#six years in grief is different. but hard

[trans-axolotl]

content note: discussion of suicide.

this next monday will be the six year anniversary of losing one of my friends to suicide.

when he died, my high school barely mentioned his death, even though for other students who died by things like car crashes or illness, there were so many public expressions of grief. they believed that having any memorials for a student who died by suicide would encourage other people to die the same way. in their rush to erase the circumstances of his death, they erased the memory of his life.

there are so many things i am angry at that high school about in terms of how they treated mental health (mandatory reporting and collaborating with cops, their refusal to recognize the ways in which that system led to peer-to-peer crisis support, their refusal to recognize the ways that trying to keep each other alive through trial and error was scary and exhausting, carceral disciplinary policies, etc etc etc). but i think one of the things i am still angriest about is the way they enforced shame around his death. it felt like they were retroactively blaming him for the constellation of circumstances that made suicide an option in his life. it felt like they were blaming those of us who missed him and cared about him and wanted to grieve him. it made those of us still there who were actively suicidal feel even more scared about the reaction if we did reach out for help from one of those mythical safe adults.

as an adult now involved in psych abolition/mad liberation work, it makes me so fucking mad to see the ways in which he was discarded by people in authority positions. and the older i get, the more options i have found in my life for making sense of the world and finding healing and community and support which were never available to him because he died when he was 16 and the only things offered to him were a carceral psychiatric system that blamed him for his own fucking death. it feels so incredibly unfair.

i miss him and i think i always will; i can't remember his laugh or the sound of his voice or his favorite color any more and that aches. this grief is so heavy and it feels harder in a new way each year, when i become older than he will ever be. sometimes meeting new comrades or seeing new anticarceral suicide support models hurts because i wish so fucking bad that we had that back then. i remember how close we came to losing even more people that year and i know it is simple fucking luck that i'm still here when he's not.

i remember another letter (never sent) that i wrote to a friend while they were in an ICU bed after a suicide attempt when i didn't know if they would live or not. i have spent so much time in the past 10 years begging for anything to keep me and my friends alive, but even in that letter i knew that there is so much fucking violence that is hidden beneath psychiatric logics of cure and safety that promise a "solution" to suicide. I knew that institutionalization, coercion, and shame would not have helped build a life more liveable for him or **** or any of the people i've loved and lost since.

there needs to be more fucking options for care and support that aren't so incredibly cruel to suicidal people. i know so many people doing incredible work in alternatives, peer respite, a million different frameworks for healing and liberation. but it makes me so mad every day i have to live in a world where there are still people restrained, locked up in psych wards, having all autonomy and personhood taken away from them. knowing there are dozens of people every day getting blamed for their deaths the same way he was blamed for his.

i miss him. i cared so fucking much for him. and he died by suicide, and all of those things are true. he has been dead for 6 years and he lived before that and the people who loved him want to remember all of him; our celebrations of his life should not require hiding the way that he died.

Image description: [1000 origami cranes in all different colors and patterns that are tied together in strings of 25]

(these were the 1000 cranes we made to give to his parents, in memorial and recognition of how much he meant to us.)

#personal #suicide tw #suicide mention tw #psych abuse tw #psych ward tw #ok to reblog if u want #psych abolition #mad liberation #psych survivor #it's a lot of grief hours over here and will be for a while all week i think #lots of grief so many ways this year for so many people #but this week. his memory . my grief for him #is hitting especially hard. i think partially because of all the transitions in my life. i'm graduating college. he will never become an ad #adult. #i think i might ask my roommates if they will go do something to remember him with me. maybe making origami cranes and sending them off in #the river. or writing things down and burning them #idk. grief is hard #six years in grief is different. but hard

[headspace-hotel]

Oh, God, it's so important to learn to NOTICE though. When I first started learning about plants I realized that the real world—the REAL real world, and that's what I'm getting at here really, the natural world is so much more REAL, because human made environments are like...very dim, simplified simulations—is boggling to the mind in its sheer level of detail.

It feels like there's so much happening on the screen when you look at the internet, so much visual chaos in the form of ads and sidebars and videos that play automatically, but, God, just look at some dirt. Look at a regular patch of grass and weeds and look at how much there is going on.

How many species of plant are in a weedy, overgrown lawn? Whatever number you guess, it's too low, because you haven't learned to see. You can only see big and obvious shapes and colors. But I realized I was trapped in this...almost toddler-like simplification in my perception, and I realized that the more I cracked my brain open trying to identify plants and trees, the more I could zoom in on the parts of nature that had once seemed like the finest level of detail and see higher and more intricate tiers of complexity.

To almost everyone, grass looks like just grass. Do you know how many kinds of grass there are? Do you know how many I've found in my own yard? There are at least 15 different grass and sedge species in our yard. And I have no idea how they all looked like just grass to me before. There are dozens and dozens of species of plants and wildflowers in our "lawn."

And there are trees! Tiny saplings, the children of great and mighty trees, constantly sprouting in lawns and roadsides and ditches, unable to know that they are destined to be unnoticed and cursorily mowed down.

Today I saw a tiny oak tree, maybe six inches tall, poking from the grass in a green, well-maintained lawn, and I felt so much grief, because that little tree is never going to grow up to be a towering giant, because—why? Because of the kind of world ours is. Not because we don't want to live in a world of towering trees, but because we've genuinely and through no malice or transgression of our own become unable to see and recognize those trees as tiny seedlings. Every patch of grass is the same as every other patch of grass to us.

And, because of the kind of world ours is, it doesn't really occur to us that there would be trees in our back yards if we looked. Trees? For free? Nothing in this world is free. Trees are forty-two dollars apiece, at the garden center at Lowe's. Trees are an asset to highlight when you are selling your house. 1.2 acres, fruit trees on property! 1.4 acres, mature trees!

Anything that begins to grow in your lawn unprompted, without your permission, is a "weed," automatically in our minds, because...it doesn't make sense. Beautiful flowers and sweet, edible fruits happen because of hard work, fertilizer, landscape fabric, weeding, watering, soil testing kits, hundreds spent on potted perennials. We all know that. Nothing generous or beautiful ever just happens to us, so every little stranger that germinates in our lawns is a "weed," threatening to take away what little we do have.

And yet. And yet blackberries are ripening in the shaded thicket out behind my house. And yet wild chicory and dandelions are blooming in the tall grass to the brush pile. I show my family a picture of what the purple passion flowers will look like when they bloom, and it's like it's hard for them to believe—that's native to here? they just grow wild?

They do. They do. And so do majestic oak and sycamore trees, elm and tulip poplar. The seeds of trees that may outlive us by hundreds of years have germinated in our lawns and sidewalks and drainage ditches. This place was a forest once, and in all its little edges and corners it is always starting to become a forest again.

I think we HAVE to see this. I think every single person needs to break their brain with 25 hours of trying to identify plants using Wikipedia, Google, and pure confusing-sedge-induced rage until they get their third eye blown wide the fuck open.

People need to see this happening with their own eyes, the Happening that is always happening in nature, the activity and life always flourishing and living in every square millimeter of every yard and walkway and roadside, how absolutely absolutely bursting with species even a crack in the pavement on the side of the road is, how mind-numbingly simplified and static our concept of the natural world around us is next to the real thing.

There are so many kinds of lightning bugs. Did y'all know that? I'm seeing them now. There are many different species, with different colors and markings, and I'm noticing them chilling in the foliage around me in the daytime. I'm listening to the songs of birds and learning to recognize them, and there are so many more birds around me than I really realized.

I heard the call of a bird today that I did not recognize. Why didn't it register in my mind before that birdsongs I couldn't recognize were gaps in my knowledge?

Why doesn't it feel essential, immediate and necessary to seek knowledge about the other living things in our immediate surroundings? To at least know their names?

If I don't know my neighbor's name after living next to them for ten years, I haven't done anything to be their neighbor; they're just a stranger that lives near me. Are the trees and birds around me not my neighbors too? People will look up the name of an actor they've recognized before in a show, the name of a song they heard. Why are grasses and trees so far outside of what immediately seems relevant to us? What has our world done to our curiosity? To our sense of belonging in a world that is fundamentally interconnected and generous and alive?

Out there, on a pristine green lawn, a tiny seedling of an oak tree sprouts, barely six inches high. I saw it earlier on my walk, and I felt so sad. I'm sorry that we cut down a forest and turned it into this place. That's what I thought. But something changed in my mind as I thought it.

I realized that a forest was not a thing but a process, and not a process either in the sense that there's a beginning and an end result, but in the sense of things happening and being connected to other things, and I understood that the immensity of this thing far transcended what the word "forest" denotes.

A baby oak tree growing with nobody's permission on a flat green lawn belongs to this thing, "forest," just as much as a massive hundreds-of-years-old oak tree in the depths of the woods belongs to "forest," because a forest is growth, survival, persistence, the fight of a place that once was a forest to become forest again

I'm sorry I said to the tree you cannot kill me in a way that matters said the tree in reply, and I saw my own insignificance next to the indifference of the universe, and it was so infinitely gentle and merciful

#gardening #my writing #trees #i'm feeling a way about nature #this place never stopped being a forest #because the processes that make a forest a forest never stopped #you cannot kill me in a way that matters

[flanaganfilm]

hi mike, saw someone say your ask box was open and i came running! have you ever had any ideas as to how the crain family would be getting on now a few years later/what they're doing? it's always in the back of my mind wondering if creators also wonder about those sort of things themselves once their project has ended. thanks so much & hope you have a great day!

I do think about that. Quite a lot, actually.

The Crains took on lives of their own for me. I'd never written long form before, so it was the first time I lived with the same characters for that long, and for such extended arcs. Here's where I think they are, a few years later:

Shirley: I think that Shirley and her husband overcame her disclosure of infidelity. She'd been closed off for so long, after the series ended I think she found some peace in her life and opened herself up to her marriage. I think she also began to find kindness again. They ran the funeral home together, but Shirley found purpose in helping people handle grief and loss with empathy and kindness. Her oldest would be just about ready to start college now, and I think that would have her looking back and realizing that she always remembered her childhood as seemingly endless... but now she sees just how fast it truly goes by.

Luke: Luke stayed sober. He's six years into it now, and it's gone so well that he's also become a sponsor. That doesn't mean he's immune to the struggle, far from it. He still walks up to that edge sometimes. Oddly, it's in those moments that the "Twin Thing" kicks in... and he feels an inexplicable and complete sense of love. He knows that's Nell's, and that always pulls him back from the brink. He never did find Joey, or find out what happened to her. And sometimes he still wakes up with nightmares that he's on the floor of the Red Room, or that Joey visits him with her runny-egg eyes. But no matter how hard it gets, he feels what Nell feels for him... and that always pulls him through.

Theo: Theo and Trish got married, and moved far away from New England. They currently live in Portland. She still works with children, but enjoys a much smaller patient pool. She specializes in the kids who are hardest to reach, and she's sought after for her unique and uncanny ability to connect with them. She doesn't wear gloves anymore, but she still avoids the very crowded places. She and Trish take long hikes, grow their own pot, and travel frequently and spontaneously. They're considering a surrogate... and if it's a girl, they're going to name her Eleanor.

Steven: Steve and Leigh have two kids, and are thinking they might stop there. He never wrote about what happened at Hill House, but he still writes. Science fiction. Leigh recommended the genre as a way for him to focus on the future, not the past. He likes it a lot. It's pulpy, but it's earnest. He maintains Hill House, as it is his responsibility, but he doesn't enter the property beyond the gates. He has a rotating collection of people service the property itself, always during the day, and only for a few hours at a time.

Hill House stands quietly and silently in the hills. There is something different about it. Still the same energy, but without the malice. Steve assumes this is because of Hugh, Nellie and Olivia, who maybe curb the most malicious energies of the house from within. While shadows still walk in the windows at night, there are no living souls there to see them. Mostly, Steven imagines the spirits inside spend most of their days sleeping. And if they cannot sleep, he imagines Mrs. Dudley singing softly to them on the wind.

There is grief, for all of them. There are nightmares. Horrible dreams of moldy rooms and phantom hands. They meet twice a year, usually without spouses, to catch up and raise a glass to Nell, and their parents. There is a lot of healing still to do, a lot of therapy, a lot of introspection. But there is peace, too. There is love. There is forgiveness.

#the haunting of hill house #does this count as fanfic? #epilogue

[morallyinept]

Summary: Joel Miller comes back into your life unexpectedly after a gap of thirty years, and stirs up all kinds of memories and longing. Now, as you're stationed on an outpost for five days alone with the man you stupidly let go of all those years ago, you have a chance to confront him about your past life together and all the things you wished you’d said and done.

But Joel’s different now, and you know you need to tread carefully. Joel Miller is not the same man you once knew in another life.

A slow burn romance set in the post apocalyptic world, approx. twenty or so years after the initial Cordyceps outbreak.

Pairing: Post-Outbreak Joel Miller x MatureF!Reader (No name or physical description of reader. However reader is of a similar age range as Joel; in her late forties/early fifties. Joel is slightly older at 56.)

Chapter Word Count: 3.7k

Series Masterlist

☝🏻See Series Masterlist for full smut warnings & triggers in this story. Chapters that contain smut or triggers will be highlighted in the chapter notes below. 👇🏻

Chapter notes: After learning that Joel is still alive, you're conflicted. A plan for the horde is put into action. Nothing too heavy in this chapter, some angst. We love a bit of angst. Very brief mentions of sex/smut. So tiny it doesn't warrant a full warning.

Enjoy! 🖤

Previous Chapter

In the late morning, still rattled to your core with a ghost stirred and wailing from your past, you step tentatively into a room in another house, with a small puncture somewhere slowly deflating you. 

Presumably Maria and Tommy’s home; it’s bigger, more space. Photographs hang on the wall of people you don’t know and you wonder if they really do.

You pass through the lounge area taking in the obscure and mismatching knick-knacks. Above the sooted fireplace is a chalkboard propped up on the mantle, with the names Sarah and Kevin written on; dates are scrawled underneath and you assume it’s a memorial of some kind.

Everybody has lost somebody. It’s the only thing people have in common anymore now. Related in anguish and a grief that never subsides, despite the years.

The room adjacent has a large mahogany table and various crowded chairs around it, like they entertain guests regularly, and you baulk at such a thought.

Home cooking and barbecue parties whilst the world outside the white picket fence burns. But you're not bitter; if you had the chance to return to some sort of mundane normality, such as hosting a garden gathering on a sweltering June summer’s day, no matter how small it is, you'd take it.

Strangely, it makes you respect Maria’s determination to provide a place that feels like home for everyone, despite the sweetly-sickening apple pie undertones. 

Flanking Kelper, you smile at Maria as you pass her. Tommy is heading up the table, bent forward with his knuckles resting on it and black curls tucked behind his ears.

Tommy’s eyes widen at you as you offer him a small fingered wave when he recognises you. It takes a beat of him searching you out in his memory bank as he nods.

After all, he was only six when you last saw him. 

You're surprised to see Joel beside him, arms crossed and leaning back in a chair with his features screwed up into a constant furrow.

He glances at you and the hardness in his eyes begins to waver. At least, you think that’s what you see.

When it comes to Joel Miller, you’ve always been blind.

When everyone is finally huddled in, and there are a lot of them - there’s not enough chairs for everyone and you’re left standing on the edges - Tommy begins to outline the plan. Kelper’s plan about blowing up the horde. 

Once the disbelief at the cavalier preposterousness of it is scattered about and churned into a workable strategy, they talk shop, argue tactics, and plot out routes. 

Numerous fingers are stamped and thudded over the map spread out on the table, in various locations across Jackson and the surrounding vicinities, as they pull apart flaws, obstructions and every single scenario that could possibly go wrong.

Even scenarios that seem far-fetched and absurd, and Kelper smiles across the table at you knowing they are taking it seriously as they all bicker lightly over it.

They highlight the area where the infected horde congregates, and the areas where they have outposts and safe houses. The commune has a far reaching birth, you discover; they have eyes in a lot of places and bodies that can muster the strength to actually pull this off successfully.

You can only assume that, even if you hadn’t come here to warn them, they would have discovered the horde eventually themselves. 

But of course, that would have been too late. 

You shudder, throwing your arms across yourself, feeling the creep of the cold down your spine with sharp nails, and the whistling rising up in your ears as the room descends into a deafening silence around you, except for the screaming. 

You can see them; all their bloodied faces.

You can see their teeth. Hear them snapping.

Closing your eyes and breathing in deeply, you wash away the scarlet ultraviolet recall and focus back on the room as their voices drown out the carnage. 

When you open your eyes, Kelper is scrutinising you carefully; you throw him a small reassuring smile and glance back at the map with a heavy clench set in your jaw. 

Joel, with his thick folded arms across his stacked chest, does little to engage with the bipartite, aside from nod and throw curious eyes at you occasionally. You drift off when he does it, wondering if there has been anyone else since the last time you saw him, and realise how fucking stupid that sounds. 

Of course there has. It had been a long time. A whole lifetime between you.

Decades of a Joel-shaped gap. But it still makes you frown at the thought of him making those eyes for anyone else. That someone else may have gotten the best pieces of him for the past thirty-odd years or so.

You glance his fingers and there's no obvious evidence of a wedding band. But that could mean jack-shit. He might have been at some point. Or maybe he still is.

Or maybe there's someone here in Jackson with him. Someone who curls up with him at night in bed, feeling the warmth of his big, naked body around theirs, whilst he kisses them and strokes through their hair and-

It causes splinters in your stomach lining, so you look away and try to concentrate on the mission, but you cave again and steal another tactical glance at him. 

He's aged; grey roughage takes root in his scruffy beard full of patches that he could never seem to grow in full, even when he was younger.

Silvery streaks now glimmer in the milk chocolate waves of his hair that always had a rebellious curl to it. But it's the same face tucked in the wrinkles and lines and sun beaten skin.

Still the same Joel that, at one point in your life, consumed you wholly. 

You wonder how you appear to him now; if he’s knocked for six by your age, your worn appearance and how the world has shaped you into an empty husk of your former self.

It's certainly not been kind.

You ache constantly and tiredness knows no bounds as it resides in the shadows of your eye sockets. 

Clearing your throat, as he meets your eyes again, you focus on the discussion and try not to pay attention to the hot prickles now replacing the cold ones on the back of your neck. 

It's a fairly simple plan.

Three groups of two will take watch at different outpost points dotted across the map. Their job is to catch any strays that might separate off from the horde, and cut them down before they reach the commune.

Two teams that are number heavy will rally for the final attack at the canyon. It’ll take five days to get everything assimilated, get everyone there into position and complete the blow out. The canyon will be lined with explosives to crush the infected. 

Tommy informs Kelper that they have the firepower and plenty of it. He also tells Kelper that he wants him upfront and centre to lead the charge on the first group with him. Max too. And you can see that Kelper is only too happy and relieved to play Sergeant General.

You're dismayed, however, to learn that you're placed on watch duty at one of the outposts, and chew your lip listlessly waiting for your partner's name as Tommy starts to pair teams up, despite Kelper's heated distaste at not having you with him. 

"Shooters on the posts." Tommy states.

“No. She’s a strong fighter. Put a gun in her hand and you won't be disappointed. She should be with us.” Kelper fights for you.

“Don’t need fighters, need shooters-”

“She can shoot. Better than you.” Kelper presses fiercely.

“Franklin. You're with her. Outpost one.” Tommy states, ignoring Kelper’s hisses. 

Your heart sinks as you look at Franklin; barely old enough to grow facial hair let alone offer you any significant backup should you need it.

His nervous eyes tell you that he’s probably never spent any time alone with a female of any kind either as his spectacles begin to fog up.

Great.

“Put Franklin on two. I'll go with her. We’ll take post three.” You hear Joel gruff and your gut clenches.

"No," Tommy asserts.

"Tommy," Maria's voice nudges gently.

You can hear Joel grumble under his breath. “Still got me that twisted up knee. I won't be of any use on the front. Ya know it.” Joel's eyes dart towards you and then to Tommy, with a hard persuasion. “Put us on three.”

Tommy glances at Maria and she nods once with a stiff smile.

"How good a shot are ya?" Tommy addresses you now with hard eyes. 

"The best." Kelper answers for you and you smile at him. 

"Joel's one of the best shooters we got." Tommy nods, albeit defeatedly. And Franklin looks just as relieved as you do. 

"Two of the best shooters on one outpost? Don't make a lick of sense. Gonna leave us vulnerable on the canyon. I don't like it."

“Don't matter if ya don't like it. Ain't nothin' that'll get past us up there.” Joel says without looking at you, and you can’t help but focus a little too much on the word us.

You find you can't look at him now; your eyes falling onto the map at the small X where outpost three is clearly marked.

“They get past outpost three n’ then they’re here on top of everyone left." Maria reminds him. "Our best should be on outpost three. Last solid line of defence, just in case."

"Can’t have no breaches. S’gotta be tight.” Tommy states looking around the table at everyone. They're nodding and mulling it over.

He ponders on it for a moment himself.

"Put us on three. Franklin n' David on two. Jude n' Rikki on one. Split the rest of the shooters with you. Toe-to-toe. You'll have enough. Garret, Willy... Meg. S'a solid plan." Joel grumbles up to him. His arms remain crossed through the duration.

“That's alright with you?” Kelper asks you, noticing your expression as you chew on your bottom lip.

You unfold your arms and simply nod, trying not to look at Joel, although his eyes are burning holes in you - you can feel it. “Sure. We’ll cover you guys.”

"Alright. Outpost three." Tommy confirms with a knock of his fist against the map. 

Afterwards, Tommy catches your elbow as everyone leaves. Joel is the first out of the room, you notice, despite sitting the furthest away from the door. 

“Well, here’s a ghost from the damn past, huh?” Tommy’s face is more warm, welcoming now. In stark contrast to his elder brother who is all harsh lines and frowns. 

You smile weakly as he embraces you awkwardly. “It’s good to see you, Tommy. You’re all grown up. Boss man.” You say squeezing a bicep and he grins bashfully. "I'm surprised you remember me. Was a really long time ago."

"Feels like the longest sometimes, right? Anyhow, Joel told me he saw ya this mornin'. Looked like he’d shit."

"Yeah," you smile forlornly.

“I didn't mean to be so forward back there. But if you're a good shot as Kelper says ya are, you're better to me, to us, watchin' our backs."

"It's okay. I get it. Whatever it takes." You confirm. Although the hairs on your arms feel otherwise. 

"Ya met my lady, Maria?”

You nod. “Yeah. She’s done us a solid.” You smile. “You guys have done great here. This place is amazing.”

“Yeah.” He runs his hand through oily jet hair. “Listen. Ya caught up with Joel yet, properly?”

You shake your head. “No. But we’ll be at the outpost together now, so… plenty of time to catch up, I guess.”

You feel that pull in your gut again. Five days alone with Joel and there is so much you want to say, but where the fuck do you even begin after all the time that’s passed? How do you even navigate that perilous minefield? 

“About that, maybe there’s some things y’need to know.” Tommy lowers his voice until the room is fully empty. 

“Like what?” You query with concerned eyes. 

Tommy sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose before looking at you. “I’m only tellin’ ya this so ya don’t put y’foot in it. Joel, uh… He’s been through some heavy shit.”

You nod, a little concerned. “You can tell me, what is it?”

“Tommy seems trustworthy, although a little eager. I’m not so sure about his brother... Guy looks like he wants to rip my head off.” Kelper says later in the evening as he pops by your room. 

He was swept up with Tommy and Maria for most of the remainder of the day, after you’d slunk away once Tommy had filled you in on things that still swam around your head like piranhas. 

Things that you were grateful Tommy had given you fair warning about, but also things that you weren’t sure if Joel would be happy with you knowing. They were just… too personal.

Too heart wrenching. 

You contemplated looking for Joel afterwards, to use it as an excuse to talk to him - to see him again - discuss the outpost and the plan. How he intended for you both to roll with it. But thought it was probably best to leave him be.

Especially knowing what you know now.

Poor bastard.

Joel had considered the same thought, briefly. Although he didn't bother; he headed straight home and crashed, drowning himself with whiskey so he'd forget your face and all the thoughts he had buzzing around the hive of his mind about you.

Each one continually stung him as he swatted them away. 

You’d taken to wandering around the commune in the late afternoon, checking it out and doing anything to distract you from finding Joel. But your thoughts were resurfacing; jumbles of them coming out to taunt you and wear you down. 

You lingered by the tables that were sorting through scavenged items, and the most obscure thing had shone out at you; a crumpled, spangly birthday banner despite the dirt, and the memory of Joel’s birthday came rushing to the forefront of your mind. 

Happy birthday, stud-muffin! You’d cooed to him as he was nothing but a salivating mess as he strode over to you, legs buckling at the time. 

Fuck, look at you, darlin’. He’d swooned back then, ogling you up and down, unsure where to place his hands first as he mapped out your body in the special lingerie you’d chosen from Victoria’s Secret for his birthday.

You’d made the decision for him and took his left hand, sucking his middle finger slowly whilst looking at him intently. 

Twenty-two year old Joel had groaned and bit down on his bottom lip excitedly. 

Are you going to just stand there or are you going to open up and play with your birthday present? You’d teased him.

Seconds later you were thrown on the bed giggling into his growly kisses as he pinned your wrists above your head and stripped your body slowly of the red lace. 

Biting back uninvited tears, you shook the racy memory away as you passed people in the commune; some of them looked at you carefully as you wrapped your arms around yourself and tried not to meet their eyes.

One or two offered a welcoming smile, but you didn’t return it.

You know it’s different now, that too much time has passed to rekindle anything other than a girlish fantasy.

A few days ago, Joel was just a ribbon of a giddy memory locked up tight. And now, he was a harshly confronting reality, so close to reach out and touch the silk of him.

The Joel you knew back then is gone, had to be. Thirty or so years have passed since Joel had ignited a spark in you, and the last twenty were spent fighting for your life each day as monsters offered no reprieve. 

The world had changed you, and it had more than likely changed him too. 

But there were moments where you were swimming along fine, then drowning in a dark torpor of your own bawdish creation; to recall and conjure him in fragments of sharpened masochism despite your mind pleading with you to stop with the torture already. Plaguing you with annihilating what if’s and regrets and all the things you should have said and done back then. 

When faced with wondering if this will be your last day alive constantly, one can’t help but to look back on life and relive all the fuck-ups in their sordid detail under a microscope. 

And Joel Miller was probably your biggest fuck-up to be examined on that glass slide. 

Even though he was gone, his presence still swilled around your ventricles; his ghost still lamented in it's horrific screams through the dark nights. He was a weight bearing down heavy on your face, like a pillow suffocating you on occasion.

He had been the root cause of some toilsome erosion; permanent eradication of the pieces of you that were missing now. Holes punctured in your skin, less than human.

First loves always destroy and flay you open. 

Joel’s different now, you can feel it. See it behind those eyes that seem so filled with a silent pain.

He seems… invisible.

Lacklustre. Drowned in it. He's unassuming and blends in to his surroundings; nothing more than a bland neighbour whom you'd acknowledge in the commune as you pass and should forget instantly until your next encounter, sometimes weeks or months later with even lesser words exchanged.

A person in the crowds crossing the blocks who is lost amongst the sea of the vox-populi and doesn't stand out at all. He’s missing that spark that used to make him shine and it devastates you. 

The Joel you knew was handsome, humble; had a pinch of silliness thrown in making the perfect cocktail of a young man, with manners ma’am, and a Southern Texas drawl to boot that made you melt as he whispered sweet, filthy nothings in your ear as you climaxed and squeezed around his thick cock. 

The dusty haze of a former life with him filled with laughter, sex and not much else, as you both careened into your lusty feelings for one another, unabashed and unafraid, rattles behind your eyes.

But the Joel you met earlier outside the The Tipsy Bison is a ghost; a shell of a man who regarded you as nothing more than a short fling from the past, no doubt.

And that thought alone is what bothers you the most, because Joel would never know how much you had pined for him, had missed him. Had mourned him.

How you had so many regrets about selfishly walking away from him all those years ago. 

Fine, go! If that's what ya want. I ain't ever held ya back, darlin'!

He was a malignant growth in metastasis, poison in your empty, shrivelled veins that you never fully allowed yourself to move forward and heal from the aftermath.

Just learning to exist around the broken fragments of him that you kept sharp to puncture and wound the soles of your feet as you stepped back and forth over them, embroiling further in that spiralling verklempt barbarism. 

You sigh now, back in the room with Kelper. “It’s how he always is with strangers.” You grizzle faintly, remembering things that you probably don’t want to. At least, not right now anyway. 

Your head is too full and you want to bludgeon it all out.

“Wait, you know him?” Kelper raises his eyebrows and smiles, bewildered.

“You could say that.” You sigh. "Tommy too." 

Then there was Tommy Miller, of course; Joel’s younger brother whom you remembered clinging onto Joel’s shoulders as he piggy-backed him around almost everywhere they went, and looking up to Joel like a Goddamn hero.

It would always make you melt how Joel looked out for him. How he protected him, came down to his level, and you remember thinking that he'd make a great father one day.

How he’d stuff him with peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and not much else. How he’d read a book and do all the character voices making Tommy snort cola fizz from his nose.

How sometimes Joel would bring him over, apologising because there was no-one home to watch him, so he’d be plonked in the lounge with the TV remote happily, whilst Joel fucked you hard with his hand over your mouth, giggling silently so Tommy wouldn’t hear you both wrecking each other on the kitchen countertops whilst trying - and failing - to make some supper for him.

You're surprised Tommy recognised you today, considering how much younger he was back then. But sometimes faces stick, lingering in the narrowest crooks of recall.

Kelper looks at you quizzically and you cave. "Joel and I… we used to be together. Years before the outbreak."

“Damn. It’s a small fucking world.” Kelper says. 

“The smallest.” You agree as you sink onto the bed and kick off your boots with a heavy sigh. 

"Was it serious?"

You shrug. "First serious relationship..." you trail of for a second as you feel your heart being sliced into. "He was probably the only person who I've ever loved."

You try to swallow back and kill the repugnant choke in the back of your throat before Kelper can hear it.

"Shit." Kelper says.

"Yeah," you say wiggling your toes, free from the crushing constraint of your boots.

When you considered it, there had been no-one else since, even in this fucked up new world, who even come close to burning you like Joel had.

“Are you alright being paired up with him? There’s no bad blood between you, is there?” Kelper digs a little, but you don’t give him much back. "I can speak to Tommy-"

You shake your head. “There’s a little, but it’s fine.” You reassure, smiling. “Might be good to lay some demons to rest.” You shrug, a little helplessly.

Although, perhaps in hindsight it would have been better to be stationed with Franklin for the next five days and not pick at the festering scabs. 

Kelper stands. “Alright. Get some sleep. Heavy day tomorrow.”

“Are you worried?” You ask as he goes to the door. “I know you, you like to stew alone.”

Kelper shakes his head. “Can’t get nothing by you, hmm?”

“Nope.” You smirk.

He thinks on it for a moment. “This is gonna work. I know you’ve got my back out there, so that helps.”

You nod sincerely at him. “I have. Even if I’m not beside you.” 

"My team mate." He smiles fondly, and he's able to pry the knife out of your beating organ and stitch you up with just a singular look.

And you equally love and loathe that he's able to do that.

“Come here,” he beckons you into a hug and you stand, sinking into his strong arms. For a moment, all the tension melts away.

Nothing can get you. Peaceful. 

You inhale the new scent of soap on his skin, running your nose discreetly agasint the crook where his collar reveals his neck. For so long he's smelt wild, like damp soil and coopery blood. The cold piercing frost of a winter's dawn and the swampy staleness of month's old sweat.

He smells like... Kelper.

He plants a small tender kiss on the top of your crown which lingers, and the embrace tightens between you both until it stops the blood flow.

Kelper’s the brother you’ve always wanted. A force to be reckoned with, a protector; a best friend.

Possibly a soulmate - you're definitely kindred in some way.

He's the one who, for the last few years at least, made it worth living in this fucked up hellhole and saved your sorry ass more times than you can count. He’s seen it all, endured it all with you. Cried snottily with you when you felt you couldn't go on, laughed hysterically with you through sheer delirium.

Vomited and shit profusely with you when you both ate some toxic berries out of desperation when you were starving. He's seen the best and worst of you, that's for sure.

He’s the one who tells you to get your shit together when you feel like giving up. The one who forces you to confront all those ugly parts of yourself and conquer them whilst you're covered in blood, screaming like a wild banshee and hacking infected to death. And he does it all whilst battling his own demons. 

He’d be the perfect man for you, in another world.

It’s a shame you don’t have a cock, otherwise I’d be all over that, he’d said to you once when you’d stupidly tried to kiss him in a moment of sheer desperation for some touch.

For some affection. For the fleeting desire of indulging in a bleak orgasm from someone else other than yourself.

For some love.

It didn’t change anything though, you still loved him and he loved you too. It transcended any of the physical boundaries between you both.

You see some of Joel in him too, now that you think about it, and then you wonder if that's why you’ve subconsciously kept Kelper close to you all these years. 

“Yeah. Fucking sucks you’re not with me,” he confirms letting you go and pulling the door open. 

“You can have all the glory this time, Maverick.” You grin. 

“Shit, you think they have that film in the library here?”

“Man, I haven’t seen Top Gun in years…” You remark, recalling the lyrics to Take My Breath Away inside your ears. 

“We’ll watch it together when this is done.” Kelper promises. "It's a date."

“Count on it,” you smile. 

“Night, Goose.” He salutes and leaves you with your turbulent thoughts about what’s to come. 

All of them. 

To be continued...

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Thank you for taking the time to read my story; it really means so much to me. I'd love to know your thoughts, and I'd really appreciate a re-blog so others can enjoy this story too. Thank you so much 🖤

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[cowgurrrl]

I was wondering for your Look for the Light series if you could do a drabble about them figuring out she is pregnant and everyone's reactions?

Oooooo I love this!!

Evergreen

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader plus platonic Ellie Williams x fem!reader

Author’s note: now feels like a good time to mention that Ellie is a little bit older in this series (15-16 years old!!) also I’ve been trying to finish this all day so I’m throwing this and running

Summary: “Nearly everything I know about love, I’ve learnt in my long-term friendships with women.” - Dolly Alderton, Everything I Know About Love aka you find out you’re pregnant [1.5k]

Warnings: pregnancy talks, grief, references to canonical violence, talks of infertility, Ellie being confused, fluff!!

"Are you pregnant?" Maria asks the second you're close enough. You signed up to patrol with her this morning but didn't know she would have a secret sixth sense for detecting if you're pregnant. It's been three months since you and Joel decided to start trying to have a baby, and so far, you haven't noticed any intense early pregnancy symptoms, which is fine. You figured it would take a while to get pregnant, and you and Joel decided to keep it a secret until you knew for a fact that you were pregnant. 

"What? No." You say, turning from her to adjust the reigns on your horse, Goldie. Maria crosses her arms over her chest and stares at your profile.

"I don't believe you."

"You don't have to believe me. I'm not pregnant."

"Then, look at me when you say it." She challenges, and you press your tongue into your cheek, shaking your head. How the fuck does she know you so well? You step closer to her and look around to ensure nobody's nearby.

"I'm not pregnant," you repeat, but her gaze doesn't falter. You sigh. "Joel and I are trying, but we're keeping it a secret. There's no reason to get anybody's hopes up, so don't tell anyone, okay?"

"How long ago did you decide this?"

"A couple of months ago."

"And you're sure you're not pregnant?" She asks, and you shrug.

"I mean, I don't feel any different, but I'm a few days late," you say, and she practically beams as the words leave your mouth. "But that doesn't mean anything. When I got pregnant with Jane, I had my period the same month I took the test. Besides, it's not like pregnancy tests are just gonna fall from the sky." You try to bring her back down to earth, but she's already reaching into her bag to hand you a box of pregnancy tests. You look between her and the tests, struggling to put the pieces together.

"You've been spacey, and your boobs got huge last week, so I came to my own conclusion," she says. "I also have great mother's intuition."

"Should I be concerned that you took so much interest in the size of my boobs?"

"I mean, it was kinda hard to miss." She says, and you laugh, turning the box of tests over in your hands to check the expiration date. They're relatively new and don't expire for another year. There's also a good amount in there, at least five or six. 

"Where did you even find this?" You ask as you tuck the box into your backpack. 

"FEDRA still makes them. They're the shitty ninety-nine cents ones designed in 2003, but it's better than nothing." She explains. You nod and move to pull yourself onto Goldie's saddle when she looks at you expectantly. There's definitely something to be said about the Miller men's taste in stubborn women. 

"I promise to take one tonight if you promise to stop talking about my boobs while we're on patrol." 

"Done."

"So, she just threw a box of pregnancy tests at you?" Joel asks as he leans against the sink. 

"Pretty much," you say as you stand and flush the toilet. The beauty of marriage is that you guys can still have conversations while actively taking three pregnancy tests. You push him out of the way and set them face-down on the counter as you wash your hands. He doesn't go far, lingering at your left. "You really didn't say anything to Tommy?"

"I swear."

"Maria must be a fucking witch then," you mumble as you dry your hands and look up at him. There's a glint in the deep brown of his irises, and you smirk. "Don't."

"Don't what?"

"Don't look at me like that. That look is how we got here in the first place."

"'M excited." He says as he wraps his arms around your waist from behind and kisses your jaw. You cover his hands with yours and indulge him as he sways you back and forth to a song neither of you can hear.

"We don't even know anything for sure. I don't even think I'm actually pregnant."

"Then, why did you take three?"

"I took three when I found out I was pregnant with Jane. It seemed like a good number," you say, and he hums into your neck, unconvinced. The worry scratching at the corners of your brain takes center stage, and you feel like you could puke. You take a deep breath and squeeze his wrist. "I don't want to get our hopes up for something that might not happen."

"What d'you mean?" He asks, pulling away from you enough to look at you. 

"What if I can't get pregnant ever again? I've been stabbed, beaten, shot at, starved, left for dead, all of it. And that was fine as long as I survived because I never thought I'd live long enough to want another baby. But now we're here, and I'm scared," you word vomit. Joel doesn't hesitate to hug you tightly, rubbing your back and wrapping you in his warmth. A few tears fall from your eyes and stain his shirt, and you can't stop them. "I don't want to disappoint you."

"Baby, you could never disappoint me, okay? I love you. Hey," he gently holds your face in his big hands and looks at you when he hears you sniffle. "I love you. Nothin' in the world could change that. Nothin' else matters to me except for you and Ellie, and I'm so happy with the both of you. If it's us three forever, that's more than enough. If we do have a baby, that's fine, too. But nothin' about you will ever disappoint me, okay?" He asks, and you nod. He wipes your tears away with his thumbs and kisses your forehead. You still feel uncertain and shaky, but his presence soothes something profound in you.

"I think the tests should be ready." You find your voice, glancing at the three tests staring at you. You turn in his arms and try to find the courage to grab a test off the sink.

"No matter what, we're gonna be okay. We'll always be okay." He says, kissing the spot under your ear, and you nod. You take a deep breath and quickly flip the test over before you can change your mind. 

"Oh, shit," you breathe as soon as you spot the dark, unmistakable lines. Joel reaches around you and grabs another one, and another pair of dark lines greet you. You pick the third and final one up and see the positive markings. Three yeses and six identical lines fill you with hope, starkly different than your gut reaction to your three positive tests at sixteen. You turn to look at Joel and find him staring at the test with tears falling down his cheeks. "Oh, baby," you murmur as you wrap your arms around his neck and hug him. "Are these happy tears?" You ask, and he laughs.

"The happiest," he says, and you smile. He buries his head in your neck, and you cry together. At their core, they're happy tears for the new baby you'll be having together, but you know he's remembering when he found out about Sarah the same way you're thinking about Jane. It's bittersweet. You think it always will be. You imagine a huge electric sign pointing to your grief as if it were a nightclub, announcing that love was once here. Then, in the smallest font possible, there is a note stating that love still is. "We're gonna have a baby."

"We're gonna have a baby." You repeat as he kisses you. You would stay there forever, wrapped up in him, but the sound of the front door opening and closing forces you to pull away. 

"Hello? Is anyone home?" Ellie calls from downstairs, and your eyes widen at Joel. 

"In here!" You yell back. You quickly hide the tests behind your back and do your best to look natural as you stand with Joel in the bathroom with tears staining your faces. You don't hide it very well. Ellie can see that much as she steps into the threshold of your bathroom with the Ellie Stink Face on.

"Why are we all hanging out in here?" She asks, and you can't even answer her. You just hand her the pregnancy test and watch as her mind works. You and Joel are buzzing as you wait for her reaction, hoping for something big and sweet, but she shrugs. "I don't get it." She says, and Joel laughs. Sometimes it's easy to forget that Ellie was born after the world fell apart.

"So, I just took this test to see if I'm pregnant. Two lines mean yes." You explain, and she finally lights up, her eyes bouncing between you and Joel.

"You're gonna have a baby?" She asks, and you nod. "Oh, my fucking God!" She yells as she wraps you in a big hug, jumping up and down with you in her arms.

"Hey, be gentle. There's precious cargo in there." Joel teases, but Ellie barely reacts to his words. Instead, she hugs him, still jumping up and down. There's nothing purer in the world than her squeals of joy and trying to answer her million questions. You like to think that Jane and Sarah are somewhere nearby, maybe in the next room you can't see quite yet, listening and getting just as excited as Ellie. 

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taglist: @evyiione @nyotamalfoy @abbyhaslongshorts​

#look for the light #the last of us #joel and ellie #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #the last of us x reader #joel tlou #ellie williams #joel miller the last of us #joel miller fluff #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x pregnant reader #I love them your honor

[spiriteddreams]

because my love for you / is higher than words. / i have decided to fall silent. (nizar qabbani) or, the unspoken question he asks to himself, is he truly worthy of your love? ft. xiao, cyno, gojo satoru, kaveh, okkotsu yuta, al-haitham, inumaki toge cw: just angst :D

xiao, who wakes to nightmares still dancing in his vision. he doesn’t jolt awake or fall into a visible panic. he’s had years of practice to neutralize his expressions even when he is far from calm. next to him, you rest peacefully, chest rising and falling in steady rhythm, lashes fluttering against your cheeks as you dream. you and him are opposites, he thinks to himself, and not in the way that would make for a blossoming relationship. no, you are good and warm and kind and xiao? xiao is dark and worn down and believes himself to be undeserving of all you have to offer. he has tried many nights before to get up and go, because should the night come when you wake to his nightmares, he would never forgive himself. he grimaces at the thought of you seeing him so weak. so he gathers himself and forces himself to slip out of bed. he tucks you back in and swallows hard. if he knew you were awake and watching him go, would he still have left?

cyno, who doesn't turn around to look back at your figure in the window when he leaves on missions. if he turned around, like every cliche, he wouldn't be able to go. so instead he keeps his head up and continues to push forward. he can hear your prayers to the wind, asking him to look back, to give you one last reassurance that he will be okay and will return safely to your arms. cyno thinks that's unfair to ask of because he cannot even promise that himself. so perhaps this will be the last time he walks away. he’ll return to sumeru city with a successful mission behind him. he’ll be hailed as a hero by others, just as he always has been and yet he doesn’t feel he deserves their kindness. because when he returns to sumeru, will you be okay if he doesn't return to you?

gojo satoru, who hates the way you look at him. he does not deserve the softness in your eyes, can't you see all the pain he has caused others, the pain he has caused you? he grapples with grief in the first degree, mourning for those long gone, and those who are still alive. his web of lies extends far beyond his reach and even he has begun to lost sight of where it ends. when he gets caught up in his own troubles will he meet his end too? so to him, to end things now would cause less pain in the future. the thought of breaking up is like grief, and while you are still here, holding onto his heart with such tenderness it makes his own heart ache. he can only wonder, how can you grieve something that is still there?

kaveh, whose emotions run high and wild and he worries about every little action and word that has gotten him thus far. he is an over-thinker, and when he retreats into the darkest pockets of his mind, he replays every conversation he has ever had and asks himself why he couldn’t have said something different. he feels the shattering weight of disappointment on his shoulders, squeezing his chest as he stares at the melting candle on the table. was being an architect worth his time? has he done enough to prove his worth or will he find himself caught up in this cycle of mistake after mistake until they nail him six feet under. what happens when the light of kshahrewar begins to dim?

okkotsu yuta, who is guilty that you are caught up in this game of push and pull. he doesn’t mean to lead you on, no, yuta is a good person and he is so desperately trying to prove this. and yet he can’t help but let his fears slip through, and he hates the way they tear into you. the events of the night parade of a hundred demons has come to a close. he and the others are working slowly to rebuild their home, rebuild relationships, rebuild themselves in the process. he grieves a girl, a childhood crush who has haunted him for nearly all his life and he feels guilty. because you are right there, with your hand outstretched and waiting, just as patient as you always have been. he wants to ask why you still try. he loves you, oh he is so utterly in love with you and your warmth and patience and kindness but he doesn’t think he’s ready for your love. please, would you wait for him?

alhaitham, who swallows down the blunt words that threaten to spill out. he bites his tongue when he catches sight of your reaction, tense and ready to deflect against what he was going to say. was this how you felt, always putting up your defensives when you spoke to him because of the fear that he would tear you down? he wants to curse himself because when did he let it get to this point, when did silly banter become actual hurt? he doesn’t think he wants to know, because you stare at him with such unnerving silence that it begins to eat at him from inside out. words are powerful tools, of course he would know that, he’s a researcher of linguistics and yet he can't even reflect upon the weight of his own. “i love you” feels heavy on his tongue. he means it, wants to hold you and whisper it in your ears forever, but why is it so hard to say right now?

inumaki toge, who values the beauty and comfort silence. there is peace in the lack of words, but there is also the looming feeling of dread that stirs in his chest. he doesn’t know what to say, or write, or sign. threats are closing in, the imminent disaster upon the horizon. he has a feeling that shibuya will be a blood bath of physical and emotional hurt and yet he doesn’t know how to comfort you. his hands are glued to his side as he sits with his head lowered, trying to ignore your uneven breaths that are riddled with anxiety. he wants to tell you he loves you, that no matter what happens you will in his heart forever. he wants to tell you that everything will be okay and that both of you will return in good condition. in this moment of quiet, he hates his cursed speech more then ever. he wants to know, can you hear him screaming out his declaration of love amidst the silence?

reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated! <3 a/n: write angst or write finals? i think you've figured out which one i've chosen this has so many tags wtf oh the things i do for the characters i love

#genshin impact #jujutsu kaisen #genshin impact x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #favoniuslibrary #astronetwrk #xiao x reader #cyno x reader #gojo satoru x reader #kaveh x reader #okkotsu yuta x reader #alhaitham x reader #inumaki toge x reader #genshin impact angst #jujutsu kaisen angst #spiriteddreams writing #spiriteddreams

[coffeeadict61]

Humans Are Weird: Female Rage

Report: #298

Topic: Female Rage

Rage: Violent or uncontrollable anger.

I have studied the human race for months now but today is the day I have learned to fear them. Forget their unpredictable bodies, or overly complex inventions, or the horrific moments that crowd their history. It was only today I feared for my life in the presence of a human being.

I often record anger in incident reports and the like, but women make up a very tiny proportion of that. They tend to "keep their cool" ( a human turn of phrase) better than men on average. This doesn't seem to be a natural attribute but more of a learned survival mechanism against violence and abuse. It only seems to break the surface in grief or after years of trauma. But the new astrophysics intern Colette [Last Name Redacted] showed me a new human emotion. Rage.

Our ships astrophysics department was partnering with our engineering department to design a small weapons craft to protect us from the "space pirates" or looters we keep encountering. I had created a bond of "friendship" with little Colette, I suppose little doesn't fit. She is above average height and slightly underweight, (she is having trouble adjusting to our menu due to "texture issues" which I need to educate myself on). Moving forward. She came to speak to me on a very serious matter a week ago exactly while I was on my daily rounds. This was the reason I was behind schedule, she has, and I quote, "little legs" in comparison to mine. Colette spoke of the weapons project she had been assigned too. She spoke at length about her supervisors who wouldn't listen to her. She had discovered a bug in the engine system. A four that looked like a nine or something of that nature, and believed it to put the test pilots in danger. She requested that I ask management to promote her so that her voice would be listened too. I tried to calm her worries but she was insistent so I told her I'd try to bring it up in the next meeting. That meeting was yesterday. In the six days between our conversation and my turn to give my reports for the management council, I had talked myself out of my promise. I figured that her superiors knew best and she was just ambitious and maybe she didn't see what she thought she saw. Regardless, it is the biggest regret I carry.

The test flight launched today. The entire crew was given an hour additional break to watch. Colette tried to prevent the launch, arguing with the head scientists, trying to show them test she ran digitally, but they had security pull her back. She came to find me, asking if I spoke to management. I didn't answer. The announcer counted down in human numerals.

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1 LAUNCH

I breathed a sigh of relief as the craft glided safely away, but Colette didn't, she didn't move an inch. The projects leader gave instructions through a radio. The experimental engines roared to life. Then, a moment of silence. Before the entire space craft was engulfed in a cloud of fire and gas. The silent explosion shook the floor beneath us as gasps and screams gave it a voice. The entire crew was killed. Many of them, friends or family of the onlookers. The onboard medic, the project leader's son and Colette's young husband. She collapsed to the ground sobbing, unable to stand on her shaking legs. I couldn't get her to move. I didn't try very hard.

Security swarmed the crowd, pushing them back from the windows and herding the grieving crowd to the different living areas. Many had to be carried. I carried Colette.

Hours later, after an emergency meeting and a meal, everyone was in bed. All but the council, security, the engineering department,and the astrophysics department. We sat in heavy silence as the project leader explained the error that lead to this tragedy. I studied him closely. No tears, just a stone cold face and a tremor in his hands. Suddenly the doors crashed open as Colette burst in. She wasn't grieving now. Colette grabbed the microphone from the leader's hand and threw it at the wall. It went straight through. Then she spoke. Shaking slightly, controlled rage gave the impression of bullets falling from her mouth with each syllable. "Murderers. You are all murderers." No one moved as we took on the weight of her statements. She spoke again but this time it was wasn't controlled. This time her rage wasn't an undertone but the message. This time she screamed it in a voice that echoed around the room and shook with each new sob.

"I TOLD YOU! I FING TOLD YOU THEY WOULD DIE! WHY DIDN'T YOU LISTEN TO ME?! HOW COULD YOU KILL THEM LIKE THAT?! IT'S YOUR FING FAULT!"

She broke anything within reach. A mug, "THEY WERE YOUR TEAM!" a chair, "WHY DIDN'T YOU PROTECT THEM?" a table, "YOUR OWN SON AND YOU STAND HERE CALLING IT AN ACCIDENT!" her voice. "IF YOU HAD BELIEVED ME AND MY EVIDENCE INSTEAD OF PLAYING F***ING POLITICS…"

She stopped. She stopped screaming, stopped crying, stopped expressing her pain. She bottled it up and wiped her face with her sweaters sleeve. She just stared at him. Taking deep breaths as he shook under her gaze. "Why didn't you listen to him? To me?" He fought back his tears and straightened his jacket. "Abe knew the risks-" Colette stepped forward and punched him hard, his nose making an audible crunch. Blood stained her knuckles as she hit him again and again. Finally I got up and grabbed her around her middle, pulling her off before she went to far. The leader whimpered and leaned on a table as she fought to get to him. To tear him apart. Finally she just stood rigidity holding onto me. "Never say his name again. You aren't his father. You're a murderer and you never deserved Abraham." She spit at his feet.

"Coward."

I pulled her out of the meeting hall, locked her in her quarters, and stood guard. I relive her plea for me to approach the council on her behalf. I cannot deny my part in the crew's death and doubt I'll ever forgive myself. Colette will surely never forgive me either.

In conclusion, I advise the guilty professionals and researchers transferred and tried. Both for the safety of our crew and themselves. Their professional licenses should be revoked no matter the outcome of their individual trials. We also need to form a mental health department and start providing dietary options for all diets and sensitivities. I also advise (though I recognize my lack of authority on the matter) that crewmember Colette [Last Name Redacted] be released of all charges and assigned a personal therapist of her choosing. As for the other loved ones of our lost crew, they should also receive support options and memorials for their lost and any other requests we can fulfil. I pray we never have a similar story to tell the next generation.

Human Observer #5743

#Humans are weird #humans are space orcs #Its a sad one folks #Sorry its long #space #Aliens #space travel #human observer #5743 #new report #Colette #please read #I worked really hard on this #female rage #gaslight gatekeep girlboss #I had a lot of coffee today

[romanoffsbish]

Baby, You’re Not Alone

WandaNat x Stark!Reader

Warnings: Loss of mom young—Grief, Numbness.

18+ | Minors DNI | Nudity/No smut

Requested: @mutlifandomloverblog | 4,450 Words

Chrysanthemum’s are “funeral flowers”

White: Purity / Grief ; Yellow: Sorrow/Neglected Love

Wanda frowned when she woke up to empty, frigid sheets telling her you'd been gone for at least an hour if not longer. Natasha being gone was expected since she starts her training at four in the morning but you, their little grump, never gets up before ten unless it's necessary.

"Friday?," the witch murmured over a yawn., "Yes Miss Maximoff?," she tiredly sat up, her arms stretching above her head as she slowly became more conscious of her surroundings., "Where's Y/N?," her lip caught between her teeth while she anxiously awaits an answer.

"It appears Miss Stark left the compound at six in the morning, and their phone is off so I'm unable to pinpoint any location at this time. The last ping was near Central Park at 9am."

"Thanks Fri.," she jumped out of the bed before the AI could even reply, racing to the gym in hopes that maybe Natasha caught you leaving., "Nat?! Have you seen Y/N/N?," the redhead nearly dropped the weight in her hand as the frazzled witch actually managed to startle her.

"What do you mean? Isn't she in bed?," she looked at her watch., "It is only eight honey.," her amused response was met with a glare., "Natasha, if she was in bed I wouldn't have woken up to cold, empty sheets just now."

"Oh.," the redhead felt her heart skip in her chest, her mind now running wild with all the potential scenarios, but before she could spiral too bad she thought of your brother as a good place to check in., "Have you asked Tony?"

The couple left the gym in a rush, heading off to the lab to find Tony laying on the couch with a scrapbook of sorts over his head, and tiny snores gave way to his vulnerable state. Wanda removed the book from his face, the both of them noticed his eyes were rimmed red, and they looked to the book to clue them in on why.

They aww'd at the sight of you, you couldn't have been more than three in the shot, you were wearing a frilly pink dress with the bow to match, you were holding hold a tiny baby doll while sat in Tony's lap next to your mom. You looked so excited as you showed her your baby in the next shot, while she fondly smiled. It wasn't hard to deduce why Tony was crying, and Natasha knew all too well why when she looked at her phone and saw today's date.

"Oh.," the realization hit her hard., "I know where she is Wands, let's go—she's going to need us even if she thinks she doesn't."

—

Chrysanthemum—they were a gorgeous flower really, they bloomed in various shades, and each one of them meant something beautiful. This morning you stopped by the local florists shop to find your arrangement already filled. Miss Stacy gave you a comforting smile, then handed you the bouquet of yellow and white. You bid her a friendly farewell, then continued on your journey throughout the frigid city.

The numbness of your limbs was comforting, it gave you something else to focus on while the warm mug in your hands slowly brought back the feeling with a pained tingle that followed. Part of you wished it was just as easy to bring yourself back from the void; you woke up this morning with nothing inside to offer the world. Wanda's warm embrace did nothing to combat the feeling, or more so the lack thereof, so you slipped on out of the compound around six.

It perplexed you how this day was always a different experience every year for you. There were many years where all you wanted was to celebrate the life of your mother. There were the last few where you left flowers on her grave, then went about your day like normal. Then there were ones like this one where you wanted to curse the very ground she once walked on for leaving you to face this cruel world alone.

Tony was an amazing big brother—really, he took you in without a shred of doubt when you were orphaned at the age of six, and he was freshly twenty-one. He did his very best, and you were always grateful for that, but he just wasn't a suitable replacement for a mom.

When you started your period at thirteen it was his fling of the month that coached you on the process of entering womanhood. The first time you had your heartbroken at the age of sixteen you cried yourself to sleep because he was out. Then there was now, you finally found your shred of happiness in the arms of your lovers, and she wasn't going to be here for any of it.

The wedding was fast approaching after three magical years together, and you were thrilled, but the marking of today left you wondering.

Who was going to help you shop for your fit? Who would throw the engagement party? Who would do your hair and make up? Who'd work through the anticipated cold feet with you? Who'd then tell you how beautiful you looked with tears in their eyes and a warm embrace before sending you off to marry your brides?

The more you pondered it, the more you realize you were not through the grief of it all, and you were perplexed by such a notion. It'd been sixteen years since the tragedy, you've gone to counseling, you found your happy niche in life, but no matter what it wouldn't be enough when you were reminded of all that you lost with her.

A confidant, a best friend, a safe place to go when your prospective kids are bothering you, or just when you're feeling a bit overwhelmed.

Numb was what you were when you entered the diner from your childhood, but as you imagined your wives holding your baby a flip switched and now you were crying into the untouched slice of pie on the table, the pie here was always your mother’s guilty pleasure.

Natasha ushered into the diner first, turning to Wanda she put a finger to her lips, and after knowing she got the message she turned back to face you. There you were sat in the corner, a distant look in your glossy eyes, and she hated that she had overlooked the calendar today.

In her defense though it had been years since you were last in such a headspace, nonetheless she felt bad. Though she'd only been able to call you hers for three years now, you'd held her heart for so much longer than she'd ever admitted to. Wanda wasn't in the picture when she used to help you through days like today, where you were simply a shell of yourself, so this was a moment of necessary adjustment.

"Tasha, why's she crying?," the redhead turned to your other lover with a sad smile., "It's the anniversary of her parents death, she has a hard time with the loss of her mom some years.,” Wanda nodded in understanding, you shared a common ground here, and she's just a bit disheartened to only be finding out now.

"Don't take it personally malysh, I only ever knew because of the gruesome Shield files I had given to Steve many years back."

"Aren't I meant to be the mind reader here?"

Natasha smirked at her lover, she gave her a sweet peck to her lips before she quietly pulled her in the direction of you., "No thank you.," you croaked out your dismissal thinking it was the waitress., "Detka.," you whimpered at the familiar voice of one of your comfort people., "We've already paid the tab lyubov', care to go for a drive?," you looked up when finding the other voice a bit shocking to hear, your lip trembled when you saw both of them, and Wanda swiftly pulled you up and into her.

"Shh, we've got you moya lyubov'.," Wanda coo'd, she tapped your thighs and you jumped to wrap around her., "You're not alone detka.," Nat added as she placed a soft kiss to your temple, then with a hand on Wanda's lower back, and the other on yours she guided the both of you back out to her corvette stingray.

Natasha drove in the direction of the place you had yet to reach today while Wanda held your lightly sobbing form close in the backseat. The drive was long as your parents were buried in a military cemetery on the outskirts of town, so it didn't shock them one bit when your quiet sobs eventually faded into light snores., "I don't want to wake her up, she looks so peaceful."

The redhead gently stroked her fingers over your face in lieu of Wanda's words, you needed this., "Detka—we're here.," you stirred a bit, burying your face into Wanda's shoulder and whined. Both of them chuckled, this grumpy expression is to be expected when you woke up so early., "Lyubov', we’ll be with you the whole time, then after we can go home and snuggle."

Natasha helped you out of the car, in one arm she held your bouquet, and with the other she held you against her while you woke up more. Gently swaying you while humming in a low tone to keep your anxieties at bay until you pulled away from her to get going to her plot.

'Maria Stark. Beloved: Mother. Wife. Daughter. Friend. A precious life gone far too soon, you shall be missed.', you stared blankly at the dirty gravel stone while you settled the flowers into their designated spot, and then you delicately trailed your fingers over the words.

'Beloved Mother.,' rings out in your head, you remember the core things, like the diner, and family movie nights that she'd put together every Friday without fail for you, Tony and her. But beyond that you've lost the rest, the stories Tony would tell you of her immense comfort never resonated with you beyond the wording. The photos show the affections, but your mind yearns aimlessly for a memory of the feeling, desperate to understand that voided love.

Without the love of a mother you start to worry you'll never be enough for your own children. Deep down you know that's ridiculous, neither of your partners had their mother either, but here they were a pair of the most nurturing women you'd ever had the pleasure of meeting.

They loved you for all you were, you knew and felt that, but you still wondered, what if you don't live up to the expectations they have?

Wanda wanted so desperately to hold you, but Nat held her back to give you a solo moment. Your thoughts of inadequacy on your end were so incredibly loud and more so unwarranted. You're doubting your ability to offer the basics of comfort, but you were their safest space. Nothing ever made them happier than being able to come home to you after a long day.

Not to mention you're always the go to person of comfort for Clint's brood, and your niece. Morgan always sought you out when she came to the compound, and she was always reluctant to leave your side come the time to go home. There were even nights where she slept in your shared bed on your chest simply because you just couldn't say no to her sweet little pout.

Morgan honestly went to you for everything from a new scrape on her knee for you to fix, to a drawing she made and was proud of, or to cuddle you after a 'long' day. The little girl worshipped the ground you walked upon, it was relatively obvious, just not to you. When Lila came to the compound she'd ask you for advice, and you'd give it while holding a tiny Nathaniel in your embrace until he fell asleep. Then after all that you'd still agree to an hour or two of Mario Kart against Cooper and Peter.

Sure you were an asshole from time to time, you were a Stark after all, but at the end of the day you were a softie, and endlessly full of love to share. Wanda knows for a fact that you'd be a great mother, Natasha would tell you the same thing too but she's blissful unaware of the current dilemma, but this time when Wanda desperately tried to get to you she let her go.

The brunette squatted down besides you., "Why'd she have to go?," your lip wobbled as you asked your lover an impossible question., "I'm not sure lyubov'.," Wanda gently wiped the fresh falling tears off of your cheeks, then she carefully guided your face into her neck., "It's not fair Y/N/N, but it's the natural cycle."

"I want my mommy.," you sob unabashedly, your hands now clinging to her shoulders for dear life, and she looks up to Natasha shocked., "I-I can't do all of this without her, she should be here!," you shrieked., "I-I, she should have been here to meet you, and to help me navigate through these fucked up sequences of life."

Both of your lovers were at a loss for words, they understood you to some degree, but they'd never be able to understand your feelings here. Grief is obviously different for everyone, Nat and Wanda had no choice but to move right on without the time to dwell, so they're more well adjusted to their motherless circumstances. They still mourn from time to time, but the grief isn't as debilitating as yours seems to be.

"Hi Mrs. Stark.," Natasha softly spoke, and your red rimmed eyes suddenly shot over to hers, your heart stuttered when you saw her crying too., "My name's Natasha Romanoff, but you can just call me Nat, I‘m so happy to finally be meeting you ma’am. Your daughter here is one beautiful half of my heart, and I think it was about time I finally introduced myself."

Wanda was next to speak, taking after Nat., "Hey there ma'am, my names's Wanda, your daughter here calls me 'Wiggly Woo' though.," she teased, eliciting a sad giggle from you, and both of their hearts beamed at the sound., "I'm eternally grateful to you for giving Y/N to the world, I think you'll be happy to know she's grown into a fine woman with a heart of gold."

Wanda met your trembling lips with a delicate kiss, you sighed against her, and she smiled., "You've got nothing to worry about lyubov'.," Wanda watched you in amusement as you quirked your brows., "You're going to be a great mom despite these circumstances.," you looked to her a bit shocked., "I-I'm sorry Wands, were my thoughts too loud again?"

"No, I don't mind it honey, I appreciate it.," her lips pressed to your forehead., "When your mind is being unfairly cruel I want to know.," she reassured you, then you felt another hand grip you softly by your chin., "I do too detka.," you pouted, their show of care overwhelming you slightly, and so Natasha kissed you just the same as Wanda did to offer you reassurance.

"You're not alone here detka, marriage and starting a family are our next steps, but trust me we're just as terrified.," she admitted, and Wanda murmured in agreement., "However, whenever I start to freak out over the unknown I just remember all that I've gained by opening up my heart to the both of you.," her tone was so soft, softer than it had ever been, and that alone helped you to truly feel her sincerity.

"We're learning how to get through these 'fucked up sequences of life' together detka.," she teased while wearing her signature smirk., "That brings me comfort.," you sighed with a genuine smile soon following., "We're glad."

Natasha lifted you off of Wanda and got you settled onto her back, then she helped your other lover off the ground, and helped her to wipe the dirt from her pants., "You ready?," you nodded against her shoulder., "Yeah, take me home please Natty, I crave some cuddles."

—

Once you made it to your room Natasha was whisking you off to the bathroom, but before she could get too far you whined., "Wands.," the witch nearly melted when you reached for her so desperately., "I'll be back lyubov, enjoy your bath while I go make us some cookies.," she winked at your suddenly calmed form., "That's what I thought.," she smiled against your lips as you giggled, then she kissed you just before taking her aforementioned leave.

Natasha was gentle with you, as she always was, but there was something different about her display of tenderness. Her eyes had an unplaceable sheen, there was so much she needed to say, but you could tell she was holding back., "Natty, are you okay?," she sniffed, doing her best to cover up the influx of emotions., "Yes my darling, I'm perfectly fine."

Your hand gently wrapped around her wrist as she was in the middle of washing your body with the loofah., "You can't lie to me Natalia.," she raised her brows., "But cant I though?," her challenge only received an eye roll before you were pulling her hand to your lips., "Okay, how about you shouldn't lie to me.," you placed a kiss to each of her fingertips, then you linked you hands and looked up at her., "I can help."

Natasha squeezed your hand, then she pulled away to finish cleaning your body., "I know, and you do help by just existing before me.," she relayed honestly., "I'm not upset if that's what you think detka, I'm actually so happy."

"Everything I ever wanted is right here.," she paused to help you out of the tub, wrapping a plush robe around your shivering body, then settling her arms around the fabric over your hips, and nuzzled her nose against your own., "You gave me the first chance at love that ever mattered to me Y/N/N, and I can't believe it led us here.," her lips suddenly pecked yours, she just needed to break the gap; to feel you.

"Soon we'll be married, living a picture perfect life with our little witch, and miniature you's.," her finger traced over the entirety of your face, as if her fingertip was scanning your features., "Precious little Y/N's.," she booped your nose, cackling as your face scrunched., "Wanda's?," she nodded., "Yes, eventually Wanda's too."

"Natty?," she hummed, too focused on laying you down on the bed to respond., "Can we name our first daughter after my mom?," she caressed your cheek and smiled down at you., "I don't see why not detka, but we'll wanna talk to Wanda first before I can confirm."

"Talk to me about what?," the witch cheerily squealed as she entered the bedroom., "Our lovely lady here wants to name our daughter after her mother, Maria.," Wanda kissed the redhead, then she joined her in hovering above you., "Maria Romanoff?," she questioned, and you smirked mischievously., "Stark-anoff."

The couple grimaced above you, "Absolutely not.," the two of them shouting in sync caused you to cackle without stop., "Come on guys! It's like the perfect blend of our surnames! Get it?"

"Oh, we got it lyubov'," Wanda chuckled out., "We just didn't want to.," Natasha deadpanned, and you pouted., "Boo, you're both so boring."

"Boring? Or just concerned future parents?," Natasha mused as she began to apply a thin layer of lotion to your legs while Wanda was hovering over your face., "Then what, hm? Maria Alice Stark-Maximoff-Romanoff?"

Wanda placed a hydrating mask over your face, and conveniently for your lovers it layered over you lips as well., "Lyubov', I'm thinking we are better off giving the baby Nat's last name.," you felt the redheads hands freeze., "That way it matches all three of us.," Nat choked., "What?"

"Surprise.," you cheered through the mask, you watched as Nat fully processed what you'd just said through the eye flaps of your mask., "Y-you guys want to take my name?," her normally cool voice wavered, and you noticed her hands were trembling., "Why? I don't understand."

"Natty.," you sat up, leaning into Wanda on the mattress to keep your mask secure, and then you reached out for your vulnerable fiancé., "You take such good care of us Natalia, and we realized there's no one more deserving than you to be the prospective breadwinner here."

"Y/N, you're a millionaire.," she chuckled, you could see her attempts to deflect coming from a mile away., "Yeah, but that's just the dough. It's you that molds it, and then bakes it Natty.,” you say seriously, but with an exaggerated wink, your lovers giggle softly, and you go on., “You keep all of us above water Natasha, you knew exactly where to find me today, and that's because you took the time to learn everything there is to know about us, even the little things that normally wouldn’t matter to a partner.”

“Yeah, like my preference for Pine Sol over Fabuloso.,” Wanda teases., “You berated Tony for a week when he got the wrong product.,” the three of you shared in a bit of laughter, but soon a comfortable silence reclaimed the space.

"This wasn't a hard decision to make Tasha.,” you conveyed genuinely as she fumbled with your hand nervously., “We love you with all of our beings honey, and we take great pride in knowing we'll soon be Romanoff's.”

“The Romanoff’s.,” she whispers, and your heart warms exponentially at her soft tone., “One big, happy family we will be.,” Wanda chimes in, her hands gently remove the mask from your face, and while you hold Nat against your chest she rubs the product into your skin.

“The three of us against the world.,” Natasha utters while pulling back from your hold, her hands move up to cup both of your cheeks., “Our little witch.,” she strokes the apple of her cheek and pulls her forward for a kiss., “Our little grump.,” she snickers, then moves to pull you into her for a kiss that was too short lived judging by the way you whined at the loss.

“What about me?!,” your heads panned over to the locked bedroom door, the softest of knocks follows the little girls voice, and your lovers watched as your once dulled eyes lit up., “Of course Mo, you can be in our posse! Now, what are you doing outside our door little love?”

“Daddy said I needed to give Auntie Y/N/N my magical cuddles today.,” she sings through the oak and you audibly aww’d., “Look at that Mo, your daddy was right for once.,” you shouted, and she giggled., “Pepper must be so proud.,” Natasha whispered, and the lot of you snorted.

“Morgan, baby, how about you come with me so we can get the dinner from the front door?,” Wanda slipped out of the door, preserving your dignity as best she could before disappearing downing the hall to collect the Chinese.

Natasha then returned to finishing up your skincare, she lathered the lotion over every last bit of you, placing kisses whenever she deemed fit, she happily hummed along to her own tune, while her eyes lovingly observed you relaxing., “All done detka.,” she coo’d, your eyes fluttered open and you were met with her hovering face.

“Nuh-uh.,” she looked to you amused., “Oh? Please do tell me what it is I missed then.,” your lips pouted, and the redhead gasped., “Oh yes! A true lovers kiss? How could I forget?!”

Natasha tenderly placed kisses all over your face, she was taking her time getting to your lips and that only made you whine., “Natty.,” she placed her lips over yours, and you were instantly melting into the mattress., “There you go princess, the curse has been broken.”

You rolled your eyes, but smiled nonetheless., “I’m cold Natty.,” she frowned at the info, then she slid a pair of panties on you, then she got you into your favorite fluffy bear onesie, she smirked at you, and you gasped when she held up a tiny version for Morgan to change into.

Natasha was quick to get the little girl cleaned up and into her pajamas for the night after they returned while Wanda set up the food, and you picked out the movie., “Brother Bear.,” you couldn’t help it really, the movie was a perfect fit for the day’s emotional roller coaster ride. Plus, the film was cute, and you could both roar right along with the film in your bear onesies.

“You’re so adorable.,” Wanda groaned, then without Nat present she slipped a cookie into your mouth., “Shh, don’t tell the ‘dinner first’ police.,” you giggled before kissing her deeply in appreciation., “Mm.. Sweet.,” she teased as her tongue slid over yours, and had it not been for the door opening you wonder where this would’ve gone with that twinkle in her eyes.

The three of you settled into the mattress with the little girl snuggled in between you and Nat with loads of takeout, and cookies on the tray over Wanda’s lap for all your hunger needs. After Brother Bear ended Natasha chose to put on Tangled, she said it was for Morgan, but you both knew just how much she loved this film. Wanda’s turn came, and when she put on a documentary about penguins suddenly you all found yourself yawning, and snuggling close.

“I love you Auntie.,” Morgan whispered., “I’m sorry your sad.,” you instantly held her tighter., “I could never be sad with all my girls here.,” you placed a kiss to her cheek., “I love you too.”

Natasha shared a hopeful look with Wanda as they watched the two of you interact, and then slip off into a calm sleep only seconds later., “How did we get so lucky?,” Wanda questions, and Natasha hums with a hand on your face., “I’ve learned it’s best not to question the good that comes ones way Wands, instead you should focus on fostering the happy feeling.”

“So wise you are.,” she snorts, leaning over your bodies she places a kiss to Natasha’s lips. Then she turns the lights of with the flick of her wrist, and the both of them settle down, their arms brushing as they both wrap around you., “Goodnight my loves.,” the little witch yawned., “Goodnight malysh… Goodnight lil bears.,” Nat whispered, then only after hearing all of your even breaths she finally slipped off herself.

———————

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x reader x natasha romanoff #gxg #natasha x reader #wanda x reader #wanda x you x nat #wanda x nat #wanda x natasha #wanda x nat x reader #wandanat imagine #wandanat x female reader #wandanat x reader #wandanat x y/n #wandanat x you #wandanat fluff #wanda x natasha x reader #ashton 🥺❤️ #multi 🥰

[naturallyadventured]

____turnthepaige

If we’ve met within the past six years, then odds are you know a very different version of me; but this is social media, and social media is really just a carefully curated highlight reel. Six years ago today, my boyfriend died by suicide. I was living abroad for the first time in Australia, oceans away from friends and family - and my world completely changed in minutes. Then began the long process of finding (and losing and finding) myself again, before realizing part of the old me died too; it’s impossible to be the same person after something like that and I had to learn to love the new me. So I made 3 promises to myself: never stop exploring, never settle, and always follow your dreams, no matter how risky. Turning these promises into reality wasn’t always easy, but I knew from experience that life really is too short for wasting. And while I think I’ve done a pretty good job of making shit happen, I’ve always held this part of myself close, only sharing it with a small circle of people I love and trust the most, afraid of how it will change others’ perception of me. One of the most difficult parts of meeting new people is having to share my “baggage”. There’s a lot to unpack and I’ve seen the not-so-subtle shift in perception when I share details of my past with others - sometimes it’s apprehension, sometimes it’s admiration, a lot of the time it’s shock. Sympathy makes me uncomfortable and I’ve built walls to avoid having these hard conversations. My goal this year was to be more vulnerable. To put myself out there despite the possibility of rejection, to normalize “baggage” and to be honest with both myself and others. I don’t want to hide such a big part of my story anymore. I’m proud of the person I‘ve become - the good, the bad, the blunt, the messy, and most importantly, the resilient. I want to be able to celebrate where I’ve come from and the journey I’ve taken - the heartbreak, the grief, the self-doubt and uncertainty - and share it with others, so they can also see the hope, the courage, and the determination reflected in themselves and learn to embrace their own “baggage”. Because without baggage, who would any of us be? #breakthestigma

[cocoacat323]

Naruto Fic Recs

Since so many people liked my svsss rec list I thought I might do one for Naruto, warning all of these are either sasuke-kakashi centric so if you don't like that I recommend you don't read this! Anywho!

heroes come back Summary: Sasuke Uchiha is reborn as Timothy Drake

With Friends Like These Summary:

“I’m from the future—seven years in the future.” There’s a long, drawn-out silence. Itachi’s face is unreadable as he stares at Sasuke. “You’re what?” he finally says.

Sasuke travels back in time to stop the war. He infiltrates the Akatsuki in order to kill them - he doesn't expect to take a page out of Naruto's book and befriend them instead.

CCG Public Enemy No 1 Summary: Kakashi had a single red-and-black eye for more than half his life. Now, he has two.

twist 'verse Summary: Team Seven, in all its iterations, gets fucked over by whatever cosmic powers yet again and time travels/reincarnates/possesses bodies of the Founders. (Note: This is a series not a fic, but I thoroughly enjoyed it so it's making the list anyway.)

Frayed Truths 'verse Summary:

"What are you saying?" Kakashi demands, distress turning his tone harsh. "That you don't know when he'll wake up?" "I'm saying I don't know if he will."

When Itachi uses the Tsukuyomi on his brother that day in the hallway, he miscalculates. In the aftermath, Sakura and Naruto struggle with what it means to be a team and Kakashi sits by the bedside of a boy that might never wake.

A single misstep, and everything changes.

[NOW UNDERGOING EDITING]

(Note: This is also a series and not a fic, I'm sorry about that, but once again it's very good. The series itself has no summary so I went with the summary for the first fic in the series.)

How a Young Heart Really Feels Summary: It was absolutely the most devastating thing to ever happen to him in his six years of life. He knew Uchiha were supposed to love too deeply, but this was ridiculous! He was just a kid, for god's sake! He didn't want to be in love!

Or: Sasuke gets a crush and it messes with best laid plans.

Misrecognition Summary: During the fight on top of the hospital after Itachi's tsukuyomi Sasuke sees Naruto's rasengan and decides that was the final nail to hammer home his weakness, how he would never be able to become stronger than his brother. He was a loser, destined to fail, destined to die. So he might as well die now.

Sasuke tries to use Naruto's rasengan as a means to an end. Friend-killer Kakashi watches this.

Restore My Faith Summary: Sasuke was consumed with hatred because his family was killed. His entire family, not a single person left alive except him and their killer. It was enough to drive someone insane, or into the arms of the first maniac promising him enough power for revenge.

Instead Sasuke finds a little baby Uchiha on a meaningless mission and leaves Konoha for a vastly different reason. (Note: Very literally my favorite fic in the world, of you were to read any fic on this list I beg that it is this one.)

Never Trust Your Rinnegan (Tales of Sasuke's Travels) Summary: "Sasuke isn't in the Elemental Nations.

None of the Elemental Nations have buildings quite like this, people quite like this. Sure, Ame is weird, but this is really pushing it. These people don't have Chakra signatures, they shouldn’t be alive.

The Rinnegan has never teleported him somewhere he hasn’t already gone."

OR: Sasuke is transported to the world of BNHA and has a very hard time trying to get out.

Road to Nowhere Summary: Hitoshi knows there's something wrong with himself before he's even old enough to have a sense of self. He looks at his reflection and knows that the infant looking back at him isn't what he should be seeing.

His dreams are a maelstrom of grief and fear, his mind overwhelmed with a lifetime of emotions his brain isn't developed enough to comprehend. There's an ingrained instinct blaring that everything is wrong wrong wrong.

--

In which Hatake Kakashi is reincarnated as Shinsou Hitoshi, and he wants nothing to do with this world's so-called "heroes."

A step to the left (and right off the cliff) Summary: Team Seven starts off on a different foot and Sasuke's canonical journey to get stronger goes off the rails a bit. It all works out though. Probably.

#naruto #sasuke uchiha #fic recs #fic rec #fanfic rec #naruto fanfiction #uchiha sasuke #kakashi hatake #team 7 #narusasu #obikaka #naruto uzumaki #haruno sakura #uchiha obito #itachi uchiha #naruto shippuden #naruto fic recs

[visenyaism]

nettles mention!! what do you think of the theory that she’s not a dragonseed and the real reason Rhaenyra tries to have her killed is tht post-dragonpit it would be disastrous if it got out that any plucky schmuck with enough meat can tame a dragon? the idea is that its weird to have Nettles killed for sleeping with Daemon when she’s fine working with Mysaria so there might be another reason

I like the theory that she’s not a dragonseed and just tamed sheepstealer through kindness and love (and sheep meat). but i don’t think the second half of that is true- Rhaenyra could have easily just used her power as monarch to create a different public narrative about nettles’ heritage to legitimate her being a dragon rider if she felt like she needed to. She knows how to do that. But she definitely wanted Nettles dead for being linked to Daemon. 

I think the reason she was fine working with Mysaria is because Rhaenyra is entrenched enough in the feudal syste to not see Mysaria as a threat because she’s of drastically lower status. Mysaria was lowborn, formerly enslaved, with a history of sex work and being a spymaster in the least savory part of the capital- all things that women get dehumanized for in the society that Rhaenyra was raised in. Mysaria isn’t like Rhaenyra- Rhaenyra is special, she’s valyrian, she’s the heir to the throne, and she’s a dragonrider. None of the things that ever happened to Mysaria because of Daemon would ever happen to her. She’s different, he would never abandon her to get put on a boat somewhere while he flies off to another person because power is pointing in a different direction.

But he did do that, and that’s where Nettles comes in. Daemon groomed Rhaenyra (and arguably also Laena Velaryon) as a teenager. Not arguing about that one, it’s pretty textual, go bark up a different tree. Daemon is into very questionably young dragonriders because he’s real into Valyria. Nettles is the last one in that pattern, and Daemon running off with this girl who ISNT valyrian and IS lowborn had to have been more of a betrayal for Rhaenyra psychologically.

Rhaenyra committed to a life with Daemon, he said he was going to fight for her, and it turned into a war that killed all but one of her children (all six of whom she had before she was 30) and a rapidly decaying claim on the power she sacrificed so much for. And when bearing this inhuman tidal wave of grief got to be a little too hard for her husband to deal with, he ran off on a probable suicide mission with a plucky and naive 16 year old dragonrider and left her and their son out to dry. This is a world-destroying betrayal and revelation to deal with for her, and she cannot deal with it, so she just decides to blame Nettles and try to get her killed. She literally cannot believe that her husband would do this to her, it has to be 16 year-old Nettles’ fault.

It’s a real gut-punch of a tragedy for both Rhaenyra AND Nettles that i think has more to do with power differentials and grooming and gender politics than it does our modern conception of romantic infidelity. It did not read as a valyrian dragonriders only political calculus psyop move to me but that IS just me

#nettles get behind me #asoiaf #this got so long. listen i’m pre-grieving all of the terrible discourse we are going to see in the season 3 era of hotd #daemon is complicated emotionally and dramaturgically or whatever. but he IS also a threat to minors.

[weasley-wizard-writes]

For The Best

Fred Weasley x Reader

Genre: Angst

Content Warnings: 

Angst

Death

Grief

Mentions of children and pregnancy

Word Count: 1,310

If Fred had survived, what would be different today?

You asked yourself this question often, especially at night when you found yourself lying wide awake in bed, your husband asleep beside you with his arm thrown across your waist.

It felt wrong to think about your late fiance while existing in the space so close to the man who had worked so hard to help you heal your heart after Fred’s death, but even still you couldn’t help but do it from time to time.

Fred Weasley had been the light of your life for six years before he’d died suddenly during the war, and never once before his passing had you even considered what your life might have looked like without him.

Back then, you hadn’t known that your friend since childhood, Oliver Wood, had harbored a crush on you since grade school, and beyond that, you definitely hadn’t known that you could feel similarly for him too.

You hadn’t known that it would take you three years to move on enough to even consider a possible first date, nor that said first date would be with the man mentioned above, who had patiently waited, never overstepping or pushing you in any way, in case you decided to give him a chance.

You hadn’t known that you would in fact give Oliver that chance, and that just two years after your very first date, you would have a new fiance, one that played for Puddlemere United and took you with him to every game he could, calling you his good luck charm.

You hadn’t known that your wedding wouldn’t have any physical trace of your very first love, but rather the consistent mentioning of his name as you and Oliver shared your vows, with many eyes in the crowd clouding up with tears as you both acknowledged and thanked the man for everything he had done, going as far as to wish that he were there on that day.

You hadn’t known that, at nearly twenty seven years old, there would be no small children milling about your home in the wee hours of the morning, despite Fred having made you promise to get to work on having a whole quidditch team together once the war was over.

But above all else, you most certainly hadn’t known how terribly you could miss someone until after Fred was ripped away from you, and how horrendously it could hurt to love another, even if you knew it was what he would have wanted.

You had no idea how hard it would be to love two men at once, all while knowing that if only you could know how things would have been with Fred, you might never have been able to love two men at all. You were just a few small facts away from knowing whether or not you would be willing to give all of this up just for a shred of a life with your first love, and that made you feel like a monster.

But you didn’t know.

You didn’t know that if Fred Weasley had survived, he would have married you the next week, as he’d decided to do just moments before his untimely death.

You didn’t know that if Fred Weasley had survived, your wedding would have been beautiful, and that his physical presence would have made your heart all but burst from your chest the moment that you saw him.

You didn’t know that the guilt you had felt on your real wedding day would never have swelled to the surface, because you never would have loved another, and you never would have questioned even for a moment if what you were doing was right.

You didn’t know that if Fred Weasley had survived, Oliver Wood would have come to your wedding, and there he would have met the woman he would have married if only you had not needed him at your side. You also didn’t know that he would have had three kids with her by now, because to be a father had been his greatest dream since childhood. He had never told you that, because he knew how much the discussion hurt.

You didn’t know that if Fred Weasley had survived, he would have slept with his head on your shoulder and one arm above and one arm below you in a permanent hug. You also didn’t know that he would have kissed you all over your face to wake you up in the mornings, adoring the laughter that flew past your lips as he did so.

You didn’t know that if Fred Weasley had survived, the joke shop would have been even more successful than it was today, and that the two of you would have lived together above it with George up until your very first positive pregnancy test, which would have come just under a year after your wedding day.

The two of you would have been trying on and off for the entire time after the war, and Fred would have cried when you told him, before asking permission to tell his twin so he could share his joy with another.

You didn’t know that if Fred Weasley had survived, you really would have had an entire quidditch team worth of children, and that he would have adored every single one of them, thanking you nearly every day for blessing him with such a beautiful family.

You didn’t know that your children would have been born in this order with these names, and that opposite of your mother in law, you would have had nearly all girls, and that Fred would have been so beyond proud of that fact. 

You would have had your first daughter, Ivy Ginevra Weasley in late January of 2000.

You would have had your second and third daughters, Maisie Molly Weasley and Nellie Edith Weasley on Halloween in 2002.

Your fourth daughter, Winifred Marigold Weasley would have been born in late November of 2003.

You would have had your fifth daughter, Darcy Fleur Weasley in mid July of 2005.

Your sixth and final daughter, Louisa Maple Weasley, would have been born in early December of 2008.

And your one and only son, Sawyer Oliver Weasley, would have been born on Valentines day of 2010, his middle name coming from your very best friend, who would have used your name as the middle name of his very first daughter just two months prior.

But you didn’t know any of that.

All that you knew now was that Fred Weasley was gone, and that you loved your husband about as much as you could love anyone after your heart had been so thoroughly shattered.

But you also didn’t know what the future would hold either,

You didn’t know that Oliver would forever hold back from discussing his life long dream of becoming a father with you, for fear of how you might react to the idea of having children with him.

You didn’t know that despite that, your first child, three years from now, would be born, and that you would see Fred in her soft brown eyes whenever she smiled up at you.

You didn’t know how hard you would try to see her father in those eyes instead, or how guilty you would feel over the fact that even after so long, Fred was all that you wanted.

But the good news was that you would never know how different today would be if Fred had survived, and because of that, you would also never have to deal with the guilt associated with the fact that you would have given up everything to live that life with Fred Weasley, for even just a second.

You didn’t know, no matter how much you pondered the question at night.

And that was for the best.

MASTERLIST

Ko-fi

#Fred Weasley x reader #Fred weasley x reader angst #Fred Weasley fanfics #Fred Weasley angst #Fred Weasley #Oliver Wood x reader #Oliver Wood #Oliver Wood x Reader angst #Oliver Wood angst #Harry Potter x Reader #Harry potter x reader angst #Harry potter x reader fanfiction #Harry Potter x reader fics #Harry Potter angst #HP angst #HP fics

[joelsgirl]

Love Thy Neighbor Pt. 1

Muse: Joel Miller Word Count: 2k Content Warnings: Age Gap, Size Difference, grief, parental loss, fluff, No Use of Y/N A/N: Set pre-outbreak, maybe a year or two before. Ambiguous timeline. A Gift For: @dreamsofmandalore - A little SJ for you. Thank you for being you. Happy Birthday, darling. + Want to see more? I’d love to see some requests, here!

The night should have been warm, beautiful, almost balmy. It was only the start of fall, things shouldn't have shifted so fast, yet no matter what you do, you can't seem to stop the chill, like it was deep in your bones, freezing you from the inside. Glancing around, you wonder if others can feel it too.

Everyone else seems to be fine, having a great time. The block party was being run by your best friend's mom. She and Lisa lived in the house down the end of your street. Her yard backed onto rolling hills, marking the edge of suburbia. This wasn't your scene, you weren't ever into parties, more of a homebody, really.

Even at college, you preferred late nights, the scent of dusty old books and the dim light of the libraries lamps. It's been six months since you graduated college, and it should have been the time of your life - out exploring the world, getting that high paying job you'd worked so hard for, living to the fullest, or whatever that means...

Losing your dad wasn't something on the cards. He was your best friend, the only family you had left... but fate was a cruel mistress. Moving back home after graduation was easy, sorting out the house and putting him to rest... was another thing entirely. Lisa had become your lifeline through it all... and though a season had passed, it wasn't any easier.

The din of the party was getting to you, the noise all too overwhelming. You were here for Lisa, wanting to enjoy the night as much as she was... but couldn't handle yet another concerned neighbor asking you how you were coping. Strolling down the back of her yard, your fingers trailing over the solid wooden posts of her fence until they reach the latch to the back gate. A quick check over your shoulder to make sure no one has noticed you before you slip out.

There's a small, narrow path that opens into a clearing. It takes you a minute to scan the canopy line before you find the treehouse your dad built for you and Lisa when you were kids. It's all so overgrown now but the steps to the ladder are still nailed into the large trunk. Testing the lowest one out with the toe of your ballet slippers, you climb up into the large space. He was a builder, a freelance contractor and this place had been your safe haven for so many years.

You hadn't visited in a while, but the interior was spotless. The walls painted a now faded burgundy, the window seat and sofa inside still clean and fresh. Lisa had mentioned coming by recently to tidy it up but she'd added some more knickknacks. This space had always felt like home, like a private solace, protecting you from the cruelty of the world below.

There was a desk against the far wall, a cupboard with books and a small coffee table in the center. Your dad had managed to hoist them up and set them inside. Climbing onto the soft cushion of the window seat, your back against the wall as you survey the clearing. Everything looks so small from this height, so insignificant.

The dark silhouette of another appears just below, so quiet you hadn't heard him coming... but you knew who it was, would recognize him anywhere. Your heart skipping a beat at the sight of him, idly wondering how he knew where to find you. "Hey..." His voice was low, sensual even from down there... at least to you. You bite back the grin wanting to take over as you nod to him, "Hey, yourself."

Joel had moved in to the house next door right around the time you graduated college. He had the stoic, single dad routine down pat; he was also kind, charming and seriously good looking. Everyone wanted a piece of him, but all he cared about was Sarah. His beautiful daughter, ten years old and sharp as a tack. She kept them both on their toes, that was for sure. Joel was a builder, just like her dad. Long hours and hard labour to provide the kind of like he thought she deserved. His brother Tommy would drop in on occasion, the genes ran in the family there... But Joel, he was something else.

"Mind if I come up?" You sit a little straighter, wishing there was a mirror nearby to check your reflection or something... "Sure!" He'd never been here before, but he knew about it. You told him when you were reminiscing about your dad shortly after... everything happened. Pulling yourself up from the window seat, you move to lift the latch, tugging open the trap door and helping him to pull himself up into the treehouse. "How'd you know I was here?" You ask, curiosity getting the better of you.

"Was watching you." There was something in his eyes. So dark, chocolate had nothing on them. So deep as he drank in the sight of you. That concern dancing behind his gaze melted you, the warmth in his tone something new, something you'd started picking up on more and more of late. "Saw you slip out the back... No one else noticed." He was standing so close, you could see the gold flecks and caramel highlights in those eyes from the fading glow of the sun's rays. "Oh?" You were normally such a conversationalist, but there was something so intense about him, you were suddenly lost for words.

"Yeah, you looked like you could use a friend. Didn't want you alone out here." He paused for a moment, his words sinking in before he broke that connection, shifting his focus to the treehouse. There was a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips as his hands slipped into his pockets, his leather jacket tightening around the thick muscle of his biceps. The black cotton shirt beneath it draped perfectly off the broad expanse of his chest, his black jeans almost faded. He walked around the room, eyeing off everything in the room before settling against the edge of the desk. "I see why you like it here so much."

There was something so surreal about having him here. He almost didn't belong. He towered over you, even like this. His body exuding nothing but strength and power as he filled the small space. Barely large enough for two little girls once upon a time, let alone him... The truth was, you'd been noticing the change in him because it mirrored the one in you. Thoughts of him always lingering in the back of your mind, afraid to look at them too closely.

"What are you really doing here?" Surprised he'd left the party, even though he hadn't brought Sarah with him this time. "I meant what I said; didn't want you alone out here." His voice was low, sweet like honey. It was one of your favorite things about him, the sound filling the space, tickling your skin as you bite back a smile. Your heart doing that thing it always does whenever he was involved; fritzing out as it fought to maintain some kind of regular rhythm.

You edge a little closer, half a step, then another. As if testing the waters. He knew it, too, a slight jerk of his head telling you to keep going until you were just within reach of him. A hand reaches out lazily, fingers hooking in the waistline of your mini skirt. Tugging you the rest of the way, until you were standing between his outstretch legs. Even though he's perched on the edge of the desk, he's still so much taller than you. His body so big, you wonder how it would feel to get lost in it. To have him wrap those arms around you and hold you until all your worries melt away. The rest of the world, too.

His hands slide down your sides, settling on your waist as he holds you tightly. Your cheeks feel warm, a soft flush coloring them as tingles rush down your spine. "Been thinking about this for a while..." God, that voice. He could bring a civilization down to it's knees with that thing. At least, he could, you. "Thinking about what, exactly?" You can barely get your words out, the sound a soft murmur as your breath catches... The way he's looking at you right now, the world really was melting around you. Nothing else mattered but him. Right there. If only you could freeze that moment...

His eyes flicker to your lips, to the way you're biting the lower one. The usually stoic façade gone, replaced by a hunger you'd never noticed before. One hand leaves your waist to cup your face. Thumb locking on your jaw as strong fingers grip the back of your neck, holding you in place as he dips his head, his lips finding yours in a hard kiss. Your palms find his chest, pressing against them as you deepen the kiss.

Your mind flashing to all those late nights at home, crying as you try to pick up the pieces of your life, only to look up and find Joel right there with you. Holding you, helping you, a support like no other. He'd always been right by your side, had been the one for you long before you were willing to admit it to yourself...

All the unspoken emotion pouring out between you as the hand still resting on your waist tightens its grip, pulling you harder against him, as if letting you go would mean losing you and he couldn't possibly bare the thought of it. It felt like an eternity and a single moment all at once when he finally broke away. Pressing a kiss to your forehead before looking in your eyes once again, his thumb brushing your lower lip as a smile tugged at his own. "This, right here... you... I can't get you out of my head."

You open your mouth to say something when his phone goes off, the buzz in his pocket pulling him away. The apologetic look on his face as he tugs it out entirely unnecessary, he hated the damn thing, kept it for two reasons. Sarah and Tommy. "It's okay," you say as soon as he puts it away, knowing real life was calling him away...

"It's Sarah, there's a crisis at home, something about a missing textbook and needing to finish her homework. Honestly couldn't tell you where she gets those brains from." The sheepish smile was back on those perfect lips and you can't help but ball his shirt in a small fist as you tug him back down for another kiss. A short one, but enough to tell him you're not going anywhere. You walk down together, away from the party, a shortcut to the main road leading you both back to your driveway. He lives next door, but your house is first and he takes a moment to step away... those perfect eyes lingering on you.

"Can I call you, later tonight?" The smile on your face the only answer he needs as he nods, watching until you're safely up the driveway and inside your house before making his way to his girl. You pause, your back leaning against the door as your fingers lift to press idly against your lips, thinking about the way he kissed you, about him... Fishing your phone out of your pocket and clutching it to your chest as you make your way upstairs, counting down the minutes until you could hear that voice again...

TAG LIST: @dreamsofmandalore @devilmademewriteit @devilmademepostit @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @pedro-pedrito-pascalito >>> If you'd like to be tagged in this series or any other fics, please let me know!

#pedro pascal #joel miller #the last of us #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fic #tlou #tlou fic #my writing #my writing x joel miller #love thy neighbor

[starrydixon]

Despair (Part 2)

Part 1

Era: Season 9 Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader Pronouns: She/Her Word Count: 7.1k (whoops) Warnings: language, cheating, grief, brief mention of suggestive themes (if you squint), self-loathing, anxiety, angst

Summary: After three years of struggling to cope with the reality that the love of your life had cheated on you with another woman, your questions are finally answered when Daryl makes an unexpected visit to Alexandria.

You couldn’t sleep most nights. Despite how hard you had worked that day, desperately trying to distract and tire yourself out by volunteering for numerous jobs around the community: working in the gardens, helping construct new homes, taking inventory of weapons and supplies, doing laundry, or cleaning every square inch of your house…you still couldn’t sleep.

You would try every remedy, drink any herbal concoction Siddiq would recommend, and practice mindfulness and meditation…it didn’t matter. You would still end up wide awake at night, staring up at the ceiling of your bedroom, and envisioning how it had happened.

Each night was a different scenario, a different position, a different view. But it was always the same in the end; seeing Daryl’s bare body pressed against a blurry and unidentifiable figure of a naked woman that wasn’t you. In lightbulb succession, these visions would plague your mind as you tossed and turned in your sheets. An ache would weigh heavily on your chest while burning nausea rose in your throat whenever you got to the part where Daryl would touch the woman in the ways that he used to touch you and only you.

And just when the sun would begin to peek over the horizon, and you had cried every last tear your body could spare, you’d then get a few hours of sleep before repeating the same cycle all over again.

You needed closure from him. You didn’t know the exact kind you were in search of, but you knew that you had questions that needed answers. Each day you would tell yourself that you were ready to face him, but those days began to turn into weeks, those weeks turned to months, those months became a year, and before you knew it, three more years had gone by since you had last seen or spoken to Daryl.

So, when Michonne came back from the Hilltop after helping Siddiq escort a group of new survivors, and told you that she had seen Daryl there, you felt like an invisible force had punched you in the gut. You didn’t know if it was hearing his name and getting an update about him after so many years of nothing that had you thrown for a loop, or if it was the fact that he had finally left his isolated camp in the woods and was taking shelter at one of the communities again. 

From what you had gathered, Carol had asked Daryl to be her son’s temporary guardian while he learned the trade of blacksmithing at the Hilltop. Although it hurt you to learn that Daryl left the woods after six years for Carol and her son that he barely knew instead of you, you were curious as to what had finally driven him back to civilization. You assumed it was because Carol had the uncanny talent of persuasion.

That was days ago, and since then, you had been keeping yourself even busier around the community. Not only were you trying to distract yourself from the new and old thoughts you had about Daryl, but also from the potential new threat that could endanger all four of the communities. From her visit at the Hilltop, Michonne also learned that there was a group that hid themselves in herds of the undead by disguising themselves in walker skins. Without having run into a major threat in a little over six years, you couldn’t help but be on edge about a potential new war.

“I think you need to slow down.” 

You practically jumped out of your skin at the sound of Michonne’s voice. Spinning around on your heels, your eyes fell to her figure leaning against the side of the house that the communal clothes line was attached to. You were currently in the process of taking down your freshly washed, and now dried, laundry. Although the breeze was beginning to get colder and feel more prominent, the sun that shone down on Alexandria still managed to cancel out the gusts and cast warm rays down on your laundry, drying them rather efficiently.

“Shit Michonne, you almost made me piss my pants—and I just finished washing my clothes for the week.” You sighed as you rubbed a hand over your erratic heartbeat. 

One side of Michonne’s mouth quirked up in an amused smile as her shoulders shrugged loosely. “Seems to me that you’re off your game.”

Rolling your eyes at her comment, you turned back to the clothes line. “I’m fine.”

“Only a person who’s not fine would say that.” Michonne spoke with a teasing lilt in her voice. 

Shaking your head, you picked up the t-shirt you had previously dropped. Folding up the fabric haphazardly, you lightly tossed it in the laundry basket that was placed beside your feet. Turning back to the clothesline, you focused on taking down the bed sheet next. “Do you need something? Or are you just here to scare me for your own amusement?”

The hairs on the back of your neck stood on end when Michonne’s prolonged silence became unsettling. Removing your hovering fingers from the corner clothespin that secured the bedsheet to the wire, you slowly turned around to reface Michonne; who was uncharacteristically avoiding your gaze. 

“What’s wrong?” There was a slight quiver in your voice as your chest began to swell with unidentifiable emotion. There were about a hundred possibilities as to what could have caused Michonne’s sudden unease, and each possibility that flashed through your brain seemed to become worse than the last the longer she stayed quiet.

“Daryl’s here.” Michonne bluntly stated once she was able to meet your worried gaze. 

At the sound of his name alone, your ears began to ring and the blood that flowed through your veins rushed to all the major muscle groups in your body, leaving your head pounding and your arms and legs feeling heavy and constricted. Your breath got stuck in your throat, and your previously recovered erratic heartbeat began to pick up again.

Why was he here?

Did something happen at Hilltop?

He’s here?

Why?

At the sound of Michonne’s concerned voice calling out to you, you snapped out of your increasingly spinning thoughts. Focusing your vision back on Michonne, who had taken a few steps towards you in the midst of your fight or flight response, you struggled to form a coherent thought. 

“Are you sure?” The second the words came out of your mouth, you knew it was a stupid question to ask. Daryl Dixon was one of the most distinctive guys who had ever met; it was hard to mistake him as someone else. 

“I’m sure.” Michonne stated confidently as her arms crossed over her chest. For a moment, all you could manage was a nod of your head in acknowledgment as you took one step back to reground yourself. It felt like the verbal confirmation was akin to a physical push in the shoulders.

Although you couldn’t find the capacity to verbally ask Michonne why Daryl was suddenly at Alexandria, she seemed to have sensed that the question was running through your head. “He also came with Henry, Connie, and Lydia, that girl from the skins I was telling you about…I guess Henry decided to go after Lydia once Hilltop handed her over to the skins, and Daryl had to go after him.”

“Oh…” You ran a hand over your face in distress before placing the same hand on your hip. Every nerve ending in your body felt like it was on fire, causing tingling sensations to form in the tips of your fingers, and sweat to begin to prick at your hairline. 

“Are you okay?” Michonne voiced again worriedly as she eyed the way you seemed to become increasingly weary. 

“Yeah…I’m fine. I just need a minute.” You weakly reassured Michonne while straightening up your once slumped posture the best you could. 

“Okay…he’s with Judith down by the water, just in case you decide to either talk to him or avoid him.” Michonne stated with a barely there teasing lilt in her voice.

Nodding your head in acknowledgment, your unfocused gaze fell onto your boots as you saw Michonne’s figure leave you from the corner of your eye. You found yourself cursing under your breath and bringing your hands to the sides of your head once Michonne was completely out of sight. 

You knew this day would come eventually; you had been anticipating it for almost three years. Hell, some days you even prayed that you could will yourself to go out in the woods and find him, just so you could get it over with. Now that it was so close to happening, so close that you could almost touch it, you found yourself being filled with panic instead of relief. You weren’t sure when you wanted to confront Daryl, as you could hardly form a coherent thought, but you figured you had a little while before you had to face reality. Wiping your clammy hands on your jeans and shaking your head to get rid of the frantic thoughts that raced through your mind, you got back to work with removing your laundry from the clothesline and placing them in your laundry basket.

Before you even knew it, you were walking back to your townhouse with a filled and heavy laundry basket digging uncomfortably into your hip. Although it took longer, you found yourself avoiding the path home that passed the waterway. Rapid thoughts that wouldn’t quiet, not even for a minute, raced through your mind as you walked.

How do I talk to him?

What do I say?

Does he even want to talk?

Am I ready for this?

Your thoughts were interrupted when you felt something brush against your legs, and something wet poke at your hand that was cradled underneath the laundry basket. Gasping out of shock and taking a few stumbling steps back, your wide eyes fell down to a furry creature; who was wiggling its body excitedly and wagging its tail happily at you.

“Oh! Hello!” Dropping the laundry basket forgetfully, you gaped in awe at the dog in front of you. “Where did you come from!?” Before smothering the dog in affection, you raised your hand to its nose.

After the dog had given your hand a few sniffs, he practically jumped up onto you, as if he knew you. Unbeknownst to you, the canine was already quite familiar with you, as he spent most nights sleeping on top of a blanket that was laced with your scent.“You’re friendly, huh?” You couldn’t help but laugh as you knelt down and scratched the dog behind his ears.

You figured the dog belonged to one of the residents in Alexandria. Since you have been in your own bubble as of late, you had fallen behind on learning about who you were living around and what new things they had achieved or done. Like for instance, getting a dog. 

As you continued to pet the dog, you couldn’t help but laugh and coo at his adorableness. You couldn’t remember the last time you had interacted with a dog, so you were taking full advantage of this moment before his owner came looking.

“Dog! Where are ya!?” 

As the familiar shout reached your ears, your hands stopped moving against the dog’s fur, as if they were struck frozen. Your eyes widened with shock as you stared into the dark brown eyes of your furry friend, who was tapping his paws excitedly against the sidewalk and eagerly poking his tongue out of his mouth in an attempt to give you friendly kisses across your stricken face. 

“Where the hell...Dog! Get over here!”

His voice now came from somewhere behind you, closer in range. Falling back on your haunches, your hands fell onto your lap as the dog continued to affectionately nudge his wet nose against your loosely clasped hands, as if asking you for more pets. Your vision was completely unfocused, making the dog in front of you seem like a moving blob of black and brown fur. The muscles in your body tensed as you anxiously anticipated the moment Daryl realized that it was you who was capturing his dog’s attention, and not some random resident of Alexandria.

Your distinctive light blue sweater with white clouds sewn into the cotton was the first thing Daryl’s eyes landed on when he had gotten close enough to identify you. He remembered the day you found it; at a rundown and nearly ransacked thrift store. Daryl found it to be one of the tackiest things he had ever seen, but you saw it as a diamond in the rough. The archer grew to love that sweater, purely because you adored it so much and it always made you smile when you wore it. Even without the sweater, Daryl could have recognized you, as he had the shape of your body engraved in his mind. As his eyes danced over the back of you, his heart beat fasted and his mouth became dry. 

For a moment, his brain seemed to short-circuit as he struggled to find the right way to announce himself to you. Not knowing if you even wanted to see him, the last thing Daryl wanted to do was make you uncomfortable. Sweat began to accumulate around his hairline and trickle down his back. 

“Uh-” Daryl cleared his throat as his words got caught in his throat. “Dog, stop botherin’ her.” The archer scolded his canine before commanding him over with a whistle.

“He-He’s fine…” Your voice was barely above a whisper as you brought one of your hands to the dog’s head to give him a few gentle pats. 

“He ain’t usually like this…always listens,” Daryl sounded abashed as he tried to explain his dog’s apparent unusual behavior. “Guess he just likes ya more than me.” 

You found solace in the canine as he laid down in front of you with his head resting in your cupped hands that sat in your lap. Despite his calm and console exterior, the dog’s tail wagged wildly in happiness. You couldn’t tear your gaze away from the dog’s, mesmerized by the adorable puppy eyes he looked up at you with. 

“Sorry if he ruined your laundry…” Daryl awkwardly stated with a sheepish rub of his neck once he noticed your disregarded laundry basket. From your peripheral vision, you could see Daryl’s broad frame standing a few feet away from you.

Shaking your head dismissively, you slowly rose to your feet and brushed off the dog hair that stuck to your jeans. The dog jutted his wet nose into your hands, that now hung loosely by your sides, before leaping over towards Daryl. The archer muttered some reprimanding words to the canine for disobeying his commands.

There were so many unsaid words and thoughts that sat in the space between you and Daryl, each weighing heavily and making the air that surrounded you unbearably thick. You had no idea what to say to him, despite having thought about this exact moment and playing out every possible scenario for almost three years. 

You’ve found yourself becoming overwhelmed and drained due to so many different thoughts and emotions coursing through your mind and heart all at the same time. Your once rigged body now slumped in dejection; your arms feeling heavy and weak as they hung by your sides, head ducked that caused a few loose hairs to fall in your face and hide your dull and downcast eyes that mindlessly flickered across the concrete beneath you. 

For three years, Daryl had spent everyday thinking about you and the mess that he had made because of his actions. When he laid on top of his fur pelts at night, under the night sky in his slowly deteriorating tent, he would try to remember how vibrant the color of your eyes were, and the charmingly bright smile that often adorned your lips and never failed to make his chest swell with warmth. He would try to remember the sound of your laugh that always sounded like a symphony of the most beautiful pieces of music. With each day that passed, it was harder to see and hear, especially when the image of your anguish stricken and tear stained face, and the sounds of your body wracking sobs, were the only thing engraved in his mind now. 

When he walked through the front gates of Alexandria after nearly six years, he hoped that he would run into you during his quick stay; seeing you healed and with that smile he loved so much stretched across your brightened face. He hoped that you had found happiness again, even if it meant he had to be cut out of your life indefinitely.

Now, as his eyes flitted over your troubled face and dejected figure, he realized that you were still hurting from his actions; that the wounds he had caused you weren’t healed in the slightest. If anything, his sudden presence was probably akin to putting salt on those sensitive legions. He felt helpless as he watched you reel, once again, because of him. At the sight of you, Daryl felt his sinuses suddenly swell and tingle with emotion, his eyes pooling with tears that he had no right to shed. 

Wordlessly, you shuffled over to your disregarded laundry basket and crouched down to replace a few of the tangled clothes back in the basket. With weakening tingles still sprinkling in your arms and hands, you found it difficult to get a good grip on the handles of the heavy hamper. Noticing your struggle, Daryl instinctively reached out a helping hand. “Do ya want some help with that?”

Letting out a heavy exhale in a mixture of frustration and defeat, you sat the basket down in front of your feet. For the first time since he’s been there, you turned your gaze to look at Daryl. His unkempt dark caramel bangs framed his face and the long strands of hair fell a few inches above his collarbones. He still sported his classic leather vest, although it was placed over a distressed gray button up top that had one of the sleeves cut to his bicep, while the other was cut to the middle of his forearm. You hated the fact that you still found his face handsome, and that he was still able to take your breath away, even after all that had been said and done.

Blinking out of your slight haze, you shook your now ducked head dismissively. “You don’t have to.”

“I know…but I wanna.”

After seeing the genuineness in his steel blue eyes, you silently stepped away from the laundry basket and gave a curt nod of consent for Daryl to assist you. You didn’t know why you were letting him help you, but the thought of struggling with a heavy laundry basket was less appealing than standing in awkward silence for an indefinite out of time with Daryl. 

The walk back to your townhouse was quiet; the only sounds filling the air around you were the tapping of the canine’s nails against the pavement, and the howls of wind whenever a breeze passed by. You lead the way, with Daryl’s dog following closely beside you, and Daryl trailing behind. It was hard to tell who was more nervous as you neared the home you once shared together.

The canine was the first to bound inside once you opened the front door of your home. The corners of your mouth couldn’t help but twitch upwards in amusement at the sight of the dog’s excitement. From behind you, you could feel Daryl’s steps falter to a halt in the entryway. Turning towards him, you raised an eyebrow at the pensive expression on his face. 

Clearing his throat, Daryl’s abashed gaze fell down to the laundry basket he was holding. “Can I—Do ya want me to come in?” The archer sputtered out while shifting nervously on his feet. He knew he didn’t have a place in this home anymore, and wanted to respect whatever boundaries you may have. 

“Yeah, it’s fine.” Swallowing hard, you instructed Daryl to set the basket down on the couch in the living room. 

Hearing the excited bounds and leaps of the dog as he explored the lower level of your home, you found yourself gravitating towards the kitchen in search of a possible treat to give the canine. After rummaging through your pantry, you settled upon a few crackers. Holding the package in your hand, you shuffled back into the living room; where Daryl was patting his dog on the head and muttering commands of ‘be good’ and ‘don’t be a troublemaker’ under his breath.

“Can he have a few crackers?” Your weary voice brought Daryl’s attention back to you, and he found himself straightening out his posture when he noticed your eyes on him.

“Don’t see why not.” Daryl shrugged his shoulders loosely before commanding his canine to go over to you with a point of his finger.

Kneeling on the ground, a ghost of a smile formed on your lips as the dog eagerly took the few crackers from out of the palm of your hand. “You have a dog…” You trailed off in more of a statement than a question as you watched the canine practically inhale the treats you had given him.

Daryl hummed a vague tune of conformation as he stuffed his hands in the front pockets of his jeans. “Was walkin’ around in the woods a few years ago and when he was a puppy, he just came up to me outta nowhere…looked like he was starvin’ so I brought him back to camp. Been with me ever since.”

It was almost as if the canine knew he was being talked about, because in an instant, he was back in front of you; basking in the attention that you bestowed on him. As an animal lover, it wasn’t all that shocking that you had instantly fallen in love with the dog the second you met him. You couldn’t help but give him pets whenever you could. “What’s his name?”

“Dog.” 

Pausing your scratches to the dog’s belly, you turned your gaze to look at Daryl. “I can’t tell if you’re joking or not.” 

“So he always knows who he is.” Daryl shrugged his shoulders loosely in nonchalance, not understanding what you found so staggering.

“Dog…” You repeated softly as you stared down into the canine's eyes while his head rested in your cupped hands. At the sight of you and Dog, Daryl’s chest swelled in warmth, making his heart feel like it was seconds away from bursting out of his chest. His breath was nearly taken from him as he watched your once dull smile morph into a more prominent and bright one; like the smile he had spent years yearning to see again. 

As you gave Dog a few more crackers, the tension began to seep back between you and Daryl. There was still a giant elephant in the room that had yet to be acknowledged, and Daryl was anxiously waiting for the moment it was. He had half the mind to bring it up himself, but he didn’t want to overstep; and if he was being honest with himself, he was selfishly enjoying the brief moments of ignorance.

You had no idea how much longer Daryl was planning on sticking around Alexandria for. But as the silence began to become even more heavy and loud, your need for peace was starting to come to a breaking point. You still weren’t sure if you were ready for the answers, but you knew it was time to rip the bandaid off and ask for them. 

Slowly, you rose from your crouched position and shuffled over to the couch. Sitting on the edge of one of the cushions, your hands clasped loosely in your lap and your eyes fell to the rug beneath you. “I have questions.”

Although he was anticipating those words coming out of your mouth, his stomach still dropped to the floor. He knew you deserved answers, and was willing to give them to you, he just wasn’t ready to see that anguish and despair morph onto your face again. Wordlessly, Daryl moved to the armchair that was a few feet away from you, and sat down on the armrest. “Ask away.”

Your mouth became dry and your heart rate picked up as you silently pondered over your next choice of words. You were embarrassed that you were suddenly drawing a blank on all the questions you knew you had. They had been plaguing your consciousness and dreams for nearly three years. As if sensing your distress, Dog trotted over and hopped onto the couch beside you before resting his head in your lap. 

“I guess my first question is…what’s her name?” You could feel bile begin to rise in your throat as your hands instinctively grasped onto Dog’s fur, as if you were anticipating a punch to the gut at any second.

“Leah.” The archer’s throat constricted, as it was suddenly hard to swallow. His unblinking eyes, which were focused on your hands running through Dog’s fur, burned as uncontrollable images of his affair flashed through his mind in lightbulb succession.

You found yourself repeating the name a few times to yourself, under your breath, as you processed the information. When you felt like you had fully digested her name, you wet your dry lips and moved on to your next question. “H-How long did it last?”

“Only happened once.” Daryl’s gaze immediately lifted to your face once the sentence came out of his mouth. Your bottom lip was tugged in between your teeth as an uncertain expression contorted your face. You didn’t believe him. “It was just a one time thing…I swear it.”

Swallowing hard, you felt salty liquid begin to sting your eyes as the next question you had burned the tip of your tongue and sent your stomach feeling like it was doing backflips on a continuous loop. It was the most dreaded one you had, and the most prominent one that hadn’t left your mind since the day Daryl had first confessed his unfaithfulness to you. “Do you love her?”

Daryl almost wanted to snort at how absurd that question was, but he quickly remembered that you didn’t have an insight on his mind; unable to know how he truly felt unless he explicitly told you himself. You didn’t know how he thought about you every single waking moment for those three years before his time with Leah, and after. You had no idea how much he loved you with every fiber of his being and how unwavering it was. Most importantly, you didn’t know how little he thought of her, and how he never saw her again after the affair had happened. Daryl found himself hating himself even more, knowing he had made you feel like he had fallen in love with someone else.

“No.”

“Then why did you sleep with her!” Your raised voice surprised you as you jumped up from the sofa you had been sitting on. At your sudden outburst, Dog jumped up onto his paws as well. Heavy silence surrounded you and Daryl as you tried to conceal the tears that threatened to pour from your eyes. Your chest heaved with heavy breaths, and your bottom lip trembled between your teeth. “You could have come home…I-I would have welcomed you in with open arms! I-” 

You were cut off by a choked sob escaping past the confines of your throat as a few tears fell unwillingly onto your cheeks.

Running his fingers through his hair in distress, Daryl began to pace in a line across the living room rug. The amount of pain you were in, that he had caused, was borderline unbearable. 

Stopping his stressed strides, Daryl turned to face you again. “‘Cause I’m a fuckin’ idiot.”

Sitting down on the cushion of the armchair, Daryl pinched the bridge of his nose as he tried to gather his thoughts. The archer knew how important his next sentences were, and wanted to word them correctly. Your body stood rigged as you anxiously awaited for Daryl to continue. The unease that swelled in your body climbed painfully up your chest, making your lungs heave labored breaths. 

“It feels like everyone that’s ever been in my life, has always left at some point. They either died or didn’t find me useful no more,” Daryl spoke in a careful drawl as his clasped hands tightened around each other in order to ease the tremors that were wracking through his fingers. “I knew you’d leave too at some point…get tired of my bullshit, tryna find Rick. You’d get sick of me and move on, and I selfishly couldn’t deal with the thought of it. So I did it first; I pushed ya away.”

Your knees began to weaken under your weight, and you found yourself sitting back onto the couch so you wouldn’t end up dropping to the floor. A wave of fresh tears pooled in your eyes as you soaked in Daryl’s words. You knew he had more to say, and the tantalizing pause was making your heart feel like it was about to burst out of your chest.

“I was certain you wouldn’t want anythin’ to do with me no more, and it killed me, knowin’ that. So when I met Leah, I guess I was just tryin’ to fill that hole I made. I really only saw her as a friend–I could never be in love with anyone but you…” Daryl’s weary voice trailed off as he rubbed one of his fists in his damp eyes. The archer’s solemn face seemed to age him a few years, as his downcast eyes flitted over the rug that covered the majority of the wooden floorboards in the living room. 

“When we were stuck in the cabin during that storm, we started talkin’ about what we’ve lost. I didn’t really go into detail ‘bout anythin’, but I guess I said enough to make me wanna push those feelin’s away and forget about ‘em,” Pausing, Daryl took a few moments to compose himself as the emotions that were swelling up his chest began to seep through his voice and take control of him. “There was nothin’ to it for me, it-it just happened. That’s the only way I know to describe it, I’m sorry.”

The only sound that filled the otherwise silent room were your muffled cries and Dog’s whimpering as he desperately tried to comfort you. There was so much information to unpack, and it overwhelmed you. Despite everything that had happened, you still cared about Daryl; it was hard not to as he had been your everything for years. So hearing him express to you the agony he felt that led to the decision of pushing you away, hurt. On the other hand, you were upset at the fact that he thought so little of your loyalty to him, and didn’t believe you’d stick beside him as he grieved Rick’s disappearance.

Daryl’s head was ducked in shame as he subtly wiped away the few tears that had fallen onto his cheeks with the palm of his hand. As each one of your cries reached his ears, a pang shot through the archer’s chest painfully. For a moment, he wondered if he was physically feeling his heart break. Unable to bear the weight of witnessing your agony anymore, Daryl stood up from the chair he was sitting on and strode over to the front door. 

“I-I’ll give ya some time alone. I gotta get goin’ soon…just bring Dog over to the front gates by nightfall.” Daryl’s gravely and tight voice broke with each word he uttered. Without giving you a second glance from over his shoulder, the archer walked out of the house; leaving you alone with your spiraling thoughts and a fury and loyal companion sitting by your feet.

-

The once warmly hued sky was now a inky black as you walked towards the front gates of Alexandria. Dog trotted by your side, occasionally looking up at you to make sure you were still beside him. The gentle breeze that occasionally blew through the air earlier that day now became colder and more prominent, causing you to wrap your arms around your body in an effort to stay warm. A stocked backpack filled with granola bars, bottles of water, medical supplies, and a few articles of clothing, hung on your forearms by the straps. 

You were still upset, and feeling like you were barely holding it together, even after having a few hours to process all that was said earlier that afternoon. Although there was still a lot of information to digest, you felt stable enough to get a few coherent thoughts put together. Conflicting feelings warped your being; your heart telling you to feel empathy for Daryl and to begin to work things out as you still cared for him and loved him deeply. Meanwhile, your brain was constantly reminding you of how hurt you still were from what he had done, and that things couldn’t be forgotten or healed overnight.

Anxiety weighed heavily on your chest and your stomach felt like it was being tied up in knots as you got closer to the front gates. Your gaze fell upon a small group made up of three shadowy figures, which you quickly identified as Michonne, Judith, and Daryl. With her arms crossed over her chest, Michonne watched on from a few feet away as Daryl crouched down in front of Judith, undoubtedly saying his goodbyes to her. From beside you, Dog let out a happy bark as he bounded towards Daryl and Judith when they were within his sights. The corner of your mouth quirked upwards in admiration at the canine’s loyalty. 

After giving Judith one last final hug, Daryl was standing upright again and shifting nervously on his feet as his eyes fell upon you. The first thing he noticed was the stuffed backpack that hung off your forearm, and his stomach dropped when he realized what could be in there. Aside from the last supply bag you had given him three years ago that had a few articles of his clothing in it, he had no idea what you did with the rest of his clothes, or even his stuff, after he confessed to you about his affair. 

For all he knew, you were about to give him the last few things he owned; which would be your official act of cutting him from your life forever. Daryl knew he deserved it, and was quite surprised that you had talked to him for as long as you did, but it still made his heart sink that one of his fears was about to officially come true. 

You could see the look of concern on Michonne’s face when you met her gaze. As an attempt to ease her worries, you could only muster up a weak smile and a nod of reassurance. Seeming satisfied by your response, for now, Michonne gave your hand a squeeze before practically corralling Judith and Dog towards the front gates in order to give you and Daryl some privacy.

Rubbing the back of his neck anxiously, Daryl averted his gaze to the ground. “I’m-uh-sorry ‘bout earlier…I shouldn’t of left like that.”

“Oh…” Your eyebrows shot upwards in surprise, not expecting that sentiment to come out of his mouth. “It’s ok…I actually kinda needed to be alone for a little while.” You confessed rather sheepishly as you uncomfortably shifted the backpack on your arm. 

“I hope Dog didn’t cause ya any trouble. He can be a handful sometimes.” The archer was now shoving his hands in his pockets, in fear that they would start to shake at any moment due to the anxiety that was beginning to course through his veins. 

“He’s great, really,” A smile formed on your face as your eyes briefly drifted towards the front gates, where you could see Dog betowing affection on Judith. “I can see why you’ve kept him around.”

Daryl could only hum in acknowledgement as his teeth dug into his bottom lip. For a few moments, awkward silence fell over you two as you both struggled to find the right words to say. Swallowing the dry lump that was beginning to form in your throat, you wet your lips and opened your mouth to speak. There was no easy way to begin the conversation, so you figured the only way to start it was by being blunt. 

“I appreciate everything you told me today…I still have a lot to process and figure out.” You found yourself inhaling sharply through your nose as you struggled to put your delicate thoughts and feelings into words. “You hurt me so much, Daryl. I-I just don’t know if I’ll ever be able to want to work things out.”

Salty tears stung at the corners of Daryl’s eyes as he nodded at your words. He knew it was coming, and had been anticipating them since there was no other response he expected you to say. Daryl supposed he was becoming more upset with himself, than at you, for what you were telling him. 

“I get it…I don’t blame ya for not wantin’ me in your life anymore. You're better off.” Daryl’s sadden gaze fell to his boots as he uncomfortably shifted the crossbow that was draped behind his back with a shrug of his shoulders. It suddenly felt like the crossbow was becoming too heavy for him to carry.

“No, no…I-” You shook your head dismissively as emotion swelled up your chest and seeped in your voice. “I don't know what I want, but I can’t imagine you not in my life. I still care about you, Daryl.”

When your admission reached his ears, Daryl found himself bringing his wide eyed gaze back up towards your face. For a moment, Daryl was ready to utter endless sentences filled with all of the devotions he felt for you, but realized how overwhelming and off putting that would be for you to hear at the moment. So instead, he instinctively took one step towards you. Wetting his dry lips, Daryl opened his mouth to respond.

“You don't gotta decide, hell, you don’t ever gotta decide. I just…I just want a chance to make things up to ya, make it right.” 

You bit down on your bottom lip nervously as you silently pondered over his declaration. “I can’t promise that things will ever go back to how they were…romantically.”

“I know. I just want you to let me try.”

All you could manage was to nod your head in agreement as an overwhelmed haze overcame your brain. You could feel fresh tears pool in your eyes, but you refused to let them fall onto your cheeks. You had cried enough tears for a lifetime, and quite frankly, you didn’t have the energy to deal with them tonight. The backpack hanging off your arm became unbearably uncomfortable as your arms began to weaken due to the emotional turmoil your body was going through. You couldn’t bring yourself to look Daryl in the eyes when you handed the backpack to him.

“There’s some supplies in there for you and everyone else for the trip to the Kingdom…” A heavy silence filled the still night air as you struggled to stay put; you couldn’t stop shifting your weight from one foot to the other in unease. 

“What?” That was the only thing Daryl could utter out of his mouth as he stood frozen in front of you, his wide eyes staring at the backpack you were holding out to him as if it was a foreign object he had never seen before. 

“Like I said before, packing you a bag is kinda an instinct at this point. It still is” 

Swallowing hard and unable to mask the gawk in his face, Daryl took the backpack from you. “I-uh-” Pausing, Daryl took a few moments to compose himself so he didn’t continue to choke on his words. “I didn’t expect that bag to have supplies in it.” Daryl admitted sheepishly, since moments ago he was convinced you were about to hand over the few remaining possessions he had.

“What else would I put in the bag?” Your head tilted to the side curiously as the two of you began to walk towards the front gates where the rest of the group were at. 

Shrugging his shoulders loosely, Daryl gripped onto the strap of his crossbow that was draped across his chest. “I don’t know what ya did to my stuff that's still at the house…shit, maybe ya burned it, but I thought you were gonna hand me my shit back and tell me to fuck off.”

You couldn’t stop the laugh from bursting out of your mouth, hands instantly raising to your face to muffle the noise. Daryl wished you let yourself laugh for a little longer, as the sound was like music to his ears. It felt like a lifetime ago since he last heard it.

“The thought did cross my mind once or twice, but I don’t think I could ever do something like that.” You shook your head as a genuine smile stretched your lips. 

“Only once or twice?” The archer mused as a lopsided smile formed on his face. His heart felt like it was swelling one size too big to fit in his chest at the sight of your smile.

God he missed you.

“Okay, fine, definitely more times than that.” You admitted truthfully as a sly glint sparkled in your eyes under the moonlight. 

You both strode in silence for the remaining distance to the front gate. Once you arrived, Dog was instantly at your feet, demanding pets by nudging your hands with his wet nose. Grinning, you bent down to say your goodbyes to the loyal canine.

“Hey…” The sound of Daryl’s soft voice took your attention off of Dog. After placing a kiss on the top of Dog’s head, you stood up to your full height once again. “I’ll-uhm-I’ll see you soon, okay?” A nervous quiver was barely noticeable in his voice, but you knew Daryl well enough to be able to detect it. 

“Okay. See you soon.” You could only offer Daryl a small smile and a wave of your hand as you watched him leave.

As he stepped out of the gates of Alexandria, Daryl swore to himself that he would do anything it took to do right by you and prove himself worthy again. He didn’t care if it took days, weeks, months, years, or even up until the day he died. Daryl knew there was little to no chance that you would ever see him as a romantic partner again, but the archer wouldn’t stop trying to prove to you otherwise, and show you how much he still loved and cared for you.

-

-

A/N: So, what do you guys think? I know I left it a bit ambiguous, again, but I think it’s up to you to decide if Reader eventually forgives Daryl and is able to reconnect with him. Also, I changed Dog’s origins a bit in this fic, considering I established that Daryl’s fling with Leah was only a one time thing. Anyways, thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed!!

Part 3

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x y/n #the walking dead #twd #the walking dead fanfiction #twd fanfiction

[blossomwritesthings]

𝐝𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝? 𝐢𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞. | 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐦 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭

part two of do you feel my hand? it is there. | part one | part three | part four | part five | part six | part seven | part eight | part nine | part ten | part eleven | part twelve

pairing: minho x fem!reader (afab)

genre: veterinarian!minho (this includes a few of the skz members working in his clinic). client!reader. hurt/comfort. angst. fluff. smut - MDNI, 18+ only. reader pov. strangers to lovers au. slowburn romance. lots of pining.

content & warnings: explicit & strong language. very thematic elements. minho is reader's vet. reader's childhood cat suddenly gets diagnosed with cancer, and she has to make a big decision about what to do. this fanfic includes heavy topics like: pet euthanasia, extreme loss/grief, depression, the problems with pet healthcare, and more. there will be some humor/fluff placed throughout, and also smut somewhere along the way. :))

18+ warnings: masterbation. sexual fantasies. kinda perv behavior but not really??

word count: 3.0k

summary: dr. lee minho is known throughout your area as the city's hottest veterinarian, and he's also the very man that's been taking good care of your two cats for the past three years. but one day, you're thrown down a dark path of heartache when the cat that you've grown up with - nyx - is diagnosed with an acute form of bone cancer. burdened with the hardest decision of your entire life, you come at a crossroads of what to do. and throughout it all, minho is the single most person who continually stays by your side.

a/n: i seriously contemplated on whether or not I should post this chapter, after all of the events of this week. I want to make sure that I am cautious and sensitive to everyone during such a painful time. but in the end, I decided to post this since perhaps, it might help a few of you out there who are dealing with so many emotions right now. I cried while I was writing this last week because it brought up so many feelings that I felt when I had to put down my dog almost 2 years ago. so if this chapter make you sad, please don't feel bad about that or think that you're alone, because I swear that you're not. next week's chapter will be a little bit on the lighter side of things (but just barely). take care of yourselves, okay?? take everything one day at a time. allow yourself to feel a plethora of things, or nothing at all. everyone is different and processes things at a variety of paces. this isn't a race, this is life. and as always, my asks/dms are always open if you just need to vent to a listening ear. I love you guys, and... stay strong, yeah?? ❤️

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ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʀᴇᴘᴏsᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ sɪᴛᴇs (ᴛʜɪs ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇs ᴛʀᴀɴsʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴs). ©ʙʟᴏssᴏᴍᴡʀɪᴛᴇsᴛʜɪɴɢs ⤐ ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛs ʀᴇsᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ

You decided to schedule the appointment on a Sunday afternoon, that way you’d be off of work. Since the night you had spent with Dr. Lee in the waiting room after hours three weeks before, he had continually checked up on you throughout the weeks by way of numerous phone calls. And it felt like, with each one that passed, they seemed to grow longer, as the two of you talked about everything and nothing - all in hopes of trying to get your mind off of the imminent date. 

 From your daily phone calls, you had gleaned some valuable information from Dr. Lee - like the fact that he had been single since he opened up the clinic three years prior since it was pretty hard to keep up a long-term relationship when he was so busy with clients and managing a successful business. 

 You didn’t even know how the topic of romantic adventures came up in your daily wellness calls, but all at once, you were confiding in Dr. Lee about your most recent boyfriend which had broken up with back in university. But you didn’t go into too much detail about the relationship, and you skimmed over the… bad parts of it all. 

  You alluded to your horrible breakup with your ex during the conversation, and you briefly mentioned your ex’s awful treatment of you at the very end of the relationship - but you never crossed the line of professionalism and confessed to all the bitterness you still held for your ex. No, you didn’t think Dr. Lee needed to know such intimate details about your life. But also, he probably wouldn’t care. After all, the phone calls were only a means to an end… 

 And besides, no one else in the entire world knew the extent of your old relationship, so you didn’t see any point in telling a random veterinarian about such a dark part of your past.

 The calls seemed to help somewhat - if only to take your mind off of the looming date. But then, as soon as Dr. Lee hung up, your thoughts were clouded with the pain of losing Nyx all over again. 

 Slowly, you were watching her deteriorate. Dr. Lee warned you that things would go downhill quite fast, and fast they did - since Nyx hardly wanted to eat her meals anymore, even when you’d try to coax her with her favorite treat of a fresh sardine. She was incredibly lethargic and because of the weight loss that she experienced from the lack of an appetite, her thinness only caused more pressure to be put on her legs, which was where the cancer was located. 

 Throughout it all, Dr. Lee did a tremendous job of preparing you for the day - the day that you were expecting to take the place in your mind as the worst moment in your entire life. The two of you planned it so that his schedule was completely free for the procedure. Originally, he told you that he usually doesn't accompany his clients into the euthanization room, and instead leaves it up to the vet techs to take care of the protocol. But without you even having to ask him, he assured you that he’d be with you the entire time - that he’d be the administer of the drug. Because he already knew, that having anyone else there with you wouldn’t help, not in the least bit. Sure, Yongbok and Hyunjin and Seungmin were good techs, but nothing could compare to the utterly calming presence that Dr. Lee alluded… with his soft, brown eyes and his slight smile and- 

 You were thinking about him again- damn it. 

 Because besides being cluttered with the pain of losing Nyx, your mind was also full of so many thoughts about… him. 

 And how, ever since that night in the clinic, he had continued to call you by your first name. No honorifics, no pretense. And even though he felt familiar and warm to you, you still felt somewhat uncomfortable to drop the doctor title. You wondered if he thought it was odd, how he was addressing you informally, and yet you were still doing the ‘keep it professional’ bit.

 When you were busy working at your desk throughout the day, you found your eyes constantly moving over to the side to check your phone. To see if he had called you.

 While you were eating your packed lunch by yourself in your office’s break room, your mind kept replaying the way that it had felt, when he had touched you that night - with those slender fingers and warm palms of his. 

 When you were lounging on your apartment’s small sofa, watching tv before you went to bed, your thoughts drifted off to the sound of his voice, and the way that he always said your name so delicately. 

 But perhaps worse of them all, is what you would do late at night, when you lay wide awake wrapped up in your duvet covers in bed. Because instead of thinking about Nyx, your musings drifted off to him, yet again.

 And perhaps it had something to do with your exhaustion from the end of the day, 

 Or the fact that it was so very dark in your bedroom, 

 But more often than not, your imagination would get the best of you, and all at once, things were turning deeper, dimmer…

 Flashes of him, and that smile that he always gave you when he first saw you during a visit, danced across your vision, 

 As you imagined what he’d look like, staring you down, bright eyes glued to your exposed self. 

 You dreamed about that pretty, red mouth of his, lips turning kiss-swollen and sticky from your very essence. 

 You wondered how it’d feel, to have him towering over you, whispering sinful words into your ear with that sly tongue of his, as he pressed you further down into the bedsheets. 

 And when those thoughts came upon you, you just… couldn’t help yourself. 

 Hand playing with yourself- 

 Grazing over pert buds, 

 Tickling a sensitive waist, 

 Spreading swollen lips, 

 Brushing against a throbbing knot, 

 Pushing past folds and curving inward. 

 And every time, the only thing that crossed your mind, was him. 

 Him - and his smell and his voice and his built frame. 

 In those heated moments of twilight, you only ever made one single sound as you thrashed about between your thick duvet covers…

 “Minho.” 

 The name fell from your bitten-raw lips in whispers, cries, and pleas. 

 Maybe it was because you hadn’t been with a man in so long, 

 Or maybe it was because you were a grown woman and so naturally, you were extremely horny most of the time. 

 But all at once, as you delved into such fantasies late at night, you realized that the attraction to him had always been there. 

 You had just tried to mask it with honorifics and professionalism since you didn’t want to cross any lines. Since you figured that a man of his stature - of wealth and success - would never stoop so low to date a woman like yourself. 

 Even still, none of that stopped you. 

 Stopped your midnight explorations or the way that he seemed to inherently infect your very being with every breath that you took throughout the day. 

 But eventually, the crest of sadness took over everything again, as the day finally came to a head. To your relief, the weather outside on that Sunday afternoon was bright and sunny. You didn’t know what you’d do with yourself if it had been grey and drizzling. 

 You stopped just outside of the clinic’s doors, forcing yourself to take a good look at it all, as you held Nyx in her carrier at your side. It’d be the last time that you stepped through these doors with her in hand. 

 And that’s when the tears started. They silently traced down your cheeks, even as you shuffled through the clinic’s front doors slowly. The bell above your head signaled your arrival, and as if on cue, Jisung and Chan’s heads turned in unison from their computers at the front desk to where you stood at the entrance of the clinic. 

 In an instant, Jisung was getting out of his chair and flitting over to you. “Hi, Y/N,” he said in a soft voice, offering you a gentle smile. “Hi, Nyx.” He bent down in front of you, peering into the black carrier and cooing at your cat. 

 “How long is the wait time?” You asked, voice shaky as you clutched a little harder on the handle of the carrier. 

 Jisung peered up at you then, his big, doe-like brown eyes shining with compassion. “About ten minutes.” 

 You nodded without saying another word, as you began to make your way over to the front desk to check in for your appointment. The entire time you spoke with Jisung, Chan had been watching the two of you in silence, assessing the atmosphere and displaying a compassionate face.

 “Ji said it’s gonna be ten minutes.” Is all you said, as you stood in front of the wooden front desk. You couldn’t meet their eyes anymore, your vision too blurry with tears. And frankly, their pity just made you feel even worse just then.  

 “Yeah, that’s about right,” Chan began, typing away at his computer. Then he slid over a clipboard and had you sign your name at the end of the document. Signing away on the procedure. Signing away on Nyx’s life. “And… I’m so sorry, Y/N.” 

 “Me too.” You whispered before you were pulling away from them and taking a seat near the doors to the back of the clinic. Usually, while you waited for your appointment, you’d scroll through social media on your phone or pick up a nearby magazine and peruse the articles. 

 This time, you just sat there. You sat there in utter despair and silence, before deciding to pull out Nyx from her carrier. She was a little less warm than she had always been, and the thinnest you had ever seen her. Even still, she looked beautiful to you. You pressed your face into her midnight-black fur, taking in the sweet smell of her and nuzzling into her pliable skin. 

 “I love you so much, girl,” you muttered into her coat, before giving her a few kisses. “I’m sorry I couldn’t do more for you…” 

 The minutes ticked by slowly after that, as you clutched on protectively to Nyx. As you kissed your childhood best friend. As you fought for the last seconds spent with the single most stable thing in your entire life. 

 And then, you heard the fateful call of your name ring out across the waiting room. You stood from your chair, muscles moving like they were trapped in a vat of sticky molasses. Your gaze was fixated on the ground at your feet, so you didn’t see who had called your name. 

 “Right this way,” it was Hyunjin’s angelic-like voice that graced your ears, as you walked through the threshold and into the back hallway of the clinic. You felt his hand land atop your shoulder, his slender fingers gently squeezing there in a soothing gesture. 

 Then he was leading you through the back hallways, past the examination rooms that you had sat in with Nyx countless times. Finally, he stopped just in front of a door that was painted in a baby-blue color. 

 “The doctor will be right with you,” Hyunjin began, his tone ghostly-faint and fading away behind you as your eyes locked with the room you were about to be left alone in. “I’ll be right here when you’re done.” 

 You didn’t even register the door being shut closed behind you, too focused on the decorations that were placed throughout the room. The walls were painted a sky-blue, with a beautiful stain-glass window in the center of the room. The scene depicted a magnificent sunset, bursting with colors that were burnt cayennes and violets. The room was quite small, but the bright, real flowers placed throughout the area helped to add life to the otherwise depressing atmosphere - with their brilliant yellows and reds. Just underneath the stained glass window was a small pedestal that was covered in a thick duvet and plastic rap, and off in the corner of the room was a sliding glass window with a curtain shielding the other side of the glass. 

 You sat down on the nearby bench, looking at everything around you. Looking at the pedestal that was before you - where Nyx would be laid to rest. And it felt like your heart was bleeding irrevocably inside of your chest, straining and pumping at the same time as you tried to come to terms with the situation at hand. 

 At least she was going to join the afterlife in a safe space - at least it was beautiful looking and- 

 Your thoughts were interrupted by the shutting of the door that you had originally walked through. Lifting your head from Nyx who was peacefully dozing in your arms, you came face-to-face with Dr. Lee. He was dressed in his usual garb of black slacks and a white doctor's coat. 

 “How are you doing, Y/N?” Was the first thing he asked, as he shut the door behind him and neared you. He knelt in front of your knees, taking both of your hands in his and giving them a gentle squeeze. 

 That’s when you managed to find the courage to look up into his eyes finally, and the heartache and pain that you found there just made it hurt a little bit more. You felt your bottom lip quake, as the sobs freely flowed from you. You didn’t even have to reply since he already knew how difficult this was for you. So he kept quiet, not moving from his position in front of you and holding onto you as you cried yourself to exhaustion. 

 “I-I’m ready,” you finally said, roughly scrubbing at your eyes with the palm of one of your hands to try and knock some sense into yourself. 

 “Are you sure?” He questioned, the concern dripping in his voice from the way that it deepened somewhat. 

 You nodded furiously, heart hurting so much that it felt like you were going to drop dead from a heart attack any minute. “Y-Yeah.” 

 Then his hands were slipping away from yours, leaving a fierce shiver to course down the length of your spine at the absence of his touch. He stood close to the curtained window and tapped on the glass once, and you turned your head to the side just in time to glimpse Yongbok pushing the glass aside before he handed over a metal dish that had a small syringe placed in it. 

 You swallowed around the huge lump that was forming in your dry throat. And when Yongbok offered you a sincere, comforting smile, all you could do was nod once before he was shutting the glass door again, pulling the curtain closed to give you and Dr. Lee some privacy. 

 Then it was all happening at once - too quickly for you to even grasp - as Dr. Lee was gently taking Nyx from your grasp and laying her down on the cushioned pedestal. She put up no resistance and nudged her little black nose into the palm of his hands, purring in satisfaction. She had always had a soft spot for the doctor. 

 You stumbled over to her, grabbing hold of one of her paws and squeezing it delicately. You peered up at Dr. Lee through hazy eyes, his face a blotch of color shining through your tear-stained vision. “P-Promise me it’ll be painless, doctor. You- you have to promise me…” Your voice broke off at the end of your words, as you leaned down into Nyx and pressed kiss after kiss into her silky fur. 

 “She won’t feel a thing, Y/N. I promise.” You heard Dr. Lee say before he was moving again, picking up one of her paws in bated silence. You felt his eyes on you, as you cried into Nyx’s warm skin for the last time. 

 “I love you so much, girl…” You whispered, voice barely audible to your ears. Cracking irrevocably. “I’ll see you again someday- so... just wait for me there, yeah?” 

 Then, almost like she could understand your words, Nyx moved her head over to your neck and nuzzled into you, purring lowly. The sobs wracked through your body, as you felt Dr. Lee leaning into her at the same time as you held her close. 

 You squeezed your eyes shut, like if you closed them long enough, everything would disappear. 

 The pain, 

 The loss, 

 The fear. 

And then just like that, Dr. Lee was sighing heavily, a metric ton of agonizing weight in just his breathing alone. “It’s done.” 

 In the blink of an eye, it was all over. 

 You clutched onto Nyx’s languid body, holding onto her for dear life. Perhaps, if you held her long enough, she’d come back. 

 But nothing happened. 

 There was no more purring, 

 Or meowing, 

 Or scratching. 

 Just… 

 Utterly nothing. 

 Silence. 

 And that was the worst part about it all. 

“It hurts,” you began, voice not even sounding like your own from all of the dryness and the crying, “it hurts so fucking much.” 

 You were shaking your head then, still clutching at one of Nyx’s little pink paws. Then you felt arms wrap around your waist, pulling you against a firm chest. Hands clutched at your sides, and you all but turned around to bury your face into the warmth of Dr. Lee. 

 “I know,” he said in a hushed tone, his deep, melodic voice so close to your ear that it sent a ripple of shivers across your skin. “I know it hurts, Y/N, but I’m here…” 

 And then you could do nothing more, 

 As a new wave of grief washed over you, 

 Suffocating the very air right out of your lungs, 

 Drying out your entire being, 

 Causing the dull pain of a bad headache to bloom across either of your temples. 

 All you could do at that point was cry and cry and cry, your entire body violently shaking as you held onto Dr. Lee for dear life. And he made no point of pulling away from you. Almost like, he had planned to be there all along. 

To be continued...

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©ʙʟᴏssᴏᴍᴡʀɪᴛᴇsᴛʜɪɴɢs⤐ ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛs ʀᴇsᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ

#stray kids #skz #stray kids fanfic #stray kids oneshot #stray kids scenario #skz oneshot #skz fanfic #skz scenario #skz imagine #stray kids imagine #skz angst #stray kids angst #skz fluff #skz fluff and angst #skz smut #stray kids smut #stray kids fluff #skz minho #stray kids lee know #stray kids minho #skz minho angst #skz minho fanfic #skz minho oneshot #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #skz minho x reader #skz lee know x reader #stray kids minho x reader #minho #lee Minho

[imtotallynormalmhmyes]

Simon in a Speedo??

Ghost x Transmale!reader

Read Chapter 1 here.

TW: Implied Car Crash/drunk driving, grief, death of a friend

Chapter 2:

Crossing the bar's threshold seems to bring you into a different world as the light, salty air dissipates against the thick wall of cigar smoke and acrid alcohol. It's safe to say that this wasn't your crowd. You never felt welcome into the hypermasculine, beer-drinking, rugby-watching (though you didn't mind looking at rugby players) scene, and you felt that same isolation now. Johnny and his friends fit in seamlessly. They belong here. You don't.

You all squeeze into a table in the corner, and you're again pressed between two men, this time Johnny and Price. That leaves Ghost and Gaz across from you, making it hard to know where to look. Gaz makes your heart flutter and head spin, and Ghost makes you feel like a body on a slab. You decide to focus on tracing the grains on the wooden table.

Johnny goes off to get everyone some drinks and leaves you to chew on the awkward silence between the four of you. Eventually, Price speaks up. "So, um, Y/N... what do you do?" It takes a moment for you to process that someone is speaking to you, leaving Price to stare at you for a painfully awkward amount of time.

"Oh, I'm a professor. Literature," you tumble out, and your career earns you appreciative nods. The attention was stifling, but you promised to Johnny that you'd try your best to make friends.

Before you could continue, Johnny mercifully changes the subject as he put the drinks in front of you all. "You wouldn't believe the prices at this place," he slides into the booth next to you and rambles on about prices and the economy, something you couldn't care less about. You swirl your Shirley Temple with disinterest before a gravelly voice asks, "Not a drinker?" When you look up, you're met with Ghost's gaze.

The subject isn't a comfortable one. You don't talk much about your sobriety because of the reason behind it, "Not really, drank enough in uni for a lifetime." Your mind goes back to that night six years ago, the shattered glass, crumpled metal, and your best friend... Johnny knowingly puts a hand atop yours, anchoring you to the present moment.

Sensing the tender subject, Ghost answers with a simple "Ah" before changing the subject, but you feel his gaze on you long after that.

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

Two hours. That time in the stifling bar makes you feel claustrophobic, so you step outside to get some air. Turns out Ghost had the same idea, lounging on one of the outdoor benches with a cigarette between his lips. You were almost hoping he wouldn't notice your presence, but he glances at you and scoots over for you to sit. Guess I have no choice.

He waits so you can settle in before saying, "I know what it's like to lose someone."

Your eyes widen. You had said nothing about the loss of your friend, but he somehow knew as if he was a mind reader. "Johnny told me," he admits. Oh. "But what I'm trying to say is... I'm just trying to say that I understand."

And there it is, the grief. That pestering, virulent grief never seemed to go away no matter how many days had passed. Sure, it got "easier". You no longer sobbed every time the show Friends was on or when you passed her favorite coffee shop. However, that overwhelming pain still seemed to reach out to you and wrap its hands around your neck, and despite trying to push the dam closed, tears trailed down your cheeks. Ghost's discomfort was apparent, and it only served to intensify the flow of tears. You were burdening this poor man with a stranger's grief.

Slowly, hesitantly, he wraps an arm around your shoulder, "'s alright. Let it out."

#cod fanfic #ghost x reader #trans!male reader #trans reader #ghost x male reader #ghost x y/n #ghost x you