#and think about these two is only making my health worse HELP

[artheresy]

I can’t stay quiet about this, I need to scream it to SOMEBODY ANYBODYYY

Dan Heng and Blade were Dan Feng and Yingxing. “Dh and Bld are Df and Yx!” Nope, their current selves aren’t them, that lacks nuance. “Dh and Bld aren’t Df and Yx!” THAT ALSO LACKS NUANCEE they are still connected and fundamentally shaped by their past identities, they aren’t entirely separate from them while also still being separate in a way. The best way I can describe it is like a venn diagram, there is overlap, but there also are still areas where they don’t.

To expand more, I wanna talk about the way they foil each other a bit in this sense. For Dan Heng, even if he is a botched rebirth, simply a “de-aged Dan Feng” not fully reborn, he is still not Dan Feng. While Dan Feng has made up the basis of his personality and he accepts him as his past, I think we forget that Dan Heng had his own entire childhood after the molting rebirth was completed. One he spent imprisoned by the Ten Lords Commission, and then he was exiled when he was old enough leading to his whole journey until he became apart of the Astral Express crew etc etc. Dan Heng is made up of a basis of Dan Feng + All of his own memories and experiences. While he shares traits with Dan Feng such as personality aspects like his stubbornness, his technique with a spear, and being able to connect with his old items, he also is very much himself with his own outlook and traits shaped by what he’s learned rather than what he has been born with. To treat him as if he is Dan Feng exactly is a disservice to both of their characters and the greater narrative that they apart of. He may still carry the burdens and karma of Dan Feng, but Dan Heng is still making his own future.

Now, Blade. Blade similarly is not Yingxing, not completely. Though he accepts Yingxing’s sin as his own and is intent of repaying the sin of Dan Feng and Yingxing (and getting Dan Heng to repay it too), there still are distinctions between him and Yingxing. In fact, I’d argue there are more things separating them. I could talk for so long again about the layered use of craftsmanship to connect, or rather disconnect, the two identities of Blade and Yingxing, but there’s more than that. “Now, ██ had died. His first — and only — death.” “From this moment on, that body will be the one and only "Blade."” Although Blade was Yingxing, a disconnect exists between them through the death of Yingxing. He awoke with no memories of his past, no even his name, until Jingliu came along, instilled in him her ideologies, made him remember, not only his past sins but the feeling of death so that he might inflict it onto others. As she said, he was reborn and had even given himself a name…

I want to add that the specific ways in which their current identities exist in proximity to their past ones foil each other. As I said, Dan Heng, in part as his sabotaged rebirth, is built upon the foundation of Dan Feng and all of his own experiences and memories. He has the capacity to gain back more memories of Dan Feng as his DH IL character stories outline, and though he is still himself and still moves forward, we see him accept his relation to Dan Feng eventually. Though that past life of his is clouded by fog and mist, he may eventually be able to push away the clouds that block him and understand more, about Dan Feng and in turn about himself. With Blade, it is so heavily emphasized in game from his relic lore to the very sword he uses that his mind is essentially broken, due both in part to the trauma of Jingliu’s “teachings” and the mara that was brought on by those lessons. He can’t fully remember everything about Yingxing, in fact actively remembering such or seeing familiar things is harmful to him. Like his shard sword, he is made of broken pieces, put together in a way that can never erase the cracks, and continuously shattering before being glued together again. His life is shaped by Yingxing’s past, the trauma he has endured is directly caused by his past actions. Unlike Dan Heng, he hasn’t had this whole life to build up and live. Though he’s experienced new things, they don’t shape him and change him in the way that Dan Heng’s built his identity up.

Where Dan Heng basically has supplements to Dan Feng’s identity that make him who he is, Blade is the broken shards and pieces of Yingxing that weren’t lost to the waves, making him who he is. Dan Heng is a next chance, finally free from the Preceptors’ control and of the role that stripped his past selves of their individuality, meanwhile Blade is the husk left behind of Yingxing’s regrets, broken by trauma caused due to Yingxing’s past actions, forever tormented by his past until he inevitably is able to die. If Dan Heng is more than just Dan Feng which is why he is separate but intertwined with him, than Blade is less than Yingxing, in a way that has caused such a severe disconnect that has caused Blade to have his own identity still shaped. And looking at this, not to again bring up my craftsmanship post about Blade, Dan Heng can connect to Dan Feng. He can clear the fog, remembering his memories through dreams even if he can’t fully connect emotionally to him, and he finds sentiment in many of items that once were his, smth not many Vidyadhara actually are capable of doing. To contrast, Blade is forever separated from connecting completely to Yingxing’s identity. His memories will always be fragmented, his own path entirely changed. He can’t connect to Yingxing’s past goals and passions, seen through the distinct decision made in his character stories to talk about how he can no longer use his hands to forge weapons (something that completely defined Yingxing’s life and legacy, tied to his childhood trauma and hatred of the Abundance, something that became his genuine passion), and how none of that mattered to Blade.

All of this, the ways they foil each other and the separation between their past selves and current, just makes me love their dynamic and their lore a lot. Makes me want to cry most days of my life if I’m honest. And it’s part of why I do take issue with the way nuance has completely left this argument, only having two extremes of “Dan Heng is Dan Feng!” Or “Dan Heng isn’t Dan Heng!” Again… Dan Heng WAS Dan Feng, he wouldn’t be Dan Heng without Dan Feng, but he is still himself. That’s part of the tragedy between them. They are still fundamentally defined and shaped by their past selves, similarities able to be spotted if they can be remembered, but they’ve also experienced so much that has changed them, and they can never truly go back to being Dan Feng and Yingxing. It would never be fully the same again.

[dandyshucks]

i get slightly annoyed when people make community posts that tell ppl to stop doing xyz and use the phrases "they're a FICTIONAL character, theyre NOT REAL" to justify whatever theyre saying because:

1) everyone knows that already, we're all aware these are blorbos from our media;

2) if someone is genuinely struggling to grasp that because of a delusion or similar, a forceful reality check is only going to cause harm rather than help;

3) it just feels so needlessly patronizing;

4) most of the time whatever I see people complaining about is either smth that I never see anyone doing or if it is smth somebody is doing then the block button is a very quick and effective fix for the issue (or even a quick convo w the person in DMs can resolve issues!)

(granted I keep my following circle very small and probably miss a lot but if i can do that then perhaps... perhaps other people can do it too fhfkdl like just prune back whatever u dont like seeing! unfollow or block as needed!)

[wonijinjin]

seventeen members when their introverted s/o feels socially exhausted

author’s note: i am a very extroverted person so it was a bit difficult to write this but i hope i could still make it comforting for my introvert darlings. enjoy!

synopsis: what the title says

word count: 1.0k | genre: fluff, comfort | pairings: seventeen x gn! reader | warnings: mentions of food, mental health

seungcheol would be a little bit taken aback at first since his nature makes him an absolute worrier; he would be asking you if you were feeling okay. if you were out in the city he would definitely suggest going home so you could recharge your energy in peace, next to his comforting presence. you could also expect him to be extra clingy after you gave him the green light of being in your more extroverted mood again.

now jeonghan is known to get drained eventually in social situations aswell, so he would be no stranger to helping you feel comfortable. he would make sure you had a little bit of quiet, leaving you for a bit with your thoughts to really think about what you wanted, and whatever that might be he would be sure to give it to you; cuddles or alone time, sleeping or just the two of you talking mindlessly about various topics.

joshua is very observant so he would notice the signs of you getting pretty tired, that is why he would make an excuse to get the pair of you home from the friendly gathering you were attending at that time, since he wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable by asking directly. after stepping inside your bedroom he would surely ask if you wanted to talk about it with him, and do as you decide to proceed.

jun is one of the more silent lovers, but that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t be the most attentive partner to ever exist. he is quick witted so he would always have advice for you if you needed it regarding getting through a difficult time, guiding you through the ways he had solved this problem in the past. you could also expect him to buy you your comfort foods aswell, because he wants you to take care of yourself.

hoshi is a very extroverted person so he may have trouble with helping you if you got socially exhausted, but he would do everything in his power to be a fast learner. he would want you tell him whenever you needed a break from him and his friends since you hung out a lot on a daily basis, and he would gladly bomb you with long voice messages saying during you recharge period so you wouldn’t feel alone even then.

wonwoo has a very quiet way of caring for you, usually many silent acts of service included in it; the moment he saw your energy levels drop he would absolutely ask if you wanted to spend some time away from people, whispering into your ear lowly as he stroked your hair in an encouraging and comforting manner to let him know what you wanted to do next to which he would happily adjust his schedule too.

woozi doesn’t go out often so he might be a little bit confused about your feelings, but he would be desperate to understand what you mean. he would just take you to his studio where the two of you could easily lay on the couch, calming muic playing in the background while he patiently listened to your worries, cooing at how exhausted you probably looked and felt, trying to get you to sleep beside him to get the rest you deserved.

dk can be a very loud person sometimes so it would probably take some time for him to notice your change in behaviour, after you constantly going to social events, having to surround yourself with people frequently. he would be all over you (actually kind of making the situation even worse lmao) trying to figure out a way to help, to which you would gladly accept the cuddles offered by him, needing his touch only.

mingyu is also a very hyped man so he would definitely be sulking upon hearing you say that you were very drained and wanted some peace and quiet since this puppy cannot shut up. poor boy would be so careful around you, being afraid of upsetting you by making noise every minute, and you would have to tell him that he was always welcomed in your space, to which he would happily smother you in kisses.

minghao can be very understanding about your feelings, he himself likes to spend some time to take care of his mental health and well-being, this is why when you confided in him and talked about how you felt he would suggest trying meditation with him. he would also encourage you to openly say no to people when you don’t feel like letting them into your personal space or not wanting to hang out with them.

your mental health may be one of the most important things for seungkwan, since he knows how badly it can affect your mood if you are not feeling comfortable. he would baby you a lot, letting you come to him with your worries and thoughts so he won’t overwhelm you with his constant questions. he would also make sure you eat and drink enough since he no how you tend to neglect your own needs from time to time.

vernon is the perfect example of a person who can be left alone and enjoy his time without others’ presence so if you ever felt burnt out from people but still wanted to be active in some kind of way he would have many ideas offered to you about how to get that much needed recharge from the world; trying a new hobby which doesn’t include other individuals and can make you relax while doing it.

dino knew something was up with you the moment he looked into you direction, he knew you exceeded your limits and wished to rest a bit, to turn your mind off. he would take you dancing with him (even if you were just watching) to make you focus on the beatsof the music and move to it, shaking the stres away off your tired form and to physically exhaust yourself to then get into bed and sleep easily like a baby.

[feelbokkie]

📱Distancing yourself from BF!SKZ after receiving hate 📱 (Part 2) (Hyung + Hyunjin Line)

☀️Feelbokkie M.list☀️

genre: heavy angst, hurt/comfort

pov: 1st & 2nd person

description: Your boyfriend finds out why you've been distancing yourself (Half smau, half written)

pairing: bf!skz & fem!reader

warnings: swearing, break up, mentions of violence, mention of self harm (?), self loathing, mostly fluff, let me know if I missed anything

word count: listed below

screenshot count: 4

©feelbokkie (2023) — all rights reserved. reposting/modification of any kind is not tolerated.

Part 1

Part 2 (Maknae Line)

방 찬 (Bang Chan) (1,150 words)

“Y/N’s a better person than me. I don’t think I would be able to handle it.”

“Handle what?” Chan asked the two staff members who were talking in the corner. 

Chan normally stays out of things that don’t concern him, but when he heard your name he could help but get involved. 

“All the hate. I don’t know what I would do if I was constantly being told to kill myself by strangers.” The taller of the two staff members mentions. 

Chan thought quietly to himself for a few seconds. He knows that you had gotten some hate in the past, it’s only natural that a few fans would be upset that Chan is in a relationship. But he handles the situation with a message on bubble and everything was fine. Right? You wouldn’t keep something like this from him. Right?

“Thank you for your hard work today,” Chan says quickly before shuffling off to a quiet corner of the room. 

He pulls out his phone and types in your name on Twitter. All the top mentions of your name are so vile and full of malice that he can only imagine how worse it must be in your inbox. 

Chan spent the whole journey back to his dorm reading all the comments that you must have seen. You had to have seen them and that’s why you’re avoiding him. There’s no other explanation. All of your social media accounts are now private, comments are turned off, and you even took off your profile pictures. It’s bad and he blames himself for not seeing how much you were suffering sooner. Once they get home, Chan walks straight to his room and slams the door, causing Jisung, Changbin, and Hyunjin to share a scared and confused look. 

With a need to put an end to all the madness before it escalates even further, he does the only thing he can do: start a Channie’s Room. 

***

I stared at the link Chan had sent me for 5 minutes. I’ve been avoiding him for a few days, it doesn’t make sense that he would just send me a link like everything is okay. But it’s not, everything is fucked.

Our relationship is public, much to Chan’s dismay. He would have preferred to keep everything private, but after a picture of us was at risk of being leaked, we decided to get in front of the narrative and announce our relationship. Everything was fine, my name and picture were never released. A few weeks ago my identity was revealed. I didn’t tell Chan, I didn’t want to worry him with something I could handle on my own. And I did, but the toll on my mental health from most of the comments being directed at me would have been a dead giveaway.

I bite my lip and open the video on my laptop. I sit with my knees to my chest at my computer desk. The video stars and I see Chan sitting in his bedroom wearing the couple hoodie we picked out our first year of dating. I can’t stop the corner of my lips from turning up. His expression is hard to read. He looks tired. I can see it in the bags under his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah. I know you guys weren’t expecting a Channie’s Room today. It’s going to be short. I promise.” Chan explains as he reads comments on his phone. Why did he send me a link to this?

“‘Why are we here?’ I thought we could have a little chat. Just a quick conversation about something that’s come to my attention.’”A flash of anger hits his eyes only for a quick second.

Shit. He knows. He knows and he’s going to address it. I quickly pull my phone and dial Chan’s number to get him to stop whatever crusade he’s about to embark on. Chan picks up his phone and swipes his hand across the screen just as the call ends. Chan holds his phone up to the camera.

“If it’s alright with you guys, I’m going to put my phone away. It’s almost dead. But don’t worry, I can still see your comments on my computer.” He smiles at the camera before literally tossing his phone behind him.

“Fuck!” I shut my laptop and race around my room grabbing my shoes, wallet, and keys before making a mad dash to the dorm.

“Y/N? Are you okay?” Hyunjin asks when he answers the door. I take a second to catch my breath, doubled over in front of the door. I managed to turn a 30-minute walk into a 15-minute marathon. Call me superwoman.

“C…han…is Chan still in his room?” I ask, finally standing up having collected myself after a few minutes.

“Yeah, but I would wait for a second. He’s pissed.” Han calls from the couch. 

“Oh, believe me, I already know.” I finally make my way into the dorm and head straight to Chan’s room. 

I open the door and freeze when I see Chan still sitting at his desk. I quietly close the door and lean against it as I try to catch my breath. Chan looks at me quickly before finishing the live and giving me his full attention.

“Why are you out of breath? What’s wrong?” He stands up and places a hand on my shoulder.

“What’s wrong? I ran all the way over here to stop you from doing whatever the fuck that was on live.” I push his hand off and make my way over to the beanbag chair that Chan has for me to sit in.

“You’re mad at me for defending you?” He grabs a water bottle from his mini fridge and opens it before handing it to me. I take a huge sip.

“Not mad, upset. I was handling it.”

“How were you handling? By avoiding me?”

“I only avoided you because you can read me like a book. I didn’t want you to worry while you’re busy with your comeback.”

“So you were just going to suffer in silence?” Chan sits down on the edge of his bed and hands me the water bottle cap.

“Chan, I knew what I was getting into when I agreed to start dating you. I expected something like this would happen eventually. I didn’t want you to worry because you already have so much weight on your shoulders.”

“It’s literally my job as your boyfriend to worry about you. It’s not a burden. You’ll never be a burden.” Chan climbs off the bed and kneels next to me.

“I love you. I promise that I will lean on you more.” I take Chan’s hand and kiss his cheek.

“And I promise to also lean on you so that you don’t have to worry about coming to me. Stay the night?”

“Don’t have to ask me twice.”

이 민 호 (Lee Min-Ho) (921 words)

Part 3

Minho rarely goes on social media. He’ll post the occasional picture on Instagram for the official Stray Kids page, but that’s all. He has his secret account, but he mostly uses it when he’s been away from you for a while and misses seeing your face. He hadn’t seen you for a couple of weeks so he logged in to look at your most recent pictures. That’s when he saw all of the hate comments that were under all your pictures.

“What the fuck?” He mutters under his breath.

“What’s wrong?” Han asks, looking concerned at Minho. Dance practice had run late so they’re all resting on the floor of the practice room.

“All these comments on Y/N’s pictures. They’re so vicious.” And recent.

“Do you think that’s why she hasn’t been around?” Minho blinks a few times before shutting his phone and putting his stuff away. He looks down at his phone one more time before leaving without saying anything to the others.

***

I set down a cup of water in front of Minho before returning to my spot in my armchair. He’s been quiet ever since he showed up at my door. It wasn’t completely strange for him to show up unannounced like this. He often comes over to spend the night on a whim. But this time feels different.

“How was practice?” I finally say, breaking the silence.

“Long and difficult, but we’ll figure it out. We always do.” The room falls silent again. I don’t know why I’m nervous, it’s just Minho. We’ve been together long enough, silence shouldn’t be awkward for us. If anything, we prefer it. Most of our nights in are quiet while we both just enjoy each other’s company.

“I saw the comments on your Instagram. When were you going to tell me?” Minho reaches for the glass of water and takes a sip.

“I… I was going to. I just didn’t know when or how to bring it up.” A few weeks ago, a few Stay found my social media and began commenting rude things under all my pictures. It’s escalated into a bigger issue than what I initially thought it was going to be. 

“Are you okay?”

“Are you actually asking?”

“Y/N, I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t actually want to know.” I don’t know why, but he saying that breaks me. Tears start falling down my face faster than I can stop myself.

The truth is, I’m not okay. I knew that dating an idol came with its own set of challenges and that publicly dating one would be even harder. I knew to an extent that I would probably get hate, either directly or indirectly, at some point in our relationship once we went public. So, I constantly did a lot of mental preparation for this exact situation. But no amount of mental preparation will ever prepare you for having all of your flaws pointed out and constantly being told to kill yourself. I hate to admit it, but it has severely impacted my mental health. I can’t sleep, and when I do it’s never for long. My appetite is nonexistent, I only eat when I realize that I hadn’t eaten anything all day.

“I’m not doing great if I’m being completely honest. I can’t remember the last time I got a decent sleep or ate a proper meal. I barely made all of my social media private, but that doesn’t stop people from sending me DMs. I have to delete every comment by hand because if I just turned off my comments, I would miss seeing the stuff you wrote. But that means I have to read each comment to make sure I’m not getting rid of yours— I’m just really exhausted.”

Minho is silent again as he gets up from his spot on the couch and kneels in front of me. He takes me in his arms and strokes my hair as I sob into his shoulder. I knew everything was getting to me, but I didn’t know how much it is affecting me until I said it out loud. 

Min presses a kiss on my cheek and pulls away once I’m done crying. He places both hands on my shoulders and looks me in the eyes. His are filled with tears and he has a sad smile.

“Let’s break up.” He says it so quietly, I almost didn’t hear him.

“What? No—”

“Y/N, you’re miserable. You’re not eating or sleeping, and in a way, it’s because of me. Even if we were to block all of the people sending you hate and delete the comments and DMs, you’ll still be at the center of all this negativity. The only way you’ll know peace is if we aren’t together anymore.”

“I love you, I don’t want to break up.” Tears begin to fall down my face again.

“I love you too, and that’s why we have to. It would be selfish of me to stay with you knowing that you’re dying inside because of me. I would rather end this and know that you’re happy somewhere than lose you forever.” The tears that were welling in his eyes finally start to fall too.

He’s right, even if he went and reprimanded everyone for sending me hate, it would never truly end. I wouldn’t be happy.

“Can we break up tomorrow? I just really need you right now.” I choke out.

“Whatever you need, my love. And just know, I’ll always be here for you.”

서 창 빈 (Seo Chang-Bin) (826 words)

“Excuse me, could we take a picture with you?” Changbin had run into a few fans on his way out of the grocery store when he was getting ingredients to make you soup.

“Ah, just one, I have popsicles.” He lifts one of the bags to show them the shopping he just did. They take a quick group photo before heading their separate ways.

“Changbin oppa is so sweet. I wonder what he sees in that bitch.” One of the fans says as they walk away.

“She’s probably just after him for his money. You know what the forums say.” Another one pipes up. 

They thought that they were far away enough from Changbin when they started talking, but he heard them. When he turned around to confront them, they were gone. It takes him a few seconds to process what they were talking about. Forums? That mentioned you? Once he realized what was going on, he ran off to your apartment.

***

“Are you receiving hate?” Changbin asked when I opened my door.

I was laying down in bed, reading some new mentions on Twitter, when I got a text from Changbin saying he was downstairs. I shouldn’t have said I had a headache. Any mention of me being sick or hurt, he runs to take care of me. I knew he would find out eventually, I was just hoping it wouldn’t be tonight.

“Hello to you too.” I close the door and follow him into the kitchen. He put some grocery bags on the counter and was now leaning over the sink. I roll my eyes and start going through the bags. He really can’t multitask.

“Why didn’t you tell me about what’s going on?” He says without looking at me.

“Bin, can we not do this tonight? I really do have a headache.” I grab the box of popsicles and put them in my freezer.

“Your head wouldn’t hurt if you told me that people were harassing you online. I am your boyfriend, you should come to me when these things happen.” I put the last of the groceries away and walk to the living room.

“Yah! Y/N, don’t walk away from me. I just want to talk.” I love Changbin, but he can be loud. I’m used to it, but it’s unbearable right now.

“Maybe I didn’t tell you because it’s none of your business.”

“You are my business! And if someone is treating you like shit, I should know.” He sits down on the couch, running his hand through his hair.

“You can’t fight everyone to defend my honor.” I sit down on the opposite side of the couch.

“I can try.”

“And tell them what? That they’re wrong? That I’m not a cold bitch? Or a slut? Can you prove that I’m not? For fucks sake— you came all the way over here because you were worried about me and I’m trying to push you away. Changbin, I didn’t tell you because they’re telling the truth. I’m not the most attractive person. My personality is shit and my body count is a bit higher than I like to admit. The only thing that they’re wrong about is me being a gold digger.” Changbin’s expression softens. He scoots closers to me on the couch and places a hand on my knee.

“Don’t talk about my girlfriend like that. You’re wrong. They’re wrong. I’m the only one who is right. They don’t know you like I do. Who are they to call you a bitch? They don’t know that you carry around snacks for dogs and cats with you just in case you run into a stray. They don’t know that you’re the one who makes sure I don’t overwork myself, and take care of me when I ultimately do with no complaints. They don’t know that you also take care of the rest of my group members when they’re sick so that the rest of us stay healthy. They don’t know that you’re prettiest without your makeup, especially when you first take it off. They don’t know that you were going through something before we met. So why should what they say about you matter?”

“Bin—”

“If you don’t like something about yourself because you personally have an issue with it, that’s fine. It’s normal and I’ll be right here to help you fall in love with yourself again. And if you’re letting the opinions of others who have no idea what they talking about, I will personally kick their asses for you.” I can’t stop the corner of my mouth from turning up.

“I’m sure JYP and Dispatch would love that.”

“Y/N, I’m serious. I love you and I want to be there for you, but I can’t do that if you don’t let me in.” He moves his hand to my hand and squeezes.

“You can’t protect me from everything.” I sigh, squeezing his hand back.

“Wanna bet?”

황 현 진 (Hwang Hyun-Jin) (1,076 words)

“Hyunjin hyung, isn’t this Y/N noona’s apartment?” Jeongin held his phone in front of the older boy’s face. On it played a video that showed your apartment, your place of work, and the shops in your neighborhood that you frequent. At the end of the video your phone number and the addresses for both your home and appear on the screen.

“What is this?” The color drains from Hyunjin’s face as he picks up his phone again and sends you a quick text, more panicked this time.

“I don’t know. I just saw it right now, but apparently, it was uploaded a couple of weeks ago— Chan hyung!”Jeongin dropped his phone and tried to steady Hyunjin’s swaying body.

“What’s wrong?” Chan asked looking at the scene unfolding in front of him. Jeongin quickly catches Chan up on what’s happening as Hyunjin slowly starts to zone back in.

“Something’s happened to Y/N, I just know it. I…I need to go check on her.” Hyunjin mumbles.

It wasn’t uncommon for you and Hyunjin to have spells when you didn’t talk to or see each other. So when you first stopped replying to him, he didn’t think anything of it. But slowly, as time went on he would worry a little each day. When he first reached out and you didn’t reply, he just figured you weren’t ready to talk yet and left it alone. Finding out that you had been doxxed and were now unreachable racked his body with guilty. 

“I’ll go with you, ‘kay? Minho, you’re in charge.” Chan wrapped his arm around the fragile boy and led him out of the room.

***

I haven’t left my apartment in a couple of days. I’ve barely left my bedroom since the incident at the convince store. I had been fired earlier that day because the unwanted attention I was receiving was messing with productivity. I had gone to get some snacks and cheap food for the next couple of days when I ran and got into an altercation with a couple of sasaengs. It’s safer in my room and I have enough food in my apartment for the next few weeks.

A knock at my bedroom door draws my attention. Knock? Did they finally manage to break in? I know there are been some people hanging around my apartment for a while now. My eyes scan my room for a place to hide. I settle on the closet. I quietly make my way to the closet and situate myself in the back of it, hugging my knees to my chest. I can’t even call for help, my phone is somewhere on the floor in my living room where it has stayed after I threw it. I have been getting an insane amount of calls and texts I was being bombarded with.

My heart is pounding so hard, I can’t hear anything. I squeeze my eyes tight and take a deep breath in. I let my breath out as I rub my sweaty palms on my pant legs. I should have taken some sort of self-defense course when I decided to move out of my parents' house. I didn’t think I needed to. Hyunjin went along with me when I was looking for an apartment. This one was in the safest neighborhood in my price range. He left a pair of his shoes and one of his coats by the door so it looks like he lives here. Hyunjin. He’s going to be devastated when he finds out. Whatever happens today, I hope isn’t the one who finds me. He’d torture himself for not being here, for not knowing.

I hold my breath when I hear the closet door open. If I stay as still as humanly possible, maybe they’ll leave. I squeeze my eyes tighter as the footsteps walk a little deeper into the closet. A rush of cool air hits my face as the clothes around me move.

“Hyunjin! I found her!”

Chan? I open my eyes to find the older boy standing over me with soft, yet relieved eyes. Hyunjin runs into the room and makes eye contact with me. Chan walks out of the closet to make room for Hyunjin. He kneels next to me and engulfs me in a hug, burying my face in his chest. Breathing in his scent, I start sobbing.

We sit like that for what feels like hours. The whole time, Hyunjin stayed quietly stroking my hair. Being in Hyunjin’s arms is the most peace I’ve felt in a month. The warmth radiating from his body and his familiar scent lulls me into a quiet state.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper when I finally calm down enough.

“Why are you sorry? If anything, this is my fault.” Hyunjin’s voice cracks. I pull away from his chest and look into his eyes. They’re red and glassy. I swipe my thumb under his eye.

“It’s not your fault. You didn’t leak my information to the world.”

“That wouldn’t have happened if you weren’t dating me. Y/N,” he lets go of me and turns to face me fully, “I was so scared when I found out what happened. I was terrified that I was going to come here and find you…” Tears start to well up in his eyes at the thought of how badly this could have turned out.

“I know. I was scared too. But it’s fine. I’m fine”

“But it could have been really bad. Look at you—you’re covered in bruises. You can’t live here anymore.” He gently lifts my head to examine my face. Most of the damage is on my arms and torso, I have a small bruise on the corner of my mouth and a slightly busted lip.

“I know that—I’ve been looking at new places. But it’s going to take a while.”

“Just stay with me, it’s safer. Living with Changbin hyung and Chan hyung is like living with two bodyguards. And Jisung is pretty entertaining. Plus, I’m there.” I crack a small smile.

“Don’t you always complain about living with 3racha?” Hyunjin brushes my hair out of my face.

“Yeah, but maybe they’ll get their shit together if you move in with us. Anyway, let’s go. We can get something to eat and talk about everything.” Hyunjin stands up and sticks his hand out toward me. I take his hand and he pulls me up.

“I’m right behind you.”

—

Buy me a coffee?

[gay-dorito-dust]

Can you write headcannons for Smoke and Bihan with their s/o who's overworked themselves to the point where they hardly get sleep and barely eat?

Tomas Vrbada

He’s naturally going to be concerned about your well being the moment you rejected food and or sleep on multiple occasions across a period of time.

Tomas understood that your work was important that that you’ll have a fair few nights where you went without sleep or eating, but he quickly draws the line when he could start to visibly see the physical toll your overworking tendency has taken. You could barely stand on your own two fucking feet without constantly shifting your stance, as your eyes struggled to stay open and the dark begs beneath them got worse.

To Tomas no job was worth someone’s health and well-being and this job certainly wasn’t worth yours in the slightest. Your work be damned but he wasn’t about to watch you slowly deteriorate overtime, whilst he’s stuck stood at the sidelines, knowing deep down that he could stop this before it becomes too late to make change.

‘Why?’ You asked when Tomas asked you to take some time off from work, biting back a yawn, thinking you were slick. ‘I’m in the middle of something important for work and I have to cover for two long shifts later this week, seeing as my coworker had dropped them on a extremely short notice…again.’ You muttered the last bit under your breath but Tomas heard it as though you were speaking at a normal volume.

‘That!’ He pretty much exclaimed before composing himself and sat beside you at your desk, taking one of your hands in his whilst his thumb rubbed your skin soothingly. ‘Look I get that you love this job and want to build a career for yourself, which I’m all for but,’ he looks into your eyes where you saw just how worried he was, ‘I don’t want to stand by and watch you destroy yourself for a job that doesn’t commemorate all you’ve done for them.’

Tomas rested his forehead against yours, his heart melting when he saw how easily you learn into his warmth. ‘So please, take a break, sleep and for my sake please eat because I can’t bear to watch you destroy yourself for others who don’t value you like I do.’ He whispered against your lips. ‘I see the effort you put in but there has to come a time where you must walk away from situations that don’t benefit you.’ You sat on his words and allowed yourself to feel just how exhausted, how heavy with fatigue your body was that you could barely lift a finger.

Tomas was right, like he always was, maybe a break wouldn’t be so bad if it meant you could cuddle into him and indulge in his cooking as much as your stomach could handle.

Yeah, that sounds way better than working.

‘Okay.’ You said softly. ‘I’ll call in tomorrow.’

‘No need, I already told them that you’d be taking a break and to not be contacted until you feel like you’re ready to go back in.’ Tomas admitted and you couldn’t help but chuckle. ‘Unbelievable.’ You teased, only to yawn soon after before nestling yourself again him. ‘But I’m not complaining if it means I get to annoy you for the next few days.’

Tomas was the one the chuckle this time and kisses the top of your head. ‘Jokes on you, I love having you annoy me. Now get to sleep, baby. You’re more than deserving of it.’

Bi-Han

I see him as the kind of person to do the same but I could be wrong. He just strikes me as the type to not properly take care of himself, ya know? That’s just my opinion.

Bi-Han runs himself into the ground to become stronger for himself and for the future survival of the Lin Quei but the moment you begin to run yourself into the ground for other people at your place of work? He becomes the biggest hypocrite known to man.

So he wouldn’t think much of it at first but the more it happened, the more it became apparent to Bi-Han that something was wrong, very wrong and he needed to step in.

He finds your desire to make a career for yourself admirable but not like this, you don’t get respect from the people who’ll never understand the importance of a hard days work. In Bi-Han’s, everyone else should strive to earn your respect for the shit you put yourself through. Seeing as you weren’t given no thanks for your efforts, but instead countless more expectations to pick up your coworkers slack.

So I wouldn’t put it past Bi-Han to demand that you take a break, Grandmaster’s orders and all that.

‘Bi-Han I can’t just take a break! I’ve got important work to do-‘

‘Work that isn’t yours to complete.’ Bi-Han interrupted but he was right, you had finished your work in advance and now multiple people at work suddenly claimed that they had other obligations to do theirs, thus pulling them onto you instead with nothing other then fake smiles and even faker gratitude.

Curse your people pleasing tendencies!

You sighed, rubbing at your aching eyes that have only seemed to have gotten worse over the course of the past couple of days. ‘Then what do you suggest I do? Not finish them and let them bitch at me for their lack of responsibilities?’ You asked rhetorically, knowing that with Bi-Han, you’ll never win this argument as he always has something to back up his claims.

And besides you were too tired to argue against something that you both knew was true, it wasn’t your work to finish and so by that logic, no blame would befall you entirely. At least you hoped not.

‘It is due to their lack of responsibility that has caused you this fatigue, beloved. They’re more then deserving of the punishment.’ Bi-Han said. ‘You shouldn’t hold yourself responsible for other people’s decisions nor destroy yourself into looking reliable to your peers. You’re better than them, more resilient, dependable, hard working, determined but most of all; you take responsibility for any and all of your decisions applicably.’ Bi-Han sat back at his chair and gestured to the food before the both of you that had yet to be touched. ‘But now it’s time you rest and eat as much as you possibly can.’

[reqxxyt]

unexpected cuddler l.n

pairings: lando n. x f!reader

warnings: fluff <3

masterlist

_________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

Since the day I introduced Lando to my cat Scarlet the two have repulsed each other. I tried to the proved techniques, knowing how stubborn my cat can be but Scarlet refused to like him, hissing at him the minute he would enter my apartment. I would always have to calm her down, embarrassed, having to explain that she did this with every guest in the beginning. Lando was kind to understand the first couple of times but over time, he gave up trying to get the cat to like him back and dealt with it. 

It would get to the point where I could not be near Lando within sight of Scarlet without her hissing at him and picking her paw at him to go away. Its been a couple of months since introducing them to each other and no progress had been made. 

I got a text message from Lando this morning saying that he would be coming over, simply because he was sick and needed medicine (aka cuddles and kisses the entire day). I told him it was fine, already thinking to myself that I’ll need to advice my work of a vacation day and future sick days seeing that I would end up sick by tomorrow if I neared him. 

My cat curled up next to me sleeping soundly licking her paw every couple of minutes believing that I was going to stay with her the entire day, sound asleep. I thought for a second, wondering if I should move her to her bed while Lando was over but decided not to, thinking that would only anger her more. 

I heard the doorbell from outside and slowly moved, replacing my body with a pillow so my cat wouldn’t think anything strange. I opened the door and I felt my heart tug as I saw his tired eyes with dark undereyes and sounds of sniffling. He walked inside as I step aside. 

“Since when have you been sick?” I asked trying to make light conversation as we walked to the couch, I gave him a soft blanket to bundle up into while I headed to the kitchen, ready to prepare soothing tea. 

“Yesterday” he confessed and I sighed not liking that he didn’t tell me until now. He knew how worried I would be, explaining “I didn’t want you to worry but then it got worse this morning” 

I didn’t say anything as I prepared the tea while he laid down ready to go to sleep. I finished the tea not long after and placed it on the coffee table infront of the couch waking up Lando with soft nudges on his side. He took in the tea thanking me with a broken voice. My hand traveled to his forehead feeling how warm it was. 

“Let me get you a towel” I said, getting up to head to the sink but I spotted Scarlet, my cat on the counter with a straight back while sitting practically glaring at Lando letting inaudible sounds. I gave her a warning look with a stern tone “Don’t.”

She glanced at me before turning back and deciding not to do anything as I grabbed a wet towel heading back to Lando with Scarlet behind me. I helped him lay down and placed the towel on his forehead. Scarlet landed on my lap and sniffed the blanket, finding it strange as to why Lando had been using her favorite blanket. 

I bit my lip as I moved Scarlet back to the floor wondering to myself whether I had soup to prepare. Scarlet watched my questioning face, tracing my moving body with a bored expression still cautious about the boy taking up all the space on the couch. 

I finally decided on going to the store to get ingredients for a chicken soup that will hopefully be able to help with Landos health. I left without thinking about Scarlet and what she would do to Lando when gone. I promised myself to never leave the two alone but on the rush to get ingredients I had completely forgotten about that promise I made months ago. 

I only remembered this on the way back, racing back home praying that Scarlet didn’t completely scratch off Landos face. I opened the door and dropped the grocery bags, rushing to the couch only to not hear screaming but light snoring and purring. 

My eyes softened and my heart slowed down, decreasing the adrenaline once spotting the scene I had run into. My cat who had always claimed to not like Lando (non-verbally… obviously) had her head tucked into Landos neck who had still been asleep. Without thinking, I took a picture to show to the two later, needing proof that this had indeed happened. 

Landos eyes slowly started to open hearing footsteps near him wondering why there was suddenly a fuzzy sensation on his neck, he slowly turned his head completely ignoring my presence seeing the cat that just yesterday wanted him gone, cuddled up next to him. He finally noticed me with a delighted soft smile making his own heart leap. 

“I’m not dreaming right?” he whispered scared to make loud noises or move an inch in the fear that this was just a fluke. I gave a shake proving to him that this wasn’t a dream. 

“I’ll leave you two alone”

y/n.username: look who I found bundled up together

landonorris: watch this never happen

y/bsf/n: since when did Scarlet ever accept him?

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[tadc-ragatha]

You Abstracting in Front of Them

TW: Abstraction/death (basically)/going insane, self-blame, bullying, mental health, angst no comfort, pleading/screaming, abstraction body mutation stuff

Type: Headcanons; ambiguous.

A/N: "Circus crew react to finding the reader in the process of abstracting." Spoilers. Use of Y/N. As of posting, only the pilot episode has come out.

Caine

If you're just a human he's not close with, he just chucks you in the cellar. Never before has someone come back from abstraction, so he's just putting you down there before things get any worse and you start attacking people. This means you're still semi-aware of what's going on, which makes it so much worse and makes the abstraction quicker. He'll send you down there with you kicking and screaming and pleading if he has to.

If he is close with you, he is pretty upset. He considered the two of you friends (or more, up to you), and seeing you half-abstracted is pretty bad. You probably hid your abstracted parts of your body as best you could, but it was no use. He had almost complete control over the world and wasn't about to let a risk get loose in the digital circus. So, off to the cellar you go.

"[Y/N]'s abstracting?! Where?!"

"Well, off to the cellar you go!"

Bubble

Bubble usually hangs out with Caine when it's not being popped and sent to wherever it goes then. So, either it'd alert Caine to the situation by being there close to him or it'd just go to find him. Bubble's an AI programmed to be able to deal with abstracted people. So, no matter how much you try and plead with it to not tell him and to get someone like Ragatha to help you calm down, it'll just go an get Caine anyway.

"Uh-oh!"

"Boss, [Y/N] abstracted!"

Pomni

Pomni freaking loses it. She had just sort of adjusted to living in the digital world being the newest member, and you were her rock. You kept her sane while also sharing her need to find the exit and searching for it with her. So, when you disappeared to search around for the exit somewhere else, she didn't think much of it. She assumed that since you never showed signs of slipping like Ragatha or Kinger, you certainly wouldn't be having trouble now, right?

Little did she know--and soon was she to find out--you had left to try and calm down somewhere. Your thoughts were getting to you due to all this exit-searching, and by the time you had found somewhere private to try and cool it, it was too late. Pomni found you almost completely abstracted hiding behind a curtain.

She immediately freaked out, and while she wanted to stay with you and help you, she was also scared of ending up like Ragatha did after Kaufmo abstracted. So, she decided to go off an search for help instead. Only, when she finally found someone, she found Caine dropping you into the cellar anyway.

Pomni instantly blames herself the moment she sees you. She knows it was the exit talk that was sending you over the edge. She starts scream-crying and pleads with Caine to try and fix you. Caine, of course, knows this is out of his control--as does everyone else--and has to explain to her that you're not coming back. This only makes her worse.

"Ragatha! [Y/N]'s abstracting!"

"Oh my God, this is all my fault. Oh my f-%$@!#-ing God, this is all my fault!"

Ragatha

You had been there about as long as Ragatha had. Your arrivals were only weeks apart, and through that time you kept each other sane. Growing used to the new world beside each other, you got to share the same experiences together. But you also had to watch the other members abstract and how that affected everyone else. So, it was no surprise it took a toll on you.

Ragatha knew her own mind was slipping, but she had faith in you. You never seemed too bothered with it all. Not to say you weren't having crises either, but you made do. You even managed to stick through Kaufmo's abstraction--though it was only for a short while.

Ragatha had noticed the signs of you going downhill and had tried to talk to you about it. But you always pushed her away, insisting you were fine. But deep down, she knew what was coming, even if she tried to ignore it. So, when you did what all the others had done and didn't show up for the morning performance, her heart dropped.

She booked it to your room as fast as she could. Ringing your doorbell nearly a thousand times, she could feel herself getting more and more anxious. So focused was she on you that she didn't notice Jax walk up behind her and shove your bedroom key into the lock. Opening the door, you were found lying in your bed facing away from everyone. Ragatha walked towards you hesitantly and slowly she turned you over to find the front of your body covered in darkness and eyes.

Ragatha blames herself heavily for your abstraction. She saw the signs, and although she did what she could, she still blames herself. Maybe if she just checked up on your more--or maybe if she was just a better listener--you'd still be here. No matter what, she'll always find a way to blame herself.

"[Y/N]! [Y/N], listen to me! Please, listen to me!"

"Is everything alright? You seem really different lately."

Jax

Jax is smart. How do you think he pulls off all those complicated pranks? But he's also bad with emotions, and has trouble recognising them properly sometimes. He knew something was wrong, but he also didn't know how to talk to you about it. So, he just put it off. Never did he think it'd get this bad.

He sauntered over to your room one day when you hadn't shown up for a while. Having stolen your key long ago, he shoved it into the lock and opened the door. Only, while he expected to find you moping in your bed or at your desk, he instead found you sitting in the middle of the room drawing scribbles on paper, nearly a hundred already stacked up on the side.

Jax was properly freaked out, to say the least. He knew you were reaching some point in your downfall that was critical, but he didn't want to consider what he was seeing what that. Yet, when he called out to you, you didn't answer. So, mustering up all his courage, he walked over to look you in the eye--only to find your face gone.

He freaked the hell out. Nobody was around for him to put up a front for, so he just panicked. He doesn't know what to do. He tried to slap you out of it, but when he does his hand gets glitched. Unlucky for him, though, Caine appears to check up on you, only to find you in your current state. He immediately sends you off to the cellar while Jax can only watch.

After you're gone, he's a lot more of a jerk. Poor Gangle gets it the worst, being the easiest target. She might just abstract herself. He's also just a lot quieter, not making the usual snappy comebacks, instead choosing to just give an "mhm" and roll his eyes. He doesn't blame himself per se (because I bet he struggles with accepting the blame for anything), but he's still depressed you're gone. No more making jokes with or teasing you, or having somebody to confide in. No more of anything.

"[Y/N]! Hey! Snap out of it! HEY!"

"Yeah, whatever you say."

Kinger

Hoo boy. How do I start.

Well, Kinger knows all too well what abstraction looks like. Hell, his closest person (and possible lover) abstracted. He knows the signs better than anyone else. If anyone should be able to stop someone from abstracting, it would be him.

But you were just too good, weren't you? You were too good at hiding it. You knew what was going on, but you were better than everyone at keeping your cool on the outside. Even better than Zooble, and you had been there way longer than them! He honestly thought you were doing alright. Better than him, at least.

But he was wrong. After the morning's intro performance, you walked off without talking to anybody. You were clutching your wrist with your hand. Following you, Kinger found you curled up backstage looking down at the wrist you had covered with your hand. Where your usual skin colour was was instead an ink-black splotch. And it was quickly spreading.

Kinger freaked out, but tried to keep his cool. The last thing he wanted to do was alert Caine to the situation. He'd always been too late before, but maybe if he just tried this time he'd be able to help you. He tried talking you through your emotions, letting you vent, and distracting you with silly nonsense, but nothing worked. The abstraction was showing up on more parts of your body and spreading.

Kinger does not bother running away once you're fully abstracted. He just stands there and tries to plead with you. He's having flashbacks to his experience with Queener and all the other abstracted people he knew, and it's horrible. Once you're caught by Caine, he pleads and pleads for you to not be kept in the cellar. Even if you're kept in an impenetrable fortress made of glass above ground just so he could see and talk to you, that would be enough. But he never got it.

Once you're gone, Kinger blames himself for your "death" of sorts. He becomes genuinely extremely paranoid (because I know there are theories where he's faking it), and also very depressed. He spends most of his time in his pillow fort moping. If anything was going to drive him over the edge himself, it'd be that.

"AH!"

"Caine, please, you need to listen to me, please!"

Gangle

Gangle's a very lonely person. All throughout her time in the real world, she assumed people didn't like her and pushed them away. She was never really popular in general, either, being into "cringe" interests like anime. So, having you as a friend meant a lot to her. Never did she expect to see you abstracted.

Gangle didn't know what an abstracted person looked like before Kaufmo, so it's still pretty new to her. When she sees you take your food away from the dining table after the day's activity, she's scared to follow you. She doesn't want to intrude on your privacy after all. But after some worried words from Ragatha and Pomni, she decides to investigate.

Turning the corner to the bedroom hallway, she expects to see it empty. However, instead she sees you crouched over yourself on the ground outside your door. The food has been dropped, and your holding your head in your hands and scream-crying. Gangle sees almost all of your body is abstract black lumps covered in eyes. She runs over to try and help you, but is barely holding it together herself--or not at all. You're her best friend is this digital hellhole, and she doesn't know what to do without you.

Gangle tries to calm you down herself, but it's no use. You just keep abstracting, which sends her into a panic attack. It's likely she doesn't run when you're fully abstracted, instead too deep in her anxiety to move. So, she gets bashed about the hallway and thrown aside in favour of finding over people or things to attack. Gangle wants to run after you and stop you, but she can't get herself to move.

Gangle's very quiet about the whole situation after. She's in a state of shock. Watching you disappear into the cellar is traumatising on its own. It's like watching you get an unceremonious burial. She, of course, blames herself for it. She thinks it's her fault for not "trusting her gut" and going to look for you. There's a chance she'll abandon fixing her comedy mask once Jax breaks it next. She's just given up.

"[Y/N]! No!"

"Why did they have to go?"

Zooble

Zooble's shocked, that's for sure. They expected you out of all people to have a grip on reality. You always seemed so hopeful; no matter how many times you were tortured with trauma or bullied, you always got back up on your feet. It was exhausting work, of course, and no dainty task, so it was bound to drag you down. He just didn't expect it to be so soon.

You and Zooble had been hanging out in her room. You'd been talking about random things when the topic turned to Pomni and the exit. Zooble said they thought she should just give up, but you suddenly startled rambling about what if there was an exit and how to get out. Quickly, it turned to you having shortened, quicker breaths and rambling fast and faster. Zooble tried to calm you down with reason and logic, but it was no use. You were just snowballing downhill.

If he wasn't already freaked out and worried by this, he was when you started mutating. Your body shifted to be larger and lumpier with sharp corners. Everything was turning pitch black, and eyes were opening all over your new skin. She kept trying to calm you down, but by the time you were almost fully abstracted they knew they had to run.

Watching you get put in the cellar was hard. You were Zooble's closest friend and confidant (possibly more). It was weird without you there anymore. Zooble knows they did everything she could, but it's still difficult not to blame himself. If only you were still here; you'd know what to say.

"[Y/N]! Hey! Look at me, alright? Look at me! I need you to focus!"

"This feels...Weird."

[peace-for-levi]

{when you need me...}

who would i be if i didn't project my mental health onto 2D characters/reader and not write about it? i see so many fics of reader being worried for nanami while he's out in shibuya and… we all know what happens there.

content warning: detailed descriptions of anxiety, reader refers to themselves as 'wife' (reader thinks they are a bad wife) and the use of 'she'. it's otherwise in the 2nd person perspective. negative self-talk/beliefs. use of pet names. nanami being the bestest husband. i miiiiight have made him OOC and overindulged on how soft i made him BUT ITS OK YOU GOTTA BE A DELULU IN THIS ECONOMY.

+18 discord server

No, you were not going to call him. Absolutely not! Or text him either, for that matter.

The anxiety had been bubbling away all day inside your head like billowing storm clouds. You were grateful work kept you occupied, but once you arrived home, you trudged to your bedroom. You didn't even change out of your work attire.

You knew the source of all this, too.

Nanami came home injured while you were out dealing with another curse of your own. Thankfully, he had dealt with the bleeding himself and got checked out by Shoko. But to see him come so depleted of energy – dark shadows hanging under his eyes like bats, shoulders heavy – left you extremely unsettled. You were already an anxious mess, and now there are talks of a special-grade 'patchwork' curse. Not to mention the two unregistered cursed spirits that Gojo encountered.

What was going on in the world?

Now, he had been called out to the school again. After being badly injured, no less!

What if he was asked to fight the patch-work curse again? Was that curse able to perform Domain Expansions? Your husband never reached that height of jujutsu…

Would he… make it home okay?

You worked a "normal" job, not being employed at as a teacher at the highschool. As a grade one sorcerer, though, you were sometimes called in on particularly difficult and awkward missions. Your figured your problems with anxiety in the past would slowly fizzle away if you quit working at that highschool; after all, they couldn't make you exorcise and hunt down curses as often if you didn't work there. In your naivety, you assumed that'd be the end to your worries. But they only persisted and got worse the longer your husband of four years continued to work there as a teacher.

You couldn't resent him for it, and you knew he found greater fulfillment in being a teacher than adhereing to the laborious life of a salaryman.

But, maybe… your selfish thoughts got the better of you when you wished he could work a more "normal" job like you… If he worked a job where his safety was guaranteed…

How could you say such a thing? What kind of wife says that?!

Your hand collides against your forehead, releasing a (poorly contained) groan. Your teeth continued to chatter.

Now, I'm a bad wife on top of everything else…

Gruesome images flood your mind's eye. It's obsessive, relentless. After all, you have to prepare for the worst to come, right…? That's what you always do.

If you were by his side, would that make you feel any more relieved? Just by seeing him? But like a jolt, any solution you try come up with is met with more disturbing imagery. It was so vivid, it is as if you were there.

All that gore and worry conjured up in your cursed, anxious little head. The redness – so much red – of your imagery. It seeps and spreads along the ground at a terrifying rate, the image of someone – Kento – bleeding out. No one is there to help him.

You are.

You aren't gifted like Shoko, though.

There is no amount of horror – be it from forms of media or the wicked imagination – that can prepare a person for seeing the life ebb from another; the hopelessness, the tearing at the soul that is the departing of the other. As your loved one leaves this earth.

You're anxious, you're spiralling… You just wanted him to be okay. You wanted him to confirm with you he was okay. But you disturb him enough already with your texts and calls during missions.

Of course, in reality, if you hailed for Kento, he'd drop everything to be with you. He always has.

You didn't realize your thumb was hovering above the 'send' button. Through bleary eyes, you can see a hastily constructed text. Loaded with typos and errors. You're hardly able to read it though. Thumbs fidgting, you toss the phone.

You knew, logically, that he would want to help. He always has helped. But god, maybe you wanted to be big girl for once and try deal with it without him? Maybe be a good wife who doesn't send him a barage of texts when she's anxious?

Anxiety is the leak in your boat. You have to find a way to patch that hole or you'll drown.

But how can you when your worries revolve around your husband's safety?

You try cling to the logic that he has never refused you, made you feel stupid or invalidated you. Ever. But why would you cling to logic when the voice of your anxiety echoes through megaphone at you.

Of course, you're a distraction. Of course, you're a nuisance.

You hadn't even done a single chore to help around the house today. Some wife you were…

Kento would tell you that these thoughts you have are ridiculous. But you couldn't help it. You felt like you were holding him back from everything he deserved – you were so blessed to have a husband like him. You counted your lucky stars to be with him, but you ultimately felt like you didn't deserve him.

But Kento wasn't here now. So all you had was your mind to bully you.

The thoughts come as an electrical storm in your brain that, quite honestly, are painful. It's different from a headache and it feels the same as intense sorrow. It's uneven breaths as you claw at your chest, and it feels like you're suffocating; all the oxygen has been sucked out of the room. It's sobbing to the point of staining your shirt. The intense images come at you with cursed intent. Like being hooked up to a cattle fence - not enough voltage to kill but sufficient to keep things uncomfortable, paralysed with fear and unmoving. And you couldn't, for the life of you, talk yourself out of the spiral.

It wasn't as if you didn't want Kento to be there. You were just denying yourself of his presence. You thought you were being brave, you thought—

Ping!

You lower your hands from your eyes. You gaze at the phone, blinking owlishy, before picking it up.

You let out a groan. In anxiously twiddling your thumbs by your screen, you had sent the (questionable-looking) text.

You don't even have time to berate yourself, for your ringtone begins to chime.

"[F/n], honey. I don't quite understand your text," he greets. He goes back to doing what he was doing – it sounded like he was tidying something away. "Principal Yaga has us staying behind at the school to–"

He stops.

He immediately stops upon hearing you whimper over the phone.

"Sweetheart?"

You mumble, "I-I– Um, N-Nanami, I–"

What if he loses his patience today? Will this be the straw that breaks the camel's back?

You can hear him shuffling over the phone. "Talk to me, what is it? Are you hurt?"

You don't want him to leave work on your account. Damn, your thumbs! If only it stayed as an unsent draft.

You panicked. "I-I'm fine! I think I just–"

You hear him sigh. "You're a terrible liar… You're not fine." A pause. "I'm coming home."

"No, Kento, please–!"

The call ends there. Your fingers seize up and your phone falls to the bed. Your wrists bash off your head, hitting yourself. Stupid, stupid, stupid…

Ping!

Be safe. I'll be there in fifteen.

Your heart sinks, especially knowing that he'd probably break several road safety laws to get back to you as soon as possible.

Another notification arrives swiftly after that.

I love you. You'll be fine.

The fifteen minutes drag by so slowly. You're still rooted at the side of your bed. Not having changed, started laundry, started making dinner. You shake your head. It's frightful how automatically you chastise yourself for anything and everything. Once you hear the click of the door, you shudder and cower, waiting for him to come into your shared bedroom to berate you.

Your eyes are clamped shut still, even when you feel his calloused thumb rub at your knee.

"Oh, sweetheart…" he says, and when he speaks it's so soft. Soft like he'd holding fine china.

He's careful to not press your boundaries too much, not wanting to hold you tighter. But he doesn't sense any resistance right now. You let him hold you.

He holds you like you are the most precious and loveliest thing in his world.

(You are.)

As if you weren't crying enough already, his touch makes you crumble more.

"What has you so anxious, [F/n]?" he asks, rubbing your arms up and down. He pulls away briefly to ask, "May I sit?"

You nod and he sets himself down. You overwhelmed by his love. You always have been. He always spoils you with his soft, passionate touch and his gentle words. You sniffle and it takes every ounce of self control to not explode into a heaving, babbling mess (more than what you currently were.) You continue to sob into his arms.

"Shhh, shhh. You're alright, you're going to be just fine, sweetheart. But in order to be okay, you're going to have to stop holding your breath like that."

You hadn't even realized. You always had been an open book to him.

Breathe, breathe, breathe…

Your thoughts were so out of control, you were in a terrible cycle of either hyperventilating, or holding your breath. You shake your head, trying to break free. He doesn't let go entirely, but he loosens his grip. His hands hold yours, breathing deeply, as if trying to do it for you. You continue to resist, fighting his hold more as you take agonizing breaths.

"Let me hold you. Let me make things better. Let me stay."

You sob harder, knowing that once again he'll be picking up the pieces. Your pieces.

"What has you so worked up?" he asks, in between practiced, deep breaths.

Before you even have a chance to say anything, he whispers softly against your temple, "I love you. So, please, let me in."

And you let everything out.

He holds you close again once each and every worry comes out. He rocks you slowly back and forth, he plants the odd kiss to your dewy temple. He listens to you intently, taking in everything you say and more. He has heard these worries countless times before, and he listens to them as if these are being revealed to him for the first time. He gently 'shhhh's against your brow when you start to hiccup and unravel more.

As your husband, he wants to be able to promise you his safert; he wants to promise he'll come home in one piece.

But he can't do that. Because he doesn't know how any of this will play out.

So he hugs you, impossibly tighter.

"What can I do to help? Tell me what I can do to make it all okay…"

You want to be a good wife; you don't share the selfish thoughts you have, of wanting him to work at a normal job again. Even when he hated it, even when it left him feeling so drained.

So you say nothing and you let your little lie spread its wings.

You calm down in his arms, holding you until your limbs feel heavy. He continues to soothe you as best as possible. His voice was so achingly gentle, rubbing circles into your hips. It has your heart shattering into pieces.

Mindlessly, you mumble under your breath. "I just want you to be okay…" you admit.

He averts his gaze helplessly, because knows he can't promise you that. He relaxes and lays down on the bed, taking you with him. You undo the top button of his shirt.

He smiles sadly. It's the one thing he can't promise.

And though he'll never let you know, he feels like he fails in this duties as a husband.

But sometimes, he knows he's at least doing something right when he helps calm you down from such a state that you end up dozing off in his arms. He holds you til his arms limp and heavy.

In this blood-stained, fleeting life, he'll walk with you to the ends of this earth.

Even if he must depart early.

taglist: @levi-my-beloved @licuadora-nasir @nelapanela94 @whattheheckmidoriya @poisonpeche @unadulteratedtreecrusade @notgoodforlife @sckerman @theferricfox @happybird16 @jayteacups and idk who else

[mysticheathenn]

What's Your Sign of Encouragement?

Hi there! I hope you all enjoy it and remember to take what resonates and leave what does not as this is a general reading. This reading does not supplement your need to go and seek actual therapy or professional help.

Take your time when choosing your pile. Ask yourself the question and choose the picture that you can’t stop looking at. Listen to your intuition.

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Pile l:

Tarot: Knight of Pentacles, 3 of Pentacles, The Star (reversed), 7 of Wands. Oracle: Healing, Life Purpose, Happiness, Financial Health

"You are not in a prison" was a phrase I heard as I was shuffling your tarot cards pile 1. There is a difference between being in a prison and also being in your own way. You're causing yourself to stay stuck not ever seeing that you have the key to freedom. Your mind is holding you hostage as your soul is begging to be set free. "Why do you deny yourself heaven? Why do you find yourself undeserving? Why are you afraid of happiness? You think it's not possible for someone like you. But you are more than deserving" - Beyonce. Some of the words I changed because she was talking about love/Jay-z from the Lemonade album but why are you so afraid of good things, boo when good things are calling for you. Open up the wounds that have hurt you and heal. Your life purpose is calling you, financial abundance is also calling you but you need to wake up. Change your mindset and ways. Stop self-sabotaging and seek some healing and therapy. I want to see you win, others want to see you win. But it all starts with you wanting to see yourself win too. I wish I could hug you pile 1, you need it the most right now but I know you got this. Keep reminding yourself that you are a star, you ARE the main character and take your time one foot after another. I know life is shit right now but see the light at the end of the tunnel.

Pile ll:

Tarot: None Oracle: Answers, Finding, Home, Passion, Courage "The answers you seek are inside of you. You're looking everywhere but where you need to be looking, inside." You may be trying to find yourself looking everywhere from social media, to finding yourself in love partners, careers, etc when you should be looking inside of you. Listen to your intuition, listen to the fire that most likely has been burning inside of you but you have been ignoring it out of fear that no one will like this new version or worse maybe you won't like this new person you feel deep down inside. Do not be afraid pile ll. There is a saying that goes "Don't let the money change you, let it make you" from the iconic movie Player's Club but in the sense of this context I am saying embrace the change but don't let the change break you or turn into something that it isn't. You are meant for change, growth, and finding your sense of home this lifetime. You deserve to be at peace and comfort in not only your own skin but the people around you. Find your community, find where you belong, there are billions of people out there who are dying to meet this new version of you, but you have to be willing to show up. Your pile surprisingly didn't need any tarot only oracle cards and the messages were coming in. Have the courage pile ll. *Viola Davis Voice from the Help* You are safe. You is loved. You is welcomed. You is amazing. make that your mantra as you find your sense of home, belonging, acceptance, and self-love.

Pile lll:

Tarot: The Magician (reversed), 10 of Wands, Knight of Wands (reversed), The Lovers, 7 of Cups Oracle: Friendship, Fertility, Boundaries, Prosperity, Strength Pile lll why are you almost always my pile with romance, friendship, or family with boundary problems, haha. Who do I need to smack for you guys because this has to stop, my guy. For some strange reason, I feel one of you said I need to smack everyone for you and I believe it. Two songs are coming in for you and that's "We're Not Going To Take It by Twisted Sisters and "Loverboy by Mickey and Sylvia both popular songs back in the day especially Lover Boy as it was in the original movie Dirty Dancing. You are sick and tired of being sick and tired and you're becoming fed up with being presented bread crumbs for your relationships whether this is romantic or platonic. You want more from the people around you but you fear leaving because you feel you don't have any other options. If not other options you aren't sure if this is as good as it gets and it's not. There is always a bigger and better everything in life. As soon as you think that you have reached greatness or met the best person in the world you meet a whole new level of amazing you keep climbing from there. Just know that whatever whoever you are dealing with you have a whole community behind you waiting to help you pick up where you are and show you a whole new world. If not the current people in your life new people are coming in as well wanting to show you the better things whether it's food, clothes, community, love, career...you name it. Don't believe for a second that you don't have options because you will always have options. A few of you may have been drawn to pile 1 as well. It's okay to start over and it's okay to set boundaries. Take a deep breath and dare to do what is right for you and believe that your life is abundant in all ways possible.

That's all I have for everyone. I hope you enjoyed this reading. Until next time, stay safe and blessed.

[lincolndjarin]

Every Now and Then - ch. two

[ And if You Only Hold Me Tight ]

pairing : joel miller x f!reader, platonicsoulmate!tommy & f!reader

word count : 9.3k

summary : you spend some time tommy, you spent some time with joel.

tags/warnings : 18+ mdni, angst, canon typical violence, language, panic attacks, violence, injury, wounds, possessive behavior, toxic relationships, animal death, i probs missed some i never know how to tag so lmk if i misses anything !!

a/n : this took so long and i dont even know it its good so i'm deeply sorry about that.

ao3 .𖥔 ݁ ˖ series masterlist .𖥔 ݁ ˖ main masterlist .𖥔 ݁ ˖ kofi

Now - JACKSON, WYOMING : 2023

“It’s nice to meet you Ellie.” You hold your hand out across the table to her, offering your own name up in the process, noticing an incredulous look in her eyes as you say it. Of course she doesn’t shake it, you’ve worked with enough survivors her age to know how they think. 

She doesn’t trust any of this, and you can’t blame her. Every single thing she’s seen since arriving here is too good to be true, she’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. That’s okay, you can be patient. She just needs to learn how to be a kid again. When she makes no attempt to move you pull your hand back, your smile never wavering. You’ve met kids in much worse condition than this, you can work with this. 

“Why don’t you tell me a little bit about yourself, Ellie.” You set the notebook you’d been writing in back down onto the table, you don’t want this to feel like an interrogation for her, it needs to be a conversation or you won’t get any of the information you need.

“Like what?” She’s slouched down into the chair, her arms crossed across her chest. She has her defenses up, she has spent her entire life protecting herself, she isn’t going to stop just because a stranger offered her a mug of tea. A mug of tea that she has notably not touched. 

“Anything you want to, or I could ask some specifics if you’d like.” You take a sip of your own tea, hoping it might show her it’s safe. She only hums in response, you decide it might be for the best if you just ask her what you need to know. “Let’s start with a few easy ones, how old are you?” 

“Why do you need to know?” 

“We need to assess your health, what classes you’ll be put in, if you’ll be needing any feminine products. I promise, anything I ask is for your own good.” Seeing kids like Ellie is a painful reminder of just how lucky your own little ones are, it’s a wonder she made it this far. You can’t hold her skepticism against her, her distrust is why she’s still alive. “Would it help if we brought your father in? He’s just down the hall with Maria.” You aren’t sure why, you typically handle every stray but she had insisted on helping you out today. She’d spewed some sort of excuse about how Ellie might need some special attention but as far as you can tell she’s in the same state that most kids are in when they arrive. 

“He’s not my dad.” She’s quick to say it, as if it’s a sore subject. 

“May I ask his relation to you then?” Maria had told you she arrived with her father, you were told to expect one teenage girl and one man in his fifties.

“He’s… my friend?” She sounds unsure, unsure enough to ring alarm bells in your head. 

“Honey, are you in a safe situation? We can help you if you need-” She doesn’t even let you finish your question before sitting up straighter.

“No, no, no, gross, it’s not like that, he’s not like that.” The look of disgust on her face brings you immense relief, this world is full of enough horrors for a young woman to face. 

“Okay, I just wanted to make sure.” Even if she hasn’t been through that, she hasn’t had it easy, no one has. But there’s something distinct in her eyes. Loss. She’s seen more than enough of it, more than anyone her age should. Her eyes keep darting to the door, her head tilts in that direction every time someone walks by. She’s worried about her companion. She doesn’t want to lose him too. “I know none of this makes sense, and you have no reason to trust me but I need you to try Ellie. And if I ask you anything you aren’t comfortable with then you don’t have to answer but I need you to try, please. The faster we finish up here, the faster you can get back to your friend.” 

She takes a moment, you’re practically holding your breath when she finally nods.

Perfect, you can work with a nod. You love a nod, a nod is all you need to help this girl.

“Let’s start with your age again.” 

“Fourteen.” You’ll have to have a menstruation kit sent to whatever house they put her in, most people’s cycles start being regular once after a few months in Jackson.

“Thank you.” All you get is another nod yet you can’t help but smile. “Do you know where you were born?”

“No.” Her eyes are trained on your shoes, occasionally darting around the room but staying low for the most part. 

“Where did you grow up?” 

“The QZ.” The thought makes you sick for several reasons. The last place a child should grow up is the streets of a quarantine zone, even if she was in the FEDRA program it wouldn’t have been easy. The thought of any QZ still makes you queasy, even after this long. 

“Which one?” Anywhere but Boston. 

“Boston.” Of course. With your luck she would be. Someone’s far from home.  

“FEDRA program?” As terrible as they are, they always keep the kids' vaccinations up to date, one less thing for you to worry about. 

“Mhmm.” 

“How old were you when you left?”

“Fourteen.” How the hell did she make it to Jackson all the way from Boston in such a short period of time? Why come to Jackson at all? There’s certainly other QZ’s between here and there, there’s probably other settlements too. 

“Can I ask why you left?” It’s not a question you need to ask but your stomach is in knots at the mention of the Boston QZ and you can’t help yourself. 

“I’d rather you didn’t.” Something flashes across her face, she isn’t trying to be rude, she simply doesn’t want to talk about it. 

“That���s fine.” You don’t need to worry about it. She doesn’t know him. There’s no reason for her to know him. QZ’s house hundreds, if not thousands, of people. There’s no reason to spiral over nothing. “Do you have any allergies that you’re aware of?”

“Nope.” She makes a popping sound on the “P” as she leans back in the chair, trying to look relaxed despite how on edge she still is. You decide not to put anymore pressure on her, it won’t do you any good. 

“How are you feeling physically? Any symptoms of illness?”

“Like infection?” You have to stifle a laugh, if she was infected the two of you certainly wouldn’t be sitting here right now. 

“I’m not worried about that, I mean something more like a runny nose or a cough.”

“Oh. No.” 

“Any skills in particular you’d like to learn? Our school system is a little less traditional than what you probably had with FEDRA.”

“I like science.” She sits up a bit, good, you’ve found something that piques her interest. 

“Then I will make sure you’re enrolled in some science classes. But I meant skills like agriculture, construction, or veterinary care. Something you could learn about that interests you. You won’t be asked to help out around town until you’re sixteen but we like to let you explore different things to see what you like-”

“Could I learn how to shoot a gun?” She leans forward before you can finish your thought. 

“You could apprentice some of the hunters, we could also have you trained for patrol and scavenging which involves gun safety and training courses. You’re a bit young for those but I’m sure I could ”

“Really?” You can tell by the inflection in her voice that she still doesn’t trust you entirely, even if she’s excited.

“Of course, you’ll probably be the youngest student in the training class but I’m sure you can handle it.” She needs something good in her life. You want to protect everyone who finds their way to Jackson but this girl makes your heart ache. Most adults you’ve worked with aren’t able to hold themselves together this long, putting on a brave face despite everything. 

“Do you like burgers?” You almost cringe as you say it, hoping she’s had food outside of the synthetic shit FEDRA produces.

“I guess?”

“I’m having a little cookout tomorrow evening once everyone’s finished their work, it’ll be small, just me and some family but you’re welcome to join. You can bring your friend, I have two little ones you can play with. They might be a little younger than your usual friends but I promise they’re great company.” You swear she almost smiles, and suddenly you just want to make this poor kid smile. “You know, I’ve got a telescope in my garage, so if you stop by it’s all yours.”

“Seriously?”

“Absolutely, I’ve never even touched the thing so maybe you can put it to good use. Let me write down the house description for you, it isn’t too far from this building, you can stop in whenever you want tomorrow. There’s an empty house across the street as well, maybe I could show it to you, see if you like it.” You pencil it down, tearing the paper and handing it to her. This isn’t something you’d typically do but you can’t resist an opportunity to help her feel more at home here. 

“Yeah, I mean that would be great.”

“Perfect.” You lean back in your chair. “What sort of hobbies interest you?” You’ll be in charge of putting together a welcome basket for her since Maria has marked her down as a permanent occupant.

“Reading, I like comics. And I used to draw a lot in the QZ.” Perfect, books are easy to find since Jackson was built around a small library.

“Okay then, I think that’s all I need from you for now but I’ll be around soon once you get housing settled. You can go join Maria and your friend if you’d like, I have to figure out what house we’re going to put you two in but I’ll be stopping by later with a few things for you.” That actually isn’t all you need from her, there are more questions on your mind, one specific question. Ask her what his name is. 

“Thanks.” She stands, quickly heading towards the exit as you grab your notebook, you need to make a list of everything they’ll be needing. 

You shouldn’t. If by some stroke of misfortune you’re right this question will only serve to destroy everything you’ve worked so hard to push away. You shouldn’t.

But you do. 

Before she’s out the door you call out her name, you don’t want to know, but you have to.

“Ellie, what’s your friend's name?”

You found the treehouse two months after you found Jackson. 

With tears streaming down your face you had dropped the twins off at Maria’s, mumbling apologies before going to the edge of town, a large amount of Jackson was empty, and still is. They’re planning for the future. Someday, generations from now, the town will grow and they’ll use these houses to accommodate families. But for now it’s just an empty town, one that you realized had a treehouse. You had hidden yourself away there, curling up into a ball to become as small as possible.

Tommy had found you hours later, shivering, with no more tears left to cry. And he hadn’t chastised you or asked you why you’d done it, he’d just taken your hand and walked you home. It doesn’t take him hours this time, only about thirty minutes according to your watch. You hear the crunch of his boots, the walking pattern you recognize as his, and the creak of the boards as he pushes the hatch open before sliding up into the small space with you. 

Before he speaks you’re already reaching for him, desperate to cling to some kind of familiar safety. 

“Hey darlin’.” It’s a dance you two do, fluid and instinctual as he pulls you into his arms, you slot yourself between his bent legs as he wraps himself around you. You used to sit like this when you couldn’t find shelter on snowy nights, one of the many habits you had trouble breaking when you found Jackson. Maria would never ask you to change your relationship with him, it was a decision you had made with Tommy when he told you he wanted to marry her. A part of you just sort of knew she didn’t like it, so you stopped. And you’d never hold that against her, if the roles were reversed you certainly wouldn’t be as kind as she’s been. That’s why you’ve always loved Maria, since the first day you met her she has been like a sister, patient but blunt with you. 

Except in this one instance. 

She withheld some particularly important information.

“The twins?” You lay back against him as you mumble.

“Maria’s watching them. They’re helping her make dinner, you shoulda’ seen them in the kitchen. I swear she’s the only person they listen…” His voice trails off when he feels you tensing up all over again as you go back to fighting off tears.

A silence falls between you, familiar and reminiscent of your first few days together out in the woods. And just like back then, you’re the one to break it. 

“Have you seen him yet?” The words feel small and hoarse in your throat.

“No. Couldn’t bring myself to.” He rests his chin on your shoulder, you wish you could find comfort in any of this but there’s just too much dread. Too much unease fills your stomach to relax. 

“Does he know you’re here?” You wish your voice didn’t tremble so much.

“Maria didn’t tell him.” 

“Are we sure it’s even him?” 

“Not a lot of Joel Millers walking around during the apocalypse.” It’s like he can sense your skepticism as he quickly continues. “She said he looked like a Miller.”

“What does that even mean?”

“Like me but grayer.” Fair enough.

“Does he know I’m here?” There’s no way. He couldn’t. 

“No.” 

“Good.” 

“Can’t stay that way forever.” You know that. But you don’t have anything to say about it so you move on, and redirect the anger that mixes with your confusion and fear.

“Why didn’t she tell us?” He can’t take your side in this, as much as you want him to, he has to take her side because her’s is the rational one. Do you have a side? Can you be mad at her for this? Are there even sides?

“Probably because she knew we’d react like this.” His head tilts a bit to rest against your own. You’re thankful for this position so you don’t have to look him in the eye.

“She should have told us.” You’re trying to remain calm but your voice is pitching up higher by the minute. 

“She was going to, she just didn’t know how. She thought she had more time” 

You need to relax. It feels like your heart is going to burst from your chest and you’re certain Tommy feels it too. 

“How did he find us?” He wouldn’t have been looking for you specifically, unless he had a death wish. 

“On accident, I think. Maria said he was looking for me when they found him.” That makes sense. It’s just a coincidence that you’re also here. He has no way of knowing that you even know Tommy. How he managed to locate him is another matter. 

“We’re two thousand miles away from the QZ, how the fuck did he find you?”

“He always gets what he wants.” 

You can’t argue with that. Plain and simple, you don’t need much more than that. 

“I don’t want to see him.” An impossible request, but you make it anyway. 

“We both know that isn’t possible.” 

“Tell her to send him away.” Also unlikely. 

“You know she can’t do that, we don’t turn folks away from Jackson.” 

“Then I’ll leave.”

“Like hell you will.” There is no fight in his voice, just certainty as he holds you a little tighter. Not without me. The silent promise that lingers under his words, but it’s more complicated than that now, you have two toddlers and he has a wife, there is no running away from this. No running away from him

He’s inevitable. 

It doesn’t matter if the world ends, and you run halfway across the country, Joel Miller is inevitable.

“He’s got a kid.” You mumble as you reach for his hand, entwining your fingers with his. You hadn’t realized how cold you were until you felt the warmth of his skin against yours. 

He scoffs. “He’s got two.”

“Another kid, some girl. He brought her here all the way from Boston.”

He shifts a bit, clearly confused. “Why?”

“I was hoping you’d know, it isn’t exactly in his nature to help the needy.” 

He pauses for a moment. “Well, I mean, how old is she?”

“Fourteen.” 

“Well there’s your reason, Sarah was fourteen.”

Sarah.

A girl you know very little about other than the fact that she’s your daughter's namesake. Sarah Ruth Miller. It had been Tommy’s idea, you had only picked out a name for a boy and you owed Tommy everything for keeping you alive that long, so when he asked if he could pick his niece's middle name you’d been more than happy to oblige. 

It hadn’t been Joel who told you about Sarah, he never even told you he had a kid. 

Tommy had told you about it just before the twins were born. You’d been snowed into a cabin and he’d just returned from hunting with a grin on his face as he told you he had a surprise. You couldn’t sleep, between the cold and the pain in your lower back you were just too uncomfortable most nights. Tommy always insisted on staying up to keep you company even if he ended up falling asleep most of the time. 

That night he told you about how he lost his niece on outbreak day as he skinned the fox he’d caught in one of his traps as you sat beside him in front of the crumbling fireplace. When he finished the story he held up the pelt and told you he was going to make your babies first blanket with it. 

Of course at the time neither of you knew that he would have to make a second blanket, or that he would need to do it a month sooner than either of you had planned. 

“I invited him to dinner tomorrow.” No sense in hiding the fact from him, he’ll find out either way. 

“What?” His hand tightens around yours and it’s your turn to comfort him as your thumb rubs circles against the tense skin.

“Ellie- the kid, I invited her before I knew about Joel. Even told her she could bring him.” You almost laugh at how ridiculous it all sounds now. Of course you invited him to dinner completely by accident, sounds like something you would do. 

“Then why don’t we just get it over with?” Or you could leave, brave the Wyoming wilderness with your kids and his wife and make a run for it, far, far, away from Joel Miller. 

But you can’t do that. 

So you might as well get it over with. 

“Together?” You bring his hand up to your face to warm the icy skin of your cheek.

“Together.” 

He means it. He stays with you until the next day, walking you back into town and bringing you to his house. Maria starts apologizing the second the two of you walk through the door but you just hug her. She doesn’t owe you anything, any anger you thought you felt towards her was misplaced. 

And you all settle in for the night. 

On particularly bad nights you’ll spend the night at their house. It’s been happening less and less these last few months but it’s an unspoken decision tonight as Maria brings down sleeping bags from the attic for the kids. 

You tuck the kids in by the fireplace, hoping that they don’t catch the vacant look in your eyes as you kiss their foreheads. Thankfully they both seem to be too excited about having a living room campout to notice. You hear hushed whispers from the kitchen, it sounds like an argument so you just sit on the couch, wrapping a blanket around yourself as you stare out the window facing the street. 

What house did she put them in? There are a few options for temporary housing, but he could be anywhere. The thought makes you nauseous. Thankfully you’re distracted when you eventually hear Maria stomping up the stairs followed by a sigh from the kitchen before Tommy joins you on the couch. 

“Everything all right?” You mumble, hoping to not wake the kids as you offer up some of the blanket to him. 

“It will be.”

God you hope so.

“How do you wanna do this?” 

Good question. 

Preferably you wouldn’t be doing this at all, instead you would be enjoying what might be the last nice day before autumn sets in entirely. You, Arthur, Ruth, Tommy, and Maria. You’d still be happy if Ellie came over by herself but that’s so unlikely you don’t even consider it an option. Joel’s too protective and you confirmed with Maria that Ellie would be coming. He won’t let her go alone, you know that better than anyone. 

You rub the back of your neck with your freehand. “The kids stay inside with Maria.” Ruth is already there, helping her aunt with the salad as Arthur sits in your lap, playing with a few stones he’s set up on the picnic table. 

“Okay.” Tommy’s biting his nails, you’d spent weeks reprimanding him about that until he broke the habit.  

Your knee starts bouncing, a nervous habit of your own that you’ve had for as long you can remember. Thankfully Arthur simply hums to himself as you bounce him. As far as you can tell neither one of the twins knows something is wrong, you can only hope it stays that way. 

“We can wait for them out here, I can ask Ellie to go in and help Maria with the kids.”

“And then?”

You frown in contemplation. “I haven’t planned that far ahead.”

“So you didn’t plan for the most important part?”

“Did you?” 

His teeth shift when you ask, biting down hard enough to split his nail lower than he intended. You watch as blood blooms there while he curses under his breath.   

“Shit, go inside and grab a bandage, they’re in the cabinet above the sink.” He stands as you wave him towards the house, he brings his thumb to his mouth, his brow furrowed. “And bring Maria and Ruth out with you when you come back so we can go over everything with her.” He nods, humming in response before he disappears behind the screen door.

“Is Uncle Tommy okay?” When you look down you’re met with a worried look plastered on your son's face. You instinctively cup his face with your hand, using your thumb to smooth out the wrinkle between his brows. He looks too much like his father when he does that. 

“He’s okay, love. He’s just gotta go get your Aunt and Ruth.” You lean down, kissing his forehead before turning to set him down next to you. 

“Okay, Mama.” He seems satisfied with your response as he gives your leg a little pat before running off towards the edge of the yard. You’ve got a patch of rocks and gravel the kids like to dig through. You turn to watch him, with your back now leaning against the picnic table as he crouches down, examining the ground before finding a suitable stone. Clutching it in his hand he rushes back to you, holding it up for your approval.

“Very pretty, thank you.” You take it from him with a smile, setting it behind you on the table with the rest of them. He repeats the process several times, staring down at the ground, scrutinizing each rock before bringing the ones he deems good enough over to you. You give appropriate oo’s and ah’s to each one, grateful for the brief peace your son is able to give you. He carries on with this for sometime, until you have a sizable pile of rocks beside you. 

He leaves, and he returns, dozens of times until he decides not to return to the patch of gravel. 

You thank him for the speckled stone he hands you now but instead of running back across the yard he squints, staring up at your expression. 

“What’s wrong?” He hops up onto the bench next to you, grabbing the sleeve of your shirt and bunching it up in his little fist as you give him a soft smile.

“Nothing’s wrong, hon.” You ruffle his hair a bit but he doesn’t seem convinced. 

“Why’d you make a mad face then? Uncle Tommy too.” 

So much for the kids being clueless, they’ve always been too smart for their own good. 

Shit.

You sigh, looking up at the clouds briefly before looking back down at him.

No sense in lying to him. “You know how Uncle Tommy has a brother?” You wrap an arm around him, pulling him close.

His face scrunches up a bit as he thinks. “Yeah…” He doesn’t sound entirely convinced as you give him a reassuring smile. 

“Well, we don’t really- we don’t always get along with Uncle Tommy’s brother, and he’s gonna be visiting us soon.” 

“Why?” 

“He’s in Jackson for a little bit, and he came a long way to get here-”

“No Mama, why don’t you like him?”

This is a conversation you had hoped to have with your children when they’re older. Preferably it would be one you wouldn’t have to have at all, but it’s just another unavoidable part of Joel. They’re already old enough to ask questions, it started when kids in their class began asking if Tommy was their dad. Which of course led to the twins asking you one night just before bed the same question. 

“No love, he’s your uncle, who told you that?” You don’t want that rumor going around, people already talk about it, it doesn’t help that they both bear a resemblance to him.

“No one, Annie asked us.” Your daughter answers as you brush some of her hair behind her ear.  You recognize the name, it’s a girl in their daycare class. 

“And what did you tell her?”

“That we just got a mom.” Ruth answers but Arthur picks up the second she’s finished speaking. 

“Do we have a dad?” He tilts his head to the side as you swallow loudly. 

“Yes, you do.”

“Where?” Ruth asks. 

Last you’d heard he was in Boston. 

“I’m not sure.” They turn and look at each other before turning in unison towards you, you should have known they wouldn’t take that answer. “We lived together for a little while, in New York, and then we got separated.” None of that means anything to either of them but it’s an answer, which is better than nothing.

Arthurs tiny hand squeezes yours, pulling you back into reality. You often wonder if they know when you’re lost in a memory, he looks up at you curiously. What did you do to deserve such a patient child? 

You take a moment to think of a way to phrase it. “We… got into a fight. A long time ago.”

“About what?”

“Grown up stuff.” Your heartbeat quickens, you don’t want him to know about all that, he’s too little, you need to end this conversation.

“What kin-“ When he starts another line of questioning you poke at his sides, sliding him off the bench in a fit of giggles. 

“Time to go inside, nosy little man.” You follow after him as he rushes away, brown hair that’s just starting to curl at the ends falling into his eyes as he runs away from the house.

You catch up to him within a few steps, scooping him up and cradling him like a baby. He lets out a high pitched shriek until you squish your face into his cheek, kissing the rosy skin until he quiets down to a few small giggles. 

“Your aunt needs some help in the kitchen, you’re gonna go play with her and your sister now.” He nods as he squirms in your arms until he’s more comfortable, wrapping his arms around your neck and resting his chin on your shoulder as you walk him back towards the house. 

He’s gonna need a nap soon, which means Ruth is gonna need a nap soon. Maybe you should try and get them both down before everything else happens. 

Right on cue, Tommy pushes open the door with Ruth on his hip, Maria not far behind him. Based on the smiles they’re both sporting you can assume they’ve made up. They always do. 

“I think it might be time for these two to head inside.” Tommy gives you a soft smile and for a single second you get to pretend that everything’s fine. Maria takes a lighter towards the grill, trying to light it as you go to stand next to Tommy, the twins both grinning at each other. 

In your own little bubble, everything is completely fine, and you’re with your family. 

And at the end of your single perfect second the bubble is popped. It all happens before you’re ready, although you doubt you could ever really be ready for this. 

Maria pockets her lighter, mumbling something about going inside to look for matches after a few unsuccessful attempts. You set Arthur down, nudging him in her direction, he quickly runs towards her, taking her hand as she begins to make her way back towards the house. Tommy wraps his free hand around your shoulder. Giving you a reassuring squeeze as you rest your head against him to stare at your little girl. 

“We’ve got this.” He gives you another squeeze but you’re struggling to find safety in it. He’s always been the strong one, the confrontational one. He’s got this. You don’t. You tilt your head to stare at him when Ruth���s gaze goes from your face to his but your head snaps to the side when you hear your name called. 

Everyone looks up. The twins, Maria, Tommy, and you, as Ellie walks around the side of the house and waves at you. The sound of your name makes the man walking behind her look as well, his all too familiar scowl scanning the yard, softening into a look of disbelief when his eyes settle on you.

Then - NEW YORK CITY, QUARANTINE ZONE : 2019

“I don’t like havin’ you out there on your own. I worry too much.” He mumbles the words against the back of your neck as he tightens his hold around your waist. At some point the two of you had stopped pretending you’d wake up any other way and just went to bed like this. “Stay here, angel.” 

You’re so comfortable you almost consider it, but you ran out of cards last week and you’re cleared for work as of today. “I have to go if I want to sign up for any of the well paying shifts, Joel.” You peel his arms off of you, sitting up as he matches your movements. 

“Don’t sign up for that shit, it’s always somethin’ stupid or dangerous.” His voice is low and thick with sleep as he wraps his arms back around you. “If you need somethin’ I’ll get it for you.” He hasn’t shaved in a few weeks, his coarse facial hair rubs against your shoulder as he murmurs. 

Who knew big, scary Joel Miller could be so clingy. 

The most surprising part of your relationship, if you could even call it that, with Joel is just how needy he is. You don’t have any problems with it, it’s just a bit of a shock. Although maybe needy isn’t the right word. 

Protective. 

You’ve left the apartment two times in total since moving in with Joel, both times you insisted on needing air much to his dismay. He accompanied you around the block without a word the first time. The second time was the same, the only difference was that you stopped to buy a small bag of buttons, Joel had frowned as you made small talk with the older man sitting behind the table before rushing you home. 

“You could have just told me you needed buttons.” He grumbles as he holds the door open for you as you make your way to the kitchen table, taking a seat as you take his flannel off of you, the sight of your tattered sports bra serves as a reminder of how badly you need to get back to work once you’re cleared. 

“I don’t need buttons, you do. Every shirt you own is missing at least one.” You laid the shirt down on the table, pointing to the drawer next to the sink. “Get me the sewing kit.” His frown deepens but he does as you say before sitting down across from you.

Reaching across the table he sets the box down beside you, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “Still, you should have just asked me.” 

You open the small tin, unspooling a bit of thread. “I needed to go outside for a few minutes, it’s stuffy in here.” 

“We could have opened a window.” He grumbles under his breath as you grin, holding the thread between your teeth while sliding the other end through the needle.

“It’s not the same and you know it.” You mumble through your teeth before releasing the thread and setting the needle down. You pour the buttons out onto the table, searching for one that best matches the beige of the buttons on the flannel. Eventually his hand encompasses your own as he guides you to one that’s a slightly different shape but matches the color perfectly. “Thank you.” You give him a teasing smile as you place it over the frayed threads where its predecessor once was. 

That was a week ago and you haven’t been outside since but when Joel went to get the mail from downstairs he brought you a notice from the doctor that you were cleared to return to work today. Despite his protests you start to push the blanket off of you but he’s quick to pull it right back up into place.

“Stay, please.” He continues to hum against your skin. 

“I need the money, Joel.” You turn to look at him, his usual morning sulky look seems doubled today.

“How much do you need?” He raises an eyebrow at you as he lets his face fall forward, his forehead resting on yours. 

“It’s not like that.” You swear, if you asked him to, he'd find a way to give you the moon and stars, but you hate relying on him for everything, especially after such a long time of being dependent on him. “I just need to work.”

“You don’t need to. You want to.” His breath still smells like whiskey from last night as he gives you an exasperated glare. 

“Fine, I want to work. My leg’s fine now, you can barely tell anything was wrong with it. I’ll be okay.” You lean just a bit more towards him, kissing his cheek before sliding out of bed. 

You aren’t exactly dating Joel. 

Dating seems so trivial during an apocalypse, and you haven’t had any conversations about it. It just sort of happened. You woke up one day and neither one of you wanted to pull away from the other, and it progressed from there. He came home from a job one night and climbed into bed next to you, wrapping himself around you and he kissed your forehead before falling asleep. You still don’t know if he knew you were awake. The next night you’d taken his face in your hands and kissed him, just to see what he’d do, thankfully after a moment of shock he’d kissed you back. And it just became another unspoken part of your life with Joel. He kissed you goodbye when he left to go do the things he refused to tell you about in any detail, and you always greeted him with a kiss when he returned. 

But you don’t have sex. 

You want to ask him why but you hold your tongue, it’s possible you’re just being impatient or maybe he just wants to wait. So you don’t push it or bring it up because you like how things are with him. 

The word boyfriend is not a word that suits Joel. 

He isn’t your boyfriend, he’s just sort of, yours. 

“Angel, please.” He continues his griping as he pinches the bridge of his nose. 

“Joel, please.” You repeat back at him, trying to mimic his low tone.  

“I’m bein’ serious. Things have gotten bad out there recently, too much FEDRA bullshit.” 

“It’s always been bad and I’ve always managed, I’ll be fine.” You pull one of his shirts out of the closet, slipping it on, starting to button it as he makes his way to the end of the bed. 

“Can we at least talk about this?” He rests his elbows on his knees as he hunches over. The morning haze on his face is gone and is replaced by the stern scowl you’re used to. 

“There isn’t anything to talk about. I’ll be careful, there’s nothing to worry about, I’ll see you tonight.” After digging through the dresser drawers you eventually find your only pair of jeans. Once your boots are laced you walk back over to him, standing between his legs and taking his face in your hands. 

Staring down into his surprisingly gentle eyes, so dark that in the dim morning light they look pitch black. 

God he’s pretty. 

Even with that stupid pout of his. 

“I’ll see you tonight.” You lean down, placing a kiss on his forehead before pulling away only to be stopped when his grip on your waist tightens. 

“Just- wait.” You’re about to push him away with a laugh but his voice cracks just enough to make your smile drop. 

You start to speak in a soft tone but you only get one word out. “Joel…” 

“Please- I just- I can’t let you go out there and sign up for that shit. There’s jobs that aren’t dangerous, simple stuff.”

“Those jobs pay a few cards at best, hon. I can’t wear your clothes forever, I need new underwear, socks, all sorts of things. And I want to contribute around here, I’ll be okay, I promise.” You push the mess of hair falling across his forehead back as you stare down at him. 

He looks so genuinely upset already and you haven’t even left yet, he’s making this far more difficult than you thought it’d be. “I won’t be able to do anything if I don’t know you’re safe. It’s dangerous for both of us, I can’t be distracted like that.” You sigh, long and loud as you drop your hands to your sides. 

The more you think about it the more it makes sense. He really does worry too much, and even if you don’t know exactly what he does for work, you know it’s dangerous. 

Maybe it won’t be so bad. 

“Okay.” You groan. 

“You’ll stay?” The corners of his mouth start to raise a bit. 

“I’ll do the safer jobs.” The hint of a smile that had been on his face dissipates. “It’s a compromise. You can’t always get everything you want.” 

“Fine, come right home after.”

“I will.” With one more kiss he finally lets you go. 

So, at Joel’s request, you sign up for the easy jobs. 

They’re boring, and generally sort of terrible, and they pay the least, but Joel doesn’t make any further arguments about it. So you keep signing up for them. Typically it’s childcare, or filing documents for FEDRA, or working in the entry level food processing jobs. 

Boring, boring, jobs that involve standing around and doing nothing or wrangling kids who don’t deserve to grow up in a place like this. You hate the look on their little faces, they always look too grown up for their ages. 

But you put up with it, because at the end of the day you get to go home to Joel, Joel who seems to be in significantly higher spirits ever since you’ve agreed to those specific jobs. So you make it work. He makes it worth the banality of it all, at the end of your first week back to work he surprised you with a large paper bag, grinning like you’d never seen him before. When you unfolded the crumpled bag you were greeted with a mess of fabric, different colors and textures. You poured the contents onto the bed and immediately realized what he’d gotten you. Bras, panties, socks, and two pairs of jeans. It must’ve cost him a fortune and your eyes began to water immediately. You had wrapped your arms around him, barely letting go of him for the rest of the night. 

After that it got even easier, eventually you got used to it. 

You learned to live with the terrible jobs, and if you wanted anything you couldn’t afford with your meager savings Joel always managed to get it for you, even if you hadn’t told him you’d wanted it in the first place. 

You probably would have stayed like that forever if you hadn’t started taking the long way home. Weeks had passed before it happened, you had grown comfortable, vulnerable. Joel always made sure you felt safe and you let your guard down just long enough for something to happen. 

Joel had left early that morning, telling you that he was gonna be late, before he kissed you, he was out the door before the sun came up. 

Whenever Joel told you he would be late you took the long way home. Winding back alleys that were mostly empty that always led back to the apartment building. It was just a treat for yourself, something to do to fill time that would be spent at home, waiting for him. 

You never had any issues or alterations. 

Until that afternoon. 

Joel will be late. 

So the second your shift is over you take the handful of cards and make your way through the city. And just like you’ve done every other time, you look behind you every once and a while but not nearly as much as you should. Because of this, you don’t see him until it’s too late. 

It’s a younger man, probably a year or two older than you at most peering around the last corner you turned. Once he knows he’s been seen his pace quickens and instinctively you do the same. 

“On the ground!” The second you hear it you pray it’s for someone else, it has to be, you’ve done nothing wrong. You walk faster, hoping to avoid what could be a messy confrontation when the sound of boots slamming on the pavement rushes towards you and you’re forced up against the wall of the alley. 

In your peripheral you catch the white text against the black of his uniform. 

FEDRA. 

Your knees are kicked from under you as he pins your arms behind your back, the force at which your head hits the stone has you dizzy as you try to catch your breath. Too much is happening too quickly, when you finally feel like you can use your voice the wind is knocked out of you as you feel him hit you in the side, hard enough to have you wondering if he broke a rib. The force of the hit makes your knees crumble completely as the officer lets you fall, only giving you enough time to get to your hands and knees before his boot slams into your stomach knocking you onto your side. 

Finally, when you roll over onto your back you get a clear look at him. He looks like your average FEDRA officer, the only thing out of place is the unsure look on his face. Your ears are ringing so you barely make out what he says, all you catch is something about thinking you were someone else, before he turns and leaves as if it never happened.

Leaving you alone to clutch your stomach and wonder what just happened, and what you did to deserve that. 

You’d never heard of random attacks from FEDRA before. Maybe in other zones, but the city has always been calm as far as that goes. Maybe things really did get worse while your leg was healing. 

Joel was right. 

That’s all you can think about as you stumble to get to your feet, everything hurts but now is not the time to assess your wounds, you need to get home before something else happens. You manage to hobble up the stairs of the building, nearly collapsing by the time you opened the door. 

You feel so stupid. 

Joel was right. 

It isn’t safe out there, at least not for you. No one fucks with Joel, no one attacks him on the street because they’re afraid of him. No ones afraid of you. 

It’s a long couple of hours after that. 

Mostly a lot of berating yourself as you try to take in the extent of the damage. 

Surprisingly it seems to mostly be surface level. Sure, you’re going to bruise pretty bad and your face got scraped up on the stones but nothing permanent seems to have been inflicted. 

Once you’ve showered and slipped into an old shirt of his and a pair of panties you climb into bed, wanting this day to just be over, but you know it isn’t. Right on schedule you hear the lock click as Joel steps through the front door, you hide your face in your pillow. 

“What are you still doin’ up? It’s almost midnight.” His voice is a low whisper as you hear the familiar sounds of him kicking off his boots and setting down his things. You hear the outer layer of his clothing hit the floor, you told him a while ago you thought it was gross that he slept in the clothes he wore all day. He started sleeping in his undershirt and boxers after that. “You okay, Darlin’?” The bed shifts as he sits beside you and the second you turn and look at him his jaw twitches. “Christ… what the hell happened? Who did this to you?” He’s managing to stay mostly calm but you’re already worried he’s going to blow. 

“It’s nothing, I just had an issue with an officer on my way-“

“This is not nothing.” He’s already fussing with your face as you take his hands and move them away from you. 

“Joel-“

“Tell me what happened.” It’s a command and you’re too tired to fabricate something, and for the first time in a while, you’re afraid. 

So you tell him exactly how it happened. And before you realize it’s happening you’re sniffling, a part of you feels like you’re about to be scolded for this but he only nods, never interrupting you until you’ve finished. 

Your vision’s blurry with tears when you look up at him, the weight of being attacked starts to weigh heavy as you realize just how lucky you were that that was all that happened. And then you say the words he’s been waiting to hear.

“You were right, Joel.” 

“I’m sorry, angel. I should have been there to protect you.” He holds his arms open and you don’t hesitate as you lean forward into him. You do your best to hold it together as he lays you down before clicking off the lamp and pulling you back against him. He softly scratches your back, kissing the top of your head as he does. It’s silent for a few more minutes until he suddenly whispers into the darkness. “Tell me you’ll stay here from now on.”

“Joel, I-“

“No more going out there without me. You’ll stay safe right here, no one can hurt you here, not while I’m around.” You open your mouth to argue again but stop yourself. 

He’s right. 

Now that you’ve calmed down you know that you’re lucky to even be alive. You don’t know why you were attacked but you know it could happen again, and there are worse things than being beaten. 

No one would hurt you here, not with Joel around. 

“Stay here, angel.” He murmurs, softer this time. 

Joel is right.

“Okay.”

He isn’t beside you when you wake up, your hands searching through the cold sheets seeking his warmth. He had mentioned something as you were falling asleep about an early morning supply run but you had hoped to say goodbye before he left, you wanted to make him breakfast. As you get ready to roll back over and sleep a bit more you’re startled into an upright position. 

“You should watch where you’re flying, angel.” You bite back a shriek as Tess’s voice comes from the direction of the kitchen. 

“Christ, you scared the hell out of me!” Your heart skips a beat as you reach over to the nightstand, pulling on the little chain that turns the lamp on. “Joel’s not even here, what are you doing?” You don’t like the idea of being alone with her, she doesn’t come around much anymore, you used to see her in the hall on her way here constantly, but after you moved in she stopped. 

You do your best not to flinch as she makes her way over to you, standing at the foot of the bed.

“I’m not here to hurt you, there’s no need for theatrics.” You hadn’t realized you were shaking so badly until she said it, it takes a conscious effort but you manage to stop it for the most part. “I’m just here to talk.”

“About what?” 

“About you and Joel.”

You don’t want to talk about that with Tess. You don’t want to talk to Tess at all, she frightens you and she knows it. 

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Don’t talk to me like I’m stupid.” This time when you flinch she hesitates. For a brief moment the facade of a woman who fears nothing drops, and you swear you see sympathy in her eyes. “Joel is dangerous, you need to be careful with him or you’re going to get hurt.”

Is that why she’s here? To try and break you up? 

“He won’t hurt me, he cares about me.” You wish you sounded more sure of yourself. 

“You’re right, at least for now.” She flips her pocket knife open, ever so carefully running the blade along the underside of her nails, scraping away any dirt or grime she so happens to find, you fight the urge to flinch again. When she finally looks back up at you she takes a moment, examining your expression as if this was an interrogation. “Being loved by him is the worst thing that could possibly happen to a girl like you.”

You can’t help but scoff, now look who’s being theatrical. “A girl like me?”

“Good, too good. And fragile.” She points at you with the blade before returning to her nails. “He’ll do anything to keep you safe, even if it means breaking you into tiny little pieces, just so you’ll fit in a box he can lock.” 

You’re about to call her a liar but you hesitate. “Why are you telling me this?”

“You deserve to know.”

“Okay, but why? You don’t even like me.”

“You wouldn’t be here if I didn’t like you.” 

Fair enough.

“I think you should go.” You don’t want to hear anything else. You don’t believe anything she’s saying and the entire conversation makes you feel sick. She doesn’t know anything about your relationship with him, and she clearly doesn’t know anything about Joel. He’d do anything for you, you don’t think you’ve ever been taken care of before you met him.  

“What do you know about glue traps?” She doesn’t make any effort to leave so you decide to just answer her with a sigh. 

“Like the ones you use to catch mice? I don’t know, Joel buys them sometimes.”

She points her knife in the direction of the corner of the room, it takes a moment for your eyes to adjust. Sure enough, in the corner of the room, peeking out from under his dresser, is the faint outline of something on the floor, you’d never noticed it before. 

“It’s the worst kind of way to catch a mouse.” She stands, walking across the room and peeling up the trap with the edge of her blade before snapping it shut and taking the edge of the trap between her fingers, dragging it across the floor to the middle of the room so you had a clear view of it. “They’ll do anything to get out.” The tip of her boot nudges the corner of the trap, now that it’s been dragged into the lamp light you can see exactly what she wanted to show you. Two things are in the bloody trap. A mouse, barely alive, based on the way its chest rises and falls, and something else. A caterpillar maybe? 

No. 

A leg. A bloody mouse leg, on the edge of the trap. 

“They’ll chew off their limbs, and peel off their own skin just to get out, the ones that manage to are lucky enough to bleed out somewhere else. The ones stuck in the trap though?” She nods down at the creature you now refuse to look at. “They’ve got it the worst. Suffocation, dehydration, the ones who try to peel off and can’t, bleed out, stuck in place.”   

With a sudden crunch, her boot slams down on the trap. You watch, slack jawed, as she peels it off the sole before tossing it in the bin in the corner. 

“I’d take a quick death over either of those.”

“I think you should leave. Now.” You try to sound authoritative but your voice trembles too much to sound anything but afraid. 

“I heard you got caught up in some FEDRA business yesterday.” She starts again but you’ve had enough.

“Tess.” You manage to have a bit of sterness this time in your tone but it doesn’t seem to affect her much. 

“Fine. I’ll leave. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.” You catch that sympathetic look one more time before she unlocks the door chain, twisting the doorknob before speaking one last time. “I noticed some of our inventory is missing, this is the only warning you’re gonna get about that. If you want shit like that just ask, I’m sure Joel would be more than happy to have another way to control you.” She doesn’t turn around when she says it, simply slamming the door and leaving. You have no clue what she’s talking about, but that isn’t the part of the conversation that sticks with you. All you can think about is that crunching sound. 

So you avoided her after that, writing off her words as an act of jealousy. 

Joel would never do anything to hurt you.

Of course you know better now. She was just like you, she had been in the glue trap herself when she tried to keep you from joining her, but you hadn’t listened, instead you’d fallen face first into Joel. And he wouldn't let you go without keeping some of you for himself.

i don't have a taglist anymore !! follow @lincolndjarinnotifs for updates on all fics !!

[lilacsandamethysts]

Ragnvindr(s)

Pairing: Diluc x fem!Reader (she/her pronouns)

Summary: The Ragnvindr clan is expecting a new addition.

Warnings: pregnancy and mention of kids, characters expecting and becoming parents

A/N: Hi im back, hopefully i'll manage to post more regularly bc I have truly missed this (writing and posting). This is the first fic of my dad!character series bc I have a huge case of baby fever and seeing my favorites as dads satisfies my daddy and abandonment issues.

“Can you please take a seat? Boss is going to kill me if he finds out you’ve been exerting yourself.” Charles could have sworn to any archon willing to listen to his pleas that he had lost ten years from his life during this six hour shift. He was on bar duty this evening, nothing out of the ordinary, nothing he couldn’t handle and nothing he hadn’t done before. What he hadn’t done before was have his boss’s pregnant wife on duty with him. “I swear miss, you’re giving me gray hairs.” Funny, now that he thinks of it, he had heard his boss utter the same exact words three hours prior when he dropped her off, a thin layer of sweat covering his forehead as he had looked at his wife worryingly. She rolled her eyes at his comments going back to cleaning the dried glasses littering the underside of the bar. 

“Barbara said that moving around would do me good. Besides,” she frowned at him, the fire burning in her eyes making it clear to Charles why master Diluc had found his match in her. “I’m feeling peachy.” She wasn’t even that far along, stomach barely showing from under her slightly loose blouse. Diluc, ever since it had been revealed that her sudden unwellness was due to her expecting their child, had become thrice as protective than he already was, barely leaving her out of his sight. Truthfully, as much as she loved and cherished her husband, being under constant surveillance was starting to irritate her. She couldn’t fault him; this was his first time going through such an experience and he was rightfully anxious. A soft hum escaped her lips at the thought of his frazzled gaze every time she shifted in her seat while they went through documents of the winery. Diluc was going to be an amazing father, she knew that from the moment she announced her pregnancy to him. What she was even more certain about was, the gray hairs he was bound to start sprouting by the end of these agonizingly long nine months.

The door to the tavern flew open and in stepped a slightly agitated Diluc, hair sticking out from his usual high ponytail he dawns whenever he works behind the bar and eyes darting all over her figure as she continued to shine the glass in her hand. His shoulders sagged slightly in relief upon seeing her in one piece. With a sigh he shed the heavy layers on his shoulders before walking behind the bar, peking her cheek once with a hand resting on the slight bump of her stomach. 

“Why are you up? Again.” He said, a serious expression engraved on his features, brows furrowing when she simply hummed in response. He sighed again, rubbing at his temples before kissing her cheek again and reaching for one of her glasses. “You two are going to be the death of me.” 

“And they haven’t even been born yet.” She giggled again, leaning into his side, head tilting so it rests securely on his shoulder. Instinctively, he leaned closer, cheek smooshed on her hairline. “Imagine the terror once they start walking or even worse, running.” She swears she could already see the dark circles forming under his eyes which only made her laugh harder. The shift went by calmly with the tavern not being at its highest customer rate. They even got the chance to close up earlier than usual and make it back to the manner before midnight. Once inside, Diluc helped her hang her coat-even though she whined about being capable of doing it herself- and then led her to the kitchen where their dinner awaited them on the counter. Adelinde had taken it upon herself to teach both her masters the art of healthy nutrition; she had tried twice before in the past but they both were too stubborn and drowning in work to keep up a healthy diet, now with a child on the way they were more than willing to listen to her advice. 

Taking a seat side by side they dug in, emptying their plates in a matter of minutes with not even a peep leaving their lips until they were both done. Diluc brought her chair closer to his own, one arm draped over her shoulders while the other traced patterns on the fabric of her shirt absentmindedly, an action he seemed to be doing more and more each day. He had developed a habit of touching her in some way no matter the time or place or who was with them; whether it be his hand on the small of her back or his warm palm engulfing her own, an arm around her waist or merely their pinkies linked, Diluc couldn’t seem to let go of her no matter what. The citizens of Mondstadt would swoon at his blatant displays of affection, eyes full of unfathomable softness whenever they saw the soon to be parents on a stroll through the busy streets. There were still those select few who side eyed the couple -mostly her-, those whose jealousy shown through the happy facade, who sometimes didn’t even hide their displeasure at the fact that the informant who had managed to take Master DIluc off the market a few years prior was now securing her spot further with the birth of an heir. The Ragnvindrs merely scoffed at their sly comments and back handed compliments, Diluc usually making a mental note to have a word with the Knights about their insolent behavior. 

“Our baby is the size of a sweet potato.” She softly broke the silence, hand gently resting on the small sweet potato sized bump. “And in about four weeks they’ll be as big as a pomegranate.” Diluc couldn’t help but place his hand over hers, running his thumb over her knuckles before kissing the crown of her head. 

“Barbara sure has a weird way of measuring the weeks of pregnancy.” He unlatched himself from her, hand still resting over her own, as he examined the curve of her stomach trying and failing to imagine a sweet potato sized baby. Eyebrows scrunched in concentration, he failed to notice the pure disbelief written on his wife’s face. 

“Are…are you trying to actually imagine a sweet potato?” He looked at her sheepishly for a moment, big red eyes filled with nothing but serenity. Laughter echoed through the empty halls as she burst out into a fit of snorts making Diluc join her after a moment. Once calm, he brought her unbelievably close, kissing the tip of her nose before tucking her head in the crook of his neck and letting his eyelids fall shut. 

“I love you.” 

BONUS: 

The sun was at its highest when Katheryn spotted the family enter the city. The edges of her eyes crinkled as she nodded in acknowledgement at Master Diluc, red hair a mess from the strong winds of the city of freedom. Even worse was the mop of red hair in his arms as his daughter played with the ruby pendant around his neck, completely ignoring her hair obscuring her fathers’ vision. Turning around, they waited for their counterparts to catch up as the lady of house Ragnvindr strode up the steps, another mop of red hair in her arms in the form of a little boy this time, fast asleep while clutching his mothers’ blouse.

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Self Control.

Javi keeps refusing himself what he wants. One night puts everything into perspective.

Pairing - Javier Peña x female reader

Age Rating - 18+

Warnings - Cursing, mentions of blood and death

Word Count - 3429

Author's Note - hello lovely people, hope you're all well. i've been a huge fan of pedro pascal since his narcos days, so all of this love for him happening currently is making me very happy. javier peña is perhaps my favourite tv character of all time, so i'm very excited to share this story with you. i'd always love to write more javi stuff, so if you ever have any thoughts, please send them my way. i'm happy to write for all pedro characters actually!! as always, much love x

Masterlist. Requests.

It wasn't supposed to go like this. 

It was supposed to be simple. A routine raid. Get the information and go. 

How did it all go so wrong? 

Gunshots. Blood. A sea of green uniforms scattering the ground. Escobar had somehow known about it. He was taking no prisoners. 

The Search Bloc had lost men. The Colombian Police had lost men. You were just praying that you hadn't. 

Javier Peña and Steve Murphy were still out there. You had no idea if they were okay. They could be shot, bleeding out. Kidnapped. Or worse. 

No. 

You're driving yourself insane thinking of all the possible worse case scenarios. Your mind can't help but go there. It's instinct. 

You're sat waiting. Hoping. Praying. You've made your home at Javi and Steve's desks - they're more central to the action than your own. You're watching the front doors, sat in Javi's chair. It smells like cigarette smoke, and musk, and him. You let the familiar scent envelope you, allowing it to bring you comfort. You breathe him in. He'll be here soon. You know he will.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

Javier Peña was a complicated man. An enigma. He was tough, but gentle. Rugged, but tender. Commanding, but reserved. He was one big juxtaposition. Impossible to read. 

Or so he thought. 

You came along, and challenged every single one of his existing beliefs. You turned him soft - more understanding, more empathetic. He'll tell you he hates it. He lies. 

You weren't supposed to be here. Not really. You'd followed your brother, a DEA agent, all the way from Texas to Colombia. He'd told you he was being sent to South America to assist with the Pablo Escobar situation, and you'd packed your bags without a second thought. You had no one else. Wherever he goes, you go. Except one place. 

He'd died two months into the job. Shot dead by Escobar's men, in a situation that he shouldn't have even been in. And all of a sudden, you were alone. Alone in an unfamiliar place. Alone in the world. 

Javier made sure that wasn't true. He took you under his wing like an injured baby bird, slowly but surely nursing you back to health. He'd been there, when Carrillo had told you the fate of your brother. He'd caught you in his arms when your knees had given out, held you like he was scared you were going to shatter into a thousand pieces. He was holding you together. He has been, ever since. 

You were just a secretary. The odd one out. The only woman. Looked down on. People pitied you, really. You heard the things they said. Even if you didn't understand, you heard. You could take a guess. 

The world was a terrifying place for a woman. It was a terrifying place in general. But it seemed to be less scary knowing that Javier and Steve were at their desks just across the precinct every day. Your safety blankets. Your protectors. Which is exactly why the thought of losing either of them was currently ripping you apart from the inside out.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

Your eyes shot up every time the door opened. Slowly but surely, members of the Search Bloc filtered in - many of them bloody, and injured, but alive. You weren't taking your eyes off the entrance to the precinct. Not for a second. Not when any minute, Peña and Murphy could walk in, and everything would be okay again. Any minute now, you reassure yourself. Any minute now. 

You hear steel toe boots on the linoleum floor, and your breath hitches… but it’s Colonel Carrillo. He spots you from across the room and strides over, ignoring any pleas for his attention from the Search Bloc guys. He envelopes you in a hug - professionalism be damned.

“Are you okay?”, you ask when he pulls back. “What happened? I’ve been going insane listening over the radio.”

“I’m okay, mi amor. We’re still trying to figure out what went wrong. He knew, someone had to have told him.”

You’re just about to ask him about Murphy and Peña when he says,

“We got separated in the chaos. I don’t know where they are, but I’m sure they’re fine. Try not to panic, okay?”

He’s looking at you carefully, and you’re nodding, but you know you aren’t going to take his advice. If anything, now you’re panicking more. Men are filtering through the door every minute, but none of them are the two you’re looking for. Anxiety creeps into your stomach, wraps its claws around your insides. You can’t shake it. You feel like you’re being swallowed by dread - it’s all too familiar. You know exactly what it’s like to have someone you love go into the field and not return.

Carrillo strokes your cheekbone with his thumb gently, and leaves to attend to his men. You sit back down in Javi’s chair, trying to burrow into his scent, the warmth of the leather. You can imagine his big strong arms wrapping themselves around you, the way he nuzzles his nose into the crown of your head when he hugs you, how he traces patterns on your back when he holds you when you’re particularly upset. 

You think about Steve, and the way he winks at you when you catch eye contact across the room, or how he throws an arm around your shoulders whenever he sidles over to your desk to bother you. He’s always stealing candy from your top drawer, and then acting innocent when you call him out on it. You feign annoyance, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. You know you’re lucky to have the two of them looking out for you. You know you’re lucky to have Carrillo on your side too - life would be undoubtedly more difficult without his protection. They make you feel less vulnerable, more equal. You no longer feel like a lamb at the slaughter every time you walk into work. 

Drops of water hit your lap, and you realize you’re crying. Warm, wet tears slide down your cheeks, taking streaks of your mascara with them. Your lipstick has smudged where you’ve been peeling at the skin of your lips, and your nail polish has been incessantly picked at for hours. You know you look just as much of a mess on the outside as you feel on the inside. You close your eyes, and take a deep breath. Calm down, you tell yourself. You’d know if something bad had happened to them. You’d feel it. 

It’s as if time has become molten - sticky, warm molasses. Minutes feel like hours. The world is moving in slow motion, and it’s making you dizzy. Your breath is coming in short, sharp pants, and the urge to curl up into a ball grows stronger by the second. If the boys don’t show up soon, you’re convinced you’re going to crumble into a thousand pieces. You feel like you’re shattering, splitting apart at the seams. Fear sits on your chest like an ugly, relentless creature, choking you with each passing minute. The world is getting colder, darker, and you’re defenseless.

And just like that, your sun appears. Battered, bruised, bloody, but alive. Standing in the doorway, panting and breathless, is Javier Peña. Before you can register what’s happening, you’re leaping out of his chair, and practically running to close the distance between you. You collide with the solid mass of a man, and he wraps his arms around you like it’s second nature. He smells like cigarettes and musk and gunpowder and the outdoors and smoke and home. Relief fills your body, and the weight of it almost knocks you off your feet. You settle further into his chest like you belong there, pressing your nose into him and inhaling. 

You pull away, and notice that his chest is damp. The tears from before are back with a vengeance, sprinting their way down your cheeks, forming puddles wherever they can reach. You’re not sure if you’re crying due to happiness, or fear, or relief - perhaps a mixture of all three. You’re both still panting, looking at each other in disbelief. You fist your hands into the front of his shirt, as if to ground yourself to him. Checking he’s real. In the flesh.

“Don’t cry, cariño. I’m here. I’m okay. We’re okay.” 

He’s murmuring quietly to you, as if you’re the only two people in the room. He reaches out, and gently uses his thumbs to swipe away the tears that are still escaping. Cradling your face in his big, calloused hands, he looks at you earnestly.

“I’ll always come back, bonita. You know I will. Just like I promised.”

He presses his forehead to yours, and for the first time in hours, you relax. You stay pressed together like that for what feels like an eternity, until you hear familiar footsteps approaching. 

You break away from Javier to get a good look at Steve. He too is battered and bruised - hair mussed, shirt torn, blood staining his jeans and his hands. But he’s alive. That’s all that matters.

“Murphy,” you breathe, before wrapping your arms around his neck. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” he smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. You’d go out there and take down Escobar yourself if you could. If it meant you didn’t have to see your friends in pain anymore. This job is killing you all from the inside out, slowly but surely. You’re all shells of yourselves. You wonder how much longer you’re all going to be able to cope before you snap. You have a feeling that these two men in front of you are closer to their breaking points than you think. 

“God, I need to shower. I’ve never sweat this much in my life,” Steve remarks, and now that you’re looking at him, you can’t help but agree. You nod, smirk etched on your face, and the corners of his lips turn up. A slight smile from Steve. That’s a win.

A voice rumbles from behind you in response to Murphy’s statement. Jesus, Javi was closer to you than you thought.

“Yeah, me too. You go. I’ll drive her home.” He places a hand on the small of your back, and you can feel the warmth of him seeping through his palm.  He always runs so hot, you think to yourself. Your sun.

Murphy squeezes your arm and heads out the door, leaving you and Javier standing in the middle of the precinct. Everyone seems to be heading home, the room becoming increasingly quiet. You figure the two of you should follow suit. You gesture at Javi to give you a minute, and make your way over to the Colonel’s office, popping your head in the doorway. 

“You should go home, Carrillo,” you say softly. “You need to sleep just as much as the rest of us.”

He smiles at you tentatively, his face dampened with worry. You can see clear as day that he’s blaming himself for the events of the evening. You also know that there’s nothing you can say to make it better.

“I will, querida. I will.”

And with that, you grab your things from your desk, and make your way over to where Javi is waiting for you. He returns his hand to the small of your back, and guides you to his car.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

Your hands are shaking when you try to unlock the front door to your apartment. You can’t quite get the key in the lock, and it’s becoming frustrating. Why are you acting like you were the one being shot at tonight? All you had to do was sit at your desk and wait. Get a grip, you tell yourself. You’ve had it the easiest.

Javi can see you’re struggling, so he reaches out and opens the door for you. You step inside, immediately kicking off your heels and throwing down your purse. You turn on the lamp in the corner of the living room, and draw the blinds. All the while, Javi stands in the doorway, watching you complete your nightly rituals. It’s disarming to see you like this, he thinks. So domestic. So at peace.

He clears his throat awkwardly, and places his hand on the doorknob.

“Let me leave you alone, cariño. You need to rest. The adrenaline of tonight is going to wear off any minute, and we’re all gonna crash.”

He takes a step, but you lunge forward in his direction to stop him.

“Wait! Wait. I - I don’t… I can’t - please.” You can’t find the right words. In fact, you’re not even sure what you’re asking for.

He steps back inside your apartment, and shuts the door behind him gently, making sure to lock the deadbolt. He’s never been a man to take stupid chances when it comes to your safety. When it comes to you.

“What is it, mi amor?”, he asks carefully. “What do you need?”

“You,” you answer without a second thought. “Please don’t leave. I don’t think I’ll sleep tonight if you leave.”

He looks at you for a moment - carefully surveying. He takes in your appearance, the pain in your eyes, the way you look so small and fearful standing in front of him. It’s not even a question.

He kicks off his boots, and takes his wallet and his cigarettes out from the back pocket of his jeans, placing them on the counter. Then, he strides over, across the room, and smothers you in a hug that he’s convinced he probably needs more than you. 

You stand like that, embraced in each other, for what feels like forever. Two people breathing each other in, trying to absorb the other person. If you could crawl into Javier’s chest, bury yourself into his ribcage, you would. No hug is ever close enough. Never enough. It’s never enough.

“I’ll stay,” he murmurs into your hair. “I’ll always stay.”

You pull back to gaze into those big brown eyes, warm and sweet like chocolate. He looks serene, peaceful, almost. You don’t get to see him like this very often.

“You should shower,” you tell him quietly. You’re worried that you’re going to spook one another, so you both keep the volume to a minimum. “I’ll make us some tea.”

He nods gently, and makes his way to your bathroom. Moments later, you hear the water running, so you begin to boil the kettle, reaching for two mugs from your cabinet.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

You place a mug of tea on each nightstand either side of your bed, and slip out of your skirt and blouse. You opt for a tank top and shorts - the Colombian heat still unrelenting, even in the early hours of the morning. The sun will be up soon, you think. A new day.

Javi stands in the doorway of your bathroom with a towel slung low on his hips. Droplets of water are journeying down his chest, and your eyes follow, as if on instinct. He smirks when he catches you, watching your face heat up slightly.

“Cute bedsheets,” he remarks. “I like the love hearts.”

He’s still smirking, so you get up to smack him on the arm.

“Shut up, Javier,” you threaten, with no real malice. “Your tea is on the nightstand.”

You turn your back when he changes back into his black boxers, which only amuses him further. He can’t help but admire you from his place across the room. The way your hair blows slightly with the breeze from the opened window, the band of skin between where your tank top ends and your shorts begin, the sweat at the nape of your neck. He knows you’d taste like salt and sugar simultaneously. It takes everything in him not to run his tongue up your spine. You shiver from your spot on the edge of the bed, as if you can read his mind.

“I’m dressed, querida,” he almost whispers. You turn around, and shamelessly let your eyes rake over his golden skin, wishing so badly to reach out and touch him. He’s wearing significantly less clothes than you expected. Not that you’re complaining.

He lays down carefully on one side of your bed, stretching himself out on his back. You turn off the lamp on the nightstand, and lay down on the other side, careful to keep some distance between the two of you. You thought that having him here would relax you, but it seems to be doing the opposite. You feel like your nerve endings are on fire - the room is too warm, you can’t seem to get your lungs to fill with air, you’re hyper aware of every little movement in the room. You’re on edge.

Javi’s breathing is deep, calculated. He’s trying to keep calm. Everything in him is screaming to reach out and touch you, to throw an arm around your waist, to tangle his legs in between yours. He’s not sure he’s ever shown this level of self control.

“Javi,” you breathe. “Relax, please. I can feel how tense you are from here.”

He takes a deep breath before he answers you.

“Sorry, mi vida. I’m just - I’m… I’m trying.”

“Trying?”

“Trying to use every inch of restraint that I have.”

Your breath hitches, and he hears it, clear as day.

“What for?” you whisper.

“To resist the urge to touch you.”

You’re breathing quicker now, and so is he. The air in the room is thick with tension - it’s a miracle you’re both still conscious. 

“You’ve never really been one to deny yourself of the things you want, Javi," you whisper. "You’re not usually the patron saint of self control.” 

And with that, he snaps. He grabs your hips, and uses effortless strength to pull you so you’re straddling him, settled in his lap. He sits up to bring your faces level, and presses his forehead into yours, just like he did mere hours ago in the precinct. 

You know that tonight has changed everything for the two of you. You also know there’s no going back from this - you can’t uncross this line. The friendship that exists between you and Javi, a relationship that’s been so carefully built on trust and support and boundaries - permanently altered if you continue. You just can’t seem to find it in you to care. Not really. You want Javier Peña for all he is, all he has. Consequences be damned.

“I love you, cariño,” he breathes into your mouth. “Fuck, I love you.”

You’re convinced that any minute, you’re going to wake up from this beautiful dream. But for now, you make the most of it.

“I love you, Javier Peña. I love you so much it hurts.”

And with that, he’s kissing you. It’s desperate, and it’s needy, and it’s so full of love you’re worried that you’re going to pass out. His lips are on your lips, and he’s got one hand firmly at the nape of your neck, holding you in place. As if I’m going anywhere, you think. I’d happily stay here forever.

You’re so lost in each other that you don’t notice the sunrise. Dawn hits the window, casting an orange hue across the room. Javi looks like he’s glowing, the sunlight glinting off his hair. Golden boy.

He pulls off your shirt, and presses his chest to yours. He’s convinced you’re tethered to each other - he can feel the connection through your skin. It almost makes him want to cry, this feeling. It’s never felt like this before. It never will again. 

You wrap your arms around his neck, and your legs around his waist, ensuring that there isn’t a centimeter of space between you. You don’t know what today holds. You know it won’t be easy. But you’re comforted by the fact that you know Javi will be right there beside you. No matter what happens from this moment on, Javi is always going to be right there beside you.

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” you breathe into his mouth.

“I love you, mi alma,” he breathes back. “Mi corazón, mi alma.”

My heart, my soul. It’s as if he took the words right out of your mouth. 

Mi corazón, mi alma.

My heart, my soul.

[rotyoursoul]

The Zoldyck’s hire an in-home therapist as Illumi’s wife isn’t having an easy time adjusting to her new lifestyle. Supposedly, she’s allowed to open up as much as she desires. Let’s see where this journey goes.

TW: Yandere themes / (18+ Minors DNI)

————————————

“What brings you both here today?”

“Please help me…” You croak to your only savior who’s seated just a coffee table across from you.

“Y/N.” Illumi warns placing a threatening hand laced with false adornment ontop of yours. His dead eyes move from the side of your face back to the therapists “My wife has been having a hard time adjusting to her new home.”

“Why do you think that is Y/N?”

Your mind quickly weaves from thought to thought, finally deducing that being truthful couldn’t get you in any worse of a situation than you already are.

“I just feel…. trapped.”

“You’ve been granted free reign of the entire estate.” Illumi flatly reminds.

“Mr. Zoldyck please allow your wife to finish her thought.”

“Alright.” They both look at you expectantly. You decide to try and ignore your husbands unblinking gaze and focus on the professional before you.

“I want to go beyond the estate. I miss the mall, flower shops, the market, other people….” You sigh “But Illumi believes I’ll try to escape while I’m out which makes absolutely no sense. Even if I did he’d be able to find me. I’d never really be free.”

She nods at you then turns her attention to your husband

“Illumi do you trust your wife’s word after hearing her thoughts?”

“No.” He sounds bored having already calculated these options long ago. “And as she’s stated, I’d quickly find her. Disciplinary action would ensue. Sleep deprivation, mild starvation, perhaps a needle etc….It’s just bothersome. I have missions to attend.”

Your mouth fell open. How could he admit that so easily?? Surely this went against some health workers code of ethics. The Zoldyck’s had to have been paying her SO well, that his confession didn’t matter.

The therapists expression remained solemn

“Mr. Zoldyck is it safe to say that you’re possessive over the ones you care about?”

“I suppose.”

“You care about me?!” You scoff

“Has that not been made clear?” Illumi questions earnestly

“Mrs. Zoldyck please consider the fact that he’s the one who requested I come here.”

“Oh God, you’re on his side!!” Tears begin to make themselves known as you slump down into the couch and lower into your sorrows.

“I’m not on one side or the other. I am simply here to unite you two.”

A moment of silence falls over the room. After a while, you shake your head in disbelief.

“Whatever just- how many more minutes do we have left?”

—————————————-

A/N: HEY! This is my first time writing for Illumi and publishing so I’m not sure if I captured him correctly. Please let me know! There’s a lot of places this story can go as well. Feel free to give me suggestions. Thank you for reading 🖤

[scekrex]

Ask and I shall, deliver! Since you've asked for some prompts, I've had this one in my mind :D

How about a male reader being married to Adam, the whole last extermination day happens, battle at the Hotel and Adam dying. The reader couldn't save his husband, goes back to Heaven depressed as shit and not even for one day believes that Adam is actually dead (reborn sinner!Adam is my jam, can you notice?), so in secret from Heaven he goes to hell under disguise to search for his husband. When he finally finds him, he runs at him full speed at squeezes him as tightly as he can. Adam thinking that reader forgot about him and wouldn't want to be with him even if he was alive since he was now a sinner and the reader just saying: When I was marrying you, I vowed to you "Through thick and thin, through sickness and health, till death do us part", you don't look very dead to me.

Basically just sweet ol' hurt/comfort with a happy ending :V Btw, love your work! Genuinely keeps me awake at night making up scenarios in my head, damn 💀

Also, you've just been squished Adam'd 😎

squished Adam my beloved whoooooo

Till death do us part, but we're already past that phase

pairing: Adam x male!angel!reader

warnings: language, temporary character death

note: not beta read bc idc

Lucifer was punching Adam, again and again. You couldn't see but you heard. You heard his groans and yelps filled with pain and then there was silence.

You stood up as well as possible. Your leg was badly injured, some fuck up had almost cut it off entirely, your shoulder was shattered because that fucking porn demon had managed to hit your wing with two bullets which had caused you to crash down onto the ground due to the sudden pain.

“Adam,” you groaned as you slowly made your way over to where your husband was. You were worried, fuck that, you were frightened. While the demons hurting Adam's soldiers was one thing, them actually hurting Adam was something different entirely.

Adam crawled out of the pit, blood smeared across his face, a blue eye and several other facial injuries. Fuck it would take a long time for all of that bullshit to heal. “No, you don't get to end this,” you heard the voice of the first man speaking to the sinners that had gathered up around the pit Lucifer had created when he and his hell spawn of daughter had slammed the taller man onto the ground. “I’m fucking Adam, I’m the fucking man,” he stood up, finally facing the sinners he had been battling the entire time and you wanted to rush to him, to simply grab him and fly off before worse things could happen. Adam was already hurt, there was no need to stay longer and make things worse. However, the cannibal that suddenly grabbed your food and yanked it off the ground caught you off guard, made you crash onto the ground yet a second time as a loud scream of pain erupted from your chest. That motherfucker had torn your leg off even more. It was still attached to your body but the wound was huge and the blood had already managed to get through the fabric you had wrapped around it in panic, covering the once black fabric in shiny golden blood.

Adam's head snapped in your direction at that though and he was quick to react and rush over to you. Not that you needed help however, once you had noticed the danger you were quick to shatter the cannibal’s skull and shove him off of you. “Adam,” you called out for your husband again, you stretched your arms out, ready to pull him into a tight, warm hug. A few steps in front of you he stopped though. It took you too long to register what had just happened and your brain only seemed to catch on when Adam's body hit the ground. He had fallen face forward, revealing the little demon girl that was now sitting on his back and that was happily holding onto the dagger that had just been rammed through Adam's chest. “NO,” you screamed, crawling over to the man you loved most. The grip on your halberd was far from steady and the pain fogged up your mind so much that you weren't able concentrate and use it properly, so instead of slicing that fucking whore in half, all you were able to accomplish was to poke her, maybe leave a scratch on her cheek.

However, it did the job and she got up, the little bastard happily walked over to where Charlie stood. “Adam, c’mon you fucking idiot,” you cried out once you had reached his body. Your physical pain was easy to ignore compared to the emotional pain you were feeling, so you sat down and pulled the brunette's head on your lap to steady him. “Please babe, you can fucking do this,” you ripped a huge piece of fabric from your robe and pressed it onto his still bleeding wound, panic filled your body.

What if…

“Don’t fucking leave me bitch, talk to me,” you were yelling and the sinners were watching, a thing you really couldn't care less about. “Fuck, babe, don't you dare and die on me,” you gently cupped his face with one hand, the other continued to press the fabric to Adam's chest in order to hopefully stop the bleeding. The sinners started to mumble, they were obviously talking about the both of you.

Adam turned his face slightly to look you in the eyes and all that he was able to manage was a smile. Fuck. “You’re not allowed to fucking die, you hear me? I-” you flinched when a hand came to rest on your shoulder in order to ground you. It was Lute who was standing behind you. She wasn't providing comfort, that much you knew. She was here to force you to leave. You shrugged her hand off of you forcefully, “Don’t fucking touch me, I'm not leaving him-” Lucifer interrupted you. “Yes you fucking are. You'll gather your fucking soldiers and you'll lead them back to heaven, right fucking now.”

You glanced down at Adam, who's eyes had fallen shut in the meantime and you couldn't help the tear that fell from your eye and rolled across your cheek. You were quick to wipe it away though. As gently as possible you moved Adam to lay on the ground. Lute reached for your arm in order to help you to get up and once she was sure you stood somewhat safely she bent down to grab Adam's halo.

You ripped that out of her hand faster than she was able to react. Usually she had a sharp tongue, this time she remained quiet though. Apparently she knew not to mess with you now.

You moved you wing a little to test the waters, the physical pain was numbed by the emotional pain you were going through and so you flew off, followed by all the angels that were still alive - compared to the amount of angels that had followed you from heaven to hell it was nothing though, so many soldiers had lost their lives.

Adam had lost his life.

-

Life in heaven without Adam was clearly not the same. Sera had seemed more grateful that the first man was finally gone than sad, fuck that stupid bitch.

It didn't take them long to heal your wounds once you were back in heaven, your leg sure had been a complicated case but only two weeks later it had been back to normal, well if you ignored the scar that was now wrapped around your thigh. But you didn't mind, how could you mind about something so small as a scar when you were dying inside more and more by every day that passed. There was no reason to care about the little things anymore. The only reason that had made you care before was gone for good now and the voices that kept telling you to visit hell weren't helping.

It had started one week after the extermination, one week after Adam had died. At first it had been subtle, just a tiny whisper every now and then, but as time passed they grew louder and louder until you weren't able to tune them out anymore.

You were sitting on the edge of the highest building in heaven and watched. You watched the lights and the angels, how everyone seemed so happy, how most of them didn't know. It seemed like everyone had just forgotten about your husband, that it was nothing, they acted like losing Adam for good was just a thing that they weren't gonna talk about because of him unimportant it was.

Fuck that.

-

The Hell Embassy was empty when you entered it, no angel ever went there because they wanted to - to be fair most of the time it had been Adam who had set foot in the building. You had accompanied him often enough to know about the elevator that went down there, it was used for Adam to travel down to hell safely when the yearly meeting with Lucifer popped up on his agenda.

You weren't sure why, you weren't sure what it was either but something was calling you, tempting you to use the elevator and go down to hell. Maybe it was so that you could say a proper goodbye to Adam? That had to be it. It probably wouldn't help much, why would it? But it was worth a shot. And you needed the voices compelling you to visit hell to shut up, it was unbearable being reminded about Adam's death daily.

The only angel in heaven that had offered to listen to you was Emily, the little girl had been quick to notice that something wasn't right, that something must've had happened. So you told her since Sera had decided that Emily's only task was to keep the people of heaven happy.

Another bullshit move from heaven, the kid was capable of more.

Once the elevator stopped and its doors opened in front of you, you stepped outside. You thought the voices would quiet down now that you were in hell, but the opposite was the case. The voices and whispers were louder than ever, they were almost screaming, yelling, crying out for you to step outside the Heaven Embassy.

You wanted to scratch your eyes out, rip your ears off, anything that would stop the voices from being so fucking loud. So you listened to them. You stepped outside the church-like building and your eyes roamed over the full streets of hell. There were people everywhere and none of them seemed to pay any mind to you.

Slowly you started to walk away from the building and once your foot stepped on the sidewalk the voices were gone. They didn't quiet down to a whisper, they straight up died, they were gone.

And then you saw him. A gigantic demon with fluffy brown hair, two huge, black horns were attached to his head and you were sure you noticed subtil golden highlights on them too. His face hadn't changed the slightest, he was still pale, maybe even a little paler than he had been as an angel. His eyes were still golden.

Your brain couldn't comprehend what was happening, what you were seeing.

You were seeing Adam.

You rushed over to him, flying faster than ever before. You tackled him to the ground, made sure you'd be the one hitting the ground in order not to hurt him. “Adam,” you whispered happily as you held the taller man tightly. The demon had tensed up at first but the second he had heard his name being spoken so softly, so lovingly, he eased up. “The fuck are you doing here, you crazy bitch,” he mumbled as he wrapped his arms around you tightly. You didn't respond though, it would be too complicated to explain everything to him and you just got him back.

So instead you wrapped your wings around the both of you and kissed him softly, your hands in his soft, brown hair. The taller man groaned against your lips with pure delight, kissing you back just as passionate. “Dear God, I thought I'd have to die in order to kiss you like that again,” you mumbled against his lips. A soft chuckle rumbled through Adam at that and he pulled you even closer, “Knew it, you can't get enough of me.” You simply placed yet another kiss to his lips, “Correct, that's why I'm gonna stay here. With you.”

Adam froze at that, his arms around your body tightened a little, “You still wanna be with me?” The question seemed stupid to you, what was the man you had married thinking? Of course you still wanted to be with him. “When I was marrying you,” you began, a small kiss placed on his lips, “I vowed to you ‘Through thick and thin',” a quick kiss was pressed to Adam's cheek. “‘Through sickness and health, till death do us part’ and let me tell you babes,” you leaned in close, your lips softly brushed against his ear as you whispered, “We were already past that stage when we got married, I'm not giving you up because God decided to be a motherfucking bitch, that fucker can suck my dick, he won't take you away from me.”

At first Adam didn't respond, he just looked you in the eyes for a couple of seconds. Then he grabbed you by your collar, pulled you closer, closer, closer and hissed, “The only one allowed to suck your fucking dick am I, is that clear?”

[atinylittlepain]

Apothecary - Chapter Two

joel miller x witchy!reader

series masterlist

everyone's got something to say about her, and Joel doesn't know what to make of it. when he returns the favor he owes her, he tries to get some answers up in the mountains and away from the wagging tongues of Jackson.

warnings | 18+ angst, mentions of death, spooky-ooky vibes, people being superstitious dickheads

a/n | thank you all for the love on the first part of this series! i just got so excited i couldn't help but write the second part :) keep letting me know what you think, my inbox is always open and i love to hear from you!

.................................

“My son had a cough since he was two years old. She cured it with whatever she keeps bubbling on that stove of hers.”

“I had a rash that just wouldn’t go away. She gave me a balm that cleared it right up. A godsend, really.”

“Wouldn’t be alive today if she hadn’t nursed me back to health with all those herbs and plants she tends to.” 

“She talks to animals. Calmed a bucking colt with a whisper– I saw it myself!”

“I heard that infected don’t even notice her. Just walk right past her. That ain’t human, if you ask me.”

“That cat of hers spies on people and brings all their secrets back to her. You can’t tell me that’s a normal cat, not with the way it stares at folks.”

“Some of the women say they’ve seen her out in the middle of the night, dancing naked in her backyard whenever it’s a full moon.”

“I don’t know about dancing naked, but I have seen some strange lights coming from her shop on my way home from the Tipsy Bison. Lord knows what she gets up to in there.”

“She curses men. Lures them up into the mountains and puts them under her spell. But they always end up dead.”

“Dead?”

“As a doornail. It ain’t a coincidence that any man that crosses paths with her seems to wind up with one really unlucky patrol shift. Luck’s got nothing to do with it, lemme tell you.” 

Even though Tommy told him to forget about it, Joel’s been doing a bit of recon, asking people around town about her, and every new anecdote only further confuses him. It seems like everyone’s got some sort of opinion about the resident witch.

It has shocked him, really, how openly folks call her that. Even the ones that speak highly of her. He had asked Ellie about what she had heard one day after she came home from her classes at the community school. She had shrugged, a knowing grin on her face

“Well, she sure helped me out, old man. But yeah, my friends say their moms call her a lot worse names than witch. Personally, I think it’s fucking cool. D’you think she can fly around on a broom like in the movies?” Joel had not been particularly amused by that question.

He’s not sure what to make of any of it. Some people call her a saint. Others call her the devil incarnate. But there does seem to be a general consensus that any man that sets her in his sights is doomed to meet a timely demise.

It’s been two weeks since he saw her at the town market, and he hasn’t even caught a glimpse of her since. According to Maria, she’s been busy with a flare-up of some sort of stomach bug in the community, making house calls and – Joel supposes – working her magic. 

He can’t figure out why he even cares. After all, he’s only met the woman once. But he can’t seem to shake her out of his thoughts, replaying their meeting over and over in his head, particularly the moment she had said Sarah’s name with such certainty.

He finds himself rolling all this over in his mind most nights, sitting out on his front porch as the summer sun turns to thick liquid over the mountains. It’s in such a position that he finally sees her again, approaching his house with a tired smile on her face.

“Hey there, stranger.” She walks up the first step to his porch, leaning against the wooden beam as she speaks. He can’t help the way his eyes trail over her, a pair of coveralls like the kind mechanics used to wear pulled distractingly taut around the swell of her hips and a cloth bag slung over her shoulder, the tops of jars and bottles peeking out of it. When his eyes finally slip back up to her face, the quirk of her eyebrows lets him know that she totally clocked him checking her out, and he has to clear his throat, swallowing his embarrassment before he responds.

“Um, hey– hi. I, uh, haven’t seen you around lately.” She tilts her head at him, smile simmering down to a crooked smirk.

“I’ve been a little busy with all the– y’know, vomiting and diarrhea around town. But I think folks are finally out of the woods now.” Joel has to wonder to himself how she can still manage to look pretty while talking about vomiting and diarrhea.

“How exactly do you help– with that?” Her smile broadens.

“For the stuff coming out the top end, peppermint oil mostly. Ginger is king, but I’ve only got so much of it cultivating at the shop. For the problem down below, you just gotta push fluids and tell them it’ll pass.” 

“Can I ask– how do you know this stuff?” 

“Most of what I know comes from my mom. She was a lady of the plants, knew just about everything about anything that grows.” Fondness laces through her words, a soft smile as she tells him this, and he finds himself mirroring her expression.

“Lady of the plants– that’s a new one to me.” 

“Well, it’s better than witch, right?” Joel’s smile falls, but she just laughs.

“So I take it you’ve heard the rumors about me?” He’s not sure how to respond, a thickness settling in his throat and ice prickling the back of his neck. His voice comes out a bit hoarse when he does finally answer.

“Heard a lot of things about you. Not really sure what to believe though.” Her smile screws up at that, eyes crinkling as she looks at him.

“Why don’t you just ask me what you’re wondering then? Get it straight from the source.” She crosses her arms over her chest, the unbuttoned snaps of her coveralls splaying open to reveal the edge of a white tank-top, the suggestion of cleavage drawing Joel’s eyes before he can help it. He swallows hard, eyes darting back up to hers.

“Is it– I mean– are you?”

“Am I what?” She wants to hear him say it, he can tell by the ghosting curve of her lips. The word feels silly coming out of his mouth.

“Are you a– a witch?” Her smile goes practically radioactive at that, big and bright as she throws her head back in a laugh. She looks back at him, her lips pursed, eyes narrowed.

“Oh yeah, certified. Got the black cat to prove it and everything.” As if on cue, Stevie jumps up onto the railing of the porch, making Joel jump in his seat. She stifles a giggle behind her hand, Stevie nuzzling against her arm that’s wrapped around the porch beam. Joel huffs.

“Look, it seems like everyone’s got something to say about you. But I’m not the kind of guy to buy into a bunch of bullshit rumors.” She hums at that.

“Oh, no? What kind of guy are you then, Joel?” 

“The kind that likes to work things out for himself.” 

“Is that what this is? You working me out?” 

“Sure am trying to.” She sucks her teeth, squinting at him.

“And?” Joel sighs.

“And– I’m thinking it’s gonna take me a while to reach any kind of conclusion.” She nods lightly at that, smiling at Stevie as scratches under the cat’s chin.

“Hmm, alright. You let me know when you reach your conclusion then.” A thick blink of silence falls between them, and Joel finds himself unable to tear his eyes away from hers, only breaking when she lets out a sigh.

“I didn’t just come over here to give you a hard time. Was actually hoping to cash in on that favor you owe me.” He sits up a little straighter at that, nodding.

“Alright, when did you wanna go out– I mean– not– go out– like– not like a–” She laughs, silencing his floundering. 

“I know what you meant. And I was thinking the end of this week? Do you have time on Friday?” 

“Uh-huh, yep. That’s my day off.” Her face falls.

“Oh, I don’t wanna take up your day off, I’m–”

“Don’t worry about that. I’m happy to help, really.” Her frown softens into a suggestion of a smile, and she nods.

“Well, alright. Thank you, Joel. You good to meet at the gates that morning?” 

“I’ll be there, darlin. Sounds like a plan.” She grins.

“Until then, Joel.” She turns, hopping down from the porch step, before glancing over her shoulder to look at him.

“Oh, and don’t worry. I’m not gonna curse you. Not yet at least.” It’s so unexpected, he ends up choking on an inhale, but his coughing doesn’t drown out the sound of her laugh as she slinks away from his house. He’s so busy watching her saunter off that he doesn’t notice the cat jumping down from the railing, startling him when she starts twining between his legs. Stevie looks up at him, yellow eyes unblinking, as if she’s expecting something from him. He tentatively leans forward, holding out his open hand which the cat sniffs at before nudging her head into his palm, a low purr vibrating through her body. 

“You gonna go tell her all my secrets, Stevie?” The cat looks up at him, head tilted. A little too human-like for Joel’s taste. She lets out a small mrrp, before going back to twining between his legs, sleek spine arching up into Joel’s hand. Then, just as quickly as she had appeared, she pads off down the steps of his porch and out into the night. 

…

“Rumor has it you’re helping a certain lady out with some work up in the mountains tomorrow.” Joel huffs at his brother’s cocked eyebrow and crooked smirk.  He takes a sharp swig of his drink before responding.

“Owe her a favor, that's all. And before you tell me I’m not gonna come back alive, I’ve already heard that from four other people this week.” That gets a laugh out of Tommy, his eyes glancing around the bar before focusing back on Joel. 

“Nah, you’ll come back alive. It’s the days after when they always end up dead.” 

“You serious?” Tommy shrugs.

“There’s been a couple of guys, sure. But if you ask me, that has more to do with the stories people believe than it does with her. What we believe, we create, brother. The mind is a powerful thing.” He punctuates his words with a tap of his fingers to his temple. Joel grumbles.

“Yeah, yeah, alright, wise ass. But you’re telling me there really have been men who’ve–”

“It’s all coincidence, Joel. Like I said, there have been a few guys who started chasing after her. Went up into the mountains with her, y’know, all romantic and shit. And then, well, it seems like every time, only a few days later, they wound up dead. But in every instance, it was a bad patrol shift that got them. S’just coincidence that it happened after they got with her.”

“How many coincidences?” Tommy sighs.

“Four. In the last four years or so.” Joel feels his brows lift at that.

“That’s a lot of fucking coincidences, Tommy.” Tommy shrugs.

“Look, folks always talk about how horrible it is that all these men died. And it is. But no one thinks to mention what that must have done to her. To like someone? Hell, maybe even love someone? And then not only have them taken away from you, but to then be blamed for it too? It’s fucking atrocious, man.” When Tommy finishes speaking, silence falls between them, Joel a bit stunned by the clear compassion Tommy speaks with about her.

“Why d’you even care? Why not join the crowd, huh?” Tommy frowns at that, twirling his liquor in his glass rather than looking at his brother.

“I didn’t tell you this– I mean, why would I? But, Maria had a pretty difficult pregnancy.” He takes a sharp inhale before continuing to speak.

“We weren’t sure if– if the baby– if we were gonna be ok. And she was there for us, through it all.” Joel can see the tears pooling in his brother’s eyes, glinting in the low light of the bar when he finally looks at him.

“I don’t know if we’d have our boy today if it hadn’t been for her. So yeah, I care about her. And I’ll side with her every time. And most folks will too, when push comes to shove. She’s done a lot for this community. But it’s easy to spread poison behind people’s backs. So that’s what they do.” Tommy sits back on his stool, sighing deeply.

“Suppose a lot of the men see her as a challenge, y’know? Steal a cursed kiss and live to tell the tale, or some bullshit like that. And the women see the men pining after her, and they don’t like that one bit. Either way, they talk, way more than they should.” Tommy throws back the last of his drink, wincing at the burn. Joel, meanwhile, is still trying to process everything his brother just told him.

“So should I tell the kid to start planning my funeral, or what?” Tommy laughs, shaking his head.

“Nah, I think you’re too much of a stubborn ass to let a rinky-dink curse sway you. Besides, I think you’re getting ahead of yourself.” Joel squints at his brother.

“Why’s that?” 

“You said you’re just doing a favor for her. She might not even like you enough to curse you, brother.”

…

Joel doesn’t sleep at all that night. His mind works over what Tommy told him again and again, trying to reach some sort of conclusion about everything he’s learned, and coming up short every time. He shuffles out in the early morning light, eyes bleary as he nears the gate. She, however, is chipper as anything, smiling broadly when she sees him.

“Hey there, you ready to go?” He nods, grumbling out a quiet affirmation, and then they’re off.

Most of the morning is spent in silence, hiking up into the mountains. Joel knows that it’s not infected they have to worry about, not out here. But raiders are a whole other story, so he keeps a steady hand on his rifle slung over his shoulder, letting her lead them a few paces ahead of him. 

“You’re quiet this morning.” She glances at him over her shoulder as she speaks, eyebrow lifted.

“I’m thinking.” 

“About?” He huffs, stopping where he stands in the underbrush of the woods. When she realizes he’s no longer following, she turns back around, hands on her hips as she looks at him.

“I just– I wish you’d give me some straight answers here. I’ve heard something different about you from just about everyone in town– and I’m not sure if I believe any of it. Just– please.” Her brow is furrowed, eyes squinted at him as she worries her bottom lip between her teeth. 

“What do you want from me, Joel?” He swallows hard, eyes glancing around the thick trees before looking back at her.

“The truth– I want the truth.” She sighs, crossing her arms over her chest.

“You’re gonna have to be a bit more specific than that.” He has to laugh out of frustration at this little game they’re playing, pinching the bridge of his nose and letting out a low curse before focusing back on her.

“Alright, I’ll be specific. All those men that died. A lot of folks around town are convinced that you had something to do with it. S’that true?” When she speaks, Joel’s taken aback by her tone, her usual lightness replaced by a steeled stoicism.

“I had nothing to do with that. Any of it. The only curse that was on those men was their own goddamn minds buying into the town bullshit.” He’s inclined to believe her, judging by her unwavering gaze and the sure tilt of her chin as she speaks, but there’s still more that he needs to know.

“But you are– different. Aren’t you?” That coaxes a smile out of her, and she steps a bit closer to him.

“Different.” She says the word like a challenge, and he nods, taking his own steps closer to her.

“Is that your conclusion, Joel?” Both of them have their arms crossed over their chests, and they now stand so close that their forearms lightly brush.

“Starting to think I ain’t ever gonna reach a conclusion about you, darlin.” Her eyes crinkle, smile threatening to crook into a full-blown grin.

“Would that be such a bad thing? No conclusion?” It’s like magnets, the way their faces tilt, subtle shifts toward one another until he can feel the light air of her exhale across his mouth. He hums, a low sound in his chest.

“I think I’ll live.” He can practically feel the stretch of her grin at his words.

“I think you will too.” It happens as easily as a tide rolling in, languid in the way their lips slip together. His hands find the sweep of her jaw, pulling her in deeper, her palms splaying over his chest. He’s a little surprised when she swipes her tongue over the curve of his bottom lip, coaxing him open and tangling even closer with him. A woman has never taken charge like this with him, and it’s making his head spin. When she does pull away, he’s only a little embarrassed by the way he chases after her lips, stuttering into some sort of composure when she grins at him.

“For the record, you’re not wrong.” Not entirely sure what she means, he frowns at her, shaking his head. She laughs.

“I am different, Joel.”

“That wasn’t just a lucky guess, was it? About– about Sarah?” Her eyes soften, features dropping into a sad understanding. She slides her palms up from his chest to twine behind his neck. 

“No, it wasn’t.” 

…

“This is lemon balm.” She glances over her shoulder at him from where she’s crouched down, thumbing at a cropping of large, waxy leaves. He’s learned the names of more plants today than he could ever remember, though he still nods when she shows him a new one like he has any clue what it is.

“What do you use that for?” 

“You dry it, and then you can brew tea with it. It’s calming– helps with sleep and stress. Or you can mix it into salve to treat cold sores. Though not many people in Jackson come to me with that problem.” She clips several leaves from the plant, carefully tucking them into her pack and slinging it over her shoulder as she stands back up. 

They’ve been out all day, moving through the woods as she collects various plant snippings, explaining each one to him, how to use it and what its use is. And between them, a silent understanding has settled, even though Joel hasn’t asked anymore questions about her. But he knows that Tommy was right. Whatever she is, she’s a good one.

“We oughta head back soon. Sun’s starting to set.” She nods, wiping her hands off on the front of her jeans, and they easily step into stride with one another. They spend most of the hike back in a comfortable silence. Joel finds himself wanting to say something, ask something more, but always hesitating, mind hazy from the heat of the day, and from the stamped memory of the kiss they shared. Even if it was cursed, he reckons that he wouldn’t mind that.

“Joel? I want to say thank you.” He glances at her walking alongside him, the quick-fading light casting syrupy shadows across her features. He has to blink a few times to keep himself from staring.

“No need for thanks. I was happy to repay the favor.” 

“No, that’s– that’s not what I meant. I mean– thank you for coming out today with me, I appreciate it. But– I wanted to thank you for– thinking for yourself– about me.” That makes him stop in his stride, turning to fully look at her as she does the same. They’ve just crested a hill, the gates of Jackson coming into view, and her eyes keep glancing back toward it, a nervous crease between her brows.

“It’s just– you’re right– I know everyone has something to say about me. And I guess I don’t have too many friends because of it. Most folks make up their minds about me before they even talk to me. So, thank you– for not doing that.” His chest twists at her words, the worried look scrunched across her face. He’d like to take the pain away that’s clear in her expression. And then, that tightness in his chest grows for a different reason, as he realizes that he’s already in far too deep with her. He has to clear his throat to shake away the thickening feeling, tentatively reaching his hand out to her, his fingers skating over the faint dip of her collarbone. He can see her breath catch at his touch, and he revels in it, letting his hand trail down her arm until their fingers are tangling together.

“You shouldn’t have to thank me for that. Whatever may or may not be true about you– no one deserves that. I just– why do you help them– when they treat you the way they do?” She sighs, squeezing his hand in hers, and giving a weak shrug of her shoulders.

“Because it’s what I’m good at. I always wanted to help people– and that’s what I get to do. Even if some of them are fucking dicks about it.” Her crassness catches him off guard, pulling a stuttering laugh from his chest as she grins. But she’s all seriousness again, clearing her throat, her brow pulling down.

“Suppose I should warn you now that they’ll talk about you too– if you stick around me. And I don’t blame you if you don’t want–” He’s heard enough, and does something entirely too bold by closing the distance between them to steal another kiss, her wide eyes meeting his when he pulls away.

“Don’t care what any of ‘em have to say about me, or about you. They can talk all they want, darlin.” He can feel the relief in her sigh. She nods, giving his hand one final squeeze before breaking away, continuing the walk back to town. 

When they get back inside the gates, she offers him a small smile, her hands fidgeting with the straps of her pack.

“Thank you again. I really appreciated your help.” 

“Like I said, it was no–”

“Well, well, well– what do we have here? Looks like she’s got Miller under her spell, boys!” The change in her demeanor is instant, face scrunching up as they both turn to see where the commentary is coming from. Joel recognizes the man, Mason, if he remembers right, and a small group of other guys he knows from past patrol meetings. They’ve all got a similar sneer across their faces, eyes zeroed in on her, and he has to fight the urge to step in front of her to get them to stop looking at her like that.

“Guess we better get another coffin ready, huh? Hate to break it to you, Miller. She may be pretty, but she ain’t nothing but bad news.” Joel’s fists clench at his sides, and as the men break into another howl of laughter, his feet start moving toward them before his brain can catch up. But she’s quick to step in front of him, hands pressing into his chest and eyes fierce.

“Don’t– it’s not worth it.” It’s immediate, the calm that washes over him with her words, though he still glares over her shoulder at the men, whose laughter has only escalated.

“Awww, she got you good, man! Hey, witchy-poo! What kinda magic you got working on Miller to have him so whipped?” And with that, Joel is ready to bash their heads in all over again, though she holds him back with her palms firm against the front of his shirt. 

“Joel, it’s fine. They’re harmless, really.” He glances at the men one more time before finally focusing back on her, huffing as he nods. She gives him what she can of a smile, worry still pressed between her brows. 

“I’ll see you soon, ok?” His hands flex at his sides, wanting more than anything to tuck her under his arm and walk off together, but he settles for another nod, and a whispered acquiescence. She’s gone in a blink, walking off to the hollering of the men behind her. Before he can do something stupid, Joel heads off in the opposite direction toward the Tipsy Bison. He needs a fucking drink.

…

Joel is nursing his second tumbler of whiskey when just about the last person he’d like to see sidles up next to him at the bar. 

“Miller.” Mason sits down on the stool next to him, but Joel keeps his eyes on his swirling glass. 

“Look, man, I’m sorry for giving you a hard time out there. But I’m trying to help you out.” Joel rests his elbows on the bar, glancing briefly at Mason.

“Don’t remember asking for your help, man.” Mason laughs, turning on his stool to fully face Joel, a stupid grin across his face.

“Well then you don’t know her as well as we all do. I meant what I said, y’know. She’s bad news.” Joel’s starting to feel that anger creeping up his throat, angling himself just slightly in Mason’s direction to get a good look at him.

“Son, I’ve heard enough stories this week to have a pretty good idea of just how full of shit you all are. I thought this was a community of decent people, really. But after being told one too many times about some ridiculous curse, I realize you’re nothing but fools and cowards.” Mason laughs again, and Joel’s a blink away from slapping the sound right out of his mouth. 

“I’m not talking about that bullshit curse.” Joel squints at him.

“Come again?” 

“That curse you’re referring to? I agree with you that it’s town nonsense. But that’s not what I’m talking about.” When Joel stays silent, Mason’s mouth stretches into a smile.

“She may not be sending men to their graves, but she ain’t so innocent either. See, she likes to meddle.”

“Meddle?” Mason nods.

“In other people’s business. Sure, she helps folks all the time. But that’s not all she’s doing in that shop of hers.” Joel huffs, getting tired of the way this man seems to be stringing him along.

“Talk plainly, son. It’s getting late.” Mason barks out a laugh, sliding off his stool before laying a hand on Joel’s shoulder, a squinted smile on his face.

“Why don’t you go see what she’s got cooking up in that kitchen of hers in the middle of the night. Because I can tell you right now, it ain’t fucking tea.”

[transmonstera]

PLEASE READ BELOW

Hi! I am a UK based trans artist and writer looking to pursue a private hysterectomy. I run an Etsy store (you may even have one of my stickers or badges!) and work part time but am still struggling to save much of anything towards surgery due to debt, living costs, etc so I’m looking for a little bit of help!

The reason I am pursuing a hysterectomy now is due to having cervical ectropion. This condition is where the cervix is essentially inside out and causes bleeding and excruciating pain. Frustratingly enough the treatment for this condition worked for all of two weeks before returning straight back to how it used to be. Cervical ectropion is aggravated by fluctuating hormone levels, particularly estrogen, so if I was to ever experience atrophy and seek treatment for that it would only make my ectropion far worse. The NHS does not offer hysterectomies for this condition due to them deeming it “a harmless condition”. Funnily enough the only procedure they approve of to “treat” this is a tubal ligation which has nothing to do with the cervix (make it make sense). 

I could attempt to get a hysterectomy through my GIC (Nottingham), however their communication is abysmal, I get one appointment a year with them and I cannot sit by and wait for the topic to come up on their terms, they never even spoke to me about top surgery (after telling me they would) leaving me to get that privately too, and I think even if they do approve a referral it’d take far too long and I would have little control in the situation. I simply cannot be in this pain for however long they wish to take to help me. Especially with how things are going for trans healthcare.

So I’m looking to get it privately. I have been recommended Mr Saurabh Phadnis with Nuffield Health in London due to him approving hysterectomies for many reasons and getting rid of everything you wish to remove and not just the bare minimum. I would like to go with him as I wish to remove everything including the cervix. My GP is happy to do a referral for him, so it is literally just a case of getting the funds. I was quoted an estimate of roughly £9000. I’m not going to ask for people to send me that amount as I know it is a huge sum to ask for. I’m hoping to raise as much as I can by about January/February time (through donations, etsy sales, and anything I can spare from my part time job) and look at taking out a loan for whatever is left over and if I can save even a third of the full amount that would help immensely.

A hysterectomy would truly change everything. I don’t want to take depo injections for the rest of my life, I don’t want to be in pain anymore and I don’t want to bleed randomly throughout the day because I dared to go for a walk. This is not just for transition purposes, this is so I can live without fear of further pain, more bleeding, being unable to treat potential atrophy because of an existing condition, HPV, cervical cancer, pregnancy scares etc.

If you'd like to donate:

ko-fi.com/transmonstera

cashapp: £transmonstera

Even if you can’t donate, please take a moment to share. It’d mean the world to me.