A small addendum to the "my therapist watched OFMD and what he said next blew my mind" (what I could have called it if I wanted a clickbait title lol) post:

Part of the whole disenfranchised loss thing that comes with mourning your past selves and the selves you never got to be after discovering brilliant new and unimagined possibilities is that the new thing, whatever it is, also comes without a narrative sometimes. And one of the more unusual traits of the 🌟Gay Pirate Show🌟 that regularly comes up is that it's very much not a coming of age story.

So, so many queer stories we see are coming of age stories, and because coming of age stories usually come with a whole "I haven't figured out everything about life yet but I've got a better handle on who I really am!" vibe, the path forward feels less unknown and unknowable. A story like Stede and Ed's though? When you're a fucking adult and have the means, motive, and opportunity to finally go out and make a life you want? That kind of responsibility is fucking terrifying, because a) you have to make it happen yourself and b) you might be sitting there knowing you want a change, knowing that something has to change, but you may not have even the tiniest inkling of what this new you could even begin to look like.

You have to build the road as you're walking down it, in complete darkness, with the awareness of life's brevity that only comes with having already participated in adult life. You end up unmoored between your most recent selves and whatever this new, unknown thing is that comes next, and that makes the work you have to do even harder. And as time passes, it will feel like the likelihood of being able to try again if you fail to stick the landing this time only decreases.

hello sweetheart, i read your prompt list and saw this one "hug?” “clingy, much?……” but hugs them anyway and my heart melted, i don't know if you already did this, but can we have something like that with our sweet but grumpy eddie? 🤍

ty for requesting! — eddie doesn't know why you're avoiding him (fluff, ditzy!reader, 0.9k)

Eddie lost sight of you ten minutes ago. 

You were squished between Robin and Steve on the loveseat last he saw you, giggling into your solo cup while they belted Total Eclipse of the Heart to you — at you — over the music and in their best Muppet impressions. 

He only remembers it so vividly ‘cause he was jealous. Not jealous because you were subjected to Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum’s drunken antics, of course, but jealous because you were with them. And so, so far away. 

Now you’re gone, and he misses you like a stray dog — aggressive and hungry and hurt. He walks up to Steve in the kitchen just the same. Hair wild. Button eyes glittering. Slightly reluctant. 

“Where’d she go?!” he shouts over the music, half-muffled into his drink. He uses the plastic cup like a shield ‘cause he doesn’t want people to know he’s missing you. The metalhead freak from the wrong side of town isn’t supposed to need the ball of sunshine from the suburbs. 

But alas.

“Uh, I don’t know,” Steve slurs, half-distracted as he pours himself a drink. He doesn’t need Eddie to tell him who she is. There’s only one person in the whole world he’d go looking for. “She went outside with Robin, I think—”

Eddie spins on the worn heel of his sneaker before the words can properly leave his mouth. He ducks through the bustling, drunken crowd and finds you sitting lonesome on the porch outside. Prettier than the full moon and all the stars in the velvet black sky combined. 

He walks to stand beside you, shoes thunking heavy on the wooden deck. You tilt your chin to smile brightly up at him while he slips a cig into his mouth. He cups the stick as he lights it. Pretends that’s what he came out here for. Not to see you, of course. 

Definitely not.

“What are you doing out here by yourself?” he mumbles beneath the cigarette in his mouth.

“Robin just left,” you answer plainly, half-shy.

“Why didn’t you come find me?” he asks with an air of nonchalance, still trying to play it cool. ‘Cause there’s nothing less metal than yearning.

You shrug. “‘Cause you were busy?”

It’s easier than telling him that you thought he wanted the space. Or that you actually spent the whole night aching to hang on his side — too scared of embarrassing him in front of all his friends to act on it. 

You know who you are just like you know who he is. Bubblegum pink doesn’t always go well with black. It gets in your hair. Makes everything go all sticky. It’s an acquired taste you know Eddie’s still getting used to — too much of it, and his stomach will start to hurt. So you figure it’s best to keep your distance.

You just didn’t think he was as grieved by it all as you were.

Eddie scoffs. I’m never too busy for you, he wants to say. He might’ve if he wasn’t such a coward. Instead, he blows smoke from his lungs and jokes, “I wouldn’t call keeping Argyle from crowd-surfing in the living room busy, sweetheart.”

A laugh tumbles from his plush lips. The golden sound falls over your skin like stars. You smile absentmindedly back at him as you rise from the creaking rocking chair. You plant your feet ahead of his and smooth your palms beneath his leather jacket, over his warm sides.

Eddie meets your twinkling eyes with narrowed chocolate ones. “What?”

“Hug?” you ask in a mousy voice.

The boy laughs like he’s too cool for affection, though he’d be lying if he said your offer doesn’t have his chest sparkling something fierce. He flicks the cig to the ground — sheepish gaze going with it — before snuffing it out beneath his sneaker.

“Clingy much?” he scoffs.

You nod with a proud smile. 

Eddie’s chest swirls with an unfamiliar feeling. You’re strangely brave about all this — affection and love and all things sweet enough to make him gag. 

It makes him feel like he can feel brave, too.

He wraps his arms around your shoulders and holds you with all the intensity of someone wanting to swallow you whole. You hug him back just the same. “I missed you,” you murmur with your cheek squished against his chest.

“Then what’re you avoidin’ me for, huh?” he teases, chin bobbing against your head.

You pull slightly back to squint at him. “I’m not avoiding you.”

“You’ve been hangin’ out with Steve and Robin the whole night,” he grieves, hiding his sincerity behind boyish theatrics. With a feigned pout that feels totally real, he says, “And you didn’t even sit next to me when we played Never Have I Ever.”

“I thought you wanted the space,” you confess in a hushed voice.

His face screws up like he’s tasted something sour. “Why would you think that?”

“I don’t know…” you shrug. “You always talk about how much you like being alone and stuff, so—”

“Well, yeah! I like my space— just not from you!”

It’s likely the least metal thing he’s ever said.

“Oh,” you hum, mouth contorting into a sheepish beam. “Well… Sorry.”

“Yeah. You should be,” he scoffs, mostly joking. He pouts softly and pulls you back into him again, nosing at your hair until his chapped lips brush your temple. “Just don’t let it happen again, alright?”

iFall for Harry pt. 9

Summary: The ninth part to iFall for Harry

Turns out, destiny has other plans for you and Harry.

And you're taking a trip...back to the future.

Word Count: 2.2k

Grieving Harry is linear.

The moment the call goes dead, so does your connection to him.

Your heightened emotions dwindle down to nothingness. Your memories, your pain, your past. Every cheese pun, every sexy text, every word from his lips.

You erase them all.

You shut out a majority of the world. Revert back to a state of mind where you refuse to trust or engage with anyone. You protect yourself. Punish yourself for letting him get away. For being so broken. For being everything he doesn’t want.

And for making him everything you do.

You don’t work through the problem. You don’t even allow yourself to admit there is a problem. You simply tuck him away into the darkest corner of your mind…and you forget him.

Your friends are worried about you. They reach out, they plan dates, they arrange sleepovers. 

You decline them all.

You stay in your apartment, and you watch old reruns of The Big Bang Theory, and you pretend to laugh at the jokes you’ve heard a hundred times before. 

But most importantly, you pretend like Harry didn’t mention this was one of his comfort shows and that that’s why you’re watching it.

Two weeks go by. Nothing changes for you. You’re still a hollow version of yourself. Dedicating each day to wondering why you couldn’t have just…gotten over your fear. Gotten over what happened to you. And just…let him in.

Your therapist tries to tell you that healing takes time. Trauma lives within the body and no amount of cute boys and perfect scenarios will change that. Until you learn to forgive yourself, you will always be stuck.

 She might be right. But unsticking yourself now doesn’t bring him back.

Occasionally you’ll hear that he’s doing well. He’s on tour. He’s booked a new movie. He’s been caught making out with a model.

But it falls on deaf ears. Passes right through you like air. You’re indifferent now. Choosing to pretend as if he never existed to you.

Now he’s just that famous guy nobody will shut up about.

But on those late nights, when the fragility of your heart slips the crack of your apathetic persona…you pull up his contact.

You have it blocked. Nearly deleted it countless times so you’d lose the temptation to memorize his number and find a way to reach him.

Still, you can’t resist typing out a message. You’ll pour out your heart, write him paragraphs of apologies and explanations. You’ll wish for things to go back. Wish for his happiness. Wish for everything.

And then, you’ll hit the delete button.

Erase everything you want to say, exit out of his information, and turn your phone off.

You almost don’t see the email.

You’re going through your inbox, cleaning it out, responding here and there. But mostly rifling through all the ads so you can delete them and create a bit more space.

The name Marty McFly is what catches your eye. And despite yourself…you click.

Back to the Future! One Night Only! Buy your tickets now!

Your local theater is doing a triple feature, one movie each night for the next three days. You almost don’t consider it. Almost click out of the advertisement and move on.

But then you think of Harry. Think of how you promised to take him, and your heart sinks a little as you stare at the painted poster of Michael J. Fox standing in front of the time traveling car while staring at his watch.

You decide to go. It’ll be nice to watch something that fills you with so much joy. It’ll be good to laugh again. And to revel in the opportunity to forget, at least for a couple of hours.

You think about it for the rest of the week. Countdown the days until you can finally make your way for the theater. 

It feels good to go out again. Feels good to have the sunshine on your face and the promise of a good time ahead of you.

When you slide up to the booth, you’re wearing a smile. A real, genuine smile.

“Hi! Can I get one ticket to the five o’clock showing?” you ask the ticket taker, who nods and accepts your cash.

With that, you’re waved through the doors, and your heart begins to pound. The smell of popcorn and promise washes over each sense as you grab your snacks, and look for your specific door.

After slipping your way inside, you take a look around the darkened theater.

However, the room is empty. At least a hundred seats without a single soul to use them.

Your brows furrow. “The hell is everyone?”

You walk along the aisle, looking for the best seat until you decide on the middle chair about halfway back. 

Snuggling down with your popcorn, you settle in, and wait for the opening credits. Truth be told, you feel a bit odd to be taking up a whole theater by yourself, and you have to wonder if perhaps you got the date wrong. Or maybe the time? Maybe you’re early? Although according to your clock, the movie should be starting any second now.

And then…someone else walks in.

You release a relieved breath as the dark shadow strides along the aisle similar to how you had, looking for a seat as well. Selfishly, you hope they don’t get too close.

Then, they turn down your row.

Shit.

Returning your focus to the dark screen, you pretend not to notice, instead studying the velvet red curtain that’s draping on either side.

The stranger stops right beside you.

Assuming that they’d like to pass by, you glance over, and begin to pull your legs in.

You make the mistake of looking up.

And your heart instantly sinks to the soles of your shoes.

Harry.

“Hi. S’this seat taken?”

The sound of his voice makes your stomach drop to your toes. Even in the dark, you can make out the familiar slope of his nose and sharp curve of his jaw.

You don’t know what to say. Don’t know if he recognizes you or if he knows what he’s even doing.

Either way, you swallow thickly, and nod once.

He smiles.

After settling down into the chair beside you, he sighs, and wiggles back into his seat to get comfortable.

You try not to look at him. Try to pretend like you can’t smell his expensive cologne wafting toward you. Try to pretend as though his hand isn’t right there, dangling over the armrest as if taunting you.

And then, the movie begins.

You try to get lost into the world of Marty and Doc. A world you’re already so familiar with.

But it’s nearly impossible with the way he continues to shift, or laugh, or snort beside you. As if trying to distract you.

You have half a mind to turn to him and hiss, “Shhhh.” 

Somehow…you resist.

“Doc…are you telling me…that you built a time machine…out of a DeLorean?”

Harry laughs beside you, chin resting in the palm of his hand, and for some reason…your chest swells with pride. 

You want him to enjoy this movie. Enjoy the lines you used to memorize as a kid. Want to be able to talk about it with him after and exchange favorite moments.

But the second you start to indulge in this fantasy…you remember.

And your smile quickly slips.

The rest of the movie is spent with your focus glued to the screen. You don’t sneak any extra glances. You don’t listen for his sounds. You don’t allow your peripheral to catch him. 

And when the infamous car flies toward the camera before disappearing in a flash as the title card explodes across the screen, you jump to your feet.

You don’t waste another goddamn second. You get up, you turn on your heel, and you book it toward the middle aisle.

“Wait…wait,” you hear Harry murmur as the dramatic score carries you out of the theater. “Ladybug, wait.”

The nickname nearly makes you flinch as you slip through the door and rush for the lobby. You can tell he’s following after you, the sound of the seats flipping up as he pushes by following you out.

You nearly reach the double doors before his large hand wraps around your upper arm and yanks you back. 

“Hey,” he murmurs, brows furrowed as your eyes meet his chest.

You can’t look at him.

“Listen, I know you wanna go, but I just need to talk to you for one second,” he continues, but his fingers won’t leave you. “Please.”

Your heart is hammering inside your ears. You can’t seem to look anywhere else but the buttons on his shirt.

It’s quiet for a long time.

Then, you nod.

He takes a deep breath. “Listen, I know…I know why this shouldn’t work. I understand the mechanics, and the difficulties, and the issues. I get it. It shouldn’t work.”

A beat of silences settles between you as you apprehensively allow yourself to travel your gaze up.

“…but it does,” he whispers, and your mouth goes dry. “It works, and I don’t know how, and I don’t know why. But I can’t fucking let you go and it’s driving me up the goddamn wall.”

You don’t know what to do. What to say, what to think.

“I don’t want to let you go,” he continues. “I don’t want to block you or remove you. I don’t want to miss you. Or have to remember you as just some fucking thing that happened. I want to talk to you. Wanna send you pictures of the sky and play games with you. Wanna watch TV and bitch about Sheldon with you. Wanna beg you to let me come just to have you do that little smirky thing you do that makes my fucking stomach flip.”

You take a deep breath. And then another. And then another, but nothing helps. Nothing seems to unwind this knot that’s growing tighter with each confession. 

“I can’t wrap my head around you,” he says, and his voice is heavy. And confused. Almost as lost as his expression. “I can’t wrap my head around this—us. I just…I fucking try to think about anything else and it always comes back to you. Every goddamn time.”

You know there are tears in your eyes. You wish there weren’t but they’re coming faster than you can stop them.

“And I know why you’re nervous,” he sighs, squeezing your arm once. “I know. And I can’t fix it, and I really fucking wish I could, but I…god, I’ll do anything to make your future better than your past. I will do anything…to keep you, Cheese Girl. Whatever it takes, whatever you want. Name it, and it's yours.”

“I don’t want you to do anything, Har,” you nearly whimper, head shaking quickly. “I never wanted you to feel responsible for my shit—”

“I don’t. I don’t, I just…you can’t carry this alone. And I can help you—”

“But why should you? You have your own life, and your own trauma, and you deserve the fairytale ending—”

“Ladybug,” he breathes, cutting you short. “We met over text and now we’re here in a movie theater while I profess my adoration for you. Tell me how this isn’t a fairytale.”

Despite yourself…you smile. “Yeah, how…how did you even know I’d be here?”

He releases you now, but only so he can grimace and run a hand through his curls. “Okay, don’t…don’t judge me, but I just…I paid them a shit ton of money to let me rent out the building for…a day or two.”

“A day or two?”

“Well…I wasn’t sure if you’d see the email in time, so I had to keep sending it until you came—”

You rear back. “You sent the email?”

His nose scrunches. “I was desperate, all right? You had me blocked, and I figured you wouldn’t agree to meeting.”

Your lashes flutter as you work in this new information. “Shit, Har. That’s…that’s a lot of work to go through just for one person you barely know.”

He suddenly surges forward, palms pressing to your cheeks until he can take hold of your face and tilt it up. “You’re worth it. My god, Cheesy, are you worth it.”

“Cheesy?” you repeat incredulously, but your smile is big. “God that’s…”

“…cheesy?” he finishes for you. “About as cheesy as renting out a theater in hopes that the girl I like will show up and take me back?”

You nod quickly, lip between your teeth. “Yeah, but…cheese is kind of our thing.”

“It is,” he agrees, chuckling to himself as he pulls you closer, your chest brushing with his. “Listen, I can’t…I know this isn’t some sort of magic fix. But please…please let me try. Just…just let me keep you. For a little bit at least. Let me make all those puns worth it.”

Maybe you know better. Maybe this is a horrible idea. Maybe every red flag is waving wildly in your face.

And maybe…you just don’t care.

“What if I’m your destiny?” he finishes, and your heart just about breaks. “Or…density.”

You both laugh as he catches a stray tear that travels down your cheek, eyes pleading with yours. 

And when you offer the subtlest of nods…everything changes.

He kisses you before you can take a breath, his lips warm and full of promise.

You stand there in the middle of the lobby, trapped in his arms as the soft sounds of Back to the Future play on in the background.

Maybe he is your destiny after all.

One more part 🥹 Will be sobbing violently

Dedicated to @nof0odallowed for the original ask! 💞

Next Part:

~iFall for Harry pt. 10* (Final)

Previous Part:

~ iFall for Harry pt. 8

~ Full iFall for Harry Masterlist

~ Other Harry Blurbs

~ Full Masterlist

Taglist:

@walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @cherryshouse @lydiarry @justlemmeadoreyou @tiaamberxx @yoruse

as the new year approaches, i went ahead and put some of my favorite of my secret life ficlets up on ao3!

jimmy and lizzie, as death comes to take them

joel and martyn grieving in the aftermath of session six

cleo and etho, season after season

cleo and etho, at the end

scar on the server alone

the cast and their thoughts on the concept of "curses"

go ahead and go give them a read if you haven't, and give yourself the opportunity to bookmark/kudos/comment/etc if you were waiting for ao3 to do so!

i.yuji x reader | konbini in the night

there are breadcrumbs on your face. you wipe them off and throw the packaging away in the dustbin next to his bike, the darkness of the night contrasting the bright lights of the convenience store next to you.

“look!” he calls out, the light in his pink hair fading as he exits the store, “I got one of these strawberry sandwiches I keep seeing online lately.”

the glint in his eyes is like powdered sugar on a perfect cake, or fireworks in a starry sky. sweet, bright, unforgettable— a treasure in people’s memories. the convenience store had been like an oasis in the dim, merely lamp-lit streets, and the two of you decided to dash straight into it before getting back to jujutsu high’s dormitories.

“you sure you don’t want anything else?” he asks, “the cashier lady’s actually really nice. I can give you some of these sandwiches, too.”

you’re sure it’s because he’s nicer. that he walked up to the counter, with that adorable face and kind smile, and the lady just treated him the same. like how sunflowers shined at and turned their heads to the sun.

“no, I’m fine.”

“hm…” he goes, “okay. but you should eat more, you know?”

“pft— yuuji, I’ll be just fine. don’t worry, okay?”

“okay,” he says with a pout.

he gets on the bicycle, and reflexively, you sit behind him. (you really have been pavlov’ed into getting on the passenger’s seat every time he’s on his bike, huh?) he places the sandwiches next to where you’ve placed your own water bottle in the basket, and you lean forward so that your face rests against his back while your arms are wrapped loosely around his neck. the hard pillion seat feels as comfortable as a mattress on display in a department store.

the ride back to the dorms— back home, actually— starts mostly mundanely, the wind humming softly against your face, the night dissolving your consciousness in slumber. you feel just that one bit out of control of yourself, and your head feels light to the point where you don’t want to think about anything at all.

“...let’s get married, yuuji,” you whisper under the twinkling stars, your spirit warmly embracing his while you press your chest more against his back. normally you’d be too scared to, especially with your breath still smelling like sandwiches: all too ridden with your own inhibitions— but this night in particular is almost a perfect one, so for once you don’t mind.

there is so much pain in the world but not here. not behind him and definitely not on the seat behind his back. the world ahead is uncertain but you’d be willing to face it with him head-on as long as he’s fine with it.

“huh? married?” he doesn’t know if the red on his cheeks is obvious but he thinks that even if it is you wouldn’t see it under the night sky. you can tell that under his large brown eyes there’s the faintest of blushes— you don’t need eyes to see that.

you nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck. he smells like some kind of 3-in-1 shampoo-conditioner-shower gel thing, but you guess that’s a testament to how much you love him since you don’t mind it at all. it’s wonderfully endearing to you now: the plain, minty scent that clings to his trademark ref hoodie, how the ends of his spiky pink hair poke and tickle at your face, how you can hear his low, slow breathing like a soft melody soothing you to sleep.

you’re not going to think that you’ll lose him someday. if you did then you wouldn’t be able to live. but if you didn’t promise this now— now when you’ve still only met him three months ago— and lost him, you’d spend your whole life grieving over him.

“mhm,” you reply, “let’s get married. I want to stay with you for a lifetime.”

and if this isn’t love you don’t know what love is anymore.

he looks back for a moment, and smiles, showing his teeth off like a little kid.

“sure! I wanna have that too.” he turns back. “I mean, I wanna make you happy. really happy. every day. and you wouldn’t have to worry about keeping me happy because I’d be the happiest guy in the world as long as you were. and, and—” —he lets one of his hands go from the bicycle handles; you open your eyes as he starts making gestures with it as accompaniments to his words— “— we’ll have this nice house or something, and it can be whatever you like. we can think of something together. and we won’t have much but it’ll be enough, I think.”

“mhm,” you smile. you bet he can feel the imprints of your lips on his skin, because it lays the slightest of gooseflesh on the back of his neck, the hairs there rising a little. as gross as it sounds you don’t worry if it’s chapped, and you guess he doesn’t mind either. “we’ll have just enough for us.”

he hums in agreement. “yeah.”

it’s quiet for a while, just the night air mixed with his scent, the grass swaying along to a silent tune, him, and you.

“…you know, a lot of people think that things like this come in sequences or something. like you have to at least kiss and do more than studying or going to the store together. we don’t even go to each others’ rooms at night or spend every second together and all… but— I think… I think I already know I want to spend my whole life with you. I mean, I really, really love you. so I get kinda worked up about lots of stuff sometimes but then I’ll see you again and that tells me things’ll be fine. that we’ll work things out.”

“yeah,” you say, your breath brushing against his skin again. it warms your cheeks up as the heat in it spreads around your face like hot tea. “we will. we definitely will. I promise.”

you fall asleep on his shoulder and don’t care about waking up on time the next day.

haha I just wanted to get this out since it’s been sitting in my docs app for about a month,,, also 恭喜发财 to the people who celebrate it, and happy Valentine’s Day since it’s coming up soon! so sorry if this is subpar or has any grammatical mistakes TvT

The Lost 5

Warnings: non/dubcon, mentions of loss, grieving, death, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: nomad!Steve Rogers

Summary: You move into a shared flat and encounter a mysterious man.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

Your shift ends and you’re ready to just be alone. It isn’t your first choice of work. In Sokovia, you had your own office and you worked from home on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Here, your resume can’t get you much else than the convenience store gig. Money is money. After all you’ve lost, it’s the only thing left in this world with any meaning.

You come up to the house. It’s a dour building with chipped brick and dark windows. One is covered on the inside with newspaper. The stairs to the second level creak with your steps and your keys jingle as you twist them in the lock. Everything is so loud.

Inside, the hallway is grim with shadows. You kick off your shoes before you enter and clutch the strap of your bag. You have a package of ramen left. You’ll choke that down and close your eyes.

As you come further down the hall, you slow down, odd shapes littered across the floor just outside your door. You get nearer and notice your door is open. How can that be? You always lock it. You double and even triple check.

You stop short of the mess of your meagre belongings across the floor. Three cans, carrots, beans, and pees are dented on their sides; your package of ramen is crushed, the seam split and spilling out broken noodles; your only other sweater is slashed down the front, the stitching unraveling all around the gash; and your bedding dragged off your bed and into the hallway. All that you have, not much at all, right there before you.

You look at the blackened doorway. You can see from there that the top hinge is broken, you can assume the lock is too. You don’t dare go any further as you fear someone lurking inside. You turn back to the door, contemplating whether to retreat or brave the unknown.

The lock flips back, grinding as the deadbolt slides back, and the door opens. You brace yourself as S enters. He looks perturbed even before he sees you. You press your lips together, staring at him dumbly. His eyes meet yours and his brows arch. Then his gaze falls behind you.

He reaches to flip on the light switch beside the door frame. He exhales, disappointment, and closes the door, locking it. He beckons you closer with two fingers. You’re too addled to refuse. You move towards him and sidle against the wall as he signals past you.

Almost militarily, he marches past you. He takes out his cellphone and shines the light ahead of him. His other fist balls as he nears your bedroom. He flashes the light inside as he comes to fill the doorway. You see the room glow before him as his eyes search.

“Dirty coward’s not here,” he snarls as he lowers his phone, thumbing off the light. “... find him.”

He pivots and slides his phone into his back pocket. He seems even bigger as he strides away. You gulp and follow him. 

“Um, sir, it’s–”

“Not okay,” he passes by the kitchen and through the shared front room, “that creep–”

“Really, it’s not– I don’t want to–”

“Thinks he can mess with you. I don’t like bullies,” he growls as he continues on briskly.

“Please, er, I don’t like confrontation. Or violence.”

“I’m not going to get violent,” he stops at the next hall and turns halfway, “just gonna scare him like he did you.”

“You don’t have to–”

“I do. You don’t get it but I do,” he turns back to his mission and stomps into the hall. 

You’re a few steps behind him as he gets to the furthest door. He hammers on it with his large fist. You cower and wring your hands. Your legs shake as the loud pounding rolls in your head like thunder; like buildings collapsing all around you as plumes of dust and smoke choke your lungs.

“What do you think you’re doing, you little worm?” S’s sneer fades as the sight of him grabbing the greasy man by the collar blurs to coloured orbs.

You don’t hear the man’s response or what comes next. You cover your ears and stagger back until your back meets the wall. The memories of your home falling down around you, of the streets littered with bodies, screams erupting from every corner, as horror rains from the sky.

A slam brings you back. You quiver and gasp as you look over. Your hands are clutched in tight fists against your chest, nails digging into your palms. S steps back on his heel as he glares at the closed door.

“Don’t think he’ll bother you ag…” his voice trails as he looks around, stopping short as he sees you towards the other end of the hall, “I… are you alright?”

You can’t speak or move. You just stand, blinking, trembling, as you stare back at him. He nears and you flinch out of his reach as he stretches a hand out. You force your arms down.

“I don’t like violence,” you whisper.

“I didn’t hurt him. Just scared him.”

“I didn’t ask you to do that.”

“I’m sorry, I thought…” he pauses, recalculating as you turn your chin away. “I didn’t think. I’m really sorry. You’re right. I shouldn’t have done that.”

You shrug. You shake your head and drag your feet out of the hall. You cross the front room and go back down the next. You get down and start to gather up what you can salvage. The rest you’ll sweep into the dustpan.

“What are you going to do? Door’s broken.”

You stand up with the dented cans and your pillow. “Landlord.”

“She’ll have to call someone. She won’t answer her phone either. Too late.”

“What else can I do?” You mumble and go into your room.

You wade around the darkness cautiously but the lamp isn’t where it should be. You kick it with your foot. The overhead light doesn’t work. The space is illuminated by something else. You look at the star of light in the doorway, S’s silhouette behind it as he shines his phone inward.

You peer around. The smell of piss roils off the mattress. You can’t believe it. Why would he do that? To scare you? Why? You were nice. Except you didn’t let him in last night. The memory makes you shudder.

“Real piece of work. Hopefully Muriel finally evicts him,” S says, “I’ll vouch that it was him too.”

You don’t say anything. It seems like fate is against you. You can’t even have this shitty room.

“Tell you what, you can have my room for the night. I’ll sleep on the couch. The others don’t bother me.”

You hang your head, “I can’t…”

“Well, I can’t let you stay in here. Or out on the couch. If you won’t take it, I’ll just have to sleep outside your door.”

You roll your eyes, “why?”

He sniffs and lets out a long breath, “that’s what decent people do. They help each other.”

You’re exhausted and mortified and the smell of urine is making you sick. You don’t have the energy to argue. Not with this man. Just like the shake, you won’t win.

“Just the night,” you agree, “I’ll pay you for it–”

“I won’t take the money.”

“Please,” you beg.

“Keep your money,” he insists, “I have extra sheets. I’ll get those changed.”

You nod and stay in the darkness. You hug your possessions glumly, push your lip in and out as you wallow. You just need one good thing. Just one.

“How was it? The strawberry?” He lingers just outside the door as he shuts the light off, “I never tried it.”

You swallow, “a bit too sweet.”

hi!!! i was wondering if you could by chance do something where the reader is a paramedic, and they lose someone for the first time on the job, and they come back home a wreck?

id like price, soap or ghost with it, i feel like they'd understand what it's like to lose someone and feel like it's ur fault 😭

maybe they would say "you did everything you could, sweetheart."

idk ill be going into this field and it scares me that this stuff happens so often

──── ꒦꒷ MAIN MASTERLIST ꒷꒦ PRICE MASTERLIST ꒦꒷

‧₊˚⊹ warning(s): established relationship, death/grief, patient loss, hurt/comfort, emt!reader, gn!reader ‧˚₊

‧₊˚⊹ word count: 875 ‧˚₊ | a/n: this is short & i don't like it.

WOUNDS | JOHN PRICE

Exhaustion was nothing new to you. Countless hours on your feet, making life-or-death decisions, subsiding every worry to the back of your mind, and only focusing on the situation in front of you.

Stressful, difficult days were part of the bargain. Even on a good day, you still find yourself sore and spent. But today wasn’t a good day.

Loss should be something you were well acquainted with by now yet weren't. The initial heartache of losing a patient was too forbidding to cope with, and there was no time to pause and reflect. It felt careless, unjust even, to move on to the next—live—person.

It happened fast, too fast, and then you were onto your next case. In some ways, the chaotic influx of maimed people helped to blur your reality; to keep you from feeling. It all hit you the moment you took your uniform off, staggering home with an expression as lifeless as the corpse being shipped to the morgue.

You twisted your key into the lock, greeted by a dim and empty house. No warmth, no ambiance — only you and your grieving thoughts.

You rested your bags on the entry table with a dead weight, tugging off your shoes with the same quickness. When your psyche ached, the same pains in your muscles seemed considerably worse.

The shower called you the longer it took your exhausted legs to walk the steps. A steamy, warm cocoon to scrub your skin raw; until the emotions withered. At least that’s what you hoped to achieve.

But grief was ugly. Worse, somehow, because you had to become good friends with it to succeed. As you lathered yourself in suds, you closed your eyes and let the water beat down on you.

In a way, you knew deep down that this feeling would ever entirely disappear. The first loss is always the worst, but so are all the rest you’re doomed to deal with. Inevitable and unforgiving, while all the rest of the world moves on.

John crept up the stairs, hearing the drone and patter of the shower head in the distance. He found it strange that you hadn’t bothered to light up the downstairs. The only bulb illuminating his path to the bathroom was the sconce in the hallway.

The golden light from the washroom lit up the rest of the wall, beams widening when he pushed on the door. You stood under the rain, head tipped back with a wincing expression. Your arms wrapped around yourself, as if to mimic a hug, and how your thumbs caressed your dripping skin to self-soothe.

The scene in front of him reminded him of shellshock, only with less gore and chaos, thankfully. Though you appeared tranquil, he nearly felt the waves of woe radiating off you with the steam. Something had happened, something forlorn.

He sidled ahead, placing his boots on the bathmat. Though the door ground when it opened, you didn't bother to open your eyes. You were lost in the turmoil of the day, retracing every decision you made — tirelessly wondering if there was a detrimental mistake.

From behind, Price pulled you flush against his chest. Despite how obvious he had made his presence; you were still startled at the feeling of arms wrapped around you. He made no sudden movements, nuzzling your head back against him for support.

You slowly craned your neck to peer at him, seeing him fully clothed and actively soaking from the shower. His eyes were soft and empathetic, nearly all-knowing of the ins and outs of demise. In a way, the Captain did.

"John, your clothes..." You muttered, as to displace the emotional spotlight.

Quickly, he shushed your weak voice, pressing his lips to your forehead. All those calls he'd made over the years — juggling proficiency for blood; his own, his men, even civilians. That aching, ever-persistent guilt that rattled him when he was alone too long. He knew it like an old friend.

You, a healer, should not. It wasn't fair, seeing you struggling to keep your mind serene. And your appearance — fatigued, weeping eyes and a body that told the harrowing story for you.

With a shuffle of your heavy feet, you turned to face him. "I lost one today." You whispered into the crook of his neck, leaning on him with your full weight.

"I know, love." His thumb brushed your cheek as if wiping away the tears that had already washed down the drain.

The corners of his mouth distorted into a conflicted smile — one of support and uncertainty. There was nothing he could do but be your shoulder, that much he knew. If it were him in your position, that's all he would want.

Your quivering lips parted, waterworks brimming on your irises again.

He could feel the slump of your posture, the contort of regret and guilt written all over you. "You did all you could, sweetheart. Everything you could." John stopped you prematurely before you could bash yourself over misfortunes out of your control.

It was hypocritical, the man he glanced at in the mirror carrying the weight of too many casualties.

But it didn't matter when it was you; this was his burden to carry.

a/n: this doesn't have to be emt/paramedic specific. it could be any kind of healthcare worker or medic.

⋆꒷꒦‧₊˚ divider cred. - cafekitsune ˚₊‧꒦꒷⋆

god of war: ragnarok starters

may contain spoilers !

❝ trust? you have broken my trust. ❞ ❝ you seemed troubled in your sleep, even for you. nightmares? ❞   ❝ if you’re not fighting dirty, you’re not fighting, right? ❞   ❝ the worst is still ahead of us. we must be strong. ❞   ❝ it’s times like this i really miss home. ❞ ❝ you must live with your deeds, but do not be troubled by them. ❞ ❝ you don’t strike me as someone who fears death. ❞ ❝ that is not who i am anymore. ❞   ❝ the problem doesn’t have to reach our doorstop to be our responsibility. ❞   ❝ please don’t make me do this. ❞   ❝ the storm is getting worse. ❞   ❝ i’d offer you a hug, but why traumatise either of us further. ❞   ❝ whatever anger you’re feeling, whatever loathing toward me...it’s nothing to what i’ve said to myself. ❞   ❝ i know the hate that burns you from within. i’ve felt those flames...known the comfort of their warmth. ❞   ❝ i do not need you to protect me. ❞   ❝ be glad you have a home to remember fondly. ❞   ❝ you’ve come a long way since i first met you. ❞   ❝ the pain only grows. will i ever be free of it? ❞ ❝ i need you...i can’t do this by myself. ❞   ❝ got a case of pride, i get it. hope yours clears up quicker than mine did. ❞   ❝ you were given an impossible problem. do not blame yourself for failing to solve it. ❞ ❝ you speak of your deeds with shame. ❞ ❝ i wronged you. and i cannot change that...and can never apologise enough for it. ❞   ❝ we do not know what lies ahead. i wish to enjoy the time we have left. ❞   ❝ there is no need to shoulder this burden on your own. ❞   ❝ i suppose that’s all any of us can hope for in the end. that our death has purpose. ❞   ❝ i don’t need to hear about your mistakes. i’ve made enough of my own, thanks. ❞   ❝ some free advice? you don’t want to let anyone catch you talking to your sword. ❞   ❝ you reek of cheap mead and that is by far your most endearing characteristic. ❞   ❝ i expected you to come and find me. that no matter how hurt or angry, you wouldn’t abandon me when i needed you the most. ❞   ❝ you started this fight --- i will end it. ❞   ❝ you don’t have to do this kinda stuff just to keep my mind off things. ❞   ❝ could i ever think of this place as home again? after all that’s happened? ❞   ❝ all too often, people are blinded to all but their immediate self-interest. ❞ ❝ not exactly a calming presence, are you? ❞ ❝ know that all reigns end, and all empires fall. ❞ ❝ do not doubt the lengths i will go to. ❞ ❝ so much has been taken from me and i’m supposed to let it all go? ❞   ❝ if you don’t think i could lead us, just say so. ❞ ❝ i’m not saying anything you haven’t thought. ❞ ❝ there’s no making this right, is there? ❞ ❝ love should be---could be---stronger than hatred. ❞ ❝ it seems to me we share a common enemy. ❞ ❝ i know how bad it can get with one’s own kin. ❞ ❝ seems the only thing i can do right these days is destroy everything around me. ❞ ❝ i am haunted by your incompetence. it keeps me up at night. ❞ ❝ so i’m not allowed to give you a nickname? ❞ ❝ oooh, getting nosey. getting personal. ❞ ❝ that’s the most dangerous and irresponsible thing i’ve ever heard. ❞ ❝ i haven’t given up hope on you. ❞ ❝ i had hoped my days of ceaseless battles were over. ❞ ❝ to grieve deeply is to love fully. ❞ ❝ the truth is always more complicated. to imagine it’s simple is dangerous. ❞   ❝ you're a killer, just like your father. ❞ ❝ you think you just get to walk away? ❞   ❝ uh...someone’ll clean that up. ❞ ❝ i dont know if we’re breaking fate, or fate’s breaking us. ❞ ❝ how can you, of anyone alive, be squeamish about war? ❞ ❝ oh, wow...that’s quite the compliment. ❞ ❝ i grow tired of your lack of empathy. ❞ ❝ to abandon a poisonous path and walk another is no small challenge. ❞   ❝ can i get you a water or something? ❞ ❝ confronting the past comes with a price. ❞ ❝ i want things to be the way they were. ❞ ❝ being in love’s always a risk. that’s what makes it fun. ❞ ❝ i was always fond of our talks, you know. ❞ ❝ curiosity’s all well and good...but so’s privacy, yes? ❞ ❝ whatever you ask, consider it done. i am forever in your debt. ❞ ❝ what’s the biggest thing you’ve ever fought? ❞ ❝ so...was this all that you hoped for? ❞ ❝ the closer we get, the more tightness grows in my chest. ❞ ❝ your path leads to countless deaths. unimaginable pain and suffering. ❞ ❝ can’t you take a joke, you old goat? ❞ ❝ everyone takes it easy on you because they’re scared of your father. ❞ ❝ that’s family.    you got to keep them close where they can make you good and crazy. ❞ ❝ maybe, for the moment, you’re of more use to me alive. ❞ ❝ look at the ruins before you and understand the truth: this was your doing. ❞ ❝ forgive me. my words were chosen carelessly. ❞ ❝ my success does not come from luck. ❞ ❝ just shut up and drink. ❞ ❝ no matter the size, every creature has a weakness. ❞ ❝ sometimes we never really know the ones we love. ❞ ❝ tell me about your homeland. ❞ ❝ leadership? not really my strong suit, let’s be honest. ❞ ❝ what am i gonna do, walk around with a bandage on my head, begging for attention? ❞ ❝ why are you so bent on hurting me like this? i’ve done nothing to you. ❞ ❝ you seem like a calm and reasonable person.      are you a calm and reasonable person? ❞ ❝ i’ve seen my fair share of bloodshed, but this is an awful lot for one morning. ❞ ❝ if you’re planning on killing me, at least let me finish this song. ❞ ❝ everywhere i look, i am reminded of my mistakes. ❞ ❝ i have seen many lands. many realms. i can tell you with some certainty: no such paradise exists. ❞ ❝ do something about it or shut up already. ❞ ❝ breaking tension with humour is the sacred duty of a travelling companion. ❞ ❝ forgiveness can be powerful. even for the unworthy. ❞ ❝ you have no idea the kind of shit i’ve been through. ❞ ❝ our actions have consequences. to be reminded of them is not a punishment. ❞ ❝ take the hint. go away. ❞ ❝ something is on your mind. what is it? ❞ ❝ what a twisted little soul you have. ❞ ❝ your eyes say everything. ❞ ❝ me and you against the world, huh? just like the old days. ❞ ❝ there is no making things right. only better than they were. ❞ ❝ without me? i thought we were partners. ❞ ❝ this will end in blood. the only question that remains is which side is willing to spill more. ❞ ❝ i have lost myself before. more than once. ❞ ❝ you cannot sneak up on me like that. ❞ ❝ is it always moral to kill something that’s trying to kill you? ❞ ❝ we’ve gotta be more than a bunch of stories with our endings already written. ❞ ❝ the smell is making my eyes burn. ❞ ❝ you are staring... ❞ ❝ even the brightest among us carry darkness. ❞ ❝ anyone ever tell you that you babble when you’re terrified? ❞ ❝ every path i walk...leads back to vengeance. ❞ ❝ maybe our families are just meant to be enemies. ❞ ❝ i know how it feels...to lose a parent. ❞ ❝ your love of this place...i can feel it. anyone can. ❞ ❝ what you can do is get the fuck out of my sight. ❞ ❝ it was stupid of me to hope in the first place. ❞ ❝ is that regret in your voice? ❞ ❝ there are things even gods cannot control. ❞ ❝ you don’t care about anyone beyond yourself. ❞ ❝ say something. i enjoy hearing your voice. ❞ ❝ does it frighten you? that is why you must do it. ❞ ❝ the dumb doesn’t fall far from the tree. ❞ ❝ you’re quite agitated, even for you. ❞ ❝ ain’t you never seen a legend in the flesh before? ❞ ❝ you are one of the few i would call a ‘friend’. ❞ ❝ this place is kinda pretty, when things aren’t trying to kill us. ❞ ❝ i find the hues and shades of your shortcomings almost moving. ❞ ❝ i still might kill you when this is over. ❞ ❝ i wish i could do more, i really do. ❞ ❝ do you ever have those moments where you wish you could...go back? rewrite your own past, make different decisions. ❞ ❝ do you want me to stop talking about your muscles? ❞ ❝ you are a formidable warrior, but even more than that, you have a good heart. ❞ ❝ this world takes more strength than it gave me. ❞ ❝ i’m trying to save your life, you big jerk. ❞ ❝ at least something out here doesn’t wanna kill me. ❞ ❝ i’ll just say it. i’m getting a really terrible feeling from this place. ❞ ❝ violence changes us. you are not weak to feel its effects. ❞ ❝ i’ve always loved you, you know. ❞ ❝ what side are you on anyway? ❞ ❝ everything was fine until you showed up. ❞ ❝ i have been...falling back into my old ways. angry. distrustful. ❞ ❝ one day, you will have to survive. without me. ❞ ❝ you don’t have to like me but...we’re gonna have to trust each other. ❞ ❝ you think war drives me? or power? wealth? no. never has. ❞ ❝ and they say i’m the bad guy. ❞ ❝ you feel it in the air, don’t you? the anxiety. ❞ ❝ i’m not being weird, you’re being weird. ❞ ❝ sure you’re up for breaking the rules like this? ❞ ❝ doubt is a weakness we cannot afford. ❞ ❝ mm. i do not like riddles. ❞ ❝ it just seems like a lot for someone your age. ❞ ❝ use the judgement of a man and not of a child. ❞ ❝ so what are we supposed to do? roll over? do nothing? ❞ ❝ war will not give you the purpose you seek. ❞ ❝ nasty hit! are you alright? ❞ ❝ well, glad you survived the first day. ❞ ❝ what do you think? is there a right side in this war? ❞ ❝ didn’t you ever have an awkward phase in your youth? ❞ ❝ you will not find me good company. ❞ ❝ how about we just don’t kill each other? ❞ ❝ what have your promises ever been worth? ❞ ❝ why would you come this way alone? ❞ ❝ leave now, whether you value your life or peace in your death. ❞ ❝ i put you in so much pain. put you in a terrible situation. ❞ ❝ the most difficult battles are fought within. ❞ ❝ it’s not my job to teach you everything. ❞ ❝ thanks for patching me up. ❞ ❝ loss can do things to a man. ❞ ❝ i don’t know why i thought i could do this alone. ❞ ❝ i will do what it takes to keep you safe. ❞ ❝ a desperate creature can be the most dangerous. ❞ ❝ you’re just sharing your thoughts on a subject you know nothing about. ❞ ❝ this isn’t who you want to be. ❞ ❝ i knew this was going too smoothly. ❞ ❝ can one man do this much damage? ❞ ❝ this is your final warning. ❞ ❝ you have a lot of nerve, know that? ❞ ❝ i am counting on you. to be safe. to be smart. ❞ ❝ uh, maybe that’s not a good idea? ❞ ❝ well, that was violent. ❞ ❝ don’t go to too much trouble on my account. ❞ ❝ are you not a soldier? are you not a leader of people? ❞ ❝ just when i thought you couldn’t get even more godly. ❞ ❝ do you wish to speak of what happened? ❞ ❝ you have no hold on me any more. ❞ ❝ have you ever been in love? ❞ ❝ mind if i give you the best advice you’ve heard all day and possibly ever? sleep. ❞ ❝ you’ll have my wise and faithful counsel always. ❞ ❝ look, i just want to do the right thing. ❞ ❝ all i ask for is a good night’s rest. ❞ ❝ you’re angry with me, aren’t you? ❞ ❝ we live in strange times. ❞ ❝ do you hear that? i thought i heard a voice. ❞ ❝ any outsider is considered a threat. ❞ ❝ it is not always wrong to trust people. ❞ ❝ never thought i’d be so relieved to be back here. ❞ ❝ well, we all make mistakes. ❞ ❝ this is the craziest thing i’ve ever done. ❞ ❝ when we get out of here, i’ll give you some space. ❞ ❝ violence cannot prevent violence. ❞ ❝ the truth can be a cruel thing. ❞ ❝ defy your prophecy at your own peril. ❞ ❝ i must say, i think we make a good team. ❞ ❝ where would you even be without me? ❞ ❝ calm your mind. control it. ❞ ❝ you look...weirder than i imagined. ❞ ❝ we must tread carefully. danger is close. ❞ ❝ there are worse things to discover about someone you love. ❞ ❝ i know how it feels to be wronged. ❞ ❝ did you just wake up with the urge to be a pain in my ass? ❞ ❝ is it revenge if justice is served? ❞ ❝ sometimes there is no other way. ❞ ❝ all journeys come to an end. ❞ ❝ you’re the first person that i’ve talked to in a really long time. ❞ ❝ i’ve been waiting my whole life for this moment. ❞ ❝ so...do you forgive me? ❞ ❝ sorry, i’m just really excited to talk to you. ❞ ❝ is there any way to stop fate? ❞ ❝ it would be the first time in a while i have something truly mine. ❞ ❝ the earth is the reflection of those who tend it. ❞ ❝ i have to say. i am profoundly unimpressed. ❞ ❝ i did not come to you for a lecture. ❞ ❝ perhaps there is a measure of monster inside us all. ❞ ❝ i was about to look for you. ❞ ❝ i said we would speak no more of that. ❞ ❝ peace cannot endure without force to protect it. ❞ ❝ what is it you will not tell me? ❞ ❝ where has everyone gone, i wonder? ❞ ❝ i suppose we’re all entitled to walk our own paths. regardless of where they end. ❞ ❝ you are in way over your head. ❞ ❝ so much about that day i wish i could change. ❞ ❝ it is difficult to seek forgiveness when you feel unworthy. ❞ ❝ i don’t recall asking you to come along. ❞ ❝ don’t you know who i am? ❞ ❝ real power does not need to flaunt. it emerges when the time is right. ❞ ❝ i don’t move, you don’t move. don’t do anything you’ll regret. ❞ ❝ sorry we got off on the wrong foot there. ❞ ❝ i meant it when i said you’re not a prisoner here. ❞ ❝ the culmination of love is grief, and still we open our hearts to the inevitable. ❞ ❝ why aren’t we working together? ❞ ❝ maybe together we can take back what’s ours. ❞ ❝ you don’t hear me spreading your business all around town, do you? ❞ ❝ you judge me? you? ❞ ❝ you think i’m being stupid. ❞ ❝ go before i change my mind. ❞ ❝ you deserve nothing but pain. ❞ ❝ always expect the unexpected. ❞ ❝ don’t go telling anyone about that. ❞ ❝ i shouldn’t have listened to you. ❞ ❝ you think my anger is irrational? ❞ ❝ prophecies are slippery by nature. ❞ ❝ seek no quarrel with me, and i’ll have no quarrel with you. ❞ ❝ you’re a destroyer, like me. ❞ ❝ you think i’m trouble? you just met me. ❞ ❝ not sure that makes me feel any better... ❞ ❝ let me see the monster inside. ❞ ❝ i know what you’re doing.     trying to play on my sympathies in the hope i let you live. ❞ ❝ i do not want you to feel alone. ❞ ❝ the mistakes of the past need not be repeated. ❞ ❝ never mind...i shouldn’t have asked. ❞ ❝ i regret many things. killing you will not be one of them. ❞ ❝ do you believe in fate? ❞ ❝ you can’t kill what you can’t catch. ❞ ❝ i just could use some fresh air, is all. ❞ ❝ i told you never to come back here. ❞  

Setting The Record Straight - Gojō Satoru x Reader

MAJOR SPOILERS FOR CHAPTER 236 – set after chapter 236 Pairing: Gojō Satoru x Reader (can be read as any gender, no pronouns used) Genre: hurt/comfort – angst to fluff Word Count: 1 923 Warnings: death, canontypical violence Summary: Following his victory over Sukuna, Gojō comes to comfort you, who thought he had died. A/N: like… two weeks late but whatever. Also: tag for @nnasv (I'm not sure if you wanted to be tagged for this, all the stories or another one; if i made a mistake, please let me know!) And @un-lawliet bc 💕

Masterlist

The moment the screens displayed Gojō Satoru’s death, you turned around and left. You knew the chances that Gojō would make it unharmed had always been slim, but watching the man you loved against better judgment die in front of your eyes, was not something you were prepared for. No matter how much time you’d have to mentally prepare for it, you’d never be able to watch it. So instead, you turned around and left the room, the others in so much shock, they barely noticed how you closed the door behind you. But you made sure to shut two more doors between yourself and them before you allowed the first whimpers to slip past your lips. Your knees buckled under your weight, the world seemed to have lost its balance, as you stumbled forwards, barely managing to hold onto the armrest of a small couch. Staring down at the unnervingly soft fabric underneath your hands, you watched as tears dripped from your cheeks, creating small spots of darkness where they hit the cushion.

You couldn’t believe he was gone. Rationally you knew he was, the slice that took his life having also buried itself deep into your heart, leaving a bleeding wound that would leave ugly scars. And what you thought was almost worse, was that Gojō had expected this to happen, he had known it would happen. Otherwise, why would he have kept everyone at a distance with his infinity when he was bidding his goodbye just a few hours ago? You remembered Yūji’s almost offended expression when he noticed he couldn’t hug his teacher to wish him good luck. Even though you knew it would be futile, you had reached your hand out for Gojō’s anyway, hoping he’d somehow acknowledge these unspoken feelings that had fluttered between you for months now. But your fingertips had met the unyielding barrier of his cursed technique, and he had walked away from you, not sparing you another glance. You knew he had been focusing on the task ahead, but now, now that he was gone, you wondered if maybe you had just imagined him showing the same interest in you that you had developed for him. Either way you wished you could have said a proper goodbye.

Now the pain over having lost Gojō made you topple over, and you let yourself drop to the deep cushions of the couch. It was ridiculous to feel this way, you thought to yourself as you hugged your knees to your chest. You had lost friends before, but it had never hurt this badly. And Gojō was nothing more than a friend, right? No matter how much you had wanted him to be more. There had never been any confessions, agreements or promises. Gojō was your friend, even with the lingering glances and touches, the late-night talks, and his relentless teasing. He was nothing more than a friend. Then why did it hurt so much more than any other time you had lost a friend?

You cried for hours, until you had no more tears left, until your face was red, your eyes bloodshot, your voice hoarse, and your body limp with exhaustion. Whatever was happening outside, whatever havoc Sukuna was causing since Gojō’s deaths, you didn’t know, and a part of you didn’t even care anymore. Tomorrow you could go back to thinking about bringing an end to Sukuna, but not tonight. Tonight, you’d grieve your friend, and come tomorrow morning, you’d think about a way to avenge his death.

By the time the screens in the observation room flickered to black, you were fast asleep, curled against the backrest of the couch you had found in what had to be an old waiting room of sorts. Fast asleep, haunted by nightmares, you were oblivious to the panic of the other sorcerers when they couldn’t follow Sukuna’s battle anymore. You slept through the sound of the door to the building springing open, and the sorcerers jumping to their weapons to defend themselves against whatever evil had invaded the observation room. Not even the shouts of surprise at the realization of who had just dragged themselves back to safety tore you from your sleep, nor did the cries of relief at this unexpected reunion.

When he opened the door to the waiting room, in which he had been told you had hidden away, Gojō Satoru was determined to finally talk to you about all the things he had refused himself to admit ever since he had realized just how deep you had dug yourself into his heart. Since he had met Yūji, he had known that in the end it would come down to a battle between him and Sukuna, and he had refused to give you the hope for a relationship, when he might die so soon. Now that he had died – and refused to stay dead – it was about high time he got to talk to you about his feelings and  where he wanted your relationship to head, to find out if you had the same in mind. Standing in the doorway, glancing at your sleeping figure on the sofa across the room, he realized all the talking had probably time until tomorrow morning.

When Inumaki-kun had told him that you had just left and hidden away, he had known that he had to be gentle and give you time, but the way you were resting now, curled in on yourself, shivering from the cool air, made his heart ache worse than he would have expected. Quietly he closed the door, and crossed the room, while shrugging out of his jacket. Your breath was irregular, muscles twitching under your skin as you lay with your back to the room. Carefully Gojō spread the jacket over your body, hoping the material might help you warm up, then he crouched down next to you. It wasn’t hard to guess that you were having a nightmare, and Gojō wondered if he was to blame for whatever your mind replayed to you right now.

Reaching out, he placed a hand on your shoulder, gently shaking you. “Hey, come on, wake up,” he whispered, leaning a little closer to you. “You’re having a nightmare, wake up.”

Even though you didn’t jolt awake, he could tell the exact moment you woke up, from when your breathing changed. Sleepily you turned your head, and Gojō could swear his heart stopped for a moment, when he saw how red your eyes were from crying. He had done that. He was to blame for the pain you had gone through. No matter how exhausted he was, he was ready to kill Sukuna all over again for killing him and making you cry because of it.

“Satoru?”

He froze. You never called him by his given name. But it sounded so sweet and warm, he wanted to beg you to say it all over again. And again. And again.

“Yeah, I’m right here,” he whispered, and reached up, brushing a strand of hair out of your sleepy eyes, only to see them filling with tears.

“This is a good dream then,” you mumbled, reaching out and taking hold of his shirt.

“This is no dream, I promise,” Gojō answered, realizing you had to assume you were still asleep. “I’m right here with you.” Quickly he moved to sit on the edge of the couch beside you, brushing more of your hair out of your face, and adjusting the jacket he had thrown over you.

You stretched out your legs and moved closer to the cushions of the backrest to make room for him at your side. “Stay with me?”

A small smile spread over his face, and he leant down, pressing his lips to your forehead in a gentle kiss. “For as long as you want me to.”

When you tucked at his shirt, he moved to lay down beside you, wrapping his arms around you. Satisfied he found you snuggled closer into his embrace, your back to his chest, and intertwined your hand with one of his. Softly he nudged his nose into your hair, deeply inhaling the tender scent that clung to it.

“I just wish, you’d still be here when I wake up,” you whispered so quietly, Gojō had to strain his ears to even hear you.

“Careful what you wish for,” he chuckled, brushing his lips against the shell of your ear. God, he wanted to kiss you so badly, pepper kisses over your face and neck, press his lips against yours, wanted to find out how sweet they’d taste. But while you were half asleep and had not really realized he was not just a figment of your imagination he could hardly do any of that with good conscious. You’d get enough of a shock tomorrow morning when you woke up anyway.

You didn’t answer any further to his teasing, and a while later your breathing evened out, signaling him you had fallen asleep in his arms. Once he was sure you wouldn’t jolt back awake, he closed his eyes as well. He was tired, so, so tired. When had been the last time he had given into his exhaustion? He couldn’t remember. But now that he felt your warm body so securely pressed to his, that Sukuna was a problem of the past, that Megumi and Yūji were both saved… the temptation to just loose himself in the warmth and comfort of the moment was overwhelming and he closed his eyes. After all this time, wasn’t even he allowed to rest for a little while?

-

Satoru got brutally startled awake by the sound of the door slamming against the wall. Instinctively he raised his hand to shield his eyes from the bright light that suddenly lit up the room when Megumi’s voice called from the doorway.

“Yūji made breakfast,” he announced, sounding rather annoyed that he had been sent as a messenger.

Satoru turned his head, taking a look at the boy in the door. He was badly beaten up, there was no doubt about that, but the gleam in his eyes told Satoru that he at least had lost none of his spirit.

“The food’s fresh, so if you spend too much time making out, don’t complain when it’s turned cold.”

And with that Megumi was out the room again.

Making out?

Satoru blinked confused, when he suddenly felt something warm brush against his face, and when he turned his head, he found you were already looking at him, brushing his hair out of his forehead.

His breath hitched as he noticed just how close you were laying to him, your face only inches away from his, your eyes soft as you watched him comprehend the situation.

“Surprise,” he mumbled. “Not dead.”

Instead of answering him, you just smiled, your eyes continuing to roam over his face until they stopped on his lips. His breath hitched again. For a few seconds you stared at his lips before your eyes moved up to meet his again. Satoru swore you had to hear his heartbeat echo through the room. And then you leant in, just close enough for there to be a tiny gap left, leaving the decision to Satoru. For a moment he wondered how mad Yūji would be if he’d let the breakfast grow cold, but then he decided he could probably deal with one or two upset teenagers after he had set the record straight with you, and closed the remaining distance to your lips.

Problem Child: Angel Reyes x Reader

Tagging: @crazy4chickennuggets @kmc1989 @oureternalbond @wakeama @witches-unruly-heart @keyweegirlie @trhett21 @annetje @infinity-mars @danzer8705 @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @appreciatelove @the-wandering-lunatic @weiwei0210 @anime-weeb-4-life @multifandomloversworld @harperdoodle @cheyrenee @est1887 @prettyinpunk85 @adaydreamaway08 @thanossexual @briefpersonenemy @creativitybeware @crimeshowjunkie @librarian1002 @mortal--soul @buddinglinguist @spookyboogyuniverse @spaghettificationandpretzels @nu1freakshow @thebaileybugle @legally-a-bastard bonsaijoons @sclitvdes @justreblogginfics

Sequel to Valeria

Ten minutes…

Ten minutes is what you allow yourself to grieve, to cry, to feel all of the emotions that are coursing through your system in the aftermath of the revelation that Angel has a daughter.

It’s agony, this feeling in your chest. You’ve felt it before after your Nana died and you feel it again as you sit in your car outside of Angel’s house. Your chest’s tight, and you think about that baby, left all alone on the porch, the same way you were all those years ago.

Anything could have happened. Someone else could have taken her, the two of you may have decided to go out instead, Angel may have come over to yours. Lord knows how long she could have been out there. These are the thoughts that ramble through your head as you sit there with both hands on the steering wheel staring straight ahead.

There is no doubt that the baby is Angel’s. You’ve seen pictures of him as a child and Valeria is the spitting image of him. You wonder where this leaves the two of you, if Skylar genuinely couldn’t cope or if she did this to teach him a lesson.

She’s your problem now… The letter had read.

Barely a couple of weeks old and already labelled a problem.

You think your mother must have said something similar to your Nana when she’d dropped you off.

You wipe the tears away from your cheeks with the back of your hand, before tilting the rearview mirror to face you. You stare back at your reflection and take a deep breath.

You know what you have to do, someone needs to take control because you know right now that Angel isn’t in a condition to do it. You can’t imagine what this must feel like for him, you know he’s not going to cope, not on his own. He needs some stability, someone who can remain firm, who can guide him when he falters.

You pick up your phone and thumb through the contacts until you find the name that you’re searching for.

“Felipe. It’s me.” You say when he picks up the phone. “Angel needs you.”

***

You’re not coming back. Angel knows that and it devastates him. It feels like his whole life is crashing down around his head, like he can’t catch a second to breath. He cradles the baby to his chest, his lips brushing over her soft skin. He has to push all of that aside, he has to think about Valeria because she has to be his priority right now.

His gaze comes to rest on his father. Felipe is seated at the kitchen table, the letter from Skylar clasped in his hands as he studies it.

“Lila’s not coming back.” Angel says quietly.

“Give her time.” Felipe says as he sets the letter down. “It’s a lot to take in.”

Angel shakes his head because he knows this is too much. He can’t ask you to take on a baby. The two of you have never talked about kids. He didn’t know if you wanted them or not. He figured there would be plenty of time to figure that out later.

He’s surprised when he hears the key in the lock. You mutter a curse as your hip bumps against the door handle, crossing over the threshold with a bassinet tucked under your arm and several bags filled with God knows what.

“Give Valeria here.” Felipe says, raising to his feet and reaching out for the baby. “Go help her.”

He’s already in motion, his heart thudding against his rib cage as he catches one of the bags just as it slips from your grasp. He takes note of the diapers and formula, before he takes the bassinet from you.

“I managed to get this stuff from Carmen, she keeps a bunch of it aside for new parents who are struggling to make ends meet.” You explain as you haul the other bags with you into the kitchen. “Bishop was there, he had a lot of questions, but I told him you’d call him tomorrow. He seemed to be ok with that.”

Angel doesn’t even know where to begin. The words catch in his throat and there’s an ache in his chest as he looks at you because even now, you’re still taking care of him, not just him but Valeria too.

“I think we have everything we need for tonight.” You say as you set the bags down on the table. “I can get the rest of the stuff on my list when the stores open up in the morning.”

“I thought…”

“I needed a minute.” You tell him quietly. “You know what happened to me, Valeria being dropped off like that…” You don’t have to say anything else. Angel gets it and so does Felipe. “I want to be there for her and for you. I want to be part of this little family.”

“Are you sure?” he asks you quietly, his thumb tracing over the blush of your cheek.

You nod your head before your arms wrap around his waist and you draw him close. It feels good to have you back in his arms, he finds the gesture reassuring. You’ve always been a port in a storm for him and the fact you’re here right now soothes him more than he would ever admit to anybody else.

“Yea.” You tell Angel, your fingertips toying with the buttons on his shirt. “I want this, I want this with you.”

“Ok Mi Reina.” Angel murmurs as a smile ghosts across his lips. “Let’s do it. Let’s be a family.”

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Reading.

Ominis Gaunt x Reader

Summary: Ominis has had a rough day and he wants to spend some time with you. He asks of you a favor, wishing to spend as much as time with you as possible.

Tags: Insecure reader, fluff, Ominis being a sweetie, FLUFF

Word Count: 2,2k - 1,6k without the Deathly Hallows

It was just… tough. He wanted to rest. He was so tired. So exhausted. His thoughts were nothing but exhausting, honestly. Pushing him to the edge, it was too much. Everyday he'd deal with the same, today however, was worse on him than usual. As much as he was used to this, it'd still come for him - Killing him from the inside.

He had already lost a friend, and he was losing another one. He was grieving. Grieving over something that wasn't even lost. He felt as if it was bound to happen soon, but hoped it wouldn't. As much as he enjoyed the presence of his Angel, it wouldn't feel the same without his friend. Would he be asking for too much? He had hoped not.

Walking along the Hallway, he thought about how he wanted to see you now. Or at least feel you near him. You always helped him cheer up, forget about his horrible thoughts, or simply interrupted them when he's thinking about you. He was already finished with reading his book, he needed to get a new one from the library, he just hoped they would have more books in braille.

He skipped his way to the door and down the stairs of the library, and went ahead to find some more books. He walked along the section with books in braille before hearing two familiar voices. He listened to you and Sebastian speak.

"How long have you been together now? I mean, you still haven't given him a kiss, right?"

"We've been together for 2 weeks now and I know, I want to kiss him but I'm afraid…"

"Afraid of what exactly? He won't bite."

"I don't know, I'm afraid he won't like it, and what if he doesn't really like me either?"

He stepped in before the two of you could continue and you both looked up at Ominis.

"Hello Sebastian, (Y/n)," He greeted you, his voice a bit quiet. You hoped he hadn't heard the two of you talk. To your luck, he seemed as if he only entered the section and had nothing to hear. You sighed a small sigh of relief. You didn't want him to know just how you felt, not because you didn't trust him, but because you just couldn't get yourself to tell him. It was like something was pulling you back. Maybe fear? You just weren't sure.

"Hello Ominis, you can sit next to me if you'd like?" You wanted to state that, but you were just so unsure. Ominis smiled at you and sat next to you. How you hated your voice. You wish you didn't have to talk for him to understand you. But you had to. 

You went to the next page of your book, hoping for something exciting. You loved reading fantasy books, they'd take you to an imaginary world where you could imagine yourself as a better person, and a different person entirely. 

"What are you reading?" Ominis asked, his eyes gleaming with wonder. Oh those beautiful eyes of his. 

"Oh I'm… I'm reading some fantasy book about dragons." Your voice was quiet, shy. He smiled at you. It was nice feeling you close to him, having you talk to him. He was already feeling somewhat better. 

"Uh…" Sebastian sighed, "I just remembered I have detention." 

"Well? Best of you to get going then." Ominis also sighed. It was his third time this week. What is he doing to get in this much trouble? 

"Yes, I know. Have fun you two." Sebastian picked himself and his stuff up, murmuring and walking to wherever he had detention now. 

Well, now it was awkward. For the both of you? You didn't know. You didn't know what to talk about, and Ominis was genuinely quiet usually. You did enjoy his presence though, so it was not too awkward for you. You hoped he felt the same way, because at least it wouldn't be awkward silence you're sitting in. 

"Do you want to take this to the dormitory? My room at least. It would be quieter." Ominis suggested, to which you slightly blushed. You knew he wouldn't do anything funny to you, but it still made you kind of fuzzy on the inside. 

"Sure," You agreed happily, "It would be nice to move from this spot for a bit."

You grabbed your books and picked yourself up, waiting for Ominis to do the same. He got up and used his wand to let him get around. Before taking any steps though, he reached for your hand and pulled you close to him.

"It would be easier for me this way," Your blush was covering your entire face now, thank Godrick he didn't see you now. You had hoped he didn't feel your heat all the way from your hand. 

You slowly made your way to the dormitory with him. You both decided it would be nicer to walk. Floo Powder was there to help, always, but it was nicer just doing everything you two can, slowly. You had more time to talk, more time to laugh, smile. You always forgot about your worries when you were with him. You felt kind of free! Except when it came to telling him about your fear. Which is exactly what's stopping you from telling him.

When he smiles at you, when he laughs at your jokes, when he comforts you, soothes you, all of that. All of that made you feel like you were worthy of love. From none other than him. That was a big deal to you. The day you met him, you felt as if he had something against you, but as he opened up, you started liking him more and more. He did too, though.

However, neither of you could get yourselves to confess, and Sebastian was there to listen to the both of you. Constantly talking about each other. Lucky for the both of you, he couldn't stand it anymore, and made you two go on a date in Three Broomsticks. His plan was a success, as the two of you then started dating. Seriously, how could the two of you be so dense with each other's signals. The world will never know. 

Finally, you had arrived to his room. It was your first time there. One side was clean, the other was a complete mess.

"I'm sorry, I share the room with Sebastian and he keeps not cleaning his room," He smiled at you awkwardly, "He claims he gets around easier with his mess."

You laughed. It was just like him to be like that. Messy room, messy hair. You wondered how the two of them got along so well. 

Ominis sat on his bed, patting on the side next to him, calling out to you to sit next to him. And you complied. Oh no. The silence was there again. How do you go from quiet, to talkative, to quiet again? 

"(Y/n)," Ominis called, "Would you mind doing me a favor?"

"Sure, do you need anything?" You asked, smiling at him. Your heart was pounding.

"I was in the library, looking for books. I couldn't find any." He smiled back at you, shy, "I was wondering if you could read something of yours to me, please?"

Oh my. What a request. You hated your voice. But you couldn't deny this to him. He asked so politely, so nicely. In that sweet voice of his, with those beautiful eyes. 

"O-of course." Your blush was covering your entire body at this point. "Would the Deathly Hallows do?"

"I enjoy that story," Ominis laid down on his bed, checking if you'd lay down with him. "So, please do."

"I'll sit, but I will still read to you." He nodded, closing his eyes and preparing to listen to you. 

"There were once three brothers who were travelling along a lonely, winding road at twilight. In time, the brothers reached a river too deep to wade through and too dangerous to swim across. However, these brothers were learned in the magical arts, and so they simply waved their wands and made a bridge appear across the treacherous water. They were halfway across it when they found their path blocked by a hooded figure."

You cleared your voice slightly, keeping an eye on Ominis, but he didn't budge.

"And Death spoke to them. He was angry that he had been cheated out of three new victims, for travellers usually drowned in the river. But Death was cunning. He pretended to congratulate the three brothers upon their magic and said that each had earned a prize for having been clever enough to evade him."

Ominis slowly grabbed your free hand, wanting warmth. 

"So the oldest brother, who was a combative man, asked for a wand more powerful than any in existence: a wand that must always win duels for its owner, a wand worthy of a wizard who had conquered the Death! So Death crossed to an elder tree on the banks of the river, fashioned a wand from a branch that hung there, and gave it to the oldest brother."

Your hand squeezed his, giving him more warmth. 

"Then the second brother, who was an arrogant man, decided that he wanted to humiliate Death still further, and asked for the power to recall others from Death. So Death picked up a stone from the riverbank and gave it to the second brother, and told him that the stone would have the power to bring back the dead."

The room was getting colder and you wished you could have his warmth around you.

"And then Death asked the third and youngest brother what he would like. The youngest brother was the humblest and also the wisest of the brothers, and he did not trust Death. So he asked for something that would enable him to go forth from that place without being followed by Death. And death, most unwillingly, handed over his own Cloak of Invisibility."

Ominis slowly massaged your palm with his hand, smiling at you, making you even warmer.

"Then Death stood aside and allowed the three brothers to continue on their way, and they did so, talking with wonder of the adventure they had had, and admiring Death’s gifts. In due course the brothers separated, each for his own destination."

All this time, you were imagining the three of you guys in the story. A perfect trio.

"The first brother travelled on for a week or more, and reaching a distant village, sought out a fellow wizard with whom he had a quarrel. Naturally with the Elder Wand as his weapon, he could not fail to win the duel that followed. Leaving his enemy dead upon the floor, the oldest brother proceeded to an inn, where he boasted loudly of the powerful wand he had snatched from Death himself, and of how it made him invincible."

You wondered if Ominis was thinking the same. You took your hand away from him quickly to go to the other page. 

"That very night, another wizard crept upon the oldest brother as he lay, wine-sodden, upon his bed. The thief took the wand and, for good measure, slit the oldest brother’s throat. And so Death took the first brother for his own."

He Immediately went back for your hand.

"Meanwhile, the second brother journeyed to his own home, where he lived alone. Here he took out the stone that had the power to recall the dead, and turned it thrice in his hand. To his amazement and his delight, the figure of the girl he had once hoped to marry, before her untimely death, appeared at once before him."

You looked at Ominis, hoping he was enjoying your storytelling. 

"Yet she was sad and cold, separated from him by a veil. Though she had returned to the mortal world, she did not truly belong there and suffered. Finally the second brother, driven mad with hopeless longing, killed himself so as truly to join her." 

You focused on finishing the story now.

"And so Death took the second brother for his own.

But though Death searched for the third brother for many years, he was never able to find him. It was only when he had attained a great age that the youngest brother finally took off the Cloak of Invisibility and gave it to his son. And then he greeted Death as an old friend, and went with him gladly, and, equals, they departed this life."

You closed the book and quietly mumbled a small "That's it." 

You were hoping to get a reaction from him, but he was asleep now. You smiled at him and put the book on his table, right next to the bed.

You joined him now, laying right beside him. He looked so peaceful while asleep. Tell him. 

"It doesn't help now," you whispered, "But I'm scared. I'm not sure of what. I just am." 

"I know you can't hear me now, but I don't want to lose you because of myself. I want to be myself with you. I want you to accept me the way I am. Which is just… Insecure. I'm sorry."

You stared at him. He was so pretty. He was so nice. Understanding. Caring. Friendly. All of that, and he's yours. It was just a blessing to have him. 

You got up for a second, grabbing the blankets which were folded by the foot of his bed, covering the both of you. You cuddled up to him. Simply adoring him. Without much thinking, you pecked his lips.

"I love you, good night."

He wasn't asleep though. And he heard you. He always has heard you. He will always listen to everything you say, he knows how important that is to you. He will return everything you have done for him, tomorrow. Just as the two of you wake up.

This is going to be long so the short version is this:

I convinced my therapist to watch the 🌟Gay Pirate Show🌟 and now I have to confront a previously unidentified and terrifyingly deep emotional wound that could be as transformative to heal as it is terrifying to approach.

My therapist and I have a lot of let's say...demographic things in common that have made this the most successful therapeutic relationship I've ever had, but also that just made me think he might like the show. It's no secret that ofmd has been a deeply moving experience for its viewers, and queer, neurodivergent, and/or people of color have written at length about the special ways it touches us (or doesn't). Those are three categories both he and I fit into and it feels relevant to say that for context.

So yes I thought he might like it, but I also wanted to pick his brain about Big Feelings it was giving me that I hadn't experienced with the same intensity with other media/fandoms. Y'all, he gave me a completely unexpected reading on the show (and its story and its fan works) and why it makes us feel So Much that I haven't seen anywhere before.

When I say Big Feelings, I mean like I've literally had to swear off a couple of pretty innocuous categories on AO3 ("Growing Old Together" and "Domestic Fluff") because they would devastate me in ways that I couldn't attribute to anything specific. Growing Old Together comes with the possibility of death separating them, which is heartbreaking, but that didn't feel like it was the thing that was gutting me. Domestic Fluff could probably be called the most innocuous tag ever, but anything that saw our blorbos settling down and watching the Revenge sail off into the distance was fucking me up as well.

There are plenty of reasons why OFMD makes queer people feel so much, but when I say this was fucking me up I mean like, well, remember when people outside of classical music started learning about appoggiatura? Like intellectually knowing why I was crying but at a loss how intense everything felt. And my therapist (who is as good at analyzing a text as he is at being a therapist) was like "oh, it could be all the grief."

The grief.

The audacity of this motherfucker (affectionate).

It's a romcom! It's a romcom that we were explicitly told would have a happy ending! It's a romcom where the characters will get to sail off into the sunset together like they want and like we want for them! Stede and Ed, after four decades of self-hatred and trauma and fear and isolation, somehow find each other. And one of the sweetest things about their story is that it's a late in life love story, because it's incredibly inspiring for someone to get to experience a part of life they thought wasn't for them. The inescapable fact that their time together will be shorter than any of us would like is sad but not unaccountably sad to me, because of how much joy they'll be able to cram into the time they have left. I could be wrong but I don't think that alone is the source of what's been overwhelming me.

Grief is a constant presence in the world-building and the storytelling because grief is a natural response to well, so many things about being alive. Grieving is some of the hardest shit any of us ever have to do, but it's also so universal and so many of the things that make us uniquely human also make grieving well, maybe not easier, but something we can endure and process through ritual, community, and the example of those we've witnessed grieving their own losses. Many kinds of grief come with narratives that you can accept or reject all or parts of, but the narrative exists.

But have you ever heard of disenfranchised loss? Loss that's not easily labeled or classified or given the time or space or understanding it deserves? Have you experienced a loss like that? Can you imagine how much more difficult it makes the grieving process?

Well what my therapist suggested, the thing that knocked me on my ass hard enough that I had to come have Online Feelings about it, is that eventually, we all have to mourn ourselves. Not necessarily in a "mortality is inevitable" way (that happens to everyone) but in ways that are often unique to people like him and me (black, ND, queer). Even if we work on ourselves, if we grow and heal our trauma and feel at home in our identities and our bodies and build beautiful lives, eventually we will be forced to mourn the selves that we never got to be in the societies in which we live and the selves we once had to become to survive this long.

And that mourning is a kind of disenfranchised loss, with no clear path forward. Obviously this conversation happened within the context of everything my therapist knows about me as an individual, but I thought certain things might resonate with other fans as well so I wanted to talk about it. The story of this bizarre little man and his remarkable second act and his lovely little found family and his incredibly beautiful love story (that we've been guaranteed will end happily) is still haunted by the specific kind of grief that comes from learning what's possible, and regretting that you didn't know it was possible sooner.

And does anybody have more delayed milestones, later-in-life discoveries, and/or need to invent places for themselves than those of us on the social fringes? Than those of us in societies unequipped for (or actively hostile to) the ways we exist and the things we need to survive and thrive? Than those of us who have to create our own narratives or be saddled with inaccurate or harmful narratives created by others, or even no narrative at all?

And narrative is so much. Narrative is everything. Narrative is the story we tell ourselves and each other and that literally shapes our reality. So those story beats where we discover something better than what came before are inherently stories with loss and will require mourning, because we mourn loss.

Even when the story has a happy ending. Especially when the story has a happy ending for someone who never thought they would be allowed to have one.

I mean just like, FUCKING HELL. I can't blame anyone for this but myself. I know my therapist. I know how insightful he can be. I did this to myself and now I have to live with it. But my god is it a massive mountain I'm about to have to climb now. My therapist and I have always found it helpful to discuss media that makes me Feel Things (see all the trauma work that came from Life is Strange) but if you had told me that I'd be looking into this new dark cave of unprocessed shit thanks to what I thought was just gonna be a harmless little gay pirate show starring fucking Murray from Flight of the Concords I would probably just have assumed you were in the middle of having a stroke and taken off to get you the medical attention you desperately needed.

Willow | joel miller x f!reader | pt. 1

part 2

Summary: When you arrived in Jackson at the age of eighteen, you found a place to rest your mind and live comfortably while keeping to yourself. Five years later, Tommy Miller’s brother arrives and finds a way to get right under your skin.

(no physical description of reader, no use of y/n, enemies to lovers type beat)

Warnings (18+ mdni): mentions of loss/grief, swearing, age gap (reader is 23 Joel is in his 50s), angst, mutual pining kinda?, no physical description of reader, will specify with each chapter

Word count: 1.3k

a/n: Hi guys! This is the first part to my first ever Joel Miller fic. AHHH!! I’m so nervous but I am also really excited. I have planned this out for awhile and I just hope it manifests into something you all can enjoy. This first part is short but it’s kind of a prologue so you get a feel of Joel and reader’s dynamic. Let me know what you think <3 I’m shaking in my boots as I’m posting this

(The title is based off of Taylor Swift’s song Willow. I was listening to it while I wrote this. I just adore her sm)

credit to @cafekitsune for the cutie divider <3

Your cheeks stung as the bitter breeze swept across the dense forest just outside of Jackson. You tugged your heavy coat a little tighter to your chest as your horse trotted over the rough terrain.

“‘S that alright with ya?” Your patrol partner’s voice reeled you back in from your daze.

“Sorry, uh, what did you say, Tommy?” He let out a dry chuckle and you noted his look of amusement before directing your gaze ahead of you once again.

“I’m gonna be helpin’ Maria out with the baby for a few weeks. Gonna have you patrollin’ with Joel for awhile. Alright with you?” Tommy repeated himself with a huff.

Your eyes went wide and you snapped your head to the right where Tommy swayed on his horse and looked back at you with slight desperation.

“Joel?” You cleared your throat and quickly averted your eyes to the trail ahead, “Yeah, that’s fine.”

No no no. That is not fine. Joel? Joel fucking Miller who you have a big fat embarrassing crush on? Joel Miller who is old enough to be your father? The man who only speaks in grunts and groans? Please, let this be some twisted fucking dream.

Tommy sighed in relief, “I’m glad to hear it. Listen, I know you two are barely acquainted—haven’t said more ‘n two words to each other—but he’s good. He won’t give ya a hard time.”

A feeling of unease settled in your gut as you prepared yourself for humiliation on your next patrol with Joel fucking Miller.

Your life before Jackson was not glorious in any way. The bouts of starvation and taking shelter in abandoned homes had you convinced you were going to die alone sooner rather than later. That is, until Maria found you. Doe eyed and shrunken into a fetal position in a dark corner of a crumbling cabin.

It was surreal when you first arrived five years ago. Barely eighteen, grieving the loss of your parents, taking in the settlement before you. Life in Jackson was so peaceful despite the chaos that surrounded its walls.

Maria carved out a place for you in the community. She placed you in a little cottage a few houses down from her and Tommy. You were assigned to different jobs around the commune before discovering your strong suit was gardening. It was beyond anything you could’ve hoped for—a home.

You mostly kept to yourself. Everybody was so kind and welcoming but with the state of the world and the recent loss of your parents, it was easier to create a barrier. Your trust was sparse and only extended as far as Tommy and Maria. There was always something missing, though. Someone missing. And then, Joel Miller showed up five years later.

When you first met Joel, it was through Tommy’s efforts. You had been in the garden, harvesting vegetables when Tommy called out your name, “I want ya to meet my brother, Joel, he’ll be livin’ right next door to you. Thought it’d be best to introduce y’all.”

When you turned around, your breath hitched at the sight of him. Tousled gray hair framing his stoic expression complimented with deep brown eyes that looked right through you.

Joel grumbled something that sounded like a greeting, ignoring your outstretched hand in front of him.

“A man of few words, I guess.” You let out a humorless chuckle and placed your hand on your hip. Joel just walked away in response to your commentary. Asshole.

“Don’t take it personal. He’s like that with everyone.” Tommy ran a hand through his hair and sighed, “Alright, I’ll let ya get back to it, then. See you tomorrow at the stables. Patrol at 7 a.m. sharp, miss.” You nodded in affirmative and waved him goodbye.

The rest of the day was spent distracted by thoughts of Joel occupying your brain. What was his problem? Why didn’t he say anything to you? Did he always wear that scowl on his face? That damned gorgeous face.

The following month you had successfully dodged Joel like the plague. Sure, you wanted to see him but avoiding another interaction with him was a top priority. And you were happy with that. You could yearn from a distance—or so you thought.

You were tossing and turning in your bed unable to slow your heart rate. In the morning, you were to meet Joel at the stables for patrol. Fuck. The anticipation was unbearable. How would you act around him? No one has ever gotten to you like he has. What if you say something stupid? What if he doesn’t say anything at all?

You don’t know what time it was when you finally got some shut eye but you were awoken from your sleep by the sound of pounding on your front door. You looked at your watch and cursed under your breath. You shuffled to your front door, too blanketed in sleep to care that you had on a tank top that left barely anything to the imagination.

“I ain’t waiting all damn day!” You heard the gruff voice call out from the other side of the door before you swung it open. You were confronted with none other than Joel Miller. He took in your appearance and his look of anger momentarily turned into a look of bashfulness. Joel cleared his throat and looked down at his worn boots.

“Aren’t you just sunshine? Look, I’m sorry. I slept like shit and didn’t wake up to my alarm. Give me a few minutes, I’ll be right out.” You were rattled but didn’t let your expression show it.

Before you could retreat, Joel spoke up once more, “Five minutes ‘s all I’m givin’ ya. Hurry it up, little girl.” With that, you slammed the door in his face.

You swear that was the fastest you’d ever gotten ready in your life. Before leaving, you gave yourself a once over in the bathroom mirror—you looked far from pristine but at least your breath smelled fresh and your jeans fit just right.

As you stepped out the door, you eluded eye contact with Joel. And with a grunt, you both descended your front steps to walk to the stables.

The walk was silent for the first few minutes until you decided to speak up, “I’m not a little girl, y’know. Don’t fuckin’ call me that.” Sure, you were young, but he had no idea what you were capable of. Anger and embarrassment started bubbling up in your throat.

Joel just chuckled and quirked an eyebrow at you. It bothered you that he didn’t say anything back, but you just pushed it aside and started walking ahead of him. You had quite the mouth on you and it stirred something inside of Joel. You were a willing opponent fighting to put him in his place.

At the stables, you and Joel barely exchanged words, all of which consisted of double checking supplies and grumbles of confirmation before heading out.

Once both of you made it about a mile out of the gates, Joel began thinking of what to say to you. He was content with silence, he liked his solitude—but when it came to you, curiosity got the best of him.

“So—“ Joel started but you were quick to cut him off.

“Don’t have to say anything to me. Next few weeks’ll be painless if you keep to yourself and I do the same.” You kept your eyes ahead as you spoke. If you looked at him, your cold facade would simply melt under his gaze.

Joel didn’t try to rebuke. He figured it was best to keep you at arms length. A woman like you was nothing but trouble for an old man like him. But how he craved to know what was going on in that pretty little head of yours.

a/n: I hope you like it so far! I am working on the next part already. Let me know your thoughts :) love you -Jen 🤓

Taglist: @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @alejaa-a @cool-iguana @littleshadow17 @planet-marz1 @alyhull

nepenthe: (n) "that which chases away sorrow".

pre tlt-tlo. luke castellan x child of a minor god!reader. 700 words, prologue.

synopsis: time keeps slipping away. luke slips along with it. you were never important enough to care, anyway.

warnings: godly parent of the reader isn't mentioned but is specified to be a minor god. mentions of luke and reader making out, reader is said to be the eldest out of their siblings, kind of toxic situationship between luke and reader. minor book spoilers? (I haven't watched the show yet)

note: i'm writing on tumblr after almost a year and a half, this isn't that gooduprwefjod. this is just a brief intro to the possibility of a bigger series under the same reader, kinda? if it does go ahead, it will be based on the books! idk how i feel about it so far, but I'm always open to listening to feedback!

At Camp Half Blood, there remain a few things you cannot learn, no matter the amount of harsh, gruesome training you’ve gone through. 

For those who look for it, every day is a new lesson. For example, capture the flag: every game tells you more about your opponents and allies when you know how to look for it. With every game you start to notice how the  Area kids undermine the minor gods in cabin eleven, almost forgetting their existence. You notice yourself clubbed with children of another minor god, despite sharing nothing with them, you notice the way Luke’s expression goes blank and tenses up when he notices that. 

So you ask him about it late at night, away from the campfire and chaos, bodies pressed together and hips pressed against each other. He replies by biting on your bottom lip, you retaliate by pulling his hair. The next thing you know, you’re pushed up against the wall and a little over half an hour later you walk into an empty cabin eleven with a purple bruise blossoming on your neck and lips swollen red.

A corner on the room’s floor is dedicated to your siblings and yourself. and you wonder how long Luke will keep it reserved for them—for you. You wonder, will the treatment end the moment this . . . affair between you two ends? How will you explain this to your siblings then? When you finally need to deal with the jealousy that comes with being somewhat special to a counsellor.

So you learn to adapt, to take advantage of those who undermine you, and to make allies with those who understand your strength. It’s not hard getting your siblings to listen to you, after all, you are the eldest with two quests weighing down on your conscious daily, but having that achievement means little to nothing when your godly parent isn’t an Olympian. 

You sit down in the corner of the room, knees tucked in your chest and you look around. You have three siblings on your godly side, a diary hidden under Luke’s (because no one would respect your privacy, yet they wouldn’t dare breathe in Luke’s way like that) pillow containing their names, mortal addresses, mortal family’s numbers and blood types noted down.  You wonder if Camp Half Blood would have a proper funeral if any of you—not just your siblings, any of the children of the minor gods—died. Would there be a grieving period? Would someone look for you? Would they even call the families you’ve left in the mortal world or would those who care wonder what happened to you all? 

No minor god is as important as Olympians and as much as no one says it, you can feel it—you all can feel it. 

A child of Nike can win better than a child of Ares, no one gives them the credit of winning, though, it’s always beginner's luck. Camp survives on the magic and mist of Hecate and yet no one, *not one person* appreciates any of her children. Iris is responsible for most, if not all, of the communication at camp and yet no one includes her children in any conversation. Tyche and Hebe’s children are almost as joyful as the Apollo and Aphrodite campers, yet no one smiles or dances with them. The goddess of luck’s children have none here. Nemesis cradles her children, promising justice and vengeance, and Hypnos lulls his kids to sleep, ensuring no nightmares whilst they sleep, unable to do anything to the bullying when they’re up. 

Your parent is amongst these minor gods, and whilst they do care slightly more than Olympians do for their kids, you cannot help but be angry. Anger that you know will be spent on the Hermes counsellor, pushing him till he pushes you back, till you’re both breathing heavily into each other’s mouths and till your nails scratch red lines down his back, after all, it’s what you two do to each other. 

No conversation, no understanding, no labels. You two are just two teenagers angry at the world for taking their parents away. Nothing else to each other, right?

i can't go home, anymore

kim dahyun x reader ; angst

synopsis: a final tipping point was all it took for the cards to come crashing down between you and your wife dahyun.

wc: 3.7k

a/n: not big on writing angst (i want to however) but i do have a thing with holding a tenderhearted value with songs like these.

i'm crazy with the fics recently and i'm not stopping (until the start of next week) :D

✩♬ ₊˚.

—

your ears are filled with the calm sounds of the birds singing their own tuned melody, sitting on a bench facing towards a small lake, watching two ducks swim along in front of you. 

the sight makes your mind spin in turmoil—the pain in your heart already hanging heavy with the thought hitting you, burning into your cells, fighting back the tears in your eyes from the tender moments flooding back in your brain.

everything snapped out when an old lady sat on the other end of the bench, letting out a relieved sigh relaxing while taking in the view after a long walk.

“it’s quite a calming view to take in isn’t it?” the lady speaks out, turning your eyes to see a soft smile spread across her lips.

“yeah,” you mutter, “it is.” 

“i’ve been coming to this spot for at least 40 years now, and i never get tired of it.” 

“really?” 

the old lady nods, “this place is very special in my heart. it was right here where i met the love of my life.” 

you lean back in intrigue, scooting yourself over towards the lady interested in her short life story, listening to her sweet laugh giving you relief for a few brief moments. 

“i never got your name by the way, but i’m y/n.” 

“i’m sana.” the old lady replies back to you with the softest smile you’d ever seen in your life. 

“and you were married?” 

“i was.” sana replies, “it was the most wonderful blessing that i ever had,” holding her hand out to show the golden wedding ring on her left ring finger, the detailing clearly aged and with scratches with the diamond still radiating in the sunlight.

“who was your wife?

“her name was momo, and sadly she beat me to the finish line first.” 

in a second your gaze softens at the realization of what she meant. “i’m so sorry to hear that sana.” you say, clutching your chest, trying your hardest to not cry as sana comforts you by putting a hand up.

“it’s okay–uh..”

“y/n.”

“right, but don’t worry y/n, i’ve done the whole sad grieving act already.” sana assures, “it’ll come to pass with whatever you have troubling your life right now.” 

all you could do was nod, it still stung with what happened, but sana was giving you probably the best piece of advice for you to hear, looking back at the pond to see the two ducks part ways from each other, going in opposite directions. 

sana sees your eyes half-lidded, quirking her head just a bit trying to piece together your stoic body language, pouting her lips as she exactly knew what was going through your mind. 

“i have a question for you y/n, have you ever been in love before?” 

you pause at her question, almost hesitant to answer, but you close your lips and grab at what point sana’s trying to make to you.

“yeah. yeah, i have.” 

sana hums at your answer, pleased that you decided to share a little bit of your love life to her. 

“it’s really beautiful. nothing more beautiful ever compares than that.” 

you and sana both look out to the pond once again, a flock of birds flying in and out of your view.

“can i tell you something y/n?” 

you turn your attention back to sana, lending your ear for her thoughts.

“i know that my wife momo has gone ahead without me, and i can feel myself fading too. it’s scary as hell, to know that nothing will ever prepare you for the inevitable. but when i sit here at this same bench like i have for so many years up till this point, i can feel her presence beside me.” 

“i know that feeling all too well,” you say, “to look at your loved one in the eyes and you just feel back at home again.” 

“do you have a lover y/n?” 

“her name was dahyun. i’ve been married to her for almost seven years now.” 

“where is she now?” 

you freeze at sana’s question, fighting your internal dilemma with a lump forming in your throat as the thought of her came flashing back to you. the sense of longing, feeling the fragments of her existence slipping through the cracks little by little each passing day. 

“she’s been away for quite some time now. i don’t know when she’s coming back.” 

sana looks down at the given answer, saddened to hear about your troubles.

“well i hope you go back to her and things work out for you, it’s always best to stand strong with the closest loves to your heart.” sana says to you standing up, well on her way to do her next activity somewhere else in the park.

“it was nice to meet you y/n, i hope we see each other here more often.” 

“likewise sana, you have a nice day.” 

the both of you exchange nice regards as sana leaves the bench you were still sitting at, staring at the lonesome duck that was now out of the lake, hanging on the edge almost waiting for its mate to return to them. 

—

it was a long day after work one evening.

you were driving in the cold, relenting, and harsh weather that forced most of the routes back home backed up with traffic.

becoming distracted for the past couple of days, the demands of work beat you to the ropes with piling deadlines, fellow workers calling off in protest against your boss to ease the expectations for the quarter. needless to say, it was draining and you just wanted to be home right away.

in all perfect timing, your phone suddenly rang in the cup holder of your car, the caller id of a picture with dahyun appeared on your screen. in a flash you answered it on the steering wheel to hear your wife’s calming voice to put you at ease after the hellish day you just had. 

“hi honey.” you greeted dahyun, “are you home?” 

“i’ve been here for about two and a half hours.” dahyun answered, voice stoic and in a lower tone. on the other end of the call, she sits still on the floor of the living room, back leaning against the couch with the phone on the coffee table. 

“ah okay, i’m already on the freeway so it’ll take me a bit because of this traffic.” you groaned. 

“mhm okay.” dahyun says with little to no interest. a short period of silence settled in the phone call, with both sides having no idea where to take the conversation next. you start to feel that there was something wrong with the way that dahyun is speaking to you. 

“you still there honey?” 

“yeah.” 

“aren’t you tired? you can go ahead and relax without me, i’ll get there sooner or later.” 

you only hear a long dragged out sigh, dahyun hanging her head in sadness, she was fed up with this looped scenario of not being together when one desperately needs the other. 

“y/n.” dahyun calls you through the phone again. “c-an you listen to what i’m going to say?” 

“of course, what’s on your mind?” 

dahyun looks up the bland ceiling above her with her lightless eyes, her heart aching as she takes a breath to prepare herself for what she was going to say to her wife. 

there was no surprise that her marriage with you for almost seven years was the best adventure that you and her embarked on. the stars perfectly aligned with the dream honor for you to be the one to fall in love and win this magnificent woman’s heart. 

you and dahyun’s relationship was like everyone else’s, filled with highs and lows, but if dahyun can notice what’s wrong, then surely you can catch on as well. 

but this is where everything would change from this point on. 

if you kept yourself positive about this, then dahyun would be bothered and highly cautious.

this was the last straw, where she could no longer keep staying back to avoid the eventual problem at hand. 

she had already grew tired of pretending, despite the best efforts that regardless of how much she wanted to keep trying for the two of them, she knows that in the end it will be a damaging result. 

for quite sometime, dahyun realized that it was going to be a losing situation, particularly when they share the common crisis that is dragging both of them down and thus preventing them from taking charge of their own independence—freedom one might say.

“i– i don’t think…we can go on like this anymore.” dahyun says, swallowing up the bitter taste that left in her mouth from the words she just uttered. 

“what do you mean dahyun?” you asked puzzledly, staring at the red light in the intersection. 

dahyun’s tears slowly drop in her cheeks, her face still expressionless as she looked up to the ceiling again, fighting back a sniffle as the memories you and her made together replayed in her mind. 

“y/n, can you look at the reality of what’s happening between us?” dahyun continues through the phone, “i think this isn’t working for the both of us anymore. we should end all of this tonight.” 

you leaned away from the steering wheel, the nervousness getting to you as your hands began to slightly tremble. “what d-do you mean dahyun? are you being serious about this?” 

“it’s been on my mind for a bit now, babe.” dahyun replies. “i tried to consider all possible options, but from what i've been seeing between those, it was all down to what comes to making the right choice.” 

you tense up your neck, gripping the wheel a lot more tightly as dahyun says what she’s been feeling lately, you want to be wrong but at the same time you decided to wait to hear her out to the end.

“we’ve been losing our track now. i don’t know the direction we’re heading but i think we’re just both lost in our ways. can you admit to me that you feel it too right? tell me you know what i’m talking about?” 

you rub your forehead, trying to ease the headache of everything that’s happening to you all at once, clenching your hand into a fist. “i-i know. is this because we’ve lost too much time to spend with each other, dahyun? because i can tell you this, i’ve been giving everything to try to have some time for you just like today? don’t tell me that you didn’t notice.” 

“how could you ask me if i’m also the one telling you about what this is doing to us?” dahyun confusingly asked, clenching her jaw at your stubbornness. 

“y/n, you and i have our different responsibilities, but if we’re just gonna keep up this facade, it’s just hiding the fact that we’ve both lost all means to keep trying in this marriage. we’re just trying to deny it and that’s what really bothers me.” 

you rub the back of your head and place your head on the headrest, the emotions starting to increase drastically. 

you knew about this problem that you and dahyun were going through and never danced with the idea to properly have a conversion about it. 

as friends on both dahyun and your corners started to catch wind of the situation, many were worried that something bad might happen in the end of all of this. you tried your best to keep your end of the bargain of the marriage, but you were on the short end of the stick the entire time. 

because of this, you were now at a crossroads with the fear that has successfully come to fruition because of your ignorance and mistakes. 

not all hope was lost yet. 

there would be a last saving grace on your sleeve to use that would save all of the cards crumbling.

“dahyun, i know that what we’re facing together is difficult, but there was never a time that i had trouble to make you see how much i love you. i never ‘tried’ to love you; that should never be the concern in the first place. don’t do this, please….” you begged, gripping the wheel so tightly that your knuckles started to turn white. 

“a part of me still believes that we could make it out of all of this, alright? don’t give up on me dahyun. i don’t want this to be a lingering regret for you.” 

dahyun sniffs her tears, wiping them away from her face, her breaths heavy. “why does this have to be so hard for us y/n?” 

your heart and the world around you was crumbling around it felt like when you heard the stress and tired exhausting dahyun released with just a simple question. 

“i knew the many trials that we had to face when we first got married but, all i ever wanted to ask of you was to be there for me when it matters the most. our jobs are taking both of our time together, and it’s giving me a sign that i have to sacrifice something important to lose here—like i’m cornered with no other way out.” 

“da-” 

“y/n, i love you, and i will never get tired of saying this to you. i feel your pain too. i just...i just can’t take it anymore with the current state that we’re in. you and i both know that we deserve to be in a better headspace than this, and i think for that to happen is when we look for that ourselves, to do this on our own this time instead of together.” 

you stayed silent as a tear fell on your cheek.

“i may regret the fact that i have to be the one to break this off, but i don’t see another way. i’m sorry if i’m not choosing you to be saved, but we still have many things that we have to prioritize, at least we’re doing this for good right now. let’s just break up here and now, y/n. thank you for being my first and last love, for everything that we’ve done together. for being my wife.” 

“dahyun, wait— don’t just….” you shake your head, face contorting as you lightly sob while driving. “don’t go, please. we can still find a way, just don’t leave me like this.” 

even while in the car you still felt like you could be on your knees, pleading your heart out as you still believe that there was a light at the end of the tunnel. 

dahyun clutches the pillow she grabbed from the couch, hearing your sob as she just closes her eyes, trying to block out the sound from her ears mentally. “it’s going to be okay y/n, we’re going to be okay.” 

“no we’re not…” you say breathily, “in all my life, i needed more than myself. i needed what i never thought that i could ever feel. you were the one to bring all the answers at my feet dahyun, how can i be ever okay when i’m losing you too?” 

dahyun nodded at your question, clearly understanding what you meant. 

you weren’t in a good place when dahyun first met you, but she brought you everything that you desperately wanted; a fallen star, the heart and soul, the calm cyclone within your storm, and so much more. 

dahyun could only hear you whisper “i'm so sorry dahyun” to herself as she silently cried in the house you and her shared, listening to your sorrowful conjecture. 

“i haven’t been mine and i’m no longer yours anymore. i’m not certain of anything now dahyun.” you wailed, “please, just let me know now, will you be the one to hear my callings? can you be the one place i will always come back to?” 

“i will, now that we’re free to do whatever we please. i will come after you, even if as a friend now but my heart will forever be yours.”

what seemed like forever in the phone call, dahyun smiled a little from the response she gave to you, assuring that nothing bad could ever happen for what comes after tonight.

she still wanted to stay connected, still closer to each other, and the memories to not be tainted with this one bad instance.

for dahyun, she couldn’t fathom with the idea of you not being in her life. she can’t imagine you being a stranger, so that’s why she gave you a rope to hang on so that you won't be a part of her memories. 

she still needed you because of how special you are. 

you had the same reaction in the car, lips curling a bit into a smile and the tears stopped coming. “i’ll hold you to that.” 

“goodbye y/n, now come home and sleep with me for one last night. don’t worry about me, i’ll still wait for you, that way we both can let it all out together.” 

not long after, you eventually weaved out of the slow traffic and safely arrived back home. dahyun opened the door for you, pairing your lips with hers, letting the scent of lavender and the taste of minty toothpaste fill your senses, not wanting these last opportunities to go to waste. 

dahyun combed her fingers through your hair as you collapsed to the ground at the door, like letting the weight that you’ve been holding up all this time finally fall down, apologizing to her that you failed to keep this relationship that you had. 

after a slow nighttime regimen with little to no words said, you finally embraced dahyun in the covers, consoling you as you fight the urge to sleep. 

dahyun notices your fingers grazing hers, letting them hook on each other like an instinct that’s been practiced for so many years now as she holds your hand. 

you didn’t want her to let go.

tears flow out of dahyun’s eyes as she removes her twined fingers from yours, clasping your hand after to give it a lasting squeeze. 

“i still have faith in us y/n. this won’t be the end of our story, i’ll always wait for you and maybe, we can pick up right where we left off.” 

you hummed sleepily, clutching to dahyun a little more tightly as she scratches your head. 

“i’ll never change, it will always be you that i love for the rest of my life.” 

dahyun then pressed her head against yours, hugging in her slumber for the last time, with the memories that were filled in the shared bedroom—the many sweet nothings said filled with loving touches. you and her both wanted to leave this terrible night, dreaming of being together again with no worries whatsoever. 

maybe a glimpse of the future, but all of that changed from the next day forward. 

—

you blinked a couple more times, looking around again to see that not much time had passed from sitting on the bench. the duck that was sitting in front of you at the edge of the lake was reunited with its mate, swimming along together, smiling at the cute interaction of mother nature’s children.

the memory of that night still lingered in your mind, until you finally decided that it was time to go to the next spot for today, standing up with a bag on your back, taking in the view for the last time of the lake as you walked to the bus. 

a quick trip to the next place as it was a big field that had rows of flowers set in front of something, you finally arrived where you wanted to be, setting your bag down with various foods and drinks. you sat yourself down to take two shot glasses, pouring them with apple soju and placed a covered beef bowl with mixed veggies in between, setting a pair of chopsticks on top of the said bowl as you pull another one out for yourself. 

“hey dahyun, i’m home.” you say staring at the clean tombstone standing from the ground that had your wife’s name on it. 

off to the side, there were a set of flowers that were probably brought by minju who was dahyun’s best friend that came earlier in the week since they still bloomed freshly. 

“i’ve brought you one of your favorites to eat! made them myself just yesterday.” you say, clapping your hands together to say grace before eating the beef bowl, looking at the picture of you and her hugging the first house party you hosted since getting married. 

after finishing most of the bowl, you set it next to the other bowl that was still full of food as you look out to the distance again. softly smiling at the view it presented since it was a nice sunny day with the clouds gliding past the sky. 

“not a day goes by where i miss you my love. it’s been difficult at times, but i still continue to move forward.” you say aloud, drinking the full shot glass of soju before putting it next to the opened bottle on the stone. 

a brief wave of regret comes over you, sniffling again with your face not shifting at the thought of dahyun not being in this world with you anymore, the empty feeling digging deep in your heart as a few tears streamed from your face, but you still smiled because it wasn’t in terrible pain—not anymore.

“i hope everything up there is what you always wanted it to be, i’ve got a lot of time left on this earth but i can't wait to see you again soon.” 

and by pure coincidence, an eagle flew above you looking directly upward. it may have been random or maybe it was a sign that dahyun was truly watching you from above, softly smiling again at what you just watched what happened.

“oh! by the way, i met a lovely old lady at the park earlier, her name was sana! she told me a story about her wife momo and well, let me just explain the rest.” 

even though it had been two years since dahyun had passed, you still made the effort to visit her every seventh day of each month, a sign of your love and devotion to her that you will continue to do as you rambled to dahyun about your busy days, but this one was a little bit special than the others. 

The Dirt (Your Version)

Summary: Meeting Nikki Sixx and Tommy Lee was a coincidence. Being friends was a choice. But falling in love with them both was beyond your control.

Or

A rewrite of The Dirt with all the highs and lows of Mötley Crüe from your perspective.

Pairings: Nikki Sixx x Reader, Tommy Lee x Reader, Nikki Sixx x Tommy Lee x Reader

Word Count: 4.1k

Trigger Warning- self-harm, mentions of past child abuse and cancer

Previous Chapter

Chapter 19- Truth comes out

"Who did this to you?" Nikki questioned, his fingers brushing over the dark bruise around your neck.

It had been a long time since you had heard that protectiveness in the bassist's voice. It had been a long time since you had seen him. And an even longer time since he had touched you like this.

"It doesn't matter." You sighed.

"Was it Vince?"

"What? No! He would never hurt me. Never." You insisted and Nikki nodded, his brows furrowing as he brushed his thumb over the bruise carefully.

"Tell me who and I'll fuck 'em up."

"It was my father and Vince already fucked him up."

Nikki's eyes widened in surprise knowing you hadn't been in contact with your father since you were a teenager. Nikki had questions. You could tell that he had many questions to ask but seemed to be holding himself back.

His sea green eyes were watching you worriedly. The last time you saw each other was that day at the studio. The day Vince had quit, and you walked away.

The guilt of that weighed heavily down on your shoulders. Mötley Crüe were finished. It didn't matter that they had a new singer, the band was over the moment Vince left and it was your fault.

"If you want me to leave. I'll leave." You whispered.

"I don't want you to leave, princess."

Just hearing that old nickname bought tears to your eyes and you lowered your head so he wouldn't see them fall. Nikki Sixx had seen you cry too many times to count over the years. You didn't want him to see you cry anymore.

"Come inside. Can I get you a drink?" Nikki offered. "I'm sober, so there's not many options."

You smiled, heart swelling with pride hearing that.

"Water is fine."

He disappeared in the kitchen, and you walked over to his couch and sat down hugging your knees to your chest. Nikki returned shortly after handing you a glass of cold water which you took with a small smile.

"It's not that I'm not happy to see you after all this time, because I am. But what's going on?" Nikki asked worriedly.

"Skylar died."

"Oh, fuck." He sighed heavily the shock of that information hitting him hard. "I'm so sorry."

You fiddled with the glass of water as Nikki walked around the couch and sat down beside you.

He asked what happened. You told him about the tumour and cancer that spread through the little girl's body. He asked about Vince, and you told the truth. Your brother was a mess but was trying to get himself better.

The two of you sat together in silence after that, Nikki trying to process everything while you sat there fiddling with the empty glass trying not to cry.

Grieving was hard.

Whether it was for your own baby or someone else's. Grief in general for a lack of a better word... sucked.

The suckiest part about it was how lonely grieving made you feel. And yeah, sure, your family had been mourning the loss of Skylar. But you've been mourning the loss of your own baby too because you had never really allowed yourself to grieve that unborn child until now.

And then you'd felt angry at yourself for it because that was in the past and Skylar had just died. Your little niece had just died, but you weren't only thinking about her. And that made you feel guilty. And then that guilt turned into anger. And you were angry at yourself for being angry because dear God, it wasn't like they had died on purpose, but it happened, and you couldn't save either of them.

So, you were angry.

You were angry at the world because it kept spinning after those horrible deaths. And you were angry that you were still living when Skylar had her whole life ahead of her and your own baby never got to draw its first breath.

But you know what? You'd take the anger, the sadness and the guilt because the only reason all of that existed within you now was because love existed first. Because it still existed in you now. And you knew that if you had loved Skylar less or never found out about your pregnancy, things would be easier, but you didn't want to live in that world.

So, yeah, you had a lifetime of those sticky grief feelings ahead, but you welcomed them with open arms because you had four years of love with Skylar and a couple months of knowing about your baby and that will always, always be worth it.

"Shit, princess."

Your head snapped in Nikki's direction to find his sea green eyes swimming with tears, and you very quickly realised that you had just said all of that out loud.

"Can I hold you?" He asked, wiping his teary eyes.

"Please."

Nikki shifted closer on the couch before wrapping his arm around your shoulders, pulling you gently into his side and kissing the top of your head. You buried your face against his chest and squeezed your eyes shut not wanting this moment to end because you had missed this. You had missed him so fucking much.

Nikki eventually let go of you, saying something about needing to piss before he disappeared leaving you on the couch. You were pretty sure that the bassist just needed a moment alone to compose himself because he hadn't allowed himself to mourn or grieve over your unborn baby until now either.

You reached up and rubbed your thumb over the scars and cuts on your wrist thinking about your brother. Thinking about Skylar. Thinking about Razzle. Thinking about your unborn baby. Thinking about everything.

You were so lost in thought you didn't hear Nikki approaching until he sat back down beside you causing you to nearly jump out of your skin at his sudden presence. His shoulder was touching yours and you quickly shifted your bracelets to cover the cuts.

You leant your head against his shoulder, the two of you remaining quiet for quite some time, but you didn't need to fill the silence. That was the nice thing about Nikki, he could appreciate silence when others wouldn't. Not needing to speak just for the sake of talking.

He kissed the side of your head and squeezed your hand for comfort, knowing how everything was taking its toll on you.

But he didn't know everything. He didn't know about those dark thoughts that still haunted you. He didn't know about the cuts hidden beneath your sleeve.

"Let me see your neck." Nikki suddenly said, speaking up for the first time in a while.

He hooked his index finger under your chin tilting your head up as you lifted it off his shoulder. You hadn't had a chance to look in the mirror and see the damage yet, but by the frown forming on Nikki's face, you knew it wasn't great.

"Does it hurt?"

You shook your head and gently touched the angry purple and blue finger shaped bruises with a small wince, "I'm fine. It only hurts when I touch it."

Nikki didn't seem happy with that answer. His frown only deepening as he inspected the marks carefully.

He shouldn't care about you though. Nikki should be angry at you for what happened in the studio. He should be furious. He shouldn't be worrying or caring about you. You didn't deserve it. You didn't deserve him.

"You should hate me." You whispered.

Nikki's eyes met yours, "what? Why?"

"I'm the reason for Mötley Crüe's downfall. It's all my fault."

"It's not."

"It is!" You answered a little louder than you meant but you couldn't help it. "I mean, fuck, you warned us at the start, Sixx. You said hooking up with me would jeopardize the band and now look what happened."

"That's not on you."

"It is."

"It's not. That's on all of us." Nikki insisted and you knew there was no point trying to argue with him on this.

You sighed, "I should go. I-I don't know why I came here. You have your own life... I'm sorry."

You stood up from the couch but before you could walk back towards the door, Nikki suddenly reached out and grabbed your hand stopping you.

"Don't go." He said, his voice nearly pleading as he looked up at you with gentle sea green eyes. "It's getting late. Just stay here tonight. You can take the spare bedroom. Please. Just don't go. Not like last time."

You hesitated for a moment as you glanced over at his front door before looking back at him and nodding in agreement. Nikki's shoulders relaxed instantly, and he gave your hand a gentle squeeze before he showed you to the guest bedroom.

Given Nikki Sixx's track record with girls, you were expecting him to try make a move or convince you to share his own bed, but to your surprise he was a complete gentleman. He had matured a lot since the last time you saw him. So much had happened since then, yet for some unknown reason, Nikki still cared about you.

You ended up sleeping on the couch that night because the mattress in the spare room had a very distinct scent of urine on it. Underneath the black sheets were multiple yellow stains and although they appeared to be old, the smell was definitely there, so you retreated back to the couch.

It wasn't so bad. You had slept in worse places especially while on tour with the guys. So, a blanket on a leather couch was actually pretty good in comparison.

You laid there staring up at the antique looking ceiling fan above you in the dim light unable to fall asleep. Your mind wouldn't shut off. You kept thinking about Skylar which then turned into thinking about Vince and what your father had said.

Your entire life had been a lie.

Vince wasn't your brother, and your father wasn't even your real father. And your mother... she killed herself after giving birth to you. Did she not want you that badly? Did she really think that leaving you with that abusive piece of shit would be better than whatever she could provide? Was a bullet to the head the only choice she had?

Your mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions as you laid there squeezing your wrist feeling the calming sting of the cuts.

You must have fallen asleep sometime though because the next thing you knew, your eyes were snapping open, and you sat up gasping for air.

A gunshot echoed in your mind. Your mothers blurry figure falling to the ground in a pool of her blood. Your fathers angry voice screamed in the background somewhere. You could still feel his hands around your neck choking you.

"Y/N, hey. Just breathe. You're okay, just breathe." Someone's voice suddenly said, but through the haze in your head you couldn't figure out who the voice belonged to let alone trying to focus on breathing.

You couldn't breathe. It was like your father was still choking you. All the air had gotten sucked out of your lungs and there wasn't anything you could do about it. You could feel your chest tightening as you buried your face into trembling hands trying to calm yourself down, but it wasn't working.

A small voice in the back of your head was telling you that you were having a panic attack, but that little piece of information did nothing to help.

"Hey, hey, hey. Look at me. Y/N, look at me."

Somehow you forced yourself to lift your head and your eyes locked with familiar sea green ones. Nikki was looking at you in worry, but you just shook your head unable to shut your brain off as the lingering nightmare flashed through your mind on repeat.

"It's okay. Deep breaths. Y/N, princess, just breathe. Copy me, okay?" Nikki instructed, kneeling down in front of you as he took in an exaggerated deep breath, and you mimicked him before he released the breath slowly and you did the same as he repeated the action.

It took a while, but eventually you managed to get your breathing under control. Your heart was beating out of your chest, your body shaking, but you were breathing. Small victories.

Nikki was kneeling beside the couch watching you worriedly and you only just realised that he was shirtless. Has he been shirtless this whole time? How the fuck did you miss that little detail? Or big detail because Nikki had definitely been working out since the last time you saw him. His chest and arms were more muscular than you had ever seen them.

You rubbed your face with trembling hands trying not to think about his attractive body before you slowly sat up on the couch with a heavy sigh.

"Shit, I'm sorry." You whispered, realising that he had just witnessed you totally freak out.

"You don't ever have to apologise to me."

"Did I wake you?"

"No. I was already awake."

It was a clear lie to make you feel better, but you appreciated it. Nikki didn't move from beside you though. His hand was hovering over your arm like he wasn't sure if he should touch you right now or not.

"Are you okay?"

Nope. Not even remotely okay, but were you going to admit that? Absolutely not.

"Yeah."

Nikki didn't say anything after that and you were pretty sure he saw straight through your lie, but he didn't call you out on it. He was good like that. He understood not wanting to talk after nightmares, God knows he was riddled with his own demons in his sleep too.

"Do you want to be alone?" He asked eventually, breaking the silence.

You shook your head because the thought of being alone with your thoughts sounded like hell.

Nikki simply nodded before he stood up and sat down on the couch beside you leaving a respectable gap between you to give you some space.

You traced your fingers over the bruise on your neck thinking back to what your father had said.

"Is it hurting?" Nikki asked worriedly watching you touch the bruise gingerly.

You shook your head, "no. I'm just thinking about something he said before he, uh, strangled me."

"What did he say?"

"That he's not my real father. Said my mother dumped me on his doorstep as a baby and then killed herself."

"Jesus." Nikki swore softly under his breath not knowing what else to say to that.

You remained quiet for a moment biting your lip fighting back tears you could feel coming. You were so God damn sick of crying.

"It means Vince and I aren't even related." You whispered.

Nikki must have heard the crack in your voice because he turned on the couch to face you properly. The only good thing about your childhood was having Vince as your big brother. But it turned out that he wasn't even your brother at all.

"There's more to family than blood, Y/N." Nikki said gently, hesitantly resting his hand on your shoulder. "I know that better than anyone."

You sighed with a small nod wiping the tears from your eyes before they could fall, and Nikki squeezed your shoulder comfortingly.

Vince had said that it didn't matter. He said that you were still his sister no matter what, but it still felt wrong knowing your entire childhood and sibling bond had been bought up on a lie.

"You and Vince, you're family. Nothing is going to change that."

You glanced over at Nikki and smiled softly needing to hear that more than anything, "thanks, Sixx."

Neither of you spoke for a while after that. Nikki flicked on the television giving you a much-needed distraction from your thoughts. He switched the channel to MTV and lowered the volume down while he leant back against the couch and kicked his feet up on the coffee table.

"Why were you sleeping on the couch?"

"Spare bed smells like piss." You answered honestly glancing over at him.

Nikki sighed, "that would've been Slash. He's peed on that bed a few times. Sorry, I thought it was clean after the last time."

You screwed your face up in disgust which caused Nikki to smile before he turned his attention back to the television and the two of you fell into comfortable silence after that.

An hour or so ticked by. The clock on the wall across the room indicated that it was nearly six in the morning. Nikki had fallen asleep beside you a while ago. His head was tipped back against the back of the couch, his hair covering the side of his face as he snored softly.

You watched the bassist sleep for a few minutes before you quietly slipped away and made your way outside through the back door.

It was still dark outside and the view from his back porch was stunning. His house was on a hill at the far side of town and overlooked the entire city. The lights of Hollywood shone brightly in the distance, and you leant against the porch railing taking in the stunning view.

You rolled the sleeve up exposing the cuts along your inner arm that were now on full display as you glanced down at them in disgust. The skin was painted with a mixture of fresh and old cuts, some healed and scarred, others bright red and fresh.

You covered your wrist with your hand and squeezed welcoming the pain as the fresh cuts started to sting, but it wasn't enough.

The pocketknife in your jeans felt like it was burning against the fabric before you reached into the front pocket and pulled it out.

Your hands trembled as you flicked the blade out. Dry blood stained the stainless steel as you pressed the tip of the blade against an unmarked section of skin on your wrist.

Tears started to burn in the back of your eyes as you sliced through the skin like it was butter. Bright crimson blood instantly rose and trickled down onto the railing you were leaning against. You watched the droplets fall. The cut stinging as the outdoor air blew against it and you closed your eyes, trying to calm yourself.

The pain grounded you.

It was fucked up, you knew this was fucked up, but you couldn't stop. It was the only way you knew how to cope with everything.

The sound of the backdoor opening startled you out of your thoughts. You hastily tucked the knife back into your pocket and pulled your sleeve down trying to hide the blood and cuts.

Nikki hovered in the doorway, but you didn't dare look over at him because you had a sinking feeling that he had seen everything.

"Y/N-"

"I just need some fresh air. Go back inside." You said, barely even recognising your own voice.

"And leave you out here to cut yourself?" He questioned bluntly.

Yeah, you thought.

But you didn't dare say that out loud though. And Nikki didn't leave.

Suddenly, he appeared beside you and his hand grasped your shoulder gently. You tilted your head up at him, but he didn't look at you, his wide eyes were glued to your arm that you were trying to hide, but clearly not very well.

You glanced back down and there was no mistaking the crimson stains soaking through the fabric of your sleeve.

Shit.

"How long?" He asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "How long have you been cutting yourself? Days? Weeks?"

"...more."

You didn't look at him as you spoke, not wanting to see the disappointment and pity on his face.

"Fucking hell." He whispered to himself.

Nikki let go, you could no longer feel his touch on your shoulder, and you fought the urge to reach out and stop him from leaving. Instead, you looked back out at the city lights watching the sun that was now slowly starting to rise along the horizon.

You listened closely for footsteps, but never heard any. Why wasn't he leaving?

A few tense seconds of silence ticked by before Nikki let out a loud exhale and leant down against the porch railing beside you.

"Princess, look at me."

You expected to hear him sound mad, to sound angry or pissed off, but he didn't. He almost sounded sad.

"Please. Fuck- please, Y/N, look at me." He practically begged.

Reluctantly, you lowered your hands from your face and glanced over at him through teary eyes and had to do a double take when you saw his own eyes glistening with unshed tears.

Seeing Nikki on the verge of crying was all it took before the flood gates opened. A violent sob escaped your lips as you cried, Nikki's expression breaking.

"I-I'm sorry. Please... please don't hate me."

Nikki's arm was instantly wrapping around your back, resting across your waist and pulling you into his side which just made you cry even more as you leant into him.

"No, no, sweetheart. I don't hate you. I could never hate you." He insisted, holding you tightly.

"I'm sorry. I-I... I'm so sorry." You whimpered, burying your face against his chest.

"it's okay. Shh, it's okay. It's okay."

He kissed the top of your head gently and just held you while you cried. You had been trying to hide your pain from Vince for so long, trying to be strong for him, but now, you allowed yourself to let your guard down and show your true feelings for the first time in what felt like years, knowing you were safe in Nikki's arms.

Eventually, Nikki lowered his arm, and you sniffed rubbing your face with trembling hands trying to calm yourself down.

He pulled out a red bandanna from his back pocket before he grabbed your arm and began to carefully pull up your sleeve. Nikki paused for a second when he got a look at your inner arm properly for the first time. A soft gasp escaped his lips, and you fought the urge to pull your arm away from him.

It was too late. He had already seen it. The damage had been done.

"Fuck, princess." He swore softly under his breath.

He pressed the bandanna against the still bleeding cut and neither of you said anything while he kept his hand pressed down on your wrist with the bandanna to slow the bleeding while you stared out at the view.

Nikki was staring down at your arm with a frown plastered on his face which was better. A frown was better than tears. You could deal with Nikki being mad at you. Anger you could handle.

"I-I didn't know... I never knew things were this bad." Nikki admitted, his voice thick with emotion. "I'm sorry I wasn't there for you."

"I was the one that walked away."

"I should have called."

"I'm not your responsibility, Sixx." You whispered, wiping the tears from your eyes with your free hand. "I'm sorry. You shouldn't have to deal with my shit. Not after what I did."

Nikki let out a deep exhale, "what happened that day in the studio wasn't your fault, Y/N."

"We both know that's a lie."

"What happened. Everything we did... I would do it all over again."

Your eyes widened in surprise and Nikki smiled softly.

"If I could go back in time, I'd do it all again."

"Nikki-"

"I love you, princess. I didn't get a chance to say it that day, but I do."

You shook your head, fresh tears spilling from your eyes because you didn't deserve his love. You didn't deserve any of this.

"You shouldn't." You whispered still shaking your head. "You should hate me for what happened. You should hate me for this." You pulled your arm free from his grasp, the bandanna sticking to your wrist as you held it up for him to see.

"This doesn't change how much I love you. Y/N, hey, hey. Princess, look at me."

When you didn't move, he lifted his hand pinching your chin with his thumb and index finger and raised your head gently until you were forced to look at him.

"I'm serious. This doesn't change anything. I love you, Y/N. The next time you feel like this, come to me. I want to help. Let me help you."

You simply nodded, not trusting your voice at the moment as a fresh wave of tears resurfaced at Nikki's kindness causing his expression to soften before he pulled you into a hug.

"I just want you to be okay." He whispered, placing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "I love you."

"I love you too." You answered, and you meant it.

You and Nikki had started out cautious of each other. You were his singer's little sister, and he was the mysterious bass player who seemed to hate you.

Somewhere between that first meeting at Rock Candys gig all those years ago and to this moment now, the two of you had broken down each other's walls and had fallen in love without realising it.

-

Next Chapter

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A/N: Sorry this chapter took so long. 

I just had to work 10 days in a row with 4 of those days on call after hours too (I hated it) but I finally got a few days off and I am already editing the next chapter which will be posted in a couple of days. 

I hope you are all still enjoying this story. I would love to hear your thoughts in the comments ❤️