#so this is my coping method tonight

[taciturnpoet]

apparently my thought process tonight is

"well i'm still in the middle of this major depressive episode that isn't going to end tonight, so how much damage can writing my angst fic really do?"

and honestly, we're gonna find out

[mypoisonedvine]

𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐭 || (kinda)dark!javier peña x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 || he's your dad's best friend, he's a narc, he's the guy you've been calling 'tio' most of your life... so he's not the guy you want to run into when you're out partying a little too hard.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 || 6.5k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 || dubcon smut (18+ only; oral f receiving, unprotected sex, reader is under the influence and under duress), age gap (not specified but it's big lol but they are of course both adults), dad's best friend trope, pseudo incest (reader calls javi tio/uncle but they are not related), drug use, jealousy, unprotected sex, orgasm control, rough/aggressive sex, we're talking complete total and permanent gut rearrangement, crying during sex (from overstimulation not like, being sad), hair pulling, 'sir' kink (briefly), creampie, basically just a kinky filthy mess idk what else to say

The bass was so loud you could feel it in every part of you— like your own heartbeat, but everywhere. The throbbing music, the heat, the sweat; it was an overwhelming experience, even before you took the pill… but now, it was transcendent.

Everything was lit up in electric colors, neon pink and green blending together into some impossible color you couldn’t describe; the dancers around you had their arms raised in the air, jumping and swaying with the music, and it reminded you of the waves in the Caribbean Sea— you know, the ones you never had time to go see even though you lived just a few miles from the beach.

Frankly, you didn’t have time for this either: you should be studying for midterms, but the stress of college was becoming overwhelming and you were reaching a breaking point.

Or, maybe you already had, considering this was your coping method. It wasn’t your usual approach, but you hadn’t needed anything this drastic before. Maybe it was because you weren’t just escaping from the stress of school, but from the tension at home with your parents.

Perhaps what was most frustrating about that situation was that you were pretty sure they didn’t even realize how badly they were driving you insane… especially your dad. He didn’t see any problem with the fact that he tried to control every aspect of your life, regardless of your age. You could appreciate them not wanting you to do anything dangerous or harmful— you could even understand the whole ‘my house, my rules’ thing to an extent— but it went too goddamn far every day. You couldn’t go anywhere else without being questioned, yet you couldn’t exist at home without being criticized.

That was why you were here, and here, you weren’t being critiqued or belittled or micromanaged— actually, you were very… well-received, to put it lightly. You’d caught more than a few glances this evening, and now you were getting more than that: they were dancing with you, pressing against you… touching you.

It should’ve felt wrong, but you’d been craving approval of any kind, and the lascivious looks up and down from the guy in the indigo silk shirt felt like a compliment when you had a couple drinks in you.

A hand covered in gold rings groped your ass, and you hummed through a wide smile. He spoke into your ear, but even so close you couldn’t hear anything— it didn’t matter, anyways; you nodded, dazed. You figured the pill was enhancing, if not creating, whatever connection you felt with this stranger, but you didn’t care. You didn’t care how risky it was to go home with him, either, you just needed to feel tonight.

The voice in your ear mumbled something about how sexy you are, and you were about to melt into the arms of whoever it was— but then you heard another voice, just behind you. This voice was familiar; this voice spoke your name, and you turned around sharply.

"Tio!" you gasped as Javier glared down at you; you'd never felt so small in your life. He could do that so easily, but usually by giving you a big bear hug or calling you niña; this was a less pleasant method. “I— what are you—?”

“Work,” he answered shortly, yelling just to be heard. “You shouldn’t be here.”

No, you shouldn’t be anywhere that Javi was working, but you especially shouldn’t be here— a nightclub, known for wild hook-ups and party drugs. Dancing with guys. Wearing a dress you picked out specifically because you liked the way it showed off your… everything.

“What would your daddy think if he saw you like this?” he growled, grabbing you by the arm, and you whimpered but gave in to him— no point arguing, or denying anything, now.

He dragged you through the club, out the back where you could talk without the music drowning everything out. It was still loud until the metal door shut on its own behind you— and even still, you could hear the thumping of the bass, catch a few notes of the melody here and there, but you weren’t really focused on that with Javi giving you the glare of a lifetime.

“Never thought you were that kinda girl,” he frowned.

“I swear, I don’t usually do this, I just… I…”

“You what?” he snapped.

“Sorry, I…” you trailed off again. “Kinda out of it right now, and you’re so… that light’s really bright…” you complained as you squinted at the streetlight behind him.

He grabbed your face suddenly, forcing you to look up at him; you couldn’t believe how he could basically hold your entire face— and control your entire body— with one hand. He used his thumb and pointer finger to hold one of your eyes open wider; you winced and tried to move away, but he managed to get a decent enough look anyways.

“Are you fucking high?” he realized with a snarl.

“I— just one pill,” you whimpered.

“What was it?”

“I… I don’t know for sure…”

“Jesus,” he sneered, dropping your face and crossing his arms. He looked away from you, shaking his head, then put his hands on his hips in that disapproving way he did so well. “What were you thinking?”

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled, “I just never get to do anything fun— don’t you need to be wild sometimes, do something a little misguided?”

“A little misguided— taking drugs from strangers, from men, letting them… touch you like that…” he shuddered as he said the last part.

You gulped, looking down at the ground. You were kind of hoping he hadn’t seen that, somehow…

Grabbing you by the arm again, he all but threw you in his truck; shrinking in the seat, feeling quite shy despite how you’d been acting just a few minutes ago, you watched him walk around the back in the mirror so he could get in the driver’s side.

There was silence as he started the truck and put an arm around your seat to back out of the alley, silence as he started to drive, silence as you went back and forth between looking over at him sheepishly and staring down at your hands in your lap.

But when you looked out the window at the passing scenery, you narrowed your eyes. "You're…not taking me home?" you realized.

"And give your dad a fuckin' heart attack, you coming home at this hour— dressed like that?"

Your heart sank with guilt.

"No, I'll figure out what to do with you later,” he decided. “I'm guessing you snuck out?"

"I… told him I was staying with a friend…"

"Then he must not be expecting you until morning. You can stay at my place."

"Thank you, Tio, I swear I don't usually do this, thank you so much—"

"Hey. I didn't say I wasn't gonna tell him the truth when I bring you back tomorrow."

You swallowed, glancing out the window as your eyes stung.

~

He sighed as he shut the door, and you sheepishly crossed one arm over your stomach to hold your elbow.

Last time you were in his apartment, it was for some dinner… thing… anyways, your parents were there, as were a bunch of other people they worked with, and you were sure the whole thing would be incredibly fucking boring. It was, for a while, until Javi broke away from the others to talk to you— and he made you laugh, he spared you all the dumb questions about how college was going and talked to you about real stuff: music, dreams, life. You always felt like you could talk to him about the things you could never talk to your parents about…

But you didn’t want to talk to him about this. Especially not when he put his hands on his hips and gave you that stern glare.

“What the hell did you think you were doin’ in a place like that—?” he began but you interrupted with a sigh.

“I’m sorry— I just needed a- a release! You know?” you tried to justify.

He scoffed, rolling his eyes before he glanced away from you; you, meanwhile, looked down with shame. You never expected to feel so guilty for this— if anything, part of you had fantasized about your dad finding out just so you could tell him off in the argument, explain to him that it was his overbearing nature that drove you to something so risque. Of course, now that the likelihood of that argument actually occurring had skyrocketed, it didn’t sound so appealing. “Your dad’s gonna have a cow,” Javi warned you.

“I know! I know,” you groaned, hiding your face in your hands for a second. “But I’m an adult! I should be able to do what I want!”

He scoffed a bit, and you frowned defensively. He obviously resented those times you referred to yourself as an adult— even if he couldn’t deny it, he always acted like it didn’t really count. You weren’t a ‘real adult’ yet in his eyes, still being in college and a bit starry-eyed according to some, and that always bothered you. It’s not that you thought you really had it all figured it out at this age, it’s just that you wanted more respect and more acknowledgement of your efforts.

The look on Javi’s face made you pretty confident you wouldn’t be getting much of that tonight. "Just don't tell him, okay? Please, Tio…"

"I won't tell your old man what you're up to," he promised, and you sighed. "But you need to."

"I— I can't," you whimpered, "he'll lose his shit! You know how protective he is…"

"Clearly he's got a good reason!" Javi snapped, and you spun around— you couldn't look at him now, not after he saw you like that.

"He's gonna kill me," you whimpered, defeated.

He stepped up behind you, wrapping one arm over your chest and holding your shoulder. “S’gonna be okay, sweetie…” he mumbled to you. “He’s not gonna kill you— he loves you."

"But he thinks I'm still a little kid," you explained with a pout.

"He can't help that," Javi laughed softly, kissing the side of your head. "You're grown up now, but you're still his little girl…"

You smiled a bit. "You really think I'm grown up?" you asked weakly.

"Yeah," he assured, "not sure how it happened, but you are— still young, of course."

You laughed a bit, relaxing in his embrace, soothed by the familiar smell of his aftershave and his strong hand rubbing your shoulder. Without either of you saying anything, the air somehow shifted… perhaps because of the way he moved his head, and you could tell that he was looking down at you. Perhaps because he let out a long sigh through his nose that fanned over the top of your head.

His voice was as low as a whisper when he spoke again. "Can't believe how grown up you look dressed like that…"

The fingers of his free hand traced over your thigh, even starting to move inwards, and out of both nervousness and ticklishness you clamped your legs together.

"Aww, don't be shy now," he pouted. "You'll be a whore for all those guys but you're playing innocent with me? Don't even try it, baby, I know what you want…"

You sighed out a long, shaky breath as you relaxed your legs so he could reach between them. It didn't really feel real, especially when you shut your eyes— then it could be anyone touching you.

"I know what this sweet little body needs," he continued, almost whispering as he spoke in your ear, making it impossible to forget it was Javi behind you. "Those little boys can't take care of you… need a real man to treat you right."

"Tio," you gasped as one finger just barely brushed over your panties, "d-don't—"

"Don't what, sweetie?"

"Don't… touch me like that," you breathed. "It's wrong…"

"But you like it so much," he noticed with a smile right beside your ear. "You like the way Uncle Javi is touching you— you like all this attention from your Tio, huh?"

Too afraid to respond to that, you shut your eyes tight as you felt him rub you through your panties more firmly, pulling up the bottom of your dress enough to expose the white cotton covering you.

“Still a good girl underneath your slutty outfit,” he smirked.

“What— what are you do—?” you began to breathe out, until he ran the blunt edge of his fingernail over the seam of your lips through the fabric— when he traced over your clit, your whole body jolted.

“Oh, babygirl,” he cooed, “you know what I’m doing. Say it.”

“You’re… touching me…” you panted out, rocking your hips as he began to rub slow circles against your panties— each with more pressure than the last.

“Where?” he prompted, his voice rough and echoing against the curve of your neck, which he began to kiss passionately a moment later just to make it that much harder for you to speak.

“My… fuck, my pussy!” you managed to get out, and he groaned with pride as his teeth brushed against your pulse.

He suddenly let you go and spun you around, pressing you to the wall and then pressing himself to you in turn. The hard bulge against your hip made your walls throb, but his face made your heart drop— you couldn’t forget it was him, and it felt so fucked up knowing he had just done that to you. You opened your mouth to tell him this couldn’t happen, that it had already gone too far, that you needed to somehow forget this ever happened.

But no words came out; they couldn’t, when he delicately lifted your chin so you had to stare right at the darkness in his eyes.

He moved closer, closer, until instinct forced your hands to jump up to his chest— god his chest, it was so firm and tanned and you swore you could feel the heat of his skin through his shirt— and stopped him from kissing you. “What’s the matter?” he asked softly.

What kind of dumbass question was that?! What’s the matter? Your Tio Javi, your dad’s best friend since forever, the guy who bought you your first bike and taught you how to whistle— that guy, calling you a whore and kissing your neck and touching you down there?! God, you knew you were messed up over this because you were mentally referring to your equipment as down there, like you were a little kid again.

But by god, you were not a little kid. Clearly, he knew that better than you thought he did. But you couldn’t believe this was really happening— it felt like a dream, but too terribly real.

What’s the matter, he asks, like you couldn’t spend all night listing everything wrong about this. You only gave him one reason aloud, though: “My dad will kill me.”

He smirked, a short laugh coming more out of his nose than his mouth. “Only if he finds out,” he replied. “Are you gonna tell on me, niña?”

Though very little, you shook your head.

“Are you gonna tell him that I brought you here and touched you like that?” he continued, voice lower and rougher, fingers dancing over your hip again. “Are you gonna tell your daddy how you got on your knees for me, let me fuck you like a whore, creamed on my cock over… and over…”

You shuddered as he left the softest trail of kisses up your neck.

“...and screamed my name until you lost your voice?”

"Fuck," you sighed, melting into his arms as he held you at your waist— his hands were so big that you felt especially delicate when he held you. "Javi, we… we shouldn't…"

"But you want to so bad, sweetie," he noticed with a fake pout. "You're a half-second from begging me to teach you how grown-ups fuck, I can tell."

Your thighs clenched together and he smirked.

"Just kiss me," he encouraged softly, lifting your chin with his fingers. "Just kiss me, baby, and I'll show you. I'll give you whatever you want."

You hesitated, looking up at his warm brown eyes, admiring his face and lingering over his lips… they did look perfectly kissable…

Shutting your eyes, you leaned forward and kissed him; instantly, he turned it from an innocent peck to a hungry gnashing of lips and teeth, his tongue dominating your mouth and muffling your moans.

His hands ran all over you and he started to guide you to walk with him— he turned you both and walked backwards down the hallway, dragging you until you toppled into his bed together.

"Lay back, baby," he instructed as he climbed over you, "your Tio's gonna make you feel so fucking good, sweetie… gonna fuck you like you need, I promise."

He sat up, almost making you want to chase for more of that kiss, but he reached up under your dress and pulled your soaked panties down your legs.

"Oh my god, look at this cute little pussy," he purred, spreading your lips apart and tracing up the seam of your cunt to find your bud. He traced it gently with his thumb— even the softest, slowest circles over it made you shiver and whine. "Sensitive, too. Poor baby, need me that bad?"

He crouched down lower, and you whimpered with anticipation. "Javi…" you mumbled nervously.

Before he even put his mouth on you, he leaned in close and took a deep breath through his nose. "Smells fuckin' perfect," he grunted, and you moaned just because he said that. "Can't wait to taste you, niña, been waiting too long…"

You wanted to ask if he'd been waiting longer than just tonight, but you were distracted by the wet, sloppy kiss he gave you, right on your aching clit. Instantly your back arched and your mouth fell open into a silent scream.

He was painfully, infuriatingly good at this— like second nature, he just looked up at you and watched while his tongue traced your clit exactly how you needed. You could just tell he did this all the time, that he had made his fair share of women scream and sob and beg with that tongue; you writhed and whimpered, shutting your eyes tight so you wouldn't have to see him looking up at you anymore.

He devoured you with wide, hungry licks, his mouth overwhelming you and his nose poking at the apex of your mound. You could feel his long sigh fan over your sensitive skin when he kept his mouth wide open, lapping at you desperately; you’d never seen him this… lacking in composure. This animalistic. It made you feel hot all over.

Maybe the only thing more embarrassing than how quickly you barrelled towards your peak was how easily he recognized it.

"Wanna come, baby?"

He only broke away from you just long enough to groan it out, and then he was right back to making you squirm and sob. "Yes, fuck, please!"

"Beg," he ordered, muffled by your clit in his mouth, eating away at you mercilessly.

"Fuck, Javi— please make me come with your— with your tongue, I— I've never come from that before, fuck it feels really good… please…"

He hummed around you, suckling harder at your throbbing bud.

"Oh— f-fuck, I wanna— please," you choked, "I'm so close…"

You felt him smile, and then you felt him do this thing with his tongue that made your thighs quiver around his head.

"Please, can I?" you whimpered.

He pulled away, but you could still feel his breath fanning over you and it made your walls tense up. "I like you asking for permission," he praised, "do it again."

"Please let me come," you groaned, arching your back when he latched onto you again. "I'm so close, just don't stop, please don't fucking stop—"

He didn't, which you took as permission— not that it really mattered since it was inevitable now with or without his blessing— and you shut your eyes tight as the electric feeling danced all over your body. Your eyes fluttered shut, and you only caught one more glimpse of him staring up at you with a scalding heat in his eyes.

Instantly it became too much, the sensations his tongue delivered to your clit painfully forcing your whole body to spasm. Gasping, you grabbed at his hair and sputtered out: “Stop, stopstopstop—”

He broke away and dropped your hips back down onto the bed, his smile glistening with your come. An instant later he sat up to start opening his belt, that grin turning suddenly into a snarl. You looked up at him with wide eyes, still trying to catch your breath, dizzy even as you just laid there watching him lick your wetness off his lips. “Need to fuck you,” he said, simple as that.

You still couldn’t really believe this was happening; the effects of the pill were mostly faded, but this felt like some bizarre dream anyways. Seeing him like this was just beyond surreal.

“Flip over— hands and knees,” he instructed firmly while he unbuttoned his jeans. You wanted to remind him that this was insanely wrong, that you thought of him like family and thought he saw you the same way— but then you remembered that what you’d done tonight was wrong too, and that he was your only hope of getting away with it and avoiding being locked in your room for the rest of your life.

"Shouldn't you… shouldn't we use a condom?" you suggested softly, and he smirked a little.

"We don't need that," he assured.

Doing as you were told, though it took some effort on shaky legs, you stared down at Javi’s bed under you— you’d seen it before, even slept in it before (though when that happened, he always took the couch), but it felt incredibly different now.

Speaking of things that felt incredibly different: getting fucked by your tio. He held your hips and pushed his cock into you, and you whimpered loudly as the stretch challenged you right from the start. You heard a soft moan from behind you, a needier sound than you expected from him, but it was drowned out quickly by your own cry as he buried himself in you completely. “Mm,” he hummed, fingers digging deeper into the plush of your ass as he stayed still for just a moment. “That’s good…”

Shivering, even though you were hot enough to sweat, you hid your face with a quiet whine right as he started to thrust— with a lot less patience than you expected.

"You're not embarrassed, are you?" he wondered, petting the back of your head as if trying to coax you out of the pillows. "Actin' all shy… what have you got to be shy about? Getting fucked on all fours like a slut, the fuck you acting innocent for now?"

"Please just slow down—" you gasped, reaching back behind yourself to try to grab his thigh.

"Hell fucking no, this is what you wanted," he groaned.

Whining, tears stung your eyes and you just tried to hold onto the bunches of his sheets in your fists.

"Wanted me for a while, didn't you? Dressing up all sexy when I came over for dinner, showing off how much you've grown… didn't even wear a bra, I could see your tits getting hard, wondered if it was because you were turned on. Turned on by your Tio…"

You weren't blind, you knew Javier was attractive, and you knew he did well with women— but you honest to God never thought about him like that. He was just your Tio Javi.

And now he was pushing you down between your shoulder blades to shove your face into the bed. Whimpering, you gave in, but the angle forced his cock even deeper and made you arch your back up with a yelp. "Shh shh, no baby, need to take it all," he scolded you softly as he pushed your back down. "Need to keep that ass up for me— show Tio that ass, good girl…"

It was hard to stay like this when it meant letting his cock hit way too deep— it hurt, and you sobbed with every thrust. "Please, s'too much, I need a break—"

"A break? We just started," he laughed. "You can get a break after I come, but you're gonna be in this bed all night showin' me why I should keep your secret."

"God, you're just so deep," you whined, "it hurts…"

"Yeah, but it feels good too, doesn't it?"

Even though you somehow felt guilty, you nodded.

"Yeah," he encouraged again, "you like getting fucked like this, baby. Never had your whole pussy used? Never had a cock this deep?"

So deep that it shot up your spine and made the back of your eyes burn? No, you'd never felt this before; you sobbed with pleasure, already totally overwhelmed.

He grunted as he increased his pace, already picking up speed each time his hips collided with yours; the bed was creaking a bit, too.

"Fuck," you gasped, toes curling. His cock’s fat head was pressing into something so painfully deep inside you, and just as much as it made you want to beg him to give you a little mercy, it made you feel like screaming for more and praying this could never end.

You heard him grunt as he fucked you even faster; he must have heard you sniffling, in turn, tears falling from your eyes near-silently as the pleasure overwhelmed your body. "What are you crying for? Never had a big dick like this, huh?" he chuckled. "Then just say so."

"I never… I-I've never had a… a dick this big before…"

"Mm," he hummed with approval, grabbing a handful of your ass and tilting his head so he could get a better view of his cock plunging into your hole. "Never been stretched out like this? That's too bad, I can tell you fuckin' needed it. Went out tonight cause you needed some dick, huh? Well you got more than you bargained for, honey, it's too much for this little pussy isn't it?"

"Yes!" you sobbed.

"Can't take all this?"

"Yes, Tio, please—"

"Don't tell me to slow down again," he warned. “I know what you need, sweetie.”

He grabbed you by your hair and forced your head back. "Ow!" you yelped instinctively. "Fuck, Javi!"

"Act like a slut and you're gonna get fucked like one," he reminded you, a frustrated sigh falling from his mouth. His pace quickened once more, thrusts coming faster until the sound of his hips and thighs smacking against your ass filled the room.

"I'm sorry," you choked, "I'm sorry, okay?"

"For what?"

"D-doing drugs," you listed, "going to clubs— acting like a s-slut…"

"Fuck," he grunted, "it's okay, baby, I'm gonna— god— gonna make it all better… gonna teach you how to be my good girl, okay?”

You whimpered as you nodded. “Please…”

Another tug on your hair made you whine and arch your back, letting yourself go a bit more limp in his grip as each thrust rocked your body. “First,” he began, “you need some discipline.”

The hand on your hip let go to give you a sudden spank on your ass; you yelped and jolted, the pain somehow only adding to your pleasure a second after the initial sting had faded.

“Your daddy never gave you enough of that— discipline,” Javi chuckled, “I warned him he was gonna spoil you. Guess I was right, look at you now?”

He smacked your ass again, hard enough that you cried loudly— probably loud enough for the neighbors to hear. That thought made your face burn with embarrassment. Anyone who shared a wall with Javi had probably heard his bed partners before, heard women screaming his name— why did that thought make you feel sick and sad and empty?

Of course, you were anything but empty, you were full to the brim and it felt like he might split you in half each time he pressed his hips to yours. “Once you get some discipline,” he continued, “you need to start doin’ what you’re told.”

“Y-yes, sir,” you choked out. You almost screamed when the hand that had been holding your hip slipped down to search between your legs; he grunted a bit as he roughly found your clit and rubbed it in fast circles.

“Then you need to learn some manners,” he continued, “like sayin’ thank you when I touch this pretty pussy for you.”

“Thank you,” you blurted out, your voice hoarse and wobbly— even weaker than you felt. Your hips were instinctively trying to buck away, running from the amount of raw sensation forced upon you, but you were trapped by the strength of his arm.

All at once it all changed: he slowed his pace, though he went just as deep if not deeper with each movement; he leaned down and pressed his chest to your bare and sweaty back, putting his lips against your ear; he kept touching your clit, but the circles were slower, smoother… sweeter. “S’that better, sweetie?” he whispered roughly. “Is that how you need it?”

Biting your quivering lip, you nodded; you fought another wave of tears that burned at the back of your eyes, but you were less embarrassed to cry now than you thought you would be. You’d cried in front of Javi before, plenty of times— skinned knees, dumb boyfriends, failed tests, he’d been around for plenty of that. Obviously, this was much more vulnerable than anything that had come before, and yet it felt bizarrely natural… he pulled out this side of you so easily, a side you didn’t even know existed.

“Such a good girl,” he cooed at you gently, kissing the curve of your jaw, and you finally stopped trying to stop yourself from shaking (it wasn’t working anyways). “So good for me…”

Everything was so blurry now, you barely even noticed him guiding you to lay down and roll over: you just noticed him pulling out, and pouted a little as if you actually thought he might just stop completely for no reason.

Noticing your displeasure, he smirked proudly. "Just wanna see that pretty face, sweetie," he soothed. But when he pushed back in, the new position made everything feel new— and, somehow, even more perfect.

"Fuck, Javi, s'really deep…" you mumbled, though it was deep in a different way than before— not as painful, yet even more mind-numbing.

"Uh huh?" he taunted. "Never had somebody fuck you right, baby?”

You shook your head. You had no idea it could be like this— you thought it was normal not to come, for the guy to jackhammer for a few minutes and leave. You didn't even know you could make noises like this…

"Say it again," he encouraged with a moan, watching your face intently.

"It's really… really deep…" you breathed, legs shaking as he held your hips down and tried to get even deeper; he started to grind up against you to force every last millimeter inside, roughly rubbing his pubic bone on your sore clit.

You squealed, barely able to take all this sensation, and he flared his nostrils. "What's really deep?"

"Your cock," you clarified.

"Whose cock?" he taunted.

"Yours, Javi, fuck! Stop asking me questions when I can barely fucking think!" you whined, and he laughed as he returned to his original motions.

“Just one more,” he promised. “Gonna come for me, niña?”

“Yes, yes,” you admitted through a choked sob.

He leaned down, blanketing his body over yours. "Call me Tio when I make you come," he whispered his demand in your ear, and you shuddered.

Each thrust was faster than the last, harder too, and you sobbed as heavy pulses of pleasure took control of your body. "I'm so close, I'm so fucking close," you panted, unable to speak above a whisper.

"I know, I know," he soothed, kissing your face with more tenderness than you expected or felt you deserved.

"I— please—"

"Shh, you're doing so good…"

It all collapsed at once. "I'm— fuck, I'm coming! Tio, I'm coming!"

He growled and latched his lips onto your neck, fucking you through it; your pussy pulsed in an erratic pattern, a new slickness coating him and running down your thighs. You would've been self-conscious about staining his bed if you had any room in your brain for it— but you couldn't think about anything, you even forgot to breathe for a couple seconds. "Good girl," he groaned, "coming nice and hard for me. Good fucking girl."

Suddenly, your arms wrapped around his shoulders— his broad, heavy shoulders, barely damp with sweat— and your shaking fingers dug into his skin. You hugged him tightly, maybe to keep yourself grounded as convulsions rocked through you, maybe for a little comfort through such an excruciatingly ecstatic sort of feeling.

When it all seemed to gather right in your gut, it finally slowed down and you went all but limp under him— though your arms stayed draped over his neck.

"Fuck, Javi," you moaned lowly, his thrusts faster and less even as he looked down at you with an exhausted smile of his own.

"Fuck, I wanted to make you come again," he admitted, "but I can't last much longer— you're too fuckin' tight, baby, little pussy's too fuckin' good, gonna make me come…"

"Please," you whined, partially out of submission and acceptance of your desire to make him come, partially out of excitement for a chance to breathe after he finished.

"Gonna come inside you," he warned suddenly, and you gasped.

"Wait, pull out," you pleaded, a small bit of your sanity coming back as the height of your pleasure had passed, "come on my face o-or something…"

He grinned when you said that, and you sort of regretted it. "That's cute," he decided, "but I wanna fill this pussy— see you nice and stuffed with my come— and I know you want that too, baby…"

You whined, hating how right he was, but you panted as you tried not to let the pleasure completely override your logical reasoning. "But I'm not— I don't—"

"I'll get you a pill in the morning," he promised, his voice rough and needy as he fucked you even faster— he hissed in his breaths through his teeth, almost snarling at you. "Fuck, I'm so close— tell me who owns this pussy now, princess."

"Yours, Javi, it's yours," you sobbed, hating how true that really was. "Yours to fill— you can come inside me, Tio, nobody's ever…"

You didn't even finish the thought, and he moaned as his grip on your hip tightened. He seemed pleased by the fact that you'd never been creampied before, even more excited to empty himself into you. "Beg," he ordered.

"I— I want you to come," you blurted out, not really sure what you were doing and struggling to put a thought together anyways. "Please, I want… want it inside—"

"Fuck, fuckfuckfuck," he rushed, and a moment later he stopped as deep as he could go, letting you feel every pulse as he filled you.

You gasped, almost wanting to squirm away out of instinct and try to stop him from filling you, but he held you down and kept you helpless.

"God, yes," he moaned in a breath, grunting as he started to grind his hips on yours to get himself that slightest fraction of an inch deeper.

He let his weight relax onto you and though it made it tricky to breathe, you just accepted it, finally shutting your exhausted eyes.

You were probably more than half of the way to sleep when he brought you back to reality by carefully rolling off of you; you winced as he pulled out, first from the soreness and then from the gush of sticky heat you felt coming out a moment later…

Javi stayed on his side, propped up on one bent elbow, and looked down at what you could only assume was a completely gaping pussy— and all his come leaking out.

He swiped two fingers through the mess he'd made, letting them linger on your throbbing clit until your hips jolted away; smiling, he brought the fingers to his lips and tasted his own come from your hole. "Fuck, Javi," you sighed, taken aback by the erotic, sudden gesture.

"You wanna taste too, princess?" he smirked, moving his fingers back to your pussy— but this time he didn't just scoop up what was leaking out. No, he suddenly slid two fingers into your incredibly sore cunt, making you wince from the sting and watching your face carefully with a sigh.

When he pulled his fingers out, after twisting them around inside you for a moment, they were coated in both of you. His free hand held your chin and tilted your mouth how he wanted it, guiding you to take both his fingers onto your tongue.

"Lick it off— good girl, like that…"

His praise made your exhausted walls clench just one more time.

"Taste how good we are together, baby?" he cooed. "You did so good for me… I haven't come like that in a long time."

I haven't come like that ever, you wanted to reply, but your mouth was full. When his fingers were cleaned off, he laid down beside you and wrapped you up in his arms. The strangeness of it hit you again: you, him, naked in bed… you still couldn't quite believe it was real.

"How much sleep do you need before you can go again?"

You widened your eyes and looked at him, amazed to see that he clearly wasn't joking. "Again? Javi, I'm gonna be sore for weeks already—"

"You're young, you can bounce right back," he promised, "I bet in a couple hours your pussy's gonna be even tighter than it was when we started."

You bit your lip. "I guess I can— I mean, maybe one more time, if you let me sleep a little first…"

He smiled and kissed your head, making you sigh and hide your face in his neck. He smelled the same, that's what was so weird— he smelled like he always had, the same aftershave as you remembered from all those years ago, and now you were naked and sore and used. "Okay, sweetie, get some sleep," he offered. "I'll wake you up when I'm ready to give you another load— I bet you're gonna like the way I wake you up, too."

As he chuckled lowly, kissing your neck right by your ear, you shut your eyes and tried to ignore how bizarre this was so you could rest.

His fingers gently tickled your thigh, tracing random shapes that left goosebumps behind, and whispered praises in your ear to lull you to sleep. "That's my good girl," his low, gentle voice blended in with the growing darkness of slumber.

Even mostly asleep and exhausted like you'd never been before, you got the sense that being his good girl was on ordeal that lasted more than just one night. In fact, you hoped it did.

[ace-of-gay]

I currently dont have a masterlist set up for this collection but i hope you enjoy this none the less, this will eventually be posted on ao3 but i dont have an account currently

Not betad or edited

Warnings: age regression, self neglect (not eating, not sleeping, etc.) slight panicked reader but not nearly enough to be a full warning, reader is a half ghoul half human cause this is my interpretation of a fantasy universe <3, cuddles!!!

age regression is a coping that can both voluntary and/or involuntary it is entirely safe and reccomended by therapists if they believe it would be effective for said person but as mentioned for some people it is entirely unpredictable, if this makes you uncomfortable please carry on thank you <3

This was originally written for my best friend so keep in mind this is our dream and thoughts and may not fit well into the ghost universe

Word count: 2,025 words

Nameless ghouls and papa copia taking care of half ghoul reader

Having spent a restless night wasnt uncommon for your or any of the ghouls, especially when seasons and elements were changing, you spent a good few weeks of the tour in your element but the farther and farther you traveled to bring enlightenment to others around the world the more the weather seemed to shift, this most recent nights travel not only took you to a new scene and new spirit of buzzing thrill but a stiffened weight of being completely out of your element, while yes it effects all ghouls it affected you far different.

Being part ghoul meant you weren't as aware of your instincts so feeling them shift always left you in a silent suffocating shock.

With so much bustle amongst the ghouls, papa having a chipper edge to his seemingly endless worries it kept the team heightened and moving, preparing and running through the setlist, this will be the biggest show yet in a city youre entirely new to.

You hid the encroaching feeling well, never once had any of the ghouls questions any difference to your demeanor; having one responsibility after another kept you busy all day nevery staying in one area for long, earbuds in and mask upon your dome, it was same as others methods of preparing just more secluded and in your zone, if there were any changes in anything at all papa, the ghouls and ghoulettes knew that they could calmly inturupt you in your flow.

Listening to every part of the setlist through the literal audio versions of it, everything on the outside seemed normal to everyone but the electric vibrations in your joints and dull ache in your head told you plenty, to the others you were staying silent to save your voice for later so to speak but to you the weight of speaking was way heavier than your desire to ask for help or for rest.

With the show quickly approaching and you having forgotten to eat you downed not one but two energy drinks, spiking youre adrenaline temporarily in hopes itd get you through the show.

All you had to do was get through the night off of artificial energy and true passion for others joy. Just like the full ghouls you spent your time during the show in your human form but unlike them you had a harder time forcing it to stay when you were exhausted.

Papa copia unbeknownst to you had his eye on you, hes the only one who saw you this morning, the deep bags under your eyes and your ghoulish grey having a pale green seemingly sickly color easily masked by your helmet, if all went well youd rest for extra tonight but he didn't see that being the only end to the night.

《~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~♡~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~》

You were a fan favorite, when you weren't singing backup vocals you were running around stage with your hagstorm base shredding in duos with swiss, bursts of fire being shot upwards, the only time you stay away from the edge of the stage, the light from the fire glinting against the slightly matte chrome picguard, just enough to catch you right in the eye blurring your vision with a blinding flash.

to the congregation watching below your jolts you send into moving your bass guitar looked like flare but for you it was sheer panic, the blinding flash was just enough to put you on the edge of tipping into a deeply unwanted headspace at the moment.

prancing over to where mountain is perched at his drums you take yourself out of the limelight and hide yourself in the downcast shadows from his drums, with the last three chords being extended for showmanship you give a desperate glance to papa with hope that he'll see your glance, and such he does.

You station yourself once more at your mic, you stum the starting chords and belt out backup vocals for the final song, your throat aches as your human form is slipping, your eyes having small flickers of change and a small stumble thankfully met with a stomp on the down beat.

papa makes his way your direction ending the set list with 'Darkness at the heart of my love', when it gets to the part without vocals he does hand flourishes while you play your bass passing by with his mic down "tieni duro piccolo", walking his way around the stage to stand center and finish up the song.

In a blurr of time everything felt like it was on sparks of muscle memory and you were at the front with all other ghouls taking a well deserved bow with a standing ovation for each and every single one of you.

Papa copia was the first to lead off stage letting the ghouls throw picks and a few drumsticks from mountain and what not, you didn't stay long to see everything but you did notice people throwing things onstage as gifts; off stage setting down your bass in a stand you stumble into papas open arms.

Your forehead lay gently atop his chest still in your helmet your horns sit near his collar bone shaking yohr head, "i cant papa, i cant" not entirely sure yourself what you meant he hummed in understanding and hushed you, gently rubbing your back and swaying side to side, "stai bene piccolo ghoul, you can rest now. Ive got you, matter of factly weve got you"

Finally relaxing enough to let your ghoul form fall free, your tail limp all of you is exhausted and you feel so small but people always said it was weird and not good, they never listened to you when you said it was involuntary or a coping mechanism it was just permanently bad.

"Oh piccolo, shh your thoughts are so very loud my dear, it is okay to be small, the ministry welcomes all with coping, we will care of you"

He holds you closer and tighter humming a tune, and just like that your walls had fallen, there was no more fighting it, big doe ghoulish eyes staring up at him, complete silence from you.

At this point the others had made their way backstage, dew came walking over to take over while papa helped collect all the instruments. "Dew, could you please take them to the bus? We will get everything "

《~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~♡~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~》in the bus now and changed in comfortable clothes dew led you to the ghoul pile nest, when you refused to sit down he stepped aside watching as you grab your comfort item from your personal bunk and made your way back to the nest laying in the center, followed by him curling himself around you.

The ghouls only ever took their helmets off when in a homely environment so dew having his helmet off was his symbol of saying you are safe.

Once everyone had finished packing up and putting stuff away they had all filed in slowly

Cumulus being the first to stop by you and dew at the nest, holding out a plush ghoul for you that she had picked up from the items thrown on stage, papa copia was next to stop by sitting with you and dew, you hadnt noticed until now that he was asleep holding onto you until mountain joined pulling him off of you so you could lean into papa as he held one of your comfort snacks and a juice, both already having been opened by him, he held you as you snacked.

Once you had finished he got up going to the front to drive the bus.

You were once more pulled into the cuddle pile by dewdrop his eyes open long enough to make sure all of your comfort items were tucked against your chest, between you both, "sleep little one, a tiny ghoul needs plenty of rest" soon joined by the rest you had finally fallen asleep, the ghouls were your element aswell. When finally at the hotel for the evening you were carefully awoken by papa, all the ghouls except dew had gotten up, but even he was awake, but he stayed to keep you warm, "it is time to go in, we are buddy system tonight, four ghouls in a room, each room has two king sized beds so its plentyful room"

You finally let go of dew and stretch, getting up to get ready you realize your overnight bag has already been packed and one of the taller ghouls hoodies layed out next to it, you could hear the ruckus at the front of the bus of all the other ghouls ready to bunk up in the hotel.

You slip on the hoodie which you now know belongs to swiss, his smell encapsulating your mind.

Papa comes up behind you placing a hand on your back "piccolo the ghouls have decided you can pick who youre bunking with, they want to be sure youre okay when tiny, loro ti amano"

You make your way to the front of the bus where you find the ghouls with their charm up. looking to papa followed by you tapping swiss, rain and mountain on the heads, the three stand up, mountain takes your bag and rain scurrys away and back with your mask in hand "are you able to use charm right now or is the mask a better option?" He questions

Taking a moment to test how well the charm feels, you point at the mask. Nodding he gently places it atop your head, he places his hand under your chin causing you to look up so he can buckle it up and tan pats you atop your head, swiss gently pulls the back of the hoodie at the bottom away from your back "curl your tail tiny" tucking it under the hoodie

Once in the room mountain sets down the bags he was carrying and helped take the mask off of your noggin, ruffling your hair causing you to chirp in response, rain and swiss hop on the bed closest to the door leaving the one near the window "copia is ordering food for everyone, hes getting youre favorite for you" mountain chimes, grabbing to tv channel guide and flipping through it.

"Movie?" You mumble causing all three of them to look over, normally youre completely silent when youre small, "you wanna watch a movie?" He questions flicking on the tv and sitting on the bed, he turns on Wall-E for you.

Sometime a few minutes later he feels you shuffle closer on the bed cuddling into his side with your comfort item in hand.

After dinner was delivered and eaten and the movie was over you had tucked yourself on your side of the bed you shared with mountain, rains lamp still on so he could read while swiss was practically cuddled ontop of him, every time you would shift or turn in bed they could hear it, causing them to watch you carefully when youd move or grumble is dissatisfaction.

there was just no way to get comfortable, this wasnt home or the bus, you werent wrapped in your family, you huff out rolling over to look at mountain, to your suprise he was looking right at you quizically.

You quickly curl into his side before he got the chance to say anything, "o parum ghoul, mi amor, papa is right, your thoughts really are so very loud" swiss sighs, pulling himself out of his bed followed by rain who lay on your open side and swiss next to mountain, it may not be a perfect ghoul pile but its better than before, rolling over when rain pulls out his book to read aloud, your head on his chest.

listen to the thrum and Rumble deep in his chest, your eyes fall closed but not before you wrap your tail around swiss' wrist where it resides clutched around mountain, your mind will feel fresh and lively tomorrow filed with the itmost of energy, especially after an evening full of cuddles and littlespace, rain places a gentle kiss atop your head and just like that you are asleep.

[staybabblingbaby]

Felix Tinder AU (First Date Part) A2 D3

[Caution: These are not full fics, or even full parts of fics for some, these are part of my writing progress archive!]

Concept: You match with what you think is a Stray Kids fan account on Tinder. You get along great with the account's owner, and think it's probably your most successful match to-date. Little do you know who's actually behind the screen...

Word Count: 1,580

Notes: So this will probably be the actual beginning. Maybe. Some version of it, anyways. idk, the formatting for this one is a bit... And I still have to figure out how to make fake Tinder stuff without photoshop. I do not own adobe products. This may actually end up being the first writing part in a hybrid SMAU, so it might not be the first part at all. We'll see. I didn't read this one back for any editing notes bc This entire fic is fighting me rn and I don't wanna look at it lol

Warnings: None as far as I'm aware

Leave me comments or questions or anything! Love hearing from folks <3

Masterlist | Next Part (Coming soon!)

You nervously tap on your steering wheel, anxious gaze glued to the side door you were parallel parked directly in front of. You felt sketchy as hell, but this was the manager-approved pick-up method apparently. Or at least leader-approved. You weren’t really clear on the details.

You were still sort of processing that this was your life, actually. Details were a bit secondary to the big picture here, you thought.

At last, the door creaks open and the blond head you’d been waiting for pops out. After a brief cautious sweep of his gaze, his eyes lock on your car. You roll the window down to offer him an awkward smile and a little wave.

Then, with a bright smile that made your heart do stupid little summersaults, Yongbok Felix Lee is sliding into your beat-up little jeep. You’re shamefully distracted by his (very) pretty face for a solid 10 seconds before you roll up the window and start moving to a proper parking spot.

You may be dazed by his presence, but by all things good in this world you were not carting off a (sort-of) stranger without talking to them first.

“Hi!” He’s the first to break the momentary silence, sunny grin on full, blinding, blast in your passenger seat. Your brain stalls a second time as your (again) realize that Stray Kids’ Felix is in your car. Like right now. Currently.

“Wazzup?” You greet back with a cheeky little smirk. You feel a bit bad for Felix. Making light of things was your one and only coping mechanism. You hoped he hadn’t been expecting a serious candle-lit dinner from you.

Well. Candles, maybe. Depends on how late the two of you ended up staying out.

Luckily Felix seems delighted by your overly-casual demeanor, bumping your arm with gentle playfulness. It almost feels like you’re two close friends meeting up after a long time instead of (sort-of) near-strangers.

You know that if he spends enough time with you the shell of confidence you’re currently wearing will become transparent, but hopefully the façade would carry you through tonight.

“We’re just moving so we can talk without being in the way before we head out.” You explain, pulling into a shaded parking spot in the corner of the lot. You’ve pulled hopefully far enough away to not attract attention from the doors, but also not far enough to be creepy.

Felix nods, tilting his head curiously at you. “Sure, what are we talking about?”

You put the car in park and laugh a bit at his cuteness. “Just expectations and whatnot,” You say, unbuckling so you can turn and face him properly.

“Before all that, though, are you a hugger?” You hold your arms open a bit, not enough to actually touch him, and making sure you’re not leaning forward, letting him take the reigns of contact.

You worry you may be being a bit too forward, but you were trying for normality with all of this, and you really did open most interactions with hugs when you could. You were touchy like that.

Fears once again unfounded, Felix grins widely and quickly reels you in for as tight a hug as the two of you can manage whilst still seated. He reels you in so quickly, if fact, that your arms become trapped between the two of you and you struggle for a moment to wiggle them free and wrap them firmly around his waist.

As you settle in, you rock the two of you to-and-fro, and Felix lets out a content little sigh that has you melting into the embrace.

You sort of feel like giggling madly and tearing up at the same time. You feel a bit like you need to vomit, as well, but you hold all three urges back. It’s just that Felix holds you so warmly and delicately, you feel a bit like you might shatter before the night even begins.

You reluctantly pull back before you cross the bounds of appropriateness for a first meeting, skootching around so you can bring your legs up into your seat in a weird pretzel and start the conversation properly.

You want to coo at Felix as he imitates you and gets himself comfy as well. You’re down bad for this man already, unfortunately. IT’s best that you don’t let on quite how badly if you can help it. You don’t know if you can.

“So!” You start with a clap, “First of all, allow me to welcome you to our humble city.” You do an awkward showman’s bow, gesturing as grandly as you’re able when you’ve crumpled yourself into the world’s cringiest ball.

You’re so damn lucky that Felix seems so charmed by you so far. You’re begging with everything you can that your innate silliness will guide you through tis interaction without you panicking too hard.

“I’ve been here for several days now, first of all,” Felix starts, eyes twinkling with amusement and mischief. You play right into his hands, squawking with offense and playfully swatting at him.

You both dissolve into giggles as he tries to catch your hands to keep them from hitting him, and you loudly begin to complain, “Oh well, I’m sorry someone was too busy playing two fabulous shows to come see little ol’ me before now!”

“Oh, come on now, you wouldn’t let me get you seats, you deserve this ribbing!” He retorts back, finally catching your hands and putting a stop to your flailing. He pauses then, and you can practically see the gears in his head turning.

“Wait.” He tugs you forward by your hands, staring you down with an expression of delighted disbelief. “Fabulous show? Were you there?”

You quickly turn your head to hide the mirthful smirk on your face, replying only with a drawn out “Maaaaaybe.”

Felix gasps loudly, letting go of your hands only to lightly slap your knee, “Why didn’t you tell me? I could have gotten you backstage or something!”

You wave your hands in front of you, both warding off Felix’s playful attacks nd waiving off his words.

“No, no!” You deny him, continuing on to confess, “I actually had the tickets before we even started talking, I got them right as they went on sale.” You pause and duck you head a bit to hide your blush, “Besides, our first real meeting should be our first date, right? That’s how this works.”

To your slight mortification, you can very easily tell that Felix is trying his hardest not to coo at you, so you quickly rush to move on before he can interrogate you further.

“But we’re getting off track!” You exclaim, pointing at him in gentle threat. He holds up his hands in surrender, but you can tell by the smirk on his face that he wouldn’t let it go that easily. Still, he lets you move the conversation forward for now.

“So, I’m a bit paranoid,” You suddenly confess. Felix’s brow creases with concern, but you continue before he can get any weird ideas into his head, “I just wanna make sure we’re on the same page before we actually go anywhere.”

Felix makes a noise of understanding and gestures for you to continue.

“So I just want to make sure we’re both expecting this to be a romantic date and not, like, a platonic one.” You explain. Felix tilts his head a bit in confusion but nods along.

“Yeah, we’re on the same page there.” He agrees. His gentle smile feels a bit like he’s humoring you, but you plough on regardless.

“And I know we’ve already talked about this, but I don’t put out on first dates. I’m not into hookups, so even if you’re leaving tomorrow I’m expecting this to be the first of many or the first and last date.”

Felix seems to be cottoning onto the intended severity of the conversation, despite its relatively light tone. He nods along, seeming pleased about something. You pause to let him interject, but he just gestures you to continue.

You hesitate a moment, but then finish with, “That’s all, really, I just want both of us to be happy with things at the end of tonight.”

Felix smiles so fondly at you that you think you’ll combust, so you quickly reach across him to open your glove box to pull out a couple of papers, to Felix’s utter bafflement.

“Moving on!” You exclaim, pretending that your ears aren’t burning with the force of your blush, “I also have these!”

You present to Felix a paper with an address and your vehicle details as well as a map with a certain area circled.

“Ok, so, keeping as much a secret as I can,” You begin to babble as Felix examines the papers with confusion painted over his delicate features.

“But I was thinking about what we could do that didn’t involve being in public much and wasn’t expensive or anything, and I came up with a plan. A friend of mine owns some forested land with some nice hiking trails, so I thought we’d start there, but it’s a bit rural and I know it’s weird, so I brought both the lot address and coordinates and my car details so you can tell your people exactly where you’ll be and if phone service dies or anything no one freaks out and-”

You cut yourself off, realizing that you’d probably said way more than you needed to

[pink-sparkly-witch]

The One That Got Away - Chapter Eleven

Warnings: angst, language, fluff.

Word Count: 1.6k

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean Winchester x Female Reader

A/N: I didn’t have a beta for this, so all mistakes are mine.

You can catch up here!

 My Masterlist AO3    Ko-Fi

“Are you only here until your father goes, or are you back for good?” Dean asked, and Y/N bit her lip and furrowed her brow.

“It depends,” she finally responded.

“On what?”

“If you and I can be okay,” Y/N said, deciding complete honesty was the best way to handle this, and lifted her eyes to meet his. “I’m not expecting things to go back to how they were, De. Too much time has passed for that, but I’d like us to try to be friends again. But I also need to be completely honest and tell you I never got over you.”

“Y/N…”

“Please, just listen,” she begged, “you read my letter, and you know I had some unhealthy coping methods. I’ve only had one serious relationship since I left, which ended when I turned down his proposal three years ago. He told me that he loved me, but I was emotionally unavailable, and he couldn’t stay with someone who couldn’t love him the way he loved them,” Y/N explained.

“When I finally started dating again after that, I always sabotaged it before it could get serious. That was when I knew I would never let anyone in the way I did you, and I’d never get over you. I understand this is a lot, and I get that you might not feel the same, but if you want to try and be us again, awesome. If you want to try and be friends again, great,” she paused and took a deep breath, licked her lips before speaking again. “But if you don’t want me here… if me being here hurts you, and we can’t fix things between us, I can’t stay because I can’t be this close to you and not be part of your life. It’ll kill me.”

There it was. Everything Y/N needed him to know before they made any decisions on their future. This was where her heart lay, shield and armour down, vulnerability showing as she laid her cards on the table and bared her soul to him.

Now it was his turn.

“Y/N, I…” Dean began, grabbing her hands and smiling softly as her watery eyes found his. “I never stopped loving you. I tried to move on, but I couldn’t. None of them would be you. Not even close. Every day since you left, I have regretted not asking you to stay or coming with you. Even now, having read your letter and knowing it was the best thing for us, I still regret it. I hate that making that decision meant I couldn’t comfort you after the nightmares or stop you from drinking away your pain. The sex thing? Well, I’m just pissed that I missed out on what sounds like it could’ve been some kinky shit!” Dean joked, chuckling as Y/N threw her head back with laughter.

“But,” he continued, “seeing you now, your smile reaching your eyes, the constant pain and sadness in them gone, and the confidence you’ve gained. It makes me realise that as much as I will always hate myself for letting you leave… letting you go… it was the right thing to do because you and I wouldn’t be where we are. You…”

Dean swallowed hard, hating even the thought of what could’ve been. “You would be living your life completely in my shadow, or I would be in prison, and you probably wouldn’t be here at all,” Dean said, wiping away the tears falling down his cheeks.

“I know, Dean,” Y/N smiled sadly. “It broke my heart, and I won’t pretend otherwise, but it was the right thing for us to do. Please forgive yourself for that. I do. We needed to grow on our own. I had to learn to protect myself and not rely on you to fight my battles. I had to learn to take care of myself for once, to put myself first and fix myself. I might have taken the wrong path once or twice, but I righted myself and am incredibly proud of who I’ve become.”

“Seeing you at the hospital and tonight, I love who you’ve become, and I can’t wait to get to know her better. I would be honoured if, once I’m fully healed, you’ll let me take you out to dinner so I can continue to get to know you again,” Dean smiled, anxiously awaiting her response.

“I’d like that,” Y/N smiled bashfully.

“Just so we’re clear, I mean as a date,” Dean grinned.

“A date?” she questioned, “Dean, are you sure?”

“Yeah, I am, Princess. I meant it when I said I never stopped loving you. You’re still the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, and I wanna get to know you again. Try us again. So… what d’ya say? A fresh start?” Dean grinned at her bashful giggle before she lowered her eyes and looked at him through her lashes. His breath caught in his throat as he was taken back to their teenage years when she looked at him like that often.

“A fresh start would be perfect,” Y/N smiled as Dean’s face broke into a joyous grin.

“But,” she continued, and Dean’s smile faded slightly. “I think this has probably been enough excitement for you on your first night out of the hospital, so I’m gonna go home and let you rest,” Y/N smiled softly.

“Come on, sweetheart! I just got you back,” Dean protested, and she chuckled.

“Dean, you look like you’re gonna fall asleep in your seat!” Y/N reached her hand out to cup his cheek and smiled fondly as he leaned into her touch and closed his eyes.

“You’ve got my number now. You can call or text me anytime. I’m heading into four night shifts, so please don’t think I’m ignoring you if I don’t reply right away.”

Dean nodded in appreciation that she’d thought to tell him that. If he had texted or called her and she didn’t answer, he would overthink everything and convince himself that she’d changed her mind about starting over.

“Alright, you win,” he pulled back reluctantly. “I’ll call you in a few days, and maybe we can arrange that date?” Dean smirked, and she giggled.

“I thought we were waiting for you to be fully healed?” Y/N teased.

“Oh, trust me, sweetheart, I will be,” Dean replied.

“Still cocky, I see,” Y/N smirked and leaned forward, kissing Dean's cheek. Standing from the chair, she put her jacket on and slung her purse over her shoulder. 

“No, don’t get up,” she protested as he moved to stand. “I can see myself out.”

“You will not. I’m walking you out,” Dean grunted as he stood, the pain in his chest throbbing after sitting idle for so long. One glance at Y/N had him roll his eyes at the ‘I told you so’ look on her face.

“Look, I was gonna have to get up anyway to lock the door behind you and go to bed. I might as well do it now and make sure you get to your car okay at the same time.” Dean opened the door for her and leaned against it.

“I suppose I can’t argue with that, can I?” Y/N chuckled.

“Nope,” Dean said, popping the p.

“Goodnight, Captain Winchester.”

“Goodnight, Nurse Singer.”

The next few weeks passed in the blink of an eye. To everyone’s surprise, Dean had done what the doctor told him and taken it easy until Dr Clark cleared him to return to work. Bobby had put him on light duties on his first shift back, which he’d hated at first, but about sixteen hours into a twenty-four-hour shift, he was grateful that he had it that little bit easier after being out of the game for four weeks.

Y/N had adjusted to life back in Lawrence well. She was in a good routine with work and had stopped taking as many overtime shifts as she had when she first came back. She filled her days off, reconnecting with family and friends and making plans with the new friends she’d made since her return.

They’d kept in regular contact, texting and calling every day. She’d been to his place a few more times in the past few weeks, always, she insisted, to help him around the house or to make sure he ate a decent home-cooked meal. Dean didn’t complain because he got to spend all this extra time with her.

Y/N’s impromptu visits were filled with remembering the old days and catching up with everything that had been and gone since they’d last seen each other. Their disastrous dating lives had them in tears of laughter, and the stories of her time before therapy had them in tears of despair.

They knew these conversations needed to be had, and if Y/N was honest, she’d much rather they have them before they tried their fresh start. If they waited until they were officially dating before having the difficult conversations and Dean changed his mind about wanting a second chance, wanting her, she knew she wouldn’t survive his rejection.

After several heart-to-heart conversations and everything Y/N had gone through in her first few years in Chicago aired to Dean, the relief she felt that he still wanted to go on a date with her took her by surprise. It made her realise just how much he, and this second chance, truly meant to her.

It was overwhelming because her entire future depended on things working out between them. Y/N meant what she said, if Dean didn’t want her, she couldn’t stay in Lawrence, not even as his friend, because it would kill her. There would always be doors open for her in Chicago, and she knew that, but she was done running.

Next Chapter >>

Tags: @acitygrownwillow @akshi8278 @ashbatz @candy-coated-misery0731 @chriszgirl92 @deans-baby-momma @deans-spinster-witch @deansbbyx @deanwanddamons @duncanhillscoffeecups @foxyjwls007 @giggles1026 @globetrotter28 @hobby27 @hoboal87 @impala67rollingthroughtown @iprobablyshipit91 @jackles010378 @jamerlynn @jc-winchester @k-slla @kazsrm67 @kmc1989 @lacilou @ladysparkles78 @leigh70 @lyarr24 @maliburenee @michecolegate @mrsjenniferwinchester @nancymcl @negans-lucille-tblr @nelachu2423 @octoberclidan @perpetualabsurdity @roseblue373 @sandlee44 @sexyvixen7 @snackles87 @spnbaby-67 @spnwoman @stixnstripesworld @stoneyggirl2 @suckitands33 @synmorite @tristanrosspada-ackles @twinkleinadiamondsky @waters-2567

[pinkmoondoll9shihtzu]

Quitting Weed Day 9 Status Report 📝

to start off , i'll say, i do indeed feel like Ass ! this post might get a tad emo. regretting my life choices to smoke for as long as i have 😕 But then again, maybe that's harsh, cus i was just doing the best i could with the circumstances i been dealt in the past.

i couldnt just quit cold turkey cus every time i try that its way too intense and i alwaus end up going back. So the past 9 days i've been hitting my (extremely weak) weed cart a couple times a night, only after 9pm, just to help me sleep. Before that i was smoking probly like. 5-8 bowls a day, followed by hitting the weed pen RELENTLESSLY all night until i passed out. So its still been a huge change lol. From tonight onwards tho i'm done w the weed pen and ready to try 0 thc 🙏

kind friend @palmceader sent me a CBD tincture made for sleep (thanku again 🥹) which im sure has a TINY percentage of thc, but nothing even close to how much im used to.

i cant even imagine how fried my dopamine receptors are, cus honestly, i feel Fucked. spaced out is an understatement. i cant focus on anything and its kinda driving me insane. it feels impossible to read or draw or do any of my hobbies.. my body feels heavy and depressed. No motivation. its kinda the opposite of what i was expecting. i can barely keep my eyes open during the day..

on a brighter note i havent been struggling too much with sleep or appetite. i think sleepy time tea + the tincture + magnesium is rly helping. my dreams recall is already improving so much, and the times i have nightmares arent as bad as its been previous times i tried to quit. i havent rly struggled with cravings at all either, which used to be a huge obstacle for me ! im just so over it now. i was starting to get chest pains and coughing a lot, which was taking any joy out of the act of smoking for me.

morbid to say but I often think of my father and how his rampant addictions directly lead him to such a painful and horrific early death. its a rare perspective of imagery so disturbing , i know i can't go on in such a manner. Like, what a fucking fool i would be! For others i can understand it but for me, no. it has haunted me for a long time to know i'm letting myself go down that path, even with all my insistent self-justification that his death is what brought me to this in the first place. deep down ive been knowing i need to break the cycle like i have the choice and the power, im still alive im still here ..

Sorry if thats depressing to bring up! i do feel depressed tho. i cant use weed to hide from my pain anymore.. i have to rewire my whole ass method of coping with stress at age 30. i know i can do it but its gonnnna be a long winded process full of ups n downs. Running away is no longer an option and thats a lot to face! a lot of old wounds i never rly dealt with, cus i kept my head in the 💨clouds💨 for so long.

i promise not to give up this time tho no matter how hard it gets 🙏 i want to set a good example too like indunno a lot of younger ppl follow me now i dont wanna feed into narratives that may influence them in bad directions. i have a responsible heart. i rly dont think weed is cool i havent since i was like 16. i was just dependent on it so i tried to romanticisze its role in my life. its silly.

im kinda laughing now cus im like god, i initially felt like the reason im quitting is so i can be more active in my dream world, but the more i think about it the more i notice MANY many more reasons to quit that go way deeper.

All in all the reason im talking about it is to maybe inspire other ppl who have been on the verge of quitting but too afraid to rly take the plunge-- Ur not alone, ur not weak for being addicted, if u need to reach out to me u are more than welcome.

Ppl rly downplay weed addiction cus the withdrawals arent life threatening like other substances, but that doesnt mean its a walk in the park. Most ppl i know who are stoners have never been able to quit for similar reasons as me. It takes a major psychological hold over u. if u ever need to vent about it or need advice, im here!

if u read all of this, pls dont worry abt me xD Even if it feels miserable rn i have faith things will improve, the heaviness and brainfog will lift, the emotions will be purged, i am excited for my future. One day at a time....Dont giving up 🙏

Signed, PMD9

[the-wiggler]

I hope we kiss goodnight, it might just end my life

phyiscally cannot stop thinking about elliot and sunshine and im projecting bad in this fic but shhhh im allowed to.

sypnosis: sunshine cant sleep, except when elliot is around. [title is from Kiss Goodnight by IDKHOW]

word count: 1.1k

Their eyes slowly fluttered open, blue morning light washing over their room, tinting everything in the same hue. They were facing the ceiling now, their blanket tangled between their legs. 6 am. Their eyes fluttered shut, a weary sigh filling the empty room. That was what…2 hours of sleep? It’s better this way. Force themselves to sleep later, the self-induced insomnia meant that their brain prioritises deep sleep over REM, the dream-having sleep phase. That was what their therapist said anyway. Less sleep means less REM means less dreams means less nightmares.

Sure, it was an “unhealthy” coping mechanism, with its “averse” side effects, and a method their therapist “highly discouraged”. But if it meant fewer nightmares, Sunshine would brave the sluggishness, the irritation, the occasional nausea and the concerned looks from their friends.

Like now, as they sat on the worn, soft couch of Elliot’s apartment. Sinking into the worse-for-wear leather, scratched and faded in a way that perfectly matched Elliot’s second-hand-vintage-found-on-the-side-of-the-road-borderline-trash-esque design choices, they avoided the watchful gaze of their friend and hoped that their concealer had done a good enough job to cover their eyebags.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, because I think you look amazing as you are, Sunshine,” He chuckled, settling down next to them, “But, uh, you’re looking a little….worse for wear.”

Ok so maybe the concealer wasn’t doing the best job.

They waved their hand dismissively, making up some excuse about jobs, life, busy this, busy that, no time to rest. It came easily now. Lying, that is. And it wasn’t really a lie, they had filled and jam-packed their schedule full of random events to avoid a moment of rest, should they accidentally slip back into the ever-inviting embrace of sleep.

Not good enough for Elliot, though. As they watched his brow furrow in a way that made them want to instinctively smooth out, they racked their brain to reassure Elliot. There was, after all, no need to pile on more shit to Elliot’s plate.

“I’ve just been having trouble sleeping is all,” They reassured him quickly, “Nothing to worry about, I got some melatonin pills and it’s just taking some time to get used to.”

He conceded with one last concerned look, before turning his attention to the TV. “Alright, so, I was thinking for tonight, we could watch…The Tunnel? Or….Final Prayer?”

Now it was their turn to quirk an eyebrow. “You want to watch a horror movie? Mr. Never Watched FNAF, Mr. Scared of the Babadook, Mr-”

“Ok listen, I think we both know that the 4th FNAF game is genuinely horrifying. And, well, no, I’d much rather watch an actually feel-good movie. But if my bestest friend of all time has been raving about how wonderful this movie is, and has been feeling down, I will concede and watch whatever mind-fucky content you so eagerly consume as a coping mechanism. I’m simply fulfilling my best friend duties. No matter how messed up it is. And I will ignore how the fact that you watch horror movies as a coping mechanism is a major red flag and possibly a sign of a budding serial killer. Because I’m such a good friend. The best, even. ”

They scoff indignantly, “Ok, yeah I’m the serial killer. Says the one whose forever excuse is Sorry, was burying the bodies.”

It always starts like this. As Elliot loads up the movie, they make sure to maintain a completely platonic distance between them, two friends sitting on a couch, five feet apart because they are not pining for their ridiculously attractive, soft-hearted best friend. Elliot scoots closer, the leather dipping under his weight, forming a crater around them, cocooning them together, pushing Elliot closer to them. They feign annoyance as Elliot shoots a mischievous look at them. “Oh don’t think you’re getting away scot-free, Sunshine. I might be sacrificing several nights of sleep to cheer you up, but you’re going to be my human shield tonight. Trade-offs.”

Despite this, he wraps an arm around them, the dip of the couch pushing them snugly into his side. Who’s protecting who, Elliot? Regardless, they lean into his touch, his hand gently moving up and down their arm.

They blink.

The blanket around them definitely did not belong to them, but smelled familiarly comforting in a way that broke down all of Sunshine’s defences. Half asleep and not fully cognizant of their surroundings, they push themself deeper into the blanket burrow around them, instinctually chasing the fuzzy feeling of slowly waking up in the morning after a good, solid, rejuvenated night of sleep.

“Morning sleepyhead.” A familiarly husky voice; and the words don’t register, nothing but the groggy understanding that this voice emanated safety, understanding, and protection pulled Sunshine out of their dazed state. They push themselves up, rubbing their eyes to see Elliot standing there, morning hair unruly, beaming down at them. “You zonked out last night on my couch.”

Too groggy to come up with a retort, they lean into him as he sits next to them. He makes a noise of surprise, but otherwise lifts his arm to allow them to press into his side. “You’re oddly snuggly Sunshine,” He chuckles, pulling them closer, “And you fall asleep every time we hang out, am I that boring?” They half-heartedly slap his chest, feeling his chuckles reverberate through them. They sit there, in silence, simply enjoying the slow mornin in each others presence before Elliot clears his throat awkwardly.

“Anyways, uh, how was your sleep last night?”

“Good,” They mumble, “Slept well.” No nightmares, no dreams at all, actually rested. Better than they had all month

“That’s uh-that’s good.”

“Only ever sleep well when you’re around.” Still sleep-addled and fueled by the simple wants of the heart, they bring their arms to wrap around his torso, mumbling sleepily against his chest, “Maybe you’re magic.”

As they drift off back into a dreamless sleep, Elliot’s hands move to pull them in closer. Pressing a kiss to the crown of their head, he whispers, his voice impossibly soft, yearning dripping from his words, “Just for you, Sunshine.”

[timidxtempted]

I don't know shit about guns.

But I know a li'l bit about triggers.

Triggers, I mean the trauma kind, are not fun surprises. They'll hit you like a bullet and leave you just as bloody, even if you don't see it on the outside.

Of course, you can mitigate the likelihood, and you can prepare yourself in advance. Protect yourself. Prepare for every possible eventuality that you can come up with. Plan. Plan again. Plan more. There. That should be easy enough. Good job. You have done it. Outsmarted your trauma.

Right up until you haven't.

No matter how methodically you try to remove all possibility, something is bound to happen that - surprise! - is just gonna knock you on your traumatized ass. Doesn't even have to be done purposefully. Although, intentionally shot is usually particularly armour piercing.

Boom. You're hit. You might not stagger visibly, but that doesn't mean you weren't hit, and hit hard.

The best case scenario is that you are in a safe space or with a safe person - or can hang on until you get safe... and then drag out your coping skills and start trying to find the one that's going to work best.

It's just...if you're like me...you might start talking to yourself.

Unkindly.

Why the fuck did that happen? You're past that. You conquered. You built yourself a big fuckin wall, brick by motherfuckin brick, you did that all on your own, and you have no business being triggered. What is the matter with you, why aren't you over this shit. It was long ago. Fucking weak. You should be embarrassed for reacting this way.

It's not nice to read it all laid out there (wasn't pleasant typing it, either) but I'm just being honest about what I'd said to myself after the event that precipitated this post in the first place.

I was lucky that day. I was able to hang on until I got safe.

But it got me thinking for a long time afterward.

Thinking about triggers.

And guns.

I don't know shit about guns.

I don't know what they feel like.

I don't know what it feels like to fire one.

I have never even held a gun.

Even when triggered, it's not like I think I'm the one doing the triggering.

So...

So why am I so willing to shoot myself down for my response to a trigger when I was not the one holding the proverbial fucking gun?

I'm only saying this out loud (by typing it) because it made me stop and think about how many times I've blamed myself for getting shot. Or berated myself for not thinking to wear full body armour to brunch. Or kicked myself for not figuring out how to deploy a full impenetrable shield to move about the planet.

So I decided that the next time (and there will undoubtedly be a next time) I'm finding myself triggered, instead of hurting myself even more by telling me I failed, I'm going to try reminding myself that not only am I not the one pulling the trigger...

...but it was never even my gun in the first place.

(This has been sitting in my drafts for a couple of weeks, after I was triggered pretty hard by something I thought I should not have been. I finished it tonight after a conversation shared. So I edited some, added some, and smoothed some out. And now, it's stronger than it could have been without that conversation. That's pretty fucking cool.)

[percivalpie]

𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐡 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭 <𝟑

- Reader is you (male pronouns and body)

Tw - scars/relapses Crush comforts you - cuddles

Scars marked your arms and body as if you were a paper scratched, turning to the side you sighed loudly, you had a relapse as your depression had been spiralling further and further down the peeking rabbit hole. You had promised not only yourself but your kind hearted boyfriend you’d put an end to ruining your body, it wasn’t a healthy coping method but sometimes you felt like punishing yourself and paining yourself was the only way you could ever feel right.

Punishing yourself for well.. simply being you of course. Who’d want to be you? Is what you’d ask yourself as you gazed into the mirror. The clocked ticked 10:34 p.m and crush still wasn’t home yet, he was out late working on who knows what.. oh that was another thing, your boyfriend who was supposedly always truthful to you never told you where he worked, what he did infact, he’d turn the whole conversation down.

It felt insulting that your own partner wouldn’t tell you things, crush especially found it hard to tell you how he felt resulting in him trying to show it more in actions and getting slightly upset when you didn’t understand why he was acting a certain way.

The sound of keys at the door and you rush to cover yourself up with a big hoodie, you walked downstairs to see crush standing at the door, he was shivering, coat forgotten despite the winter air surprisingly he hadn’t turned into a snow man.

Crush smiled down at you hugging you tightly, the material of the hoodie brushing up against your wounds causing you to flinch and wince a little in his hold. Crush looked down at you, clearly he had already noticed your frightful behaviour.

“Are you okay?” Crush asked in a voice dripped with concern and honey, he had always been a huge Softie for you it was no secret.

“I’m fine!” Your face laced with a fake smile but your boyfriend wasn’t stupid, he found it rather degrading you thought he couldn’t see right through you.

“My love.. what’s wrong? You can tell me you know..” There he goes grabbing around the top of your shoulders causing another wince slightly louder than the last. Crush lifted up your sleeve, a family of cuts and wounds decorated your skin.

“Sorr-“ he kissed your cheek once and then another time and then a 3rd until your face felt wet with his gentle quick kisses, your face heating up a little.

“I don’t want you to apologise honey.. I just want to know why..?” He was referring to why you had cut yourself, did you really have to explain? Words didn’t come out, it was tears. How could you ever explain you felt like you weren’t good enough to be in this world? How could you explain nothing ever goes right for you? How could you explain you felt unlovable even when the man who adored you with all his heart was standing right there?

Crush didn’t wrap his arms around you in fear of you wincing in pain however his hand gently stroked your cheek making your eyes meet his. So delicate. He was touching you as If your skin was made of glass and you could break any moment.

“I love you.. I love you so much, as your boyfriend it’s one of my main jobs to look after you. You don’t have to tell me what’s wrong right now but I hope at some point you can tell me all your troubles so I can try fix them all or at least.. some of them. You’re my sun, even with these scars you’re still beautiful and you’re mine but please.. no more? If things ever get down you have me lovely” crush smiled at you although it seemed like he was about to cry as well..

Maybe you can cry into eachother’s arms tonight.

[napapamahal]

it's really you on my mind.

a klayrie fanfiction.

read here

“i'm pretty drunk and i need some advice, kyrie. do you think you can come over here? you know my apartment in the bay, right? i'm there, i’ll leave the door open.”

there was a long pause after that, and klay braced himself for the inevitable: kyrie would say no, change the subject, or worse, end the call altogether. klay knew what he had done was a bit off—obscure, even. calling someone in the middle of the night to ask for advice was one thing, but now asking kyrie to come over for more support? it seemed like it was a lot to ask.

he was painfully aware of how strange and desperate it must have sounded too. so, he just kind of accepted that this raw vulnerability was his burden to bear alone, just like before, just like every other time. it was the same old feelings, the same old methods of coping that he had grown accustomed to, and he resigned himself to that familiar solitude.

to his surprise, the silence was broken by the soft sound of keys clinking, followed by kyrie’s quiet voice. “yeah, sure. i'm on my way. i think i need some air tonight too.”

alternatively: the player-to-player talk kyrie and klay had that jason kidd talked about.

[frostycatblr-fandom-files]

Sorry, Wrong Comms! : Hunter x Medic!Reader [Chapter 5]

Warnings and Information: Intended audience is 13+ (18 if you squint). We cry like men in this house because we’ve learned (slightly) better coping mechanisms almost a year after Order 66 in this AU!! Mentions of medical stitches and paraphernalia. Writing love letters is tricky business. Fluff. Angst. Pining/Hunter having a slight panic attack if you squint. Mostly Star Wars swearing. Use of Mando'a. Occasionally jumping character-focus with no show of Medic!Reader since she’s gone home for the night, so it’s “Oops! All Batchers” Hours with passing mentions of Medic!Reader. 

As this bantha has been beaten to death by now, “RIFE with my headcanons” really applies here in this chapter: Lots of my headcanons about unofficial “Clone Culture” on Kamino are gonna show up briefly (one line is suggestive of masturbation and another is suggestive of toxic masculinity standards). Tryin’ real hard to avoid certain fanon characterizations of the Batchers. Intentional and unintentional trickery; only 50% of these siblings are getting any decent sleep tonight.  Maybe grab some tissues?

Word-count: 5,022

Echo's told me that Wrecker's told you that I-

No, this was just going to get messy and long-winded if he dragged his vode into it on how he found out into his fifth draft... Erase.

Guess I should cut the chatter: I've been made aware that you now have an idea of how I feel about you when I was under medical observa-

On second thought, that wasn't necessary to bring up, the medic would know the "when". Erase.

-of how I feel about you. Echo encouraged me to tell you the full truth myself. So that's what this letter is meant to do, [____]. It'll be easier to lay down a foundation for a later conversation in a letter first… if that's what you want.

He gingerly eased his back up higher along the headboard of the bed with a tray of salted crackers in his lap and tried thinking back to the results from the Holonet while everyone else had dinner at the time, earlier in the evening. Something about removing the pressure being asked to have a verbal conversation with someone by proposing the option to find an alternative method of communication if desired… Tech had been pretty thorough in finding several wordy, but helpful articles. Pretty quick to find them as well, come to think of it.

If not, then maybe we can communicate this way for the time being. I'll leave that up to you. But it's important that-

Crosshair or Tech had interrupted his train of thought as he deliberately typed out each word. "Hunter; I don't hear you eating." 

"Not hungry, vod."

"You're going to remain in a state of nausea even with the anti-emetic tablets if you do not eat anything while you are taking the medicine that was prescribed to you as per the warnings on the label." Crosshair didn't talk like that. Only one brother it could possibly be. 

"Just come in, Tech…" The goggled Clone entered the room quickly, an assortment of items in a crate under one arm. Things [____] left with them from her medbag to pad out the Batch's medical arsenal until the shops opened in the morning. Snap-activated cold packs. A new temp reader. Gauze and bacta. "I brought a few nutrient paste tubes with me to leave them by your bedside in case you woke up in the middle of the night; no mess and nothing to chew. Well come to think of it, perhaps the reason you haven't and don't feel like eating is a sore jaw after all the… No matter. Here." 

Tech offered Hunter one of the more palatable flavors of nutrient paste, and he quickly realized that as Tech held this one out to him (the way he'd seen several Regs pass back General Skywalker's lightsaber to him after another of his infamous shenanigans), all of the tubes were the most palatable flavors to Hunter. 

Hunter's exclusive line of nutrient products! Omega joked once. Tech had been teaching her what he knew of the various manufacturers that produced these types of rations while they were deep in hyperspace to keep her occupied. Crosshair, who had been a royal grouch after lying in the mud banks for hours in wait for their quarry to acquire some credits, could be heard chuckling in his rack at Omega's joke (and didn't deny doing so when Echo dared to tease him). That'd been the mission that made the Marauder's exterior hull muddy and the eventual reason they'd hosed it down with [____]'s help after being splashed with the hose when Wrecker had become distracted by the rare bird. 

"Thanks, Tech…" 

"You're welcome. I'll put these away." Tech swept up the tray with untouched crackers after Hunter moved it to his bedside, and was ready to slip out of the room before he was stopped. "Uh, wait. I'd like your help with something because I trust you won't tell anyone." 

"Except, if it was your stitching, I would tell [____]. That was a promise earlier, if you recall; not a threat." Tech reminded him, careful to keep his cadence neutral and gentle. Hunter reluctantly, hesitantly gave his word that he would reach out to the good doctor, or Tech so he could, if anything happened to his stitches before she stepped out into the street and went home for the night, one of Crosshair's many pistols tucked into her waistband as a compromise when she insisted she'd get home just fine without an escort. (She'd first have to stop by her clinic and finally close down the building, anyways; she didn't think it would take long enough to warrant the company and insisted that everyone stay home.) "And since you do not appear to have torn any, I would hypothesize it has to do with more research." Tech concluded, eyes darting over every un-inked inch of the gauze on Hunter's shoulder longest. 

Together, before the grown woman went home, Omega and [____] had added one doodle each to the medical wrap with the fabric marker. Omega's was a big butterfly to sit on top of an exotic flower from Kashyyyk drawn by the medic. A perfect, complementing addition, even if the species wasn't native to the homeworld of the Wookies; a fact his sister realized too late, but decided that she'd ignore the matter of accuracy in the end. It mattered far more than Hunter had sat still as stone with his eyes closed so sister and friend could surprise him with the collaboration, and had warned both they'd have to wave off the nearest art exhibits soon enough with a teasing tone but sincere smile. That he was honored to wear the artwork. 

Tech had already taken several pictures of the joint-effort "doodle" for the days to come that someone inevitably dreamed of the day's dreadful "what if we lost Hunter?" experience as a happier reminder.

We didn't lose him, and here's the proof.

Hunter sighed after the long silence between them, rousing from his thoughts at last. "Partly. Do you have your datapad?" Of course Tech would, they both knew that. Hunter gestured to his own equipment, sighing. "It would make this go a lot faster if I had some help figuring out how to write this karking thing. I've tried writing about five different versions and I swear each one sucks more than the last. I don't know what to say."

Tech blinked, quietly puzzling out some thoughts before speaking. "You're writing a romantic confession." 

Got it in one, as usual. It was hardly surprising to Hunter anymore, just a comfort to know that Tech often had him figured out so well in times like these. "Yes… But," he paused, considering, "I may want a proof-reader, secondary to the company and help." Maybe if Tech was simply just there with him for the most part, Hunter could stall less if he had someone to find the right answers for the best possible outcome. He would tell [____] the truth about how he felt, and how he could be rather avoidant at times when he was uncomfortable, and just hope for the best. There was a chance she may not return the same feelings or the desire to remain friends should she not after such a serious declaration was laid bare to her. 

Hunter didn't believe she would cut their friendship over that, but it was a real possibility he had to keep in mind. Something like that wouldn't be enough to stop her just because she got along with all of the Batch fairly equally. She was personable and nurturing, she had found the perfect profession for her out in the galaxy. She would always have some place to help, someone who needed her, somewhere to go and do the grisly work that came with the occupation… 

She… would always make new friends if a confession was not reciprocated and he made her so uncomfortable she... She…

"Stars, Hunter… you're in quite deep for her, aren't you." The half-question hung heavy on his shoulders, feeling the weight of it around his neck, and the warmth of his brother's hand as it carefully clasped his upper arm once he'd joined Hunter on the bed. His eyes burned with the threat of tears in the anxious silence before Tech's tender gesture of comfort. "K'uur… take a deep breath, now. I'll just take the nutrient paste and set it here for the time being so it doesn't burst open. You're going to be alright, brother."

A promise, a reassurance, a mantra. The "analytical babbling" would be inappropriate to offer Hunter right now when he just needed the silence, but not the solace, to take as long as he needed to cry for perhaps the first in a very long time since they were… cadets. Tech just silently sucked in his teeth and surmised his brother was still so overwhelmed and out of sorts after the ordeal of raiding a prisoner transport ship with Captain Rex went terribly wrong. The bomb that had gone off when Hunter got in-range was not one of their own, and the injuries… Tech didn't want to make mental comparisons to the gory detonation injuries he witnessed in other soldiers of the GAR, when there had been such a thing. Now it was the Imperial-something. 

Stop. Run a mental checklist.

Modified Omicron-class attack shuttle. The Havoc Marauder. He needs to pay for the docking fee in the morning. More urgent than that, make sure that Hunter gets sleep tonight using one and a half of the sleep inducers at minimum. More urgent than that still, by the time Hunter was settled, help him with the fifth draft to give him some peace of mind. Just a few minutes would probably suffice as Hunter would have been thoroughly spent… using energy he didn't have. Oh he'd be an exhausted shell in the morning, strictly prohibited from using adrenaline stims by [_____]. Smart woman. It would force him to rest.  

Let's have a peek at his datapad.

The first draft had strong undercurrents of typical Clone psychobabble that standard, nat-born citizens of the galaxy found… concerning. But there was a good snippet in there about a quarter of the way in about explaining his enhancements (and Tech paused to memorize his brother's words regarding him) before copying this selection into the bottom of the fifth draft that would probably prove helpful to their friend. The second and third were almost nothing but poetry and half-formed thoughts. With some careful sentence surgery, Tech could tell Hunter was now watching as he forged his brother's style of wordsmithy impeccably. 

"I've been practicing." Tech admitted softly, mindful of how close the shell of Hunter's ear was to his face. "It's a long story for another time. Here," He reached out beside him to the bedside furniture and plucked the tube of nutrient paste off the immaculate surface before carefully tearing away the perforated edge with his teeth to open it for his brother. 

Hunter was tiring fast, curling in on himself, into Tech's side, with the fatigue, but he should have at least half of the tube before he succumbed to the inevitable crash. "Just half of this will be enough for now. Stop me if at any time you want me to splice the sentence differently." Hunter's head was now planted under Tech's chin, cheek resting on his chest as he nurses the ration. 

Tech could work through however initially uncomfortable this was for him for however long it took. With obvious exception of Wrecker among their tight knit squad, he didn't typically consider himself or his brothers to be especially strong in the love language of touch like this. Like children. Not anymore. With acceleration in age and growth and the desired obedience for an army of their scale, they don't exactly get the childhood a nat-born has. Growth jars, training, blasterfire. That was their "childhood". He was grateful for his ability to stay calm when faced with these emotions, otherwise a rocketing heartbeat would have tipped off Hunter and interrupted his peace. To soothe himself, Tech habitually resituated his goggles, and for good measure, adjusted the crisp new bandana Hunter had donned since losing the other with a feather-light touch. Hunter bristled, uninjured shoulder curling to his ears. 

"K'uur… easy, Hunter." It sounded like a mumbled apology under Hunter's breath before another stripe of nutri-paste was applied to his tongue and the gradual droop of his good shoulder. "Don't be: I should have warned you. My apologies. Now… let's see what this fourth draft holds." Stars, it was rife with material. Perhaps even some of his best, in the sense of great emotional appeal. Why Hunter loved [____]. The trust, the respect, and… the guilt. Shame. Guilty of fearing the clinic and the shattered cross that indicated healers. Feeling shameful for not being explicit in his words and using those 'I trust you, burc'ya' or 'I have a great amount of respect for you despite my discomfort with the profession' phrases; or the other ways he'd thought of thanking her for helping him and his family at every odd hour they came to her and never did and felt guilty for it phrases. 

He'd read it over later, realizing that when he had used the hand previously around Hunter's shoulder to adjust his goggles and brother's bandana, he'd never removed that hand from the top of Hunter's head and had mindlessly been stroking the first two fingers through richly textured hair. (If he drifted his middle finger just a bit lower than it was now, he'd find the soft ridge of the scar from the process of removing their inhibitor chips.) He'd sent Hunter to sleep without the drugs, feeling the start of the sleeping 14-breath cycle typical to him against Tech's own body. 

Tech supposed he'd be kept in place with a sleep-adhered brother for some time now, and picked up his own datapad once Hunter's tube of nutrient paste (seventy-five percent consumed, he noted) was plucked from sleeping fingers and his drafts backed up and individually saved. He wanted to look over the schematics of the transport ship he'd nabbed in the meantime until he felt it was the right time to wiggle out of this arrangement and leave his brother to sleep. Might as well. Leave too early, before he reached deep sleep, and he may inadvertently wake Hunter.

Tell Hunter now while he was largely undistracted and turning on the amber-toned screen setting so he could study those schematics. "Sleep well, ner vod."

May he stay asleep…

Tech had gone to check on Hunter nearly two hours ago. Crosshair had no illusions that after fifteen minutes, Tech was not likely coming back to finish their game of Sabacc, so he'd grabbed his weapons kit and taken to tending to his 773 Firepuncher. There wasn't much to clean, as usual, but it killed some time just in the event Tech might be coming back and excused himself for being a while and rejoined him. 

Maybe he'd just forgotten and gone to bed after he'd tended to Hunter, off in his own galaxy. It was known to happen, no matter. Crosshair would say something in the morning once he was back from paying the docking fees and making a run for more blue milk, once Crosshair scribbled down a note on Tech's notice board. 

'Easy to keep track of our necessary supplies and goods as they deplete if we have a centralized location in our housing for writing these things down. It can also serve as our chore rota.' Tech religiously checked it every morning and every night, even when no one had added anything of importance beyond a silly doodle or removal of an item from the running list.

Nerd: Two blue milk along with the med supplies, don't forget. Credits: counter under my helmet. Took care of laundry. - C

That would do it. He'd go check on Hunter, then turn in for the night. Echo turned in earliest of the Batch with his strict early-fall-early-rise sleep regimen, and Omega and Wrecker were bunking together in Omega's room so she could hopefully get distracted enough with Wrecker's help to make falling asleep far easier… so she wouldn't dream about hearing that explosive going off around the corner of the ship and-

Taking care to soften his footsteps down the hall, he gingerly eased the door to Hunter's room open and peered in. Well, looks like he found Tech. And just under the crook of his arm, curled tight like a sick child in a parent's bed, was Hunter, his head planted on Tech's chest. Fast asleep. He'd probably had Tech trapped long enough that he'd fallen asleep upright in Hunter's bed while keeping him company. 

Two 'odd-vod' just… cuddling, dare he say.

It was an endearing sight, honestly, if he had to give it a word. Two of his brothers huddled together like groups of worn out cadets in the halls of Kamino after hours spent in the training centers, too tired to make it back to their pod rooms or the mess halls or wherever they had to be yet. Vod looked out for vod. Youngest cadets were always afforded a little more time to do things and older batches of Clones stalled the long-necks as necessary. Creative, believable excuses for the cadet team's tardiness by their "Den Brothers". Encouragement during battle sims. Mock espionage or stealth missions to distract from especially violent surges in the perpetual storm outside the cloning facility. Secret rounds of group trivia during lights-out. Older brothers finding ways to show the mischievous youngsters how to be more subtle, more sneaky, if they were going to view prohibited material for natural urges. A series of rota across the whole of the cloning facility for who would be 'Feeling a little blaster-happy, boys… Think I'll log another hour or two at the artillery range to get it out of my system. Someone buff up my helmet for me, yeah?' and not easily missed or suspect in order to help the cadets refine their skills. Captains and Commanders holding unofficial lessons on the down-low. 

Manage your credits smartly. 

Listen to me, little brothers… The reason the medics keep taking down your fitness posters in the training centers is because they're trying to look out for you. Those models are dehydrated and on crash diets. Unhealthy. Don't aspire to be like them. They're not taking them down to be cruel, your brothers are just trying to make sure you're healthy. A bit of fat on those bones is good; you shouldn't look a vac-sealed ration.

Yes, the Force really does work in mysterious ways, but sometimes General Skywalker is full of bantha fodder. "A disturbance in the Force" my left ass cheek… sometimes the place just has a bad vibe that has nothing to do with the Force!

Here's what I think we should have done differently to capture the Seppy's outpost in the xxxx system. … Yes I admit I complained about this to General xxxx already but what's done is done. 

Vod looked out for vod. Deactivating the bedside lamp bathed the room in total darkness, and with his sharpened sense of sight, the jarring lighting shift was quickly adjusted to with a couple of measured blinks. Crosshair scooped the light blanket Hunter had flung across the room from his bed in an episode of overheating (it had hit the wall he shared with Crosshair) just last week, and draped it over slumbering siblings with a feather-light movement. He picked up Tech's personal datapad and captured an image of the two of them using night vision, being sure to hear that muted klic! of a successful capture before carefully navigating it back to the main HUD and laying it beside Hunter's on the bedside. 

Vod looked out for vod. Crosshair, careful to hold his breath as he hinged at the waist, bent forward and loosened the strap of the goggles to lessen the friction of removing them from around Tech's eyes. Setting those neatly on the proper datapad, Cross next straightened up the bandana and tucked away more unruly sections of hair before he would feel the first tugging, instinctual urges to breathe from his lungs. 

These two were typically light sleepers after the really bad missions; today was certainly one of 'em. It didn't look like Hunter had needed to take the short-term prescription to induce a night's sleep, so perhaps he was truly that exhausted, and that unwell, still. When [____] would come to return his DC-17 in the morning before she opened her clinic for the day, Cross would decide if he'd tell her not to be surprised about the 'extra' capsule in the canisters when it came time to return them then, or later. 

Smart thinking to sign them up to use the clinic's durasteel use-and-return canisters, Tech. No canisters to be found by those snooping around trash collection units in this dodgy spaceport that might use them to make the Imperial Army aware of their location for a large sum of credits.

Vod looked after vod, after all… a mantra he'd eventually come to be grateful for since Kaller. The ordeal of nearly losing Hunter today put a lot into perspective for Crosshair suddenly. Things he'd buried away and compartmentalized for a very vague idea of "another time" that more meant "never. ever."... 

No time like the present, he supposed. Cross bid his brothers a whispered goodnight and ducked from Hunter's room, stepping into his own for a moment with the intention to shed half the mock-civvies, change into his nightshirt and plant himself at the foot of his bed to begin contemplating, but he was struck with another thought as his eyes skimmed the calendar tacked to the wall above his tidy desk. 

Uh oh. The end of the week may not be the best time in case Hunter's little assignment went sour…

"Echo… Echo!" The ARC was slow to turn over in his bed, trying to figure out what had woken him. Maybe he was just imagining the monolithic, but paradoxically gentle aquatic beast with a gaping maw calling his name as some falsely-concocted feeling it was one of his brothers waking him for… something from his subconscious. "Echo!!" Nope. Not the water creature he was just swimming with in the undertow of an ocean planet. It was Crosshair. 

"Oh, stars. What is it now…?" he moaned. He was in the middle of a damn good dream for once in a long time, and all of the Domino Squad had been there, swimming alongside him and this giant of the deep seas. Feeling so fluid and free and… Fives. He'd been dreaming of Fives. Fives wanted to tail this creature with oar-like fins and bioluminescent spots and Echo had yearned to follow Fives. Follow his brother. The other half of the Domino Twins since they lost Droidbait, Cutup and Hevy at the Rishi Moon station when they were all just Shinies. 

And the white-hot fury flared and burned in those pale eyes beneath squeezed brows for a moment, a sharp look the sharp-eyed brother wouldn't have missed even in the dim light of the room. Clone Force 99 had long ago learned that they did not wake Echo without good reason when they had downtime and shore leave. Before Crosshair made a carefully calculated statement he was waved to stand down, and against all his impulses, Echo swallowed down that venom and the weary sigh took its place. 

"What's wrong with Hunter?" Something had to be wrong. The others had probably tasked Crosshair with waking him so he could get up and either stay with Hunter or go retrieve help. A torn stitch? Was he refusing to take the medicine again? Was he even supposed to take any at this time? "Wh-what time is it?"

Whatever time Crosshair gave him didn't completely register with Echo, but what did was the reassurance that Hunter was fine. "Tech's got Hunter handled; fell asleep on the bed with him- real cute and all, but listen: I'm sorry to wake you, but I need your help with something. About what you said earlier to Hunter."

Echo bit back a yawn and propped himself up on his good elbow just slightly. "What about it…?" 

"Why does he need to tell [____] by the end of the week?" 

That did nothing to abate the worry or answer his question. What was the marksman getting at? "Look, if I didn't give him a hard deadline, he'll stall-"

Cross balked, interrupting him. "You don't know?" 

"Know what?" Echo snapped, sitting up now and carefully peeling back the weighted blanket [____] had gifted him several months ago. (Every bad night he looked at it, he would recall the way Wrecker boomed "It's like a permanent hug?! Tha's awesome!! That'll help Echo so much!" as she explained why she thought the way-too-kind gift would benefit Echo's insomnia and myriad of other nocturnal troubles after a week of bruise-like dark circles under his eyes. He'd been dreaming of Domino Squad: horrible, dark dreams that time that led him to be afraid to sleep, something his immune system could not afford like it once did…)

"That's her birth-day!" came out in a whispered hiss, "So I'm not sure giving him until the end of the week is a good idea!" 

[____]'s birth- Oh, no. Kriff kriff kriff! He'd forgotten that! 

Seeing that Echo now had the same violent realization he did, Cross gave a jerky, nodding gesture in a silent 'see?!' to his brother. "I think we need to consider another time. Or, you need to help me find a way to scope out how she feels about him before then. If she doesn't feel the same way he painfully does if he's putting what I think he's putting in that little letter of his I saw him writing while he sat out on the game after dinner… it would make for a very uncomfortable rest of the day. We can't do that to the kid on her birth-day, Echo." 

They needed to come up with a plan. "No… no we shouldn't, that wouldn't be right." Echo agreed. "Just… give me a minute to collect myself before we start talking, please." 

"... Right. Right of course." The younger man with tight gray curls of hair looked so guilty; often interrupted eye contact, curling and uncurling fingers, the tight, shallow inhales. 

"I know you're sorry, it's o-"

What was interpreted as an excuse was cut down with a clipped voice. "Don't give me that shit, Echo. You're right to be angry at me. Allowed." 

Well, he certainly still was, but the reasoning was different now. "Don't worry, I don't need your permission to be angry, Crosshair. But as I was going to say it's okay, you don't need to let your guilt get the best of you and treat me like kriffing glass." He was a damn ARC, made of sterner stuff that made the little brothers on Kamino look like they met a celebrity from their favorite pieces of holo-media they'd managed to get their hands on. That starstruck glimmer in a cadet's eyes seeing older brothers, decorated and painted war heroes, coming back for a taste of home before their next assignments and campaigns. 

Did Crosshair ever look at an older brother, a seasoned soldier, like that when he was a cadet? Or did he regard those men with envy because he didn't think the likes of him would ever get to be like them? Like him, Echo?

A regular Clone cut from the largest damn bolt of cloth the galaxy had ever seen; up until the Citadel, at least.

He knew Crosshair was still looking at him with a lot of guilt as Echo mentally braced himself to get up out of his bed he wasn't terribly fond of, and he wanted to do something about it. Maybe, if he could be convincing enough… he could find a believable excuse to give Crosshair the embrace he felt the brother needed. "Awh! Kriffing hells…" when he was "ready" to get up, he faked the seizing grind in one of the bolts of his right hip. A bolt he knew needed lubricant soon. He grumbled darkly for good measure, playing up the unsteady hobble as he pretended to fail at finding his feet flat underneath him. "Dammit not now!" 

Steady hands and strong fingers caught Echo as he anticipated, an arm of the marksman flung around his chest to keep the cybernetic soldier from falling forward and a firm grip on the residual limb of his right arm came around from behind so his scomplink wouldn't smack into anything in the panicked flail. "I've got you, brother." Crosshair was allowed to believe he helped Echo find his footing before Echo slung his good arm around his younger brother and held him close, feigning the pause to gather his nerves. If he was too bold, too impatient, Crosshair would catch on and Echo would lose the opportunity. "Th-thanks." 

"Don't mention it." There was no dismissal or downplaying undercurrents to the coolly given reply. It was just Crosshair for of course I'd help, you're welcome that the Bad Batch came to know and understand and move on from without a second thought.

But not after today, and not before they would set a plan in motion together in the dead of night, like old times in the Clone Wars. So the trap was sprung; with both flesh and cybernetic arm, Echo carefully fit his limbs against the warmth of the brother of another squad and only rumbled in a fond and careful voice the words similar to ones he had once spoken to the brother he had been closest to so many times it was forever etched into the fleshy tables of his heart and tongue. 

"Heh. Don't think I will. Just doing what any good brother does, Crosshair. Vod looks after vod."

Taglist: @dragonrider9905 @ladytano420​

Note from Frost: If you would like to be added to the taglist that is currently just specific for Sorry, Wrong Comms!, (I may start a taglist for all Star Wars related fanfiction projects that will be marked accordingly with #frostfics in the near future if there is interest) don’t hesitate to shoot me an ask or a comment loves. 🩷

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[madsworld15]

I Am Still Right Here Chapter 2 Part 1 (Brian x Justin, QAF, Support Group AU)

I have been a writing fiend when it comes to this fic. I have uploaded all of Chapter 1 on AO3. This fic will have 2 chapters in total.

As always, I wouldn't be here today writing for the QAF fandom if it weren't for the support of @winderlylandchime @maryp50 and @lostcol

Two Weeks Later

Justin was getting better about being around crowds. Something about having met Brian really eased his mind, even when he wasn’t around the man. Which, if he was dead honest, wasn’t very often. Brian’s cancer treatments had really started to take their toll on Brian’s health. Justin still saw him because he would go to Brian’s office sometimes just to hang out. But, it seemed like each time he went, Brian appeared more and more ragged.

True to his word, Brian never turned him away and never complained about Justin being there. In fact, if Justin were a gambling man, he would bet his next paycheck on Brian getting as much comfort out of his presence as Justin got out of Brian. It was very clear to him that Brian hadn’t told any of his clients or employees that he had cancer. Well, aside from Cynthia and Ted, who seemed to be readily there to cover for him more times than Justin had been able to count. 

Justin wasn’t worried about Brian until he didn’t show up for support group. It had been two weeks since the night he stayed at Brian’s loft, and they’d seen each other every few days since then. The previous Thursday, they had done their now routine visit to Emmett’s business after their group sessions were over. However, this week, Justin waited in the lobby for Brian to show up and was almost late to his own support group because he couldn’t leave the lobby without seeing him. But Brian never showed up, and walking past the room where the cancer group met, Justin could see that Brian wasn’t in there either.

The whole time Jessica was talking, Justin couldn’t focus. He wanted to desperately find out where Brian was and be sure that he was okay. Only, in all their time hanging out together, Justin still didn’t know Brian’s number, nor could he remember the address of his loft, considering how messed up he was that night. So, he worried his lip and played with his fingers while everyone else in the group shared and discussed coping methods for moments of extreme anxiety.

“Justin.” He was pulled out of his thoughts by Jessica’s gentle voice.

“Huh?”

“I was wondering if you would like to share how you are doing with your tolerance of crowds.” She was kind, but Justin wasn’t in a headspace to talk about that. 

So, instead, he talked about what was going through his mind. 

“I met someone. Actually, I met him that night we had to combine the various support groups. Since then, we’ve kind of been hanging out and looking out for each other whenever we happen to cross paths. But tonight, he didn’t show up, and now I’m kind of worried. I haven’t seen him in a few days.” Justin could feel his chest tighten, and the words came out in a panicked squeak by the end.

Jessica got up from her chair and approached Justin’s. She moved slowly and didn’t break eye contact with him.

“Justin, breathe in. Out. Focus on the sound of my voice. Breathe in. Breathe out.” By the time she finished her first round of reassurances, she was standing in front of him. Jessica kneeled down to get level with him.

Once Justin’s breathing calmed down, Jessica came back into full focus, and he could feel tears streaming down his face. Justin swiped at them to make them go away.

“Better?” Jessica smiled and gave his upper arm a squeeze. Justin nodded.

“Is there a reason to be concerned?” Jessica’s question was an attempt to get Justin to rationalize his feelings. At first, his brain resisted, but after a few moments of thinking about it, Justin was able to understand that she only meant well.

“Well, he’s receiving radiation for cancer treatments. And the last time I saw him, he looked really tired and ragged.” Justin bit his lip, “But he was at work at the time, so I figured he must be okay if he was still working. It’s been three days.” 

Justin could feel the tears streaming down his face again. This time, he let them out and even allowed himself to sob.

“Did you try calling him?” Jessica continued to pepper him with questions.

“I don’t know his number. If I want to see him, I usually just go by his office, where he lets me hang out when I get too overwhelmed. Or I see him here.” Justin could feel his chest getting tight again. “What if he’s really sick and no one knows to tell me because the only person in his life that knows about me is his friend Emmett?”

“Do you know Emmett’s number? Maybe you could call and ask him.” Jessica gave his arm a squeeze once more.

Justin shook his head and wiped at his nose, which had started to drip snot. “I know where he works though. Maybe I could go by there.”

Jessica nodded at him encouragingly. “I think that is a smart decision. Allow it to ease your mind and your fears. Or if by some chance something is wrong, it will allow you to know and then deal with it accordingly.”

Justin nodded in agreement and let Jessica wrap him up in a hug. 

“I’m so sorry you’ve been having a rough week. I know how important it is to have people in our lives who keep us grounded. So for that person to be unavailable must be very challenging.”

Once their support group session was over, Justin bolted out the door, not bothering to say goodbye to anyone. He ran until he was standing in front of Milk & Honey. Justin wasn’t sure how he’d managed to get there without even thinking, but he was beyond grateful to see lights on in the building. It meant that Emmett was there. Sure enough, the minute Justin knocked, Emmett opened the door and stood aside to let him in.

“I figured I would be seeing you tonight. It is tradition, after all.” Emmett’s voice was flat, unemotional. It wasn’t the same energy Justin had come to expect from the man, which was his first clue that something wasn’t right.

“I haven’t heard from Brian in a few days, and he didn’t go to support group tonight,” Justin said around each heave of his chest as he tried to catch his breath. “What’s wrong? I know something is wrong. Please.”

Emmett turned ever so slightly away. Justin’s heart fell into his stomach. This couldn’t be good. At all.

“Justin.” Emmett turned back to him, wringing his hands, concern all over his face. “I decided to be here tonight because I figured you would come by and that you didn’t know.”

Justin could feel a lump forming in his throat. “Just tell me,” He begged.

“Brian passed out at work two days ago. Cynthia called an ambulance, and he’s been in the hospital ever since. It turned out he hadn’t been able to keep anything down, and his body had gotten too weak.” Emmett moved forward and placed his hand on Justin’s shoulder.

Justin’s tears began anew. He couldn’t breathe, his chest tightened. He couldn’t lose Brian. Sure, he’d only known him a month, but already he’d become Justin’s anchor, his rope when he felt untethered. His vision started to swim as the tears streamed down his face, and his throat swelled up from the excess spit that had nowhere to go.

“Justin. Breathe. Please.” Emmett’s voice sounded extremely far away. But Justin couldn’t latch onto it like he always could to Brian’s when the panic set in. Justin stumbled away from Emmett’s touch and fell to the ground in a ball.

After a few minutes, his tears subsided, and he could slowly breathe steady again. That had been the worst panic attack he’d had in months. Not since before he met Brian. Justin sat up and stared out at Emmett. 

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.” Justin suddenly felt self-conscious.

“I may not know how to help you, but I understand. Brian helps you feel like you won’t float away. The prospect of him being really sick sent your brain into a panic.” Emmett came forward and extended his hand out.

Justin glanced at it, and then into Emmett’s eyes accepting his help. “That’s why I knew I should be here tonight. I’m the only one in our group who knows about you. I didn’t have a contact for you, so I waited.”

“Is he okay?” Justin’s voice came out small and scared.

Emmett gave him a fixed smile. “Oh baby,” He rubbed Justin’s hair soothingly, “He sleeps a lot. He’s not awake much at all.”

Emmett gave Justin a look that silently asked if he could hug the young man. Justin nodded his head in agreement. Not because he fully trusted Emmett’s touch but because he needed a hug from someone he was familiar with, and Emmett was the best he had.

“Tell you what. I’ll call us a cab, and we will go over to that hospital right now.” Emmett clapped his hands and walked over to the phone on his wall.

“But it’s after visiting hours.” Justin knew enough about hospitals, having recently been in one, to know that they had strict rules about when people could come by to see patients.

Emmett dismissed his concern with a wave of his hand. “Baby, I’ve been sleeping with the male nurse who works on Brian’s unit. He would do anything for me. Even a short unauthorized visit.” The Southerner gave Justin a wink and dialed the number for a cab.

When they arrived at the hospital, Justin shuffled along behind Emmett. He was still nervous in hospitals. Emmett either didn’t notice, or he didn’t mind. Whatever the reason, Justin was grateful he could just exist in his shadow.

Emmett directed him up to the third floor. Once they got there, Emmett was greeted by a crowd of people Justin didn’t know. Everyone started chattering at once, excited to see Emmett. Justin pulled away and crossed his arms around his chest, staring down at his shoes. He was trying to prevent another panic attack from surfacing, but all the excitement and loud voices were already too much. 

Then, someone was standing in front of him. He looked up to find Ted. Justin let out the breath he’d been holding and gave a small, appreciative smile. 

“Hey, Ted,” Justin mumbled.

“Hey, Justin. I wondered if anyone had told you. I asked Emmett yesterday, and he said he didn’t know how to reach you. I’m glad he figured it out.” Ted started to reach out and place a hand on Justin’s shoulder, but Justin flinched, and he thought better of it. “Anyway, he’s stable but sleeps a lot.”

“Yeah. Emmett mentioned that.” Justin whispered, dropping his gaze to the linoleum floor once more.

“Hey, baby.” Emmett came up and addressed Justin in his kind, gentle tone. “Deb said the nurses weren’t around, so if you wanted to see him now might be your chance.”

“Deb?” Justin looked up questioningly.

“She’s our mom. Well, not biologically, unless you’re Michael, but yeah, she adopted all of us.” Emmett motioned to a woman with red hair and very loud clothes.

Justin nodded. Emmett wrapped his arm around his shoulder and led Justin down the hall. At about the third room on the right, Justin found Brian in a bed. He looked so pale and small under the fluorescent lights. He sucked in his lips and fought back another round of tears.

“Come on,” Emmett whispered. “Deb also said that when he was awake earlier, he was lucid enough to ask for you. She was very confused, but I cleared things up.” 

Justin slowly approached Brian’s bed. It felt like every time he got up the nerve to take another step, the machine measuring his heartbeat would signal a new beat. After what felt like ages, Justin was close enough to him to touch. He took a deep breath, steeled his nerves, and grabbed Brian’s hand.

Brian’s hand almost immediately shifted in his and their fingers linked. Justin stared at the hand incredulously and then glanced up toward Brian, who was waking up. The older man turned his head and slowly opened his eyes. 

With the tiniest of smirks, Brian croaked out, “Hi.”

Justin let out a sigh of relief, and his tears escaped, falling down his cheeks once more. “I was so fucking scared.”

Brian shifted, his face looking concerned, “I’m fine. Just needed a little R&R.”

“Nobody told me what had happened. I showed up to group today, and you weren’t there and I had a panic attack. Then I went to Emmett’s, and he finally told me.”

“I’m sorry,” Brian’s voice was sincere, but that didn’t mean Justin trusted it. After all, Brian wasn’t one to give apologies.

“I have been really out of it for a few days. I didn’t even think that no one would contact you.” Brian continued, his voice low, no higher than a whisper.

Justin immediately jumped to reassure him. “No, don’t. No one knows me, and the ones who do definitely don’t know where to find me. It doesn’t matter. I know now.”

“But you had a panic attack.” Brian was clearly more concerned about Justin, despite the fact he was the one in the hospital. It warmed Justin’s heart to know this man cared that much.

“Yeah, well, I have them all the time. You aren’t special.” Justin quipped in an attempt to lighten the mood. Brian gave the tiniest of smiles. It wasn’t much, but Justin would take it.

Just then, a nurse came in with an irritated look on her face. 

“Mr. Kinney needs his rest. Visiting hours ended two hours ago. I don’t know what it is about you people thinking you can bend the rules. OUT!” She motioned for Justin to leave.

Justin leaned over and placed a kiss on Brian’s cheek, not stopping to think they didn’t do that, and told him to get some rest. Once he was in the hall once more, Justin started to freak out about the fact that he had broken the rules and had gotten caught, but also that he had kissed Brian.

Emmett gave him a questioning look as Justin returned to the waiting area and collapsed into a chair. He didn’t even give attention to any of the people milling about. He didn’t know most of them, and he needed time to unpack what had just happened. He kissed Brian without even thinking, it was like second nature to him. 

Why did I do that? We don’t kiss. We aren’t even dating. The fuck, Taylor!

“Who the fuck are you?” A voice screeched out, drawing Justin back to his surroundings. Before him stood a short, dark-haired man, his face was contorted into an indignant expression, and his eyes were shooting bullets at Justin.

“Oh, um, I’m Justin Taylor. Brian and I met at support group.” Justin shrugged and looked beyond whoever this man was to the familiar face of Emmett, who also shrugged.

“Oh honey,” The red-haired woman named Debbie stepped forward with pity in her eyes. “You have cancer, too?”

Justin forced a smile and shook his head, “No, I go to a support group for PTSD. We just happened to meet because one night, about a month ago, our groups were combined into one due to staff shortages.”

“So, you met Brian once, and what, now you are stalking him?” The short, dark-haired man piped in again.

“No, Brian and I hang out sometimes.” Justin shrugged. 

“It’s true. I’ve seen him at Kinnetik regularly for the last few weeks.” Ted piped up in Justin’s defense. “Brian doesn’t talk about it, but it’s a thing.”

“So, you bother him while he’s trying to work? What is wrong with you?” The angry man continued. Now Justin was irritated.

“Michael,” Debbie warned.

“What is your problem with me?” Justin stood up, going toe-to-toe with the man named Michael. “Is it really that threatening to you that your friend met someone going through something similar, so he started spending time with them?”

“How the fuck is PTSD anything like Cancer?” Michael spat out at him in response, not answering the initial question.

“What the fuck does it matter to you.” Justin was done. He had seen Brian, so now his brain had settled, but he didn’t have the mental capacity to stand there and be attacked by other people in Brian’s life.

“Justin, please don’t go.” Emmett stepped forward and begged him.

“I should get some sleep. I have to work tomorrow. Thank you for bringing me here, Em.” Justin surprised himself and Emmett by wrapping the man into a deep hug.

“Come by tomorrow after work, honey. I’m sure Brian will be grateful to see you.” Debbie spoke up.

Justin nodded and gave Emmett another hug. Then he went back down to the hospital’s main lobby and walked out into the night air. It was only just now 9 pm, and the weather wasn’t too cold. Justin needed the time to think over everything that happened, so instead of calling a cab he decided to walk the mile to his and Daphne’s apartment.

As he walked, he thought about how much his life had become intertwined with Brian’s without actually being introduced to the whole picture. Somehow, Justin had come to rely on Brian without knowing his family or his friends. And while Brian had repeatedly told Justin he was never in the way when he came by the office, Justin couldn’t help wondering if it had all been a lie.

Michael’s words rang in his ears. Was he being weird and inserting himself into Brian’s life where he wasn’t wanted? Did Brian feel the same way about it as Michael? Sure, in the hospital room Brian had seemed concerned about Justin, but that could just be an act. It could just be human decency, worrying about someone you know as an acquaintance. There was no way Brian actually wanted Justin around or even wanted him to visit him in the hospital. Once was enough. He wouldn’t bother the man again. After all, the nurse had said he needed his rest.

[xtrablak674]

Singing my life with his words...

I am not sure what I expected, but I didn't expect that.

Trailers, I think they serve a purpose, in my personal opinion they can skew expectations, generate false anticipation and quite frankly spoil the story. I stopped watching them a few years ago. I mostly pick my films based on familiarity, or subject material and sometimes, well a lot of times seeing stills or gif sets of the film on Tumblr.

Hey I am a visual artist, pulling out stills of a film that feature its visual aesthetics is like crack to me, I just can't get enough! Recently I added more queer films to my diet, and albeit tonights Friday Night Movie's theme wasn't solely left to the gays, All of Us Strangers had been stalking me for weeks all over the Tumblr-verse, so I gave in and added it to the list along with The Marvels and The Color Purple, two other '23 films that kept @'ing me.

Part of my process in choosing my films is traditionally picking a theme or genre and trying to watch films from different decades just to mix it up a bit. These films were all from last year, so they only other thing I could use to distinguish them was their release dates, this placed All of Us, in the middle, right after Marvel's latest block-bluster. #YesThatWasShade

Having peeped that this was categorized as romance and fantasy, I was curious what made it fantasy. Once again IMDB had mis-labeled a film, this wasn't fantastical but a psychological thriller! #LeSigh Maybe I was way too close to the subject material and Andrew Scott clearly being my contemporary wasn't helping the matter at all.

Some of the details were different, albeit after my moms death I was raised as a single-child. I came from a one-parent home, not two. We didn't live in a house but an apartment. We were clearly not middle-class but living below the poverty level. Even with all of these differences I felt exposed in a way that wasn't remotely comfortable. How had this whyte man found out about my story and was now telling it on a stage for all the world to see? #😳

Metastatic breast cancer was the cause of death listed on her death certificate, not a car accident. I wasn't left alone in her bed while she left me for a Christmas party, but I discovered her dead in her bed, the couch in the living room four days before my eleventh birthday. Nine years later I buried my father, who was found by his parents rotting in his Harlem apartment, a reverse to the film where the dad went first followed by the mom.

Like the film they were joined in a way by both dying at approximately forty-four years of age. I rued the moment I would be the same age because like my parents, I thought I'd never live past it, but just like Adam I ultimately ended up being older than my parents than when they died. If I met them now, I guess I would be the one dispensing words of wisdom.

Unlike Adam I wasn't lonely, I have lived alone for nearly thirty years, and have had moments of loneliness, but like so many things that a multiple-orphan and an individual with intersectional identities, I had developed coping methods that were born when I was separated from my siblings at eleven and for the first time had to suffer the world on my own, navigate bullying and nasty taunts from other children. I had learned to have a rich internal emotional life, being my own best friend, and creating adventures in the simplest of things. I had become my own best company.

But like Adam I longed for connection, I longed for resolution around my dead parents. But unlike Adam I am not dead. That's my big reveal/spoiler these many paragraphs in to this essay/journal entry. I think everyone we encountered in that film was dead. #HolySixSenseBatman Delving into how I understood this is immaterial to how it still felt. His parents wanted him to move-on, which could be misconstrued as moving on with his life, but could also have been acknowledging that he was indeed dead and accepting it. The nuance of interpretations of what exactly is going on in the film is masterful, and the director never quite gives us a definitive answer.

Adam felt he wasn't particularly successful with anything in his life, still feeling the scars of his childhood bullying, taunting and the trauma of losing his parents at such a young age. I have mirrored this feeling about my own life, with the only difference that I have been more successful than my parents because I made it to the upper-middle class. #yea But like Adam I have always felt I am just passing-the-time, existing and muddling through.

Curiously the last real relationship I had was nearly twenty years ago, and also interesting was the fact that like Adam, Karl was my junior and like Harry was damaged in many ways, clearly not visible to the world around him, because even my best friend at the time thought he was the boy next door, literally mirroring the movie by his perceptions.

Isn't this why we watch films? Don't we see ourselves in the characters on the screens and sometimes wish we were them or living the lives they were living? Or sometimes what we see on screen is too close to reality and art imitates life in a ghastly manor. But then that means the director/writer has done his job right? Making you feel the pains, indecisions and joy of fictional characters is what a good film is about. But is it exciting to see yourself realized in a way that you wish wasn't you?

All of Us Strangers is a psychological thriller, clearly with aspects of drama and romance. As the reviews say it is haunting and heartbreaking. It is also something else that I am tired of in queer cinema, albeit as realistic as it is, specifically to my own journey, it once again paints queer-life as sad, aloof and unfulfilled.

Having dealt with dysthymia my entire adult life I guess this is in some ways true, but as I explored in a previous entry, I really want our queer movies to be more aspirational. I am not saying Red White & Royal Blue syrupy, but some middle place where we can be not-partnered, not have kids and not be dying or dead and be content with our lives. Is this asking too much?

[Photo Courtesy of All of Us Strangers via IMDB]

[homerforsure]

Tagged for Fuck It Friday by my darlings @thekristen999, @ajunerose, @mellaithwen, and @rewritetheending

I agonized over what to post because, well, that's what I do. And then I remembered that the very first fic from my Long Way Home series just celebrated its 2 year anniversary (how? HOW? Howwwww is it not finished?) So I thought I'd just go ahead and drop that here.

It’s strange to think that his friends all went through their breakups with Abby so long ago. Months before Buck wrote the letter that never received a reply and moved out of her apartment. They were ready with hands on his shoulders and offers of booze, ready to hate her and comfort him and Buck had dismissed them all. He doesn’t know how to talk about it now, a fresh and tender bruise, when the entire relationship has long since become a joke and a “Classic Buck” tale to all of his friends.

You weren’t still waiting for her to come back, were you? He can imagine Maddie’s voice gentle and confused.

How many women have you been with since then, Buckaroo?

He can see their faces. Exchanging “Buck’s being dramatic again” glances with each other. A scoff, maybe, from someone who’s had real heartbreak, real problems. He really knows a surprising number of widowers for someone his age.

Are you still talking about this, man?

He stands abruptly, pushing away from the table and scrambling to his feet. Buck scrubs his hands over his face, rakes them through his hair. He pulls, trying to ground himself through the tug on his scalp and groans because it isn’t working, isn’t going to work and he can’t stay here, can’t stay inside his head. He’s just going to mope and brood and it’s… pathetic really. He’s being pathetic. It has to stop.

Dishes in the sink, half eaten chicken back in the fridge, Buck hauls himself up the stairs. He knows he can escape this rising flood of self-loathing and gloom if he just swims hard enough and long enough away from it. With something to focus on outside himself, the internal storm usually quiets. Works against a panic attack, works against actual natural disasters, there’s no reason it shouldn’t work against whatever this is. Locking his feelings about himself down tight and reaching relentlessly outward kept Buck sane during his recovery. Saved Christopher and a dozen other lives. Nearly cost him everything after that, but no coping method was perfect.

And anyway, this is hardly the same, he thinks to himself, pulling open his closet and searching for something to take him from good-looking to “damn, looking good.” He just needs to take the edge off a little so he can sleep. In the morning, he’ll be sane and the bruise will fade enough so that he can hide it. Might not even hurt if he doesn’t think about it. Tonight, he needs to stop thinking, needs to feel capable, needs to feel like he’s wanted. He’s always known where to go for that.

[pinkmoondoll9shihtzu]

🪟

my revelaysheawn of the night . . .

ive been trying so hard to understand the fear i have around releaseing my EP

because usually im not so afraid to express myself. And i thought maybe i was just afraid to feel vulnerable but i knew thats not as deep as i could go that doesnt satisfy me as an explanation

upon introspection i realize i am like. Really scarred by a repetition that took place over the past 5 years

Where every time i did something that succeeded, and made me feel like i was shining, people i loved would start lashing out at me more and more. To the point that i have had to dismiss them from my life

Like, people i REALLY cared about, and it was always fucking shocking to be confronted with the reality of the secret venom they kept in their back pocket for when they couldn't cope with their insecurity

i dont think its even a Me thing i think its something thats very formulaic in a certain type of insecure disposition & gets excreted on whoever it happens to perceive as "threatening" at any given moment

Because i experienced it from multiple people and it was the same every time. Still never got less jarring because you never think it's gonna be your own friends, you think, surely they want to see me succeed the same way i do for them, surely surely?

Surely this time will be different..

And i'm seeing how this has like, subconsciously lead me to wanting to keep myself very small and unnoticed, lest i fly too close to the sun and have anyone else i love turn against me on a dime in a heartbeat in a flash.

Not even trying to be on some "Haters & Losers" shit because i dont think theyre haters or losers (towards me) they just hate themselves and unconsciously can not handle being friends w someone who wants to improve themself so they have to turn everything into a competition and its just like. Entirely one sided while im over here still trying to support them & be a good friend until i eventually reach my limit of unnecessarily scathing interactions i can handle and cut the cord.

i just dont want to care anymore. i dont want to care that some people will never want anyone else to shine. i think all those people are out of my life now anyways. theres like 3 or 4 people who i actually talk to anymore so what am i still afraid of? its all just leftover stickiness from the past. 2024 i really had to work through some SHIT that occured from 2019 onwards. its all just residue now.

At least after this introspection tonight i feel i finally have something tangible to work on releasing so i can finally move on. Because i was feeling really stuck not knowing what exactly im trying to run away from here, trying to see the source of the avoidance.

because i knew all along i dont really feel afraid that the music itself will be rejected. at this point im pretty desensitized to sharing my creations online in terms of like, the reaction it gets and numbers and whatever. i have many methods of disengaging from that. its the interpersonal pain, from people i put a lot of heart into, that lingers . . .

i dont want to hate myself and i dont want anyone else to hate themselves so when people inadvertently use me as a vehicle for those feelings its really so soul-crushing to me i wish no one would do that to anyone ever again.

dont love me if u only wanna love me when im downbad !!

i wish for love and trust and harmony and mutual uplifting bonds forever.

Thats my 2am thots. I wonder what i will do about it tomorrow. Good night Xx

[the-ad-trio]

Have I talked about Vlad's Dad yet? Vladimir? Vlad Sr.? No? I haven't? Well now you're hearing about him.

This was his very first design. I ended up hating it. I also gave his personality a 180. He was painted as this huge jerk because his wife died while the kids were still young and his coping methods were... less than ideal.

I was planning on something like this happening, where Vlad talked some sense into his father, and gradually he got over himself and started to improve.

And soon enough, Vlad Sr became one of my most beloved characters, and he looks like this! <3

And I was feeling generous. So I gave him a love interest that made him question his entire identity.

Say hello, Conrad <3

I will be talking about them more later, but that's your lore dump for tonight ❤️