#that no matter what as the (thing) person left behind. the loss made life a nightmare

[bunnihearted]

🧸♡ ⋆｡˚

[dnangelic]

whenever dark's life/existence as the niwa's curse gets equated to a living nightmare i fall over

[sleyu]

DATING JAMES POTTER INCLUDES . . .

PAIRING: JAMES POTTER X READER

GENRE: FLUFF & SMUT

If anyone is boyfriend coded, it's James.

James is so desperate for your attention. It’s fully up to you how you would react to the stunts he’d pull and all the nonsense he’d say for you to spare just a mere glance at him, but as soon as you do, he’s not shutting up for days. So much so, you’d find Remus on his hands and knees, begging to give James a chance so that he could finally study in peace.

When James falls in love, the person he is infatuated with and the things in relation to them is the only thing that remains in his mind.

‘Ugh,’ he thinks, ‘Madam Puddifoot’s Tea Shop is an eye sore.’ But wait, ‘Y/n loves pink. I ought to bring her here next time.’ He thinks.

James, contrary to what he makes himself out to be in front of his friends before meeting you, abandons any sense of his pride and ego when it comes to his girl.

Before falling in love with you, James would scoff and snicker at couples around Hogwarts, at people holding hands, cheeks flushed and eyes starry-eyed, as they’d walk together in Hogsmeade.

Meeting you, falling in love with you—finally making you his—made him love every corny, cheesy aspect of being with someone, completely endeared and left sheepish by their every breath and movement.

During ’ O.W.L.S. or any test for that matter, one could steal a glance at James, only to see him absentmindedly writing down your initials with a heart right beside them on his parchment, looking almost bored at his otherwise empty paper.

Anytime he would find himself stuck on a question, he would sigh happily, putting his quill down and all his focus on you, trying to find you sitting in the exam hall, smiling in amusement at the look of determination on your face.

James being in love means him attempting to look for your face during every quidditch match, upon every win, and during every loss, trying his best to search for your reaction. All he wants is for you to see him in his glory, and no amounts of pats on his back or the cheers he receives from crowds compare to the feeling of your thumb caressing his cheek, or your hands softly patting him on the head, telling him how proud you are of him and how you couldn’t take his eyes off him.

James finds it tough to admit and often struggles to communicate it, but he needs your praise. He needs you to tell him that he did good, that he looks handsome, that he’s brilliant for his latest prank, and that no one else compares to him. Of course, it’s an ego boost for him, but behind his egotistic front is a vulnerable, questioning man who doubts himself often, wanting nothing more than to prove himself to you.

‘Did I do good, love?’ he’d ask, desperation seeping from his honey-like voice, as though he’s unable to wait for your answer, fearing the possibility of your displeasure. ‘Please tell me I did.’

Of course, this manifests in your sex life. James needs praise always and rarely ever incorporates degradation into his lovemaking. He not only tells you how pretty you look for him, how good you feel wrapped around his leaking cock, but also begs you to be vocal, to communicate your pleasure and to tell him that you only belong to him and that no one else could make you feel as good as him.

‘Need you to tell me, baby—fuck! Wanna make you feel good—wanna make my good girl feel good—god.’

‘Tell me—tell me you love me. Say it again—need to hear it again,’

James begs that you leave a kiss mark on his cheek for ‘Good luck,’ right before a quidditch game.

The mandatory uniform for Gryffindor Quidditch matches is James’ jersey. Nothing fuels his pride and his absolute enamour for you more than seeing his last name plastered across your chest and back, proudly and visibly displaying your support for him and only him.

After a big win, you can expect to be fucked in the jersey. James swears he’s never cum faster than he has when he took you from behind and watched as your back arched; the name, ‘Potter,’ printed upon your trembling body as though it was a mark of ownership and loyalty.

Dating James means that he’s treating you as though you’re made of glass. Gentle touches and grips to your waist as the two of you walk in the school corridors, and adoring coos when he sees you slump against him, tired from a long day.

‘My poor angel. Always working so hard, yeah? C’mon, I’ll take care of you.’

He’d rather die than hear you call him by his name. To James, calling him by his name means that you’re treating him as though he were any other person when he isn’t. He needs to hear the affection laced in your words. The soft, gentle mumble of ‘baby, darling, Jamie, honey,’ is all he seeks to hear from you and he practically crumbles against the gentle caress of your hand on his cheek when you refer to him by a pet name.

‘James,’ you sigh, exasperated. Your boyfriend furrows his eyebrows, ‘That’s baby to you!’

During the summer, he’d insist you attach a photo of you with every letter you send him, whether it’s you on vacation or simply in your room, he has to get his fill of you.

He’d spend so much money on little trinkets for you, little items he would pick up from the sneaky Marauders Hogsmeade trips.

Sirius would huff as James pulled him into a stationary shop, ‘James, can we please stop making pit stops? We have 30 minutes left.’ James shook his head, grinning to himself as he picked up several pretty pens he reckons you’d love, ‘Need to supply the missus with gifts, Pads.’

James would be so happy once you begin warming up to the Marauders. His favourite people loving his favourite person? It’s his dream come true and as soon as he sees you bickering with Sirius, having long and insightful discussions with Remus, and casually hanging around Peter, he knows he’s going to be with you for a very, very long time. He’ll make sure of it, he decides then.

James would most certainly carry your bag as he drops you off to class. The first time he attempted in doing it, the two of you were tugging your bag for five minutes, arguing with each other about who would carry the pound of weight on your shoulders. He won, much to your dismay, but a surge of warmth bursts through him the first time you hand your bag over to him mindlessly, without him asking or fighting you for it, as though you had expected him to do it. He treasures these moments in your relationship where he begins to realize that habits between the two of you are beginning to grow and that you both are becoming used to being such an integral part of each other's lives.

He constantly tells you that you’re his everything and that all he does is for you and only you.

Study dates with him are entirely pointless as they never lead to actual studying as James cannot survive five minutes without your undivided attention on him. What do you mean you have to read a textbook for an hour? No periodic breaks to kiss your boyfriend or to coo at him? The only way actual studying will get done is if you promise him a kiss for every correct answer he gets—but we all know where that’s leading to.

He was the first one to say, ‘I love you,’ in the relationship. He would probably say it very quickly as he had known he loved you before the two of you dated, but he’s entirely fine with you wanting to take your time in dissecting your feelings for him.

Until you say it back, with every night and morning kiss, every departure before class, he’d whisper a giddy, ‘I love you, darling,’ to which you’d smile bashfully. Once you do say it back, he’s smiling like an idiot for two weeks straight. He would be almost annoying about it, like a child on Christmas Day. He’d tell you that he loves you repeatedly only to hear you say his four favourite words: ‘I love you too.’

[serejae]

IF BY CHANCE ? | BND

-

p2

WHAT ? - BND AS EXES WHO WANT YOU BACK (bnd realizing they messed up after you end things)

WHEN ? - (warning) this is not a REAL display of the members im just doing this for weeping entertainment:) attempt to unconsented kissing in jaehyuns, drinking in sungho’s, mentions of throw up/throwing up in leehans, major angst 😒

WHO ? - (a/n) i love angst but not like death but yearning and groveling, pls tell me yall relate. lowk went hard on jaehyun and leehans from personal experience 🤔🤔

uncapitalization intended and not proofread

theres a theory that you will always meet the same person twice

-

P.SUNGHO ; he was too focused on his career.

! - you knew and understood thst sungho’s job was very important to him but it started to feel like you werent his partner anymore. you started to feel like decoration in your guys apartment that he would just ignore when he got home.

! - to try and help your relationship you made him dinner, cleaned up the place, asked him about his day to which he blew up. his cold demeanor suddenly dropped as he yelled at you about constantly bothering him when he just wanted to sleep. you knew your intentions and knew you didnt want to bother but help sungho. you then realize you werent valued in this relationship and were pulling the whole weight by yourself, so you ended things.

! - it took him about 4 days to realize that he messed up. those 4 days his mind was constantly fogged up about work, after those 4 days he walked into the house and how he realized was when he alerted you (or tried to) that he was home with a “honey im home”, only to be met with silence. a bit confused not realizing his brain hadnt catched up yet, he walked into your twos room, or use to be. only to be met with the mess he left for himself in the morning. there is when he realized you weren’t there anymore. to shake his mind off of it, he decided to eat before doing anything ,he went to the kitchen to heat up some frozen dinner. as the meal heated he realized the house was so empty, cold, and quiet. the only sound was coming from the spinning microwave.

! - it’s safe to say the soulless house took a toll on him. everyday he dreaded going home, which is funny cause he couldve said the same thing before he realized how important you were. his friends who were tired of seeing him so lifeless decided to invite him to go to the bar to hang out…he wasnt much fun there either. that was until he caught a glimpse of you from the reflection of his empty shot glass. his eyes light up and he turns around to make eye contact with you. .

-

L.RIWOO ; trust issues.

! - you understood where riwoo was coming from, you knew that trust issues are normal , but it got to a point where his trust issues started to make you question him.

! - and it didnt help that each time you did try to reassure him that it somehow made it worse. “ri, of course im going to stay late, my boss asked me too. you have my location, i send you photos of me working, what else do you want?” maybe your approach wasnt the best but the way he snapped was when you knew no matter how much you tried to protect both you and his peace, he will try to tear it down again. “oh, so now your getting defensive. i shouldve known, especially from you.” he said it with no remorse or thought behind it. and to him he thought he was winning this argument but in reality he was going to make the biggest loss of his life.

! - it took him 5 hours to realize he messed up. when you left and packed your things he thought you’d run back and it’ll make him feel better about himself. but after 4 hours it was already 3 am and he realized maybe…you wouldnt come back as soon as he thought. but that last hour before he realized he messed up, he had a dream of you and him. you two were living that exact moment, before you left. you standing pacing back and forth as he sat on the couch. except this time, he talks to you about why he thinks the way he thinks and vows to do better. in that dream he sleeps with you in his arms. when he woke up he stared at the ceiling, and it was like it was talking to him. thats when he realized you werent coming back. you wont be in his arms again, you wont tell him about your day, and you wont constantly tired of arguing with him because of his doubts.

! - after trapping himself in his house and thoughts he decided to go on a walk, but to his suprise once he opens the door you stand there staring at him with a box of his things in your hands. his mouth goes dry

-

M. JAEHYUN ; girl bestfriend

! - you were the never the type of partner to care too much about the opposite gender best friends as you were very secure in your relationship, but in this case it wasnt him but rather her. you knew from the moment she laid her eyes on you she was no good. but you decided to give her the benefit of the doubt as this was jaehyuns childhood bestfriend, and if you didnt like her you could at least pretend for your boyfriends sake.

! - you were always calm and reserved around jaehyun and his bestfriend even on those dsys you wanted to push her off him. but today it was like a flip switched. you walked home soaked from the rain after not being to reach your boyfriend to pick you up. you get it he’s busy, but your blood boiled when you saw both of them sitting on the couch peacefully. she looked up at you and grinned as jaehyun ran up to you worried. “jaehyun lets talk in our room please” you simply asked. he followed you to you and his shared room with a towel drying you off as you spoke. “i really hate to do this to you but its either me or her.” he paused his movements of drying your hair “you know i cant do that. ive known her for so long do you not trust me?” he said defensive. “i dont trust her” you said blandly, he stared at you and started lecturing you on how his bestfriend gave you no reason to not trust her. you didnt argue back, you were too tired for it you just said “she likes you jaehyun”. he paused and continued lecturing you about how thats ridiculous. you shake your head and pack your things “clearly i know your answer.” he continues on and on on how youre being ridiculous. once you leave the door he puts his hand in his face.

! - it took him like 5 minutes to realize he messed up (bye.) his friend came into your room and sat down by him as he listened to him rant. “you know…” she said slowly “y/n’s not wrong” his ears perked up at that “ive always liked you jaehyun, your just too silly to realize.” he freezes at her words, feeling his blood run cold he feels her fingers on his chin and her leaning in. he backs up and kicks her out despite her protest. once he locked the door and is left in the empty haunting house alone he scrambles for his phone. after finding it he opens it to all your messages asking if he can pick you up. it made him nauseous at the thought he left you alone and cold for his ‘friend’ that was the cause of your breakup. he calls you to which you dont answer, he starts panicking at this point and paces in the house as he mass text and call you just wanting a answer. he pauses in front of him at the only room he hasnt stepped room in since pacing. your bedroom. he walks in and lays down only to be reminded of your scent when he lifts the blankets over his head. thats when he starts crying and realized you weren’t there to hold him like you normally did

! - he didnt have his safe space anymore.

-

H. TAESAN ; distant

! - you hated to admit it but one of the things that drew you into taesan was the thing that made you end things. his cold demeanor was what made everyone so curious about him, fortunately or unfortunately you were the one he picked to be into his very small circle to which you became his partner. during this you learned he loved his alone time which you were fine with, what threw you off was the way he signaled to you he wanted to be alone. he would ignore you in public and not reply to your messages as if you didnt know each other. you were okay with it at first since you loved your strange boyfriend but after a while you grew tired of it. tired of breaking down his walls and when you finally feel accepted by him only to be shut out again

! - and clearly it was a mistake bringing it up to him because it lead him to being the loudest you ever heard him, arguing back and forth. “i dont get why you just have to pretend you don’t know me. im fine with you needing your alone space but why do you have to act like you hate me?”

“im starting to if thats how your gonna react to me needing my time every so often.”

you couldnt argue anymore, especially when he just admitted he was close to hating you for communicating your feelings. the room went quiet, taesan looks over his shoulder to see you staring at the ground before walking off. after that day you didnt text first or initiate anything to see if he would, unfortunately to you. he didnt.

! - it took him about a month to realize he messed up (sorry taesan lovers:c). but dont get me wrong, its not like he went on with his life like normal. everyday it felt like he was missing something but he could never put his finger on this feeling so he just dismissed it. until one day by instinct he sat at your twos spot alone and your guys song started to play in his headphones. he was never one to communicate his feelings too well but that didnt mean he didnt care for you. he would dedicate songs to you and one just fit perfectly with you two. when the song played he looked around and realized where he was with what song was playing only to see something is missing

you.

and thats when it hit him, he didnt get his usual messages, his hugs, or his sneaky looks from you. he was alone, but wasnt this what he wanted?

he wanted to be alone right?

he loved it.

right?

he then realized

he loves you more then he loved being alone.

was it worth it to lose one thing you love more to prioritize the other?

-

K.LEEHAN ; too friendly

! - from the beginning you knew dating leehan came with a price. everyone wanted him. some more bold than others that would go up to him and ask him out even when he had a partner. his reaction to these admirers was a stranger then how a boyfriend would react to girls hitting on him. he’d entertain the girls in front for you just to see your reaction. you knew he loved seeing you jealous which was cute at first but after a while it got old. it started to make you doubt whether he really loved you or not. if the girls would compliment leehan he’d start asking for details, “oh yeah? how much do you like me?” “my arms are pretty strong arent they?” or he’d start teasing “calm down my partners infront of me, maybe later” to which the girls, including him would laugh as he looked over to see your fuming face.

! - but this one time, you couldnt take it anymore. if this is what dating someone admired upon was like, you wanted no part. it was like normal. girls would swarm around you and leehan and start flirting, but his one comment ticked you off. “yeah of course we can hangout, im sure my partner wont mind” he winked, he looks over at you expecting to see your puffy angry face but is met with you leaving the table. he follows behind you calling for you. when he finally catches up to you thats when you spew everything youve been feeling. “i can understand if your admired i get it your handsome! but your taken and you should know that, no normal boyfriend flirts back with girls who flirt with him. i have to deal with this closing feeling in my throat and chest all because you want a little enjoyment for your day and im done.” he looked at you confused with a hint of being offended. “youre overreacting yn.” he said before being cut off with you walking away.

! - he realized he messed up 6 days later. its not like he didnt care, but he was in his state of mind that youll run back like any of his fangirls would. during those days he continued to flirt back with them now that his flock was much bigger now that he was single. but this time he flirted back much less enthusiastic as he would before, because he had no reason to, no reaction, no partner to coddle after. he now felt sick with the thought of flirting with anyone to start dating if it wasnt you. he got up from the table to which he recieved a bunch of whines and pleads to stay. he just needed fresh air. he continued walking around campus until he heard a familiar laugh. he turned his head over and seen you with another person, laughing and getting all close like you and him use too. now staring from afar he understood what you meant. he felt his chest and throat closing at the thought sight of you reliving what you and him would do with someone that wasnt him. and his words replay in his mind

“you’re overreacting yn”

“your overreacting”

“overreacting”

in fact you were not overreacting but he knew he had no right to be jealous, when his urge for you to be jealous tore you two apart.

he was on the verge of spilling his guts and you looked happy. not angry, and thats what you deserved

-

K. WOONHAK ; always mad at you

! - woonhak has always been very open about his anger issues and you knew that. he was just a teen living his first life and you acknowledged that. on certain days he would hold grudges against you and not tell you why he was angry, leaving you alone to figure out and trace back to see what you had done. and it was always something small like giving him only 2 hugs instead of 3 for morning, afternoon, and night. and forbid you try to get him to communicate why he is mad at you. he’ll turn into a big angry ball yelling at every reason he should be mad

! - this one day you were so tired from school. you just wanted to walk home with your boyfriend and hopefully cuddle at home. but he wasnt waiting for you outside your class, instead you already saw him walking out of the school. catching up to him you say hi and start asking him about his day to which you recieve a mean face ignoring you. deciding to avoid that you talked about your day to which he paid no attention to. thats when you snapped “hey im talking to you!” no reply “why do you always do this, you just get mad at me and expect me to read your mind!” he turned over to you and yelled back “i dont know why you can never just think, is it that hard to realize what you did?” “no i cant read your mind woonhak!”. he just turned away and started to walk “woonhak if you keep walking were over!” he paused, to which you hoped he’d come to his senses but he kept walking

! - he realized he messed up 1 days after. day 1, he completely forgot about the night before as it was so normal for him to go back to not being mad at you when he felt like it. when you didnt walk to school with him he decided that was his reasoning for being mad you today. and when you didnt run up to him or walk up to him after school to walk together he started to be a bit confused. here is when youd start to cave but as he walked home he retraced his memory with each step and remembered what you had said when he was being petty.

‘ “woonhak if you keep walking were over!” ‘

he just kept walking, and now you werent his to walk anymore.

-

“is it so wrong of me to hope she breaks your heart, is it so wrong for me to pray she tears you apart?”

[yan-lorkai]

Good Morning/afternoon/evening! Can I request a headcanon with a reader who comes back to Twst (after they have returned to their world) and finds yandere Idia made a robot (like Ortho) that looks like them and have the same personality as them? Thanks! ✨💖

Returning to Twisted Wonderland this time was a choice you made after thinking and rethinking the pros and cons, after remembering everything you would be leaving behind. But the pros were greater than the cons, at least you thought. And when you came back, you knew what you wanted to do, look for Idia.

It wasn't really difficult to imagine where he would be, even though a few months had passed you knew he wouldn't have changed that much. However, you should have known how wrong things were when you saw Ortho and he looked surprised, and fearful, trying to dissuade you from opening the door. Trying to keep you from seeing what his brother had done.

But his attempt was futile. You opened the door, received Idia's permission and entered. But nothing could have prepared you to find your own face staring back at you when you entered Idia's room, the emulated expression of surprise making everything more uncomfortable. You and Idia were paralyzed for different reasons, inert, not knowing how to react. However, you recovered faster while he were still processing the entire situation.

"What the fuck is this?" You curse as you look with a mix of admiration and apprehension at your copy. Every little detail was exactly perfect, the same as the original, the same skin tone, the same hair, even the gestures were the same. It wouldn't matter if Idia had a plausible explanation for this, it was clear that he had created a robot to take your place to fill the void in his chest when you left. And it made you feel a little sorry for him, just a little.

"W-well, you see..." Idia can only mutter and whisper gibberish, his hair turning completely pink at being caught with such a strange creation. All this while said creation continues to maintain an impeccable posture, erect and proud, observing you, analyzing.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, my name is Yuu." The robot introduces themselves, without knowing or noticing the tension around them. It's so strange. There is no life behind those eyes like there is in Ortho, it is empty and dull plastic. It's uncomfortable to look at. "I'm Idia's lover and we're planning our wedding for after we graduate. Should we invite them, honey?"

Silence. It's embarrassing, invasive and wrong, this all felt too much, should you feel betrayed? Sad? Happy? Or honored that Idia created yet another robot? You didn't know at that moment. All you knew was that you needed to get out of there and you needed it now. But the door was now closed and locked, and no matter how many times you open it or yell at Idia nothing works. He has you now, he doesn't want to let you leave again. He can take your fear, he can take even your hate but having you leave again, even if only for your old dorm? That he can't handle. He won't.

"Prototype Yuu, shut down." He announces, finally recovering from his shock. He acts nonchalantly but you know he feels really awkward and anxious. "Listen, we can talk about it. It's not what it looks like."

You scoff. "Lover? Marriage? Yeah, it's exactly what it looks like, Idia. You created a robot that looks like me, that sounds like me. Because you still don't know how to deal with loss and you need comfort in the only way you know how to receive it."

Touché. He looks like a wounded dog that you kicked. But you find that you don't care at all. "You didn't have to call me out like that, you know." He mumbles but doesn't deny how right you are. "Plus how I was supposed to live without you? I felt so empty, so cold. But I didn't want to stop you from going home because it would hurt you. I can always destroy this prototype if you want, just please don't leave me again!"

He grabs both of your hands, holding onto them as if they were his lifesavers that keep him above the water so he won't drown while he stare at you without blinking, tiny little tears starting to run down his face. Now, can you forgive him or not?

[cemeteryspider]

Lost and Found

Dick Grayson x Speedster! Reader

Summary: You and your sibling Wally West run to save the world, a trip neither of you return from. That is until you do.

*Gender, race, and sexuality is not specified for the reader, but is referred to as Wally's sibling- can be adopted, biological, or have a different dad or mom since the parents are divorced*

Trigger Warnings: Death, loss, and existential threats

Word Count: 2340

The Bioship was still hovering in the air as you and your team jumped out to witness the disruptor and the havoc it was wreaking on the planet. In a yellow flash, you saw who could only be Wally West running towards the chrysalis, and Artemis in your ear saying something about Wally running off.

With a sudden realization sinking into your stomach, you pulled Dick down to give him a kiss on the cheek.

"Back in a flash, Wing," You whispered in his ear.

You let go of Dick's hand and within milliseconds you were running alongside Uncle Barry, Bart, and Wally.

~~~

You never quite left the superhero scene, mostly helping other heroes with their work when need be. It wasn't that you couldn't become a fully fledged superhero in your own right with the action figures and lunch boxes, but that your life had changed.

You helped train the new heroes who lived at Mount. Justice. You helped them with focus and combat exercises, and allowed them to lean on your shoulder when things got difficult because of course things got difficult when you're dealing with hormonal teenagers who just so happen to have super abilities.

Despite the same lightning strike giving you the same powers as your brother, your powers didn't cause you any pain. So it came as a shock to you when Wally announced his retirement. When Wally left the superhero life for good, you felt lost and hurt. The one person you shared everything with decided to leave you behind.

Luckily, Dick Grayson, someone who knew what you were going through with Wally, stepped in. That's how you and Dick became close friends. You were both the leaders of Young Justice in Kaldur's absence. Finding yourselves alone with the only other person you age being Dick, well lets just say it wasn't a surprise to the team when you announced that you were together.

You allowed Wally back into your life, and allowed him to explain his departure. You felt like a jerk for distancing yourself, and turning away when he needed your support the most. Still he forgave you without a second thought. You and Wally would hang out on a near daily basis nowadays.

Then the Reach and the Light showed up. Regardless of how you felt, you participated in the cover up of Artemis' death. Wally didn't take her death well, her actually being alive well, or your or Dick's involvement in the matter well. Eventually reaching better terms once Kaldur and Artemis were able to stop the Reach and the Light.

That's how you made it here. With your relationship with Wally on the mend, you were running to counter the distributor that endangered Earth and all of its inhabitants.

So you kept running.

"Y/n get out of here! It's dangerous" Wally yelled at you, the high speeds distorted his words along with the disruptor.

"No four speedsters are better than three Walls!" Despite the yelling from your brother and uncle, you kept running.

You were a little faster than Wally, but still slower than the Flash and Impulse. You let yourself fall back to Wally's speed, and nodded at him with solidarity. You kept running.

Each pass around the disruptor you looked at Dick. You wanted to run into his arms and let him take the weight off your sore legs, but you couldn't leave. Then a shock was sent down your spine. You stumbled a little bit but kept running nonetheless.

You and Wally looked at each other and with each hit the chrysalis had on you the slower the two of you became. Still you both ran, you ran so that the world wouldn't be destroyed.

Barry looked at the two of you with worry in his eyes, despite being related by marriage he sometimes acted like the two of you were his own kids. Which was only strengthened when you both moved in with him and Iris after your parents divorced. He taught you both how to run.

The chrysalis continued to dispel its energy onto the two of you. You and Wally were fading from existence, and Barry reached out to you, his hand passing through your shoulder. You kept running.

"It's no good Barry" You looked at Wally and took his hand in yours, "Artemis is so gonna kill me, and don't even get me started on Mom and Dad"

You and Wally shared a knowing look. Neither of you were going to make it out of this. The damage had already been done. So you kept running together.

"Just tell them okay," You said to Barry as you and Wally faded from time and space.

~~~

Nightwing could faintly hear Jaime talking, something both him and you knew to be his scarab.

"Cease? Cease what?" He yelled.

Before Nightwing could work up the courage to ask what he was talking about the chrysalis retreated and left behind a cloud of disrupted snow.

Dick started running towards where the chrysalis used to be and allowed the snow to settle.

When it finally did the team could only see two speedsters in the aftermath. Miss. Martian and Kaldur helped them up while both he and Artemis frantically looked around the open space.

"Wait. Where's Wally?" Artemis shouted before Dick could even think to string together a sentence.

"Artemis, Dick, they wanted me to tell you-" Artemis interrupted him with denial, "they loved you both"

Artemis fell to the ground, and Dick swayed a little before falling to his knees as well. He knew he should be crying, but nothing was coming out. All he could do was hold the hand you were holding minutes ago and stare and where you were just running.

~~~

Dick thought about that day a lot. He dreamt about it. He dreamed of everything he could have done to stop you or keep you from seeing Wally risk his life. In every scenario you ran anyway.

Everything reminded him of you, but for some reason places you went to together pulled him close and tortured his proximity with the memory of you.

Nightwing sat on the rooftop of your old apartment building in Blüdhaven where, when you lived there, he ended up spending most of his time. Now it was inhabited by a couple with a baby, and he imagined his life if you hadn't disappeared years earlier.

After a long while, he allowed himself to continue his patrol, and ended on his fire escape and let himself in. Flopping on his bed after shedding his suit and falling asleep immediately. He didn't even hear his Justice League comm going off.

~~~

A loud slamming knock woke him up from his sleep, and a quick glance at his alarm clock let him know he was only asleep for a couple hours.

The knocking on his door got more frantic very quickly and he silently hoped that his neighbors wouldn't report him for the noise.

Tim stood on the other side of the door in his civilian clothes looking a bit out of breath.

"Tim? Is everything okay?" Dick tried to take his arm to pull him inside but Tim's feet stayed planted firmly on the ground.

"No. We've been trying to reach you for hours. You need to come with me" His sentence was interrupted by his gasping for air.

"Okay Tim. Let me just get a shirt on and we'll go"

Soon they were off, and when he got to the ground floor he saw Alfred parked out front.

"Hello Master Dick"

"Hey Alfred, where are we going"

"I think Master Bruce is the better choice for an explanation"

The ride to a zeta tube was quiet with Tim glancing at him several times in the rearview mirror. When in the zeta tube Dick and Tim were transported to the Watchtower, and with still no idea of why he was being brought into space.

Everything that involved someone needing League help was quickly shot down by Tim being the one to get him.

Batman was standing at the zeta tube waiting for them, and for a split second Dick thought he should have been wearing his suit. Bruce took his arm and guided him to the med bay.

"Dick, I wouldn't have called you here if someone else could confirm this, but I think in this case you're the best one to do this"

"Wait, what am I even doing here, no one has explained anything to me" Dick stopped right in front of the emergency doors and made Bruce look at him.

"Dick, we think that Kid Flash and Red Rapid survived the chrysalis, and somehow made it back here. We received a distress call from the North Pole late yesterday, and we brought them back here" Bruce tried to calmly explain this to him without overwhelming him, but he wasn't sure there was a way to do that.

"So you're saying that they are behind those doors. You're saying that my best friend and my partner are behind those doors after we buried them years ago. Mourned them?" His voice cracked by the end of his small speech. Both Tim and Bruce put a hand on his shoulder, and allowed his tears to fall.

After a few minutes Dick wiped his face and prepared himself for seeing the two people he loved most in the world other than his family. A little push of the door revealed two hospital beds, one with the red-head who he called his best friend, and the other with his partner who was sound asleep, surely exhausted from whatever journey they had gone through to get back.

"Dick?" Wally's voice was almost a whisper and Dick walked over to his bed stopping just before he reached out to touch him.

Quickly Wally grabbed Dick's hand and pulled him into a warm embrace, "I missed you so much Wally. I missed you so much" again the tears began to flow.

"I missed you too man, can you call Arty please I miss her too" Dick pulled himself away from him and gave him a nod.

With a squeeze of Wally's shoulder he went out the doors and asked Tim to call Artemis, and was notified that she was already on her way.

Going back to tell Wally he told Dick, "Go to Y/n, they need you more than I do"

The moment he was dreading came. Still this was the moment he hoped for since the day of your death. He sat in the leather chair next to your bed and gently shook your shoulder. Your eyes fluttered open like they would if it was a movie and you looked into his gorgeous icy blue eyes.

"Hey, handsome, you come here often", the joke left your lips and immediately his lips were on yours. Your arms found your place around his neck and pulled him as close as humanly possible.

"Babe", another kiss to your forehead, and you slid over to make room for him on the bed where he happily sat and snuggled up close to you, "Things just haven't been the same without you"

"Tell me all about it honey, I want to know everything about you" You looked into his eyes and allowed your nose to touch his.

"Maybe later, I just want to hold you, and never let you go"

Your forehead pressed against his and you allowed yourself to relax. Soon you would discuss what you both experienced but right now, holding each other was enough.

~~~

After a lot of tests the League let both you and Wally leave the Watchtower as long as Dick and Artemis looked over you. On your way back to his apartment, where you agreed would be the best place for you to be, he wanted to make a quick stop.

You zeta'd to the Mount. Justice where the lights were dark, and Dick took your hand in his.

"Now I wanted to ask you a long time ago, but I figured we could start where we left off, you know with the romance stuff. Hit the lights Gar!"

The lights came on and the mountain came alive. Most everything was the way you left it, only newer appliances and a ton of renovations. Maybe if you squinted a few more holes in the wall.

As the fairy lights illuminated the walls, you couldn't help but feel a sense of nostalgia wash over you. The faces of the young heroes you trained, now grown into their own, the old Young Justice team, and your mentors were all gathered around. You looked to Dick to ask what was going on, but when you looked over you had to look to the ground where he was kneeling.

"I know we have a lot to talk about and work out, but there is no one who I would rather spend the rest of my life with", He met your eyes and opened the little box in his hands. A small shiny ring glimmered inside the velvet box, "would you do me the honor of being marrying me"

A couple of blinks and a second of silence later, "Yes! Of course I'll marry you", Suddenly Dick stood up and wrapped his arms around your waist and twirled you around in a circle. Once he set you down, he placed the ring on your finger and kissed your lips.

You dashed over to Wally, Bart, and Barry and gave them the biggest hugs. Barry held onto you for a long moment, despite seeing you very soon after you got to the Watchtower emotions were still high and he wanted to make sure you weren't going to dematerialize again.

You hugged all the kids, who were now young adults, and allowed your tears to flow down your cheeks. Though with the huge smile plastered on your face no one was confused about what you felt in this moment. You decided it was time to stand still for a little while.

~~~~~

Author's Note: The ring was in fact his mother's. I've read that some Romani people burn their loved ones belongings once they die but I think that they would give the rings to Dick to use as his own ~If anyone knows if this is true please let me know!

[lime-bloods]

I decided to take the plunge and look for responses to this update on Twitter, and was disappointed to find a lot of people expressing that they thought this episode was pointless trauma for trauma's sake, when I thought it communicated its point very effectively.

One of its main points of course is the truism that "recovery isn't linear". Vriska's echeladder at the end of the chapter symbolises this; not only does it include "regression roast" among its rungs, but it's the first echeladder thus far that Vriska has actually failed to complete by the end of the episode; Scratch expresses this point literally by shrinking Vriska down, reversing the literal growth Vriska has experienced over the course of page 666. Consequentially, the Doc Scratch chapter lacks any kind of catharsis at its conclusion, and as a result it does feel really awful to read, but the deliberate choice behind this is clear to see.

While cliches about the intricacies of recovery from trauma do not, in and of themselves, make for a particularly profound message, this chapter also more importantly gave us a clear vision of what Vriska needs to work on next in order to move on from this obstacle: her compulsion to constantly be acting, always moving forward, is in fact part of what holds her back.

This manifests itself most glaringly in Doc Scratch, who positions himself as an impulse that Vriska cannot ignore - echoing Hussie's commentary that "He's always there at the right moment to nudge people in the direction of doing the nasty thing [...] they already know they want to do." - with English removed from the picture, the threat Scratch poses is now simply the fleas he's left in Vriska's mind. No matter what she tries to "do over" within the Plot Point, the decisions she made in the past are still part of her life, and there's always the possibility that she will make decisions like those again. (there is nothing new in Paradox Space.) But from the beginning, Vriska's brash decisionmaking is also exactly what leads her into Scratch's parlor in the first place: she has an eternity in front of her to just spend time with the friends she's made amends with, if she wants to; but even when the challenge facing her is literally just growing and maturing as a person she tries to blaze ahead and take the quickest path through it. And Aradia foreshadows this in the first chapter when she warns that Vriska's attitude is defined by "direct acti0ns"; so long as she obsesses over cause and effect, the repeating patterns that shape her world and her life will always be in her blind spot. (Perhaps that's why she wears an infinity loop on her missing eye?)

This chapter also shakes things up in an important way by turning our understanding of Vriska's echeladder candle on its head. We've had the vague sense that it's been "burning down" to something since the first chapter, but with Gcatavros advising Vriska this week that she needs to slow down "sO YOU DON'T BURN OUT," it suddenly seems like the candle burning down isn't necessarily all a good thing. Her interaction with Scratch is filled with allusions to this; there's a "convenient timer" keeping track of Vriska's life in the Plot Point that she's not paying attention to because she's too busy looking forward, and he sees her off with a coded warning that her "Light" may soon run out just as it did when she was a child. Ultimately what this latest chapter has brought to the table is stakes; by demonstrating that it's still possible for Vriska to face losses on her journey through the inferno, we can no longer be so confident that the "Hell Tiers" have to be a straightforward "upgrade".

[shuinami]

Jess and Hobie: their defining strengths + their weaknesses

I had a thought about Hobie while I was writing, have been thinking about Jess for a while and then this post about Miguel came out and it made me kind of want to yap. I'll only talk about Hobie and Jessica here because I'm biased + Peter & Gwen have been talked about a lot + I linked a post about Miguel + Miles & Pav have simpler, more obvious flaws that basically come down to youthful naivety.

I also find it really interesting that their flaws are basically opposites, Hobie's comes from "inconsistency" whilst Jessica's comes from stubbornness. And again, both these flaws come from their greatest strengths.

TL;dr

Jess' defining strength is her resolve when it comes to fighting for what's right and tussling with destiny but it causes her to have a one-track mind, even if it comes to dedicating herself to something wrong (from being misguided).

Hobie's defining strength is his optimism (e.g. anarcho-communism) but the extreme difficulty of pursuing those ideals and the struggle against systems can bring that optimism to a breaking point, causing him to be inconsistent or, more directly, to give up.

I think people forget that Jessica's pregnancy is by design and not just a 'feature' of Jessica Drew as a character. She was deliberately chosen to be represented in this stage of her life and I think it is so important to her character, even if it's not in the traditional way that pregnancy is typically portrayed as in media.

I think her pregnancy shows the kind of person she is: most obviously, it's cold, hard evidence that she's a bamf who takes care of spidey business even while pregnant.

More importantly to me, though, there's an implication that, as her universe's one and only spidey, she has been the one to save the day and been the change she wishes to seek, effectively enough that she feels comfortable bringing a baby into the world.

Unlike someone like Peter, she does not make the choice between bringing her child to work with her or leaving them behind. She just has to do what she needs to do to make sure her kid is safe, there's no failing for her. During her pregnancy, it's always going to be a matter of life and death. Jess is well aware and, instead of shying away from action, she's just committed to not making those kinds of mistakes. To get over her losses. She's going to take charge of her own world's destiny as she has always done and she's going to make sure it's good.

Her strong allegiance to Miguel's ideas is her most glaring flaw to us as an audience because A. we're seeing things through Miles' eyes, she's standing in the way of him saving his father and B. we know that Miguel can't be right about canon events - we know they wouldn't make the movies as bleak as that.

Of course, taking a step back from our perspective, it's also a flaw because she is being antagonistic to a teenager as a grown adult. It might make her seem cold and harsh.

However, Jess was the one to vouch for Gwen, to take her in, even though Miguel didn't want her to and they could have left things up to the web of destiny. Jess trusts her own capabilities but she doesn't trust the world to be kind. She doesn't assume Gwen can handle things just because she can, either. On top of being sympathetic, I think her dedication to being the change she wishes to see is why she accepts Gwen as a student; she trusts that a young girl can make the world a better place too, it's not a thing where she wants to micromanage everything. She just wants to know the multiverse is in safe hands. That's her "great responsibility".

The only reason she is following the anti-Miles agenda is because Miles, as far as she and anybody else in-movie knows, is jeopardising the existence of every universe (insidiously via the holes). Maybe, in another position, say, a bright-eyed teen who mainly worried about high school and puppy love, she would be more willing to risk things, to see how it goes.

She's not in that position though. Her world that she felt confident she had the power to keep safe has been made uncertain. One day, it could just go poof, along with her baby, and she wouldn't be able to stop it in the moment. If she makes the right decision now, if she doesn't make a mistake, she can prevent it. It's understandable that she's going to do whatever it takes to prevent anomalies.

What was the canon event chosen to represent her?

Her version of the moment from "The Final Chapter".

It comes from a story that largely focuses on Peter's personal life before spiralling into action to make up for a mistake that has made Aunt May fatally ill. In the panel, Spider-Man is trapped under machinery with the cure - the thing that will absolve the mistake - just out of reach. As the lair is flooded, drowning is imminent.

Against all odds, though, Spider-Man pushes past what should have killed him and rises to the occasion, with the thoughts of saving Aunt May and refusing to have a repeat of Uncle Ben.

"I won't fail you. No matter what - I won't fail."

Jess has had to handle her own fate as well as her world's. Now that the multiverse is involved, it's not going to stop at her own universe. She has to stop this. She won't fail. As per the dialogue between her and Gwen in ATSV, she's made a mistake before (by getting too close to someone) but she tells Gwen "I got over it". Sounds so savage in the moment but she still gives Gwen a chance to make her own situation right before letting her get kicked off the team. Helping Gwen in spite of the anomaly would be a mistake if she couldn't handle this.

And when the Spot gets away and Miles enters the picture? The gloves come off. It's tempting fate at that point. Jess' no mistakes mindset pushes her to even prepare to roll up on a teenager.*

Her greatest strength is her resolve - I mean, hell, she doesn't let even pregnancy slow her down when it comes to saving the world - but it causes her to be stubborn and leads her down a misguided path.

*By the end of the film, she seems to be questioning Miguel's method, though. On top of the fact that BTSV is obviously going to end on a good note, I think Jess' fight against destiny is going to have her come around in the end as Miles is doing the same thing.

Onto Hobie:

I luv luv luv Hobie as much as everyone else, he's definitely my favourite but I feel he has his flaws too (which tend to make me love my faves more lol).

In fact, I think he says what they are when we first meet him, though they are veiled as jokes.

I find that the audience tends to position him as a perfect distillation of anarcho-communism at its best. I think the teen spideys see him in a similar light; they see him as effortlessly cool & charismatic, a wise mentor figure ("use your palms" + his play fighting with Pavitr featured him taking on the stance of a boxing trainer as Pavitr tried to punch his palms) but he's not like the adult adults - he's relatable, he's cool, he's anarchist, he's not always on their case like Jess and Miguel.

He neither calls himself a hero nor a role model... but he is the perfect hero and role model, right? He's the best! He's the only one who's looking out for Miles and, when Miles is getting chased down by the entire society, what does he do?

He... quits.

Wouldn't that perfect hero we all believe him to be swoop in with his cape, know exactly what to do and save Miles, the underdog? He can't have possibly known Miles would manage against the society and, if he knew it was possible, then why wouldn't he lend a hand? He didn't drop off the watch in Miles' dimension, he gave one to his bestie, Gwen, likely in the scenario that she wanted to quit or got booted because 'it [didn't] work out'.**

I think Hobie's major flaw is his lack of consistency, as he famously said himself.

He has a strong moral code - he believes in the right things for the right reasons... but communism and anarchy are pretty much impossible to properly/entirely employ in a system that is consumerist, capitalist and authoritarian. He riots, he fights, but it's never over. London isn't free. In my experience, people with strong moral compasses tend to have issues with themselves because they hold others to higher standards than most and hold themselves to even higher and impossible standards (think Diane from Bojack Horseman).

One of the first comic panels I encountered of Hobie was him getting real with Captain Anarchy about losing morale because, despite killing President Ozzy Osborne, the face of fascism in his dystopia, nothing changes. He wasn't able to save the world like a hero in a movie or like a proper role model. He 'failed'. When you give your everything and nothing changes, no matter how optimistic, clever or read-up on theory you are, it can be hard to keep going.

And what is chosen as his defining canon event?

His version of Spider-Man quitting in "Spider-Man No More". Rather than being fed up with the world antagonising him as 616 is, Hobie is done with an antagonistic world.

The Hobie/Spider-Punk that has been built up externally, as far as I understand, would never give up. He'd keep raging forever and ever because that's the cool thing to do, because it's the heroic thing to do - because it's the right thing to do.

But under the mask, he's just a teenager, imperfect as any other.

He's still a Spider-Man too. Before the bite, he was another lanky black boy in racist-af, peak National Front, send-the-blacks-and-the-Asians-back, '70s England. He's a nerd, as evidenced by his ability to build such a high-tech watch, especially as a teenager who wouldn't have had access to anything like it until joining the society, meaning he had to pick it up quick. And I'm to think he didn't have any Flash-esque characters in his life? "Come out of it."

As Spider-Man with the mask on, he yells to the rooftops; as Hobie with the mask off, he mumbles and whispers. Sure he looks cool now but people don't tend to come out of the womb as Spider-Punk. On top of that, he's still so young and surely has plenty of room to grow.

I believe he joined the society in earnest, optimistic that he could help the multiverse but eventually reached his limits with actively facilitating death and trauma, with saving the multiverse not meaning freedom in his own universe, with being shackled to the web of destiny. I'm not convinced he made the watch in one day; I think he had been planning on quitting for some time and was waiting for the right moment (as he also wanted to support Gwen because friendship is important to him). That's why he tries to dissuade Miles from joining but, when he does leave, he doesn't go out in a riot, he doesn't even leave knowing that Miles has people on his side other than him. Hobie just quits.

I think his greatest strength is his optimism (his anarcho-communism & adamance about "love, joy and freedom" as per the un-permitted performance art pieces in his montage) but he's smart and he's been through shit - he isn't naive like Pavitr or Miles - the great heights of that optimism lead to intensely low lows.

**(I don't really see why or how he would have been able to predict everything that happened in the chase. I know that the watch is set to 1610 but if Hobie believed Miles would make it out of 928 and get back to 1610, would that not be things 'working out'? Or did he predict that he would get to the go-home machine but was the only one who considered that he would be sent to the place his spider came from. Why? And why wouldn't he set the watch to 42 if he knew Miles wouldn't be in 1610? I feel like the 1610 on the interface is just there to be there and that Hobie gave Gwen the watch so she could have the freedom to leave 65 if she wanted to, in the event that she quit the society because they captured Miles or because Miguel kicked her out as Jess kept warning.)

[lxmelle]

Geto Complex / Suguru Complex

Reposting from my Twt 😅 I need to stop blabbing in different places.

Out of the numerous things Gojo could have developed a complex about (like almost dying, feeling alienated/sheltered, etc.), it was that he “couldn’t stop” Geto from defecting.

This is interesting. He did not blame Geto or anyone / anything else. We know he was a “resigned person” who could accept things rationally / objectively, but Geto’s defection really hit him harder than anything ever did in his entire life.

While he could accept his departure & even the necessity of his death, Gojo carried this relationship in the pocket of his heart like the one & only treasured photograph within a precious locket. Geto’s pain was his own. He guarded it very, very well. In fact I’d even call him a bit of a guard dog where he just didn’t let anyone into that space. At all.

This is also why I respect him as a teacher. Some lines you just don’t cross professionally. His students were his students. The relationship chart thankfully depicts that too. It doesn’t cheapen the quality of their student-mentor relationship: it strengthens it. Gojo would never lay his hands on the youth that he was determined to protect, after all.

He took onboard a lot from Geto. These boundaries and respect were birthed from the things he experienced with Geto. But! Some things were just natural to Gojo.

As much as he said he hated righteousness and the expectations that came along with the burden of “the strong” - Gojo actually practice it. From a young age, going on missions and doing what was loosely expected of him, within the parameters of the jujutsu tradition. He just… didn’t imbue it with too much emotion - because, again, Geto was the subjective (compassionate and emotional / philosophical) type and Gojo was the objective (rational and pragmatic / straightforward) type.

It seems aligned with his character shown in HI where Gojo took on the “blame” when things went wrong too, shielding Geto when he apologised & made plans to proceed with their mission (this is how they balanced each other out when their relationship was healthy) - staying focused and generally being reliable, dependable, and offering an aura of security to Geto.

The subtle undercurrent that likely facilitated the Geto complex was that, young Gojo had this attitude where he also readily accepted that “things are just mine if I want”. He was powerful. Never experienced insecurity or poverty. He was a genius. He never had close relationships, so he never knew loss. He never particularly wanted anything and people came and went easily. Nobody really mattered.

But nobody could hold a candle to Geto Suguru. Gojo didn’t realise that there were some things that he needed to look after.

So with this attitude he didn’t imagine he needed to treasure Geto after enlightening, so I think he realised that too late. He didn’t realise he was thinking arrogantly. He just had no idea he took anything for granted. He was born to just be strong. Everyone treated him that way.

Except: Geto Suguru.

That’s why he had a Geto complex... he blamed himself (like always) but it was a painful lesson he experienced for the first time -

To want something he cannot have.

To want to save someone who didn’t want to be saved.

To want to be with someone who didn’t want him to come along.

To love someone who did not want to be loved.

To learn something only for it to be too late.

To be strong, yet, not strong enough.

So what else could Gojo Satoru do with his love, but to love and respect Geto from afar, living in a way that would make Geto proud…

Isn’t that profound?

To let someone change you so much because that is all that is left of them- so he treasured him like that...

And perhaps, also important, is that Gojo recognised that what he had received (and was receiving even when being left behind) was love.

So, really… the pure love between them was also undeniably shared.

If Gojo had a Geto complex, I’m certain Geto had a Gojo complex of some kind where he never forgave himself, wore the kesa with his best friend’s name on it & brainwashed himself with “love to the strong” & “weak & foolish deserve to be punished by death” (these were the wall scrolls in jjk 0).

[aemonds-sapphire]

Weakness

Summary: Aemond can’t afford to care about you. Life has long taught him that he’s underserving of such feelings. It’s safer this way. Right?

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort. Mentions of blood and neglect/abuse. Aemond’s POV.

A/N: I’ve been wanting to explore Aemond’s mind for a while now. From his POV. This feels very personal and even though it’s somewhat different from what I usually write, I hope you can still connect to Aemond somehow and that this feels true to his character.

Word count: 1k

Aemond knew the pits of rejection far too well. It had become second nature to him. It consumed him whole and it had morphed into something way darker as he grew older.

He was certain that if there was driving force behind his thirst for revenge then that the fear of abandonment was the root of it all.

Feelings were doorways to suffering. However, Aemond had learnt long ago that some doors are better left shut. Allowing himself to care for someone was a weakness he simply could not afford.

It was a nuisance.

A dangerous one.

Slowly, he lifted one hand and brought the pads of his fingers to trace the rough edges of the scar that ran across his face.

A painful reminder.

No. Just a reminder.

Pain had forsaken his thoughts. He had made sure it stayed that way.

His body was now a reminder of what happens when one allows feelings to overcome reason.

He was a vessel of hatred and revenge, fully committed to having thise who had wronged him pay for it.

Even his beloved mother had forsaken the idea of changing his mind, devoting herself to praying for him in the hopes that some invisible force might rein him in.

He had several cuts across his face from the practice he shared with Criston Cole earlier that day. Aemond made him swear he would not hold back and he complied, unleashing all the swordsmanship knowledge he possessed.

Flesh heals and these were evident wounds that he was still not as skilled as he had hoped.

In truth, he could always ask you to aid him, but the mere thought of having you so close made his stomach turn.

No matter how strong someone was. How well trained they were. How disciplined their mind was. There came a time when something — or rather someone — slippped through the cracks and managed to become a weakness.

Much like the sun insisted on shining through the curtains of his bedchamber. Or much like the drops of blood that eventually found their way down his face and were as tears.

You were a weakness he couldn’t afford.

Deep down, in the depths of his heart, Aemond feared that he was not enough.

That he was broken beyond repair and no one wanted to be left with having to fix both his body and his mind. He utterly feared that if you turned him down it would awaken something darker inside him. That he would feel as small and insignificant as he did when he was younger.

When they all laughed.

When he lost his eye.

When his father demanded no justice for his loss and was willing to have him questioned for the depravities of others.

Aemond Targaryen was ten years of age when he realised he was but an afterthought on his father’s mind. Someone who was supposed to love and care for him unconditionally, saw him as an insignificance.

He could feel another bloody droplet streaming down his face, prickling the skin along the way.

Unconsciously, he brushed it clean before examining the red stain tainting the pad of his thumb.

It was the closest thing he had to tears these days.

He no longer cried. There were days the flames of hatred raged deeply within him, but it was never enough to bring him to tears as before.

Aemond had far better control of his mind now that he was older and wiser.

Truth be told, he didn’t mind that at all.

And he’d rather have it this way.

Suddenly, there was a faint knock on the the door.

It was you.

“Aemond… can I come in?”

He wanted to say no. He needed to say no.

His body had become so numb to physical pain that he only realised he was gripping his knees too tightly when he saw his knuckles turn white.

Another knock. “Aemond…”

“Leave,” he firmly said.

“Do not push me away.”

He had to.

“Please,” your voice was but a whisper, but it was enough to cause his heart rate to quicken. “Your... wounds… I can help.”

He scoffed. You really had no idea that his fixing was beyond skin-deep. That was why he couldn’t stand being near you anymore. You triggered so many feelings within him.

Feelings were weaknesses.

You were a weakness.

He couldn’t afford having one.

He had promised himself that he would be a good son to his mother, a good brother to his sister Helaena and brother Daeron, and that he would tolerate Aegon. But that was as far as his courtesy would extend.

Aemond cared not for others.

Or so he tried to convince himself.

You.

He cursed you for haunting his thoughts. He cursed you for being you and for being so... 

“I do not need your help. Leave.”

His words betrayed his heart, but he was used to it.

The doorknob rattled briefly. “I’m not scared of you.”

You should be. He could easily burn you to the ground if you kept on pushing him.

With one swift motion, the door swung open.

There you were.

The newfound source of his turmoil, standing quietly and determined to defy him.

Aemond briefly considered demanding you to leave at once, displaying the unpleasant side him that he had honed over the years.

However, surely enough, the moment you started pacing towards him and knelt at his feet with that loving face of yours resting on his thighs, he knew he had no will left in him to push you away.

“Good morning, dragon,” you taunted him in a low voice, offering him the sweetest smile.

A smile he most certainly did not deserve.

“Hmm,” he mumbled as he allowed his hand reach your cheek.

You immediately closed your eyes, welcoming his touch.

“Let me help you,” you said after a moment, brushing your lips across the palm of his hand. “Please…”

Help? Did you even know what that proposition entailed?

Before he could measure his words, Aemond spoke, “Help with what?”

You opened your eyes and kept them locked with his.

“Fixing you.”

[vintagehellfire]

Life Eternal | E.M

summary: You'd promised each other your souls forever, that you'd be with each other forever...

warnings: angst, hurt/no comfort, grief, major character death, graves, death, no seriously there is no comfort... okay maybe mayyyyyybe if you squint, but tbh just pure hurt, based on Life Eternal by Ghost

18+ MDNI

There was no denying the pain that came with having someone ripped from you far too soon, but what was worse was being unable even to have one last goodbye, being unable to see their face one last time before their soul departed from their body and before the rot settled in. There was something akin to a knife being driven through one's chest repeatedly when the devastating news of a loved one taking their last breath was delivered, and it was made much worse when the two parties touched each other’s souls in a way that no other had been able to. 

Tears fell onto the dampened earth, the lot still fresh, disturbed. The cold granite of the headstone felt glacial and yet unreal. It was a physical manifestation of devastation and yet its existence felt completely ersatz. Not only because the stone was clean for the most part - barring the red spray paint that refused to be removed, another permanent mark on the memories of that which is lost - but also because stuck out like a sore thumb in the old and run-down cemetery, a symbol of the young loss. 

Sobs wracked your body and your breathing uneven, but how could it ever be even again? It wouldn’t be, not as you sat at your kitchen table to receive the news, not as you received the devastating emotional blow of finding out that there wasn’t a body to be recovered, and not when you were in front of his grave, knowing that he wasn’t even beneath the earth below your feet. How nobody was able to find him left your mouth drier than the Sahara - you weren’t able to hold his hand one last time, no matter how cold they would be, unable to see his button nose or hug his dying body to you as you lost him for what felt like the second time in the span of a week. You choked on your breath for what was probably the hundredth time, the hundredth time you breathed your soul out through earth-shattering devastation. 

With nobody but the sodden cemetery ground to turn to, you fisted the earth and let out a heart-shattering sob into the open air, nobody to hear you or to console you through the pain. The one person you wanted most was the one person you would never see again. The lump in your throat silenced your voice, vocal cords worn thin from the sleepless nights that you sobbed into the infamous Hellfire shirt he wore. His scent was quickly fading from it and once you had realised that you were left an even bigger wreck than you could have imagined - the last tether to him slowly fraying, the last little fibres unravelling themselves in tune to your own emotional demise. 

Your whole body shook with anger and heartbreak - you wanted to get out of this god-forsaken town, but he haunted you and this cursed place was the only thing keeping him alive. You could swear that you’d feel his hands on your shoulders while you tried to cook - the first time it happened, you called his name before the sensation disappeared into thin air, leaving you heaving for oxygen. Your food was forgotten and left to burn while your wails carried through your apartment and your eyes stung from the tears. That night you sobbed until there was no longer any breath left in your lungs, until the walls of your home felt cold and unwelcoming. 

The second time it happened, you were walking past the arcade and you could have sworn you felt his hands on your hips and a laughter-filled call of your name. That time you spun around so quickly you nearly lost your balance, head whipping around to see who it was behind you, but his voice haunted you and so you pushed past everyone in your way, trying to hold yourself together enough to break down the moment you reached your car. You didn’t make it and instead, you found yourself sitting by your car’s front tire as you bawled, your body wracked with tremors. They felt never-ending – the tremors – terrorising you when you would least expect them. You longed for his arms around you again, to hear his laugh, to dance with him in your little kitchen as you did on the first night you had moved into your place. The memory only served as a painful reminder of that which you no longer had. Your body had memorised the way he held you to him, his quivering voice that told you that you’d touched his soul forever before leaning in for the most gentle kiss. The way his kiss seared into your skin was like a burn that would flare up when you least expected it, and it was clear that he too had touched your soul in a more permanent way than you had ever expected him to. 

“Eddie…” You sniffled, managing to find the capacity to croak out his name for the first time in months but the assault of tears that came immediately after you breathed life back into his name was too painful, your chest seizing, lungs collapsing on themselves as if you’d just been plummeted a thousand leagues under the dark ocean. Your life certainly felt much darker with him gone. You longed for him, even while he was around, you longed to spend time in his arms, to hear him ramble about his campaigns, about his little sheep, but now that he was gone you couldn’t help but yearn for all that you used to have with him. 

It had been months of this, of showing up to his gravestone and having to clean it from the obscenities that adorned it, a painful reminder of how little love he received for how much of it he had in his heart. You spent agonising hours scrubbing the red paint off with cleaning products and salty tears, leaving flowers and letters to him in hopes that they would somehow reach him on the other side, and yet with each passing day, the fire that lit your soul grew darker, and the yearning only grew stronger. Your jaw was in a state of constant pain from how much you were trying to hold yourself together, clenching it in both your waking hours and the moment sleep consumed you, trying to keep your very being from shattering. 

“Can you hear me say your name? Can you see me longing for you?” Your voice was hoarse, unused for far too long. You barely recognised it yourself, as if it was a third party speaking for you, projecting your thoughts for you. The moment you realised you had spoken, another wave hit you, knocking you down further than you had been before. You dug your hands into the graveyard dirt and let out a shaky breath, unable to fathom the reality that wrapped itself like a noose around your neck, slowly suffocating you. You wanted nothing more than to scream but the cry never came - your last breath was spent, it seemed, and all you could muster was a weak whimper. How could he be gone? You wondered to yourself, unable to come to terms with the devastating passing of your boyfriend. You refused to believe it, the lack of a body, he couldn’t be gone, could he? But as the days passed, your hope dwindled, and you had to resign yourself to the reality that he was gone. You had to just let go… Or so everyone seemed to preach. 

The promises you both whispered to each other in the dead of night, when the witching hour struck, and you had nothing but each other, haunted you. Sometimes you swore that you could hear whispers of his voice when you couldn’t fall asleep but ultimately it was most likely your delirious conscience that plagued you, making you hear things in the dead of night. 

“You promised…” Your sobs wracked your body, shuddering the more you tried to contain your tears, your voice completely breaking as you let go of the last ounce of strength that held you together. Your mind wandered to the sweet nothings that Eddie would shower you with, and that is what they amounted to in the end, wasn’t it? Nothing. With him gone, you didn’t have any options but to let go of those feelings, those sweet words, those promises of being yours forever. His romantic monologues and ramblings of being yours forever, and if death chose to do you part, how he’d find your soul once again from the afterlife, you had to let them go for they found themselves amounting to nothing. Death did you part, except it didn’t take you as well. 

You danced slowly in the candlelight, your hand on his shoulder, his on your waist, and his soft lips right beside your ear. He pulled you close to his body and while he was warm, his hands were cold against yours, as if he’d just come in from a cold winter’s night, but all he had done was share a joint with you, something that loosened you both up after your long day. His wild curls tickled your soft face and you giggled at some ridiculous line he was feeding you but soon the suave facade fell and his voice dropped to a low murmur. 

“Sweetheart, I love you.” His voice rattled, rattled like old windows in a summer storm, sturdy, protective, and yet stable, protecting that on the inside. “I would rip the heavens apart to find you again. I’d search for you in the afterlife if it meant I could be with you in lifetimes to come.” And while this sounded like standard Munson drivel, there was a certain intonation that inclined you to believe him. 

“I don’t think God would be too happy with you, Munson, nor the devil himself for that matter.” You tried to joke with him but it fell on deaf ears. Eddie was unrelenting with his honesty. His voice was earnest and thick with emotion when he answered you, a conviction you’d never heard before lacing itself into every word. 

“I don’t care, sweetheart, I’d fight Gods and devils alike… I’d fight Satan himself for you if it meant getting to be with you in the next life.” You couldn’t do anything but hold him closer in this moment, your words dying on your tongue. How were you to answer him when his emotions were so raw? How could you even muster up something as eloquent to say to him when he opened his heart up to you in such a vulnerable way?

“I’d raise armies to rip hell apart to find you, Eddie. I’d be longing for you forever…” You whispered to him as you both slowly danced together, the candles flickering softly, illuminating both your features in a warm glow - there was nothing more beautiful than the love you both shared, nothing more pure. 

Your forehead fell to the dank earth, lungs set ablaze by your dry heaving. You couldn’t find it in you to make this the moment you just let it go. Your soul called out for him as you longed painfully for his touch, his soft words of reassurance, but you wouldn’t get them, never again. The most you had was the little love notes he left you, his DnD notebooks… There wasn’t all too much that was left of your boyfriend, and you cherished every last thing that you had in your possession. He had touched your soul forever, whether he knew it or not. 

Your eyes burned painfully as sobs tore through your raw throat, your fingers digging further into the fresh dirt of the uprooted grave. The further you stuck your hands in, the more you prayed you’d hit something, anything, but you never would. Your hands would grow cold, and there would be a story in your heart - yours and Eddie’s - but your hands would never again find his body, never again hold him to you. They would never run through his tangled curls, or feel the plush of his lips, no, instead they’d feel the humidity seep into their bones and devour them from the inside out the longer you kept them buried, and the dirt would surely cake your fingernails to the point you wouldn’t be able to get it out from underneath them. The scent of petrichor would overtake the smell of weed, cigarettes, and his cheap musky cologne. You’d never feel his callouses graze across your soft skin again, and that small detail, the one that made Eddie so… so him, would in a year escape you, fading into nothingness as you were forced to let go of him. 

You wanted to dance with him once again, to feel the chill of his long fingers against yours but that was something that wouldn’t ever come back. Not even in the ghostings of touches, the whispers and bumps that came in the night. No matter how much those moments shattered you, no matter how much pain they brought on, the most painful would be the moment you forget the feeling of his lips or the way his hands splayed across the small of your back - those moments would disappear one day… or one day until someone came along that made you remember it, and that day would be one that would make every other touch but Eddie’s feel wrong. Nobody would have the honour to touch you in the same ways as he did. 

As you bawled into the graveyard dirt, you could have sworn there was a weight on your upper back and while it wasn’t pushing you into the dirt itself, it might as well have been. Part of you hoped it would be Eddie’s arm around you but when you turned, your body was violently assaulted by an onslaught of sobs at the realisation that your boyfriend wasn’t there to hold you while you cried. You were choking on each short breath, unable to calm yourself down. The one time you needed him more than anyone, he wasn’t present. 

I’m here. Just breathe, sweetheart, thassit, I’ve got you. 

There was something so off about the whole situation, about how clinically everything was treated, about how none of his “friends” seemed to show up. The funeral was quick and dirty, arranged by Wayne and yourself in the best way you both knew and after everything was said and done, you hid away, isolating yourself from the world itself. You barely left the house. The only time you breathed the fresh Hawkins air was when you went to visit his grave or the once-a-month trip to get groceries. You should have gone to see Wayne but he reminded you too much of everything that was ripped away from you and while you yearned to visit the man and sit down with him, to speak Eddie back into existence through memories and laughter, you couldn’t bring yourself to do so. You couldn’t bring yourself to break your heart over and over again even though you knew that in some capacity you both needed each other in order to sew together your broken hearts. 

“P-please Eds…” You choked out, your emotions were getting away from you, the more you thought about it, about him, the more you felt like you lost your family. He was your rock, the love of your life, in your own ways you’d sworn yourselves over to each other, sworn yourselves to life eternal with one another, and so having him ripped from you so suddenly left a dark pit in your chest, deeper than the ninth circle of hell would ever reach. You didn’t think it would have been possible for 

I’m right here with you, sweetheart.

The wind blew colder and you shivered, but you didn’t dare move, not an inch, because it meant moving from the grave you’d come to memorise - your muscles, your fingers, your heart, even your nose, all of you had come to memorise his grave - it was ingrained in you, and the epitaph was one that burned across your vision every single time your eyes closed – another ghost haunting you as you tried desperately to soothe your aching heart. People who say breakups would be easier are liars, you decided in this moment. 

They’re not… I promise you they’re not easy. At least nobody can compete with the dead.

They’d be easier because maybe on the off chance you’d get to have the person in your life, in your heart, you wouldn’t lose all the meaningful quirks the person had, you wouldn’t forget them in due time. You wouldn’t have a dead-end trail left of them, and yet… and yet it wouldn’t be easy either. Part of you wished you could have been the one to see the light disappear from his eyes, to have this confirmation of his departure from the mortal realm, another part of you didn’t even want to think of the darkness taking over his eyes, the reflection of the light fading to nothing, his breath stopping, and his brain giving out. You simultaneously wanted and did not want to be the one to witness his last breath, you did and didn’t want to be the one to watch the light behind his eyes disappear as he croaked, you did and did not want him gone because you weren’t sure which would wind up being easier to deal with. 

Neither would be easy, sweetheart.

“I wish you were here, Eds.” You sniffled the moment your sobs slowed, your body taking too much stock into keeping you alive and warm. You had exhausted yourself and cried every last tear you had in you for today, leaving a dry husk - a shell of a human – until tomorrow when you’d replenished your tear ducks.  

I’m right here with you always. I’m not going anywhere, I promised you that not even death could do us part.A cold gust of air pushed your hair from your face and you couldn’t contain your shiver, the cold was becoming as unbearable as your boyfriend’s passing, every waking hour haunted by memories of him, every corner of Hawkins harbouring his ghost, and every unconscious moment plagued by nightmares of his last moments, twisting memories, contorting them into grotesque scenes of abject horror. With a deep breath, you pushed yourself up to your knees and swallowed down any emotions you had, bringing your soiled sleeve to your face and wiping away the tears that threatened to spill. You were sure you looked like you had just crawled out of the grave due to the amount of dirt that caked your body and yet you couldn’t bring yourself to care, not when he was gone.

With a shaky breath, you leaned over and kissed his gravestone, your eyes fluttering shut, and at that moment you swore you heard his voice calling to you, you swore you felt the warmth of his hand on your puffy cheek, his thumb brushing across the damp valley of your eye. You kept your eyes shut for just a moment longer, longing to feel this small moment of reprieve despite the fact that it probably did far more harm than it did good. 

“I’m with you always, sweetheart.” Your eyes snapped open and your head dropped against the headstone, lip trembling as you tried to bite into it from the inside of your mouth - you couldn’t stop the heavy squeezing around your heart nor the feeling of a dark pit opening itself up in your stomach. When you lost your boyfriend a chasm had ripped itself through your chest, leaving you empty and numb to everything but the onslaught of pain that each waking moment brought you. Each waking moment was plagued with the knowledge that Eddie was gone before you were even aware of it. You hadn’t even been in town when the manhunt had begun, having been away to visit your mother’s side of the family, only to come home to find out he was in hiding - ripped away from you once, then twice. 

The fresh torrential downpour of tears was unexpected but they kept you at his grave, they kept you closer to him, they kept him alive even by some fucked up means. If crying for him meant that his memory was kept alive then you’d cry for him into the next lifetime, and while you thought you’d cried them all away, it seemed that neither love nor grief had limits.

tags: @munson-blurbs @rip-quizilla @the-unforgivenn @littlesubbyflower @hellfire--cult

[temptingfatetakingnames]

The Last Steve Harrington Part 17

AO3 / Part 1 / Part 16

Months passed and Steve fell into a routine. He worked three days a week at Family Video with Robin, spent time with the kids and the Hopper-Byers,’ and slowly – slowly started living again.

He wouldn’t say he was happy.

But…

He wasn’t unhappy and that was new.

He liked working with Robin and every chance he got he went to the lake and swam. He borrowed Joyce or Hopper’s car and drove for miles and miles, listening to music and just…being. Every penny he made at work went towards buying his own car. A beamer would be out of his budget but he would find something good and durable. He was fit and healthy and even though he still had nightmares he managed to sleep most nights, even if it was just a little. Late night walks were still a common occurrence, as were morning coffee conversations with Hopper as they watched the sun rise. On Sundays they watched football and sometimes Eleven joined them. On the nights he wasn’t working, he and Joyce made dinner together.

The kids invited him to the movies and the arcade and Dustin had started asking him to play D&D with them. He had managed to deflect that for now. D&D was something precious to him, something he had played to make Eds happy but had turned into a way to bond with the kids and Hellfire. Steve knew it could do the same for him here… but he wasn’t sure how he felt about that. So, deflection… for now anyway.

Another Eleven visited. They had all just sat down for dinner when a knock sounded at the door. Joyce had gone to answer it and had come back wide-eyed with Eleven trailing her into the house. She looked identical to the Eleven sitting at the table, sharing her colourful clothes and hair. They had stared at each other hard, some secret communication passing between them before she turned to Steve with a beaming smile.

She sat beside him and held his hand and he didn’t let go. It didn’t matter how hard it was to eat one handed, he didn’t let go. They ate and talked, Eleven telling him about her Steve and Steve telling her about himself and his life. When dinner was over, he walked her out and she said the words that every visiting Eleven said: Thank you. I am so glad you lived. He hugged her and told her he loved her and that everything was going to be okay. She left with tears in her eyes and a smile on her face.

Eddie liked to stop by Family Video to see him and Robin and the three of them hung out fairly often on weekends. When they had time, he and Eddie worked on fixing the old Munson trailer. Eddie had seemed pleasantly surprised that Steve hadn’t been joking when he said they should try. They borrowed tools from Hopper and Wayne and started clearing everything out. It was a large project and often they had no idea what they were doing but it was something tangible for Steve to work toward. A small purpose that quickly became one of his favourite days of the week.

The thing was…

Eddie was clumsy… and not your average person clumsy.

Clumsy.

The man tripped over literally everything. Carpets, street curbs, his own damn feet. And he didn’t just trip a little and catch himself. Oh no, he fell flat on his face, sprawled on the floor. It never failed to make Steve laugh – the over-the-top dramatic nature of it. If he didn’t know better, he might think Eddie was doing it on purpose. But that was just how Eddie was, loud and dramatic and over-the-top. He and Eds’ were similar in that way. Both were exuberant playful people, but there was a calculation behind Eddie’s eyes that Eds’ had lacked. A darkness… or a wisdom. Something that spoke of loss and survival that Steve recognized in his own eyes. An understanding that scared him… and thrilled him.

He knew Robin tried. They all tried. But their understanding came from the loss of Steve Harrington, whose ghost lived in their eyes… and sometimes it hurt to face them. There was a reason he struggled so hard to connect with Dustin. Steve never expected that he would become so comfortable with Eddie, but he was. Eddie wasn’t Eds and Steve wasn’t Steve and he didn’t know why, but the ghosts left them alone.

Eddie never seemed to mind the days when Steve was quiet. When he needed to hit nails with a hammer until all other thoughts disappeared, when he was angry and destructive. They made a few trips to the junkyard on the particularly bad days. Steve spent the time destroying whatever he could get his hands on and Eddie looked for materials they could use for the trailer. He was good at scavenging – at finding useful things that others had deemed useless and thrown away.

And so, the summer passed.

The kids went back to school and the house got quieter. Steve worked at Family Video and put all his earnings towards a car. He spent time with his friends and worked on rebuilding the Munson trailer. He cooked with Joyce and watched football on Sundays…

… and the good days slowly started to outweigh the bad days.

---

“Steve!”

He was sitting on the roof, the strong September sunlight hitting the back of his neck as he hammered nails into the plywood beneath him. He and Eddie were trying to get the trailer patched up enough to get them through the winter. They had spent the majority of their time cleaning out the inside and had only just started on the infrastructure. Eddie had been working on putting in a new frame for the wall while Steve worked on the roof. There was still so much to do –

“Steve!”

His hammer almost slipped out of his fingers as he was jolted from his thoughts. He leaned over the side, shielding his eyes from the sun with his hand. Eddie was looking up at him, hands on his hips. His shirt was off, his usually pale skin was red and shining with sweat. Steve sighed. He would have to remind him to use more sunscreen. His eyes glanced down his torso, his scars and tattoos on display and Steve wished he had even an ounce of Eddie’s self-confidence. It never failed to surprise him; how much Eddie didn’t seem to care about them. Or didn’t seem to care about other people caring about them?

“What?” Steve asked, looking away before Eddie caught him ogling.

“Dude, I’ve been calling your name for ten minutes. What’re ya doing up there?”

“Shit, sorry. Just focused, I guess. I want to get this done.”

“You’ve been nailing for hours, come down and have dinner.”

“You made dinner?” Steve asked incredulously. He must have been really zoned out if he hadn’t noticed Eddie had left for that long. He was also surprised that Eddie knew how to cook.  

Eddie laughed. “Fuck no. Wayne made dinner.”

“What’d he make?”

“Fish. Caught it fresh yesterday.”

Steve immediately set his hammer down. Oh yes. He would stop working for Wayne’s fish. His pasta? No. His meatloaf? Steve suppressed a shudder. Defintiely not. But his fish?

Yes.

He carefully made his way to the side where a ladder was set up against the trailer. He turned around and put his feet on the top rung and started climbing down. He wasn’t expecting Eddie to be at the bottom holding it steady for him. When he got close to the end, Eddie stepped away to give him space but still held onto one side of the ladder. Their faces passed close, and Steve could see that his cheeks were even redder than before. He definitely needed to use more sunscreen.  

“Thanks,” Steve said with a smile.

“Yup,” Eddie said looking away from him. “No problem. Happy to help. You really shouldn’t climb a ladder without someone holding it, ya know? You could fall and die. Or break your back and be paralyzed for life. Safety first, Steve.”

Steve looked up at the trailer, it was maybe 12-15 feet high. If he fell the worst thing that could happen was him breaking a leg. If he had bad luck and fell on it wrong. Eddie wasn’t allowed on the roof because he would definitely fall off and break his leg or die or be paralyzed for life – he was that clumsy… or that unlucky. But Steve appreciated the concern.

They walked through the park, waving and saying hello to the other residents as Eddie kept up a constant stream of chatter at his side. When they got to the new Munson trailer, Eddie skipped up the steps first and then held the door open for Steve, which earned him a snort and a side eye that just made him smile. Wayne was in the kitchen and Steve’s stomach growled as the smell hit his nose.

“Wash up boys,” Wayne said without turning around.

The bathroom was small and they were both hot and sweaty. Eddie turned on the water at the sink and let it run as he washed his hands. Steve reached in beside him with cupped hands and splashed the water on his face and neck.

“Hey!” Eddie yelped as some of it hit him.

He was about to apologize when Eddie turned his hand sharply, sending a blast of water directly into his face. Steve spluttered for a moment before glaring over at him. Eddie was smirking, probably thinking Steve wouldn’t start something in Wayne’s bathroom. Oh, how wrong he was.

“It’s on, Munson!”

“Show me what ya got, Harrington!”

Eddie had the advantage of having his hands already in the sink, so he got off another shot before Steve managed to slip under his defenses and get his own hands on the frigid water. Eddie shrieked as Steve landed a hit on his bare chest. They grappled over control of the water source, getting progressively wetter as the battle raged, their laughter sounding loud in the small room.

“Boys!” Wayne yelled.

They stopped abruptly and moved out of each other’s space, breaths ragged and water dripping from their hair. Steve grabbed a towel and passed it to Eddie before grabbing one for himself. They smiled softly at each other as they dried off. Steve put his towel on the floor by the sink to soak up the water and they left.

Wayne glared as they re-entered the kitchen and Steve felt heat rise on his neck. It was easy to forget that this Wayne didn’t know him. At least he had the foresight to know that his gruff exterior hid a truly sensitive man. Steve had been absolutely terrified of Wayne when he and Eds had started dating but he had quickly become someone he loved and trusted. Now, they were almost strangers again. Eddie left the room, returning with his arms above his head as he put on a black sleeveless shirt, the muscles in his abdomen pulling taught.

“Steve, go sit. Eddie, set the table.”

They both did what they were told. Steve sat and Eddie moved around Wayne with ease, grabbing mismatched dishes and cutlery and bringing them to the table. When it was set, he slid into the seat on the other side of Steve, shooting him a wink and reaching his arm across the back of the chair beside him. Wayne carried over a large tray full of steaming food and put it on the table before sitting down with a heavy sigh.

Eddie immediately attacked the tray, grabbing fish and potatoes but leaving the vegetables untouched. Steve waited and risked a small smile at Wayne who only blinked back at him tiredly. When Eddie had tucked into his own food, Steve scooped out a bit of everything onto his own plate before handing the spoon to Wayne who did the same.

“I heard a funny story at work,” Eddie began. “A friend of mine has a cat. Well, his wife has a cat, she loved the thing, he always hated it. Anyway, it was sick so she made an appointment at the vet. She’s busy with the kids and can’t take it, so she makes him go. He’s driving and the thing is meowing like crazy in the backseat. All of a sudden it goes quiet, and he’s just glad to have some peace for the rest of the drive. He gets to the vet and goes to get the cat. Unfortunately, it’s dead, but his wife made the appointment and he doesn’t want her to get mad at him. So, he picks it up, takes it in. Walks up to the counter holding the cat and says, ‘I’ve got an appointment.’ The lady looks at him, looks at the cat, and says ‘sir, that cat is dead.’”

Wayne stared at him like he was crazy but Steve burst out laughing. After a moment, Wayne laughed too, shaking his head.

“Oh my God. Why’d he bring the cat in if he knew it was dead?” Steve asked, wiping the tears from his eyes.

Eddie shrugged and said, “he had an appointment!” and Steve burst out laughing again.

“You need new friends, son,” Wayne said seriously.

Steve settled back with a smile as Eddie and Wayne argued over the value of Eddie’s friendship. He ate his dinner and it was as delicious as he remembered. The fish was light and flaky, the potatoes had a crunchy golden skin and the vegetables were cooked to perfection. Steve thought back to the days when he had nothing to eat but beans – how he used to dream of Wayne’s fish – how he thought he would never get to eat it again. Slowing down, he ate more carefully, savoring every bite. He wouldn’t take it for granted, not this time. He knew now how easily things could be torn away.

When they were done, Steve took the dishes to the sink. Wayne protested weakly but settled back down when Steve insisted he would wash them.

“Thank you for dinner, Wayne. It was delicious,” he said as the sink filled with water and soap.

“Good t’have ya,” Wayne replied gruffly.

Eddie came over with a towel and started drying the dishes Steve had stacked in the rack. Wayne grabbed a beer out of the fridge and headed out to the living room. A grunt sounded and Steve heard the chair recline and the television switch on. Eddie started humming beside him and Steve looked out of the window, feeling full and peaceful. Good food, good company. They had made some progress on the trailer. Another good day. He just hoped the nightmares would stay away so he could sleep well. Good days meant bad nights… sometimes.

“I’ll drive you home when we’re done.”

“Thanks,” Steve said and let out a little sigh. He hated being driven around, it made him feel like a child. A car meant freedom. Independence. Not being beholden to anyone.

Eddie nudged him with his shoulder. “What’s up?”

“I just really need my own car, man.”

Eddie looked over at him. “You’ve been saving for a while. Think you’re close?”

Steve thought about his bank account, how slowly it was increasing with the crappy pay from Family Video. He should ask Robin for more shifts, she really needed to fire that idiot who kept calling in sick on her.

“Getting there,” he replied.

When they were done with the dishes, Eddie asked him to wait a few minutes. He went into his room, so Steve went and sat with Wayne while he waited.

“He laughs more with you around, ya know?” Wayne said suddenly and Steve looked over at him with surprise.

“He does?”

Wayne nodded and took a sip of his beer. “It’s good, what you’re doin’ with the trailer. Good for Eddie. Good for you too, I think. Ask for help if you need it, yeah?”

Wayne was looking at him intently and Steve couldn’t help but fidget.

“We will,” Steve replied and looked away from his heavy gaze.

“Not just about the trailer.”

Steve slowly turned back and met Wayne’s eyes. There was something in them, that same look that he and Eddie shared. Loss and survival. Darkness and wisdom. He was viscerally reminded that Eddie had died. That Wayne had thought Eddie was dead. He still didn’t know the whole story. Eddie had explained a bit… but he knew there was more. Steve nodded slowly and Wayne must have accepted whatever was on his face because he gave a decisive nod back just as Eddie walked into the room.

“Ready to go?” Eddie asked, wiggling his keys

“Yup,” Steve said and stood up. “Bye Wayne, thanks again.”

“Steve,” Wayne said and dipped his head.

He was quiet on the drive home, thinking about The Upside Down and Vecna and how much pain they had caused the people of Hawkins. Steve knew his loss was great, but that didn’t mean he could ignore everyone else’s. He needed to talk to Dustin and find some way for them to move forward. They had both lost a brother and they might never be that to each other again…but –  

They could be.

It was something that had always struck Steve as odd whenever they discussed Other Steve – how despite all the changes with himself, Robin, Eddie, Joyce, Hopper, Nancy and Jonathan, with Vecna, Hawkins and the world – the kids were the same. Who he was to the kids was the same. At least in this universe. And what were the odds of that? Fucking astronomical if he had to guess. He just needed Dustin to understand that even if they did share those memories, he was a different person now.

He also needed to talk to Eddie. Ask him about what happened to him, or at least let him know that he was open to talking if he wanted to. Eddie had told him that he thought he could understand what Steve had gone through. Which meant the opposite was true and he could understand Eddie, too. Steve glanced over at him from the corner of his eye. He had the radio on and he was humming and drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. They were almost to his place so now wasn’t the time, but he resolved that when he saw Eddie next, he would ask him if he wanted to talk about The Upside Down and what had happened to them.

They turned onto Steve’s street and he could see Hopper, Joyce, Will and Eleven were all standing outside like they were waiting for him. Eddie slowed down as he approached and parked the car on the curb in front of the house. Sitting in the driveway was a maroon 1983 BMW. His car. Steve stared at it unmoving. It gleamed in the sunlight, chrome flashing.

“That’s my car,” he said to himself, still staring at it like it was a mirage that would disappear if he let it out of his sight.

Eddie chuckled and said, “yup! Gunna go get it or just keep sitting in my decrepit van?”

Steve unbuckled his belt and slowly opened the door. Will and Eleven ran over to meet him, each grabbing one of his hands and pulling him towards Hopper and Joyce.

“Your parents had it in storage,” Hopper explained. “I called them about it months ago to see how I could go about getting it for you but they never called me back. They only just reached out because they heard you’re back in Hawkins.”

Steve froze as panic rose with frightening force throughout his body. His parents knew he was in Hawkins. He did not want to see them. He couldn’t see them. Hopper must have seen the panic on his face because he rushed over and put a hand on his shoulder. His heart was still beating fiercely, adrenaline rushing through him as he tried to calm his fight or flight response.

“They’re not coming back here, Steve. They just had some questions.”

Steve swallowed hard. “Questions about me?”

Hopper nodded. “They wanted to know where you went.”

“What did you tell them?”

“That it was none of their business.”

“I can’t afford it,” Steve said quietly. “Whatever you paid my parents for it, I can’t pay you back.”

“I didn’t pay anything for it.”

Steve reared back in shock. That wasn’t possible. His parents would never give something away for free… his actual parents wouldn’t anyway and from everything he had learned about Other Steve’s parents they were just as bad as his were.

“How?” Steve managed to ask.

“It’s in your name. When you were listed as a missing person your parents took ownership but with you back, they had to give it up.” There was an or else that Hopper left hanging in the air. “All yours,” he said holding out the keys. “No strings attached.”

Steve stared at them, unsure how to respond to such kindness. Hopper was making it sound like it was an easy simple thing he had done, but Steve knew it wasn’t. He knew that Hopper probably had to yell and threaten and pull all his weight as chief to get his parents to do the right thing. And even then, Steve was surprised he had managed to convince them.

“Go ahead, Steve,” Joyce said softly from Hopper’s side. “Take it for a drive.”

Will and Eleven tugged at his hands. “Can we come?” Will asked.

Steve smiled, happiness unfurling in his chest like a flower seeing the sun after days and days of rain. He had a car! And not just any car. His car. It felt like the whole world had opened for him. No more asking permission, no more waiting for anyone else to be ready. He could leave whenever he wanted. Go wherever he wanted. Do whatever he wanted.

“Kids, let Steve go–” Joyce began but Steve cut her off.

“Of course, you can!”

They both shrieked and ran for the car, a scuffle breaking out over who would get the front seat. Will reached it first but when he went to open the door, Eleven blinked and the lock clicked back into place.

“No fair!” Will exclaimed.

“Shot gun.” Eleven said firmly and crossed her arms over her chest.

“Thank you,” Steve said as he took the keys from Hopper who nodded and clapped his shoulder again.

Joyce kissed his cheek and said, “you’re welcome.”

He looked at the keys in his hand and another huge grin broke out on his face as he noticed the Scoops Ahoy keychain. Eddie came up to his side and wordlessly held out a cassette tape. Steve took it and turned it over, looking for the band name but it was blank.

“It’s a mix tape,” Eddie filled in, looking a little sheepish. “A side for good days. B side for bad days.”

Steve felt his smile soften. It was a thoughtful gift. A mixtape could say a lot about a person. He was curious what Eddie would choose for good days and bad days and was looking forward to listening to it – to learning more about him.

“Thanks, Eddie.”

Eddie waved him off, his cheeks tinted red.

Joyce pushed him towards his car. Steve slid into the driver’s seat, and waited for the kids to get in and put on their seat belts before he backed out of the driveway. He waved at Hopper, Joyce and Eddie as they passed.

They all rolled their windows down and Steve put Eddie’s tape in the player.

On the A side.

Part 18

@just-a-tiny-void @mx-jinxous @child-of-cthulhu @awholedamnmesstbh @phoenix0bird @bookworm0690 @estrellami-1 @hbyrde36 @a-gae-af-racoon @novelnovella @meela86 @lenathegay @vampireinthesun @penny00dreadful @questionablequeeries @espressopatronum454 @r0binscript @seths-rogens @fruity-nerd @sani-86 @n0-1-important @swimmingbirdrunningrock @ellietheasexylibrarian @manda-panda-monium @paintsplatteredandimperfect @viridianphtalo @goodolefashionedloverboi @13catastrophic-blues @newtstabber @tinytalkingtina @whole-moods @queenie-ofthe-void

@nailbatanddungeon So sorry I missed your name change a few chapters ago!!

[letstripdotcom]

right where you left me- matt sturniolo

a/n- AHHHHH SOMETHING THAT ISNT SMUTT!! alsooo i’m changing up my look a lil bit

summary- upon the loss of your favorite person, your life changes completely. you change, your family changes, your every day life changes, but some things never change. your best friend, matt, has always been there and will always be there for you. no matter what

warnings- loss of a loved one

-

I, I swear you could hear a hair pin drop

Right when I felt the moment stop

Glass shattered on the white cloth

Everybody moved on

I, I stayed there

-

i sat in the dim lit restaurant with my best friends, nick matt and chris. we shared jokes and laughter as we enjoyed our meals. the busy room was filed with chatter from all around. people talking about whatever was going on in their own lives. work, kids, family, friends

i was mid conversation when my phone started ringing. it was my mom. “sorry guys one second, this is important.” my grandma has been battling cancer for the past few months so my mom calls me with updates as frequently as possible.

“hello” i answered the phone.

“hey sweetheart” my mom spoke on the other end.

“hey, how’s grandma today?” there was an abundant pause. “mom?” i broke the silence.

“i’m sorry y/n” her voice broke.

“mom what’s going on?”

“she’s gone.” my mom nearly whispered

the world seemed like it stopped moving at that moment. the boys stopped their conversation and looked at me with concerned looks. the cup that was once in my hand was now shattered on the table. tears started to fall from my eyes as the phone disconnected.

“she’s gone” i sobbed, making my way to the exit of the restaurant. nick and matt followed behind me, but chris stayed back to pay and take care of the mess. the moment didn’t feel real. i could hear my heart beating through my chest, my ears rang, and my head spun.

i sat on the bench outside of the restaurant, trying to breathe between sobs. my chest felt tight, like it was shrinking and i was going to run out of breath at any given moment. nick sat down next to me. “she’s never coming back” i cried. he wrapped himself around me, pulling me into a hug. i laid in his arms and cried.

“i know it hurts honey, i’ve got you” he whispered. “me matt and chris will always be here for you” he let out quiet sobs.

“i didn’t even say goodbye.” the more i thought about it, the more my heart broke. “i can’t do this without her nick, she was my everything”

and it was true, my grandma meant the word to me. she was the one person who was there for me every moment of my life until now.

my mom had me when she was only 16, and she couldn’t take care of me, so my grandma did. she raised me and gave me the best childhood ever. when i turned 14, i moved in with my mom, but i still constantly spent time with my grandma.

she gave me the best advice, no matter the situation. from when i was 6 and sad about not having friends at school, to 16 and crying about boys. she never judged me. every word she told me was perfect. i was never truly sad when she was around, because she always made it better.

“we’re gonna take you home with us.” matt spoke softly. “we don’t want you to be alone at a time like this.”

i nodded and stood up. i slowly made my way to the back seat of the car. nick got in the back seat next to me, and i laid my head on his shoulder and slept the whole ride home.

“hey we’re home” i felt a soft tap on my shoulder. i opened my eyes to see chris and matt. i got out of the car and chris hugged me. “sorry about the glass” i hugged him back.

“don’t worry about it kid, i love you and i’m so sorry for your loss.” his words didn’t feel real. ‘sorry for your loss’ she really is gone. i separated from chris.

“okay let’s get you inside” matt picked me up and carried me in like a little kid.

“thanks matt” i smiled at him. i’m beyond grateful for the triplets, and how they’re always there to support me. i got settled in on their couch and went to sleep, exhausted from today’s events.

•••••••••••••••••••••••

a/n- AHHH HOW DO WE FEEL?

i literally cried a little while writing thisss 😔

[ilikekidsshows]

With Ladynoir July coming up, there is this thing that keeps on bothering me greatly in the show. In fanon Marinette is always depicted as observing and understanding of Cat Noir's quiet mannerisms and behavior and that she too desperately wishes to finally reveal to get to know him better

But tbh that isn't at all the case in Canon imo. I just can't see it tat way anymore because there is nothing. Marinette is rarely written to have any real understanding of Cat at all and she's seemingly blind to 90 percent of his emotions and reasonings and what makes him himself. Not to mention that she really isn't interested in getting to know him at all, it seems.

Looking at episodes like Glaciator 2, Elation, and Revelation, one even has to ask if Marinette still remembers that at one point they are gonna reveal themselves to each other, because she is pulling some very hurtful deceptions he's gonna notice once he knows Marinette is Ladybug. Either that or she's genuinely always running on the inherent assumption that Cat Noir wouldn't and SHOULDN'T ever be upset with her no matter what she does. She just uses her identities against him without a single care for how it'll look like for him later on.

I can't even read Ladynoir fanfictions anymore to make up for canon because anytime the author characterizes Marinette as "the one who knows Cat Noir better than anyone else" and "desperately hopeful that she'll soon really get to know him after this agonizing sacrifice of staying anonymous to each other to keep them safe is over" I just... can't help but think it's not Canon compliant anymore at this point.

Canon simply doesn't give us anything. Cat Noir is not an important person in Marinette’s life. Kwamis choice showed how small of a loss leaving Cat Noir was for her. Loosing him out of her life was hardly noticeable. With Adrien, you could feel that now he only has his civilian life left and that that's a bad thing, so it made sense when he immediately ran to Marinette to get himself a new anchor in life.

But Marinette didn't do the same. She had earlier rejected Adrien but after she renounces she just goes back to daydreaming about Adrien while hanging up the photos. Same as leaving Cat Noir, having rejected Adrien isn't really a meaningful event in her mind, it meant nothing really. She just goes back to normal as if nothing happened. It was Adrien who once again took initiative to make any changes in their dynamic. If it had gone according to Marinette, she would have just returned to school the next day and tried confessing her love again to an Adrien who was still heartbroken over her having rejected him.

So not only was she insanely tone-deaf with Cat Noir whne she just assumed he still interested in her after season 4, she would have also done the same with Adrien. I know Marinette is self-centered alot of times, but good GOSH.

Back on topic. Marinette's side of her dynamics with Cat Noir just feels so empty and superficial at this point. I know I'm not the only one thinking this, but I really wonder what exactly Marinette supposedly fell in love with about Cat at the end of season 4? It's not like she has any interest in him as a person and the superficial and self-beneficial way she describes her crush on him to Alya really ain't helping her case here.

She talks about how hot he is, what he does to make her job easier for her, and that he's an easy source for love, but that's kinda it. Marinette only tries finding out who he is because Alya put the purity of her crush into question, but Marinette herself shows no interest in getting to know him.

The show tells me, Marinette really either thinks that she already knows everything important that's to know about Cat Noir like her in Wishmaker just telling him that he surely dreamed of being a magician or a fire fighter as a child, while completely writing off all of his concerns he voices towards her wich then rightfully screwed them over when she left him behind with the akuma he was vulnerable towards because she can't be bothered to ever listen.

Or.. it's just not important to her. Which is what I think is unfortunately primarily the case. She's not sitting at home wondering what kind of life he leads, as the Fandom claims. She isn't curious what he truly looks like. She doesn't know or wonder what he knows or doesn't, what he likes or dislikes. What his ambitions, dreams, and fears are.

She knows basically nothing about him and doesn't seem to mind that much. Now with season 6 upcoming, Adrien asking Ladybug again about the reveal before Lila shows up as new Butterfly makes sense. But I don't think Marinette has been remembering that much at all in the meantime. She's just gonna brush him off with some excuse and smile again and continue waiting for the new villain.

I dint think Marinette considers it much of a sacrifice to not know who Cat Noir is. And I honestly don't think she would mind it much either if they were to never reveal. For her, Cat Noir is Cat Noir. He shows up to help her as hero and seemingly that's all she really wants out of his existence by her side.

If Cat Noir were to leave her life, nothing to meaningful would change. He has such a small and insignificant presence in he life, that it wouldn't cause alot of problems. Yeah, she'd remember him for much longer forwards, but would it actually qualify as a "huge loss" the way fanon makes it out to be?

I honestly don't think so. Give Marinette two weeks and she successfully moved on but keeps him in mind in a bittersweet way. She probably wouldn't even aks Plagg what happened. She'd be sad for a week, would eventually conclude "Well, he made his choice :(" and then probably after a month tops give out the ring again.

The most that would change is that the next Black Cat she would need to treat as if he actually exists as a person beyond what use and easing feeling she gets out of him and his mask. And that is so unbelievably depressing....

Sorry for being such a downer. I've almost gone through all stages of grief for Ladynoir in the past year of hiatus which is a harsh thing to realize when I can't even cheer myself up anymore through the Ladynoir July because of how out of character it now seems to me for Marinette. Fandom goggles really did most of the work here, huh?

---

It's okay, Ladynoir Anon. I call this blog a peer support blog for a reason. We all mope here sometimes.

You are right about the fandom doing the heavy lifting for Miraculous’ popularity. The thing about Miraculous is that the source material merely hints at things that could happen. The fandom then does the rest. Because, like, even if what the writers do with their setups ends up flopping every single time, the pacing in this show is so glacially slow that, by the time it flops, the fandom will have built a far more compelling scenario for them. The hope for getting that better story eventually keeps the disappointed fans coming back.

The fandom characterization is also better than canon. It's simultaneously more consistent while also allowing for more character development. In fanfics, characters don't suddenly forsake their moral codes, but actually grow into kinder, more understanding people due to the things they learn.

[imaginesfordifferentfandoms]

Innocent

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Prompt - ‘Who you are is not where you've been, you're still an innocent.’

Bucky was glad for the serum running through his veins when he entered his fifth day without any sleep. He could still feel the pull of exhaustion, the heaviness of his bones and the way his eyes stung with the effort to keep prying them open when they fell shut for too long but the serum made it slightly more bearable.

He knew his therapist would tell him it was unhealthy, that he had to deal with this, find ways to cope. He knew Sam would say he had to talk about it, say that he didn’t mind sitting with him and just let Bucky talk until he felt better but he knew there was no feeling better.

How could he feel better? He was alive and his dreams haunted him each night, viciously reminding him of each person he killed, each person that died by his hands without him feeling a single shed of remorse.

He knew logically that wasn’t him, the fact he couldn’t sleep, the fact he felt sick to his stomach was proof that he did feel guilty but it didn’t matter. It had happened and he had done it, it didn’t matter that he couldn’t fight back against HYDRA, he should have, he should’ve been stronger, he should have stopped them.

Now they were gone and Bucky was left alone.

Truly alone.

Steve had left and even though Bucky had sent him off with a pat on the shoulder, had given the man the approval he needed before leaving, it had killed Bucky. It was the first time he had been in his right mind for longer than he could remember and he was alone, his only connection to a life long gone had left him behind.

The Soldier was no longer in his head either, not that he was torn up about that loss. Some days it felt strange, the Soldier had taken up so much space in his mind, he had been the one in control for longer than Bucky had ever been and now it was empty, quiet. Some days Bucky found himself just standing in a room, expecting the Soldier to take the lead only to remember he was alone now.

It was just him.

Sam had tried to help him but it was no good. Bucky pushed him away, not ready to deal with the reality of his life, not ready to accept what had happened to him. He agreed to see the therapist because he had to but she was no help either. Bucky left their sessions feeling worse than he ever had most days.

Still right now he knew he had to do something, sitting on the floor in the quiet of his apartment, the only light in the room coming from the street lights outside. He needed to get out, he didn’t care that it was late, it’s not like he had anywhere to be in the morning.

It took a great effort to pull himself from the floor but he somehow managed it, heading into his bedroom to shrug on a fresh pair of clothes, knowing he hadn’t changed for longer than was acceptable. He’d need a shower too at some point but couldn’t stomach the thought of it just yet.

The cold air hit him as soon as he left his apartment and he was glad for it when he felt more alert. He had no destination in mind, just picked a direction and let his feet carry him. There were plenty of bars open at this time and as much as he wanted to drink until he passed out he knew it was a useless wish, the serum running through him would barely let him feel a buzz from the alcohol, let alone make him forget anything.

Eventually he came across a small hole in the wall cafe. The lights were still on, a soft orange glow leaking out onto the streets and it was empty beside one man typing away at his laptop and two teenagers with papers scattered across their shared table.

He didn’t know what it was about the place but Bucky let his feet carry him to the door, pausing to take a steadying breath before opening the door.

The first thing that hit him was the warmth, a sudden change for the chill outside, then there was the smell. The smell of baked goods floating through the air made Bucky’s shoulders lose some of their tenseness as he stepped into the cafe and let the door close behind him softly.

The pair of teenagers didn’t look up at the sound of the bell, nor did the man typing furiously on his laptop. The only person who acknowledged his presence was a woman who stuck her head out of a door behind the counter, letting him know she’d be just a minute.

Bucky was content to wait, walking towards the counter and looking at the displayed goods, not too filled but there was a good selection especially considering the time. The place was nice too, it reminded him of somewhere he couldn’t quite remember, a memory just out of reach.

The place had a homely feel to it, soft lights instead of harsh white ones lit the space and the place was decorated in pastel colours that complimented each other nicely with bits of greenery littered around the room. For some reason he felt safe here, it could have just been because nobody seemed to recognize him or maybe there was just something about this place.

“Hey,” A voice pulled Bucky from his thoughts and he shook his head slightly before turning his gaze to you. “What can I get for you?”

The first thing Bucky noticed about you was how beautiful you were. You radiated the same kind of warmth the cafe did, smiling at him like he was a friend you’d known for years rather than a complete stranger, like he wasn’t a deadly killer.

He couldn’t tell if you knew him, most people did whether it was because they’d learnt about Bucky Barnes, best friend to Captain America or they’d see the news stories about the Winter Soldier. You didn’t flinch, didn’t pause, didn’t stare at him or gawk, didn’t take a step back. You just smiled at him as you leaned on the counter top waiting for him to reply.

It had been a long time since Bucky had spoken to somebody who didn’t know what he had done, to somebody who’s immediate first reaction upon meeting him wasn’t to run as fast as they could away from him.

“Um, a coffee please.” Bucky forced himself to say, suddenly aware of how croaky and dry his voice was after going days without talking to anybody.

“Sure thing, nothing to eat?” You asked, the smile never leaving your lips as you moved to start making his coffee for him.

Now that you mentioned it he couldn’t exactly remember when the last time he had actually eaten anything was, his stomach aching with hunger as he glanced back towards the treats with a new found appetite.

“Yeah actually, whatever you’d recommend.” Bucky answered and attempted a smile which he knew came out as nothing but a weak twitching of the lips but it was the thought that counted.

“Well in that case you have to try these.” Your smile morphed into a grin and Bucky couldn’t help but stare at you, feeling his anxiety and fear slipping away the longer he did.

When he finally did manage to pry his eyes away from your smile he looked down to see a plate of muffins that made his stomach long for food even more so than it had before. You set the plate down in front of him and he waited for you to turn back to making his coffee before he picked one up and took a bite.

Just as you turned back to hand the man his coffee you watched as his eyes lit up and he looked down at the muffin like it was the best thing he ever held.

“Good right?” You couldn’t help but chuckle, watching as the man’s eyes snapped up to meet yours.

“They’re amazing.” Bucky praised, the smile hadn’t left your face since you walked out of the back room but he still noticed how you brightened up even more at the compliment, thanking him sincerely before excusing yourself to finish up an order for tomorrow, leaving Bucky alone with his thoughts.

This was better, loathe as he was to admit it, getting out of the apartment was good. It was easier to ignore the reminders of what he had done, sat in the cafe that radiated warmth and goodness. The quiet noise of the two teenagers talking, the rustling of pages and the repetitive taps of the man’s keyboard, the soft music playing from somewhere in the back were all things he could focus on and he felt calmer than he had in weeks.

“Haven’t seen you around here before.” You said as you came back out into the front of the cafe, talking softly to the man so you didn’t disturb the others in the cafe. “You new to the city?”

“Born and raised here.” Bucky offered after a moment of hesitation. “Been away for a while though, decided to take a walk and found this place. It’s nice.”

“Thanks, it’s my family’s business. I took the night shift to help them out, plus I get to help myself to whatever treats are left over from the day so it’s not a bad gig.” You laughed and watched as the man’s lips pulled into a small smile.  

Bucky didn’t know what it was about you. Since Wakanda, since he was back in his own mind alone without the Soldier, he had found it difficult to talk to anyone, whether it was Sam or his therapist, the few times he had tried to talk to a pretty girl had gone terribly.

But there was just something about you that made it a bit easier to find some words, that made him want to try and say something. The fact that this was the longest conversation he had had with somebody in weeks wasn’t lost on him and he was so glad he had found this place.

You kept up a steady stream of conversation, not put out when Bucky seemed to pause for longer than was necessary before he answered in a low voice, rough for not being used. You were curious about the man but he looked like the world was weighing heavily on his shoulders so you stuck to light conversation, keeping it open enough that he could jump in whenever but not pressuring him to speak.

Bucky didn’t know how long he’d stayed in the cafe but eventually his muffin and coffee were gone, as was the man who had been sitting alone in the corner. He felt lighter than he had in a long time and could feel the exhaustion creeping back up on him even after his coffee.

He figured he should try and get some sleep, hoping that a good outing would be enough to ward off the memories.

“It was nice meeting you!” You smiled when Bucky politely excused himself, finding that you genuinely meant the words. Working in the cafe meant you met all sorts of people but none stood out to you quite like he did.

“Nice meeting you too.” Bucky said, finding it was easier to smile back at you before he made his way home, ready to sleep nightmare free for the first time in weeks.

A few weeks passed before Bucky stumbled his way down to your cafe again.

He had been doing good, ever since he had left you that first night he hadn’t had nightmares, not to say that his dreams had been pleasant but they weren’t keeping him awake for days on end.

Now though he was relieving more and more missions every night, seeing the faces of the innocent people he’d murdered to get to his target, seeing how cold and cruel he was capable of being.

When the bell chimed to let you know somebody had come into the cafe you looked up with a smile that faltered when you saw the man from a few weeks ago. His hair was dishevelled, his skin pale with a light sheen of sweat covering it and his eyes looked haunted in a way you had never seen before.

By the time he had made it to the counter and into the seat he had occupied last time he was here you had forced your smile back onto your face, not letting any sympathy shine through. The man didn’t need some stranger feeling sorry for him, so you wouldn’t give him that instead you could offer him a safe place to let his mind switch off for a while.

“Hey again! I was hoping you’d be back, I just made a batch of brownies and I think I’ve got the recipe just right. You wanna try one?” You asked, jumping right into conversation to hopefully pull the man from his thoughts.

Bucky looked over at you with wide, watery eyes, taking a minute to register what you had said before nodding hesitantly, watching as you busied yourself with fetching the brownies from the back and bringing a few out on a plate.

“You want a coffee to go with that?” You asked and watched him nod again. “Great, I’ll get that ready for you. Honestly, I’m glad you came back tonight, this place has been dead for hours. I suppose the kids have finished with their finals though, you remember those two that were here the other week? Yeah they practically live here but during exam season they take up permanent residence on that table.”

Bucky appreciated how you said nothing about the state he was in, glossing past it like it wasn’t even worth mentioning. He focused on your words, so thankful you didn’t seem to be expecting a response, just filling the silence with words he could follow and grab onto, a grounding link to reality.

Bucky let time pass without acknowledging it, focusing solely on you, listening to you as you told stories of growing up in New York, of growing up in the cafe and all the different types of people that stopped by, telling him about your favourite customers and the rudest ones. He was proud when he managed a few small smiles and even one chuckle but he hadn’t been able to find the strength to speak but you didn’t seem to mind, something that made him feel even more relaxed in this place, even more relaxed with you.

Bucky only pulled himself out of the safety of the cafe when he saw the first signs of the sun coming up, knowing you wouldn’t be around much longer anyway and a part of him felt guilty for having you put up with him for so long.

“Thank you.” Bucky managed to croak out as he stood to leave watching as your bright smile turned soft.

“Thank you, lord knows I needed the company tonight.” You told him and Bucky smiled back at you. “You’re always welcome here, you know?”

“Thank you.” Bucky said again, even though the words were whispered you could still hear how grateful he was for you to have said it.

“See you around.” You said softly, watching him go until he disappeared from view.

Bucky was back again two nights later, still not as talkative but he was able to speak this time around. He shared stories of growing up in Brooklyn trying his best not to slip up and reveal that his childhood was a lot further back than you guessed, trying not to let it slip that the childhood best friend he spoke about was Steve Rogers, Captain America.

You listened intently to everything Bucky shared with you, wanting to know anything he was willing to tell you. You couldn’t say what it was about this man who seemed so down on his luck but you wanted to know everything about him.

Eventually Bucky showing up at the cafe became a regular part of your routines, he showed up more nights than not. Some nights he was silent, just needing you to fill the space with whatever came to your mind and other nights he was like a whole different person, so confident and eager to talk and share parts of his life with you.

It had been months since you’d first met him and you knew you were falling for him, you thought you had been since that first day but now you were sure.

“You know who I am, don’t you?” Bucky asked suddenly one night causing you to tense for a moment, a frown spreading across your features.

It was a bad night for Bucky, he’d been here a few hours now and not said much. The cafe was empty, silent whilst you contemplated how to answer but eventually just nodded your head.

“Yeah, I knew who you were the first time you showed up here.” You told him honestly, remembering how shocked you’d been to see Bucky Barnes in your cafe but you had hid it well.

“You should have told me to stay the hell away.” Bucky muttered and you felt your features soften into a sad smile.

“I was never scared of you. You’ve been coming here for months, we’ve been alone together for most of that and you’ve never made me feel anything but safe.” You said, watching as he looked at you in shock before shaking his head.

“Safe?” He spat the word like it was poison. “I’m a monster.”

Your heart ached for the man. You had known a bit about the Winter Soldier before meeting Bucky but hadn’t researched it once you had met him, it felt wrong to do it, you figured when the time came the man would share his story with you if he wanted to.

“I don’t know your whole story but I do know it wasn’t your fault. I know you didn’t ask for what those people did to you. I know you’re not the monster, they are.” You told him, voice low and firm causing Bucky to look at you with wide eyes, desperately wanting to believe you but unable to.

“But I should have been stronger.” He whispered, a choked out sentence that broke your heart.

“Listen I can’t even begin to imagine what sort of hell you’ve been through but I do know you, this version of you, the one that you should be so proud of because you aren’t what they made you, who you were is not who you are now. You’ve got so much more to look forward to, a whole life to live as happily as you can, a big fuck you to the people who are hopefully gone.” You chuckled slightly, tears filling your eyes as you took Bucky’s hands in yours.

“Thank you.” Bucky croaked out, his own tears welling up in his eyes as he squeezed your hands gently in his. “Thank you.”

“I’m really glad you found this place.” You whispered to him, smiling shakily at him.

Bucky held your gaze, pulling his hands from yours before making his way around the counter that separated you. His flesh hand came up to your cheek, you willingly letting him tilt your head up towards him as he looked down at you with a soft smile, eyes red from where the tears stung at them.

“I’m glad I found you.” He whispered back, leaning down and pressing his forehead against yours.

Your eyes fell closed as you pressed forward, closing the space between you and feeling a rush of warmth run through you as your lips connected. The kiss was soft and gentle, neither of you needing to rush it even though it had been building for months. You took your time, savouring the feeling of Bucky’s lips against yours, the taste of cupcakes and coffee on his lips was intoxicating and you knew you were done for, there was no going back after this, you were all in.

When the two of you pulled away you were both silent for a moment, needing the chance to catch your breath. Bucky’s forehead rested back against yours, his thumb brushing along your cheekbone as he smiled down at you with you smiling softly back up at him.

“I can’t promise I’m any good at this anymore.” Bucky murmured and you laughed softly. “But I really want to try, if you’ll let me.”

“I like you, Bucky. I already know you have bad days, I want to be there for all of them. I don’t care how hard it is, I want to be with you.” You told him honestly, closing the distance between you again to kiss him softly.

Bucky pulled you close, wrapping his metal arm around you to hold you against him, promising himself he’d get this right. You were right, he was alive and HYDRA was dead, all those monsters wouldn’t live to see another day and Bucky had the chance to live the rest of his life happier than they could ever imagine.

He wanted that.

He wanted that with you.

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[millersdjarin]

Some Invisible String

Chapter I: High Tide

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Rating: E (eventually)

Summary: Ten years after Reader left Joel for reasons he still doesn't know, they find themselves together again in a town called Jackson. Joel has questions he's too afraid to ask; and Reader dreads having to give the answers.

Tags/Warnings: eventual smut, post tlou part I, jackson era joel <3, emotion!!!

Chapter length: 3.3k

notes: my first multi-chapter joel fic! overall title is from taylor swift's "invisible string", chapter I title also from taylor, "this love" ♥︎ eventual smut will be here too! so far it's going to be 5 chapters :) enjoy! ps. i recently switched to writing in second person but when i wrote this fic i was still writing in first person, hope u don't mind! will be posting updates regularly

I don’t know why I thought this was a good idea. Really, I don’t. 

But, then again, nothing has been a good idea in twenty years, and I’m still here. So, there’s that. 

One minute I was out hunting in the snow, tracking a deer that made itself vulnerable in the woods beside a half-frozen creek. If I could get him, I thought, it’d keep me going with food for a week at least. Best thing about winter: food stays fresh in the cold. 

Worst thing: everything else. Literally everything else. 

Because now, what started as a quick hunt with an almost-guaranteed prize at the end, has ended in me literally fighting for my fucking life, rolling around in foot-deep snow as runners try to rip the shit out of me. 

It doesn’t help that the commotion has led a bunch of local hunters—who clearly had the same idea as me—to my location. They’ve got the deer, they’ve shot me in the leg, and I’m either going to bleed out, get bitten, or get eaten by infected. 

So, this is great. 

Blood rushing in my ears, I seize the moment a hunter shoots one of the nearby runners and use it to take shelter behind a rock for a minute, surrounded by the groans and screams of infected who are still searching for me or attacking the hunters. Gunshots ring loud throughout the air, along with the smashing of a few molotovs as the bottles hit the snow, the roaring of flames as they engulf bodies. 

My leg is bleeding into the snow. Actually, it’s damn near gushing, pulsing out with each beat of my heart. 

Footsteps are getting closer to me. I try to put pressure on the wound, but the bullet is still there, and it fucking hurts, and my vision is going blurry. The screams of infected are getting less and less as, presumably, the men take them out. 

I’m not bitten. Not yet. But that’s the least of my worries, if the pool of red snow I’m creating below me is anything to go by. 

It’s starting to leech into the snow surrounding the rock, easily giving away my location. As the last infected screams with a squelch of a blade into one of its body parts, one of the men shouts, “Hey! She’s over there! Flank her!” 

Ha. As if they even need to flank me. 

My head is spinning. Blood, shiny and thick, coats my hands. It’s all over me. It’s fucking everywhere. It won’t stop bleeding. 

I’m going to fucking die. 

These men are going to kill me, or do worse while they wait for me to die. Surviving the apocalypse as a woman is a fucking joke. 

I reach for my gun, but there are spots in my vision now. Dark red and black. It’s a mixture of real blood in my eyes and blood loss making me dizzy. I can feel it fading. All of it. The cold, the feeling in my body, the sound around me, everything…

It’s fading. 

There are heavy, men’s footsteps getting closer. 

I’m just debating whether I have the strength to fight back, or even to just end it all myself before they get chance, when I hear it. 

A new gun. A new set of voices. The hunters’ attention is turned away from me once more as their footsteps crunching in the snow turn away and head for whoever else has decided to grace us with their presence. 

It doesn’t matter. I’m out anyway. After all this time, all this fighting, after everything I’ve lost—I’m going to die here in the snow, in the middle of nowhere in Jackson County, after being shot by a fucking hunter. 

Then, I hear a voice. 

It could be a southern accent. I could swear that it is - that it’s real.

But I always knew that in my last moments I’d hear him, real or not. It’s been ten years, but I still hear him in the night sometimes, as I’m falling asleep or jolting awake. Sometimes when I get injured, I hear him tutting, I feel his fingers on my skin, patching me up. 

Now, sitting here dying in the snow, I could swear that it’s him.

It’s not. It can’t be. 

But as the last of my consciousness fades, as I feel the final thread of me begin to fray, I let myself believe that it is. 

I hold onto the sound. So clear, like he’s right there next to me. 

I never wanted to die alone. I’m going to pretend that I won’t. 

“Joel…” I feel his name slip through my lips for the first time in years. 

His name, and his voice saying my name in return, are the last things I hear before I go. 

-

Well, goddamn. 

If this is hell, there is no fire, so it could be worse; but if it’s heaven, Jesus, I don’t want it.

I can’t even wake up. My eyes feel heavy. It’s like I’m clawing back to consciousness after a bad fever. After a surgery that went wrong. Before I can even think or begin to open my eyes or listen for sounds, I can feel that every inch of me hurts. Like I’ve been cut open, rearranged, and sewn back together again. 

So, it’s not heaven. Cool. Fine. I’m going to suffer for eternity, then? 

Except, when I hear it, I freeze. (Metaphorically speaking. I’m already frozen in whatever spot I’ve been cursed to.) 

“She’s waking up.” That isn’t Joel. But it’s similar, and familiar. It sounds like...

Why the hell is Tommy here?

Then, it’s his voice again. My name, in Joel’s voice. 

If nothing else, the confusion gets me to force my eyes open. 

And the first thing I see is him. 

“Hey,” Joel says, “can you hear me? Wake up…you’re safe…” 

I blink a few times. Then, beneath the pain in my body, I realise that I’m warm. I’m under something soft and cosy; a wool blanket, it feels like, if the scratching against my bare arms is anything to go by. 

Any other sensation doesn’t really matter right now, though, because I can’t take my eyes off of Joel. He’s just there, hovering above me with even more creases on his forehead than I remember, an especially big one sitting between his eyebrows right now that looks like someone’s drawn it there. 

“You’re alright, you’re alright,” he sounds distant but close all at once, and soft and gruff just like he used to. 

“I…” I manage to stammer while I vaguely register that there is daylight around us, though it’s fading into shades of amber and pink. Approaching sunset. Last I remember, it had only just risen.

Not without struggle, I get my body to move, but the second I shift in my place, a blinding pain shoots from my leg to all angles, hitting my head and my toes. 

Well. I’m starting to think I’m not actually dead. 

“Hey, don’t try to move, you’re hurt,” Joel says again. 

Joel. 

...Joel? 

Joel!? 

“J—Joel?” As I start to realise that it seems I am very much alive, somehow that fact just makes for more confusion. I look around, and Tommy is there, too, standing by the room’s window, leaning on the butt of his rifle where it sits at his chest, the barrel facing the floor. He looks older, too. Much older. He’s got almost as many wrinkles and greys as Joel does now. 

Someone else enters the picture after a minute. A woman with a frown of concern pushes Joel away—in my delirium I almost forget that he’s probably real, and that it wouldn’t be appropriate to reach out and pull him back—and then her face is above mine, shining a torch in my eyes. 

I squint against it but she holds my eyes open and inspects them. “How are you feeling?” She asks. Her voice is husky but kind, the faintest trace of a Brooklyn accent making itself known. 

“I—confused,” is all I can say, dumbly. Joel is standing behind her, looking over her shoulder with a frown that reaches new depths. (He frowned a lot back in the day, but geez, he’s got even better at it.) “Where am I? Who—who are you?” 

“I’m Angela,” she answers, removing the blinding torch from my eyes, instead pressing two firm fingers into the pulse point on my wrist. “You’re in a town called Jackson. It seems you already know these two fellas.” 

“I—yeah,” I manage to laugh a little in disbelief. Tommy is still there on the opposite side of the room, smiling just a little, fond and nostalgic. It’s then that Angela’s words hit me. A town? “I…is this…am I…the hunters…you…?” My words aren’t coherent or related enough to count as a sentence, or even a completed question. 

“It’s our town,” Tommy says with a small smile. “You got nothin’ to worry about. No one here’s a hunter, and you’re in good hands.” He nods to Angela. 

I look back to her and frown at the way she’s wrapping a blood pressure cuff around my arm. “Are you…a doctor?” 

“I am,” she answers. “You got shot. Lost a lot of blood. These two found you just outside town with barely enough time—or blood—to spare.” 

I can’t stop glancing between Angela, Joel, and Tommy. It’s like I’m watching a tennis match between three people. 

I’m still not entirely sure this is real. In a fever dream, or even in my last moments, my brain would definitely conjure up something like this. A safe town, where I’m under a warm blanket, on a soft bed, and being looked after by two people who used to be the most important people in my life. 

“I…” I’m interrupted by the door swinging open. It lets in a brief shock of cold wind, but Joel quickly reaches out to close it behind whoever has just come in. 

“Ellie, I told you to wait outside,” Joel says lowly, so quiet I can barely hear him. 

“It’s freezing out there! And I’m worried. Is she awake—?” The girl—Ellie, apparently—pushes past Joel to look over Angela’s shoulder at me. Her concerned frown relaxes when she sees me. She’s just a kid; probably barely fifteen. I’ve never seen her before, but she’s looking at me like she was terrified I was going to die. “Oh, you’re awake!” 

“I…am.…”

Joel puts his hand on Ellie’s shoulder and gently pulls her back a little. “Give her some space. Angela’s still working.” 

“You know, she’s the best. Last month Joel dislocated his shoulder and she reset it before he could even scream—”

“Alright,” Joel interrupts her, “Ellie. Why don’t you get our guest some food, alright?” 

“Something hot,” Angela requests. 

A hot meal and a comfortable bed. This has to be some kind of pre-death dream.

“It’s almost dinner time at the kitchen,” Tommy offers with a knowing smile, “see what you can rustle up.” 

Ellie sighs, but nods. Before turning to leave, she looks at me again and says, “I’m glad you’re okay. I’ll get you the good stuff.” 

The door lets in another whoosh of cold air, but Joel closes it as soon as possible. It’s then that I realise there’s a fireplace on the wall behind the bed; the flames crackle in the light breeze before settling down again. 

“I need to check your wound,” Angela says. “Don’t suppose one of you boys can help me out? I need someone to distract her.” 

“Distract me? From what?” 

“I’m gonna take off your bandage and check the stitches. Then I’m gonna clean it. It’s going to hurt.” 

“I don’t need distracting,” I say, meaning it. I’ve dealt with worse. Hell, somehow I survived this. But Joel is still gazing at me, his eyes roaming over me from head to toe, like he’s scanning for even the slightest inkling that something else is wrong they haven’t noticed yet. (Seems unlikely—I’m wearing different clothes than I was before.)

Mentally squirming under his gaze for the first time in a long time, when I never thought I would again, I realise that I might not need distracting, but I do need answers. 

Or something close to it. 

“I’ll stay,” Joel offers, as if reading my mind. He was always so good at that. It’s weird. Someone so emotionally unavailable shouldn’t be good at that. 

Tommy pushes off from the wall, stopping at the foot of my bed. “Don’t be afraid to break his hand,” he offers, grinning lopsidedly, “man needs an excuse to stop for one goddamn minute.” He grins at Joel when he grumbles in response. “I’ll be outside. Need anythin’, give me a holler.” And with that, he’s out the door. 

Angela carefully pulls the blanket up and away from my leg, revealing the side of my thigh where the bullet went in. It hurts for something to even be moving in close proximity to it, like my skin is on red alert. 

I wish I could say I’ve gotten good at hiding my pain, after all these years of surviving it; but I haven’t. It still shows on my face like it did the day the outbreak happened; like it did when I was barely an adult.

Joel knows. He pulls up a wooden chair beside my bed, offers up his scarred, calloused hand. There’s an expression on his face I can’t quite read. The faintest hints of a sheepish smile, maybe, crows feet deepening around his eyes. It looks like he’s saying, Funny seein’ you here, and I can hear that in his voice, gruff and sarcastic, so I just imagine that that’s what he’s trying to say. 

I glance down at his hand, then back up. For a moment I consider not taking it. 

It’s been ten years. 

I left for a reason. 

But then Angela starts pulling at the bandage wrapped tight around my leg, and the pain is fucking horrific. It’s a stabbing, a pulling, and an aching all at once. It starts at the bullet wound and pulses out like cracks of lightning, through my bones, my nerves, up my hips and to my neck. 

A sharp inhale through my teeth, a blinding flash of pain that whites out my vision for a second, and I’m reaching for Joel’s hand before I can even think any more about it.

“Why don’t you tell me what the hell you’re doin’ here?” Joel’s voice comes through the blood rushing through my ears. “Last I saw you, we were in Texas.”

“What—what am I doing here?” I laugh, incredulous, and gasp as another wave of pain comes. “I don’t even—know—where I am.” Angela is working away and it hurts, it fucking hurts. But I think, at least, this is the final piece of proof I needed to confirm that I am not actually dead.

That, and the way Joel’s thumb is smoothing over the top of my hand, even though I’m squeezing his so hard that it must hurt like fuck. He’s doing it like he’s not even thinking about it. Like it’s second nature. 

I left for a reason. 

“You’re in Jackson,” he says. 

“I know that. I just—don’t—” I grunt in between words as Angela takes alcohol to the wound. “I don’t know how far—how far you took me—”

“You were barely outside the town. The hunters that got you were bandits on their way to us."

"Right," I say, still not really understanding.

"So it’s just coincidence we found ourselves together again?” 

Yes! I left for a fucking reason! 

I’m realising I’m not saying it out loud. 

I’m not saying it out loud because I never even told Joel there was a reason, let alone what that reason actually was. 

“I—guess so,” I grit out. “Sometimes the Universe likes to laugh at us. I—oh, Jesus!” A particularly intense stab of pain comes as Angela starts dabbing at the wound. It’s a bruise, a gash, a cut, all at once. 

“It’s alright, hey, just look at me,” Joel’s voice comes, so familiar that it hurts, so soft that it hurts—“Look right at me. That’s it. Do you remember where you were when this happened?” 

“I—in the snow,” I answer, staring into his eyes like they’re a lifeline. Angela has started wrapping a new bandage around it now, tight and secure. It hurts. It just fucking hurts. Everything fucking hurts. “The forest. I was—hunting for food. Then…infected. Infected came and—then—hunters…” 

Joel nods, encouraging me to continue. 

I can’t, though. The pain is too much. Looking at him is too much. 

I screw my eyes shut, and a traitorous, humiliating tear spills from one of them. In frustration, a groan splits past my lips, and I reach up my other hand to wipe away the tear. 

“Nearly done,” Angela promises.

My teeth are biting down on my lip so hard that I can taste blood; but the pain of that is paling in comparison to everything else, so it doesn’t bother me. 

“God fucking dammit,” I grunt as another tear falls. 

Down to my very core, it is humiliating. 

To be here, writhing in pain, and crying in front of Joel, of all people. Crying during the apocalypse. Crying because he’s there. Because his eyes are still the same.

I’ve always been too soft. I was never as hard as Joel. Or as anyone else around me. 

As a kid, books always said that being soft was a strength in its own way. That it was a quality to be proud of. But in this world, all it’s ever brought me is close to death.

“All done,” Angela says. 

Though the pain is still very much alive and well, I breathe out a sigh of relief, waiting eagerly for it to ebb. Realising I’m still holding onto Joel’s hand so tight that my knuckles have gone white, I release him, and take a deep breath. 

“Good job,” he says. Whether he’s saying it to me or Angela, I’m not sure. He observes his hand, lifting it up to look at as he stretches his fingers out. “Jesus, woman. Gonna need a new hand after that.” 

I laugh, breathy. “I had permission.” 

“From Tommy,” Joel counters with a grumble. 

“I knew you wouldn’t mind.” I say it before I can give it permission. And the softness in my voice—well. That’s just downright not fair. 

Joel’s eyes meet mine again. He holds them there for a moment too long. Looks like he might want to say something, but then doesn’t, and stands up. His green flannel shirt stretches so nicely over his shoulders, even broader now than they were back then. His hair is flecked with grey, as is his beard, which is longer now. 

I used to lie awake at night and imagine running my fingers over it. I used to cherish the way my hands fit over his shoulders when he boosted me up onto a ledge. The way the muscles in his arms flexed and showed veins when I hoisted him up behind me. 

We used to be a team, me, him, and Tommy. 

Now, staring at him as he leans against the doorframe, folding his arms over his chest, I think about those times. I can’t help it. There are dark and grey hairs on his chest, peeking up above the top button. I remember how his heart feels under there from the time I had to stitch up a gash there. I remember his pulse, from keeping my finger on it all night when he was feverish from an infected knife wound. 

Tommy and I nursed him back, but I thought we’d lost him. 

I thought a lot of things.

And, well. There was no other choice. 

I left.

♥︎chapter 1/5♥︎

notes: if u wanna be on the taglist, let me know however you'd like: in a reblog, reply, message, or an ask :) all interactions are appreciated, but comments and reblogs especially make my heart go brrr♡ happy tlou show day btw :D