#while my health is giving me grief

[f-imaginings]

I've been sick so bloody frequently this year, now I have an ear infection/ache so I'm on more antibiotics and pain meds AGAIN!

Anyway Chappell Roan was my most listened to artist on Spotify wrapped followed by ABBA so that's some good news amongst all the illness and drama.

[kyofsonder]

Brain in Daylight Hours: There is no mental or emotional space for writing. There are no new ideas, and no structure for old ideas.

Brain after Dark: Here's 38 new ideas, 3/4 of a structure, official permission to write, and -- oh. The only place to write in the dark is your phone? ... Never mind.

[voidhope]

The Other Woman

—

Synopsis: Where Miguel leaves Y/N to go back to a different version of his old wife found in another universe.

Pair: Miguel O’Hara x Spider!Reader

Tags: ANGST!!, long term established relationship, heartbreak, marriage, cheating, mental health, cold/distant Miguel

—

A/N: Hi! I don’t really write at all!!

I have been a silent reader on tumblr for years but this idea has been playing in my mind so much I had the urge to write it. I have been down so bad for Miguel been on his tag like 24/7 indulging in all the content creators have been putting out. So I’m excited to join in giving content, however keep in mind I kinda suck! Apologies for any mistakes, anything confusing, or it not being well written enough. Honestly could have made this into multiple parts with better details but nah. Tried my best ^^ since it’s my first time, any feedback is greatly appreciated!

Honestly tbh we all don’t have a solid grasp how the whole canon thing and multi universe works yet so!! A lot of what is written is made up to suit my storyline so please don’t get mad about the inaccuracies.

I love a good angst and today’s story will be EXTRAAA angsty!!! As well kinda long!!

—————————————————

The moment that changed your life was while working on an experiment during your college finals. You were a proud and gifted physics major that was so passionate about discovering and exploring what the world didn’t know.

You had snuck into Alchemax late at night. You wanted to show your professors just how much you could do with the right tools. Next thing you know, playing with their machines, you had spawned a spider right in-front of you. The glowing vibrant red spider had sunk its jaw into your hand.

Your life did a complete turn and you spent the rest of that week freaking out while changes to your body were happening. Causing you to fail your semester after missing exams. Things felt like it could only get worse when a massive blue suited masked man showed up out of nowhere in your dorm interrogating you.

“Where’s the spider?” He had a strong grip on your shoulders. You couldn’t focus while trying to process why this man had what seemed like claws sticking out of the ends of his fingers.

“I don’t know, it like died after it bit me!” You exclaimed nervously at the freakishly strong man. Trying to reach for anything behind you to use as a defense weapon.

“Dios mío no me digas eso…” He groaned loudly letting you go. Having the opportunity to grab something, you threw a sanrio plushie at him. Only causing him to wave his arms in annoyance. “That spider is from my earth and somehow you brought it here. Now you’re a spider-man.”

And the rest is history…

—

You learned that the man was Miguel O’Hara and when he found you he was just starting his missions with the multiverse. You being the few of the firsts to join his team.

Your situation was quite bizarre and he called you an anomaly for a long time, spending hours studying you and also training you. You ended up being the one case that can’t be explained no matter how much effort was put into monitoring you.

Almost like it was meant to be. Your universe remained perfect with its current spider-man doing fine. No big collapse of a black hole or anything. When you got bit by a spider from Earth-928 your DNA merged with that universe making you fit in perfectly. You were one of the only spider-people with an uncertain timeline with new canons being created depending on what universe you were in.

What changed from you being just a piece of research for Miguel is when he then realized that maybe you were a gift from the multiverse. After all the grief and pain he’d went through the universe had given him this person that worked out perfectly no matter how hard he tried to push them away. You fell head over heels for him and vice versa, all while canon events were being created with both of you together.

You were there as his team grew, slowly turning into a family. Then both of you getting married finalizing that this was your home. Everything felt perfect. Although a relationship with Miguel could have its up and down days, nothing could ever tear you both apart. Or so you assumed.

—

“I’m sorry Y/N.” Miguel couldn’t look at you.

“When did this start? Please be honest with me. Did I do something wrong?” You begged at him. You knew he was acting off recently but never did you think it would result to this.

You watched as he exhaled deeply staring at the ground. You felt like you couldn’t breathe as you studied his face trying to grasp onto any emotion he was showing. The atmosphere in his office felt so cold. You so badly wanted to catch his gaze and find the warmth and love his red irises used to give you. He was doing everything to push you away. He was abandoning you.

“You did nothing wrong. I met her during a mission 4 months ago.” Was all he replied.

“Who is she?” Your heart kept breaking. His face hardening as the question slipped through your lips. You knew Miguel wouldn’t leave you for just anyone. Deep in your heart you knew what this was about. He never responded but he didn’t need to when you saw his eyes flicker over to his monitor screens. You followed his trace and saw the photo of Gabriella in the corner.

“Does she have another version of your daughter?” You tried again. This is what made him look directly at you. Miguel kept opening and closing his month unsure how to tell you the truth. You weren’t stupid and he knew that. After everything he couldn’t just walk out on you with a lie.

“No.” He paused thinking of how to finally share the truth without it ruining you. There was no way out of this. “She is a younger version of herself. There is no Miguel in her universe and she’s not important to the timeline. She lives a regular life. I-it’s a chance for me to start at the very beginning.”

You felt your heart being ripped out of your chest. You processed the words carefully. She doesn’t have a child yet… Not only was he leaving you for her but he was going to fall in love with her all over again and start a family with her. A family you wanted so badly to have with him.

“What about with what happened last time you tried to live a life in a different universe?” You didn’t understand how this was happening.

He was always so carful he would never do anything to cause that again. Everything you had witness Miguel work so hard for to keep safe for years. Sleepless nights, returning bruised and beaten, frustrations and constant stress. Was it all for nothing? Is he throwing all his work away?

“This is different.” He turned away from you. “I pushed myself then into an already established life. This time I am creating that life. After all the research we did on you…” He knew that this was going to tear you apart. “I learned that if done right I could have a child from two different universes that won’t disrupt anything.”

It clicked to you then that all the research he was doing on you lately was for this. The research he did on you that time was different, personal, intimate even. As he was testing your DNAs together and seeing the outcomes. He mentioned a child and you were foolish enough to assume he was doing research to see what it would be like if you both had one together. You were giddy even as you watched him work. You had both spoken about having a family together in the past but had been too busy with spider activities. You thought it was a sign of him getting more serious about it, knowing how badly he wanted one. You would have never thought he was doing it to see how he could get back his previous child. The one you could never give him.

You had truly believe that Miguel had recovered from his obsession that his grief gave him. He accidentally destroyed a whole universe needing that life back so badly. You had spent late nights watching him re-watch clips over and over of what he had lost. It slowly stopped once your relationship blossomed with him and you thought he was ready to move on and start new. Why would you have never thought that with such a perfect opportunity presented to him that he wouldn’t drop everything for it.

“I think it’s best that you leave.” He spoke with a soft tone. As if not looking at you any longer will make the problem go away. You couldn’t wrap your mind around how he was just throwing you away like this. As if he wasn’t making you dinner, giving soft kisses, whispering I-love-you’s not so long ago.

You felt too choked up to ask anymore questions. Your throat tight and painful as you held back tears from escaping in-front of Miguel. You just nodded and headed straight out the door not being able to handle another second in that room. Your knees and hands were shaky as you speed walked into the nearest bathroom and let it all out.

—

It didn’t take long for everyone else to know something had happened. Everyone had gotten used to seeing you and him sitting together at lunch. You would make him cute lunch boxes and everyone would gag a bit while watching the two of you smile together. Some cringing seeing their scary boss being so soft around you. It was a big surprise when Miguel started to eat alone with a bag of take out food and you no where to be seen.

His teams he sent out for missions were all confused when you weren’t assigned to anything. Knowing you were one of the best, one of them slipped out a “Call for Y/N!” In the middle of fighting an anomaly too strong for them. Miguel only looked away.

It wasn’t until a new woman showed up in Miguel’s office with a grip around his waist. That’s when the spider-community realized that this was way worse than they thought.

—

You on the other hand had spilled everything to Hobie when he caught you that day leaving the bathroom with puffy eyes. You had been staying with him in his universe until you could gather yourself together to return to HQ. You knew you were going to leave for good, but you needed to go back to retrieve all your things. You couldn’t stay with Hobie forever. Worse that you weren’t from there.

You still had some hope that Miguel would come looking for you and tell you that he was all wrong. However almost two months had passed and not a word from him… That’s when you knew it was time you should return to what you once knew.

Stepping into the portal Hobie followed close behind you. He told the few others who were once close to both you and Miguel that you would be visiting. Stepping through the portal you were immediately greeted by Jessica and Peter B Parker.

“Oh, Y/N.” Jess sighed your name sadly while pulling you into a hug. You felt like you wanted to cry all over again. Missing your friends so much. Peter B came behind giving you a hug on the side.

“He’s on a mission right now.” Peter spoke up. “It might be a long one too but don’t waste anytime just incase.”

You nodded pulling away from them. Looking up around the headquarters building faintly smiling at the past memories you had here. You started heading to different areas gathering all the little things you had left around. Hobie had stitched for you a cute backpack with different scraps of patterned clothes and covered in patches of punk band logos but made with hammer space technology. Making it fun for you to fill endless of your things in the bag.

The last stop was in Miguel’s office. Doubt started to fill your mind; maybe he already threw out all of your stuff. Why would he even keep it after all of this? What no one could warn you of was the other person sitting on his platform.

“Hello!” She chirped at you. It felt like the air in your lungs had just been punched out. You knew her too well. From all the photos and videos you had seen peaking over Miguel’s shoulder. However seeing her in person was something you had never expected. You knew it wasn’t the original her but it was a copy paste image for sure.

“Hi.” Was all you managed to choke out. She was beautiful, stunning. You could see clearly now the similar features she shared in another universe with her daughter. The parts that Miguel didn’t have. She kept smiling kindly at you, almost in a graceful way. You started to feel all your insecurities start eating you up from the inside. How could you have ever compared to her.

“What’s your name? I don’t think I’ve seen you here before.” Getting off Miguel’s platform she walked closer to you. The room started to feel suffocating.

“Y/N.”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you! It’s nice to meet other girls around here.”

Your eyebrows furrowed as you realized she had no reaction to your name. So Miguel never told her about you… Or that the fact was he was still even legally married to you.

“My boyfriend isn’t here right now but, if you want, I can tell him you stopped by.” She continued as you stayed silent.

“Oh, no it’s okay. I just came in here to get some stuff.” You rushed as you really wanted nothing to do with Miguel at all. You almost worried that he might even get angry knowing you got to speak with her. If he already dislikes you this much you couldn’t even imagine how he would feel if you got in the way of this for him.

You started heading over to the familiar drawers around the room. Grabbing your old hoodies and shirts finding your most comfortable of things here. You treated this place as one of your safe spaces as you used to spend so much time here.

“Oh I didn’t know these were all yours! I was wondering why this was all around. When I came here I wanted to do some spring cleaning but Miguel wouldn’t let me touch anything.” She followed besides you. “It’s so mind blowing seeing all this technology. We don’t have any of this where I live-“ She continue rambling but you started to zone her out. You felt like you were about to have a panic attack any minute. There was one question that kept burning in your mind.

“Are you and Miguel already planning to have a child?” You blurted out. Your eyes widened a bit as you surprised yourself. She let out a loud laugh.

“Oh dear no! We have only been together about 6 months. You must be new around here so you must not know much about us.” She chuckled.

In some cruel way you were hoping she would have said yes. You had that twisted hope of maybe Miguel just keeping her to have a kid and ditching her after he gets Gabriella and run back to you. In reality he was playing the long game, he really meant it when we said he was starting over. “He’s never mentioned kids anyways. I’m not even sure if he’d like them or do well with them.”

With that statement she made you looked at her appalled. Anyone could see in Miguel how good of a father he could be. Just in the way he takes care of the society he built here. You started to realize that she really has been left in the dark. She doesn’t know anything. She probably doesn’t even know that she’s a replacement of another self. You wondered why Miguel was doing this. It felt like he didn’t just toy with you but with her as well. A man you came to love for how selfless he was, to realize now everything was for his own personal gain. Suddenly you started to feel bad for her. You couldn’t dislike her, she wasn’t doing anything wrong and she doesn’t even know.

“I got all my stuff. Nice to meet you.” Was all you could say as you zipped up your bag and turned straight around out of there. Not giving any glance back at her, you left to one of the empty training rooms to recollect your overwhelming thoughts. All of the self healing you tried the past month thrown in the garbage.

It wouldn’t be too soon that news of you going around the building was returned to Lyla. You had cut out all coms while you were gone so she immediately popped up on your watch when she found out.

“AH-“ You jumped as the tiny AI was suddenly in front of your face.

“It’s so wonderful to see you Y/N. Oh my god!”She started. Then she went on rambling about how she knew everything and had seen everything. How she didn’t agree with what was happening and was doing everything she could to convince you to stay. After 5 minutes of her rambling you stopped her to let your emotions out.

“Lyla, Lyla It’s okay. Just stop. It’s all complicated I know, but this didn’t work out. I wished Miguel just cheated on me like all the other fucked up normal men out there. That I walked in on him deep in another random girl. Though painful I could have tried fixing and fighting for us. But instead what I got was him emotionally cheating on me and chase after something he knows I can never give him.” You felt yourself choke up. “I can never ask him to give up what he longs and dreams for just for me to be happy. I lost this battle the moment he laid eyes on her.”

Finding comfort in the AI your husband made. You’ve created a bond with Lyla that Miguel found cute but you knew now this might be the last time you’ll be speaking with her.

“You can give him a family y/n… you guys have been married two years now. I know you’ve both set the thought aside until the multiverse issues are better but you can fight for him. You have to snap him out of his fantasy. He still thinks about you.”

“Lyla you know deep down truly he never just wanted a family. He wanted exactly what he had. What he lost. Which should be impossible but being by his side seeing how insane the multiverse is… Good for him for believing in something so hard he’s found himself even a third chance to do it.”

“I hate that you’re being too kind about this situation.” Lyla paced around you.

“I love him so deeply Lyla. You know that very well. It’s so hard to suddenly hate him. I am angry, but I’m also emotionally drained I can’t do this.” You let out a deep sigh. “I’ve watched him long for this family when we just met. For some stupid reason when things worked out for us I thought I would be enough… When we got engaged and he would spend some days at home with me not even coming to HQ. I thought he was finally moving on not just from his grief and past but from the weight of his work. I saw a bright future for us.”

“You can still have a bright future with him! You moving here gave him a new canon event, another chance at life in his timeline. Here in his own universe! He’s just too obsessed and he’s lost himself in that.” She exclaimed with her hands up.

“Our canon event was our wedding.” Your frowned deepened. “But the universe didn’t say anything else after. It doesn’t say our canon event means we are suppose to live happily together forever I guess.”

“I’m just trying my best to be optimistic. I rooted so hard for you and Miguel when you joined the team. I know you can remember the amount of times I would force you both in rooms.” Lyla recalled.

“And I’m grateful for it… Even if this didn’t work out. I was given precious memories, not just working with you and being on this team but falling in love with Miguel. I know I’m being all depressed and hopeless but I feel like even if I move on I’ll never be able to replace him and find a relationship like this again. However he threw me away so easily and maybe he never valued me as much as I did to him.” You felt your emotions bubble. “I became who I am here. I’m going to miss everyone so much.”

“You can still stay here and work with us.” She edged on.

“I can’t just sit around here begging at his feet to return to me or moping around doing missions while watching him with someone else. I want to hate him so badly. I know he’s your boss and you’re basically hardwired to do everything for him and you’re trying your hardest to fix what you think is his right path. But think of me a little more and how miserable it’ll be. I’m the only one hurting here.”

Lyla paused and stared at you with an almost glossy-eyed look. While she worked she could see the inner term-oil Miguel was hiding and the emptiness he was turning to since trying to start new in the other universe. It just wasn’t her place to hold this conversation and he was the one who needed to get a grip of himself and really think and talk with you. She can’t be the one trying to mend the pieces for both of you together. What Miguel did was so wrong. She knew you were right and she didn’t want to see any more damage be caused to you.

“You’re right. I’m sorry.” She looked up at you sincerely. “I hate this outcome for you. Not only are you loosing your husband but your home. When was the last time you’ve even been in your universe?”

“Like a year ago for a mission…”

“Exactly! Even if things are over with Miguel, you have all of us here! I wish you could stay. I understand you leaving, I really do. I know a lot of us will try visiting you but I’m tied to Miguel…” You started to see how it clicked for her too that it’s most likely you might not see each other for a long time. “Even if a spider-person is visiting you I can’t just show up on their watch… It’ll go back to him and I know you wouldn’t want that. I know I’m an AI and I can’t hold real emotions but I mean it when I say I’m going to miss you.”

Tears poured down your cheeks as her words hit you. Going back to your universe is going to be a struggle. You have nothing there now. However nothing can compare to the pain of the outcome you’ve had with Miguel, and you needed out of here ASAP. Your mental health getting worse the longer you stay. Even the other spiders you have come to love can’t bring that spark back right now. You needed genuine time for yourself, even if it’s self destructive, instead of putting on a fake smile everyday here.

“Bye, Lyla.” You whispered. She nodded and waved her hand goodbye at you before disappearing. You took your watch off your wrist placing it on a nearby desk. With it you pulled the divorce paperwork out of your pocket neatly sealed and already signed on your half. Opening a portal you took your last glances at the place you spent so many loving memories in.

Tears blurred your vision as you stepped through the portal. Once your legs landed on a rooftop of a building in your dimension, you racked out full sobs falling to your knees.

You were always just the other woman.

—————————————————

Thank you so much for reading!! I know it was a longer one ~

would anyone like a part 2? If so anyone want a angsty or happy ending? I think it’ll be more in Miguel’s perspective as well!

EDIT: You can now read PART 2 here

[omgthatdress]

Just a little considerations for those still grieving Liam Payne

So, right now, you are probably still lost in some very real grief over someone you never met but has still been a major part of your life since you were thirteen. You feel like you've lost an extremely close friend. It's hard to imagine your life where he isn't somehow present.

I know all this because felt the exact same way seven years ago when Chester Bennington died by suicide. And I do have a little bit of wisdom to share with you all right now, wisdom that I really wish I didn't have.

First of all, it's okay to be sad. To cry. To feel like shit and wish this had happened to someone else, someone who deserved it. Give yourself the time and space to feel all that because it's the only way you can start to move on. Feeling sad is only a problem when, months later, you simply CAN'T move on. That's depression, and that's when you should seek professional mental health treatment.

Secondly, there aren't going to be ANY easy answers in this. Right now a lot of people are looking for fingers to point, people to blame, and even finding conspiracy theories that Liam was murdered. While it may be initially comforting to fall into the idea that Liam didn't do this to himself, he was murdered for some reason (usually because he was going to expose a pedophile ring of some sort), conspiracy theories are always wrong and will NEVER give you the satisfying answer you want.

It was Liam's decision to step out onto that balcony, and his alone. It is no one else's fault. Accepting that is incredibly hard to do, but it is ultimately what will grant you the most peace.

As for what lead up to that, well, there's a lot. Fucked up celebrity deaths are kind of my Roman Empire, so while I never knew Liam, I DO know a lot about what leads up to huge, terrible tragedies that play out in the tabloids in extremely ugly ways.

Becoming famous at a really young age is an incredibly mixed bag. While you do get to live out this shit 99% of people on earth can only dream of, it does mean you often find yourself at 30 with a career that's basically over. A lot of young celebs simply don't know what to do with themselves once the fame and adoration has dried up, and the answer is usually to do an absolute fuck ton of drugs.

Drug and alcohol abuse changes your personality. I know this from personal experience. Someone very close to me developed a serious problem with alcohol, and turned from a kind, funny, wonderful person to someone nasty, abusive, and resentful. Someone I didn't recognize at all. While I and my person were very lucky that they were able to quit drinking, not everyone is so lucky.

Liam deserved better. He was so young and he still had ample opportunity to turn his life around. But he made one terrible decision, and now he's dead, and there simply is no changing that.

So what do you do? Remember him, and love him. Be grateful for the joy that he brought into your life. Sing his songs, and stay close to the friends you made because of him. The fact that you are so fucking sad right now is a beautiful thing, because it only shows how deeply loved Liam Payne really was.

[missnightshade]

❝ THREE OF SWORDS ❞

Agatha Harkness x Reader

Request? No no. But I promise I'll work on some requests soon.

Summary: Agatha is no stranger to pain and loss. Yet, somehow, even the thought of losing you is too much to bear.

Warnings: Hurt/comfort. Sickness. Mentions of death (not Rio this time). English not being my first language. Poor ending skills.

Word count: 1.1K.

The Three of Swords:

Grief, heartbreak, and sorrow.

Agatha Harkness was a totem of pain. Most wouldn’t know or believe it to be true. The Witches community could only measure her to their own rules and deception. She was a killer. A heartless, powerful and unruly woman, born to no good deeds.

But for a green eyed, younger witch, she was everything but a bad person.

You would always be reminded of a ghost memory of a smiling Nicholas, laughing in a field of dandelions as his mother chased him. Agatha was carefree then. Her previous Coven a memory left behind and her actions justified by the sweet smile little Nicky would give her.

Agatha never told the full deal with her son’s existence till he was gone while the other woman, still getting to know the Harkness witch, held her by Nicky's grave. It was now lost somewhere in the forests of Massachusetts, long gone and rusted, but his passing held a strong place in her heart still.

Centuries might pass, but it was certain that nothing would hurt her more than that. Not her mother’s hate. Not her trial by the people who she was raised with. Not the many people she lost along the way.

But one day, as you fell sick to the bed, something as strong as her son’s death came close to hurting her.

You laid there, the same green eyes tired as something twisted your health. As Agatha cared for you in the coziness of her newfound house in Westview, you grumbled as the whole contents of your stomach flooded from your mouth into the bucked Agatha held close to you. Her soup, your favorite, completely gone now.

“Doll..we should see a doctor. You haven’t left the bed for three days.” She argued, trying to fix your hair behind the left ear.

A laugh scaped you as your hands, damp and cold, grasped at her touch to make it last. Agatha’s fingers stayed there, slowly moving to touch your right cheek.

“I am a witch, love, much like you. Doctors will do me no good.”

She ruffled, but as her hands felt the hotness that irradiated from your skin, her eyes roamed over the pale face in front of her. Agatha’s thoughts were much like a fortress in the night. Hidden. Protected. But not for you. She felt at ease by your side after so many years. Trust was the one thing only you could give her. And then, as you saw her eyes glistening under the soft glow of the bedside lamp, her mind presented itself like an open book.

She feared for your health. The fever and weakness of your body reminded her so much of her last night with Nicholas. Nothing would hurt as much as it did…but losing you to the same fate as him was painful. A pain that not even with all her sorrows and heartbreaks, she was ready to go through again.

“Aggy…” You whispered and when your sweet tone scaped weekly, the bucket was left in the floor as she tried to scape your gaze so the tears rolling down her cheeks wouldn’t be seen. “Love, look at me.”

The weak request acted like knife to her fragile heart. Agatha was tough on the outside, but not at all on the inside. Her gaze softened as her eyes, glazed and red, found yours. You reached out even with your whole body begging for some rest, and without any complaints, she quickly found her place in the bed you shared. She needed comforting, but her body was the one to hold yours. Your lips found their way to her collarbone with sweet kisses untill you reached her face. You nuzzled her cheek, hand gently holding her face to bring her to face you in the comfort of the bubble you both shared. Agatha sniffled, softly tightening her hold to your as if to stop you from fading away. Understanding her needs, you pressed flushed to her, breathing deeply.

“I’m here, my love. And I am not going anywhere.” You reassured. Agatha opened her eyes, gazing at you from the few centimeters between you both.

“You’re so sick, Doll. It worries me that you…you will…”

“Go meet him?”

The way your words stung left her breathless. Agatha had a difficult time speaking up about Nicholas even since. But while she failed, you didn’t. It was important for her to still mention him. To treat him like he deserved: an important part of her that, although painful, was beautiful.

She nodded, and you simply smiled.

“If I was to meet him…know that he would be loved even there.” Her fearful eyes met yours again, but you continued. “But I am not to be dead now. I’m just simply ill. It shall pass. Like everything. Trust me on this one, baby. I’m going to be just fine.”

Agatha breathed out shakily, not noticing how much it affected her.

“I cannot lose you too.”

“You won’t. Ever.”

[ . . . ]

As the morning came, the energy shared between the two seemed to act like a love spell. The curing type rather than the bonding one. Stirring awake, the warmth of Agatha’s arms around your body was missing. You could wait and rest, but the ache and the dizziness were pretty much gone.

You raised, brushed your teeth even, and managed to find a messy haired Agatha quietly moving around the kitchen. She seemed busy with a tea in her hand and potion tools all over the place as something boiled in her ironed cauldron. As she looked up at your figure, her tea was almost spilled all over the countertop as she rushed to your side.

“Doll, what are you doing up?” she touched you, analyzing your whole state as you laughed softly.

“I felt better, so I came down for breakfast. “ You gathered her euphoric hands to kiss her knuckles. “But you…what are you doing?”

Agatha looked over her work station for a minute before going back to you.

“I had a crazy dream-memory about a potion that I used to make for Nicky so he could feel better. I thought it may work better for you.” Her voice trailed behind her thoughts. “You feel better?”

Softly, your hugged her neck with your arms gently bringing her closer.

“Yeah. Not a hundred percent, but much better.”

She breathed out, relived. But even so, she gently walked with you closer to one sip of the potion already ready for you.

“Still. Take this. Can’t have you feeling worse again.”

You rolled your eyes, but your heart fluttered.

“Only because I love you.”

As you chugged down the contents of the cup, Agatha observed you from her place at your side, fingers gently stroking your waist. Seeing the color back to your pretty features calmed her chaotic mind, and she was reminded once again how important you were to her. When the potion was done, she pulled you closer, kissing every bit of skin that you showed.

“I love you more, stubborn girl.”

You were going to get better. You wouldn't be her sorrow.

[cevansbrat0007]

The Do-Over

Summary: Everyone deserves a second chance, including jerks like Bounty Hunter, Ari Levinson. Takes place directly after the events in Hello, Duchess.

Warnings: Mature Themes, Ari Being A Menace, Bucky Barnes, A Deep Love of Clark Bars, Light Groveling, Bickering, Discussions of Grief, Threats of Violence, Gentle Manhandling, Brief References to Negative Body Image, Cursing, Minors DNI

A/N: Special thanks to my creative consultant, @curls-and-eyeliner. Part my Sweet Renegade Series. Semi-proofread, not beta'd. All mistakes are my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. Thanks for reading!

An annoyed Ari takes a pull from his cigarette as he listens to his friend and fellow combat vet give him shit all the way from his office back in New Mexico. As soon as this was over, he was going to ditch this empty parking lot to find himself an ice cold beer and a goddamned steak. 

He was officially ready to put this day behind him. But first he needed a decent dinner.

“So let me see if I’ve got this right.” His friend begins, now that he’d finally stopped cursing up a blue streak. “Do you really mean to tell me that you took our best lead, which just so happened to be the perp’s girlfriend, and fucked it all to hell?”  

Okay, but just because that’s what happened doesn't necessarily mean that it was actually his fault. He’d just been a little off his game.

“Hey Buck, don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re beginning to sound as dramatic as Rogers.”

“Steve would never fuck-up something this big for us.” He could practically hear the man flipping him off.

“I’m telling you this girl would’ve cut off Golden Boy’s balls and fed them to him for breakfast, okay?” He takes another puff, flicking some of the excess ash out his driver-side window. “Trust me.”

“Hold on.” An exasperated Bucky sighs into the receiver before placing the phone on his desk to speak to whoever had just walked into his office. He hoped whoever it was had better news than he did, otherwise he feared his old war buddy might have an aneurysm.

Sometimes he got the impression that Sergeant James “Bucky” Barnes was wound a little too tight.    

The silence drags on as Ari contemplates getting out of his car to stretch his legs. It’s another several minutes before Bucky is back on the line, and this time he sounds positively exhausted.

“We can’t afford to lose this one, man. Westbrook might be a piece of shit, but he’s an expensive piece of shit. So while I don’t care how you feel about the girl, you need to make things right. She could have some valuable intel.”

“Yeah, I know.” His mood darkens as he flicks the cigarette onto the pavement. As he watches it hit the ground, he finds himself wondering if it was finally time to quit the cancer sticks altogether. It’s not like he hadn’t thought about it before.

“Besides, what do you care if she was Westbrook’s fuck buddy?” Ari’s treated to the sound of his friend unwrapping something that sounded suspiciously like a candy bar. There was only one person who was known to keep that stuff at the office.

Which meant that shit had better not come from his personal stash, otherwise Bucky Barnes was a fucking dead man.

“I don’t.” Ari growls, sucking on his teeth. “And that had better not be a Clark Bar you’re eatin'.”

“Hate to break it to ya, pal. But based on what you told me earlier, it kinda sounds like you might.” There’s an unmistakable sound of a grin in his voice, which irks the bounty hunter to no end. 

“And I think it’s finally time you got your hearing checked, old man.” He growls back, although his words lack any real fire. 

“As for your precious Clark Bars,” he continues. “See, normally I’d pass on ‘em. But Pixie’s been on a health kick lately and she threw out all the junk food. So, I’m desperate.” Bucky gives an exaggerated groan. “Plus, she has no idea about your stash.” 

“Jesus.” Ari grumbles, firing up his engine with the intent to head back to the house he was currently renting. “I really wish you two would just suck face already and get it over with.”

“Mind your fucking business, Levinson.”

“Then keep your filthy hands off my fuckin’ Clark Bars, Barnes.” There’s a heavy sigh on the other line, prompting Ari to roll his eyes. All he wanted was for this conversation to fucking end.

“Look.” Bucky grunts. “You bring down this Westbrook fucker and I’ll buy you a goddamned case of those stupid bars. Alright?”

“You got yourself a deal.” Turning on his truck, Ari slowly heads for the exit as his stomach begins to rumble. Maybe he’d track down some shrimp to go with that steak.

“And fix whatever it is you fucked up with that bookstore broad while you’re at it.” 

“I’ll do my best.” He grimaces as his mind treats him to images of you threatening him with your taser. “But if that little spitfire puts me in the hospital you’re footin’ the bill.” And with that, Ari hangs up the phone.

As of now, he was officially done for the night.

A Few Days Later…

You’re sitting on the floor of your stockroom when you hear the tinkling of bells signaling the arrival of a customer. Groaning as you rise to your feet, you wipe your palms on the fabric of your pants and head to the front of the store. 

Business had been unusually slow today, so hopefully this patron - whoever they were - would be in the mood to buy something. As you were driving in this morning, you’d briefly considered holding another sale. Maybe it was time for another book fair. That seemed to be pretty popular the last time you’d done it. 

You’re in the middle of making a mental note to reach out to the local librarian when your eyes land on the absolute last person you wanted to see standing in your lobby: Ari Levinson. 

Not this guy again. 

“Yeah, it’s me.” He says, offering up an unapologetic shrug as he takes in the sight of you in your form-fitting yoga pants. 

Apparently you’d spoken out loud. Perhaps if you kept doing it, the man would eventually get offended enough to leave. Wishful thinking at its finest.

When the intruder realizes you don’t plan on speaking again, he decides to take advantage of the silence by doing something completely unexpected. 

“I just dropped by to, uh…” He takes a deep breath, rocking back on his heels. “Apologize for how our last meeting went. While it wasn’t my intention to insult you, I know that I did.” One big hand comes up to massage the back of his neck. “Just wanted to offer that, for whatever it’s worth.”

“Oh. Wow.” You reply dumbly, crossing your arms over your chest. For whatever reason, you got the distinct impression that he didn’t make apologies often. 

“You’re right, sweetheart. I don’t.” His lips turn up in an awkward grin as he takes a step toward you. “But a real man knows how to own up to his shit, which is exactly what I’m doin right now.”

“Okay.” 

Mouth suddenly dry, you go to take a step back, only to find that your legs no longer work. Next thing you know, Ari is in your space, his boot clad feet are now mere centimeters from your well-loved sneakers as he towers over you. 

He holds out his hand as a gesture of goodwill, silently imploring you to take it. Your eyes lock with his as yours moves on its own accord – almost as if you’d been entranced. 

Your hand feels so small and delicate in his grasp. And for a second, you wonder what it might be like to lace your fingers together. How it would feel to hold onto him so intimately for just a few seconds longer. You sneak a glance up at Ari, only to watch as his pupils dilate, his nostrils flaring just slightly. It’s enough to let you know that you’re not the only one affected.

“You think we might be able to try this again?” His deep baritone washes over you like a balm. “You have my word I’ll do a much better job of, uh, keeping myself in check.” 

Yanking your hand away, all you can do is nod. Part of you almost wished the man would go back to acting like an asshole. At least then you would know how to handle him. This so-called charming and apologetic Ari was a different beast entirely.

“I–” You swallow thickly. “Yes, that’s fine.”

“Thank you for your kindness.” His easy smile has the nerve to do funny things to the butterflies in your belly. “And while I would hate to do anything that might spoil this good will, I would like to ask you a couple of questions right now.”  

Instantly suspicious, you open your mouth to deliver a curt “no”. However, having already anticipated this, Ari is quick to amend his request by promising not to be too invasive. He also insists that he’ll follow your lead. 

“If at any moment you want to stop, we’ll stop. You have my word on that too, darlin’.” He surveys the room, absentmindedly scratching at his jaw. “You good with me ensuring we have a little privacy?” Again you nod, wanting to get this over with as quickly as possible. 

Because at this point, it just didn’t make sense to kick the man out. Especially not when he seemed to be taking great pains to be respectful. You could only hope that he’d appreciate your cooperation enough to go bother someone else when you were through. 

Maybe it might be worth leading him back towards someone who’d actually appreciate his attention. Someone like your would-be frenemy, Charline Marshall. 

Seemingly encouraged by your response, the invasive bounty hunter hustles towards the door so that he could flip your sign from open to closed. And, unbeknownst to him, it also gives you a chance to begrudgingly appreciate just how good his ass looks in his Levi’s. 

Alright. So maybe you’d hold off on feeding Ari Levinson to Charline and her disciples – at least for right now.

“You know.” You cough, needing to give yourself a moment to recalibrate before you said or did something dumb. “I actually just remembered that I needed to fix a couple of things around the shop during my lunch break.”

An unruffled Ari simply smiles and winks back at you. “Thought you said you believed in your ability to multitask?”

You resist the urge to stick your tongue out at the smug bastard. Because he was right. You absolutely had said that. And then he’d had the gall to fucking listen. 

“Fine.” Shooting him a glare, you head over to the counter and toe-off your shoes. 

“Appreciate it, darlin’.” 

Just like last time, out comes his pen and tiny notebook. He flips it open to a new page before giving you his full attention. Meanwhile, you’re now hellbent on acting like he doesn’t exist. 

“How long have you owned your shop, Baubles & Quills?” 

If you were to look in his eyes at that moment, you would’ve seen them shining with genuine inquisitiveness. Almost as if he actually wanted to get to know you. 

“A few years.” You reply, bracing your hands on the flat surface of the desk. “I spent a large part of my childhood here, buried amongst books. My uncle left it to me when he passed. But I’m sure you already knew that.” 

Taking a deep breath, you send up a silent prayer to the Lord asking him not to let you fall before hefting yourself onto the counter with all the grace you can muster.  

“Maybe.” Ari concedes while jotting something down on his notepad. “But it’s different coming from – just what the hell are you doin’ woman?!”

“Checking out this light fixture.” You huff as you work to steady yourself.

“Any reason you couldn’t do that from the ground?” The bounty hunter surprises you by sounding more than a little stressed.

Confused by his response, you manage to spare a quick glance in his direction. Although your unlikely companion looks less than happy, you fail to fully grasp the nature of the problem. 

“Because I couldn’t quite tell if this whole panel was out, or just the one little section.” 

“Alright, well…” He drags an agitated hand through his already messy brown locks. “Now that you’ve seen it, how about you come on down from there?”

“Oh my goodness, Levinson.” An exasperated chuckle bubbles its way from your throat. “It’s just the counter. Save the freakout for when you find me on the flippin’ roof or something.” 

“You’re standin’ on the damned thing wearin’ nothing but socks. It’s like you’re askin’ to fall.”

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic.”

“How the hell is my expressin’ concern about your safety bein’ dramatic?” 

“Next question, buddy.” You have to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing at the affronted look on the bounty hunter’s gorgeous face.

Ari forces himself to take a breath before attempting to return back to the task at hand. “I have it here that your Uncle is the late Lenny Barstowe. He was, by all accounts, an upstanding pillar of this community.”

“He was.” You agree, bending down to grab the duster resting near your feet. 

“You say he was your uncle, and yet you two don’t share the same last name.” He frowns when he notices your slight wobble. 

And for the tenth time in almost as many minutes he finds himself wondering why the fuck you didn’t hire someone to take care of shit like this for you? Hell, give him a ladder and a free afternoon and he’d handle things himself.      

“Wow. Nothing gets past you.” You sniff, trying to fight back a sneeze as dust goes flying. “They teach you those observation skills in private detective school?”

“Sure did.” Ari snorts without missing a beat, tucking the pen behind his ear. “First thing on the syllabus, in fact.”    

“Thought so.” 

“So glad we cleared that up.”

You can’t stop the small thrill that courses through you when you notice the newfound tick in his jaw. If you weren’t careful, you could find yourself growing addicted to that little zing in your blood. To that tiny spike in your pulse you felt every time you two sparred.  

“But if we could go back to your uncle, I’m sure losing him had to be hard – what with him being your only family.” He takes a turn fanning himself with his notebook. ”Was your friend, Martin, there for you during that difficult time?” 

That particular question actually makes you pause and reflect. You’d been so lost in grief back then, which is part of the reason it had taken you so long to claw your way out of that dark hole. And, if memory served, you’d done that majority of that clawing on your own.

“I’m sure he was around, Mr. Levinson.” Your answer sounds cagey, even to your own ears. “But I pretty much wore my grief like a sweater back then. And if I’m being honest, those first few months after losing him were nothing but a miserable haze.”    

“I know the feeling.” He murmurs as he scribbles on the page. 

“Look.” You blow out a breath as you attempt to gauge the distance between the desk and the ground. As of this moment, you officially regretted not grabbing your step stool. “I don’t know where Martin is or who he’s running from. All I know is that he was scared, but he refused to tell me anything more, okay?”

“Did he ask you for money?”

“Yes.” 

He’d also called you too. And while you choose to keep that little detail to yourself, you figure there was no harm in telling him about the money. At the time you’d had no idea you were potentially aiding and abetting a criminal. Or maybe you just hadn’t wanted to believe it.

“And did you give it to him?” The intense look in his beautiful blue eyes has you suddenly feeling foolish.  

“Yes.” 

It’s that one word, spoken barely above a whisper, that leaves Ari shaking his head. His gaze drops to the ground as he works to rein-in his temper. You have no idea what a struggle it is for him to do so – because he’s not upset with you. 

If anything, you’d just given him one more reason to run that slippery motherfucker into the goddamned ground. 

“How much did he get you for?” Even though Ari has calmed himself considerably, his tone still comes off harsher than he intends. 

“Almost $500.” You tell him, your face hot with embarrassment. “I suppose I should’ve asked more questions. You probably think I’m an idiot for –”

“It’s okay, darlin’.” He swiftly interjects, not wanting you to get upset. “You’re doin’ so great bein’ honest with me right now.” Unsure of what else to do, he tosses his notebook aside in favor of reaching for your hand. “I know this shit ain’t easy.”  

“I think I’m done for now.” You tell him, doing your best to avoid looking at your now joined hands. God, he really needed to stop doing that. “Please.”

“Okay.” He readily agrees as his thumb strokes along the ridge of your knuckles. “Then we’re done.” You watch his Adam’s apple bob up and down as he swallows. “Are you gonna let me help you down off the counter before you kick me out?”

“It’s okay. Don’t want you to hurt yourself.” You mumble as you busy yourself with trying to figure out the easiest way to sit and scootch your way out of your current situation.

The last thing you needed was this man accidentally throwing out his back over some misplaced chivalry. 

To his credit, Ari decides to ignore your feeble protests. “C’mon and let me help you.” He repeats, gesturing for you to step towards the edge of the counter so that he can grab you by the waist. “And then I’ll be on my way.”

“Really, I’m fine.” You attempt to swat at his hands, which doesn’t actually work.

“C’mon, darlin’.” He assures you gently. “Just trust me.” The next thing you know, you’re suddenly being lifted into the air. “I got you.”

“Ack – I’m too heavy!” You squeal, immediately caught off guard by the way your legs briefly dangle in the air. Try as you might, you honestly could not remember the last time a man had picked you up. 

Your heart speeds up as he effortlessly sets you down on your feet, allowing your body to slide down the solid wall of his chest. Instinctively, your hands fly to his biceps in an effort to steady yourself. 

“Thank you.” You’re suddenly having a hard time breathing around this man. “But you really shouldn’t have done that. You could’ve hurt –”

“Sweetheart, you ain’t nothin’ but a feather.” Ari rumbles, his hands still resting firmly on your hips. 

“Somehow I doubt that.” You whisper, knowing that you should demand that he let you go. Except your body is too busy buzzing to actually cooperate. 

“Happy to prove you wrong any time.” While you suspect that he hadn’t really meant to say that, his smile is full of promise. “But right now, I’m afraid I’ve gotta head out.” Although it still takes another second for him to release you. 

Not that you’re complaining any. Which deep down you know could spell trouble for you. 

Before he leaves, however, Ari reaches into the front pocket of his jeans to hand you what looks a lot like a business card. “What’s this?” You mentally smack yourself in the forehead the moment the question leaves your mouth. 

“My card.” He responds as he now heads toward the door. “That’s my cell, just in case you need it.”

“Oh.”

“Call any time, day or night.” Ari’s gruff, no-nonsense tone goes straight to your core. “You remember somethin’ about Martin? Call me. You lookin’ for someone to stand guard while you lock up at night? Call me. You need to hear a friendly voice in the dark? Fucking call me.” 

His offer takes you by surprise. So much so, that you’re temporarily rendered speechless as you clutch the stiff piece of paper in your palm. While you weren’t sure if you’d ever take him up on his offer, you could certainly appreciate his generosity. 

“Thank you.” You rasp, your teeth going to nibble at your bottom lip.

“Any time, Duchess.” His head dips politely as he exits through the front door. “I’m sure I’ll see you around.”

And just like that he was gone, which meant you could finally breathe normally again. Strange butterflies once again fill your belly as you take your time examining the card your bounty hunter had left behind. While you weren’t sure if you’d ever call him, you decide it’s worth tucking into a zippered pocket in your purse before getting on with the rest of your day. 

Little did you know that you would come to need that tiny piece of paper sooner rather than later…  

END

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[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

Words: 3,844 Pairing: Negan x Reader Reader pronouns: she/her Era: Alexandria, after the war, Negan is imprisoned Warnings: language, mild gore (killing walkers) Summary: In lieu of Negan's failing mental health, Michonne looks for options and Y/N steps up to do her share. A/N: This is part 1 of a miniseries (maybe 3?? parts) for Negan that I've been working on! I started it as a one shot, but... you know me lol so here we are! Part 2 will be released next week on Wicked Wednesday! Happy reading! “I’m afraid we’ve got a problem,” Michonne said seriously. You exchanged a glance with Daryl.

“What kind of problem? Like, Annoying Steve is being annoying or a new horror is coming to destroy everything we have and love?” you asked wryly.

Daryl let out an appreciative dry laugh but Michonne remained serious. “Somewhere in the middle, I think,” she said. “It’s about Negan.”

Daryl swore and paced a tight circle. “Course it is. Somehow, it’s still always ‘bout him, ain’t it?” he growled.

Michonne forged ahead. “Gabriel is—fed up with him. There’s no other way to say it. He’s not trying to do anymore counseling and he needs a break. I don’t blame him. He’s taken on everything with Negan since—since Rick—”

You frowned, your brow furrowing as grief roared upwards in all of you. “What exactly is the problem?”

“His mental state is really deteriorating,” Michonne explained. “Being in there by himself all the time, just the odd hour or two outside, no one talking to him—”

“Why should we give a shit?” Daryl asked in a low, dangerous voice. “Ain’t the whole damn point of him bein’ in there so he has to suffer for what he did for the rest of his life? His mental state… Fuck. They fed me one fuckin’ dog food sandwich a day after they shoved me into a fucking closet naked. They —”

You reached over and put your hand on Daryl’s arm before he got further charged up. He stopped abruptly and drew in a long breath.

“I know. I know what he did, but no,” Michonne said. “The point isn’t for him to just suffer. If we do that, we become no better than him.”

Daryl glanced at you and let out an exasperated exhale. “Hell, ya already know what I think about it,” Daryl said firmly. “He shouldn’t even be breathin’ still. ‘M the wrong damn person to ask ‘bout this.”

Michonne sighed and leaned forward on her hands. “I’m just trying to honor Carl and—”

“We know,” you interrupted her quickly. You paused thoughtfully. “I—I can take this on. I’ve dealt with him the least so far out of the three of us. Probably makes it my turn.”

Daryl’s brow furrowed. “What’re ya gonna do? Rub his back while he cries? Hold his fuckin’ hand? I mean, how do we help somebody like him.”

Michonne shrugged. “A little more conversation to start, I think. He said being alone and the boredom is eating him alive. Maybe we come up with some more things for him to do outside the cell.”

You nodded. “I’ll brainstorm,” you said.

Daryl looked concerned, his eyes flickering over you. “Yer gonna have to be careful. He’s a manipulative asshole. And I dun trust a damn thing ‘bout him. If he can get out, he will. Don’t matter what he’d have to do.”

“I’ll be careful. I’m not an amateur, Daryl,” you said, shooting him a smile.

He nodded, ducking his head. “I know. I just gotta say it.”

“Are you sure?” Michonne asked. “It doesn’t have to be one of us. I can talk to some other people.”

“I’ve got it. I’ll start today. I’ll take him his meals and check on him, make sure he gets some time outside the cell. I’ll take care of it.”

_ _ _ _ _ _

Flat on his back, Negan heard the door open and shut but he barely moved. His eyes stayed closed and he heaved a heavy sigh, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose in some anticipation of annoyance. “Gabey-baby, I am not in the fucking mood for your guidance counselor horseshit today, so why don’t you just turn that tight little toosh around, waltz back out, and leave me the fuck alone…” he said.

“Wow. That was—gross…” you said.

Now, his eyes opened. This was something different. You were different. He swung his legs down and sat on the edge of his cot, his hazel eyes finding you and looking you over. “God Bless America, a change in the fucking monotony,” he said. “Is Gabe still mad at me?”

You approached his cell, tray in hand and nodded. “Yep. In fact, so pissed that he’s officially on vacation from you.”

“Gotta envy that,” Negan quipped. “How do I sign up for one of those?”

“A vacation from yourself?” you asked, cocking an eyebrow at him. “I don’t think that’s in the cards.”

“Damn. It was worth asking.” He seemed to be looking you over again and you rolled your eyes.

“My eyes are up here, Negan,” you joked.

His lips curled into a half-smile. “Sorry. But Gabe isn’t exactly my type and I don’t get much chance to look at anything so—”

“Just stop right there, okay?” you interrupted him. You slid his tray through the slot at the bottom of the door and straightened back up.

But Negan wasn’t interested in his breakfast. “It’s Y/N, isn’t it?” he asked.

“You know perfectly well what my name is, Negan,” you countered.

He cocked his head slightly. “You’re right about that,” he admitted. “So, what’s on the agenda?” he asked, finally moving to grab his tray. He returned to his cot and set it on the small side table.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, Gabe was always counseling me. Trying to rehabilitate me. Were you a therapist or something in the old world?” He grabbed the small apple and shined it on his shirt before taking a bite.

“No. But we’re perfectly aware that your mental health has taken a nosedive recently,” you said.

Negan let out a low laugh. “And you give a shit?” he asked skeptically. “I nearly fucking destroyed all of you and you’re worried about my mental health?”

You sighed and nodded once, stiffly. “We’re not the same as you, Negan. We’re trying to do better. And Michonne wants to honor Carl’s vision.” You watched as Negan’s face fell. The look in his eyes grew distant and his shoulders slumped slightly.

“Yeah… He was a helluva kid,” Negan said.

“You don’t know the half of it,” you replied, taking a seat in the stiff wooden chair set outside his cell. “I watched him grow up from a scared little kid and survive everything this world threw his way. You have no idea what kind of loss that was.”

Negan was looking at you thoughtfully and you were surprised when he didn’t reply, only nodded, and then returned to his apple.

“The agenda is for me to—” you hesitated for a moment. What the hell was the agenda? “For me to help you how I can. I know you’re alone a lot and you probably need some company, a change of scenery every now and then, mental stimulation…”

Negan laughed and smirked. “That’s not the only kind of stimulation I need,” he said.

You glared at him. “Jesus, Negan…” you murmured, rolling your eyes.

“It’s the truth,” he laughed.

“Yeah, well, I’m not helping you with that. I guess you’ll just have to try your hardest to think back to one of your past six wives,” you sassed.

The grin stayed on his face. “Five,” he corrected you. Then, the smile faded. “But, uh, only the first really counted.” Negan’s head dropped and you watched him curiously.

He was struggling. You’d never sensed so much truth or vulnerability in a single thing that had left his lips.

“I see,” you said.

For some reason, this made him laugh again. “You know, Gabe used to say that all the time. It’s some of that non-value, non-judgement counselor language.”

You stood up suddenly and sighed. “Finish your breakfast. I’m gonna go do a few things and then I’ll be back. We’re gonna get you out of that cell for a while today.” You fixed a stern and perceptive look on him. “If you think you can behave.”

Negan looked curious. “For you? I might.”

You cocked your head at him and looked unamused. “You will, or I’ll fucking kill you.”

Negan laughed again and turned back to his food. “Got it.”

_ _ _ _ _ _

“Why don’t I come with ya?” Daryl asked, watching as you slipped the pistol into your holster.

You looked up at him with a furrowed brow. “You think I can’t handle this?” you asked.

“Not that ya can’t handle it. It’s just—it’s Negan. We all know what he’s fuckin’ capable of,” Daryl said, walking behind you out the front door and across the steps.

“You’re conflating past Negan with Negan now. I just talked to him, and I’m telling you—it’s like he’s been robbed of all his menace and power. He’s been sitting in that cell a long time, Daryl. I don’t think he’s the same and I don’t think he’s going to—to suddenly hit me over the head with a rock or something,” you said.

“But outside the walls? Already? Why dun ya just—just start with somethin’ in here first and see how it goes? That way there are other people around and I can stop by when I can and check in.”

You read the intense concern on Daryl’s face and then nodded. “Alright. We’ll stay in the walls today. But I think part of the problem with him is that he hasn’t seen a single different thing outside in too long. He’s going a little stir crazy in there and I can’t entirely blame him.”

“Yeah, well, he fuckin’ deserves it,” Daryl growled.

“He does. But Michonne is right… we should be trying to be better. Otherwise, we should have just killed him.” You paused, trying to come up with something for him to do that would give him a little exercise and change of pace. “I’ll have him help me clear out that area for the new garden plots. There are some plants to harvest over there anyway before we clear it. It’ll teach him something too.`”

Daryl nodded. “ ‘Kay. I’ll stop by and check in,” he drawled. “Just be careful. Dun let yer guard down.”

“You know I never do.” You turned and headed back toward Negan’s cell.

Negan rose from his seat on his cot, the tray from breakfast sitting empty beside him on the small side table. He watched as you withdrew a ring of keys from your back pocket and fiddled with them a moment as you stood in front of the cell door, eyeing the lock. Was this a good idea?

Negan took a few cautious steps toward you, watching your face intensely. “Am I… getting out on good behavior, warden?” he quipped, flashing you a half-smile. It seemed to draw you back out from your reverie.

“Temporarily,” you replied, finally fitting the key into the lock and turning it. The metallic clunk was striking. “If you can handle it…” you added.

The pistol on your hip wasn’t lost on Negan. He nodded. “I think so,” he said. “What’re we doing? Hard labor?”

“Not so hard,” you said. “But I would appreciate your help with something.”

Negan froze just after stepping out of the cell and fixed a queer look on you. “Appreciate?” he repeated.

You nodded. “Mhm…”

His eyebrows lifted. “You better be careful with the way you’re talkin’ to me, Y/N. I might just fall in love with you,” he chuckled. “I haven’t felt appreciated in… oh, I don’t know—how long have I been in here?” he asked, brushing a hand back through his hair.

“Didn’t Gabriel speak nicely to you?” you asked, shutting the cell door behind him, giving him a questioning glance.

“Well, sure. Or maybe not nicely. He was at least neutral,” Negan said, slipping his hands into his pockets. “I think I ruined that though.”

You shook your head and sighed. “Yeah, he’s not pleased with you, Negan,” you agreed. “Look, this is just a test run. We’re staying in Alexandria today, but eventually… I’d like to get you outside of the walls on occasion.” Negan looked shocked. “Obviously, that’s going to take trust,” you emphasized. “But I think it would do you good.” You hesitated, wondering if you should admit this to him, but you decided it would be good for him to hear it. “You’re not the same as you were when you were locked in here. And—I intend on finding out if you can really be rehabilitated. Not that I’m ever going to forget what you’ve done… but there’s got to be more than this,” you said, gesturing to the cell behind him, “in your future. Otherwise, what’s the point?”

“You’ve just explained exactly what has me so depressed,” Negan admitted. “I’ve spent most of the last however many fucking years wishing Rick had just killed me.”

Those words hung in the air like a toxic cloud. You gulped and couldn’t help feeling an ache of compassion at his words. Compassion for Negan. What a peculiar thought… You tilted your head toward the door. “Come on. Follow me and stay close. And let me be perfectly clear; I will shoot you if you try to pull any bullshit,” you emphasized.

He nodded, his expression surprisingly serious. “Got it.”

You led him out into the summer sunshine and walked through Alexandria until you reached the overgrown section near the wall that you planned to tackle for the day. The two of you had gotten plenty of stares as you moved down the street, but you noticed that Negan had mostly kept his head down. His shoulders were somewhat slumped and he made no witty comments on the walk, though you caught him closing his eyes to enjoy the breeze or staring up at the blue expanse of sky overhead multiple times.

He stopped beside you, his hands in his pockets, as you stared at the tall grass and brambles ahead and sighed.

“What’re we doin’, boss?” he asked.

“We’re going to start clearing this area out so eventually we can put in some new garden plots. But there’s a little more to it. We used to have some medicinal plants in here before it got overgrown. I’m hoping to find them and save them for transplanting, so we can’t just start ripping everything out.”

“How the hell am I supposed to know what’s medicinal and what’s not?” he asked.

“I’m gonna teach you,” you said confidently.

Negan laughed a little at the assertion. “Look, doll… I was a gym teacher in the old world. ‘Not Dr. Quinn, Medicine Woman,’” he said.

Your eyebrows lifted. “Wow. That was a deep bench reference,” you said.

He smirked at you. “I was pretty proud of it myself,” he said.

You couldn’t help a dry laugh and small shake of your head. “It’s not that hard. We’ll work together to start and I’ll show you how to identify them. The grasses can all be pulled, but we’ll identify the broadleaf plants and get them ready for transplanting if they’re something we can use.”

Negan looked skeptical but shrugged. “Well, you’re the boss. Not like I’ve got a full schedule,” he said.

“Exactly,” you agreed. There was a reason you weren’t just having him pull all the grass and doing the rest yourself. Negan was smart and not having any mental stimulation was probably contributing a lot to his mental health issues. If you gave him a task that was a little physical and a little mental, you were hoping it’d give him a sense of purpose and productivity.

You got started right away, mainly just pulling the grasses and clearing a large area that remained dotted with forbs. It was summer and the respiration of the plants you were sitting in made the air humid. It wasn’t long before you were wiping at sweat along your hairline and stopping to push wet strands back out of your face. For a while, you worked in silence beside Negan, only speaking to instruct him, but he finally tried to start some conversation on his own.

“So, what the hell did you do in the old world anyway? Were you some kind of plant guru?” he asked, pausing to pull off his gloves for a moment and get a drink from the canteen you’d provided for him.

You paused, standing up to look down at him where he knelt in the grass. He was sweaty too, like you were, and his dark blue shirt was clinging to his back in the heat. “I don’t think I owe you my backstory, Negan,” you said. Your tone wasn’t unkind, but it was a little stern.

“Aw, come on. This is part of that trust-building thing you mentioned earlier,” he said, taking another drink. “I’m just trying to figure you out a little bit,” he said.

You crossed your arms and surveyed him. “So, you can better manipulate me when it’s beneficial to you?” you asked.

“What? No,” he said with surprise, and you almost believed him. “I mean—I currently have no concrete plans to manipulate you…” he admitted, a small bit of jest in his voice. “I’m bored all the time in that fuckin’ cell. I could sure use the conversation. Isn’t that what this is about? My ‘mental health’,” he quoted, shooting an expectant look at you.

You sighed. “What do you wanna know?”

Negan licked his lips and then smiled, thinking about what he wanted to ask, but before he could say a word, bootsteps behind the two of you caused you both to look over to see Daryl standing there.

You went to greet him, pulling off your gloves.

“How’s it goin’?” he asked in an undertone, glancing past you to shoot a glare at Negan.

You shrugged. “Fine. It’s been completely fine so far.”

Daryl nodded, but still looked suspicious. “He ain’t tried anythin’?”

You shook your head, dusting the soil from your gloves. “Nope. We’re just working.”

Daryl nodded, still clearly apprehensive. “Well, s’almost noon. Get him back to his cell by 1 and I’ll bring his meal down,” he drawled.

“I can take care of that,” you offered.

“S’fine. I wanna have a word with him anyway.” He put his hand on your shoulder and gave it a friendly squeeze, giving you a small smile. “Yer doin’ enough for him. Be careful.”

“Okay,” you agreed, nodding. “See you later.”

When you turned around, you noticed Negan had been watching the interaction carefully. There was a thoughtful look on his face, but when you simply returned and got back to work, he joined you again in silence. You continued on for another hour or so, managing to clear quite a wide area by the time you needed to get Negan back to his cell for a late lunch. You walked beside him, both of you now dirty and plenty sweaty, and your hand strayed to the handle of your pistol again absently.

Negan noticed and broke the silence that had stretched for what felt like a long time. “You’re a fuckin’ great shot with that thing,” he said, nodding toward the gun.

“What?” you asked, turning to look at him, puzzled.

“I said, ‘you’re a great shot’,” he repeated. You still looked confused. “I noticed… during the war,” he said. “I mean—I noticed you but also your aim.” You stared at him, your brow furrowed. “You almost blew Simon’s fuckin’ head off,” he said with a laugh. “If he hadn’t flinched at the last second…” Negan let out a low whistle.

“How’d you know that was me?” you asked.

He shrugged. “Like I said, I noticed you.”

You looked… unsettled? Uneasy? Negan couldn’t quite define it, but there was some sort of tension in the air as you walked him back the rest of the way and finally locked him inside his cell again.

He gripped onto the bars and watched you turn away before he managed to get your name out. You turned toward him again, the high arch of your brow inquiring. “Thanks,” he said. “For today. It was the best fuckin’ day I’ve had in a while,” he admitted.

You gave him a baffled look. “I made you work outside in the sun all morning,” you laughed.

“Yeah… but I wasn’t alone. And I’ve had waaaaay worse company. Just—even if you decide you can’t do more than today, I want you to know that it mattered to me. Thanks.”

That look was on your face again, some mix of surprise and bewilderment. Finally, you sighed. “Daryl’s gonna bring you lunch. I’ll see you later, okay, Negan?”

He nodded, still gripping onto the cold, iron bars of his cell, and watched you walk out.

A short time later, Negan had washed his hands and splashed cool water from his basin over his face, dabbing at it with his small scratchy towel, when he heard the door open again. He looked up to see Daryl coming in with a tray of food and a scowl. He set it down by the slot at the bottom of the cell door and pushed it roughly through with the toe of his boot, almost spilling the water cup. Daryl’s expression didn’t change. It was stony and guarded.

Negan eyed him and then wandered over to grab the tray. He did feel hungry for once, something that had been rare for quite some time. When he straightened up, Daryl’s blue eyes were narrow and stinging.

Negan grabbed the apple off his tray and took a big bite. It was sweet and crunchy, satisfying and refreshing after being in the sun all morning. “Something on your mind, Daryl?” Negan asked, a faint smile on his lips.

Daryl stepped closer, right up to the bars. “Yeah. One thing. If ya fuck up, if ya try to hurt Y/N, if ya pull anythin’ I dun like, I don’t give a shit what Michonne or anybody else is tryin’ to do—I don’t give a shit about your rehab, I’ll put ya in the fuckin’ ground. Got it?”

That smile was still on Negan’s face, annoying the shit out of Daryl.

“I mean it, Negan. Ya hear me?”

“Loud and clear,” he said, taking another bite.

“Good,” he growled, and the archer left.

[mingisongs]

𓇢𓆸 solace in us

ateez! song mingi x reader ᡣ𐭩

summary; your boyfriend comforts you thru health concerns and fertility issues

pairing; song mingi x afab!reader

word count; 2.2k

tags; comfort, fluff, grief

trigger warnings; infertility, reproductive illness !!

notes; personal to me — ♡

ᡣ𐭩

my dream had always been to be a mother.

and after meeting mingi, that desire grew into an aching need. the thought of us blossoming into such a testament of our love as that filled me with not only joy for my own dream, but euphoria at the thought of getting to be the person who makes him a father. he was young, i was young, but i had never met anyone with as much love to give as he did, and i felt in my heart that he could and would be the best parent.

he was aware that i was no longer on any form of contraceptive, and while we weren’t purposefully trying to conceive, we weren’t actively trying to prevent it. it wasn’t really a thought for either of us, and the way we were intimate was never careless nor with the sole intent to get pregnant. but we both shared the idea that we wanted a family together in the future, and my greatest hope was that i would be able to surprise him with the news that he was going to be a father.

i sat beside him on my couch, my chin resting against my knees as my thighs were brought up to my chest. he was sleepily watching the movie we’d put on an hour prior, but my drowsy eyes could only focus on him. he was unaware of my staring at him, and i giggled quietly, causing his attention to turn to me.

“what?” he asked, blissfully ignorant to the fact that i hadn’t been paying a bit of attention to the TV. his bare, clear skin without makeup adorning his eyelids, playful concern spreading across his face as i struggled to answer. i shook my head, unsure of why the bliss i felt was causing me to laugh.

“i just love you,” i said softly.

his bashfulness caused the soft pink of his cheeks to darken, while i knew he wasn’t shy about his affection, but just flustered when i professed my adoration for him unprompted. he reached out, pulling me against him, and i snuggled closer into his chest. his scent was so comforting, welcoming, him. i hated the way that his presence made me sleepy from how safe i felt, because i wanted nothing more than to stay awake 24/7 showering him with kisses and praise.

he pressed a kiss to the top of my head. “i love you more than anything.” another kiss, his lips against my hair longer this time. “anything.”

we fell asleep on the couch that night.

•

the next day, i was sat on the bathroom floor. i was struggling to keep quiet, but devastation was debilitating me, and stifling my sobs was becoming more and more difficult by the second. mingi was still here at my apartment, but he was in the other room, and in his usual fashion i knew he was waiting patiently impatient for me to return.

it was the fourth time my late period came with not one, but two negative pregnancy tests, and the knowledge i had of my cycle had made it almost impossible for the timing to have been wrong. i wrapped the plastic tests in toilet paper and shoved them down into the trash can, and stood up to wipe my eyes. splashing my face with cold water, wiping my nose, trying to convince myself it was okay, nothing helped. every time i felt a sliver of peace, it was broken with the reality of the circumstances. it took forever to catch my breath and gain the courage to return to mingi’s side.

when i opened the bathroom door, however, he was standing directly behind it, staring at me with a worry and fear i had never seen in his eyes before.

“what’s wrong?” he asked. “you were crying?”

i felt paralyzed, my blood frozen cold in my veins. we were both too nervous to speak.

he finally reached out, taking my hand in his. “please, please tell me.”

i didn’t want to speak, it felt as though i couldn’t. “i… i’m sorry for worrying you —”

he reached up to wipe a tear from under my eye. “talk to me. that’s what i’m here for.”

“my… my period was late,” i stuttered out. “but i took two tests and they were negative.” my voice broke at the end of my sentence. i hated that i felt so broken up over this. his love and his presence was more than enough, my happiness wasn’t reliant on being a mother.

“oh,” he pulled me into him, breathing out a sigh of relief and sadness. “baby, it’s okay.”

“no, it’s not,” i sniffed. “i feel so broken.”

“you’re not broken.” he rubbed my back and he squeezed me tighter. “you are so perfect.”

i cried into his shirt for a while longer, and as perfect as he is, he was there with me until i got through it.

•

my new doctor had ordered testing. they wouldn’t have been as concerned, if symptoms outside of not getting pregnant hadn’t also been present. bloodwork, ultrasounds, MRIs. the results were all to be discussed with my doctor at once, and i waited anxiously as the days passed before i met with her.

mingi clutched my hand, rubbing his fingers on my skin reassuringly, my knee bouncing rapidly. i had protested him being present for this appointment, yet he expressed the need to be there for me, and while he respected me immensely, i decided that his accompaniment would be beneficial in the long run. and i was right, as the news delivered by my doctor made my brain pull the parachute cord, and i was outside my body for the entirety of our conversation.

if he was upset, he masked it well, as he held my hand and took care of speaking to the doctor on my behalf. it was hard for me to cry in the presence of medical professionals, so i was frozen, the lump in my throat aching so bad i thought i might throw up. the doctor’s professionalism came across as apathetic, though the sadness in her eyes at having to share the results with me was apparent. bicornuate uterus, external endometrial adhesions, fallopian blockage, hydrosalpinx… she couldn’t fathom how the pain was tolerable for me, or how these things hadn’t been caught sooner. she was apologetic. she said she was sorry the health care system and medical industry had failed me. she said we could discuss other treatment options at a later date when i was ready. for now i was being put on a form of birth control, hormonal drug, contraceptive to help the symptoms and shrink the growths.

back in the car, mingi held me, and i cried.

•

when we returned home, my heart broke at my inability to be present for mingi, but i went straight to bed. i laid down, my blinds closed and the lights out, and covered myself with my blanket. it was cold in my apartment, beginning to rain outside, and i knew that the cool air would be a comfort as my tears burned my face.

the hum of the air conditioning overpowered the sound of footsteps, and i was startled by mingi joining me in bed.

“you don’t have to -”

“i want to,” he interrupted.

his arms slid around me from behind, pulling me close into being his little spoon, and he held me tight, resting his hand under my shirt, right on my lower belly between my hips.

as soon as his warm fingers spread across my skin, i couldn’t stop the tears. he pressed a kiss to my back, his forehead against my shoulder. “i wish i could take your pain away.”

i sniffed. “i’m glad that you don’t have to.”

his lips were warm against my skin, his voice soft and quiet. “baby, i hate to see you in pain.”

i struggled to speak. “i won’t be able to make you a father.”

i felt him take a shaky breath, and he gently grabbed my arm to turn me over and face him. he had taken so much initiative and cared for me so much in the short while that i’d been struggling, so i didn’t resist when he wanted to speak to me directly. i just didn’t want to see his face knowing i was causing him to cry.

but when i looked at him, he was giving me the saddest smile, tears welling in his eyes. “and i won’t be able to make you a mother,” he said, touching my face gently. “it’s not your fault. i wish so badly that i could give you the same.” he leaned forward to kiss my forehead. “but we have so much time and so many options.”

i felt unworthy of such love and kindness. “it makes me feel so worthless,” i said. “i knew something was wrong. i just didn’t expect it to be that bad. i didn’t expect my body to be that fucked up.”

he traced his thumb along my cheekbone to wipe a tear away. “it’s not fucked up. nothing about you is fucked up. it is not your fault.” he kissed my nose. “today, i love you more than i ever have. and there is nothing worth more than your love to me.”

•

he wasn’t in bed when i woke up the next day. i figured he had stepped out briefly for something, but i didn’t question or worry. he had a habit of leaving without waking me if he thought he’d be back before i got up for the day.

i checked the time, though, and it was almost noon. i sleep a lot when i’m sad. and i sleep so deep. i could barely keep my eyes open.

mingi held me all night, until i was able to relax. my heart still ached so heavily in my chest. but the panic was gone. i was left with exhaustion and absolute despair. it wasn’t because i felt like my purpose was to be a mother, or that my happiness relied on it, or that i was failing mingi. it was because i was sick, my body was broken, and i had a chronic disease inside of me that made my future unclear and scary.

that was the worst of it. the infertility was just the icing on that cake.

i heard the front door open, and got tense at the same time that i felt comfort from mingi’s return. he was quiet as he moved about the kitchen, his movements gentle and silent for — what i KNEW was — my sake. he would’ve parted the seas for me, had i asked.

i didn’t hear him walking towards the bedroom, yet i heard the sound of a small bell jingling, and stayed still to listen closer. it couldn’t have been his keys, but i was unsure as to what it could’ve been otherwise. i hadn’t heard a sound like it before.

just as i sat up, a little gray and white kitten with a bell hanging from her collar came running into the room.

my mouth immediately fell open in shock, throwing the blankets off of me to join the kitten on the floor. i got to my knees to get a closer look, and behind the kitten followed my sweet mingi.

i looked up at him in awe, and he grinned happily.

“you didn’t,” i said. he joined me on the floor, crossing his legs, sitting right beside me.

he lifted the kitten up and set it in my lap, and i held my hands up, unsure what to do, but the little baby curled up on my lap and stared up at me, bright blue eyes looking calm and curious.

“it’s a girl,” he said. “i had been wanting to surprise you for a while but… after yesterday, i figured it was the right time.”

“oh, mingi,” i whispered, reaching down to pet her. she immediately began purring and leaning into my touch. seeing her up close, i realized her collar was a pink bow, the little gold bell jingling quietly with every movement. i looked back at mingi. he was looking back at me with such love, but also waiting intently to hear about how i felt. “i love you so much. i don’t know what to say.”

“are you happy?” he asked, his concern for my wellbeing so endearing i wanted to melt.

i nodded, reaching out to pull him in, and kiss him softly on his lips. “i am so happy. this is the most amazing thing you could’ve done for me.” i took his face in both hands, looking him in the eyes. “i love you.” another kiss.

he laughed quietly, kissing me back.

“so many things are uncertain,” he said. “and all we can do is wait it out. but i hope that one thing you never question is how much i love you. how in love with you i am.” he reached out to pet the kitten in my lap. “and now, she can be a testament to that.”

he became engrossed in petting her, talking to her sweetly, but i couldn’t look away from him. he was so loving, and so giving, and so perfect. it would take me an infinite amount of lifetimes to ever begin to repay him and it still wouldn’t be enough. i would be forever indebted to his selfless devotion, yet all he asked for in return was my presence. my affection. my love.

and song mingi will forever own my heart. ♡

[deansapplepie]

You couldn’t lose each other

Summary: You were pregnant, then you weren’t.

Warnings: ANGST, pregnancy, miscarriage, mention of character death, mention of “putting someone down”, soft Merle, on purpose asshole Daryl, blood, hurt, mental instability, hurt, stubborn main characters, loss, grief, and maybe more. 18+, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

A/N: I never experienced miscarriage and am writing everything based on my knowledge through series, movies, soap operas and books, so it may have inaccuracies. If you are sensible to any of those topics please don’t read, your mental health is more important!

It had started about a week ago, heavy dizziness and morning sickness (which didn’t happen exactly only in the morning). On top of that your period was late, which you tried to atribute to the sub nutrition all of you went through while on the road, but as soon as other symptoms started… you knew it was probably other thing.

You went on a run with Daryl to get more baby formula for Jude and just discreetly added a pregnancy test on your backpack, in a part you hoped Daryl wouldn’t look because he never did. As soon as you got to the prison and had some alone time you risked yourself going somewhere, no one would see you or find you, to pee on the damn thing and find the truth. The truth was… you knew it, you didn’t need a test, you were undoubtedly and very much pregnant.

One end of afternoon, Merle sat by your side and didn’t bother to tip toe around you. “When are ya gonna tell ‘im?”

“What?” He took you back with his question.

“When are ya telling my brother ya’re with his baby?” Your eyes widened at his question. “Daryl ain’t the only one with observation skills. Who ya think taught him everything? I saw the symptoms and the pregnancy test you hid on your pocket the other day.”

“Fuck you Dixons.”

“Ya already do it to one of us.” He sassy replied, you rolled your eyes as usually happened during your banters.

“Soon. I’m just waiting the whole governor thing end. He already has too much to worry about, he’ll freak out if I tell him now. He’ll probably put me on bubble of safety and not let me do anything.” You stated, Daryl could have the rough exterior but both of you knew how he was, how he cared about people. Also he had changed so much the last months, and it was for the better. “Don’t tell him, let me do it.”

“Al’ight.” He surprised you, you had learned how to deal with Merle, but he wasn’t the same asshole as before. Still an asshole though. “It’ll be good have a mini Dixon around. I’ll help to keep ya’ll safe.”

“I know, you can be a jerk sometimes but I know you care about your family.” You gave the older Dixon a small smile and squeezed his hand to reassure him. That had been one of the nicest things he ever told you and coming from Merle, that was a lot.

The governor had asked for Michonne to leave your group alone, you didn’t believe a word of it it, but Merle did or at least he had to try. That morning he disappeared with her and all of you knew what he was up to. Daryl went after them, you wanted to go too but of course he wouldn’t “allow” you.

Some time after, Michonne arrived, alone. You asked about Merle and Daryl, and she told everything that happened with Merle. He had set her free and went by himself. It wouldn’t end up well, you could feel it in your guts, and your feeling just confirmed to be true when Daryl arrived alone.

Everyone gathered around him to know what happened and he told you with teary eyes. The others left to give both of you some time.

“Daryl, I’m sorry.” You said, both of your hands cupping his face, he averted your eyes. “Hey, look at me.”

“Leave me alone…” he grumply answered trying to get out of your grasp.

“We’re together in this, huh? I’m here for you, we both cared about Merle.” He snorted.

“Ya cared about Merle? Ya never liked him!”

That wasn’t true, he knew it wasn’t. He was hurt, he had to put his brother down, there wasn’t anyone else that could do it for him, even if there was… it had to be him. Somehow, in his abused mind, he thought it was all his fault. Merle died because he wanted to be a better person, he wanted to protect his little brother as much as he could in this fucked up world, and that was the way he found to do it. It was just a matter of time for you to do the same and it would be entirely his fault if you ended like Merle. You were the last thing he had from the old world. You were the only good thing he had, and if he had to push you away to keep you alive, that was what he was going to do, because he couldn’t afford living in a world without you.

“This isn’t true, Daryl. You’re hurting, I get it…” he cut your speaking before you could finish.

“Ya don’t. Ya never will!” He distanced himself when you tried to touch his arm. “We should break up.”

“What?!”

“Ya heard it.” He confirmed.

“Ok, when you’re not speaking no sense we can talk, I know you’re not ok, but there’s a limit of shit I can take.” You wouldn’t continue to insist on it if he was going to continue acting like that. You knew he was suffering, but so were you and he was being a prick.

“There ain’t gonna be another talk. I said what I said.” Those words left his mouth as if they were nothing, but each of them felt like a knife in his throat.

“Is it really the moment for you to dump me?” You knew he was emotionally unstable, no one make good decisions like this.

“Did I stutter?” The moment he threw the harsh words, he knew he had got what he wanted, the hurt in your eyes pained in his chest and this time he was sure he had lost you for good.

Since that day, you didn’t talk to him and he also ignored you. You asked Rick to not put you both working together anymore. You moved your things to Carol’s cell, now also your cell. Woodbury had fallen, now the survivors of the town had joined you at the prison.

Your little secret was still yours, or sort of… Carol was a mother. She went through all the shit you were going through, all of you saw Lori going through it. She knew it already, but didn’t tell you anything until one week after everything that happened.

She asked you, “aren’t you telling him?”

This time you didn’t even got surprised and already knew what she was talking about. “No.”

“And when it starts to show?”

“I’ll tell I just fucked someone and was too drunk to remember.” You stubbornly replied.

“You’re being childish, he deserves to know.” She was right, but you were tired and emotionally damaged already.

“ ‘cause he’s being a fucking kid too. I get it, he’s suffering, but he needs to stop hurting people every time he’s hurt. It’s time he grows up and man up.” You said arms crossed.

“You know his past better than I, I thought you from all the people would understand.” The older woman wisely said.

“Carol, I appreciate your concern, he’s your friend too, but you don’t understand.” You said, was it you? Was it the hormones? You couldn’t know. “Please, don’t tell him. It’s not your place to do it.”

“I won’t. You’re the one that should do it.” As soon as she answered, she left you alone.

One week later, or a little more, it seemed like Rick had forgotten his promise that he wouldn’t put you ti work with Daryl as he put both of you on fence duty to kill the walkers. Ok, there were more people with you, but you couldn’t help but feel yourself being watched and you knew the weight of his stare. You could feel it in your soul. Also, you couldn’t help yourself and from time to time look at him, because you would be a liar if you said you didn’t love him anymore or that you didn’t find him handsome and attractive, and what’s beautiful was made to look at.

It was middle of the morning, even though it was starting to get cold the sun was strong for whoever was working under it. You had sweat and few stains of blood from the walkers you had killed through the fence. You were feeling extra tired, you thought it was because pregnant women got more sleepy, so you didn’t think about it so much.

Some minutes after you felt a sharp pain on your lower stomach. Weird. ‘Please let it just be a stomachache or gases’, you thought.

You continued working then you felt the pain in the same place but sharper. ‘Please, don’t let it be anything with my baby’, you thought again.

You kept doing your job, this time more slowly as you felt the pain irradiating through your body, until you felt a stabbing pain in the same place and something hot going down your legs. You looked down and saw blood. “NO!”

You shouted and that called people’s attention Daryl’s specially. He looked at you and all he could see was blood. Did you hurt yourself with the weapon? Did the governor came back and wounded you? Did somehow a walker managed to bite you?

“Nooo-hooo-ooo.” You shouted cried throwing yourself to the ground.

In seconds he was kneeling by your side. “Hey, hey, look at me. What is it? What happened, doll?”

“I lost it.” You said, crying more at your realization. “I lost it.”

“What did ya lose, babe?” He asked, he thought you were delirious due to the blood loss. His hands around your face trying to make you look at him, trying to ground you. He was panicking, where were you hurt? Was he going to loose you anyway and he had spent the last weeks loosing his time with you?

You cried. “Our baby, I lost our baby.” You said between sobs.

It hit him like a punch on his stomach. You said your baby, a baby from both of you, a baby he didn’t know existed, a baby that… his abused mind played with him again. A baby that could be possibly gone because of him. “Stay with me, love. I’m taking care of you.” Who were you? Just you? You and the baby? Was there any chance this was a weird bleeding but the baby would still be ok? He didn’t know. He knew nothing about it.

He didn’t think twice, he took you in his arms and started running. “HERSHEL!” He yelled the doctor’s name again and again, until he found him and had you in the infirmary.

Before getting to the infirmary you had passed out, maybe it was the shock or it could also be the blood loss, you’d never know.

Hershel examined you. Daryl stayed all the time by your side, making questions to the doctor. Teary eyes while he explained everything. You were indeed pregnant, and yes, you had lost the baby. Daryl’s hopes were shattered at pieces, he cried. He the big rough man that didn’t like to show his emotions cried, it was Hershel. He was a friend. He was family after all.

After making sure nothing had stayed in your uterus, the old man had a talk with the younger one. Hershel made sure Daryl knew it wasn’t his fault, at this point he already knew the archer well and knew he was guilting himself for it. He ensured it was something that could happen at this early stage, you were at the maximum 2 months pregnant according to the tissue your body expelled from you. That small tissue was what would be your baby. The feeding poor in nutrients could have harmed your body, it was pretty much a disorder in your uterus so that happened. There was no one to blame, besides the end of the world.

Some time had passed when you woke up, you were as much as clean as they could got you and you had warm feeling on your right hand. You looked to your side and you saw Daryl worried and guilty eyes.

“It’s not your fault.” You said. You remembered everything.

“Maybe.” He said, even if Hershel had already reassured him. “But it doesn’t make it less worse. I could have lived it with ya for the little time we had.”

“I was the one that didn’t tell you.” You turned to your side and extended your left arm till you were touching his face. “I’m sorry.”

“I AM sorry.” He said giving emphasis to that. “I… I dun know what I was thinking.”

“I know.” You knew he was lost at that moment, but it didn’t hurt you less when he pushed you away and both of you needed each other. “Merle wasn’t your fault. The baby neither.”

At the mention of Merle’s name and the baby, your voice quivered and the tears threatened to leave your eyes, and they did. They fell from your eyes and you couldn’t do anything about it. “I ain’t pushing ya away anymore. I… I was so afraid of losing ya too.” Tears also slipped on his face.

“Merle was happy, he knew he was going to be an uncle.” You remembered the conversation you had with him the day before he sacrificed himself. “He noticed it and asked me about it. I was going to tell you when the governor shit was over.”

You also felt guilty about Merle’s death. You knew sometimes he didn’t take some smart decisions, but did he tried to face it all alone because he also wanted to be a better person to his nephew or niece? He had told you he would protect all of you.

You sobbed. You both cried together, now your arms thrown around his neck and your face hiding in it. You both had lost too much already, you couldn’t afford losing anything else. You couldn’t lose each other.

Wanna be added to my tag list? Let me know. (Please tell me if you want to be tagged on everything or just specific series) Everything Taglist: @lilyevanstan1325 @hayley1998 @shadowcitrine @vaniniweenie @cupidelocke

[buddierecs]

eddie diaz centric buddie fics

all of these are general audience, teen and up or not rated (no smut) make sure to kudos/comment on these amazing works :)

let's hear it for the boy (my fav fic of all time, i will rec this until i die) by: hattalove "in which eddie attends a self-empowerment group for gbtq men to supplement his therapy, and is empowered to: forgive himself, say "i'm gay" to his own reflection in the mirror, accidentally adopt an adult, make fried rice, and tell his straight best friend that he's in love with him. not necessarily in that order." word count: 56k important tags: self-discovery, coming out, friends to lovers, getting together, gay disaster!eddie diaz give your heart and soul to charity by: 42hrb "eddie dumps God, gets some more therapy, accepts parts of himself he was taught to hate, loves his best friend, and loves himself." word count: 12k important tags: therapy, catholic guilt, emotional hurt/comfort, pining, getting together, minor buck/tommy got me feeling like it's all it's gonna be okay by: wafflesofdoom "eddie struggles to voice his want for physical affection to buck as their relationship turns romantic, and buck helps him embrace his clinginess again." word count: 8.3k important tags: established relationship, ptsd, fluff, light angst counting pulses by: tinyydancerr "eddie diaz’s life is going great. he’s in therapy, he’s got a great girlfriend, a great kid, his friend is getting married to the woman of his dreams, and his best friend just came out to him. how his best friend is dating their new friend. things are going great. he promises." word count: 63k important tags: ocd, catholic guilt, co-parenting, emotional infidelity, therapy, coming out, pining, slow burn and we're back...in the car again by: beulaugh "buck gives christopher permission to finally watch jurassic park, and it sends eddie down a feelings spiral." word count: 11k important tags: feelings realisation, fluff, oblivious!eddie diaz, christopher diaz has two dads wrap me in your love by: kiwibuckley "five times eddie uses a weighted blanket, plus the one time he doesn’t need too." word count: 16k important tags: touch starved!eddie diaz, therapy, comfort, friends to lovers, minor buck/tommy, fluff, oblivious!buddie, nightmares things you don't say reach me somehow anyways by: siblysleaves "eddie tells the family he chose how much they mean to him. all of them except one" word count: 14k important tags: therapy, love confessions, team as family, getting together, first kiss lucky just to linger in your light by: hattalove "in which eddie accidentally waxes poetic about buck to the new york times." word count: 4.9k important tags: pining, getting together, gay disaster!eddie diaz no kingdom to come by: waywardrenegades "when his father experiences a health scare, eddie flies to el paso." word count: 23k important tags: friends to lovers, mutual pining, love confessions, light angst, getting together her real name was grief by: justhockey "the shattered fragments of his ribcage have been rattling around inside of him like a warning siren: you can hear his heartbreak from a mile away. And now - here in his living room, in front of chimney - eddie let’s go...." word count: 5.8k important tags: post 6x11, emotional hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending, love confessions, getting together, mutual pining the archer (this is a series with fics that have multiple ratings but i am putting it in anyways) by: nonalovesyou eddie repeats his affirmations in the mirror every morning, while he shaves the stubble from his jaw. 'my name is eddie diaz. i am autistic. i am gay. i am a good dad and i am a good person. i deserve to be happy and i deserve to feel good.' (it's taken him a long to be able to say it outside of his head. It's taken him an even longer time to say it and believe it.) word count: 146k important tags: autistic!eddie diaz, therapy, ptsd, falling in love

you wonder why i'm bitter by: simplyylupin “me and buck had sex,” he blurts. hen stares at him for a long time. “i'm going to need wine for this conversation, aren't i?” he nods meekly." word count: 3.9k important tags: pre-relationship, getting together, tommy bashing, miscommunication, pining, jealous!eddie diaz it's always on the tip of my tongue by: allyasavedtheday "eddie diaz vs the great romance paradigm." word count: 17k important tags: demisexual!eddie diaz, therapy, emotional hurt/comfort, character study, season 7, falling in love

[weebsinstash]

losing my mind over the idea of Lucifer being swerved every time by an oblivious reader. He “casually” drops how he used to pull wives at the drop of a hat and reader just goes “that’s great Lucy ☺️” and wanders off while bro is going through the stages of grief

I just love the idea of like, a Reader who GENUINELY IS oblivious and isn't trying to troll him by any means, you ARE just completely unable to fathom this man is coming on to you or legitimately means the things he says.

You're sitting there after Husker made you a tequila for the first time and you're sipping on it and Lucifer's just plopping down in the next stool over, "there was once a time in the past I shared a tequila with a woman, and, well, let's just say 9 months later my daughter Charlie was born!" and you reply without any hesitation at all, "yeah! you know, this is my first time trying tequila but I think it's really nice, although everything Husker makes me is pretty tasty so I've been trying lots of new stuff recently! like the other night I had my first shot of absinthe with Alastor and the taste was so--" and Husker is FACEPALMING and Lucifer is... honestly I think it would be really cute if he ADORES when you show your interests and passions when you start ranting about stuff, so he's like, even when he's mentally gritting his teeth with frustration, he'll be sitting there watching you doe eyed for as long as you want to talk, entertaining any of your long winded tangents or rapidly changing conversational topics

Ugh... you don't understand... the allure of being a tiny fragile human and he's. Well also tiny but he's this ancient inhuman creature who's also just A Silly Loving Family Man. Like. He's ALL POWERFUL. He can pull you into a singing dancing musical where he can make whatever he wants appear, he CAN basically warp materials and reality however he pleases, like... just...he's the small full package who probably HAS a full package if you know what I mean 😏 don't even look at me but characters like him n deku got me thinking about being fawned over by cute guys who are shorter than you but can absolutely easily overpower you without breaking a sweat and are more hung than nature should really allow

Seduction can be a fine line between sexy and cringey and can you imagine he says something to you that just, it just does NOT land. He's got you on your back in your bed and he's above you, with his hand directly under your chin, and he purrs that he wants to plant his seed directly in the fertile soil of your garden and you just LAUGH IN HIS FACE, like "BITCH WHAT?!" Like you CRUSH HIM, FATALITY, man is suffering psychic and emotional damage, you are chipping away at his health bar as you sit there "Haha, you're so goofy Mr Morningstar 🤣 you always know how to make me laugh" and he's HUFFING and laughing in frustration, "OKAY, let's try this again! When I'm done with you, Charlie might have a new sibling on the way!"

"Awww thank you! Charlie's already like a sister to me but I'm glad you're seeing it literally 🥰"

Can you imagine it. The ultimate cockblock. Giving him the ultimate swerve, hitting him with the ultimate grand slam, "YOU'RE LIKE THE FATHER I NEVER HAD" like, how can he possibly stick his dick in you now he knows you see him as YOUR DAD 🥺❤️ He can't VIOLATE his BABY (or can he 😳🤔)

Can't stop thinking about Reader who is completely unaware that this man is unhinged levels of Down Bad until the very moment he's wrestling you down to either fuck you or have a full on love confession. You're just goofing around and palling around and occasionally giving him hugs where you smush your titties or whatever in his face because he's the perfect height and you love to tease him and, then, to YOU, he's 'suddenly without warning' trying to kiss you, say all these passionate things to you, putting his hands in places they've never been before--

I'm still hung up on... the idea of Lucifer impregnating the Reader and you have your little you know cute apple womb tattoo and. I just know he'd be fussing and cooing and like ANNOYING levels of lovey dovey, baby talking your belly before you're even showing. He'd wanna get married with a big fancy flashy wedding to show you off. He'd wanna announce to all of Hell he has a new spouse and want everyone to fear/worship/respect/adore you. He's making this baby SO MANY GIFTS with his own two hands, you have no idea. Duck themed cribs, duck themed onesies, duck themed ducks, he'll make it all! In fact he'll make too many! But, still not enough to satisfy him! Everything has to be perfect, for you, for the baby, for his growing lovely family!

I dunno. Don't expect me to be normal about the fact the man can shapeshift either... he's about to slither right into my incognito tabs...

[syndrossi]

October Trick or Treat Fill #8: Jaehaerys receives word of the twins

This time we have a trick! Which in this case means "something that wasn't on the prompt list." Though it could mean something entirely different next time it appears as a poll option, so be warned...

This fill won't make much sense unless you've read Fill #7 aka the first part of Regnal AU aka "consummation babies" as it's a continuation of that, where we get Jaehaerys's POV of receiving Baelon's letter sharing the happy news.

x~x~x

Father,

I bring joyous tidings from Runestone: our family has grown by two! After a day’s brave labor, my good-daughter brought forth a pair of screaming babes, furious at being parted from the safety and warmth of the womb. Though the birth came one moon early and they are yet small, their lungs are quite healthy indeed, and the maester assures me that they are as healthy as can be.

Your heart would swell to look upon them, as mine has. The name of the eldest is yet to be decided, as it is a matter of fierce debate between Daemon and Lady Rhea, but the younger is to be Aemon. He is the very image of my brother. I swear that I can see him in his eyes—not only the color, though that too they share, but the manner in which he studies me, as though he knows things that I do not. His hair is strikingly light of color, just as Aemon’s, though the maester has reminded me that it will yet darken, perhaps to something more like mine own. Selfishly, I wish otherwise. 

And the eldest! Daemon is insistent that he should be Baelon, after my own name, while Lady Rhea favors Hubert or Rodrik, after her great-uncle. He reminds me of Rhaenys at birth, hair dark like his mother’s. His eyes are as a field of lupin clouded by storm, and it is already plain to all that he has a warrior’s heart. If his brother is out of his sight for but a moment, he howls his displeasure at the world, whereas his brother Aemon howls whenever he is given into Daemon’s arms, much to my son’s dismay.

Words cannot describe how it is to hold them. I feel as though a piece of my own heart has been returned to me, and I am certain that they are destined for greatness. You may discount such as a proud grandsire regarding his first grandsons, but it is more than that. You will understand when you meet them.

All of this to say that it is my intention to remain at Runestone beyond the original moon I had planned. I beg your indulgence in this matter. The realm is peaceful and we are at the height of summer, in a time of plenty. Should that change, I shall of course hasten back to your side, but Daemon is yet young to be a father, at only seven-and-ten. Although he has made great strides as a husband since the wedding, I would offer him whatever guidance and wisdom he needs. It is quite a thing, after all, to suddenly find oneself a father twice over!

Please give my love to Mother and sweet Gael. They will adore the twins as surely as I do. I only wish our family could meet them sooner! It is the maester’s recommendation that they remain at Runestone until their first year has passed. As such, I seek your guidance on the matter of dragon eggs for their cradle. I know that you have forbidden that any be taken outside of King’s Landing, but it is good for the health of the babes. I implore that you consider it. If you are amenable, I shall gladly fetch and safeguard them myself.

Your son, etc,

Baelon

Jaehaerys leaned back in his chair, allowing himself a celebratory sip of wine as he reread the missive from his son once more. It was far cheerier in tone than anything his son had written in the years since Aemon’s death, which was heartening on its own. He had hoped that his son’s first grandchild might grant him reprieve from his grief, but his joy at Rhaenyra’s birth had been fleeting. That he had named the younger child after Aemon, however—that spoke to a healing all its own. Merely hearing his brother’s name spoken would on occasion plunge him into despair.

Twins. Jaehaerys looked out the window of his solar, into the warm morning sun piercing through. Was it a good omen, or ill? Rhaella and Aerea’s birth had been heralded as a blessing, yet his sister’s family had come to sorrow and ruin. Aerea’s death—

He set his wine cup down, mouth tightening at the memory of it, even after all these years. It had been a thing of horror, but best not let himself fall into the trap of superstition over reason. He had watched his line dwindle over the years, sons and daughters claimed by death, one by one, to Alysanne’s everlasting grief. The holdfast stood nigh empty, save for Baelon, Gael, and Viserys’s small family.

His sons had given him but three grandchildren, and from them, three great-grandchildren.

For Daemon to have nearly doubled that number was encouraging, and made suffering his grandson’s bitter protests over his match with Rhea Royce more than worth it. Rasher than his father, and with an arrogance not matched in deed. Fatherhood can only improve him.

Would that he could swap Daemon’s success for Viserys’s lack. The match between Viserys and Aemma had been more than fitting, and yielded a great-granddaughter, but his granddaughter had suffered four miscarriages already, which did not bode well for future children from his eldest grandson. And yet it was Viserys who would take the throne someday, after Baelon’s reign.

Even so, the birth of two great-grandsons was to be celebrated. At not even nine moons past the wedding, they could very well have been conceived that very first night. If the gods are good, it is a sign of things to come.

That the children had been born at Runestone was unfortunate. It meant waiting for their presentation to court, though that could also be for the best. He was no stranger to sons who never reached their first name day. But if Runestone’s maester insisted they were in good health, despite the twins’ early birth, then that was encouraging.

I could send Allar to attend at Runestone, Jaehaerys mused. Doubtless a house of Royce’s standing would have a capable maester, but royal children deserved the very best of care. And then there is the matter of the dragon eggs.

There was a reason his son’s letter had taken on a wheedling tone. He greatly misliked the thought of any eggs leaving the care of the Dragonpit or the well-guarded holdfast. Elissa Farman’s theft was not so distant as to have fallen out of memory. There would be those who might expect dragon eggs to find their way to Runestone, and seek to steal them.

If they are as healthy as the maester claims, then they have no need of them. When the babes were old enough to travel, they could be brought to King’s Landing and have dragon eggs placed in their cradle then. Doubtless his wife would petition Baelon every moon to have them brought here.

His eyes fell once more upon the one paragraph that had drawn his attention. I am certain that they are destined for greatness. Baelon was inclined toward excessive pride in his children, as he had been with both his own sons’ births. But for him to insist upon it, to have already found such solace—

Jaehaerys sighed, feeling his bones creak with the motion. Baelon’s dark mood since Aemon’s death had been a matter of concern for years now. His son attended to his duties as Hand with diligence, but little satisfaction. Jaehaerys had begun to fear that the Iron Throne would be the same for him, a burden rather than an opportunity. It was not a fear he would have had a decade before, when his sons had been eager with possibility.

If anything happens to the babes, it could plunge him into despair. In that, his son was far more alike Alysanne than him. Precautions would be needed, but perhaps the prospect of Baelon finding new purpose outweighed the risk of dragon eggs falling into the wrong hands. After all, no dragons had come of the eggs lost before.

He may have his dragon eggs, but I cannot fathom what he is thinking in allowing Lady Royce to entertain such names for a Targaryen child. That must be quickly settled. Daemon’s stubborn pride is of some use here, at least.

Jaehaerys took up his quill. It will be a pain to be without him for a time, but Hightower has been agitating for his younger brother to be appointed to some role within court. He can take this opportunity to prove his usefulness in Baelon’s absence.

[softpascalito]

I To Dig a Grave I Chapter 1 I

Summary: Twenty-one years after the outbreak, you come to Wyoming looking for something and end up in Jackson after a stranger saves your life.

But he doesn't stay a stranger.

Turns out Joel Miller is looking for something too. It feels like a fresh start. But when bad luck seems to follow you, Joel is the only one to turn to, forcing both of you to confront your feelings about your pasts- and each other.

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader Rating: Explicit / MDNI Word count: 7k+ Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Age Difference, Smut, Explicit Content, Grief/Mourning, Mental Health Issues, Canon-Typical Violence, Chose not to use Archive Warnings, Tags to be added

AO3 LINK // Series Masterlist // Playlist

notes: this work has been quite a while in the making and im very excited to finally share the first chapter! a huge thank you to the wonderful josie for being my beta reader and listening to all my rambling <3

this fic will deal with heavy topics. please note that it doesn't use archive warnings and tags will be added as we go in order to avoid spoilers. each chapter will have detailed warnings in the end notes on ao3.

Chapter 1 - The Before

‘‘I will be very sad to leave here’, Yves said, suddenly. ‘I have never been happier than I have been in this house.’ ‘I have been very happy too. I wonder if we will ever be so happy again.’’  - Another Country, James Baldwin

You’d been on the run for what felt like weeks but could only have been days when you found the gas station next to an abandoned mall. It had looked promising, the half-rotten advertisements plastered to the walls, reminding your stomach that it had gone far too long without a proper meal, or any meal for that matter.

Maybe if you hadn’t been so starved or so tired, you would’ve heard them coming, the Infected that stormed through the back door practically the moment you slipped into the building. A yell escaped your throat, your hand instinctively reaching for the knife you kept buckled to your leg. You didn't even get the chance to pull it out of its makeshift holster before the creature was on top of you, pinning you to the floor with what felt like inhuman strength.

“Fucking- get off-” you grunted, but even if the thing on top of you had been one that listened to commands, your thin and shaky voice likely wouldn’t have impressed it.

So this was how you were gonna go out. In a town you couldn't even name, somewhere in the snowy mountains of Wyoming, after finally escaping the life you’d been stuck in for so long. You hadn't even made it a month.

For a second, you considered trying to reach for your gun, still tucked into your pants and pressing into your back uncomfortably. You could feel its outline against your skin, a pain shooting through your spine as the Infected seemed to double its effort to reach your neck with its mouth, half-rotten teeth close enough that you could recognize the foul smell of death.

Then, the gun went off. Or you thought it did. The unmistakable sound of a gunshot rang in your ears as the Infected collapsed on top of you. But the feeling of your pistol pressing into your back was still there. It had been a gun. But not yours.

“I got her!” a voice above you bellowed out, an unmistakable southern drawl. “Tommy, give me some cover here, goddammit!”

You hadn't even noticed the second man, who was now aiming his gun at another runner storming towards him. He fired, once, twice, and the Infected let out a howl before its body hit the tiled floor with a thud.

“Hey, you with me?” The man above you leaned down, shoving the Infected that had been on top of you to the side unceremoniously. He was dressed in a worn jacket, jeans and boots, the latter two splattered with blood. His right hand, covered in a weathered leather glove, was stretched out towards you, an invitation to, well, you weren't exactly sure.

“She good?”

The second man approached the pair of you, your eyes flying over to him for a split moment. He was dressed similarly, except that he looked a little younger than his partner. He shouldered his rifle and tucked a loose strand of hair behind his ear. Your gaze flew back to the man in front of you, to the brown eyes that carried an unexpectedly gentle look, not quite matching the gruff way he looked. Shaking slightly, you placed your hand in his, and the next moment, he was pulling you to your feet.

“There you are.”

You nodded, a motion that looked more like your head was jerking on its own accord. But the man seemed to accept it. As the other one stepped towards you, the taller of the two men spoke again.

“You clean?” When no response came, he pressed on, his tone getting a little more impatient. “Did it bite you? Scratch you anywhere?”

The other one gently placed a hand on his chest, forcing your attention onto himself. “Can you walk? Our horses are two houses over, we've got a place where you can rest, get some food-”

“I'm not going anywhere with you,” you blurted out. You'd had your fair share of people, of men offering you ‘help’ and it never stopped there. There was payment, always. In this world, it was stupid to think there wouldn't be, that anyone would help you out of the kindness of their hearts.

“You're not going anywhere else by the looks of it, either,” the man with the gloves muttered, more than loud enough for you to hear. “You won't last a week.”

“I've lasted longer, asshole,” you shot back, suddenly angry at the stranger in front of you. He didn't know you, he didn't know the things you'd gone through to get here. So what if he had saved your life? It didn't give him the right to predict your death.

The other man nudged his ribs, extending his hand to you as well, though it was more of a formality this time. 

“Name’s Tommy. The asshole is my brother Joel.”

He paused for a moment, clearly thinking about how to approach this the right way. “Look, I'm sure you've been traveling for quite some time. We can give you a place to recover. You can leave anytime, I promise.”

You eyed him carefully. It did sound too good to be true. But it also did sound- good. A roof over your head, warm food in your stomach- two things you'd been craving for quite some time.

“Okay.”

The man who had introduced himself as Tommy gave a short nod and led the way to the horses, following tracks in the snow the two men had left while coming to your rescue. Joel pulled up the rear and you had a feeling that his eyes were trained on you, watching carefully, maybe for a twitch or anything else out of the ordinary. Again, you weren't sure why, but it made you angry.

“I told you I wasn't bit,” you repeated in his direction as Tommy began untying the horses. 

Joel raised a brow, clearly surprised by the attitude in your voice. “‘ts what they usually say.”

“Well, I'm not,” you replied, turning your back on him and focusing on his brother instead. Tommy pretended not to have heard either of you but somehow you were certain he had.

“C’mon, you can ride with me. It's not too far.”

Not too far turned out to be a good hour, the crisp autumn air making you shiver, and you were thankful for the warmth of both the horse and Tommy. But what the ride lacked in temperature it made up for in views, the sun coming out just as you passed the first sign that read ‘Jackson County’.

You didn't even mind Joel's occasional glances towards you as much, finding that with the sunlight playing in his brown curls, his look screamed less of danger and more of concern. Whether it was concern for Tommy or you or something entirely different, you weren't sure.

The answer came to you in the form of your housing arrangements. After getting over the first shock of riding up a busy mainstreet in what looked like an actual, functioning town, a thing you hadn't thought possible anymore, you had made use of what must have been the first functioning toilet you'd seen in months. You felt like a child being steered through the crowd at a busy carnival, if the food hall, the functioning plumbing and electricity and the music drifting from one of the smaller shops was any indication.

“You know we ain't got any unoccupied places and Maria and mine’s no good with the baby screaming all night,” Tommy muttered urgently and you frowned a little. The two men were standing a few feet away, clearly unaware that you were already back and you awkwardly shoved your hands in your pockets, considering going back inside for a moment. But then Joel opened his mouth and you couldn't help but listen in on their conversation. The older man seemed as much a mystery as the entire scene around you.

Tommy piped up before Joel even had a chance to argue. “It's just for a couple of nights. I’m sure Ellie and you will manage. You take her in, explain the basics and as soon as we got a place, you can go back to shutting yourself off from every goddamn person in this town-”

“I don’t-” Joel interrupted before shaking his head, a low grunt leaving his throat.

“Fine. Until Thursday, no longe-” He broke off at the look on Tommys face, one that was aimed directly at you. You shyly nodded in his direction and closed the distance between you in a few quick steps. 

The younger man cleared his throat, giving you a reassuring smile. “Find everything okay?”

“Yeah, thanks,” you replied politely. You hated how forced the conversation felt, already regretting listening in on it at all.

“Joel here’s gonna get you settled for the night, you let him know if you need anything else. I'll stop by in the morning and introduce you to Maria, she’s-”

“The boss,” Joel finished for him, earning a small glare from Tommy. 

“One of our elected leaders,” he corrected, another smile playing around his lips at the mention of what you assumed must be his wife. “Well, I'll leave ya two to it.”

Joel took you home. He still gave you that look, and with Tommy gone, you could be sure that it was actually aimed towards you. It was like he was still on guard but whether it was of you or something else, you couldn't tell.

“Here's how this is gonna go,” he started as he fumbled with the front door of the house clad in white. “You get a quick check-up, a shower, some fresh clothes- you get the idea.”

“I get the idea,” you repeated as he led you into the hallway, unable to keep yourself from glancing around for a moment, catching a peek of the dining room. “You live here by yourself?”

“Why?”

His question hit you out of nowhere and you stuttered for a moment, racking your brain for a good response, “Just- I was making conversation. Jesus.”

“Right,” Joel nodded, his gaze softening a bit. He placed his bag onto the floor and tapped his right thigh absent-mindedly. “Come on, follow me.”

He took you into the upstairs bathroom that smelled faintly of soap, reminding you that you hadn't had a proper wash in more days than you cared to count. There were a few small containers, mostly re-used mason jars, that were labeled ‘shampoo’ or ‘body wash’, sitting orderly on the small shelf next to the tub.

You felt more than heard Joel shift behind you and turned to meet his gaze. He was still watching, arms crossed, seemingly waiting for something.

“Do I- shower?” you asked softly and he sighed a little at that. 

“I need to check you for bites.” His voice was low but still carried a small note of sternness in it. 

Oh, right.

“I didn't agree to that.”

You could see his hand twitch, the handle of his revolver still sticking out the back of his jeans. “You're bit.”

It was more of a statement than anything else, like he already knew what was waiting for him under your clothes, maybe a bite on your leg, a scratch on your stomach. Joel had dealt with enough people that had been marked for death like that to know the signs of it. The thing was, he was wrong.

“Is this what it is?” you asked, quietly, trying to keep your voice from shaking.

“Excuse me?”

“Is that why you go outside, save people? So you can bring them back here, get them to take their clothes off for you-”

“Whoa-” Joel held up both hands, shaking his head very slowly. “I think we got off on the wrong foot here. I need to check you for bites, it’s protocol.” His voice was still deep, that southern drawl you heard earlier in the gas station still present but somehow softer. His features had shifted, seeming genuinely surprised by the turn of your conversation.

“Now, if you want someone else to do it, I can get a lady and let her look you over. We just want to be sure we don’t bring Infected in, that's all.”

“That's all?” you asked as he kept his eyes trained on you, his hands still up in the air and his expression soft.

“I swear, that's all. If you can show me you're not bit, I'll get you that shower, some food, you name it.”

You gave a small nod at that, your body deflating a little. It had been an incredibly long day and the man in front of you seemed genuine. If he wasn't, you could still try and bail.

Joel turned slightly under the pretense of grabbing a towel from below the sink but you knew he was attempting to give you a bit of privacy- even though he clearly didn’t trust you enough to fully turn his back on you. With shaky hands, you began to strip, holding back a wince as you forced your bruised body to move. The fabric of your shirt clung to your skin, dry blood forcing another whimper out of your throat.

You felt Joel's head snap towards you at that but ignored him, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of showing quite how uncomfortable you felt about going through this with him next to you.

He was quick and professional, his large hands brushing over your skin as he made sure you were clean.

“All good,” he commented shortly when he was satisfied, his shoulders relaxing a bit as he reached for a stack of folded towels. Then, his gaze rested on your head again, more specifically, on your matted hair.

“You want me to get someone to cut that for you? Might be easier than-”

“No,” you quickly piped up. You knew your body was malnourished and likely had a dozen other things wrong with it. You didn’t want to lose your hair too.

Joel nodded, his hand absent-mindedly trailing over a particularly nasty knot. “I think I got some soap conditioner in the closet. You want to give that a try?” 

“Yeah, that’d be great,” you responded curtly and Joel disappeared from the room for a few moments. He came back, as promised, with a soap smelling of jasmine and cotton. 

He didn’t seem as hesitant, now that he knew you weren’t bit. At least that’s what you assumed had caused the shift in him. It didn’t occur to you that it might be the fact that you were sitting on his bathroom tiles, shivering, assuming the worst in him, in men, hell, in society. That you looked like a wounded deer, ready to take off at the slightest notion of danger, no matter how badly you were already bleeding.

Joel was a lot more gentle than you would have expected a man of his build to be. He seemed to know exactly what he was doing, reaching just far enough to cover your entire hair, but never letting any conditioner run down onto your face. It made you wonder if he was a father. Then you remembered his brother had mentioned a girl earlier, Ellie. Still, you knew better than to ask. You’d likely be gone in a few days anyway.

But, there was one question that you couldn’t keep from slipping out of your mouth.

“Why did you think I was bit?”

Joel paused for a moment, his fingers slowing down ever so slightly as he seemed to think about his words.

“You weren’t fighting hard enough. To stay alive, I mean. You were acting like someone who knows that their time is up.”

An uncomfortable silence settled between the two of you. You felt his hand brush over the crown of your head, lathering the matted mess that was your hair with soap in small, circular motions.

“I thought it was,” you whispered, honestly. You couldn't bring yourself to lie to him. But you couldn't bring yourself to explain it either.

He didn’t ask.

Neither of you spoke again until you were curled up in his bed, him insisting to take the couch for the night. He’d fed you some soup, relieved when he saw that your stomach could handle that. He’d warned you that it might not, after getting so used to going days without food. You’d gotten some worn but warm clothes to wear after the shower and now your body was sinking into an actual mattress. It was more than you’d dreamed of just that morning.

Joel paused in the doorway, his hand tapping against his jeans, a habit you had already picked up on. It was like he didn’t know what to do with his hands when they weren’t holding a gun.

“You don’t have to leave,” he said quietly. “You know that, right?”

Your mouth went dry as you tried to keep your tone nonchalant. His expression told you that it wasn't exactly working. “Who said I was leaving?”

“You look like you will.”

Again, a quiet fell over you and you shook your head softly. “What, you were a psychologist before or something?”

He smiled weakly. “Contractor.”

After a short pause, he went on. “I know it's hard to- to trust. When ya first get here. I felt the same.” 

You felt a small breath leave your throat at that. “But it gets better?”

“There's hot water, three meals a day, fair working conditions. I don't think it gets much better out there,” he pointed out softly before giving you a small nod.

“I'll be downstairs if you need anything. Good night.”

27 months later

The almost-empty soap sits on your bathroom shelf, the one that’s screwed to the wall just above the worn-out bathtub. You’ve gotten it refilled every few months, sometimes sooner if you wanted to allow yourself a little treat. It still reminds you of your first day in Jackson, of the safety that you so quickly felt in every room of Joel's house.

You still have some time before you have to head to work and the blue sky promises a cold but clear day so you decided to go and check if you’re in luck with any available refills today. Stock always changes throughout the week and while there’s usually something available, you prefer to get your chosen products if possible.

No such luck.

“Sorry, we’re all out. Think patrols cleared out the store that had these a while ago,” the woman behind the counter says apologetically. “We have some others if you’d like to try a new one, there’s-”

“I’m good,” you quickly insist, giving her a small smile when you notice you may have sounded a little harsh. “I’ll just wait and see if some more comes in.”

In one quick motion, you turn around and head towards the door- only to run face-first into a broad chest draped in a thick, brown coat.

“Whoa.” The deep voice above you immediately sends a gentle warmth through your body and you take a small step back to be able to squint up at the man you bumped into.

“Sorry, Texas, didn't see you there.”

“I told you to stop calling me that,” Joel mutters weakly, fumbling with the small bag he is carrying before handing it over to the woman behind the counter. She thanks him and quickly begins to sort the items he has brought back from patrol. He’s wearing the thick coat you see on him whenever it drops below freezing, his dark boots leaving small pieces of wet mud on the floor of the small store. He’s been doing the creek trails then, most likely.

You’ve rarely been on patrol yourself, focusing your energy more on tasks inside the community. If it hadn’t been for Joel, you know you probably would have taken off in the first few days, maybe stolen some food and been on your way. But he’d gotten you to stay. With him, for a few days. Then they had found space for you in a small guesthouse close to the mainstreet, to be shared with a young woman not unlike yourself that had offered up her vacant bedroom.

You’d taken an instant liking to Lane. Joel had dropped you off at your new home, with the few things you owned, and you and her had both stood in the small kitchen in awkward silence, racking your brains for a good conversation starter. Of course, you’d come up with the one she probably heard every other day.

“I like your hair.”

It wasn’t a lie. Her hair was cut short but thick, and most importantly, it was blue. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d seen colored hair. It seemed to fit her though. The roots were brown and the overall color a little less vibrant than you’d seen in magazines of people before the outbreak. If anything, you liked this more.

“Thanks,” she said lamely, twisting her hand around the small cup she was holding. “Fuck, I’m sorry, I’m the worst at social shit,” she finally blurted out and it looked like she was half glad to admit it and half afraid of your reaction.

“Don’t worry. Me too,” you admitted, a grin spreading over both your faces, the silence seeming a lot more bearable now. She shrugged towards the counter, half a dozen muffins sitting on it. “You like blueberries? A friend let me nick these.”

She paused for a moment, brushing a strand of blue hair behind her ear. “I mean, technically they’re not real blueberries, the ground here is too dry for those. I think they’re called juneberries, but we never call them that.”

You figured she’d be a solid roommate if she’d just met you and was already sharing her sweets. Half an hour later, when you had vomited the blueberry muffins back up in your shared bathroom, Joel’s warning about solid food still ringing in your ears, when she was standing beside you, holding your hair back and handing you a washcloth when you were finished, you knew she’d be more than a roommate. She’d be your friend.

She had also been the one to get you into teaching. You’d been fascinated when she first told you about her job in town, teaching the children of Jackson practically every subject she could. Neither of you had been in school before the outbreak so it was all the more impressive, the way she managed to control a class without the need to get loud or hand out punishments.

You’d taken a liking to the classrooms of Jackson as well, reminiscing on the last summer before the world had gone to shit and the way you’d looked forward to being in school, learning all the things big girls did. Not getting to sit in a classroom, and you didn’t count those at FEDRA as actual classrooms, had been only one of so many things you felt you had missed out on.

So it felt even more special now when, after you got Maria to assign you as teacher alongside Lane, you spent your days in the colorfully decorated classrooms, teaching a variety of subjects and a variety of ages. It was similar to life in Jackson, not without its fair amount of challenges. But, just as Joel had promised the first night, you learned to trust and the more you did, the easier it was to let yourself be. Above all, to let yourself be happy.

Joel steps outside alongside you, his head jerking back towards the small supply store. “Did ya get everything?”

His voice is soft, and you like to imagine that he sounds a little more gentle when speaking to you compared to the others. Not that you see him talking to a lot of people either way. You're pretty sure it's why he prefers the patrols, less people to bother him and less voices to listen to. Even though you had a feeling, about a year after you arrived in Jackson, that he also preferred being paired up with Esther, a pretty woman who took care of the horses and frequented the patrols. Especially those with Joel.

You had almost hoped for them to end up together, to drive the images of Joel alone at his too large dining table out of your head. But they didn't and the images stayed. You had him over for dinner, every other month. It started as a thank-you for helping you through your first days and quickly developed into a rare but regular thing. Ellie or Lane joined you occasionally, happy to get a nice home-cooked dinner and some of the wine Joel usually brought along.

You didn't see too much of him outside of your little gatherings, only the normal occasions that presented themself around town. But it was nice to know that he was there, that he would bring his wine and compliment your cooking and make small-talk and listen to the new developments of your life.

“It makes sense for you to be a teacher,” he’d agreed after you’d updated him on your new position, causing you to raise a brow. 

“What is that supposed to mean? Think I can’t handle myself out on the group patrols?”

His face slowly changed at that, Joel urgently shaking his head, “I didn't mean-”

You cut him off with a small laugh, no longer able to stay serious at how panicked he looked. “I’m messing with you, old man. I know what you meant. I think it makes sense too. I like it.”

His shoulders relaxed slightly as he leaned back against the kitchen counter, grumbling a little under his breath.

It's Joel's voice that brings you back to the present. “I asked if you got everything?”

You shake your head to get rid of the thoughts, then it turns to shaking your head no. “They’re out of conditioner. But it’s fine, I can stretch mine a bit longer and maybe they’ll get some next week.”

“Ya still using the same one?” Joel asks, shoving his hands into the pockets of his coat and you nod. It's sweet that he remembers. It's been over two years, after all.

“Yeah. Liked it, never saw a reason to switch,” you explain lamely. He only gives a short nod, motioning for you to follow as he starts walking. 

You do, though perplexed. “School’s in the other direction.” “Thought your class didn’t start until ten today,” he points out. It never appears to you to ask how or why he knows this. When your steps slow down and your thoughts speed up simultaneously, he nudges you along.

“You want your soap or not?” he grumbles and your face lights up a little at that. 

“You got some?” 

Joel gives another quick nod. “Brought them back a few weeks ago. I would’ve given them to you if I knew ya still used them.”

You trot beside him like a puppy, making your way down Rancher Street and up the flight of stairs that leads to the small house clad in white. The noise of the wind chimes tied to a beam above his front porch drifts over to you, the gentle breeze creating a slow melody.

You haven’t been in his upstairs bathroom for years. It’s odd and it feels too intimate, seeing the place where he brushes his teeth in the morning, where he washes himself after a long day. You don't belong in a space this personal. You don't belong to him.

It felt different when you were curled up on the same white tiles, letting him check your bruised and battered body for signs of Infection. For a split moment, it did feel like you belonged, in a way.

Joel's hand brushes over yours as he hands you the soap, the one smelling of jasmine and cotton and safety. 

The rest of the day is a blur of lessons and grading, but the smell of the soap seems to linger, the comforting feeling in your stomach getting you through the work day. It doesn’t end until seven with you staying behind to tutor some kids for an upcoming exam and then to finish preparing said exam. The smell of food fills the air as you open your front door and you smile as you poke your head into the kitchen, “Smells good.”

Lane is seated at the table, a few papers in front of her. Likely an exam of her own, you think to yourself. Even after the world has ended, finals season still exists.

“My mum made that pasta you like so much today. Figured I'd save you some,” she says, nodding towards the tupperware sitting on the counter.

“You're an angel.” You whistle as you head deeper into the house, putting away your jacket and bag, fishing the soap out of the latter and placing it on the bathroom shelf. It makes you pause for a moment. You give a nod to yourself at the sight of the refilled container and make a silent vow to treat yourself to a nice bath today.

An hour later, your stomach is filled with warm pasta, the bathroom damp with steam and your hair soft, smelling just the way you like it. The clock in the small hallway reminds you that it's already past twelve and the knowledge that tomorrow is another day filled with teaching makes you want to crawl into bed fairly quickly. But you're thirsty.

Lane is still in the kitchen, her blue hair a little messy and crowned with a pair of headphones. The music spills out a bit, enough for you to be able to hear the low, steady humming of a song that seems mildly familiar.

You do remember a few songs from before the Outbreak- mainly the ones they played on the radio. But you know that Lane doesn’t, being a few years younger than you, meaning that she barely has any memories of the before.

You're already in your pajamas, shuffling to the sink to pour yourself a glass of water. Somehow it always tastes better at night. Or maybe your brain is playing tricks on you.

“Hey, you remember Joel is coming over for dinner on Sunday, right?” you ask with your back to your friend. When no response comes, you gulp down the last bit of water and turn around, giving a small wave in the air between you. 

Lane sits up a little more, pushing one side of her headphones back just enough to free her ear. “Hm?”

“Dinner with Joel, Sunday,” you repeat, a yawn escaping you. 

After a moment, she nods. “Right, I remember. We’re out of blueberries again, by the way.”

“I’ll make sure to restock this weekend then,” you agree, already halfway across the room. You give another small wave and finally head to bed. It looks exactly the same way you left it this morning, the blanket tucked into one side, the pillows arranged against the headboard.

“It's so good to be home,” you mutter to yourself as you crawl under the covers, stretching your body a little. Your left hand reaches for your nightstand and finds the book you've been reading, hoping to get just a tiny bit further tonight. With all the work and the winter festival coming up, you’ve barely made progress, the wooden bookmark still sitting near the front. You put it aside, glancing down at the finely carved piece of woodwork for a moment. Joel gave it to you for your first birthday in Jackson. Then you open the book properly, the worn-out spine cracking slightly. Just a couple of minutes.

But your eyes start to droop after just a few pages. After half a chapter, you're in a deep slumber, the book slipping out of your hands and onto the wooden floor below just as the front door slips shut.

if you enjoyed the chapter, please consider reblogging/sharing and commenting <3

[dragonfly0808]

Hiatus

So… this is a post I’ve been debating with myself these past 2/3 weeks on whether to make or not.

Some of yall may have noticed that I’ve been taking quite a few breaks from s4 and I have unfortunately just finally allowed myself to acknowledge that I’ve hit a bit of a writing block when it comes to my Winx Club rewrite.

I’ve had a few frustrations during s4 (even though I’ve managed to keep my writing up to my own personal standards, it’s been very difficult) and- despite being halfway through the season, unlike past seasons I still have no idea what I’m going to do with s5 and it’s just been getting to me.

And now I am forced to accept that if I keep forcing myself to churn out chapters and stressing out over keeping you all waiting until I’m satisfied with every chapter, the only thing I’ll do is kill my creativity and my love for this rewrite.

I’ve been working on this rewrite for nearly 3 years and it kinda low-key shames me to say that I am officially placing it on hiatus.

To me ‘taking a break’ and ‘hiatus’ are 2 completely different things, I know I’ve taken breaks before but I always had some vague idea of when I’d return but this time… I just don’t know.

I have been working on my Original Novel and works for other fandoms that have just been filling me with inspiration in a way I haven't been able to feel with Winx Club for a bit now.

I hope I have built up enough trust over these past 3 years for you all to believe me when I say that I will be back. I am not the type to leave things unfinished, especially a story that means so much to me and that I am so very proud of and that has helped me grow so much as a writer and has helped me get through some difficult times and express certain emotions and grief in a way I never could’ve if I hadn’t dived into this 3 long years ago.

I was really hoping to post chapters for Xmas and New Years as I have past years but I just can’t- HOWEVER, on January 28th, the third anniversary of Veiled Wings and Shattered Panoramas, I will post… something. I don’t know if it will be a chapter or not but I will do something for the anniversary.

If you wanna know what I’ll be up to; I will be working on my Original Novel since I have finally landed on exactly what idea I want to work on. I will also be working on 2 projects, one for ATLA (Zutara post-canon self-indulgent thingy) and another one that I honestly don’t know if I’ll go through with since it’d be a pretty big project and I’m still thinking about how I’d go about it, but that I am very inspired and excited about.

So yeah, thank you all for your never ending support and- again, I WILL BE BACK, this is not an abandonment of the rewrite, it’s just me having to prioritize my mental health and protect both my love for writing and my love for the rewrite. I’ll be going through my inbox this next week and answer a bunch of stuff that I just haven’t really looked through in a while.

Thank you so much for understanding and for your support. I hope you will wait for the return of the rewrite and that maybe you will give my other projects a chance when I post them. I will be posting a lot of my inner thoughts on the rewrite and my other projects chapters + thoughts on my Ko-fi if you wanna check that out.

I wish you all Happy Holidays!

With eternal love and gratitude,

Yours Truly, Dragonfly

[tonysbed]

Pink skies | MV1

Max verstappen x fem!reader

Summary: Max comforts you during grief

warnings: mention of death, angst, depression?

a/n: I’m putting this into the mental health masterlist because grief definitely brought me to my limits in that part. Just remember, grief is proof of love:)

Also writing a Charles Grief comfort rn :))

(listened to pink skies by zach bryan while writing)

mental health masterlist | main masterlist

Max knew they were dying. You had told him. He knew how much it would break you so he tried his best to be there. He hoped it would happen while he was there for you.

You were sitting on the couch, leaning against Max’s shoulder when your phone rang. You looked over and left out a sigh. You knew why that call was coming in.

You picked up and Max watched you. He watched your eyes tear up, hands shaking and your lower lip trembling. The moment you hung up he pulled you into his lap.

He rocked you in his arms, trying to soothe you at least a bit. He knew he couldn’t do much, Grief being something that not even he could defeat.

You just clung to his sweater, crying and hurting. His fingers gently combed your hair while the other hand was strocking your back.

“It’s gonna be okay” He whispered, knowing it will take time but it will be alright. You will be alright.

The funeral wasn’t any better for you. They always hurt but front rows change everything. Your hand was tightly wrapped in max’s. You bit back tears, not wanting to cry the whole time.

It felt like everything was ripped away from you, leaving you falling down a black hole that never ended. The funeral was beautiful but hurtful. But it made the start of grief. This was the point you would truly realise they were gone.

You stayed at their grave after everyone went home, Max standing shortly behind you, patiently waiting for you to be ready to leave.

Cause in the end, he’d catch you in that black hole. He’ll give you strength to overcome all the pain and gives you a place to store all that overflowing love that comes with grief. And he’d gladly take it.

A/n: I really don’t like this. Tried to write down my experience but yeah..Also tried to keep it natural on the person who died. My heart is with everyone grieving rn. I know it hurts and it will forever but we’ll be okay.

This is also so short i’m sorry.

[the-sera]

I grew up in the kind of household where children's bedroom doors are locked from the outside. And it was definitely a huge source of inspiration of terror when I worked on horror games.

You see I used to claw at the bottom of my door and peel off the white paint on it, I did that when I was hungry but I was not being fed. And there is a visceral relation in horror games between the room you are scared to enter and the room you try to leave.

And while my role around P.T. was insignificant considering its short lived existence, I always appreciated the work my peers did with the bathroom in this experience. The knocks on the door, the horrific cries coming from it, a jumpscare closing it shut, roaches coming from it. But once you are inside of it, the sentiment of security takes a moment to build, a flashlight is found, an unborn in the sink. Gradually, it is the knock from the outside that begins to scare you. The familiar corridor outside becomes the scary place where danger is.

I think some people often forget just how intertwined with trauma Silent Hill is as a franchise, and that specific one was no exception. And I think that is the scariest thing in the world and why the franchise lives on after such a long run. Monsters and animatronics may spook you, but there is nothing quite as frightening as starving while locked within your own bedroom as a child, while your mother stands outside hearing your pleas.

Creativity tends to come from the best and the worst of our lived experiences, and that's why diversity of experiences is important to make great pieces of art. I think people are afraid of using the darkest and hardest part of their lives as a reference, I think there is an underlying fear of giving it power or significance in the present. A fear to resurrect a terror now gone, or perhaps reanimate grief over a ghost from the past. But I think that fear may be worse than the outcome and I encourage people to make art even if you're not an artist. It doesn't need to be good at all, it will hold meaning regardless, and it can't be meaningless.

I'll end this posted by adding a small note that I am currently facing a terminal health condition. If you wish to help, this is the link, thank you. Link is below the cut ❤