while his head moved to you're neck planting small kisses on you're skin.

"Aegon-" you whined, hands resting on his chest as if you were about to push him away but you couldn't get yourself to do it.

"Ive probably jerked myself off thinking of you more times than i can count" Aegon's hands began wondering up you're sweatshirt to you're than waist to you're breasts, groping you right in the middle of the hallway.

"We shouldn't do this" You gulped before reaching you're hand to the handle of you're door and twisting it open "Not here" Aegon kept his grip on you while you pulled him into you're dorm hoping it was late enough and no one you knew would have seen what just happened.

Now that you were all alone aegon didn't hesitate to pull you close and slam his lips against yours. It didn't take long for both of you to fall ontop of you're bed while he climbed on top of you, hands wondering up you're hoodie to grope you once again.

You took it upon yourself to pull away from the kiss and yank you're hoodie off you're head.

"You're fucking stunning always have been" he whispered before his hands moved to try unclip the straps of you're bra and pull it off you revealing you're bare breasts to him.

He stared almost in a trance, he wasn't going to lie. he had definitely seen your boobs before during the many times he'd spy on you change but having them up close was something completely different.

His hands moved to play with your nipples making a small moan slip from your lips, he smiled in response pleased with himself.

"I knew you'd be sensitive" before you could say anything he latched onto one of your breasts and began to softly nibble at your soft flesh making you squirm underneath him.

"I uh- I should tell you something" you quickly cut him off making him look up and turn his head up at you.

"I've never done anything like this before" You finally spat it out making his smile only grow more.

Not only was he getting to sleep with the girl of his dreams but he got the pleasure of being her very first. "You're still a virgin?" He questioned and you simply nodding back shyly.

"That's ok don't worry I'll make it good for you" he leaned in and kissed your cheek before discarding his own shirt to the side.

Aegon wasn't the most well built, he didn't have abs in fact he actually had a small bit of a tummy on him. You didn't mind of course, you found every inch of him to be perfect.

You moved your hands to the buttons of your jeans and began pulling them down a delighted look on Aegon's face as he did the same to himself. Before long you were both in your underwear, aegon kissing down your neck leaving small marks as he went along. "People will see those" you whined. 

"That's the plan doll" his hands wondering up you're thighs to the waistband of your panties tugging at them before he slipped a finger inside and began running his finger along you're slit.

"You're so wet" aegon whispered in your ear before slipping a finger inside of you.

You whimpered a bit as he began slowly moving his finger in and out of you and once he felt you were ready he added in a second, thrusting his fingers deep inside you're tight wet cunt.

"Aegon please" you moaned his name Sounding like a angel to him, an angel he could not wait to corrupt.

You arched your back feeling his fingers hit a sensitive spot inside you. "Gonna cum for me baby? You can do it be a good girl and spill yourself on my hand"

You nodded in response the feeling of your peak rising quicker and quicker. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders hiding your head in his chest as you came moaning out against him.

You panted softly coming down from your high as he pulled his fingers back and yanked off your panties finally. Next he pulled down his own boxers revealing his leaking throbbing cock.

"I don't think I've ever been this hard" he gasped as he began slightly stroking himself spreading his precum to lube up his cock. you were a bit worried seeing his size, he definitely was bigger than you expected.

Aegon grabbed your legs opening them up before lining himself up with your slit.

"Be gentle please" you asked making him plant a soft kiss on your lips. "Tell me if it hurts" he replied before he began pushing the tip of his cock inside earning a small gasp from you.

He pushed inside inch by inch until he was fully inside, bottoming out on top you as small moans of his own slipped out. "So good baby- so tight so perfect" he panted a bit feeling you squeeze tight around him.

"So big" you whined as aegon kissed down your neck again, in an attempt to Soothe you're discomfort.

He couldn't remember a time he'd ever been so caring and affectionate with a girl, no that was just you. You did something to him. Something that he just couldn't understand. An overwhelming need to protect you and keep you close

He made sure to wait a minute before beginning to thrust himself, moving his hand to play with your clit in another attempt to help take away your pain. You clung onto him as he picked pace, getting faster and faster.

He knew he said he'd be gentle but you were so damn irresistible he couldn't stop his instincts to just ravage you like a dog in heat. Soon the pain left little by little and it was replaced with pleasure.

The mixed sounds of both of your whimpers and moans filling your dorm room. "So beautiful baby" aegon whispered between his small pants and moans in you're ear "Everything I've always dreamed of- fuck- I need you I need you" his hands grabbed your hips slamming you further down onto him.

"I want you so bad- be mine please baby say you'll be mine" he was a mess he knew he was but so were you. "I'm yours aegon im all yours-" you quickly choked out. The Small tears in you're eyes driving him crazy.

Those words alone were all aegon needed to finally reach his peak, being so caught up in the moment he hadn't even bothered to ask if you were on the pill before spilling every drop of his seed deep inside of you. He continued to hold you a part of him worried if he let go you'd leave again.

"All mine" he kissed your cheek softly still attempting to catch his breath "all yours" you smiled at him, That same smile that he had loved for years now, the same smile he promised he'd never let go of again

[geeminz]

ᯓ A CHANGE OF HEART // giselle x oc ; smau

04 | do something, babe

↳ in which: mihye has been secretly dating giselle, her best friend’s older sister, for four months. what happens when their relationship turns toxic, and their secrets become public?

word count: 844 (quite short, ik!)

taglist: @thefckghost @emphobics @jisooftme @xszn @gtfoiydlyj @wonysugar @bluhuir @baewonlove @ourlovesarang @yeetaberry127

a.n. HELLO GUYS IM BACK and im apologizing again cuz i missed my deadline for this again TT but to make up for it, i'm posting three (3) THREE !! updates !! so i hope you guys will enjoy that haha

the rest of the day is silent. mihye has waited for hours on end, and still.

radio silence from giselle.

there’s no hiding it now — mihye doesn’t even wanna go out anymore, fearing that someone might ask her if she was okay, as the puffiness in her eyes would be an easy giveaway to what she’s been doing for the past few hours. it hurts to even cry now — mihye has just wiped off the last tear from her eyes. 

the last for today. maybe the last for this hour.

the brightness has long faded away, replaced by the grim loneliness of the evening. mihye’s tired of crying, but one recollection of her fight with giselle earlier, and everything is spilling out again.

4 months. 4 months with her.

is this how it ends?

this wasn’t how it started. how could it all have burned down so quickly?

mihye’s now on her bed, letting the emptiness of the foam surround her. the ghost of giselle’s presence haunts her memory, and just like that, she’s taken back to their first month.

giselle couldn’t even live without her back then. arms always wrapped around mihye’s waist, nose always buried in the crook of mihye’s neck. the sound of rain used to feel so good before — because it meant giselle was coming over in nothing but her sweatshirt and sweatpants. just to keep both of them — mihye and giselle, warm together, amidst the freezing pour of harsh rainfall.

waking up to the heat of the sun rays used to be something that mihye looked forward to every morning — because it meant she had slept longer than usual (longer than she should). she’d be late for class by then, but mihye would think, ‘fuck it. giselle’s here. let me savor this moment.’ 

mihye used to sleep so good whenever giselle was with her.

now, mihye just sleeps to stop herself from crying over giselle again.

an exhausting, confusing routine.

mihye remembers the sound of giselle’s breathing. she’d rather play that on loop than remember how angry giselle was — is, at her.

‘maybe the honeymoon phase is over,’ mihye thinks. ‘maybe this is the rough patch that we’re supposed to work through together.’

despite the melancholia, mihye is hopeful. because she loves giselle. because mihye thinks that all this crying would just go to waste if they didn’t try to fix it. 

but mihye’s not stupid as well. she might run towards giselle at the snap of giselle’s fingers, but giselle’s got to snap her fingers first.

the ball is in giselle’s court. mihye just wants to see her play it.

(but even if giselle doesn’t score, mihye would still be her number 1 cheerleader.)

what her other friends don’t know is that mihye has spent her whole adolescent life adoring giselle. kazuha used to always beckon mihye over for sleepovers, and mihye would always accept — one, because kazuha’s her best friend, and two, because kazuha’s older sister was just so goddamn pretty. 

13 year-old mihye couldn’t take her eyes off of kazuha’s cool older sister, giselle. mihye admired how giselle took life by the balls — how she did whatever she wanted, and how she stood for her actions.

mihye was 14 when she first admitted to herself that she had a really big crush on her best friend’s older sister. the older girl had always left her blushing in some way — through a simple wink sent mihye’s way, or the way that giselle used to always open the door for her. giselle, or as mihye used to call her, unnie, was always gentle with her (even more with mihye than with kazuha). mihye felt protected with her unnie, and as time grew, so did her adoration.

she was 17 when she realized that the feelings she’s been harboring for giselle may be more than just a little crush.

giselle had always been a taker, and that was the thing that drew mihye in. giselle never faltered — she wouldn’t let anyone stop her from doing and taking whatever she felt like taking. giselle was opaque — mihye could always see giselle, everywhere. she just could never see right through her. her lies, maybe. but giselle’s true, honest thoughts? no. not really.

not even now. just like her 14 year-old self, giselle has left mihye frozen and confused, clutching her pillows so tightly against her chest for dear life in bed again. if before, it was from the endless swelling of her heart because of one simple “good night” text from giselle, now, it was because of the lack of texts at all from her girlfriend.

mihye has always wanted giselle. but now that she has her, it feels like nothing’s changed — she’s still running after her.

guess that’s how it’ll always be, huh?

well, mihye was tired. she wants all these draining feelings to stop, she wants someone to put an end to her tears. and she’s tired of running, too.

can’t she run after me this time?

go to: masterlist | next

[podfeels]

Podfeels Season 1 Retrospective

4/13/2024 marked the two year anniversary of Podfeels’ first airing, and in August, we will celebrate the three year anniversary of its inception as a project. It feels so strange, looking back on it all. To me, it feels simultaneously like its always been in my life, and also like it just started yesterday.

I’ve spent nearly three years now spearheading this project, and we’ve expanded from a team of ten to a team of thirty in that time, and have put out roughly four hours of highly produced, full cast, full sound effect audio drama.

That may not sound like much, but for a team composed almost exclusively of first timers at its inception, and with two big hiatuses out of everyone’s control, I’m pretty damn proud.

With Season 1 ending back in January, us currently in the exact two month midpoint between anniversaries, and Season 2 being worked on behind the scenes, I thought now would be a good time to release a bit of a retrospective on our first season. Talk about the process, what went wrong, what went right, and also release our assets for the public.

I’m splitting this into three sections so you can skip around based on what you give a shit about. 

Looking 8ack

Reminiscence about how I got into godfeels through a series of insane coincidences that make my heart feel warm.

2. Adapt8ion

Discussing the process of adapting the work into our medium.

3. Portr8s, 8ackgrounds, and Sound8ites

A release of Season 1’s art and sound assets for your perusal outside of the videos, use as desktop wallpapers, or what have you. 

Looking 8ack

In March 2020, I got covid for the first time. My workplace had no protections for it yet, so I lost my job. And while bedridden with covid, subsisting off a diet of lukewarm broth, saltines, and nyquil, I set my youtube Watch Later (ok, thats a lie, it was my Likes, which i used ((still use)) as a watch later instead of using the actual watch later function, BUT-) playlist to shuffle. And in this fugue state, I stumbled on the video that would completely change the trajectory of my life.

“What I Learned Writing 50,000 Words of Homestuck Fanfiction”, by Sarah Zedig. I vaguely remembered her from some video about the McElroys and from Hbomberguy’s stream, and I had put off watching this because at the time of its release, I hadn’t yet finished Homestuck. So I shuffled it away for later, and it found its way back into my lap at the perfect time. Having now finished the comic, read the Epilogues, actively reading Homestuck ^2: Beyond Canon, and five months in to my first ever real creative outlet in my semi-abandoned video essay channel, I was interested to hear what this goat had to say.

In the video Sarah went into detail about a ton of wider context about the Homestuck Renaissance that I was fully unaware of, and made a very strong case for her own postcanon work, godfeels. Her passion bled through and I figured, sure, why not, I’ve got nothing better going on, I’ll read the story of Spiderjeggings’ No Good Very Bad Transition. Why not!

55,660 words later, crying alone in bed, I was now a girl. Reading the scene of June making her list of wants the morning after Terezi’s return, I said out loud to myself, hoarse as can be, “I can’t put it off any longer.” 

After reading to current I ended up joining the godfeels fanserver, and from getting settled in these circles I’ve met so many people I wouldn’t have otherwise, and come into myself in ways I can’t begin to fully quantify. I went from one relationship to fourteen to now a stable four, the other person in my head shook back loose after a decade of suppression by me (sorry again, Aegis), I’ve become more cultured, I’ve gained more friends, I’ve gained more hobbies, and most relevant of all… I’ve gained Podfeels.

Podfeels proper actually started in a really funny and impromptu way. In Sarah’s video she mentions wanting to start a podfic adaptation of it, but with that being two years past with no more word, a conversation about it cropped up in the server, and it was revealed that it had been canceled for various reasons. Everyone immediately understood why that had to happen. It was an insane amount of work, especially now that Godfeels was entering the territory of a space opera. But the demand was there among all of us, and after almost a dozen loops of us all going “drat, would be cool. I wish someone would take the helm on that!”, I just went ALRIGHT I GET IT and opened up casting. Podfeels was actually originally a joke name made by someone in the server before I even entered the conversation, but we used it for so long during development that by the time we came to release day it just felt wrong to call the project anything else. The name just stuck.

After a few hours of people daydreaming about it happening, and me encouraging other people to take the helm, I finally gave in and opened up casting. Now, it’s important to understand, I had never directed ANYTHING like this before in my life. I made a really terrible sketch in high school theater class and that’s about it. I’ve always been a bit of a natural leader but never anything with the kind of scale this would require, and it showed. I crowdfunded almost all ideas for what to do and how to handle it, and my best idea for how to do auditions was “just send in a few lines of you doing whatever character you want”. And my language was… insufferably fawning. I was hedging my bets at every opportunity. Every development in the project was “tentative”, I was the “director” until someone else took charge, etc. Looking back its actually kind of adorable? 

Look at that sweetheart. She’s so scared. She has no idea the beautiful changes she is in for.

The casting process was an unmitigated DISASTER. Nobody there knew how to audition, and I didn’t know how to wrangle. We were an unstructured gaggle of doofasses stumbling into each other. And due to the limited pool, I was stretched kind of thin on where to put people. Obviously I stand by all our decisions and love our cast, but because I was pulling entirely from the fanserver, options were very limited. I wanted to get everyone who wanted one into a role, but having to do the math of “this person is 40% good at Character A and 60% good at Character B, but this OTHER person is 80% good at Character B and the closest runner up for Character A is only 35% good” was agonizing.

We ended up deciding to make a few demos first, to test our chops as actors and mine as editor. We had four planned. But after we fully produced our first two demos and had recorded the third… I decided we should immediately start chronological production.

Why did I make this decision, you ask? Well. We had a few months until 4/13/2022. If we immediately all went overdrive, me especially, we had the chance to get our first episode out on the 13th 4/13 anniversary of Homestuck, and like HELL was I about to let us pass that up. 

This was the right call, I think, but it did bring us into a BUNCH of complications. First off, it meant we never really tested our violence and drama chops on the houseraid. Second, if I had waited, we would have been able to dodge our first big hiatus, where I put us on pause for a couple months while we waited to see if our Terezi wanted to leave after she floated the idea, which she ended up doing. If we had stayed in prepro, we would have skipped a huge hiatus and not replaced a key character between episode one and two. It also meant that we didn’t fully solidify an editing pipeline, and I was handling practically all editing until around episode 3. Additional prepro time would have helped us iron that out, as well, rather than me breaking myself on the first couple episodes before bringing in help out of desperation. This rush ALSO led to us having to release episode 1’s video around a week after the audio’s release, and with a fucked up background because I was crunching so hard I didn’t notice I’d accidentally completely butchered John’s bedroom somehow! I think I somehow content aware filled the wall? Fucked if I know why!

This is an abridged version because I want to get us to the meat of the matter today and I feel a lot of the longer story is best saved for a video I plan on making down the line, when we’ve reached 50 hours of runtime. For now, let’s move on.

Adapt8ion

A few folks have asked for indepth adaptation notes for what we change in an episode and why. As a general rule, we make changes with three primary motivations. First, adjusting text-based ideas to sound-based. Godfeels plays with its medium in countless compelling ways that, when shifted to a different medium, are either clunky or incomprehensible. So our first job is to translate those into sound. Second, turning narration into sound effects. We don’t need to discuss sounds in the scene, or a character’s tone, when we can just hear it all ourselves now. This then expands into further issues, however, as some things DO need to stay as narration. There’s a lot of pathos in the narration, and often there’s details that can’t be conveyed through audio alone. But by removing just the audio cues, we are left with very clunky phrasing that does our source material no justice. So we have to rephrase entire sections to give them the same resonance, meaning, and clarity while also getting rid of all the things that are now extraneous in our medium. The third main type of edit is bringing it more in line with what comes later. Godfeels has been running a long time and has become a very different beast from where it began. I love this about it, but some ideas have ended up with insufficient preparation, and some thematic resonances are easy to see looking back but may be partially unintentional. We can take advantage of hindsight and bring certain things more in line with the work’s modern philosophies, such as putting an additional focus on the citizens of Earth C, introducing X as its own entity, playing with Dirk more as a villain, and introducing the question of “what happens to the leftover Junes in a retcon?”, all during Episode 6. 

I’ll be releasing a few other posts soon with detailed adaptation notes for every episode in the coming days, but I’ll leave it here for now and bring us to our final section-

Portr8s, 8ackgrounds, and Sound8ites

While the idea for video versions was a relatively late addition to our process, I’m very proud of the work everyone has put into making them what they are. Our art team and video editor do wonders. First up, we’ve got the talkpogs.

The talkpogs were my own invention, but I can hardly claim they’re an original idea. I’m sure something almost identical has been done before. What directly inspired me, though, was the old Polygon podcasts, where they’d have the hosts faces made out of polygons, with one loose and separated, synced to that host’s audio track. It was the first time I’d seen something like that and I knew I wanted something similar to indicate who was talking. From there it all fell into place pretty easily. The outer ring and the waveform is the character’s text color, and the background is their name color. If those two are the same (as they usually are), I apply a slight darkening to the background just for differentiation. The sprites, though, were all the art team. Unfortunately we didn’t have a base early on, so different artists drew to different scales. 

For the art style I told the artists to try to strike a middleground between Homestuck classic and girlpillz’s style which had just been shown in GF3.1.8.E, where godfeels got its first spritework. Otherwise, designs were largely up to the artists but we had conversations about them as a project. Overall I’m very satisfied with the work everyone turned in.

Backgrounds were a more complicated beast, but paradoxically also have less to talk about. We started out with one background per episode, which was pretty doable, but with the season 1 finale, and our expanded art team, we opted to expand out into a background per setting. The first two are just Pesterquest backgrounds I edited by hand, but after that we started having custom art. That was largely due to restraints lifting as the team grew, but it also turned out pretty good thematically, as the first episode with custom art was Episode 3, where June’s egg cracks. We left official art behind as June left the officially plotted course. I think it’s resonant.

Now we come to our latest introduction. KEY ART. We started doing this in Episode 6 and it’s so sick. Don’t expect these inclusions to be TOO common, but… we have some cool things in store here, and I think you’ll all be really excited to see ‘em. For now, here’s our first and so far only public piece of key art, Dirk menacing June against the tree. The final piece of art of Season 1, and the final piece of art of Season 1’s retrospective. It only seems fair.

Which now brings us to my own inclusion: sound assets. I’m very proud of the work I’ve put in to giving each character and concept their own unique aural profile. From the magical girl burning radiation of Jade’s magic, to the shattering static of June’s retcon, to threading the needle of Hammer, Sword, Plastic Toy, Dice, And Doomsday Device in June’s vrillyhoo. 

That’s all for today. In the coming week or so I’ll put together a few more posts, going over each episode in more detail, from point by point script edit notes, to specific art discussions. I also plan to bring in a few people who have been around since day one to talk about our experience setting up the project.

But for now, look forward to seeing more from us soon. Both in the upcoming devposts, and in Season 2. We've been on a hiatus to get our preproduction pipeline settled, and because we wanted to get a few episodes prepped so we can try to maintain a monthly schedule. But we're getting to the end of this phase now, and will be announcing Episode 7's release date very soon.

Until next time! :::;)

[isa-ah]

sure why not. nightmare rankings with context lets go

the first one ive had by far the most times.

the second was the most disorienting thing ive ever experienced.

the third the most emotionally devastating.

and the fourth the most physically reactive ive ever been to a dream.

the short of it: my mom got knocked up at 15 so i was raised by my grandparents exclusively. my grandma had breast cancer and my grandfather had really bad diabetes so i was raised to be a caregiver. i dropped out of school at 13 to be home fulltime and then a few weeks before my 18th my grandma died and a few weeks after my 18th my grandpa died.

we lived in a tiny rotting house, holes in the walls and ceiling that would let in snakes, bugs and wolf spiders, with no heating or cooling way out in the sticks. like 45 minutes outside of the nearest town which had 1 stoplight. we were living off of a single disability check every month which meant we only got to grocery shop once a month and my grandma had to give up on chemo after her cancer spread all over her body.

my grandfathers family has a history of suicide so ig it wouldnt surprise anyone to know he wanted to die before my grandma and tried to achieve this thru doing no physical therapy, eating like shit, & staunchly refusing to Ever go to the doctors or hospital. he would have huge outbursts when it was just the two of us about how hes dying too and no one cares and no one loves him and he wants to die. my grandma would likewise have outbursts where shed lock herself in the bathroom right across from my bedroom and wail that she was ugly now and no one loved her and she was dying.

as their caregiver i took a LOT of personal responsibility in trying to keep them alive. i would sleep in 30 minute intervals and wake up at the slightest noise in the house. they would stumble or fall and id have to scoop them up despite being smaller than either of them. bc my diet consisted almost completely of food i couldnt digest (that kept me in severe agony and lead to an insane nutritional deficit) i was going through one to two 32 packs of soda a week to fuel myself.

we would attempt to hire nurses but as they both got treatment in richmond almost 3 hours away the nurses would only ever come once or twice before quitting. the last one we ever had taught me how to access my grandmas port, clean it, administer the medication, and then properly close it again.

my grandma died around 4am the day we were planning to go see her. my grandfather was in the hospital at the time so we went to tell him as a family, to his face, but everyone else left the instant he started crying so i had to crawl into his hospital bed and hold him while he wailed into my neck. it was visceral.

when he came home, he really did his best though. he went to all of his doctors appointments, changed his whole diet & started doing physical therapy every day. we decided we would get through this together. we would be unstoppable. we could make it. my grandmother died in november, i turned 18 in december, and so as we hedged on new years we decided we could figure this out in the coming clean slate. we would be okay.

until i went out 4am new years morning and found him sweaty and despondent. i made a series of phonecalls promising all the while he would be okay and holding his hand as he went thru several seizures. finally, despite the emergency squads best attempts, he died right there in our living room. right in front of me, my new future was gone.

now, because i had turned 18, no one in my family was obligated to do anything with me after that. they left me in that house for months, alone, in the dead of winter with no heating or cable or anything to keep me sane.

our house had been set up so that i, the caregiver, could check on my grandparents from my bedroom door. it was muscle memory. i step out to use the bathroom across the hall and i glance left (my grandmas hospital bed) and then i glance right (my grandfathers recliner). and it didnt stop just because they were dead and i was alone.

occasionally someone would drop off pity groceries but that was it. i had no job, no license, no prospects. i was wracked with grief and guilt. this was my fault. i was their caregiver. i should have done better. i should have been better. i should have reacted faster. i should have advocated more. (i should have been an adult).

as you can imagine, those elapsing months were BAD. i think i spent most of it asleep. without cable, i had no one i could listen to speak to fill the silence of our house so i put on the first two hobbit movies- i had them on dvd- with my xbox and i played them. and played them. and played them. the entire time. i know both of them verbatim.

this is where the first nightmare were going to talk about comes in.

i would wander, late at night, out of my dark bedroom to the living room. because our house was so small, the living room was also the dining room, and had both the front and back doors in it. my grandpas tv would be on, shining a blinding blue white light into the living room that would be the only light.

our back door was a wall of glass on old sliding tracks. i would run to it, to the featureless black void beyond it, and lock it. and then i would hear the front door begin to creak open and bolt across the living room to slam the door shut and lock it too.

behind me, the back door would slide ajar.

and then again, the front door.

the locks were futile, they didnt work, and while i never saw what was outside i knew it wanted in and i knew it was bad.

isolated, that nightmare isnt anything really. its not very memorable, and from an outside perspective, its not very scary. it felt like it to me though, alone out there like that, alone in all the world and wracked with guilt and fear. it was immense to me then.

no.. beyond that, what makes that nightmare unique, is that i had it again. and again. and again. and every single time i fell asleep for the next 3 years. it didnt matter if it was one of my 30 minute overnight shift naps (because those didnt just go away when my grandparents died, that was hard wired from doing it my entire life), if it was broad daylight and i was napping in the passengers seat of a car, or if id just briefly dozed off at the keyboard.

every single time i fell asleep, i would have the same nightmare.

it would change marginally, in that sometimes my grandparents (one or both) would be sat in front of the tv. they both wore glasses so their eyes were entirely obscured by the bright white reflection of the flickering tv, and their skin would be slate blue-grey. entirely unreactive to me, or anything i said or did. sometimes id know they were dead, and others id beg them to see me. it never made a difference.

after months of being in that house, my aunt decided because shes a saint, she would take me in. but because i was 18 i was a legal adult and she had no responsibility to make sure i was okay or seen to. in the depths of manic depression, i had no idea which way was up, but she truly could not have cared less.

i lived there for two years, and while my cousins were a salve on my loneliness, their mother was horrific to me. she gaslit me so consistently, so entirely, that i would believe anything she told me. id spend five hours a day doing a list of chores shed given me, then shed come home and reveal a trap shed lain to catch me slacking off and tell me i was a useless lying piece of shit and needed to stop bullshitting that i had done anything and actually do it. so i would agree, and spend another 5 hours cleaning again. every single day i had off.

as you can imagine, i started lying about my work schedule and found excuses to spend hours upon hours at the local target, just milling around waiting until it was late enough to go home and go to bed.

it hit a head when she put her hands on my neck and demanded i thank her for being so gracious, tell her i love her, and then hug her. i called my mom after that (useless woman that she is) and begged for her to come get me.

here, at my moms house, is where the next nightmare comes into play.

as you can imagine, after two years of having the same nightmare every time i shut my eyes, i was getting wary. i didnt WANT to sleep anymore. i didnt want to keep having that dream. so armed with 2 brothers on different sleep schedules, i would waste as much time as i possibly could staying awake.

except, did you know sleep deprivation just makes nightmares worse? and avoiding your problems doesnt actually fix anything?

after months of this, i finally collapsed exhausted into bed, and experienced a new nightmare entirely.

i woke up, from my brothers bed where id fallen asleep, and wandered out into the house. it was still daylight, just like when id laid down, and i heard my mom call and ask me to do the dishes. sure. easy enough.

except, as i stand there at her sink washing the dishes, i begin to experience this creeping unease. this unreality, this shift on its axis that makes me nauseous and scared. and i call for my mom, "somethings wrong! mom! somethings wrong please come here! mom!"

to my horror, the spoon in my hands begins to melt and bend at my every touch and i stumble back from the sink. in horror, my knees give out, and i sink to the kitchen floor screaming for help, please please help me. somethings wrong with me please help me.

in a jolt, i wake up. im on the couch and its dusk out. i slept later than i meant to- way later. i check the time and its the tail end of when i was scheduled to work today. i panic, jumping to my feet and hollering at the family around me watching tv- "i work today! i was supposed to be at work! you guys know that, why didnt you wake me up!" my panic and frustration rose as i was entirely ignored and in a raw screaming instant, i jolted myself awake.

i was sitting in my brothers bed. it was daylight out, just like when i fell asleep. exhausted, but relieved the nightmares were over, i sat there with my feet planted on the floor trying to put them into words. my mom, sensing my unease, knocked on the doorframe and came to sit beside me.

"have you packed?" packed? for what? "youre going to be late." late? "youll miss the bus." what bus?

"to go visit grandma."

wait.. what? no thats- what?

"you need to pack, or youll miss the bus to go visit grandma."

thats not right. shes dead. mom- mom what are you saying? theres no- thats not-

as my unreality and fear bubble up bright in my chest, i heave myself off of the bed, and in an instant i jolt awake. laying in my brothers bed. it was daylight out, just like when i fell asleep.

i lay there, silent, still, panting. am i awake? am i awake now? what the fuck is happening to me?

slowly, i sit up on my elbows, just barely obscured by the headboard i notice something. a leathery spider egg. and as im realizing what it is, it bursts, and ten thousand tiny spiders come spilling out of it. terrified, for some idiotic reason my first response is to grab for my phone and whip out my camera. but as i bring it up, the spiders vanish. and its just me, alone in the room again.

and i realize with a horrible bottoming out that i dont know if im awake or not.

that feeling didnt go away for weeks.

id woken up drunk off of the nightmares and hallucinated the spiders- but i had been awake that time, really. it was difficult to convince myself of that, though, and the unreality just waiting to rip me up and into another false awakening plagued me for ages thereafter.

it was a really good way to make me stop depriving myself of sleep though lol ive never gotten that bad again since.

time moves on, and so do i. my mom kicked me out of my brothers room and made me sleep on a mattress in their filthy kitchen between the litter boxes and under the ants favorite window, which was my cue to leave. i moved cross country with my then-boyfriend and finally, finally, began to heal.

these last two are far more recent. one was from last year, and the other just a few nights ago.

i dreamt i was in my childhood home. my grandma had just died and it was me and my grandfather, lit only by the cool grey of an overcast sky outside. i was in the kitchen, asking what he wanted for dinner, when he began to stagger in the living room. i whipped around the corner to catch him, and before my very eyes his skin began to bruise.

theres a way, when a person dies, that the blood begins to settle wherever their skin meets the ground. dark ugly red-purple bruises, veins visible, mottled skin.

before my eyes, he was beginning to look just like he had that morning when the hospital finally let us see his body. i asked him what was wrong and he said he just needs to use the bathroom. he just needs to get to the toilet. so i walked him down the hall and into the bathroom and once the door was firmly locked between us, he told me,

"i did something i shouldnt have. those poisonous mushrooms- i ate them. im going to die."

and i realized in that moment that his insides were being liquified by the things. that his "need" to use the toilet was about to be a complete and utter disembowelment.

instantly, i reacted, trying to throw the door open with my shoulder, twisting the knob, begging him to open it. please please please. how could you do this. how could you do this to me. this isnt fair. please. we can fix it. please please we can fix it let me in.

please at least let me cook you dinner first. please.

please dont leave me.

i screamed myself hoarse and cried so hard i woke myself up. ive never had a dream make me cry so hard, for so long. it sat on my shoulders for weeks, weighing me down, putting me on a hairpin trigger for tears i hadnt been on in years. it felt like grief, raw and new, all over again.

and finally, this last one. it is in the ranking for the most physically id ever been effected by a dream. good god.

i was perched on the edge of a chair in a hospital room, staring at my grandmothers corpse. she was laid back, slanted somewhat to the side. bald, skinny, purple. i sat. and i stared.

the window over her head was pitch black, slate just like the old nightmares, and i was only ever vaguely aware of it. in a blink- literally- she was up. sat up, smiling, chubby with her wig on and her glasses perched on her head. she had done her makeup and the window behind her was lit up in the cool greys of dawn.

"well dont look at me like that- i just got here!" and with a laugh she gestured me over.

i threw my head back and called for a nurse, but when i turned back, already lifting myself out of my seat to run to her, she was again bald and slumped and darkness prevailed.

the nurse came through and sucked her teeth. "shes still dead, darlin'. i dont know what you want me to do about it." and with a sneer, she was gone again.

my eyes searched my grandmothers face, and after a few seconds of held breath, her eyelids began to roll and her lashes fluttered open. and again, she smiled at me and beckoned me closer.

collapsed onto her, exclaiming i missed you i missed you i love you. and she laughed and said the same. she gave me a kiss, then gestured me in for a hug and of course i complied. i missed her more than life and here she was, she was back, of course of course id hug her.

but as my arms scooped beneath her armpits to lift her into me, the face against my throat went cold, and hard, and the arm i had propped up swung stiff with rigor mortis and bounced off of me.

when i say that nightmare left me in a daze, im not sure how else id even put it. i was shaking head to toe, on the verge of vomiting, vision tunneling and blurring continually as i stumbled through the house. it was early- around 5am when i woke up- so i was alone. i sat down at the kitchen table and lost an hour to it.

around 6 i woke my husband up in much the same state, tear drenched and trembling, curling into myself to stay standing, and by seven he had managed to bring me back down to earth. ive never had a physical reaction like that at all, nevermind so long, and so severe. it was fcking awful.

[sowoozoo-7]

Love, Lust & Litigation | Ch 1

Pairing: Jungkook x Fem Reader x Namjoon

Genre: lawyer!AU, coworkers to lovers, slow burn, eventual smut

Rating: M (18+) whole fic, this chapter PG-13 (for language lol)

Warnings: some swearing in this chapter, nothing explicit

Word Count: 4k

Summary: Unfortunately, you have developed a massive crush on your new boss. Even more unfortunately, your equally attractive coworker is also harboring massive crush on your boss. AKA Jungkook and reader both pine for big, sexy brain Namjoon. 

A/N: Phew! Here she is! The first chapter of my first fic. This has been slowly chewing away at my brain for the last few months, and I finally decided to say fuck it and write it. I don't know anything about law or lawyers other than what I've seen from movies and read in books so I'm sure I've gotten something wrong, but whatever, it's my own alternate made up universe.

Anyway, I’m new to all this — longtime reader, first-time poster — so I’d love feedback if you have any! Hope you like it ~

mlist | ch 1 | ch 2 | ch 3 | ch 4 | ch 5 | interlude | ch 6 | ch 7 | epilogue

Two hours into your new job at Bang and Associates, and you’ve already made a fool of yourself.

The first couple of hours went smoothly. Check-in with HR was all standard forms, waivers, and NDAs, and the view from your new office is killer. 

Though your new boss and the other associate on the litigation team are at court for the morning, you get to meet two of the paralegals on your team, Jimin Park and Hoseok Jung. They look like they just stepped out of a menswear ad, in their fitted suits and slicked back hair. You'd normally be wary of office workers who look a little too put together, but you get the sense that they’re going to be good coworkers from the few minutes you spend talking to them, both good-natured and quick to share a laugh. 

It’s when they’re giving you a tour of the office that your heel slips on a set of marble stairs and you find yourself briefly experiencing flight. You decide flying is overrated when you land on your ass and bounce down several steps. One of your shoes takes its own trip and lands a few yards away. You sit on the steps, frozen for a minute, with your bare foot just out there for the world to see. 

“Oh my god,” says Hoseok as he rushes down to the step where you landed. “Are you alright?” 

You’re quiet for a moment while you deliberate whether or not you’re going to cry. It’s inevitable that you’ll cry in front of your coworkers one day, but looking around, you see everyone else in the atrium glancing over at the absolute idiot who fell down the stairs on her first day. 

Not the day to cry, you decide. First impressions and all that. At least you wore a pantsuit today and not a dress.

“I think I’m okay,” you say with a rueful smile. “Just a bruised ego.”

Jimin retrieves your shoe and hands it to you with a sparkle of laughter in his eyes. “Another one bites the dust." It’s not malicious, you don’t think.

“He means that you’re not the first to slip down the stairs,” says Hoseok. “We think the janitors are polishing them extra to get back at all the asshole lawyers.” 

You limp for the rest of the office tour. 

***

You get sent to the courthouse after finishing the brief admin in the office to shadow your new boss, the firm’s superstar. 

Namjoon Kim is mesmerizing.

You have heard of his reputation — how could you not? Top of his class with a winning streak unmatched in the industry — but you have yet to see him in action. 

He lives up to his reputation. 

You sit at the back of the courtroom, trying not to put too much weight on your bruised ass, watching as he delivers his closing statement.

His voice is deep and measured, drawing everyone to the edge of their seat to hear every twist to the argument he’s crafting. You pity the opposition. They went first with their closing statement and now they’re squirming in their seats as Namjoon takes down every argument, point by point. The jury hangs on to his every world. 

Maybe it’s the way he carries himself, with a quiet confidence and authority, maybe it’s that he’s built like a tree and looks like a dream in his pinstripe suit. Whatever it is, you get the feeling that working under a beautiful genius is going to be some kind of Dantean torture. 

“Thank you, Your Honor.” 

You blink, realizing it’s over, and you watch as he goes to sit. Silence hangs in the court room in the brief second it takes the courtroom to snap out of their Namjoon-induced daze. The room shuffles as everyone shifts back in their seats. The closing formalities continue, with the judge sending the jury to deliberations. 

“Court is adjourned.” 

The room rumbles with a flurry of activity as everyone goes to exit. You hurry to catch Namjoon — you want to introduce yourself to your new boss as soon as possible — but you get lost in the shuffle of people filing out. By the time you catch up to him outside, he’s giving a press interview on the steps of the courthouse. 

You wait on the outskirts of the small crowd that’s gathered. Deja-vu hits as you watch the reporters lean in to hang on to his every word. He takes the questions with grace, and even a little humor, and smiles at a joke one of the reporters makes. 

Dear lord. He has dimples.

“Spectacular, isn’t he?” 

A young man stands next to you, smirking as if he knows how much you’re fangirling over your new boss. You recognize him as the second attorney at the defendant’s counsel table. The remaining member of the litigation team. 

If you weren’t so preoccupied with Namjoon, you’d be mooning over this man instead. His just-messy-enough-to-show-he-doesn’t-care hair frames his face in waves. An eyebrow piercing and a lip piercing glint in the late morning sun. Tattoos decorate the back of one of his hands. He would look like a punk kid up to no good, but you can the tell the suit he’s wearing costs more than your monthly rent. Jesus. Is everyone in the office just a walking GQ campaign?

“Excuse me?” 

“Namjoon,” he says with a smile that changes his expression entirely, from a little rakish to boyish in its delight. “I call it the Namjoon Effect. No one’s immune. I think it’s the dimples.” He puts out his hand to shake yours. “Jungkook Jeon. I’m th—“

“The other associate on the litigation team. I know.” You shake his hand and introduce yourself. “Looking forward to working with you.” 

“Ah, I thought it was you. Jimin texted me to look out for you today.” 

The impromptu press conference breaks up and Namjoon ushers his client down the stairs. 

“Come on, I’ll introduce you,” says Jungkook, flying down the steps. You follow at a slower pace, the twinge in your hip reminding you of your fall earlier that day. Still, you try to strike a confident stride in your heels. First impressions and all. 

Namjoon pats the roof of the private car he has bundled his client into and straightens as Jungkook claps him on the shoulder. 

“I thought we weren’t going to talk about any type of evidence to the press.” 

Namjoon raises an eyebrow. “The PR team said that. I didn’t agree to anything. Besides, it’s the same evidence we presented at the trial, just in a different light. Even if we have a less-than-favorable verdict, we’ll still have the public on our side.” 

Jungkook rolls his eyes. “Why do you even bring me with you?” He sees you and gestures you over. “Namjoon, may I present your latest lackey.” 

“I resent that,” you say, mock-frowning and pointing a finger at Jungkook. “But you’re not wrong.”

You introduce yourself to Namjoon and shake his hand. It’s warm and firm. You hope yours isn’t cold and clammy. “Pleasure to be working with you.” 

“Pleasure’s all mine. I’ve heard great things from your former boss,” he says with a smile. There go the dimples again. He glances at his watch. “Shall we discuss our caseload over lunch?” 

You feel a little thrill at being included in the “our.” Bang and Associates have a reputation for working on some of the most high-profile cases in the city and you’re ready to dig your greedy little fingers into the cases. 

“Cat’s Pajamas?” asks Jungkook. He doesn’t wait for an answer. “I’ll drive.”

Namjoon sighs as Jungkook turns to walk towards the garage. “He always weasels his way into lunches. I swear he’s a never-ending pit,” he says with a note of fondness for the younger man. 

Cat’s Pajamas is an airy bistro just a few blocks away from the offices. There’s a sizable lunchtime crowd, filled with self-important business people taking their clients out to lunch. Jimin and Hoseok meet your group at the restaurant. 

You wince at you sit down, rubbing at the side of your hip. The bruise you expected from the fall is developing faster than you thought. 

“Are you okay?” Namjoon asks. 

He and Jungkook look at you with concern.

You wave them off. “Just a bruise.” 

Jimin shakes his head. “The marble stairs have claimed their newest victim.” 

“Ah,” says Jungkook with a knowing nod. “I almost broke my wrist when I fell down those stairs a couple months ago. It’s practically a rite of passage at Bang and Associates at this point.”

“Looks like you’re already part of the team,” says Namjoon, lifting his water glass in a toast.

***

The rest of the day passes quickly.

You return to your office to find a stack of documents already on your desk, with a sticky note from Hoseok on top. Welcome to the team!!!! it says, with a big looping smiley face next to it.

You slip out of your heels and bring your legs up under you as you settle into your desk, a routine study position that has followed you from college through to your professional life. There’s nothing you like more than finding your way in the maze of paperwork and laying out your trail in court. You lose yourself in the legalese, getting familiar with an ongoing case that Namjoon mentioned over lunch. 

Jungkook pulls you into his office when you’re returning from the bathroom to strategize about the case. His office is exactly the same as yours, with enough space for two guest chairs, a large desk and a set of bookshelves crammed with leather-bound law books. And, your inner petty competitor is pleased to see, the view is also almost exactly the same. Of course, he has a slight advantage because he’s worked here longer, but you have the same job title, the same office. You’re almost on even footing. You’ve noticed a competitive streak in him, and you’re excited to play against it. It’s only going to make you a better lawyer. 

The “quick chat” turns into an hour-long discussion and you decide by the time you leave his office that you’ll head home at normal close of business hours. You’ll be staying late anyway as your caseload grows. 

You’re surprised to find a brown paper bag on your desk, one of the simple gift bags you can find at the drug store. Inside, you find a get well soon card with a cartoon of a man on a hospital bed in a full-body cast with a thermometer coming out of his mouth and an ice pack on his head. Inside, it reads: 

Even though your welcome to Bang and Associates was a painful one, I’m very happy to have you on the team and I look forward to working with you. Now you know to avoid the stairs :) 

-Namjoon

Inside the bag you find a bruise balm and a travel size pack of ibuprofen. Warmth spreads through you, pleased at the gift. There’s another layer to that warmth, a feeling that you don’t want to examine too closely, because he’s your boss, and you suspect (no, you know) it's inappropriate to feel that towards your boss. 

Later that night, though, as you’re applying the balm to the colorful bruise on your hip, you can’t help but think of his dimpled smile.

***

“You’re babying me.” 

You’ve won your first case for Bang and Associates. Your client, a rich young widow who married an older man for love, was the sole inheritor to his massive fortune. His children, some older than the widow, were upset that they got nothing in the will. As you worked with the client, you got the sense that she was genuinely sad about her late husband’s passing. Not that it made any difference. She was a paying client, and you had to represent her regardless, but it made rooting for her easier.

“I thought it was for sure a trick case and that there would be something to trip me up in the prenup, but it was so straightforward.” You’re in the elevator with Namjoon heading up to the office. He was present at the trial, to keep an eye on you to make sure you lived up to the promise of your initial interview.

He shrugs. “It’s nice to start off with a win. You’d be surprised with how many people don’t prepare or get wrapped up in how things should be and completely flounder.” He pats your shoulder as the elevator dings open. “You did good today. Good prep, good execution.” 

He nods a goodbye and heads to his office without looking back. You head to yours at a slower clip, your shoulder burning where he touched you. You feel warm overall anyway, knowing you did a good job, but the praise still feels good. A little too good, maybe. 

Over the next month, the cases get harder and harder, and you have to pull out the most obscure references from your time in law school. You start spending more and more time at the office, racking up insane amounts of billable hours. You have a permanent cup of coffee at your desk and you change into your fuzzy slippers you brought from home to give your feet a break from heels whenever a new case file lands on your desk for review. 

At least you’re not the only one pulling crazy hours. The rest of the litigation team often stays late. You fall in quickly with the guys, cracking jokes over the Nespresso machine you all hover around. They were wary of you at first, an unknown entity coming into the equation, but you proved worth after the second night you stayed late and cracked the key piece of a case buried in ancient tax laws. They treated you to drinks at the local watering hole afterward. The biggest reward though, was getting a small dimpled smile and a thumbs up from Namjoon before he called it a night.

It helps that your boss stays late with the rest of the team. Every time you come to him with a tricky case, without fail, he gives brilliant insight or a nudge in the right direction, giving you advice on where to look for the answer.  And when he goes to his fancy client dinners, he’ll always bring something back to the office when he inevitably stops by the office on his way home. You can’t say no to a good takeaway creme brûlée. 

One Friday afternoon, Namjoon pulls everyone into a meeting a half hour before close of business. “It’s been a tough few weeks. You’re all going home at five today.” He holds up a hand when the team starts to protest. “I’m going to be at Silver Spoon for happy hour. Drinks are on me. You don’t have to come, but you can’t stay here.” 

“I have too much work to do,” Jimin says with a pout. 

“I’m firing you if you don’t leave at five on the dot.” The good-natured threat falls easily from Namjoon’s lips. “That goes for all of you. Wrap up what you need to.” 

You spend the rest of the time cataloguing what you need to finish Monday morning. Usually you’d work Saturdays too, but with the promise of an early weekend, you decide everything can wait until open of business Monday. Well. Maybe you’ll work on that memo from home over the weekend, but everything else on your to-do list can wait. 

You join Jungkook and Hoseok at the elevator bank three minutes before the hour. 

“Think he’s gonna make it?” asks Hoseok with a laugh.

You check your watch. “Two minutes left. He’ll make it right at five.” 

“He’ll be two minutes over,” says Jungkook.

“I think five over,” says Hoseok. 

“Loser buys the nachos,” you say. They both shake on it.

Jimin runs into the elevator bank just as the clock ticks over to five. You pump your fist in victory while the other two groan. 

Jimin leans over to catch his breath. “I thought I wasn’t going to make it.” 

He straightens just as Namjoon rounds the corner from his office.

“Glad I’m not losing any of the team today.”

“And I get two sets of nachos,” you say, getting into the elevator behind the rest and pressing the button for the ground floor.

“Hobi gets the nachos. I’ll get the wings,” says Jungkook.

Jimin looks back and forth between you two, a confused pout on his face. “What did I miss?”

***

Silver Spoon is all leather and dark wood. Namjoon leads the way to a large booth in the back, waving to the bartender behind the gleaming wooden bar. 

“You know everyone,” comments Jungkook as you all pile into the booth. It ends up with Namjoon in the middle, you and Jungkook flanking him, Hoseok next to you, and Jimin next to Jungkook. 

“I’ve been working in this area a long time. It pays to get to know the people working at your favorite haunts.” 

Namjoon drinks whiskey, neat. Junkook orders a pint of the house craft beer. Hoseok has a glass of red wine, and Jimin has a double straight vodka. You get an elderflower spritz, light and refreshing in the unusually hot fall afternoon. 

The conversation deteriorates to work talk, as it usually does among coworkers. The nachos and wings follow the drinks, and everyone digs in. They’re good, just the right amount of elevated to make the price worth it, but not so fancy that the bar food is unrecognizable. 

Silver Spoon fills up as the finance bros and hedge fund managers who work in the area trickle in. You recognize a few former coworkers, and you raise your glass to them in a toast when they wave hello, but you don’t attempt to engage further. You don’t care to reconnect with them. The cutthroat, backstabbing environment at your last firm is what made you leave in the first place. Bang and Associates hires ambitious lawyers, but fosters a workplace that manages to keep the ones that are ambitions without the cattiness, encouraging a collaborative work environment over individual hotshot lawyers. You're settling into your new workplace just fine, thank you.

Namjoon gets a call shortly after the third round of drinks, and Jungkook and Jimin shimmy out of the booth to let him out so he can take the call in private. 

Hoseok picks up where the conversation left off, brainstorming where to start to research a tricky case. Jimin interrupts him before he can get a full sentence out.

“Uuuugh,” he says, dragging his hands down his cheeks. “Can we talk about anything but work?” 

“Please,” you say. 

Jimin looks at you with a mischievous grin and pops his chin onto his hand. He calls your name in a singsongy voice. “Are you seeing anyone?” 

You snort into your drink. “Do I look like I have time for a relationship?” 

“It’s amazing what you can get up to in our limited free time if you have some determination,” mutters Hoseok with a sidelong glance at Jimin. 

“Jimin is slowly working his way through the office,” explains Jungkook.

Jimin crosses his heart with his finger and holds a hand up. “All above-board with HR, of course.” 

“Doesn’t mean you haven’t left behind a trail of broken hearts,” says Hoseok. 

“They all knew what they were getting into when they consented to the relationship.” 

“Or lack thereof,” says Jungkook with a snort. 

Jimin turns to look at him, eyebrow raised. “Speaking of lack of relationships, still hung up on Namjoon?” 

Jungkook turns an impressive shade of red. “Stop, I’m not—“

“Ever since he broke up with his ex-girlfriend, he’s had this massive crush on Namjoon,” Jimin tells you.

“Shut up!” 

“We all see how you look at him,” says Hoseok, not unkindly. “Stars in your eyes when you think he’s not looking.”

So you hadn’t been imagining that. 

Jungkook’s only response is to chug the rest of his pint. 

“I don’t blame you,” you say, then freeze as three heads whip around to look at you. “What?” you ask, voice squeaky.

“Not you too,” groans Jimin. 

“What?” You hope the heat creeping up your face isn’t noticeable in the low bar lighting. “I have eyes. He’s attractive. You can’t deny that.” 

“And smart,” says Jungkook morosely. 

“And kind and he’s a good leader. I’m surprised you guys aren’t also harboring secret crushes,” you say, as if they’re the idiots for not having a massive crush on their boss. In reality, it’s terrifying to say these things out loud, everything you’ve been thinking over the past month you’ve been working at Bang and Associates. 

“Unfortunately, I’m straight,” says Hoseok. 

“And disgustingly in love with his fiancée,” sneers Jimin. “It’s actually sickening to see them together. She’s super pretty and an amazing dancer — you’ll see at the holiday party— and you really want to hate her but she’s also really nice on top of all that.” He takes the rest of his drink in one shot without a wince. You’d think he was sober if you hadn’t seen him down his vodka doubles like they were water. “And I’m not straight, but I know a lost cause when I see one. Namjoon’s practically married to his work. There are other men and women still waiting to be added to my bedpost.” He waggles his eyebrows in an exaggerated imitation of a leery cartoon character. 

“You’re disgusting, you know that?” 

“Thought I don’t know about Namjoon.” Jimin continues like he didn’t hear Jungkook’s comment. “I don’t think he’s married, because I’ve never seen a ring, and I’ve never seen him flirting or taking anyone home after drinks. No dates to company parties.” 

“Maybe he’s asexual,” says Hoseok. 

“That would be a shame because I bet he’s got a big d—“

Jungkook interrupts Jimin with an elbow to his side. He sits up straight, and you follow his line of sight to see Namjoon coming back to the table. They move out of the booth to give him his spot back in the middle. 

“Sorry about that. What are we talking about?” asks Namjoon as he settles in, just an inch closer than he had been sitting before. The intoxicating spicy smell of sandalwood that you’ve come to associate with Namjoon fills your nose and you suppress the urge to take a deep breath. 

You and Jungkook exchange guilty glances over the table. Jimin heaves a dramatic sigh, thankfully drawing Namjoon’s attention away from you two. 

“We were just bemoaning our single status. Not Hoseok, of course.”

“I’d be surprised if you all have time to date, what with the hours we’ve been pulling.” 

“How do you balance it all? Work, a social life, dating?” The question falls from your lips and you wish you could shove it back in your mouth. Jungkook kicks you from the other side of the table, and Jimin looks impressed that you actually asked the question. 

Namjoon lets out a hollow laugh. “I’m the wrong person to ask.” 

You exchange glances with Jungkook again. Does this mean he’s single? 

Before anyone can ask a follow-up question, a group of lawyers from the (mostly) friendly competition approach the table to make small talk. You want to shoo them away like pigeons so you can continue the conversation, but you busy yourself with your drink instead. 

Your coworkers disperse soon after, with Hoseok slipping away to go home first, red-faced and quiet. Namjoon talks to a group of his law school classmates by the bar. 

As the evening progresses, it’s painfully obvious to you now that Jungkook is mooning over Namjoon. You’d had your suspicions before, but after the conversation from earlier, the not-so-subtle glances make you cringe a little. You hope you’re not that obvious too. 

Not that Namjoon’s presence stops him from chatting up sone of the women who join your table. They work in the advertising firm a few floors below you, and you’ve gotten friendly with them over the past few weeks. The petite woman with the swishy blonde hair touches him a little more than necessary. 

You and Jimin exchange looks when you both clock her hand on Jungkook’s bicep for the third time in as many minutes. 

Jungkook and the blonde head out together not too long after. Good for him, you think, not getting so hung up on Nmajoon that he can’t focus on a different pretty face for the night.

When it’s just you and Jimin left at the booth, he leans in a little close. “What do you say you and me head out?” 

You laugh in his face. “I’m not going to sleep with you, Jimin.” 

He takes it in stride, and stands with a wink. “If you ever change your mind, you know where to find me.” 

He blows you a kiss before zeroing in on one of the finance bros who’s been looking over at your table for the past hour. He won’t know what hit him once Jimin is done with him. 

You don’t bother trying to pull someone at the bar, choosing instead to slip away without any fanfare. Though you’re no stranger to one-night stands, you’re looking forward to sleeping in and you can’t be bothered with the logistics of a hookup. Tonight, you have a date with your bed, and your bed only. 

The air has a bite to it as you step out of the bar, and you pull your coat around you as you hurry to the curb to your Uber. You settle into the back of the car as the driver pulls out into traffic. 

You can’t help but feel kinship with Jungkook, what with both of you lusting after the same ill-advised man. The city lights blur by and you let your eyes unfocus.

You wonder what would happen if you were the last three people left in the world. Would he go for you or Jungkook? In your buzzed state of mind, you think you really wouldn't mind sharing.

©sowoozoo-7 2023

Please do not copy or repost. I do not crosspost anywhere else.

[medusapelagia]

Running From The Daylight - Part 15

Part 1 , Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8,  Part 9,  Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15

This is the last chapter! Thank you so much for staying with me during this journey!

Written for @whumpuary Rating: Mature  Relationship: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson  Prompt: You are safe WT: surgery, medical procedures Words:  1102

Despite the dose of caffeine, Eddie must have fallen asleep, because Wayne is shaking his shoulder gently, calling his name.

“Five more minutes…” He murmurs, before remembering where he is and that he is still waiting to have news about Steve.

“Eddie you have to wake up, they are taking Steve to his room.” Wayne insists and Eddie immediately opens his eyes, almost falling from the chair where he was resting.

“Where is he? How… what…” He has a million questions but the words are too difficult to articulate and he can’t put one after the other to make a single sentence that makes sense.

Wayne shrugs “I don’t know. The doctor will speak with us soon and the nurse just informed us that we can go see him if we want. But I want to warn you, he is still under the effect of the anesthesia.”

Eddie nods, stands up quickly, and follows the nurse to Steve’s room. 

His boyfriend is still pale and asleep, but the heart monitor at his side shows a stable rhythm and even if his leg has some long screws in it, it’s still attached to Steve’s body which seems like very good news.

“When will he wake up?” Eddie asks the nurse who shakes her head.

“We don’t know how long it will take, he was pretty weak when he got here so it’s probable that even if the anesthesia wears off he will keep sleeping. His body needs to regain his strength.” Eddie looks at her with such desperation that the nurse immediately adds “But it’s a good thing, resting will help him heal faster.” She tells him with an encouraging smile while checking the IV in Steve’s arm.

Robin, at Eddie’s side, puts an arm around his shoulder, murmuring that everything will be alright, that Steve will wake up in no time and that they should start searching for a black marker to draw a mustache on his sleeping face. 

Eddie chuckles between the tears while the nurse takes Steve's vitals and then leaves the four waiting for the doctor who arrives a few minutes later. He informs them that surgery went well and that they expect a complete recovery in a few months “He will have to rest in bed for at least a couple of weeks, but once the wound is properly healed he could start moving around with some crutches. He will have to do some physiotherapy to regain strength in the leg after we will remove the screws, but luckily nothing was permanently damaged.”

At that news Eddie starts to cry again, murmuring “Thank you, thank you…” While hugging Robin and feeling Wayne’s arm on his back.

Hopper tries to insist that Eddie and Wayne should get a room in a hotel to rest a little, but Eddie refuses and sits on the chair next to Steve’s bed, determined to stay with him at least until his boyfriend wakes up.

“We don’t know how long it will take. Try to be reasonable.” Hopper insists but Eddie it’s adamant and Wayne decides to keep an eye on both his boys while Robin and Hopper go to rest a little: it was a very stressful couple of days for everyone and now that it’s over Robin seems ready to fall asleep at any given moment.

“We will be back in the morning.” Hopper assures them while dragging Robin toward the door and the two men nod. 

***

Eddie has been holding Steve’s hand for hours when he feels something move. He stills and turns toward his boyfriend, trying to detect any possible movements.

"Steve? Stevie?" He calls, trying to get a reaction from him, and after a few moments, Steve's thumb flex a little.

Eddie gets closer, studying Steve's face “Sweetheart? Are you awake?” He tries again, “Steve, love, can you hear me?” he murmurs and this time the chocolate brown eyes of his boyfriend look back at him, confused “Hi love.” Eddie tells him,  kissing his hand, but Steve startles and tries to move and Eddie stops him “You are safe, Steve!” He says, trying to calm him down “You are ok! You are in a hospital! You broke your leg pretty badly but the doctor fixed it and you’ll be fine in no time.” He tries to explain to his confused boy “You are safe.” He repeats, brushing away some hair from Steve’s forehead.

“Ed?” Steve calls, staring at him with his blurry eyes.

“I’m here, baby. Help came and the rescuers brought you to the hospital, but don't worry, you are going to be ok in no time, do you hear me? In no time. Wayne and I will drive you home as soon as they discharge you and Robin and Hopper are here too, you’ll see them in the morning. Oh, and Robin told me that you are not allowed to go on vacation for at least a year.” Eddie keeps talking, knowing that his familiar voice helps soothe Steve who falls asleep again in a few minutes.

“Did he wake up?” Wayne asks, getting in the room with two cups of coffee.

“He did!” Eddie replies with a big smile, “He woke up. Just for a few moments, but he woke up.”

“The nurse said that it might take a bit for him to wake up completely…” Wayne reminds him, offering Eddie one of the two cups.

“I don’t care. I’m in no rush.” Eddie whispers on the skin of his boyfriend, then he turns toward Wayne “I want to ask him to marry me.”

The man coughs, “Eddie… I think you should think about it. I don’t want you to make an important decision like this after what happened.”

“That’s exactly why I have to ask him to marry me!" Eddie insists "I could have lost him, Wayne.” He tries to explain while his mind is still full of fear “And the only thing I could think of it’s that I cannot live without him. That’s why people get married, right? Because they love each other very much, and I love him so much I can’t even explain it in words.”

Wayne hugs him “I know you do, kid, and if you want to marry him just ask him, but maybe wait for him to be a little bit more conscious, uh?”

Eddie nods, still holding Steve’s hand and thinking that if there is a silver lining in the horrible experience that they had is that he has realized that he can’t wait to put a ring on that perfect golden skin.

[beeeinyourbonnet]

Covetous | Chapter 17

Pairing: Nostelle 

Summary: Father Joseph MacAvoy wakes up in a library across town with no idea of how he got there. When the kind librarian doesn’t kick him out immediately, he considers that maybe there’s more to life than alcohol.

[chapter 1] [chapter 2] [chapter 3] [chapter 4] [chapter 5] [chapter 6] [chapter 7] [chapter 8] [chapter 9] [chapter 10] [chapter 11] [chapter 12] [chapter 13] [chapter 14] [chapter 15] [chapter 16]

[read on ao3]

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

Friday couldn’t come fast enough. Belle spent the week planning crafts and ordering supplies, grateful she’d have two extra hands to put to work the day before their storybook crafting weekend. 

Kaz had come around the same time every day to have a snack and nap through a movie. Unfortunately, Coach Gaston had also come every day, and it didn’t matter what Belle said, he did not seem to take a hint.

“Do you wear perfume?” he asked on Wednesday.

“Yes,” she said.

“Did John get it for you?”

“It’s Joe.”

“Joe, right, sorry.”

She tried to keep him at arm’s length, but on Thursday, he caught her dragging boxes of supplies into a reading room and was helping her before she could even deny his offer. When he followed her into the room, she realized he was muscular enough to block the whole doorway, trapping her in with him.

He set his box on the table with a dramatic grunt, like he hadn’t just seen her do the same. 

“Why don’t you let me carry the rest of these in?” he asked.

“I appreciate your help, but I can handle it.”

“Come on.” He leaned on the frame, and watching him from where she was caged in, she understood why Kaz disappeared any time he came into view. She had read him the second she’d seen him, and Belle wished she’d done the same.

“It’s not much left, Clive.”

“I don’t want you to hurt yourself.” He folded his arms like he was settling in to stand there awhile. “And then you can thank me by having a drink with me.”

“I don’t want to have a drink with you,” she said. “Please leave.”

“Leave? Come on, I’ll carry more boxes.”

She didn’t think he’d let her leave the room if she didn’t at least let him carry boxes, so she agreed, making sure never to go in first, and then somehow, she found herself trapped at her desk again, but that was a much safer trap.

“When do you get off? We can go grab that drink.”

“Clive, it was really nice of you to help, but I don’t want to have a drink with you.”

He leaned forward. “How about coffee?”

Was he ever going to let up? “I don’t have time tonight,” she said. “I have a hair appointment.”

He left after that with a promise that she’d have that drink with him sometime, and she wanted to cry. If only the library had a security person, she could have barred him, but they barely had funding for electricity much less a whole extra employee.

When she called Nosty to see how his appointment had gone, she wanted to tell him about Clive, but just like it had all week, something stopped her. A small piece of her felt like it was her fault Clive wouldn’t leave her alone and that Nosty would blame her and be right.

She was glad she’d be seeing him in person tomorrow. She’d feel better then.

****

MacAvoy spent half an hour digging up Belle’s old bus instructions, but it turned out Nosty didn’t need them. He could get anywhere in the city without even consulting a map, and against his will, this impressed MacAvoy.

They rode the buses in silence, MacAvoy sitting while Nosty stood next to him, holding the bar above his head in one hand and a paperback in the other.

It had been almost two weeks since he’d sat with Belle in the library, and his heart leapt at the opportunity to do it again. Even Nosty’s presence couldn’t dampen his excitement. 

As they walked up—finally—MacAvoy waved to the man Belle brought coffee to every morning, promising to come back and chat in a bit, but Nosty barely spared him a glance as he stalked toward the library doors. MacAvoy hurried after.

When they burst in, Belle was nowhere to be found, and Nosty paused. Even though this surprised MacAvoy as well, he was glad to see Nosty thrown for a loop for once. 

Then, Belle popped up from behind a tri-fold poster board with a cheerful, “Hello!”

For the first time since the call from the constabulary weeks ago, MacAvoy’s muscles eased. At Belle’s side in this library was a place he belonged as much as he belonged on a pulpit. 

“What you doing?” Nosty strode over and MacAvoy trailed after him like a duckling.

“Making some signs for tomorrow. I’m glad you’re both here.” She capped a marker and then strode around the table, taking each of them by an arm. 

“Are we gonna be glad we’re here?” Nosty asked, and MacAvoy kept quiet. Whatever Belle asked him to do, he would do without comment. 

“If keeping me from losing my mind makes you glad, then yes.” 

Nosty grunted, and MacAvoy wanted to smirk at having this upper hand, but then he saw the two of them making doe eyes at one another, and he guessed he was losing that round as well.

Belle sat them at two tables pushed together with six cardboard boxes lined up. The first one MacAvoy peeked into had boxes and boxes of crayons. 

“We’re making little kits, so grab a bag out of this box and put one thing from all the other boxes in it.” Belle plucked out a mesh drawstring bag to demonstrate, and placed in a name tag sticker, a box of crayons, a sheet of colored star stickers, a tube of glitter glue, and a small chocolate. 

“Do the different bag colors matter?” Nosty asked.

“They will for me, but not for you.” She dropped her example on the table. “Oh, and whenever you’re ready, I have something for you in my office.”

MacAvoy tried to scrutinize Nosty’s reaction to this as well as Belle’s expression to see if this was some sort of code for sex, but Nosty seemed to know what it was already, and all he did was thank her. 

“All right, I’ll be over there making signs.” She squeezed each of them on the arm at the same time and then rushed off.

Not wanting to be overshadowed, MacAvoy snatched up the first bag and got to work.

“It’s not a contest, you don’t have to race me, Jesus Christ.” Nosty spoke softly enough that Belle didn’t hear, and MacAvoy’s neck tensed. He was so sneaky when he was being rude. 

“I’m just trying to help Belle,” he said. 

Nosty rolled his eyes, but the two of them worked in silence for almost an hour before MacAvoy scraped the bottom of the first cardboard box with his fingers. 

After that, Belle tasked Nosty with sorting supplies and MacAvoy with manning the desk while she conducted story time for children under three and their parents. MacAvoy couldn’t quite see Belle from the desk, but that was okay because he could see Nosty. He had set himself up at a table where he could watch her through the shelves, and he made a cursory effort to sort things into piles, but mostly, he watched Belle. 

MacAvoy had now spent time alone with Nosty, time alone with Belle, and time alone with Nosty and Belle, but he had never seen anything like the naked adoration on Nosty’s face as he watched Belle work. Did he always look like that when he came to the library? Was it memories like these, memories of Belle in her element reading stories to babies, that kept Nosty going on the cold, unforgiving streets?

****

It had been two weeks since he’d last checked a book in or out, and he had never been great at it anyway, so the handful of patrons that came to the desk took up way more of his Nosty-watching time than he’d have liked. Storytime was wrapping up by the time the last woman left, and MacAvoy only got one glimpse of Nosty before he dedicated himself to sorting—presumably to pretend he’d been focused on it all along.

The storytime crowd dispersed, some to play in the little play area in the corner, some to look at books, and some to leave. Belle checked on each of them before stopping at Nosty, and even though MacAvoy knew it was fruitless, he strained to hear what she said to him.

Whatever it was, Nosty snapped to look at the door, then Belle rubbed his arm and he settled. She said something else and he cracked a grin, then she squeezed his arm and left him for the circulation desk.

“Any troubles?” she asked.

He shook his head. “It went as smoothly as it could, all things considered. How was story time?”

“Perfect.” 

He vacated her chair, then stood next to it, trying not to wring his hands quite so obviously. “Should I bring over a chair?”

“I don’t think so,” Belle said. “Truly, I shouldn’t have had you over here as much as I did before, and my only excuse is that I was a wreck. But I don’t have much else for you two to help with, so you’re welcome to find something to do.”

She gestured out to the library, and this filled him with dread. Find something to do? The only reason he came here was to spend time with Belle in her favorite place. 

“Where’s Nosty?” he asked.

Belle shrugged, already scrolling through her emails. “He likes to hide. I’m sure he’s somewhere.” 

MacAvoy left to bring a cup of coffee to his friend across the street, then poured himself one and set out to find Nosty. 

It was not as difficult as he expected. Nosty sat cross-legged on the floor against a shelf of science texts, a novel propped open in his lap. He didn’t look up at MacAvoy’s approach, but MacAvoy was no longer naive enough to assume that he’d remained undetected. 

He squatted to see what was in Nosty’s line of sight at this angle. As expected, Belle’s desk was visible above a row of history paperbacks. 

“What do you want?” Nosty asked, unmoving. 

MacAvoy clenched a fist in his pocket. “Thought you might want some company.”

Nosty finally looked up from his book. “You want my company?”

Of course he didn’t, but what else was he supposed to do? Besides, if Belle saw them together, it would make her happy.

“Better than being alone.”

“You sure about that?” Nosty turned back to his book, and it didn’t matter how he looked gazing at Belle, he was awful. 

“Suit yourself.” He stalked off, but the wind left his sails as soon as he turned the corner. What did he have to do if Belle had no tasks and no one wanted to talk to him?

A book collided with his upper arm just hard enough to startle him. Nosty held the novel out to him.

“What’s this?”

“I know it sucks to quit,” Nosty said. “You look bored.”

Unable to pick his jaw up, MacAvoy accepted the book, staring at the cover without seeing it. He swallowed, then cleared his throat. “Weren’t you reading this?”

“Read it twice already. Goes quick. Passes the time.”

In all the time he’d spent with Belle, though he’d enjoyed having audiobooks on because they made him feel less alone, he’d never considered trying to read a text. He thanked Nosty, then wandered over to the couches and flipped the book over.

He didn’t know what he expected Nosty’s reading tastes to be—in all honesty, he still had trouble wrapping his head around the idea that Nosty read for pleasure at all. Still, it surprised him to discover that the thin paperback in his hands was about dragons. He could not recall ever having read a fantasy novel, except perhaps when he was a child.

The book smelled of old paper, and the text was almost too small for him to focus on. Just as he was settling into the first page with his brow furrowed in concentration, the couch dipped, and Nosty curled up against the opposite end.

The most shocking part about Nosty coming to sit with him was that he could not see Belle from there. What did that mean? Was he sitting with him truly to keep him company?

Still, MacAvoy took the distraction. “What are you reading?”

“Nothing if I’m talking to you.”

He tried to read again and made it three pages before Nosty disappeared. Even though he said nothing, somehow MacAvoy knew he’d disappointed him. With a tiny groan, he opened the book firmly, forcing himself to stare at it.

“All right.”

He jumped at the sound of Belle’s cheerful voice, and then she was coming around to sit next to him.

“You need help?” he asked.

“No, Nosty says you do. Come on, put it down, let’s go.”

Baffled, he trailed after Belle as she weaved through the stacks until she stopped at a row full of paperbacks. 

“I think this will be more your cup of tea.” She plucked a book out and handed it to him, letting go almost before he’d grabbed it as she moved to pluck another, and soon he had a pile of seven books in his arms.

“You want me to read all of these?” 

“Of course not.” She scanned the shelves again and then, after a second’s hesitation, grabbed an eighth book. “I just think you’re more likely to find one you want to read in this group than from Nosty’s tastes.” 

“You don’t think Nosty has good taste?”

The look she gave him would have sent any Catholic school student running in shame. “No, I think it’s my job to recommend books to anyone who wants one and he was just trying to be nice to a friend.”

Appropriately chastened, he brought his stack of books back to the couch to sort through them. She’d picked a variety of mysteries, and as he selected one set in the Scottish Highlands, he decided that this definitely was more his speed.

The mean little voice in his head wanted to sneer at Nosty, but he was sober and rational enough to recognize that, whether Nosty had chosen the correct book himself, he had made an effort to find one. He’d called over the librarian. 

MacAvoy made it through an entire chapter with the Scottish detective before Nosty returned to loom over him.

“What?” he asked, surprised at how annoyed he was to be interrupted.

“Belle made tea.” He jerked his thumb toward a table and then walked off. Not wanting to reject this unexpected and continued olive branch, MacAvoy hurried after him. Though they sat as far apart as two strangers forced to share a table, MacAvoy knew that Nosty was making a conscious choice to sit here instead of lurking between the stacks where he could observe Belle unseen.

Now, of course, they could both see Belle, but she could see them as well. 

They sat and read in what could only be described as companionable silence until a delighted voice that MacAvoy didn’t recognize chirped, “Oh my god, Nosty!” 

A young woman with cropped, greasy hair who couldn’t have been more than twenty, if that, stood before them in an oversized jacket, one arm crossed over her to clutch at her elbow. 

“Kaz,” Nosty said, not quite frosty but not quite friendly either. 

“I thought you was locked up!” She grabbed the chair closest to him and clambered into it. MacAvoy stared at his book, though anyone with working eyes could see he was just eavesdropping.

“It’d take more than one herd o’ pigs to lock me up,” Nosty said. He closed his book, and though his movements were slow, MacAvoy had spent the past two weeks doing almost nothing but spying on him, and he could tell that it was deliberate. Nosty was agitated. 

“How’d you get out?” Kaz asked. “Gypo said they kept you.”

“How’d I get out?” Nosty cracked his knuckles. “Couple o’ well-placed threats, a few hints as to what a bloke’s capable of without a sense of self-preservation.” He drew a finger across his throat. “Easy.”

MacAvoy almost laughed—surely, Kaz wouldn’t buy that?—but she gaped at him like he’d just dispensed a holy truth.

“No shit?”

Nosty shrugged as though he’d prefer to be taking a bow but didn’t have the space, and MacAvoy could not hide that he was looking between them now.

“Threatening the police is not a strategy that he recommends,” MacAvoy said because the moonstruck look in Kaz’s eyes was making him feel like he was about to be an accessory to a crime.

“Wee bird like her doesn’t need to threaten the coppers,” Nosty scoffed. “She can just fucking cry, they’ll be wrapped around her finger.”

Kaz eyed MacAvoy warily and inched her chair closer to Nosty. How was it that so many people found Nosty more comforting than him? Sure, he knew lots of people had complicated relationships with religion, but he was so small, so harmless in his too-big shirt and collarino. Taking the hint, he cast his eyes back to his book.

“Do you just sit here and read?” Kaz asked.

“Sometimes I have a smoke,” Nosty said. 

“Belle doesn’t put on a movie?”

MacAvoy peeked up at Nosty, whose tense shoulders could burst through his jacket at any moment. 

“She would if I asked her to.” 

Kaz glanced behind her, back at the circulation desk, then scooted closer to Nosty and lowered her voice. “You never said she was pretty when you told me about her.”

Nosty smacked both hands on the table. “That’s not why I’m here, is it? It’s just a place to eat and sit down, hey? Who gives a fuck if the librarian is a fine piece of arse?”

MacAvoy wanted to say something, wanted to defend Belle’s honor, but he sensed that it would not go over well. Even he, in his most unflattering interpretation, could not pretend that Nosty wasn’t lying to save—well, he didn’t know what Nosty was saving, but it was probably something.

“Jesus, fine, don’t get your knickers in a twist,” Kaz said, which MacAvoy thought was quite brave of her. He wouldn’t have said something like that to Nosty when he was in a mood. 

They sat for awhile, and Kaz made multiple trips to the snack cart and engaged Nosty in soft, fleeting conversation. MacAvoy eavesdropped a little about whoever Gypo was—dead now, from the sound of it—and some fellows named Marley and Boomer that Nosty insisted Kaz never tell about the library, and then Nosty fell silent.

“Who’s that?” he asked, and when MacAvoy realized he was allowed to hear this, he looked up.

Clive, who he’d all but forgotten about, was leaning over the circulation desk, COACH GASTON emblazoned on his back. MacAvoy could no longer see Belle through him, but maybe Nosty could.

“That’s the coach,” Kaz whispered. “He comes in every day.”

Nosty turned a terrifying, wild expression on Kaz, teeth bared. “Does he?” he bit out.

Again, this did not seem to frighten her, and she nodded vigorously. “She always tells him she doesn’t want to go out with him but he keeps coming back. I don’t like him.” 

“Every day?” Nosty asked. MacAvoy’s heart thumped wildly in his ears even though Nosty was no threat to him at the moment. 

“He thinks she’ll change her mind.”

Nosty slapped a hand on the table, and MacAvoy leapt to his feet. “Well, Father, get ready to be useful.”

“Wh-what?” MacAvoy asked.

“Someone’s gotta read his death rites.”

****

The problem with Coach Gaston’s appearances was that, though Belle had come to expect them all week, she could not know exactly when. Sometimes, he was in the after school crowd, sometimes he was closer to closing, and today, he was well before she expected him entirely.

“Good afternoon,” she said, though she knew she should have said something like get out. 

“Hey, beautiful,” he said. “That’s what ‘Belle’ means, right? It’s pretty.”

“Yes,” she said. Again, the futile thought that she could be curt enough to convince him to go away floated through her mind. 

“You know, you’re not like any other girl I’ve met,” he said. 

“Because I’m uninterested?” As usual, she stared at her computer screen, determined not to do anything that could be construed as eye contact.

“We’ll see.” He leaned closer and plucked a pen off of her desk. “You’re so passionate about books.”

“How would you know?” she snapped. “We’ve never even talked about books.”

“So you want to grab a drink and talk about books?” he asked, and she could have screamed. Of course she’d fallen right into his trap.

“Oi, look at that,” came Nosty’s booming voice, and Belle could breathe again. “There’s a fucking rat in the library.”

Coach Gaston turned, and Nosty shoved him against the desk, gripping his lapels and snarling.

“What the hell, mate?” Clive asked, hands scrabbling along the desk for a grip. Nosty pushed him further back.

“Mate? Don’t be so chummy, son,” Nosty hissed, brogue so thick, Belle could hardly understand him. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

Coach Gaston pushed Nosty off of him, and though he was at least three times more muscular, Belle thought that the only reason he was able to push Nosty back was because Nosty let him. He stepped back enough to give Clive space to brace himself.

“What am I doing? What are you doing? Picking a fight in a library in front of a woman?”

Belle scowled, but the only person paying attention to her was Joseph cowering just out of reach of the fight. “Excuse me—”

“Aye, I picked a fight in front of her, I picked it because she wants you to piss off.”

“Me?” Coach Gaston drew himself up, but Nosty just bared his teeth. “You’re the one causing problems.”

Nosty barked with laughter. “Och, I’m the one causing problems, he says.” He surveyed an imaginary audience. “Fucking piece of shite manky keech good for fuck all—did she not tell you no?”

If she hadn’t been staring at him, she would have missed his glance dart toward her, but she nodded vigorously when she realized he was seeking confirmation of this fact.

Coach Gaston blustered. “For now.”

For a second, Belle thought Nosty might leap at Clive like a wildcat and rip his throat out with his teeth. 

“Fuck—fucking for now?” 

“You know how women are,” Clive said, clearly trying to develop some level of camaraderie when it became obvious that Nosty would not be swayed by his considerable extra muscle. 

“Well, fuck me, I guess I don’t. How are they, then?”

“Well.” Clive glanced back at her, and she didn’t have time to put on her stoic mask again, too busy clutching the top of her chair and watching Nosty. “They’ve got to lead you on. You know, no really means yes eventually and all that.”

With a roar, Nosty had him by the lapels and bent over the desk again, and Belle had to jump out of the way. 

“Didn’t anyone ever teach you basic word comprehension, Coach?” Nosty snarled while Clive groped around the desk. Belle moved a pen cup out of his reach.

“Let go of me!”

“Oh, you want me to let go?” Nosty drove his elbow into his gut.

“Yes, god!” Clive wheezed.

“Didn’t hear that, mate .” Nosty grabbed Clive’s wandering hand and slammed it back into the desk. “How about a broken finger?”

“N-no—let go of me!”

“What’s that? No? Sounds like a yes to me—”

“Wait, stop!” Belle flew out from around her desk, grateful to hear no bones cracking. 

“Get back!” Joseph yelled, but Belle grabbed Nosty’s arm and tugged. It didn’t budge.

“Belle—” Nosty growled.

“Nosty, please, stop!” She clutched his arm like a teddy bear. “If you’re doing this for me, you’ve made your point. You don’t need to hurt him.”

“I don’t think I have made my point.” He wrenched his arm out of her grasp. “He hasn’t even tried to apologize yet.”

“I’m sorry!” Coach Gaston flailed, but he couldn’t move under Nosty’s weight. “Belle, I’m sorry!”

Belle, not knowing what else to do and ignoring Joseph’s hand on her elbow, ducked under Nosty’s arm to get between him and Clive. 

He finally looked at her, a wild animal ready to strike, and she trembled as she met his eyes. “It’s not worth it,” she said. “Let him go.”

Nosty watched her for the span of three breaths, and then dropped his hold on Coach Gaston. Belle stepped aside to let him clamber off the desk.

“You’re banned from the library,” she said to him. “You’re not even allowed for school visits.”

“Me?” He looked incredulously at Nosty. “What about him?”

“What the fuck do you care if you’re not allowed?” Nosty asked. “Come on, I’ll see you out.” He grabbed Coach Gaston by the lapels again and half-escorted, half-dragged him through the door. Belle, Joseph, and Kaz all watched them leave.

“Jesus Christ,” Joseph said. “Jesus fucking Christ, I need a drink.” 

“Are you okay, Belle?” Kaz asked.

Belle nodded, watching the door even though she could no longer see Nosty. Where was he? Was he coming back? 

“Don’t go after him,” Joseph said. “Just let him be.”

“Shut up.” After that, she had no time for guilt over Joseph’s wide eyes or slack jaw because she was running out the doors.

Nosty was nowhere in sight, but when she waved to her friend across the street, he pointed around the other side of the library. She jogged over and there he was, pacing and smoking a cigarette. He held up a hand to stop her from coming closer, so she did.

“Nosty.”

“Don’t say anything,” he said. “Please, I can’t fucking hear it right now.” He rubbed at his chest near the scar from his bottle injury.

“I wasn’t going to say anything bad,” she called. 

He paused, then threw his cigarette on the ground and crushed it beneath his boot. Without looking at her, he lit another, took a few puffs, then did the same. 

“Nosty, can I come closer?”

He shrugged, so she took a few steps toward him, then another few when he didn’t flee, and a few more until she could reach his arm.

“Thank you for getting rid of him.” 

He didn’t speak. She licked her lips. 

“Nosty, I’m not mad. Please.”

Careful, like he didn’t know which of them might break, he stepped toward her. She wrapped both hands around his arm, and he came a little bit closer.

“Please say something,” she said.

He flicked the flint of his lighter in his other hand, watching it click click click until it sparked. “I scared you.”

She shook her head, squeezing his arm. “You didn’t scare me.”

“Don’t lie, Belle, I saw your face. I know how to scare someone. I know what it fucking looks like.”

Belle licked her dry lips again. What could she say? She had been a little scared. “I wasn’t afraid you’d hurt me.”

His head hardly moved, but he watched her now. “What were you afraid of?”

She wished she could wrap her arms around him and bury her face in his chest, but she stayed back. “I was afraid you wouldn’t stop, and the police would come, and they’d lock you up with no bail for good.”

The shift was almost imperceptible, but somehow, Nosty faced her now. “Fuck.”

“Fuck,” she agreed.

“I don’t want to go to prison.”

Tentative, she slid her hand into his. He linked their fingers together. “Then you can’t be violent.” 

“Violence is who I am, Belle. Just ask anyone.”

Belle stepped close enough to rest her head on his shoulder, and though his arm twitched, he stood stock-still beneath her.

“That’s not true. Violence is a piece of you just like anything else.”

“Belle, this is me.” He pulled his arm out of hers. “I’m a basket case who’d cut off the hand what feeds him to make a fucking point.”

She shook her head. “Violence has just been the only tool you’ve had for a long time.”

He frowned down at her. “What?”

“The only way you knew to survive was with violence.” She offered her hand again. “That doesn’t mean that’s all you are, and you can learn new tools. You can make different choices.”

Still frowning at her, he took her hand. 

“The past doesn’t define you. It’s how you move forward that does.”

“If he’d done so much as grazed you by accident, I’d have broken his fucking neck,” Nosty whispered.

She shook her head. “You didn’t even break his fingers.”

“What don’t you understand?” He yanked her to him, cupping her face roughly in his free hand. “If you hadn’t stopped me, I would have. I would have broken every single finger on his hand, and probably pissed on his fucking shoes.”

A laugh bubbled up, but she swallowed it because Nosty did not appear to be joking. “It doesn’t matter what you might have done. It matters that you chose not to.” 

Nosty groaned liked a wounded dog and dropped his hand. “I don’t understand, Belle. I don’t understand what you want me to say. I tried again, I failed. Dress it up however you want, it doesn’t change anything.”

With the hand she still held, she tugged him toward the back of the library where there was a tiny concrete patio and a picnic table where the employees and volunteers who smoked usually took their breaks. He allowed her to sit him down and arrange him so that she could sit next to him and take his hand again.

“Nosty, you keep looking at every setback as failure.”

“Belle, I’m trying my best—”

“I know.” She pressed a finger to his lips and he settled. “Healing takes a long time. You can’t change overnight—and I’m not asking you to change who you are.” 

“Healing?” he said. “You sound like the therapist.” 

She pressed her finger more firmly to his lips, and he finally cracked a tiny smile. 

“You’ve always had to rely on violence to survive, but now you don’t. Now you have a safe place to go, regular meals, and people who care about you.” 

“But—”

“Nosty, have I given you permission to speak?”

Watching her the same way he did whenever he was gearing up to tease her, he tilted his head to the side and closed his teeth around her finger. She laughed and snatched her hand away.

“You don’t have to use violence anymore, and someday, your brain will catch up. And until then, if I’m able to stop you, that means there’s hope.”

“You think so?”

She shrugged. “You came out here to smoke and cool off, didn’t you? I don’t see Clive’s body in a ditch.”

Nosty looked down at his hands, flipping them over as if to confirm that there was no blood. “I did tell him there were some things I missed about me time in prison, and he best lock his windows at night.”

“ Nosty , that’s not funny.”

He pursed his lips. “Wasn’t supposed to be, was it? I wanted him to be as scared as he made you.”

“Oh god.” She slid her hand up to her forehead. “He did scare me.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He lifted her chin. “I would’ve been here.”

She shook her head. “I felt silly.”

“In front of me? I just told you I’d’ve pissed on his shoes, and I fucking meant it.”

As usual, her sudden burst of affection made her want to kiss him, but she held back. “I guess I was afraid I hadn’t done enough to tell him no, and you might—you might be upset.”

“Me? Upset with you about him?” His eyes narrowed as if he was doing mental math, and then he snorted. “Is it because I was upset about the good Father?”

“Maybe.”

He tilted her face more, staring her down. “I was only jealous because you were nice to him. If you told me some bloke was bothering you, I’d take care of it. I’d do anything to protect you. You—” He clenched his teeth, but kept eye contact. “You’ve done so much to protect me.”

“I’m really proud of you,” she said. “You’ve come so far. And—maybe your new therapist will help you internalize what you learned today?”

“Internalize what I’ve learnt today?” He scoffed. “Best be careful or I’ll think you want me to do more than be civil with the shrink.”

“Well, if you have to go anyway, you might as well get something out of it.”

He snorted. “We’ll see.” He released her chin only to wrap a lock of her hair around his finger. “I’m not ready to go back in yet.”

“Well, I can’t leave the desk forever, but a few more minutes can’t hurt.” She pecked him on the cheek so quickly, he jumped, and then he grinned.

“A few minutes with you’s less than I want and more than I deserve, but I’ll take it.”

[vacantgodling]

for the ask game - 7, Q, and 🤖 ! - @viscerawrites

thank you for asking! probably gonna talk about paramour bc anything with style makes me think of hya

7. First time they experimented with their personal style

the first time hya experimented with his style was after tagetes took him in when he was like. 18 or so. all his life his hair was short and cut around his ears in a bob, but when he started learning and gaining access to fashion trends and the nobility and shit like that, he started growing his hair out. he wasn't sure how he would feel about it at first but he grew to really love it.

Q. First act of non-sexual intimacy (e.g. washing the other's hair, taking a bath together, sharing food)

wow this is a VERY good question when i think about amon and hya. lemme... peruse my scattered writings and outlines lol.

okay from what i can see (i'm still reworking the outline), its likely the first time is when they share a bed together, naked, but not actually doing anything. its like chapter 13 or so, but that's subject to change. but basically the two of them are staying in the fortresse de humble herbe under the bishop's hospitality, because hya promised aloe that he would be there for his priest-ing shit and impending ordainment. hya had an exhausting day dealing with his family (mainly his stepmother belladonna) and amon has been nowhere to be found all day and that shit is really pissing him the fuck off by the time he goes to bed. he tosses and turns for awhile, until sometime in the early hours of the morning his door opens and he can tell its amon. amon has just had his own stressful encounter in the catacombs under the temple (spoilers cough) and he just wants to sleep but... not in the servents quarters. he goes to hya's room. hya is pissed off but he tells amon to get in bed with him and they don't even end up fucking like amon thought they would they just kinda end up... cuddling???? crazy. not good for either of their hearts (it is, like when tf have either of them gotten hugs ever?? like never). and then it leads to having the closest thing that they have to a heartfelt conversation wherein amon kind of asks hya what he would want out of a romantic relationship, and hya basically says him but like. neither of them really say that but that's basically what they say.

this shit makes me emo im gonna go cry about them brb.

🤖 - First nonhuman character you wrote

technically speaking i've never really gravitated towards making 'fully human' characters, cuz even from a young age i was super obsessed with fairies (i had a bunch of fairy figurines growing up actually, but then all of them got broken when a shelf i had them on collapsed. it really broke me tbh i never got any fairy statues after that even though i probably could now but like i had some expensive ones too like ugh rip that collection) so my first oc "nature girl", i made with my grandmother when i was 3 was like. technically a fairy. so i guess that was my first nonhuman oc lol.

[acethatlovesdinos]

I made this a long time ago, when I was first struggling with undiagnosed, unmedicated, and untreated depression and anxiety. (I think I was like 13 or 14???)

I've always been better at processing physical words, so writing and poetry became a strong outlet in that time frame.

When I wrote this, I was in a bad place, I would like to make that clear.

My mom showed it to my doctor when I finally spoke up about the issue, and he, as well as a few other professionals, told me I had put the topic of Depression into clearer words than many adults they'd treated in the past, and that I should publish that writing one day, because maybe it'd help some other people make sense of things too.

Anyway, here that is. It's completely unchanged from the day I wrote it, just a copy/paste from the original document.

Trigger warning for blatant description of severe depressive and anxiety symptoms, as well as brief mentions of self harm and suicide.

(btw I am now 19, I am okay, I got help years ago, everything is fine. You aren't alone, either. No one is beyond saving. I love you!)

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

I think it's depression.

I mean, why else would I feel like this? This is definitely not a way normal people feel and think. They don’t feel worthless or hopeless or like they’d be better off dead. They don’t stay awake until past eleven and wake up at 3 in the morning. They don’t spend half their nights crying silently because they’re worthless and broken and a waste of space. They don’t pray only to ask God why they’re like this. They don’t fall into tears about the most stupid things and act totally numb about the biggest tragedies.

They don’t think about what would happen if they caused physical harm to themselves. But I do. I feel worthless and hopeless and like I'm a waste of space. I spend hours at night just staring at my ceiling wondering why. Why I exist. Who would miss me if I wasn’t there? Who would even notice? Who would care? I wonder if death hurts sometimes. But I wouldn’t kill myself. Suicide doesn’t end the pain, it just passes it on to someone else.

Should I tell someone about this? Probably. But the biggest problem is that I can’t explain it. I can’t explain what’s wrong. I feel scared and sad and tired. All the time. And people ask me why I’m scared or what makes me sad, I can’t say why because I don’t exactly know myself. There’s just this constant feeling following me around and I don’t know why. Then they’ll say something like, “then stop being sad!” or “Don’t be afraid!” But they don’t understand. Fear isn’t a thing you can just…turn off. Especially when you don’t know what it is you’re afraid of. No one understands me because I don’t understand me.

I’m scared. I’m scared because I don’t know what it is. I’m human, okay? I fear the unknown. But I’m even more scared to identify the unknown. Because if I have depression, I’m broken. If I have depression, I fall under the category of “sad” in most people’s radar. When people think of depression, they think sad. They think of crying all night wrapped in blankets and watching youtube on your phone. But that’s only the tip of the very, very, very, very deep iceberg.

You can still feel happy when you’re depressed. It’s just that the feeling doesn’t last. You feel like everything that goes wrong is your fault. And you’re not always sad. If you were sad, at least you’d be feeling something. You just feel…numb. You don’t feel anything and struggle to focus or notice anything unless it’s right in front of your face. Even then, you hardly realize what it is. I wish people would understand this. But no one understands.

When people ask, “Do you wanna talk about it?” The answer is no, I don’t want to talk about it. I want to box up these feelings in a steel chest, lock it with a combo lock, tie it with chains, weld it shut, and throw it into the bottom of the Mariana Trench so I don’t have to think about it ever again. But I know I can’t do that. I’d like to, but I can’t. Because feelings aren’t physical objects. They aren’t something you can just throw away and forget about. They can’t be traded or lost. They can’t be sold for extra cash. The only things you can do is lock them away or share them.

It’s quiet. Terrifyingly quiet. Or it’s loud. Deafeningly loud. There’s no middle ground. Likewise, you either feel utterly alone or like you’re in the constant spotlight with everyone looking at you. You don’t control which one it is, you don’t control how you feel.

When you’re in the backseat of your own mind and you can’t see the driver, it’s one of the scariest things in the world. You’re not in control. You don’t know where you’re going. You think you’re going to crash. Then you don’t. You swerve out of the way and keep going. This happens again and again until you’re tired of it and actually hope you crash so it will end. You’re dizzy from the turns and you feel sick. You want to pull over, take a five minute break from going ten thousand miles an hour. But it doesn’t stop. It keeps going.

The only reason you don’t lose your lunch is because you likely didn’t eat any. For whatever reason, your appetite changes. Either you’re eating too much or not enough.

You lose almost everything that makes you happy.

For me, part of me knows this feeling is totally irrational and there’s no reason I should feel like the sad excuse of a human being that I feel I am. Time and time again, I try to change my mindset, make myself feel like what others praise me for. But it doesn’t work. Part of me wants to just give in to these feelings and reduce myself to a sad blanket-lump.

I try to ignore it. I try to fight it. But the fight never ends.

Do you know what insanity is? The true definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result each time you do so. So I’m insane. I fight those thoughts, each time expecting them to stay down, to let me win. But they keep getting back up. When I get knocked down, I get up, despite knowing it’s going to knock me down again. That’s just further proof of my insanity.

I’m tired. I’m tired of putting on a fake smile. I’m tired of saying I’m fine. I’m tired of lying. I’m tired of crying. I’m tired of yelling. I’m tired of being tired.

I’d like to give up, but school is in the way. School doesn’t matter anymore though. Grades? They’re just stress numbers. Numbers that somehow define your entire performance. I used to have good numbers, good reviews of my performance, but I’ve stopped caring. I’m more worried about surviving a school day with dry eyes than quadratic functions. I’m more worried about making sure I don’t break down than moon phases. I’m more worried about just surviving overall than trying to read in a language I’m just going to forget after a few weeks of summer.

One might think: If you’re hurting this badly, why haven’t you told anyone? If you’re hurting so much, why didn’t you ask for help before it got this bad? I didn’t tell anyone because I was afraid of becoming a problem. I was afraid of becoming a burden, dragging you down with me. I was afraid that this might be contagious, so I kept myself shut up so that no one has to suffer like I do.

And that, right there. “Suffer like I do.” That makes me sound like I’m the middle of the universe, doesn’t it? ‘Oh, woe is me! I cannot function because I feel sad!’ I’m afraid people will view me like that if I open up.

But it’s gotten too bad to hide at this point. I’m to the point where I have trouble with finding the urge to get up in the morning. I can’t find the urge to go to school. I can barely find the urge to even just live sometimes. I just want to give up and go back to bed.

-----------

I promise. None of you have to suffer alone in whatever you're going through. People can and will help you, if you let them. I understand that it's hard to ask for help, personal pride can genuinely get in the way of things. But if you want help and are truly looking to improve, you can and you will. I love you dearly, and I hope you're doing well. 💜💜💜 just know that there's always someone who cares. You're loved and cherished, each and every one of you! :]