#so its me and my friend ibuprofen | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

loveshotzz · 10 months

Text

All I Really Want Is You

older!neighbor!widower! steve x fem!reader chap four/ten - a slow burn series of blurbs - updated every wednesday

Good Morning & Goodnight

summary: Your first night out with friends ends when Steve’s work day begins.

wc: 1.2k

warnings: 18+ series for future chapters, we’re a hot mess but Steve loves it.

authors note: It’s a shorty! I can’t believe we’re almost half way through. 🥹 this is a stepping stone chapter for the next one but it doesn’t mean that I didn’t at least give you something 😉

🌇 chapter three <- -> chapter five

The Masterlist/The Playlist/The tune:

Middle of June - 6:15am Monday Morning

Free drinks with your coworkers at the bar after close seemed like a great idea, until you were stumbling out of the club with a few of the other girls at dawn. Birds chirp loudly into the fuschia sky, mocking the hangover that was sure to hit as soon as your stomach processed the breakfast sandwich you ate on the train ride home.

The dull throb of your dehydration headache starts rearing its annoying head once you hit your street, your platform sandals dragging against the sidewalk. You can feel the way your eyeliner starts making your lashes stick with every slow sleepy blink of your eyes. Throat dry, all you can think of is your Brita in the fridge and how much you hope you refilled it last night.

“Howdy neigh- oh, honey.”

Your eyes widen when you hear the voice of the last person you want to see you like this. but you know there’s nowhere to hide when you reach your gate right as Steve’s leaving his. Meeting his gaze sheepishly, you can feel the heat rise up your neck and cheeks. You remember the blurry image of your smeared make up in the club bathroom mirror a few hours ago.

“Hi Steve.” You give him a small wave, embarrassment making you kick the sidewalk with the toe of your sandal.

“Fun night?” He smirks, pulling his Raybans on top of his head and pushing the hair out of his face. Specks of gray stand out on the sides in the fresh new light. His face is clean shaven, a crisp white dress shirt fitting tight across his chest, the outline of the tank top underneath visible. It brings you back to the way it clung to his muscles in your kitchen last week.

“Yeah, actually it was.” You use the last of your strength to form a smile, immediately wincing when you do and he has to stifle a laugh.

“I’m glad to hear it, although I do hope you don’t work today.” He reaches down adjusting the belt around his waist, before shoving a hand in his black dress slacks leaning against the gate with the other. His silver watch is just as shiny as his shoes.

“No I’m of -“ your voice cracks, making you clear your throat and suddenly the sun is extra bright. “No, I’m off today.”

“Good and please tell me you have ibuprofen up there?” Genuine worry paints his handsome features, he knew what a first Chicago hangover was like. It takes all of his will power not to work from home so he can check up on you the rest of the day.

“Yes, I’m not completely useless in taking care of myself you know?” You don’t mean for it to sound so snippy, but the hangover is getting the best of you and getting words out feels like knives to your skull.

His eyebrows raise, a little shocked before his face relaxes with a warm smile. A silent understanding.

“I didn’t mean it like that tough girl.” He straightens up with rosy cheeks.

“I’m sorry, that was rude. I’m just really tired and Ubers were like a million dollars -“ You can hear how your words start to shake, the lack of sleep finally catching up with you.

He steps forward on instinct, arms starting to outstretch in a hug, only to stop once his brain connects with the movements of his body. Maybe it was the little bit of alcohol still left in your system that makes you bold enough to meet him in the middle, but there is no turning back when your arms snake around his waist.

The muscles in his abdomen flex against your touch, and you feel him freeze up for a second before pulling you tight into his chest. The aftershave and cologne are overpowering against your senses, but you don’t care, inhaling deeply. He rubs a soothing palm down the dip of your spine with just enough pressure to make you sigh.

“I know, it feels like death,” he chuckles, “Go get some sleep okay honey?” His words come out soft against the top of your head before he gives the sides of your arms a squeeze pulling back just enough to see your face.

You want to kiss the two moles that sit side by side on his cheek, especially when he looks at you like this.

“Sorry for the dramatics at 6:30 in the morning.” You can’t help but giggle, brushing away the glitter that rubbed off onto his clean shirt.

The way he smiles with all his teeth tells you he could care less.

“Hey, you might not believe it but I used to have many nights like this way back when, alright?” He gets the eye roll that makes his whole day, and he has to resist the urge to pull you in for another hug.

“Suuuure grandpa,” you tease — his affection enough to make you feel like a functioning person even if just for a few minutes.

He scoffs with fake offense before he gives you one of those winks that makes you weak in the knees, and for a second you think he might kiss your forehead.

“Alright, I need to get to work and you need to go to bed. Don’t be a stranger if you need anything later okay?” He rubs up and down your arms before finally stepping back and you wish he’d just come lay with you.

You muster a nod before straightening out your wrinkled dress, shyness coming back when he slips his sunglasses back on. Why did he always have to look so good?

“Have fun at work, I promise I won’t die. I just need some water and a shower.” You try and wave off his worry as you make your way through your gate.

“You better not. Bandit would be very upset about losing his new best friend.” It’s his turn to get sheepish. “Me too.”

It doesn’t hurt when you smile this time.

“You have my word Steve.” You put your palm against your heart in a vow just for him.

“That’s my girl.” He grins, twirling his keys before catching them in hand, finally turning around to go to his car and leaving you a mess on your front steps.

That’s my girl.

The words play in your head on a loop while you shower, when you drink your bodyweight in water, and as you take enough ibuprofen to give you an ulcer. They haunt your dreams when your body gives into sleep and your headache finally subsides.

A loud knock on your front door wakes you from the kind of sleep that leaves you with a sore throat and a foggy brain. The sun is lower in the sky that shines through the crack of your new curtains, your clock reading 6:05 pm in glaring red letters when your eyes catch the time.

You can barely pick your feet off the ground when you shuffle to the door, a yawn loud enough to hear over the whir of the A/C. You unlatch the dead bolt, and when you open to see what’s on the other side, you’re reminded of his words from earlier that felt like a lifetime ago. They make you feel special again like they did at six in the morning despite the roll of your eyes, your lips twitch when you read the note that’s attached to the Doordash hangover cure from your handsome neighbor.

beta’d by @superblysubpar

dividers by @newlips

🌇 -> chapter five

#steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington smut #older!steve harrington #steve harrington slow burn #steve harrington series #stranger things fanfiction

678 notes · View notes

kdogreads · 9 months

Text

Imagine moving in with Carmy

You didn’t really mean for it to happen.

Carmy lived closer to work and most of your friends’ places, so you started staying there if you worked a late night or got too drunk on a Saturday night and didn’t want to Uber all the way home.

You’d call him after the bar closed and nearly give Carm a heart attack:

Baby? Are you alright? What happened, where are you?

Carmyyy, can you pretty pleaaaase come pick me up?

Don’t want to ride all the way home?

No, Carm, it’s so farrrrrrr

S’okay, baby. I’ll be there in 5

You start leaving clothes and shoes there

Just in case you had an early meeting. Or needed something to wear when you two went hiking after work. It could snow in May in Chicago — what if you needed your boots and coat to shovel out your car? All valid points Carmy made to persuade you to leave some stuff at his place.

Of course, Carmy got you your own toothbrush not too long after you started staying over. He made you mean dinners, but neither of you wanted to hang out all night long with onion or garlic breath.

He slowly starts accruing a stash of everything you may need: tampons, ibuprofen, makeup wipes, socks (the no-shows you like), even that sugar-free dairy-free coffee creamer Carmy thought you paid way too much for.

You change your delivery address to his

On everything from Amazon to your monthly makeup subscription, it just makes more sense for it to go to Carm’s. Otherwise it’ll just sit at your apartment’s office for days.

Your mail starts coming there, too, since you put his address down whenever you sign up for anything new.

It doesn’t come up until your lease is almost up

Carm’ll hit you with those sad, puppy dog eyes, sweetly questioning you why you bother to pay for a whole apartment you’re hardly at.

Why don’t you, uh, just stay, stay here?

Are you asking me to move in with you, Bear?

Yeah, yeah I guess I am. Move in with me.

Moving day is pretty simple

Seeing as most of the stuff you need is already at Carmen’s place. Your place.

Marcus, Ebra and Richie all come to help, insisting you didn’t need to hire movers with all that man-power around.

You decide to just sell all your big furniture on Facebook marketplace, aside from a funky chair you couldn’t part with and all of your eclectic art collection.

Carmy gives you free reign to redecorate however you want. He doesn’t have much on the walls to begin with, so you meticulously place every piece of art in its perfect place. Carm doesn’t understand all of it, but he loves it. It makes his empty apartment come to life. It feels like a home for the first time in a long time.

Carmy starts calling it “our place” right away

You still stumble here and there:

I left my jacket at Carmy’s, er, at home this morning.

But Carmy would shout it from the rooftops if he could. He’s so proud to be building a home, a life, with you.

Cousin! Can you stop by our place tonight and help us carry that god-awful futon out to the curb?

The two of you are more comfortable than you’ve ever been before

And you can’t wait to spend every night and every morning with Carmen in your home, the one you’re creating together.

#carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto fluff #carmen berzatto #carmy x you #carmy fluff #carmy berzatto x reader #carmy x reader #carmy the bear #the bear hulu #kdogreads #the bear

669 notes · View notes

moonstruckme · 7 months

Note

Hii!! I have a request if thats okay, its kinda weird tho so if you don't wanna do it thats totaly okay<3

So i have like a really sensitive stomach so if i eat like anything greasy or a lot of one thing i get a really bad tummy ache, especially after supper like i don't throw up or anything im just kinda useless for like 2 hours. So the request is if you could do poly x fem!reader (or one of them, whatever you prefer) and have them comfort her and stuff? Maybe like cuddles and belly rubs? Idk

Thank u for excisting btw, you really make my day everytime you post<3

Thanks sweetheart, hope you like it :)

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 1.1k words

Remus knocks at your door tentatively. He’d known something was off when you’d left dinner early, vague about why you had to get home but urgent in a way that unnerved him. He’d followed you out of the restaurant, hoping to catch you in the parking lot, but you’d already gotten on your bus. Remus knew you were probably fine, but he couldn’t shake his anxiety about the way you’d left and he’d made his excuses a few minutes later, ignoring the jeering protests of his friends as he set out for your apartment.

After knocking again, he tries the handle, surprised and a bit alarmed to find the door unlocked. He calls your name as he steps inside hesitantly, wary of startling you if you’ve gone to sleep or have just gotten out of the shower (that’s something he’d like to see under more consensual circumstances). “It’s Remus,” he says into the dark apartment, feeling a bit silly. “Are you here?”

“Rem,” a soft voice comes from the direction of the living room, “what’re you doing here?”

He moves toward the sound. “I came to check on you. Sorry for just letting myself in, but you left dinner so suddenly and I…oh, sweetheart.”

He finds you on the couch, all curled up with your face pinched in obvious pain.

“Honey, what happened?” he asks, crouching beside you. His hand comes up to pet your hair of its own accord.

“Nothing, I’m fine,” you say, the strain in your voice belying your words. “I just came home because my stomach was bothering me.”

Remus feels his brows pinch. “It hurts?” you nod, seeming embarrassed. He can’t imagine why, it’s not like you’ve any control over that sort of thing. “Do you think it was something you ate?”

You’re looking down at your knees, held tightly to your chest. “I…kind of,” you sigh. “This happens sometimes. Like, when I eat a lot of the same thing, or greasy foods.”

Remus nods thoughtfully. “So like, when James won’t stop piling fries onto your plate all night, and you feel like you have to eat them?” You look sheepish, and James is going to feel awful when Remus is through with him. He’s going to make damn sure nothing like this ever happens again on his watch. “I’m sorry, lovely,” he says. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

You hesitate. “I’ve got ibuprofen in the bathroom, but I haven’t wanted to get up. Could you bring it to me?”

Remus squeezes your shoulder lightly, standing. “Of course, sweetheart.”

He hurries to the bathroom, finding the small bottle of pills under the sink and bringing it back along with a cup of water. He shakes a couple of tablets into his hand, passing them to you, but withholds the water when you reach for it.

“Sorry.” He really is. “You’ve got to sit up to drink it, don’t want you to choke.”

You shuffle into an upright position, bracing your back against the couch with your knees still drawn tight to your front, and Remus hands the cup over. You swallow the pills with a light exhale, as if you’re already anticipating the relief they’ll bring.

“Thanks, Rem.”

“It’s no problem,” he replies, and he hopes you understand how much he means it. “How long does the pain usually last?”

You sigh. “A couple hours. I’ll probably just lie here and wait it out, I won’t be able to get to sleep until it stops.”

Remus tries not to pout at you, his heart aching with sympathy. “If you’d like, we could watch a movie or something,” he suggests, adding quickly. “But if you want me to leave so you can relax, I completely understand, love.”

You ponder for a second, your face still tight with pain. “No, that sounds nice,” you say after a second. “A distraction could help, and I’ll be more relaxed with you here anyway.”

Remus has to turn away so you don’t see the full force of his smile, occupying himself with your television. He holds up a movie for you to see, putting it in the VHS player once you approve. You waste no time in snuggling up to him when he sits next to you on the couch, and Remus wraps his arm around you happily, rubbing gently up and down your arm. You all but melt under his touch, softening against his side.

It’s a few minutes into the movie before he works up the courage to ask. “Do you think it would help,” he says, hoping his voice sounds at least remotely casual, “if I rubbed your stomach for you?”

You look at him in surprise. “Remus, that’s alright. You don’t have to.”

“I don’t mind,” he says, and he doesn’t. Even though he’s giddy from the feel of you pressed up against him, he’s not offering as some excuse to touch you. He just wants so desperately to help. Seeing you in pain is like a gut punch every time he looks at you, and if there’s anything that can make you more comfortable, he wants to be the one to do it. “Really, I just want you to feel better.”

“Okay, yeah.” You relax your grip on your knees, letting your thighs fall a few inches from your stomach and making an opening for him. “That’d be nice, thanks.” Remus watches your face, wary of any signs of discomfort as he brings his hand to your midsection.

“You’ll tell me if I hurt you at all, yeah?”

“I will,” you say. “But you won’t.”

Remus glows with your surety in him, but he’s still cautious as he draws his hand in small circles, gratified when you sigh. The movie casts blue light across your features, so he can see you a bit better as the crease between your brows evaporates, the tension around your mouth easing. Remus does his best to look like he’s watching the movie, but all his focus is on easing the upset in your abdomen, adjusting his methods any time you react even slightly in the positive or negative. Soon you’re completely molten against his side, blinks slowing as your eyelids start to droop heavily.

“Did the ibuprofen kick in?” he asks softly. “You look like you’re getting sleepy, dove.”

“I dunno,” you yawn, laying your cheek on his bicep, “maybe.”

Remus almost hates to suggest it, but he’s not quite selfish enough to keep himself from asking. “If you want to get to bed, I can go.”

“No, can you stay?” you yawn again, hugely. Remus tries not to stare, but you look adorable, cheek squished up against his arm and face soft with sleepiness. “Just until the movie’s done, please?”

Remus adjusts you against him, slouching so that you can lay your head on his shoulder without hurting your neck. “Yeah, of course I can stay, lovely.” He resumes rubbing your stomach, dropping a quick kiss on the top of your head. “I’ll stay as long as you’ll have me.”

304 notes · View notes

jujitto · 4 months

Text

모든 것 ★ 𝖤𝖵𝖤𝖱𝖸𝖳𝖧𝖨𝖭𝖦

. ﹙☆﹚. 𝗌𝗒𝗇𝗈𝗉𝗌𝗂𝗌 . even before you had come to realize he was your everything. he was your best friend, the boy who cared about you, your headache. regardless of what you called him, he would always be by your side, and to you, that meant the world. it meant everything.

. ﹙☆﹚. 𝗀𝖾𝗇𝗋𝖾 . 𝖺𝗇𝗀𝗌𝗍 & 𝖿𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿

. ﹙☆﹚. 𝗐𝖼 . 𝟥.𝟫𝗄

. ﹙☆﹚. 𝗇𝗍𝗐𝗋𝗄 𝗍𝖺𝗀𝗌 . @kflixnet @kbookshelf

7 years old

As a child your imagination always got the better of you. One day you were a pirate sailing the seas hunting for treasure and the next you were a race car driver with millions of fans. You were never at it alone though. You always had him by your side no matter what the adventure was. "Jay!" You yelled knocking on the front door of his house.

For a 7-year-old you sure had a loud voice. When the door opened you smiled looking up at the older woman. Ms. Lee the woman who claimed you as her daughter and who knew you well enough to know you had something up your sleeve, especially for a beautiful day like this.

You saluted the woman before speaking in a military voice. "Good Morning Ms. Lee Space Cadet Y/N reporting for duty!" You saluted to the older woman who chuckled at you. You giggled before trying to peer around her to see if you could see Jay but sadly you couldn't.

You looked up at Ms. Lee and smiled. "Can Jay come out and play?" You asked with your best smile. She smiled nodding as she called Jay's name telling him you were outside waiting for him. He appeared a second later rushing outside to greet you.

You pulled the boy into a hug as he hugged you back. "Are you ready for our space adventure!" You yelled handing him his walkie-talkie as he nodded. Off the two of you went into the great unknown or the neighborhood to be precise. Though it didn't matter if you two were exploring the cosmos, climbing Mount Everest, or deep diving into the ocean as long as you were together that's all that mattered.

12 years old

You were devastated when you heard the news that you couldn't go outside and hang out with the other kids. You didn't like that you were stuck inside because inside meant time away from doing what you loved and the people you loved to hang out with. You also didn't like the pain settling in the lower part of your abdomen. The pain came and went.

The pain started early in the morning which led to a dark red spot being discovered in your bed. Your mom was right by your side telling you that it was normal for girls your age to go through something like this which scared you. You weren't prepared for what your mom called a period.

Though your mom tried to help you better understand what was going on with your body you didn't want to hear any of it. The pains were unbearable. How could anyone put so much misery onto a 12-year-old?! You lay in bed holding your stomach.

You didn't bother to wrap your ponytail up with a scarf as you suffered. A cup of water and an empty package of ibuprofen lay on your side table. You couldn't help as the tears fell. The pain felt like it was getting worse with each passing second.

You wondered how your mom and all the women in your life with through this each month. The ibuprofen had yet to kick in as you continued to cry softly through it. The sound of your mom calling your name makes you sniffle and turn to face the door as it opened. Instead of your mom, it was Jay who wore a sad smile on his face as he held a bag which you could only presume was snacks.

He sat down beside you and handed you the bag which was filled with your favorites as you gave him a small smile before hugging him tightly. "My mom helped me pick out things that would make you feel better. Or at least make you happy." He said watching as you pulled out your favorite candy and a bear with the words get better written on its stomach.

That's when your tears started up again as you clutched the bear to your chest. Jay had a scared look on his face thinking he did something to upset you. You pulled him into another hug as you thanked him not only for being here with you but for making you feel a little less alone during the whole thing. "You're the bestest friend ever." You spoke into his neck as his cheeks burned a bright pink color as he hugged you back just as tightly.

14 years old

No one told you your teenage years would be filled with nothing but stress and anxiety. No one believed that you were going through something even as you wore that all-too-familiar smile on your face. No one saw the actual frown behind the smile. People thought you were perfectly fine and happy as you should be. No one bothered to look for the real emotions. It seemed now that you were a teenager you and your parent's relationship just wasn't the same.

To them, it seemed lately like you weren't doing what they asked of you even though you were. They would chastise you for every little thing you did. Not washing the dishes, not cleaning your room, not waking up early for school.

It was the little things like that that caused you so much stress and made you want to leave the place you called home. But where could you go? Sure the neighborhood you lived in was small and everyone knew everyone but you knew no one you could fully just go to and stay with unless you wanted your parents called.

That night you and your mom had gotten into an argument about your grades slipping. Words were tossed and not meant to be said. You sat in your room with nothing but silence in the air as you contemplated. That's the moment you knew you couldn't stay here at least not for the night. You grabbed your bag and exited through your window making sure to close it behind you as you went.

The soft taps against the window woke the boy who had been asleep in his bed. He didn't hesitate to peer out the side of the curtain trying to catch a glance at who it was. He only sighed in relief when he saw it was you. But he kind of felt his heartbreak when he noticed that you were crying.

He didn't hesitate to let you in. You sat on his bed with your knees tucked under your chin as you sighed peering around the dark room before at him. He sat up against the headboard waiting for you to explain what happened. "I just needed to get out of there. You know I'm just sick of the arguments over little things." You spoke as he listened.

He couldn't understand what you were going through but he knew all too well that you being here meant that it happened way too often. He sighed scooting next to you and pulling you into his side as you laid your head on his shoulder.

"C-can I stay here....just for the night?" You asked as he nodded. No words were said as you lay beside each other taking in the silence. The next morning his mom wasn't surprised to find you two snuggling in his bed after learning that you had run away from home. Your mom was called and you were taken back home. Before you left you hugged Jay. "Thank you." You whispered pressing a kiss to his cheek.

16 years old

High school was a new path for you and what some people called the big leagues. You never could understand what they meant by that until you got there. High school was filled with differences and changes. You had grown into your new body quite well so to say which of course attracted the attention of the male audience.

And you made friends with a lot of different people. You could say you were popular or well-liked but that's the one thing you didn't understand. Why were you so liked? Was it because of the way you carried yourself, how you looked, or just because of what you had? You never understood it nor did you care about it.

High school was also the time when past relationships had started to somewhat diminish. You never did spend as much time with your old friends as you did with your new friends not that you noticed. You were a teen who was just doing what normal teens do hanging out, getting into trouble, the normal teen things. But it wasn't just you who was distancing themselves and becoming a different person.

While you were making friends, partying, and doing bad things your best friend was doing the same it was just normal teen things but it was different especially when you guys weren't doing it together.

You guys weren't your seven-year-old selves who stuck together through thick and thin anymore. You guys were 16 years old and have different crowds and cliques that you were in and sometimes that just meant that separation would be involved. You know the saying old friends come and go.

In high school, it was also the start of your dating which was quite new to you. Though you did get the male audience's attention very easily it was kind of hard to find the right person because most of the time they only wanted you because of what you had. So when you were asked on a date by this junior you didn't hesitate to agree. This junior carried himself well, had good grades, was a gentleman, and was an athlete, anything that was near close to perfection was something that interested you.

But sometimes the perfect image can be blurred. Was it your fault that he didn't show up? You felt like it was. What did you do to make him not show up? You dressed up pretty. You were dressed in a black and blue overall dress with your white air forces. Your hair flowing down your back. The wind blowing past you makes you shiver. Peering down at your feet you could feel the tears start to well up in your eyes.

The whole thing left a sour taste in your mouth. You stood outside your house feeling like such a loser. The date was a waste of your energy and your mom wasn't even awake to help you through it.

You peered across the street at the house adjacent to yours before sighing. The knocks against the window tore the boy's gaze from the textbook in front of him. He looked confusingly before peering out the window and seeing you with almost bloodshot eyes.

He opened the window helping you through. He only noticed your attire when you were standing by his desk arms wrapped around yourself. He had wondered what you were doing out so late. "I-i-." You couldn't even finish your sentence before you broke down in tears.

Jay didn't wait a single moment before pulling you into his embrace. You cried on his shoulder as he held you. Though he didn't know what had happened he knew one thing and that was to make sure you were ok before you told him anything. He held as you cried and even as your sobs turned to soft whimpers.

"D-dating sucks." You mumbled as he chuckled still rubbing your back. "Maybe you're right but you can't let one date mess that up for you." He stated as you sighed looking over at him and his adorable smile. Maybe he was right? From the smile on his face, you knew he knew that he was right.

"You are a dork, you know that right?" You ask as he smiled nodding. "Well, this dork is your best friend." He replied pulling you into a tight hug as you laughed.

18 years old

Your senior year in high school was nothing like you imagined it to be. The past three years at this high school were filled with fun times, new friends, old friends, stress, and anxiety but those years don't compare to the one now. The last year of high school before you become an adult.

An adult who has struggles upon struggles with work, paying bills, and doing things that most people aren't too thrilled about doing. You weren't gonna pretend like people didn't tell you that adult life was going to be hard, especially for someone who just got out from being a teenager in high school and fully stepping into adulthood.

But for right now you were just content living your best remaining high school life. Everyone around you was buzzing about prom and graduation. You were so focused on trying to get your grades up to be able to graduate that you forgot all about prom.

Prom a time where all the cares in the world were taken away. A night where you got to spend time with your friends laughing, drinking, partying, and doing whatever it is you do after-prom. Though you don't know much about what you were going to do about prom especially since you spent all your time focused on just getting out of the place that had caused you so much suffering and anxiety.

You listened to your friends talk, talk, and talk about prom and what they will be wearing and who they would be going with while you just sat there silent. What could you say?! You didn't have anything prepared for prom which was five days from now. Maybe you just wouldn't go.

But you knew everyone would want you to go especially since you skipped out on the one in junior year. Maybe disappointing them would be OK? Who are you kidding they were your friends and you knew they would be upset if you didn't show up. You sighed questioning how are you supposed to find a dress, get your hair and nails done, and find a date within five days.

With a huff, you sat on the couch of your living room opening your textbook. Jay sat beside his glasses on and eyes peering at you. "What's wrong with you?" He asked as you sent him a glare. Why did he think something was wrong with you just because you huffed and groaned? Ok, maybe something was wrong with you? "Are you going to prom?" You ask as he gave you a confused look before shrugging.

You turned your body to face him. "Because if you aren't maybe we can go watch a movie or hang out." You spoke. He shrugged yet again before raising his eyebrow in somewhat amusement and confusion. "Wait you don't want to go to prom?" He asked somewhat surprised. Like he couldn't believe that you out of everyone didn't want to go.

"I mean it's already too late to get everything ready for it. Like I have only 4 days to get my hair and nails done, find a dress, and don't get me started on a date." You groaned slouching in your seat. He just shook his head and rolled his eyes. He thought you were blowing the whole thing out of proportion. It was just a dance.

"Look if you don't find a date within the next 4 days then I'll go with you and we can embarrass ourselves to meet's end, ok?" He spoke as you turned to look at him. Was he agreeing to be your +1 if you didn't find a date? You found it cute as you hugged him as he tried his best to get away from your grasp.

At school, everyone went about their usual routines as did yourself. Well, some did. You stood at your locker in surprise as the words 'Will you go to prom with me?" were glued to it. You looked around trying to spot the person who did it only to stop looking when a boy you had only seen a few times around school stood in front of you with a bouquet of roses. Your mouth agape as your hands clenched your textbooks tight to your chest.

Maybe it was the fact that he asked you the question in front of what seemed to be the whole school that caused you nervousness. As gently as you could you let him down. You could see the sadness make his way up on his face as he was comforted by what you could only presume were his friends.

What had caused you to reject his offer? Maybe it was the fact that you didn't know him that well or the fact that you wanted to go to prom with Jay? You didn't know. Your friends came up to ask questions which you tried your best to answer and not let them know too much.

For the remainder of the day, you tried avoiding anyone you knew had a crush on you or tried to ask you out before because you knew that they would at least try to ask you to prom which you would reject. Prom was still approaching fast and you still had things to be done like finding a dress and getting your hair done.

Your nails were finished and ready to go. To say your mom was more excited than you for prom would be an understatement because it was clear she was thrilled about it. It was like she didn't go to her prom. She wanted to be a big help so she scheduled you a hair appointment with her friend which you were thankful for.

At the end of the appointment, you stood staring at yourself in the mirror. Your hair was a 26-inch body wave in the color black. You were now one step closer before your whole prom situation would be settled.

Dress shopping wasn't something you thought would be hard. But boy were you wrong. You and your mom have been in the dress shop for quite some time approximately three hours to be exact and yet you still haven't found the dress. Just when you thought everything was going well there was a problem. There wasn't a dress that you knew you would like to wear to prom.

Maybe you should've done your shopping and prepared for prom earlier because maybe you would've had your dress by now? Just as you were about to give up your mom came around the corner with the silk blue bodycon mermaid dress.

To you the dress was perfect. You didn't need a really big puffy dress to live your best life at prom. You just needed something you would look good in and feel comfortable in. The day had arrived prom was here and you were nervous. Why were you nervous oh because you didn't think you would look good.

But the moment you opened the door Jay's mouth dropped. What could he say? That you looked beautiful but that would be an overstatement because you looked beautiful every day. But at this moment and point in time, you looked gorgeous to him. You smiled at him taking in his appearance. You thought he looked handsome in a tuxedo.

Though the moment was short-lived as your guy's parents wanted to take photos of you two. After what seemed like an eternity of taking pictures you guys finally went off to prom. As you guys entered the building everything was in full swing already. People were laughing and drinking. You both excused yourselves to go talk amongst your friend group.

Your friends were so happy to see you there as they complimented you for how you looked and also scolded you for not telling them that you were coming with Jay out of everyone. For about an hour or so you stuck with your friend group chatting and dancing on the dance floor. When a slow song started to play you were about to exit the dance floor when your friends pushed you toward where Jay stood.

You glared at them before walking over to the boy. You nudged his shoulder with yours before grabbing his hand and pulling him onto the dance floor with you. His arms looped around your waist as you rest your arms over his shoulders. It was silent and awkward between you two as you danced.

"Thanks for coming with me. I would've been at home watching movies if it weren't for you." You spoke as he chuckled making you look up at him. "Watching movies probably not but making sure you graduate I could see." He spoke chuckling as you laughed alongside him.

You shook your head just staring at him. At times like this, you were glad to have someone like him in your life. You sighed laying your head on his chest as he continued to dance with you. The night soon came to an end and Jay had driven you home. He walked with you to the front door probably just trying to be a gentleman and wait for you to get into the house safe and sound.

You turned to face him as he wrapped his arms around you and hugged you. You sighed hugging the boy back. You pulled back kissing his cheek softly before entering the house and shutting the door behind you. Jay stood on the other side smiling and holding his cheek before returning to his home.

Prom was a success and now all you had to do was graduate. Graduation had come faster than anyone could ever imagine. You're about to walk across the stage and become a full-fledged adult. What was waiting on the other side of the stage for you was something you never imagined. The moment your name was called you felt like you had achieved your life goal. You have never felt happier in your life. You knew once your name was called you were officially not a high school student anymore. You couldn't believe it.

As you walked across the stage you can hear the cheers from your family members and friends. They were proud of you. Most importantly you were proud of yourself for making it as far as you did to be able to graduate. You received your high school diploma with the biggest smile on your face as your family took photos to celebrate and remember the biggest moment in your life.

You shook hands with your teachers who taught you so much in the past four years of your life. You knew you had made them proud. When you stepped off that stage you felt it. You were an adult now. Though the responsibilities could wait a little while longer.

Once everyone's names were called everyone threw their caps in celebration as they had finally made it out of high school. Your family was the first to congratulate you and greet you. You smiled at them thanking them for being here with you and encouraging you to keep going.

The moment you saw Jay you rushed into his arms hugging him tightly. You both did it. You graduated. Both of you went from kids who knew nothing about the big wide world to adults who would do great things in the world. Pulling back from the hug you wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him.

The boy who was with you through everything from childhood to teenager and now to adulthood. He pulled back from the kiss and smiled as you did the same. You knew he was the one you wanted to experience every little thing with. You were his and he was your everything.

137 notes · View notes

augustvandyne · 2 months

Note

Lucy chen x reader.

Lucy and reader are sent undercover as a couple. This brings up hidden feelings from both women, and Lucy shows up to r's apartment a couple of nights later, and confessions are made. (Reader is Angela's partner/best friend. R is a detective.)

lucy is actually my girlfriend and current obsession right now

this is really sucky, i apologize.

old feelings

It’s late, your head hurts, and you’re hungry, but you can’t seem to bring yourself to ignoring Angela’s phone call.

She normally never calls at night unless it’s super important. Whether it’s about work or her person life with the kids and/or Wesley.

“This better be real important Ang,” You hiss in pain when your head starts pounding even more than it already was. “And there better be a reward of Ibuprofen at the end of it.”

Angela chuckles tensely, “I’ll have Ibuprofen waiting here for you when you get to the station.”

You sigh, but stand nonetheless. You had a feeling something had happened after you left. But it may have also had to do with you just abruptly leaving without saying goodbye to Angela.

“There better be,” You scrunch up your face. “I ran out last night or I would have already taken some.”

“Alright, well, get here. There’s an undercover operation in the works, and they need you,” You can hear the nervousness in Angela’s voice.

“What’s wrong?” You swallow, the nervousness from Angela making its way to you.

“I’ll tell you when you get here,” Angela is shaking her head.

“Okay,” You hang up the phone and grab your keys, trying your best to ignore the pulsing in your head as you slam the apartment door and make your way out to your car.

You make sure to turn the volume of the radio the whole way down once you start the engine.

You breathe out a gust of air, making your way back to the station as fast as possible.

Angela held her promise, as she is standing in the lobby of the station as soon as you get there with a bottle of medication and a bottle of water.

“Talk to me,” You throw the pills in your mouth, drinking almost the whole bottle of water along with it.

“It shouldn’t be me,” You turn to see the pain in Angela’s eyes and you realize it has something to do with Angela’s personal life. Meaning her husband or kids.

“Oh Ang,” You pull her into her for a quick hug before the two of you speed to the conference room.

You see Wade, Nyla, Tim and Lucy all waiting there. Similar expressions in their faces.

“Someone better start talking,” You glance at each other them. Your gaze lingering on Lucy’s for longer than necessary.

“It’s Wesley,” Nyla breaks the silence, sparing a small look in Angela’s direction.

Your heart drops to the floor, “I had a feeling.”

“So let’s stop sitting around sulking about it and come up with a plan.”

“Officer Bradford,” Grey warns. “We have a plan—“

“We have an outline,” He corrects.

“Officer Bradford,” You shake your head, making your way to the empty seat beside Lucy. “Like you said, let’s stop wasting time. Share the outline with me.”

“As far as we know, Wesley Evers has been taken by Elijah Stone and his men.”

You feel Lucy stiffen beside you, and you assume it has to do with Elijah.

You had your own history with Elijah. Not like he had tried to come after you before, because he knows better than to mess with a cop straight on, but the station had been following Elijah for a long while now. And if you could catch him, you would do whatever it takes.

“..so there will be an undercover operation,” Nyla is talking now. You must’ve tuned Grey out while you were thinking. “For obvious reasons, we can’t have Angela go under. And we know I can’t, because I can’t risk my shared custody with my daughter again.”

“Is— is that why I’m here?” Lucy asks excitedly, sitting up in her seat.

“Precisely,” Grey tries to hold back a small smile.

“That’s also why I’m here,” You conclude.

“You catch on quick,” Tim remarks sarcastically.

You clench your jaw, and down the rest of your water.

“We think it would be better if we had people on the inside. People Wesley recognizes,” Nyla nods, looking at Wade so he could finish.

“Wesley will recognize you, and neither of you have went head on with Elijah or his men.. so you are our two viable options,” Grey nods, holding his hands in front of his waist.

“Separately? Or..” Lucy asks, and you look at her. She’s so adorable. So naive.

“Together, Chen,” Tim narrows his eyes. “Like as a couple.”

“Okay, seriously what’s up your ass?” You hollow your cheeks, having about enough of this man’s attitude.

“Detective—“

“No, you have no right to be disrespectful to anyone, let alone Officer Chen, who has been nothing but respectful since I’ve gotten here. So apologize,” You raise your brows when Tim just stands there. “Now.”

“I’m sorry, Chen,” Tim says, internally rolling his eyes.

“You didn’t have to—“

“I know,” You say, just barely missing the blush on her face.

Within the next forty-eight hours, the two of you are off on a plane, one of Aaron’s planes, to be specific.

They’d set up a small townhouse near where they suspected Wesley was being held.

You could feel the anxiety radiating off Lucy, but she never once said anything. You admired her strength through this all.

You and Lucy had a past, if that’s what you’d call it.

You trained her for a while there when Tim was out after being shot, and you’d shared moments, to say the least.

If you asked Angela, she probably would’ve told you that the two of you almost made out at one point, but you didn’t think that. Something about get together at the bar one night, and some longing stares.. you didn’t really know.

But you probably would have asked her out, had you not been in her line of work for the longest time.

You followed most of the rules - including the very strict and unnecessary dating policy.

Then by the time you made it to be up for the detectives exam, the both of you had forgotten about your longing glances and schoolgirl crushes.

Until now.

Lucy is sitting on the edge of the bed now, tapping her fingertips on her lower thighs as a nervous tic. She bites her lip, probably hard enough to draw blood. That was something you remember about her.

“Are you okay, Lucy?” You tilt your head, moving to sit beside her on the bed.

“Yeah,” She shrugs. “This is kind of my first real operation, and I know if I mess up, Angela will have my head.”

“I won’t let her,” You say after a beat of silence.

“Why would you care?” Lucy’s brows furrow, not a hint of anger in her voice. Only curiosity.

“Do you mind if I shower first? I still kind of have a headache..” You stand, not looking her in the eye any longer.

“Oh, I brought some medicine, if you’d want,” Lucy smiles politely.

“I’ll see how I feel after,” You clear your throat and grab whatever clothes are on top for after. “But, thank you.”

You remember that look in Lucy’s eye. You’ve seen it before. All that time ago when you were training her. You had deja vu.

Lucy suggested the two of you went out for something to eat, make yourself seen.

She was smart for that, because not only had you picked a place Elijah’s presence was well known in, but you’d also laid eyes on Wesley for the first time in a few days.

It was a local bar, but it was more on the fancier side, if that makes sense. It served food other than anything that is made in the same grease, so in your opinion, that was fancy all on its own. But Lucy proceeded to tell you all about it.

Which was why you got deja vu in the first place.

She was spinning facts at you, and you were listening intently, laughing here and there to try and gain Wesley’s attention.

You’d gotten it, and he knew you were there. You and him shared a nod.

The glint in her eye is still there when she stops talking after she realizes you’re just watching her.

Out of the corner of your eye you see Elijah glance towards the two of you.

You give her a wide smile, grabbing her hand gently.

You see the light tint of blush on her cheeks, and you try to narrow your eyes so she understands, but she’s more focused on your touch.

You pull her hand to yours lips to cover your mouth, “He’s watching.”

She snaps out of in, and falls into character. She’s leaning on the table, her chin resting on her knuckles of her free hand.

“I love you, you know?” Lucy gives a love struck smile.

“You’ve never said that aloud efore,” A smile takes over your features.

“I know..” She looks down. “But I’ve been thinking it for a while. Ever since.. you know.”

“No, I don’t,” You have the feeling she’s going to try to share her feelings, for real. So you let her.

“When my mother came over the last time. When she blamed me for being with a woman.”

“Yes,” You say. You remember hearing about it through the grapevine, but it wasn’t you in this scenario, it was someone else. That made you feel an almost.. jealous feeling. “I wanted to tell you that night too, but.. you were having so many feelings.”

“And I appreciate you for that,” Lucy leans forward slightly.

You don’t even care if Elijah is watching anymore, because when Lucy leans forward a fraction of an inch, all you’re focused on are her soft and inviting lips.

You liked playing pretend with Lucy. It felt amazing, like maybe you should have asked her out when you wanted to back then.

But it was time to go home now, after a successful rescue mission for Wesley. And you were sort of upset about it.

You were happy to be back home in your own bed after almost two months, but you were kind of missing Lucy and yours’ dinner dates right now.

You’re bingeing an episode of Top Chef when you hear a knock on your door.

Swinging the door open, you see Lucy. She has an oversized sweater on, and she’s playing with the sleeve.

“Lucy?” You frown. “What are you doing here?”

“I need to tell you something,” She comes in the door without even being invited in.

“Could it wait—“

“No,” Lucy cuts you off. “It can’t. Or I’ll talk myself out of telling you. Again. I need to do it now or I may never do it at all.”

You were intrigued now, so you grab Lucy by the sleeve and pull her towards you, leading the both of you to your couch.

“What’s wrong Lucy?” Your brows are furrowed.

“Well..” You watch as Lucy tries to decide how to say when she needs to get out. “It’s just.. mm.”

“Spit it out, Luce,” You chuckle lightly, shaking your head.

“Ihavefeelingsforyou,” She says it so fast you almost don’t even hear what she said.

A look flashes across her face at your reaction, and from your point of view, it looks like regret.

“I’m sorry,” Lucy swallows nervously. “I’ll.. um, I’m just— I’ll go.”

“No,” You say instantly, grabbing her arm to pull her back onto the couch. “I’m just surprised because, well.. I know when I was training you - when Tim was out - that I also shared feelings for you. Angela even saw something, which should tell you something all in itself. But anyway, these past weeks, the feelings had returned and.. I wouldn’t be opposed to a real date.”

Lucy lets out a long and relieved sigh, “Oh, thank god. Because I almost had a heart attack. And, also, I used to have feelings for you too.. why didn’t you just ask me out.”

You chuckle and shake your head, “I was in your line of duty. And I wasn’t ready to move from patrol yet.”

A look flashes in Lucy’s eyes as she turns her head to look at the television.

“Oo! Top Chef?” Lucy’s eyes light up. “We’re definitely going on a date.”

Lucy moves a little closer to you, and leans her head on your shoulder.

You both fall asleep like that.

#the rookie #the rookie x reader #wlw post #lucy chen #lucy chen x reader #lucy chen ask #lucy chen x you #lucy chen is adorable and i love her #pls marry me

57 notes · View notes

mangledmouth · 4 months

Text

as the kids say these days, is this anything

the contortionist, employed in horror movies, is getting old allen, look, i can’t crawl out of the vent today didn’t want to say it, but something’s slipped from place and won’t come back. i could crawl regular, that’d just be pain pain’s nothing. still. for now. but if you wanted someone hands and knees, head down, you’d just’ve hired a man. you wanted monster, wanted the glued jumble of limbs i used to scuttle in like it was nothing. but not today i know, schedule, i know, i called the doctor, twelve ringing into nothing i’ll get him later. first thing tomorrow. i’ll be back on it. come on-- how long have we been friends? i know, we got the basement let’s shoot the, you know, the scene with the leading lady where i whisper unheard horrors in her ear. just a splayed hand a minute of popped jaw. hope she doesn’t jump this time i saw her earlier, reading ligotti in the shade, fresh from makeup nursing her sprained wrist, doctor’s note torn up in her pocket. clenched jaw. i told her, take some ibuprofen, we’re all going to die anyway. she flinched and smiled like she thought she was going to die right now. she’s nervous, sweet in the way of the nameless, eager to please the named she won’t mind the change. say, allen-- i go on shows, now and again, and i just sit there these days have to save up my body. so i get invited less but for now--i’m rambling on. i walk off, sometimes people see me leaving, and they get angry, people with kids with old movie t-shirts, with girlfriends, with normal things. they say, you used to roll up into a ball, you used to turn your head around like the damned, do the exorcist-walk off you used to pack yourself in a cabinet and disappear. i tell them, i’m sorry, i know it’s like a building kit, the toy that comes together perfect, that suffers reassemblng snarling face and perfect claws, that does this again and again but worn, it loses a little shape, it won’t go back in its packaging. i’m sorry i can’t put myself away when you’re done, not anymore. what’s this story about? just that-- i think i’ll whisper it in the leading lady’s ear.

#poetry #poets on tumblr

85 notes · View notes

thegridgoddess · 11 months

Text

Prove It | Charles Leclerc Pt. 7

Pairings: Charles Leclerc x fem!wolff!driver oc

Summary: Charles has a new teammate, but just because she's pretty doesn't mean he's gonna make things easy for her.

Warnings: Enemies to lovers, angsty Charles, slow burn till it hits you in the face. Piningggg. George Russell best friend and ultimate mom energy, Lando Norris sibling energy, Pierre Gasly is the worst in this ngl, and Toto Wolff sucks here (not a good dad!). Also did I mention the angst? Remember that this is all purely fictional.

A/N: I kept my promise, didn't I? Also, you guys, it is so difficult to find George Russell pics where he is just NORMAL for these cover images. The man is either always in uniform or shirtless, there is no in between. Still love him though. Anyways, enjoy!

Word Count: 3k

_____________________________________________________________

The sun had already been shining brightly into her room hours well before Riley’s eyes finally cracked open. She sat up with a start and regretted the movement just as quickly. Her head was pounding, but not enough to distract her from the poor decisions made last night. One, by her own doing, the other, well… she had yet to see if it was actually a poor decision.

Kissing Charles was a mistake. She wanted to blame it on the drinks but she knew full well it was her own fault. She couldn’t help it, seeing him standing at her doorstep looking so… so… ugh. He tended to be ugh very often, she thought.

It should have been fun and regrettable in a totally different way than it ended up being. None of her feelings toward the matter helped explain why Charles said what he did. Why did he have to say something so confusing?

I don’t want it simple. I want all of it.

What was that even supposed to mean for them exactly? Was she supposed to suddenly believe that Charles, the man who spent the better part of the season in opposition to her, wanted to be with her? Yeah, right. She’d have better chances of believing Pierre wanted commitment.

At least that’s what she would think if she hadn’t heard the words come out of Pierre’s very mouth this morning during a much-needed distracting make-out session.

He drew her back, looked her in the eyes, and said I wanna do this with you. Let’s do things the right way.

It was absolutely insane is what it was. Had the world completely come off its axis? Charles is cryptic about a relationship with her, which is bizarre in its own right, but then Pierre did the same, which is equally bizarre if not more concerning. But maybe she was the crazy one for agreeing with Pierre.

She slammed back onto the bed with a frustrated sigh. She probably would have laid there until the end of time–packing be damned–if it wasn’t for the knock on her door. Hadn’t she had enough visitors at her door recently?

The frown on her face quickly fell away once she saw Lando standing there, water and ibuprofen in hand.

“Thought you might be needing this,” he said, holding them out to her. “George fixed me up hours ago. He gave up on trying to wake you up though and left me in charge of resolving this state,” he gestured to all of her and her bird-nest mess of hair.

She stepped away from the door letting Lando in. “When will George learn to stop tasking people after my well-being? I am perfectly capable of handling myself on my own.” She popped the pills in her mouth and took a gulp of water to wash them down.

Lando had the decency not to disagree with her given the blatant mess she was standing in. He just gave her wide eyes and plopped onto her bed as if it were his own.

“Where is George anyway?” She asked him.

“He’s already off. Mercedes runs a tight schedule and all that.” Riley rolled her eyes, ever opposed to her father’s team. “But if you ask me the only tight-wound thing around here is him. The man has got to learn how to relax.”

“You’re not wrong about that my friend,” she said, pulling out her suitcase. “Anyway, what’s been going on with you? I’d rather not talk about myself right now.” She placed her suitcase on the bed next to Lando.

He gave a wistful sigh and laid back all the way, hands behind his head. “I was talking to this girl recently, but it didn’t go anywhere.”

Riley chuckled slightly. “Well, that might be because your idea of romance is sitting around eating McDonald’s in a hotel room.”

“Yeah, sure,” he said unconvinced, “like that’s a problem. You never minded when we did it.”

“Yeah well, that’s because we’re friends and usually hungover when that happens.” She continued tossing clothes into her suitcase. She never had this many clothes to pack before she started going out with Lando and company. A noble sacrifice, she thought.

“Okay, let’s not pretend like you’re an expert in the romance department. I mean, seriously, Pierre?” He asked incredulously. “Come on, the guy is like a walking red flag.”

“Lando,” she chastised and threw a pillow at him, not wanting to have this conversation.

“What?!” He whined, easily catching the pillow and clutching it to his chest. “Not only does he generally seem douchey, but he calls himself ‘tripod’, you know? You have to have seen the video by now.”

“Lando,” she said, this time more playfully, a blush creeping onto her cheeks.

“Oh god, no, please.” He looked mortified. “Don’t tell me. Please don’t tell me that was you.” He didn’t want to see her response, opting to bury his head in the pillow instead.

Riley laughed. “He’s not so bad, is he? I know it can seem that way sometimes, but he can actually be really sweet at times.” Lando peeked out from the pillow only to show a face of disgust, eyebrows scrunched up with a frown in tow.

“Sure, but like, isn’t he known to… sleep around?” He put out there lightly.

“Lando, it’s not cheating if we’re not together, which we are now anyway, so it’s not anything to worry about anymore.” She zipped up her suitcase and stood it up.

“Oh,” he said casually and then jolted up. “Oh! Pierre?! But you– But I thought– Ch–”

“You thought what?” Riley pressed a hand on her hip.

“Nothing,” he said tight-lipped, hands raised innocently.

“Now are you coming or what?” She asked, standing at the door. “Well, I guess it’s you I’m following anyway.”

“What, you don’t wanna take the Ferrari plane back with a certain someone?” Lando asked cheekily.

“Forget it,” she said exasperated. “I’m calling Pierre.” And she took her leave out the door.

“It’s still your first win!” Lando yelled out. “You should be celebrating with your team!”

When he didn’t get a response he whipped out his phone, hoping his call would go through. Lucky for him, either the flight landed, or Mercedes pulled out all of the stops for their flights and the drivers that took them. It was probably the latter.

“Hey, George. We have a problem.”

_____________________________________________________________

The Imola race was canceled so Riley was able to make an early trip home. It had been far too long since she’d seen her Monegasque apartment, but that was to be expected with the job. The place was hardly home anyway. It was barely furnished with personal belongings and had the untouched look of being abandoned even well past Riley’s move-in date.

It was nothing like her home back in America where her mom was. Unfortunately for her, that work commute was just impossible.

She set her suitcase and bags down on the floor. Pierre refused to carry them on the premise of not depriving Riley of a good workout. He claimed to still be a gentleman, however, as he held the door open for her.

“Welcome, I guess,” she said, heaving a little as she gestured around to her apartment. She had the distinct suspicion her suitcase was well over the weight limit for a commercial flight. She vowed to cut back on her packing next time though she had a bit of a reprieve since the next race was here.

“It’s cute,” Pierre said. “Very… nice,” was the word he opted for. Riley didn’t take any offense to it given that she actually didn’t care what Pierre thought about her apartment–she certainly didn’t.

Besides, after a long flight with company present, there was only one thing either of them had on their minds right now–and it did not involve her giving him an Architectural Digest-worthy tour of her home.

They were still standing in the entryway as Pierre picked Riley up and she locked her legs around him, planting a deep kiss on his lips. A light sound escaped from the back of her throat and she momentarily got enough clarity to pull away for a moment.

“Hold on,” she said, hopping off Pierre. He gave her a look of either disappointment or frustration, Riley wasn’t sure which. “Let me go make sure my room isn’t a mess or anything.”

“You think I care whether you have clothes on your bed or not? That wouldn’t stop me, Riley,” he said, hooking a finger under her chin to make her look up at him.

She gave him a quick kiss and pulled away. “Trust me when I tell you, it most definitely would.” Pierre chuckled as she walked further into the apartment.

She walked into a hall and tugged open her bedroom door. The shriek she let out was not due to her bedroom reaching concerning levels of disorganization, in fact, it wasn’t messy at all. No, her shriek was due to the man standing in her way.

The tall Brit stared at her, arms crossed, with daggers in his eyes. George Russell was a force to be reckoned with whenever he was crossed with anyone. Riley would know best–the day she made fun of PowerPoint was one she’d never soon forget. So many nightmares about graphs, she shuddered at the thought. Glares from George were their own form of capital punishment.

“You know, on second thought Pierre,” she said, running out to intercept him in the hall. “It’s been a long flight and I’m actually really tired and want to sleep. Some real sleep,” she added seeing the smirk Pierre gave her. “And by that I mean I sleep here and you sleep in your fancy hotel.”

Pierre gave her a long look before finally sighing and giving in. “Alright, fine,” he said. “But just know that I’m beginning to believe you store bodies in there.”

“What?!” She laughed, hoping it didn’t sound too forced. “No bodies in there. So silly,” she forced herself to cough out. “Okay! See you later! Bye!” She said all at once, closing and locking the door after Pierre.

After a moment of heavy breathing, she yelled out, “What the hell, Russell?!”

“You what the hell?!” he said in retort and almost magically appeared before her. Seriously, George in a mood was not to be messed with. “Pierre?! I don’t even have time to go into all of the reasons why that is a horrid idea. Horrid!”

“Oh, what? Didn’t have time to make the PowerPoint just yet?” Riley couldn’t help herself, but that didn’t stop her from wincing at the cutthroat glare George threw her. “I’m perfectly capable of making my own decisions, George!”

“Well obviously! They’re just really bad ones!” he threw his arms up. He paused for a moment, his tone growing softer. “Come on, Riley. This isn’t you. What’s going on?”

“Nothing is going on!” She claimed. “Can’t I just have fun? Don’t I deserve fun?”

“Of course you do, Riles,” George said, caressing one of Riley’s arms in a comforting way. “It just seems like you’re setting yourself up to be hurt, and we care about you, that’s all.”

“We?” Riley pressed on. “Don’t tell me Lando is going to pop out of a closet somewhere.”

“No, no closets,” George laughed, “but he did give me a call concerning enough that made me decide to hop on a plane to Monaco instead of London where I should be,” he said more seriously. “So come on, Riley. You know you can talk to me.”

“Ughhh, fine,” she growled, trudging all the way to her couch and promptly plopping down. There was no getting rid of George once he decided to talk–especially when it comes to feelings. No bottling up anything where he was concerned.

“I talked to Toto,” she admitted. George furrowed his brows in confusion or shock, or maybe a bit of both. She continued on. “It was right after I won in Miami. I went to go see him because I stupidly got it into my head that maybe this time he would care. Maybe this time he would look at me and finally see something worth looking at.”

George gave her a pained expression, but he didn’t interrupt. “He wouldn’t even look at me. He was more upset that his drivers didn’t win than proud that it was his daughter who did.” She didn’t even notice the tears slipping from her eyes down her cheek until George was wiping them away.

It was a long moment before either of them said anything again. “Yeah, well, he’s a bit of a prat anyway.” Through her tears, Riley couldn’t help but laugh. “Did you just call my father, your team principal, a ‘prat’?”

“Yes,” he said, standing tall and proud. “I’ve quite taken to calling people prats, I’ll have you know. It really gets through to them I think.”

Riley gave a full-bellied laugh at the faraway look George got in his eyes as if seriously contemplating the matter. “Oh, George. What would I do without you?”

“I don’t know for sure,” he started. “But I think you’d be a lot more prat-like.” They both laughed at that.

“You’re right about Pierre,” Riley admitted with a heavy sigh. “I’m just with him because it’s fun and easy.”

“Oh thank god, so you don’t love him,” George breathed out in relief more to himself than to Riley.

“What? Love him? George, are you feeling alright?” Riley made a show of putting her hand on his forehead. “Besides, I think it annoys Charles and that’s always fun.”

The next voice who speaks almost gave Riley a heart attack. “Annoys? I think anguish, torment, is more of the ballpark you should be in,” Lando says, popping out of the half-bathroom by the living room.

“Oh my god!” She says smacking George on the back of his head. “You said he wasn’t hiding around here!”

“No, I said he wasn’t hiding in a closet,” George said as if the point merited value.

“We are all going to have a conversation about privacy and consent in the very near future,” Riley huffed, embracing Lando after also giving him the same loving treatment she just gave to George.

“Hey!” Lando cried out, caressing the back of his head. “I’m not the one cruelly punishing the guy who loves me.”

George stared at him with wide eyes, gaping, but Riley merely waved it off, not taking him seriously. “Pierre doesn't love me,” Riley said plainly.

“I wasn’t talking about Pierre. Ow!” This time it was George who hit Lando upside the head.

“What are you talking about?” Riley asked, growing curious.

“Oh nothing, just that Ch–”

“How do you even know about that?!” George stopped Lando before he could say any further. “I didn’t even tell you!”

“Mate, you didn’t have to,” Lando said with an all-knowing aura about him. “I was right there.”

“No, you weren’t!” George said incredulously, seriously rethinking his choice of friends.

“Uh, yeah I was,” Lando said. “I was literally sitting on your other side. And frankly, I think it’s quite rude that neither you nor Charles said hello.”

George was left speechless, rethinking his entire life now, but next to him, so was Riley.

“Charles?! You think Charles is in love with me?! That’s– Well that’s just–” Riley started.

“Honey, I don’t ‘think’ I know. I know so,” Lando corrected. “He said it himself. Tell her George.”

Riley looked to George for clarification, but the other Brit was staring at the floor as if there was something of interest to find in the wood.

“Have you all gone insane?” She cried out. “There’s no way that Charles–my teammate who hated me not that long ago–is all of a sudden in love with me.”

“George, back me up here,” he nudged the other boy, but George just glared at Lando ruefully.

“You guys talked with him about this?” Riley asked in disbelief.

“What happened to privacy and consent, Riley?” George pleaded apologetically, but it was all the confirmation Riley needed.

“We’re talking about the same Charles, right? Last name: Leclerc, also hotter than the sun itself?” Riley was losing it.

“Yup. The one and the same,” Lando nodded helpfully.

“Oh dear,” Riley said, putting her head in her hands.

“Oh dear indeed,” George said supportingly, rubbing his temples to fight off an oncoming headache.

“What’s the big deal, you guys?” Lando asked nonchalantly. “It needed to be said. We can’t risk you falling in love with Pierre after all.”

“And you choose now to tell me?” Riley gave her own look of exasperation at Lando.

“Well I wasn’t going to say anything, but now that we know the whole Pierre thing isn’t real, it means Charles has a shot. And honestly, it breaks my heart thinking about how he must be feeling right now.” Lando had the audacity to start actually getting choked up.

“Out, both of you!” Riley yelled at them. She needed time to think, alone.

Lando headed for the door in an instant.

“Actually, Riley, I was hoping I could crash with you since…” George trailed off at the face Riley was making. “Right! Lando, let’s go to yours, yeah?”

Lando nodded frantically and the two all but ran out of her apartment.

How could any of this be true? She began to spiral in her thoughts on the couch. This didn’t mean things had to change. In fact, she didn’t have to do anything about this information. These were Charles’ feelings, she wasn’t obligated to react to his emotions.

Except that there was a twisting feeling in her stomach she didn’t know what to do about. Even though she didn’t have to do anything about it, maybe she still wanted to.

No. No. What about Pierre? She had him to think about. They were together now and it wouldn’t be fair of her to break things off without even giving him a proper chance. He deserved that much at least before she went to sort things out with his best friend.

Yeah, that sounded like a good plan. Pierre. All she had to focus on was her relationship with Pierre.

_____________________________________________________________

A/N: Let me know if you enjoyed it and would like to be added to the taglist for all future chapters!

Taglist: @leclercwifey @hihiroc511-blog @omnesmorimur3 @siovhanroy @charlesswife @chilifanacc @satanfinalgirl @nikolaisblog @91vhs @dr3lover @onlyonetifosi @chiliwhore @nataliambc @livster @celine-xox @mrsmaybank13 @peachiicherries @purplephantomwolf @leclerc13 @deepestkpoponanime @moonclaine

163 notes · View notes

am-i-the-asshole-official · 4 months

Note

AITA for saying that I was worried a friend might be making his mental state worse

I (F18) and my now previous best friend (M18) have been friends since 7th grade, and graduated just last year. My friend has had mental issues for as long as we've been friends (anxiety, depression, DID) and has always been very, very drug adverse. Going as far as having drugs mentioned making him really uncomfortable for years and years. But this last year, our senior year, he started getting really friendly with the idea of starting to smoke. This caused an argument between us, as weed is known for causing mental issues to get worse, specifically its known for causing early onset psychosis, and considering he's had episodes similar before I was worried it would make things worse for him. He told me to step back and get out of his business. So I did.

About a month or so after this, he texted me and said that he was experiencing knee pain and asked if when I got to school (I was running late) if he could have some Tylenol, (I have a medical issue and I have to keep anti inflammatory's on my person or i risk paralyzation) and i said yes, because why wouldn't I, me and him have given one another over the counter pain meds all the time in the past. I had a brand new bottle of 250 pills of 500mg dosage, and well I was pulling out the bottle, I asked how many he wanted, (so I could give him one or two) but he asked if I could just hand him the bottle because both of us we're late to class and he didn't wanna be too late. And, as he's borrowed bottles of pain meds from me before for years, I said sure.

A little over an hour later I was called to the front office, where the bottle was placed onto the desk, and the administrator asked if it was mine, and I said yes, because it was my bottle of tylenol. and she gave it back to me, and told me to go back to class, I asked if my friend was in the nurses office or something, but she just told me to go to class. and that they dont give out medical information on students

I texted my friend asking what happened but he never answered, So at this point, I was freaking out. I texted his younger sister and asked if he was ok (we're also friends) but she didnt know that anything happened at all. At this point I entered a class I have multiple friends in and started having a meltdown worrying for the worst. his sister called their mom, and relayed to me that he was in the hospital. I poured out the entire bottle of tylenol and counted out every single one of them to find out that he took 12 500mg pills of Tylenol

I was called to the office again they had me give them all of my tylenol, and then they asked for any other drugs i had, I told them I don't have drugs, and then they confiscated my ibuprofen and the benydryl I keep on my person, and then because I kept them in my first aid kit, they confiscated my bandaids and neosporin.

he lived, was diagnosed with bpd, schizophrenia, and somethging else i dont remember. and there was a huge problem with the school, and they put me down as a drug dealer, made me do meetings with the student handler, called my parents. Its only the fact his mom didnt press charges that kept me from going to court. I suffered with severe guilt problems for months and months, relapsed into hurting myself, and it was just. bad. (months later, he went on to try to kill himself again, this time by overdosing on his perscribed anxiety meds in the school a second time)

during this time, he would start ghosting my messages, and when I asked him about it, he told me he wasn't mad at me, told me he didnt have any issues with me, he just felt bad we hadn't hung out in a while. So, I scheduled to hang out. and he cancelled. 5 times in a row. when driving a mutual friend home, I was discussing that I was frustrated, and worried about him. During this, I mentioned the argument we had about him smoking, and I mentioned that I thought it might be related to his mental state worsening. (he stopped smoking after the first suicide attempt) (and started smoking again a few monthes before the second attempt)

over the summer i would invite him to hang out several times, he declined every time, he invited me to hang out, but it felt like he intentionally planned for times he knew I couldn't make it for. (continualy on the day I work every week) Or on the few times we could. I would show up, and he would leave within the next 30 minutes, even if we had planed beforehand to be doing somethign for a while.

when I messaged him about 3 month ago (after three consecutive failed hang outs in a row) I found he had blocked me on everything. phone number, discord, instagram, tumblr. With no message, no word, didn't tell me at all what I did wrong or what hapened

just tonight I found out that he blocked me and wont interact with me because He says, that I said that it was his own fault that he tried to kill himself and that he was diagnosed with schizophrenia. (not what he said, he wont talk to me, I heard through third party source, so theres a chance that im not getting the message right)

I feel this isnt what I said at all. but, idk, I feel very guilty about it, I want to apologize to him. but I don't know how, its not like i can message him, and we dont ever see each other anymore because were graduated and doing different things.

am i the asshole?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole #suicide cw #self harm cw

74 notes · View notes

weretheones · 1 year

Text

All You Got | Part 7

Part 7: Burning Out

Plot: Daryl Dixon hadn’t known much beyond anger and loneliness his whole life, until he found family at the end of the world. Everything he grew to care about was ripped away the day the prison fell; so when he recognized you, an enforcer of his loss, hiding in that cabin, he almost pulled the trigger. But after you end up saving his life, he couldn’t find the indifference to leave you for dead, even if you’d been on the Governor’s side. (Mid-Late Season 4)

Series Masterlist | AO3 Version

Paring: Eventual Daryl Dixon x Reader Word Count: 5k Warnings: description of injury, infection, and other typical twd content. mentions of death. A/N: oh hi <3 im happy to be back with a new part for you guys. definitely needed that break. I had my last class of university this week and I've just been a bundle of feelings lately. thank you for being so patient and for all the lovely comments lately :) mwah! enjoy

These last few years, the fight had been constant— to find shelter, to defend a friend, to get your next meal. Each day was like a knife at your throat, leaving you to wonder when the blade would finally pierce and bleed you dry.

It was an oddly empty feeling when there was nothing left to do. A gnawing in your gut, like you'd been doing to the raw skin of your thumb the last half hour, as if there was an answer you were forgetting.

You ran through the list for the ninth time. The last of that antibiotic cream. Dressings coated in a layer of honey— Daryl taught you that one. A damp cloth over his forehead. As much ibuprofen as you could give him. You’d done it all. Now there was nothing left to do but wait for the fever to break.

It was miserable.

The room was dark, lit by a single candle. Sometimes it flickered with your occasional sigh. Otherwise, it cast a gentle glow across the small bedroom. You sat in a cushioned chair by the door, five feet from Daryl’s bedside. It had been in the living room until you dragged it in here yesterday, falling into the same routine as you did now. Chin resting in your palm and a lazy stare at the sick man ahead.

It’d gotten bad since that first day. Infection came— of course, it did— and without much more than that antibiotic cream and the rest of the drugs you'd used for your leg, Daryl was forced to fight through it. That meant long, feverish nights like this one.

Waiting.

“Ya jus’ gonna stare at me all night?”

You sat up. His eyes were narrowed into a slit, but open. With only the low flicker of the candle beside you, they almost looked black.

“You’re awake.”

“Guess so,” Daryl mumbled. “Hot as hell in ‘ere.”

He was already stripped of his vest, that flannel he wore on cold nights, and his boots. Yesterday, in one of his steadier moments, you’d dug a simple black t-shirt from the dresser and made him change. It took him a couple of minutes, his shoulder still stiff and swollen with infection. It gave you time to wash his usual sleeveless button-down as best as you could, though a litter of blood stains still dried across the fabric.

As you stepped closer, flickering candle in hand, you could see the damp mark of sweat around his collar, but if anything, the room was cool.

“Your fever’s getting worse.”

You grabbed the cloth from his forehead. It was tepid on the edges, warm where it rested against his skin. Puffy eyes met yours, scanning your serious expression. He’d been asleep for hours. You’d only managed to get a few with that anxious pit in your stomach waking you up, over and over.

“Feel like shit.” He adjusted his spot, sitting up against the pile of pillows behind him with a low groan. You passed him his bottle of water and placed it back after he’d had a few sips.

“How long I been sleepin’?”

“Most of the night.” You sat by his legs. The bed was bare of its thick blanket; you’d torn it off him when his skin started to burn. The top sheet was thin enough that you let him keep it when the chills hit. He kicked it down when the first hot flash came. “You woke up a couple of times.”

“Don’t remember tha’.”

“I figured. You’ve been pretty out of it.”

Daryl nodded, eyes as tired as they’d looked at sunset. Yours must’ve been similarly drained.

“Ya got any sleep yet?”

“A bit,” you said. “I’m fine.”

“Ya don’t look fine.”

You gave him a playful, lopsided grin. “You sure know how to make a girl feel special.”

Daryl huffed, eyes falling to his lap. But your tease had done what it meant: to distract away from the bloom of purple that was, no doubt, forming under your eyes. Those sickening worries about Daryl’s health were already suffocating. You didn’t need the weight of your well-being piled on top.

“You hungry?”

He hummed yes. That was a good sign, you thought, before drifting out of the room.

Dawn was still a few hours away. You walked the dark halls of the house you’d come to know, and a few minutes later, that same candlelight welcomed you back into the bedroom Daryl stayed in. You had a bowl of steaming chicken soup and a half-eaten package of crackers in hand. It was a good thing you’d gone for the bag, after all. If you hadn’t, it would’ve been just another thing to worry about.

His appetite was low, but better than it’d been the last couple of days. There were still three crackers he hadn’t touched and a quarter of soup left, but he seemed adamant about having the rest later. Food was often in such short supply that he wouldn’t dare waste a bite.

“Thanks,” he muttered.

You placed his bowl of leftover soup and the half-eaten package of crackers on the dresser you’d raided for cloth, towel, anything that could be boiled sterile and made into a bandage when that roll of gauze finally ran out after his second dressing change.

Back at his side, you gave him a small smile. “Still feel like shit?”

He chewed his lip. “Shoulder’s throbbin’ somethin’ awful. Head too.”

There was a small bump in his hairline left from that day. He hadn’t caught a concussion, but the fever had been giving him a wicked headache.

“There’s another hour until you can take the next round of painkillers.” You dipped the cloth back into a small bowl of water. Rubbing your thumb along the inches that had become warm, you waited for the fabric to cool. Droplets trickled down as you rang it out, causing ripples to catch in the faint light. It was the only noise in the air, save Daryl’s slow, heavy breaths.

Until you turned and he caught that dispirited expression across your face. It must’ve been particularly obvious; the candlelight barely reached your face at this angle. As you stepped closer, the glow curtained you in delicate gold. An easy warmth that looked quite special painted across your gentle features, even if they were hinted with regret.

The closer you got, the harder his head pounded. No, his heart. Which seemed to echo in his head.

His eyes shifted away when you found that spot next to him again.

“Should save ‘em anyway.”

“No. This is what they’re meant for.”

He huffed as you placed the cloth on his head. As your fingers inched closer to his skin, he blinked rapidly. It wasn’t quite a flinch, but you felt the resistance all the same.

“Still. Might need ‘em later.”

“You need them now,” you challenged. “We’ll have time to find more when you’re better.”

When.

“Guess you’re the boss.”

You scoffed. If anything was in charge, it was that fever.

“Is there anything you can think of that could help? Another pillow or…” You shook your head, not even sure what else you could offer.

He rolled his good shoulder back, biting back a groan as he found a comfortable spot against the bed. “‘M alright.” He nodded, even sparing you the smallest curl of his mouth.

You gave him a bittersweet smile back, fighting the urge to brush his bangs behind his pinkened ear. His cheeks were flushed too, even if he seemed to be retreating back into the warm bed. Perhaps the hot flash was nearing its end.

“You should drink some more. It’ll help.” You handed him the water again.

He took small sips.

It wasn’t until a few minutes later when a distant thump came from the other side of the house, and Daryl didn’t jump up, that you realized just how out of it he was. Thick in the fog of fever and pain, his senses were dull. On the contrary, the twitching in your muscles had started hours ago, a cruel mix of exhaustion and restlessness. It made you more jumpy than sharp, but demanded your attention for every small creak in the house the same.

Your shoulders tensed, and your head snapped to the side.

Daryl noticed that.

“Wha’?” He grumbled.

A gun sat on the small table next to your chair, next to the book you couldn't read well enough under only candlelight. You stood up and grabbed it, weighing the heavy handle in your palm. You made a mental note to keep your twitching finger off the trigger.

“Stay put. I’m serious,” you told Daryl with a quick stern glance and closed the bedroom door behind you.

The wooden floors whined even under the slowest, steadiest steps you could manage. The hallway was thin, drywall stained with cigarette smoke. There were two doors ahead, one on the right leading to a small linen closet and one on the left that passed into the kitchen. Quietly, you made your way to the general area where the noise had come from, near the kitchen, while raising the gun Ross gave you. The exit to the back porch was there and, fuck, what if someone had snuck in? What if they had a gun and cruel intentions and what if you had to—

Deep breath.

You hovered in the same spot for a second longer, waiting for the drum of your heart to slow. It wasn’t much, but at least you were able to open your eyes without that dizzy fog suffocating you again.

It was only a few more steps to the kitchen’s doorway. With your back to the wall, you reached the hallway’s end and peeked around the corner.

Good thing you only peeked.

A figure caught under the moonlight. It shuffled past the small window, looking out to the side of the house. Shadows cascaded onto the cheap tile floors. Two— three— four walkers stumbled past the wrap-around porch. It reminded you of that first night after the prison fell. How Daryl stood watch all night with nothing but his bow as a herd of the dead moved through the street, surrounding the house he'd dragged you into. All night, you sat on that couch, nursing your hurt leg, watching the dance of their shadows along the walls, and avoiding Daryl’s abrasive stare. Waiting for the moment they finally knocked down the door and took you into their cold fingers first.

This herd didn’t seem as big. Maybe a few dozen. You could only guess from the noise of bodies thumping carelessly into the house’s siding.

Carelessly— that was good. It meant they hadn’t realized you were here yet. Best keep it that way.

Delicately, you snuck back to the small bedroom. The thick curtains were already drawn, and that single candle was soft enough that you weren’t inclined to race back and blow it out.

You opened the door again, and, well, should’ve guessed Daryl would’ve been out of bed, knife in hand and about to open the door himself. The gun slipped into the holster at your belt, and your eyes sought out his. They were uneasy, red-rimmed with dilated pupils.

“It’s just a group of walkers passing by,” you said in a hushed whisper. “Get back in bed.”

“How many?”

“Maybe a couple dozen.” You gently pushed him back toward the bed, twisting the knife out of his grip as you did so. “They didn’t see me, so we can just wait it out.”

“Ya can’t take ‘em all on.”

“That’s why we're gonna stay here and be quiet.”

“You should go.”

You blinked.

“What?”

“If those assholes get in ‘ere, you run,” he said. His voice was hoarse and his accent thicker. “Don’t worry ‘bout me.”

Your brows furrowed. Your whisper was soft, even if pitched with confusion, “Daryl, they don’t know we’re here. They’re not coming in.”

There was a fog in that usual bright blue. It wasn’t from the dim lighting, either. He was dazed.

The back of your palm landed against his forehead. Hot. Then dropped to his chest, just below his collarbones. Your hand laid flat against that black cotton, stretched over the broad expanse of his chest, and felt that same burning underneath. Daryl hadn’t flinched, he seemed to give up that impulse when the fever took control, but his eyes did flicker down to your touch.

You shook your head. “You’re burning up. You don’t know what you’re saying.” Your hand hadn’t fallen off him yet, a lingering touch as the rhythm of his heart became a soft pulse underneath your palm. Gently pressing him back toward the bed, you hushed, “Lie back down. Relax. We’ll be fine.”

He listened. Whatever that outburst had been about seemed to slip away with the cushion of an old mattress underneath him. It felt like a new weight lifted off your shoulders; you weren’t sure if you could sit through a lecture about how you should leave him for dead. After all he’d done, all you’d done, that just wasn’t an option.

You sat beside him again. “Here.” You held a pill in the same palm that’d landed on his chest.

“Thought it was too early?”

“One more isn’t gonna kill you.”

The fever could.

He glanced down at the small blue capsule. “How many left?”

You almost laughed. Feverish, incoherent, and still stubborn.

“Enough. You need them.”

If you told him there were only three more pills in that bottle, he’d refuse. You held your tongue and he tossed them into his mouth. Swallowed, leaned back, and groaned.

“Water?”

“Elderberries,” he muttered. Your brow furrowed, and he gave you a weak shrug. “Hershel used ‘em for the fever, ‘fore we got back.”

Hershel.

You remembered that name. Of course, you did. The Governor had called it out right before he used him as a bargaining chip. Hershel, the man with the long white hair. He’d kneeled in front of that fence, tan shirt damp with sweat and hands tied behind his back. Even tried to reason with the Governor. It was his neck that poured blood, him that inched his way around the cars you were hiding behind when the bullets started flying.

Until the Governor cornered him. Chopped into his neck three times before his head finally rolled across the bloody grass.

The memory made your skin pale, your breathing pause.

A second later, when your vision focused again, Daryl’s eyes were closed. His chest raised and fell with deep breaths, his heavy exhales tickling your clammy skin.

After you’d had a moment to regain your composure, you asked, “‘Got back’?”

You weren’t following his train of thought. It seemed to go beyond the weeks the two of you had shared, reaching into his time spent at the prison. That part of his life had been mostly out of bounds for you. Blocked from the casual conversation you sometimes fell into.

The fever seemed to tear those boundaries down.

“The vet college. We had to— to get the meds for the sick ones,” he muttered under his breath.

The cloth sitting on his forehead had fallen onto the bed, presumably when he’d gotten up to follow you. Your boundaries seemed to slip away, too; you finally brushed away the damp mess of bangs on his forehead, tucking a few strands behind his ear.

There was a part of Daryl that never seemed to let up. It went deeper than stubbornness. He was strong, innately, even when his body was failing him. You knew it took a lot out of him to try and follow you out, and had probably brought on some kind of dizzy spell that was making him spill his guts now.

“Elderberries,” you repeated. “I think I remember. If you make tea, they can help bring down a fever.”

“Mhm.”

“Smart man,” you said under your breath.

He still caught it. Fever and all.

“He was.” Daryl nodded slowly. His eyes seemed to glaze over again. “He was a good man.”

A lump caught in your throat, stealing your voice. That old feeling of guilt sunk into you again.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. “He didn’t deserve it. None of you did.”

“Should’a kept lookin’.”

It was overdue, you thought. Daryl didn’t seem the patient type, not when it came to his own body, at least. Give him a long hunt, he’d be fine. A wound that kept him bedbound? He was itching for something— anything— to do. The worrisome fact that his family was still out there couldn’t have helped.

You sighed, “We will—”

“For the Governor.”

Oh.

“Maybe if I wouldn’a gave up…”

He sunk deeper into the pillow, mouth moving as incoherent whispers slipped past.

It dawned on you that Daryl was perhaps his most vulnerable right now. Maybe even more so than when you first cleaned his back. In this moment, that surly, reserved man slipped away to leave someone who… who seemed lost. Guilty, like you. His words left you confused, filling in the gaps in his story, his regrets.

He’d been looking for the Governor. If you had to guess, which you did, you’d assume after he killed Merle. Daryl had issues with his brother, no doubt, but he’d proved time and time again to be fiercely loyal. To his brother, his people, even you. Why he’d give that up, you couldn’t say. But Daryl didn’t seem irrational, or disinterested. There had to have been a reason— something— to pull him back.

There was an undeniable part of you that ached to hear more, to let him bare himself to you in ways he hadn’t dared before. Curiosity could prove to be a dangerous thing. The trust between the two of you was fresh. Delicate. Leading him on with questions or letting him ramble in the midst of a daze, could rip it to shreds.

You refolded, then placed the cloth back on his forehead.

“Elderberries,” you whispered again. “I’ll look in the morning.”

The walkers outside were still too close.

It was quiet for a while. Daryl drifted off to sleep quickly and the dead passed thirty minutes after. You curled in the chair again, chin perched in your palm, leaning over the armrest. There was still that gnawing feeling in your gut. Still that worry that you could be doing more— should be.

But exhaustion had dulled caution when the dead passed that half hour ago. Your blinks slowed, moments of darkness stretching into seconds, then minutes, and it became nearly impossible to keep your eyes open.

The last thing you saw was a thin ray of early morning light, slipping between a gap in the curtains. Barely noticeable, until it had landed across Daryl’s face.

It seemed as good a sign as any, you thought, before drifting to sleep.

—

The fever broke the night of the herd. Cups of elderberry tea helped subdue the few symptoms that lingered, and the stream of puss from his wound seemed to reach an end, after all. Four more days passed by and with them, the constant stress and anxiety that plagued you those late nights.

A few more hours of sleep under your belt and life had become calm. Idle, even.

The wind was lazy, its soft huff could barely rustle the fallen leaves. Hues of red, yellow, and anything in between scattered the woods, stretching into the backyard. A sharp crunch under your boot. There was a bite to the air, but the new berries you found had lasted through the weather’s turn.

All those chilly mornings and early sunsets were not in vain; autumn was here, and winter was nearing, too. Though the cottage had been good enough while Daryl healed, it wasn’t suited to become a permanent stay. Certainly not a home. The surrounding trees were too dense, the walls too thin, and it didn’t matter how many strings of cans you set as alarms since the herd passed that night, you couldn’t sleep without one eye open.

Even if it hadn’t been for his people still being out there, you’d have to leave.

With the small bag in one hand, you pulled the first alarm string above your head. It chimed in the wind until it steadied again. It was an effective system; Daryl was opening the back door before you even had a chance to break through the tree line.

You passed into the backyard with a smile.

“Hey,” you said.

“Hey. Find anythin’?”

“Just some berries.”

The morning’s sun had drifted away within the last ten or so minutes. It wasn’t much of a shock to find the sky had darkened with heavy-looking clouds.

“We should go in, looks like it's gonna rain,” you said, sliding between his frame and the door.

It didn’t take long to place those buckets around the porch, just past its cover. A couple of empty, uncapped water bottles sat next to them. It didn’t take long for the rain to start, either.

Inside, the small table in the kitchen was homemade. Shoddy work, but it could balance the few candles you’d found in the basement when night came. You picked the berries clean of their stems while Daryl confirmed the findings of your foraging were, in fact, edible.

Maybe at the start, when your brother had found that survivalist book, you would’ve been able to tell. But that got lost a mere month after he found it. Since then, you’d only stuck with the basics. What you knew was safe, without a doubt. That meant you spent a lot of time scavenging abandoned buildings instead of the woods.

Daryl, on the other hand, seemed to know the forest better than anyone. You could assume from that deep accent and the fact that he never cringed at mud on his skin that he wasn’t a city kid. No, he probably grew up in the sticks. The middle of nowhere. In this world, that kind of experience was invaluable. You’d spent many hungry nights, staring at a bush of unrecognizable berries, wondering what could’ve been if you’d had it, too.

By the time the two of you were done, a damp cold settled along the walls. The rain had been pouring down for some time. It wasn’t as harsh as it had started, but the cool, moist air was sinking in. The temperature of the usually feverish sun dropped, hidden behind grey clouds.

Daryl started a fire with that wood you’d found a couple of days ago. The pile was dwindling faster than expected; the nights had been cold. The short flames reached up to the bottom of a pot you’d positioned. You poured some rainwater inside, then tossed in a couple rags to sterilize, and waited for it to reach a boil.

By the time Daryl heard those bubbles begin to break the surface, you had wandered back to that back door, standing with the heat of the fire to your back and the cool breeze brushing across your face.

You heard his steps approach behind you.

“I like the rain.”

Daryl stood at your side, quiet.

“I always loved that smell, too.” You inhaled a deep breath, staring beyond the porch. “Do you remember what that’s called?”

“Nah.” Daryl shook his head. “Jus’ called it rain.”

You grinned. “Well, regardless. I always liked it.”

He watched the rain come down. It soaked the fallen leaves and dampened the soil. The breeze was slow, weaving its way through dripping trees. The roof was a weak material, something cheap and old, and echoed a low patter of rain. It made everything feel softer. Muted.

“Me too.”

You glanced over your shoulder, that grin slipping into a tender smile, kind and sweet. Daryl met your look, felt that bloom of familiarity in his chest, and gestured you to come back in. The cold would become bitter again and inside was warm, so you followed.

He sat by the fire, arms wrapped around bent knees. He’d peeled off his vest, then his flannel, and finally pulled down the left sleeve of his shirt. Just like the first day you checked his wound. You sat behind him, a small pillow under your knees and the freshly boiled rags sitting in a clean bowl to your left.

That little routine the two of you had fallen into— you’d come back to Daryl, who’d help deal with whatever you scavenged that morning, before you cleaned his wound, then ate— came easy. He’d gotten less tense every time you had to face his bare shoulder again. Which was frequent, unfortunately, since the exit wound had proved more troublesome than the smaller entrance.

That heavy pit in your gut at the thought of those scars and their cruelty hadn’t alleviated much though.

“How’s it feeling today?”

“Better.”

You nodded and unwrapped the bandage. The fever had been the height of that infection that hit him a few days ago. During the worst of it, his wound had swelled and reddened, leaking a trail of puss that reminded you why you could have never been a nurse like your brother. Today, the swelling was gone and the redness cleared. It was improving.

“It looks better, too.”

“About time,” Daryl huffed.

On the other hand, his attitude hadn’t improved.

You sighed, “It’s only been a couple of days.”

“’S been a week.”

“You were shot.” You passed the rag along the few dried bits of puss, careful to leave the growing scab undisturbed. “It takes a while to heal from that.”

“We don’t got a while.”

“I know.” Your jaw tightened.

Daryl was becoming more agitated with his rest as the days dragged on. Cabin fever, maybe. It must’ve been especially bothersome for a man like him, someone who seemed to feel more comfortable in the woods than four walls and a roof, to be trapped here. Especially when neither of you had forgotten the whole point of running house to house in the first place— finding his friends.

“But we agreed. You need to let this heal as long as it can before we leave.”

“Trail could’a gone cold by now.”

Even with your eyes on the back of his neck, drifting down the outgrown strands of dark brown hair reaching to the cuff of his shirt, you could almost see him chewing his lip. It turned out that Daryl’s unease had become mixed up with yours some time ago. By now you could feel that stiffness in his muscles, as if it was in you, too.

“It could’ve.” You dropped the last strip of clean cloth back into the bowl. “It could be fine, too.”

Daryl glanced back at you over his shoulder. It made you freeze— he hadn’t offered any attention other than the small talk you shared while you patched him up. Not until now, when those narrow blue eyes burned into you, demanding your attention.

It was almost instinctual, that warm smile you offered. Still, you were sure he could notice that somber look in your eye. The one that remembered the fear and urgency you felt while in pursuit of your brother— before it ended the way it did.

He seemed to notice every hint of emotion that slipped past your grip.

“Dwelling on it won’t help us find them any faster,” you said.

You glanced over his expression, almost leisurely in your inspection. His lips were parted slightly, jaw slack. Though he wasn’t angry, there was a heaviness in the pretty blue of his eyes. Lately, you were realizing that might be permanent.

While it was sweet, your smile didn’t do much to soothe his urgency or frustration. He turned back.

“I can’t keep doin’ nothin’.”

You swallowed, bandaging a clean strip of cloth around his shoulder as the tone shifted.

“Four days ago you could barely get out of bed.” you firmly stated. “And two days ago, you could barely lift your bow.”

“‘M fine now,” he snapped.

“You’re still healing.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t care.”

The cloth reached its end and you paused. Going in circles with him was exhausting. It made your stomach flutter with anxiety, too. This routine the two of you had fallen into, something idle and restful, was comfortable. He was comfortable.

Maybe even a friend.

“Well, I do,” you replied. “I guess I like you too much to risk you getting hurt worse.”

Daryl glanced at you from the corner of his eye. Subtle enough that you almost hadn’t noticed.

“Thought we didn’t have to like each other,” he retorted in a lighter tone from his previous.

“It makes things a lot easier, don’t you think?” You smirked. “And if you can’t aim that bow, you’re kinda stuck with me anyway.”

You, like anyone else nowadays, knew what it was like to lose a friend. You certainly didn’t want to lose Daryl— whatever it was you had with him— from perhaps a curse of your own overprotectiveness. It was hard to let someone go back into that dangerous world after you learned how bright their blood ran, but this thing you two shared was fragile. Trusting. If Daryl said he was ready, you had to be willing to give him a chance.

So, with a cautionary glance at his new bandage, you gave in an inch.

“One more day.”

His mouth opened, but you snapped before he could, “It's bad enough we’re leaving while you’re still hurt. I’m not doing it in the middle of a storm, either.”

The rest of the day Daryl was still tense. Emotionally, at least. He practiced picking up his crossbow, balancing the weight in his hands. You packed both bags, boiled and bottled all the water you could carry, and hoped this was the right thing to do. The rain didn’t let up until long past sunset.

When morning finally came and the sun broke through grey clouds, you followed through on your word. Backpacks stuffed full, your boots landed across that empty road and the two of you finally left that little house for good.

-> part 8

A/N: slower part, but I think they need that right now. it can't all be fighting and running and shooting and blah blah. I love these little interactions between them as they grow closer <3 I hope u do too!

if you’re reading this, thank you! I hope you enjoyed this chapter. please feel free to leave feedback, it helps so much and I love to read it. have a lovely day <3

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon series #daryl dixon / you #Daryl Dixon / reader #daryl / you #daryl / reader #twd daryl #twd #the walking dead fanfic #twd fanfiction #the walking dead #norman reedus

248 notes · View notes