#it just felt better to cut that and turn it into a mental health walk instead

[imaginedisish]

Dare (Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader)

A/N: Hey guys. Just wanted to say thank you for all the support I got this morning. All of your comments really warmed my heart. Thank you so, so, so much. I ended up getting this done pretty fast. Went with "Dare" by Gorillaz for the title. Made me feel better to write. I like this one. Hope you do, too. Enjoy!

Summary: Logan finds out you've never been eaten out while playing a game of "Truth or Dare," and he's more than willing to change that.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI!!! SMUT!!! Oral (f!receiving), Fingering, softdom!Logan, pussydrunk!Logan (he does not let up, he is starving for you), older!Logan, implied aged gap (reader is in her 20s/old enough to teach at the institute), cocky!Logan, he is an absolute service dom in this, friends to lovers, mentions of mental health/self worth, fluff, some hurt to comfort, some angst, afab/fem!reader, cursing, def some grammatical errors, I think that's it.

Word Count: 4,235 wowza didn't expect that and oh my god this gif

You’re lying on your floor—the door to your room wide open. Everyone is out anyway. It’s Friday night at the mansion—no one will see you like this. Students’ papers are scattered around you. You stare up at the ceiling, feeling choked up. It had been a bad day—a bad week. Maybe even a bad year. You feel like you’re slipping, losing yourself. 

Teaching the older students had become beyond challenging—possibly because you aren’t much older than them in the first place. Most days, it felt like everyone expected greatness from you, given the strength of your powers, which naturally comes with responsibility, and that can be incredibly overwhelming. It had all been—if you were being brutally honest—an absolutely terrible time. 

So, you’re lying on your floor, feeling numb. You stopped grading papers at least an hour ago, and simply decided to stare at the ceiling, your head spinning. You wanted to calm the noise, to take a breather. Luckily, you’re alone—everyone is on a mission or out given that it’s Friday night. 

Or so you thought. 

“What on Earth are you doing?” A familiar voice cuts through the silence like a knife, jarring you, and forcing you to look up. And there he is, in a white t-shirt and denim jeans, arms crossed tightly against his chest, leaning in the doorway. Logan. You want to roll your eyes at how good he looks. You want to slap yourself for thinking it in the first place.

He smirks at you, his brows furrowed playfully. You let your head fall back to the floor. “Grading papers,” you mutter. You can hear his footsteps as he walks into the room, drawing closer to you. 

“Doesn’t look like you’re grading papers to me,” he teases. You can hear the smile in his voice. “Why aren’t you out with Jean or Rogue?” 

He stands next to you, and you look up at him. “Didn’t feel like it,” you mumble, forcing yourself to sit up. You draw your knees into your chest. You decide to turn the question around on him. “Why aren’t you out?”

He sits down next to you, stretching his long legs in front of him, his shoulder bumping against yours as he settles in. He shrugs. “Somebody’s gotta keep an eye on you, right?” He jokes, nudging his elbow into your arm. You can’t help the smile that spreads across your face. It’s impossible to fight it when he’s next to you. Your eyes meet his, and his smile quickly turns into something else—concern. “You’ve been off lately.”

You swallow harshly. “Did Jean or Rogue say something?” You ask. They’d notice, maybe they told Logan. “Did they ask you to stay with me or something?”

But Logan shakes his head. “No. I could just tell,” he says, worry clear in his voice. “Thought I’d hang back with you. All my idea.” He tilts his head, his jaw working, his brows furrowing again. “Is something going on?” 

You take a deep breath, turning away from him. You’re suddenly overwhelmed by his presence, by his kindness and his care. He stayed home for you. “I’m okay,” you mutter, avoiding the truth. 

“Hey,” Logan whispers, tentatively reaching his hand to your knee, waiting for you to shove him away. His palm is warm against your skin, calming and stabilizing. You turn back to look at him, his brows raised incredulously. “I know that’s not true,” he says. He has always been able to read you like a book. “What’s going on?”

You swallow harshly. “I’ve just been having a tough time lately,” you say, distracted by the way his thumb brushes across your knee. “I…” You trail off, letting your eyes fall closed. “Things are hard.”

“You can talk about it if you want,” he says, his voice deep and steady. “I’m here.” 

You sniffle, struggling to keep yourself in check. “I just…” you pause, looking off to the side. “Everything sucks.” You take another deep breath. “And the students are so hard.” You point to the piles of papers scattered around your floor. “And then there’s me, and all my shit. My powers. The responsibilities we have. I’m young, and I’m still learning. And fuck, Logan, this all just feels so impossible sometimes. It…it…” You trail off, finally running out of words, out of steam.

“It hurts.” He finishes your sentence, taking the words right out of your mouth. You turn back towards him, your eyes instantly meeting his. “It hurts a lot.”

You nod. “Yeah, exactly.” He squeezes your knee comfortingly. “You get it,” you murmur. 

“It’s gonna be okay,” he soothes, his hand lifting off your knee, his arm wrapping around your shoulder instead. “I’ve got you.” You let yourself lean into his touch, resting your head in the crook of his neck. “Let’s take your mind off things, yeah?”

You nod against him, not wanting to move away, not wanting to separate from him. He feels so nice, so solid. “What did you have in mind?” You ask, hoping it doesn’t involve getting up.

“Wanna play a game?” He offers, turning his head to look down at you. You smile widely, almost mockingly. “What?” He chides. “You think I don’t know how to have fun?”

You laugh softly. “I just don’t see you as a game guy, Lo,” you confess. He chuckles, and you can feel his laughter reverberating through his chest. “Can you even think of one to play?”

Logan’s still laughing, shaking his head. “What about truth or dare?” He ever so slightly pulls you in closer, his lips pressed against the side of your head. 

You giggle, feeling light for the first time in a long time. “Are we in seventh grade?” You ask teasingly. You felt like a teenager, honestly—being next to Logan always made you feel like a love-sick schoolgirl. But you know you and him could never be. You were younger than Logan—everyone was—but you, being in your 20s, assume that Logan doesn’t see you the way you see him. 

He just shakes his head and laughs, pulling you back to reality. “Truth or dare?” He asks, ignoring your middle school comment and officially starting the game. 

You don’t want to get up, don’t want to move an inch, so you answer: “Truth,” hoping it isn’t anything too crazy. 

Logan thinks for a second, his head resting on yours. “Why’d you pick truth instead of dare?” He finally asks. 

You roll your eyes. “Boring!” You tease. “I only picked it because I don’t feel like moving.” And then you realize…perhaps your answer is more revealing than you previously considered. Your heart thunders in your chest. 

Logan hums. “And why don’t you want to move, exactly?” He’s onto you. 

“You asked your question, you got an answer,” you protest, trying to shut him down. “No follow-up questions.” It’s your turn now. “Truth or dare?” You ask. 

“Truth,” he says. “Because maybe I don’t feel like moving either.”

You smile, and you can feel him looking down at you. You’re too nervous to meet his gaze. You think for a moment, racking your brain for a question. “Did you really stay home for me, and was it all your own idea?” You finally ask. You regret the question almost immediately, fearful of the honest answer. 

“Yes,” he responds without a beat. “Jean said you were staying in, and said she didn’t know why, so I stayed too.” He pauses, and you can hear his steady breathing amidst the silence. “I was worried, princess.” The pet name burns a hole through your heart. “Needed to know that you were okay.”

You can feel tears building behind your sinuses. “Thank you, Lo,” you whisper. “That means a lot.”

He presses the ghost of a kiss to the crown of your head—almost not quite there. But you can feel it, hesitant and tentative. “It’s nothing, no need to thank me.” You finally find the courage to look up at him and find him smiling down at you. His lips part. “Truth or dare?” He asks again. 

You can feel some sort of tension brewing, building, thick and heavy. You try to ignore it, try to brush it off. Your heart hammers in your chest. “Truth,” you pick again. “But get a little more creative this time.”

He pauses, the gears in his head turning. And then finally: “Why’s your heart beating so fast? It’s loud, too.” 

Your eyes widen, suddenly remembering Logan’s heightened senses. He can hear everything. “Uh…” You trail off, not sure how to get out of this. “I-It’s not…”

He laughs. “You’re a terrible liar. You know that?” His voice is deep and honeyed, smooth. “You gotta answer the question, or I get to ask another.”

“Those are not the rules!” You protest, lifting your head to look at him. He’s got that shit-eating grin on his face, the one that makes your stomach drop. 

He tugs you into his chest again, his lips at the shell of your ear. “Then answer the question,” he whispers, his breath warm against your skin, sending a chill down your spine. He’s so close. Too close. Your heart is only beating faster, louder now. 

“I don’t know,” you whisper. But of course, you know. It’s all because of him. “Just anxious, I guess.” It’s a half-truth—you’re certainly nervous, but you can’t bring yourself to tell him why. 

“No need to be nervous, sweetheart,” Logan coos, his thumb brushing circles into your shoulder. “It’s just me.”

Yes, exactly, you want to say. It’s you. But you don’t. You try to steady your breathing, try to calm down. “My turn,” you force yourself to say. “Truth or dare?”

“Truth,” he says darkly. “And make it good.” You can hear the cockiness in his voice—a sudden shift in his tone. 

“We should just call this truth or truth,” you say, mulling over a question in your mind. It’s hard to think with him this close—hard to breathe. You want to rile him up, to find out what makes him tick—to make him itch the way he makes you. And then it hits you: the perfect question. “When was the last time you…” You stop yourself, suddenly too nervous to ask. 

“When was the last time I what, darlin’?” He asks, cocking his head to the side, raising his eyebrows. 

You huff. You’ve fallen into your own trap. There’s no backing out now. “When was the last time…” You pause again, biting your lip. You close your eyes. “…somebody got you off?” 

“Been a while,” he says simply. Your eyes flutter open, and Logan is completely relaxed, his eyes trained on you. He isn’t annoyed. He’s unbothered, unprovoked, as if you had asked him what the weather was going to be like tomorrow. “But it depends on how you mean. So, what do you mean?” He finishes. 

You’re slightly frustrated by how easy it was for him to answer. “I don’t know,” you mutter, shrugging your shoulders. “Whatever the last time was.”

“Few years back, not particularly proud of it,” he huffs. “Girl took care of me in a bar. That was it.” 

You nod. “Must’ve been nice,” you whisper, suddenly feeling a bit disheartened. You catch his drift; you know it didn’t mean anything. You likely didn’t know Logan at that time, having only arrived at the Institute two years ago. You know you shouldn’t feel jealous, shouldn’t care that he was ever with someone else, even for a fleeting moment. You’ve had boyfriends. You’ve been with other people. 

“It was fine. Just a blowjob.” He says it nonchalantly. “Didn’t mean a thing.” You look straight ahead, waiting for him to elaborate. But he doesn’t. “Truth or dare?” He finally asks. 

“Truth.” Your fake, plastered-on smile becomes real when his eyes meet yours. It’s just what happens when you look at him. “And make it interesting.”

The corner of his mouth turns up slyly, and you know he has something up his sleeve. “When was the last time somebody did that to you?” He asks. 

You cock your head to the side. “What do you mean?” But you already know exactly what he’s asking. And you desperately do not want to give him the answer.

“Got you off, like that,” he husks. “With their mouth.”

Fuck. “Uh…” You trail off. You can feel heat spreading across your chest and up your neck, your skin prickling. “Never,” you say honestly. 

“What?” Logan’s voice cuts through the tension like a knife. “Never?”

You’re suddenly embarrassed. Your skin feels tight—so do your shorts and tank top. “Never,” you repeat, looking down at your knees, still pulled in tightly to your chest. Your heart beats rapidly. “Just hasn’t happened yet,” you choke out. “I’ve been with people, but…”

“Hey,” he whispers, suddenly grabbing your chin and angling you up to face him. “It’s okay,” he soothes. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, princess.”

You smile shyly, reveling in his touch. “You didn’t,” you insist honestly. “Just a little embarrassed.”

Logan shakes his head, his eyes softening. “Nothing to be embarrassed about,” he assures. “You deserve to be taken care of.” His hand slides across your jaw and cups the back of your neck. “Deserve to feel good.”

Your eyes flutter closed at his touch. “Lo,” you whisper, struggling to keep your composure. Heat pools between your thighs. “Tr-truth or dare.”

His forehead presses to yours. “I think we’re done with the game, pretty girl,” he rasps, the arm around your shoulder slipping down to your waist. “Unless I get to give you a dare this time.”

“What’s the dare?” You ask, your eyes fluttering back open. His lips are so close. Your noses touch softly.

He works his jaw, licking his lips. “Let me eat you out, pretty girl,” he pants, his chest heaving against yours. “Let me take care of you like you should’ve been already.” He hates the idea that you’ve never been touched properly, the idea that those younger guys didn’t know how to treat you right. But he can fix that. He can make you feel good.

“Fuck,” you curse, his breath fanning across your lips. “A-are you sure?” You ask. “I don’t want you to do it just because you feel bad for me or—” “You think that’s what this is about?” He cuts you off, pulling you closer so that your body faces his, your thighs slotting together like puzzle pieces. “You think I want this just because I feel bad for you?”

“Well…” You search his eyes. “Yes,” you say. 

Logan’s face falls, and he shakes his head. “I want you, pretty girl,” he pants, his knee rubbing against your aching core. “Wanted you this whole time.” His palm presses firmly against your back, his other hand gripping your neck tighter. He wants, no, needs you closer. “You ruined me the second I saw you. Haven’t been with anyone since then.”

“Logan,” you whisper, bringing your hands up to his neck. “I want you too. Always have,” you confess.

He smiles, his lips pressing a chaste kiss to yours. “Then let me do this for you,” he rasps, almost begging, like he needs this more than you do. “Need to make you feel good, beautiful.” “Please,” you breathe. “Want you so bad, Lo.”

He curses under his breath, his lips capturing yours, harder this time. This kiss is starving, all-consuming. His tongue swipes across your lower lip, and you open your mouth, inviting him inside. He lowers you down carefully, sure not to break the kiss, guiding your back to the wood floor below. 

His thighs rest on either side of your hips as he hovers over you, bracing himself with his forearm. His free hand trails up your body, exploring your curves, hiking your shirt above your breasts. He smirks against your lips at the realization that you have no bra on. 

“Look at you,” he mumbles, rolling a nipple under his thumb, palming your breast. “Fucking perfect.” His fingertips drag to the other side, massaging you gently, taking your nipple between his thumb and forefinger and pinching softly. “Can smell you, you know,” he grunts. “Know you’re soaking for me, darlin’.”

His hand slides between the valley of your breasts, trailing down your stomach, until his fingertips bump into the waistband of your panties. He hesitates, looking down at you, waiting for you to change your mind, to tell him to stop. “Please,” you beg. “Need you, Lo.”

Logan smirks, his hand slipping under the hem of your shorts and inside your panties. “Love it when you call me that, sweetheart,” he groans. His fingertips flick your clit gently before finding your folds, feeling your arousal. “Barely even touched you,” he tuts. “And she’s already crying for me.”

He prods your entrance, spreading your slick, teasing you. He bites your lips, sucking so hard he might bruise—might draw blood—and you hope he does. You want proof that he was here, proof that he wants you—needs you this badly. You moan as his fingers find your clit again, drawing a few soft circles before pulling away, his hand slipping out of your shorts. 

You grab his biceps needily, impatiently, your nails digging into his skin. “Don’t stop,” you cry out. “Please, Logan.” 

He swallows your moans with another kiss, his lips trailing down to your jaw, then your neck—that sensitive spot just under your ear. “Don’t worry, pretty girl,” he soothes, biting down on your pulse point, licking the hollow of your throat. “Don’t think I could stop if I tried.” He nips at your collarbone, shoving your tank top further up your chest as his lips drag down the valley of your breasts. 

He kisses his way to your stomach, hooking his fingers into the waistband of your shorts, tugging them down your legs. His palms spread across your inner thighs, yanking them apart. He settles between them, his face just inches from your heat. He presses a chaste kiss to your clit, still all too clothed, hidden behind your panties. 

“Lo,” you whine. He breathes you in, pressing another kiss to your clit. He digs his fingers into the hem of your panties, slowly pulling them down your legs. 

“Wanna take my time with you, sweetheart,” he grunts, finally throwing your panties to the side. He spreads your legs wider, his face settling back between your thighs. You can feel his breath against your cunt, warm and teasing. “Wanna take care of you.” His lips finally find your clit again, and he licks at you. 

His tongue is soft, warm, wet. He laps at you again, harder this time, and you moan his name. “Fuck,” you curse as he licks a long stripe through your folds and back up to your clit, flicking the bud. Your legs twitch, your hips backing away involuntarily at the newfound pleasure. Logan’s hands slide under your ass, yanking you back to his face. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” He mumbles teasingly against you, the vibration of his deep, bassy voice rocking your core. “Not letting you go until I’m done with you, darlin’.”

You curse under your breath as he licks another long, slow stripe through your folds before settling on your clit. His tongue draws gentle circles around the bud, and you can’t hold back the loud moan that falls from your lips. 

“Yeah?” Logan husks between laps. “Feels good, pretty girl?”

“Y-yes,” you stammer, looking down at Logan, his face buried against your cunt. His eyes are trained on yours, watching your every move, taking in the way you’re squirming for him. “D-didn’t know it would feel this good, Lo.”

“Gonna try something, okay?” He says, his eyes searching yours. You nod emphatically, bracing yourself. His lips wrap around your clit, his teeth lightly grazing the bud as he pulls it into his mouth. And then he sucks, hard. Your eyes roll into the back of your head, your back arching off the floor.

He releases the bud, and does it again, sucking harder this time. Tears brim at the corners of your eyes, pleasure coursing through your veins. “Logan!” You cry out, your nails digging into the floor below, searching for purchase. “Fuck!” He laps at you soothingly, drawing tighter, faster circles around your clit. 

“You okay?” He coos between laps, his tongue swirling rapidly. 

You swallow, meeting his gaze again. The sight of him between your legs, working your clit, his hair a disheveled mess—it’s overwhelming. “Yeah,” you heave. “More than okay.”

He smirks against you and wraps his lips around your clit again, sucking on the bud like hard candy. His right hand slides out from under your ass, trailing up your inner thigh. Your heart thunders in your chest as his fingertips find your folds, spreading your slick, your walls clenching down around nothing. 

“Know you need ‘em, pretty girl,” Logan croons, two fingers nudging your entrance. “Beg for it.”

But he’s sucking on your clit again, making it impossible to say a word. You whimper, your legs trembling. “P-please,” you stutter, choking on air. “Need…” You trail off, your eyes fluttering closed. You swallow harshly. “Need your fingers, Lo,” you finally manage. 

“That’s a good girl,” he praises, shoving two fingers deep inside you, down to his knuckles. 

“Fuck, thank you,” you whine, moaning his name as his fingers stretch you out. You suddenly feel so full, so warm, so close. He pulls out, only to plunge back in, deeper this time. He’s lapping at you with reckless abandon—a man starved, like you’re the air he needs to breathe. Your walls flutter around him, the liquid heat in your lower belly threatening to burst. 

“Tastes so good,” Logan mumbles against you, his long, thick fingers thrusting in and out. He hits that sweet spot deep inside you with every pump. “Such a sweet little pussy. Tastes better than I imagined.” You’re crumbling underneath him. His words alone might push you over the edge. “Nothing compares to you, you know that?”

Your walls flutter again, his fingers sinking deeper inside you. “You like that?” Logan husks. “Like knowing how much I want you? How much I need you?”

“Yes,” you groan, his fingers fucking into you, faster now. His teeth graze your clit as he pulls the bud back into his mouth and sucks roughly. “N-need you, too. Always.” 

“I know, pretty girl,” he soothes, scissoring inside you, dragging along your walls. He laps at you, his tongue stroking your clit. “Not going anywhere. I’ve got you.”

You curse under your breath. You can feel yourself melting, your walls contracting and releasing. “Lo,” you call. “I’m so close. Wanna…” You trail off, unable to finish. 

“Can feel you squeezing me, sweetheart,” he breathes. “Don’t hold back. Let it happen,” he coaches, rocking into you. “Wanna taste you, wanna feel you come on my fingers.” He laps at you between sentences. “Come for me. Know you can do it.” And then everything is white-hot and blazing.

It’s earth-shattering—better than anything has ever felt before. The tension snaps, heat boiling under your skin. Everything is blurry, hazy, dizzied as you let go, and let go hard. You cry out Logan’s name, your thighs shaking as waves of pleasure drag you under. Your bones are burning, scorching. Everything is on fire—overwhelming and greedily all-consuming. 

Logan’s pumps slow, and he carefully pulls out of you. He laves at you, his tongue pushing through your folds, milking you dry, savoring every last drop. 

“Logan,” you whisper, your hands reaching down to his head, digging your fingers into his scalp. 

He hums against you, unwavering as his tongue laps at your folds, tasting your release. 

You’re still shaking, still coming down from your high. “Logan,” you call again, and he looks up this time, lifting his face from your cunt. Your release glistens on his chin, and he licks his lips clean of you. His eyes are dark, his palms squeezing your thighs possessively. 

“I’m not done yet, sweetheart,” he says, demand clear in his voice. 

Your heart flutters in your chest as he climbs up your body, hovering over you again. His lips find yours. “You taste that?” He mumbles, kissing you again, harder this time. “You taste how sweet you are?”

“Y-yes,” you answer, his hand sliding down your body, slipping between your legs, finding your overstimulated clit. 

He pinches the bud lightly, your back arching off the ground, your breasts pressing to his all-too-clothed chest. “Need more of you,” he husks, his hand dragging back up your body. He sits up and pulls you into his chest, taking all your weight as he hoists you up and stands. You instinctually wrap your legs around his waist. 

He places you in the center of your bed before striding across the room, closing and locking your bedroom door. “They’ll all be home soon,” Logan says, walking back towards you, spreading your legs and settling between your thighs. “Might have to be quiet for me, darlin’.”

“W-what do you—”

And then his face is buried deep inside your cunt, his tongue lapping desperately at your clit. “I told you,” he rasps. “I’m not finished with you yet.”

tags: @wittyjasontodd @wolverinesslut @galacticglitterglue @silversprings-mp3 @zxaera @spiderset @figsnpassionfruits @alastorssimp @alsoprettyinpink @prettyseaveins @ilysmdovie12 @evasmlp @derbygracie @rammakela @honeyfewr @ricefordays-blog1 @manipulatour

[layaispunk]

a warm escape | joel miller x reader

summary: joel comforts you when you're having a hard time back home during winter break.

pairing: joel miller x reader

warnings: age gap (25/35), mentions of smoking, mentions of a dysfunctional family & family conflict, fluff, pet names, mentions of reader having long hair

wc: 1.2k

note: This is a personal one, and its my first time writing in first person!!!! 🫶🏼 i hope u enjoy and let me know if u want a part two

The chilly december air bit into my cheeks, my heavy breathing coming out like smoke. My nose was red and stinging, but it wasn't like I could spend another second in that house. Not with the yelling. I had to go for a walk for the sake of my mental health. I needed air, space - anything to gather my thoughts, and I was too angry to journal.

As I turned the corner, Joel Miller, my neighbor, was sitting on his porch with a cigarette glowing faintly in hand. He noticed me before I could pretend that I hadn't seen him.

"Cold out," he said, his voice a low rumble that somehow felt warm compared to the freezing air.

I nodded, pulling my coat tighter.

"You walkin' or runnin'?" he asked, tilting his head towards my childhood house.

I blinked. "Bit of both."

I wanted to go sit next to him. I didn't want to talk about what happened, but there has always been something fatherly about him, almost as if his presence would instantly make you feel better.

I hesitated for a second, the cold biting at my hands as I stuffed them into my pockets.

Then, without saying a word, I walked up to his front porch, and sat next to him. Joel glanced at me, he wasn't surprised at all. Didn't make me feel like I was bothering him, or intruding. He just held the cigarette out in my direction without a word.

I took the cigarette from his hand, the warmth of it was comforting against my numb fingers. Raising it to my lips, I took a small puff, and handed it back to him. It's been a while since I smoked last, but I needed it.

As if reading my mind, he mumbles, "You can keep it." Joel shook his head. "You doin' alright, sweetheart?" he said, his voice low and calm.

I glanced at him then, properly, really looking at him. The soft glow of the porch highlighted the crow's feet at the corner of his eyes. His hair was ruffled, dark brown and shiny, almost making me want to run my hands through it.

He didn't say anything else, just leaned back slightly, waiting for me to take the cigarette again.

Lost in thought, I wasn't sure what I was doing here, sitting on Joel's porch. Or, even better, I wasn't sure what I was doing here, visiting my family for the holidays, when I know things would never change. The same fights, the same bitter words ... It was hard to ignore the ache in my chest.

Joel must have sensed the shift in me, the way my gaze had turned distant, like I was in a place he couldn't quite reach. He didn't push it. The quiet attention he gave me was enough.

At that moment, his presence was enough. Breaking the fog of my thoughts, he placed a hand on my thigh, the weight of it grounding me, pulling me back to the present moment.

His touch was demanding, firm - but not aggressive. He was letting me know he was there.

Joel's voice cut through the air again. "You want to come inside for a cup of coffee?" he asked, his gaze steady on me. I liked the way he looked at me. Like he was seeing me. It was the first time that evening that I felt like someone was actually hearing me, like all the noise in my head faded away.

I nodded, the idea of a warm cup of coffee sounding like exactly what I needed. "That would be nice" I replied softly, my voice coming out really small.

Joel put out his cigarette on the ground, stepping on it with a quick motion before rubbing his hands together to warm them. Then, without a word, he reached for mine, his fingers warm against the cold. He pulled me inside, and as soon as the door clicked shut behind us, he wrapped his arms around me in a warm embrace.

The moment his arms enveloped me, my brain went quiet - like the world had stopped spinning for just a second. It felt safe. Secure. And for the first time in what felt like forever, I didn’t have to think.

He pulled away, his hands still resting on my shoulders, eyes steady. "You can stay here for as long as you’d like," his voice was soft. "You know that, right? You know Sarah wouldn’t mind. I wouldn't mind."

I smiled softly at him, and nodded. "Thank you," I whispered.

As we made our way into the living room, I found myself missing the feel of his hand around mine. It was strange, an unusual emptiness that I couldn't quite understand.

The house was quiet. Sarah was probably out with her friends. It felt strange knowing we had the house to ourselves. Most of the time, Joel and I had always hung out in group settings before, rarely meeting one-on-one like this. He had always been the protective, friendly neighbor, the kind who made sure I was alright- while keeping a respectable distance, never pushing.

When I had told everyone I was moving to London for my masters degree, Joel was the one who went out of his way to make sure I had everything I needed. He cared more than my own family had, making sure I was prepared, asking if I needed anything before I left. And even after I’d moved, he’d called me a couple of times—just to check in, to see if I needed anything from back home, or if I needed help with my apartment.

It made me feel… tingly, in a way I couldn’t explain, like someone actually cared beyond the usual pleasantries. I often wondered how he felt about me. I was young - ten years younger than him - but he never treated me like a child.

Joel made two cups of coffee, one for him, and one for me. He grabbed the mugs and started heading towards the living room. He glanced over his shoulder when he realized I hadn't moved, giving me that familiar smile. "C'mon, darlin'."

As I followed him into the room, my eyes caught sight of the guitar tucked in the corner. I wondered if he played often, or if it was just there for the rare moments when he has some time to himself. The fire crackled in the fireplace facing us, casting a warm, golden glow on the room. It was so peaceful.

Joel turned on the TV with a casual motion, then grabbed a blanket from the back of the couch and draped it around me, the warmth settling over my shoulders as I sank into the comfort of his brown leather couch. It smelled like him. I wondered if he needed this company the same way I did. Knowing he was usually by himself, ever since Sarah grew up - spending more time with her friends, leaving him by himself most evenings.

I leaned against him, quietly, as we both drank our coffees. After a few minutes, I felt his fingers gently brush through my hair. At first, I didn't notice it, or maybe it just didn't register it as anything more than a casual touch. But then, it became more intentional - his fingers slowly running through the strands, almost like he was testing the waters, unsure of how I would react.

I didn't pull away. My body was trying to communicate that I didn't want him to stop. His touch was so soothing, and before long, my eyelids started to grow heavy. My eyes fluttered closed, and before I knew it, I was resting against him, my breathing slow, as I dozed off.

[koyagifs]

EP.10 Your body is amazing

168K likes | 3.6M likes | WC: 0.4k | 9th member au

But my mental strength? PRO won't break down

Jongho was getting his endoscopy done while you were getting your blood work. You had your head tilted, staring at the wall as you tried to imagine being somewhere else to not feel the pinch of the needle. You felt grateful that the camera's weren't there, considering how venerable you feel at the moment.

" you're all done! We're going to hook up an iv to you while Jongho finishes up. We'll call you over when it's your turn.

You nodded your head as you allowed the nurse to hook up the iv to you.

" look it's our brave ynnie!" Seonghwa called out.

You smiled, waving at the boys as you walked towards them, your arm with the iv laying limp as you were terrified to move your arm.

yn, you can move your arm you know

You sat beside Hongjoong, snuggling onto him which he couldn't refuse. He knew the editors would cut out so he had his arm placed on your waist. You tuned out the boys that were speaking about food, not helping your hunger.

" jongho just finished"

You were quick to get up, as well as the other boys as they rushed to see their maknae. When you entered the room, you could hear yunho teasing him for drooling. You pushed ahead, a warm smile on your face.

" baby bear~ can we cuddle ?"

He nodded his head, opening his arms for you join to him. You giggled, placing a kiss on his head.

" ahh, jongho but i'm next. Get some sleep hm?"

You were up next, but unfortunately your segment was cut from the show because as you started coming out of anesthesia, you were sobbing uncontrollably. Wooyoung was quick to be by your side when they heard your cries.

" oh ynnie, baby it's okay" wooyoung was mumbled.

you would sniffled, wanting one of the boys to be cuddling with you but the nurses would assure you that the faster you rest, the better you would feel.

The next morning, you and yunho walked back to the waiting room. Yunho smiled at you as you both sat on the couch.

" i felt like i slept like a baby," yunho spoked.

" ah - i wish i could say the same but definitely some needed rest." you said.

Yunho patted your thigh as he continued to speak. " i hope our atiny follow us and this year also do health check ups."

you nodded your head, " that would be amazing"

You and Yunho waved bye to the camera just as Mingi came into view. The cameras had cut when he rushed to your side, snuggling into your neck as you giggled.

[warmcookiepuff]

RESTART ( badly timed reunions suck ass when you leave your best friend behind)

— gn!reader, jason, wingman roy, mentions of dick

tw: curse words (many), jason dealing with his mental health and hyper independence (i hc he never properly deals with it)

p.s: raw writing skills after a year of retirement (it sucks).

p.s 2.0: Yes i rewrote this

---- ⭐ ----

"You've got a type," Roy jokes, lightly shoving his friend as he swivles his cup of juice. His eyes turning to the newbie vigilante across the room, stressing over the cups knocked over on the table.

"Yeah? What's that?" Jason rolls his eyes, adjusting himself on the wall. His eyes never leave your back.

"Scary," Roy hums, taking a sip of his juice as he watches you stack the cups again annoyingly.

It's been a while, you know. Probably a decade. Last you checked, he upped and died after getting adopted from the Alley you both grew up in. His shirt used to be as dirty as yours. Your smarts still match his, even more actually. Both were practically inseparable before--

Well.

"I don't know why you guys don't just talk," Roy muses. "It's not like you don't know each other."

"We don't," Jason answers harshly, his eyes looking away from you to his friend. "I'm not the kid that played mechanic anymore. Besides, I've got blood on my hands."

Its quiet. The house is still buzzing with friends and family. Wayne's mansion was grand as always. Jason always looks out of place in a space like this. Especially in celebrations, he typically never shows up. Not even for his own birthday. Much less Dick's.

Where he currently is.

The real question is: "Why is he here?"

Dick knows Jason won't come to the party. Everyone does. In typical Jaybird fashion, he'd send a text a few days late wishing his family a 'happy birthday' (if they're lucky).

He's a self-sufficient guy. The hyper independent, gruff, bad boy vigilante with a few screws loose. He does fine on his own.

So Dick brings in his screws; you. Jason fell for it like a sheep.

"How did Dick even--" Jason starts, feeling frustrated over the situation. Roy cuts him off.

"I told him."

"Honest to God I could kill you right now, Roy."

"In my defense, it sounded good at the time."

"I almost chopped their head off? What the fuck do you mean it sounded good?!"

"They threw like 15 bombs at you. Something tells me they don't just die easy."

"Christ, you're insufferable," Jay pinches the bridge of his nose. Needing silence above all else at the moment for the migraine that was shooting up his psyche. "i need some fresh air. DON'T follow me. I'll shoot your ass."

Jason leaves before Roy could say a word.

The balcony doors push open. Cold air pricks his cheeks and he takes a deep, deep breath of the polluted Gotham air. He rests his elbows on the railings, overseeing the city raining with crime.

Home.

There's a beat of silence. Before he sighs heavily, holding his head in his hands.

"Why am I like this," He asks himself in a low, tired voice. One he uses when he's sure he's alone. "Fuck's wrong with me. Can't be normal for five fucking seconds."

"Honestly, it was like 46 minutes but who's counting?"

Jason arms himself with his gun as swift as possible, his eyebrows furrow angrily as he makes sense of the silhouette standing by the balcony door behind him.

"Better than beheading, I'd say," You roll your eyes, walking up to him unfazed.

"You-- I-- Give me like 5 seconds," He locks in, immediately stuffing his gun in his holster. Fuck, since when did he stutter.

"Time's up," You answer smoothly, leaning on the railing with your body turned to his own rigid stance. "Speak, big boy."

"How'd you know I was out here?"

"You're a big guy," You answer, shrugging. "Also, Roy."

"Fucking ginger," He sighs, massaging his temples. "Don't do this to me."

"Do what?"

"Pretend we're talking. Like we're friends again."

"I'm not doing anything you don't want me doing," You put your hands up in surrender. "Talk when you want."

It felt like hours had passed by in the quiet that the cold had started to nick at your skin. Cars had passed, small amounts of people had left. For once, Jason didn't want to disappoint someone more than he already has -- he's stuck in his own head. He had to say something.

Anything.

Anything that isn't so fucking stupid.

"I... I missed... you," He says through gritted teeth, his eyes never meeting yours -- his heart pounding and nervous.

He should've died in the Pit.

The second of silence you left had him consider every escape option possible.

You snort loudly and burst out laughing. It catches him off guard. It was noisy, loud -- full of life. You grip the railing as you hold your stomach.

"I--," You heave, snickering through your words. "I-- I missed you too."

[peppertoastuniverse]

more than a late night snack – gojo satoru chapter 4: chicken curry

contents: gojo satoru x reader, tw!ptsd, mental health issues, swearing, mild angst/comfort, hesitant fluff, no one is good at feelings, 2 idiots summary: gojo shows up unannounced during one of your solo missions. in a battle of egos, you pick a fight when you mistake his worry for bravado. 

wc: 4.1 k

something in gojo’s stomach drops, barriers breaking, white anger over taking his thoughts.  “fine, fucking fine! next time babe, I’ll just stand by and watch you get slaughtered- ”  “you should have left me to die then, save yourself the trouble! Looks like you regret your decision.” You counter deathly calm, not sparing him a second glance before slamming the door in his face. 

previous chapter ll master list ll next chapter

you had to start running faster. the growing pounding of your heart led the rhythm of your quick steps. your lungs started to feel the strain as you dodged yet another attack, adrenaline carrying you. you grinned, blood pumping through your veins, there was a guilty and growing part of you loved the chase.  perhaps it was because you felt the most alive when you were running for your life. you felt the wind in your hair - it was colder than usual for this time of year, your breath making clouds from your rapid exhale. the rustling of the trees stilled as they turned into ash beside you, a reminder of your mortality.

in the brief yaga provided instructed you to locate and eliminate a second grade curse in Hiroshima. there were multiple reports of disembodied giggling near the primary school and mysterious cuts that appeared on children near the forest but when reports escalated to missing children is when you were assigned. on the third day you quickly found that it was stemming from the abandoned orphanage near by. the mission was straightforward, a walk in the park -  until multiple lower level curses decided to join all the fun. 

now you were running through the forest the low sun chasing you, trying to lead all the curses away from the town. You scoffed sensing at least 20 weaker curses within the area, converging together.

where did they did they all come from? 

shit. you dodged another blast that formed a deep crater in the ground to the left of you, you slightly stumble at your sloppy the landing.  sensing something close, you take another curse just in time before choosing to make a run for it rather than fight them all at once. You’d rather avoid a battle of attrition - you had to save your cursed energy for the second grade still lurking around  - you needed to be careful. 

the trees looked familiar, branches snapping easily, just like the necks of the children screamed and screamed when -  you tsked, as you felt a searing hot pain on back of your right bicep. 

you sighed heavily. how annoying. this really wasn’t the time.  it was the first flashback from Shirakawa that you had in a long while. you frowned, you thought you were doing better. for a while you worried if you were losing it, and this recent set back confirms that you may have.

you felt the blood trickle down your forearm, while you jumped to dodge yet another attack, perching in the trees to see where they were all coming from. concentrating your energy, you send a blast from behind you, effectively taking care of the 2 curses tailing you at once. gazing through the bush, you can see at least 10 curses converging in the distance.

fuck. this was getting bad. you had to move it before-

your breath stalls, the air shifts.  you feel it before you see it, cursed energy surging… this was definitely more than a second grade - this was at least a first grade. huh. It wouldn’t be the first time that the brief was slightly off, but it seemed like this was happening more and more lately.

quickly jumping to the ground, you feel the hair on the back of your neck stand up - it must be close. turning, you see it: a creature with multiple gangly long limbs, its  body covered in long, dark black hair. rising 16 feet behind the trees, attached to it’s thin neck was an upside down humanoid head, in place of its eyes and mouth were black holes filled with multiples rows of sharp teeth. the lower level curses wind around the black mass of hair, swarming with renewed energy. you dont want to think about what happened at the orphanage to create this monster.

once it spots you, it jerks its legs uncoordinatedly, running on it’s 6 legs as it stalks towards you with surprising speed. 

fuck the strategy. if it wants to play, let’s play. a chaotic grin dances its way to your face. you love a challenge. 

you begin to run towards the curse, it charges towards you in return the cold air filled with it’s echoing giggles with the voices of hundreds of children. 

you remembered the children, you saw them in your nightmares as their heads rolled off their bodies, their screams for help right before - stop. stop. you had to concentrate what was left of your cursed energy before - 

abruptly you sense an unmistakeable force, his cursed energy. your jaw tenses in annoyance, it was unmistakable.

why was he here? you didn’t need his help. 

you felt another sharp pain on your left calf as a smaller curses slices into you. Shit.

you needed to focus, breathing heavily now you jolt to avoid the multiple curses trailing you as you blast a curse away – there were just way too many of them. in the chaos you take your eyes off the of the long limbed monster, dodging a gangly limb at the last second, cringing as you feel the coarse hair on your skin.  

“OYYY! BABE. MOVE!” you hear in the distance. your eyes widen, you turn your head just in time to see a ball of blue tumbling quickly towards you. swearing at his recklessness, you sprint as fast as you could through the trees just in time before the ball of energy lights up the darkening sky, overwhelming the shaggy haired curse and obliterating the remaining smaller curses. just like gojo, the blue energy leaves only destruction in its path - the silence after the chaos deafening.

breathing heavily, a grating voice brings you back to reality.

“heh, I knew I’d find you. suguru owes me 1000 yen.” gojo appears from behind the trees, dark glasses shielding his bright eyes, his stark white hair almost glowing in evening sky. “did ya miss me?”

your temper soars. you were almost shaking with the bitter anger that filled up your stomach, shame anchoring your rage. 

“why are you here, gojo?” you have yet to turn around and face him, you're afraid that if you do you're going to kill him.

“what I can’t see my favourite  - what?” at his cocky tone falters when he notices your shaking clenched fists.

“are you fucking kidding me right now?” you spit out, hands crossed across your chest acting as a lock to prevent your raging emotions from escaping. you stomp past him as the veil above you disappears.

“.. what’s wrong? hey!” 

he trails after you in the halls, calling your name. 

“–look, it’s fine! at the end of the day, the curse is gon-“

you slam the door to your room, leaving gojo standing at the threshold.

pacing around your room, finding some pajamas before practically ripping off your uniform. you were done for the day but more importantly, you were done with him.

how dare he? did he think that you were weak? incapable? useless? worthless? 

you scoff, pulling up your shorts. he had no right to make decisions for you - he was so fucking inconsiderate, selfish and so, so infuriating. you shove the oversized tshirt over your head, muttering profanities about the white haired menace.

his incessant knocking on your door was adding to your rising blood pressure. “heyyyy! hey! cmon, don’t be difficult. let’s talk about this!” he calls your name multiple times, each time his tone getting progressively less and less playful.

gojo whines your name from behind the closed door. “…are you going to make me wait here all night? At least get your wounds fixed by shoko!” 

of course you were. he could rot there for all you care, it’s what he deserved. 

“You can’t keep running forever, babe!” 

you hear his persistent knocks, echoing the beat of your heart.  

“look if you don’t open the door, i’m going to blue it open in three, two, on-“ 

It’s so like him to force your hand.

you rip open the door, hot tempered and ready to tear into him. standing in front of you, his foot was tapping, gojo’s patience wearing thin.  

“what? gonna try and blue me again tonight?” you spit out, resentment dripping from your voice. you would have rather been caught in the crossfire than rely on him. 

He scoffs. His hands frustratingly fluffing his already messy hair. when you looked into his eyes, the blue was stormy electric, his presence oozing with frustration. 

he scoffs. "please, I knew where you were. you were being reckless. If i hadn’t showed up-“

“I was being reckless?” you step towards him, temper showing. “How would you know, you didn’t even let me try! i didn’t need your fucking help! and then you – you show up –unannounced –  to my mission, and –“ you turn your back to him clenching your fists. You were showing too much - you had to control yourself.  You didn’t want him to see you like this. you had to reign in the storm that brewed within you, the same one that you saw currently in his eyes.

“yaga said you were missing for 4 hours. if I hadn’t shown up you could’ve gotten yourself fucking killed, ba –“ he adds taking a step closer to you. you whip your face towards him, meeting him half way , your face right up against his, noses almost touching. The tension is thick, his condescending tone stomping on what little control you had.

“don’t you fucking dare call me babe.” you whisper, dangerously challenging the strongest. “youre so full of yourself that you can’t even see what you’ve done wrong.”

his eyes dart to your lips, and back up to your furious face, his cheeks blushing for millisecond before his eyebrows further slant down to match his lips. 

he spits out your name with malice, a warning, his cursed energy being to swirl dangerously. his eyes narrow, 

“just swallow your fucking pride and say thank you for your help, gojo and move on -“

he’s so close that you feel his frustration, you feel the tenseness in his muscles, the tightness in his jaw, the thinness of his lips

“thank you?” laugh humourlessly, your bruised ego poisoning your rational mind. “you know what your problem is?” You tense your jaw. “you always think you know better.” Your eyes narrow, “you just don’t fucking care as long as you’re right do you?”

“what the hell are you talking about– why would I still be here if I didn’t care!?”

“you don’t - do you fucking pity me? Is that it, gojo? you think that im so weak that I can’t take out some stupid curse by myself? that I can’t even win against my own mind?” you take a step back, turning away from him, insecurity consuming you. you rope your arms around yourself, unable to hold back your finely controlled feelings back from him.  “you think I want to hear the screaming of people i failed to save? How I see them dying?” you couldn’t look at him. you want to beat at his chest, make him understand what he’s done, but you were too embarrassed that he not only destroyed the curse in Hiroshima but your pride and ego as well. You hated how he made you feel this way, how you he made you lose control in his presence.

“what?! that’s not –I didn’t know-  “ his eyes flashing. 

you had enough. he was too much. he was always too much.

“I don’t need help. I don’t need your pity. And I sure as hell don’t need you.”

something in gojo’s stomach drops, barriers breaking, white anger over taking his thoughts. 

“fine, fucking fine! next time babe, i’ll just stand by and watch you get slaughtered- ” 

“you should have left me to die then, save yourself the trouble! looks like you regret your decision.” you counter deathly calm, not sparing him a second glance before slamming the door in his face. 

through the closed door you hear him sigh heavily before his retreating footsteps signal his leave. 

you watched the shadows move across your wall, how long has it been now? 

tossing and turning, you dramatically sigh: you couldn’t sleep. giving up, you decided to grab your phone to check the time: 2:17 AM.

sighing you rub your face with your hand, you grab your phone and irritatingly shift the covers off of you. you feel your stomach rumble. maybe if you ate something you’d be able to get some sleep. as your socked feet stomp across your dark room, your mind wanders, would you have been able to take down that curse if he hadn’t shown up?  afraid of your answer, you wrench open your door, you stumble at the mass of sanrio plasters, disinfectant and gauze left at the foot of your door. 

you blink owlishly. ah. gojo.

your gaze softens slightly, before irritation returns at the echo of his scalding words. grabbing the medical supplies you put them on your desk before shutting the door once more. 

heading to the kitchen, you turned on the lights idly.

opening the fridge, you sigh. moving over geto's neatly labelled kimchi fried rice and shoko's half empty strawberry milk, you take out some chicken, potatoes, carrots and onions.  you could've gotten yourself killed, he said.

grabbing a pot you sear the chicken, ensuring that there was even browning before adding the prepared vegetables. 

you were reckless, he said. that was the first time you’ve seen gojo so irritated at you. his eyes looked so different, no playful glint complimenting blue, no bounce in his step, no humour in his tone. 

reckless, my ass.

you roughly add some water to the pot before adding the curry cubes. 

why did he have look at you like that when he showed up anyway? 

closing the lid you wait for it to simmer as you take out some leftover rice from the fridge, moving it to a dish to heat in the microwave. you tapped your fingers on the countertops, mind still restless.

suddenly the kitchen door swings open. wide eyes meeting tired blue. gojo looks unusually worn and tired, his back slightly hunched over. a stand still, a pregnant pause, eyes meeting unsure of how to start a conversation. it's awkward. he opens his mouth before the beeping of the microwave interrupts him. 

“i’ll.. i’ll go,” he says in a low voice. through his hardened expression you can detect that his eyes void of irritation, fatigue replacing it. he sheepishly fluffs the back of his hair, your eyes spot his loose tshirt riding up uncovering his toned abdomen. 

gojo turns his body to leave, but your feet lead you to him. out of your own accord you find that your arm quickly reaches for him. you grab the back his bicep to stop him in his tracks.

“..was it you? the uh.. medical supplies?”

“..yeah.” be gulps, unsure if he should prepare for another fight. he cant help but notice how sweet you look - messy hair, comfortable clothing, a soft frown painted on your face. you were usually so controlled, seeing you this way felt almost forbidden. a secret that he wanted to keep for himself.

“.. thanks.” a quiet thought.

eyebrow raised, he turns back toward you, “I knew it…” he mutters, a playful grin slowly appearing on his face - the first bright smile to melt the ice away. 

“i knew you liked me! don’t worry babe, we can be best friends, I know you've been silently begging for-“ 

your eye twitches. you quickly drop your hold on him, slow hands moving up to his pale neck to strangle him, your expression unwavering. gojo senses your rising cursed energy before yelping your name, “it’s a joke - I swear I’m joking!”  you turned around, hands morphing into closed fists. closing your eyes, you massaging your temple before stirring the simmering curry. 

“.. hey.. uh- whatcha makin?” he asks, hesitantly moving closer to you.

“… what?” he’s relieved find no aggression in your eyes.

“i’m making chicken curry. Uh.. sit,” you say “if you want,” you add hastily. 

reaching to grab another bowl for him, you hear gojo take a seat at the kitchen table. watching you curiously, he drums his fingers on the kitchen table, an unsteady rhythm. feeling warm at his gaze, you split the warmed up rice and spoon out the simmering curry into the two bowls. handing him chopsticks and spoon, you set down his bowl of food in front of him as he says his thanks. a peace offering, one that you don’t realize that he’s been wanting the minute you slammed your door. 

the meal is silent, hung in limbo, two large egos taking up the space. you savour the way the curry tastes, mild and satisfying but with an underlying sweetness to it, lurking in the background waiting to be appreciated. you watch gojo’s satisfaction as he spoons the rich curry into his mouth, you notice his knee bouncing up and down. 

was he nervous? 

he clears his throat. “...another one of your mom’s?” he asks conversationally.

“yeah. the first one she was really proud of.” you spoon some curry into your mouth, chewing thoughtfully. 

“yeah it’s really good. was it your favourite?”

“not my favourite but.. it reminds me of her. she kept remaking the recipe until she got it right, she always said something tasted like it was missing…” 

“eh, really? what was it?”

“nothing, everything was there. it was like.. a miscommunication with the person who gave her the recipe over the phone. mom got the measurements wrong.“

concentrating on eating, you look up at gojo to see him already staring back at you. 

“i was.. you need to focus, you’re going to get hurt.”

you sigh irritatedly. “gojo, just leave if you’re gonna be-“ you shoot him a look, curling defensively inwards.

his tired eyes widen in surprise, he feels you retreating, slipping like water through his fingers. “no, no, no- just listen...”

something in his tone begs you to listen, curiosity getting the better of you. you hesitate, unsure of his intentions.

“i just knew that you couldn’t sleep.. I didn’t know it was - and I didn’t want.. I mean like - last time you came back injured…and you….” his ears tinging pink. words spilling out clumsily, venturing into unknown territory.

wait was he.. was he worried? is that why he showed up - you slightly blush with realization. you sigh, what a waste of energy. he shouldn’t worry about you, you weren’t worth worrying over when you knew he had so much on his plate already.

“i’m working on it. I was doing just fine.” you say irritatedly, walls crumbling at his words.

“yeah, but y’know one day you won’t be.” he says as he takes off his dark glasses rubbing his eyes tiredly.

“that doesn’t mean you can show up to my missions.” 

“I won’t anymore, if you dont want me to…” he retorts in a chipped tone.

“…you don’t have to worry about me.”

he rolls his eyes in response. “i don’t have to but I do. i want to.” you wither under his gaze, you felt too warm, the air thick with something other than the scent of curry.

“you can run all you want, but i can always find you.” he says with a shrug and an air of finality. “… and, one day you might seriously need help, babe” he slides his glasses back on his face.

“… i need to learn from my mistakes even if that means I get hurt.” You say softly to yourself. you wanted to improve, if you were stronger they wouldn’t have -

you swallow roughly.

“there are ways to learn that don’t involve pain, yknow?” he says, with a mouthful as he scrapes the bottom of his dish with his spoon.  blue eyes challenging yours as his dark glasses slide down his slender nose. 

you hum thoughtfully, mulling over his words.

a long finger pokes your cheek irritatingly. “where’d you go babe? OooooooOoOoOh gonna cry, huh? I know, I know it’s our first fight, it’s hard - I almost cried too.” he clutches his chest dramatically while poking your cheek.

why was he always so close? 

“god, you’re insufferable.” You slap his hand away with a scowl, while he grins fully. you’re surprised that you’re happy to see it again. 

he snickers as he promptly gets up to put your empty dishes in the sink. you sigh, getting up to tidy up the counters. gojo starts humming the digimon theme song to himself but when he notices a ghost of a smirk on your face it prompts his humming to progressively grow louder and louder until he’s enthusiastically singing. a new comforting warmth spreads across gojo’s chest at your smile, he wonders if he could make you smile everyday. only when he starts doing an interpretive dance to accompany his singing is when you move to you smack his chest.

  “shhhh! You might wake the others up! It’s like almost 4 AM!” You hiss, unable to contain your laughter when he tries to get you to dance with him blocking your attempts to put away the left over vegetables into the fridge. gojo easily side steps your slaps to move behind you to finish clearing up the table. you turn around in time to see gojo quickly placing your phone back down. you narrow your eyes suspiciously. 

sensing your questioning gaze he quickly skips toward you. “pfff you just act like a meanie but deep, deep down I know you love me!” he says wiggling his eyebrows.

“uh huh. sure, keep dreaming, gojo,” not looking at him, concentrating on tidying up the kitchen.

halting your cleaning, gojo sneaks up behind you swing his arm around your shoulder, squeezing you slightly. your cheeks flush at the feeling of his firm arm around you, the softness in his tshirt against your face, his smells like a mixture of the ramune candy he always eats in class and the fresh scent of his laundry.

“y’know babe, i don’t want you dead.. that was a shitty thing of you to say.” the words spill out, voice low and soft, something that he didn’t know how to express falling out clumsily.

you hum in acknowledgement. unconsciously you lean into his touch, the familiar warmth radiating off him comforting you. your apology evident in the way you react to his touch, gojo grins fully.

“mhm… thanks for the curry, babe,” he says softly in your ear, too intimately. you turn to meet his gaze, there was something there that you couldn’t discern.

heh, probably his body thanking you for giving him vegetables for the first time this week. you smirk.

“see? told ya - you love me” he playfully whispers. you blink, smirk disappearing instantly.

this fucking asshole.

you roughly shove him off you, earning a laugh from the white haired menace. breaking whatever …. that was.  huh. weird.

he ruffles your hair affectionately as you hiss his name in annoyance. flashing you another grin as gojo practically sings good night to you as he waltzing out of the kitchen. you glare at his retreating figure.

feeling lighter, you turn off the lights in the kitchen walking down the dark halls to room, closing the door gently. you move to sit at your desk to disinfect your shallow wounds, absentmindedly choosing a cinnamoroll bandaid to put on your right bicep.

clearing up, you hear your phone vibrating with in a string of messages.  you grimace.

 oh god that’s what he was doing. 

💙🎀 MY BB SATORU 🎀💙

physically recoiling at his contact name, you fight the urge to throw your phone across the room. you called him neither of those things. you quickly move to change it. 

gojo:  b <3 i know u can handle urself  just msg me when u r safe next time or if u need me just lmk lol (4:11am)

you roll your eyes. typing in a response before deleting it, instead replying with:

you: k (4:16am) 

you yawn as you make your way into your cold bed, undoing the half made covers, grabbing one of your pillows to fully sink into comfort. your eyebrows raise at gojo’s quick response, your phone singing.

gojo: ૮(╥﹏╥)ა.  ur so mean 2 me b  (4:16am) thought we were  finally bffs  dw we have loads of time 2 get closer tmr (4:17am) (˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧ gud nite <3 <3  (4:18am)

turning to feel for Bun Bun laying on the other side of the bed, you sigh contently as you feel his plush body. you place your phone on the night stand table beside you as you shut your eyes. an insistent vibration causes you to groan, disturbing your growing drowsiness.

gojo: heyyyy  (4:20am) hey don’t ignore me? lol  say gudnite!!11! b omg  say gud (4:21am) nite  omg stopppp !! ૮(╥﹏╥)ა (4:22am) mfw b hates me  (4:23am)

scoffing you lazily type out a response since he was begging you for one. Bun Bun's plush pink arm against your cheek, mimicking gojo's earlier actions.

you: omfg go to bed gojo

gojo: (˚ ˃̣̣̥⌓˂̣̣̥ ) SAY IT  B CMONNN SAY IT IM GONNA CRY IF U SONT (4:21am) ｡°(°.◜ᯅ◝°)°｡ (4:22am)

biting your lip to prevent the grin you threatened to escape, an amused smile makes its way onto your tired face. he was ridiculous.

you: nite  (4:24am)

gojo: (◡ ‿ ◡ .) ♡ gud enuf 4 me  nite <3 <3  (4:25am)

hugging Bun Bun, you silence your phone as you settle in comfortably, blankets settling finally. the last thing you think about before drifting to sleep is the way he felt when he had his arm around you. you huff softly, what an idiot.

a/n: i totally see gojo as someone who does not give a fuck and will triple text you. omg this chapter was difficult to write, but i hope y'all enjoy it -- head image credit: Isekai Shokudo dividers from: @/adornedwithlight

[solsticehymns]

always: drabble

james potter x f!reader / fluff / comfort / talks of bad mental health

TW: this drabble depicts some of the lower lows of depression, bedrotting and bad self-talk. if that might be upsetting to you, i advise you kindly not to read and check my masterlist instead <3 SAMHSA National Helpline: 1-800-662-4357

summary: James knows he can't fix you or magically solve your sadness, but he can definitely be there with you. And bring you food.

a/n: hiiii guys sorry i'm not dead!! been taking some time for my own mental health, dealing w breakup and school stress... it's rly not fun rn, but it will get better with time, it always does <3 this was the first drabble to get me out of my funk, i've been working on some longer fics and making such slow progress i had to do something new. i hope you like itttt xoxo, sunny ☀️🌻

wc: 584

Your head hurts.

Even in the dark, in the relative silence. Pounding, throbbing pain.

Blankets wrap around your form, contorted comfortably on the bed. 

You haven’t moved from this spot in hours. You can imagine the effort it would take to lift your arm up, reach for the remote and change the channel. It’s not worth it. You sigh, and another episode of The Great British Baking Show starts playing.

Your lock turns and clicks, and suddenly light from the hallway floods an angle of your apartment. A deep, soft voice comes in with it:

“Love? You awake?”

“In here,” you manage to croak out.

Soft footsteps, and you crane your neck to look. James stands in your bedroom doorway, holding a takeout bag and a soda.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he says as he walks in, taking in the sight of you on the bed with slight concern.

“You feeling alright?”

“No,” you reply meekly, sadly. “Still the same, I’m just… sad, and I don’t know why.”

To avoid talking about your pitiful feelings anymore, your eyes refocus on the television. Joshua’s lemon tarts look delicious.

James hums—in sympathy, never in pity or annoyance. He’s a good man; he just cares and wants to help.

He brushes some hair from your temple and lets his hand linger there affectionately.

“I brought you some food, if you’re hungry. Your favorite,” he says.

You glance at the enticing brown bag he’s placed on the nightstand. Your throat is dry—you’re sure a sip of that soda would be epiphanic.

“Here, sit up, let’s get you nice and cozy,” he murmurs, already reaching over you to snag one of the many pillows strewn across your bed, placing it right behind you for optimal back support.

And when you do sit up, and you meet his gaze… you can’t help the tears welling in your eyes, or the wobbling of your lip.

“What—”

“I’m sorry!” you wail, head falling into your hands, a heavy sob escaping your chest. A sob that’s been there all day, like a lead weight in your lungs.

James doesn’t panic, or blame you, or ask questions. He sits down on the bed with you, and he holds you.

“’M sorry, I dunno why this is so hard for me,” you continue shamefully, words now muffled by his shoulder. “Can’t even get myself out of bed, it— you deserve—”

A hiccup cuts you off, and you’re thankful for it. You were about to proclaim that he deserves better than you.

Which may be true, but James will deny it until his very last breath.

“Darling,” one hand moves to cup your face as he speaks, “don’t talk about the woman I love like that.”

And he almost sounds stern for a moment, before he plants a dramatic, squelching kiss to your forehead—which does end up making you chuckle, as he intended.

“Honestly, I hate hearing you talk about yourself like that,” he continues, eyes shining as he sweeps some hair from your face. “You’re not too much or too little of anything, you’re just right. You’re doing your best, that’s more than enough.”

Your heart has felt frigid and numb for the past… while. But his words manage to thaw it just a few degrees, a heat that only he is able to bring into your life.

He squeezes your knee and passes you the takeout bag with a grin and a singsongy tone:

“Your fries are getting coooold!”

For the first time all day, you smile.

☀️🌻 masterlist

[delulujuls]

birds of a feather | joost klein

hi, its me again. i know its been a hot minute since i posted here but literally i have no idea when the past month left.

anyway, im alive and i finally got a chance to write something, so here it is. its nothing that i used to post here i guess, but i it means a lot to me. while writing this i remembered all of those dark days that i managed to survive. and i guess, joost himself did too.

please, if you struggle with mental health or you just dont feel good at that moment, i do not recommend to read this. feel free to text me if you need to talk to someone.

remember that you are not alone. you can get trough everything as long as you have you.

je bent sterker dan je denkt

summary: joost is struggling with his mental health, but so do reader. but together its a bit easier to go through storm and its even better to look at the rainbow with someone dear by your side.

warnings: struggling with depression, ed, parents loss

pairing: fem!bff!reader x joost klein

Snow fell throughout the night, so the next morning, all of Leeuwarden woke up under a heavy, white blanket.

However, some didn’t get the chance to wake up because they hadn’t managed to close their eyes at all. One of those people was a girl laying down with open eyes in her dark room.

Despite having no desire, motivation, or strength, after a while she sat up in bed more than an hour before her alarm was set to go off. She wrapped herself in the blanket and closed her aching eyes. It felt as if someone had poured two bags of sand under her eyelids.

Her room was in complete darkness, with only the warm, yellow light from a streetlamp filtering in through the uncovered window. The whole house was silent, and nothing outside suggested that anyone else existed in the world but her. She could hear her tear-stuck eyelashes pulling apart with each blink.

She sighed heavily and rubbed her face with her hands before finally getting out of bed. She couldn’t afford to skip class; she had already accumulated too many absences recently. The last thing she wanted was to deal with her teacher, who kept repeating the same thing over and over— that she should talk to her parents, that she would call in a psychologist. Just let me live, woman, she thought. Or better yet, let me die.

With a soft groan of displeasure, the girl pulled off her warm sweats and quickly put on an uncomfortably cold shirt and hoodie. The jeans she put on were also unpleasantly cold and stiff. The chill around her cut to the bone.

When she went to the bathroom and turned on the light, she squinted with a grimace. She shuffled over to the mirror and looked at her reflection. Nothing surprising stared back at her. Puffy, red eyes from crying, chapped lips, and skin irritated from a runny nose. She sighed and looked down, tying up her hair and turning on the tap, trying to make herself somewhat presentable.

When she finished, she didn’t look much better. The last thing she felt like doing was putting on makeup. A shower from the previous evening was the best she could manage. Before going downstairs, she grabbed her backpack and phone, glancing at the screen. Beside the clock, it was empty. Worried that maybe WhatsApp had failed, she opened the app and clicked on her last conversation. Joost hadn’t replied to her messages since the night before. She sighed and shoved the phone into her pocket. She knew she wouldn’t go straight home after class.

Not feeling like eating breakfast, she simply put on her shoes, jacket, and left the house. It was even colder outside, so she pulled her hood over her head and wrapped herself in a scarf. She couldn’t wear gloves—how else would she change songs, she thought, putting her tangled earphones in.

Even more snow had fallen than it seemed when looking out the window. It was still early, so the streets were covered in snow. The walk to the bus stop was exhausting. When she finally reached it, she realized she still had plenty of time to spare. She reached into her pocket, pulled out a pack of cigarettes, lit one, and took a drag. She pulled out her phone from the other pocket, changed the song, and opened her conversation with Joost again. Nothing had changed.

you could at least read my messages. that way, id know if you were alive 06:50

She typed with frozen fingers, holding the cigarette between her lips. The girl exhaled the smoke and sent the message, glancing at the cracked screen of her phone with faint hope. Nothing.

The phone that received the message vibrated on the bed. Its owner, however, wasn’t there but on the floor. Joost lay on the ground, staring at the ceiling. He tried to focus on breathing. Only on breathing. Only on surviving.

He had no idea what time it was, how long he had been lying there. Had he made it through the night, or was it still yesterday, or maybe already tomorrow? On both sides of his head were small, wet spots from the tears that had spilled from his heavy eyelids. He was like a defeated, fallen Gulliver, his tears carving out lakes.

He didn’t feel the cold, didn’t feel the pain in his back. He didn’t feel how badly his head hurt from crying or the emptiness in his stomach. He couldn’t remember when he last ate something warm, despite his sister and brother's urging, when he last took a shower, or held his phone. When was the last time he actually spoke to someone? A few hours ago? Or last month?

If looks could drill holes, there would already be a small but precise one in his ceiling. Only when he heard a knock on the door did he snap out of it. It was morning, and his room was filled with light. He had survived the night.

“I’m heading to work, want a ride to school?” his sister’s voice came from behind the door.

It took him about five seconds to remember how his vocal cords worked.

“No, I’ll manage.”

“Are you planning to stay home?”

Silence. On both sides of the door.

“I don’t want to have your school on my back, okay? You’ll go back to class after the weekend.”

Joost sighed in relief, closing his eyes.

“Thanks, really.”

“There’s breakfast on the table,” he heard her footsteps fade away. “Eat something!”

At that moment, he regained consciousness. With great effort, he managed to sit up and lean his back against the bed. He rubbed his face with his hands and clenched his fists in his hair. After a moment, he sighed and looked ahead. The clock on the bedside table showed a few minutes before eight. He hadn’t even heard whether his brother had returned from the night shift. It was as if he’d been in a trance all night, focused only on the passing seconds, taking minute by minute, hour by hour.

When he managed to climb back into bed, he pressed his cheek against the cold pillow and instinctively reached for the phone lying nearby. In the flood of notifications, he noticed more than ten messages from his friend. He felt a pang of guilt.

He swiped and entered their conversation.

you know we can always talk. you dont have to deal with this all on your own 00:21

i know. thanks 00:46

That was the last message he had replied to.

apparently you dont know, because youre doing it again 00:54

you always shut yourself off and dont let anyone in. why cant you understand that you matter to someone? 00:55

you act like youre deliberately torturing yourself, like you purposely want to take on all the fucking pain and show that only you are suffering. surprise, youre not the only one 01:00

im sorry. i didnt mean it like that. its just been hard for me too lately, and im worried about you. i didnt want to say that. im sorry.. 01:12

i want to help you, but i dont know how. how am i supposed to do that if you wont let me? 01:18

i cant imagine losing you, do you understand? 01:19

for fucks sake, theyd bury us together. i couldnt make it without you 01:20

let me help you, please. or at least dont shut me out 04:29

im worried, joost. please reply 13:54

Missed calls x7

you could at least read my messages. as it is, i dont even know if youre alive 06:50

im alive. im sorry 08:01

He replied, staring at the screen. He read her messages several times. He knew he could rely on her, that he mattered to her. But on the other hand, he couldn’t accept it. Him? Someone cared about him? Hey, wasn’t he just the funny, slightly chubby kid who always told silly jokes and made everyone laugh? That he had problems? What kind of problems could a teenager like him have?

She, however, knew that Joost had been through a lot. Losing his parents year after year can break anyone, let alone someone like him. Since she had met him in high school, Joost had always seemed like an extrovert, the center of attention, telling the funniest jokes with his booming voice. But beneath the surface, which he had built himself, lay an incredibly sensitive boy with a big heart. He was the kind of person children smiled at, and dogs ran up to for a pet.

Joost was like a gentle giant. He could pretend that nothing bothered him, that dumb jokes or words thrown around in laughter didn’t hurt. But every one of those words or situations lodged itself tightly in his mind like a pack of rats that couldn’t be driven out for anything. It was as if his body lacked the receptors for anger or aggression. He wished everyone he knew well, but the feeling wasn’t always mutual.

When he was younger, not long after his parents died, he was often mocked for being an orphan. The mean comments and jabs were so hurtful that he stopped attending classes. When someone pointed out that he seemed to have put on a bit of weight recently, he went a week eating nothing but apples, drinking water and smoking cigarettes.

Now, even though some time had passed since then, and he had been through several rounds of therapy, he still had periods like this. When all he wanted was to be alone and let the cold embrace of sadness surround him. To rest his head on the bony shoulder of depression and weep bitterly.

But it wasn’t to be, as he suddenly flinched, hearing something hit his bedroom window. He realized he had lost touch with reality again and had been staring at his phone’s dark screen for who knows how long.

Thinking he had misheard, he settled more comfortably on his pillow.

The girl squeezed the snow harder in her hands, forming a snowball. She took aim and threw it at his window again. When Joost replied to her message, she knew she had to seize the moment. She had skipped the last two classes and immediately went to her friend’s house. She wasn’t leaving until she talked to him.

She took aim again and threw another snowball at the window. This time with success, as moments later, she saw Joost looking out.

He wasn’t sure whether to believe his eyes, but his friend tapped her finger on her wrist, signaling that she had been waiting long enough. The corner of Joost’s mouth involuntarily twitched upwards, and he quickly went to open the door. He knew that if he didn’t, this psycho would keep throwing snowballs until the window broke, and she’d climb in through the tree. He preferred to avoid that.

He unlocked and opened the door, but before he could say anything, she threw herself around his neck and hugged him tightly. She was cold, and her hair smelled like frost, but she was so alive, so different from the bony arms of depression.

“Don’t do that again,” she mumbled, holding him close.

Joost felt all the air trapped in his lungs release as he closed his eyes. He wrapped his arms around his friend, resting his cheek on her head.

"You're letting the cold in," he said after a moment, trying to lighten the mood as the wind blew snowflakes inside. "Come on, get inside."

A few moments later, the two friends were in Joost's room. It was clear that cleaning up was the last thing on his mind. The girl glanced around and silently began picking up the scattered clothes from the floor.

"Please, leave it," Joost groaned, collapsing onto the bed. "I'll do it later."

"If you're not going to help, then go take a shower," she replied, putting the relatively clean clothes back into the closet and setting the dirty ones aside near the door.

"I'll do that later too," he mumbled, rubbing his face with his hands. Only now did he start to feel how utterly exhausted he really was.

"We both know how that will go," she said pointedly, casting a glance his way. He sighed, feeling her gaze on him.

"I'm too tired. I just can't."

The girl hung up his coat and sat next to him. Joost looked at her face. Only now did he notice her puffy, swollen eyes, sunken cheeks despite the rosy flush from the cold, and chapped lips. He recognized the look.

He immediately recalled one of the messages she had sent him. You're not the only one suffering.

"What happened?"

He furrowed his brows and sat up, studying her face carefully. She knew exactly what he meant. Joost saw the same exhaustion in her that she often saw in him.

She sighed and lowered her gaze.

"I haven't been feeling great these past few days. But you probably know what I mean."

This time, it was his turn to lower his gaze. He didn't know what to say.

He didn't need to say anything.

She moved closer and hugged him, pulling him into a tight embrace. Joost desperately hugged her back, holding her in a bear-like grip.

"I'm sorry," he muttered after a while, still holding her. His voice trembled. "I should be supporting you, but instead, I'm just a burden. It's the only thing I'm good at."

"You're not a burden, Joost," she protested, pulling back slightly to look at him, emphasizing her words. "We should be supporting each other. No one else will understand us better than we understand each other. We're in this together."

At some point during her words, two large tears rolled down Joost's cheeks. She wiped them away with the back of her hand.

"I'm sorry," he said, burying his face in his hands, knowing that those two tears were just the beginning. On top of feeling miserable, guilt now added to the weight. It's not that he was unaware of his friend's struggles with mental health—he knew, just as she knew what he was going through. On most days, both of them were cheerful and lively, the life of the party. But sometimes, for a few days, a week, or even two, their light would go out. Depression was a grim lighthouse keeper.

She hugged him again, holding him tightly. Joost clung to her as if she were a lifeline.

"Everything will be okay," she whispered, stroking his hair.

"Everything will be okay," he echoed. "We'll get through this."

They sat there in silence for an undefined amount of time, wrapped in each other's arms.

"I'm not joking about that shower," she said after a while. "I guarantee you'll feel better."

Joost sighed and pulled away from her, nodding. He stood up and went to his closet, grabbing some clean clothes.

"You don't have to clean up, really," he said, glancing at her one last time before reaching for the door handle.

"And wash your hair too," she replied, standing up and continuing to organize his clothes. She looked at him and gave him a small smile, nodding her head to tell him to go and not to worry about the rest.

"Thank you," he returned her smile and went to take a shower.

When he came back, he looked much better. He also felt better. His room no longer resembled a battlefield. Clothes and trash no longer littered the floor, dirty dishes were gone, and the bed was made. But his friend was nowhere to be seen.

Joost peeked out of the door and, hearing movement in the kitchen, went downstairs. His friend was putting dishes into the dishwasher.

"This is probably for you," she said, pointing to some sandwiches wrapped up on the counter.

"I doubt I can eat anything," he replied, glancing apologetically at her. After a moment, he wondered if she had eaten. She also had trouble with eating sometimes. "But I'll eat if you eat with me."

"That won't be enough for us."

"I know, but we can make pancakes."

The girl smiled at his suggestion and nodded.

A few moments later, the kitchen filled with the smell of frying pancakes and the sound of easy conversation. The kind of conversation that, after a storm, offers a glimpse of normalcy. Joost flipped the pancakes while his friend sliced fruit they had found in the fridge. The warm atmosphere began to chase away the heavy clouds.

They weren’t alone. Even when they craved solitude, they weren't isolated. They had each other.

The girl unintentionally glanced at her friend, and noticing his damp bangs falling into his eyes, she pushed them back from his forehead with a gentle hand. Joost smiled at her gesture, unable to help it. She smiled too.

Birds of a feather, we should stick together, I said I'd never think I wasn't better alone Can't change the weather, might not be forever But if it's forever, it's even better

Neither of them said it aloud that afternoon, but in the quiet corners of their minds, they both thought how grateful they were to have each other.

[ashblooddragons]

The Red Queen (Chapter 6/?)

(i'm so sorry for the long wait! I've been dealing with some mental health issues lately and had no motivation to write. but don't worry I'm back on my meds and am feeling much, much better. I'm gonna try to get a chapter out once every 2 weeks because I have another fic I'm gonna work on now too. if you haven't voted in my poll yet please do if you want your choice to win! alright enough about me let the chapter begin!!!)

112 ac 

Alicents pov

I watch as you, Rhaenyra and Lady Laena ride your dragons. My heart about leaps from my chest when you command Stormchaser to roll through the air. You had been learning and practicing new tricks wth her so I shouldn’t be surprised that you are now doing the ones you were cleared to do by the Prince and the Dragonkeepers. Though that knowledge does not help my fears.

“What are their names again?” Rhaenyra’s new lady in waiting Lady Myrielle Greyjoy asks.

“The yellow one is Syrax, she is the Princess Rhaenyras dragon. The grey one is Moonfyre, she is the Lady Laenas. And the white one is Stormchaser, she is the little Princess’s.” I say pointing to each.

She hums before turning to me again. “How often will we be expected to be waiting here as they are up there?” She asks.

“Well it depends, with Princess Rhaenyra you would be expected to do so each time. But the little Princess and Lady Laena it would depend if they invite you to watch. Rarely are the two Princesses in th sky at the same time, but the Princess Rhaenyra wished to try and stay out of the council meeting and this is usually the time Lady Laena and the little Princess fly and try their new tricks.” I respond just as Rhaenyra lands climbing off Syrax.

“So I have always to come out when she flies?” Myrielle’s little sister Nymeria Greyjoy asks as she points to Stromchaser.

I nod to Nymeria as I climb onto the steps in front of the carriage waiting for Rhaenyra. 

“Syrax is growing quickly, she’ll be the size of Caraxes soon enough.”

“That's almost large enough to saddle two.” She says boredly as you and Lady Laena land climbing off your dragons with the help of Dragonkeepers. 

“I’m quite content on the ground, thank you, but perhaps the Lady Myrielle would join you.” 

“Oh no, I much prefer the ground as well, thank you for the offer though.” Myrielle answers quickly.

I watch as Nymeria walks past Rhaenyra to greet you and Laena. The three of you seem to be talking animatedly about something, though most children speak such ways even if it is just about bread. Though that doesn’t mean it doesn’t bring a smile to my face hearing your excited chatter.

You run over to me smiling and exclaim. “Did you see me Ali? Did you see my new tricks? Kepus showed me the rolling one!” 

It is moments like this that I wonder how I can love you as a mother would her own child when you did not come from my womb. There are days I swear I had made you, for how else could this love I feel for you be real if not? I know it is just my heart telling my brain lies, but the thought never ceases to bring a smile to my face. For you are so sweet, so kind, so gentle, just like that beast of yours. I know I had not birthed you, but that does not mean you are not my girl. I hate to even think it but I raised you, not the Queen, not wet nurses, me. It is these thoughts and feeling that have always kept me going even when my mother died, when my father was cruel, when I felt nothing more than a waste of space.

“I did you wer-” I start to say until Rhaenyra cuts me off.

“Yes, we all saw you. Now may we go I don’t wish to get into more trouble than I alreadymost likely am.” Rhaenyra says as she climbs into the carriage.

Myrielle turns to look at me ready to ask the question I know she’ll ask the one each new lady in waiting asks. Is she always like this? I only whisper “Later.” and climb in with Myrielle with you, Laena, and Nymeria following behind us. 

Once the carriage starts to move you and your friends look out the window looking at the market and side shows as we pass. Rhaenyra is telling the story of her first flight to Myrielle, but every now and then you girls get a bit to loud for her liking. The only ones of you who seems to be reacting is Nymeria, the only one who isn’t used to Rhaenyra’s chilling gaze. 

It is a sad thought, that you and Laena are used to your sisters venomous words and hateful gaze that now it doesn’t bother you anymore. That it is your normal, that it is no longer something youfear but something you ignore.

It is these moments that make me hate Rhaenyra, the spoiled girl she is. She wishes for a sister this time as well and yet seems to have magically forgotten the sister she already has. She speaks of wishing to fly with someone in races but when you have asked in the past she had only scoffed or out right laughed at you. She wants to be a warrior, and her parents would probably let her, but she complains at any exerting activities or when she is sweaty or dirty. She wanted to be apart of her fathers council, but actively avoids it stating she has funner things to do. The world is handed to her on a sliver platter, and then she is mad it isn’t gold or diamonds.

It is these things mixed with how she treats you, that make me hate her in my very deepest parts of my soul. So much so there are some nights I pray to the Mother for forgiveness until the sun kisses my skin with its morning rays. When this happens I know I never will stop hating Rhaenyra but I can still ask for forgiveness each night at the hour of the owl until my heart and soul finally feel free of the rage I feel each day because of the eldest princess.

When we make it to the Red Keep a gold cloak comes up to you, your uncle had bestowed him upon your care until a new Kingsguard comes along who can protect you. He bends down and whispers in your ear, it must be good news as you run off with a smile on your face leaving Laena and Nymeria behind in your excitement. 

As the guard follows you, me and Myrielle follow Rhaenyra as she wishes to see her mother before going to the council meeting.

“You know I hate you flying when I’m in this condtion.” The Queen says with a frown towards Rhaenyra.

 “You don’t like me flying while your in any condition.” She says with a eye roll.

“Your Grace.” Me and Myrielle say in sync.

The Queen turns to look at us greeting us each in turn. Myrielle seems anxious being in the same room as the Queen so I reach for her hand giving it a reassuring squeeze. She turns and gives me a thankful smile. 

“Is she kind? The Queen?” Myrielle whispers to me

“Yes, very kind. She is not called the Kind Queen for nothing.” I whisper back.

We’re brought out of our little conversation when we hear the Queen let out a annoye sigh.

“Go take a bath, you stink of dragon.” The Queen says annoyed at Rhaenyra and her behavior during their talk. Rhaenyra almost always leave the Queen annoyed and frustrated after her vistis.

Once we leave Rhaenyra walks ahead to go change quickly before going to the council chambers as she is already quite late.

Once we were alone Myrielle turns to look at me concerned. “Is the young Princess like the Princess Rhaenyra?” 

I know why she asks this, for she worries her little sister, who she raised for their mother was too ill. What if she is in the hands of a cruel and spiteful girl, how can she help her little sister from a girl like that? Especially if it is a Princess.

“No, she is kind, sweet gentle, giving, and quite playful. I think the only thing you need to worry about is if your sister can keep up with her and Lady Laena and their wild games and adventures. Those two are quite energetic so I hope Nymeria can keep up.” I say with a giggle at yours and Laenas antics. 

“Oh don’t worry, I’m sure she’ll keep up with them just fine.” she answered with a amused smile.

For some reason I know I have found a friend for life in the Lady Myrielle Greyjoy. I know I will not feel so alone anymore with her here, and I can see in her eyes she feels the same in this moment as well.

Your pov

I run towards the thorne room after my bath, I hear Ser Aldwin Sarwyck’s armor rattling as he tries to keep up. I burst open the throne room doors and smile when I see Kepus standing in the middle of the room smiling back at me. 

“Ser Aldwin, please wait here.” I say closing the throne room doors behind me.

“Has he been good to you while I was away?” Kepus asks smirking as I run towards him jumping into his arms,

“I missed you so much!” I say excitedly as he catches me holding me close.

He chuckles as he  carries me towards the throne and starts to climb the steps. “I missed you as well, ñuha riña. Though you never answered my question” 

“He’s nice, he doesn’t seem to like when I talk to him though, says he’s trying to keep me safe and I’m distracting him.” 

He hums at this and when I lookup at him,  he seems upset about something I said. 

“I’ve been being quiet around him more, not asking as many questions to him.” I reassure, but this doesn't seem to please him either as he sits on the throne and sets me on his lap.

“Enough of your guard hmm? I’ve heard you have a new lady in waiting, two in fact.” He says as he frowns as he moves my hair out of my face.

“Yes, Lady Nymeria Greyjoy, she’s ten, knows how to sing, dance and is very kind, oh and funny! She says the best jokes, me and Laena love her jokes! And Laena is very happy to be my lady in waiting because now she doesn’t have to leave.” I say excitedly. 

He smiles this as he inspects the braid my maid gave me this morning. “That’s lovely ñuha riña, it seems you have not one but two wonderful friends now.” 

I smile and nod as I touch the arms of the throne touching a ornate pomel of a sword. “Why are we on the throne? Were not supposed to be on the throne, this is Papas throne.” 

I hear him chuckle as he reaches into a pocket in his jerkin. “And why should’t we be? This is our families seat, and it may well be mine one day.”

“No, Papa says the baby in Mama’s belly is a boy and it’ll be his heir.” I say matter of factly remembering what Papa has said to me when I asked if I was getting a brother or sister.

“Hmm, and who told him this, the Maesters?” 

“No, Papa says he just knows. He said has had a dream of his child sitting the throne with someone sitting with them. He said there was fourteen candles in front of him.”

“A dream you say?” Kepus asks seeming deep in thought.

“Yeah, but Papa said he couldn’t see their face and that it was all blurry, but he knows his child must sit the throne or bad things will happen.” 

“Bad things?” Kepus asks as he lifts my hair up.

“That’s what he said, when I asked he said it wasn’t for little girls. Kepus when will I be a big girl?” I ask as I feel him rest something to my chest and try to clip it behind my neck. When I look down I see a beautiful garnet stone, I gasp and touch it and notice the necklace chain matches the metal on my wrist. 

“It’s Valyrian Steel!” I say excitedly as I tuen to face him.

“Yes it is, I left one in your sisters room it didn’t feel right not to find you one too. She better take care of hers as it’s quite fragile, I’m not finding her another because she’s careless. And don’t worry about getting older, there is plenty of time to see and learn the things of the world.”

“But I want to know them now Kep–” I start to say before the throne room doors open and Rhaenyra walks in fixing something on her next and messing with the neckline of her dress.

Ever since her fourteenth nameday shes been wanting to wear lower necked dresses. She also has been acting strange with boys, I’m worried because she seems to get something in her eye each time she talks to them s she blinks a lot each time she talks to them. 

“Uncle, it’s been a age since you’ve visited court.” Rhaenyra says which confuses me as yes I missed him but he was only gone a moon. 

“Yes well court is boring, I only come back to see my little sweetling.” Kepus responds as he stroke my hair.

“Well then why come back at all?” Rhaenyra says giving as she gives me a glare finally noticing me here.

“I already said why, your sister, though if you need more reason I heard your father was throwing a tourney in my honor.”

“That’s not for you, that’s for the baby!” I say with a giggle thinking Kepus is being silly.

“Hmm well can't it be for me as well?” Kepus asks with a amused smirk.

“I suppose, can it be for me too? Oh, and Mama too she’s the one she really should be celebrating!” 

“I don’t see why not, it is a celebration for our family and that does include you and your mother.” Kepus says as he touches the stone of my necklace.

“Yes it is, though I did not come here to hear of celebration for some babe, I came to thank you for this lovely necklace Uncle.” Rhaenyra says as she flicks her hair back showing her necklace. It also seems Rhaenyra has something in her eyes again as she’s blinking a lot.

Kepus stands from the throne and carries me down until we’re in front of my sister. “I’m glad you like it, that means my brother won’t be bothering me anymore about finding you a Valyrian Steel jewlery.” He says almost boredly.

“My father told you to give me this?” Rhaenyra says in a tone that makes me grip my Kepus’s jerkin.

“I believe I just said that niece.” 

Rhaenyra scoffs and turns around stroming out of the throne room. I don’t understand why she is upset, she got what she had asked Papa to give her, just from Kepus. I’ll need to ask Septa Martha about this in my leasons with her tomorrow.

I look up at my Kepus and see him already looking down at me. “Who did your hair today. it’s all in your face?” He asks as he tucks my hair behind my ear again.

“My new maid Gloria, she’s Ali’s age she said my hair is tricky.” I say as I touch the silver waves that at times curl.

Kepus chuckles and starts to walk out of the throne room. “Well lets go and fix this ‘tricky’ hair hmm?” I nod as I tell him all of my adventures while he was away.

Little did I or anyone else know, that, that day would be the last normal one to ever grace mine or their lives for a long, long time. But at least I’ll have my Kepus through all of it right…right?

Series Masterlist

Also the characters Nymeria and Myrielle are my Besties @sugutoad ocs so give her love for these magnificent characters!!

@ilikefelines @sugutoad @baybaybear1 @sachaa-ff @classicsimpforaaronwarner @mmogurl

This is what I see for the necklace Daemon gives Princess. I hope you all love it as much as I do!

also special thanks to @sugutoad for making the header for this fic! I don't know what I'd do without you girly!

[strawwritesfic]

Kelvin!Spock x Female!Human!Reader: Mr. Right

Summary: When one door closes, another opens—perhaps the door you were meant to enter all along.

Warnings/Tags: Starship Enterprise; post-Star Trek Beyond; friends to lovers; breakup; almost kiss; counselor!reader; Star Trek: The Original Series references; Star Trek: The Next Generation references

Relationships: Spock/Reader; Spock & Nyota Uhura; past!Spock/Nyota Uhura; past!Kevin Riley/Reader

Challenge: “160 Collective Drabbles” challenge by BobaPop on Lunaescence Archives.

Requester: @lovemesomeescapism

Tag List: @imaginesfire

Notes: For once, this is not a repost for this challenge…technically. I did write a response to the prompt "Mr. Right" ages ago, but when I was reposting, I decided that the Now You See Me one shot I wrote really wasn't worth keeping. Someone on Tumblr asked me for a Spock one shot, so I slipped him in as a replacement.

It's been a really long time since I finished something new. I realize that I am rusty. This is actually several drafts into attempts to write this one shot. For the first time ever, I actually cannibalized previous drafts while trying to get the meandering dialogue and point back on track. It still doesn't feel quite "right" to me, but it's probably going to take some time before I get back in the swing of things, and I'm ready to let this one go.

Mr. Right

Throughout Terra's history, human beings had sought the comfort of white noise. Quiet droning sounds proved beneficial for many aspects of mental health in the species. As a counselor on board the U.S.S. Enterprise, you'd recommended listening to white noise to dozens of fellow crewmates and patients alike. The best way to do this in the deep space you'd all been exploring for nearly five years was to turn everything in one's quarters down until the low hum of the ship's warp drive became audible. Many of those crewmates and patients reported back to you with decreased stress levels, improved mood, and a distinct uptick in ability to concentrate. Almost all of them said they got better sleep.

Now you learned that every single one of them had lied to you.

You'd spent the better part of the evening-adjacent hours lying face-down on your sofa, trying and failing to take a nap. The scratchy, standard-issue pillow beneath your face was soaked with tears. Your chest ached. Worst of all, any attempt on your part to get your mind off what upset you just ended with you crying harder. All the while, that awful rumble went on and on and on and on relentlessly, allowing you no respite long enough to drift off and forget your current predicament.

A chime cut through your misery. You paused without so much as lifting your head. As of three hours prior, you were officially off duty for the day. Nothing required you to answer the door unless an order came down from a superior officer, and they would call first. Probably it was only Uhura coming by to check on you. Having been through her own breakup during this voyage, surely she would understand when you didn't let her inside.

The chime sounded again, and with it came a surge of possibilities flooding your mind. What if your visitor was dealing with a crisis? Cases of PTSD had been on the rise since the events on Altamid. You could hardly ignore that in favor of your own small, personal crisis. Off duty or not, your role as a ship's counselor would not allow you to wallow in self-pity when someone might need your help.

As your boots hit the floor, you pressed one sleeve of your rumpled blue uniform to the corner of each eye. The gesture wouldn't do much to disguise what you'd been doing over the course of your time off, but you felt a little steadier afterward. Breathing deeply in and out helped too—until you hiccuped. But you could prepare yourself no more. Squaring your shoulders, you stood, walked over to the door leading to the corridor, and opened it.

Just outside stood the familiar, lanky figure of the ship's science officer. The second you spotted him, you wiped your sleeve across your face with greater urgency.

"You're not one of my patients," you said, "or Uhura."

"A very astute observation, Lieutenant [L Name]," Spock replied.

A long moment elapsed during which the two of you stared at one another. Several fellow crewmates in various uniform colors threw curious looks at his back as they passed by on their ways to wherever they were headed. Your friend, meanwhile, allowed a single dark eyebrow to drift toward his hairline. He clearly had no intention of moving on.

"What are you doing here?" you sighed at last.

The wayward eyebrow rejoined its brother. "Lieutenant Commander Uhura informed me that you left your office this afternoon in distress. I note that her assessment was an accurate one. If anything, you appear to be in more distress now than she described to me then."

You couldn't lie to Spock, not when you looked the way you looked after a crying jag like the one you'd just had. So you didn't bother to try. "Fine. I'm in distress. But really, Spock, it's not the kind of distress you can help with. I'm sure Captain Kirk will need you on a landing party any minute now, so if you'll excuse me—"

"Lieutenant Commander Uhura also informed me of the cause of your distress."

"Of course she did." Sometimes you wished your two friends were a little lighter on the "amicable" part of "amicable exes." "Let me guess: You came by to tell me that you told me so."

"As a Vulcan, I have no reason to rub my correct prediction in your face, if you will forgive the Terra colloquial."

You let out a wet laugh despite yourself. "You're pardoned."

"What I have done is stopped by the mess hall. If I am not much mistaken, ice cream is a traditional consolation food in these types of situations."

He produced from behind his back a number of different colored tapes. So startled were you that you found yourself unable to say anything. Never in a million years would you have imagined Spock of all people standing in front of you and offering you junk food of all things. Your silence went on for so long that he had to prompt you to speak:

"Was I incorrect in my understanding of how to handle Terran breakups?"

"No," you said, then, "I just didn't want you to find out about the breakup until I could pull myself together."

"I surmised as much, given that Lieutenant Commander Uhura found out about your circumstances before I did, although you and I are closer friends. It would have been more logical for you to contact me for assistance than her."

Vulcans as a whole were difficult to read. Even factoring in your education and training, as well as your friendship with Spock that had gone on for several years now, you could only guess his feelings the majority of the time. Not so then. Something about his tone made him sound hurt. Maybe you could chalk that up to projecting your own feelings onto him, but you couldn't risk that assumption.

"It's just that you warned me against dating Kevin," you explained. "As ship's counselor, I should have seen the end coming a kiloparsec away."

"Perhaps. But one might also say that your extensive proximity to the crew's emotions might cause some loss in objectivity on your part."

"So you're not here to make me feel worse?"

"I came for consolation purposes. That is all."

"Well, all right, then."

You stepped away from the doorway. Spock followed you in. He paused only long enough to press the button to close the door before he came to join you in your sitting room. A crate sat on the floor along his path, and he looked at you questioningly as he walked by it.

"Those are Kevin's things," you said.

"Expedient," he observed.

Normally, you might have tried to go for a little more decorum around him, but that day you didn't have the energy to do more than flop back onto your couch. At least you were upright. Spock, on the other hand, claimed a dignified perch at the end of your chair. The two of you certainly made an odd pair.

"He had so many hair products!" you burst out when the awkward silence turned unbearable. "I should have known we wouldn't work out. Who brings that much hair spray into deep space?"

"Humanity can hardly be expected to iron out all its flaws when you all cling so hard to your baser emotions."

"Do you mean Kevin's desire to look nice, or my need to be in a relationship?"

Spock blinked, then smoothly said, "In this case, I refer to your former beau's preoccupation with personal grooming."

"Right. Either way, I'm about ready to get rid of all my own baser emotions. Not feeling them would be a blessing." You got back to your feet and thrust one hand in Spock's direction. "Ice cream tape, please."

He offered one to you.

"Spock," you said warningly.

"I do not believe that heartbreak is an excuse to overeat. I only brought so many because I was unsure which flavor you would select."

The glare you leveled at him seemed to make him think better of lecturing you on the dangers of gluttony—as well it should have. This was the same glare that you gave Dr. McCoy when you were tired of listening to him. Unlike with Dr. McCoy, you smiled once Spock dropped the rest of the tapes into your outstretched hand.

"Thank you." You headed for your in-quarters food producer, then turned your head to ask over your shoulder, "What flavor do you want?"

"I do not require ice cream."

"Come on, Spock. If you're going to spend the evening commiserating with me, you have to have some ice cream, too. That's a critical part of the Terran breakup process."

One corner of his mouth twitched. "I'll have pistachio, then."

You fed the yellow-green tape into the slot. A quiet beeping noise covered the hum of the warp drive as the computer worked. While you waited, you flipped through the remainder of the flavors until you found the one you wanted.

"I don't think it would be a good idea for you to give up emotions," Spock said.

"Huh?" Frowning at him, you replaced his tape with yours. "Aren't you the guy that's been talking about doing the Kolinahr when we get back to Earth?"

"That's different. I am a Vulcan."

"Half Vulcan."

"Vulcan enough."

A shriller beep put an end to this potentially sticky subject. The ice creams were ready. You dumped the rest of the tapes in a basket next to the food producer, picked up the bowls, and brought them back to the living room. Spock took his with a grateful nod, though he waited until you sat down again before taking a bite.

"Maybe I'd be a better counselor if I didn't have emotions," you mused. "If I wasn't blinded by my own feelings, I could help the crew more with theirs. I shouldn't have the same problems as they do after all the studying I've done."

"While that may indeed make sense, it is hardly realistic. Besides, if you did not have your human emotions, you would no longer be the [Name] that I know, and I believe that I would miss her."

You couldn't help but smile around the spoon in your mouth. Popping that out, you said, "I bet you say that to all the Terrans you like."

"Hardly. In fact, that captain may benefit from an hour or two without his usual emotions."

"I appreciate you saying that, Spock."

"I am only speaking the truth. I have no intention of bolstering your ego artificially, even if doing so is a part of the Terran breakup process."

"I know." You slowly lowered your spoon back to the bowl, staring off into space. Something was dawning on you—something that might have dawned on you sooner had you not been so enthralled with your own feelings. "You know what else I appreciate? You coming here to help me today. Not every first officer would go out of their way for a ship's counselor like that."

Spock fixed you with an unblinking gaze as he said, "You mean a great deal more to me than most ship's counselors mean to their first officers."

"I don't care what Captain Kirk says. You sure know how to make a woman blush."

"I have had some practice with the activity."

"Remind me to thank Uhura later."

"Thank her for what?" Spock asked.

Maybe you were reading the signs wrong. Maybe you were just desperate. If he had to ask, you had to be wrong. But you took a deep breath anyway, and said, "Helping me realize that maybe the guy I've been looking for this whole time has been my best friend all along."

How could it have taken you this long to work it out? No one else spent as much time with you as Spock did, not outside of your office hours. It didn't matter if you were in the mess hall asking for a round of Fizzbin after dinner or you wanted a quiet night in your quarters. He always seemed to be there. You felt comfortable around him. Maybe you didn't always understand Spock; maybe Spock didn't always understand. But you didn't enjoy anyone's company the way you did his. And you had to wonder when your eyes met just then if he felt the same way, and if this coming-to-see-you-with-ice-cream thing was his way of showing you that.

"Well," he moistened his lips before going on, "I certainly feel that our relationship is founded more steadily upon mutual interests and desires than it is upon a passion for hair products."

You leaned forward. "You know, that sort of relationship sounds really appealing right about now."

"It does?" Spock shifted closer to you.

"I think it's about time that I dated someone whose first thought in the morning isn't beating me to the sonic shower, don't you?"

By that time, you both had come so close that it wouldn't have taken much more movement on either of your parts to touch lips. Your heart gave a painful leap inside your chest. Was this too much too fast? Even if you had just realized you'd had a thing for Spock for a while now, you had only just broken up with your last boyfriend that morning. Treating Spock as a rebound was the last thing you wanted to do. He didn't seem to mind, though. His mouth drew closer and closer to yours until you could feel his breath on your face.

The communicator in your room chirped. You jumped. Spock paused before sitting back up in his chair. Then you rose wordlessly, stepped over to the panel, cleared your throat, and pushed the button.

"[L Name]," you said.

"[Name]?" Uhura did not remark on how breathless you sounded, thankfully. "I need to talk to Spock."

"It's for you," you said unnecessarily. Spock had already reset his face into its typical blank mask and made his way to the communicator himself.

"Spock here. What is it, Lieutenant Commander?"

"Captain Kirk needs you on the bridge. We have a situation up here."

"What kind of a situation?"

"There's a former United States President floating outside the ship. He says he needs our help."

"I will be there right away."

A second chirp signaled that communications between your room and the bridge had ceased. Spock turned back to you.

"My presence is needed on the bridge," he said.

"So I heard."

"I apologize. I believe we were in the middle of something."

"It's all right."

He didn't move.

"Spock, go. Don't you want to know why a deceased historical figure has asked for the Enterprise's help?"

"I'd prefer to stay here," Spock said. "But you are correct. I must leave. Will you still be here later tonight?"

"Yeah." You surprised yourself with the eagerness of your answer. "Yeah, I will. I promise I won't run off with any other lieutenants while you're away. I'll save the rest of the ice cream. We can share it when you get back."

There it was: The slight curl to Spock's mouth that told you that you weren't making up the mutual attraction between you both after all. "To use another Terran phrase, it's a date."

He hesitated another moment longer before he quickly exited your quarter. You grinned as the door slid shut behind him and the white noise returned full force. As you sunk into your couch and pillow this time, you found you didn't mind the hum as much. In fact, the sound did exactly what it was supposed to do: Relax you. Kevin and his excuses from that morning felt farther away than your own home planet. Maybe you owed him a thank you, too, because if you were still with him, you wouldn't have slept as well as you did that night knowing that Spock would be back soon.

[merbear25]

Hello! I answered this asking what gender you wanted the reader to be, but since there wasn't a response, I made them gn! I hope you like it 💜🧡

You’d only been seeing each other for a short time. Each day he found something new to adore about you, which led to discoveries sprouting both innocent and lewd in nature. Even when he attempted to suppress his urges, he was reaching his boiling point and his imagination ran rampant.

CW: NSFW, MDNI, gn!reader, established relationship, bondage used on reader (wrists, legs, rope), slight abrasion, penetrative sex, cum shot, aftercare

Bound and gagged (Germany)

There were parts of his personality that maintained an air of mystery: his deadpan stare when you bubbled with excitement, the irritation he felt when you two were running late, and how he folded his arms when you were red with embarrassment. Could it be that he just wasn’t that fond of you? You’d only been dating a short time and hadn’t even moved past pecks on the lips.

Walking alongside him, the chilly autumn air gave you the dread of not wearing something heavier. Your shaky form from the last gust of wind was swallowed by the warmth of his jacket. Looking up at him, your batting eyelashes caused heat to nip at his face and ears.

“Aren’t you cold now?” The concern in your question wasn’t helping him cast out the images of you that’d been swarming in his head at night—-too ashamed to explore them to their potential.

“Not at all.”

“But your ears are bright red.” You leaned in to get a better look at him. Seeing the flush on his face deepen, you hesitantly took his hand. It was cool to the touch, so you moved closer to him, tangling your arm with his.

Your fingers lacing with his was nearly too much to bear. Having gone so long without being intimate with each other was only making matters worse for him.

“Your entire face is red! Are you feeling alright? Maybe we should head home?” 

Hearing the word ‘home’ pass your lips so freely had his heart pounding. “Perhaps that’s for the best.”

You hadn’t gone far from his place. The park you were enjoying the partly cloudy day in was just around the corner from where he couldn’t work up the courage to lay with you.

Passing over the threshold behind you, the blood in his reddened cheeks rushed further below. The way you looked around his house with curiosity sparkling in your eyes stirred a primal desire in him. You possessed far more power over him than you could ever realize, power that he wanted to turn the tables on and use to his advantage.

“You should rest. You looked like you were burning up!” The steps you took towards the blanket draped over the backrest of the sofa were cut short by the blonde’s objection.

“No, not here.” When you turned to face him, bewilderment in dancing in your eyes from his sudden outburst, he cleared his throat. “The balcony in my room is more comfortable.”

The timid gesture for you to follow him, planted a seed of suspicion. He was acting far more unusual today, but that could be boiled down to feeling unwell. The mental gymnastics you went through to rationalize his hesitation to enter his own bedroom had you questioning his health more and more.

“Maybe you should have a lie down? I could stay with you.” A soft tone accompanied by a tender hand on his shoulder made his body crave more of you.

To drown in your saccharine would be a welcomed demise. His hand stayed on the doorknob, his white knuckled grip remained out of your view. “I need you…” He spoke in a hushed tone.

“I’m here for you…Whatever you need I-”

“No, no… I mean to say that I want you.” He couldn’t deny it any longer, and having you enter his room knowing full well that he wouldn’t be able to guarantee stopping himself from making a move felt like a dirty trick.

“I want you too,” you assured him. “How could I not? You’re smart, kind, incredibly handsome… I’d like nothing more than to be more intimate.” Even with him making the first move, there was clear vulnerability in your admission.

His fist tightened on the key to unlocking the playground he was yearning to lead you to. “Have you any idea what you’re in for?” His voice was ragged from the rising desire of what he’d been dreaming of now within reach.

“I’d like to find out if you’re willing to take the lead.” Your eyes fluttered between his eyes and lips. You stepped forward and rested your chin on his shoulder.

“I can do much more than that.” Stealing a kiss from you, the fervor both of you had been holding back on came out at full force.

Your hands tangled in his hair, while his arms wrapped around your waist. Kicking the door open, he swept up off your feet with ease. He tossed you on the bed, promptly climbing on top.

The sudden roughness from your typically gentle and timid giant was making your head spin. You welcomed his strong lips with equal passion, and as his hands roamed your body, yours acted on their own accord. 

You tugged his shirt off, ruffling up his slicked back hair. In one swift motion, your pants and underwear were discarded on the floor. The sight of your chest rising and falling from anticipation was intoxicating, like meek prey trapped under a blood-thirsty predator.

Diving back into a lip lock, a fiery trail coated your neck. Nips and hot saliva coaxed moans out of you. “I’d really like to try something with you,” he murmured against your dampened skin.

“Anything, anything you want I want it too,” you breathed. The rush of it all left your common sense at the door, unable to warn you of what you were getting yourself into.

Reaching under his bed, he pulled out thick ropes. “Don’t worry, I won’t make them too tight.” He flipped you on your stomach and tied your wrists to the bed frame before you had the chance to digest what was unfolding.

Your breaths quickened from the panic creeping on. When his soothing lips traced your shoulders and his large hands caressed your exposed body, you melted into his feather duvet. Your sweet pants and slight shifting of your hips as he touched you were driving him wild.

He squeezed your ass and thighs possessively before finishing the job. Your ankles were bound to the end of the bed, leaving you at his mercy. 

“Just when I thought you couldn’t get more attractive,” he growled, running his hands up your body. The slight quake under him left the man wanting more.

He firmly planted his hands at your sides and rubbed himself against your shivering lower half. Even with his cock kept hidden under his trousers, there was no mistaking how much of himself had remained hidden. The rhythm of his hips already had you trembling.

“You want more?”

“Y-yes,” your plea was muffled against the pillow.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, please!” You shrieked louder as his hand stroked where you were craving him most.

Your obedience was mouth-watering. The fabric falling on the floor made you tense. The feeling of his heavy length resting on you sent a shiver down your spine. The tip of his lube-coated wanton for you being pushed inside had you whimpering from the start.

Each inch of him was eagerly accepted into your aching form. Despite the twinge, the pleasure was far more overpowering. Deeper and deeper, you could barely handle it.

“Ludwig!” You cried out as he pressed against your g-spot. The quickened pace of him plunging inside you in a position that left you helpless made your sobs uncontrollable. You tugged at your restraints in desperation, wanting to adjust yourself to the building pressure from him stretching you out beyond belief.

“Does it hurt?” He slowed down to give you a chance to catch your breath.

“N-no, just really big,” you whimpered.

He didn’t hold back after that. Each motion bucked into you allowed your sweet gasps to swirl with his deep grunts. You were right where he wanted you, right where he’d been dreaming of, and you were perfect in every sense of the word.

The ropes irritated your skin from the tugs and pulling of your shared intensity. However, your mind and body being overwhelmed with carnal desires for each other made it easy not to pay that discomfort any mind.

Your voice was growing shrill and gravelly. You were both so close. Your knuckles whitened around the thick restraints, while you grunted through the waves of heightened bliss. He leaned down, pressing his slightly sweaty forehead against the back of your neck. His hands tore at the sheets. With a strangled cry, he pulled out and instantly coated you with every last drop of his white hot pent-up lust.

He collapsed on you, breathing heavily but still able to lay weakened kisses on your recovering body. Once catching his breath, he removed each rope.

Seeing the marks on your wrists and ankles, he couldn’t help but feel ashamed at how selfish he was. “I didn’t realize they’d cause this much damage.” Your lovely skin was branded by him, which was something he regrettably saw as arousing.

“I’ll be fine,” you laughed lightly.

“Still… We’ll use padded handcuffs next time.” He decided.

Listening to him go on about how to ensure you could be more comfortable, while he gathered a towel to clean you up made an undeniable realization of love sprouting in you. Its warmth spread across your chest, as you smiled to yourself.

[iyannatrip]

— chapter 02.

this chapter will contain: strong language, hostile and tense interactions, emotional distress and frustration, references to anger issues and mental health struggles, slight mentions of violence (verbal, not physical).

series summary: in a small, run-down psychiatric facility, two patients—both broken in their own ways—are forced to share a room. reader, a twenty-three-year-old whose been in and out of these places for years, is used to being alone. matthew, a twenty-one-year-old with a history of violence and instability, is just another lost soul thrown into the mix. neither of them expects to get along, but as they clash and navigate their painful pasts, a connection forms—one that could either break them or give them a reason to fight for something more.

an aide knocked on the door mid-morning, sharp and loud enough to make you flinch.

“let’s keep things civil today,” she said, eyes flicking between you and matt like she already knew that was impossible. “rules still apply, even in this dump.”

you didn’t answer. neither did he. but the weight of her stare hung heavy until she finally left.

the silence crept back in, thicker this time. you focused on tying your shoes slow, pretending like the tension wasn’t sitting on your chest.

group therapy was worse. cold chairs in a circle, fake plants in the corner, and too many eyes.

you kept your head down, staring at the floor while the therapist droned on about coping mechanisms. matt sat across from you, slouched back in his chair like he couldn’t care less. but you could feel his glare every time the word “anger” came up.

someone else spoke, voice shaking. you tuned them out.

then the therapist’s gaze landed on you and matt both. “some of us here struggle with… outbursts. violence. pushing people away.”

your jaw clenched. you knew exactly who that was aimed at. matt’s foot tapped against the floor, fast and sharp, like he was seconds from walking out.

your eyes met his for half a second. cold. challenging.

after session, you stormed out first, heart pounding harder than it should.

back in the room, you grabbed your notebook and pen, trying to steady your hands enough to write. anything to calm the storm in your head.

matt’s voice cut through the quiet. “what, writing about how much you hate me already?”

your grip on the pen tightened until it almost snapped. “don’t flatter yourself.”

he snorted. “right. you were so sweet to me at breakfast.”

the sarcasm hit like a slap. your chest burned. “maybe if you weren’t such a—”

he stood up too fast, chair scraping loud against the floor. “say it. go ahead.”

your heart jumped, but you forced your face to stay cold. “aggressive asshole. that’s what you are.”

his jaw clenched so tight you thought his teeth might crack. “you think i wanted to be here? with you?”

the words hit harder than you expected. your mouth opened, but nothing came out.

he laughed, bitter and hollow. “yeah. that’s what i thought.”

you stared at him, pulse racing. not from fear—something else. something worse.

your notebook lay forgotten in your lap, page blank.

the room felt smaller again. hotter.

“stop staring at me,” you muttered, voice low but cutting.

“then stop acting like you’re better than me,” matt shot back, his tone sharp enough to slice through the thick air.

your hands balled into fists over the notebook. “i never said i was better. you just assume everyone’s against you.”

he scoffed, running a hand through his hair, fingers tugging like he wanted to rip it out. “because they are. been that way since day one.”

you blinked, caught off guard by the rawness in his voice. but you swallowed it down and looked away. “well, news flash. no one here’s your enemy. we’re all stuck in the same shithole.”

he didn’t answer right away. just stood there, breathing heavy like he was still ready to fight. but then, slowly, he dropped back into the chair, arms crossed tight over his chest.

you turned your eyes back to your notebook, even though you still weren’t writing. your pulse was still racing, but the sharp edge in the room started to dull. not gone, but not cutting as deep.

for a minute, neither of you spoke. just heavy breaths and the faint hum of the air vent.

“whatever,” he muttered finally, voice lower this time. tired.

your throat felt tight, but you forced out, “yeah. whatever.”

the silence stretched long. too long. every second felt like it scraped against your skin.

you flipped a page in your notebook just to do something, the sound loud in the stillness.

matt shifted in his chair, the legs creaking. “what’re you even writing, anyway?”

his tone wasn’t as sharp this time—still rough, still cold, but not aimed like a weapon. more like he was just… saying it.

you didn’t look at him. “nothing. just trying to keep my head straight.”

he huffed out a breath. “good luck with that.”

your jaw clenched, but you didn’t bite back this time. instead, you muttered, “yeah. same to you.”

he went quiet again.

you caught the way he rubbed at his hands like they were sore. like he couldn’t sit still.

the weight in the room shifted—not lighter, but less explosive. like both of you were too tired to keep throwing punches, even if they were just words.

your eyes flicked to the window. cloudy skies. matched the mood perfect.

matt’s chair creaked again, but he didn’t get up. just stayed slouched, arms crossed, head tilted back like he wanted to disappear.

you went back to pretending to write, the pen scratching useless lines across the page.

still tense. still miles away from calm. but quieter.

for now.

a/n: this chapter in fact did not come out last night... LMFAAAOO. but here's a short little chapter for you. next chapter will be out later tonight... fr this time.

[everyoneluvsanicia]

tw self h@rm

hurt/comfort

sometimes you didn't know what was wrong with you. most days, you felt fine and had genuine fun, but when you get home, all hell brakes loose. you live with your mom, and she's not abusive but can have abusive emotional tendencies. Because of your mom, UA dorms were a life saver. you finally didn't have to be in that environment. at UA, you love your classmates and are a part of the self-proclaimed bakusquad, thanks to Mina and denki. You had a fine day at school, nothing triggering or bad happened, but here you are, sitting on your bathroom floor, blade in hand, swiping at your thighs and hips. it's summer, so you've started cutting more on your hips so you can wear more revealing clothes. You sit there crying for no particular reason while blood trickles down your thighs. you love the scars but hate them. you want to get better, but you want to get worse. you want to have scars, but you want to have clean skin. you have tried getting clean in the past, but to no avail. When you finished you cutting session your hips look horrible and you got a little carried away on your thighs "fuck, now I can't wear shorts for a few weeks." you think. Your bathroom is in your dorm so you walk up to your dresser to change out of your now bloody pants. *knock* *knock* "Y/N? are you in there?" you hear a gruff voice ask from behind your shut dorm door. you and bakugou have gotten closer as friends over the weeks to the point where you pesterd him into agreeing to a weekly movie night for the two of you. "shit" you look at the clock, 6:30. silently scolding yourself for losing track of time you pull on your favorite fuzzy pajama bottoms and bee line for the door. you look cute in your crop top and fuzzy pants but bakugou would never admit it aloud. you open the door "'bout damn time" he scoffs. "I thought ya fell asleep on me." You roll your eyes, and both you sit on your bed. Bakugou set down the bag of food he brought with for the movie night on your bed. You turn to pick up your room a bit while bakugou watches tiktok (he is obsessed with tiktok but won't admit it), which is normal since you've been doing this for a while.  While cleaning, you don't hear anything, so you turn around to see bakugou paler than a witch staring at something. you follow his eyeline to see the pants you were wearing earlier with the blood still seeping in the seems. "fuck" you said out loud as you scurry to pick up the pants. you discard them into your hamper just as bakugou says something. "Do you hurt yourself?" he said in a chilling low tone. you sit there too stunned to speak. he probably thinks I'm weak now. great. the boy I've been in love with things. I'm a monster who can't figure out her own problems. Your silence was all he needed for him to pull you onto the bed and wrap you in his warm embrace. after a while, bakugou convinced you to let him clean out your cuts in your bathroom properly so they didn't get infected. when he finished he gave you a peck on the forehead and you two headed for the bed to finally watch the movie and cuddle. Bakugou knows he has to talk to her more about her mental health but also their relationship. However, for tonight, he would just hold her and let her cry in his shoulder.

[tw1l1te]

The Final Promise₊˚✩⊹

Chapter 5

Linked Universe x reader

Warnings: Mentions of traumatic pasts, fluff, angst, mental health

₊˚✩⊹

“You and I both know I’d make such a sexy Link,” you said, “Green is my color, you said so yourself!” 

Wars groaned “Of course you remember that of all the things I’ve said.”

You turned to Four and Legend, who were walking a few feet behind you two, loudly whispering “I think he’s too embarrassed to admit I look better in green than him.” 

Both of them nodded exaggeratingly. Wars just groaned. You cackled loudly. Both of you knew it was all fun and games, needing some humor to lighten up the journeys you've been through.

Keeping up with him, you looked out onto the expanse of Hyrule, slowly transitioning from green grassy fields to dry, sandy earth. You almost didn’t notice it by how slow it was, but you felt a shift in the wind. You looked at the others, seeing if they also picked it up, but you seemed to be the only one. The air felt heavy and threatening, like a predator was hunting you. Watching you.

“Stop.” you say, mostly to yourself, but the others hear you as well. 

Hyrule jogs back to you, “What’s going on? You ok?” you concentrate on a blade of grass, putting your finger up to your lips to listen. The air is thick with tension, you could probably cut it with the Master Sword.

“Portal’s opened up.” you say, looking past Hyrule to the group, eyeing Time to try and read his face. He looks at you for a moment, an emotion that you can’t read written across his face, but he seems to snap out of it. He nods.

You pull out your phone, still the same battery percentage as when you first landed in Hyrule, the charge not depleting despite the fact you’ve been using it continuously. Flipping to your homescreen, you start walking forward, the group following behind you. You took out your phone to detect which direction the portal is located. The screen gets all fuzzy and distorted when it gets close to the portal, so it acts as a compass in a way.

You only needed to use this tactic when the portal didn’t popup in your line of sight, which seemed like the case right now. 

“Careful sunshine, there’s usually monsters near portals.” Wars mumbled, his hands firmly gripping the hilt of his sword, knuckles going white from how hard he was holding it. Pointing it towards the hill in front of you, your phone finally starts distorting, the response you were looking for. You slip your phone into your pack, pointing toward the hill wordlessly.

Reaching the peak of the hill, you see the purple and black colored portal in the sandy expanse of Gerudo Valley. The group resumes walking toward it, but you hesitate. Time and Wars turn back around to look at you, noticing your hesitation. They can see the internal battle happening behind your eyes.

“I’m so fucking close, Time. It’s literally a day or two walk away for us. I-fuck I can’t do this.” you say, eyes starting to sting. 

The others stay put while Time makes his way to you, slow, careful steps. Kneeling slightly in front of you, he sighs.

“I’m sorry, Y/n. Truly, I am. I wish there was some way I could help, but I can’t. We have to go through the portal, but I promise you, whichever Hyrule we land in, we’ll keep searching for you.” he says, a stern look on his face. His words do little to ease your anxieties, but you know that there’s, objectively, nothing you can do. With a nod, both of you walk through the portal, the rest of the group following close behind.

~

You hear voices around you before you can open your eyes. Sensing the voices didn’t hold any worry or danger, you relaxed for a few more seconds before you inevitably had to get up.

“We’re here, Y/n.” Four says, brushing the hair out of your face, no doubt getting tangled through the shifting of realities. You’d have to deal with it later.

You groan, every inch of your body sore. You look at Four, “Any idea of who’s Hyrule we’re in?”

Four ponders before answering, “Well, it’s definitely not mine, but Time says it might be his, but is unsure because we’re in the middle of a field right now. Probably Hyrule Field if I had to guess.”

Time addresses the group, adjusting his gauntlets “I’m suspecting we’re in my Hyrule, based on the terrain and layout. If we head North, I have an old friend we can lodge with for a few days.”

“Malon?” you ask.

“...Yes. She took over the ranch a few years ago, so there shouldn’t be any issues with beds or room.” he answers, partially forgetting that you knew almost every Hyrule and its people. It should have worried him, but he was glad you were excited to explore Hyrule regardless of your seemingly endless knowledge of it.

While walking on the dirt path, you, Wind, and Hyrule talk about the different Hyrules, mentioning how despite being the same land with minor shifts of architecture and layout, it still felt starkly different.

“I’m still so confused on how your land is mapped out, Y/n. You’re saying you have… cities? As in Castle Town, right?” Hyrule asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Well, I guess yeah. But way bigger and taller. Think Castle Town but like 100 times the size.” you say.

Hyrule’s mouth drops open.

“Holy goddesses, that’s huge! How do you not get lost? I got lost in Wars’ Castle Town for at least two hours last time we were there, and it was a nightmare figuring out how to get back to the inn.”

You chuckled, remembering the frantic Hyrule entering the inn, hours after he was meant to return.

“It’s harder if it’s a new city I’ve never been to. I used to live in the city when I went to school, so I had to walk in it everyday. I eventually memorized and knew how to get around. If you guys ever land there, I’ll show you around.” you said, looking outward onto the path in front of you.

You can see the ranch in the distance, a small stream of smoke coming out from the chimney.

“Seems like she’s home, Old man.” Wars said, gesturing at the house. Time nodded in response.

“For the love of goddesses, please behave. I’m lucky enough as it is that she lets me bring you lot here.” Time says, groaning slightly.

“Aye aye, captain!” Wind shouts, earning another groan from him. You smiled at Wind, him shooting you a toothy grin. 

~

“It’s about time you boys came around! Come in, come in! You must be hungry and exhausted.” Malon exclaims, ushering you in. “And Y/n! So glad to see you again, it's been what, 5 months now?” 

“Wow, its been that long Mal? Damn, time does really have a way with catching up to you. How have you been?” you ask, leaning against the kitchen counter. 

“Ah, y’know, same old thing every day. Link’s been keepin’ ya on your toes, huh?” she teases, nodding his head at him, “Fairy boy can’t sit still, can he?” she muses. 

Looking back at Time, you see him standing awkwardly. You chuckle, “He does, but he takes care of us. He’s good to us, all of us.” You smile at him, him sending you a small smile in thanks, refocusing on something the group was talking about. 

Now that you’re focused on him, you realize you and him didn’t discuss what that kiss was a few nights ago. It’s been nagging you, gnawing at your brain. You needed to talk with him, but… you were nervous. You’re experiencing the beginnings of a school girl crush again, a feeling you didn’t think you’d feel again after…. them. You were scared shitless. 

You’d talk to him. Tonight.

₊˚✩⊹

[spoonfulofmilo]

Could you do fic for James Vowles with wife reader? With her being in the Williams garage, she witnessed Alex and Danny incident at the Japan GP and was so worried about them that she ended up going to James at the pitwall for his comfort. He decided to hug her while calming her down and going to both of the drivers to make sure they're okay. Just something fluff and little angst. Add something if you want to. Thanks!! :)))

what is it with me only getting these fics out like 2-3 weeks after the race, anyway, it's again so short but my mental health is suffering right now, so, and im happy with it the length it is.

my masterlist can be accessed here

Please keep requesting - y'all have awesome ideas we agree on a lot of stuff :) - my guidelines are here, and if you want some prompts, they are here.

also feel free to come in and start chatting to me in my asks, would love to get to know y'all better

and if you want to be added to my taglist lmk :)

---

“Come on Logan, show ‘em why you deserved to be in the car last weekend.” 

Logan nodded as he pulled his helmet on and gave a thumbs up and a fist bump to Y/N. It was her first weekend at the grand prix, as she preferred to stay at home, and let James call her to give her an update. But James had been pleading with her to come ‘just once’ and after the disaster weekend they’d had in Australia, she had braved the timezone and flown out for Japan.

She sat down on the folding chairs with the rest of the pit crew, while PR managers and assistants and anyone who liked James, which was 90% of the garage, was trying to persuade her to sit on a more comfortable chair. She shook her head smiling, insisting she was fine as long as she wasn’t in the way, on the folding chair, with the pit crew. 

James shook his head fondly, gazing at his wife as she chatted to Alex’s race engineer, before he slung his headset on and walked out to the pit wall.

Unfortunately the joy in the Williams garage lasted all of about 1 corner. A cheer erupted as they all got through turn 1 okay, but it was yelled too soon.

“As they make their way through AND OFF INTO THE WALL, off into the wall goes the 2 cars, and a big crash into the tire barrier,”

“Yeah, that’s going to be an immediate safety car, a heavy impact for Ricciardo and Albon…”

“Red flag, red flag.”

Y/N could see the anger as the mechanics grew angry, yelling stuff, but it all felt muffled underwater, as the camera cut to a replay of the crash. She sat there, staring as she watched Daniel and Alex’s cars clobber the barriers again.

So much for good luck this weekend. She watched as Daniel hopped out of the car, and she saw that Alex was having a little trouble due to the tyres almost balanced perfectly on his halo.

She heard the other cars filtering into the pits and as the pit crews dash around the cars Y/N escape through the garage and up to the pit wall, where she spotted James chatting to some of the other mechanics. She quickly crossed the pit lane and hopped up to the pitwall.

“Hey darling, what are you doing here?”

Y/N didn’t know what to say to that. What was she doing here? She looked at her husband trying to convey all of her current thoughts through her eyes. Thankfully he seemed to get the message and embraced her in a hug.

“Don’t worry, don’t worry, they’re both fine, they’re both okay. The red flag is because the barrier is destroyed and they’ll be here before the end of the red flag, okay? I’m sorry darling, that must have been terrifying to see that crash, especially when you have no information. How about you stay here, I think Alex and Daniel will come from there,” he pointed somewhere, Y/N wasn’t paying attention properly “so they’ll walk past here and you can see that they’re completely safe and sound.”

Y/N nodded at that, and snuggled in further to her husband’s embrace as he asked about tyres for Logan’s restart and discussed new strategy, keeping an eye out for the 2 drivers.

come walking down the pit lane. She careful extracted herself from James’ embrace, he nodded as he saw the 2 drivers arriving.

Y/N ran over and embraced them both in a hug, ignoring the commentators comments of ‘mom’ and ‘awwww’ and she pulled them in close and started rambling

“Oh my god, are you okay, that was a big crash, are you sure you don’t need to go to the medical centre, wait, hang on, what’s the test, uuhhhh, how many fingers am i holding up?”

“2, Y/N, relax, we’re okay.” Daniel put a hand on her shoulder

“Y/N breathe okay, I know that was a big crash and that I think was your first big crash while being here, so I’d imagine it's a little scary, but it’s okay. We’re both okay, Daniel and I in one piece.” Alex pulled her into a hug, before releasing her.

Y/N didn’t trust her voice, just nodding and furiously wiping away at the tears falling down her face.

“C’mon, I’ll get you back to James and then by the time the red flag is over, I’ll be back from media and we can watch the race together, okay?”

Y/N nodded again, smiling more than she was as Alex led her back to James.

“Keep her safe until I get back, yeah boss?”

“Oh come on Alex, you don’t trust me with my own wife?”

---

taglist: @leosxrealm, @tallrock35, @wolf-knights, @janeholt3, @pear-1206

[mxssingmemories]

I Think I’m Finally Clean

Pairings: Aaron Hotch x daughterfigure!reader, Derek Morgan x daughterfigure!reader, Spencer Reid x daughterfigure!reader, Penelope Garcia x daughterfigure!reader

Warnings: GRAPHIC description of self-harm, lots of crying, reader gets better I swear

Summary: You work at the BAU and you've been having a rough time. You fall into old habits, but the team is there for you. This follows the road to recovery! Set in season 1.

A/N: this got a little too real, too fast, so i apologize if the writing is a little sloppy. this hit home for me. please take care of yourself-if you feel like this will trigger you, please don't read it. my dms are always open.

Also, I promise I'm working on the requests-this was just 3/4 finished :)

Word Count: 2.4k!

You'd been having a shit day. Everyone in the office knew this and were on the lookout, but Hotch was more concerned than he normally would've been. He was trained to not show too much emotion on the outside, but he'd taken you under his wing for a reason. He tended to watch your behavior more often than he did the others. This, in turn, meant that he almost always knew when something was up with you.

This day was particularly bad, he observed. You'd been down all day, your usually smiling face either looking down or with a frown on it. You didn't seem happy at all, which was strange for everyone on the team—Hotch, especially. He knew you had mental health issues in the past, but there was always a way for him to cheer you up. Today, however, nothing worked. He'd given you a few hugs, which he knew you loved; Derek had been extra caring with you today; hell, Garcia had even brought you cupcakes! No matter how hard the team tried, they couldn't wipe the frown off your face. They spent all day worrying about you, and it didn't help when you disappeared to the bathroom for thirty minutes. After ten, everyone was anxious—Hotch was practically pacing, Spencer and Derek were sending worried looks towards the door you exited out of.

Of course, the team knew as much of your history as Hotch did- it was one of the first things they'd found out about in your file. Honestly, after being on the team for four years (and, of course, being the baby), they knew you better than you knew yourself. Spencer, Derek, Garcia, and mostly Hotch did their best to take on a family role for you. It was evident in the way they acted around you that they cared, and you wouldn't change a thing about it. Their gentle touches, reassurances, and comfort—it was all more than you thought you'd have when you got kicked out and started training for this.

As the time passed, they got more and more worried. Everyone was tense. The case that they'd been previously "working on" lay untouched on the table, multiple pairs of eyes staring at the door to the restroom. They were waiting, watching, and hoping for you to come back into the break room before they had to intervene. Hotch had a theory in the back of his mind about what had happened, but he kept pushing it back. It wasn't possible, right? It had been two years since you'd-Nope. No. He cut himself off right there. Worrying too much was only going to make the situation worse.

The atmosphere in the room got more and more tense, the silence stretching on for what felt like hours. There was a silent debate going on about how long they could wait until they burst into the bathroom. A minute later, Hotch stood up abruptly, walking briskly to the restroom door. Derek and Penelope tried to get up to follow, but Spencer stopped them with a shake of his head.

"Hey, Y/N, you okay in here?" Hotch knocked, pushing on the door lightly when he heard a small whimper instead of an answer.

"I'm coming in, kiddo," he quietly said, pushing open the door. He shut it behind him, taking a deep breath before turning around to face you.

To put it shortly, there was blood everywhere around your arms—obviously, self-made cuts were fresh and bleeding moderately heavily.

"Fuck, sweetheart, what happened?" Hotch whispered."I-I don't know. I couldn't help it, it won't happen again, I swear-" You tried to reassure, breaking down into tears before you could finish the sentence. Hotch immediately gathered you into his arms, his parental nature showing through.

"Shh, it's okay, honey; you're going to be okay," he reassured, rocking you back and forth. He put your fingers on his wrist, allowing you to feel his pulse point. Strangely, it helped you calm down.

When you started to breathe a little easier, he pulled back. Pressing his forehead against yours, he brushed some of the tears off of your face, using his sleeve to wipe some snot under your nose. You both stayed like that until you stopped crying, the situation at hand temporarily forgotten as he held you.

"Okay, Y/N/N," he said softly, pulling back a little bit. "I'm going to get the first aid kit. It's right under here, sweetheart." You nodded at his statement, signaling that it was okay for him to detach himself from you.

He grabbed the first aid box out from under the cabinet, pulling out the alcohol wipes, bandages, and gauze.

"This is going to hurt," he warned you, unwrapping the gauze and sterilizing the wounds on your arm. You winced slightly, even though he was being as gentle as he possibly could. He tossed the wipe in the garbage can, pulling out the gauze and bandages next.

"You know we're going to have to do something about this, right?" His question made you tear up again.

"Can we do it tomorrow?" you asked, burying your face in his shoulder. You felt him nod and continue to apply the bandages. He finished rather quickly, and it was time to face your teammates once again. You were very hesitant—you had no idea how they'd react.

"Can we stay here for a minute?" you asked quietly, your voice dropping its volume. Hotch nodded, and he let you climb into his arms once again. He did his best to be careful of your wounds. They were bandaged, sure, but he hated the thought of you in pain at all. He hated the thought of him being the one to cause it even more.

As you moved to walk out the door, he stopped you. He was holding his jacket out to you.

"Just in case," he smiled, opening the door. His hand wrapped around your shoulders in a comforting manner, and his face shot down any questions about what had happened. He led you to the couch on the other side of the room and laid you down as quietly as he could.

"If you need me, call me, okay? I'll be right over there, with Spence and Morgan." He reassured you, planting a quick kiss on your temple. You silently let your eyes close, the stress of the past hour catching up with you.

You awoke thirty minutes later to the sound of chatter in the other corner of the room, a small smile making its way onto your face when you realized Derek was fake flirting with Penelope again. You forced yourself to get up and walk over to your desk. Everyone's eyes immediately turned to you.

"Y'alright, kiddo?" Derek asked, making eye contact with you. You nodded at him, not trusting yourself to speak right then. Your head dipped down as you focused on the paper in front of you—yet another unsub you were trying to track down. He was a bit confused by your lack of response, but with a look from Hotch, he decided to let it go. That didn't stop all eyes from being on you as you worked on your paperwork, though. When it became clear you weren't going to say anything, they all did their best to turn their attention away from you.

Eventually, your sleeve rode up. It exposed the wide bandage on your arm, along with a few cuts that were peeking out. You hadn't noticed yet. Derek, however, definitely did. His eyes widened immediately, almost choking on the coffee he was drinking. The chair squeaked loudly on the floor as he stood up abruptly. Concern covered his face, eyebrows tight, and body tense. He gently grabbed your shoulder and led you into Hotch's office, despite the loud concerns from everyone. The minute the door closed, he pulled you into a tight hug. Realization crossed your face, and you started sobbing into his shoulder for the second time that day. He only held you tighter, his head resting on top of yours. The room was silent except for the occasional loud sob from you.

"Please tell me if you ever feel like doing that again. Please, kid. I can't let you go through that again," he pleaded, breaking the silence. You nodded and fell back onto his shoulder.

He eventually picked you up and brought you over to the couch, letting you lay down on top of him. You wrapped your body around him, desperate for the comfort this gave you.

Derek stayed with you like that until the door opened softly, Spencer and Hotch walking in.

"Hey, sweetheart," Spencer said softly, walking over to the couch quietly. "Pen's on the way with a soft blanket, m'kay?" He sat down beside you two, Hotch following suit. The second they got settled, Penelope walked in with the promised blanket in hand. She laid the blue fleece blanket on top of all of you, then sat down herself. It took a minute for you to adjust—four bodies on a couch meant for three was a lot—but you eventually got settled.

You ended up with your feet in Penelope's lap, your head in Spencer's, and Derek and Hotch holding the rest of you. Derek was rubbing your back, and Spencer was playing with your hair. All of the negative thoughts from the day went away as you were surrounded by the love of the people you cared about most. You knew you were going to be okay, though—you had your people with you.

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

You walked into the room all smiles, happier than you've been in months. Everyone noticed, and boy did they love it.

"What's got ya smilin', sugar?" Derek teased, hopping out of his desk chair to give you a quick hug.

"Can we get everyone in here, please?" You asked him, smiling even wider. He nodded quickly, gathering Hotch, Penelope, and Spencer. They all stood facing you, and you were practically shaking with excitement.

"I'm one year clean!" You shouted, and the minute you said that, they all gathered around you in a group hug.

"Shit yeah! I knew you could do it, angel!" Derek laughed, pulling you into his arms and lifting you up, spinning you around. Spencer and Hotch did the same, laughter ringing around the bullpen loudly.

"Can we have a party? Can we PLEASE have a party?" Penelope yelled, grinning from ear to ear.

"It's not worth a party, though," you tried to argue, but Spencer immediately put a finger to your lips as Hotch spoke.

"Garcia, if you can get everything..you need?" He trailed off, not sure how to phrase it. "In thirty minutes, we can do a party." His words were accompanied by a resounding cheer from everyone, which brought back the grin on your face.

"Alright, alright," you said, feigning annoyance. The smile on your face betrayed you, though.

Penelope walked in the door thirty minutes later. White bags were hidden behind her back as she walked discreetly to the break room. You were held captive in Hotch's office by Reid and the other men were sent outside to "assist in the festivities." You sat there talking to Spencer for about ten minutes before the men-boys, apparently, burst into the room and dragged you to the break room.

The table was decked out in a purple party cloth, with four plates in spots for everyone. The lighting was dim, and blinds over windows were pulled shut. Cupcakes were being sat out on the table for everyone to choose from, and your favorite soda was sitting by each person's plate.

"Pen, this is too much," you smiled, grateful tears in your eyes. She whined and pulled you into her side.

"No tears on your big day!"

She led you to your chair of choice, and Hotch pulled out the chair for you, planting a kiss on your forehead as he did so. Penelope placed cupcakes on everyone's plates, putting a bright blue candle on yours.

"So I know I have a few things I wanna say; does anyone else?" She asked, and when everyone's hands shot up, she positively beamed.

"Hotch, you can go second, then Derek, then Reid," she decided, pointing her fingers at everyone.

"I just want to let you know how happy I am for you. I know what your brain is thinking right now—you don't think you deserve any of this. Well, news flash—you do. You deserve everything right here and more, and I am so, so elated that I got to help and see you get better. I love you, kiddo!" She smiled, effectively ending her speech by sitting down and taking a drink of her soda.

"My turn," Hotch began. "It has been such a pleasure to know you, Y/N. It was terrifying to walk in on what I did that day, but to see you come so far..? It's something I've been hoping to see for so long. I am so proud of you, and things will get better from here," he said, sitting down with tears in his eyes.

"Hey, sweetheart," Derek smiled, making eye contact with you. " You know that this is absolutely amazing, right? You're such an inspiration to everyone on the team, and you impress me every day. The fact you made it this far says a lot about you and your character, and it reminds me every day how lucky I am to know you. I never stop thinking about you—you're like my kid, y'know? I am so proud of you. What I said that day still goes no matter what happens." he said, wrapping his arm around your shoulder as Reid stood up.

"Y/N. I've known since the day I met you that things would be tough. You know what you've shown me, though? No matter how hard things get, a person can always push through. You are such an awesome person, and you've taught me so much—which is more than I can say for most of the people in this room," he joked, causing you to laugh through your tears.

"We love you, kid." Hotch reassured you, everyone finding a way to hug you in the semi-crowded room. The pressure grounded you, and you pulled away a minute later.

Penelope lit the candle, and cheers were heard from the whole BAU as you blew it out. You were more content than you'd ever been in your whole life that day. Being surrounded by all the love and support made that day one of your happiest memories, and you wouldn't trade your crazy family for the world.

[freshbakedbreadstick]

No. 1 Party Anthem - Mikey Berzatto x F!Reader - Chapter Two

Past!Mikey Berzatto x F!Reader

Carmy Berzatto x F!Platonic!Reader

Richie Jerimovich x F!Platonic!Reader

Summary: You knew that returning to The Beef wouldn't be easy, but you also didn't know it would be this hard either. 

Warnings: All my fics are 18+ regardless of the content. Heavy spoilers. Mentions of grief, death, mental health issues, strained relationships, sharp objects, mild violence, and injuries.

Word Count: 3.1k

A/N: My sweet snickerdoodles . . . I just wanna say that i adore you all . I completely forgot to mention (wow breadstick you forget a lot for being a fanfiction veteran I know I know) but this is a slow burn . All things will be revealed in due time . Patience will grant you mercy one day, but that day is not today so sit tight and read on ! ! Also, i may or may not have written this at 5 am while dealing with a bout of insomnia which is why the ultra specific time is mentioned at the end lolllll . Ily babes I hope u all enjoy ! 

*Note: "mija", directly translated from Spanish, means "my daughter" but in this, it is being used as a term of endearment (fem.) similar to "darling" or "sweetheart"

Taglist: @marysucks-blog

MASTERLIST / Prologue / Chapter One

The Beef was silent, an accomplishment that would be thrown into the history books. Chef chatter aside, no conversations about the latest happenings, no jokes, and nothing else aside from kitchen happenings was mentioned. 

To say it was tense is an understatement. 

But here you were, ignoring the way that the extremely sharp knife you were using to chop some vegetables would probably struggle to cut the thick tension in the air. 

From across the kitchen and standing by the door of the office was Sugar. 

Her eyes felt like they were seering holes on your back. 

She chewed her bottom lip with her arms crossed and eyebrows creasing, watching you carefully. She noted the way you carefully yielded the knife, avoiding your fingers and skillfully chopped the onions into a julienne cut. 

The memory of when Carmy taught you how to do that, years ago, on a night when Mikey was cooking dinner for all five of you, popped into her mind. She could practically smell the browning of garlic and even hear Mikey teasingly warning Carmy that his girl better come out of the lesson unscathed, Richie laughing loudly in the background. 

With a sigh, Sugar turned to walk back into the office, catching Richie's eyes before closing the door behind her. Richie winced, unsure what to do with Sugar's silent communication of 'do something!'.

Beside you, a stranger grabbed a bowl of chopped onions from you. Turning out of instinct, you and the stranger made eye contact before she smiled briefly and turned away. You couldn't help but feel elated that someone from here, anyone, looked at you without this watery, dejected look in their eye that they either hid or showed unabashedly.  

Carmy barks out a couple orders, as usual, before passing you, "Behind."

He placed his hand onto your shoulder, gripping it softly but right as he put it there, it disappeared. You barely had any time to react to it, feel the warmth for a split second before he moved away to continue his work. Your shoulder twitched as you paused for a second before resuming your task. 

Everyone around you kept moving, efficiently calling out to one another to keep this machine of a restaurant going. They moved quickly and without doubt, from one place to another but they all managed to migrate back to their original stations. 

And here you were, standing over a cutting table, holding a knife, with a never ending supply of onions to chop. 

"Hey…"

The onions just kept coming. 

"Hey uhm…"

Once you thought you finished cutting them all, more just appeared there. You didn't notice if someone put them there but, if you did, you just seemed to block it out. 

"Yo…" 

You could always put the knife down and step away from the onions, but you didn't. This was your station, you were needed here. If you stopped, what would happen? What would you do? What would everyone else do? 

Carmy yelled out your name. 

You whipped your head around, making yourself stumble. Everyone around you looked away in an instant, busying their hands and eyes. 

"Everyone's getting ready to go now," he said, trailing off into a softer tone at the end. 

You blinked and nodded, placing the knife down and wiping your hands on your apron before approaching the office where Sugar stood. There she held your stuff, still looking at you in a way that made that pit in your stomach come back. You forced out a smile, trying to show her that you were okay, but that look never went away. 

As Ebra was about to leave through the backdoor, he paused and turned to you. He nodded and tried to smile but it came out looking like a mix of a smile and wince that made you want to both laugh and cry. 

Ebrahim said your name, making you furrow your brows, before he said, "Your return is welcomed." 

With that, he left. 

Slowly, you began to nod your head, looking off to the side. His words felt oddly comforting. You had known him for a long time now as he was a long time chef here at The Beef and while your conversations used to be extensive, this one line he shared with you now said everything that needed to be said in the moment. 

Marcus and the stranger who smiled at you earlier, whom you came to know as Sydney, were chatting quietly by the lockers before they too passed you as you took off your apron and handed it to Sugar. 

"It's nice to have you around again," Marcus said, before reaching forward to embrace you. 

You embraced him back, squeezing your eyes shut as you were reminded of how every 'hello!' and 'goodbye!' the two of you shared while at The Beef was accompanied with a hug, like a slow simmered and flavorful sauce that perfectly complemented a dish. 

Sydney nodded and gave you a tight smile, "Nice to meet you…" 

You nodded back and cleared your throat, giving her your name as you awkwardly introduced yourself. Despite spending the whole day with each other, you never once formally introduced yourselves, just listened to others throw your names back and forth. 

"It's nice to meet you too." 

The two left quietly.

Tina, Manny, and Angel all walked toward the door. The two men nodded in your direction before leaving while Tina stopped and smiled warmly. 

"I'm glad you came, mija*," Tina whispered, reaching to place her hand on your arm. 

You could feel the worn skin of her hands press into your skin, making goosebumps appear over your arms. 

Hiking her bag over her shoulder, Tina left with a glance back to you. 

The door closed, leaving only you, Sugar, Carmy, and Richie to be the only ones inside The Beef. Fak had left earlier in the day, hugging you tightly much to the dismay of Richie who made it known that he thought Fak was smothering you. But you appreciated Fak's sweet nature for a brief second until it became a reminder of once was, making your mood sour as he left. 

The clank of the back door closing made you look over to the three others in the building with you. Carmy was wiping down some of the tables in the kitchen, Richie was glancing at you from the front counter as he messed with the register, and Sugar was chewing on her lip and staring at the floor beside you. 

All three looked like they wanted to tell you something but couldn't. Well Carmy looked like everything he did want to say was buried deep inside and he was just going to ignore it all, Richie looked like he wasn't sure how to start the conversation, and Sugar looked like she desperately wanted to start the conversation but didn't want to upset you in the process. 

With all your stuff in tow, you gave the three of them one more glance before shrugging and turning around, feeling relieved that the day didn't end in tears, a yelling match, or at the hospital. So you turned around, ready to go home and not deal with this stuffy air or pity and grief anymore. 

"Wait-!" 

You froze, face squeezing together. You were this close to getting out… this close! 

You let go of the breath you didn't know you were holding and slowly swiveled around on your feet, soles squeaking underneath you. 

You knew that all three of them spoke at the same time, voicing the exact same thought at once. But no one spoke when you turned, only looking away from you. 

The lights buzzed quietly and the clock in the office clicked softly, being the only sounds that echoed in the room. Your eyes shifted from each of the three as you felt yourself getting more and more desperate to just go home. 

Carmy was the first to break the silence, making you take a sharp inhale, "You did good today, Chef." 

You sighed, "Thank you, Chef." 

He rubbed the back of his neck, other hand on his waist. His back was still turned away from you so you had no idea if he was cringing from what he said out of the blue or meant it genuinely. Either way, you would've said thank you. 

Sugar said your name before continuing, "It's okay to feel-" 

Richie interjected rather quickly, "Do you have a place to stay, cousin?"

Both you and Carmy winced as Sugar and Richie shared a quick glare. They then turned their attention back to you, gazes softening. But you and Carmy both understood the implication, making you both squirm a bit. 

You opened your mouth to respond, before closing it again, feeling a bit like a fish. But nevertheless, you carefully chose your words and continued, "If there's anything you really want to tell me, get it over with now." 

You looked around again. You can feel yourself getting increasingly agitated at the way they all avoided your gaze as if looking at you would be enough to make you shatter into millions of glass pieces. 

Carmy simply nodded and looked away at your statement, making you roll your eyes. So he was just going to ignore everything, okay then.

Sugar hummed to herself, foot tapping on the floor quietly before she finally said, somewhat exasperated, "It's okay to feel… not okay, okay?"

This made you snort.

She looked at you, somewhat taken aback, as you coughed, trying to cover the unexpected snort you just let out. 

"Yea… I know." You said, brief humor disappearing. 

"Have you been to therapy or anything?" She continued, surprising you. 

You stood up straight, actually considering her words. Therapy was something that felt somewhat foreign to you. While you were no stranger to it, having been for other things before, you hadn't gone specifically for Mikey's death. If anything, you avoided it. 

"Uhm… no I haven't…" 

Sugar sighed, "You uhm, if you haven't already, which i'm sure you have, you should consider going…" 

You closed your eyes, the implication of going to see a professional about this making you nervous. But before you could get deeper into those thoughts, Richie spoke up. 

"Where are you staying at?" He asked. 

"I'm at my parent's, right now." 

His forehead creased before he continued, "Are you here for a while or…?"

Sighing you let your hands clap onto your thighs, "I guess so… as far as i know i have nothing out west." 

At this, he perked up, "You'll be okay there..?" 

The way he worded that sounded like a cross between a question and a statement, as if he was both reassuring you that you would be okay at home and asking you if you would be okay at the place where you got the news of your boyfriend’s death. 

"Yea." You stated in a matter of fact tone that even surprised yourself. 

You rolled your shoulders back, holding your head up high. You walked into The Beef earlier that day hoping to pretend that you were the same confident and fun person you were prior to Mikey's death yet all that just melted away the second you were inside. But it was never too late for you to bring that facade back, was it? 

You smiled and took a deep breath, "You all have my phone number, if you need me, call or text me. You also all know where I'm at right now, you are free to come over anytime. It was really nice seeing you all, goodnight." 

With that, you left, closing the door and leaving all the unanswered questions that the people you once considered family had behind. 

You didn't hear from any of them until a week later. You had avoided them and The Beef in the time being, choosing to stay at home whenever your parents tried to get you to do minor outings like joining them to shop at the grocery store or walk around the neighborhood. You knew that you would have to pull your weight around the house soon too, but would probably choose to do laundry, yard work, cooking meals, or cleaning before going out and risking running into someone you knew. 

Or even worse, a reminder of what you lost. 

So you stayed at home, leaving the few belongings you brought with you in boxes around your room. They, like you, were stuck in limbo, unsure whether or not you would be staying or going. 

The only tangible thing you really had anymore were your thoughts. Somedays they made you laugh and other days, they made you cry until you fell asleep with puffy eyes and a nauseous stomach.

When Richie called you three days later to meet him at some random address, you were confused. His rough voice was oddly soft, speaking carefully and clearly. He didn't answer any of your questions either, just reiterating the directions and that he was fine. You were even more confused when you realized that you were meeting him outside an urgent care in the city. The confusion only grew into panic when you saw that he was sitting in a wheelchair with a nurse behind him next to the front curb of the building. 

As your car slowed down in front of him, you quickly unbuckled yourself and hopped out of your car but before you could say anything, the nurse spoke up.

"Make sure he keeps the area dry for the next 24 to 48 hours. He needs to gently clean the area with water twice a day after that. Replace the bandage twice a day and then everytime you clean it. Richard should already know what to do but I thought this information should also be relayed to you." 

"Uh... okay." You said, smiling nervously at her. 

Your eyes shifted to Richie who looked at you guiltily. 

After both you and the nurse helped Richie into the passenger seat of your car, the two of you took off in silence. Soft jazz played on the radio, tuned to some random channel you didn't bother to change because you were too busy wondering how you even got here. 

Once you stopped at a red light a couple blocks away, you spoke up, "Why the fuck are you sitting in my car with stitches???"

Richie snorted and winced, "I'm fine, thanks for asking." 

You groaned, rolling your eyes and accelerating as the light turned green, "Okay well you're alive so that's all that matters. Now tell me why you're sitting in my car with stitches."

Richie leaned his head against the window, looking out, "...Do you even want me to tell you? It has to do with The Beef…" 

You were silent, debating. On one hand, you were worried and wanted to know what happened, but another part of you warned you that this piece of information would only begin dragging you back to the very place you didn't want to go back to. 

Meanwhile, the soft jazz continued, filling in the space of silence between you two. 

"Fine." You finally murmured.

"Shit got messy with this new to-go thing that Sydney added, which was her fault by the way, and fucked everything up right before the lunch rush. Marcus was too busy focusing on his donut to do his job and it all just… blew up in our faces!" Richie gestured wildly, very obviously still upset. 

You nodded slowly, drumming your fingers on the steering wheel as you imagined what he was saying.

"Carmy threw a fucking fit and was yelling at everyone and when I tried to step in, I only ended up arguing with Sydney and when I tried to be the bigger person and walk away, guess fucking what, i get stabbed."

"What?!" You jerk, alarmed. 

The car swerved a bit making Richie groan as he put pressure onto his wound. You quickly straighten the car and mumbled a curse followed by an apology.

"I'm okay! I'm okay! Sydney was holding a knife and didn't say anything so when I moved with my back to her, I moved into the knife she was holding. It wasn't like she tried to stab me or anything, she was just being stupid." He quickly adds, adjusting himself in his seat with a wince as he tried to quell your fear. 

You slumped back into your seat, chewing so hard on your bottom lip that you hissed in pain when you bit too hard, "Jesus…"

"Sydney quit and Marcus pretty much did too, fucking assholes. I got halfway through the lunch rush before Tina forced me to go get medical attention. Carmy was too pissed off to say anything about it but yea…" 

You parked your car in front of the place you knew as Richie's apartment. You got there purely by muscle memory, which made Richie's chest tighten when he noticed but didn't say a word about. 

You sighed and pinched the bridge of your nose, "So you're telling me that all hell broke loose today, Carmy lost it, Syd and Marcus quit, and you got stabbed?"

Richie nodded, "In the ass."

You stared at him blankly. 

"Well fuck."

"Fuck indeed."

This made you both chuckle to yourselves. 

"So what now?" 

This made Richie shrug, "I don't know but, I'm going back again tomorrow and I'll just have to see…

one step at a time." 

Richie wasn't a sap, he knew that. He hated huge displays of affection, greeting cards with cheesy lines, and stickers that were meant to be encouraging but actually seemed condescending. 

So when he randomly blurted out that last part aloud to you, he thought he would grimace the same way he does to sappy things he hates. 

But he didn't. 

It felt right in the moment and judging by the way he noticed your tense frame soften in your seat, it felt right for you too. 

"One step at a time," you repeated, turning to smile softly at him.

Richie sagged in his seat, swallowing the knot in his throat. He hadn’t seen you smile this genuinely since before Mikey’s death. 

That night you laid in bed and stared at the ceiling, doing what you seemed to do best nowadays: thinking. 

So much has changed since you were last here, not only with the places but the people. Yet, you felt the exact same. Cutting your hair, living in a new place, and leaping into the arms of a new person never once changed you. 

But in that brief exchange with Richie before you dropped him off, something inside you changed. You couldn't pinpoint it, no matter how many hours you spent lying awake trying desperately to figure out what it was. 

As scary as it was, it also felt good. It felt warm and soothing and not at all artificial. Not at all like what some words said to you after the funeral services were like.

It was at 5:17 am, in the darkness of your bedroom, that you decided that you would go to The Beef the next day and take it one step at a time.