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afewproblems · 8 months

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Eddie downs the last of his beer and tosses the empty red cup into the kitchen sink, right between a couple who were clearly gearing up to claim one of the spare rooms upstairs.

Eddie snickers and winks as the girl tells him to fuck off while her boyfriend flips him the bird, god he loves highschool parties, and this one is no exception.

It's Halloween and business is booming for Eddie Munson.

He imagines Dian Fossey felt similarly, wandering through the Congo studying the great apes' behavior patterns and social structure from within rather than observing from afar.

So far Eddie's observations have paid off in spades and he's managed to sell out most of his stash by targeting the basketball team and their girlfriends. No one wants to get high all by themselves after all, it's almost too easy the way these sheep all flock together.

Eddie leaves the kitchen behind him, but not before snagging a can of something cold from a nearby cooler of half melted ice. With a decent buzz going, what's one more? He's done working for the night after all.

Eddie climbs the stairs, dodging drunk teens left and right as they make their way past him, shirts ruffled and hair messy. Eddie snorts, ignoring the wistful pull in his chest as a tall boy on the swim team pulls his girlfriend closer to press a chaste kiss to the top of her head before smoothing her curls away from her forehead.

Unfortunately no one Eddie would be interested in would accept him brushing their hair like that without punching him in the face.

He shakes his head and continues forward, he's an observer, nothing more.

Eddie passes a closed door on the second floor and pauses as a raised voice splits through the wood.

"It's bullshit, you're bullshit," the voice slurs out and Eddie feels a wide grin pull at the corner of his mouth.

He takes a step closer, nearly pressing his ear to the flat of the door.

"Like we're in love?" Another voice says softly, a guy, "you don't love me?"

A small part of Eddie knows he shouldn't be listening to this, he can hear the waiver in this guy's voice like his heart is slowly cracking in his chest. Shit, he almost feels bad for this guy.

But the people that go to these stupid parties, the Hawkins elite, the gorillas in the mist, deserve their bullshit --to use this girls turn-of-phrase.

The only reason they didn't mess with Eddie was because he was these highschool shit-heads main source of weed.

Its karma, plain and simple, Eddie reasons as he presses even closer now.

"It's. Bullshit". The girl hisses emphatically and for a second Eddie hears nothing.

It happens so quickly after that.

The door swings inward, causing Eddie to stumble into a tall firm chest as the bathroom guy collides with him.

"What the fuck?" The guy says as he pushes Eddie away from himself and --no way.

"Harrington?"

Steve blinks once, his wide hazel eyes red rimmed and shiny in the dim light of the hallway, the tip of his nose is pink as he reaches up to pinch it roughly before swiping across his eyes as well.

Even though Eddie's fairly certain that he and Steve are the same height, he seems smaller like this, deflated, standing in the hallway while a party rages down below them both.

A cheer rings out, startling Steve into action.

He steps widely around Eddie, enough that his shoulder connects with the wall in his haste to take the stairs down, two at a time, as though Hell is hot on his heels.

And Eddie should leave it, go back to the party, see if there are any snacks left before calling it a night, but something pushes him to follow the path Steve took.

It's like he's possessed, the haunted look in those hazel eyes forcing him forward until he's outside on the lawn.

A few other teens are outside, including a couple making out on the porch, Eddie steps over them and jogs to the end of the driveway.

He spots Steve down the street sitting on a large rock at the end of another neighbor's lawn with his face in his hands.

He looks up as Eddie gets closer and curses softly.

"Seriously? It wasn't enough that you were listening, you're following me now?" His voice cracks on the last word as he wipes his eyes again, he can't quite hide the way the moonlight catches the tear tracks running down his cheek and neck though.

"Oh come on Harrington," Eddie says, walking up to Steve. He sits on one of the other rocks and takes a crumpled pack of smokes out of his vest pocket, "it's no fun if you're sad".

"What is?" Steve mumbles after a beat, wiping his eyes again as he stares at the ground.

"Making fun of you," Eddie shrugs as he takes a cigarette and puts it between his lips, he smiles at the startled bark of laughter from Steve.

"You're a prick," he huffs softly, the barest of smiles slowly blooming across his face.

Eddie can count the constellation of freckles and moles across his face, giving the blanket of stars above them a run for their money. His hand twitches at the thought of touching the ones on Steve's throat.

Eddie coughs once, mentally tallying the number of drinks he must have had for those kinds of thoughts and shifts on the rock to adjust his pants.

He holds out the pack to Steve who looks at the nearly empty sleeve before his eyes shift to the house behind Eddie.

"Nance hated cigarettes," Steve murmurs as the corner of his mouth twitches into a terrible frown. It's gone in an instant as Steve blinks once and reaches out for the pack.

"I got something stronger if you want?" Eddie offers, he shrugs when Steve looks up at him with suspicious eyes.

"Come on Harrington, I'm not gonna keep kicking you when you're down, you need a pick-me-up and then I can get back into it," Eddie stands up and without thinking, holds out a hand towards Steve, "what do you say?"

Steve stares up at him, his eyes flick once to the outstretched hand before he snorts dryly and slowly takes his hand.

It's warm in Eddie's own. The fingers squeeze gently as Steve uses it to hoist himself up until he's once again eye level with Eddie.

From this close Eddie can see the way his eyelashes have clumped together with leftover tears and the flecks of gold in his hazel eyes

Oh…this, this was a bad idea. Eddie swallows roughly as Steve finally nods.

"Lead the way Munson," Steve says with the barest of smirks as he wipes his face one last time, "and if you tell anyone about this, I'll slash your tires".

Eddie cackles at that, "there he is!"

He claps Steve on the back as he leads them towards where he parked his van down the road, "our chariot awaits!"

Eddie ignores the small voice that whispers in his ear, the one that sounds remarkably like his uncle, as it asks him just what the hell he thinks he's doing with Harrington of all people?

It'll be fine, he tells himself.

Besides, what's the worst that could happen?

Part Two

#stranger things #stranger things season 2 au #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve and nancy breakup #what would have happended if eddie had been there #let me know if yall want a part two #eddie took one look at this pathetic sad man and said #I will love him and squeeze him #steve cried when nancy called him bullshit you cant tell me otherwise #afewproblems writes #steve x eddie #steddie au #getting back into writing after not being able to for weeks #cw drinking #cw smoking #i will never get tired of the halloween party au

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ickadori · 4 months

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I read the borrowed time piece you did and WAS OBSESSED! I am dying to know the fallout of that whole thing. How on earth does Yuji react when he realizes Sukuna just borrowed his body to eat you out? Where do they even go from there? Would you consider writing a follow up piece or even just share your thoughts on what you think would happen next? THANK YOU

-A thirsty follower

i don’t plan on making a part two on that, but if i did, it would more than likely feature both sukuna and yuji, once again.

it would probably start off with yuji apologizing and trying to explain that sukuna had taken over somehow, despite yuji claiming to always have control over him, only for sukuna to interject somewhere in between to correct the story. probably smth like this ~

“I don’t know how he took control, but he did—I tried to stop him, I really did, and I did stop him...just at the wrong time.” The blush on Yuji’s face is concerning, but you can’t think about his wellbeing too much when you’re no better. Your skin feels hot all over, sweat beading at the back of your neck and heart hammering in your chest, and your hands nervously pull and stretch at the end of your sweater.

I should really change, you think. No, you should just kick Yuji out completely and just transfer to the Kyoto school and never show your face around here again. Yeah, you could do that, that’d work.

“Your persistence in painting me as the only fucked up one is really pissing me off, brat.” You nearly squawk at Sukuna’s voice, a red eye focused on you, or more specifically, the glossy sheen that still coats the insides of your thighs. You press them tightly together and glare at him -them-, and a deep, gravelly snicker sounds as a result.

Yuji slaps a hand over his cheek in an attempt to quiet him, an attempt that has failed time and time again in the past, and fails again as he simply makes the hand materialize on the back of Yuji’s palm. “Tell her exactly how I was able to take over - tell her what you were doing.”

“Nothing. I wasn’t doing anything!” There’s a panicked look in his eyes, and you tense when Yuji turns to you, scooting closer to where you’re sat on the couch and leaning into your space. His lips move a mile a minute, and your stomach clenches as you take in the wetness that’s still spread across the bottom half of his face. Oh, God. “—really don’t know how he was—”

“He came to the thought of fucking that tight, sweet cunt so hard that he passed out, and we both know what happened next.” Sukuna grins, Yuji pales, and you blink, trying and failing to ignore the way your panties become even stickier. “Surprised it didn’t happen sooner. The pervert can barely go two seconds without creaming his pants when he’s around you.” You want to call him a hypocrite, a damned nasty one, but you find that your words are stuck in your throat, eyes unconsciously trailing down to marvel at the bulge in Yuji’s pants. It’s big...how is it so big? “Let’s also not forget that you didn’t take control, I gave it to you to shut you up.”

Sukuna gives you an unsettling once over.

“He wouldn’t shut up about wanting to taste you himself - he nearly cried when I got you to come on our tongue. I let him clean up the mess afterwards.” Your mind goes back to the softer, near desperate licks and sucks that had transpired after you came, and your cheeks burn at the reveal that it had been Yuji happily lapping between your thighs and not just Sukuna. “And judging by the way you keep rubbing your thighs together... he’s gonna be cleaning up another pretty soon.”

#++ asks #++ yuji #i dont feel like writing a full fic of them fucking kadfasdk but it would go down something like that!!#sorry to everyone who wants a part 2 #-cries-

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wastefulreverie · 2 years

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every one one of my characters i write is aroace coded btw because figuring out how straight people think is fucking beyond me

#one time when I was 12 I tried writing a kissing scene between two characters for fan service bc I didn't want my readers to stop reading #my fic and I almost cried because it felt like pulling teeth. never occured to me for like. 6 years that that's not a normal reaction when #it comes to writing kissing scenes. didn't realize that people actually enjoyed that part of writing I thought it was just there for realism #aromantic #asexual #fanfiction #danny phantom fic girlies this ones for u

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flowercrowngods · 9 months

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written for @steddieas-shegoes as a follow-up to this "can you read the letter for me" post-breakup scene (@artaxlivs wrote a wonderful version over here for you to read!) cw: drug mention, OD mention

Steve's body doesn't quite feel like his own as he walks to the playground with his breath lodged firmly in his throat and his heart trying out an old beat that used to be familiar. It's struggling, though, and Steve tries not to think about it. The cold breeze of the night hits his face, making him shiver for more reasons than one.

He hasn't been to the playground for years now. It used to be their spot when they couldn't sleep, kept awake by nightmares and memories and the worst of scenarios. They would come here and sit on the swings, steal glances at each other and talk into the night air, pretending like the other wouldn't hear, and hoping that he would.

He first took Eddie's hand here, swinging as they were, and Eddie had chuckled through his tears, and then his smile hadn't left all night – nor did his hand.

Maybe it's a bad idea, meeting him here. After everything. But some part of him thinks that it might be what they need. If Eddie really is doing as badly as he said, if he really does need a break of several weeks, a tiny part in Steve (the part that would always put himself last as long as it means that the other person gets the tiniest bit of comfort) wants Eddie to have this.

Their little bubble. Or the memory of it at least.

Steve is shaking as he sits down on one of the swings, one of his hands wrapped around the cold chain, the other balled to a fist in the pocket of his jacket. He feels oddly tethered even as the world begins to sway this way and that, even as the breath lodged in his throat solidifies into a lump and he feels as though he's about to cry.

Maybe that, too, comes with the muscle memory of swinging.

He spends an odd second envisioning himself from twenty years ago, laughing and squealing with his friends as they tried to do a looping, and then jump right up into the sky above, see who got farthest.

It brings a smile to his face and a nostalgia to his heart that he hasn't felt in a while.

He feels like he hasn't felt anything in a while. And that he won't until Eddie will apologise. Until he will explain.

The steady squeak–squeak–squeak of the swing is almost eerie in the quiet of the night, but to Steve it brings a certain calm; a safety that he knows is treacherous, but he feels it tingling in his arms, because–

Eddie is there. Slow steps approaching, the gravel crunching underneath his feet that makes Steve want to look up, but, tightening his grip around the chain, he refuses.

I’m sorry for being too much and not enough at the same time.

He knows the letter by heart now, and he wants to see. He wants to see how much space Eddie will be ready to take now, how much he'll let himself be this time. It's unfair, he knows; Eddie's not fine, he should take a step towards him. And he is. He's here. He has agreed to meet with Eddie and hear him out. He has agreed to allow himself a chance at mending his own heart.

Steve feels so torn inside, in more ways than one, that he feels paralysed and petrified and frozen. Part of him wants nothing more than to leap up and take Eddie in his arms, tell him that they'll figure it out, that they can do it, that they can make it work. That second chances are just a thing that happen in life. That it doesn't have to be one and done.

That's another reason he won't look up. There are so many reasons.

"Hey," Eddie's voice cuts through his racing thoughts, though it sounds so gentle and fragile that Steve wonders if it's not Eddie who's been cut.

The steps have stopped, the gravel no longer crunching, and Steve can see a worn pair of Chuck Taylor's in his vision. Not Eddie's usual armour. It throws him off, makes him want to cry, makes him shiver in a way he can't blame on the breeze anymore.

"Thank you," he continues, sounding even more gentle, and Steve squeezes his eyes shut, no longer wanting to hear that voice, not when it sounds like that. So bare. So raw. So vulnerable. "Can I sit with you?"

Steve swallows hard, and doesn't have to consider at all. He nods. Gravel crunches again, then twin chains squeak, the old wood creaking and groaning a little above them, but Steve knows it'll hold. It always does. While Steve is gently swaying, one foot anchored to the ground, Eddie remains impossibly still.

Maybe they're both about to break.

After a while, Eddie speaks up again with the words that Steve has been longing to hear for four years. "I'm sorry."

They're not nearly as satisfying as he always hoped. The world is still broken.

"Okay," he rasps, not really knowing what he's supposed to say. What Eddie wants from this. What he wants from this. If either of them still have the right to want things.

"I had this speech prepared," Eddie continues, still entirely still aside from the way his voice wavers, his laugh a bit breathless and bitter at himself. "But... I didn't... I didn't think you'd come, to be honest."

"Funny," Steve says before he can stop himself, cutting off the rest before it can leave his mouth and make it worse than it is. Coming from the one who left.

"I'm sorry," Eddie says again, and Steve is already tired of it.

So he says nothing, and his silence seems to mute Eddie.

"What does it mean?" he asks eventually, still not daring to look over at the man who used to hold his heart in his hands and then threw it down the quarry before leaving town without another word for four years. But he can feel Eddie's eyes on him. "That you're sorry, what– what does that mean."

"It means that I..." Eddie starts and trails off, considering his words in a way that makes Steve wish he wouldn't.

Just tell me. Take up space. Be enough. Be too much. Just tell me.

"It means that I wish I hadn't left, but that I know I had to in order to find out that living without you is not living at all. It means that I know that I broke your heart and your soul and your future, maybe, for this need of mine to just... find out. To run away. To be someone I could choose to be. And, God, it wasn't worth it. None of it. And still it happened, still I did it, still I know that I just... I had to do it. Being the person I was then, it... I just. I'm sorry. You didn't deserve this. None of it. And if I could, I would turn back time and just tell you. Or sleep it off. Get help, talk with Wayne, anything. Anything that wouldn't lose me the... That wouldn't lose me you. And I'm sorry."

When Eddie finishes, his voice is hoarse, and Steve can't look away any longer. He opens his eyes and prepares to meet Eddie's beside him even in the dark of night, but he finds that Eddie is looking up instead, towards the sky where the moon is busy painting a cloud in silver light as it moves to cover it incrementally, and Steve takes a second to look back down at Eddie and watch him for a second.

His hands are clenched around the swing's chain, and they're shaking a little – so minutely that Steve's not sure if he's imagining it at all, but he feels like he knows Eddie enough to know that he's shaking, too. That they're in this together still. His thick leather boots are replaced with the worn, dark red Chuck Taylor's, and he's wearing a pair of jeans that aren't ripped at the knees. His black denim jacket is plain, no pins, no patches, no rips or tears or any sign of Eddie.

It leaves Steve feeling bereft, untethered once more; and isn't that unfair. It's not fair for Eddie to come here looking like this, looking so open and plain and vulnerable – how is Steve supposed to talk to him now. To talk at him, knowing his words will only meet armour. Armour that will make Eddie leave again.

How is he supposed to say anything when Eddie might not leave again. Or when he never came back in the first place?

"What happened to you?" he asks, the apology forgotten at this need to know. This need to protect, even after all these years. This need to be Steve and Eddie. If only just for the duration of a question.

Beide him, Eddie huffs and looks away from the now covered moon, meeting Steve's gaze with those big brown eyes that look so much bigger now. So much... sadder.

"I've spent all my life knowing who I didn't want to be. Knowing what to be against. Knowing what to hate. And then I– Then I met you. And I got to be someone for myself, you know? You let me be that. And I didn't see, I never... I never quite saw that, Stevie. Because that sad, scared, angry teenager part of me still wanted to hate and rebel and to leave and to be someone. And it didn't matter who, what kinda person, just... Just someone. So I left, and I– God, I lost myself. That self that you brought out. That self that wanted a life full of, like, love, y'know? Not hate. Not anger. Not... Not battle vest, leather armour, sticking it to the Man. But when I realised, it was too late."

"When did you?"

Eddie breathes out heavily. "Last year? Friend of mine OD-ed. Lou. Found her in the hotel, just..."

He breaks off, and Steve can see him blinking away tears just as he blinks away tears of his own.

"I called the band in this, like, full-on panic attack. Told them it was over. Told them I didn't want this anymore. They– They talked me down, because they're great guys. Helped me through it. All of it. Jeff told me to send the letter. Said, 'If you wanna find yourself again, Ed, you gotta start where you last had it, and you gotta start sending the letters.' Best fucking guy I know."

Eddie is smiling through the tears, telling all of this like it's not worth telling at all – like they're not both crying silent tears at it.

Like Steve's not understanding what he's saying. You made me into someone I liked being. and I did write to you, I just never sent them.

"You wrote me letters?"

Eddie nods. "All the fucking time. Wanted you there with me. Stayed sober for you until I... Until I couldn't anymore, because I'd left you, and I left this fucking swing set, and I... God, I'm so sorry, Steve." Eddie is really crying now, hands covering his face, and it's not really a decision at all when Steve gets up to stand between his legs, wrapping his arms around Eddie's shoulders and letting him cry into his chest.

Eddie wraps around him almost instantly, and Steve holds him, running his hands through his hair, shushing him gently, just allowing Eddie to cry for as long as he needs.

And I got to be someone for myself, you know? You let me be that.

You let me be that.

"I'm sorry," Eddie repeats, over and over, and Steve finds himself saying, "It's okay, Eddie, it's okay. I forgive you."

They stay like that for a while. Until Eddie calms down enough to breathe normally again, and even longer still before Steve slowly, gently pulls away – ready to move back in and hold him some more. Even though he shouldn't. Maybe.

"I'm sorry that happened to you," he says at last. "And I'm glad you're taking a break. Glad you sent that letter, too."

"Mm-hmm, me too."

Silence settles between them once more as Steve finds his way back to his swing; and that's when he starts thinking again.

"When you left, I was devastated. And I couldn't even tell anyone, not even Robin. It's like... It's like when you left, you took away that part of me, y'know? I didn't know how to talk about you. The words were gone, or something. And then you... You wrote your songs. And it was double unfair, because not only you get to leave, you also got to talk about it? To, like, thousands of people? I never... I still– it's.... It's like I still don't know how to talk about it. About you. Or to you. There are things I wanna say, but... You said them all, I guess. You got to say them."

"Steve," Eddie breathes, and he sounds just as devastated as Steve feels. "I never meant to– I'm sorry. You didn't deserve that."

"No?"

"No! No, you... No."

Their eyes meet again, and Steve swallows hard again. "Tell me."

"What?"

"What you were gonna say. What you want to say."

Eddie breathes deeply and lets it all out in one long breath. "You didn't deserve that," he says at last. "You deserve someone who treats you right. Someone who lets you be who you want to be, too, and who will bring you flowers, and who will buy you an Winnebago and get you everything you could ever wish for. You deserve someone who's not broken, someone who'll do anything for you because they realise that you're everything they could ever dream of and more."

Steve sighs and feels frustrated again, because Eddie still doesn't get it, Eddie still puts him on that pedestal and made him out of reach for himself to the point where he had to leave because Steve was already gone for him.

"Eddie," he says, and his heart breaks a little when the other man flinches a little at his sharp tone. "I don't ask for that, I would never ask for that, God. I just... I just want a simple, sometimes complicated, sometimes dramatic but ultimately worth it life. I want a– a boyfriend who will say weird shit sometimes because he's a fucking nerd, and who will discover things about himself when he's with me, and go to bed with that smile that tells me he's safe with me. And happy. I don't want anyone throwing away anything, I don't need anyone giving me everything, I just..." I just want you.

But the words don't quite make it past his lips, too much history forcing them shut. It's been four years.

"I don't want to make you into someone. I don't want the weight of that, the responsibility that one wrong look could make someone's entire life fall in on itself. I just..." I just want you.

And that's when he realises what he's always sort of known. That Eddie doesn't even need to ask for a second chance for Steve to hand it to him on a silver platter.

He stands again and comes between Eddie's legs again.

"I forgive you. But I want to talk. About all of this. Not just tonight, but every night. I want to know how I can help you, I want to start over, I want it to be right this time. I don't want you to ever run away again. I want you to talk to me, Eddie. And to take me with you next time you need to run. Because you don't get to run from me, okay? You don't– You don't get to do that, Eddie Munson."

Eddie looks up at him, the moonlight catching on the tears in his eyes, making them look even bigger, and Steve wishes he wouldn't look so small.

"You– But... But I'm so... broken." His hands flail a little, an aborted motion that shows nothing of his usual energy.

Steve's hands find his way to Eddie's cheeks if only to stop him from running away again.

"And I'm not gonna fix you. But I can hold you through it, and stay right where you need me to. That's what people do when–" He cuts himself off before he can say it.

But Eddie understands anyway if the way his eyes widen even more, welling up against the moonlight, is any indication at all.

"Still?"

Steve nods, his thumb stroking Eddie's cheek tenderly, wiping away the fresh tears. "Still. All you had to do was come back."

Eddie falls forward, then, and buries his face in Steve's stomach. It's not running away. It's quite the opposite, actually, and Steve holds him as long as he can.

The night is filled with many more tears as four years of anger and sadness and lostness finally find words to express them.

It's dawn when he says goodbye to Eddie at Wayne's new trailer, waving at the man drinking his coffee on the porch. Eddie holds Steve in a tight embrace for a whole minute before either of them are ready to let go, and only with the promise of Same place, same time tonight.

It's not a new beginning yet, but it's the closure they both need before the new beginning will happen in due time.

#hi if anyone else has written a part 2 for this (in a separate post or a reblog) pls tell me so i can link it too! <3 #dio words #steddie fic #steddie #i may have cried a little writing this whoops idk i hope the emotions are there i'm not sure my words are back but this is the best i have #(and i don't hate it!!!)#not sure this makes a whole lot of sense tho??#all you had to do was come back <- that's just the kinda person i am you know

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m1lflov3rrr · 8 months

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For the First Time

I wrote this inspired by the song For the First Time - Mac Demarco :)

Pairing: Larissa Weems x fem!reader

Warnings: mutual pining, old love, angst, fluff

Word count: 3.1k

Summary: You and her were the best of friends (if not even more) during your time at Nevemore… You lost contact after graduating. Now, you meet her again after 20 years.

A/N: Sorry about the language mistakes!!! Hope you enjoy :)

”Can you believe we’re graduating tomorrow?” You asked your best friend, Larissa.

You were laying under a willow, your favourite spot to hang out together. Her back was resting against the magnificent tree, your back pressed against her front, her hands wrapped around you.

”I really can’t… All of it is coming to an end tomorrow…” She whispered sentimentally.

You turned around slightly to meet her gaze, ”Hey, don’t say that. It’s not an end of anything. It’s simply a new chapter in our lives, Rissa.”

She sighed, looking at the school from a distance. ”Just promise me you won’t leave me. Please don’t forget me… I couldn’t bear losing you.”

You smiled softly as you cupped her cheek, focusing her gaze back to you as her cheeks flushed red.

”Cross my heart.”

”Larissa Weems!” You watched proudly as your greatest friend took long strides across the stage, shaking hands and receiving her diploma. She looked so beautiful up there, you thought. You cheered for her louder than anyone else did.

And before you knew it, ”Y/N L/N!”

You let out a shaky breath and got up on the stage, shaking the hands of your professors and receiving your own diploma. The crowd cheered at you, but your eyes were only fixated on Larissa, who was clapping, her smile full of pride as tears flowed freely down her cheeks, watching you. You smiled brightly at her and waved, curtsying on the stage for everyone before walking off.

”We did it!!!” You yell excitedly as you basically jump to each other.

”We did,” She whispers, tightening her hold on you, never seeming to want to let go. And neither did you.

You stayed like that for god knows how long. Until you felt like you had to tell her what you’d been dreading for the past few weeks. You just couldn’t bring yourself to tell her earlier.

”I’m leaving tomorrow,” You whispered almost inaudibly.

You felt how her body physically froze, and she pulled away slightly to meet your gaze. She looked confused and scared.

”Rissa, I- They’ve accepted me in. I’m leaving to Oxford to study law, to fulfill the dream I’ve always had.” You said with a sad smile, knowing how hard it must be for the taller girl, because it certainly was for you.

”W-what?” She let out a shaky breath. You were slipping away from her faster than she could’ve ever imagined. She wasn’t ready for it, not yet.

”I’ll call you every day, I promise.” You said, taking her face in your hands.

Tears of sadness were now flowing down her cheeks, as she whispered desperately with her last strength, ”Please don’t leave me.”

You smiled softly, as you whispered ”I love you, Larissa Weems,” and kissed her softly.

She seemed shocked, but instantly responded to the kiss, never wanting to let go. That loving, affectionate and tender moment lasted as long as it could, until you both had to pull away for air.

She knew this was it. She realized that you might not ever see each other again.

”I love you too,” She whispered back.

At first, you did call every day. You’d even sent her letters and gift boxes with things from England to remember you by. She always said how much she missed you and wished you were there with her. You even planned for her to come visit you, but just as she was about to buy the plane ticket, she had received an email telling her she’d been accepted to study teaching across the country. You were on video call with her when it happened. You were happy for her, but at the same time sad as you realized she couldn’t be able to visit you.

And slowly, the calls were becoming less frequent and you didn’t even text that much anymore, the how are you’s were becoming a once a month thing. It hurt you so much, knowing how she probably had moved on and found someone better in her life. The plans you had made weren’t going to come to life.

After a year, you didn’t call or text anymore.

”Y/N, come by my office for a second, will you? We have a new lawsuit and I need to inform you the details.” Your boss, Jeff, asked you.

”I’ll be there in a sec!”

You went into the office and saw Samantha and Richard, your co-workers there, too. You smiled at them, sitting down.

”Alright, I know it’s a bit far away, but we have a new client reaching out to us all the way from Vermont.”

You raised your eyebrows in surprise. Your firm was located in Atlanta, Georgia, several states away from Vermont. Sure, your firm was one of the finest in the country, you’d had clients from across the country before, too.

”What’s the case?” Richard asked.

”The principal of Nevermore Academy has contacted us about the situation, apparently the school is under construction after a disaster and they’re having some troubles with the construction company.”

Your jaw dropped.

”What kind of-” Samantha started but you cut her off in your state of shock.

”Wait, Nevermore Academy?! Like, the one in Jericho?!” You asked the dumb question to know if you’d just heard wrong.

Jeff looked at you weirdly, ”Yes, is there a problem?”

”N-no! No, it’s just I grew up there. It’s a funny coincidence, that’s all. Nothing wrong with it, go on!”

”Alright, well, I’ve chosen you three to go over there, your flights are booked for tomorrow night.”

You had settled in a motel in Jericho, now leaving to Nevermore by taxi. You were fidgeting with your bracelet and your rings, trying to calm yourself down. You knew you wouldn’t see anyone you knew, but simply being reminded by that place took you to a path down memory lane. It was hard returning after 20 years.

When you arrived, you didn’t immediately get out of the car. You felt a hand on your knee - Samantha was looking at you worriedly. ”Hey, are you okay? You seem pretty nervous.”

You shot her a small smile, ”I’m fine, I just haven’t been here for such a long time.”

She chuckled, ”I get it, but hey, we’re here right by your side. You got this, okay?”

You nodded and exited the car. You entered the school halls and Richard stopped a blonde-haired girl with pink and blue highlights. ”Excuse me, miss. You don’t happen to know where the principal’s office is? We’re here for a meeting with her.”

It’s not like you didn’t know the way there - you just felt like you couldn’t speak. Being there brought back too many memories, it was almost too overwhelming.

The girl smiled brightly at you three, ”Of course, I’ll show you, follow me!” She said enthusiastically as you began following her through the hallways.

Soon, you were stopped in front of large oak doors. Looking back, you should’ve paid more attention and read the golden plague. You didn’t.

”Thank you a thousand times for your help. It was very kind of you.” You said with a smile to the girl, who just smiled back and nodded, saying it’s a pleasure and waving you off as she was already rounding a courner.

Richard knocked on the door, and a come in was heard.

He entered first, followed by Samantha and lastly, you. Your attention was on your phone, responding to a few emails. You didn’t even bother looking up at the principal. Not today.

”Welcome to Nevermore Academy. Thank you for travelling all the way here, it is very much appreciated.” Started a somehow familiar voice, with an even more familiar rich accent. You frowned but thought you were just imagining things.

”I am Larissa Weems, the Headmistress of Nevermore Academy.”

Your entire world froze at those words. Your eyes widened as you slowly rose your gaze up to meet hers, after all these years. She was looking at Richard and Samantha, who had already stepped forward and were shaking her hand.

You stepped cautiously forward also, filled with anticipation and fear. What if she didn’t recognize or remember you?

But that theory quickly proved itself as false, as when Larissa’s gaze moved from your co-workers to you. Her gaze lingered for a second, she squinted her eyes and tried to connect the dots.

And she immediately did.

Her smile dropped and she let out a shaky breath as she realized it was really you. You watched her as she drank your more matured form in. You were dressed more elegantly, in a dark blue suit with your hair styled and your makeup done almost professionally. You had certainly had a glow up, but you were beautiful before, too.

Larissa looked as beautiful as ever. Just like she did all those years ago. She had aged like fine wine. She still had that same glorious style that you always admired on her.

Your little moment was interrupted by Richard’s awkward clearing of a throat.

”Richard Sanders.” He said with a nod, causing Larissa to practically rip her eyes off of you.

She nodded with a smile.

”Samantha Byrnes.” Samantha introduced herself.

And now you realized all eyes were on you again, your co-workers staring at you expectantly to introduce yourself and not seem rude. They didn’t know.

But you did. And so did Larissa.

You didn’t know if you were going to just pretend like this was the first time you just met. Because all you wanted right now was to run into her arms and hug her and tell her how much you’d missed her and love her and how you never want to be apart from her again-

”Y/N L/N.” You said monotonely, like a robot. You decided to play safe and act professional around your co-workers.

Larissa’s face dropped and she looked disappointed, sad. But quickly replaced it with that all-too-familiar polite smile as you all sat down across from her.

The universe had really just punched you in the face.

”Y/N, I’m so sorry but I need to head back, my kid has broken his leg, do you think you and Richard could handle this together?” Samantha storms in your room, startling you from your thoughts.

”Oh, uh, yeah, of course. Go, we’ll be fine. I hope little Alfie’s okay. Give him my best!”

She smiles at you, ”Thank you, Y/N. I really wouldn’t leave if it wasn’t an emergency.”

You nodded understandingly. ”I know, Sam. Have a safe trip back, we’ll be just fine.”

Now it was just you and Richard. Which made the task even harder, as you’d have to interact more with Larissa now that Samantha wasn’t there anymore.

You took a shower to calm your thoughts, slipped into your pyjamas and then you heard a knock on your door. You wondered who it’d be at this hour - Richard, looking rather uncomfortable.

”Rick? You alright?” You questioned, observing his unusual demeanor.

He sighed. ”Y/N, Jeff has asked me back at the office immediately. He had an issue with the bank, and as I’m also the accountant for the firm, I really can’t not go. I’m really sorry, I know Samantha left too, do you think you could handle this alone?”

You groaned internally. This was just your luck. Normally, you’d be thriving at a lawsuit like this. You were, without a doubt, one of the most succesful lawyers in the whole country, this should be a piece of cake for you. If only your emotions weren’t involved.

”I guess I’ll be fine. Do you really need to go?”

He grimaced, feeling bad for you. ”I wouldn’t go if it wasn’t a crisis. Y/N, the firm needs my help right now, it’s pretty serious.”

You thought for a second, ”I guess I’ll be fine.”

”Thank you, and I’m really sorry again.”

You waved it off, ”No biggie, just go.”

And then it was just you. This could easily be the hardest thing you’d ever done in your job. Separating your emotions and work life. Usually it was easy for you, but not this time.

You didn’t sleep that night, too busy dreading about the interactions you would have to deal with tomorrow.

Your stomach turned as you walked along the all too familiar hallways. You were even more nervous than yesterday, as now you knew what was about to come.

You hesitantly knocked on the door and heard her telling you to come in, her voice sending chills down your spine. You sighed and reluctantly went inside.

”Good morning,” You breathed out, causing the blonde to immediately snap her head to look at you.

You noticed the faintest smile on her face for a split second as she looked deep into your eyes, just like she did all those years ago. But that ended as soon as is started as her eyes were already searching for your co-workers.

”Good morning, where are the others?” She asked, looking at you confusedly.

You rubbed the back of your neck, ”They had to go back, both had some kind of an emergency. So, you’re stuck with me now.”

She nodded as the smile appeared back on her face, this time slightly bigger. ”I wouldn’t want it any other way,” She whispered barely audibly.

You felt yourself blushing at her words, clearing your throat and sitting down as you searched for the folder in your bag.

”So, I’d like for you to look at this,” You said as you gave the folder to her.

She smiled and nodded, starting to read everything carefully. This was the perfect chance for you to admire her beauty, how you admired that woman. The subtle wrinkles on the outer corners of her eyes and on her forehead and the more visible smile lines. She was absolutely breathtaking, her presence was enough to make you swoon, how her mere gaze was enough to make you melt into-

”It’s rude to stare, Y/N.” Larissa said, not taking her eyes off the papers in front of her.

Your eyes widened as you realized you had gotten caught. ”I- I wasn’t staring.”

Larissa finally put the papers aside, as she intertwined her fingers and laid them back on the table, leaning forwards so her entire attention was on you now, just like it used to be.

”Y/N, you and I both know very well that you can’t bring yourself to lie to me. At least believably.”

You were shrinking on your seat, this was way too embarassing for your liking. You needed to change the subject or you would burst.

”I, uh- So, h-how do the papers look? Are they to your liking?”

Larissa looked a little taken aback by your sudden change of subject, narrowing her eyes and parting her lips as if to decide whether to continue speaking to you as Larissa, or to act like the professional Principal Weems. With a sentimental sigh, she decided on the latter one. She had to put her emotions aside for this to work.

And that’s how it went for the next few days. Every day you would go into her office, discuss about the contract and you had arranged a meeting with the head pf the construction company for next week.

Now, it was Friday and you and Larissa would be meeting one last time before next Monday’s important meeting.

”Hello,” You greeted her with a smile as you sat down.

She smiled tenderly back at you, nodding her head and greeting you back.

”So, I was just coming by to drop these files and also this introductory contract, which you might all agree on best case scenario.”

She nodded and took the files from you. ”Thank you, Ms L/N.”

That made your heart drop. During your time here, not once had she called you that. It wouldn’t be the same darling as it used to be, just your name. But never had she once called you by your last name.

You felt an uncomfortable twist in your stomach, like you were on the verge pf tears. You didn’t know why after all these years, she still had that affect on you. Like your whole world depended on her words.

Larissa didn’t look comfortable either. She had felt immediately weird after calling you that so professionally. She wished she could just call you darling, because even after all these years, you still remained her darling.

The longing eye contact made your eyes blurry with tears, as you whispered almost inaudibly, that- ”Please don’t.”

She looked at you with the exact same expression of despair.

You shook your head to yourself and grabbed your bag, ”Well, I assume everything is now done. I’ll see you on Monday, Ms Weems.” You didn’t know if you were talking about the case or something else, but either way you began to make your way to the exit doors of her office.

”Darling, wait.”

That made you stop dead in your tracks. You weren’t sure if you heard it right. You hadn’t even heard that name in 20 years. And how fucking much you had missed it.

A hopeful glint in your eyes caused you to turn around, to meet the woman not sitting behind her desk anymore, but right in front of you.

You looked at each other so longingly, and some subconscious force in you caused you to take her hands into yours. She didn’t pull them away, instead she squeezed on them to assure you everything.

And she smiled the most genuine, but at the same time fragile smile.

And that made you break. You threw yourself in her arms as she tightly wrapped her arms around you to ensure you’re never leaving her again.

It was the best feeling you’d ever felt. After all these years you had longed for this to happen, it now did. Fate had brought you back together. That meant that you and her were supposed to be what you always wanted to be, together.

”God, I’ve missed you so much, Rissa, you have no idea,” You sobbed lightly in her arms as tears were silently flooding her cheeks, too.

She chuckled, ”I haven’t heard that name in decades. I missed you too, darling, more than life.”

And you stayed like that for so long that you lost track of time. Neither of you seemed to want to let go of the other. So, you simply didn’t. Until-

”Darling?” Larissa started as she was stroking your hair gently.

”Mhhm?” You hummed against her shoulder.

”Would you like to go out with me?” She asked, suddenly nervous.

And now, like you should have done all those years ago, you wasted absolutely no time to answer with the biggest smile; ”Yes, Rissa, I would love to.”

#i almost cried writing this #imo this is so beautiful #listen to the song (and cry)#should i make a part two?#larissa weems #gwendoline christie #wednesday #principal weems #larissa x reader #gwendolineuniverse #larissa weems x female reader #larissa weems x reader #principal weems x reader #ms weems x reader #Spotify

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moonandris · 1 month

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#faye's polls #writeblr questions #writeblr polls #writing polls #writing questions #neurodivergent #neurotypical #neurodiversity #adhd problems #writers with adhd #writers with autism #just adhd things #adhd writers #i HATE having adhd yet also being a super creative person lmao it's like WHY did i get this super creative yet broken brain #i'm really curious to see the results because i love writing but it's so damn hard #i have adhd and it's SO challenging for me to even do tasks that make me happy WITH medication #so i am really hoping to connect with other writers who are going through the same struggles as me #and see if we can share tips and help each other out #because this world is NOT built for people with neurodivergent brains and it's hard out here! *cries in adhd*#so i think it's so important to interact with others and be part of a community that helps each other thrive #please and thank you if you reblog this i really appreciate it #have a blessed day my creative friends <3

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snipersfucker · 10 months

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request from @infintyfandoms: Thought! Mirage is always so reckless, well what if one time he went too far and hurt his friend or s/o (either)?? I feel like he’d blame himself so bad - even if he was blind sighted by a distracted driver. Never drive crazy again or not drive around again or what??

angsty mirage x fem!reader times. thought of making it a headcanon thingy but nah. this one might need a warning that there are descriptions of serious injuries. and im also writing this on 0 hours of sleep thank you very much

A silver Porsche parked in front of the vinyl store you just walked out of was catching the attention of every passerby. Both men and women's eyes were stopping on the vehicle for a bit longer than they would on any regular car, their heads turning slightly to allow them to do that.

Mirage loved that. He loved transforming in different models everyday, the next one even more prestigious than the one before. Just to get that attention every single time.

You noticed a couple of teenage girls staring at your boyfriend, and even though you were fully aware they were doing so only because he was a good-looking car, you still rolled your eyes at it.

Your feet led you to the Porsche and you hopped in. Before getting the chance to point out the shameless staring of the group of teens, Mirage spoke up, "Whatcha got there?"

Your gaze had shifted to the vinyl case before you placed it down on the passenger's seat without much thought.

"Music," you responded casually in a light tone, putting your hands on the steering wheel, even though you knew Mirage would be doing the driving. "You got fans," you murmured under your breath but Mirage could obviously hear it. Your eyes landed on the girls again, and although you weren't particularly jealous, you still didn't appreciate it too much.

"Hell yeah, I do, baby," he said proudly, the grin in his voice palpable, even though you couldn't see it at the moment. And then, he added, a little bit more quietly as if he was saying this to the man who literally stopped in front of the car to admire him, "You wish you looked like that, huh?"

You let out an amused snort, and patted the gear stick with your palm to give him a sign to drive out of the parking lot. "C'mon."

"Let me honk at him," he'd asked for your permission seconds before doing it anyway without you allowing him to, causing the man to jump in his spot and then walk away. You just smacked the passenger's seat in disapproval, not even going on a rant about his behaviour because it was a daily occurrence for Mirage to do whatever he wanted.

"Hey!" he exclaimed, offended by your sudden reaction, as if he wasn't used to it, "I'm all for violence unless it's directed towards me," he muttered, sounding like an annoyed child. Then, without any warning, he revved the engine and drove out of the parking lot onto the main road. You only rolled your eyes without a word but then, you noticed how fast he was passing all the other cars in his lane, which he would usually cuss out for being slow, as if their owners weren't driving under the speed limit for safety reasons.

"Mirage…" you warned him, using his full name instead of a nickname, which he did not appreciate but decided not to speak on it and just change the topic.

"Jus' tell me it's not George Michael," he said with a short sigh, as if it was very important to him that it, in fact, was not George Michael.

"Mirage..." you warned him once again, ignoring his words, gripping the steering wheel with much more force now to hopefully get him to slow down.

"Nope," he said simply, understanding what you meant without you even having to say it. If he was in his humanoid form, he'd probably cross his arms on his chest and shake his head with that signature smirk indicating that he knew he was in control of the situation. "That's what you get for hitting your poor boy," he added, sounding very content with himself, revving the engine once more just to show you that he, in fact, was not planning on slowing down.

You scoffed. "You deserved it."

"For what?" he began talking in that specific, overly innocent tone, and you just knew he was going to say something sarcastic that would only annoy you even more, "For being so cute and funny?" He asked rhetorically, as if he wasn't aware that he really needn't have honked at that man, and then drive as recklessly as he normally would when you weren't inside him.

But he was very much aware. It was just that his pride didn't allow him to apologise.

"For being a little shit." You decided not to banter with him as per usual, but just to get straight to the point. Even though you were possibly risking starting an argument between you two, you just needed to reprimend him at the moment, especially now that you noticed how nonchalant he was about it.

"Ouch," he pretended to be hurt by what you just said. And although he wasn't actually offended, he still wasn't really in the mood to let you win.

So he sped up even more.

Noticing the opportunity presented right in front of him, the almost empty road ahead of you two, he floored the gas pedal, making you let out a short, quiet noise at the impact in which you got pushed back into the seat.

"What the fuck are you doing?" you asked him with anger in your voice, not raising it just yet, and not actually expecting a response. But you got one anyway:

"Takin' you on a ride date, baby," he answered sarcastically, his overly sweet tone making him sound even more annoying than before.

"Mirage, I—"

If he wasn't as sure in his abilities as he was, he'd never drive over three times faster than the speed limit allowed, never wanting to actually risk you getting hurt in any way.

And it wasn't even his fault, when a sport's car drove right into his left side, before you could even finish your sentence.

It wasn't his fault that the car ran a red light, that it was supposed to stop and wait for him to just drive away without getting thrown to the right by the impact.

It wasn't his fault that he was now rolling over for the fifth time, his roof and sides hitting the hard asphalt every single time.

You weren't even making any noises anymore so that he would know that you were with him, conscious, alive. He ignored the sound of his glass shattering, his metal body getting scratched, bent and painfully ruined, just to be able to hear your breath.

The other car was in a much worse condition, but he didn't care. The only thing occupying his mind was you, your heartbeat he would do anything to hear again. He needed to make sure you were still there.

He felt it all. He felt the pain that came with getting drove into by another car, with flipping over with unimaginable speed and force. But he needed to make sure you were alright.

And he couldn't even do anything to stop his worst nightmare from beginning to play right in front of his very optics.

Then, after a few moments that felt like hours to him, everything finally came to an end. The hiss coming out of him was still hearable, the hot steam, the liquid pouring out of his fual lines threatened to mix with the flames growing with every passing second. But it was finally quiet; no noise of metal hitting the asphalt distracted him from listening to your body.

His spark nearly exploded with relief when he heard the faint sound of your heartbeat. He wanted to transform, to be able to hold you, to get you out of him so that his bent roof wouldn't be pressing against your wounded head.

When people began to gather up around him, he realised he had a decision to make: to transform and risk getting hunted down just like it happened to Bumblebee, or to stay there and pray to Primus, pray to the people now surrounding him that they'd help you and make sure you were okay.

He wanted to scream at them to hurry up, to get you out, to make that heartbeat of yours sound more promising. To let him know that you weren't going to—

The idea of losing you forever crossed his mind for a split second before he could even stop it.

And it was his fault that he was going a lot over the speed limit, too distracted by the need to tease you, to win the argument, and show you that you had nothing to say in the way he was behaving.

It was his fault that there was crimson running down your forehead, the drops rolling past the hairs of your eyebrows, all the way down to your jaw, then staining your shirt with your own blood.

It was his fault that your body felt lifeless against his ruined upholstery, the only motion it was making was an almost undetectable rise of your chest every couple of seconds.

His train of thoughts got interrupted by the distant sound of sirens getting closer and closer to him. The people were talking, someone was yelling, it all making an irritating mixture of human noises he didn't need to hear at the moment.

Mirage felt his left door being opened or rather being torn out of him in a couple painful motions. He didn't care.

He just wanted them to take you away from him.

When he no longer felt your weight on his driver's seat, he almost let a sound of relief through his radio, but just now noticed that it's been ruined, making it impossible for him to do so. He hadn't paid attention to it earlier, too stunned to be able to say anything to you, even though your name and endless questions if you were okay wanted to escape him.

Cold liquid hit his hot metal body, the lower temperature of it somewhat helping him get in a clearer state of mind. Even though he felt deserving of being on fire, he appreciated the slight relief it gave him.

Somebody placed you on a stretcher, put you carefully in another vehicle, and then closed the door. He couldn't see you anymore but was sure the humans would take good care of you. Better care than he was able to offer.

The loud sirens hit his audio receptors before he registered the ambulance leaving the crash site.

And the sound was still bouncing against the interior walls of his helm every single day since the accident. The imagine of your limp body, his steering wheel covered in your blood, your head pressed uncomfortably against the remains of his left window...

Two whole weeks passed and he couldn't think of anything else but you. You in that horrible state he put you in himself.

The guilt was eating him alive, and even though he'd make Noah visit you everyday in the hospital to make sure your condiction was stable, he still couldn't help but beat himself up and be worried sick.

"Concussion, five broken ribs, broken arm and nose, and she was fucking bleeding from her liver, man," your mutual friend told him after leaving the hospital for the first time, after the doctors allowed anybody to visit you, even though you weren't conscious yet.

It affected Noah nearly as much as it did the robot. The only difference was that the human had no reason to blame himself for it, because it wasn't his recklessness that nearly killed you.

Mirage fell silent.

He got quiet, very quiet, unusually for him. Every Autobot he used to hang out with knew what happened, how much you meant to him, and how affected he was by the accident. They noticed the sudden shift in his behaviour, the once bubbly personality disappearing just so he could dwell in guilt in peace.

The thing that bothered him a lot among others was that he couldn't see you. He couldn't walk into the hospital you were being taken care of in. He couldn't sit next to you and tell you how painfully sorry he was for doing it to you, for putting you in danger, for hurting you so much your pain radiated off you body and made him feel it, too.

Noah insisted on repairing him, and he agreed purely because then he'd be able to park in front of the hospital to be as near you as possible.

But he was a wreck, both physically and emotionally.

And it still didn't change when you finally got discharged. He was not the one to pick you up from the hospital, it was Noah and Bee. He couldn't face you.

You asked about him when you woke up from the coma, your friend sitting next to you on the uncomfortable hospital chair only shrugging in response, telling you he didn't know anything about Mirage, where he was or how he was.

It was a lie. The robot was spending his time either in the garage, getting fixed by his only human friend, or out on the road, hoping that maybe, just maybe someone would crash into him again, making him feel that pain again. That pain he thought he deserved for harming you.

And when you insisted on Noah taking you to the garage to see him, after getting the information about his location out of the poor human, Mirage couldn't help but feel even worse than before.

You were alive, of course you were alive, but he also did notice the way you winced with every step, how dull the colour of your skin was compared to the times before the accident, how fragile you looked, standing there in front of him with Noah not leaving your side in case you'd collapse onto the floor.

You were alive, but also in so much pain he couldn't even look at you without feeling a strong sting in his spark.

His optics shifted to Noah in an instant, as if he was trying to bash him for taking you here, which he responded to out loud with his hands raised in a defensive gesture, "She threatened me."

You didn't even know what you were feeling at that moment. A mixture of sadness, annoyance, impatience, and hurt made you unable to say anything, forcing you to just stand there in silence. Suddenly, a short wave of pain washed over your right side, making you grimace and put your only free palm on the area surrounding your liver.

As soon as Mirage noticed your movement, he made an involuntary step towards you, his servos extended in your direction, as if he was trying to both comfort you and catch you if you were to fall.

Noah immediately asked, "You okay?" His eyes shifting between your hand on your side and your pained face. You just nodded.

Uncomfortable silence fell between the three of you, and the other human was close to replacing it with whistling just so that he wouldn't have to stand there awkwardly without a word.

"Imma just leave you two, yeah?" He scratched the back of his neck, his feet already leading him in the direction of the exit. "Jus'... scream if you die or somethin'..." he added, the awkwardness making him joke about things he normally wouldn't joke about.

And then, he left. He left poor Mirage with even poorer you. Alone.

You let out a grunt, making your way to the nearest chair to sit down. He was ready to help you with everything, but he didn't know if you even wanted him to, so he just stayed in his spot.

"You look bad," you commented, lazily motioning to his beaten-up body with your hand. The raspiness, the weakness in your voice almost made him drop to his knees.

He responded unsurely after a pause, a forced, unamused smirk on his face plate, "...You should see the other guy."

It was awkward. Awkward as never before, you two having always found it pretty easy to communicate with each other. But now... Now he couldn't help but feel that unpleasant feeling in his tank when you spoke up and made him say something back to you.

And it was his fault.

Your reaction to his little joke wasn't something you could control. A short, quiet chuckle left your mouth, causing you to grab your right side even more tightly and a wince of pain on your face to deepen.

She can't even laugh.

He felt so excruciatingly bad he had to fight himself not to transform into a car and just drive away.

You wanted to tell him that you've been told the other driver didn't make it. But you knew the war it would start in his mind if you shared that information with him, so you stayed silent.

"You look terrible," he muttered after a few moments of observing your body, as if to himself to comment on the damage he'd done.

You snorted, shaking your head in amusement. "That's exactly what every woman likes to hear," you responded, deciding that a little banter would be better than sitting without any words being exchanged.

Mirage's eyes widened slightly as he took a step towards you, his servos up in the air again in a specific gesture that indicated that he didn't actually mean it like that.

He had this tendency to make things worse with his words, and normally it wouldn't bother him at all, but this time it was you. He didn't want to make thing worse with you.

"No, no, you're pretty. Gorgeous, in my humble opinion. Walking perfection even," he wanted to correct himself, spurting word after word just to show you that he didn't want you to be mad at him. "Geez, I'm sorry," he added, bringing his servos to his face plate to cover it in... embarrassment.

Something new for him.

You shook your head, looking up at him with a small smile. "I do look kinda ter—"

Before you could finish your sentence, he said with much more confidence now, "...For everything."

He rarely apologised.

But you deserved to hear it. Even if you weren't ready to forgive him just yet, even if you were to never forgive him, he just needed you to know that he regretted it.

You frowned, opening your mouth to say something, but he interrupted you again, "Maybe I shouldn't have be the fastest car in Brooklyn that day. Maybe I should've listened to you and not be a little shit," he recalled the way you called him these few weeks ago, just minutes before the accident. With determination in his tone, he continued, "You can hate me, I can take it." But then, he changed his mind as soon as he realised he would prefer if you didn't hate him, "Actually. Hate me for the next three days at max. Please. If you don't want me to rip my vents out."

You snorted weakly once more, the movement of your body making you wince in pain again.

He finally found enough courage within himself to get closer to you. With a couple of steps, he kneeled down in front of you and extended one of his servos in your direction, as if non-verbally telling you to stop laughing and not cause yourself even more pain.

"'m sorry," he whispered his apology again, the sincere look in his optics showing you just how much he cared for you.

"It wasn't y—"

"It was," he interrupted you in a much more serious tone, but it was still filled with softness, "I was stupid..."

"Nothing new," you managed to blurt out before closing your eyes shut and grunting, a grimace on your face as you felt another sting of pain, which you were kind of used to now.

You opened your eyes and looked up at his worried optics observing your every move, his servos desperately wanting to touch and help you but he knew it'd only make things worse due to his size.

You let out a short chuckle at your own joke as soon as your body allowed you to.

"Not funny," he reprimanded you with a serious face, not finding your apparent discomfort amusing at all, even though he agreed with your words.

"You were just making jokes ab—"

"So?"

You rolled your eyes at him. "Child," you insulted him, fully aware how much he hated being called out on his childishness.

"I'm older than your cute little Earth, please," he scoffed.

"No, you're not," you deadpanned.

"...So?"

"I hate you," you said, although a small smile on your lips betrayed you.

"That's the spirit," he sighed but the corners of his lips curled up as well. A beat of silence passed and his gaze went back to your face, "I meant that."

You frowned slightly.

"I am sorry. For being the..." he was about to say something that would hurt his pride and ego, but decided it was worth it, "...the dumbest machine there is. Even a hairdryer is smarter than me," he insulted himself, hoping the sacrifice would make you like him again.

"You're right." You nodded, fighting back a chuckle.

He raised his arms in a playfully offended, confused gesture. "You could at least disagree, damn."

You shook your head in amusement.

After another beat of silence, he said seriously, "You're never coming inside me again."

"Wow."

"Should've worded it better, yeah..." he trailed off, "Primus, woman, give me a break." He let out a small laugh when he noticed your amused reaction to his sentence. "No, seriously... I... You're my girl, yeah? Don't want you to... You know, be in pain."

Why did he have to be so awkward about his feelings? Now that he finally had the chance to show you how much he loved you and never wanted to see you hurt again.

"I still have your..." he wanted to say that he still had your blood on some of his parts that didn't want to come off, but then decided it wasn't the best time to tell you that, "I almost lost my mind when I couldn't hear you," he confessed, his tone regaining its sincerity, the look in his optics describing his guilt to you without words.

He was referring to the moment he was so desperately trying to silence everything around him just to be able to find your heartbeat.

"I'm okay..." Your tone was soft, quiet, as if you were trying not to scare a lost, disoriented puppy.

"You're not okay," he disagreed with a slightly clenched jaw, angry at himself, not even for a second at you, "You..." He lowered himself so that he'd be able to whisper to you, as if saying these words more loudly would make them come true someday, "You almost died... I almost killed you..."

His face panel was close enough to your body for you to put your hand against his warm, metal cheek. Mirage immediately melted at the touch, his optics closing slowly just to allow him to savour the softness of your palm as much as he could.

"It wasn't your fault..." you started your monologue, this time the robot allowing you to continue, "I didn't die. I might have a broken bone or two..." He opened his eyes at this sentence, giving you a sad look. "...But I'll be alright. I didn't die," you repeated, which gained you an unsure nod from your boyfriend, who was now avoiding making eye contact with you.

You didn't force him to look up at you.

"I promise..." he trailed off, not wanting to show you how weak he felt, "I promise I'll never do that again..." His gaze went back to meet yours as you smiled softly, your eyes filled with love you had for him. "I'll never be dumber than a hairdryer, you have my unreliable word. And I'll never argue with you. I'll just say that I'm sorry, and that my woman is always right, and I'll shut up for as long as you want me to. And I... I'll never drive over twenty-five. Yeah, it hurts. But guess what hurts more. Seeing you with a broken bone or two."

Joking might've been the only way he would be able to overcome the sorrow he felt within himself. But it worked both for you and him. You really wouldn't have it any other way.

"Tell me," you whispered with a slight head tilt, slowly closing the gap between your faces.

He frowned, not understanding what you meant by that, but then the small smirk on your lips explained it to him.

He rolled his optics, the remains of guilt still evident in them, although with every passing second and every joke, they seemed to disappear bit by bit.

"'m sorry. My woman is always right," he repeated himself, pretending to find it very boring, as if he didn't really want to admit that. But he did. He did want you to know that he meant every single thing that rolled off his glossa.

Your smile widened immediately, your eyes closing as you minimized the gap between your and Mirage's lips completely.

And then, after long weeks of not being able to forgive himself for hurting the only woman he loved, he was finally able to feel relief.

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torsamors · 14 hours

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On Seatbelts and Sunsets - Hanif Abdurraqib

#hanif abdurraqib #julien baker #<- kinda #words #poetry #read this last night and cried the whole time <3 hanif youve done it again #but seriously i was thinking abt that exact julien baker song yesterday n listening to it when i came across this piece he wrote #around that very song....#anyway ms julien mr hanif thanks for writing those respectively but also maybe. be quiet #also i do feel a bit bad abt posting this part of it bc i think the full read that leads up to this makes it more beautiful #but well.

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rozugold · 5 months

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ROZU DON'T READ THIS UNLESS YOU'RE READ THE LATEST GENUS LOCI FIC OKAY OKAY I NEED TO SCREAM ABOUT IT BUT DOOOOON'T LOOK UNTIL YA READ IT. OKAY.

-------------

anyway rozu im thinkinggg about. about wilbur. younger wilbur. like very early 20s. he's home alone most days coz phil's always out with techno. he goes outside whenever it's nice enough and walks the trails in the forest. then one day he finds this fucking kid. this little divine child. flowers in his hair, so golden and soft that it catches the light and seems to glow. like a halo round his big round head. he's clearly just learned how to walk with how he toddles over and grabs for Wilbur's pant leg for balance.

do you think about how he just Instantly went to pick him up? how he carried him home or fuck, probably didn't even wait before he picked him up to tug the sweater off of his head to put it on the little ragamuffin so he wouldn't be cold? he had to go into town with this little baby to pick up supplies and teach himself how to be a caregiver, because fuck knows Phil wasn't gonna help him raise some random baby god, and oh, oh he probably thinks about it all of the time rozu. roz u he thinks about those little hands the whole time he's out there in the forest eating apples just to make tommy feel better after he was crying so hard. they both cried so hard over each other in their own ways.

Hffghhsjjsjsjkljhhs

#cries forever #I love them aa #ur writing paints such vivid pictures n it makes it impossible NOT to draw them waa #that’s part of the reason why I have a lot of your asks saved for later hehe #c!wilbur #c!tommy #genus loci!tommy #rozoodles #rozu asks #sunlitmcgee

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magnusbae · 7 months

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shaking at 5am, spent the past two days getting back into obikin, reading a 50k fic, drawing for 12 hours, talking to any soul that would listen— and now writing this snip of hurt/comfort— ObiKin 506w 😭😭😭

▾▾▾

Obi-Wan is used to Anakin asking for more than a Padawan should, more than a Jedi-Knight, more than a Jedi should, period.

There would be times Anakin pushes the boundaries between them, providing the most bizarre excuses for his inappropriate behaviour, excuses to which Obi-Wan has a hard time not replying with 'Really Anakin, this?' excuses Obi-Wan still accepts, accepts and pretends to understand. Excuses he needs to preserve his own integrity as a Jedi while still giving Anakin what he wants, what he needs.

Sometimes, Anakin says nothing.

Sometimes there's no clever excuses or witty jokes. Sometimes, Anakin is silent, sometimes, Anakin just takes what he wants, what he needs.

Obi-Wan always gives, never rejects Anakin when he truly needs it.

And tonight, weary from endless battles, with the blood of hundreds on his lightsaber, Anakin needs it.

So when Anakin crawls into Obi-Wan's bed, smelling of smoke and blood, unshowered and filthy- he says nothing.

Obi-Wan doesn't so much stir, allowing the boy-turned-man, wrap his strong arms around him, doesn't even flinch when Anakin squeezes so tight it's crossing the uncomfortable into the painful rather swiftly.

Obi-Wan allows it. Allows Anakin to bury his face in his nape, allows the ragged inhales, allows the seeking, desperate feeling of Anakin's force signature against his own— but when Anakin shakes with it, with the burden he carries, Obi-Wan cannot pretend to miss it.

"Oh, dear one" he says, voice quiet, saddened. He shifts, and Anakin freezes, his hold loosening immediately. Anakin couldn't have missed that he was awake, of course he didn't. He simply didn't expect Obi-Wan to acknowdlge what he was doing, didn't expect him to...

"Come here," Obi-Wan says, turning fully, facing Anakin in the darkness of the room, lifting an arm and creating a space for Anakin to get into. If he chooses to, that is.

Anakin doesn't even pretend to consider it. He launches forward like a starved thing, desperate for warmth and acceptance, needing it in ways that are being his ability to hide, to mask.

"Master—" the sound of his voice is torn, borderline inhuman. "Master..." he chokes, more quietly, more ragged.

Anakin's shoulders shake with it, and if Obi-Wan feels wetness at his neck, he would never speak of it to a living soul.

"I know" Obi-Wan whispers, wrapping his arm securely about his once-Padawan, pulling him flat against himself, his free hand at the back of his head. "I know." he repeats, soothing him, stroking at his hair with patience, with care.

"I'm here." He breathes out, eyes closed.

This war is rough on this one. Regardless of his natural talent and skill, despite his bravado and cockiness. It's rough on him.

On all of them.

"Sleep, Anakin." he murmurs once the shaking finally subsides "It's okay you sleep" he speaks on, knowing Anakin hardly pays attention to the words anymore, only the tone matters. "Sleep, dear one" he says into his hair, smelling the death in it and inhaling anyways.

Anakin sleeps, despite it all, he does.

#there's a lot of context i had to write in after the fact and so i had rewritten parts of it in the start to allow the connection----#it's about how anakin keeps pushing his boundaries with obi-wan-- being touchy-- sleeping in his bed--- leaning on him---#and always having some bulshit excuse why it's normal behaviour--- but sometimes-- he just doesnt even try to give an excuse--#sometimes he just needs obi-wan #obikin #obikin fic #star wars #obi-wan kenobi #anakin skywalker #I DON'T KNOW THE TAGS -- CRIES- i am just possessed and stumbling into the neighborhood ALSO IT IS WRITTEN AT A GOD FORSAKEN HOUR SO PLZ #any weird mistakes SHOULD BE EXCUSED #buns.w #buns.all #anakin #obi wan

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wordofthewise · 1 year

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Get up.. please?

SPOILER WARNING FOR THE LAST OF US P2!!

Pairing: Joel Miller x !fem!reader

Description: Y/N witnessing Joel’s death, and not knowing how to cope.

Warnings: suicidal thoughts, mentions of not eating, angst.

Words: 893

A/N: I wanted to write this, because I’m still not doing too well after playing some of TLOU P2. This is basically me going through it. I fucking miss him. This is also the first thing I've posted on here, so please don't judge.

When Y/N found out that Joel and Tommy were missing, her mind went crazy. She was desperate to find them, she needed them to be okay. She climbed onto her horse and headed East, searching everywhere she could, screaming their names, not even caring if it drew out the infected. Her priority was finding them.

She stopped as she noticed a lodge not too far from her. She tied up her horse, and made her way around to the back, where she found an opening for her to sneak in. She debated whether or not to call out their names, but decided against it, as to not attract unwanted attention.

She crawled her way into the lodge, through a hole in the wall, grabbing her gun just in case shit went sideways. She heard the soft sound of muffled cries coming from the basement, and without thinking, she bolted for the basement door. Peeking through, she saw a girl with a long blond braid, gripping onto a golf club, looming over an injured, bloody Joel.

Before she knew it, Y/N had made her way into the room, where she was quickly tackled to the floor by one of the men. She thrashed and kicked, desperate to get out of the grasp of the man, though a few others had joined in, helping pin her to the ground. She was facing Joel, making eye contact with him as he bled.

“How’d you find us!” The girl yelled, pointing the golf club at Y/N’s head, though she didn’t even notice, she was too busy trying to fight off the people that held her down.

“HEY!” Another man spoke, pushing the golf club away from Y/N. “What are you doing, Owen?” The girl replied, getting up in his face. “No, what are YOU doing, Abby? We want him dead, not her! She’s just a kid!” He yelled, standing his ground. “SHE WAS THERE! SHE WAS AN ACCOMPLICE!” Abby retorted, her voice raising. “SHE WAS JUST A CHILD!” Owen replied, before taking in a deep breath. “Look, if she was able to find us, they will be able to as well! We’ve got a whole city that’s probably looking for us, right now!” He explained. “We need to get out of here, and fast! Get it over with, I’ll start packing” He finished.

Y/N’s eyes widened. “Get it over with” She was about to kill Joel. This forced Y/N to fight, kick and scream harder than ever. Abby slowly walked over to Joel, making eye contact with Y/N, whilst an evil smile spread across her face. Her eyes welled up with tears, still trying to fight. “Joel! Please! Get up, Joel! GET UP!” She cried, begging him to fight. She watched as Abby raised the golf club. She knew that this would be the final blow. “NO! NO! PLEASE, STOP IT, PLEASE! GET UP! GET UP, JOEL! DON’T GIVE UP, PLEASE!” Joel looked at Y/N, a soft, comforting smile on his face, as the golf club hit him for the final time.

Y/N’s mind went blank, as she watched Joel’s life leave his eyes, before being knocked out cold.

“Y/N! Wake up” A voice called, lightly shaking her body. It was Dina. Y/N thought that just for a second, that it was all just a horrible, horrible nightmare, though when she noticed Dina’s expression, she knew it was real. Dina had a solemn look on her face, whispering a soft ‘sorry’ before moving out of the way.

And there he was, the man that had always protected her, lying dead, in a pool of his own blood. Y/N sat up quickly, throwing up next to her as the memories came flooding back.

“I should’ve fought harder! Joel would’ve” she said to herself, as she cried.

It was damn near impossible for her to be okay, watching as the closest thing she ever had to a father get murdered right in front of her. She couldn’t even function, she did nothing but lay in bed, clutching onto his favourite jacket. It still smelt like him.

She couldn’t bring herself to sleep, as every time she closed her eyes, she would see him covered in his own blood. She couldn’t eat, as every time she smelt food, she would feel sick. She stared at the knife that sat on her bedside table. She contemplated whether or not to take her own life.

“What’s the point when Joel isn’t here?” She thought to herself.

She thought back on all the times Joel had risked his life to protect her, all the times that he had fought for her survival. She felt as if she failed him. If the tables were turned, Joel would have already slaughtered every single person in that room before they could even lay a hand on her. She recalled how she had begged him to get up despite his injuries. She felt as if it was selfish to have asked him to fight for her, especially after the trauma he had faced, mentally and physically. She felt it was selfish for her to have spent his last few moments begging him to get up, when she wasn’t even hurt, and she couldn’t.

She remembered how Joel had taught her how to swim, how to play guitar and even how to write songs. She remembered the song he used to sing to her whenever she was sad, or whenever she couldn’t fall asleep.

She gripped onto his jacket, as she quietly sung to herself to sleep, imagining that Joel was there.

“I’m so sorry, sweet girl”.

#tlou x reader #the last of us x reader #tlou part one #tlou part two #tlou joel x reader #joel tlou x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #tlou dina x reader #dina #father figure joel #joel miller x daughter figure reader #i have no idea how to add tags #i cried multiple times writing this

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hcdragonwrites · 9 months

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Just one night (a @journey-to-the-au Drabble)

Ok this is the part two! This is the comfort/ fluff of what happens after Six Eared Macaques previous rampage from Nightmares. I am glad I split these into two so people can pick and choose.

Mild trigger warning: Brief mentions of attempted SA (again nothing goes into detail at all but still sometimes this can still be a trigger.)

It’s over.

The nightmare is over.

Then why does it feel like i'm breathing but I can’t catch my breath?

Willow felt her heart beating too fast, her mind repeating the nightmare.

The cave still smelled of blood.

The imposter was dead. He lay there, finally revealed, a monkey of gray blue fur with a face of shadows. Nothing to be distinguishable of who, or what, his personality had been before it assumed the skin of their leader. Of her friend.

Of Wukong.

Her Wukong had come through the water of Water Curtain Cave in a flash of gold, eyes blazing red. Almost like a Heaven send. A blessing.

In that moment Willow had stepped forward, to the embrace of this nightmare she had dutifully taken as her yoke, a blur or fiery orange had smashed its way through the curtain of water.

“IMPOSTER!” He had called in challenge, his staff coming free of his ear. With a flick of the Kings wrist, the weapon grew in tremendous size.

The imposter had turned, hackles rising, bloody mouth circling back into a snarl. Wukong had roared. The imposter had screamed. Then they were upon each other. It had been a battle, long and difficult. Fur had flown, stone had shaken. At times the combatants had traversed the skies, shooting like two wayward stars from a bow through the Heavens. More blood fell.

In the midst of it, the imposter had cleaned the remnants of its meal from his mouth, making it impossible to tell the twisting and twining fighters apart. Which was which?

Willow had waited as finally, after gods and other immortals had been unable to tell who was who, Mama Courage and Wisdom stepped forward. Willow couldn’t hear the words being spoken between the celestials and Wisdom. She could only hear a ringing in her ears, a drumming of her heart.

She couldn’t catch her breath.

Willow's palms were wet with sweat and white. Whiter than porcelain. Courage took one of those hands, holding it tight. Breaking her numbness, her shock. Willow grasped the hand, holding on. The fear still coiled in her gut, a snake tightening its hold on her. But Courages hand was the anchor she clung to as her body battles within itself.

Wisdom had found him out, had picked out the real Wukong. A mother knew her child. That’s when the imposter had lost. He had felt it, probably, sensing the shift in the wind. In that moment he tried to run. The mirage of his disguise had fallen off in the fright. Wild white eyes, teeth bared of flesh. And now.

He was nothing more than a stain on the floor.

“Don’t you want to kiss me?” The words echo, still alive within Willows head.

Willow was trying to drown those words out.

She’s failing.

The storm inside her body is a rage of water, threatening to drag her down. Those blue eyes flash sharply in her head and Willow feels herself shake.

“Willow?”

She startles. She flinches, shaken from the very real echo of what had almost happened. “Reaffirm our union… Maybe more later.”

Willow looks up, kneeling on the stone floor of the cave. She doesn’t remember when she sat back down. Wukong stands before her. He blocks her view from the rest of the cave, from what the other troop members are beginning to clean up. He blocks her view from the bodies. But Willow still sees the imposter, has to see it. She has to kill the fear in her head that at any moment, any second, those ice eyes can come back and stare into her. To ask things of her that make her soul pull away and her body go cold.

“Willow?”

Wukong stands before her, eyes o so vulnerable. His voice is bleeding uncertainty, his hands fidgeting. He looks to her then looks away, confused on what to do.

Willow also doesn’t know what to do.

How do you tell your friend that someone wore their skin and killed and began to stalk her every step? Willow feels Mama Courage beside her, the hand squeezing. She looks up.

‘It’s him Willow. It’s our Stone Monkey.’ She signs and taps in her unique monkey way. It had taken a long time for Willow to learn this sign language, struggling but wanting to understand. Now, after decades of living together she had mastered this speech. ‘Go. You both need each other.’

‘What of you? He needs his mothers too.’ Willow signs back, not trusting her voice. That storm inside her throat is threatening to release, the track of her tears still wet. Mama Courage notices this and frowns in concern.

‘He needs a friend more. He needs you.’ She signs back. ‘And you need him most of all. To banish that demon, that nightmare. You are still shaking.’

It was true. Willows body still shook as if she had caught a deep bone chill. The blue eyes flash in her memory. Ice cold and drowning her from within Wukongs face. She had been chilled in a sense.

Before she could respond, Mama Courage had stepped away. She disappeared behind Wukong, going to help Wisdom with the mess and to spread the word of what had occurred. To reveal the truth.

Now it is just the two of them.

“It’s ok Willow.” Wukong spoke, gaze still averted. “I asked my Master if I could spend a night to … to fix the problems at home.” Willow watched as those hands wrung against each other. “But if - if what has happened- if my face brings you concern- makes you uncomfortable— I understand.”

Willow saw him step a bit off, unsure of what to do.

The eye of the hurricane was moving over Willow, that numb silence beginning to break.

Another half shuffle. He was moving closer to the carnage behind him, further from her reach. Further from her.

He’s just as afraid as I am that something has broken between us. The realization hits her like a slap.

The great wave within her, the one she had tampered down to keep her calm, to keep her cool as she had faced that monster covered in blood—

It broke through her.

Before Wukong could step further back, to disappear, to help, Willow had his face in her hands.

Willow braced her courage and stared into those eyes, determined to banish the fear that somehow, the monster had escaped. The Monkey King's eyes widened, gold within a sea of red. Willow pressed a kiss to his temple, a test.

If you are my sweet boy, my handsome monkey, she thought vehemently, this will prove it.

If you are that monster … I’ll see it in your eyes.

Willow waited.

Wukongs face was full of surprise. He blinked rapidly, uncomfortable about the intense eye contact. He looked away, looked to the side. Then he looked back up.

“Willow… what … what happened ?” For he could sense something beginning to churn within his friend. A tipping point of sorts and he, the cliff she balanced on.

The monster is dead.

Relief.

Willow breathed out. The air in her lungs shook.

Relief broke the iron in her spine. What little courage she had clung to swept away and she let it. In the dozens of decades she had been with Wukong, had cultivated and grown their trust and friendship, she had found and grown a safe place to be herself. Not Earth Reaching Willow of Polestar Palace, Eldest Daughter. To be her true self. To be one with the emotions she had suppressed. The feelings she had to repress as a princess unless she gave the wrong impression, put on the wrong face, among her fathers courtiers.

I want my friend. The longing was fierce and wild. It scorched her veins and pricked her eyes with fresh tears. A strangled sob passed between her teeth as she tried to stifle it with her fist.

“Willow?”

I need my friend - I need him.

She could be just Willow here, in his arms. She didn’t need to be a shield. She didn’t need to be a princess. She pressed her face into the crook of his neck, holding.

“The last thing I want is for you to go.” She whispered. And that’s when it fell. The tears came fast and hard, her body shaking with it. The hurricane was passing over here, the eye of the storm now past. The wind within her was full of the past years spent with the imitation of her friend. His watching eyes, his burning brushes against her hands. Those days when he had hinted, suggested, and plainly stated he wanted more—

Wukongs hands held her arms, cooed in her ear. “It’s ok Willow. Let it out. Breathe.”

“Don’t go…” she whispered, making a mess of tears on his shoulder.

“I’m not going anywhere. I’m here. I’m right here.”

Nightmares. She felt them all coming across her mind then, each time she lifted her face to catch a breath. The nightmares flashed into her head. But they weren’t nightmares.

“He can’t hurt you Willow. He can’t hurt anyone ever again.” Wukongs voice was fierce in that promise as he turned to press a kiss to her temple. Sealing the promise as he rubbed her arms like a mother to a babe.

They were memories. Of all the times the imposter, the Six Eared Macaque, had pressed her for touches. Had asked for kisses. Had attempted many times to get her away from the eyes of others. Earth Reaching Willow had walked the halls feeling eyes always upon her.

He had cornered her one terrible night and had reached for her. Willow had felt like a rabbit caught in a snare as his hand had caressed her face, had trailed to her lips. He had been interrupted by Rin Rin coming in to ask for bouquet suggestions, wanting to know what blossoms to pair best with what greens in preparation for a feast. Her friend had saved her that night and she didn’t even know.

None of them had known.

Each time the memory popped up, Willow flinched away, trying to curl deeper into the orange fur. Trying to burrow into her friend because he was real. And she needed that reality from the wake that was her mind. It grounded her, allowed her to be scared. Willow breathed him in. The imposter had never smelled quite right, had never felt quite right, hadn’t talked quite right. At least to her.

Wukong, this Wukong- her Wukong, smelled of the world, of growing things and sunlight, of ozone and wind. Of rain upon dry stone. The Six Eared Macaque had been floral and fruity, sweet like a honeyed nectar trap, like a carnivorous flower. And she the unwitting fly.

All the things he had tried to do to lure her in had failed. Willow had survived.

Barely.

My Wukong is here. My friend, my confidant, my partner in this eternity. I do not have to be brave anymore. I don’t have to be strong. Here, I can cry.

Nothing could ever replicate the muscle memory, the familial way that Willow and Wukong both folded into each other's embrace. They had hundreds of years to build this body-deep familiarity with one another. This instinctual trust.

Not even a six eared all knowing demonic monkey could copy that.

Willows sobs were not slowing. They were gaining traction instead. All the fear of years of living with a masked monster in their midst, all the close calls that Willow was remembering now, battered her. Wukong shifted a bit and she felt more than saw Wukong grow in size. Her arms moved apart, having to move from holding his face to grab his middle.

“I’m going to move us Willow. Is that alright ?” His voice is soft, questioning.

My sweet friend, so tender in his asking.

She can’t trust her own voice but nods. Then they were up, an arm beneath her leg and another holding her back. As the sounds of the waterfall retreated, Willow felt the tightness in her chest start to loosen. Breaths she couldn’t take before, that seemed to catch in her throat, came easier.

Each step took them away from the roar of the water. With each crash of tears, Willow curled into her friend. Mama Courage had been right. She had needed him.

Wukong finally stopped moving, settling the both of them down onto the stone floor. They were in an alcove, a bit of a stone hollow off of the main passageway. Willow looked up at Wukong then as he crossed his legs. He nestled her into his lap. His tail wrapped her own lags, a warm blanket against the cold.

“Comfortable?”

“Mhm..” Willow sniffed. Her nose would be stuffed later but she didn’t care. Couldn’t care. She wiped her eyes and tried to see through them.

Wukong looked terribly sad, his face on the brink of breaking itself.

“Oh darling…” she hiccuped. Willow touched his forehead. The golden circlet was cold across her fingers. “It’s not your fault.”

She could see it hurting, eating away at her friend. A worm within an apple core, destroying all the good fruit about it.

They only had one night. One night.

Willow wished for more than just a night.

“Wu-Wukong.” Her voice came out thick. Her monkey leaned into her touch, those golden eyes warm and full of love.

“You don’t need to relive those things.” He said. “Not tonight. Not ever again if you wish. You don’t even have to trust me again. My face … it has been used for terrible things…monstrous things. I see it in all of your eyes.”

Unspilled tears pooled in his face. “I can see it in your eyes. In my mothers. In my friends. In Ba and Ma and Liu and Rin Rins eyes.”

“You all have ghosts in your eyes and I can’t banish them. Because I caused them. ”

Those sad words were spoken with such sorrow, with such rejection that Willows was moving before she could think. Willow pulled his face down to hers.

“This isn’t your fault Wukong.” Willow said.

“It is completely my fault…”

“Oh my sweet Monkey…” She said into his fur. I wish you didn’t have to go- I wish you could stay here, stay with us with me, to help chase those memories into the dark. “How I missed you.”

Wukong swiped some of her tears off her cheek, rumbling not words but noises.

“But you have a pilgrimage to be a part of. You are needed there.” Willow says.

“I’m needed here.” The guilt is eating him, swallowing him up bit by bit. The words he couldn’t say were evident in his eyes. If I had been here none of this would have happened, they said.

“You will always be needed here.”

“Maybe not as welcome.” Wukong pulled back, looking away. “ A stranger took my face and committed atrocities. That face, my face, hurt you. My mothers. My friends. My home.” His voice is shaking. From anger, from sorrow, she did not know. Wukong was powerful. He had challenged Heaven, had defeated dragons, outwitted gods. He had shapeshifted into a thousand different things, had gained a weapon that matched his own abilities. He was a warrior, a King who cared for his people.

Wukong hadn’t been able to protect them. It ate at him. Swallowed him in an endless loop of pain.

“I wasn’t here to protect you.” He whispered. Wukong had burst through the cave, seeking his doppleganger with anger. When he had seen the bloody remains of Cloud, the smiling face of his imitation covered in blood and approaching his mothers and Willow—

He had lost it.

“Wukong look at me.”

He didn’t move his head, despondent. Willow dug her fingers in deeper to the fur, twisting the large monkey about just enough to see him clearly.

She carded those fingers through Wukongs fur, half comfort for her and half comfort for him. Those fingers plucked and pulled, tugged and tended in the ways the monkey king had shown her, all those years ago when she first came to Flower Fruit Mountain.

“It’s better than brushing,” He had said. “It’s a way we say we love one another and strengthen that love. A language spoken through our hands.”

Willow spoke that silent language now. She moved the fingers through and around his face, over his ears. Willow silently kissed the tears from his cheeks as she cried her own. His pain was hers. And hers was his.

In that silent and dark place the two took shelter against the world. Willow from her own memories. Wukong from his own perceived failings.

The story of what happened fell slowly from Willows lips. She held nothing back. Wukong would either stiffen or growl, huff or pull her closer at each new unearthed memory. Willow lived them again here and now, feeling the night slip between her fingers like grains of sand. She had only one night.

One night to banish that blue-eyed monster from its association with Wukong. I won’t let that demon take him from me.

It was a fierceness that surprised Willow. It gave back some of her strength, allowing her to speak nakedly about the truth of what had happened since Wukong began his pilgrimage.

I won’t let him be poisoned to me. I won’t let my experience of a few years erase more than a lifetime of memories.

Willow would not leave that between them. She loved Wukong too much to lose him to some faceless cannibal that had been a drop in the ocean of time they had spent together.

It would take more than a night Willow knew, to repair what things had been shaken. But she would get the worst of it done. She would find a way to see him again before his journey was done. She needed him. And he needed her.

If I have to blackmail all of Heaven I will. I’ll air my fathers own dirty laundry to steal a few moments with Wukong on the road. Then once he’s home I won’t let him go till he knows he’s wanted and loved by all of us. He’s family.

Willow cried and in turn counseled her friend. Wukong simply sat at times to listen, at others times he spoke of promises and things he would do, ways he would make it up to her. Willow would shake her head.

“Just be you. Just always and forever be my lovely Monkey.”

“I promise.”

And together, in the very heart of the mountain, the two wept. Once the sun rose, Wukong brought Willow back to his mothers. He said his goodbyes. The pain and indecision on his face was at war with itself. Willow, when her turn came to say goodbye, took Wukongs hand. She wrapped her pinky around his.

“When I see you again I’ll tell you of all the things we’ve done.” Willow whispered, pressing her forehead to his. “I will tell you of the seasons change and I will tell you of the coconut toddy and sweet plumb wine we drink for you on your birthday. Of Ba and Ma’s latest stunts, of how Liu and Rin Rin act cuter than ever as they continue to court. I will tell you of all the babies born and all of the younglings who try to prove themselves to their amors.”

Willow felt Wukong shake a bit. She tightened her hold on his other hand, squeezing. “I will tell you of the new trees we plant, of the new games we invent, of the new relationships we cultivate.”

“The most important thing I will tell you though is how much we love and miss you, Wukong. How we are all eagerly awaiting you back at home. How, even now, I can’t wait for your return.”

“You … mean that?” He stared, golden sunset eyes misting over with new tears.

“Oh love. You don’t have to ask. I always miss you.” She smiled. “You are my handsome monkey. My lovely monkey. My best friend. I want you to be happy. And if ever those fellows you travel with make you guess or judge yourself harshly— then I will remind them why I chose you. Of all the beings and people of the world and Heaven, I picked you. And you picked me.”

“I don’t want to go.”

“The sooner you go.” Willow said softly. “The sooner you will come back to Flower Fruit Mountain. And the sooner I can enjoy those peaceful days with my husband.”

Wukong gave one last desperate look back, and it took all of his family’s willpower not to call him, to beg him to stay. Instead, Willow waved smiling at him. Mama Courage and Mama Wisdom both held each other, smiling at their boy.

Marshal Liu stepped closer to the smaller group, along with Ma and Ba and Beng. A silent gesture of we will take care of them, in that action.

Wukong smiled, half heartedly, and leapt through the water. Gone as quickly as he had arrived.

Willow turned then, hands clasped within their robed sleeves. She had a task to do now.

“Marshal Liu?”

“You have an idea, don’t you Mrs Willow?”

“Are my thoughts that evident?” Willow smiled as Marshal Liu nodded. He kept pace with her. walking as Willow turned deeper into the cave.

“I need a few scrolls of parchment.” The idea had already taken shape in her mind. Wukong may be stuck within his duties to his pilgrims. But she was not. She would have to be wise, be careful. She didn’t want to turn this into a heavenly spectacle. She did have a few contacts, however, that could be trusted with the whole truth of her urgency. “I need to write a few letters to Heaven.”

“Heaven?”

“Yes. I know Liu. I don't write home often.” As the sounds of the waterfall faded again, Willow felt her heart thrum with determination. “One night is hardly enough time to heal what has been wrecked here. And I intend on calling on a few favors.” She would send her letters, seeking out sympathetic ears discreetly. She would help Sun Wukong heal just as much as he had helped her. They would do so together. Even if the distance may be great I will find a way.

#hcwrites #writing stuff #passes out #I AINT gonna lie I cried at parts in this one #because Earth Reaching Willow and Sun Wukongs relationship is so strong and tender #yes kisses can be platonic fight me I’ve seen enough of culture to know this #forehead kisses though? those are the best so of course I had to throw those in #please when she says ‘I need him’ made me instantly sob because we have all been there when we just need to fall into someone’s arms and cry #I’m sorry if this makes you cry too #I got tissues for you #for journey to the au #sun wukong #earth reaching willow #the betrothal au #jttw wukong #jttw monkey king #jttw tag #jttw au #dude writing Rin Rin Coming into that scene -#like asking about flowers and pausing because the tension in the air must be so thick. that sent chills up my spine just a bit #I love all these monkeys #no music this time either I had to feel this one out without musical help #I Hope i did. them justice #because I love this AU very much #hcfanfics

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