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millersdjarin · 1 year

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Some Invisible String

Chapter I: High Tide

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Rating: E (eventually)

Summary: Ten years after Reader left Joel for reasons he still doesn't know, they find themselves together again in a town called Jackson. Joel has questions he's too afraid to ask; and Reader dreads having to give the answers.

Tags/Warnings: eventual smut, post tlou part I, jackson era joel <3, emotion!!!

Chapter length: 3.3k

notes: my first multi-chapter joel fic! overall title is from taylor swift's "invisible string", chapter I title also from taylor, "this love" ♥︎ eventual smut will be here too! so far it's going to be 5 chapters :) enjoy! ps. i recently switched to writing in second person but when i wrote this fic i was still writing in first person, hope u don't mind! will be posting updates regularly

I don’t know why I thought this was a good idea. Really, I don’t.

But, then again, nothing has been a good idea in twenty years, and I’m still here. So, there’s that.

One minute I was out hunting in the snow, tracking a deer that made itself vulnerable in the woods beside a half-frozen creek. If I could get him, I thought, it’d keep me going with food for a week at least. Best thing about winter: food stays fresh in the cold.

Worst thing: everything else. Literally everything else.

Because now, what started as a quick hunt with an almost-guaranteed prize at the end, has ended in me literally fighting for my fucking life, rolling around in foot-deep snow as runners try to rip the shit out of me.

It doesn’t help that the commotion has led a bunch of local hunters—who clearly had the same idea as me—to my location. They’ve got the deer, they’ve shot me in the leg, and I’m either going to bleed out, get bitten, or get eaten by infected.

So, this is great.

Blood rushing in my ears, I seize the moment a hunter shoots one of the nearby runners and use it to take shelter behind a rock for a minute, surrounded by the groans and screams of infected who are still searching for me or attacking the hunters. Gunshots ring loud throughout the air, along with the smashing of a few molotovs as the bottles hit the snow, the roaring of flames as they engulf bodies.

My leg is bleeding into the snow. Actually, it’s damn near gushing, pulsing out with each beat of my heart.

Footsteps are getting closer to me. I try to put pressure on the wound, but the bullet is still there, and it fucking hurts, and my vision is going blurry. The screams of infected are getting less and less as, presumably, the men take them out.

I’m not bitten. Not yet. But that’s the least of my worries, if the pool of red snow I’m creating below me is anything to go by.

It’s starting to leech into the snow surrounding the rock, easily giving away my location. As the last infected screams with a squelch of a blade into one of its body parts, one of the men shouts, “Hey! She’s over there! Flank her!”

Ha. As if they even need to flank me.

My head is spinning. Blood, shiny and thick, coats my hands. It’s all over me. It’s fucking everywhere. It won’t stop bleeding.

I’m going to fucking die.

These men are going to kill me, or do worse while they wait for me to die. Surviving the apocalypse as a woman is a fucking joke.

I reach for my gun, but there are spots in my vision now. Dark red and black. It’s a mixture of real blood in my eyes and blood loss making me dizzy. I can feel it fading. All of it. The cold, the feeling in my body, the sound around me, everything…

It’s fading.

There are heavy, men’s footsteps getting closer.

I’m just debating whether I have the strength to fight back, or even to just end it all myself before they get chance, when I hear it.

A new gun. A new set of voices. The hunters’ attention is turned away from me once more as their footsteps crunching in the snow turn away and head for whoever else has decided to grace us with their presence.

It doesn’t matter. I’m out anyway. After all this time, all this fighting, after everything I’ve lost—I’m going to die here in the snow, in the middle of nowhere in Jackson County, after being shot by a fucking hunter.

Then, I hear a voice.

It could be a southern accent. I could swear that it is - that it’s real.

But I always knew that in my last moments I’d hear him, real or not. It’s been ten years, but I still hear him in the night sometimes, as I’m falling asleep or jolting awake. Sometimes when I get injured, I hear him tutting, I feel his fingers on my skin, patching me up.

Now, sitting here dying in the snow, I could swear that it’s him.

It’s not. It can’t be.

But as the last of my consciousness fades, as I feel the final thread of me begin to fray, I let myself believe that it is.

I hold onto the sound. So clear, like he’s right there next to me.

I never wanted to die alone. I’m going to pretend that I won’t.

“Joel…” I feel his name slip through my lips for the first time in years.

His name, and his voice saying my name in return, are the last things I hear before I go.

Well, goddamn.

If this is hell, there is no fire, so it could be worse; but if it’s heaven, Jesus, I don’t want it.

I can’t even wake up. My eyes feel heavy. It’s like I’m clawing back to consciousness after a bad fever. After a surgery that went wrong. Before I can even think or begin to open my eyes or listen for sounds, I can feel that every inch of me hurts. Like I’ve been cut open, rearranged, and sewn back together again.

So, it’s not heaven. Cool. Fine. I’m going to suffer for eternity, then?

Except, when I hear it, I freeze. (Metaphorically speaking. I’m already frozen in whatever spot I’ve been cursed to.)

“She’s waking up.” That isn’t Joel. But it’s similar, and familiar. It sounds like...

Why the hell is Tommy here?

Then, it’s his voice again. My name, in Joel’s voice.

If nothing else, the confusion gets me to force my eyes open.

And the first thing I see is him.

“Hey,” Joel says, “can you hear me? Wake up…you’re safe…”

I blink a few times. Then, beneath the pain in my body, I realise that I’m warm. I’m under something soft and cosy; a wool blanket, it feels like, if the scratching against my bare arms is anything to go by.

Any other sensation doesn’t really matter right now, though, because I can’t take my eyes off of Joel. He’s just there, hovering above me with even more creases on his forehead than I remember, an especially big one sitting between his eyebrows right now that looks like someone’s drawn it there.

“You’re alright, you’re alright,” he sounds distant but close all at once, and soft and gruff just like he used to.

“I…” I manage to stammer while I vaguely register that there is daylight around us, though it’s fading into shades of amber and pink. Approaching sunset. Last I remember, it had only just risen.

Not without struggle, I get my body to move, but the second I shift in my place, a blinding pain shoots from my leg to all angles, hitting my head and my toes.

Well. I’m starting to think I’m not actually dead.

“Hey, don’t try to move, you’re hurt,” Joel says again.

Joel.

...Joel?

Joel!?

“J—Joel?” As I start to realise that it seems I am very much alive, somehow that fact just makes for more confusion. I look around, and Tommy is there, too, standing by the room’s window, leaning on the butt of his rifle where it sits at his chest, the barrel facing the floor. He looks older, too. Much older. He’s got almost as many wrinkles and greys as Joel does now.

Someone else enters the picture after a minute. A woman with a frown of concern pushes Joel away—in my delirium I almost forget that he’s probably real, and that it wouldn’t be appropriate to reach out and pull him back—and then her face is above mine, shining a torch in my eyes.

I squint against it but she holds my eyes open and inspects them. “How are you feeling?” She asks. Her voice is husky but kind, the faintest trace of a Brooklyn accent making itself known.

“I—confused,” is all I can say, dumbly. Joel is standing behind her, looking over her shoulder with a frown that reaches new depths. (He frowned a lot back in the day, but geez, he’s got even better at it.) “Where am I? Who—who are you?”

“I’m Angela,” she answers, removing the blinding torch from my eyes, instead pressing two firm fingers into the pulse point on my wrist. “You’re in a town called Jackson. It seems you already know these two fellas.”

“I—yeah,” I manage to laugh a little in disbelief. Tommy is still there on the opposite side of the room, smiling just a little, fond and nostalgic. It’s then that Angela’s words hit me. A town? “I…is this…am I…the hunters…you…?” My words aren’t coherent or related enough to count as a sentence, or even a completed question.

“It’s our town,” Tommy says with a small smile. “You got nothin’ to worry about. No one here’s a hunter, and you’re in good hands.” He nods to Angela.

I look back to her and frown at the way she’s wrapping a blood pressure cuff around my arm. “Are you…a doctor?”

“I am,” she answers. “You got shot. Lost a lot of blood. These two found you just outside town with barely enough time—or blood—to spare.”

I can’t stop glancing between Angela, Joel, and Tommy. It’s like I’m watching a tennis match between three people.

I’m still not entirely sure this is real. In a fever dream, or even in my last moments, my brain would definitely conjure up something like this. A safe town, where I’m under a warm blanket, on a soft bed, and being looked after by two people who used to be the most important people in my life.

“I…” I’m interrupted by the door swinging open. It lets in a brief shock of cold wind, but Joel quickly reaches out to close it behind whoever has just come in.

“Ellie, I told you to wait outside,” Joel says lowly, so quiet I can barely hear him.

“It’s freezing out there! And I’m worried. Is she awake—?” The girl—Ellie, apparently—pushes past Joel to look over Angela’s shoulder at me. Her concerned frown relaxes when she sees me. She’s just a kid; probably barely fifteen. I’ve never seen her before, but she’s looking at me like she was terrified I was going to die. “Oh, you’re awake!”

“I…am.…”

Joel puts his hand on Ellie’s shoulder and gently pulls her back a little. “Give her some space. Angela’s still working.”

“You know, she’s the best. Last month Joel dislocated his shoulder and she reset it before he could even scream—”

“Alright,” Joel interrupts her, “Ellie. Why don’t you get our guest some food, alright?”

“Something hot,” Angela requests.

A hot meal and a comfortable bed. This has to be some kind of pre-death dream.

“It’s almost dinner time at the kitchen,” Tommy offers with a knowing smile, “see what you can rustle up.”

Ellie sighs, but nods. Before turning to leave, she looks at me again and says, “I’m glad you’re okay. I’ll get you the good stuff.”

The door lets in another whoosh of cold air, but Joel closes it as soon as possible. It’s then that I realise there’s a fireplace on the wall behind the bed; the flames crackle in the light breeze before settling down again.

“I need to check your wound,” Angela says. “Don’t suppose one of you boys can help me out? I need someone to distract her.”

“Distract me? From what?”

“I’m gonna take off your bandage and check the stitches. Then I’m gonna clean it. It’s going to hurt.”

“I don’t need distracting,” I say, meaning it. I’ve dealt with worse. Hell, somehow I survived this. But Joel is still gazing at me, his eyes roaming over me from head to toe, like he’s scanning for even the slightest inkling that something else is wrong they haven’t noticed yet. (Seems unlikely—I’m wearing different clothes than I was before.)

Mentally squirming under his gaze for the first time in a long time, when I never thought I would again, I realise that I might not need distracting, but I do need answers.

Or something close to it.

“I’ll stay,” Joel offers, as if reading my mind. He was always so good at that. It’s weird. Someone so emotionally unavailable shouldn’t be good at that.

Tommy pushes off from the wall, stopping at the foot of my bed. “Don’t be afraid to break his hand,” he offers, grinning lopsidedly, “man needs an excuse to stop for one goddamn minute.” He grins at Joel when he grumbles in response. “I’ll be outside. Need anythin’, give me a holler.” And with that, he’s out the door.

Angela carefully pulls the blanket up and away from my leg, revealing the side of my thigh where the bullet went in. It hurts for something to even be moving in close proximity to it, like my skin is on red alert.

I wish I could say I’ve gotten good at hiding my pain, after all these years of surviving it; but I haven’t. It still shows on my face like it did the day the outbreak happened; like it did when I was barely an adult.

Joel knows. He pulls up a wooden chair beside my bed, offers up his scarred, calloused hand. There’s an expression on his face I can’t quite read. The faintest hints of a sheepish smile, maybe, crows feet deepening around his eyes. It looks like he’s saying, Funny seein’ you here, and I can hear that in his voice, gruff and sarcastic, so I just imagine that that’s what he’s trying to say.

I glance down at his hand, then back up. For a moment I consider not taking it.

It’s been ten years.

I left for a reason.

But then Angela starts pulling at the bandage wrapped tight around my leg, and the pain is fucking horrific. It’s a stabbing, a pulling, and an aching all at once. It starts at the bullet wound and pulses out like cracks of lightning, through my bones, my nerves, up my hips and to my neck.

A sharp inhale through my teeth, a blinding flash of pain that whites out my vision for a second, and I’m reaching for Joel’s hand before I can even think any more about it.

“Why don’t you tell me what the hell you’re doin’ here?” Joel’s voice comes through the blood rushing through my ears. “Last I saw you, we were in Texas.”

“What—what am I doing here?” I laugh, incredulous, and gasp as another wave of pain comes. “I don’t even—know—where I am.” Angela is working away and it hurts, it fucking hurts. But I think, at least, this is the final piece of proof I needed to confirm that I am not actually dead.

That, and the way Joel’s thumb is smoothing over the top of my hand, even though I’m squeezing his so hard that it must hurt like fuck. He’s doing it like he’s not even thinking about it. Like it’s second nature.

I left for a reason.

“You’re in Jackson,” he says.

“I know that. I just—don’t—” I grunt in between words as Angela takes alcohol to the wound. “I don’t know how far—how far you took me—”

“You were barely outside the town. The hunters that got you were bandits on their way to us."

"Right," I say, still not really understanding.

"So it’s just coincidence we found ourselves together again?”

Yes! I left for a fucking reason!

I’m realising I’m not saying it out loud.

I’m not saying it out loud because I never even told Joel there was a reason, let alone what that reason actually was.

“I—guess so,” I grit out. “Sometimes the Universe likes to laugh at us. I—oh, Jesus!” A particularly intense stab of pain comes as Angela starts dabbing at the wound. It’s a bruise, a gash, a cut, all at once.

“It’s alright, hey, just look at me,” Joel’s voice comes, so familiar that it hurts, so soft that it hurts—“Look right at me. That’s it. Do you remember where you were when this happened?”

“I—in the snow,” I answer, staring into his eyes like they’re a lifeline. Angela has started wrapping a new bandage around it now, tight and secure. It hurts. It just fucking hurts. Everything fucking hurts. “The forest. I was—hunting for food. Then…infected. Infected came and—then—hunters…”

Joel nods, encouraging me to continue.

I can’t, though. The pain is too much. Looking at him is too much.

I screw my eyes shut, and a traitorous, humiliating tear spills from one of them. In frustration, a groan splits past my lips, and I reach up my other hand to wipe away the tear.

“Nearly done,” Angela promises.

My teeth are biting down on my lip so hard that I can taste blood; but the pain of that is paling in comparison to everything else, so it doesn’t bother me.

“God fucking dammit,” I grunt as another tear falls.

Down to my very core, it is humiliating.

To be here, writhing in pain, and crying in front of Joel, of all people. Crying during the apocalypse. Crying because he’s there. Because his eyes are still the same.

I’ve always been too soft. I was never as hard as Joel. Or as anyone else around me.

As a kid, books always said that being soft was a strength in its own way. That it was a quality to be proud of. But in this world, all it’s ever brought me is close to death.

“All done,” Angela says.

Though the pain is still very much alive and well, I breathe out a sigh of relief, waiting eagerly for it to ebb. Realising I’m still holding onto Joel’s hand so tight that my knuckles have gone white, I release him, and take a deep breath.

“Good job,” he says. Whether he’s saying it to me or Angela, I’m not sure. He observes his hand, lifting it up to look at as he stretches his fingers out. “Jesus, woman. Gonna need a new hand after that.”

I laugh, breathy. “I had permission.”

“From Tommy,” Joel counters with a grumble.

“I knew you wouldn’t mind.” I say it before I can give it permission. And the softness in my voice—well. That’s just downright not fair.

Joel’s eyes meet mine again. He holds them there for a moment too long. Looks like he might want to say something, but then doesn’t, and stands up. His green flannel shirt stretches so nicely over his shoulders, even broader now than they were back then. His hair is flecked with grey, as is his beard, which is longer now.

I used to lie awake at night and imagine running my fingers over it. I used to cherish the way my hands fit over his shoulders when he boosted me up onto a ledge. The way the muscles in his arms flexed and showed veins when I hoisted him up behind me.

We used to be a team, me, him, and Tommy.

Now, staring at him as he leans against the doorframe, folding his arms over his chest, I think about those times. I can’t help it. There are dark and grey hairs on his chest, peeking up above the top button. I remember how his heart feels under there from the time I had to stitch up a gash there. I remember his pulse, from keeping my finger on it all night when he was feverish from an infected knife wound.

Tommy and I nursed him back, but I thought we’d lost him.

I thought a lot of things.

And, well. There was no other choice.

I left.

♥︎chapter 1/5♥︎

notes: if u wanna be on the taglist, let me know however you'd like: in a reblog, reply, message, or an ask :) all interactions are appreciated, but comments and reblogs especially make my heart go brrr♡ happy tlou show day btw :D

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfic #tlou #tlou fanfiction #tlou fanfic #joel miller fic #my fic #my fic: joel #mine

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southern-belle-outcasts · 5 months

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Okay I tried to do a quick scroll before I went back to work, I already walked 8mi today and it took a lot out of me but I need to do flats so it was literally just a uber fast ‘what might be important’.

I see a lot of y’all getting sick and I’ma put on my big sib hat for a moment (I’m the oldest of 9 okay I did earn that title), and also these are just good reminders in general (read: Tagg fucking take your own advice ffs). It might get a smidge lengthy so under read more.

Getting sick isn’t a moral failing, it’s literally bugs’ job to fuck with us but to help you dodge this shit since I myself have a crappy immune system and cannot fucking afford being sick (and apart from that fucky business a few months ago have mostly dodged contagious stuff in the last few years)….continue reading.

Stay hydrated. I’m fucking terrible at this with plain water in the winter because who the fuck wants to drink water that MUST be cold when you’re already struggling to stay warm right now? Not me. So add some lemon (yay vitamin C). I can’t buy fresh lemons. I forget them and they go bad. BUT the bottled stuff while it does not taste as good imo, still has the good shit. So flavor and vit c. Or add it to herbal tea! Something that isn’t monster or dark soda or coffee (yes I’m aware those are part of the major food groups I don’t care you dehydrated walking plant). Broth soups also count- chicken soup is the cure all for a reason- veggies and hydration in one!!!

Eat. Something. You can’t run on nothing. Fed is better than not, period. Eating what you can afford is doing yourself better than going hungry for the sake of those two nights of ‘healthy food’.

If you stopped masking, go back to it. No seriously don’t stop. Buy one with a print you like with the slot for a filter and wear that shit. I’m sure most of my dodging illness during the height of lockdown while being not able to isolate in high trafficked places was the masking. That and the hand washing and hand sanitizers.

Speaking of- the one brand I used to buy is a boycott but there are lotion hand sanitizers out there if you’re like me, and you can just look at hand sanitizer and your hands crack. Highly recommend. 13/10. Not going back.

Indoor clothes/outside clothes- keep your ‘been everywhere all day’ cooties off the bed and your furniture. Will also reduce allergens embedding in the places where you’re laying down. Even if you didn’t shower, you’re doing yourself a favor changing the clothes. Yes I know this is more laundry, so there’s also clothing/fabric sanitizer. It’s like 8$ for a can but that’s an option if extra laundry is a Herculean task of which I understand the trials and tribulations.

If you can afford it- get some elderberry supplement. It’s not as difficult to find as it was in 2020. Ideally you take it just regularly, in a pinch, start taking it as soon as you feel ick to lessen it.

Lots of garlic, pepper, and ginger in your food. That is all. Season your food. Good food, better immune system, no notes needed.

Here is where you’re going to laugh at me and tell me to fuck off- SLEEP. Look, I am well aware okay, I know. But even if you have insomnia like me, your body will get more rest just by laying down and closing your eyes than it will by not doing so even if you didn’t even hit light sleep let alone REM.

Okay that’s it. That’s the post. I am not going to call it no brainer stuff because all of these things I had to learn and some were definitely as an adult, so just in case nobody told you, it’s for you. If you’re adhd and forgot, this one’s also for you. I’m not claiming to be a health expert, I ain’t a doc, just an expert at trying to dodge urgent care while living in a dystopia with no health insurance and I don’t like seeing people down and feeling crappy. :D

#;out of the south

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rosysugarr · 1 year

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so this is unrelated to anything but I just wanna share a story about some stuff I've been up to with my family irl that makes me super happy.

SO, I live in an apartment complex, and there are some cats who hang out. Mostly, Jasmine, who belongs to a family a couple of apartments down from me, and Loki, who belonged to the dude directly across. Loki is a sweet baby angel of an orange and white tabby, obviously not more than a year old and sooo affectionate and playful.

So one day I'm outside walking my dog and a neighbor next door to the dude who owned Loki hollers to me and tells me that the dude who owned Loki fucking MOVED OUT. AND LEFT HIM HERE. right at the start of autumn and bad stormy weather and shit. Several apartments here have already been putting out food for the boy, and I've caught several neighbors giving him affection, but we were super worried bc he didn't have anywhere safe to reliably hide away when it gets cold or stormy. We really want to bring him in and adopt him fully as ours, but we already have an older male cat who is VERY territorial, and we worry he would hurt the younger boy if we bring him in.

SO. What my mom did is get into contact with her people-- my mom is big into animal advocacy and rescue and helps people network to get the word out about abandoned animals and get them safely picked up by people who will take them to the vet and find them a good home and stuff, and who work to help local strays, including running catch and spay/neuter and release programs. Through this, my mom actually managed to get a really nice little cat house with a heated pad in the bottom (it's automatically temperature-controlled so it doesn't risk catching on fire if left unattended or anything.)

We put that little red house outside and ever since, for the past couple of weeks, I see him curled up in there every night when I take my dog out for her evening walk. Literally every single night since we put the house out there, he's been sleeping there. It just makes me SO happy to know that, even if we can't bring him inside right now, we could give him a safe and warm place to sleep and hide away if the weather gets stormy or cold. It even has clear cat flap doors to keep rain out!

(he does also have a food and water dish outside his little home, so we make sure he's fed regularly and gets fresh clean water to drink!)

#rosychatter #just a random story about my life but it makes me so happy to know he's safe and warm right now #i just looked out there and he's in his house all curled up comfy!!

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returntosaturn271995 · 4 months

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Thursday, December 28th: Winter Cleaning

Whew. Day 2 and I decided before unpacking into my home, I first had to clear old crap out of it. I am the opposite of a hoarder, I like removing old shit and some "still good" shit whenever I can.

Liberating as hell.

Reading:

"You are more than you think you are" by Kimberly Snyder

I'm expanding my meditation knowledge into breathwork and vitality. Some of it feels woo-woo, and some of it feels inauthentic (the author has a skincare line and I did a mirror meditation where I was supposed to ignore all supposed flaws of the body). But there are good practical meditative tricks in there too. I plan to make my own version of a shrine by buying a portrait of Dolly Parton for shits and giggles.

Quietly Hostile by Samantha Irby

Her humor style is amazing. I consider it a primer on my stand-up and one of the easier books I'm trying to tackle in January.

Writing:

Here I am. Some days a journal entry is as far as I go. Still kind of amazing how regularly I write though, eh?

Cooking:

Crispy prosciutto and lemon-pesto pasta with broccoli and parmesan

The new knives rock! I forgot how pleasing cooking with good knives is!

Also went to the grocery instead of ordering food. That's basically one of Hercules's trials for me.

Political Awareness:

I learned (via podcast) about Franca Viola, the first Italian woman in 1960s Italy to refuse to marry her rapist, and the ending of "rehabilitation marriages". Additionally, Vincent Chin, whose murder led to the first Asian-American court case about a hate crime in the 1980s. Chilling how recent so much social progress actually is, but there are more inspiring people than evil people in the world.

Loving Relationships:

Today I'm grateful for Mom, Hannah, Makenna, Nate, and Kiera. <3.

Getting outside:

Walked to get groceries and back. Bumped into my street's newest poodle puppy and an Old English bulldog.

Dressing with Style:

Removed one-fourth of my clothing in a massive closet sweep and donated/sold it at Buffalo Exchange. Only keeping/purchasing beautiful fitting, classic pieces moving forward.

Current outfit: White Paris sweats, fitted black tank top, ponytail, black headband

Cleaning:

What the fuck didn't I clean?

Removed old stackable drawers

Organized and threw out undesirable everything: from socks to underwear to shoes to dresses to jeans to sweats

4 loads of laundry, washed, dried, and hung up or folded

Vacuumed room and charged vacuum

Washed and put away dishes from dinner

Took out trash and recycling

Full set of fresh bedding

Wiped down kitchen counters, stove, and inside of dresser drawer

Cleaned out fridge and stocked it with groceries

Organized shelf above bed and lit a TJ's apple candle

Annnnnd I still have more tomorrow, but feeling waaay lighter in here.

Yoga:

17 minutes of flexibility stretches where I did notice a marked difference in my legs and hips

Meditation:

A Daily Jay on the six specific kinds of self-care:

Emotional- Therapy, Journaling, Creating Art, Music

Practical- Closet organization, looking up new gyms

Physical- Hydrating constantly with tea, healthy eating, enough sleep, walking in the sunshine, yoga, sunscreen, hygiene

Mental- Reading, studying, crossword puzzles

Social- Setting up dates, called mom, seeing friends this month

Spiritual - Time at the beach, meditation

Something I love about meditation is that it stretches time. If you worry about the future, know that you have an endless present around you if you choose to vertically drop into the moment.

Mindfulness baby!

Content I can't stop thinking about:

Saltburn, Our Flag Means Death

And now it's 10 O'Clock. Productive, healthy, and peaceful.

I'm in the zone.

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cypric-rat-hyperfixation · 3 years

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Things to do that make you feel like a leedle rat

Eat some peas and be like heh heh. pea fishing

Collect stuff. just stuff. Put it somewhere. Be like heh heh. hoarde

Bonus points if it's stuff you just find, such as rocks and nails n' shit

Drink water really fucking loud

Sniff shit

...by which I mean STUFF not. shit

Fuckinf cuddle. If you have anyone or anything to cuddle. Do it

Eat smol food

Practice good hygiene. Rats are always cleaning themselves! But you don't have to be that diligent about it

.... Just shower/bathe, brush your hair/teeth, and wear deodorant regularly-- generally keep yourself funky n' fresh

Be transgender

Cosplay as Bruno Madrigal. or simply as a wrat

Eat things rats often eat that you can also eat: fruits, vegetables, nuts, yogurt, etc. and be like heh heh. rat food. for me. a leedle rat

Make all of the rules

Go exploring

Watch the rat movies. The Jerma ones. And be like I am the giant rat. Also

brush your teeth like legendary toothbrush from Rat Movie 2: The Movie

Be active at night if you can. Wrats are ✨nocturnal✨

Art, rat art,, rart

Learn a new skill or two like the bright little wrat you are

Get tickled or play hide-n-seek, games well-loved by rats

Punk stuff, rats are hella punk

Have absolutely no thoughts head empty, play the Wii theme in your head instead of thinking

Pee

Stim when you're happy

Just be a goddamn goofball bro rats are so fucking weird and so are you you ✨wrat✨

Drink lots and lots of water so you piss all the time. like a leedle rat

Bang out the tunes

Nibble your foods!

Movie night lineup........... Ratatouille, Encanto, Rat Movie: Mystery of the Mayan Treasure, Rat Movie 2: The Movie, Flushed Away, Ratatoing, The Secret of NIMH,

Sleeb

Make funny noises

Sing some rat songs (Rät by Penelope Scott, We Don't Talk About Bruno, rat songs from Jerma's rat movies)

Curl up when you sleep, in a sort of Rat Wheel

Take a shit

Denounce h*rry p*tter and its maker once and for all. No merch, no piracy, no consumption.

Engage in mutual aid. Rats are highly social animals and will forego chocolate in order to save another rat!

Socialize to the extent of your comfort

Nest

Cook in fremch

Make rat art-- draw, sculpt, crochet, etc

Drive around! Rats can be taught the drive tiny cars

Watch videos of rats!

Dig. Sandbox, mud on the side of the road, bin of stuffed animals, drawer of odds and ends, whatever you.. dig

Keep that diet varied to the best of your ability!

Stim via chewing, like with chewelry or gum n' shit. Rats gotta chew often to keep their perpetually growing teefs little, so you can too!

Go for a phucking swim

Engage in prosocial behaviors with your "mischief" (friends, family, community)

Have prosocial beliefs (pro-unions, gay rights, antiracism, equity)

Pee

Have smol toys and stim tools

Fit in some "you" time for self-care and rest!!!

Be teeny

Be gay 🏳️‍⚧️🏳️‍🌈

*squeak squeak*

Sway your head or body gently from side-to-side like a pink-eyed wrat trying to see

Look up rat information and learn all about them!

Eat ratatouille

When eating, turn the food this way and that way to find the best spot for the first bite, like leedle wrats do

Celebrate your birthday with cake and ice cream (as applicable & with any substitutes needed)

Do some fine motor activities to make you feel Teeny

Pet some rats or rat plushies

Support queer people

Pirate some media! :D Stealing from the rich is good and you should do it

Play games that have rats-- The Ratchelor, Dishonored, Rat Simulator, old Ratatouille games, Pokemon, Wizard101, Elder Scrolls, DnD, Minecraft rat mod, Wolvden, Dragon City, Okami, Cell to Singularity, & so many more

Pee

Make a ratsona or rat OCs! Use picrews as inspiration if you need

Get yourself. a little hole... spend time in it.......... Cozy little nests are a critical component for a healthy rat. but more importantly: for a healthy autism!!! You might construct a teeny fort out of a single chair, pitch a smol tent, or just hide away in your bedroom closet for a bit. Just gotta be enclosed, smol enough to be cozy, big enough to not make you feel cramped/cooped/claustrophobic, quiet, comforbl for you 💞

#rats #fancy rat #memes #food cw #giant rat that makes all of the rules #neil banging out the tunes #stim #ratpunk

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negansbackdoorwhore · 2 years

Text

How Did I End Up Here? Chp 4

Summary: Negan decides he wants to see you regularly but not only as a hookup but as a friend too. Things start to change in his life which gives him more of a reason to do what he wants

Warnings: angst, swearing, cheating, mild fluff

Chapter 3<<<

Can he be serious, you saw him a few days ago after having him fuck you into your couch. You thought he’d be more into just doing booty calls late at night, which would’ve been fine but in the middle of the day? You ignore him throughout your shift and take care of the many patients on your floor. Part of you wants to go set him straight and knock sense into him. Then again the other parts likes the attention he gives you and how you want him to fuck you senseless.

But it can’t be bothered as your mind is focused on running around your floor to do your job well. You were on the last break for the day and only an hour left until freedom. You had no plans for the night and the hotel was only only ten minutes away. So you might just go see your new playmate.

You allowed the shift to play out as it may and made your way to the hotel. You didn’t bother changing and let him see you after a long days work. Maybe it could turn him away. The hotel was pretty nice when entering the lobby and going up the elevator to find the room number he sent. You stood in front of the door and reached to lightly knock against wood. Negan answered almost immediately and was in nothing but his boxers. He looked like he just woke up with his messy hair.

“Hey buttercup.”

“Hi, sorry didn’t really have time to change.”

“That’s fine. You still look hot as shit. If you’d like you can shower and I’ll order us some food. I think it’d be great to talk ya know or fuck.”

You didn’t think but agreed with his words. He made room for you to enter and you stepped into the bathroom. You felt oddly comfortable in this place with him and heard him on the phone through the door. You stripped down and took a shower with the complimentary soap and shampoo. It wasn’t a particular scent just fresh and clean. When you stepped out of the shower you wrapped in a towel. You then realize what would you change into? Maybe you should’ve brought a overnight bag. You raised your voice through the bathroom door to inform Negan.

“Hey Negan. I don’t have any clean clothes.”

“That’s fine.”

You sighed and stepped out with damp hair. Negan sat on the bed and you looked in the closet for anything, sadly not even a robe. You felt defeat and sat on the bed next to him. He watched you shiver and brought you against him.

“They say body heat is the best to warm up someone.”You blushed and pushed away from him. He laughed and stood to grab his hoodie.

“Here put this on. It’ll work right?”

“Yeah it’ll be fine.”

Negan kept looking at you when you were about to change and you quickly toss the towel at his head. He giggled and looked to see your body covered in his hoodie. Luckily it covered your ass and hid your chest from his gazing eyes.

“You’re a pervert.”

“And? I’ve seen your goodies before, I got us some shit from that italian place. Should be here soon.”

“Okay. Didn’t you want to talk?”

“I did. Are you willing to listen again?”

You nodded adjusted your position in the bed to lay on your stomach while he laid flat on his back. His head next to yours and you staring at face.

“I finally landed a job. I needed too, Lucille is just too sick to work. So I actually put effort into finding a job this time. A good friend of hers led me to it, I’m guessing I’ll settle being a welder. The hours are shit mostly because I’ll be working overnight a lot but it’s better than nothing. They’re willing to hire someone with a misdemeanor.”

“I remember you saying something about that misdemeanor but how did that happen?”

“I beat the shit out of a guy at the bar because he was disrespectful toward my wife.”

“I see, well I hope it works out for you.”

“Me too.”

He turned his face in your direction and you both take a long look at one another. Negan’s hand reach to cup your cheek but before anything, his phone began ringing.

“Fuck. Hold on.” He sat up and answered his phone while you stay lay in the bed.

“Our food is here. I’ll be right back.”

Negan got on his clothes and left the room, you lay in bed still thinking about the events that led you here. You heard his phone go off again, it was Lucille. You couldn’t help but be extremely nosey and saw the preview of the message. You felt so much pain in your stomach.

Lucille: I’m so proud of you babe! Good luck on your first day.

It made you cringe at how you could do this to someone, all your life you despised cheaters. Yet here you are…

“Hey baby, I didn’t know exactly what you wanted so I got a variety of shit.”

“That’s fine. Lucille texted you.”

He placed the bags on the side table and went to his phone. You still lay in bed and sat up as Negan sat brought his body over your own.

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing, I just think you look good in my clothes darling.” His hand rested on your knee and slowly moved closer to your thigh. He then brought himself close to kiss you and your eyes closed in anticipation for him. But he pulled away his hand and stood from the bed. He smirked at the frustrated look you had your face.

“Let’s eat. Don’t want this food to get cold.”

You frowned at him but stood to as he handed you a to-go box and a bottle of water. You sat with him on the bed and ate the food, it was pretty good. Negan ate kind of fast and laid flat on the bed. His head near the headboard and his eyes watched you finish eating. It felt kind of awkward for a moment being in silence because he usually likes to talk.

“So, I’m still here listening. Anything on your mind?”

“Not in particular, how about you? I can honestly babble on and on about myself.”

“Well there’s not much. I’m a nurse, I live alone, and I dropped out college twice.”

“That’s not bad. You can always start school again because you’re young. Don’t be ashamed in that shit, I went to college too and all I did was fuck around.”

“Oh, well I honestly flunked out. I tried my best but it’s just not for me.”

“There’s a reason why they make different learning programs buttercup. I’m assuming thats how you’re a nurse?”

“Yeah it is. But it still sucks to know I can’t be able to walk the stage for graduation or tell people that I’m stupid and couldn’t manage.”

“Hey now, don’t feel bad. C’mere.”

He gently patted the empty space next to him when you stood to throw away your trash. Without hesitation you join him in the bed and turned on his side to face you. It felt good when he laid eyes on you but it was also nerve racking. Mostly because of his wife but also it’s something in his eyes. Something that was so welcoming and warm, you moved closer to peck his lips. He didn’t seem happy about it.

“What was that?”

“A kiss.”

He shook his head and took his hands to grab your waist and pulled you on top of his body. You were caught off guard by his action and almost rolled off.

“That’s not a kiss. Why don’t you give me a real fucking kiss.”

You leaned down to press your lips on his and his hands went up your thighs to touch your bare ass. The cool brushed against your back side causing you to shiver. He groaned against your lips and his body moved to sit up. Negan brought you with him and his knee bent forward to give yoh leverage. He kissed you deeper and held you close to his body.

“Damn girl, your lips are fucking perfect.” You giggled before leaning down to kiss his neck.

“Be careful now baby. I might just fuck you again.”

“You mean you don’t have to?”

“I mean it sounds nice but I was hoping for more friendly activities.”

“Really? Because I’m pretty sure friends don’t make out and grope one another.”

“Good point. But can you blame me, your ass is nice to look at and especially hold.” He said while giving you a squeeze.

“Okay, enough of that.”

“Don’t act like you don’t love it.” You laughed as he pulled you further into him and kept his hands pawing at your bum.

“I really should go home soon. I have work.”

“Well that’s too bad. Maybe next time you’ll let me stay the night?”

“No way. You’d look through everything when I’m not looking. And I appreciate my privacy.”

“And you wouldn’t be wrong. I can’t help but be curious.”

“Curiosity killed the cat.”

You moved off his body and collected all your things. But do you dare wear the same clothes after work?

“Hang on, you can’t leave in dirty scrubs. Here let me take care of it. I saw a laundry machine downstairs.”

“It’s fine I’ll live.”

“If were not gonna fuck then at least let me be a gentleman.”

He took your clothes and left you in the room again. He was starting to make you things. Things that you shouldn’t be feeling for a married man. This can’t go on for much longer before you completely fall for him.

>>>Chapter 5

Taglist:

@iluvneganandjamie

@hail-yourselves

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idkthisisjustforfanfic · 3 years

Text

that makes four.

story page | talk to me + join the tag list

PART 1

Your feet dangled down from the stool, elbows on the granite counter when Jeff turned around. “Alright,” he said, lips in a thin smile when he revealed the plate of reheated lasagna that someone dropped off in the last few days. “Smells good.”

You looked up at him with an unimpressed stare. “It looks a little disgusting.”

“It’s vegan, I think.”

“Jesus,” you rolled your eyes. “You start one all natural skincare line and people think you only eat plant-based shit.”

He let out a small laugh, set the plate down and watched as you picked up the fork. One bite--mediocre. Not exactly hot enough, but after all Jeff had done for you the last few days, you didn’t have the heart to demand he put it in for another minute.

“So--do you think it went well?”

You laughed around the food in your mouth, picked up a paper napkin and let your head tilt to the side. “As good as a funeral could be.”

The lights in your kitchen were dim and the sun had already faded behind the trees, the house quiet after people finally filed out. Friends, extended family, strangers you’d never met had flocked to Los Angeles for the funeral of your famous father.

It’d been coming from a mile away. His health declined, an obvious result of the cocaine and the cigarettes and whatever else he’d ingested regularly in the 70s. A heart attack a year ago put him on a fast track to the afterlife, but he always joked that he’d probably end up in hell.

Being in the music industry ruined him, in a way--it ruined your parents’ marriage and it ruined a lot of the relationships your father had. Blow outs and big fights that left him exiled from a lot of social circles, sometimes never speaking to people again after one bad phone call. But it was never like that with Irv.

“Well, I’ve never seen my dad cry so hard,” Jeff smiled. “He really loved him.”

Another bite of the soggy noodles and fake cheese. “I know.”

A comfortable silence, the doors off the kitchen were open, a breeze from the backyard let the southern California warmth blow through the sheer curtains when you sipped at your left over wine.

Jeff was the closest thing you had to a sibling, his family was all you had left at this point. You were tossed in the bathtub with him and his siblings as a baby, shoved into family photos and tagged along for vacations.

Being closest in age to Jeff meant people always hoped it would be the two of you that would end up together. Happily ever after or having babies of your own. But when you saw Jeff wolf down a whole pizza at his bar mitzvah, any hope of a spark between the two of you had been permanently extinguished.

His older sister was the one who told you what it meant to have sex, and after your mom died, his mom helped you pick out a dress for your Sweet Sixteen.

She was the one who talked you off the ledge when you found out you were pregnant only a few years later, she was the one who threw you both baby showers and she was the one who helped you through your divorce only six months earlier.

So now that your dad was gone, too, you wondered where you fit into their family and what your definition of family even was.

Before the thought could cross your mind, the front door was pushed open and the sound of high pitched giggles floated in from the foyer.

CeCe’s tiny voice echoed down the hall. “Uncle Jeff?”

“Is that my CeCe?” He took a few steps forward and she ran straight into his legs, he hoisted her up onto his hip when Maeve rounded the corner with Tristan in tow.

“Hi honey,” you opened an arm so your ten-year-old could fit into the side of you. She leaned her head on her shoulder. “How was ice cream?”

The easiest ploy to get them out of the house while you hosted some kind of awkward afterparty.

“Fine,” she sighed. “But Tristan said that funerals are a selfish attempt by the living to hold on to someone after they’re dead.”

You blinked a few times and looked down at her, shocked by the words and apparently, her ability to understand them. You looked over at Tristan, arched eyebrows to communicate how displeased you were.

His eyes went wide when Jeff choked down a laugh. “I didn’t--I don’t know what you’re talking about Maeve.”

You kissed Maeve on the head. “Well, Tristan is wrong about a lot of things, trust me. But you two should go get ready for bed, it’s been a long day.”

You looked over at him again--younger by two years and easily one of the most important people in your life. You met him only a year after you started your business, he had a knack for brand management and eye for design that you couldn’t pass up. He was way too sarcastic and cynical to be your regular babysitter, but Jeff and his family were basically in the receiving line beside you.

Jeff let CeCe climb down and Maeve took her by the hand as they headed for the kitchen stairs to the second floor, leaving you alone at the island with two of your closest friends.

He waited until he heard the water turn on from their bathroom sink, then whispered in Tristan’s direction. “Great idea to say that to a ten-year-old and a six-year-old after their grandpa dies.”

Tristan rolled his eyes theatrically, “she asked why so many people came and why she’d never met any of them if they loved her grandpa so much.”

“Well, you can expect a bill for their therapy in a few years,” you laughed, forking more lasagna into your mouth.

Tristan made his way over to the fridge and pulled out the glass dish, helping himself to a piece when Jeff took a seat beside you. “How are you holding up?”

“Fine,” you glanced at him sideways, suspicious about any ulterior motive he might have.

“Okay, Y/N,” Jeff laughed, Tristan eyed you from over his shoulder like he didn’t believe you. “Let me try again. How are you feeling emotionally?”

You cleared your throat and swallowed the most recent bite of dinner. “Oh, you mean cause my husband left me six months ago and my dad just died and now I’m a single mom with two fiesty daughters who just inherited a giant house aaaaaand,” you drew out the word for dramatic effect. “I’m a business owner who barely gets any sleep?”

“That’s what I was getting at, yes,” Jeff nodded and fought a smirk.

“I’m alright,” you sighed. “Tired. Kind of freaked out about what the fuck is going on in my life, but, I’ll survive. I always survive."

You knew you would--in fact, you’d been waiting for this moment for the last few weeks. When Jeff’s mom called to tell you your dad needed to be put in hospice, you prepared. You talked to Maeve and CeCe and explained it all in a way they’d understand. His life on earth is over, but we can still talk to him and visit a pretty garden to remember him.

It was a lot to deal with only a few months after your high school sweetheart turned husband admitted he’d been having an affair and moved out, you saw on Facebook that he’d since bought a motorcycle and was spending most of his time at bars along the coast. That whole fiasco was harder to explain to your children.

And now suddenly everyone wanted to make sure you were okay. Frozen dinners, offers to drive your kids to and from their extracurriculars, a lot of attention was suddenly thrust onto you and your family, as if you hadn’t always hated that growing up.

But you knew the time would come when life would settle back down. Cousins and aunts and uncles would fly home, people would stop asking how you were doing post divorce. Dust would settle and the sun would set on this chapter and frankly, it couldn’t happen soon enough.

So here you were, the funeral was over, the dinner in his honor at Jeff’s parents, the media coverage was starting to die down and life could return to normal. Or, at least, a new normal.

Your dad had been a fixture in your life--weekly dinner dates with grandpa gave you a minute to yourself after working long days and answering endless phone calls. A glass of wine on the couch or even dinner with Tristan and Zoey was a nice escape from breaking up fights or figuring out how to reattach the head of a Barbie doll after someone shoved someone into a closet and tears and screaming ensued.

“You will definitely survive,” Jeff nodded.

Tristan came and sat, forked into the lasagna and made a face when he realized how bad it was. “Is this fake cheese?”

“Unfortunately,” you nodded.

Tristan made a face and then cleared his throat. “I, for one, think this is the start of a new chapter for you. New opportunities, new love,” he smirked.

A quick retort: “Yeah, that’s obviously the first priority right now.”

“He’s right, though,” Jeff said. “You have a fresh start, a totally new chapter.”

You nodded--they were right, but easing into a new chapter felt a lot better than trying to dive right in.

“Speaking of a fresh start, you know, changing things up,” Jeff forced a grin in your direction. “Can we actually talk for a second?”

You eyed him suspiciously, put your fork down to bow out from eating the world’s worst lasagna. “Yeah?”

“I have kind of a weird favor to ask. And--I know it’s kind of bad timing, with everything going on, but--just hear me out, okay?”

Instead of replying, you watched him, lifted your brows to encourage him to continue and tread carefully.

“So I have a client who isn’t from here, he bought a house but it’s in the middle of getting renovated. There’s kind of been a lot going on, it’s a long story.”

“Okay,” you nodded, unsure where he was going with it.

“He needs a place to stay, and I was wondering if maybe he could stay here for a little.”

“Here, like, here here?” You pointed to the floor of your kitchen, an elegant upgrade from the more modest house in Woodland Hills you’d occupied before the divorce.

Along with the death of your father came the inheritance of his Bel Air estate and all of the bedrooms, the four car garage, the manicured lawn and the pool out back. Some people thought you should sell it, use the cash to make trusts for the girls or save for college.

Selling it didn’t feel right, though. It was the house he worked so hard for, the house you called home for the later half of your teen years and the place you always came back to when things got hard. So instead of putting it on the market and closing that chapter, once again, you returned to the safe haven in the hills when you didn’t know where else to turn.

“Yeah, I know it sounds crazy, but you have the room and it might be fun to have someone else around and--”

“I have two daughters, Jeff, I can’t just let a stranger live with us.”

“He’s not a stranger, Y/N, he’s my friend. We’re really close.”

“Who is he?” Tristan asked, waving his fork in the air to remind us that he was still present.

“Harry Styles.”

Tristan’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head. “The kid from the boyband?”

“No way,” you shook your head, dismissing it before you could even let his name register. “I’m not having a pop star boy band kid stay in my house.”

“Okay,” Jeff held up a hand to get Tristan to relax, then moved to point at you. “He’s 24, number one. He’s not a kid, he’s, like, only a few years younger than us.”

“Yes,” you nodded, “exactly. I don’t need a 24-year-old living with my daughters.”

“He’s not like that, though. He’s responsible and he’s a family friendly dude, and--”

“Then why can’t he live with you? Or with your parents?”

“I don’t have the room,” he said. “And my dad hates house guests.”

You rolled your eyes, it was obnoxious, but it was true. Irv hated having people stay over almost as much as he hated it when your dad beat him in golf.

Jeff took your silence as an opportunity to continue selling you on the idea. “He just finished his tour, he’s working on his second album. He’s probably going to be in the studio a lot, Y/N. Do you really think I would let some crazy party animal live with my nieces?”

Another eye roll from both you and Tristan.

“Is this like, just a few nights?” You asked.

“Like, two weeks. Tops.”

“Two weeks?!” You shook your head. “No--I can’t put them through that after all the shit that’s been going on this year. Why can’t he just stay in a hotel?”

“Cause that’s lonely and he’s a people person and--I don’t know, it might be good for you to have someone around.”

You rolled your eyes that, was it a jab at your new status as a single mom or new status as a fatherless daughter? Unsure.

Jeff stood from the counter and grabbed for his phone on the far end of the island. “Just think about it, okay? I’ve gotta run. A few weeks, built in babysitting, maybe--he’s great with kids.”

“I’ve already thought about it,” you told him, resting your chin in your hand and offering a sugary sweet smile. “No fucking way.”

“Mommy!” CeCe’s voice called from upstairs, you hoisted yourself up, ready to tuck them in and forget that Jeff had ever asked such a ludicrous question.

“I would owe you big time--it might be fun! You’ve got the room, he could be a positive male influence on the girls.” He wiggled his eyebrows at the end of his sentence--like that would really sway you.

“And I’m not that?” Tristan pulled his head back, offended.

“You’re the one who told them funerals are stupid,” Jeff said with a sarcastic smirk.

“And you’re the crazy one trying to let a stranger move in here like it’s an AirBnB,” you shot back at Jeff. “So maybe they do need a better male influence than both of you.”

“Mommy!” CeCe called again, more impatient this time.

“I’m coming!” You shouted. “You, let yourself out when you’re finished eating this terrible meal,” you pointed at Tristan and the lasagna. “And you,” you pointed at Jeff with a smirk. “Please never speak to me again.”

He was already heading for the door, keys in hand when he blew you a kiss. “Love you, see you soon!”

“Love you,” you called back, bounding up the stairs, mom mode activated.

A text message the next day when you were at work:

Jeff Azoff (1:43pm): 🙏😇🙏😇

You blew air from your lips, Zoey sat across from you at a conference table when you took a late lunch. She was the first friend you made when you started high school, your long time confidant aside from Tristan and Jeff and a sure bet to tell it like it is.

Now she regularly popped into the Luna offices and she loved nothing more than acting like she was a higher up at your business. She’d rather be doing that than admit she was a new mom with no clue what the next chapter of her life would look like. You had that in common.

Her two-month-old son, Benny, sat in a carrier on the ground, his eyelashes fluttered when Zoey put her feet up on the chair beside her.

“What’s the sigh for?”

“Jeff is being annoying.”

“What’d he do now?”

You looked over at her, nose deep in her phone when you took another bite of the burrito bowl she’d picked up for you. You didn’t know if it was worth it to explain it all. Zoey was excitable, never one to turn down an adventure and her aptly timed identity crisis that came with becoming a mom was sure to make her encourage bad decisions even more.

She looked up at you, suddenly aware of the wheels spinning in your mind.

“Spill it,” she instructed. She put her phone down and let out a breath, clasped her hands and waited for you to fill her in.

“He asked me to let a friend of his stay with us in my dad’s house.”

“Your house,” she corrected. “Deed’s in your name now.”

“My house,” you nodded. “And I feel weird about it.”

“Who’s the friend?”

“Some client of his,” you tried to wave it off as if the name didn’t matter.

It didn’t, really. You’d long been exposed to the rich and famous just because of the nature of your father’s work. He was one of the biggest managers in the music industry in partnership with Jeff’s dad, so you were no stranger to beautiful people with beautiful cars and beautiful homes. When Jeff took on the family business, you only grew more accustomed to it.

“So a celebrity?” she shimmied her shoulders in excitement. “Which one?”

“Harry Styles,” you said the name slowly, quietly, even though it was just the two of you in the second floor conference room and even though this was your office that you bought and you owned and you ran.

“He’s hot,” she nodded casually, less impressed than you’d expected.

“He’s also like twenty-something, so it's disgusting for you to say that.”

“Oh relax,” she dismissed your concern. “He could be your pool boy.”

Zoey--who also grew up in Southern California and spent plenty of time at your house as a kid--hadn’t yet grown so accustomed to the coming and going of celebrities. Her parents owned a florist shop in Santa Monica and in high school you had to tell her she could only come to a Britney Spears concert if she didn’t cry when you inevitably met her in the green room thanks to your dad.

“I have children,” you reminded her. “A ten-year-old who might as well be fifteen and a six-year-old who would think I literally bought her a human playmate.”

“But if he’s friends with Jeff I highly doubt he’s a serial killer,” she reasoned.

“Wow, you are completely missing the point.”

“What’s the point, then?”

“It’s weird--I can’t have a stranger move in with my kids.”

“Why not?”

“Because first their dad left us and now their grandpa died.”

“Sounds like they need a new man in their life.”

You ignored the similarity of her words with Jeff’s from the other night. “I just think it’s crazy.”

“Okay,” she sat up straight and suddenly looked like this was morphing into a business conversation. “How long?”

“Two weeks.”

“Oh my god,” she turned her palms towards the sky. “Just do it.”

“What? No!”

“It’s two weeks--it’ll take your mind off of all the shit that’s been going on, it’ll be a fun distraction for the girls. You have so much space in that house you will never even know he’s there. And you’re helping a friend.”

She wasn’t wrong: Harry could likely stay in the bedroom all the way on the other end of the hall from where the girls slept. Maeve was thrilled to get her own room in the move and CeCe would occasionally run into your room after a nightmare, so the space was a plus.

He’d have his own room, his own bathroom. Hell, he could even park in the extra garage and enter from the back of the house. Maybe you wouldn’t even notice he existed.

You sighed, tugged at your necklace when you met her gaze. “I just feel really protective over them right now. I feel like Luke ruined their sense of family and now with my dad gone--”

She stuck her tongue out in disgust at the sound of your ex’s name. “I get that--but they have you. They have Jeff and his family and they have me and Shawn and now Benny.”

You offered a small smile at her reassurance. She was right in a lot of ways. The Azoffs were as much a family to your daughters as they had been to you. Shelli and Irv were like grandparents, they offered to babysit plenty of times and they always managed to get the girls the most amazing birthday presents.

But something in you knew it wasn’t the same. You’d dreamed of giving your daughters the sense of family you never had: a mom and a dad who loved each other. One house, not two that had two different beds and sets of books or toys.

Luckily and unluckily, your ex hadn’t made a huge deal about custody. Visits here and there were outlined in your divorce papers, but at this point in time he didn’t seem the most interested in maintaining a relationship with his daughters, even though he promised way back when that he’d never leave.

Getting pregnant with him during college wasn’t planned, but he swore you’d make it work and you tied the knot only a few months before Maeve was born. Things were good at first, you always knew you’d have more than one--if only to combat your own only-child loneliness--and then CeCe came five years later when you felt a little more prepared.

“I don’t think it’s going to traumatize them, Y/N. I mean, the least you could do is meet the guy.”

You watched her for a minute, blew air from your nose in a huff before you picked up your phone.

Y/N L/N (1:56pm): Fine. I’ll meet him.

Three days later you pulled up to a cafe in Brentwood and took a deep breath in the parking lot. If he was creepy, you wouldn’t go for it. If you got even the slightest weird vibe from him, you’d ex-communicate Jeff and only go over to visit his parents with the girls when he wasn’t around.

You’d already been leaning towards just doing it, especially once Tristan got a glass of wine in you and reminded you what your dad would have said: he who helps is one who prospers.

A few sleepless nights left you staring at the ceiling and wondering if you were crazy. You just now had the chance to let life settle down and here you were, mourning the loss of your biggest supporter, trying to piece yourself back together post divorce, and considering letting a stranger move in? Grief really did do strange things to people.

But when you walked in and found them sitting at a table in the back, something clicked.

Your dad was already fond of your possible houseguest, which you only knew from overhearing previous conversations between him and Irv about how proud they were of Jeff for picking up the family business, and now it all made sense.

A small part of you--probably the stupidest part of you--wondered if there was something cosmic about it. Your dad was always one to let his artists stay in the house, if they weren’t creepy, of course. You grew up with bands rehearsing in the backyard and going to shows at the Troubadour before you were old enough to drive, and you turned out fine.

“Hi,” Harry stood, offered a hand and introduced himself after Jeff gave you a kiss on the cheek. “Harry, pleasure to meet you.” Polite, maybe a bit of a kiss ass. Your dad must have loved him.

“Y/N,” you nodded, sat down when Jeff tugged out a chair for you. “Thanks for--uh--meeting with me, I guess.”

“Thanks for maybe letting me stay at your house,” he offered a sheepish smile, held your gaze for a second when Jeff adjusted the sunglasses clipped to his shirt.

“I’m actually surprised you guys haven’t met before,” he said.

“I’ve been a little busy this year,” you reminded him with a nod. “But--nice to finally meet you.”

Harry nodded, a dimple in his left cheek ignited a tiny spark in your chest, but you pushed Zoey’s words out of your mind. Two weeks, it wasn’t a big deal. He’d be in and out and this would be a blip on the radar.

“We can order coffee or something, but Y/N, I’m assuming you have like, a whole interrogation mapped out?”

You pretended to laugh at Jeff’s joke, turned to Harry and offered a no-nonsense smile. “I have two children, I got divorced earlier this year and my dad just died. So I don’t need any drama or anything. This is temporary and I’m doing this to help out a friend. Jeff, that is, not you.”

He laughed at your clarification and nodded. “Right. This is just me living in your house. No drama. Short-term.”

“And obviously my children will be there, so no guests.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Okay I’m not that much older than you,” you said it quickly, offered a small smile when he looked a little scared.

“Sorry--no, I didn’t mean that in a rude way.”

“No ma’am,” you added a rule, pulling a laugh from both of them when you lifted another finger in the air to count them off. “No drugs or alcohol, unless it’s like a glass of wine at dinner or something,” you shrugged.

“Look,” Jeff leaned forward. “Y/N’s kids are great, she’s got a great skincare company and she’s a kickass human. And you need a place to stay, so don’t fuck this up.”

“You both have my word. No drugs, no alcohol, no guests, no ma’am,” he smirked in your direction. “I’ve lived alone for a while, so, it’ll be nice to have some roommates.”

You nodded slowly and watched him for a second. A hoodie with the name of the management firm your dad and Irv had started, a backwards baseball hat and simple Ray-Bans. You ignored the fluttering in your veins from just looking at him, your own words echoed against the walls of your skull: he’s also like twenty-something, so that’s disgusting.

This was his brand, you were sure. Something Jeff had worked hard on--the looks, the smile, the exact formula that management firms drooled over was playing out in front of you. You sipped your drink once the waiter delivered three cappuccinos. Two weeks, tops.

Los Angeles afternoons were meant for playing outside, which is what your daughters did best if they weren’t busy pulling each other’s hair. You had dinner on the stove--enough for five--and a knot of nerves in your stomach when the wheels of his fancy car crunched atop the gravel.

The girls ran to greet him and Jeff showed him around the house. Now, Harry sat across from you at the table, Maeve to his left with an unimpressed look on her face when you cleared your throat. “Okay, gratitude time.”

Jeff set his fork back down, a guilty look on his face to admit he’d forgotten about your pre-dinner ritual.

CeCe squirmed in her seat, let out a sigh when Maeve protested with a flutter of her eyelashes. “I don’t have anything to be thankful for,” she informed you.

“That feels a little hard to believe,” you nodded, losing patience for her attitude over the last few days. “CeCe, do you want to go?”

Your younger daughter looked up at you, scrunched her mouth and thought about it. “I don’t have anything either.”

You tried not to groan aloud. After the week you’d had and the sudden changes in your life, disciplining your daughters felt like the last thing you wanted to do, if only they’d just behave.

“I can go,” Harry lifted his hand sheepishly as if he was sitting in a classroom and not in your dining room, a dimple on his cheek when he smiled sheepishly.

“Take it away,” you motioned towards him.

“M’thankful for being here, having a place to stay--and what looks like it will be a delicious meal.” By now he had a bit of smug look on his face, maybe proud of the fact that he’d broken the ice and stepped up to the pre-dinner prompt.

“Mom’s cooking is a solid six out of ten on a good day,” Maeve looked over at him, her fork now in her hand as if she was ready to dig in.

“Okay,” you leaned in and caught her gaze. “Drop the attitude or go to your room.”

“I’m thankful for Emma,” she named her friend, her quick submission after she rolled her eyes told you she just wanted to eat and get this over with. “She warned me today that Hayley was wearing a shirt I wore last week so I think she’s copying me.”

“Okay,” you nodded, you’d accept anything at this point. “CeCe? Last chance.”

“I’m grateful for pudding.”

Harry let out a quiet laugh, you nodded and said: “Great. I’m thankful for you two,” you smiled at them, hopeful that this nightly tradition would hold some type of meaning, more than just eye rolls and pre-pubescent angst from Maeve.

Jeff looked over at the girls, “I’m thankful for my friend Harry getting to meet my other friends, CeCe and Maeve.”

“Aww,” Harry smiled, a hand clutched to his heart when he looked between them.

“Alright,” you were annoyed by how good your daughters were at turning on their charm for anyone but you. Jeff was often the fun uncle, just like your ex had been the fun dad, which left you forcing them to play this gratitude game every night after they finished their homework.

CeCe wasted no time digging into the spaghetti on her plate, leaving Jeff to ask Maeve: “so what are you going to do about Hayley?”

“I don’t know,” Maeve sighed. “She’ll die when she finds out that you’re sleeping over,” she pointed her fork at Harry.

“He’s not sleeping over,” you corrected. “He’s staying in one of the guest rooms, remember?” You’d already explained it a few times to them. A few weeks, he’s working on more music, he’ll be busy, he’s not here to play with you.

“Whatever,” Maeve said. “Maybe I’ll hold it over her.”

“Maeve,” you looked over, unsure what had gotten into her. “I thought we talked about this stuff with Hayley?”

“I know--but she just keeps annoying me,” Maeve explained.

“Dump pasta on her head,” CeCe suggested with a giggle.

“Don’t do that,” you looked at CeCe and poked her in the stomach.

“I personally am a big fan of that idea,” Jeff smiled over at CeCe. “But it’d probably be better to just forget about it. Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.”

“Or the sincerest form of annoying,” she retorted.

Harry let out a laugh at that, caught your gaze when you wondered how soon it’d take him to get annoyed with your kids.

They were great--smart, funny, clever, definitely witty and sometimes dramatic. But they were good kids.

You remembered how tough it was to adapt to motherhood, even though they were your own. Something told you that Harry, no matter how short his stay would be, was not in the chapter of his life that entailed finding joy in playdates and pillow fights.

But he made it through dinner, quiet but friendly and as soon as Maeve was finished, she begged him to play squishball outside before sunset.

“Squishball?” his eyebrows dipped together. “Never heard of it.”

“It’s basically just baseball but with a softer bat and a foam ball cause mom doesn’t want us to break our skulls,” Maeve informed.

“I never said break your skulls,” you argued.

“But it’s what you meant,” she shrugged.

“I would love to play,” Harry laughed, unbelievably entertained by the back and forth he’d already witnessed. They yanked him outside and set up their tiny diamond, CeCe pulled on a tutu just for flair and you and Jeff were left to handle the aftermath of a family dinner.

Jeff put the final plate into the dishwasher after a little bit and offered a hesitant smile when he turned around. “So?”

“So what? It’s been like an hour and a half of him being here.”

Their laughter from outside was audible, CeCe shrieked when Maeve made contact with the bat and sent the ball soaring into the air. “The girls clearly love him.”

“Of course they do--they love anyone for the first two hours.”

“I think he’ll be good for you guys.”

You rolled your eyes, wiped the counter with the sponge when he continued.

“And you guys will be good for him.”

This got your attention. “How so?”

“He’s a people-person, never likes being on his own too much. Some structure and responsibility is good for him.”

“So I’m babysitting him?”

“Oh my god,” he laughed. “Relax, will you? This could be a mutually beneficial thing if you let it, that’s all I’m saying.”

You didn’t read too much into it, you figured Jeff was peppering you with reassurance only to calm your nerves or quell your concerns. When he was finished helping you clean, he hugged the girls goodbye and waved over his shoulder, leaving Harry alone in your house with you and your daughters and nothing but good intentions.

You left him downstairs at first, helped CeCe brush her hair and sat on the floor when Maeve picked out her clothes for the next day: hopefully Hayley doesn’t own this dress.

When you headed back downstairs an hour later, the girls were tucked in, the lights were off, and your usual plan would have been to check your work emails if it weren’t for the dimpled guy in your living room.

He stood at the bookcase, hands clasped behind his back when you found him.

“Hi, sorry--bedtime is always a--” you paused, not even knowing the right label. “A shit show. But thanks for playing with them earlier.”

He laughed, turned around and offered a smile. “No worries--they seem like great kids.”

“They are,” you assured. “Maeve’s been a bit snarky lately but I think that’s just the whole beginning of puberty thing.” You cringed a little when the words left your mouth, wondering if it was too much information for someone who likely had cooler things to do than talk about ten-year-olds and training bras.

But he smiled, shoved his hands in his pockets when you said: let me show you around.

He’d arrived at the worst time. Homework, dinner prep, CeCe crying because Maeve finished her homework first. You didn’t have the chance to give him a tour and you figured it would be better coming from you than from Jeff, that way you could remind him of all the rules.

You showed him the ground floor first. The library, the family room, the two offices and the three different remotes that all worked different TVs or speakers or lamps. He marveled at the pictures on the wall in your dad’s old office space, he was a legend, he told you.

He climbed the stairs behind you and whispered in response when you pointed out what was behind each door. Bathroom, Maeve’s room, CeCe’s room, guest room, another bathroom, master suite, guest room, his room.

You pushed the door open and stepped aside to let him in. Gray walls, a wooden four-post king-sized bed. Throw pillows you’d picked out when you moved in a few weeks ago, a dresser to the left. He looked around and nodded. “S’perfect.”

“Good,” you said, walking over to a small linen closet in his attached bath. “Towels are in here, should be soap and stuff in the shower--had our housekeeper stock it.”

“Thanks,” he nodded again.

“I don’t know where you parked, but there’s a garage in the back that my dad used to keep some of his sports cars in--there’s definitely room and that way you don’t have to leave yours out if it rains.”

Were you talking too much? You just wanted him to feel at home or at least welcomed.

“Amazing,” he said. “Thank you.”

A repetitive answer but it didn't stop you from rambling.

“Keurig’s on the counter--creamer in the fridge. Should be plenty of food but obviously feel free to stock what you like. Except like, weed.”

“Weed doesn’t go in the fridge...” he eyed you suspiciously, the same dimple appeared on his cheek and you rolled your eyes.

“I know--I know weed doesn’t go in the fridge.”

“Just the no drug policy,” he nodded.

“Right. Am I forgetting anything?”

He shifted his weight on his feet and shrugged his shoulders, a subtle shake of his head. “I don’t think so.”

“Okay,” you nodded, one final look around the room to make sure he had what he needed. His duffle bag was already in the corner, you’d told Jeff to put it upstairs and out of the way so CeCe and Maeve didn’t get nosy.

“I just have a question actually, if that’s alright.”

“Yeah?”

“When did you move in here?”

“Uh, beginning of August, so like, almost a month ago.”

He nodded, his eyes curious despite the fact that he didn’t ask more.

“We had to put my dad in hospice, I was looking for a place anyway after,” a quick motion over your shoulder to gesture to the girls. “My divorce, so--a lot of change, but it’s been nice to be home.”

He nodded thoughtfully, the quiet of the bedroom suddenly felt heavy. “S’a beautiful house.”

“Thank you,” you looked around the room again, if only to put your eyes somewhere other than his face. “I felt shitty about redecorating it at first, but--it was a little too much of a 70s bachelor pad.”

“Leave it to Walt,” he joked.

That piqued your interest. “Did you know my dad? Like, did you spend any time with him?”

He pushed his lips out in thought but shook his head when he sat down on the bed. “Not really--met him a few times at events with Jeff, but I never spent any quality time with him.”

You nodded--he was a busy guy, popular and well respected in his industry. “He was a good person, good grandfather, too.”

Harry smiled at that. “Always heard that Irv was the balls but your dad was the heart.”

You laughed, scrunched your nose at the saying you’d heard a hundred times. The two of them were partners in crime, two peas in a pod, yet they couldn’t be more different. He spoke again before you could reply, voice soft in the sleepy house.

“I mean, if you're his daughter he obviously did something right.”

He held your gaze just long enough for you to feel something, something you pushed out of your mind so quickly that your hand was on the door knob before he could even say goodnight.

Two weeks, tops.

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helliontherapscallion · 3 years

Text

Warmth (Adrenaline Junkie Part 6)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17

Spotify Playlist (collaborative)

Warnings: Self harm scars, mentions of panic attacks and hallucinations

Word count: 2,842

(A/N): This takes place about 6 months after the last chapter. Also, I was heavily inspired by Toothless’ prosthetic, I’m really excited to write more about it : )

You hummed to yourself as you walked down the cobblestone street of the village. The village was probably one of your favorite places to visit; it had quaint little shops and stalls decorating the main plaza that you adored, it was always interesting to see what’s being sold today. Though you always wore your cloak to cover your wings (well, wing and a now-feathered nub) whenever you visited to avoid the stares, you still regularly visited the main plaza for the shops.

The first time you visited after the incident was about a month ago with Wilbur, you two were looking for something to cook for dinner. You were trying to get used to having your wings out again, so you were wearing the jacket with the slits in the back that you always used to wear.

The feeling of people staring holes into you was a feeling you forgot about. You always got stares whenever you went into the village because of your wings, but now it felt like more and more people were staring at you as you passed them, probably because of your nub. Though some looked at you in pity, most looked at you with disgust.

You could hear children asking their mothers what happened to you. Their mothers would take one look at you and shield their children away from you staring at you with disgust. You even made one kid cry when he saw your wing; you didn’t blame him, you still couldn’t look at your nub without tearing up. An hour hasn’t even passed before you were asked by a police officer to leave because you were causing a disruption and being indecent in public.

Wilbur was pissed. “They’re fully clothed and they didn’t even talk to anybody, so how exactly were they being disruptive or indecent?”

The officer firmly held her ground, looking up to Wilbur’s tall form. “Sir, the people are complaining and it’s my job to make the public feel safe and comfortable. Look,” she sighed, “I really don’t want to have to ask them to leave, they’re not doing anything to directly threaten people. However, they are causing a disturbance with their,” she wrinkled her nose, “their thing, so I’m going to have to ask them to leave.”

“You have absolutely no right to tell them to leave. They-”

“Wilbur, it’s fine. I’ll leave,” turning back to the officer, you calmly stated “I’m sorry for causing a disturbance ma’am. It won’t happen again.”

She curtly nodded and stood watching you, probably making sure that you left the main plaza. Before you could turn to leave, Wilbur stopped you.

“(Y/n)-”

“No, Wilbur. It’s alright, I can wait outside the village for you.”

He sighed, looking through his leather satchel. “No, you won’t have to wait for me. We’ve got enough food for dinner anyways,” shooting one last heated glare at the police officer, he reached down to grab your hand. “Let’s go.”

He drug you quickly through the village with you having a little trouble keeping up with his long strides. Once you were out of the village, he slowed his pace and walked with his hands shoved in his pockets.

“(Y/n), I’m sor-”

“Don’t be Wil. It isn’t your fault. I honestly was expecting to get kicked out earlier.”

“Still, it’s not fair to you. You didn’t ask for this.”

“I know Wil, I’ll just wear my cloak next time I visit.”

He didn’t say anything to you after that. The rest of the walk home was shrouded in an awkward silence.

Another part of the village you loved was the library. It had tall shelves filled to the brim with all sorts of books and various cushioned furniture littered randomly amongst the maze of shelves. Whoever would walk into the library would immediately be hit by the strong scent of parchment and wood as soon as they would walk through the twin doors. You would usually browse books about redstone, but you had a different agenda today.

Today, you were looking for a book about leather working. You wanted to make a leather prosthetic wing so you could at least glide through the air. You weren’t sure if it would work though. From what you’ve read, nobody’s attempted to make a prosthetic wing. It made sense, being a hybrid was rare in and of itself, let alone a winged hybrid.

You missed flying more than anything. You would give anything to be able to be in the air again. You felt jittery and restless without flight. Sure, Philza took you on some flights with him every now and then, but it wasn’t the same. You yearned for the independence and liberation it gave you to fly alone.

After you found a book and checked it out with the librarian, you hastily set out for home. You were walking with a giddy smile on your face and a bounce in your step. Several people gave you strange looks as you passed them, but you were in too good of a mood to care. You finally figured out a way you could possibly fly again.

When you got home, you headed straight to your workshop to get to work on your prosthetic. Several blueprints were hung up around your desk, some for your TNT launcher (which you finished a few weeks ago) and others contained ideas for an automatic farm. Your pride and joy was hung up in the center of your bulletin board. It made you extremely happy just by looking at the prosthetic sketch.

Your redstone lamp illuminated the space in front of you as you focused on cutting a large strip of leather in front of you with great concentration. You needed to get the measurements exactly right, equal sized wings are integral for stability midair. The prosthetic was going to be about the same size as your left wing with thin iron rods giving the wing structure. You planned on making it identical to a bat’s wing with a few minor changes in shape to match your other wing. Once it actually was structurally sound and working, you would add proper joints so you could wear it around and decorate it. Until then, you’re making adjustments.

When you were done, you moved on to crafting and melding together the iron rods. Putting on your goggles and thick leather gloves, you used a bit of lava your family kept stored in another room in the basement to fuse the thin iron rods together. You carefully dipped one end of two rods into the bucket before pulling it out at a certain time to hold the molten ends together until they cooled. You repeated this process until you were melding the last piece on.

“HEY BITCH, DINNER’S READY. GET IT WHILE IT’S HOT!”

Yelping, you dropped the mold onto your desk. You picked it up in a panic without paying attention to where your arms went. Unknowingly, your sleeved arm was pressing up against the scorching iron of the bucket of lava.

“FUCK YOU YA FILTHY GREMLIN, A LITTLE WARNING WOULD’VE BEEN NICE!”

He started cackling. “FUCK YOU TOO! NOW GET UP HERE BEFORE I EAT YOUR DINNER.”

“YOU BETTER FUCKING NOT. I SWEAR TO- FUCK!”

You felt the nerves on the side of your forearm screaming as you yanked it away, leaving the crisp remains of a part of your sleeve stuck to the iron bucket. Two pairs of footsteps boomed down the steps and got louder as they rapidly approached you.

Wilbur’s deep voice worriedly called out to you. “Shit, (y/n) are you alright? Let me see.”

Before you could protest, he gently grabbed your wrist and pulled the sleeve of your jacket down. Adjoining the light burn, small horizontal scars and some fresh cuts lined your forearms. Shit, they were never supposed to find out.

Wilbur’s hand froze, gripping your wrist with an iron grip. You hissed at the feeling of some of your cuts reopening, causing him to quickly retract his hand. He now had his hands hovering over your arm unsure of what to do with them.

“(Y/n), wha-” Tommy cut himself off once he saw the panicked look on his older brother’s face. Following his gaze, his wide eyes met with your cuts.

You sighed, prying the goggles off from your face and pulling the gloves off from your hands. You put on a calm exterior, contrary to what you felt on the inside. They were never supposed to know. “Listen, you guys weren’t supposed to find out about this. None of you were. Please don’t tell Dad or Technoblade, I don’t need more people knowing.”

Tommy spoke up with an incredulous look. “(Y/n), what do you mean? We can’t just not tell them.”

“I know. Please, do it for me? Everything’s finally going back to normal and this will just make everything worse again. I promise I’ll stop, I swear.”

The two brothers looked at each other silently contemplating what they should do. On one hand, you were their sibling and you were hurting yourself. They needed to tell their dad that you were cutting. You only had two lives left and you could kill yourself doing that. Philza and Techno could help. On the other hand, they wanted you to feel normal in your own home. You were right in the fact that everything was starting to feel like it did before the incident. Plus, they would gladly help you through it.

They looked back at you with apprehensive expressions, speaking at the same time.

“(Y/n), we’re not gonna tell Dad or Techno.”

“We’re telling them.”

Tommy whipped his head up to look at his brother angrily. “Wilbur, we need to tell them.”

“Tommy, no-”

“Are you fucking stupid? Of course we have to-”

“Tommy. We don’t because I’ll be taking every sharp object away from them tonight. We’ll watch them and check their wrists to make sure that there’s no new cuts and they stay clean. We’ll help them.”

“But- they,” Tommy gave a frustrated sigh. “Fine. But we at least have to tell Techno about this. He can help us.”

Wilbur glanced at you with apologetic eyes. Before he could speak up, you interrupted him. “...Alright, as long as Dad doesn’t find out. He has enough to stress out about and he doesn’t need to worry about me again. Now, can we go upstairs for dinner? We’ve been down here for long enough already and Dad’s probably wondering why. Tell him that I’m gonna go clean up.”

Without giving them any room to argue, you speeded up the stairs and into your room. Closing the door and leaning your back on it, you let your calm facade drop into a panicked one. Shit, what if Tommy tells Dad? What were you supposed to do then? He’ll take away what little freedom you had left and you’ll be sinking into the depths of your depression again.

Your thoughts were interrupted by a soft knock and Philza’s voice. You held your breath as you prepared yourself for him to tell you that he knows your secret. “Hey hun, Wilbur and Tommy told me that you burned yourself,” you let out a relieved sigh. “Do you need me to look at it?”

Panic once again flared in your bloodstream. “N-no Dad, it’s just a little burn. I’ll be down in just a second I’m changing.”

“You sure? I can get you a potion.”

“Yes, I’m fine.”

“...Alright,” he sounded skeptical. “Just hurry up, dinner’s getting cold.”

The sound of his retreating footsteps sounded like music to your ears. You closed your eyes and took a few deep breaths before you moved to put on a long sleeved shirt.

Dinner was uncharacteristically quiet without Tommy, you, or Wilbur talking. Philza tried to carry the conversation with you four, but only Technoblade gave full responses. You, Tommy, and Wilbur only supplied a few words to a conversation when prompted.

Technoblade was suspicious. Sure, you and Wilbur were quiet sometimes, but Tommy? Tommy’s always loud and rambunctious. Something’s wrong, but what? What could’ve happened when Tommy and Wilbur went to go get you for dinner? They weren’t gone for long. He did hear you screaming profanities at Tommy for scaring you and overheard Tommy telling Philza about how you burned yourself, but how is that something that would shut you three up? He was going to confront his siblings after he finished tonight’s dishes.

Meanwhile, you, Tommy, and Wilbur were in your room. You were giving them your iron dagger.

“Is this all?”

“Yeah, Tommy. That’s all, search my room if you don’t believe me. I wouldn’t mind, I don’t have anything to hide from you anymore.”

They did just that. Looking under your bed, in your drawers, in your closet, and in the chest you kept for your supplies. You watched them propped up on your bed. While you were angry with yourself that you were so careless, you felt warm that they cared about you. They were great brothers.

After they were done turning your room upside down, Wilbur plopped down next to you and Tommy threw himself over your legs. You three laid there for a while just enjoying each other’s presence. It was nice to spend some time with your brothers, you didn’t get much free time to spend with them because you spent most of your time in your workshop.

The silence was broken by Tommy. “...So, how do you wanna go about telling Technoblade?”

“I’m… not exactly sure. Do we even have to tell him?”

Wilbur pursed his lips. “Even if you didn’t want to, I’m pretty sure he knows something’s up. He’s good at picking up on social cues.”

“Well if that’s the case, I might just wait until he comes to me. It’ll be easier.”

Your door swung open to reveal your piglin hybrid brother. He looked at you with a single eyebrow raised as his ear flicked. “What were you planning on telling me?”

Tommy and Wilbur looked at you expectantly. You shifted your body closer to the wall making room on your bed for him. He walked over and stiffly sat on the edge of your mattress. He gestured for you to talk to him. You slowly slid your sleeve down and showed him your arm. Besides his eyebrows slightly crinkling, he was as stoic as ever when he reached out to grab your wrist for a better look.

On the inside, the voices were almost as loud as when you died. They were nearly incoherent as several angry voices mixed together yelling at him for not noticing anything was wrong with you, the kid he vowed to protect when you first stole his crown and replaced it with a homemade paper one. Outside of the voices, he was furious at himself, he was supposed to protect you. He ran his fingers along the raised lines, gently tracing over every scar and scabbed over cut as if memorizing where every single one lays.

His monotone voice was gruff. “How long? Why?”

“About eight months now. I-I didn’t feel anything for a while after I respawned and I realized that pain helped me feel. It helped ground me when I hallucinated or had panic attacks.”

“...Do you feel anything now?”

“Yeah, I’m getting better Tech. I’m hallucinating less and I’m getting better at managing anxiety attacks. At this point, it's just a habit that I can’t drop.”

“Do you want to drop it?”

You fell silent. You never really considered stopping before. Before, you would do it to give yourself something to focus on when you were overwhelmed, but now you would do it out of habit. It somehow felt wrong when you skipped a session and it usually threw your entire day off. You would feel drained for the entire day if you didn’t do it. It was one of the only consistent things in your life.

“(Y/n), c’mon you don’t want to keep doing this, right?” Tommy asked before Wilbur reached over and slapped him upside his head.

“I think,” you breathed out, unsure of yourself, “I want to get better.”

Techno looked at his brothers. “Did you two take their blades?”

Tommy held up the iron dagger and wove it around haphazardly in the air. Techno reached over and pocketed the dagger before discarding his golden crown and placing it on your nightstand. He took off his weighted fluffy cloak and neatly draped it over a nearby chest. He maneuvered his body so that he was laying on your other side and wrapped a lazy arm over your chest.

With Wilbur on your right side with your wing draped over him, Tommy laying on your stomach with Wilbur reaching down to hold him, and Techno pulling you close to his body, you were pleasantly warm. You were slowly drifting off, being lulled to sleep by Techno’s slow heartbeat. You blissfully fell asleep surrounded by your brothers’ love.

Inspo for the cuddle pile (credit goes to og artist, zillychu): https://zillychu.home.blog/tag/heart-squad-cuddle-pile/

Taglist (comment if you want to be added):

@acecarddraws @goldenstarofthunderclan @ravennightingaleandavatempus @dirtydiavolo @yeiras-world @immadatmostthings @hee-hee-haw @jackalopedoodles @m1lkmandan @vanhakirja @im-a-depressed-gay @coolleviauchihadreamerlove @questioning-sanity @camisascam

@bongwaterflavoredgatorade @kakamiissad @jayistrash @lifestylesleep @speedymaximoff @sun-shark-tooth @appetiteofapeoplepleaser @starchildnatalya @kinismanditory @dragons-lurk-here @rinzyx05 @the-wandering-pan-ace @sparkling-gayyyy @angelic-scent @shinipii @dont-hug-me-im-a-fander @izzydimensional @used-avocado

#sbi x reader #platonic #philza x reader #technoblade x reader #wilbur soot x reader #tommyinnit x reader #sibling reader #platonic cuddle pile #platonic cuddling #hurt/comfort #mcyt x reader #mcyt #sbi #tw: scars #tw: hallucinations #tw: panic attack #tw: self harm

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remsmoonlight · 3 years

Text

— title : brownies n’ breaks

— word count : 2.2 k words

— pairing : daryl dixon x reader

— summary : cooking is your love language and it’s time that you are able to finally make something for Daryl, protected from the high walls that alexandria boasts of are you finally able to bring that vision to life

— warnings : absolutely nothing, except sickly sweet fluff

oooo another daryl request if you’re willing!!! maybe once they get to alexandria reader makes daryl some homemade brownies or some shit because she knows he’s never had much homemade food if any just some domestic cute shit??🥺🥺♥️

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　requested 　/ requests are open *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Sweetness flows throughout the air of your new home, sliding into every corner it can find to fill and warm. The smell of domesticy is something you thought perished long ago when the world died, but here you stand.. with a fresh batch of brownies in the oven baking as if life rebooted and got set back to factory settings. You move from the oven, small steps to the door to be able to survey the kitchen area once more, blinking as if to erase it from your vision, to be greeted with the punishing sun and the dirt filled roads lined with ghosts.

A cozy yellow glow is snug in the pit of your stomach as you think about who the sweet bake belongs to, Daryl has been nothing less than golden. From Atlanta, all the way to Alexandria.. he has always been one to step up without even thinking. You’d shared many secluded moments together, talking about your pasts and while he has never explicitly said anything, you have created a picture in your head about what he has gone through. The love not shared healthily to someone who will always put his family first. Even prior to the downfall of society, you loved to cook for everyone you knew.

You settle yourself with a book on the window ledge close to the kitchen, awaiting the arrival of Daryl, a giddiness that could be likened to a snowfall of glitter falling gracefully within you.

“ you know, when we finally find a new home. I will make you the best brownies you’ve ever had! “

“ if y’don’t burn ‘em first. “ he replied, the corner of his eyes crinkle so delicately as he chuckles lowly.

“ don’t be so fucking mean! here I am trying to do something nice.. it won’t kill you! “ you argue humorously, your fist balling up to punch his arm with little force.

Laughter and carelessness had been a rarity after surviving Terminus, your focus on trying to find safety.. no matter how much of a dream it may be. The journey to coming to terms with the fading faces and memories of the prison has been a painful one, comfort was not something that could easily be found, yet you found it in the least conventionally affectionate person you knew.

“ if anythin’s gonna kill me, it ain’t gonna be your cooking. “

“ actually, I cook very well. it will be a good day when I finally get to show you. “

An airy smile brightens your features, the burdenless weight unable to keep your lips stuck together. Many memories you have with him are of the fond kind, of course, the course of your bond with him runs deep but never has it been a calm sea. There have been moments where you wonder if it’s one sided, if you are inventing a picture that you wish to bleed through to reality, then you are proven wrong and he does things that you know in your heart are true. It has taken losing friends, a home, finding new hope to strengthen that bond and while you would prefer to take the easy road, you know that nothing will ever split the two of you into shards of glass that will never be able to be repaired. You’re both strong people, but stronger together.

A figure clad in black and covered in grime makes their way up the flawless road to where you rest, your vision could be awful but you can make out his being anywhere. The book you hold is laid to rest, your feet already carrying yourself to the door to meet him. Days had past since you last saw him and you can now feel the chords of longing pulling as you had missed him.

Your hand encloses the door handle, swinging it open to finally land your gaze on his form, feeling as if it had been years you’d not done so, as opposed to a few days.

“ took you long enough. “

“ yeah, yeah. quit your complainin’. “

You move aside, Daryl taking the cue from you and entering the house that bares no soul at that present moment. Everyone is out with their own agenda or job, leaving you to potter about to your own devices.

Some peace and privacy for even a few hours is something you are thankful for, two things that had been incredibly rare from your journey from Atlanta. Though, the noise that comes with your family reminds you of the moments you couldn’t wait to be rid from as you grew up are ones that you no longer fail to appreciate.

“ did you find anybody out there? “

Daryl shakes his head, you see the trouble that he wears often become even more apparent as it overwhelms his features intensely. Knowing Daryl as well as you do, you know that while he won’t admit it out loud, every time he goes out there with Aaron to find people and finds no one wounds his spirit more and more. While his desire to save everyone is admirable, it’s often a concern to you that it might be the straw that breaks the camel’s back and he’s often met with your comforting energy of it being simply an unsustainable trait.

“ you know you won’t always find people, right? “ you ask him softly, tucking your legs underneath you as you seat yourself on the sofa.

Daryl refuses to sit, it’s a thought that regularly finds itself bouncing around your mind as to why he can’t relax even behind the walls of Alexandria.

“ yea’, still sucks though. “ he wipes his thumb across his nose, an unconscious habit on his part, discussing his thoughts and feelings has never been easy, raised in a home full of toxicity stunted him emotionally, something he still wrestles with when the occasion arises.

“ there’s going to be a day where you’ve gone and saved everyone! there won’t be anyone left for you to bring back! cut yourself some slack. “

Daryl doesn’t respond, knowing there is truth in your words but he has seen so much death already, the world gripped by dark and dim choke hold, a little dusting of life is something that has been lacking since it died. Avoidance of feelings is something Daryl flees to when the conversation gets tough, he can deal with words full of anger and rage, but topics so delicate still feel so alien to him.

“ wha’ y’been up to? “ the male questions you, seemingly interested in what you have been up to, watching you from the otherside of the room.

As if a switch had been flipped, your eyes ignite with excitement and joy as you have finally been able to fulfil your unofficial promise to him.

“ remember when we were talking about my cooking? when you insulted it? “ the sides of your lips gently lift with a soft innocence, you feel the elation slowly warming the entirety of your body at the simpleness of it all.

“ y’ain’t gone and poisoned sumn’ have ‘ya? “ asks Daryl, turning to face you from across the floor where he stood. His tone holds a ‘ blink and you will miss it ‘ humour threaded into his words.

“ I should have! “ laughing at him, you fit your fingers between his and lead him into the kitchen with you.

Touch is still something that sends an uncomfortable shiver to travel the distance down his spine, but with everything you have been through and all the time you have spent together, touch is something he’d never turn from when thinking of you. Your relationship has been a strange, never formal one, but it is perfect for the two of you. Unspoken words full of warmth and fondness are a solidity in each one’s souls, and while you both never shared the extent of what the two of you have with the group, they have their suspicions and theories. But if they know one thing, it’s Daryl’s affection for you runs deep.

“ brownies! “

He peaks into the oven that you have opened, the rich smell of cocoa and heat baking the treats hit him like a brick, a pit forms deep in his stomach. This is different from past meals beforehand. You had gone out of your way for him, of all people. Never could he mentally grip why you have been so kind and benevolent with him but it’s something he treasures deeply. In the beginning he was more abrasive with you more than anyone else, but it used to be his go to defense mechanism with everyone in your family. Softness never being something destined for him was beaten into him for a young age, learning only how to loathe and to only say words in anger. It wasn’t until you came along and took your time with him did he let you in, something you have been grateful ever since.. especially since you have been able to discover the colourful soul that resides within him.

“ y’didn’t have to. “ he replies, his mouth watering at the mere smell of the brownies that are close to being fully baked.

“ Daryl… “ a softness in your response that is only reserved for him is heavy, your eyebrows furrowing in dejection. You know enough of his history to be confident in your placed hurt for him being unable to experience kindness in a positive manner. Your hand trails up his clothed arm and rests on his shoulder lightly, allowing for him to decide whether or not to accept the physical affection. He doesn’t shrug it off, if anything he leans more into your touch. “ you know I’m doing this because I want to, you deserve something nice! “

“ thanks. “

“ and they’re nearly done, so you best take a seat. “

Daryl follows your order with little encouragement, a smirk that he conceals from your view and sits at the lengthy dinner table. He’s having trouble connecting the dots of the dead walking and civilisation ended and the pure normalcy of him sitting at a dinner table about to eat home cooked brownies. Even back when the world was bustling with life and people working their nine to fives were home cooked meals a rarity.

“ so this is what y’spent your day on? “ he asks as he watches you with a spark of fondness in his eyes as you work in the kitchen.

“ cooking is therapeutic. “

“ y’ a weird person. “ Daryl quips, staring at you right in your eyes. His expression gives nothing away, though his eyes speak a thousand words and paint a thousand colours that you understand fully.

It’s lucky you know him so well to understand when he’s being serious and when not.

“ but you like it! “

The squares of the baked treats are uneven and jagged, your features contorting into a confused frown at how they could so well until the end. You blame the knife for the imperfection and flaws of the appearance of what lays before you, however your heart knows it’s your inability to present your dishes artistically.

“ now I apologise they don’t look good but they do taste good! “

“ y’never have to say sorry for anythin’ “ he thoughtless says, his mind to preoccupied with the food laid before him.

A picture painted by his mind long ago had you as the perfect person, it’s comforting to know the flaws you have are nothing short of charming in your own little way. With the lack of elegance associated with him, his fingers dig into the irregular shape of the brownie and shoves half of it into his mouth.

You watch him with your breath holding itself, never have you been a person who has wanted to impress but when it comes to Daryl? You find yourself wanting to do that and more.

“ well? “

He nods with his mouth full, unable to formulate his words. His jokes about your cooking being bad have been nothing more than that, jokes. But even as he’s consuming the small squares he’s surprised at how good they taste, better than he could even imagine.

“ ain’t half bad. “

“ in Daryl speak that means they’re pretty damn great, huh? “ you question him rhetorically, amusement dancing on each word you speak as you gaze steadily on his form.

“ well y’didn’t burn the house down. “

Your mouth opens and eyes widen considerably as your expression twists from being filled to the brim of affection to one of shock, aghast at his jovial words. The laughter tumbles carelessly from your lips as you reach across to swat his arm playfully.

“ you are so rude! “

He joins in with your laughter, a sight so infrequent that you wish you could burn the image into your mind with no chance of being erased by time. It’s moments like these, where you truly feel like the only two people in the world, stolen moments you hold close to your heart. You hope that you will reach a space where you both will be able to freely express your feelings, while the mutual affection is known between the both of you, sometimes you want to use words. So he knows, because it’s something he deserves. To know how much he is loved, without cowering away from the subject.

“ nah I’m just kiddin’. thanks, I mean it. “

#daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon x reader #twd imagine #the walking dead imagine #daryl x reader

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charmandhex · 3 years

Note

32- “Your eyes are red… Were you crying?” with magnus and another character of your choice? :3

It took me a while, buuuuuuuut I’m gonna blame the election!

CW for death mention, food mention.

Magnus doesn’t know what day it is when he wakes up. Well, really, that knowledge is long gone since they’re 33 planar systems deep into a seemingly endless journey, and you can bet Barry’s blue jeans that each and every one of ‘em had had a different calendar. And there’s been a lot going on so far in Cycle 33, so you can’t exactly blame Magnus for not figuring out how the local lunar calendar works when there are 17 moons orbiting this planet.

So Magnus, being Magnus, sits up and jabs a finger right at his eye. Ow. Shit. Yep, still bruised. So, two weeks, give or take. Magnus may not be the smartest boy on the ship, but he’s become pretty familiar with how long black eyes take to heal.

Two weeks. That’s not a lot of time to already be down two crew members.

Of course Merle’s gone already, having blustered and protested that he wasn’t needed now and that he needed to go into his next meeting with John with his memories of the last one fresh and sharp. Which, in Magnus’s not-so-humble opinion, is stupid. And he misses their shitty cleric. But at least Merle had been… somewhat expected.

Taako though.

It had looked safe. And they’d all been on their guard anyway. And Cap’n’port is a good leader. And Taako is a good wizard. Magnus is head of security. What good is he?

Magnus gets up and starts to pace. He’s learned a lot, and he’s learned that yeah, sometimes action is better than sticking around and thinking. Or at least sticking around and stewing in those thoughts.

Magnus’s room is too small for good pacing, but there’s a solution for that: Magnus rushes out. Down the hallway, past Lucretia’s room, past Barry’s room, up the stairs, past Cap’n’port’s quarters, onto the bridge, wide loop around the bond engine, around to the kitchen, down the hall, down the stairs again, past the med bay and Merle’s sad plants and empty room, quick right turn, around the boxes in storage, into the hallway once more, past Lup’s room… Magnus slows down and comes to a stop in front of the door to Taako’s room.

The twins had each been given their own room per some protocol Magnus can’t remember but Barry could probably recite in a heartbeat, but more often than not you’d find both in one room, switching back and forth between the two depending on whoever’s room had better lighting or fewer shoes in it at the time. On impulse, Magnus knocks at the door one-two-three, before reaching for the door handle.

Lup jolts up from where she’s been sitting hunched over on Taako’s unmade bed. At once, Magnus draws back, flustered.

“Oh, uh… h-hey, Lup.”

“Hey, Mango,” Lup says, her voice a little scratchier than normal. “Good thing T to the double A-K-O didn’t have any booby traps up and running when he… Anyway, uh, yeah, what- what’s up?”

Magnus lingers, debating, before stepping further in. “Just, uh, you know… thinking.”

Lup’s mouth quirks into a smile. “Doesn’t sound much like your style, Mags.”

“Now hold on!” The disquiet sitting heavy in Magnus’s chest is, for the moment, pushed to the side in favor of indignation. “I do plenty of thinking!”

“Yeah, about how to sneak dogs on the ship.” Lup gestures at the bed beside her, an invitation.

“That counts!” Magnus retorts before sitting next to Lup with a huff, turning to stick his tongue out at her. She looks away, and Magnus frowns, looking closer. “Your eyes are red… were you crying?”

“H-huh?” Lup stammers, still determinedly not looking at Magnus. “Nope! No way! No crying over here, just you know, 420 blaze it, let’s gooooooooo.”

Magnus blows out a long breath. “Yeah. I miss him too.”

Lup groans, before looking back over. “Magnus, you asshole, couldn’t you have just pretended and asked why I 420 blazed it without you?”

Magnus doesn’t respond, but he opens his arms. Lup moves so fast Magnus could have sworn she cast Blink, and then her arms are tight around him, as though afraid he too might disappear. Lup mumbles something into his shoulder as Magnus hugs her back.

“Sorry, didn’t quite get that.”

Lup turns her head, and an ear whaps across Magnus’s face. “I said¸ you and Barry are tied for best hugs.”

“Now that’s a compliment. Think I can stick it under proficiencies?”

“Yeah, with the other 500.” Lup lets out a shaky sigh and hugs tighter onto Magnus. “Taako gives shitty hugs.”

“He does not!”

“Magnus, he’s my brother, and he is my heart, but he manages to get like eight elbows in despite only having two of them. Half of the melee attacks he’s ever made have been accidentally headbutting people hugging them.” Another breath. “And most importantly. He’s not even here for his stupid, shitty hugs.”

Magnus waits even as Lup’s stifled shuddering sobs manage to shake him too, and he waits longer still, the heavy silence in the room finally stretching into something resembling peace.

“I’m sorry.”

“Me too. S’not your fault though.”

“Is too.”

“Is not.”

“Is too.”

“Is not!” Lup says, pushing back, fiery and indignant once more even with grief and pain still carved into her face. “Magnus Burnsides, you listen right now. That- what happened, was not your fault, and no one thinks that. I don’t think that. And when Taako gets back, he’s not gonna think that either. Now come on.” Lup lets go of Magnus long enough to scramble off Taako’s bed and up to standing before she grabs his hand.

“Come on… where?”

“I’m making some fuckin’ pancakes, and I need a sous chef,” Lup says, the kind of determination in her tone that regularly keeps them from doing stupid shit.

But what she’s saying is still surprising. Surprising because… “Really? Uh, Lup, you do remember what happened last time-” Last time he’d been banned from the kitchen for two cycles.

“We got it off the ceiling eventually, didn’t we?” Lup waves his protests off. “So, come on. I’ll let you put in as many chocolate chips as you want. And this way, by the time we get my dumb brother back, you’re better at cooking, so he has to get better at hugging.”

Magnus laughs. “Guess I can’t argue with that logic.”

The door swings closed with a quiet click behind them as they go. Less quiet is the Starblaster’s kitchen half an hour or so later, when Magnus and Lup and the rest of the crew are sitting around the table, plates stacked high with mostly unburnt and reasonably uniform pancakes.

And less quiet still than that, is the Starblaster some months and many pancakes later, when, elbows and headbutts aside, Magnus finds himself in a massive hug pile with Taako at the center. Somewhere in the middle of it all, Magnus hears Taako say:

“Hey, uh, quick, quick question: why is there a pancake on the ceiling?”

#taz #taz balance #taz fic #taz fanfic #magnus burnsides #lup #asks #i was thinking about who to write magnus with and lup's joke came to mind #and the end result was i temporarily killed taako #oops time for angst and hurt/comfort #himbotaako

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ajbwasntwriting · 3 years

Text

Daughter!Reader X Negan, Reader x Daryl: Chapter 8. Civil Unrest

First | Previous | Next

For all intents and purposes this is filler so the next chapter will be up in the next few minutes

I’ll only post more chapters if previous chapters get a good reaction so if you enjoy this please heart it, reblog it, and/or reply to it. Interaction inspires.

if you wish to be added to the tag list please dm me. All chapters can be found under the tag AJ’s Negan’s Daughter AU

In a few days you were up on your feet, your need to survive driving your fast recovery. As soon as you could sit up without nearly fainting and you could bend your fingers without much pain you started taking patients. Mainly burns and cuts. You kept your head down while working, adding to your intimidating reputation. They didn’t realise you were just trying to conceal yourself while looking for familiar faces. You rarely left the medical bay, even when it was icy cold.

Carol checked on you regularly, seemingly incredibly concerned for you. It almost pained you to suspect her to be out to get you. Luckily she seemed convinced that because you had been alone for so long that you’d take a long time getting used to the walls. Maybe she figured out that you were just biding time for leaving again.

“Are you okay?” Laura pulled you from your thoughts. You looked up suddenly, nodded, and went back to your reading. All these patient profiles from the previous physician were thorough. “Why would Emmett be this detailed with extremely basic medical care” you tought, then again he was a captive here just as much as you were. He probably had nothing better to do. “Are you sure? You look so serious.” She continued. You looked up to her. She was lying on one of the beds chewing on a piece of hard plastic. Having to keep a watch on ‘The New Doc’ would’ve been extremely boring.

“Just a lot of reading” you sat up and stretched your arms, not realising how long you had sat hunched over the hand-written pages. “Doctors have horrible handwriting and this guy sure likes to drag his point out”

“How bad is it?” She asked. You lifted the profile of another patient and followed along with your finger.

“The left Thenar has suffered tremendous infliction resulting in the loss of elasticity and possible avulsion of the tissue” You read aloud in a dramatic voice

“What?” Laura said, taking the plastic out of her mouth for a moment

“He pulled the muscle in his thumb, possibly tearing it” you flopped the paper down, rubbing your forehead.

“And all those pages are full of that shit” Laura pressed. You sighed with a nod.

“I never thought I’d be grateful to have done AP english.” you sighed

“Okay smart ass no need to show off” Laura chuckled, chewing on the plastic again.

“Please,” you sat back in the chair “My old man made me do it. ‘You already speak english so it should be a breeze’ he said”

“Those kind of parents?”

“You’re familiar?”

“Yep” Laura sat up, hunching over her now crossed legs. “My dad was a lawyer. Mom was an accountant. They kept pushing me to over achieve”

“Bet they weren’t happy with that” you spoke, pointing to your neck to reference Laura’s tattoo. Her hand went over it instinctively.

“I had already skipped town with my boyfriend before I got this.” She laughed. The smile melted away as she slowly stroked her neck. “Hadn’t seen them since. Probably dead.”

The room got a lot more quiet. It was crazy to think you both were so close in age but had gone through so much hell in the same world. But Laura was a saviour. You were Negan’s kid. If you were to be friends it would have to be at an arm’s reach.

The momentum changed when Carol arrived in, holding a small tray with cookies on them. The smell told you they were fresh. Your heart wanted to tell her to get out, but those cookies smelled too damn good.

“How’s the hard work going ladies.” she spoke with a cheery voice, setting the tray down in front of you. You were on it instantly. You took a cookie with you as you limped over to lock the door to the medical bay. “Any news?” Carol whispered

Carol had asked you and Laura to investigate the uprising of Negan supporters in the Sanctuary. Well, mainly Laura since she would know more people in Carol’s eyes. The payment, cookies. Though Laura would probably do it for free. She enjoyed the new peace that came with being aligned with the other settlements.

“Just the usual hot-heads” Laura sighed. You limped back to your chair.

“They like to complain to me.” you gently sat down. You’d only been back walking without the full splint for a couple days now but the clunky half splint on your lower leg wasn’t exactly walker friendly. “‘You should’ve seen how great we were when Negan was running the place’ and other shit”

“What do you think of it?” Carol asks you seriously. You suck the sugar off your fingers happily.

“He mustn’t have been that good if he’s not in charge anymore.”

They had their little meeting then as Carol was leaving you piped up,

“How’s the bridge team?”

“No.” Carol retorted quickly as if speaking to a child. “You are not going out there how many times do I have to tell you.”

“I could help-”

“You’re needed here Y/N” she spoke firmly.

“Yes, mom.” you groaned from your chair, earning a laugh from Laura. Carol left quickly.

“Why do you wanna join the bridge team so badly?” Laura asked through a mouthful of cookie.

“I miss the fresh air, I guess” and there’s more chances to get away from you all.

That evening you were restless. Normally it was the pain that kept you up late but it also exhausted you. You got out of the medical bed you’d claimed as your own, one of three that outfitted the med bay. You limped your way out of the medbay, not bothered if you woke Laura. The bathroom was down the hall so she would just assume you had to pee, especially since you had taken the torch dedicated to midnight bathroom visits. Being the medic gave you the luxury of a torch instead of matches and a candle.

It hurt to climb up so many stairs, with both your wounds and the cold seeping into your skin, but you’d be tired by the time you came back down anyway. You walked onto what used to be Negan’s floor. Your ‘family’s’ floor. You’d wanted to see it for a while now, out of curiosity more than anything else.

You first went to your father’s room. Pushing the door open you felt a burst of cold air whip around you viciously. The room has been stripped of its furnishings, right down to the carpets. Taken away to be burned most likely. The windows were shattered, the bullet holes in the ceiling giving away the method. It was so completely devoid of any sign of human life one would say it always had been. You closed the door and continued onto the parlour where the wives would spend their day. This room didn’t have windows but the room was still completely void of any of the glamour that once adorned it. The only remnants was the wall paper which was peeling off due to the damp.

The image of the forgotten rooms didn’t stir emotion in the way you thought they would. You imagined getting overwhelmed with emotion, but you felt nothing. No that wasn’t right, you felt a loss. Not a loss of the grandeur you had gotten to enjoy in captivity, not a loss of the fake smiles from your many ‘mothers’. You felt a loss of your father. You mourned the man you had called your father, and the idea that all that was left of the memory of him were these halls where cowards bowed to him. You felt an overwhelming realisation that the man you called ‘Pops’ had died long before ‘Negan’ formed.

Your final destination was your room. You figured it would also be empty but your room was a bit away, down the end of a hall few knew how to get too. You’d had more roaches as visitors than people. Your father had chosen it for you so the ‘common nobodies’ wouldn’t see you easily, another measure to keep you safe.

It also worked the other way as you round the corner and see a light coming from what used to be your room. The hall was lined with offices and storage rooms you knew you could dive into if someone appeared so you turned off your light and walked down the hall gingerly on your feet. You were now only a couple feet away from the door when you heard voices coming from the end of the hall, from what used to be your room.

“I still can’t believe they put this bitch here to keep an eye on us. That fucking redneck was an ass but atleast he didn’t pretend to be all fucking nice”

“It’s probably a play to get us to relax. They’ve got us locked in this factory and don’t give us nearly enough food, and they won’t let us go to the other settlements”

“We’re prisoners. They said they only wanted to lock up Negan but now we’re all starving.”

“Enough of your bitching.”

They went on to talk about how many people were on their side and their efforts to get weapons. They clearly had no idea you were listening. After all, what kind of idiot is gonna climb up over ten floors for no reason. Other than sentiment perhaps. It sounded like there were about four people in the room, but they spoke like they had a few under their influence. They were looking for weapons and a means to get back at ‘Rick and his posse’.

“We’ll bring them that bitch Carol’s head on a spike for them.”

“What about the bridge? We got people working there for food.”

“And then what? They’re just gonna keep extorting us for slave labour or let us starve.”

You were so drawn in by their words that the door opening startled you. You charged from your spot into an open room, a storage closet of a sort. You knew it was too risky to close the door so you stood against the wall next to the door. They walked along the hall bantering loudly. You sidestepped deeper into the room, knocking something with your foot making a loud metal sound. The voices stopped and you instantly froze, holding your breath like your life depended on it. A light shun into the closet, then the other way.

“Probably just a rat” one of the voices spoke. “We can set some traps and stew it for dinner”.

They continued down the hall, their steps growing faint a minute or so later. The adrenaline began to subside and the pain from the recent strain on your leg made itself very apparent. You stepped out of the closet and walked down the hall to your old room. Maybe they left some evidence you could use to barter for your freedom.

You opened the door to your room, only illuminated by the moonlight coming from the window. Unlike the other rooms, your room hadn’t been completely ransacked. The mattress had been taken off the frame but the metal skeleton remained as well as the rug under your bed. Other than that it appeared empty. You turned on your torch to get a better view.

On your bed frame lay what had to be near a hundred dead wild flowers. Your breath caught in your throat at the site. You moved and sat on the bed frame, the metal sending a chill up your body. You placed a hand on the dry stems and something hit the ground with a thump. You moved to look under the bed as quick as you could, reaching under the bed you cut yourself on something sharp. You moved your torch on it and grabbed it again, this time from a less dangerous end.

Under the bed you pulled out the knife that had your name engraved on it. The metal shun bright in the light as if lovingly polished until it’s inevitable abandonment. You hadn’t realized you had begun to cry until a tear fell onto the blade and began to fill the engraving.

~Tag List~

@bodeckersbitch @lauren-novak @aestthete

#AJ's Negan's Daughter AU #twd negan #negan fic #negan twd #negan the walking dead #the walking dead negan #negan x daughter reader #daughter reader #daughter x negan #daughter reader x negan #twd daryl #daryl dixon #the walking dead daryl #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon x reader #twd carol #carol peletier #the walking dead carol #twd laura

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borvooven · 3 years

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I'm sorry, but I don't know what to draw in the near future, so I want to know your headcanons for cherry cola

YEAH HEADCANONS LETS GO THANK YOU

1. They're both horrible at cooking, but Brown regularly tries to make dinner. Of course, most of the time he fails BUT from time to time it doesn't even taste that bad, mostly he's good at making food his mom used to make when he was younger, and Pink absolutely LOVES when they manage to make proper food without setting the kitchen on fire.

2. Brown always wants to watch at least one movie before going to bed but Pink often ist just too tired so Brown has to persuade him to cuddle with him on the couch. Pink either falls asleep in his arms or gets bored and tries to turn him on, Brown would just swat away his hand because he just wants to watch the fucking movie lol

3. Do I think they ever explored each other's bodies? Hell yeah. They often just cuddle in bed, only wearing underwear, and Brown looks at Pink's scars and asks about them, they spend hours doing that.

4. We all know Brown talks A LOT but sometimes he would just force himself to shut up, hoping Pink starts telling him about his day or so because HE LOVES listening to his voice. He doesn't ask Pink to tell him stuff because he doesn't want to get on his nerves, except for when he thinks Pink is feeling bad, he won't stop asking stuff like "Do you need something? Are you okay? You wanna get some rest? Are you sick?", i guess Pink would be annoyed by it after a while but he doesn't tell him because Brownie is literally just being nice and caring

5. After they've been together for a while, Brown wants Pink to meet his siblings because he's so conviced it's "an important part of being boyfriends", Pink is too antisocial tho but Brown INSISTS and makes him meet his favorite brother (is favorite brother a thing? idk lol i only have one sis). They become friends and meet whenever his bro is in town.

6. Two of Brown's siblings already have kids and sometimes Brown and Pink take care of them and they're HORRIBLE at it, these kids like Pink more than their own uncle and Brown gets jealous, he doesn't get why they don't like him and Pink has to cheer him up when the kids are back home. Also Pink hates taking care of these little shits (as he would call them) but they won't leave him alone lol

BONUS

If they both survived the heist (they did fuck you) and got out of town together (they did fuck you) Brown would feel sad and guilty all the time and have a lot of nightmares, but Pink always cheers him up and tells him that it's normal to feel like that when a heist goes wrong like that. Before they go to sleep Pink helps cleaning Brown's head wound and putting on a fresh bandage. He also buys a cool bandana for Brown to cover the bandage when they are outside.

#reservoir dogs #cherry cola #mr pink #mr brown #THANK YOU FOR ASKING AAA I LOVE TALKING ABOUT TEHM #headcanons

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yourneighborbakugou · 3 years

Text

A Weeks Adventure (Part 2)

Pairing: Bakugou Katuski x Reader Warnings: mentions of smut Read Part One Word Count: ~4k A/N: Happy Birthday to our gremlin Bakugou! There’s so much birthday content out right now for Bakugou I can’t wait to read them all! I hope you all enjoy this because lowkey, sis stayed up super late to finish it and my eyes this morning felt like they were going to explode. It’s not perfect but I hope you like it. Thanks for reading 😊

“I will beat you, Bakugou Katsuki.” You take your napkin and tuck it in your shirt and stare into the soul of your husband’s eyes.

“And I will enjoy every second of it.” Your eyes darken as the competitor in you takes over.

“I’d like to see you try.” Bakugou tucks his napkin into his shirt as well, ready for the challenge.

“Ladies and gentlemen.” A lady speaks through the intercom. “The competition for the most bowls of spicy tonkotsu ramen eaten in 5 minutes, begins….NOW!”

5 minutes later, the whistle is blown and all competitors raise their hands. You gulp down the soup you’ve held in your cheeks and count your bowels--6. Six bowls, you think you’ve done a good job considering others next to you barely had 5. Turning to Bakugou your eyes widened as you recounted his bowls for a 3rd time--10 bowls!!

Bakugou wipes his lips and if you could swipe the shit eating grin he had right now you would in a heartbeat. So how did you both end up here at an eating competition? Let’s rewind 5 days.

Sunday

The sun rises on Sunday morning brighter than Bakugou remembers. Today was the first day of his week off. Snuggled next to him laid your figure, enclosed inside his arms. He takes a moment to snuggle his nose on your head before pulling you closer to him, as if you weren’t already close enough.

“‘Suki, what are you doing?” You chuckle as you felt his hold tighten.

“Should I stop?” He placed a kiss behind your ear.

“Stay. 5 more minutes yeah?” You asked teasingly though you knew what the answer would be.

“How about the whole week?”

You immediately open your eyes, turn to him in disbelief.

“That’s not cool, Bakugou Katuski.” You pout which only makes him laugh. He knew you meant serious business when you called him by his full name.

“Should I call Ei that I’m heading in then?” He perks a brow your way, challenging you to fight him if you felt he was lying.

You both lay in silence for a few seconds as the fact that he had the whole week off sets in. Bakugou knew you were happy when your lips began to slowly curve before a full blown smile emerged. You threw your arms over him in excitement and snuggled your face on his neck.

You wasted no time having your husband all to yourself the entire week. Today you chose to relax at home to binge watch your favorite show and plan activities for the week. Midway through the opening, your mind starts to wander. What exactly would you both do? You had only planned for 2 days of activities.

“Earth to Y/N.” Bakugou flicks your forehead. “You missed half the show, woman. I thought you wanted to watch this?”

You apologize and explain your worries to him. Having him for the entire week, though you’re super happy about it, it feels wrong since you weren’t sure what you both would do with the extra time off.

“You worry too much.” Is all he says before getting up to cook lunch for you both. You sit across the counter creating a list, mumbling like Deku would with his hero analysis, debating about things you both can do. You’ve looked at numerous websites online to get ideas but only a few ideas have really stood out.

Bakugou brings a plate of food over to you and takes a peak at what you’re doing--a fresh piece of paper with a list and a crumbled old note that looks like ideas you had for the 2 days you originally planned for.

You stop writing to take a bite from your husband’s deliciously home cooked meal and Bakugou takes this opportunity to snatch your list to read. Reading down the list, he immediately read the last bullet again to make sure he read it right.

Visit a temple? -- Absolutely

Hiking - No, you do this regularly and you don’t want to be sore

Gym - Absolutely not.

Beach -- A must

Skydiving -- Why pay for this when your husband can do this for free

Food adventure -- Yes!

Picnic -- yes yes yes!

Watch a movie -- plan Z if all else fails

Make babies

You’ve been happily married for 3 years and the talk of having children comes from time to time. You both agreed that until you’re both ready, the other won’t push for it.

He slowly moves the paper away from his face and you ready yourself with a big smile. This was one of the many surprises you had for him. You were ready to be the mother to his children.

Seeing your expression he understood. His heart exploded at your confession and for a second, you swore you saw tears form in his beautiful red eyes, eyes you can’t wait for your children to have.

“That’s not cool, Bakugou Y/N.” He teased with your famous line earlier that morning.

Monday

Locking the front door to your home, you excitedly walk over to your car where Bakugou was already in the front seat, ready to go. Opening the passenger door, you take a seat and the smile you carried from the front door to your car doesn’t cease.

“Ready?” He placed his hand on your thigh.

“Ready.” You hold his hand in yours and the excitement for the next few days of what you both planned was now in motion.

First stop? Visiting a temple for offerings and prayers.

The temple wasn’t crowded, thankfully. You drag Bakugou along, buying food from the stalls nearby for breakfast--everything from sweet to savory. You take a bit into your fresh taiyaki and hum in approval. Bakugou steals a bite from your taiyaki before nodding in agreement and walking away.

“Hey, you thief!” You trail behind him laughing.

With a full stomach, you head to the temizuya (water pavilion) for cleansing. Together, you both gently toss a coin into the saisen-bako (offertory box) before making your way to the bell on the haiden to make your prayer. You bow twice to greet the kami-sama (deities), then clap twice to show appreciation, and end with a silent prayer. On cue, you both do your last departing bow.

The air after prayer always gets you. It was a strange, calm feeling. What did you pray for? You both thought. Bakugou wears a faint smile as he holds your hand firmly in his. Hand in hand, you descend the temple.

With the sun setting in the distance, and the drive to your destination being a few hours away, you let yourself slowly drift to sleep.

Tuesday - Birthday Boy

Today was the big day -- Bakugou’s birthday. Day 1 of your 2 day plan for your husband--watch the sunrise, picnic, make babies.

Your face warms at the thought of the last activity. Stepping out of the bathroom, you watch Bakugou lay in bed shirtless. Yeah, you were so ready for the last activity.

Bakugou stirs awake when a familiar figure lowers onto him. His instinctively holds you by your hips and gives you a gentle squeeze. You pepper his face with kisses which cause him to smile.

“You’re up early.” He speaks in his morning voice--deep and so, so hot.

“We have to leave soon before we miss the sunrise.” You give him one last kiss on his cheek.

Bakugou opens an eye to look up at your figure. You’re already all dressed and ready to go. With the warm weather this week, even the early morning couldn’t escape the heat. It’s not a surprise to him that you opted for a tank and shorts.

When you feel the tint in his boxers you know exactly what he was thinking.

“Suki, no.” You protest, ready to get off him but his firm grip on you doesn’t allow you to.

“Birthday boy calls the shots.” In an instant, he has you flipped and on your back. “And I say the sunrise I want to see is right here.”

He’s fingers dance on your waist, kissing you by your ear, making his way back to your lips. Your resolve crumbles as he takes the lead. With your consent, he helps you out of your clothes and the desire in him fuels him to love every inch of your body. Bakugou made sweet love to you as the sun rose in the distance.

~~~~

“What a beautiful day, don’t you think?” You raise your arms, soaking in the sun. You pack the baskets and blankets into the trunk of the car in a hurry.

“Are you going to tell me where we’re going yet?” Bakugou walks out towards you putting in his orange tee.

You’re too busy admiring your husband to let the annoyance in his tone bother you.

“If you keep looking at me like that we might not go anywhere today, sweetheart. Unless…” Bakugou lowers himself to you and stops a breath away.

You want to protest so bad but god, he looked so good and when you really think about how lucky you are to be his wife you can’t help but feel so much pride. You had the Bakugou Katsuki, aka Pro Hero Dynamight.

You were his Bakugou Y/N.

You knew he was teasing by stopping a mere breath away. Getting another kiss wouldn’t be so bad. You leaned in fast to steal a kiss. But not fast enough. Bakugou anticipated your steal.

“Didn’t you say we were going to be late?” He leans back and walks past you.

You’re left feeling embarrassed that he caught on. Even after all these years, you still get butterflies like the first day you met.

The drive to the cliff you wanted to have a picnic at was not far. Better yet, you both had the place to yourselves.

“Wear these.” You hand your husband a black silk eye mask who was leaning on the driver side door.

“It’ll only be for a minute, I promise.” You add, feeling the protest in his eyes.

“Fine.” He says before he pulls the mask over his eyes and you get to work.

Bakugou is focused on your movements since it’s the only thing ensuring him that you were okay. He hears your footsteps go to the trunk before hearing the trunk open. The car gently shakes as you remove something you’ve packed in the morning.

Last night, he woke up sometime after midnight when he heard noises coming from the kitchen. Leaning against the bedroom door, he did his best to hide in the shadow of the darkness as he watched you prepare for today.

All his life he’s always wondered if he was worthy of anyone’s love. He was grumpy, loud and brash and you were anything but that. He’s never wished time would stop until he met you--your gorgeous E/C eyes that twinkles in the light, beautiful smile that made his heart beat faster, and when you call him by his name he swears he can’t breath.

Watching you from afar prepare what seems to be lunch, he’s reminded how special you are to him. Bakugou retreats from the door and back to bed to let you finish the surprise he knows you worked so hard to prepare.

It’s been a few minutes since he’s heard you return to the car. He calls out to you but hears nothing.

“Y/N!” He calls one more time. He doesn’t let another second pass after you don’t respond. Removing the mask and looking around, his eyes adjust to the blinding light.

When the blinding light begins to color the world around him, the first thing he spots in the distance is you. You’re standing in front of a blanket with food all around and holding a cake with a sparkling candle.

Bakugou is yet again, mesmerized by your spirit and love. He smiles making his way to you before stopping a few feet away.

“Matcha flavored with whipped cream, just the way you like.”

The candle fizzle out and the words you’ve written on the cake are now visible.

To The Love of My Life.

“Happy Birthday, Katsuki.” You say, grabbing his attention. “May this year bless you with good health and fortune.”

“I wish the world would stop for a second to let me appreciate you more.” Bakugou lowers his forehead to meet yours. A gentle kiss seals the birthday wish.

The next few hours were spent basking in each other's company away from the city noise. With only a few hours left til sunset, you both head back home.. You still had one more gift for him.

Bakugou opens the sliding door in your shared bedroom to allow the ocean breeze in. He takes a seat on the sofa outside and waits for you to join him.

“Hey.” You called out to him shly. When Bakugou turns to see you, he’s breathless.

You wore a black and green bustier, matching black lace panties and to finish the look, an orange gartier. Bakugou loved seeing you in his colors.

“Do you like it?” Though Bakugou has seen you bare many times, the intensity of his eyes still makes you feel shy.

The tightness in his sweatpants further grows and the uncomfortable mess you got him in makes his growl. Bakugou motions you to walk over to him with two fingers, tapping his lap for where you need to sit. You follow his command and take a seat on his lap. His bulge teases you as he adjusts himself lower on the sofa. All day, he’s been a tease. But here in the bedroom, you know how to make him crumble just as much.

“You know, they say men’s testosterone level increases at this hour.” You lower yourself to meet his lips. “Increasing the chances of pregnancy.”

Bakugou growls in heat, hands finding its home on your hips, digging into your flesh to hold you still as he tries to release some pressure from his groin.

“Daddy Bakugou.” You say in the sexiest way he’s ever heard you say. “Has a nice ring to it, don’t you think so ‘Suki?”

Bakugou leans forward to kiss you but just as he teased you this morning, you do the same. You pull back before he can find any pleasure from your lips.

“Fuck, Y/N.” Bakugou is growing frustrated at your teasing. With his strength and build, he can easily overpower you; but something about you taking the lead makes you so fucking sexy right now. He’s so turned on.

You can’t deny that you are turned on right now either. The show you’ve put on so far took so much courage you were afraid you weren’t going to get through the first line. With the heat intensifying within, you can’t hold much longer either.

Crossing your arms behind Bakugou’s neck, you cradle your face to his.

“Please give me a baby, Katsuki.”

Wednesday

“Ten more minutes of stomping folks. Your very own wine bottle from grapes you harvested and aroma’s you selected are minutes away from completion.” The wine instructor announces to the group.

You can’t stop laughing at Bakugou’s expression as your feet stomp the purple grapes below into liquid. The thought of drinking the liquid afterwards horrifies Bakugou even more. The instructor had explained that the delicate balance of the acid, sugar and alcohol that is added to each batch means human pathogens can’t survive. You’re more likely to be stung by a bee than for your wine to taste like feet the instructor explained.

“Congratulations! You’ve just made a one-of-a-kind wine. What would you like to name your wine?”

“Y/Nsuki” You both say at the same time, a nickname you’ve received from your friends.

The worker processes the label and sticks it on 3 wine bottles. It’ll take 2-3 weeks before you can actually consume it but it’ll be worth the wait. Before heading out, you purchase another bottle of the favorite wine you both had that day for an evening drink.

“My feet feel weird.” Bakugou complains on the ride home. “I can’t believe you made us do that.”

“I thought it was rather fun making our own wine.” You snuggle the wine on your lap closer. Today was a success! The last two days were everything you planned it to be and Bakugou seemed to have enjoyed it as well.

It’s now half way through the week which means your getaway was almost over. Getting home, you and Bakugou climb into the outdoor sofa to enjoy the sunset yet again. With a glass of wine in hand, you reminisce about the past.

“Do you still remember when we met?”

“Of course.”

“Remember when you asked me out?”

“Is this a test or something?” He arched a brow.

“Remember what you said to me?”

“It’s always been you.” He looks over his shoulder, reciting the memory to you.

“And I will choose you everyday.” You respond, reciting the rest of the memory.

The wine makes its way to your head and your feeling confident in your drunken state. Leaning an arm on the cushion, you face Bakugou who takes another sip of wine.

“Remember when I challenged you to the Bamboo challenge?” you chuckled drunkenly. “And then you kissed me? I was so shocked. I think it was that moment I fell stupid hard for you.”

Bakugou was about to take a sip before you made your confession. You’ve never told him this before.

“It felt like yesterday when you proposed to me. I am the luckiest woman alive to be able to say the strongest, sexiest, and most powerful hero Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight is my husband.” You giggle, only to fall forward more than intended. Bakugou catches you before lifting your body to snuggle on him.

“See, I knew my strong sexy husband will catch me.” The alcohol pushes your eyelids shut and the strength to fight against it was no more. “‘M lay r’e hr” You mumbled incoherently as sleep took over.

The sun had finally set and the only noise left was the crashing of the waves on shore. For the fourth time this week, Baugou wished he could freeze time to appreciate you longer.

Thursday

“The goal is to go shop for things that remind us of each other. We both have 30 minutes each to shop.” You explained to your husband who is more than thrilled for a challenge he knew he was going to win easily.

An hour later you both are back at your home sitting across each other on the kitchen island.

“Ready?” You both grab onto item #1 hidden underneath you.

“Something that is their favorite color. 3...2...1!”

You place orange socks on the island while Bakugou pulls a F/C mug out.

“A favorite snack 3...2...1!”

You pull a bag of wasabi flavored chips and Bakugou pulls out a box of cookies-n-cream pocky sticks.

“A favorite drink 3...2...1!”

You both place a pack of yakult on the kitchen island. Bakugou is the first to chuckle. Seeing that you both knew to buy yakult, you drink one to celebrate.

“Something they want 3...2...1!”

You pull out a red All-Might knock off tee and Bakugou pulls out a card shaped like a coupon. Inside the card read: Baku Coupon: Good for one request

“Only one?” You protest.

“Yeah so choose wisely, princess.” Bakugou gives you a wink as he tries on the tee (he likes it but won't admit it).

You set aside the card to reveal the last item in the challenge.

“Something they need 3...2...1!”

You pull out a bag of assorted candy and Bakugou pulls out a box of condoms.

What?! You laughed grabbing the box of condoms. Bakugou unwrapped a lollipop and stuck it in his mouth. You’re always teasing him that he needed more sweets in his life and he plans to add more than just sweets.

His suggestive actions stirs naughty thoughts of what you could be sucking right now. Bakugou catches the lust in your eyes and grins. The condoms he bought were meant to be a message. You looked away in a feeble attempt to hide the dirty thoughts you were just having about your husband.

Friday

It was your last day at your coastal home before an early ride home tomorrow. Taking a stroll down the beach to relax, the commotion at the nearby hotel catches your attention and you’re pulling Bakugou along to check out what was going on. The banner hung above the balcony read “Spicy Tonkotsu Ramen Challenge”.

“I will beat you, Bakugou Katuski.” You take your napkin and tuck it in your shirt and stare into the soul of your husband’s eyes.

“And I will enjoy every second of it.” Your eyes darken as the competitor in you takes over. You’ve volunteered for both of you to play since the event was free.

“I’d like to see you try.” Bakugou tucks his napkin into his shirt as well, ready for the challenge.

“Ladies and gentlemen.” A lady speaks through the intercom. “The competition for the most bowls of spicy tonkotsu ramen eaten in 5 minutes, begins….NOW!”

Bakugou wipes his lips and if you could swipe the shit eating grin he had right now you would in a heartbeat.

“We have a winner!” The MC raises Bakugou’s arm and the crowd cheers him on. “It’s been an honor hosting you Dynamight.”

The crowd gathers to take photos with your husband and though he was not a man who enjoys fan service, winning a competition boosted his ego. You watched as he timidly posed for photos before eventually returning to the grumpy man you loved. He stalks over to you and grabs you by the waist.

“Let’s go home.”

With a full stomach, it was no surprise you both took an afternoon nap.

Waking in your slumber, the moonlight shines through your bedroom and onto your husband’s face. You lay motionless to appreciate your husband before your getaway ends tomorrow. Bakugou stirs from his sleep and opens his eyes to see you’ve already awakened. He shifts to move closer to you, arm around your waist.

“Hi, beautiful.” He gives the softest smile, ones he saves only for you to see behind closed doors. Your heart is beating fast at the butterflies inside you.

“I’ve been thinking.” You returned a smile. “I want to cash in my coupon.”

Bakugou nods, prepared to do anything for you. You want him to take another week off? Done. Make love to you into the night? Done. Make food for you to eat? Done.

“Love me forever.”

Bakugou wasn’t expecting you to request this but he can’t say he’s surprised either. You always chose him, day-after-day, night-after-night. Even on days he didn’t deserve it. To spend the rest of his life loving you was more than what he can ask for.

“Til the day I die.” he says before crashing his lips with yours in a passionate kiss. The embers only grow within as your bodies mold together to match the desire in your eyes.

#bakugou x reader #bakugouxreader #Bakugou Katuski #Bakugou's 2021 birthday celebration #bnha Bakugou #Bakugou x fem!reader #bakugou

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