#to watching it all play out AND the aftermath - the way life went on and a small handful of people affected by this trauma had to try to

[trashlie]

FP203/End of Arc Thoughts

I was trying to figure out the best way to handle my end-of-fllashback-arc/203 thoughts and rather than trying to rewrite everything I’ve already written, I’m going to just copy my reddit commentary over into this post, and then try to follow up on things that I want to discuss in more detail or that I think deserves to be focused on lol. So if you read the comments in the episode discussion posts on reddit, there’s nothing new here! 

But for those who don’t go on the reddit, then it’s business as usual below this cut! 

Oh my god, the end of this episode. I wonder how much she actually told Nol - did she name Alyssa? Was everything we saw something she was telling him? The thought of her telling him about falling from the window and embracing that feeling, of laying there on the ground and wishing she could just take flight like a bird, too. I had assumed that this was more like... her reminiscing on her own, but the dialogue at the very end is definitely for Nol - talking about how everything moved on, time continued, and she had to continue to deal with the effects of it. There’s something vaguely optimistic about it, and I know it’s because present Shinae is talking and because this reflection is combined with all the things she has experienced since then, what she’s come to learn. Watching time pass - her father fall into the habits that got her into her current mess, the selective color on the beanie and sweater from Alyssa, the progression of her hair growing out, their middle school graduation. There’s so many things I want to pick out of here and I hope I’ll remember to do that as I gush over this.

I didn’t expect those teachers to be fired at all.* We already know that Shinae has a wariness towards adults, and for the ones who actually helped and respected her, to be fired because of what happened to her is really devastating. The math club teacher was the one who found her and probably saved her life, and she was punished. I mean, on the one hand, I understand? The idea is that as teachers who hear the rumor mill, who know when students are being bullied, they should intervene. But we know and we’ve seen that intervention never does anything, and all it did was create a guilt complex in a girl too young to bear that weight of responsibility and one that continued to grow.

(* a teacher friend of mine says rather than fired, she thinks those teachers were probably traumatized, as well, and quit of their own accord)

There’s something about these little snapshots of Shinae with Maya, Rika, and Minhyuk - even if Shinae had never learned to be truly open friends with Maya and Rika until they were older, it’s clear that the after effects of that fall DID affect their friendship. Had she never fallen, maybe they would have been able to grow into close friends sooner. Shinae put her guarded walls up not only because she didn’t trust others after Alyssa hurt her, but also because of the ramifications of association with her. Teachers were fired, her father’s life became harder, Minhyuk lost all of his friends; she didn’t get close to people so as to not bring them down as much as because she didn’t trust them. She told herself she doesn’t like people to comfort herself both because people can hurt you and to try to stave off how much she, too, wished to win peoples’ favors. But because she closed herself out, because she cut off others and kept her distance, we saw the fall out that occurred with Maya, who was already jealous and felt othered. Something I’ve always thought is that it was never that Maya disliked Shinae - it was that her feelings were at odds with their relationship. When Maya first met Kousuke in the hospital she took his ass down defending Shinae. So many of Maya’s issues with Shinae were because of how Shinae closed her out, how she felt like Shinae didn’t want to be her friend. It’s just. idk it’s something that really gets to me, seeing these little snapshots of the four of them having fun together, despite how the rest of their school was alienating them and pulling away. Despite everything, they had each other. And I’m a mess!!!!!

“We all kept moving forward... because life doesn’t stop for anyone. Keep riding along and see where the road you’re walking takes you... Even if the road needs some maintenance or is being blocked... It’s just a temporary delay... We all eventually reach our destination.”

Who are the words for at the end? The dead end - is it both of them, hers? Hers but applies to them both? Shiane thought this favor from Kousuke would help, at least patch things over and take care of her father’s debt, but now it’s left her stuck in a new situation she cannot get out of. Nol thought he would be able to make his escape, but his detour is leading him to jail time.

There’s something SO optimistic about the concept that we all eventually reach out destination but this... this is just yet another dead end. But maybe there’s room for them to find their ways out of this dead end together, the way Shinae was able to carry on with Maya, Minhyuk, and Rika at her side?

(Sidebar: that moment with that narration and the four walking around together looking like they’re having fun, while Alyssa goes to? from? dance practice? GOD there’s something about that moment that just GETS to me, the juxtaposition of Shinae with her friends against the one who could have been but failed at it in every way.)

I have a LOT of thoughts about the ramifications of Shinae's fall. The way she tried to leave everyone out hurts, but also what else do we expect from her? The thing about that fall is that prior, Shinae still believed she could change things in her life. She believed that she could leave her past (at her first school) in the past and start over, make friends, find somewhere to fit in, but life was far from kind to her. She made so much effort to try to defy everything, to set things right, to do the right thing and defend herself, but it only made things worse. And if she'd told the truth, the teachers would probably have had a fair investigation on their hands. But in that moment, when Shinae sat in the hospital and realized how much harder life was going to become for her father, that's when she concluded she doesn't deserve to fight it, that she can't change anything. Why would she name those girls when the last time she called anyone out, everything blew up in her face? If she'd never gotten the girl who bought their project in trouble, maybe the bullying would have been quieter. Less this than it was. Why would she dare name them again? The fact that they completely declared innocence though, ugh. I mean, do I expect them to fess up? Absolutely not. They are the type of bullies who believed they're allowed to bully a bully - in their minds everything they did was righteous and Shinae got what she deserves.

As for Alyssa, I hope we get to see things from her side one day. What kind of anguish or horror, what she felt, and if she holds any regret for it. I think she does. I think you have to be a truly rotten person to feel no regret, especially since we know she didn't actually mean to push Shinae and even in those last moments she still slipped up and showed concern for her, even if she could never reconcile it.

"I thought it was going to help me get there... but it turned out to be yet another dead end." Ugh, the impact of those words, combined with Nol and Shinae sitting and looking over at each other like that. ;~; It's something so... idk. vulnerable, something they share even though they didn't know it until this moment. I have to hope that Shinae opening up to him will help. Nol needs to understand that he is not the only one who has been dealt an unfair hand by life, that he's not the only one who has been tormented by his own existence, and to see that despite it all, even if it's faint, you eventually come out on the right side. Even now, Shinae may be facing a dead end, but look where she has ended up compared to the Shinae of 3 months earlier. My girl ;~; my heart ;~;

What a very satisfying way to wrap up this arc. Idk there's just. There's something about that passing of time that GETS to me. The selective color and the hair growth and Shinae going through the motions of friendship, the way this was one of the hurdles that hindered her friendship with Maya and Rika who, to their credit, did stay by her side even if it was at the request of Minhyuk. I believe in my heart that though Minhyuk asked that favor of them, Maya still said yes because she wanted to, because she hoped that one day she and Shinae could become the friends she'd become with Minhyuk, that she could open up and trust them. I think that's still one of the most beautiful things about Maya and Shinae fighting and making up - there was so much caught up between them, and it was on both ends. Shinae not trusting Maya and expecting the worst of her, Maya holding things against Shinae she didn't deserve, Shinae keeping everyone at a distance, Maya wanting to be a friend Shinae could rely on and trust. Just... all the ramifications on a whole! Shinae becoming this very independent person so that she could never bring anyone down, because her father was absent, because she HAD to be independent to get by and survive and to protect herself and others ;~; I have SO. MANY. FEELINGS.

Rereading the ending and I think it's very possible this narration is still Shinae to herself, but just based on the way they're sitting hugging their knees, looking over at each other, she has to have told him something significant, and after everything we just went through, even though I previously thought she wouldn't name Alyssa, I'm now of the mind that why would we be shown all of this if she didn't at least say she had a friend who wasn't good to her, and how the fall ultimately happened. In fact, it makes me wonder if this might well be the first time Shinae told ANYONE how the fall happened, that others were involved, the kind of bullying incident that lead to it. Ugh. ;~; I can't imagine that she skimmed over it if he's looking over at her like that. Like, you'd think if she was vague, he'd be like everyone else and want to ask questions, or have an expression that clearly reads he knows she's not telling her the truth, but the use of showing only their partial expressions, something so... idk VULNERABLE, I think she's shared something she's probably never shared before? Aaaahhhhhhhh ;______; Big steps, maybe.

ALSO THE WAY MINHYUK BRAGGED THAT HE COULD HAVE HIS PICK OF ANY SCHOOL. ANY OF THEM and in the end he still chose to stay where he could be near Shinae. Left in the dark about what happened, aware that he's the only person who cares about her, the weight of his guilt for not being there to stop it to help her and how it shaped him into who he is. We all talked about how Minhyuk is so overprotective to the point that it blinded him to important things - like how Maya felt - but in the same way this transformed Shimhan, Shinae, Maya, and yes, probably Alyssa - Minhyuk was inherently altered. I said it on my tumblr, but there's something about how Dieter thinks Minhyuk is overprotective of Shinae because he doesn't trust her to handle her own problems, but really it's that Minhyuk, too, was traumatized by what happened and his inability to be a person who could help her. Knowing that he was the only person who cared about her, the only person who was willing to know her truth, made him grow ever more protective of the small, scrappy girl who just wanted to be peoples' friends and never deserved anything that happened to her. When you think about it, it must have been such a hard decision for him to make, to go to university in Chicago. And when he did, IT HAPPENED AGAIN! Shinae's stalker sister, being stuck at the Hirahara Corporation, knowing she's at work with people who have manipulated and hurt her. You literally cannot blame him for the intense overprotective way he treats her - it's not that he doesn't trust her or doesn't think she has it in her. It's that HE has never gotten over what happened to her and how easily it can (AND DID!!!!) happen again. It's that Minhyuk treasures Shinae and wants to show her the value she has and, in the same way as Shimhan, wants to protect her from things she never deserved to deal with ;~; don't touch me I AM EMOTIONS.

I have been lol thinking a LOT lately about Minhyuk and his entire character, how without the background context, it's so easy to blow his protectiveness out of proportion, but once you have the actual details, it's like... wow how could Minhyuk turn out any other way? It feels like the kind of nightmare that hovers at the edge of your mind - maybe it doesn't pop up anymore but you can't help but worry that maybe it will show up again. Frankly, the love that Minhyuk has for Shinae is so.... ;_______; I still haven't recovered from when he burst in yelling that he's the only damn person who cares about her like ;____; EVERYONE WAS SO HEAVILY AFFECTED BY THAT INCIDENT :( Minhyuk and Shinae talking about how he needs to let her take care of her problems seems even bigger now that we know what we do - how that kind of fear must still cling to him.

[lymtw]

Aftercare with Gojo where he focuses on kissing life back into your limbs after a particularly rough session with him.

He showers with you. No round two, no sexually stimulating touches, just him being as soft and delicate with you as he can. Satoru spends a lot of time reassuring you as he scrubs your body, telling you that you're just as pretty as you were before, even with all these marks on your skin, but, regardless of his words, he keeps scrubbing your skin, as if trying to bring back some of the purity it had before things got animalistic.

He requests that you stay as light in clothing as possible because he will be examining your body. Normally, you just stay in your underwear and a bra because with these examinations comes Gojo checking every inch of your skin. You get to lay back and relax while he thoroughly goes down your body, massaging your tender muscles and overall rehabilitating you.

He brushes his fingers against the dark marks on your neck and your chest, feeling the love that went into putting them on you to begin with. As his eyes trail down the rest of your hickey-littered, unobserved body, he realizes he loves you so much that it's taken a physical form on your skin.

You are not the only one who leaves scratches behind. Satoru does, too. He looks at your ribs, inhaling at the sight of four red, long streaks that trail from your ribs on each side, to where he can no longer see, on your back. He leans down and kisses the bright lines, like doing so would heal you in an instant. He does the same for the nail indentations he left behind on your waist and on your hips, kissing the aftermath of being so driven with pleasure that he had to take it out on your beautiful skin. He finishes up massaging your lower body. Your thighs, which were also bruised by his lips, your knees which had rug burns on them, and a thrown in ankle massage for the harsh grip he had on it before.

You feel like you're in another place when Satoru looks after you this way. Almost 90% of the times he does this, you fall asleep when he has you flip over to examine your back. This was one of those times when his touch felt so heavenly and light against your skin that you couldn't help but rest your eyes, resulting in your slumber.

Satoru's hands run down the expanse of your back. He undoes the clasp of your bra, not able to see the point where his scratches end until the material is moved. It's expected for you to leave these red trails behind on him, but he's in shock at the ones he left on you this time. He traces the lines, the slightly swollen skin warm to the touch, and his revitalizing kisses return to soothe the sting.

Satoru can see choppy patterns of his nail indentations on your lower back, a warm hand rubbing them to try to make them fade. He can hear your soft, rhythmic breathing now, a soft smile drawn on his features. He rubs little pressurized circles into your calves, watching you to make sure he's not pressing too hard. He ends the examination with some finishing touches on your achilles tendons and your heels.

"Baby," Satoru coos, laying on his side, facing you. You're still laying on your stomach, little puffs of air escaping your slightly parted lips. His fingers trail down your spine, past the undone clasps of your bra. "Baby..." he tries again, this time running a thumb across your shiny, saliva coated bottom lip.

"Mm..." you hum, not opening your eyes.

"You okay?" He asks his hand playing with your damp hair, softly.

"Mhm," you nonverbally confirm.

"Okay," he finishes. He turns his lamp off and scoots closer to you, his arm and leg draping over you like a makeshift blanket.

[withahappyrefrain]

Somebody to Love

Summary: Attending a cookout hosted by Penny seemed like the perfect way to kickstart summer. Meeting and falling in love there wasn't on yours or Bradley's bingo list.

Warnings: Language, Bradley being a loverboy, female reader

For @roosterforme's Rocktober event! I'm so sorry it took so long and hope you enjoy it!

The first time you saw Bradley was at the Hard Deck.  

He completely missed you, as much as it pains him to admit. 

In his defense, his eyes were on the ivory keys of the piano, only looking up briefly to revel in the cheers from guests of the Hard Deck as he played. 

You, in his defense, were just trying to get in and out. Considering it was barely seven, you thought you were coming in before things got rowdy.

You were mistaken. 

The show he was putting on was nice to watch while you waited for Penny to be free. But that's all it was, a show. And after a while, you couldn't help but scoff. Was being in the Navy not enough attention? 

The smile on Penny's face when her eyes met yours was worth the wait. You pulled out the coveted book from your bag, raising it in the air as if it were the golden ticket. 

"Amelia is going to be so excited," Penny beamed as she took the book from you, "She's been talking about it for weeks!"

The mention of your former student brought a smile to your face. 

Amelia was a student during your first year of teaching. You felt a kinship to the young girl, whose parents were going through a divorce at the time. You also saw that her love of reading was untapped, blocked by years of past teachers failing to help her learn how to read. 

So you worked with her the whole year, and the summer after that, helping the girl catch up. One summer, Penny offered a bartender job when she heard you were looking for extra money. Over time, the Benjamin women had become more like family than your own. 

It's why you stayed in touch. Why you took on extra shifts occasionally during the school year, when Penny truly needed help at the last minute. Why you made the trip out to the Hard Deck simply to give a book. 

"Stay for a drink? It's on the house," Penny held up an empty glass, hoping the way it gleamed in the light could entice you into staying. 

But you looked around, taking in how many people were there, how loud it was. How the man wearing aviators and a Hawaiian shirt was feeding the crowd with the piano rendition of a song that sounded familiar. 

And simply shook your head. 

"Should get going, it is a school night." The truth was, you'd rather be at home, in your bed reading than staying out late with a bunch of pilots. 

Before you could say goodbye, Penny placed a hand on yours.

"Before you go Birdie, I wanted to let you know that we're celebrating Amelia's middle school graduation two weeks from Saturday. We'd love to have you there." 

You smiled, sincerely flattered that they would want you present for such an event, "I'd love to. Will your man of the hour be there?" 

A giggle escaped from you when you saw Penny's cheeks begin to turn pink. 

Bradley swears if he had looked over at that moment, he wouldn't have let you leave the Hard Deck that night. 

—------------------------

Bradley Bradshaw was not anti-romance, despite what his friends claimed, despite the numerous times he's turned down someone wanting to set him up. 

The idea of romance did appeal to him. The idea of spending the rest of his life with one person, who loved him and wanted to grow a family with him, was very appealing in theory. 

He wasn't against it at all. Just cautious. 

Cautious as he witnessed first hand how dangerous his job was, how it tore families apart. Hesitant because he grew up with the aftermath- the support groups, the sympathetic looks, the empty dining chair that served as a loud, always present reminder of what he and his mother had lost. 

He had been on dates, had been in relationships. They never went anywhere and Bradley was fine with that. The possibility that he may not come back from his deployments lingered in his mind, as did the image of someone receiving a flag and maybe his dog tags. 

Why put someone through that? 

“It's hard, but I wouldn't change a thing about it. You'll understand when it happens to you.” 

His mother’s words rang in his ears. He knew she meant well. Bradley knew those words were true for her. 

But he couldn't see them being true for himself. 

So he came to Amelia’s graduation party with a vegetable tray and no date, despite Penny’s insistence that he could bring someone. 

It's why Bradley walked straight past the kitchen, ignoring the unfamiliar voices. It's why he kept to the people he knew, rather than mingle with strangers. 

And that was fine, enjoyable even. Things were going the way they always went, the way Bradley wanted it. 

Consistent. 

Bradley Bradshaw lived for consistency. Each morning, he'd get up and go to work. Work hard until his bones ache. Spend time with friends and the makeshift family he had found. Go to bed alone. Rinse and repeat. 

Consistent. 

Everything was just fine, until Bradley felt a hand grip his shoulder. When he turned around, he found Jake and his fiancé, Danica (or Venus, as everyone called her), looking at him. 

“Your future wife is in the kitchen. Get in there.” 

—-------------------------------

Bob saw her first. 

It was hard to miss the sound of classic rock blaring from her red Subaru. 

The sounds of eighties rock was a nice change from the Jerry Lewis and Sinatra music Bradley insisted on playing. 

Even nicer was her voice. Sweet, smooth, light. 

She was clearly in her own world, unaware she had an audience. 

Nor would she. Bob knew better than anyone the pains of people walking in on him. So he quietly got out of his car, leaving her to finish the song by herself. 

Reuben was the first one to speak to her. 

Or rather, his daughter was. 

Ava, always determined to explore, ran into the kitchen as soon as he set her on the ground. 

It was easy to find her. Despite being only two, Ava had quite the voice on her. 

Given her shouts about cookies, Reuben wasn’t surprised when he found his daughter in the kitchen, pointing excitedly to a plate of sugar cookies. 

He was a little surprised to see that the person kneeling down to talk to her wasn’t Penny, but rather a woman he had never seen before. 

“Is it okay if I give her a cookie?” She asked, motioning to the sugar cookie she was holding in her hand. 

“As long as you're able to cut her off after two,” Reuben chuckled, “I'm warning you now, she can be hard to convince.” 

You smiled, the corners of your eyes crinkling, the bridge of your nose scrunching up as you looked at Ava, “It'll be tough, but I think I can manage.” 

Javy was the first one to try to include her in the picnic festivities. 

“Hey, don't tell them this is what we’re calling them, but we’re playing beer pong against the old timers in the basement. You in?” He asked. 

“Oh I'm good, but don't worry, your secret is safe with me,” She said with a gentle smile and a wink. 

It was the fact that she sounded assured, content to stay in the kitchen and continue making small talk with some of the wives, away from the hubbub of the picnic, that made him not push. 

Natasha was the first one to have an actual conversation with her. 

In a sea full of testosterone, it was  hard not to notice another woman. Especially one who looked around her age. 

“So how do you know Penny?” You looked rather surprised by Nat’s question, surprised that another person had noticed you in the kitchen and decided to converse.

“Oh, I'm, well, I was Amelia’s third grade teacher. I tutored her for a couple of summers and have helped Penny bartend when she needs extra help,” you explained. 

Natasha recalls Penny mentioning you a few times, now able to put a face to the name. 

“So you're the teacher! Penny said we might see you at the Hard Deck this summer,” Nat grinned, hoping it would help her feel more at ease. 

“I am! I'm still figuring out how exactly I want to spend my summer. First time I won't be doing summer school or tutoring,” you explained, continuing to wash the dishes that had begun to pile up on the counter. 

“Any travel plans? Or family you plan to visit?” Nat asked. 

You shook your head, eyes appearing dismal for a brief moment, “I don't have much family to visit. But I have been meaning to explore the area more, so I might do that.” 

Natasha knew not to press. You didn't owe her any further explanation. 

But out of all people, Jake Seresin was the one to make the connection. 

“I’m sorry, but what did Penny just call you?” He asked, jamming a finger up his ear to clean it out, convinced he heard it wrong. 

“Oh, Birdie!” you explained, flustered, “It’s um….it’s always been a nickname that friends and family have called me, ever since I was a kid. When I told Penny, she started calling me that too.”

Jake recalls the other details he's learned; a love of classic rock, vintage clothes and children, how your face lit up when someone spoke to you, as though you had  been waiting an awfully long time to be noticed, to be acknowledged. 

Your nickname. 

It hits Jake like a fucking freight train. 

“Excuse me, I have to go uh, um, find my wife,” he said abruptly, practically running out of the kitchen. 

Jake quickly found his Venus, tapping her on the shoulder as he ignored the death glare Phoenix was giving him for interrupting. 

“What is-” 

“Birdie. Her nickname is Birdie.” 

Danica’s amber-glazed eyes widened as she shot Natasha a knowing look. 

“Where is she?” 

Which is how Bradley Bradshaw found himself being dragged away from the grill and into Penny's house. 

After all, Bradley didn't have too much common sense. He would insist he was alright, despite losing his beat as he watched his close friends fall in love and get married. 

So they were just helping, helping him find somebody to love. 

“Y'all are being ridiculous, just because she likes the same music-” 

“It's more than that. You just need to see for yourself,” Jake explained, pushing him towards the kitchen. Inside, a sweet voice was talking.

“Peekaboo! I see you!” He could hear a big smile through your voice, “Now it's Ava’s turn!” 

Bradley turned the corner to find you sitting cross legged on the kitchen floor, enabling you to be somewhat closer to eye level with Ava. You and the little toddler were both full of giggles as you continued your game. 

Ava’s small hands flew up to her face, covering her eyes. It was an adorable sight, how she was trying to say the words. A bright smile adorned your face, eyes shining as you played with her. 

“Where did Ava go?” You asked, pretending to look, “There she is!”

A warmth flooded Bradley’s heart as he watched this mysterious woman interact with Ava. It felt familiar,childhood memories of his mom flooding back. But this time, instead of feeling sorrow, a pleasantness surrounded him. 

Strange. 

Ava babbled, causing you to giggle once more. 

“My name is Birdie. Can you say Birdie?”

Oh. 

So that was why everyone thought this was his future wife. 

It was a cute coincidence, nothing more. Yes, it was beyond endearing to watch you interact with Ava, you were obviously great with kids. 

“Roo!” Ava’s coos of her special nickname for Bradley broke him out of his thoughts. 

“What's a Roo?” You asked, your eyebrows knitted together in confusion. The puzzled look on your face was adorable. 

“That would be me. Hey Ava girl,” Bradley kneeled down, his arms open wide, allowing Ava to run over and hug him. 

You instantly recognized him thanks to the memorable mustache. But his smile and eyes were much softer now. His whole demeanor is less cocky and more approachable in Penny’s kitchen. 

Bradley scooped the young toddler into his arms, grinning as Ava giggled. 

“You being good? Trying to persuade people to give you more cookies by being adorable?” Bradley asked the toddler. 

“I'm holding out strong. Don't want her dad to hate me for giving her a sugar rush,” You explained, a soft smile on your face as you watched him interact with Ava. 

“See, the key is to make sure the sugar rush happens when he takes her home,” Bradley grinned, “That way he can't do anything about it.” 

“I'm sure he can ask around regarding who gave her all that sugar though,” you retorted, facing the sink again to continue the dishes. 

“See, that's where you have the advantage; you're not in the group chat,” Bradley balanced Ava on a hip, walking over to the sink to join you. 

You were fun to talk to; able to hold your own with a soft, yet slightly mischievous smile adorning your face. 

“I'm Bradley,” he explained, the spirit of his mother probably screaming that it took him this long to introduce himself. 

“I take that's your actual name, considering that's way too normal to be your callsign,” normally you wouldn't tease a complete stranger like this. But he was easy to talk to and it helped that he was holding an adorable baby like a complete natural. 

“It is. My callsign is Rooster.” The information caused your hands to still. 

“Rooster?” It was too wild to be a coincidence. 

“Yeah, when I was part of my first squadron, I was always the first one to be up. But I also had a tendency to be well, louder than what they would have preferred, which is how I got my callsign Rooster.” Bradley smiled as he recalled the loud complaints of his squadron, which always seemed to die down once they learned he was making breakfast. 

“I, love that. Sorry, I, it's funny your callsign is that. Because it's like a nickname right? My nickname is Birdie,” your speech quickened as you realized you were rambling, “I know that nicknames aren't the same as callsigns. Well, in a way they are, they're both given to you for a reason, right? It's just funny how our nicknames are both-” 

“Excuse me?” You looked up to see your savior came in the form of a bespectacled man who was standing by the door. 

“I was threat-I mean, told by Danica and Phoenix that I needed to get Ava,” The man said, walking over to Bradley. 

“Bo!” Ava exclaimed, reaching for the man. 

“Sure thing Bob,” Bradley said, hanging over the toddler to his friend, unable to stop himself from rolling his eyes at his friends’ schemes. 

“C'mon Ava, let's leave the two soon to be lovebirds alone,” Bob whispered, out of the room before Bradley could say anything.

“Did he just… “

Bradley sighed, “Gotta watch out for that one. He's quiet but can be cheeky when he wants to be.” 

“As opposed to the others, who are just outright cheeky?” You asked. 

Bradley chuckled, “You're catching on. Here, I can dry while you wash?” 

He could be spending time with his squadron. Could be spending time joking with Mav’s old squad, making jokes and talking about the past that he was too young to remember. Could be anywhere but here in the kitchen, helping you do dishes. 

And yet, he didn't mind it at all. Bradley was finding himself enjoying his conversation with you, despite knowing it would earn him several eye rolls and shoulder shoves from Danica and Jake. 

You were surprised he was still here, that he hadn't found an excuse to leave. 

It was a nice change. 

“So you're the teacher Penny talks about?” 

You laughed, “Is that who I'm known as? You're like the third person to ask me that.” 

“Just shows how big of an impact you had.” Your cheeks warmed at the praise. 

“You know, you just try your best. Make sure to listen. Helps that I'm also a child of divorce, you know? Had a lot of pointers,”  you shrugged, but it was clear you were downplaying your efforts. 

“Have you always wanted to be a teacher?” Bradley asked, wanting to keep the conversation going, despite the dishes being done. 

You took your hands out of your pockets, fidgeting with the hem of your dress. Your shoulders shrug as a small smile spreads across your lips. 

“Yeah. I love helping folks, especially kids. I was a camp counselor all throughout high school and I just….felt at home when I was helping other people,” you explained. 

You leaned forward, the scent of jasmine flooding Bradley’s nostrils. 

“It makes sense that I became a teacher. But if you asked me as a kid what I wanted to do as a grown up, I wouldn't have said teaching.” 

Bradley leaned forward. With the sunlight hitting him, you could now see the lighter shades of brown that adorned his curls. 

“A mom. I’ve always wanted to be a mom.” 

“You'll understand when it happens to you.” 

Oh. Okay. 

That's when Bradley Bradley finally gets it. Because he's imagining life with you; moving in together, getting married, having kids. The risk is still there. But he'd rather live with that risk and you than not at all. 

“I know that's silly, but it's true. I mean, it's not even an occupation-” 

“I said I wanted to be a dad when I grew up.” 

Your eyes light up at his admission, feeling at ease and less like a rambling burden. 

“You must have had a really great Dad then.” There was a flash of sorrow in his eyes at the mention of his father. 

“From what I remember. I was only four when he died, but….from what I remember, he was great,” his voice was softer now, his eyes showing he was in another place. 

You inched closer to him, “I'm really sorry, I'm sure that was hard for you and your mom.” 

“It wasn't easy. But she always said she wouldn't change anything. Never really understood that until recently.” His shoulder is touching yours, his long fingers inches away from your thighs. You were hyper aware of the closeness, unsure if moving away would be proper or offensive. 

“Something helped you have that revelation?” 

“Moreso someone.” 

It's impossible to not notice the way his stare lingers on you, how his smile is warm and those whisky eyes are shining bright as he sends a wink your way. It makes your heart flutter; no one has ever looked at you that way before. 

Nerves begin to overtake your brain, causing you to look away from his intense gaze. 

“Should we um, get back to the picnic?” You all but mumbled. There's no desire to leave him, but you don't want to get your hopes up. 

“Can I at least get your number before we do that?” Bradley asks, eagerly getting out his phone. 

Bradley Bradshaw hates accidents, except for the one that led him to this kitchen, to you. 

His forwardness is uncharted territory. There's no wondering or second guessing; Bradley wants to stay in touch, wants to keep talking to you. 

It's nice. It's unfamiliar. It's exciting. It's sending your doubts and anxiety into a tailspin. 

Your fingers fumble for your phone, opening up a new contact for him to fill out. His fingers brush against yours when he hands you his phone, little sparks flying up your spine. 

Bradley simply smiles when your eyes look at the screen of his phone. Your brows knit together in confusion, the bridge of your nose scrunching up as you read over the words again and again, eyes surely playing tricks on you. 

“Um, I think you made a mistake Bradley?” you hold up his phone, “The name for this  contact is Mrs. Bradshaw?” It also has a heart emoji next to it, but that wasn't worth mentioning. 

“Oh, it's no mistake,” Bradley grins. 

The only sound you can let out is a confused huh. 

“You just gotta put your number right there, and then you're all set.” Bradley points to it, an assured smile remaining on his face. 

“Are you….are you going to change the name?” You asked, dumbfounded. 

Bradley shrugs, “Nah. I'll know it's you. But I can put the word ‘future’ in parentheses if you want it to be more accurate.” 

Your fingers have a mind of their own, typing in those desired ten numbers. Bradley takes his phone from your hands but not before placing a gentle kiss on your burning cheek. 

His lips feel soft, the hairs of his mustache gently tickling your skin. When you turn your head, your lips are now inches away from yours. 

You try to ground yourself, try to look away from his lips, try to ignore the warm, fuzzy feeling that's overtaking your body. 

“Sorry Birdie, but I'm old fashioned. First kiss shouldn't be until the first date,” He winks. 

What floors you more, his confidence or his bold desire for you? 

Raising an eyebrow, you ask, “And when will that be?” 

Bradley chuckles, “Whenever you want Birdie.” 

He can't be serious. But what would he gain from leading you on, other than Penny’s wrath? 

You straighten your shoulders, trying to hold your own against his large frame.

“Tomorrow at six,” You muster up all the confidence you can, preparing yourself for him to drop the act. 

“Done. Do you prefer Italian or French?” 

“Neither as I'm lactose intolerant.” This was it. Was he going to stop the act, once he knew it would require more effort. 

“How do you feel about Thai? I know a great spot. Never been but it's been praised by Jake and Danica and let me tell you, that woman does not give out praise easily.” 

You giggled, “I could tell. By the way, is there a reason he calls her Venus?” 

“Short version; he's obsessed with her. Been that way since they met in the parking lot of a coffee shop. You should ask them how they met; they give different answers and it's hilarious,” Bradley explains, a gleam in his eyes as he thinks about one of his favorite couples. 

“I'd like that. But if you go with me,” you asked, “Kinda random to just walk up to a couple you don't know and ask how they met.” 

Again, you expect Bradley to falter. He's clearly more outgoing than you, so why would he want someone whose first instinct wasn't to strike up a conversation with strangers? 

“I will, but only if you confirm we’re on for Thai tomorrow at six.” 

Surely, he couldn't be serious. But that sweet smile and shining brown eyes said otherwise. 

“You really gonna take me out?” you crossed your arms over your chest. 

“Of course! I mean, I'm more than happy to take you out tonight, but you said tomorrow, so I'm sticking to it. Plus, it gives me time to get you flowers. Speaking of which, what are your favorite? You seem like a sunflower gal,” his eyes reminded you of an eager puppy, absolutely endearingly adorable. 

“What makes you think that?” He was absolutely right, but you wouldn't let him know that yet. 

Bradley shrugged, “When you smile, it reminds me of sunshine. Also, if it want to get technical, birds also like sunflower seeds.” 

You couldn't help but throw your head back and laugh. Your laugh was sweet, bursting with joy. It calmed down Bradley’s racing heartbeat. 

 “And what should I get you, Rooster? Corn meal?”

His corniness almost made you forget that he literally compared you to the sun. 

Almost. 

His laugh was deep, bellowing deep from his stomach, making you feel warm all over. 

“You kill me Mrs. Bradshaw, now let's go get you that story,” He gently takes your hand into his, entwining his fingers with yours. 

The nickname makes you less confused and more certain Bradley would be sticking around.

[iloveyouinred]

Should have bought Oversize. | ft. Itto, Alhaitham, Kaeya

Asked by @coreakin-sakarat

𓇬♡ | Warning: NSFW, heavy on size kink, etc.

Alhaitham will be very careful. He knew his size is a bit.. over the standard. So he prepared you earnestly. Eating you out and fingering your cunt until it becomes a little bit too much. You think you have loosen up enough. And your mind is a mess already. You are begging him to put it in. To just fuck you here and now. And his pent up self doesn't really help with the face you were giving him.

Itto tried to deny your plea but seeing your lustful eyes, voice a little too desperate calling his name sweetly. Devoured by lust, he releases his throbbing length and rubs it on your labia. You choke on your own breath. A small gasp escaped your lips as you watched his true size pressing against your gaping hole.

“W-wait-” You chirp, nails pressing on his back. Scratching it as he pushes the thick length slowly. It's hardly in. Only the tips and few cm of the length and you already crying and mumbling ‘too big.. ‘s too much’ repeatedly like a prayer. Kaeya cooed at you and kissed your tears away. Singing you praises and trying to distract you by playing with your other part.

They will refrain themself from moving too much. Letting you adjust with his length, patience is key. He will train your body to handle his size. After all, if you can take him then no other man can pleasure you the way he did, right? When your soppy cunt becomes more relaxed and a little bit too wet from all your arousal, from him playing with other parts of your body, he slides in a little more easily. Although the thick length dragging along your wall leaves you gasping for breath. It's surely much better than not moving at all.

Once the entire length is in(it might be not for Itto part😞), with the tip pressing against your cervix nicely. He hummed in approval. Not moving just yet, the man will takes time. Strangely patience with the process, though you know how excited they are from the throbbing cock inside you.

Itto will be the first to lose the patience game and start pounding into you. He tried to be gentle, he swear. But he might be overcome with his own lust and drive you over the edge. You might be both in sitting position before, but once he loses his patience he will be grabbing your hips and moving your body to meet his thrust. You might want to hang your hand around his neck, mindlessly crying out his name. Babbling incoherent words when his ridiculously huge cock slamming into you, penetrating your inside with overwhelming pleasure. The size of it, which might have a rigged texture, hits your spots perfectly with a new feeling. This will also bring trouble because he could be one of the types who continue to swell. So once it's inside you won't be able to get it off. Not like you have the power left anyway. The way he hits your cervix will certainly make your mind go blank.

Alhaitham has a ridiculous amount of patience. He spent time working you up. Still playing with your breast. Leaving kisses and marks on it. Just about the right time when you call his name his hips snaps. You could be laying on your back one moment then being rolled to your stomach the next round. He loved watching your face twisted in overwhelming pleasure. Hanging by the thread to keep your sanity intact as he pounds the life out of you. But taking you from behind excites him also. For he could see your honest body language. Squirming under his touch. Your back arch back when his thrust went to the right spot. His hand is playing with your nipples while his mouth works on your back. Leaving love bites here and there. The aftermath of being fuck by Alhaitham, beside the limp(it implies to all the man here), you also will be left with a hell bunch of love bites which is hard to cover even if you wear a proper shirt.

Kaeya on the other hand is a tease. It's in his nature to leave you wanting him. Helplessly clinging to him when he play with your clit while still trying to pushing himself in and out your cunt. The stimulation is overwhelming. He might have been edging you for a while with his skillful hand. And with once or few thrusts you have come on his length.

“Easy there. You are quite an eager one, aren't you?” He will chuckle teasing you knowing damn well he is the one that make you come fairly quick with his hand playing around your body. While Alhaitham is focusing on training your body to accommodate his size and shape, Kaeya will toy around with you. Man know damn well he is big and he will fuck you mad. Then make you beg for it. He will be teasing you for annoyingly long enough but in the end he will fucked you mindless. Might be for his own pent up lust too. You will hear him degrading you and praise you in one second difference. Though every time he slammed his cock to your cervix your mind will become dumber and dumber.

Over all if you do get stuck, Kaeya will toy with you, making you move to get him off yourself only to slam you back in. The amount of back and forth in his play is crazy. Alhaitham will continue to fuck you(his reasoning is he will get smaller once he is finished, which leave you laying there trembling with his cum dripping down your hole). While Itto, honestly you will pass out first before he is done(from his stamina as an oni). Which you just realised he is stuck in you the whole night when you wake up the next day. And he will continue to fuck you until you are loose enough for him to pull out *sad Itto sound*.

[yandere-sins]

Do you still write for yandere omega? That piece was soooo good oml, can you write an aftermath or just a snippet of day to day life with them? Yan omegas are so rare and they are rarely explored and tours really set a tone on what they could do. Its the ultimate ploy, nobody can suspect an omega desiring a simple beta, simply too outrageous to think

I never really stop writing for anything (that might be the actual problem, lol). Thanks for your request!

Warning: Yandere, Sexual Content!!

»»———————— ♡ ————————««

Tap, tap, tap.

Their fingers swept over the keyboard on their lap, restless and excited, generating countless words per minute. A smile played on the omega's lips, giddy and amused as they scrolled and replied to endless comments, the flood of new notifications never-ending. The success of their latest video—a video showing you and them immersed in heat and rut for hours to no end—was something that not even they could have expected. Still, they kept their online banking up, watching donations and premium membership fees roll in by the second, putting a wide grin on their face.

Humming in satisfaction, they halted their fanservice, glancing up from the blinding laptop screen to you, sitting on the chair next to them, still dazed as you ate your cereals. You two had been holed up for days in your nest, the whole production of your very first video having ruthlessly dragged you through all emotions known to mankind and leaving you exhausted. Not exhausted enough to refuse the food your omega procured for you, but enough so that you didn't argued or cried anymore while shoveling colorful, animal-shaped cereals and milk into your mouth. 

Even like this—disheveled, still a little crusty (since you didn't want to get out of your curled position and shower with them after they stopped the recording), and sore—you were no less their beautiful beta than you were down in the love nest, ravaging your omega like a goddamn beast. 

You had visibly turned off reality around you, sitting there completely out of it as you ate, heading your omega no mind. What you must be thinking about was as puzzling as it was unconcerning to them, their own thoughts had always been louder in their head. However, as they watched you, they grew antsy, missing your full attention on them like when you two were buried in sheets and in the spotlight of their production, even though it had been painful at times. But even pain was beautiful to some, and your pain was a gift to them, just like your love was. They missed your hands all over them, spit and sweat mixing as your bodies moved in perfect harmony with each other. Now, despite sitting close enough to you that they could easily reach out and hold your hand, it was not close enough.

They hadn't brought you here for you to be away from them. All the money and time that went into building, securing, and completely erasing the location of this mansion had not been so you two would be apart from each other. Not for you to have that kind of freedom, one that the omega didn't want for you or for them. 

It was bittersweet to abandon their beloved fans for you, the very same people who made it possible for you two to be together. Who supported and encouraged the omega, no matter what, as they worked their butt off for more and more of their attention. And yet, the omega announced their farewells for the day, promising more exciting content to come tomorrow before logging off and closing the laptop.

It was your attention they wanted. Only yours. 

It had only ever been you they desired, from kindergarten well into adulthood. They had always clung to you and pleaded for you to claim them long before your diagnosis. It was such a shame that you didn't present as an alpha when the time came; otherwise, their place at your side would have been surely secured. This way, they had to go to drastic lengths to be with you, even though the effort hadn't been in vain. Now they had you right where they wanted. 

Their hand sliding up your arm, you halted your movements, spoon hanging in mid-air with milk dripping from its rim. There was a slight shake in your hand, growing more and more intense the higher the omega's hand traveled. Until they gripped your shoulder, the spoon clattering on the designer table, milk and cereals going everywhere as you winced in pain. 

Their grip was merciless, considering the many, many marks and bruises they left on your body, the pain only now registering that you were out of the drug-induced rut. Your whole body was practically mauled by your omega's teeth and sharp nails, fists they used to get you in position when you were too high to listen to their demands. Everything hurt, and when they climbed on your lap, tears shot back into your eyes, their hands freely roaming your chest and arms without remorse about what they did to you. 

In fact, they were proud feeling the indents through your t-shirt. A shirt they rubbed all over themselves before helping you into, marking you with their scent. Had you been an alpha, it would have been so easy to make sure you smelled like your omega. But you weren't. So they needed to use more drastic methods to mark you. The omega could think about a good handful more ways but decided to keep those for the next time they'd put you in front of a camera. Until then, a shirt and their body rubbing against yours had to suffice. 

"You did so well," they cooed, longing for nothing more than to hear you praise them as well. But perhaps they had to show you first how to take care of an omega, so, once again, they took the lead, just like they always had in this relationship. "Fucked me so good, made me feel so full ~ My pretty little beta. You enjoyed it, too, right? We made such a lovely video; now my fans love you too."

"Ah- No more..." you gasped weakly, gripping the omega's waist and trying to push them off you. They grinned at your little, helpless defiance, the bite you had after arriving in your new home now muzzled after days of fucking. You had so many more beautiful sounds to give them than your screaming and crying—moaning, whimpering, begging. Their hips were grinding over your legs and into yours, the pain etched into your face of no concern to the omega as they kept disturbing all the sore and wounded parts of your body.

God, you were beautiful. 

Day, night, evening, morning, you were always fucking stunning. Happy, smiling, angry, crying, needy, drooling, hurt, and despairing. There was no moment they didn't love you. You were only made for them, your beauty belonged all to the omega. Even god must have meant for you two to be together. 

"Hush, it's okay. There, there..." your omega muttered, leaning forward to kiss your tears away, licking up the salty trails they left behind while their hips picked up speed on top of you, causing some blissful moans from the omega's lips. Nothing in this world turned them on like you did, even sitting at the table, crying pathetically over the pleasure they gave you. You were so seductive, even when you were hurting. Anything they gave you, pain or pleasure, you had to accept it just like the omega did. Pain, acceptance, being close to each other no matter what—all these feelings you harbored for them, you had to accept the same way they did. That's what love meant.

Sliding their hand down your chest, they dug under your waistband, sliding further and further. You let out a beautiful gasp, followed by your body shifting and hands trying to stop the passionate grind of the omega's hips. But latest when they had their hand on your sex, making you flinch at the touch, you slowly stilled, merely trembling as your breath turned ragged. 

"That's it, baby!" the omega cheered, your pleasure becoming their own as they used their hand to get both of you off by grinding against it. "Come for me, Darling! You'll do it, right? Come for me? Come like a good beta from your omega's hand?"

They'd turn all this hurt into more and more love. Your pain would soon cease when you realized they were doing what was right for you. Their hand was slick with your juices, confirming that the omega was right—they were the best and only option for you to thrive in this life, just like the thought of you had driven them to success. It would turn you into an alpha despite your genes, at least one in mind. Now that they had you, they would never let you go. They'd never abandon you and take a real alpha; there was no need for it anymore when they could shape you into what they wanted. 

Slipping their hand out of your shorts again, they licked off the remnants of your orgasm, watching as your body collapsed beneath them. That's right, they thought, just let yourself fall. Once you'd learn to leave behind all the bad thoughts and drown in the pleasure and love they'd give you, everything would get better. You could live your life with them, secluded and confined in your togetherness, in peace and harmony. 

Your omega would do what you needed to realize this.

"I love you," they murmured against your lips, licking over the bloody marks of your own teeth that had bitten into them, kissing away the pain. Soon, there would be no need to hold back like this. No need for hostility against them. Everything would go back to how it was before your diagnosis. You two would finally be happy. 

"I love you so much," they sighed, ignoring the jolt in your body as they began to grind again, not yet done with you. Mouths mixing in a one-sided kiss, the omega moaned into it, ignoring every flinch and your whining when they bit into your lips as well, combining your mark with theirs and tasting what belonged to them. 

They knew they might have to ruin you some more to achieve their goals. Break in the old belief that you two could never be together, and let it crumble like a house of cards by showing you how they could take care of you. Bring out your real potential as their partner. Claim you until you were too weak to refuse them as your bonded partner. 

It was a rocky road until then, littered with more arguments, nights of silence, tears, and them getting what they wanted no matter how much you suffered. But they had gone through much worse to get to where they were now. The extra effort would not stand in the way of your happiness. After all, that's what devotion was.

And your omega would always be the one and only for you. 

[zegrasdrysdale]

[ aftermath ] t. zegras

paring : Trevor Zegras x fem!reader

summary : (Y/N) helps Trevor deal with Jamie leaving and breaking his ankle all in 24 hours

warning(s) : injury, some angst

author’s note : it’s me. hi. i’m the problem, it’s me

༺═──────────────═༻

She definitely believes in the snowball effect after the last 24 hours of her life. It’s one of the reasons why she’s currently on a flight in the middle of the night to Raleigh to meet her boyfriend’s hockey team at their hotel.

Both her life and Trevor’s life have changed so much in 24 hours. Trevor left with the Ducks for their road trip expecting to have a fun trip. His best friend was finally 21 and could enjoy all that Nashville had to offer.

Then Jamie got the call that no player ever really wants to get from their general manager.

Hours later, he was on a flight to Philly and leaving the Ducks and a distraught Trevor behind in Tennessee.

She should’ve gotten on a plane then and there. Instead, she tempted fate.

The next day was Trevor’s 200th career NHL game, and he had to play it without his best friend on the ice with him. (Y/N) happily watched from their apartment in Anaheim.

Until Trevor went down along the boards after 3 shifts and two minutes total on the ice. She was on her feet as she watched her boyfriend get helped down the tunnel. He wasn’t putting any pressure on his left leg as the trainers helped him.

She blew up his phone with texts and calls until one in the morning California time. He never replied. Then she texted Mason and asked where the Ducks were staying in Raleigh. She booked a flight and asked Mason to get Trevor’s room number when they got there.

Luckily there was a nonstop flight to Raleigh that left from LAX at three that she just barely made. She packed a duffel bag and ran out the door to catch the flight.

After nearly five hours in the air and multiple timezone changes, (Y/N) lands in North Carolina. She left at three in the morning and landed at eleven in the morning. Mason’s text with Trevor’s room number and a he’s cranky comes through as she grabs her duffel from baggage claim.

Honestly, she should’ve gotten on a flight as soon as Trevor told her that Jamie got traded. This is what happens when you tempt fate.

She orders an Uber from the airport to the hotel where Trevor is staying with the Ducks.

Why he traveled with them after getting hurt is beyond her. Maybe it isn’t a long term injury and it’s just a sprain.

Either way, she’s about to find out.

After a ten minute debate with herself, she lightly knocks on Trevor’s door.

It’s a second before the door opens. As soon as it swings open though, her heart breaks at the sight behind it.

Trevor stands on crutches with his ankle wrapped. His eyes are red and puffy and it looks like he hasn’t slept a wink in two days. Honestly, he probably hasn’t.

"Trev," she pouts.

He shakes his head and quickly spins to walk back into the room. She follows him and lets the door shut behind her. "I don't want you here, (Y/N)," he tells her. The voice crack tells her all she needs to know. He does actually need her here.

"I don't care," she replies. "I'm here anyway." Trevor leans the crutches against the middle table and sits on the bed. "You haven't exactly had the best few days so I came to make sure you're okay."

"I'm not fucking okay!" Trevor shouts at her before rubbing his face and running his fingers through his hair to compose himself. "My best friend plays across the damn country now after getting traded out of nowhere and I might have just broken my damn ankle in a milestone game. I'm going to be out for like two months again."

(Y/N) crouches down in front of him and puts her hands on his knees. "I'm sorry, baby," she softly says. "I can't even begin to imagine how you feel right now. I know Jamie's in Philly right now and I know you won't talk to anyone else about how you feel so that's why I'm here. I don't want you to bottle up your feelings."

"It just sucks," Trevor says, voice shaky. "Everything's changing and I don't like it. I'm probably going to have to go to Jamie's and pack his apartment so I can send his stuff to him, especially now that I'm out and won't be able to do anything."

She gets up and sits next to her boyfriend. She grabs one of his hands and holds it on her lap. She rubs the back of her hand with her thumb. Trevor leans over and drops his head to her shoulder. She wraps an arm around his shoulders and plays with his hair.

"I'm here," she whispers. "I don't care if you don't want me here. I'll always be here."

"I know," Trevor replies. "I'm sorry for yelling at you. I'm just frustrated and confused and in pain."

(Y/N) kisses his temple and buries her face in his hair. "It's okay," she says. "You're feeling a lot right now so I don't blame you for anything you say right now. Just know that I'll be here the entire time. As for Jamie, you know he's a phone call away whenever you wanna talk to him. He'll answer every single time you call him."

He nods. "Yeah," he mumbles. "Can we lay down until I meet with the doctor?"

"Of course," she replies. "Whatever you wanna do. What time do you meet with the doctor?"

"Three," Trevor tells her as he gets comfortable. Well, as comfortable as he can since he's hurt. "I have to leave at two."

That's enough time for both of them to take a two hour nap.

She sets her alarm for 1:30 then settles in next to him. She wraps a leg around his waist and rests her head on his forehead while he wraps an arm around her shoulders.

"Thank you for coming," Trevor whispers, his voice tired. "You didn't have to."

"I wanted to," she assures him. "Close your eyes for a bit. I'll wake you up when it's time to leave."

He nods and within seconds, his breathing evens out. She smiles and falls asleep herself knowing that Trevor is finally getting some rest.

༺═──────────────═༻

MASTERLIST

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[redahlia-writes]

only if for a night. | joel miller

Abstract: “It’s midnight,” you whispered, lips tingling with the aftermath of his hungry kisses. He looked down at his wrist, where a watch would be but the skin sat empty, and then turned his head slightly to look at your watch. His mouth was bruised as he licked his lips, a light furrow crossing his brow as if he could not believe the audacity of time to interrupt him. You leaned in - the distance was not really distance, his frame still caging you against the counter - and pressed a quick, almost ridiculously chaste kiss to his cheek. “Happy birthday, sweetheart.”

Words: 5.7K

Content: f!reader; pre-outbreak + post-outbreak, show timeline but references to the game, a lot of kissing, suggestive language but nothing explicit, mentions of child death, mentions of death in general, reader has a broken leg, guilt, angst, a little bit of hurt/comfort, some fluff, joel gets Clingy

A/N: who’s surprised? not me. the original idea was longer but i ended up trying to compress everything in a single one-shot because i have no chill.

also on AO3 - masterlist

feedback is always greatly appreciated. you can send it here, too

September 25, 2003.

Joel’s hand was warm against the small of your back, soothing and electrifying at the same time as he led you from the living room to the kitchen, one last glance over his shoulder in Sarah’s direction.

The girl had fallen asleep on the couch next to him, the movie’s volume getting lower and lower as the night went by, forgotten by all three of you in favor of each other. Sarah kept asking you questions about your job, about your life, poking fun at her father every now and then, and in return he would good-heartedly scold her for being too nosy, tethering the annoying, to which the girl would pout but immediately return her attention to you instead.

You were just glad she’d liked you. Things with Joel hadn’t been going on for long - you’d known about Sarah right away: she was his favorite subject of conversation, his whole face brightening when he mentioned his daughter, and you’d understood it was also his reason for certain boundaries of his - your house, not his; not staying the night; taking things slow.

And then he’d asked you over for dinner, and the girl had told you right away she’d already known of your existence because her father was so gone. Plus Tommy had ratted him out for the one time you’d brought Joel lunch at work - a casual thing, really: he’d mentioned forgetting to pack it for himself during a call and you were gonna pass that way anyways.

“Can’t believe how much that kid manages to humble me,” he muttered, turning his head to look at you. Laughing softly, you drew closer to wrap your arm around his middle, creating a temporary odd tangle of arms before he turned to face you. “You sure you can’t spend the night?” he asked then softly, hands coming up to cradle your face.

Joel’s hands were rough and calloused from his work, but warm and gentle as he touched you. He cupped your jaw, fingers spanning down your neck except for his thumbs, tenderly brushing at your cheeks as you leaned into him. It had been fleeting touches all night, both out of respect and nerves - a quick peck at the door, hands brushing when walking past the other as you got ready for dinner, knees bumping underneath the table, sitting shoulder-to-shoulder on the couch as the movie played and Sarah talked.

“Got an early morning,” you shook your head slowly, movements limited by his insistent touches as he leaned closer or pulled you to him. “I need to go to the hospital for a check-up.”

He groaned softly as you wrapped your arms fully around him - there was no space left between the two of you, his shirt wrinkling against your chest and uncovering a sliver of his skin while the buckle of his belt pressed into the lower part of your stomach. You craned your neck a little to kiss the noise away from his lips.

Joel sighed, chasing your mouth with his - he glanced once more towards the living room from above your shoulder before letting his eyes flutter shut. He dropped one hand to your side, thumbing the hem of your shirt and lifting it slightly, enough so he could slide his hand underneath and caress your bare skin.

Melting against him, you felt your lips part at the mere brush of his tongue across them, fingertips tracing mindless patterns against his back from above his shirt as he moved slowly, turning you both around and backing you further into the room, back and back and back until you were pressed against the kitchen counter, leaning slightly backwards under his weight as he crowded you. In the meantime, with the hand still cupping your jaw, he caressed your neck with his small and ring finger, right over your pulse point.

“Joel Miller,” you reprimanded in a breathless whisper after pulling back, his name slightly muffled by his mouth searching yours right away, making you lean back towards the counter, one elbow resting against the marble surface as you looked up. “Are you trying to get in my pants?”

He grinned, the hand underneath your shirt rising a little in a slow caress. “Is it working?” he wondered quietly, dipping his head again for another kiss. You turned your head, his lips landing on your jaw instead as you scoffed.

“Not with your teenage daughter in the other room, it isn’t,” you warned, another groan leaving him in protest as he trailed his lips down, jaw to neck to a small spot behind your ear he’d found one afternoon by mistake that had you close your eyes with a deep inhale, legs threatening to give out underneath you. “I really like her, Joel, and I really, really really want her to like me and this,” you tapped his back, moving up his spine, “is not the way.”

“She does like you,” he hummed, still nuzzling your neck. “She might even like you more than she does me,” you snorted, detangling your arms from him to wrap them around his shoulders, head tilted to the side - you exposed even more skin to him, and he pressed himself closer.

For a moment longer, you just let him have his way with you. It was easy to succumb to the bliss of his touch, of his lips tracing patterns on your skin back up towards your mouth, to linger in his kiss that went on and on and on until you swore your head was spinning and you were fifteen years younger, teenagers stealing kisses when nobody’s watching. And then you stole a glance towards your watch, wrist resting over his shoulder, and Joel exhaled as you broke the kiss again.

“It’s midnight,” you whispered, lips tingling with the aftermath of his hungry kisses. He looked down at his wrist, where a watch would be but the skin sat empty, and then turned his head slightly to look at your watch. His mouth was bruised as he licked his lips, a light furrow crossing his brow as if he could not believe the audacity of time to interrupt him. You leaned in - the distance was not really distance, his frame still caging you against the counter - and pressed a quick, almost ridiculously chaste kiss to his cheek. “Happy birthday, sweetheart.”

“You kept me up this late on a Thursday night,” he turned to look at you again, both his hands now resting on your sides - one still underneath your shirt that rode up your back, leaving the cold marble to cool your skin down. “Wretched woman,” he accused with mock-sternness, and then looked over his shoulder, arms winding around your middle as he checked that Sarah was still asleep before pulling you up on the counter. “I think I deserve a birthday present for that. Don’t you, darlin’?”

The space was small, leaving you to wrap arms and legs around him as you did your best to not yelp at the sudden shift. Joel grinned, satisfied as you kept him caged between your thighs, his hands slowly trailing down your sides. With his chin tipped up to keep looking at you, in the faint light of the kitchen, you ran your hands gently through his curls, brushing them back from his lovely face.

“How about you let me go home instead,” he began protesting, hands gripping your thighs to pull you to him, as if by getting closer he could melt his very being with yours and keep you there - you shushed him gently, still raking your hands through his hair, down to the nape where the cut was a little ragged. “I’ll call you when I’m done, and we’ll discuss Saturday?”

“Saturday?” he repeated, a small pout crossing his lips. It was difficult to not lean in and kiss it right off of him - it was difficult to focus when he looked at you with those eager, big eyes.

“Yes,” you cupped his jaw, the same way he had with you, small finger curling underneath and scratching lightly at his stubble. “You spend your birthday with your daughter, and then I’m taking you on a date on Saturday. Deal?”

His lips turned in a quick, surprised smile, still looking at you as if the thought of letting go of you was the least appealing thing he could think of at the moment. But his hold on you eased little by little, until his hands were simply resting over your thighs, and when you unhooked your ankles from behind his back he did not protest.

Instead, he leaned in - one last time - and left a lingering kiss to your mouth before pulling back, leaving enough space so you could get off of the counter as he took your hands. A brief brush to your wrist, looking at you with his head slightly tilted before he sighed, almost resigned, and brought your hands to his mouth.

“Deal.”

20 years later, and then some.

There were many things you’d missed from before the outbreak. Traveling. Going out for dinner. Going to the movies. Showers. Baths. Music. The sea.

Painkillers. What you wouldn’t have done for a painkiller as you twisted again on the creaky bed - an actual bed, more than you had had for the past 20 years - attempting to find a position that did not make your leg scream.

The makeshift cast was heavy and uncomfortable, and all you wanted to do was reach inside and scratch until your skin was raw. But each movement sent jolts of pain up your spine, and it was back to missing painkillers.

It was unbearable, making you groan and wish, yet again, for some sleep.

“Hey, Captain Ahab,” a light knock on the door made you screw your eyes shut, head sinking deeper into the pillows. “How are you doin’?” “Screw you, Tommy, I still got both my legs,” albeit one didn’t work.

It had been a surprise, seeing Tommy again after 20 years. You weren’t sure how you’d recognised each other - covered in filth, having seen each other just once before the outbreak - but the name Miller had had every muscle in your body tense as he and Maria brought you within the community and she tended to you. For a week you’d inhabited their house, unable to stand up for longer than ten minutes, the woman forcing you to do so every now and again.

“Is that how you greet an old friend?” he scoffed in mock-offense, then stepped into the room. “I brought you something.”

“Is it Oxycodone? An aspirin? I’ll take anything if -” pulling your head up from the pillows you groaned softly as you spoke, shifting your weight on your elbows to try and sit up - and then froze as you looked towards the doorway. Tommy stood against the wall with a smirk on his face, and on the other side of the door was a girl, looking confused between the two of you and then behind her shoulder.

For the first couple of days, Tommy had kept aside, leaving Maria to help you - it had felt like a reason enough not to ask. Tommy was there in Jackson, and he wasn’t, so of course something had happened, something must have happened, because he wasn’t talking about him, nor had he asked anything, so of course Joel -

Joel.

Twenty years gone by and, grays aside, Joel Miller still looked the same as he stood in the doorway. Almost. Not quite. It was the same face, the same arched nose, the same lips, the same neck and shoulders, if dusted. But his eyes were all wrong - brows knitted, a stern, harsh look, wrinkles at the corners.

And he was staring at her, his lips parted, throat bobbing, hands shaking. Or maybe it was the whole world spinning for you, a distant ringing in your ears and tightening in your chest.

“Joel?” a whisper, incredulous and trembling. Was it the pain? Had it just been a week of hallucinations, and that was it? The final one, the cruel joke of seeing him again, and then it’d be over.

“You -” one word, his voice low and familiar that snuck its way into your chest, wrapping itself around your aching heart. His chin turned towards Tommy, as if he’d intended to look at him, but his eyes stayed on you. “It can’t be.”

Tears and pain blurred your sight as you tumbled out of bed, a protest coming from Tommy as you staggered forward, movements faster than they’d been all week - just a few steps before you felt your injured leg give out, but the ground never came.

A pair of arms wrapped around you to keep you upright, and there was a tightness in Joel’s hold that made you believe you would stop breathing as he squeezed and squeezed and squeezed and your ribs were hurting, too, but it did not matter because it was Joel, and you were clinging to him, fingers and hands brushing every part of him that was available to your touch just to make sure he was real.

“Oh my God,” a prayer, a thanking - you weren’t sure. You weren’t sure God was listening anyway, or that he’d care at all, so it didn’t matter as you buried your head into his neck and sobbed, and perhaps you were trembling against him. On the ground by the door was his backpack, the girl still looking between the two of you with her eyebrows slightly arched, mouth sealed shut.

He smelled awful, like sweat and smoke and that pang of blood that had seemed to permeate everything outside Jackson. But underneath there was Joel, the scent of his skin like a punch right to your stomach, achingly familiar and yet so distant in time. When you pushed your fingers against his back, his muscles shifted, real and surreal at the same time.

“It’s you,” you exhaled at last, and felt the ground vanish from under your good leg as he pulled you up just slightly, just enough to not risk you shifting your weight onto the injured leg. “It’s really you, tell me it’s you. You’re real, aren’t you?” his arms were wound tight around you as you pulled your head back to look at him, reaching for his face.

“Real as it gets, darlin’,” he sighed as you brushed his face, eyes fluttering shut for a moment at your fingers running across his cheeks and temples and up through his hair. “How are you here?”

Tommy was the last thing he still had from life before the outbreak - or so he had thought. When his brother had told him there was someone he might want to see, he hadn’t been able to picture this - you, in his arms again, touching his face and awfully real.

“She got jumped by a group of hunters on her way here, actually,” Tommy called, and the temporary bubble of isolation you’d created around yourselves popped, leaving you suddenly exposed. “Which is why she needs to stay in bed. Leg’s broken,” he added as a warning, nodding towards the bed with its pillows lingering on the edge.

“Tommy -” you protested, but Joel was already moving, carrying you back to the bed - you almost laughed at the absurdity of it all, of Joel being there, of him holding you, of the way he plopped you down on the mattress and knelt between your legs, the uninjured one bending as if to cage him in. You looked away from his brother and back to Joel, hands coming down to brush at his cheeks over and over again, his beard tickling your palms as some of the filth came away under your insistent touch. “Christ, Joel, you -” you breathed out, the ache in your ribs making it all more real with each inhale, exhale. And then you glanced up all-too-quickly, a gasp trapped in your throat. “Where’s Sarah? Is she here?”

Silence was something you’d gotten used to - it was a necessity in the world you lived in. But after a week in Jackson, waking up with people talking and laughing below your window, and music and movies heard faintly from house to house, the sudden quiet felt unnatural and heavy. Tommy’s face dropped first, and he was quick to turn his gaze away, shuffling on his feet and away from the wall. Next to him, the girl frowned, looked over her shoulder and then back at Joel.

Joel - he had been looking at you all the while, and at the mention of his daughter’s name his gaze had just gone unfocused, the hands resting over your thighs clenching and unclenching as his shoulders shook a little. You felt your hands grow cold against his flushed face, the euphoria of seeing him dropping in your stomach and leaving space to dread, because 20 years could make anyone recognise that look that had taken over his darkened eyes.

“Kid, c’mon,” Tommy’s voice was distant, and at the corner of your vision you saw him moving, reaching to rest his hand on the girl’s shoulder - she flinched out of his touch but stepped back, her eyes still glued to the back of Joel’s head. “Ellie, leave them a moment, alright?”

A broken watch sat on Joel’s wrist, the glass shattered, hour hands frozen in time somewhere above the 3 and he kept fidgeting, his jaw shifting under your touch.

“Oh, sweetheart,” you whispered, the all too familiar sting of tears at the corner of your eyes making your eyelids drop. Joel grunted, his mouth sealed shut and nostrils flaring as you bowed your head. His fingers dug into your thigh as he pulled away, turning his head as he slipped out of your hands.

“I’m filthy,” he muttered, slowly sitting back on his heels, escaping your hold and touch altogether. When you looked up at him again, he did not look at you. Shifting at the edge of the bed, you reached for him - he was just out of arm reach, making you lean forward and strain your leg. “Stop that, you’re gonna hurt yourself.”

“Then don’t make me chase after ya,” you called back, resting one hand next to you for support while the other fell to the injured leg, his gaze following the movement as he kept his head bowed. “Look at me, Joel.”

He hesitated. Fingers drumming over his thighs as he clenched his jaw again, the shift barely perceptible - how could someone be so familiar yet look like a total stranger all of a sudden? Holding your breath, you waited, and waited, and when he shifted his chin up just barely you tilted your head to meet his gaze.

“Could you get back here, please?” you murmured, tapping your fingers to the mattress at your side. When he didn’t move, you sighed, leaning forward again. “At the very least get off the floor.”

A moment longer, and then he stood, dusting his knees off as he shuffled on his feet, unsure of where to look - at you, your leg, the window behind you. Rocking side by side, he lingered on the spot until, with his head lowered again, he made his way to your side. The bed creaked when he sat down, mattress dipping slightly with his added weight, and silence fell again.

It stretched on, minutes of quiet interrupted only by the distant sounds from outside - when he didn’t protest your hands resting over his, you interlocked your fingers together, pulling it towards your lap, gaze lowered to the broken watch. His knuckles were bruised as you rubbed your thumb across them, and the shadow of dirt lingered around his nails as he squeezed your hand - once, twice, I’m sorry.

He’d never been one to apologize with words, not even before.

“You said you’d be at the hospital,” he murmured after a while, his eyes cast down again. It was odd, seeing the contrast of your almost too-clean hands against his. “That day - you weren’t home, were you?”

“No,” you shook your head, kneading your thumb into the palm of his hand. He sighed, turning his head ever so slightly to focus on the movement. “I was trying to get back home when they closed everything - city was losing it, communications were jammed. Ended up making that road-trip I told you about,” he scoffed, daring a gaze up towards your face.

“California?”

“Too far. Made it to Laredo though, and then my car died - there was a shelter in San Agustin. Held up a few years, but patrols at the border were insane, and the Rio Grande attracted the infected,” you shrugged as Joel slowly turned in your direction. “Then I heard about this place and I thought - why not? Might as well try,” he began returning your touches, thumb tracing the small scars and scabs that had formed across your knuckles, Joel’s hands were rough and calloused, but warm and gentle as he touched you. “Got to Houston, then New Orleans and then up North to here. Almost made it all in one piece,” you tapped your free hand to the cast, groaning softly. “Could’ve been worse.”

“On your own?” at last he looked up fully, and it was difficult to focus on the rest of the conversation when you met his gaze. It was difficult to realize he was no longer your Joel, that as much as the past years had changed you, they’d changed him even more.

Your Joel lingered there, far behind the cloud in his eyes, and the rigidity of his posture - you wondered if his shoulder still bothered him, or if, like many, he’d simply learned to live with the pain and didn’t pay it any mind anymore. He was still so far away.

“Small groups, never more than four, never more than a few months - but we covered each other’s back,” fidgeting, you squeezed his hand. “Last stretch was on my own, hence the leg. I believe I owe Tommy my life.”

“That’s rough - don’t let him hear that,” he attempted a smile, perhaps reassuring, but the corners of his mouth twitched - up and then down, a little frown almost vanishing underneath his beard. “I think I was hoping he would’ve told you already.”

“He didn’t even tell me you were alive. When I saw him here and not you I just assumed -” you hesitated, drawing your bottom lip between your teeth with a shuddering breath. You leaned in slowly, bringing his hand up towards your face, resting your cheek to his knuckles while looking up at him. “I’m so sorry, Joel.”

“She asked about you, that night,” he cleared his throat, carefully swiping his thumb over your cheekbone. “Almost made us drive back to get you,” he lowered his gaze to the bittersweet smile tugging at your lips, turning his hand so that he was cupping your jaw, your own hand falling to his wrist, right underneath the watch. “A soldier shot at us while we were trying to get away.”

“Christ -” “It’s been 20 years, it’s not -”

“Don’t do that,” you squeezed his wrist, cutting him off. “It’s me, sweetheart. Talk to me.”

“I can’t,” while he didn’t snap, and his touch was still gentle, Joel’s voice was firmer. Somewhat colder. Lips pressed together, you pulled your head up, breaking the skin-on-skin contact - his fingers curled at the absence, gaze flickering between the empty space and your eyes, shaking his head lightly. “I can’t,” he repeated, a little breathless.

“Joel,” a whisper, pleading. He was so close to you, yet he could still have been miles and cities away - it could’ve still been any day of the past 20 years spent in unawareness.

“Are you both decent?” a call from outside the door, down the corridor, Tommy’s steps louder than they needed to be.

“Joel, please,” you whispered again, clutching his hand as his jaw clenched.

“Yeah,” he called right back, standing from the bed in spite of your hold on him only tightening. “I’ll be right out.”

“Joel,” he broke free from you easily, his palms tingling in his absence.

The last time you’d seen each other, you hadn’t known that could be it. He’d kissed you, smiled at you, walked you to the door and kissed you again, keeping you a little longer from getting into your car. He’d watched you go with a grin on his face and his cheeks flushed.

That bye had not felt final - his later now did, awfully final and definitive, pushing the air from your lungs when he turned his back on you. You’d gotten used to goodbyes, but seeing Joel go was dizzying and painful, and the tears returned unprompted as soon as he was gone.

It was late at night when the floorboards creaked - still used to being on edge at all times, you pulled your head up and reached for the nightstand, reaching for your sheathed knife.

“It’s me, darlin’,” Joel’s voice was a rough whisper, and in the faint moonlight you managed to make out his shape. “Just me.”

You lowered the weapon slowly, the noise seemingly echoing throughout the house before you turned on the light and squinted towards him. He stood in the doorway, hands half-way lifted, washed down and in new clothes that clearly belonged to his brother.

“What are you doing here?” you sat up to face him, weighing on your hands placed behind your back. He shuffled on the spot, lowering his hands and tugging at the sleeves of his shirt.

“I’m leaving tomorrow, first thing in the mornin’,” he murmured, gaze lowered to the knife rather than towards your face. “Gotta take Ellie someplace, but -”

You waited in silence, looking at him look anywhere but in your direction, his lips parting and closing, parting and closing, searching either for air or words, you weren’t sure - but you waited. Joel Miller needed time - the very thing you’d believed was not an option anymore, but that Jackson made seem possible. Though a part of you believed that, for Joel, you’d have waited three more apocalypses and then some.

“I didn't like the idea of leaving the way I was,” he said then - one step forward, lingered.

“Without saying goodbye?” you offered, head tilting slightly to the side. “Without even lookin’ at you.”

Your lips parted for a moment, taken aback - it was a snapshot of the old Joel, the one you used to know, a thread of light in the darkness of the past 20 years. Not smiling, but almost grinning, looking at you the way he used to. For a moment you’d believed nothing in this life could surprise you anymore, and Joel Miller had proven you wrong twice in a day.

“I’m leaving tomorrow,” he repeated, his voice lower as he took another step forward - his hands twitched at his sides. The watch was still there, still broken. “But I can’t sleep, because you’re right here, and it somehow feels like I’m dreaming.”

“I would’ve preferred if you dreamt about me with both my legs working,” you scoffed, leaning back - a half-sitting, half-lying down position. He chuckled, the sound devoid of proper humor, and reached the side of the bed. “Walk around, Miller. This hurts bad enough without you accidentally bumping into it,” you warned, gesturing towards your leg.

He kicked off his shoes at the foot of the bed as he went around, the last few steps quiet before he sat at your side, bed dipping under his weight. He hesitated a moment longer, watching at the corner of his eye as you settled back down against the pillows and opened your arms - suddenly it was homecoming.

Joel wrapped himself around you, head resting over your shoulder (it would grow numb through the night, but you didn’t mind it that much, or at all). One arm draped across your stomach and the other tucked underneath your back, he tucked you closer and sighed raggedly when you brushed the back of his neck, a soft, gentle caress up to his hair.

“I should’ve come looking for you. Sarah would’ve told me to,” he choked up on her name, squeezing your ribs a little, pressing himself almost harshly against your side. “Had I known you were still out there, then maybe -”

“You didn’t know, Joel,” you brushed your hand through his hair, and his head followed the movement as you looked down towards him. Up close, with the faint light on the nightstand, you could see his eyes - dilated pupils, wrinkles at the corners, dark shadows underneath. “We cannot afford to have regrets in the world we live in. It’s difficult enough to survive already.”

“But you did,” he murmured, shifting a little higher on the bed.

“Yes,” bringing your free hand to his face, you ran the tip of your fingers over his beard, the gentle scratch against your pads a reminder that it was real. He was. “So did you.”

“Not so sure about that,” he muttered, gaze flickering away.

You grabbed his face then, thumb and middle finger pushing into his cheeks to guide his head back until he was looking at you again. He blinked rapidly, slightly taken aback, a sharp exhale flaring his nostrils.

“You’re still alive,” each word was enunciated slowly, soft-voiced. Joel flinched, throat bobbing. “And it sucks that Sarah isn’t. It’s unfair, and stupid, and nothing will ever make the knowledge go away, or make it easier, I know,” he tried to shift back, a slight quiver in his mouth before he pressed his lips in a tight line, your arm around his shoulder keeping him in place. “Wouldn’t she have wanted you to survive, too? To live?”

Of course, the response came immediately to him, but there was a tightness in his throat and he was afraid that if he opened his mouth the last 20 years would catch up on him. So instead he just nodded, slowly, and the hold on his face eased - he buried himself into the crook of your neck, feeling the shift of your ribs as you inhaled slowly and wrapped both arms around him.

“Having survived is not a fault,” the hold on you tightened furthermore at the whisper against the top of his head. “Don’t blame yourself for it, sweetheart.”

The bed shook with his exhale - part sigh, part sob, gripping you so tightly it almost hurt. One of his hands dragged down your side, to where your shirt had crumpled up, and he pressed his fingers directly against your skin - he was still warm as you remembered.

“It shouldn’t surprise me that you managed to keep your humanity after all, should it?” when he spoke, his beard tickled your collarbones, a gentle shudder running down your spine.

You wanted to say that it was not the case, that it was difficult each day, that sometimes you felt more inhuman than the infected probably were, a wretched creature hanging on by a thread - but that would mean admitting how often you’d thought of him, of Sarah, to find your sanity again. How, each city you got to, you hoped to catch a glimpse of them. How you prayed that the Jackson community was real, and that they’d be there.

“I’ve missed you, darlin’,” Joel filled in the silence, his lips brushing your skin almost by accident. “How am I supposed to leave you again?”

You wondered briefly if he’d meant to say that out loud.

“You didn’t leave me, Joel,” running your hand through his hair again, you felt him shift closer, part of him now over you - could you stay like this forever? Could he mold himself around you and never let go of you? “And you’re not leaving me now.”

“I have to go,” he said softly, nosing at your jaw. A small smile crept up across your lips, unwilling and unaware, eyes fluttering shut at his gentle nuzzling. “I can’t leave Ellie now.”

“I know,” you nodded - pieces of information pieced together between Tommy and Maria as they came and went through your room, knowing the man at your side had grown to care for the girl but wouldn’t admit it just yet. “But you’ll come back to me. You do what you gotta do and then you’ll come back to me, Joel Miller - and I’ll be here waiting, because I still owe you a date,” he chuckled, leaving a quick peck to your neck that made you sigh. “Deal?”

Joel lifted his head, planting his elbow between the two of you on the bed for leverage, and looked down at you at last - the light from the nightstand was feeble, casting shadows across your face as he brought his free hand away from your side and up, tip of his fingers tracing a line up your throat and jaw until he was cradling your face. His thumb brushed across the apple of your cheek, tender and slow, while his small and ring finger curled at the side of your neck.

He could feel your pulse jumping underneath his touch, a mute question in his eyes.

A nod was all he needed before he was leaning in, shifting up higher on the bed until the tip of his nose bumped yours - once, twice, your warm breath caressing his mouth as you rested both hands on his shoulders and then up, up the curve of his neck. He closed the gap between your mouths in the next breath, his lips oddly gentle against yours, almost tentative.

One moment, two, and then your bodies recognized the other, and with a sigh Joel was kissing you as if no time had passed, pressing himself against you with need and desperation, and your lips parted for him as you locked him in your embrace where he would spend the night.

One kiss after the other until your lips felt numb and you almost laughed, ignoring the dread creeping up your spine because it was this one night, with no certainty of what came next. It was easy to pretend it’d be forever - to bask in the bliss of his touch, of his lips on yours, on your neck tracing patterns on your skin and back up towards your mouth, to linger in his kiss that went on and on and on until you swore your head was spinning and you were thirty-five years younger, teenagers stealing kisses when nobody’s watching.

When he pulled away, you could’ve sworn outside it sounded like morning, and you held onto him a little tighter, a little longer, drinking in his whispered reply.

“Deal.”

[jahiera]

Please,,,, please more rambles about astarion and him healing and his slowly changing relationship with (-tav-) Sex and intimacy and choice and-

LISTEN BUDDY...

Okay gonna talk about the Grave Scene. this scene truly lives in my head rent free. I've been rewatching it a few times and every way it plays out is so touching. Especially the way he.. hmm... expresses himself here? There's such earnestness to him that frankly is unimaginable to the person we met in act 1. He really went from being both so sly & yet obviously lying ("[you trusted me...] an objectively stupid thing to do.") to someone who admits and lists the way Tav makes him... feel.... SAFE? and held? and I understand why it's not something a lot of people focus on but I actually am so heart-touched by how complex and intricate his journey to reclaiming sex and desire is at the end of this conversation. None of it is gratuitous. None of it is for show. The blending of the nonsexual intimacy, and openness (the grabbing of the hands, the showing of the grave, the raw admittance of so much vulnerable material he gives to Tav; all things he would never have even CONCEIVED of offering up in even act 2.)

("I've been dead in the ground for long enough. It's time to try living again." ... "With everything that life has to offer.")

It's an extremely nuanced and thoughtful approach to an SA survivor rediscovering & reclaiming what they want to make of their desires, their sexuality, in the aftermath of what was done to their bodies without their consent. It's so thoughtful & beautiful imo. Finally here at his grave, he tells Tav that they're someone he feels safe & accepted with, & he can experience intimacy on both sides with someone who has put forth the effort, the time, the willingness to learn and wait and watch and care for his own desires in a manner no one else EVER has.

("I feel safe with you. Seen. And whatever the future holds for me, I don't want to lose that.")

It REALLY... gets me in the heart here. It doesn't avoid the difficulties of sexuality in the aftermath of abuse, and it ultimately shows one individual's journey toward reclamation and reconciliation with autonomy on their own terms. That's so vital here, that he reaches out, chooses to make the step forward, HIS choice. There's no lingering gratuitously on the trauma, if that makes sense? the descriptions and vulnerability are raw; Tav is grounding person here, Tav gives him room to speak. The true balance of intimacy in verbalizing his feelings, intimacy in being close physically with Tav, intimacy in discerning for himself what he desires, intimacy in accepting touch, contact, affection, togetherness. It's all so... [BITES INTO FIST SCREAMING]. And the ending. Where he and Tav get to set off on another adventure. Get to explore who they are truly now, with each other, without any higher powers looming over and putting a yoke around their necks. I'm personally partial to the "finding a way for you to be in the sun," ending myself but all of them are just ... so delightful. He really SHINES in a way that exceeded my expectations so completely in act 3. he went from totally closed off and locked away and unaware of how to navigate his own personal relationships, no idea what a "relationship," even was, no idea how to express boundary or unravel his complicated ideas and feelings around his body, what it was forced to do for Cazador, to:

("For nearly two centuries I stalked the streets like a ghost while the person I was lay here, dead and buried. Now I need to figure out who I am. What I want.")

also laying a flower on his grave and all he says is "cute." but there's such a minor moment of tenderness there. I weep I wept I will weep.

[sorchathered]

Heard it through the grapevine

A/N- SNB Chapter 8 is coming on Wednesday, but to tie you all over here is a one shot of what’s been going on with Bradley in the aftermath of Mirage’s pregnancy announcement. Thank you guys for sticking with me on this journey!

Pairing- Bradley Bradshaw x OC (Mirage/Erin Riley)

Warnings- language, drinking, Bradshit being an idiot

Summary- Bradley is hungover as hell the morning after Mav’s wedding, what the did he get himself into overnight?

————————————————————————-

Bradley had fucked his social life up to the highest degree in the past 6 months but even he had to admit this shit took the cake.

He’d gotten completely trashed last night, after months of trying to get sober, because his biggest insecurity played out right before his eyes. He’d be an idiot to deny he’d never been worried about Jake getting in the middle of his relationship over the past few years, the man had an ego the size of his home state and he wasn’t bad to look at either. But you had always insisted it was platonic, never given him a single reason to doubt you, yet it somehow never stopped the jealousy that bloomed in him when he saw the two of you together. It was stupid really, he’d been the one to cheat on you in the end and burn everything he’d thought he wanted to the ground, but watching your former fiancée make out with the guy he’d always worried about and then get whisked away to no doubt fuck each others brains out stung a little. So he did what he knew best, drown himself in bourbon and promptly pass out at home, or at least that’s what he thought had happened.

He woke up the next morning feeling worse than he had after that rager in his frat house right before graduation, every step had him convinced he was going to throw up everywhere but his tiny french bulldog was a force of nature and she was insistent that they go outside. He was half dressed in his suit from the night before, no idea where his phone could be but that was a worry for future Bradley, right now he needed aspirin and coffee. Still trying to piece together what had happened in the aftermath, it looked as though he’d made quick work of destroying the leftover pizza and most of the lasagna he’d made earlier in the week, clearly couldn’t be bothered to close the fridge as the damn thing was wide open when he entered the room. The last of his expensive bourbon was gone, and it looked like he was out of beer as well. What a mess. As he set about to clean things up he heard his doorbell go off, then someone beating on his front door, what the hell could possibly be this important on a Sunday morning? He grumbled all the way to the entryway, flinging it open to find his best friend Natasha Trace looking even more pissed off than normal, clearly he’d fucked something up judging by the rage on her features.

“I’ve been calling you for HOURS! What did you do just fall off the face of the damn planet?!” She said as she elbowed her way into his living room, he didn’t have the energy for this he was sure but there was no point in stopping her now.

“I was asleep, and honestly I don’t know where the hell my phone went, I’m hungover as fuck right now Nat so can we just skip to the part where you tell me what I did wrong and yell at me?”

She rounded on him and he staggered back, a little nervous until he saw the look of pity across her face. “Bradley we need to find your phone, but first I need to show you something.”

He was going to pass out, he was sure of it. As she scrolled through her instagram to the profile of the girl he definitely shouldn’t still be sleeping with he was almost hopeful that she’d decided to move on from him and posted a new boyfriend, but he knew he couldn’t be that lucky and after all she had just been at his house earlier in the week, if she was seeing someone else she would’ve told him. Right?

What he most certainly didn’t expect was to come across a set of photos, pictures the two of them had taken and never posted because it didn’t seem right, and at the end a picture of a onesie and a positive pregnancy test. Oh he was definitely going to be sick.

Nat had shoved him into the bathroom to shower while she made a pot of coffee and Bradley was frozen in place as he watched the bathroom steam up. How the hell had he let this happen? Why wouldn’t she have said something to him before posting about it? He picked up his phone and looked at the photos again, he did like Mirage despite the circumstances that had started their entanglement, she was funny and very pretty, impulsive yes but he wouldn’t have thought she’d do this to him. He opened his texts to message her, they needed to sit down and discuss this in person, but as he opened them he realized just how drunk he’d been last night. There in the messages were all the answers he wanted, she had in fact told him first and he had told her to go for it about posting the announcement. He was such an idiot, how did he let himself get this way? He needed to piece together the rest of his night and fast, so he shot her a quick message to come over and jumped in the shower. He didn’t know how to fix this, but he knew he couldn’t avoid it this time.

Nat was furious with him, she’d found out through Stormy about everything leading up to their breakup and now finding out that he’d somehow green lit this pregnancy announcement while black out drunk had her fuming. “Do I need to pack you up and send you to a rehab facility Rooster?! What the hell has been going through your head lately?” She was shaking her head between death glares, in his entire navy career he’d always had Nat, since they met in training as young kids, and she’d never been angrier than she was right now. “I know Nat, I know I fucked it all up, but I can’t change it now. All I can do is sit down with Mirage and see how to go forward with this, I-I’m going to be a dad…Holy shit how the hell am I supposed to do this? What if I fuck this kid up? What if I-“ she puts her hand up to silence him, he’s spiraling now and that’s not going to help anyone.

“We are going to work this out ok? Just take a breath, we also need to find you a better therapist because this guy is obviously not teaching you anything beneficial.” She wasn’t wrong, the guy clearly just phoned it in and received his paycheck, Bradley had been going through the motions but not making any real progress. It was times like these he longed to have his parents around, maybe then everything wouldn’t have gotten so out of control.

Within the hour Mirage was at his door, Bradley let her in with a small smile and gestured for her to sit down, but when she saw Natasha she wavered; looking back at Bradley like a deer in headlights. “Relax Erin, I’m not here to whack you, I’m just moral support.” She says with an eye roll, and the girl, albeit irritated, finds a seat on the couch. “So I take it from your texts you drank a little too much last night, I had a feeling you’d be upset after the wedding but I didn’t think you’d forget our conversation entirely” she was frustrated, he knew she would be, especially considering how important that conversation was. “Look, Erin I know I keep fucking it up. I’m a mess, I never should have dragged you into it in the first place but here we are. I’m going to try at this, and you give me all the hell you need to because I really do want to make this work. If you want us to be a real family we can work at it, or if you just want me to co-parent I’ll respect your choices, but no matter what got us here I’m not going to keep letting you down.” He knew he didn’t have a right to promise anything, and he couldn’t guarantee that he wouldn’t make a mistake again, but he knew what life was like without a dad, and he couldn’t let that happen to his child. His child. He was going to be a father.

——————————————————————

Before he knew it 6 months had passed, He and Erin had been going to couples therapy on top of seeing a new therapist for himself and Bradley could say with confidence he’d been sober for all of it. He wasn’t going to the bar like he used to, instead choosing to come home in the evenings to binge tv and cook dinner with his girlfriend. They had found out just last week that they were having a little boy, Nicholas Bradshaw jr. and truly Bradley couldn’t believe how well things had been going.

He’d been transferred to the Golden Warriors, still working out of North Island but no longer actively working with the Daggers, and while initially it had hurt he knew it had been for the best. His relationship with Jake had boiled over into his work life and he agreed that it was best that they work apart. Life was going well, which usually meant the other shoe was about to drop but he was feeling pretty confident. Until one fateful evening when he received a call after work from a distraught Maverick, Stormy’s plane had gone down over the Atlantic and she was in critical condition. Jake and Admiral Simpson were heading to Walter Reed in Maryland to meet her and they didn’t know when or if she’d wake up. He didn’t know what he could possibly do to help, and without realizing he had already dialed the number of his old wingman. No answer, which he expected but he left a voicemail of support nonetheless. Whatever happened now all he could do was pray that the kindest girl he’d ever met would be ok.

————————————————————————

Tagging- @mamamaystbr @mamachasesmayhem @bobgasm @attapullman @roosterforme @floydsglasses @shanimallina87 @jessicab1991 @the-aspiring-fanfic-writer @djs8891 @mrsevans90 @pinkdaisies9285 @nouis-bum @86laura11 @angelbabyyy99 @dizzybee03 @mygyn @jostan456 @dempy @its-the-pilot @kmc1989

[theloganator101]

So! Eri!

I've seen others talk about her and how she basically destroys some plot points in the story, so I feel like talking her and what I think.

I like her, I think she's cute. And as a concept, I think she could work wonderfully. A kid with a powerful quirk who's been abused and was practically kept as a prisoner all her life until Izuku saves her.

But the execution... left more to be desired. Let's look into her backstory.

When her quirk first came in, she accidentally rewinds her dad out of existence, causing her mom to abandon her to her grandfather. She was then placed under the care of Overhaul who wants to experiment with her quirk to resurface the Yakuza, but her grandfather refused to Eri being used as a guinea pig so Overhaul took matter in his own hands by crippling him so he wouldn't get in the way.

From there she was exposed to years of abuse and grueling experiments where she was dissected and even killed multiple times before Overhaul revived her with his quirk. In comes her meeting Izuku and kicking off the chain of events that'll lead her freedom and being with people who actually cares about her.

~~~

To start off, I kind of have a problem with how her backstory is executed. Because think about it, what does it remind you?

A character whose life has been nothing but hell?

An abusive parental figure who is clearly awful and deserves no sympathy? (Not that I'm saying or implying Overhaul does)

Meeting the one person who'll make their life better again and everything is now sunshine and rainbows?

Yeah this reads like bad fanfiction you find on Wattpad or Fanfiction.

Eri is technically Y/N or any mary sue protagonist. Except here she's a plot device to move the story along.

Oh, let's talk about that now.

Eri has become nothing more than a plot device as her arc went on. All she is at her quirk for the characters to use when the time is right. She's not allowed to be her own character and is just there when a character needs her quirk.

Thankfully it only happened once with Mirio to get his quirk back, but this led to me and others fearing that he'll use her again to heal any of the major cast that were injured during the war.

Let's move on to the aftermath of her rescue, and where she ends up. Does she end up in the foster care system? Does somebody they know take her in?

The answer: Aizawa takes her in.

Yes, Mr. Expels everyone and plays favorites, is the one chosen for the job of watching over a traumatized little girl with a powerful quirk. Because he can just erase her quirk if it gets out of control.

That's literally the reason she's left in his care.

Good job there guys! Put the child in the care of a guy who hasn't gotten over the death of his best friend and would most likely neglect her! I'm sure that won't backfire in ANY way!

~~~

So with all that I've said, what would I change to make her role in the story more plausible? Well simple

-Change her quirk to that of a healing quirk that can't restore quirks or restore lost limbs.

-Change her backstory that she just got dumped with an abusive relative that Izuku just took off with her in his arms since, you know, he was in abusive dynamic himself with Bakugou. Afterwards they discover she was being abused and get the relative arrested.

-From there the arc can just be about helping Eri realize she's not in danger anymore and help her get on the path to heal from what she's been through.

-Putting her with someone not Aizawa, I would suggest Inko as she's the mother figure she needs.

And that's it for my thoughts about this character, feel free to add in what you would've done with her because I would love to hear your ideas.

[vigilskeep]

thoughts on handersbela? just in general, since you’re so good at thinking about dragon age

this is VERY good timing... i have been thinking lately of Them

i read a little snippet of andersbela fic the other day that wormed its way into my brain... theyre so interesting. putting them in a terrarium to study. with isabela’s avoidance of causes and anders constantly dwelling on his, they’re natural foils who can be lighthearted with each other and also have genuine discussion that brings out a unique philosophical side in isabela plus anders’ humour and slips of i think mixed frustration and admiration at the life she leads. their approach to relationships would create so many sparks (and not just in the bedroom. okay ive made my obligatory joke about them canonically having sex) with anders’ desperation for attachment while he can get it and isabela’s desperate avoidance of the same, and isabela’s need to take care of herself first and foremost and anders being self-sacrificing to the point of self-destruction. with my preference for red hawke i like hawke as a fierce solid support for anders and isabela as someone to lighten and distract; hawke to defend and stand by isabela as no-one has and anders to be gentler and affectionate with her as no-one has but also to challenge her to be everything she’s capable of. but with other hawkes there’s so much you can do too. the POSSIBILITIES

the idea of hawke holding onto them and them both convincing themselves they can risk having this one thing just for a little while... um some assorted thoughts. i think the classic arishok duel aftermath with anders desperately trying to save hawke’s life afterwards and isabela with her heart in her throat knowing it’s her fault is peak drama of all time. i think anders moves in and isabela always leaves in the morning and one time she can’t move because the stupid great big dog got in and laid down on top of her and she likes waking up with them so much and the whole day is full of light and she doesn’t come back for weeks after. i think isabela insists on anders’ terrible lute playing. i think anders doesn’t wear a hawke favour bc he has malcolm’s honour but one day he finds a hole in his coat skilfully patched with a square of blue and gold that doesn’t match at all. i think isabela never fights with as much brash cackling confidence as when she knows anders will heal her before she even stops to realise she’s taken a hit (obligatory “my hands look like this (glowing spirit healer magic) so my girl can look like this (sexy armour)” joke) and anders never feels as safe as when he knows he can count on her to appear out of nowhere to watch his back. i think she’d fascinate justice. i think anders is so bitchy abt her act break disappearing act and isabela snaps right back and that they always make it up to each other repeatedly. i think anders doesn’t understand why isabela keeps leaving and she doesn’t understand how he can bear not to keep moving

they both love hawke so much and they’re both so terrified of what it’s going to do to hawke, is the thing. i was vividly imagining them the other day (i really do mean it when i said this ask was good timing) and there was this rough wistful act 3 dialogue in my head that went like... isabela out of nowhere tells anders he should marry hawke and get out of kirkwall and have a dozen glowing children who talk too much. and he’s vaguely amused and disbelieving as they chatter through the hypothetical (“who’s going to marry us, then? the chantry?” “ship’s captain! right here! you get any old revered mother instead of me and i’ll scratch her eyes out”) but eventually he shakes his head, and says quiet, tired, “if only i could run away anymore.” and then he raises an eyebrow, and says, you should marry hawke. yeah? yeah, marry hawke, get out of kirkwall. have a dozen pirate children with no manners. win each of them a dozen ships to sail. and they laugh through the hypothetical and she says, “it’s almost a shame i’m not the marrying type.” and they both kind of sit there with the knowledge that hawke has lost so much and they’re inevitably going to leave them alone

and then because i’m a sap the last straw is isabela’s chance to step up and fight for what’s right and what’s hers without running away, and anders isn’t cast aside like he always expected but fought for no matter the odds, and hawke gets out of kirkwall and onto the open sea, sailing off with their loves to free the rest of the mages and to learn how to laugh again. and then corypheus rises and hawke is the one to leave them behind after all

also the champion of kirkwall and their bf and gf who can’t stop getting kirkwall burned down is, like, so funny. can’t you three do this at home.

those are my thoughts sorry it got long and silly and embarrassing its late and i love them both so much

[unloved-cadillac]

Time is on Our Side. (Ayato x Reader)

Summary: Y/n returns home after 12 years to the boy she loves.

——————————————————————————

“Y/n! Give it back!”

“You’re gonna have to catch me first, Ayato!”

Two young kids tell back and first while the blue-haired Prince chases his best friend along the beach of Inazuma. She was fast. Always giving Ayato a run for his life whenever she played games with him. Y/n held his seashell she stole when he wasn’t looking. And right now, she wasn’t either as she trips on a stone and falls on the sand.

“Y/n!” Ayato sprints to her as she sits up. “Are you okay?” He asks, kneeling down to her. “My knee. It hurts.” She says, voice breaking a bit.

“Shh. I’m here. Hold my hand. This is gonna sting a bit.” He holds out his hand as she fits hers in it. Ayato begins to bend water and heals her scratches. The fresh feeling of the cold water left a refreshing aftermath on Y/n’s knee as she straightens her leg. “Hey it’s all better! You’re awesome, Ayato!” She says and he blushes. “I-It’s nothing, really.”

Y/n smiles and gives him his seashell back and kisses his cheek. “It matches your hair.” She says and Ayato blushes. “Come on. Let’s head back. Ayaka’s probably worried sick.” Ayato says and helps Y/n up. The young kids walk to the Kamisato Estate where Ayaka sat with her grandma. “Yato!” She yells and runs to her big brother. “Hey, baby sis. Look what I got for you.” He bends down and gives her matching seashell like his. Ayaka’s eyes sparkle and widen as she awes at it. “Thank you!” Y/n patted Ayaka’s head and gave her a bag of seashells. “Let’s make a chime with them, Ayaka. What do you say?” She asks and Ayaka nods enthusiastically. The trio headed to the balcony and began to make the chimes. Ayato’s eyes never left Y/n, his little heart beating a million beats per minute whenever he sees her made it hard to concentrate. He’d confess but he felt it wasn’t the right time just yet. But he never missed the way she caught his gaze and held it with a smile. The way their hands would brush against each other and neither of them flinching away.

Y/n's family was in the shoe business. Her father was the best shoe tailor in all of Inazuma and even sold shoes to the higher families, like the Kamisato clan. That's how they met. The first time she saw Ayato was when Y/n’s dad had been called personally by the Head of the Kamisato Clan to see the new stock. Y/n stood next to her dad as he showed Lord Kamisato the newest shoe creation when she saw the blue-haired boy outside. He was training with one of his teachers and Y/n snuck away to watch them spar. Ayato's eyes drifted to Y/n's and he got distracted. Poor boy got struck down but Y/n giggled at him. Ever since then, the two had been inseparable. Until now.

When Y/n went back home, she had received news that made her heart drop. Her father had been offered a new place to work but it was in Liyue.

“So you’re leaving?” Ayato asks and she nods. They sat on a rock by the beach as she told him. “It’s important that he goes, Ayato. It’s something he’s been wanting for a while now and-”

“Do you have to?”

Ayato interrupts her and she looks at him. As she looked in his eyes, she could feel her heart break. “Yes. I’m all he has left, Ayato.” She says softly and turns her head towards the sea. Silence falls between them but it’s broken shortly after when Ayato hears Y/n chuckle. “What?”

“Why are we acting like I’m never coming back? This is my home. I may be gone for a while but I will come back. You can’t live without me.” She says and they both share a laugh.

“Promise?” Ayato asks and Y/n holds out her pinky to which he locks with his. “I promise you, Kamisato Ayato, my best friend in the entire world, that I will come back.”

Ayato and Ayaka watched the ship Y/n and her dad took, sail away. She stood by the edge and waved as the brother and sister waved back. “Don’t forget us, Y/n!” Ayaka screams. “Never!” Y/n yells back and smiles. Ayato’s breathing became heavy as he held back tears. The ocean was taking the girl he fell in love with away from him. His heart was sailing away and he wasn’t sure when he might get it back.

A year after Y/n left, the deity known as the Raiden Shogun, announced her eternal world by sealing off Inazuma from the outside world. People who were in couldn’t leave and vice versa. The news broke Ayato. All hope of seeing Y/n again was gone. It seemed like this was his destiny.

News of Inazuma’s lockdown reached the whole of Teyvat, including Liyue. Y/n cried harder than she ever did. Her home wasn’t hers anymore. Ayato and Ayaka were too far to reach. That day, she swore to keep the promise she made with the boy she loved.

To come back home. No matter what.

12 Years later

Y/n walked the streets of Liyue doing her daily errands as she looked at the fruit stall. Two guys were next to her talking as she picked her fruit.

“I can’t believe it though. It’s finally over. Inazuma’s free again.”

“Over a decade and now the Shogun comes to her senses. No offense to her but damn. She didn’t really think that was possible, did she?”

Y/n’s eyes widen as she listens. She turns to them and taps one of their shoulders. “Excuse me? Sorry for disturbing but I couldn’t help but over hear. Did you say the Souku decree is over?”

“Yes. An incident happened and the Shogun finally lifted the lockdown.”

“So people can go visit there now?”

“Yeah. I heard Inazuman cuisine is amazing. We have to go..”

The two men drifted off into conversation as Y/n stood in shock. It’s over. She could go back. She could see him again. There was hope.

Y/n sprinted back to the shop where her uncle was with a customer and another coworker. “Yuko.” Y/n calls her and she looks at the girl. “Hmm?” Y/n makes a “come here” motion with her hand and Yuko walks to her. “Yup?”

“Did you hear? About Inazuma?”

Yuko tilts her head then her eyes widen. “Yes. Yes! I did! The Soukou decree has been banned. That man is just telling your uncle about it now.” Yuko points to Y/n’s uncle and customer.

Y/n smiles to herself as she remembers the last day back at Inazuma.

“I’m going back.”

~~~~

“I’m going back home, Uncle.” Y/n tells him as she begins to pack. “For how long? What about the business? What about-“

“Uncle.” Y/n stops him and he looks at her. Smiling, she takes his hands in hers, “I’m going to open up shop down there. You will be owner of our Liyue branch and I will be the owner back home. It’s what dad wanted anyway.” She looks at her dad’s photo on the wall and so does her uncle.

He sighs.

“Can’t argue with the facts, Y/n. We’ll sort out the business aspect once you’re settled down there. Come here.” He opens his arms for her and she happily hugs him. “Gonna miss you, kiddo.”

“I’ll miss you too, Uncle.”

The next day, Yuko had her bags packed with Y/n’s as they boarded the first ship to Inazuma. “Can you believe it, Yuko? After all these years..” Y/n says and looks out at the ocean. “I really can’t. So much of adventures await us, Y/n. I’m excited.” She says and holds Y/n. “Me too.” Y/n smiles.

The ocean was calm, few bumps here and there, but the sun shined brightly indicating a brand new start. When the ship started getting closer to Inazuma, Y/n and Yuko looked at the place. “Wow! Inazuma is…beautiful!” Yuko says and Y/n nods. “And this is just the beginning.”

At the dock, Y/n hopes off of the ship, holding her hat in place as she takes in the scenery. Sakura trees, the smell of fish.

Home. She was finally home.

“The guys said everything will be ready to take in the evening. So take me everywhere, Y/n.” Yuko says, making Y/n chuckle. “Yeah. Looks like nothing much has changed anyway. I’d still know this place like the back of my hand.”

The two went through Ritou, looking at the different stalls and admiring all of the places they came across. “We should head to the city. Get some food.” Y/n says and Yuko agrees.

At the restaurant, Y/n and Yuko stood in the line as they waited to order, when Yuko taps Y/n’s shoulder. “Hey isn’t that the traveler?” Y/n looks and sees the traveler with a very familiar face. Blue hair, a cryo vision. Y/n’s eyes widen as she grabs Yuko’s hand. “Oh my god. Yuko, that’s…”

Ayaka walked with the traveler, smiling and laughing when her eyes landed on Y/n. “Ayaka? Hello? You good?” Paimon waves a hand in front of Ayaka’s face but she didn’t flinch. Paimon and Traveller look at Y/n.

“Ayaka..” Y/n says and Ayaka runs to her. “Y/n!” She hugs Y/n and holds onto her. “It’s you. It’s really you. You’re back. You’re back.” Ayaka says through tears. “I’m here. Oh, Ayaka. How I missed you.”

Ayaka pulls away and Y/n cups her face. “You’ve grown up. Looks at you.” Y/n says and sniffs. “I’ve missed you so much, Y/n. There’s so much I have to tell you.”

“I know. I’m just glad I’m here now. How is everyone? I heard about Lord and Lady Kamisato. I’m so sorry, Ayaka. I wish I could’ve been here. I couldn’t even write.” Y/n says as her tears fall. “No, no it’s okay. We’re all fine.”

Ayaka tells Y/n about the traveller and Y/n tellls her about Liyue and her dad. “I’m sorry, Y/n.” Ayaka says and Y/n shakes her head. “No need.” She pauses for a second. “How is..” she asks and Ayaka smiles, knowing who. “He’s good. He’s the Yashiro Commissioner now. It’s a long story. Please, Yuko and Y/n, join us for dinner. It’ll be so nice to be together again.”

“Oh, are you sure we won’t be a bother, Lady Kamisato? You both seem so busy.” Yuko says and Ayaka waves her fan. “No, not at all. I’ll tell our guards to get your stuff as well but please come.” Ayaka holds Y/n’s hands as if she’ll leave again. Y/n smiles at the little girl she remembers. How Ayaka used to braid her hair and decorate it with all sorts of flowers she found. How Y/n used to read to her under the tree at their home with Ayato playing his violin. Beautiful memories that shall live on forever.

“Alright, we’ll come.” Y/n finally says and Ayaka smile broadens. “There’s just a few things I need to get done before we come. I’m opening up shop here so I just need to get my stuff sorted out.” Y/n says and Ayaka nods. “Don’t be late.” Y/n hugs Ayaka and the trio leave while Y/n smiles. “It looks like she really missed you, Y/n.” Yuko says. Y/n nods and wipes her eyes. She couldn’t wait for night to fall.

~~~~

After somewhat sorting out the shop, Y/n and Yuko prepare to go to the Kamisato Estate. Yuko ran up and down looking for things while Y/n just sat still. “That guy that was helping us was really cute. Granted he has horns but whatever- Y/n?” Yuko turns her head to the abnormallly quiet Y/n who stares at her hands. “Y/n? Are you okay?” Y/n looks up to see Yuko and nods. “Just…a bit overwhelmed, I guess.”

Yuko smiles and leans in front of Y/n. “It’s okay. We don’t have to go if you don’t want?” Y/n quickly shakes her head and gets up. “No. No, I’m fine. Ready?” Yuko nods. And the two headed off.

As they walked up the steps, Yuko pointed at different things and awing at them while Y/n told stories about how she used play here. When they made it to the gate, a guard stopped them. “Lady Kamisato is expecting guests and cannot meet with anyone.”

Yuko and Y/n look at each other. “Yeah, we’re the ones she’s expecting.” Yuko says.

“General Shiju. It’s lovely to see you again.” Y/n says and the general frowns in thought. “You know me?” He asks and she nods. “I will always remember the guard who was assigned to watch three troublemakers. Remember when we pranked you by leaving you in the forest?” Y/n smiles and his face brightens and his jaw drops in awe.

“Y/n! O-oh my. I can’t believe it. Little Y/n is here. Look how you’ve grown.” He says and bows his head.

“Please come in. My lady has been waiting for you.” He stands aside and lets the girls in. “Woah, Y/n! This place is amazing.” Yuko says and Y/n agrees. “It’s like it never changed.” Y/n whispers. The both of them enter the estate where the smell of food hit them both. They look around but don’t see Ayaka.

“Ah. Hello. Welcome to the Kamisato Estate. My names Thoma, the housekeeper. Please follow me to my lady.” Thoma says and escorts the ladies to Ayaka. The room was spacious with a table filled with food. Ayaka got up from her seat to welcome her guests.

“Feel at home?” Ayaka asks Y/n and Y/n nods. “Thank you for inviting us, Lady Kamisato.” Yuko says. “Please call me Ayaka. Ayato is running a bit late. He has some stuff to attend to but he will come.” Ayaka winks at Y/n. “Let’s eat!” Yuko says and they all dig in.

They all talked and laughed and then it turned into business. “Y/n, your first pair of shoes you make on your home ground will be mine. I called it.” Ayaka says and Y/n giggles. “Of course, Ayaka.”

The sound of the door opening then closing catches everyone’s attention. “Oh! Looks like my lord is here.” Thoma says and goes to welcome home the commissioner. Y/n freezes in her seat, staring at the entrance. Ayaka shares a look with Yuko. ‘He’s here’ she mouths to her and Yuko nods.

“I heard we have a visitor. Are they in there?” A deep voice asks and Y/n breathes heavily. “Yes. Lady Kamisato is there as well. Right this way.” Thoma says and walks in. He opens the paper wall and Y/n sees a flash of blue disappear behind it.

“Yuko, come with me for a sec.” Ayaka says and helps Yuko up, leaving Y/n alone.

“My sister says that you’re an old friend of hers. How may I be of service to you?” His rich voice asks and Y/n gulps. So…different. His voice sounds like the finest silk in Teyvat. No longer the young boy she remembers.

“I promised a certain boy I’ll come back to him.” She says and Ayato gasps softly. ‘Is it..could it be?’

Suddenly, the paper wall is moved and Ayato looks at her. Y/n smiles as she gets up. “Y-Y/n?” He asks through a gasp. She nods. “I’ve missed you, Ayato.” She says and Ayato walks to her.

He pauses. Trying to catch his breath. “Y/n. You’re here. You’re home. When? I didn’t even know.” He asks and Y/n smiles. “Surprise.” She says and he immediately embraces her. His arms. In his arms, she felt home. Her smell was one he couldn’t ever forget. Ayato holds her and they both kneel on the ground. “I thought about you everyday, Y/n. I couldn’t forget you.” Ayato says and she hums. “And I you, Ayato.” She pulls away slowly and looks at his face.

She cups his cheek and he holds her hand. “I promise to never leave you again.” She whispers and he smiles. “I’ll hold you to that.”

Two months later

Y/n and Yuko were settled in and business already started to increase. Having the designs imported from Liyue, but made with Inazuman materials was quite the attention stealer. Ayato visited every day and Ayaka would sometimes pop by. Even though Ayato was still the Yashiro Commissioner, he always made time for her.

Y/n was in the back on the store, sorting out storage when a pair of hands covered her eyes. “Guess who.” Ayato says and Y/n hums. “This voice seems familiar. Is it the same boy I used to steal all his things from?” Ayato chuckles and she turns around to face him. “Ah yes. My little thief. Still have my kimonos?” He asks and Y/n nods. “Of course. But I do much rather prefer these new ones,” she says touching his chest material, “so pristine. So..lovely.”

Her hand laid on his chest as they both stared into each other’s eyes. A soft twinkle in Y/n’s as her playful side started to awaken. Ayato bites his bottom lip as he looks at hers. “You can have it. Have them all. But first,” he bends down to the side of her neck,” don’t you need to remove these first?” His breath tickled her skin as she softly gasped when his lips laid a kiss on her.

Y/n’s eyes shut as he played with her. But suddenly, he pulled awa, just far enough to see her face. Y/n’s opens her eyes to look at him. “No. Not like this. I’ve wanted you ever since I saw you but properly. Be mine, Y/n?” His question hung in the air, making Ayato nervous. Something he has never felt in all his years.

But Y/n smiles, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him close. “I was always yours.” She whispers and clashes his lips with hers. It all felt so natural.

The stars in Teyvat aligned for them and fate had brought the two together. If there’s one thing Teyvat knows, it’s that the heart knows no bounds.

——————————————————————————

“I cannot wait to get him. He better come home.”

🖤🤍Thanks for reading🤍🖤

-Caddy.

[novantinuum]

heya! :D I'm so happy I found your blog, I just did a su rewatch this summer and I'm obsessed again! I was wondering if you had some fic recs to share? especially any and all that deal with steven's trauma (whether that be corruption aftermath, his abandonment issues, any of the traumatic experiences he had), anything really, just some nice and thorough hurt/comfort and healing <3 definitely up to any other recs you might have, even if they're about something completely different haha. thank you in advance!!

Ooooh heck yeah I can rec some of my favs! Admittedly, these days I haven't been reading that much new fic, so I'm not sure what new stuff is out there that's gone unnoticed, but I went through my bookmarks and found a few fics that still stand out to me today as ones I remember really vibing with when I read them-

First off, some fics that I remember delving into Steven's trauma (along other things)-

Aid to Navigation, by Ppleater (or @infriga here on tumblr)

Honest to god, this is my favorite Steven Universe fic on the whole goddamn internet. Post I Am My Monster hurt/comfort content galore. Emotional catharsis out the wazoo. Fascinating theorization about how Steven works as a hybrid. Sometimes there's even chapter artwork. ALSO NANEFUA AS AN IMPORTANT CHARACTER, WHICH I RARELY SEE LET'S GO NANEFUA

a world for the birds, by @fanfoolishness

Do you like Uncle Andy? Do you vibe with the idea of bird watching? Do you wanna read about Andy's outsider observations of the trajectory of his nephew's bizarre life as he shares his hobby of bird watching with Steven as a bonding activity over the years moving into the events of Steven Universe: Future??

Go read this fic, it destroys me. In fact, just do yourself a favor and check out this author's whole catalogue, because my next fic rec is from her, too.

Comminuted, by @fanfoolishness

Post Growing Pains hurt/comfort focused on Steven and his dad's relationship. I remember this one dropping pretty damn soon after the episode aired and it w r e c k e d my emotions and gave me all the catharsis my sappy little heart desired at the time.

WELCOME BACK TO THE VLOG, steven universe here! by waddlesthejoghog (or @thisisnotacreativeusername here on tumblr)

Here's a story with a COMPLETELY different format than all the others- this one chronicles Steven's life through a variety of videos he posts to his TubeTube channel over the years. (Which, if you watch the SU shorts, is a canonical fun fact about him! He posts unboxing videos and reactions and stuff online, ahah.)

Each chapter sorta like, "transcribes" what's happening in the video, and there's even a little views/likes/dislikes/subscriber count + mock comments section at the end of every one! I found it a very charming and fun read- but also it punched me in the face by the end because it's like a whole microcosm of Steven's character development throughout the entire show mashed into one 59 chapter story.

This one is not wholly focused on Steven's trauma, as it spans the events of the entire show, but that does play a decently big role later on in the fic.

__

As a quick little self-plug, I've also written a good deal of fics focused on various shades of Steven's traumatic experiences, and the following is (probably) my favorite of those:

A Memoir of the Marks Unseen (uhh... by me lol)

This one is focused on the topic of Steven + the headcanon of him having corruption scars like the other healed Gems, and picks up pretty soon after I Am My Monster. It spans months (and later Years) after that, detailing his journey towards accepting these remnants as a neutral part of him. I'm still very proud of finishing it, as I was pulling from some raw personal experience with this one.

__

Lastly, here's two Connie focused fics I remember slapping ass in their own various ways:

Xenopology, by CompletelyDifferent

Some Connie + all the Gems character study pieces!

The Stranger in Me, by Cyberwraith9

Connie accidentally gets perma-bonded with a poofed gemstone retrieved from a corrupted Gem. Hijinks ensue. I remember this one having a legendary level of character development for Connie and her whole family especially ;w;

[istanchan]

Pit Babe Finale Thoughts

I can’t believe PitBabe is over. I’ve been watching week by week since November and it has been such a wild ride. I don’t remember enjoying a show and the fandom space of the show so much since probably Kinnporshe.

And I did not have any expectations for this show. At most I was interested because Pavel was in it. But even then I hadn’t watched anything he’d been in in a while. Also I had heard after the first episode came out that it was an omega verse style show where Pavel’s character plays the “bottom”. That definitely intrigued me.

However I still had a lot of doubts. I just assumed Babe would be the typical toxic alpha character. And I keep saying this but I’m so glad I was proven wrong. This show has kept me on the edge every single episode and the final episode broke me and put me back together again.

Before I delve into what I loved I will say I really wish there had been just one more episode. Some parts of the final felt a bit rushed. I would have especially liked to see more of the aftermath of Tony’s fall, more specifically how they handled it with the public. Also I wanted to see some PeteKenta:(( Also I would have liked to see more CharlieBabe communication scenes, because they didn’t really talk that much in the last episode.

But I’m not mad at how the finale was structured and how it played out. Actually I’m quite the opposite with PitBabes finale. It wasn’t perfect but I loved it so much.

First off Kenta stabbing Tony was so powerful but also heartbreaking at the same time.

Of course he had to be the one to finish off Tony. It’s the way also that Tony can’t believe it. He looks completely shocked. It’s the way that Kenta’s voice is soft he’s completely detached. He’s done enough.

And Way’s death.

Not just his death but the whole scene where Babe is holding him as he is dying.

The pain and desperation in Babe’s face made me want to cry. (Kudos to Pavel again) Even though Way had betrayed Babe’s trust and attempted to force himself onto Babe, in Babe’s mind at the moment he doesn’t think of all that. After all they have been friends so so many years. It’s hard to forget all of that

I loved this scene. Their dialogue especially broke me. Even till the end, when Way confesses his love, Babe tells him that we’re best friends. I love you but not the love you want.

And I really think Way redeemed himself, and this is all coming from someone who used to despise him. He gives his life up for Babe. He did something horrible okay yes but in the last few episodes he keeps his distance. He truly loves Babe, and because of the way he was raised he most likely didn’t even realize what he was doing was wrong, but after he realized how much he had hurt Babe he changed and it was clear to see.

See that’s the thing I love about the characters in Pit Babe I realized is that they have faults, no one character is perfect. Because of the trauma they suffered being a part of Tony’s orphanage they don’t know how to live a normal life. They all have their fatal flaws.

It’s why Babe is so desperate for love. And why Charlie is so self sacrificing. It’s the reason why Kenta couldn’t break free and the reason why Pete felt like he could fix those around him.

One last scene that I loved that I want to talk about is Babe and his Dad’s reunion.

I’m so glad they included this. Babe deserved the closure and he also deserved to be angry and upset. He went through so much and to know that your dad is still alive and he hadn’t even contacted you years after?? This scene in my head is a comparison for Babe and Charlie’s reunion but I feel like because of this scene I understand why Babe forgave Charlie so much easier. First of all Babe suspected Charlie was alive so it wasn’t a complete shock to him. And also Charlie’s “death” was only for a week or two maybe more. Charlie death was a sacrifice for Babe. Charlie literally spends every second of his life fighting for Babe.

But on the other hand, Babe’s dad sacrificed Babe. There’s a clear difference between the two. Yes he was doing it to protect him but he could have tried to get him back?? He could have tried to contact Babe?? He was a coward. And he acknowledges that and Babe eventually does forgive him because after all it’s his dad. But I just thought the dichotomy of the two was interesting.

Now moving on to my favorite thing, Babe and Charlie. I haven’t fervently loved a main couple in so long but these two just do it for me. They are the perfect match. Their confession did it for me.

Because of course Charlie had only loved Babe and Babe hasn’t loved anyone like Charlie before. They make me want to scream. Also in the final episode I really appreciated how supportive Charlie was. He was there and he understands Babe he doesn’t push. He just wants Babe to be happy. God I love them so much.

My brain is rotting and I feel like I have so much more to say but this post is already too long so that’s all my thoughts for now. I will miss this silly vroom vroom show so much :(((

[madameaug]

TEASER!!

No One Likes Being Played ...

The family of three wrapped up their outing by returning home. Peanut rested her head on her mother's shoulders. She was tired, and running around the trampoline park was much more fun than anticipated. Her appa showed her how to do flips and all types of tricks. Then, after bouncing around for sixty minutes, she filled her belly with beef and rice noodles.

"Peanut you have a good day?" Jennette asked, walking into their house. Turning on the low lit lights, as not to fully wake up the drowsy toddler. It was thirty minutes out from Peanut's scheduled bedtime. It was enough time for Peanut to get her second bath of the day and read a short story.

Peanut didn't verbally respond to her mother but she moved her cheeks up and down her mother's shoulders. Jungkook went into the bathroom, running the warm water. Jennette undressed Peanut, placing the worn clothes in a hamper. Still clutching onto her mother's shoulders, Peanut didn't move much.

"Go decompress baby. I'll do the nighttime routine." Jungkook received the naked toddler in his arms. He made silly noises as he gently placed her in the tub. Peanut slapped her palms against the water. Drops of water collected around her face.

Jungkook squished the rubber duck, eliciting a sound that Peanut found hilarious. She laughed, showing her small teeth. Jennette closed the bathroom door, going into her bedroom. She threw herself backward on the bed. Eyes closing and reopening slowly. Her busy day catching up to her. She had do some shopping for Asia's upcoming birthday. So she went to the strip mall and looked around for an hour. She got her hair done, sitting in the salon chair for six hours getting her waist-length box braids. It was the summer and was time for her favorite summer style. Giving her natural hair a much-needed break.

Then of course she met up with Jungkook and Peanut for the family activity, which happened to be going to a trampoline park. It was a lot.

But it was fun.

She loved looking at her chunky baby's smile. Bouncing repeatedly, trying to keep up with her overgrown kid-like father. When looking at the two, it is obvious that Jungkook is Peanut's father. Her eyes were a direct copy of Jungkook's. She expressed her emotions with her eyes. They were the size of saucers when she was excited. They were almonds when she was being shy or bashful. And when she was having an attitude, she was notorious for cutting her eyes at someone.

She scrolled through her photo gallery. Liking pictures that she liked, to see, which she would send to Jungkook's parents. Since they were living in Busan, Jennette made a conscious effort to send pictures or videos of Peanut. It was almost an everyday occurrence. Just so that they could still be in their granddaughter's life.

Jungkook entered the bedroom. He had a similar look of tiredness but with a lighter tone. The front of his shirt was slightly damp, probably as an aftermath of bathtime with Peanut.

"Today was a good day."

"Yes it was."

"Peanut didn't even make it past the fifth page. Kiddo was tired." Jungkook laid beside Jennette. He loved days like this spending time with his family. The two most influential women in his life. He wished all his days could be like today. Spending the morning with Peanut, watching her play with her Barbie dolls. Her sassily tells Jungkook what she wants to wear for the day. To spend the evening with his lover. Taking cringy selfies together at the dinner table. To just lay in each other's presence. If he was lucky he could finish the night with some extra loving that only Jennette could give him.

Jennette's mind was furthest away from anything romantic. She pushed thoughts to the back of her mind, making their way to the forefront. The topic of marriage. The idea of moving forward, becoming something more.

It's been dancing through her mind for a while. She initially thought that it would have occurred by now. Back when she was still in her twenties, and definitely before Peanut arrived. She didn't necessarily have a timeline for her relationship with Jungkook.

But she didn't think it would take so long.

Six years passed, and she was still just Jungkook's girlfriend. Well technically, his baby momma. A technicality that she didn't like. Her relationship with Jungkook wasn't just some one-night hookup that resulted in a pregnancy. There was no lingering tension between parties, just two adults raising a child together. So many like Jennette opened their hearts and their bodies to men that they loved. Carrying and pushing out a child or two symbolizes that love. At any moment, they can be dropped.

She didn't believe it took six years to know if you wanted to marry someone. The old her would have cut her losses and moved on, but Jungkook was different. He wormed his way into her heart. His heart was genuine. He wasn't thinking with his dick. Letting lust or physical attraction lead his actions. It was obvious that he led with his heart. Jennette loved him. Her family loved him, her friends loved him. Yet it seemed that wasn't enough. Six years in with no sight of marriage.

The past year or so had been calm. Jungkook's boxing schedule had calmed since he officially moved into the professional league. His fights were more sparse, but the payout was double what he got at the old gym. He was able to spend more time at home with his family. Now would be the perfect time to propose and continue on with the next step.

"Jungkook," Jennette started, nerves slowly getting the best of her. She was putting herself in a vulnerable position. "Do you ever think about our future?"

"Yes, always." He gently rubbed her hip. "I love our life together. I don't want it any other way. Why?"

"We've had six beautiful years together. We were friends, became lovers, and birthed a beautiful baby girl. Not to sound ungrateful or anything. I just can't help but wonder..."

"About?"

"Getting married. Making our family official." Jungkook took Jennette's hand in his. Pressing a sweet kiss to her knuckles. His eyes never left hers.

"I love you, Jeanie. I love you and Peanut with my whole being. This family is official. It was official when Peanut was born."

Jennette was disappointed. She sighed harder than she wanted to.

"It is, but don't you think we're ready for the 'next'?"

"We are. I just want to make sure that everything is right. I don't want to rush."

"How long have you been thinking about this?" Jennette released another sigh.

"About four years ago."

"Four years ago!?" Jungkook was gobsmacked. "Baby! Why'd you wait so long to tell me."

"Ironically for a similar reason you just said. It just didn't seem like the right time. You were under so much pressure from boxing. I didn't want to add onto it. And then, we found out about Peanut."

"Jeanie, I wish you told me sooner."

Jennette continued to explain, finding it difficult to keep eye contact with Jungkook. She rested her eyes upon a family picture on her side of the bed.

"I just don't want to be just a 'baby momma'. All of the women in my family were married, THEN they had kids. I can't help but feel as if I did my life backward."

Jungkook furrowed his brows, sensing the weight of her words.

"You aren't just a baby momma to me, though. You are my lover. I love you. I know I haven't proposed, but it's not because I don't see you as wife material. Quite the opposite."

Jungkook reassured Jennette. She gave a slight smile. Jungkook was always good at comforting. He always knew just what to say. It was one of the many things she loved about him.

Interjecting in the moment, she heard her mother's voice. A conversation that took place shortly after to told her parents about her pregnancy.

Love is one thing, but securing a life together is another. Don't get stuck and settle for something less."

She didn't want to admit that her mother's words might be coming true. Had she been settling? Had she been content with her status of 'girlfriend'.

Was she stuck?

"You know I don't just want this for me. Well, at least not anymore. I want Peanut to have a family that's officially hers. I want our relationship to bring security in her life."

Jungkook pulled Jennette closer to his body. Her face was now a mere inches away from hers. His hand draped across her hips. She placed a kiss on her forehead.

"When the time is right."

The sentence shouldn't have triggered her as it did, but she couldn't help it. What was he running away from? She removed herself from Jungkook's arms. A knot formed at the bottom of Jungkook's stomach. He felt as if he had just chosen the incorrect dialogue option.

"I've been patient for six years. Six amazing years. Six long years. 'When the time is right', I don't know if I can wait that long. Giving myself hope for something that may never happen."

Jungkook sat up on his elbow. That romantic conclusion he was hoping for long gone. Jennette stood up in front of the foot of the bed. Frustration laced her tone. But she internally chanted a mantra to calm herself down.

"What are you saying?"

"I can't, wait possibly another six years for you to gather the courage to take the next step with me. I can't."

"I'm not asking you to do that Jeanie. And one day I will marry you. I swear on my life that I will. I just want it to be perfect for you and Peanut. I don't want us to rush into things and later come to find out that you regret it. It'll crush me."

"But I'm okay with imperfections. I want decisiveness. I want you to claim me. I want you to claim me to the world. I want to be your wife, for you to be my husband."

Jungkook didn't respond.

"I need to know that these six years will lead to somewhere. That we aren't letting feelings and comfort keep us coasting through life."

The knot of anxiety was transforming into a boulder. Flaring in the pit of his stomach. The fear of losing his family becoming more and more real. It was taking him to a place he didn't want to remember. His childhood. Feeling powerless and out of control. Like he was forced to watch this nightmare just unfold. He needed to remember those breathing techqniues that his mother taught him.

"It will. I promise. I'll make it right, I just need more time."

Jennette shook her head 'no'. Her lips pressed against each other.

"We can't get time back. I need to know if you will take this step with me." She was more forceful with her response. Her heart and her mind pulled in opposite directions.

Her brain knew that she was long overdue for a proposal. The longer she stayed, the harder it would be to leave. No matter how she looked at it, six years was too long.

Her heart, wanted to nuzzle in bed with Jungkook. Telling him that she loved him, and that she would always love him.

"I think we should spend some time apart." She didn't want to make a rash decision in the heat of the moment. Maybe a break was what they both needed. Perhaps this was what their relationship needed. A pause. A moment to reflect.

"Jeanie- no."

"I don't want to give you an ultimatum, Jungkook. That's not fair. But in the same breath it's not fair for me to keep spinning in circles. A break could give us time to figure this out."

Reality was sinking in. Time was moving in slow motion. He could hear every heartbeat thump in his head. Like his heart was hitting his ribcage and cranium at the same time. His salvia was thicker. Throat dry. Fingertips tingly.

"We can work through this. I don't want a break. I- I can't lose you."

"I just need clarity."

With that Jennette turned away from Jungkook. She pulled out a large duffle bag. Taking clothes for herself and for Peanut. Jungkook watched Jennette packing in horror. Disbelief takes over his body. He simply couldn't comprehend what had happened.

A break? She wants a break. Those words struck fear into his heart. Him and Jennette would never be over. He wouldn't allow it. He'd swallow glass before choosing to break up.

"I don't want you to leave." His voice was strained.

Jennette momentarily paused. But she remained firm in her position. This break was to benefit both of them.

"Don't we both deserve to be sure about our future?"

The question lingered in the air. Jungkook watched helplessly as the woman he loved packed to get away from him. Even for just a limited time, the hurt was settling in his chest. For the first time in forever, he wasn't sure what the future held. It wasn't a guarantee that Jennette would come back to him.

At the end of this break, she could decide to leave his ass in the dust. Taking Peanut with her. He hated how negative his thoughts were becoming. He needed positivity and reassurance.

His anxiety was surging, an unbelievable level of panic gripped his heart. He was struggling to find the words. Like he was being submerged underwater. No oxygen. No Jennette. There was a storm brewing in his chest.

His breathing was erratic. He clutched his chest, noting that each breath was becoming shallower. Jennette moved throughout the room, getting plenty of necessary items. Packing extra, as she was unsure how long this break was going to be.

He wanted to alert Jenentte about the impending anxiety attack he was getting ready to have. Yet he was mute. Nothing was coming out, even though he wanted to, like his throat was constricting. He was suffocating in silence. He needed to get a grip.

Barely able to get out of bed, Jungkook's legs lost energy. He sank quietly onto the ground. He was paralyzed by the panic. His hands reached out to Jennette, but her back was to him. His mind provided him vivid imagery of a life without Jennette. His thoughts were torturing him.

If this temporary separation has him acting like this, then surely a permanent separation would end him. It wouldn't be able to survive something like that. In a desperate gasp, Jungkook heaved. The sound catching Jennette's attention.

His unusual silence struck Jennette as odd. She looked over her shoulder to find Jungkook on the ground. A panic of her own encompassed her as she rushed to his side.

"Wha- What's happening?" She kneeled beside him.

He couldn't speak full sentences. Only getting out a singular phrase. "Don't go." He repeated it. Jennette rubbed his jaw. She could feel how tense he was. A wave of guilt rushed over her.

"I'm sorry bug."

She was the one setting them along this path. The one with uncertainty. She was tearing apart her happiness. Hoping that, in the end their mutual love for each other would bring them together.

{ Not an attack on single parents or couples with children who are unmarried. But I think we can all agree six years is LONGGGGG}

[aralezinspace]

Fingerprints- An Interlude

A/N: I'm on my second (or third idk) reading of the series Little Earthquakes by @peachesofteal (some of the best writing I've ever read, fanfic or otherwise) and this scene/interlude has just been sitting in my brain, so with their blessing here it is! This takes place between chapters 5 and 6 of Silent All These Years. ~Warning: aftermath of self-harm, blood, Morpheus being Extra and Dramatic, feels~

It took very little of his sand for you to succumb to sleep, just a few grains to sever the last threads of stubbornness that kept you conscious. Your face and form were relaxed, but in no way peaceful. Even in the dim light of your room, he could see the grimy tear tracks that stained your face, just how deep your eyes had sunk into your skill. Your skin was pallid, clammy, sickly. The pitiful creature before him was almost a stranger, bearing only the slightest hint of resemblance to the spirited storyteller he had fallen for.

Morpheus knew he had promised to clean your bathroom and erase the physical reminders of your darkest moment, but he couldn’t bring himself to look away, almost afraid you would vanish the instant he blinked, as if you’d cease to exist once he could no longer see you. The Endless trembled: he had come so close to losing you, too close to fathom. And he had played no small part in your almost permanent collapse.

The shame burned and writhed in his chest, an almost foreign feeling. Morpheus had lived much of his life without regrets or backward glances, now he found himself making almost endless pleas to take back the hurt he had caused, or go back in time to stop himself from hurting you in the first place.

He stood there, watching you sleep, listening to your soft breaths- in and out, in and out. A crooked finger brushed feather light across the apple of your cheek- even he could tell your skin was colder than it should be. Glancing over his shoulder every few seconds, he rooted around your closet for another blanket. Gentle like a spring breeze, he draped it over your form, tucking the edges in just so. He liked to think you relaxed just a little more into your mattress.

Satisfied that you were as comfortable as he could make you, Dream turned away from your sleeping form and went to the bathroom. Light leaked through the space between the door and the wood flooring, beckoning him in with deceptive innocence. A slightly shaking hand hovered over the doorknob in the moment it took to steel himself.

Morpheus almost doubled over from the assault on his senses and how his mind raced to process all the information. He had to blink a few times to adjust to the harsh, bright light after the blackness of your room. The cloying scent of your despair and desperation had seeped into the tiles and taken a firm hold. Your toiletries cluttered the counter, unused and sticky with residue. The only thing that looked like it had seen regular use was your toothbrush.

And then, there was the blood. Your blood, splattered in now-dried streaks and splotches of red and rust. The stinging scent of iron burned his nostrils. Bony fingers held the door frame in a death grip as hardened blue eyes landed on the knife, resting almost contritely in the tub. The handle and porcelain bore faint fingerprints, stamped in your blood.

His boots clomped softly on the floor as he numbly stepped into the bathroom. He sank to his knees, the joints protesting the impact with the slightly cracked tile. If Dream had his way, he’d send this entire room to the darkness to be consumed and never seen again, sentencing every memory of your bleakest moments to oblivion. But, the most he could do in the waking world was erase the evidence and let the bare bones remain, even though he knew he would still see the stains your blood left behind every time he looked into this room, no matter how pure and white the porcelain shone.

Dream forced himself to his feet, held out his hand, and drew your blood to him. Ordered it, commanded it, bent your dried up life force to his will. Like any other of his subjects, the drops and streams and particles came to him and gathered into a shifting orb, as if it were still writhing with your unrest. It twisted in front of him, hovering over the palm of his open hand and tensely clawed fingers. With his free hand, he reached inside his coat and withdrew a small glass vial.

With the slightest thought, he willed the glob of blood into the vial, where it continued to churn like ocean waves. A stopper formed of sand plugged the mouth, and the vial fell gently into his hand.

He couldn’t give what life remained in the vial back to you, but it wouldn’t go to waste. He would keep it close by to the end of his days, an ever-constant reminder of what he had put you through, a manifestation of his oath to make this right and treat you as you deserved, better than you deserved.

The bathroom no longer smelled of iron and tears, red no longer stained the white of your tub, but the essence of your pain and sadness lingered in the air like fog. He could see the ghost of you in his mind’s eye, lying there, pale and limp and covered in blood, fingers wrapped loosely around the handle of the knife.

His eyes fixed on the blade again, glaring at it with all the force of his rage and pain. He tucked the vial of your blood back into his coat pocket and knelt next to the tub. Delicately, he picked up the blade with two fingers, the metal cold and damp. He wrapped his hand around the blade, the edge digging into his palm and splitting the skin with the force of his grip. A small rivulet of blood trickled down his hand and wrist before being absorbed into the inky fabric of his sleeve.

His hand burned and pinched and stung as he held on tighter, trembling with the effort. He let out a grunted gasp at the pain, committing the sensation to memory, as if he could erase your pain with his own.

Dream gasped again as he let go of the knife, letting it clatter to the floor. He panted for breath, staring at the oozing cut on his palm with a sort of detached fascination.

A faint whimper from your room caught his attention. He had lingered here too long, he should be watching over you. A pinch of sand cleaned and healed his cut, but the phantom pain lingered. He turned to leave, but was once again reminded of the knife’s presence.

The air in the bathroom trembled and shook, blackness seeping out of his form. Midnight pits with a single pinprick of light stared down the blade with all his ancient wrath, all his remorse, all the anger that didn’t yet have a direction to be unleashed. A vortex of sand streamed from his hands and sucked up the knife before tearing it apart, atom by atom, until nothing remained of the implement that had almost taken you from him.

Morpheus let out a shuddering breath as the sand returned to him. He had done everything he could, all that remained was to watch over you until you woke. He turned out the light and left the bathroom without another glance.

In your room, you were in much the same position he had left you, small and vulnerable with the covers pulled up to your chin. He sat in the chair across from your bed, staring at you while a hand clenched and released and handled the vial of your blood. Taking one last breath, he settled in for what would undoubtedly be one of the longest nights he had, or would ever, know.