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chilumi-shipper · 1 year

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Forget and Regret (2)

Kamisato Ayato x Fem!Reader

Summary: Part 2 of "Forget and Regret", Ayato is being plagued by dreams, you think he doesn't need you anymore, but for some reason, he really can't just leave you alone. Many moments of pain came before comfort.

Tags: Angst w/ happy ending, Hurt/Comfort, Crying, A little swearing, Maybe a little naughty in the end (nothing explicit)

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Ayato walked into the room, his eyes landing on a girl lying on his bed, her shoulders shaking as little sobs filled the quiet room.

Her figure was covered by a blanket, and though he could not see her up front, he knew that she was clutching the sheets to her chest.

"Love?" He called out for the girl, the endearment falling naturally from his lips.

The girl did not look at him, but he knows that he's gained her attention.

She tried to control her breath, trying not to make her shallow and sobbing breaths obvious.

"I-I'm sorry..." The girl said in such a small and quiet voice, the stuttering making it obvious that she had been crying. "I k-know it's stupid, b-but I just wanted to give you a g-gift." Ayato had been hearing a lot of this 'gift' thing. He has no idea what is happening, yet the sight of the girl crying in front of him just makes him want to coddle her and make her feel better.

"I should say my apologies as well, my love..." His mouth moved on its own, letting him say words for which he did not know the context. "I didn't mean to lose my temper. I may have been angry, but I would never ever dream of hurting you."

"I-I regret not saying this sooner, my dear Y/-"

The Yashiro Commissioner stirred awake, groaning as his eyes slowly opened.

He grabbed a pillow by his side and covered his face with it.

Yet another dream, of the same girl, no less.

And every single time, every waking moment after a dream like that, Ayato felt like his heart was being vigorously tugged on, a sense of regret oozing from the back of his mind. And try as he might, no explanation ever arose to answer his questions.

So, just like every time that this happened, he shrugged off the feelings conveyed by the dreams before finally getting out of bed.

...

"Have you heard? The Commissioner and his wife had a fight." You hear the whispered rumours of some of the workers in the estate, making you sigh.

"Yeah, but people have been saying that she left him. Here she is now, though, so maybe it's all just exaggerated."

"No! I was here a few weeks ago, and I heard the Lord himself screaming angrily. Could it be that he was mad at Lady Kamisato?"

"Could be, not to mention that Lady Ayaka has been acting weird lately. She's taking over all of the Lord's duties; I wonder what's happening inside their home."

"Ladies, please. Let's all just stop with all the gossip and get to work?" Thoma approached the workers gathered around to talk about the Kamisato siblings and you, keeping his polite smile as he asked them to get back to work.

After the group got back to their duties, the blonde walked up to you.

"My lady." He addressed you like always, making you look down a bit. "The Shuumatsuban thanks you for your generous donations and help on their mission against the Fatui."

Lately, you've been going back to the estate, both to gather your things without attracting attention and to pay back for what you did a few weeks back.

You also did some digging around the Fatui in Inazuma; it took quite a while, and though it almost got you in danger with the organization, you got a few useful pieces of information for the Shuumatsuban. You feel that this is only appropriate because you accidentally sabotaged them before.

"Umm, please tell them that I'm glad I could do something good for them." You smiled at him, feeling a little bit flustered. Your interactions with Thoma have been very awkward lately; he's still against what you're doing with Ayato. "Thanks for everything, Thoma."

He merely nods before watching you walk out of the estate, presumably going back home.

"I didn't know that she worked here." The retainer heard his lord's voice from behind him, making him turn around to face him. "I wish I had the chance to talk to her again." Thoma noticed how Ayato's blueish-purple eyes followed the trail you walked on, perhaps thinking about you as he did so.

This is why he thinks what you're doing is silly. One look at his lord and he sees the interest in you oozing from him, even at his current state.

"Well, technically, she doesn't work here. But she plays a very important role in the estate." Thoma clarified, making the periwinkle-haired man think.

"Oh, what do you mean by that, Thoma?" The Commissioner asked curiously.

"Well, though I do want to explain, I know it would be far better if she did so herself, my lord." He left it at that, not letting Ayato press further.

...

"Hi."

As you were fixing everything up at the front of the Kamisato Estate, you heard a familiar voice coming from behind you.

You turned around, your eyes meeting another pair that looked pleased to see you. "Y/N, I was hoping to see you again." Ayato said with a smile.

Your breath hitched, you instinctively walked a little away from him.

"Oh, no need to be nervous or anything. I mean, I know I'm kind of an important figure or something, but..." He cleared his throat, chuckling a little. "I hope that I don't scare you away."

You sighed, bowing your head. "Lord Kamisato, I'm just finishing up my work."

"No need for formalities, you can just call me Ayato. After all, I owe you my life." He stated, walking a bit closer to you. "Thank you again, I can't stress that enough."

You couldn't look up at his face, not up his smiling and gentle face, at least not while keeping yourself from bursting to tears, admitting that you're his wife and that you did something that made him resent you.

He looked at your timid form, your hands clasped together tightly. Perhaps he should do something to ease the tension you were feeling.

"Once again, you're welcome, my lord. I..." His ears perked, he heard you sniffle, and he could've sworn that your hand reached up to your face to wipe a tear away.

It's all too familiar for him for some reason.

He has no idea what is happening, yet the sight of the girl crying in front of him just makes him want to coddle her and make her feel better.

"I'm... g-gonna take my leave now." You quickly ran away from him, making Ayato look at your running figure in shock.

He truly did not expect you to be overwhelmed just by talking to him.

And he couldn't explain why, but something in him screamed to run after you and hug you and tell you that everything is okay and that he's sorry.

...Are you... her?

...

Everyday after that encounter, it seems that the periwinkle-haired man was always there by you're side, trying to initiate a conversation.

You've gotten better at containing yourself around him. But still, you'd rather him not be there, you'd rather not be on the brink of heart attack every minute of the day.

Once you realized that he was gonna try and talk to you everytime you go to the estate, you actively tried to spend as little amount of time as possible.

Thoma and Ayaka were not gonna let that happen though.

You were about to leave and take a few days off, but then Thoma approached you. "My lady, Lady Ayaka was hoping that you'd come in tomorrow and help her with the organization of the upcoming festival." He passed on your sister-in-law's message. "Since you've helped my lord with this business before, you might be a great help."

You honestly should have seen this coming. And even if they're making it seem like you had a choice, they knew you'd cave in, they knew you'd come tomorrow and try to help.

They most certainly planned to give Ayato the chance to work on the festival so that you help him with it instead of Ayaka when you came in the next day.

"So... this is my job."

You hated to admit that you were amused with Ayato's reactions to things he had to do.

"Yes, my lov- my lord." He cleared your throat immediately, hoping he didn't catch that mistake. You chastised yourself, for letting your guard down.

"What do we do first?" Though you found his excitement to work again and rediscover what he does for a living very cute and amusing, you stand stiff and focused.

He's not your husband.

You remind yourself constantly as you work on the task at hand.

The cycle continues though, Ayaka and Thoma will make sure that you have a reason to come back to the estate, basically setting Ayato up for at least an hour with you almost everyday.

And you could not even describe how tired you are, tired of constantly being on your guard, tired of pretending to not be his wife.

But this is for him, this is what he wants. He said so himself, you should always remember that.

...

He wants to take you out on a date.

Though Ayato had many conflicting feelings about his situation, and his lost memories, he thought that surely making some nice memories bow would do him some good.

Ayato finds that you are quite shy towards him, never meeting his eyes and always speaking to him in a low and mumbly voice.

He found your mannerisms cute too! Even when you don't look at him much, he often has his eyes on you, seeing how your eyes light up a bit when he says something funny or amusing.

Which is why he asked the help of his sister and his retainer to ask you out on a date around town.

"Y/N, may I talk to you, please?" You heard Ayaka's soft voice call out for you.

You walked up to her. "Umm... Anything I can for you?" Again, awkward interactions because she also doesn't approve of your actions.

"I was thinking, brother really wants to explore around the city, especially since the festival that you both planned starts tomorrow night." You already knew what she was gonna say next.

Thoma stood next to her, "I think my lord feels the most comfortable around you, so why not go with him tonight?"

You sighed, looking at them with a frown. "Guys, please... I-I know what you're doing. Thoma, you heard him! He wants nothing to do with me." Thoma looked at you disapprovingly.

"My lady, Lord Ayato loves you more than anything. Why hurt the both of you like this over things that were said out of angry?"

"Y/N... do you still love my brother?" Ayaka looked at you expectantly, her voice laced with doubt.

You looked at her in disbelief. "...I love him more than anything, words cannot explain just how much." You stated firmly, closing your eyes as a few tears fell from your eyes. "And I know he's better off without me."

Ayaka's hands closed into a fist, "I'm your family too! I love you too! You can't just leave us, not because of a stupid fight!" Tears of her own fell down her face, sobs escaping her mouth.

Thoma held her to make sure she didn't break down to the ground. You stood there in shock, before snapping out of it and cupping Ayaka's face.

"Oh, my dear, I'm sorry." You pulled her into a hug, and she immediately melted into you. "I won't completely vanish. I promise I'll still be here, even if I'm not your sister-in-law anymore." You felt her shake her head on your shoulder.

But she couldn't speak anymore, she merely hugged you and sobbed away. You couldn't help but cry along with her.

...

"Y/N!" You immediately wiped away your tears, hearing Ayato's voice call your name.

Ayaka left you and went back into the house half an hour ago, and you decided to stay for a bit and let some tears out before running off home.

His voice was friendly and cheery, "Thoma and Ayaka said that they talked to you about... Um, you know, tomorrow night..." He scratched the back of his head, acting a bit flustered. "It may seem lame to ask you out using my sister, hehe." He's completely unaware of what happened half an hour prior.

"So what do you say?" He looked at you expectantly.

He's not your husband.

Say no.

"I'll meet you at Uyuu Restaurant at seven."

You wanted to choke yourself to death for being a frustrating and stubborn little bitch.

...

The people of Inazuma aren't aware of what happened to the Yashiro Commissioner, the Kamisato Clan made sure no news ever got leaked. To the eyes of others, it may just look like the Lord of the Kamisato Clan and his wife going out for an evening together, but in reality, everything is just a complicated mess.

And you are extremely tired, so, to finally end everything and let Ayato go, you concocted a plan so that Ayato wouldn't ever want to be with you ever again.

You were gonna be the most infuriating date ever.

Showing up late and putting no effort to how you look, eating a lot, asking for many expensive things, judging his every move, things like that. That should be enough, right?

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

No, it wasn't.

7:10 pm

You walked up to the table Ayato was sitting in. You were in your sleepwear, a purple matching cotton pajamas and top with your hair in a messy bun.

His eyes found yours and he immediately smiled. "You look really cute."

Your mouth dropped, seriously?!

7:20 pm

"I would like Sakura Tempura, a Sashimi Platter, an Egg Roll, and Dango, please!" You said to the waiter, looking at Ayato to see his reaction.

"Is that too much?" You asked him, hoping to provoke him a little.

"Not at all!" He stated with a smile, looking down on his menu. "Your orders are actually quite cheap. How about I order you some sake and more dessert as well?"

"No nee-" You couldn't stop him from ordering those for you too.

This isn't working.

8:00 pm

That festival mask was 10,000 mora. This may be too much, but you had to do something to salvage the plan.

"Ayato, look!" You exclaimed, setting his attention to the mask. It has many intricate designs, and a few gems stuck on it.

"Do you want it? I bet it would look very pretty on you."

'Ohhh... but the mask is really expensive...' You were feeling already feeling sorry.

"Y-Yeah..." You said quietly, but he heard it, taking out a bag of mora and approaching the merchant selling it.

You weren't paying attention, so when you felt him place the mask on your head, just above your face, your cheeks flushed.

"Just as I suspected, gorgeous..."

8:30 pm

This isn't working...

You've been walking and doing all kinds of things in the festival for a while, and the date is going so well. This wasn't supposed to happen!

You even tried being rude to him, saying how he walks too slow, his clothes are uneven, or he... you weren't really good at being rude.

"You walk too slow."

"I apologize if I'm bothering you. If you'll allow it, let me hold your hand so that we stay with each other's pace." You walked around the festival hand in hand for the rest of the date.

"Your clothes are uneven."

"Oh, I can't really see it. Can you fix the uneven part for me?" So then, you were stuck fixing the nonexistent uneven part of his clothes, holding the fabric.... just like when you would fix his clothes for him in the morning back then...

'No... stop that, please.'

Ayato's pleasant self negated every 'bad' thing you did.

He could only be more amused as he saw you very obviously thinking, perhaps of another 'insult' you could throw at him.

You were just too cute.

9:00 pm

He invites you to go to Amakumo Island with him as an ending to your date. Seems he got the whole night planned out... he does that a lot for your dates, which you do find amusing.

...Stop.

Of course, you could only agree, knowing that Thoma and Ayaka would light your butt on fire if you ever left Ayato on his own tonight (a part of your decision maybe because you wanted to spend more time with your husband, but you still didn't have a choice).

You sat at the peek of the small island, looking at the see that reflected the stars in the night. It's a beautiful night.

Ayato sighed, scooting a bit closer to you. When you looked at his face, you could see that it seems to display an expression of contentment.

He turns to look at you, making you immediately straightened your head, trying to make it look like you weren't looking at him just then.

It obviously didn't work as an amused chuckle left his lips.

He's not your husband.

But this is still very nice.

You felt his hand going on to hold yours, and you know that all you've been trying to do that night was get him to not like you, and you've honestly tried and failed to do so.

In that moment, you just gave in, finding it hard to move your hand away from his. You even assured him by lightly squeezing his hand.

This is the most relaxed you felt in weeks. If only things can stay this way.

...

"I'm really glad I met you, Y/N."

...

No, you couldn't hold it anymore.

Slowly, tears started going down your face. The more they fell, the less you could control yourself to stop crying. An overwhelming amount of emotions, blocked by a dam finally broke open, and you finally let it all out.

Ayato's expression changed, becoming shocked as you let out little sobs while trying to wipe your tears away. He saw you try to control your breathing, just like the girl in his dreams, he heard the little whimpers coming out of you, the same he heard from that girl.

You let his hand go, "I'm sorry..." You hiccuped, standing up and immediately running away from him.

"Y/N!"

"LEAVE ME ALONE, PLEASE!" You shouted at him.

"Sometimes, I wish I never met you."

Just like then, you ran back to your home, collapsing on the floor in a fit of whimpers and sobs.

"He's not my husband..." You repeated in your mind. That man you went on a date with wasn't your husband, your husband was the Ayato that said he wished he hadn't met you, that looked at you in anger and shame.

The Ayato you were just with was a person you met a few weeks ago after you saved him.

They aren't the same.

Your husband doesn't love you anymore. He wouldn't ever ask you on a date anymore. He wouldn't say he was happy that he met you.

"He's not my husband..." You did not believe in your own words.

Ayato walked alone through Chinju Forest with a solemn face. He kept thinking back to the look of your face and how you were trying desperately to calm yourself down.

He didn't like the look of your crying face, he could even sense the pain you were feeling as you let whimpers escape your shaking lips. The scene sent needles to his heart.

And just as he thought that it was the perfect date.

Did he do something to make you react that way?

As he was thinking, a glimmering object shone in the corner of his eye, immediately gaining his attention. Ayato looked around, before seeing something on the ground reflecting the glow of the moon.

Leaning down to pick it up, he saw a ring, and as he looked at it longer, he felt a raging headache attack his mind.

He groaned, it wasn't as if that was the only time he got headaches, they were quite frequent.

But he couldn't help but feel some sort of familiarity towards the ring, like he has seen it before.

The ring looked extremely special. He decided to bring it with him and hopefully Thoma might be able to help him find who the owner is.

But the number one thing in his mind right now is you.

He hopes that you're alright.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Ayato head was already aching when he came home to a small box on his bed.

It looks like it has gone through some stuff, it has dents everywhere and it looked like it was thrown around.

Is it for him?

Since it was on his bed, he decides to opens it, finding a piece of paper inside along with an even smaller black box.

"Ayato, I really hope you like this gift! It might not make sense when you first open it, but I have a proper explaination about what it is. I'd like to explain you in person."

The bottom of the paper has the words "I love you," in it, as well as a "From your beloved wife, Y/N".

His breath hitched.

Within the black box, he saw a necklace with a charm of what he can assume to be a constellation.

Ayato took out the ring in his pocket, like his memory has been jogged.

You...

You were wearing a ring that looked like it paired with the ring in his hands now.

As Ayato was planning to hold your hand while you were looking away from him, he noticed a ring on your ring finger.

Perhaps it was just the right fit for that finger instead of your middle, that's why you were wearing it there.

The ring was beautiful though, something he would probably pick out for something special.

When he held your hand, he couldn't help but smile at the sight of your hands together, his eyes especially still focused on your ring.

Maybe you forgot, but you left your wedding ring on when you went out for your date.

"I'd like to explain to you in person."

He wasted no time in taking that offer.

Rushing out of the estate, Thoma immediately stepped in his way.

"My lord, you can't just leave! Especially by yourself. Remember what Lady Ayaka said to you." The blonde blocked his master's path, seeing the Yashiro Commissioner's hurried steps to the estate exit.

Thoma's eyes landed on the box within Ayato's hand, noticing the tight grip on the familiar cover.

Oh...

His green eyes then saw his Lady Ayaka, standing far behind her brother. His mouth parted in disbelief.

Has Ayaka taken matters into her own hands?

Without Ayato noticing, the two's eyes were locked, and then Ayaka gave their retainer a firm nod, signalling for Thoma to let her brother go.

"You don't understand, Thoma! I need to-" Ayato was just about to argue, but his words were cut short when the blonde just gave way for him.

"I understand more than you might think, my lord." Thoma sighs, crossing his arms. "Y/N, she... she lives in Konda Village."

Ayato was shocked to say the least, can Thoma really read him so easily?

His mind was filled with confusion, many unanswered questions. But one remained on top of his priority, and he needed to get to you now.

Without another word, he hurries off into the forest, on his way to the village you resided in. Despite the tiredness, he pushed on to go to you.

Yet Thoma's final words didn't escape his ears.

"You aren't the only one that needs to remember."

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Fatigue was spreading all over his body.

But he hoped that he can still make it to you.

He doesn't expect an explanation to be served up to him in a silver platter, given that everything after his accident seems to have been a mess.

He can't fully wrap his head around the situation.

If what he read was true and you're his wife....

If you're the mysterious girl that he was chasing in his dreams....

If you love him and he loves you...

Why would you do this to him?

"Don't go..." His voice was a little playful, but you could sense that there was some sincerity in his words.

You giggled as you packed your clothes for your business trip to Watatsumi Island. "Ayato..." You feel warmth spread through your chest as he hugged you from behind.

"This is my job, as a lady of your clan." His embrace only tightened, stopping your from packing your things. "It's only for two days, my dear."

"Two daysss..." He whined quite dramatically, placing his chin on your shoulder so that you could visibly see his pout. "Who I am suppose to cuddle during bedtime and kiss awake in the morning?"

You sighed in amusement, turning so that you're now facing him. "I promise that when I get back, you can have all the cuddles and kisses you want."

"I want a very exclusive week of you being with me at all times as well."

"Hmmm, why?"

"Because I'm gonna be very deprived in the next two days so you're gonna have to nurture me back to health afterwards." He argued like a child, very unlike him outside of the privacy of your bedroom. You liked having this side of him all to yourself.

"Alright, fine. Now sit down so I can pack properly without interruptions." You said jokingly, pushing him to sit on your bed.

You were able to get through a few more minutes of undisturbed packing, until...

"Don't goooo..."

"Don't go." He whispered into the air, his hurried steps turned to slow walking. This has always been the case since his accident, he gets very tired so much faster than before.

That... memory... that just played in his head...

Was it real?

You and "him"... looked so in love with each other.

"Have you ever thought about an heir?" You stopped in your tracks, hearing the voice of your husband's friend coming from the living room.

"Ahhh, I definitely have thought about it. But I will always consider what my wife wants with this subject." You hear your husbands voice after that.

Eavesdropping may not be very proper and polite, but you couldn't help it. Such a topic never even made it's way to your past conversations.

"Does your wife not want a child?"

You thought about it youself... it would be nice to have a little family with Ayato, with a cute little baby boy or girl to share your love for.

"I honestly don't know, never talked to her about it."

...

When Ayato went into your room for the night, you looked at him intently, much to his surprise.

"Is there something on my face, darling?" He asked, as your gaze never faltered.

You shook your head, then he merely shrugged off and went through his nighttime routine.

Still, his curiousity peaked when he went to lay down with you and you remained looking at him the same way.

"Umm, darling-"

"Yes, I do want a family with you."

Despite his cool and dignified self, Ayato couldn't hide his surprise at your sudden statement. Looking at his expression, you sighed, before doing what was the only thing that could make your husband even more at a lost for words.

You straddled him, sitting on his lap.

"Is... is that okay?" You asked when he didn't give a respond to your statement.

"Yes... please." You couldn't help but giggle, as your sly husband was at a lost for words.

"I would love to have a family with you."

Ayato's head started spinning.

His vision was getting blurry.

He was going to collapse.

Happy...

He looked so happy with you.

Even then, even now, he's happy... with you.

He just doesn't understand why... why you lied to him.

And as he fell on his knees from sheer exhaustion, his memory further gave answers.

"All of this happened because of a stupid fucking package, huh?" You flinched a bit when he cursed, feeling even more pathetic than you were a few minutes ago. It's even worse because it's true, all this did happened because of your package.

"I... I didn't k-know-" Your voice was soft and gentle, yet still full of shame. You sat on the couch with your head hung low.

"What is so fucking important that you had to ruin so much of our work?!" You couldn't answer, you just kept quiet, because to be honest, it wasn't anything important, and you were stupid for ordering it in the first place.

Your husband wiped his face with his hand in frustration, mumbling a bunch of other curse words. You stood up, walking closer to him and reaching your hand out to comfort him.

His hand caught yours, his eyes had finally bore into yours. His teeth almost seem to grind against each other, "You know... sometimes, I just wish...."

"Sometimes I wish I never met you."

All the blurry visions he has seen in his dream, suddenly they become clear.

He held the box tight, as he felt the most painful headache starting to form.

Tears filled his eyes.

He could no longer walk, but he saw... people, they were hurriedly walking to him, and he can faintly hear their worried murmurs.

Those words "he" said, he wishes to take them back down his throat, he wishes to delete the entire scene from existence.

Yet there was nothing he could do but cling on to the memory his brain had for him next.

"Excuse me, sir." He looked up, seeing a girl smile brightly at him, her umbrella covering the rain falling from the sky.

Ayato sat below a tree that barely covered him from the rain before, but he figured that it was better than getting completely soaked. So he was planning to stay there to wait the rain out.

"I noticed that you're kinda stranded here." The girl snickered a little, covering her mouth as she laughed.

Cute. He thought, her smile influenced his lips to do the same.

"Yes, I am quite in a predicament." She offered her hand to him, pulling him up to his feet. "Thank you very much, my lady." He flashed her a calm smile along with his thanks.

"Where are you going anyway? Perhaps I can accompany you so that you don't have to wait for the weather to calm?"

He was about to go back home, but it was still quite a long way away... he decided to take a chance.

"I was about to go for a meal. Though, I find it lonely to be alone during one. So... if you have nothing else to do, perhaps I can treat you to a meal." The girl looked up at him wide-eyed, not expecting to receive such an offer. "As a thank you, miss..." He indirectly asked for the girl's name.

"Y/N." You smiled brightly at him, the scene immediately lifted his mood even more. "And I would love to join you for a meal, sir..."

"Ayato, Kamisato Ayato." You almost let go of the umbrella, but he was quick to catch on, holding your hand that was holding the umbrella steady.

A pink tint exposed themselves on your cheeks, another thing he found cute about you, among many things. "The Yashiro Commissioner?" You questioned, avoiding his gaze.

"Hmm, how about we go to Uyuu Restaurant?" He didn't answer your question, but you were certain that it was him.

Fully letting go of the umbrella, you let him take the lead as you head into the city.

"I was quite enjoying holding your hand." You turned your gaze to him, shocked at his forward comment. His smile was still there on his face, if anything, it turned kind of sly.

Not knowing how to react, you stupidly offered your hand to him. "Umm, okay..." You wanted to immediately slap yourself, yet due to nervousness, your hand remained up for the offer.

'Go down, hand! How can he even hold it when he's holding the umbrella?!' You screamed in your head.

As if listening to your thoughts, the rain came to an immediate stop. And as the man behind you noticed, he closed the umbrella, humming as if he was pleased.

When he was done, he carried it with his other hand, leaving the hand close to yours free to hold.

Ayato slipped his hand into yours. "I appreciate your kindness, my lady."

You smiled, though quite nervous... almost in like a giddy way.

You didn't look at him, hoping he doesn't notice how your hand is shaking. You merely looked up to the stars.

A constellation stuck to your memory.

Ayato sat on the grass, his mind heavy as he held the box with one hand and his head the other.

Despite the unbearable pain... remembering you was nice. So he smiled as tears fell from his eyes.

He doesn't want to forget.

"Look, it's the Yashiro Commissioner!" A worried exclaim, one he could barely hear made him look up to see a bunch of people running to his aid.

"Please, inform Lady Kamisato about the situation." The words he heard last as he fell unconscious.

Mentions (People that have been waiting for 8 months)(I'm sorry): @nasidibakar @kisum9 @kittycasie @ramvuda @the-real-fandom-person @xiaopleasecomehome @lswtamashi @rustybucketofghosts @him3ru @tartagliasmoneybag @eurooki @spicycloudsalad @icarusignite @foxlady99 @mnoxsk and others I couldn't mention for some reason.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Here's Part 3

This is really long because the first one was really short hehe. I really hope you liked it. And yes, I am really sorry for updating so late, and just not uploading in general. :((

I am now very busy, but I try. I love writing despite it taking over my sleep schedule and if only I was faster and more creative, I would have a lot for you guys.

See you when I see you ^-^

Might take months to post again ⊙⁠﹏⁠⊙

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phyrestartr · 6 months

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Till Death Do Us Part (Miguel x Reader)

Miguel x Husband!Reader W/C: 9.5k

#NSFW, exhibitionist kink, praise kink, hurt/comfort, infidelity, toxic relationships, brief verbal abuse, mending relationships, mentions of medication, mentions of mental illness, difficult/complex feelings and emotions, things work out in the end, nobody dies, the zombies aren't that important, old men just really going through it

Note: I cried a lot writing this lol please also cry and enjoy! (I also tried my best with the Spanish and tried to reference good sources, but I apologize if it sounds whack lol I only know EN and JP o(--( )

-- Till Death Do Us Part --

"(Name), where the fuck are you?" Miguel ran his hand through his hair as he watched the news, as he stared outside at the cascade of chaos. He waited for you to pick up the phone. He'd already called so many times, but you weren't picking up. Why weren't you fucking picking up?

"Miguel, he's probably fine," Dana cooed as her arms looped around him from behind. "You need to worry about what we're gonna do."

Miguel shook his head and shoved Dana's arms off of him. "Our daughter–Gabriella–"

"You mean our daughter?" Her tone was vile. So, so fucking vile.

"Shut up," Miguel barked before ripping the phone from his ear when your voicemail picked up again. He shot you another text, asking where you were before his fidgety fingers scrolled the log up and down, cruelly reminding himself of the messages he'd ignored from you just a few days ago.

November 18th 7:04am babe come home 7:04am please 12:19pm we can talk about it 12:20pm we'll figure it out 12:46pm gabi misses you 9:34pm call me tomorrow

November 19th 7:35am you still ignoring me? 7:40am gabi wants to call you 7:41am you gonna answer if it's her? 8:05am i'll tell her you're busy with work 9:50pm i miss you

November 21st 9:56pm call me

November 23rd 12:01am i shot someone 12:01am i had to 12:01am but i can't stop thinking about it 12:32am i need you 1:12am please 2:07am miguel

November 30th 7:16am miggs shit's crazy outside 7:17am lock the doors, don't let anyone inside 7:17am maybe stock up on food first idk this might take a while 7:18am but DON'T help anyone who's bit or injured 7:19am they evacuated gabi's school but i don't fucking know where they're going 7:19am i'm gonna find her, i promise 7:20am i love you. stay safe.

December 2nd 3:05am i love you 3:06am i'm sorry

Miguel rubbed his eyes. He sped past his own wall of text starting from that day, December 3rd, and sent another plea, another wish that you'd respond back sooner than a week from now.

"Oh my God, just give it up–"

"Dana, shut the fuck up, just shut up."

He called you again.

And this time, you answered.

Miguel's heart jumped. "(Name)?"

"Babe?" You sounded like you were panting, like you were straining against something. "Are–are you okay? Where are you?" A string of coughs punched out of your lungs in rough staccato, pinching Miguel's nerves with every ghastly beat. He was scared. He was so fucking scared.

"I--I'm," Miguel stammered, still unable to have that conversation, still too much of a coward in the end. "Does it matter?"

"Just keep the doors locked," you continued. "Keep 'em locked, and…and I dunno if you're in a tower or a house or fucking whatever, but don't leave until things get quiet." You picked yourself up from the ground, Miguel could tell by the scratch of gravel echoing wherever you were. "Don't get bit. Don't help anyone who is bit. Put yourselves first."

"But, I–you–do you have Gabi?" Panic gripped his throat as jets flew overhead, high above the city. The engines roared a gruesome apology, a sound Ouranos himself must have made when his own children slew him, so filled with godly enmity.

Then, molten death rained on the city. Miguel stared at roaring explosions dotting the cityscape, watching pillars of flame feed into the world's chaos. His hands trembled when the same carnage screeched through your phone.

"I'll find her. I-I promise, Miguel, I'll find her and--and I'll–shit."

There was gunfire. Gunfire encased in wild snarling. It devoured the crack of plastic hitting concrete, the noises you gasped out, the–

Silence.

Miguel hated his mind. He hated how it remembered that one moment so clearly, like it'd happened just a minute before the present. Sometimes, when he felt like torturing himself more, he wondered what your face looked like in those last moments. He wondered where your life flickered out. He wondered when he'd see you stumbling through the streets and have to put a bullet in your head.

But he'd force good memories to the surface when he found the light growing too dim; that confession and first kiss, starry nights spent lazing on the hood of your jeep, the look on your face when you finally held little Gabriella for the first time–it all chased away the darkness. It all made him feel whole again, it let him see clearly again. But with clarity came the difficulty of accepting what he'd lost.

He found a way to do it. He found a way to talk about you, too. It was hard not to–your old colleagues, other officers of the lost world, were an integral part of the Alchemax colony. Jeff Morales and George Stacy, amongst a few others, had known you, and by proxy they knew Miguel.

"He was a good guy," Jeff had mentioned when the moment felt right. "Bragged about having the best-looking and smartest partner around. Now, I ain't gonna say he was right, but he wasn't wrong." That brought warmth to Miguel's chest, but guilt smothered it too quickly.

"Never stopped talking about your daughter either." George smiled when he recalled it, but it was something small and morose. "Gabriella, right? Yeah, he said she was a smart cookie. Kind of a brat, apparently, but hey, with that guy as her father? Hah! I'm not surprised."

Miguel liked having them around. He liked the happy memories they brought to your name.

But on bad days, vulnerable days, Miguel wanted to break their necks and watch them turn so he could kill them again in their undeath; they still had their children, their families. How could they bring up what he'd lost while they still had everything?

Today was one of those days, too, one where your memory hurt just a little more than usual. Maybe it came with the snow whirling in the blue-drenched outdoors, or the sudden darkness the world lost itself in. But he knew the frostbite decaying his heart came from the eternal proof of your lost existence:

December 2nd 3:05am i love you 3:06am i'm sorry

Why did you apologize? Miguel sighed, and carded a hand through his hair as he paced Alchemax's halls. Enough of that, Miguel. You need to focus. Focus.

And once he stepped foot in the control room, the routine morning check commenced: doors remained sealed with no record of tampering, security cameras still functioned, the solar panels still collected more than enough light to keep things rolling. Good. Perfect.

"Hey, hey, how's it lookin'?" Peter asked, a cup of coffee in one hand and his little girl tucked in the other arm. It would've been a wholesome sight, if Peter hadn't ruined it with a too-loud slurp from his mug. Ugh.

"Fine," Miguel grumbled. "Everything's in the green. Nothing to worry about." He ran a hand over his face with a sigh. "Just have to clear the snow off the solar panels later today."

"Oooh, snow! It is that time of the year, huh? December already! Who woulda thought. Time goes by pretty quick when you're not worried about getting eaten all the time." Peter looked at his little May and cooed. "Isn't that right, Mayday?"

Miguel rolled his eyes fondly and shook his head. "If you're that excited about snow, I'll put you on shovelling duty, Parker."

"Oh, wow, I'm suddenly deaf and can't hear you." Peter shuffled away in his stupid slippers and stupid bathrobe. "Oh, right, right, MJ made bread! Can you believe it? I feel like I haven't had a bread-carb in forever! We really gotta do another supply run or we're eating canned beans all winter long. Y'know what? I'll put it on the 'to-do' list!"

Miguel threw a glare at Peter over his shoulder. He was annoying, but he wasn't wrong. They did need more food, more supplies, more ways to sustain themselves. Scavenging the dregs of supermarkets and convenience stores wasn't cutting it anymore; there were too many mouths to feed, and shitty, packaged foods wouldn't suffice much longer.

Miguel braced his hands on the centre console after pulling up a satellite map of the surrounding area. The lab they called home laid nestled away from prying eyes of citizens, making it a safer place to start to rebuild the semblance of a normal life. Though, at the same time, it made it more difficult to get in and out of the city in good time. They had to pick their destination on the map, calculate the time it'd take to get there, and then execute the plan with little to no hiccups. It was hard. It was a pain in the ass. But it had to be done.

Miguel took his time scanning through the map, trying to spot any buildings they hadn't already marked off as empty and not worth the trip. These days, they had to get creative, they had to think of places that'd have food where people wouldn't expect, where the average scavenger wouldn't think to look and–

"Shit," Miguel breathed before rushing to move the map. "How could I forget?"

He spotted a small building on the map, one they'd never ventured to, one they never thought to go to. A chain link fence surrounded the perimeter, giving about five metres worth of breathing room around the building. Clusters of huge garden pots dotted the area randomly, along with whatever outdoor trees and shrubs that'd survived all these years on their own.

Miguel covered his mouth as he smiled.

"You might've just saved us, viejo."

Because you were a country boy. A farmer's son.

You convinced (begged) him to pull over, to go to the new garden store that'd appeared not too long ago. Miguel, far too smitten with you, couldn't find the heart to say 'no' to the excitement buzzing in your voice.

The store was filled with beautiful plants, ranging from common houseplants, to tropical rarities that Miguel never knew existed. All sorts of bushy plants, tall single-leafers, and vining beauties lined the displays and bathed in the gentle, constant mist raining down on them. It really felt like a tropical jungle landed in New York.

You'd sauntered over to the seed section while Miguel wandered through all the store had to offer before finding you again. You had several sachets in your hands and scanned the shelves for anything else that piqued your interest; they were all vegetable seeds, stuff like corn and green beans, tomatoes and onions, but the occasional herb showed itself as well.

To Miguel, raising vegetables seemed like a cute hobby. But to you, raising crops meant revisiting your childhood.

"You wanna get some?" Miguel asked. He looped his arms around your waist from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder as he read all the different seed names on display.

"Yeah. I mean…maybe. Dunno if a vegetable garden'll go with the house." You laughed softly, a little self-deprecatingly, before you reached to put the packets back. "I just–I don't know."

"I think it'll work." A smile warmed Miguel's face as pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder. "We can make a greenhouse. A big one. In the backyard." He kissed your neck next. "You can show me the farmboy fantasy."

You laughed, turned in his arms, and kissed him. "Done."

Miguel crept up to the garden centre with Hobie and Gwen in tow. Travelling anywhere from the safe confines of Alchemax was something of a nightmare, but Miguel was used to it–despite being the man who knew how to run the building, he too often volunteered to head out on supply runs himself. He needed the space to think, to feel the darkness they’d found themselves in, and to feel the light of the sun on his skin to remind himself it wasn’t over. Because it was far from over.

The garden centre was surrounded by chain link fences encircling the entirety of the building, the very same ones Miguel had seen from the satellite’s view. Honestly, he found himself surprised to see just how good the place looked–the windows were mostly intact, the fences hadn’t been torn through, the doors were still sealed, and a row of crippled undead and frozen re-deads dotted the perimeter, but none were inside. It didn’t seem like any had ever been inside, actually.

“That’s…kinda weird, right?” Gwen murmured as she adjusted her toque. “This place feels like…like it never went under, or something.”

“Damn near stuck in the past, I’d say,” Hobie agreed. He looked to Miguel. “Fishy’s an understatement, yeah? Might be some not-so-dead-yets in there.”

Miguel took a deep breath as he thought. “It’s a plant store. Not the highest priority for scavengers like us.” He headed forward, grip tight on his hunting knife. “Try not to shoot. Not unless there’s a runner.”

“Better not be any runners,” Gwen grumbled. “It’s December. Hopefully they’re all freezing to double-death right now.”

Hobie scoffed a smile. “If not, we just give ‘em an early Christmas present, hey?”

“Oh, yeah, I’m sure they’d love their brains blown out.”

“Eh. I would.”

Miguel rolled his eyes as the youngins bickered softly behind him. There was no point stopping them–trying to dad them out in the wilds of New York just gave Miguel a bigger headache, and too often ended in a louder match of bickering and scolding, which then often resulted in the undead stumbling their way. It was always a mess. Maybe he should stop bringing the dynamic duo with him.

But you’d known them. You were fond of them, too, always letting them off the hook with a slap on the wrist when they were caught vandalizing buildings or stealing from stores when they were teenagers. You laughed when you told Miguel stories about them, about how Hobie’d call you “officer tall, sunny and handsome” to get on your good side (which worked), and how Gwen would try to bribe you with car-washings and babysitting to get you to not tell her dad what happened. You knew they were good kids, just bored and too smart for their own good. Miguel knew that, too; the two of you were thick as thieves back in the day, total petty-crime masterminds. Maybe Hobie and Gwen were your dark apprentices, in a way.

Miguel smiled faintly. He missed the days where you both broke into abandoned buildings, haunted houses and everything else inbetween to fool around and fuck. It’d always be filmed, much to Miguel’s embarrassment, but watching the videos back always made him feel…wanted. Appreciated. Like a rare piece of art.

You’d always cheese it up and make it sound like some sort of bad porno or found-footage film, like you didn't just break into Chuck E. Cheese to fuck in front of the creepy animatronics. Breaking the law got you excited, as ironic as that was for a future cop. Miguel thought you were a freak. Miguel was kind of a freak too, though.

“Fucking God,” Miguel moaned, somehow louder than the squeak of the table hosting your feverish coupling. His hips bucked and rolled against yours in a desperate attempt to keep up with your brutal, delicious pace, and his thighs dug into your sides with his hands clutching to your shoulders for dear life.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” you mumbled into his ear. Miguel’s body gave a sharp, involuntary jolt, kickstarting the sudden crescendo of his well-earned euphoria. He let his voice be heard as he arched off that shitty table and up against your solid frame, his hips still rutting and moving in sync with your own. You groaned too, letting yourself be just as loud in the midst of him tightening around your heavy, thick cock pummeling into him.

“God, lookit that pretty face,” you growled when you pulled back to see how fucked out he was. “You feel good, huh? ‘M I makin’ you cum hard?” Your hand slapped the side of his ass, and Miguel whimpered sharply. “You’re so good, baby, so fucking good. I’ll make you cum again, yeah? Make you cum while you–while you take everything I got.”

You were terrible. Horrible. A monster in the sack, and apparently in front of powered-down robots. You did what you promised, and ripped another orgasm from his exhausted, over-stimulated body before reaching your own blissful undoing with a rude grin on your stupid, annoying face.

It made for good content, though.

They reached the front gate without problem, only to find it locked with hefty chains and thick padlocks. If there were people in there, then breaking through the first line of defence wasn’t their favoured option–they didn’t like other survivors, no, and they didn’t work with them without good reason, but they weren’t in the business of sabotaging them, either.

“Hobie,” Miguel beckoned, muffling the chains’ clanking while holding up one of the locks.

The young man smirked and flicked his old lock picking set from his pocket. “Don’t mind if I do, coz.”

He unlocked everything in record time. Miguel thought of you for a moment, and wondered if you’d taught the young man a few nefarious tricks since you, too, were an expert sneak. But Miguel pushed the thought aside as they all carefully, slowly, painstakingly unwrapped the linked metal from the fence, and pushed it open with just as much care to keep the noise to a minimum. It’d be a shame to ring the dinner bell in such an untouched place.

They relocked one of the padlocks for peace of mind before wandering towards the front entrance. The doors’ windows were boarded neatly and meticulously, Miguel noticed first. He crouched down and noted something blocking the small gap between the ground and the door, but the faintest reach of light still reached through the few cracks that remained.

“Lights’re on. Front’s boarded,” he sighed before backing up. “Might be a different way inside. Looks like there might be people in–”

“Miguel!” Gwen whispered. He looked her way, and saw her point to a decrepit shed nestled up against the side of the building, right underneath a large window. Shoved against it laid a single, heavy pot flipped on its end, serving as a sort of stool to get up on. But the lack of snow on the newfound path gave Miguel pause.

“I’ll check it out,” Gwen said before nimbly scampering up the side of the shed.

Miguel frowned. “Gwen–”

“Relax, I’m just gonna look.” But Miguel did not relax, especially not when she rose on her tiptoes on that shitty, rickety shed roof and peered through the window before her eyes grew wide with a soft woah.

“Whatcha got, Gwendy?” Hobie asked, approaching the shed himself.

“You two–” Miguel warned. He looked around cautiously, his body aching with primal instinct–they weren’t alone. There had to be someone else here. Gwen and Hobie had to realize that. They were smarter than this. They wouldn’t do anything stupid. They wouldn’t be hypnotized by whatever was in there and throw caution to the wind to get it. Right? Right.

…Right?

Excited, Gwen smiled and glanced at the two before looking back at whatever she saw. “There’re–there’s…trees? And bushes with veggies and–and wow, you were right, Miguel.”

“Well, I say we hop in there and snag a few to bring back, yeah?” Hobie suggested. “Reckon they grew on their own?”

“No,” Miguel scolded. “They didn’t. Come down, right now. We need more people for this.”

“I’m juuust gonna...” Gwen reached for the window, and Miguel’s anxiety peaked.

“Gwen.”

“Just a little–” The window groaned as it popped open.

They froze. They died as statues for a single, long moment, rejecting the need to breathe, letting their eyes freeze solid in winter’s mercy while their ears pricked, searching like the alert deer suspecting death stalking nearby after a misstep on a brittle branch.

One minute passed.

Then two minutes.

Three minutes.

But the birds kept chirping, the world kept spinning, and Ares didn’t come to collect their battle-worn souls.

Gwen looked at her group with a nervous smile, a guilty thing that said, “oops?”

Miguel was furious. But now was not the time to argue or yell. He could let her father handle that back at Alchemax.

But someone grabbed her, and yanked her inside.

Hobie didn’t hesitate. He jumped up to where Gwen once stood and took the plunge after her, scrambling up into the window, but that same someone shoved him, sending him plummeting down to the frigid concrete. Miguel rushed to his side when he hit the pavement with a choked-back groan.

“Shit, shit, shit.” Miguel rolled him on his back. “Hobie, you fucking idiot.” Miguel’s panic ebbed just the slightest bit when he saw the punk blinking away stars instead of losing consciousness.

Click.

Electricity burst through him. Miguel ripped his revolver free of its holster and returned aim up at the shadow in the window. The tired winter sun illuminated a barrel of black metal, and the small, tawny hand holding it steady. A child. A kid. He was pointing a gun at a kid.

“We don’t want any problems, kid,” Miguel called up. He tried to relax, but he couldn’t; children who grew up in this world were ruthless. They were cruel, unrelenting, and unapologetic towards their targets. He couldn’t blame them. It was all they’d known, all they’d been taught. But they were only as cruel as their teachers made them. Some of them still held on to shreds of humanity.

And judging by that unwavering hand, Miguel feared their adversary was at least a confident shot if not a full-blooded monster.

“Yeah, c’mon,” Hobie groaned. “We just–we just want some seeds ‘n shit, ‘at’s all.”

The small hand faltered a bit. Seems she still possessed sympathy. But a voice, deep and thread-bare, called to her. She looked over her shoulder for a second, before pulling the window closed and locking the latch behind her.

Panic lanced through Miguel as anger possessed Hobie. “I’m gonna snap that kid in half–” but the creaky hinges of the front door opening cut him off. Miguel aimed toward it, and Hobie did the same once he got himself together, but then–then Gwen peeked out.

“Guys!” Her hand fluttered and ushered them to come. “You’re not gonna believe this! It’s–”

“Daddy?” A young, gentle voice asked, and Miguel’s gaze snapped to her. To her. To the little girl peeking out from around Gwen. To his baby, to his tiny world, long lost but never forgotten. To–

“Gabriella,” Miguel breathed.

“Ho-ly shit,” Hobie commented.

Gabi’s eyes flooded with emotion. She sprinted to him, nearly slipping and tripping in the snow before jumping into his arms and holding on tight. She was so much older now, so much bigger; her tiny face used to bury into his stomach, but now she had her head tucked up against his chest, staining his jacket with heavy tears.

“It’s okay, mija, it’s okay. I’m here, Daddy’s got you.” Miguel kissed the top of her head. He fought back tears of his own, but did so so pitifully with broken, bewildered laughs and shaking breaths. He pulled back and looked down at her face, her beautiful, beautiful face, and carefully wiped away the wet trails freezing on her cheeks. “I–you–L-Look at you. How’d you get so big?”

Gabi smiled and sniffled as she wiped her eyes. “I-I, um, finally ate my veggies.” She took a breath to try and still the quiver in her lungs between thoughts. “Y-You have so much grey in your hair now!”

A few beats of warm laughter left Miguel. “Yeah, no thanks to you. Spent all this time worrying about you, kid.” His hand, so used to killing and defending, trembled as he brushed flyaways out of her face. "Listen, I–I'm gonna take you somewhere safe, okay? You won't be alone anymore."

Gabriella blinked. Her small hands clutched his jacket. "What? But–"

"She's not alone."

Miguel almost didn’t look. He didn’t really believe what he just heard. But when he risked it, when he managed to wrench his gaze away from his daughter and back to the heavenly light of the front entrance, he saw you. The man who'd been haunting him for years. The man who'd been keeping him warm at night. You, his lover. You, his husband.

(You, the man he betrayed.)

"She hasn't been alone," you said, the words punctuated by hazy clouds of warmth–proof you were alive, that you weren't an illusion, not this time. "I promise."

You looked so, so tired.

But Gwen was grinning, and even Hobie smiled with a lack of irony as he walked to you and gave you a hug.

"My man! Officer tall, sunny and handsome in the flesh!" He clapped his hand hard against your back but you hardly wavered. You offered a smile, and hugged him back, short and sweet.

"Hey, Hobie. Behaving?"

"Eh. Sometimes."

"Good enough for me." You let him go and scanned over all the survivors, your eyes not lingering on anyone for too long. "Head inside. It's warm, there's food. We'll talk. Gabs?"

"Okay!" She hurried to corral everyone inside. "In, in, in, we gotta lock up for the night." Her gaze turned to Miguel as he hesitated, still watching you with glazed eyes. "Daddy, are you–?"

"I'll be there in a second, mija." And, thankfully, his baby girl read the room better than he could have at that age, and let you two be.

You looked over your shoulder, so like a predator making sure his cubs were inside and safe before prowling through the night. A man enchanted, Miguel followed you, watching you re-lock the gates they'd slipped through, and lagging behind while you checked the perimeter with thorough hands. Miguel would give anything to have those hands on him right now.

He didn’t know where to start. "(Name), I–"

"You said you could take her somewhere safe, right?" You asked before you turned that timid, unsure gaze back to him. "You meant that?"

The words took too long to register. "I–yeah, I meant it. I mean it." Miguel forged courage out of trepidation and used it to fuel his journey to you. "We have a colony. The old Alchemax building, you remember?"

"The one that was supposed to get torn down?" You wondered.

Miguel nodded. "Yeah, that one."

You kept walking. "Didn't we fuck in your office there?"

A smile threatened Miguel as he followed like a lost puppy. "We did."

"Ah. Always liked that building. Liked that desk, too." You shrugged. "Comfy, all things considered."

Miguel hooked his finger into your belt loop and pulled you closer to him. "Then you'll be happy to hear it hasn't changed."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

You almost laughed, Miguel heard it. But you pulled away from him, and wordlessly finished up the perimeter sweep.

"You should stay the night," you mumbled on the way back. "Pretty sure it's gonna snow."

"Might make it harder to get back tomorrow," Miguel said, following you inside and watching you bar the door again. "We came here by foot."

"No truck?"

"None."

"I'll take you back, then. I got a truck."

"You make it sound like you're not coming." Anxiety gripped Miguel. "I'm not losing you again." He held onto your arm tightly.

You looked troubled, glancing between the hand on your arm and Miguel's eyes. "Did Dana die?" You asked.

Sickness coiled in Miguel's stomach. "What?" But his tone was too deep, too dark.

You shook your head. "No, I–I'm sorry I don't know why I said that, I'm just–"

"We both know why you said that," Miguel said through clenched teeth.

The way you looked at him, eyes full of bristling hatred for the woman who'd stolen away everything from you, set alight an ancient sort of fear in Miguel’s core. It was so like that night, the one where you'd found out.

Gabi was still at daycare. You were at work. Miguel was supposed to be at work, too. It could have been the perfect crime, one full of sinful lust and infinite rapture.

But you came home early.

You didn't even say a word when you walked into the bedroom and found him tangled in the sheets with Dana, with the woman he'd convinced you to think was a surrogate, not someone he was fooling around with and just so happened to knock up. You had that same stare, rotting with hatred, infested with betrayal, all for the woman underneath your husband. Miguel loathed that look, but he found some sick joy in hurting you, too. Because he hated you, for some reason.

Dana laughed when you walked out, some smart comment about how pathetic you were dancing off her plush, scarlet-stained lips. Miguel scoffed a laugh, too. You really were a coward, weren't you?

(But you weren't.)

Miguel finished with Dana, and she left. He heard her say something to you, something light and playful and damn hurtful, but Miguel didn't say anything. Nor did you.

He found you in the living room after he'd pulled some clothes on like it mattered. He leaned against the door frame and crossed his arms, staring hard at your profile while you graced the ground with an empty gaze. Your hands clasped and unclasped slowly. Your head nodded shallowly.

"You're really not gonna say anything?" Miguel goaded.

"What am I supposed to say?" You offered.

Something. Anything.

Miguel laughed, mocking, and sat down across from you, on a mirrored couch, across the glass coffee table you'd picked out together.

"How long?" You managed.

Miguel hummed in thought. "How old's Gabi?"

That got a reaction out of you, something Miguel craved so deeply; your eyelids fluttered in disbelief, and your lips parted to suck in a sharp breath. You looked hurt. You looked like you were feeling something.

"The prenup says you keep what's yours, I keep what's mine, yeah?"

Miguel's smile faded. "What?"

"Gifts fall into that category. I’m keeping the Jeep."

"Wait–"

"I'll find a lawyer in the morning." You got up, and Miguel snapped.

"You're not even going to fucking ask why?" He yelled, pursuing you into the bedroom. "You don't wanna know why I'm fucking someone else? What the fuck is wrong with you?"

You ignored him. Miguel's temper flared.

"Fine! Fine, fuck it, I'll tell you. You don't excite me anymore. You don't try, you don't wanna fuck me, you don't wanna do anything anymore–"

"Miguel–"

"You're not the same man I married. What happened to you? When'd you get so–so pathetic and weak?" He took a pause to breathe. Or maybe gasp, more like, as the stabs of panic started to overtake him. "I hate you. You can't leave me."

He braced on the door, trying to get his bearings on his own, but you were quick to his side. With a strength Miguel loved and adored, you eased him down and fell in slow-motion with his shaky frame secured in your arms.

“It’s okay, Miggs. You’re okay.” Your fingers combed through his hair slowly. You held him tight, and convinced him to breathe with you. In and out. In and out. In and out. He breathed to the rhythm of your heart, as it turned out. Slow and steady. Hurt and bleeding.

“We’ll figure this out, I promise.”

And he believed you.

That’s why he took off the ring, and left first thing in the morning.

Hobie and Gwen passed out after eating their fill of stew. Miguel was beyond annoyed, but couldn't find it in himself to wake them up and leave, not when you were undecided about going with them, but very much wanting him to take Gabi.

Honestly, he didn't think you'd still be hurting after all this time. Dana was something of the past, a succubus that followed the steps of opportunity and wealth wherever it may go. That's why she wasn't with the group anymore. That's why she left him when he needed her most, and jumped in a truck with strangers while he bled out, alone, in the solitude of an abandoned pet store.

Chills raked his spine, breaking off chunks of bone when he thought about it. He'd never been so fucking scared in his life. He wished he could have called you to come save him. He wanted you to be the one to walk in there and find him, crying and dying, because you would have stuck by his side through all of those moments; if he hadn't let his emotions get the best of him, if he hadn't made so many stupid decisions, he would've been with you. If he died that day, it would have been in your arms.

"Hey," you murmured with a gentle touch to his shoulder. Miguel jumped, and your eyes softened. "You okay?"

Miguel swallowed thickly as he nodded. He looked around, grounding his mind through the touch of your hand, the duo snoring and slumped against bags of soil, and the gentle flickering of the propane campfire keeping the space warm. You taking a seat beside him helped, too.

Copper eyes took a moment to pace around the old garden centre; true to the outside, it was more or less untouched on the inside, just more cluttered with haphazard barricades and half-done projects. Miguel watched his ghost walk through the isles, once filled with tropical plants, but now replaced with beautiful, healthy trees raised by your hand. It was no wonder Gabi grew up so strong.

Speaking of--"Where's Gabi?"

"She's in the next room. Watering some seedlings." You smiled for a fraction of a second. "Putting her green thumb to the test. Tryna show her old man up, I guess."

Miguel smiled though his eyes stung. "Sounds like an O'hara."

"Yeah, I thought so, too."

You shared a few broken beats of laughter before silence fell, just like the snow beyond the door. Then, shyly, like you'd never done it before, your arm reached around his waist. Miguel didn't hesitate to lean his weight into you, though, and that arm didn't wait to pull him in closer right after.

"So. You still hate me?" Miguel dared to ask before the dancing cinders.

Your hand smoothed up and down his side thoughtfully, soothingly. Miguel melted against you more with a sweet, content sigh.

"I never hated you," you whispered in return. "Never."

Miguel made a little sound, something caught between surprise and relief, while your words sunk deep into his thoughts. You didn’t hate him. You didn’t hate him.

“Then come back with us.”

“Miguel–”

“There’s no reason to stay here,” Miguel bit out, frustration egging him on. “We have shelter, we have water, showers, rooms, beds–we have everything.”

“What about food?” You asked quietly.

But Miguel didn’t have an answer; food was the reason they were coming out here, to find more ways to create sustainable living, to try and make life work again. He couldn’t help but look at the trees and bushes bursting with colourful fruits and vegetables, showing off years of dedication and hard work through the literal fruits of your labour. Miguel didn’t know how hard it was to get there. He didn’t think he wanted to know.

“...It’s a work in progress,” he grumbled instead of admitting the truth. “But we could use your help.”

Your warm fingers dipped under layers of clothes to find the searing skin of your past lover. To Miguel, it almost ached. He hadn't been touched in so long. He hadn't felt your hands on his bare skin for even longer. It intoxicated him, filled his mind and blood with wants and needs–things only you could fulfil for him.

"I won't leave you hangin', promise that. I just–I need to figure out how this is all gonna work." You looked around the room, taking stock. "Lots of gear we'll need, lots of shit to move. I'll send you back with whatever's already picked. Not worried about the cold with those. The trees are another story, don't want 'em to go dormant while–"

Miguel kissed you. Sloppily, and wantonly, but with genuinity. Your hands scrambled to hold onto his massive frame when he leaned into you and almost knocked you off the discounted garden bench. This time, you were the one who made a cute, surprised noise.

And you were the one who kissed him the second time, but it was smaller and shier coming from you, not so eager to consume like Miguel. Your calloused hand held the side of his neck, and your thumb ran along his jawline thoughtfully when you parted, noses bumping and nudging together in a weak nuzzle.

"I guess you don't hate me anymore?" Your whisper ached Miguel's heart.

"I never did," he confessed.

"Then why did you say it?"

"I don't know." He traced the curve of your lips with tired, weighted eyes. Your cupid's bow had a nice shape to it, so soft and pillowy, meant just for him. "But I didn't mean it."

"I need a better answer than that." You swallowed down what Miguel could only guess to be a tincture of fear and sorrow, or maybe rage and betrayal. "I've lived with–with that for a long, long time." Your eyes glistened with unspent grief, suddenly. "I need more than 'I don't know.'"

Miguel's heart lurched. He hadn't bore witness to the consequences of his selfishness before, not with you, not during his affair with Dana. He'd only seen you grow distant across that coffee table far before that god-awful night. And back then, he wanted a reaction. He wanted something like this out of you, but now, he couldn't fathom why.

"Mi amor, I–it's hard to put into words, and I was a stupid kid, and–hey, hey, don't--don't cry." He wiped away the bravest tear to fall first before you turned away, back to the flickering blaze, and rubbed your face roughly.

"Here's my guess," you muttered. "You wanted to fuck, and I couldn’t–I just–it was hard for me. Or maybe it wasn’t hard, maybe that’s a better way to put it.” You rubbed your face, and held your head in your hands. "The, ah, the medication, the anti-depressants or whatever, they were fucking me up. I didn’t wanna fuck you. I didn’t wanna do anything. Then I was in training to join the force. Wasn't home, and when I was, I was too tired to take care of you and Gabi, so I focused on her. And that made you go back to Dana. Again."

Bile scorched the back of Miguel’s throat. "You knew." A realisation, not a question. "You knew we–that she and I–"

"Yeah, that she wasn't a surrogate.” You picked your head up from your hands and stared at the fire, unseeing. “Because she was dating Gabe at the time, and you were with me." You sighed and let a deep, venomous grief finally escape from the space between your lungs, from the spot where that thing had festered like a disease for too many years.

"I could let it go the first time, turn a blind eye because she gave me–gave us–our daughter, but–the second time? With all the shit you two said?" You shook your head. "I just--I couldn't–I wish you'd just told me what was wrong. I wish I'd told you what was going on with me, too, 'cause I know all the shit that happened is my fault, too.”

"Dad?” Gabi's small, hollow voice rang. The both of you turned to her, but you were the one who got up.

“Baby,” You said with a hushed tone, somehow so comforting but so afraid. “Hey, you done with the watering?”

“Uh, yeah, but…um, is everything okay?” Her gaze flicked between you and Miguel. He could almost hear her little mind firing on all cylinders as she tried to parse what they were talking about. “You look sad.”

You crouched before her and took her hands in yours. “We’re talking through some things, honey, it’s alright. We’re figuring things out.”

A light of worried realization illuminated Gabriella’s gaze. Miguel fidgeted and futzed with his clothes as he looked away, unsure of how to deal with her accusatory revelation. How much did she know? Did you tell her anything? No, no, you wouldn’t do that, you wouldn’t dirty her memory of her father like that. You were a good man. You were a better man than Miguel.

“Oh,” she whispered.

You nodded and brushed some hair free from her freckled face. "We’ll be alright, baby. You just get some sleep, alright? Tomorrow's gonna be a busy day. Lots of loading up to do."

Gabi whispered the softest okay before giving you a hug. She paused for a moment, before running to Miguel and throwing her arms around him for a few precious seconds before running off to the loft to sleep.

You sighed, then, and Miguel did too.

You turned to him. “Look, you–I don’t know why I’m starting shit right after you…you wander back into my life,” you murmured, going back to Miguel and straddling the bench before taking his hand and squeezing. “I’m sorry. And I love you. You know that, right?”

That pang came back in Miguel’s chest, but this time, it was warmer.

December 2nd 3:05am i love you 3:06am i'm sorry

Miguel squeezed your hand back and this time, he was the one tearing up. “Mi amor, you don’t need to–you’ve done enough apologizing already.”

"Miggs, don't say that. I–"

"Stop. Stop it." Your husband straddled the bench, too, and scooted closer to you until he was more or less in your lap, his heavy thighs draped over your own.

"But–" you started, and stopped as Miguel cupped your face with both hands and squished your cheeks. You sighed and leaned into his touch when it eased up. "Baby–"

"Me arrepiento de lo que hice," he whispered to you, "espero algún día puedas perdonarme." He let go of your face, and found your hand to kiss its back. "Te amo."

You smiled. Something real, something happy. Something that stayed around for more than a few seconds, and made the corners of your eyes crinkle with the beautiful way you'd aged. Then, you kissed him.

"Te amo," you murmured back, your lips still touching his. "We'll figure this out. Work it out. We have the time." Your lips pressed against his again. "I'm not giving up on us."

This time, Miguel cried.

It took some time to transport everything to Alchemax. It took a little bit longer to get you there, too.

But you got there eventually, ready to stay for good, and ready to put Miguel's mind at ease.

Your old friends and coworkers greeted you, clasping their hands on your back and hugging you tight until you couldn't breathe anymore. You smiled, too, and asked them how they were holding up, if your husband was keeping things in line. You couldn't help but remind them that you in fact hand the handsomest and smartest partner in the world, too.

They let you get acquainted with the building pretty quickly, probably seeing the haggard, exhausted state you'd lived in for five years and wanting to let you unwind for the first time in a long time. And that called for a hot shower, food, and some sleep.

"I'll take you to your room," Miguel told you as you both left the common area.

"My room?" You retorted, sounding mighty confused and damn near insulted.

Miguel blinked and looked at you. "Yeah. There's enough for–" Oh.

"What's yours is mine, yeah?" You said, stern and a little bit spicy. "Then your room is mine. And your ass is–"

"Câllate," Miguel cut you off with a smile. "I'll take you to our room."

He led you there with a bit of a spring to his step, and you kept up with as much enthusiasm. The room was nothing special, featuring nothing more beyond a mediocre bed, uninspired furnishings, and random knick knacks Miguel had left here over the years. But it was home. Your shared home.

"Huh." You looked around the room. "I think that coffee table woulda looked nice here."

Miguel scoffed a laugh and rested his hand on the small of your back. "You think so? I think it'd clash."

"Yeah, well, you have bad taste, hun."

"Oh, wow, you're really gonna say that when I'm married to you?"

"I'm the one who confessed first. I'm the one who proposed. Pretty sure it's safe to say I picked you." You leaned toward him and kissed his cheek. “And I have good taste.”

Miguel felt his face get hot. "Shut up and take a shower."

"Your wish is my command." You set your pack down by the bed before sliding open the door to the ensuite. Miguel watched you like a hawk, his prey drive skyrocketing when he caught swaths of your bare skin peeking out from the washroom. He wanted to watch more, but you deserved a little privacy.

"Oh," you said, peeking out from the doorway. "I, uh, kept my phone through everything. There're some photos of Gabi, if you wanna check it out." You vanished back into the bathroom and Miguel heard the water turn on. "It's in my pack! In the shitty little phone pocket thing."

"Yeah, I–okay, I'll take a look, thanks." Miguel smiled, and rummaged through what you'd brought with you before pulling out that beat up phone with the charger still plugged into it and kept together with bandages of tape. Colour him impressed.

He sat on the edge of the bed and went straight for the camera roll. There were loads of new pictures ranging from Gabriella when she was littler, to pictures of animals that Miguel guessed Gabi had a hand in.

There were old pictures, too. Mostly of Miguel, as embarrassing as that was, but the baby photos took over his reign once that perfect little girl entered your life. It made Miguel wish he’d taken more photos, that he hadn’t thought it was too cliche and embarrassing to capture every moment. He used to say shit like, “Do you have to take a photo? Can’t you just live in the moment?” but you’d stick your tongue out, give him a pinch or a bite on his cheek or something else in retribution. Because you didn’t care, you wanted to look back on little memories.

He scanned through photos until he caught one that sent a rush of red to his features; it was of him, on his back, eyes teary and face alight with a fierce blush as you, well, obviously fucked him stupid. It was the only one of its kind. Maybe you forgot to delete it? Maybe–

The videos. Oooh, now that had Miguel excited. Miguel scanned through the other folders, but found nothing, much to his dismay and relief, seeing as Gabi probably had free access to your phone.

But then, he spied a locked folder.

The first password he tried worked (your anniversary because duh. You were such a sap), and a whole catalogue of videos and pictures were unleashed.

Miguel glanced up at the washroom door before he skimmed through. He remembered all of these places (but the geo tags helped, too. Christ, you were so organised with your exhibitionist porn), ranging from IKEA after closing, to an abandoned amusement park. He still didn’t know how you picked out these places, or how you knew how to get into them without getting in heaps of trouble with the authorities.

He tapped on a video and bumped the volume up a couple notches, just so he could barely hear; it was him on his knees, on a rusty old ferris wheel, staring up at you like you were God himself as he gripped your thighs and did his damndest to give you the blowie of a lifetime. Your sighs and soft moans rippled through the speakers like waves lapping at the shoreline. Present Miguel rubbed his mouth, worrying at his bottom lip before licking the dryness away.

“Good boy,” You whispered on the other side of the camera. Your hand came into view and carded through dark locks before cupping his cheek. Miguel of the past turned into your touch and took your thumb into his mouth while his hand took over stroking your length from base to tip over, and over again.

Miguel swiped to the next video. He was on his back this time, in your shared bedroom, if that duvet cover was to be trusted, while your fingers plunged deep inside of his heat and tore loud moans and gasps from him. He remembered this; you called it an experiment before you bullied his prostate with three, thick digits.

"How's that feel, gorgeous?" You purred. Miguel swallowed thickly, both in the video and in the now. His hesitant hand crept down his thigh slowly, like he was trying to hide it from himself and call it an accident as he reached to palm himself through his jeans while he watched. He almost felt guilty. But that's what made it better.

"Good. Really fucking good." His past self rocked down against your fingers, choking on a needy whine as his eyes slid open, and found you. "I need you, mi amor. Please–"

"I know, babe, I know. I'm almost done here," you promised. You tilted the camera down to his stretched hole to catch what you did next. "Then you can have whatever you want from me."

You pressed your pinky in, then, and Miguel of the present bit his lip as his shocked gasp and shaky cry pierced through the speakers. Miguel still couldn't describe the deranged pleasure he got from having half your hand in his ass, nearly to the point of fisting him.

Miguel switched to a different video quickly. The next one was in the Jeep you loved so much. You were both out camping for the weekend, something you loved and Miguel had learned to love; that stupid red truck became home for so many long weekends, it became host to long hours of napping and intimacy, it turned into one of Miguel's favourite places.

The video started with you adjusting the camera and squinting at it while Miguel’s younger self bitched and moaned in the background.

"I'm just making sure the tripod's working 'n shit, babe, just gimme a sec!" You whined back.

"My dick's getting soft," Miguel threatened, so blasé but annoyed at the same time. "Come on, viejo."

You pulled away from the camera, grinning smug as a fox, and scooted back to your lover. His past self was lounging, hair and clothes already a mess from the prologue to this movie, as he watched you.

"I'm here, I'm here." You kissed him, and Miguel could almost taste the s’mores on your tongue, the coffee on your lips. "Sorry, just wanna make sure it's perfect."

"Oh, yeah, 'course. Gotta make sure your indie porno looks good."

"Hey, one day we're gonna look back on this! It's worth it, baby, trust me."

"Whatever. Just kiss me," Miguel demanded with a laugh. And you did as you were told, kissing his lips, then down his chest, then–

"Knew you'd like watching 'em back."

Miguel jumped, nearly dropping the phone as he jerked his hand away from his clothed bulge. "I, uh–what?" he asked dumbly as he stared at your built frame leaning against the doorframe. God, you were still an impressive specimen. He wished that loose towel would just drop from your hips already.

"Our, ah, home videos." You grinned, so much like that fox from the past, and paced to Miguel. "Nice looking back, ain't it?" You cupped the underside of his jaw and tilted his face up. "Got you a lil' excited, yeah?"

You weren't wrong. With a hammering heart, burning skin, and tingling nerves, he couldn't deny he was stuck deep in a pool of desire and need. And now with you handling him like this–fuck. He was in trouble.

Miguel nodded weakly. "Yeah." He took a deep breath. "Just a little."

“I’ll help.” You eased onto the bed and took great care in settling behind him. "Let the video play," you whispered against his neck before leaving a possessive kiss.

Miguel leaned back into you. He watched you pop open his jeans and slip a hand down, down, down, until your warm palm met his aching length. A shuddered breath escaped him when you felt him up, pulled him free, squeezing and stroking in all the right spots; it'd been so long since anyone touched him. It'd been so long since he touched himself.

"I, ah, don’t think we–did we lock the door?" Miguel heard himself moan in the video, and he dared another look; your head bobbed between his thighs while fingers pistoned into him. He wondered if you would do that to him again. Maybe tonight.

"Nope.”

“Shit.”

"Mmmh. You want me to stop jerking you off so you can lock it?"

"No."

You chuckled. "Okay."

Your hand still worked him slowly and thoughtfully while lovers of the past filled in the rest of the silence. Miguel's hips bucked, and you hummed, so pleased with yourself. Pleased with yourself for pleasing him. Something Miguel found self-value in.

"I think I, uh, I think you mighta been right," he murmured to the air, trying to control his voice. Your gentle hum of intrigue spurred him on. "I think I need you to fuck me more than I realized. Need you to want me, ‘n…take me."

“Yeah?” You asked before sinking a bite into his neck. “Figured you had somethin’ of a praise kink. Makes sense, in hindsight.”

Miguel gasped when you picked up the pace. “Fuck–I’d call it…mmmmn, I’d call it a-a love language–”

“Huh, didn’t know there were six love languages–”

“Sh-shut up, shut up, you know what I–what I mean–!” Miguel bit down hard on the inside of his mouth as his hips rocked up into your cruel, talented hand. He was close. How embarrassing. “I, uh…physical touch. Words of affirmation.”

“‘Needing my husband to fuck me and tell me I’m sexy.’” Miguel moaned and dug his head back into your shoulder as you chuckled. “That sound about right?”

“Viejo,” he whined, setting the phone aside to be forgotten. “I–”

“I know, baby; show me how hard this love language makes you cum.”

It only took a few more strokes for Miguel to come undone. His teeth clattered together as he strained to keep his voice on lock as a forgotten rapture ripped the air from his lungs and electrocuted every vessel in his body. He clung to the other arm that’d come to wrap around his chest and hold him against you while you worked him through the motions, slowing down, accommodating the way his body reacted to the blinding pleasure. There were words said, probably encouraging ones muttered into his shoulder, but Miguel didn’t have the mind to parse the meaning of what you’d said.

“Y’know,” you tried again when Miguel’s mind levelled out, “I think I have a praise kink, too. But a complimentary one. One where I like praising you.” You rested your chin on his shoulder and hummed. “Hm. Who woulda thought.”

“Hah. Good to know you’re still annoying,” Miguel said with a chuckle. He scrunched his nose up when you licked the side of his face. “(Name)--”

“No.” You bit his cheek this time, and he sighed. You did, however, feel his softening cock start to come back to life again. “Want me to lock the door now, old man?”

“Yeah,” he breathed. You got off the bed, letting the towel fall where it may, and Miguel finally gazed upon his lost treasure. “And set up your phone. We need to update the archives.”

You grinned when you turned back to him, and Miguel felt so at ease.

There were still things to work out: the mental illness you hid from him, the cheating Miguel tried to hide from you, the little secrets you both kept wedged in the darkest cracks of your minds. But with you with him, the man who refused to give up on their bond and their love, Miguel felt safe indulging in mindless pleasure you so generously gave to him. Neither of you were about to seal away the past again, but if you could share in the good of your relationship while acknowledging the bad, then hope wasn’t lost; it was found in the moment you’d pulled his old wedding band from your pack, and slipped it back on Miguel’s finger that night, murmuring the words you said in a church so long ago:

“Till death do us part.”

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel x reader #atsv imagine #atsv reader insert #male reader insert #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara x male reader #miguel x male reader #male!reader #atsv male!reader insert #atsv x reader #atsv x you #miguel x you #miguel ohara x you #miguel ohara x y/n #phyrestartr #smut

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weird-bookworm · 22 days

Note

LET'S SPREAD SOME LOVE!!!!!

talk about your favourite mutuals and why you like them

😄

oh god this is gonna be one hell of an answer

@fairyhaos because shes the sweetest comfiest most adorably chaotic lil ball of energy + she gives the best advice like hello??? what are you??? oh god my heart goes a little off track everytime we talk i just love you so much

@wheeboo okay shes part 2 of the they-make-me-feel-the-safest trio along w yena and axe like please i stumbled across the sweetest sassiest boo stan ever ALSO UR GORGEOUS???

@blue-jisungs axeaxeaxeaxeaxe so chaotically lovely and so boomer and so fun and yoid think shes savage but no shes just soft and as harmful as a pinecone (why do u remind me of tht one joon meme of him just. sitting there. peeling potatoes. in tiny.)

@slytherinshua we kinda talked less for a while bc life happened and then caught up (kinda lol) and im so glad to see shes still as crazy and lovable as ever (im waiting for tht ppt) like talk abt impressive. impressive is her whole personality. sometimes in, uh, less than conventional ways...hehe

@eternalgyu HANNIE WHERE TF R U I MISS UUUUUUUU 😭😭😭😭🫶🏻 like yk what i imagine when i think of hannie? causing mischief. LIKE IDEK WHY OKAY i just feel like we'd be running around giggling like idiots js pulling random pranks on people and js the thought makes me smile

@yllouhannie ylli is like love. ylli is gentle and kind and sweet. shes understanding and passionate and really quite cute. oh my love you make me wanna jump off a cliff because how can someone like you exist 😭 (no srsly what is this witchcraft ilysm mwah)

@woozvc nora is like home. which is saying a lot lmao i sound dramatic but like yk when u just talk to someone and it feels just right even tho ur not rly doing much? shes older but she lets go and i can just feel how absolutely beautiful this person is *melts off a cliff*

@welcometomyoasis shu oh shu i have no words so pardon if this is a little small but. ik i say this a lot but i rly do mean it. i love you. so much. yr msgs and reblogs and asks always make a smile and they make me giddy and suddenly nothing is wrong with the world 🥺

@haecien bro is my ultimate gay bestie like what else do you need in life other than cien. what. nothing is the answer. life is complete when u hv cien and his shenanigans lolol like i dare you try to Not like him. i m p o s s i b l e.

@glosskirt AYYYYY MY ARMY SOULMATE we connected over min yoongi. we still rant over min yoongi. we shall die talking about min yoongi. like there is nothing better than having someone to fangirl with over my favs gloss you filled a hole in my life <3

@mesanthropi weiwei!!!! my little bundle of sugar spice and everything nice!! (+ chaos and a passion about the randomest shit ever how do u live why am i not this exciting) how is it always fun to talk to you and why do ur msgs excite me so much

@aaniag chaos. thats it. chaos. this woman brought with her about half a dozen more desi moots for me like how do i hug you how do i appreciate you enough i ugghhhh 😩

@thepoopdokyeomtouched im still waiting for my flirting yk? lol on a serious note, u and ur crazy streak r probably the most entertaining thing on here, and i fucking love it. i love ur chaos and the fact tht u choose to share it w me, thank you 🫶🏻

@arafilez bro rly dropped outta thin air like a fucking ghost and made my life abt a 100x more exciting where were you my entire life ara. where. why didnt the atz rants and the writing and the random asks show up sooner. why.

@nonononranghaee HAFS MY LIL CUTIE PATOOTIE WHY DO I ALWAYS WANNA SQUISH U NOMNOM U CRUSH U KSKSJEHEH u give me so much cuteness aggression oh my god...

@kkooongie sarah sarah sarah sarah sarah i live for ur writing and im always looking forward to our little chats abt books and random stuff (...when r u updating btw 😅)

@maeleelee @mxnsxngie @imagine-a-life-like-this i don't tell you guys enough how much i love and appreciate each one of you. i dont tell u enough how grateful i am whenever i think abt u bc god ik how hard it is to take in a random person in ur circle, to adjust w a kid, to make said kid feel safe and included and loved. so thank you. for all that you do for me and for loving lil ol' me <3

@cadenonlinelive where u at damn i hvnt seen u in ages

@rubywonu @idubiluv GUYS STOP HIBERNATING ITS NOT WINTER ANYMORE I MISS U

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stealingpotatoes · 10 months

Note

can we get a rundown on the anakin-raises-leia au? i’m totally in love with (read: obsessed with) it but i missed most of the context and i’m so curious!

are they coparenting? was it a parent trap style agreement to split the twins? is it temporary, until the war ends? who decided who gets which twin? did mustafar just never happen?

the answers to ur questions in short are: not really, arguably, absolutely, i did, and no!

in longer, the main thing you need to know for context is it's an Anakin-doesn't-turn-to-the-darkside-but-Palps-still-succeeds AU!

Anakin chooses not to try save Palpatine from the Jedi council and instead goes to Padmé's to angst abt the fact he might be losing her -- only to feel a very solid Other loss in the Force and see the temple up in flames ): he tries to go help but gets his shit kicked enough he leaves when Bail shows up

obi-wan and yoda both return to coruscant, obi-wan shows up to Padmé's to ask her hey do you know where Anakin is??? except Padmé's not there either bc after Sidious made his Big Speech anidala realised Anakin's totally a fugitive so they decided to Leave

i'm not 100% on what happens around here (lbr we all know my focus is the kids) but i'm currently thinking they nearly get caught or smthn, fight happens (??), Obi-wan gets there just in time to help thanks to Dormé snitching -- and Padmé goes into labour w the shock/stress

whatever exactly happens, Obi-Wan is there when they get Padmé to a medical station and the normal rots ending group unite. Padmé gives birth (keeping her will to live) and a question hangs heavy in the air: what are they supposed to do with the twins?

Anidala are too caught up in the joy of being parents to think about it, but they're quickly and forcibly snapped out of that when the Survivors all have a chat like canon. Yoda's the (brave) one to say they need to be apart because their force signatures would be too strong together and in the dire case Palps finds them, he could NOT take both. He's probs initially like they shouldnt even be kept w you two, Anakin's too powerful himself and Padmé you're too visible (while I imagine Bail and Obi-wan know their respective besties and are like king they are NOT gonna take that well)

and theyre right! Padmé, fresh out of like three of the top ten most harrowing experiences of her life, is like stfu u little green bitch im not losing my kids. but after some convincing she sees the need for her to remain in the senate and anakin's need to fight/run. she knows they can't fight the empire effectively together and she knows it's too dangerous to put the twins together. both parents want more than ANYTHING to be with their kids -- but they also don't want their kids growing up in a galaxy eaten by tyranny or being stolen by palps.

so they made the hardest goddamn decision of their lives and each take a twin (probably chosen on "anakin thought the baby'd be a girl/padme thought it'd be a boy" or smthn) and after some time planning their next moves, Padmé and Anakin are forced to go their separate ways to save the galaxy for and with their kids ): knowing the better they fight, the sooner they free the galaxy from the empire's clutches, the sooner they can reunite and be a family

#won't lie i've never actually seen the parent trap. i know of it and ik the premise but ive never seen it loll #this is basically the 'half a fix it but also i accept rots is meant to be a tragedy ig' au lol #skywalkers apart au #the skywalker-amidalas are fighting for FAMILY very fast n furious core of them #thanks for the ask!

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a-aexotic · 1 year

Note

hii i feel like john b doesn't get nearly enough fics and i <3 your writing so could i request a fic where he's having a rough day so he comes over and reader does her whole nighttime routine w him to help de-stress? 💗💗

ren's notes ! yes i totally agree, john b is so overhated for what

pairing. john b x fem!reader

warnings. literally nothing except fluff and ward being ward

➜ missing out on updates? ❪ navigation. masterlist. taglist. ❫

Today was not John B's day.

He woke up in a shitty mood and everything else just went along with that. He burnt his pancakes, he forgot to pay the water bill so he was stuck with cold water as a shower. He forgot to do laundry so he had to wear his dirty clothes. And the Camerons were being more asshole-ish than usual.

He just wanted to go home and eat, relaxing while watching a TV show. So why did Ward make him clean the yacht for the second time this week?

He texted you throughout working and you felt really bad. You wanted to do something that would cheer him up.

He heard a ding and pulled out his phone.

Y/N:) 💋☀️ oh, im sorry to hear that baby:/

Y/N:) 💋☀️ do u wanna come over and watch something?<3 maybe that'll help

Y/N:) 💋☀️ i love u jb:)

He smiled at your texts as he sent a quick text back, not wanting to hear another lecture about phones from Ward again.

JB 😎 No worries babe 😘💕 I love u too

JB 😎 That sounds like heaven 😫 Be there at 6 x

Work couldn't have even sooner for John B. He was so excited to go see you; he's felt like it's been weeks even though in reality, it's only been maybe a day. Today just felt so long but he knew that one kiss from you, and all that stress would go away.

He pulled up to your house and quickly got out. He was prepared to spend the entire night with you, sleeping in your arms so that all his stress would melt away.

He knocked at the door and your mother answered, letting him know you had just got down with your shower and that you were upstairs. She also reminded John B to knock before going in.

As he was told, he knocked before going in.

"Mom, I'll be down in a minute, let me finish my skincare."

"It's not mom, It's John B."

You quickly jumped out of your chair and ran to the door, opening it and embracing John B. He smiled at your enthusiasm.

"Oh, John B. I missed you."

He leaned into you, sighing in content. "Me, too, baby. Me, too."

"I was just going to finish my skincare and we can go get some popcorn and eat, okay?"

"Um, actually. I think after the day I've had, I need a mask."

You smiled at your boyfriend. Your glad your skincare is rubbing off on him because you wanted him to relax (you also didn't want him to age badly). "Of course, baby! Just uh, go take a quick shower and we can get started!"

He didn't even have the energy to be offended at your underlining comment so he just nodded and went into your bathroom, closing the door.

As he showered, you got the candy and popcorn ready. He got out and he sighed in relaxation. He then looked at the bowl next to your bed to find his favorite candy. "Ooo."

He took a handful before you came in with a huge grin on your face. "Okay, we have either a peach collagen mask or a vitamin d matcha mask."

He laughed immaturely at the mention of D. "Vitamin D, of course."

You rolled your eyes playfully as you put down the other mask, opening the vitamin d sheet mask. "Did you wash your face?" You asked before putting it on.

"Yes."

"With my CeraVe cleanser?"

He nodded and sighed as if that was the most obvious thing in the world. But if you asked him that a few months ago, he would've asked who CeraVe was and what a cleanser is. You're glad you've taught him well.

You smiled at that, nodding. "Good."

You put on the mask and John B felt his muscles relaxing from your soft touch, and the gentleness of the sheet mask on his face. "This feels so nice. I can't remember a time when I didn't use masks."

"Mhm, I bet your skin feels the same."

He sighed contently as you fully adjusted the mask to his face. You walked away towards your mini-fridge to get a Jade roller. You went back to John B and started massaging his face with it.

"Wow, this feels nice. Is how the rich feel?" John B commented as you laughed.

You kept massaging for a few minutes before stopping, making John B groan. You rolled your eyes.

"My arms hurt, John B, I can't do this until it dries."

He sighed and nodded, "Okay fine."

John B then went to go sit on your bed and turn on the TV as you put your mask on. John B then went to the bedside table and grabbed the popcorn, eating it happily.

You smiled at your boyfriend. You're glad that he feels better now. You got into the bed too, taking some of the popcorn and eating it.

"Okay, babe. It's your pick, what're we watching?"

"21 Jump Street."

You sighed. "... Again?"

"Oh shush, I know you love staring at Channing Tatum."

You rolled your eyes playfully, knowing it was true.

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campbyler · 3 months

Note

if i may ask, i am v curious when the party got their cars/how long theyve had them

ella i hope you don't hate me from harboring this ask since the end of august bc i really did mean to answer it sooner. i love u mwah.

mike: some of the lore surrounding the mustang has now been revealed through chapter 9.1, but to reiterate for the purpose of this ask: mike really wanted to get a car with manual transmission, and wanted something used so it could be a purchase he made himself. he did a lot of research online and in person before finding the mustang, which he did think was a little gaudy, but to me he's also a pretty big car buff and likes a lot of classic models -- no matter anyone's feelings on mustangs as a whole, it is a very iconic car with a lot of history, so mike definitely appreciates that a lot. he had nancy co-sign but he paid for everything himself! as of acswy, he's had it for just over a year!

will: will's car is also used, and also something he (mostly) paid for by himself! originally he was going to inherit jonathan's car but like in the show, it died. rip. but hopper Knows A Guy who works on and then sells a lot of used cars and that's who they ended up buying will's car from. he got it when he turned 17 for around ~$2500 since hop's friend cut them a deal, and he paid for Most of that himself (using money he's saved up from camp and the part-time job he had during the school year when he was in hs) and hop and joyce covered the rest. that said, will does pay them back on a monthly basis and pays for his own gas and insurance, so to him they didn't help at all (even tho they helped more than mike's parents did lol). by the start of acswy, he's paid his parents back in full and now just worries about the insurance payments.

lucas: lucas's parents and smart and invest and told their beautiful talented son that if he worked hard and got good grades they would buy him a car for graduation. so he did. and then also got a full ride scholarship to uconn to play basketball and his parents said oh ok slay boy. thanks so much. so since they are saving on a LOOOT of tuition and room and board fees they said we will get you a nice car. and lucas said bet, hellcat? and his mom said ABSOLUTELY NOT and his dad said ABSOLUTELY. mike was fuming btw. if you care.

max: tbh we haven't so super fleshed out a lot of max's family lore so i'd have to consult w suni re: current arrangements BUT 2 me max shares her car w her mom. i think her mom works from home and when she needs to go somewhere uses max's step dad's car just so that max can have some extra freedom. it's also my headcanon that max is the oldest in the friend group so she got her license first and was will and el's designated chauffeur for a while <3

el: el Just got her car and license before the start of acswy! i think she's the youngest in the party and she had will and max to drive her places so there was truly no need to get her license or car until now, plus i think she had some driving anxiety. she also got her car thru hop's friend but it was a little more expensive than will's since it's a bit newer and a nicer model, but she's had more time to save up for it! she mostly got one because she wanted to be able to have something to drive back at school, and also because she's more willing to admit than will is that the cobalt is not going to last super long, so one of them needs to have a car lol.

dustin: dustin got his car from his mom when she upgraded to a new one and while most people would complain dustin said FUCK YEAH because he loves his mom's car and also didn't have to spend a single dime on it lol. i think he got it when he was 17 as well so he also drove lucas and mike around for a bit before they got their cars as part of the indy crew!

AND THAT IS IT. THAT IS ALL. I HOPE THIS WAS WORTH IT AT ALL

#asks #acswy reference #acswy spoilers #<- just in case someone hasn't read ch9

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javarium · 1 year

Text

Beautiful (Always) | Joel Miller.

w — female Reader, mentions of disability, Reader in a wheelchair, mentions of brain injury and loss of motor skills, use of “cripple” being self-derogatory on Reader’s part, Joel being a sweetheart and making Reader feel better

note(s): this made me cry a little bit while writing this. This second part to “Never, Ever” was requested and fueled by this ask. Thank you for requesting a second part and making me make myself cry lmao. I would’ve had this out sooner, but my sleep schedule got messed up D: Maybe I’ll have a Pedro fic out by Valentine’s Day hmmm

****

When you wake up three weeks later, Joel damn near cries.

He’s missed your eyes. He’s missed looking into them and getting lost in them. And when you open your eyes for the first time weeks after being comatose, Joel realizes that getting lost in your eyes has become part of his life. He realizes how beautiful they are and how they shine in the sunlight. He realizes how much, how important it is to him to see your eyes. Because for the first time in weeks, he doesn’t feel empty.

He doesn’t feel alone.

Joel is there for everything. Save for showering and using the restroom, he’s by your side constantly.

You need it, at first. Your motor skills are anything but what they used to be. You can feed yourself and use the bathroom by yourself, barely, but you can hardly walk or do anything else.

The blunt force trauma to your brain from Abby’s beating almost left you completely unable to fend or do much of anything for yourself, aside from the most menial of tasks. And even those take all of the energy you have. The unusual and abnormal strength and muscle you had acquired over the last twenty years was next to gone. You felt as helpless as an infant with the strength of an infant. You wanted to cry like one, too, if you were ever honest with yourself.

It was exhausting getting in and out of bed, too, having to rise and push yourself off of the mattress. Your arms and legs shook with strain. So Joel had taken it upon himself to get you in and out of bed and into your wheelchair every morning and night, hating the sight of seeing you struggle.

God, you loved him. Joel Miller would move Heaven and Earth for you if you do much as asked.

But God forbid those times you have to use the bathroom in the middle of the night.

But during those nights, you feel Joel’s hand on your back, carefully pushing you up and into the wheelchair. He’s always there, ready and willing to help you, no matter how tired he is.

****

Your hand shakes as you hold up the spoon to your lips. You hated this.

For over a month it had been this way. It had gotten better, but you were still shaking like a leaf, struggling to put the spoon up to your lips without spilling any of the hot soup Joel had made.

You drank the soup, closing your eyes and enjoying the flavor. Joel’s domestic skills were certainly shining through.

You dropped the spoon into your bowl, sighing heavily. Damn it. You wanted to slam your fist against the table. You were so weak. How could you be this weak?

“Something wrong with the food?”

At the sound of his voice, a faint smile stretched across your lips.

“Never.” You watch as Joel comes in and sits beside you. “But you’re home early.”

“Tommy sent me home early,” Joel answers, “also sayin’ I’ve got the day off tomorrow, too.”

“That’s nice of him.”

“Ah, he just knows I’m not worth much with you still being in recovery mode,” Joel admits.

“You don’t need to worry about all the time,” you insist, taking hold of Joel’s hand. He lovingly rubs his thumb over your skin. “I’m a big girl. I can still handle some things by myself.”

“I know ya can,” he replies, slightly unconvincing, “but that ain’t gonna stop me from worryin’, sweetheart.”

You love this man. You really freaking do. Your heart solely belongs to him, and you’d swear it in front of the entire world — well, what was left of the world, anyway — and in front of God himself. Under the altar, you mused, looking down, bashful of your own thoughts. I guess that’s why people get married.

“Joel…” You sigh. “You shouldn’t worry so much. Plus, it’s not good for your health, you old man.”

“Keep teasin’, see what happens, baby,” he says, chuckling.

“Sure thing, handsome.”

He grabs a bowl of the the beef soup and eats alongside you. It’s peaceful. It’s the most peaceful dinner you’ve had since your… incident.

“You showered?”

“That was the first thing I did this morning.” You shrug lamely. “Haven’t done much else.”

“That’s fine,” he said. “I can do the other stuff tomorrow.”

“I’ll help.”

“No—“

“Don’t piss me off, Joel. Or I’ll get up and walk out that door just to scare the shit out of you.”

Joel raises a brow, a smirk crawling up his lips. “Oh, yeah? Think you can?”

“Wanna fuck around and find out?”

Your smiles and his smirk turned into amused giggles and chuckles. He grabs your hands and kisses both of them.

“I love you,” Joel murmurs. “So much, baby.”

“I love you, too,” you whisper.

How fast the air of joy can turn into one of melancholy, you think to yourself sadly.

“You want anymore food, baby?”

“I’m good,” you admit. “Was actually really filling.”

Joel takes and rinses the dishes and places them in the left side of the sink, leaving them there to do tomorrow.

“Ya know, Tommy’s having a small party this coming up weekend,” Joel starts, “and I was thinking maybe we could go and have some fun. Tommy hasn’t seen you but twice since… you know. And I think he thinks you deserve to have some fun.”

“I think I’ll pass,” you say quickly.

He gives you a certain look, an unsure smile appearing on his face. Of course he was going to try to convince you.

You feel the tears of shame and embarrassment burning at your eyes. You can’t imagine going anywhere like this. Not like this. You can’t imagine going anywhere with Joel, because you felt like nothing more than a… damn deadweight. Not like this. You felt like nothing more than an embarrassment. You shouldn’t be sitting here in this wheelchair, unable to stand or maintain your balance to stand. You should be up and around, doing things around the house and the community to help.

“It might be good for you,” he said, drying his hands. “Lord knows people miss seeing you. Party might help lift your spirits, sweetheart.”

“No! Not like this, Joel! Not… like this!” you cry out.

You angrily slam your fist against the arm of the wheelchair over and over again, letting out broken-hearted shout that makes Joel’s own heart break.

Joel catches your fist and holds it tightly against his chest so you won’t continue to bruise and abuse yourself.

“Sweetheart,” he begins. “I—“

“How can you still love me? Even like… like this?” you sob out, sniffling and swallowing the snot in the back of your throat. It’s only now that the tears roll down your cheeks. They’re sticky and you dislike it. You hate it. You hate that your nose is stopping up. You especially hate that you’re crying in front of Joel. You were supposed to be strong, damn it. For Joel’s sake, you were supposed to appear unfazed, by both your trauma and your current condition. “I know I’m not a complete cripple, but I just hate this! I hate feeling so fucking… useless, Joel… I hate not being able to do the things I used to. I can’t even get out of bed without making myself tired all over again. It’s… It’s driving me nuts. And I feel like I’m going insane. And I feel like I’m letting you down, Joel. I’m nothing more than a burden, and I hate it.”

It’s silent after that, Joel unable to respond from the weight of your words. It’s nice to get it out in the open — everything you’ve been feeling out on the table. It’s been hard on you mentally, struggling constantly with the knowledge you were as helpless as you were, that you needed as much help as you did, especially doing tasks that never used to take up your energy but now take all of it.

But then he clears his throat and pulls the chair he was sitting in right up to your wheelchair. His legs touch yours, but all you can think about is how you can hardly walk from the kitchen to the bedroom without collapsing into the bed in a sad heap of tears and pain.

Joel’s big, warm, firm hands gently cup your cheeks. He softly tugs your face up, forcing you to look into his glistening eyes that are rimmed with tears. You look away in remorse and guilt, internally chastising yourself for making Joel cry.

“Look at me baby.” His tone is gentle but commanding, shaking with concern. And you do it, holding his gaze.

“First of all,” he begins, jaw tight, “don’t ever call yourself a fucking cripple. Don’t ever call yourself useless, because you’re not. You suffered a severe injury to your head savin’ my old ass. Don’t hate yourself for this. Don’t hate yourself for something that ain’t your fault… Okay? You’re not a burden, baby. Never will be. Why wouldn’t I take care of the woman I love?”

The tip of his nose touches yours and he gives a slow Eskimo kiss. He kisses away the tears rolling down your cheeks.

“I’ll always love you, no matter what. You’ll always be beautiful to me. Whether you’re in this wheelchair or not, which you won’t be for long considering you’re getting your strength back pretty quickly, you’ll always have my heart. I ain’t leavin’, you silly woman. Now, come on. Show me that pretty smile I love so much. I know it works, or do I need to press your smile button?”

You grinned, sniffling and wiping away your tears. Joel booped your nose (your “smile button”) anyway and chuckled too, happy to see your tiny grin flourish into a cheerful smile and giggle among your tears.

He wraps his big arms around you and pulls you into his lap. Your legs dangle to the side as he hugs you to him.

You sharply inhaled for breath and said, “I love you, Joel. I love you so much. Thank you for being with me.”

“I should be thanking you for being with me,” he laughs. “Who’d love an old man like me?”

You smack his chest. “You’re not old!”

“You’re right, with my knees creakin’, I’m ancient.”

“Joel!”

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel x reader #joel miller angst #joel miller fluff #the last of us hbo #the last of us #tlou #female reader

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lancermylove · 2 years

Text

Please Take Care (HC)

Fandom: Obey Me

Pairing: All x fem!Reader, Luke platonic

Warning: Slight angst, reader is starving/neglecting herself.

Requested by: Anon

Prompt: OM! f mc who doesn't take care of her self and doesn't really eat will and faints alot of times because of it? all characters (luke is a baby >:( only platonic)haha i have been like this for 3 months(i hope you make extra love for simeon and satan because their my favorites ^q^)

A/N: Anon, eat, please. I went through this phase a few years back and the results of it were ending up in the ER and paying a hefty hospital bill. Please take care of yourself.

———————————————

Simeon once again asked you why your skin was looking pale. He had gotten into the habit of asking you the same question every day, but you made up another excuse, not wanting to tell him the real reason.

"(Y/n), I feel like you are hiding something from me. Is there a reason you don't want to tell me the-" the angel stared at you with his mouth open, and for a good minute, he couldn't move. "(Y/n)?"

He rushed to the sofa you fainted on and gently patted your cheeks, trying to wake you up. Something was going on, after all, but why didn't you come to talk to him? Simeon was not expecting the doctor say you had not been eating well. He thought you looked skinnier and assumed you were on a diet but forgoing eating? No, he would not allow that.

When you woke up, Simeon thought he would lecture you for not taking care and give you an earful for not telling him the truth; instead, he pulled you into an embrace and buried his face on the top of your head. He was afraid to let you go and couldn't stop thinking about the what ifs. "(Y/n)...why? Why are you giving up on yourself like this? You know I care about you, right? If anything happened to you, I wouldn't be able to live with myself. Please, (y/n), take care of yourself, and let me take care of you."

From then on, your boyfriend tried to stay by your side every day to assure that you were okay, and whenever he was away from you, Simeon worried about your health. He even asked Lucifer to allow you to stay in Purgatory Hall so that he could keep a closer eye on you. No matter how long it takes for you to recover, the angel will stand by yourself.

“(Y/n), if I ask you a question, would you please answer honestly? Are you feeling alright? I have noticed - (y/n)? What’s wrong?”

The world around you started spinning, but before you collapsed, you saw a panicked Satan running to catch you. He was right to think you hadn’t been taking care of yourself. Why did he do something sooner? Satan felt guilty for not paying more attention to you.

When you regained consciousness, Satan wrapped his arms tightly around your waist and sighed in relief. “Why? Why haven’t you been eating properly? Are you upset about something? If so, why didn’t you tell me? I...I’m sorry for not paying more attention to you. Whatever you are going through, I promise to be there for you. Would you give your boyfriend a chance to correct his mistake?”

Since then, Satan checked up on you more often and set aside time every day to spend with you. He also made sure to eat all meals of the day with you, and if you didn’t eat, he didn’t eat. There was no way he would let the fainting incidents happen again, as your health and wellbeing was extremely important to him.

Lucifer could clearly tell you were not taking care of yourself, but whenever he asked you about your health, you would dodge his question. He wasn't sure how to get an answer out of you, but he needed to know the truth.

"(Y/n), my apologies for calling you to my office so suddenly, but I need to speak to you. Your RAD grades have been suffering recently. Is there a reason for that? Also, might I add that you don't look well. Are you feeling ill?"

You suddenly started feeling dizzy, but luckily for you, Lucifer noticed that and caught you in the nick of time before your body fell against his wooden desk. As he tried to wake you up, he felt his heart jump into his throat. "(Y/n)....wake up...please."

While waiting for you to regain consciousness, Lucifer paced around the room- never once had he felt this restless. Had he not made it clear that you could share anything with him? Did you not trust him? Did he say or do something to hurt you or push you away?

Only when you woke up did his pounding heart calm down. Lucifer sat at the edge of your bed and rested his hand on the side of your head. He wanted to tell you how nervous he felt and how worried he was but could only say, "You are alright...thank the hea-devil."

Lucifer made you eat all your meal under his supervision to assure that you actually fed yourself. He made sure to call you every hour and asked one of his brothers to stay by your side when he couldn't. After you recover, Lucifer wants answers to why you hid everything from him, and he also wants to know if he did something for you to not trust him with your feelings and thoughts.

"Yo, open the door, (y/n). I'm gonna kick the door down if ya don't open it in the next five seconds." Mammon counted down from five and sighed when he hit 0, "You asked for it! Here I come."

He slammed his shoulder against the door, opening it with ease, but upon seeing your body on the floor, Mammon screamed your name. He scooped you in his arms and carried you to bed. "Why do ya feel lighter? Have ya been skippin' out on meals?"

Mammon didn't take the doctor's words kindly - why does he mean you haven't been eating for a few months? How did he not notice? The Avatar of Greed sat on the floor with his back against the bedframe, waiting for you to wake up. The second he saw you sitting up, Mammon jumped to his feet and cupped your cheeks.

"Why haven't ya been eatin'? Are ya upset about somethin'? Ya know you can tell me anything, right? We...are datin'...and..," he sighed and rapidly blinked away his tears, "I...ain't a good boyfriend. Sorry, (y/n). I call myself Mammon the Great, but I ain't even smart enough to know when my girlfriend ain't well. H-Hey, I'm not tryin' to break up with ya or anythin', just...I'm gonna try to take better care of ya. Want to...get somethin' to eat? I ain't takin' no for an answer."

Mammon tried his best to take better care of you, from making sure you eat and sleep to making sure you stay happy. Sometimes you would catch him staring intensely at your face, and when you asked him what he was staring at, Mammon would blush and say, "Nothin'. I'm tryin' to make sure you're ok..."

"Sweetie, um...is there a reason you don't want to go out on a date with me? I know you said you were tired, but...," Asmo sighed and rested his hand on top of yours. "Why do I feel like you're hiding something from me? Beel told me a few days back that he has been eating your food. You are not trying to starve yourself, right?"

Asmo got his answer a minute later as you fainted and fell into his arms. He quickly carried you to his bed, called a doctor, and messaged his brothers about what happened. As he watched the doctor examining your body, Asmo felt guilt weighing down on his shoulders. His responsibility was to take care of you, and he failed.

Opening your eyes, you saw Asmo standing close to the bed, looking at you with a faltering smile. There were so many things he wanted to say to you, starting with an apology, but his words were caught in his throat. He could only manage to hug you and say he was sorry.

Asmo did everything to help you recover, and for the first time in his life, he paid more attention to someone else's needs more than his. He was not going to let you suffer again.

Belphie got the shock of his life when you walked into his room and collapsed a few feet away from the door. His sleepiness flew out the window as he hopped to his feet and rushed to your side. Was this related to what Beel told him? Had you been giving all of your food to his twin? Why, though?

As he waited for you to wake up, Belphie tried to piece the puzzle together. He couldn't deny that he noticed something off about you, but instead of asking you, he assumed you were okay. How could he have slept so peacefully while you suffered by yourself?

"(Y/n), good morning...," he forced a smile. "Hey, was there a time in the past few month that you tried to talk to me about your troubles, and I fell asleep? I am sorry for not being there for you. It's difficult for me to stay awake...but I know that's not a good excuse. What I'm trying to say is...I haven't been a good boyfriend. Mind telling me why you haven't been eating and taking care of yourself?"

Belphie was prepared to help you no matter what you told him. After the scare you gave him, he wouldn't be able to sleep peacefully without knowing you were genuinely alright. He has also asked his twin to help him with trying to get you to eat properly.

“(Y/n)?” Beel ran next to you, dropped on his knees, and scooped your body in his arms. “What’s wrong? Please wake up!”

He noticed you weren’t eating properly and got all sort of foods from the Human and Celestial Realm for you to try, thinking you were bored of eating Devildom food. Beel even asked if you were okay, but why did he believe you when you said yes?

Sitting next to your bed, he took hold of your hand and watched you sleeping peacefully. “I’m sorry, (y/n)…I promise to take better care of you.”

And take care of you he did - Beel made sure to hand feed you and didn’t let you leave until you ate. If you refused to eat, Beel said he wouldn’t eat either, and no matter how much his stomach roared, he didn’t take a bite until you ate first.

He now texts you every thirty minutes to make sure you are okay, and if you don't reply to his messages, he will personally come to check on you.

Levi noticed you would sleep more than you usually do, but he assumed you were tired from all the schoolwork. He never expected to hear the doctor say you were starving yourself and not taking care. Useless - he felt more useless than before. What good was a boyfriend if he couldn't even tell that his girlfriend wasn't doing well and that too for months?

He pushed a few hairstrands out of your face and stared at your pale skin. "You...don't hate me, do you? I wouldn't blame you even if you did. Stupid otaku who can't even do anything right..."

Levi's mind started to wander into the darkness and thought about breaking up with you. You deserved someone better who could understand you and take better care of you.

When you woke up, the Avatar of Envy pulled you close to his chest and wrapped his arms around you like his life depended on it. "No...I can't...I don't want you to be with anyone else. I want to be with you and take care of you. I know I'm not the best at reading people, but I want to help you. You don't hate me, right? Please don't hate me...I promise to be better."

Levi tried his hardest to keep that promise. He couldn't bear to think about losing you, or seeing you suffer, or watching you starve yourself again. He was going to help you get through this struggle, no matter what he had to do.

Diavolo was expecting to spend the afternoon with you at his castle. It had been a while since the two of you had spent quality time together, and he couldn't wait to catch up with you. The prince was not prepared to get a call from Lucifer saying that you fainted.

He dropped everything and ran to the House of Lamentation only to get the news that you had not been taking care of yourself. In a single moment, Diavolo felt like someone had pulled away the very ground he was standing on from under him.

This was his punishment for putting his work before you, wasn't it? But if it was his punishment, why were you suffering for it? He should have checked in on you more often and made sure you were okay.

"(Y/n)," his voice cracked as he took a firm hold of your hand and pressed a kiss on the back. "I honestly didn't mean to ignore you. Recently my workload increased, and I couldn't find the time, and due to my mistake, you....you...forgive me, please."

You had yet to tell him why you hadn't been looking after yourself, but he continued to blame himself. Diavolo moved you to the castle and asked Barbatos to help you recover your health. Since then, he never let you out of his sight, and during the times where he absolutely couldn't bring you along, Diavolo asked Lucifer to stay by your side.

Barbatos was stunned when Beel thanked him for all the delicious meals he had cooked. Those meals were supposed to be for you, so how did Beel taste them? Did you share with him, or were you not eating?

He called you to the castle, saying he needed to discuss an important matter. The butler was ready to lecture you about sharing meals with Beel when those dishes were meant solely for you, but he never got a chance. As you walked down the corridor towards the kitchen, you started to feel dizzy, and before you collapsed, you called out to Barbatos.

As you slowly started to come back to your senses, you heard the butler's voice. "Was my cooking not to your liking, my love? I am aware that I pay more attention to my responsibilities than to you, but serving the prince is my priority. Please, do not misunderstand me. I care for you more than anyone, but...I believe I am making far more excuses than I should. Ah...you are awake? Did you perhaps hear my words?"

Barbatos felt guilty for not paying attention to you, and with Diavolo's permission, he asked you to move to the castle. The butler made sure you ate properly and cooked all the meals you requested, no matter how difficult they were to make. Taking care of you was just as much of a priority to him as taking care of the prince.

Luke thought you looked paler, but he didn’t want to sound rude by asking. He did try to ask if something was wrong, but you didn’t brushed aside his concerns by saying yes.

You came over to Purgatory Hall to work with Luke on an assignment, not expecting to faint in front of the young angel. As you fainted onto the couch, you heard Luke screaming your name. He tried to shake you, call your name, playfully threaten to draw things on your face if you didn't wake up, but nothing worked.

When you opened your eyes, you saw Luke standing next to the sofa, crying and begging you to wake up. The moment he saw your eyes open, the angel wiped his tears and threw his arms around your shoulders. “You are awake! (Y/n), the doctor said...you weren’t eating and taking care of yourself. Why? You have to eat! I can cook for you and make everything you like. I will learn all your favorite recipes, so...if I make your food...will you eat?”

Luke stayed true to his word and learned all your favorite recipes. Throughout the day, he came to visit you and always brought food along with him. But before he handed you the food, Luke always pressed the back of his hand on your forehead to make sure you didn’t have a fever and examined your face to make sure you didn’t look pale.

Solomon tried to call you countless times and was starting to panic. This was not like you - you always picked up his calls, and, in the moments you couldn't, you would send him a quick text saying so.

With a quick apology for invading your privacy, Solomon used a spell to teleport him straight to your bedroom. There he found you leaning against the wall for support as if you were dizzy. Was is just him, or did you look deathly pale? Without wasting time, he ran to you, and right as you were about to faint, he caught you. "(Y/n)!"

Upon examining your body, he noticed you were not only pale but also thinner. What was going on? Were you upset that he wasn't spending more time with you? Were you battling something on your own? But...why did you think about telling him?

"Hello, (y/n), are you still dizzy? I suggest you don't try to get up." Solomon stroked your hair and gave a small smile, "I know sometimes I give the air of not caring, but you know I care about you dearly, correct? You don't need to hide anything from me - in fact, I don't want you to hide anything from me. Being together means sharing your sadness and pain with me. Would you kindly explain what you have been feeling for the past few weeks?"

Solomon couldn't believe you had been starving and neglecting yourself; moreover, he cursed himself for not noticing this. He would not let you continue going on like this, even if it meant force feeding you.

———————————————

➣ Obey Me Masterlist: [1][2] ➣ Main Masterlist

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dumplingsjinson · 4 months

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Honestly, I really feel for you dealing w/ cat guy. My first relationship was also in my 20's. 21-23; I'm 28 now and if I had to give some advice that I wish I learned sooner. It would be that

"The people who deserve the benefit of the doubt, rarely fucking need it."

When I think back on that relationship and even old friendships, the only reason they sustained themselves as long as they did was BECAUSE I was constantly giving the benefit of the doubt and rationalizing their behavior probably more than they did. It wasn't until I was 25+ did I start to take those rose-colored glasses off and realize, we are adults here. You are conscious of your behavior, ESP when you have someone like you and myself, who gain the courage to communicate how their behavior is effecting us.

If they are not changing their behavior after said communication, there's your answer. You're not compatible, they are not mature enough to maintain the type of relationships you want to have in your life and that's fine.

My first partner and I had good communication, we did care for each other a lot, and tried to work on things as much as we could, but ultimately. We were growing at different paces and that's okay. It hurt, but it was for the best. 3 years in and we were still having the same conversations. I get wanting to work on things, so I stayed and was patient like you are doing now. kudos!

He began doing that thing, that I think someone else mentioned, where, they pretty much create a hostile environment within the relationship (coldness, ignoring, doing things they know you don't like, passively involved with dating/ bounding activities, entertaining other connections) until you address their behavior and eventually you break up with them. They put the weight and pressure on you to pull the plug b/c they are too passive, cowardly honestly, to do it themselves. I think that hurt the most b/c it doesn't matter how open and understanding you are. How patient you've been and encouraging.

A person who lies to themself, (makes excuses for themselves) will lie to you too. A person who doesn't want to face their demons will sabotage a relationship with a person like you, who will face them with uncomfortable conversations.

Now as I am older, vagueness and uncertainty is a red flag. Even if you are uncertain, that is something you can communicate. I date to marry and I don't go on dating apps so I can't give advice there. Although, imo the moment you became official, accounts should have been deactivated/deleted.

I also realized as "traditional" or "cliche" as it may seem. I want to be asked to be you gf. This generation started this thing where we play a relationship until one day were like, "Are we a couple?" and the other is like "Yeah. Isn't it obvious?" (my 1st was like this as well) NO! lmao Where was the declaration to be exclusive?? That is key!

I want ppl who are as considerate of me as I am of them and I am sure you are like this as well. Someone who will shoot me a text saying "hey, I'm going to be swamped with X-Y &Z this coming week so I won't be on my phone as much," or "Thinking of you," Even if that's the only text I get for a couple of days.

It was only in situations where I was going a week or two with nothing that made me get "clingy". I learned that the "anxiety" and overthinking was one, a defense mechanism, and two, indicated to me that there was some need not being met.

I applaud you for acknowledging your faults, but ppl who are the "problem" rarely even do that, so I am sure you're not over thinking. lol

Your intuition should not be ignored. "How a relationship begins, is ultimately exactly how it will end"

It's also fine to not do long distance. It doesn't work for some people and that's okay too <3

First of all, thank you for this, and for sharing your experience.

Honestly, he did change his behaviour after the first time I told him about my overthinking and my anxiety, but he fell back on old habits recently, which is why I had to address the issue again. I do understand how draining work can be for him, and I’ve had bouts where I’ve done the same thing of not texting someone or just completely ignoring people (have done the same to him too, ngl) because I was too mentally drained to even want to converse with someone or reply to someone. Like, you’ll see me active, but I only have the mental capacity to mindlessly scroll and like things but not enough capacity to reply to you.

I choose to believe he can sustain this behaviour, but obviously if I have to keep reminding him in the future then I do realise things aren’t going to work out. And I want to believe if he really doesn’t see things working out, he’s going to fucking tell me instead of not doing shit about it and finding someone else behind my back.

Perhaps he is conscious of his behaviour — we all are, let’s be honest, but the extent may vary — but I also think he’s genuinely someone who struts around, no thoughts head empty and I mean this in the least offensive way possible. And I also think being conscious of one’s behaviour doesn’t mean you’re conscious of how your behaviour could hurt someone, if that makes sense? And sometimes it takes a bit of a nudge for you to realise you’re fucking it up for someone else. Because I’ve been that person who’s been conscious of their behaviour, yet doesn’t realise the amount of hurt she’s caused with that behaviour until it’s been directly slapped in her face. It’s still something I’m trying to get better at, and I’ve failed many a times, and still fail at at times.

And I think this distance thing has been a real struggle for him, as it is for me because as I’ve said before, I did think of breaking up during the whole thing. I did think maybe things wouldn’t work out and I should just call it quits. I did think maybe I should just find someone else instead, instead of staying and seeing if things could work out. I did think of upping and leaving and breaking his heart just to save my own. Many times. Even recently, few days before the whole Hinge thing. I’m selfish, in a way because I want to save myself from the hurt and I’ve seriously contemplated on that.

…Do you see why I need therapy?

Anyway, it doesn’t excuse what he did because it’s wrong that he did that and I think he realises it, but I think it’s a mere plausible explanation of why he did that wishy washy slippy sloppy shit, especially considering how he broke up with his last ex because of long distance.

I do believe he’s going to do better (or at least I want to believe he will do better) because from the amount of time I’ve known him, I don’t think he’s going to be someone who would, as you’ve said, “create a hostile environment within the relationship.” I know it’s going to hurt like shit if it doesn’t work out even after I’ve been patient with him but I’m willing to try, and I’m willing to not give up for now. I choose to believe he can change and that he will stick to actually being more transparent with me instead of doing wishy washy shit, and if I can drag his ass out of that shell of his then I’m going to fucking do it. Maybe I’m just a stubborn piece of shit who’s willing to get herself hurt in the process.

As they say, DO IT FOR THE PLOT (where it perhaps may end up with me having to heal in the trenches AHAHA, but let’s hope that’s not going to be the case).

Yeah, the accounts thing is also something I probably should have discussed with him the moment we became official, or even when we first became exclusive; would have avoided a lot of grief that’s happening right now LOL, so I do think I’m also at fault I didn’t immediately call for deletion because honestly, I was also wanting to keep my account paused and dormant but ready to be reactivated if things don’t end up working out. And I’ll be honest, I did occasionally check to see if he’d change up the details since he did that when we were casually dating, so I kind of kept my account up for that reason too. So this trust is definitely going to have to be rebuilt, and I also need to learn to trust someone more (just in general) because I’m someone who finds it hard to trust people easily which isn’t going to fly in any relationship. Constantly suspicious for no reason is tiring and damaging, I do realise that. (Which is why uh… THERAPY?)

Again, I’ve done as he did with the whole “purely chatting and looking for friends thing”, which I’ve elaborated in my other post so yeah, I think that’s why I’m giving him the benefit of the doubt.

As for the relationship thing, I personally am someone who doesn’t mind not being asked to be someone’s girlfriend; just as long as we’re on the same page then I’m good. But of course, personal preferences varies which is understandable lolol. I will say he did try to make a conscious effort of doing what you said; shooting me a text to ask how I am, and texting those other things as well. I’ll be honest, I’ve completely fallen short on that myself, simply because I find myself to be annoying when I message him with anything like that. Biggest flaw about me is when I start to like someone, I end up drawing back. And it probably makes me look like an asshole who doesn’t initiate conversations, or simply someone who doesn’t care. I am trying to do better on this front though, cause it would be hypocritical of me to expect him to do the initiating to ease my mind while I do nothing like that in return. I have been pretty hypocritical thus far since he’s usually the one initiating, usually the one telling me all that sweet stuff, usually the one being “considerate”. Maybe he doesn’t need as much as reassurance as I do but I can’t be giving him nothing in return. I’ve got communication issues myself (again, not just in romantic relationships) which I’m tryna work on.

But he’s never left me hanging for a week, so I’ll give him that LMFAO. However, let me just go off topic for a bit and mention how long distant dude left me hanging for weeks? Months? Yep. So I know how that shit feels, and I’m glad cat guy is at least not that much of a fucking prickass bitch.

The long distance thing is only temporary; it isn't like, permanent lmao, or I would have just broken it off with him completely (or he would have done that with me since we both know he can't handle that shit based on how he broke up with his ex last time). I also don’t think I can do long distance myself, and this whole thing right now is proving it. Long distant dude should have been a clue-in, honestly.

I thank you for saying I’m probably not overthinking, but I know my brain is wired a little differently and I’m just someone who overthinks literally everything. Not just in relationships. And then I end up doing shit wrong because of my overthinking. I’m also not exactly squeaky clean myself in this whole thing; part of the problem, honestly. The only difference is I’m aware of it and I’m trying to be better, yet I still fall short.

And I hope he can, too, if he’s willing to work with me on this. I honestly think he probably had shit going on when he was dating those two other people, and the communication was probably at rockbottom, which is why he’s never learned to communicate properly. And he also seems like someone who bottles up his feelings and emotions. Obviously these are all assumptions based on various observations of mine (such as me being around his family and seeing how he interacts with them; hearing him talk about how his friend group doesn’t seem to really open up about things — hell, they don’t even know who’s dating and who’s not LMFAO, etc.)

What I am learning from dating is that a lot of people need therapy, myself included.

Again, I don't really trust my intuition simply because I know I'm someone who overthinks everything, even the simplest of things, and honestly, I think social media and different opinions have made it harder for me to decide what's true and what's not. I've been seeing so many blanket statements made about the situation I'm kind of in, and it genuinely hurts because I want to believe things can be different and that there are exceptions, however small of a chance there is. Call me a fool, but I want to see if things will work out. And if I get hurt, that’s on me, but at least I know I’ve given it my all. Obviously I hope things don’t turn sour lol.

I’m giving him the benefit of the doubt for my own sake at this point, because I need a peace of mind, and I want to move on from this and hope for the best in the future. Obviously if he fucks me over, he’s going to fuck himself over too because it’s going to hurt him if I break if off with him — I’m very confident of that, at the very least.

But yeah, perhaps I’m a little delusional, but I’m ready to move the fuck on and parade on and hope for the best. It’s either heartbreak or triumph for me at this point wekfnfklewn

#long post #personal #anon asks #not prompts

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dreamties · 1 year

Text

CG! JD x Little! Reader W/ Sensory Issues

A/n- I related to this request a little too much and it just ended up as 3k of self-indulgence hurt/comfort. Hope everyone else can enjoy, as well!

Word Count: 3,138

T/W: some cursing, sensory overload / panic attacks, emotional hurt / repressed emotions, JD is referenced to have a gun in one scene but it's like. when he had it in the cafeteria and pretended to shoot Kurt & Ram like . . . that type beat, y'know?

This fic is seriously unedited <3

JD is willing to do just about . . . anything for his partner. Except, maybe, y’know- change his fundamentals as a person? And he’s generally pretty open about things, people, you name it. As long as you aren’t hurting anyone, who is he to stop you from a pastime that comforts you?

He’s never heard of age regression before- in some regards, you still believe he may have never learned what coping mechanisms were either. And he certainly would never have pegged you as an individual that needed it. He knew of all the hurt you had gone through, of everything you tried to recover from. He guesses he never thought of how you planned to heal from it. Thinking maybe that he’d be enough to fix your broken bones.

He doesn’t ask you about it. Well, not for a while. JD prides himself in being so studious, in his curious, watchful nature. He always picked up the little bits and ends of people. And yet- he misses this.

You’d been sneaking around him so easily, hiding the tenderest of your heart. He hates to think you hadn’t felt safe enough to let him know . . . but he thinks of the Heathers and Jocks of the world, and reconsiders. You must have been so scared. He can picture you alone and shaking in your room, after a long, painful week of school. He only wishes he’d moved sooner. He’d have come bounding into your life quicker, to be there for you, to protect you from brainless cruelty.

Some bullshit, it was meant to be mantra loops his brain. He still wishes he had been there, every night.

A few days after you tell him, he finally peaks his own curiosity and asks a question. Or, you don’t tell him either. Which also bugs him. But he finds out, because he doesn’t call to tell you he’s coming over or wait at the front door or even arrive at a normal time. He knocks on your bedroom window and stands outside waiting for you to let him in. You’d expressed distaste to him breaking in in the past. You don’t reply and he gets worried. And when he gets fed up and swiftly props the window up so he can climb in, he’s met with a pretty scary sight.

You’re lying on the floor, your side pressed against your flooring. You have one hand against your ear, you bite and suck on your other thumb. You hold a crumpled mess of blankets towards your chest, like they’re a fun, plush animal friend.

You don’t seem nearly as scared as he thought you might’ve been seeing him whilst in such a state. You’re just upset and overwhelmed, and you tell him as such when he’s knelt down beside you. You struggle with getting the right words, but he knows you’re struggling and he stays with you the whole night till you calm down.

And, okay, you do answer his question(s). He has . . . a lot. He’s confused. He doesn’t understand what’s wrong, really. He knows you’re hurting, but doesn’t quite know that it’s not all fresh wounds you’re suffering from.

He first asks, “Why?”

Not in that manner.

He waits till it’s the two of you, when you don’t seem too stressed, but still have that glossy, sad look he witnessed those few days before. The two of you are cuddling on your bed, you’re safely nestled between his legs and you contently play with the loose threads on his sleeves, as he holds you with one arm and caresses his hand through your hair.

“Hey, why did you hide that part of yourself?”

You tilt your head to look at him. “Huh?”

JD’s light smile twitches. He can’t show his hurt so blatantly. “Oh, c’mon, Sid. You know what I’m talking about.”

They look back down to their activity, their hands moving through the fabric quicker. “I didn’t know how you’d react,” you mumble.

Jason does frown at this, and you can feel that as he presses a kiss to your head and nestles his cheek there.

“I love you, darlin’. It’s the two of us, against the world, remember?”

“Yeah, but-”

JD cuts you off. He wouldn’t allow your self-doubting anxieties to get in the way.

You don’t ask him to help out. But he knows you need it.

Every time he notices your demeanor go towards that place; he knows something’s up. He figures this out half by observation, and the other was you coming from your shell, and telling him how you felt.

He comes to know the first time he found you huddled on your bedroom floor, was due to a sensory overload meltdown. Nothing felt right that day, and you had hoped- so bad - that the icky feeling would dissipate with the night. You craved pressure and the lights in the hallway were too bright and you could still hear your mother brushing her teeth in the other room. You couldn’t turn the lights off and you couldn’t tell your mother- she’d freak out at you for being so sensitive. You could, though, press your body tightly against your floor and hold onto something, a barrier between angry, red skin and yourself. You could feel grounded on your bedroom floor. You could, maybe, even, sleep.

He doesn't know how to feel that you need him. He’s thrilled. He wants nothing more than to be everything you desire. He worships you. He loves you. But you need help when you’re feeling so small? You need a hand, you need someone to give you the care you never received? He feels so lost. He never had the care you needed growing up. He doesn’t want to screw you up with backwards thinking.

So, it takes time. He doesn’t feel completely comfortable with you regressing at first. But he always comes later on in the night to calm you down and help you sleep.

One night, you’re curled up in his arms, and you scrunch his shirt up in your fists as you call out for him. “Papa, ‘eed you.”

He looks down at you, and he combs his hand through your hair and you shake it off. The touch felt too light. “What’s wrong, darling?”

He peers at you and his stare, dark eyes boring into you, is unshakeable.

“Need you,” you repeat. It’s clearer this time.

He asks again. He suggests closing the window or getting a blanket and you don’t know how to respond. It’s so hard to form how you’re feeling into words. Everything is a little too much and it hurts. You’re so worried your boyfriend will judge you for what does come out. No matter how much he tells you he cares and tries to shush away your insecurities, they’re still there.

“Jus’ hurs righ’ now. B-bad feeling.”

He moves to leave your side and you only pull at him again.

“Need. .hard no’ ligh’.”

He forces his face to stay neutral, as he works through the confusion. “Do you need pressure, is that it?”

You nod.

“Okay, get up. With me.”

You whine and he gives you a look and you go along with it. He peels your blankets back, and has you get under them. He sheds his jacket and pants, and makes sure you’re comfortable in your clothes, too. He lays back down next to you, bringing the sheets back up and over your bodies, tucking it in tight around the edges. He presses his body to yours when you still whine for pressure, safety. He hangs his arm over you and rests his body weight against you. He’s worried that he might hurt you. But the content purr as he finally does so, washes his worries away.

You thank him again and again. Your papa was so perfect to you.

A few months into all this, JD brings up helping ease you into your regression headspace. To help relieve your stress before it gets too much. He also brings up your sensory issues, as he noticed the two were often connected. He also tells you that the two of you don’t need to talk about all of it right now, but he needs to know how to be there for you. How to treat you. How to love you.

And you tell him you don’t know how to explain any of it. Certain sensations or inputs just . . . overwhelm you. Like the ticking of clocks or people brushing their teeth made you upset and angry. And you know to everyone else it feels irrational, but it’s such a big deal for you .

Jason asks if the pressure has to do with your sensory issues, and you nod. You tell him how light touches can feel violating and more intense, how it feels like he’s not quite there. How you need his reassurance. And he says he understands and he gets it, or he at least tries to get it- and you smile, a full smile, of unbridled joy, at his response.

“I love you, Papa!” You yell, excited. You squeeze him in a big hug, and he returns it.

He smiles, “Of course, babe.”

There are some problems he notices this pose.

He’d never blame you for feeling small or overwhelmed- or for how you reacted or dealt with that feeling. You were trying so hard and he was so very, very proud of you!

But helping you at home, in your room, late at night- was no hassle. It was safe and secluded and no one but you and Him were there, could hear or know what was going on.

In school, it was different. You only had a few classes together. When the lights were too bright or the chatter in the classrooms too loud, it was much harder to get away from it, to self soothe. You couldn’t just walk out.

You try to nap at your desk. Your hands discreetly covering your ears. One of your classmates bumps into your desk on the way back to her seat, not even a glance back or an apology. You bite your lip and hunch your shoulders up, weeping at your desk. Or, no, trying not to cry but failing horribly, miserably.

JD is at the back of the classroom, he always is. It’s the best place to avoid unwanted eyes. He also loves it for the exact opposite reason, no one pays attention to the kids in the back. He can study his classmates without questions. He knows so many secrets he shouldn’t, because people never think he’s listening in.

Sometimes he watches you, too. He loves seeing you frustrated, nibbling at the end of your pencil as you struggle with your assignment (he always “helps” you later with it- he isn’t much of a studier, though). He thinks you’re cute, especially when you don’t notice you’re being looked at.

But he notices the negative interactions with your classmates, too. He’s never been one to keep a lid on his frustrations.

He interjects, he calls her out for her shit.

“Did you want to apologize to someone?” He quirks a brow at the classmate. She looks bewildered and mumbles something under her breath.

Before she gets back to her seat, Jason gets up and takes great strides, rushing to your side. He pays no attention to the girl, as she steadies herself on some poor fool’s desk.

“Hey, watch where you’re going! You almost knocked me over, freak.”

He thinks briefly on what any other student would do. Ignore it. Give some stupid retort back.

He flashes her a grin, “That should be the least of your worries.” He opens up his jacket enough for her to see the handgun tucked away in the inside pocket.

Needless to say . . . she freaks out. And the teacher tells them, finally, to quiet down. It escalates, he gets sent home for the day. He’s not even worried or peeved about his end of the situation. He only has blanks in there, anyways. With the diversion he created, you could easily slink away from the classroom to a quieter space. Without all the suspicion gathered around it.

You don’t see JD again till after school passes. You know he’s at home. At his dad’s house. Knows that he probably got chewed out about his careless behavior. So obvious, so frivolous. No pizazz to his act. Nothing.

You know he’ll be upset. But he’ll act like nothing’s wrong. And it frustrates you. He always does so much for you. You could be an emotional anchor, too. Gosh darn, you could!

You hope it’s just him that’s making it difficult.

That’s not right.

You hope that it’s not because of you, that Jason shuts himself off. You know that part of it’s that. That he didn’t grow up around parents who could be emotionally vulnerable with him. That he never had any close friends growing up. That, yeah, he had major trust issues.

Part of you worries that it’s more . That he feels cut off from you, that your issues overshadow his own. That he spends so much energy on you, that he has nothing left at the end of the day to give to you. He can’t splay his heart out on the table, because you are exhausting.

And you have to shake off the feeling that you’re too much and you’re overthinking it. JD would let you know if he was upset with you, right?

Thankfully, his dad isn’t home when you knock on the door. Usually you’d call him beforehand, to let him know you were coming over. You’d come to learn that despite his surprise visits at your place, JD was never thrilled about who could be at his door. Irrational fears? Maybe. His own guarded trauma? That you were certain of.

He peeks through the peephole, unlocking the door and removing the latch at the top. He leans against the semi-open door.

Jason gives a weary smile, “What’s up?”

“I wanted to see you, JD.”

He shrugs. Instantly amused by you. “Alright. You’ve seen me, now what? What’s the big surprise , Y/n?”

You roll your eyes at his reaction, at his jazz hands. “Nothing. I just wanted to see you. I can be excited for that, right?”

JD barks a laugh. “Of course.”

He leads you in, locking and latching the door behind him once more.

“The old man’s out for the night.”

“Perfect.”

“I knew you’d be sad about that,” he smiles and pulls you in for a rough kiss on the crown of your head.

He picks up where he left off. He’d been reading some kind of magazine. It was boring. But he liked the distraction. He liked something that was a bit mind-numbingly dumb sometimes. He flops down on the couch, picking the tabloid off the coffee table. You hesitantly join him. You lean your head on his shoulder.

The two of you stay like that for a while. You get up once to turn the fan off (it wasn’t very hot at all, you think it was just left on for background noise), but the noise rattles in your head and it’s all you can think about. Neither JD or you say anything, you just return to his side once more, till he’s finishing up the last page. He throws it with an exasperated huff onto the table.

You snuggle closer to him, cradling your face next to his. You breathe in his scent, old leather and blood. You want to wrap it up and take it around with you everywhere. Maybe make a candle, so your room would always have a little bit of your boyfriend in it.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, in a quiet, mousy voice.

JD doesn’t really respond. He doesn’t even shake his head or avert his eyes. He does, however, snake his arm around you and pulls you in tight. You whine- not at the embrace, which you loved- but his response.

“Please?”

He glances away and squeezes you tighter. You take that as your queue- don’t press it.

“Thank you for what you did today, though. You’re always such a protector. You’re, like– my prince!” You try not to sound too giddy at the thought, you knew JD wouldn’t be up for much play time. Or maybe . . . any play time. That would be okay though, you rationalize with yourself.

Jason Dean finally looks at you. His eyes water, only slightly. His brows furrow and he seems almost confused, but you know he isn’t. JD was the smartest person you knew. His lips quirk into a small smile.

He chuckles, hiding his mouth when his laugh reaches a higher pitch. “Yeah, I am. Aren’t I? What does that make you, little one?”

Oh god, okay. Maybe you can’t stay big for long right now.

You hum. “Maybe a princess? Or another prince?”

He boops your nose with your own, and you nearly forget why you’re there as your mind gets hazy.

“JD, are you hur’?”

He shakes his head.

“Are you sure? Papa, would you tell me if you were?”

He looks at you quizzical.

“Of course, dear.” He motions for you to get up. You do so, mostly unwilling. You follow him to his bedroom. “Y’know, I wanted to wait to give this to you. Sometime special but.”

He sorts through his top dresser drawer, and pulls out a soft plushie of your favorite animal. You squeal as he hands it to you.

“I was going to give it to you earlier today, at school. But those high school Neanderthals got in the way.”

You smile at the gesture and hold your new plushie in a tight grip against your chest. You loved the feeling of your fingers sunk into the fuzz and stuffing. It was squishy and had a bit of weight to it.

“Thank you,” you mumble into your new toy.

JD was all too good at distracting you. He knows you’re worried about him, but he doesn’t know how to tell you that this? Being the one real thing that can get you to smile? Makes up for all his bad feelings. He never feels alone with you. Never feels judged.

You always treat him with softness. You’re always looking out for him. And if you could just look up and see his face in this moment, how his smile reaches his eyes- that all he needs is you. As you are. He could face a lifetime more of hardships, as long as you could stay by his side.

Maybe he still is enough to love you. Not to fix you but love you as you are and sit with you on your bad days and maybe enough to let you in his heart, too.

#JD #jd x reader #jason dean #jd #heathers #caregiver JD #jason dean #J. D.#little reader #sfw #agere #age regression #requests open #oneshot #I'm actually thinking about writing more for this prompt . . .#reblogs are encouraged #:D

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