#what could possibly go wrong. i need a suicide watch

[hella1975]

writing dog teeth and just looping waiting room is such a vibe <- sirens and screaming and explosions and gunshots an

[ohthewh0rror]

I’VE DUG TWO GRAVES FOR US, MY DEAR.

˚₊ ⋆ ☠︎︎ ⋆ ₊˚ prompt — “Can I request Tom riddle x (fem!) reader angst? Basically, they have been trying for a long time to have children, but haven’t succeeded. So, to have an heir, Tom gets Bellatrix pregnant and obviously hasn’t told reader. Reader finds out shes pregnant and goes to tell Tom and show him the pregnancy test, but right outside his study she hears him ask Bellatrix „how is my heir doing? Is my child healthy?“ and reader drops the test in front of his study, where Tom finds it later, and leaves.”

Part 2

Pairing: Tom Riddle x Reader

Word count: 3.6K

A/N: “but baaaabe, she doesn’t even mean anything to me” and for him he MEANS it, that’s the worst part. Oh god I’m going to be sick. I headcanon him as loyal and now he’s out here embarrassing me. Anyway, thank you to my best friend Madie for helping me choose the right ending for this and for proof-reading for me. To the requester: I didn’t take the suicide route bc that’s a very sensitive topic that I have personal ties to. But yeah, if anyone wants it I’m 100% down to write a part 2 to this.🖤🖤

You felt wrong.

Well, not exactly you, just something felt wrong. You felt on edge, tense, like you were just waiting for the galleon to drop. There was no explanation for the way you were feeling, at least not one you could think of. But you couldn’t help but feel on edge, your mind racing as you resisted the urge to continuously look over your shoulder throughout the day.

You had hoped that the feeling would be gone by the end of the day, but as you sat with Tom having dinner the feeling was still there. You wanted to hide it from him, but you just knew he could see the slight shake of your hand as you poked mindlessly with your fork at the food in front of you. Though, either out of courtesy to you or him just not wanting to deal with it at the moment, he didn’t ask.

No, it wouldn’t be until the two of you had gotten into bed for the night that he would.

As you settled into bed, you felt Tom’s arm wrap around your waist, pulling you close. While you would normally welcome this, as it was rare that Tom would hold you in such a way, the unusual action added to your sense of unease. You felt his lips press a kiss just behind your ear before he asked, “there’s something bothering you, what is it?”

You didn’t know how to tell him, or if you even wanted to tell him. You didn’t want Tom to think negatively of you, to think you were officially losing it, but a part of you knew Tom wasn’t going to drop it. What Tom wanted, Tom got, one way or another. So, reluctantly, you told him.

“I’m not sure, I just don’t feel right, not in a sick way but—,” you paused, mentally kicking yourself for admitting it out loud, “I feel as if something bad is about to happen, something very bad.” Tom said nothing, but you could feel his hold on you tighten just a fraction. There was a few seconds of silence before Tom finally spoke again, “I see, I’m sure you are alright, you probably just need to rest.”

You know this was his way of comforting you, but it did nothing to help how you felt. You tried taking his words to heart though, and forced yourself to relax, attempting to get some sleep.

6:23 am.

You stared at the ticking hands of the clock on the wall, watching them dutifully count the time, hoping the dullness of it all would help you fall back asleep. It did nothing to help you, though, and instead just aided in helping your mind wander. You went through every possibility, until you were left with two options.

Tom was up to something… or you were pregnant. You didn’t want to think of the first option, it was a thought that left you upset even considering, but he had been distant for the past 4 months. He did not treat you any different, but he seemed… distracted. Where he once did not mind if you opened his letters for him, he now tightly guarded them. You tried asking him why, but he said it was to protect you if things went bad. He attempted to explain your worries away, saying he did not want you implicated in anything he was up to.

Not to mention he was out the house more— Death Eater business, he tells you. Always that. It almost made you angry how much time he spent working towards his grand scheme when all you wanted was just some of his time. At first you tried to push back on it, but soon realized it did nothing to sway him. Tom did what he wanted, regardless of the feelings of others.

Despite all this you refuse to accept Tom may be up to something behind your back. He was your husband, and he loved you, even if he did not express it often. So that left you with one conclusion: you’re pregnant.

It was a possibility that had been hanging in the back of your mind, but not one you wanted to genuinely entertain. After years of trying and it being false alarms have left you with nothing but negative feelings towards the process of finding out. You did not want to get your hopes up once again, as each negative was becoming more and more unbearable.

You couldn’t just rule it out without taking a test though, so you had no choice but to do so. Not wanting to go to a healer and have them check on you magically, you decided to instead go about it the muggle way. You had heard during your younger years, while at Hogwarts, that muggle women had measures of finding out on their own in the comfort of their own bathroom. So that’s what you set off to do, after getting dressed of course.

Entering muggle London, it was hard not to stick out. While you tried to dress as casual as you possibly could, you knew there was still something off about how you dressed. No one seemed to mind though, letting you walk through the busy streets without much more than a double take. It didn’t take long for you to find what looked like a small store, you hoped to Merlin that they had what you needed.

As you walked around the small shop, you realized what you were doing was beyond ridiculous. You were truly out of your league as you browsed the aisles looking for what you needed. You were beginning to get frustrated when you heard a feminine voice from the left, “excuse me, miss, can I help you find something?”

You paused, stopping midstep, turning your head to look at who was speaking to you.

The girl, who couldn’t have been any older than 19, seemed to be a shop attendant. She had on what you could only guess was typical muggle attire, and a vest with the name of the shop on it. You nodded, “yes, I need the test that will tell me if I’m pregnant or not.”

The shop girl gave you a look, and you began to worry more that you were sticking out far too much. “You mean a pregnancy test?” She asked. “Yes, that,” you replied, hoping she would just show you where it was and stop talking to you. Thankfully she seemed to have read your mind, gesturing you to follow her. She took you to the aisle furthest back in the store, pointing out the shelf that was filled with a dozen different options. You thanked her, and she left you alone with all the different tests.

Looking over them all you picked the one you thought would be best, but as you held the test you had a revelation, ‘I have no muggle money’. You froze, now weighing your options. You could leave and convert the money, coming back at a later time, or you could just…take it. Leaving was the morally correct choice, but just taking it was the more tempting one as it would save you the trouble of explaining to Tom why you needed muggle money if word got back to him.

So, looking around and making sure no eyes were on you, you silently cast a spell, hiding the box from any prying eyes. As you walked out the store you couldn’t believe what you had done. Stealing? From a muggle establishment? How scandalous! As you walked down the street you shook your head, banishing the thought from your mind. You didn’t have time to worry about the ethics of stealing from muggles. You needed to know if you were pregnant.

Thankfully, it was a little easier to find a place to use the restroom. You sat on the toilet, reading the box, and the instructions seemed easy enough. You followed them exactly before capping the test, holding it in a way where the results faced away from you. You didn’t want to see the results, too scared of it being negative once again. After what you considered an appropriate amount of time, you flipped the test over.

Positive.

‘It’s wrong, it has to be,’ you thought to yourself as you eyed the muggle pregnancy test. The test was wrong, it’s a defective muggle device. You’d make an appointment with the healer as soon as possible until you could confirm it for sure and you’d keep it a secret from Tom until then. You didn’t want to tell him, only for it to be a false positive and get his hopes up fruitlessly.

So, you wrapped the test tightly and tossed it in the bin. Washing your hands, you made your way out of the muggle establishment, and to an empty corner before apparating to the edge of yours and Tom’s property. You stood there for a moment, taking in the site of your shared home, wishing you had some calming draught on hand.

You knew as soon as Tom saw you he’d know something was wrong. Tom had always said you weren’t a very good liar, and you knew with the state you were in right now that if he tried to pry your secret would come tumbling out before you had the chance to stop it.

You couldn’t stand out here all day though, the November air was more than chilly, and you were going to freeze if you didn’t go in soon. You took a steadying breath and walked forward with your head held high, taking your time to get to the doors, attempting to look casual. You were halfway up the set of stone stairs leading up to the front doors, when they began to open. For a split second you felt yourself panic on the inside, thinking maybe it was Tom who came to greet you, until your house elf Poppy came into view.

“Welcome back, madam,” the little elf said, ushering you in.

“Hello, Poppy,” you said. You had never been happier to see a house elf in your life. As Poppy shut the doors behind you, and she ushered you to the dining room, she informed you that Tom had already left for the day, leaving you to have breakfast alone. Normally that would have left you disappointed, you and Tom made sure to always eat breakfast and dinner together, and this would be the first time in a long time that you ate alone. But, after the morning you had, you relished in the absence of conversation.

“Poppy, please make an appointment for me with a healer,” you asked, sitting down at the dining table. Poppy nodded wordlessly before leaving you to go make the appointment.

It was a week later that you found yourself sitting in a sterile room, awaiting the results. You wanted so desperately for it to be true. You’d never recover if you found out the test had lied. Tom still didn’t know about the possibility of your pregnancy, but then again, it wasn’t hard to hide it from him with how busy he’d been this past week. And seeing as your mind was preoccupied, you hadn’t pushed on what had him so busy.

Just as your mind began to drift from boy names, to more feminine names, the door to your right clicked open. The healer gave you a bright smile, greeting you. The forced politeness left a bad taste in your mouth as you just wished for the results so you could get home. You gave a tight-lipped smile back, and a similar greeting. The healer stopped in front of you, flipping one of the papers up, quickly reading its contents before looking at you once again.

“Well, Mrs. Riddle, it seems you certainly are pregnant!” He congratulates you, before explaining how far along you seem to be and that he needs you back in a month. You’re still in a daze when he hands you the paperwork, telling you your diagnosis and other information regarding your pregnancy. It feels too good to be true, and you’re not sure if you should laugh, cry, or do both as you leave the office.

You’re pregnant. You’re actually pregnant. You walk down a secluded alley, casting the muffliato charm as you buried your head in your hard, a soft cry erupting from you. You both had tried so hard for so long and it’s finally happening, you are finally having the child you both wanted. You let yourself cry from the overwhelming feeling of happiness for a moment longer before collecting yourself. You needed to tell Tom, you knew this was just the news he needed.

Tom was working from home today, something you had never been so happy about before today. It made the process of talking to him much easier than if he left to Merlin-knows-where to do what he needed. But, as you walked up those stairs to the hallway that his office was down you felt your heart plummet.

Tom was here, but so was another woman.

You quieted your steps, hoping to figure out who the woman was and what they were talking about. It was difficult as the door was mostly shut and they were talking in hushed tones. But, as you stepped off the stairs and into the hallway you recognized the voice of the woman immediately.

Bellatrix Lestrange.

A woman that you held more than just disdain for. She is the only female Death Eater Tom has recruited, and not only that, she was his second in command. While Tom didn’t see any of his Death Eaters as true equals, even you knew he seemed to favor her over the rest of them. Bellatrix seemed to revel in this fact, and despite being married herself, her loyalty seemed to lay more with your husband than her own. She did whatever Tom asked, no matter what it may be, without even a hint of resistance. You truly believe if Tom asked her to kill herself, she would do it without hesitation.

As you walked closer to the door they seemed to have stopped talking, but before you could knock and let yourself be known, you heard something that knocked the breath out of your lungs.

“You had a check-up last week, did you not? How is my heir?” Tom sounded casual, as if he was asking Bellatrix about the weather. His heir? His heir? Your mind was sent reeling as you began to hyperventilate. You quietly backed away from the door, walking as silently but also as quickly as you could away. But, as you turned to leave you nearly tripped over your own two feet, the papers you were holding falling to the ground. In your distress you left them, not being bothered to pick them up, as you caught yourself and hurried down the hallway intent on putting space between yourself and the cracked office door.

You found yourself in a guest room on the other side of the house, away from Tom and Bellatrix, away from the source of your heartbreak. You sit on the edge of the bed, and cast the muffliato charm for the second time today. After you cast the spell, you finally let yourself feel completely. Your heart shatters into tiny crystallized bits, the shards of it dig into every crevice of your sternum, leaving you clutching at your chest as it pierces your lungs and esophagus. Your chest and throat have an indescribable ache as a piercing wail leaves you, the pain of his betrayal leaving you feeling something beyond devastation.

The knowledge that he cheated on you was painful enough, but the fact that it was Bellatrix made it all the more painful. He knew how you felt toward their dynamic and his trust in her. It was as if he chose her on purpose, to tell her that Bellatrix is a more suitable partner for him.

How Bellatrix was everything she wasn’t: unwaveringly devoted to him, believed in his pureblood ideology, and stood by him on it. Bellatrix could also give him children, and she couldn’t.

Or so he thought. He didn’t know she was pregnant yet. Maybe that was for the best, you considered, as you sat in that empty room, fingers wringing together painfully as you tried to calm yourself. As you attempted to gather yourself, knocking on the door began to reverberate throughout the room, causing a panic inside you. You cleared your throat, and took in a breath, hoping to gather yourself before addressing who was on the other side. Lifting your wand you released the muffling charm, “come in.”

Your voice still wobbled as the words left you, leaving you mentally kicking yourself. The door opened, revealing Tom, on the other side. As he took in the sight of you, sniffling and teary-eyed, he walked in completely, softly shutting the door behind him. Looking at him sent a surge of anguish through you, a new wave of tears gathering in your eyes. The vision of Tom doubled as your lips began to wobble as you held back your tears. You were unable to see the look on Tom’s face as you looked away, trying to calm yourself once again, so you weren’t quite sure what he was thinking.

Getting on one knee before you, Tom placed his left hand on your knee as his right reached up, wiping at your tear streaked face. You let out a shuddering breath, finally looking at him. Tom’s face was the most expressive you’d ever seen it, if you hadn’t been in such a miserable state you would have taken a moment to admire it.

There was a look of genuine worry on his face as the both of you looked at each other. The silence was suffocating, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to be the one to break it. There was nothing you wanted to say to him, you could hardly bear to look at him, much less talk to him.

“Why are you upset, darling? This is wonderful news” Tom sounded sympathetic in his attempt to comfort you. You let out a laugh in disbelief, you could not believe the words coming out of his mouth. “Wonderful news? In what world is this ‘wonderful news’?” You were close to yelling by the time you finished talking, feeling your sadness morph into something far uglier: anger. Tom at least had the decency to look taken aback, seeming to not expect the response he received.

Tom’s eyes searched yours for a moment before his expression became guarded, he gave your hand a squeeze before standing up, “it seems we are talking about two different things.”

You said nothing, there was nothing you could say that he hadn’t just deduced for himself, and it seemed he knew that too as he continued speaking.

“Y/N, you have to understand, I needed to ensure I had an heir and we hadn’t been successful in getting you pregnant,” Tom tried to explain. You’re sure in his head that this was logical, just the rational choice to get around your fertility issues. But to you, this was anything but the best next step. There was no reasoning good enough to make this okay; it will never be okay. This is a wound that may scar over, but will always ache when brushed against.

“You had an affair with a woman who I already voiced my concern about, without even consulting me on your decision, and expect me to understand?” You asked, incredulously. Tom, though looking mildly annoyed, still had the decency to also seem a touch guilty. “I didn’t step out of our marriage for pleasure or some sort of validation, you've always been the only one for me, it was merely to—” you decide to cut him off. “Produce an heir,” was all you said, finishing his sentence for him.

A heavy silence hung in the air, what you said leaving a palpable bitterness in the air. Tom still had the same touch of guilt in his eyes, but it wasn't enough. The guilt wasn’t strong enough to let him take full accountability for how wrong he was. Tom reached out, his hands cupping the back of your neck as his thumbs grazed your jawline, forcing you to look at him.

“It will be okay, I made a mistake by not telling you my plans, I apologize,” Tom may have sounded sincere, but it wasn’t good enough. Nothing will ever make up for what he has done to not only your relationship, but also to your trust in him. You reached up, and gently removed his hands from your face before standing up yourself, forcing him to take a few steps back.

“No, it’s not going to be okay; it will never be ‘okay’. You didn’t just make a mistake, you ruined our marriage, and for that, Tom, I hate you.”

And you left.

Leaving your husband to stand in that spare room, alone, with only his thoughts to keep him company.

[angellesword]

BAGGAGE | JJK (04)

Summary: Drowning in debt and blood, Jeon Jungkook knows he's better off alone, lest he brings people down with him.

But one drunken night changes everything.

In a blink of an eye, Jungkook found himself drowning not only in debt and blood, but also in dirty diapers and judgmental stares from you, a.k.a his long-lost love and the guardian of the son he didn't even know existed.

Genre and warnings: best friends to lovers, co-parenting, idiots in love, mutual pining, angst, fluff, implied smut, kissing, minor character death, slight getting back together, oc cusses excessively, dubcon, pregnancy kink, child cussing, reckless driving, suicide justification, glorifying suicide, semi-drunk Jungkook makes sexual moves on a sober oc.

Pairing: dad!Jungkook x adoptive mom!Reader

Word Count: 3.8k

←Previous Chapter (03) | Next Chapter (05) →

***

Present; 2023

Not long after you and Soobin finished your meal at ADA, you finally received the call you had been anticipating since last night:

A call from Jungkook.

“Hello?” Your breathing hitched as you waited for the person on the other line to speak. Unfortunately, what welcomed you was an unfamiliar voice telling you she was from the General Hospital.

Your heart dropped. You stuttered when you asked the person on the other line about what had happened.

The hospital staff explained, “Mr. Jeon is alive but has been stabbed. Your number is the only one saved on his cellphone. Will you mind coming over or telling us who we can contact—”

“No. I’m coming.” You cut off. You couldn’t remember what you said to the nurse after that. Your mind was floating as you grabbed your keys, eyes darting on Soobin, who was watching TV in the living room.

“Ma?” Soobin blinked; a groan escaped his lips when you carried him. You were inside the car with him in the blink of an eye.

“Sorry, darling. We’ll go out again, okay? Hold on tight.”

You drove your car to the hospital at a very high speed. Soobin didn’t cry, but the poor boy looked shaken and about to vomit. You could only tighten your hold on your son and murmur an apology as you ran to the hospital desk. You didn’t know how to explain the situation to Soobin, as your attention was solely directed at Jungkook.

“I’m looking for Jungkook Jeon. How is he?” You were breathless when you talked to the nurse.

“Good day, Mam. Per the hospital’s protocol, I need your name first. Please state your relationship with the patient as well.” The nurse was calm and collected. Her eyes were trained on the monitor before her.

You stated your name but trailed off after. You wanted to say you were Jungkook’s friend, but were you and Jungkook even considered that? Besides, hospitals would prioritize the patient’s next of kin over friends.

To your surprise, the nurse nodded at you, “You’re listed as Mr. Jeon’s emergency contact. He needs surgery as soon as possible. We will need your consent.”

You could be accused of being dumbfounded, but you didn’t have time to assess your reactions. You signed all relevant forms and requested the hospital to give Jungkook VIP treatment.

No one knew what happened to the Jungkook. He was simply lucky to be able to call for help before he passed out. Jungkook suffered multiple stab wounds. Lee Sung clearly didn’t hold back when he pierced and slashed the knife into the Jungkook’s body. As a result, the surgery took some time to finish.

Jungkook was unconscious on the operating table, his body taking all the trauma while his mind drifted to a place and time where everything was still right:

Nine Years Ago; 2014

To say Jungkook was obsessed with your stomach would be an understatement. Don’t get it wrong. He was obsessed with every part of your body: hips, chest, hands—you name it, and Jungkook would read you his essay about it.

But lately, all the Jungkook could think about was your stomach.

“Can I fucking help you?” You growled, unable to take the intensity of Jungkook’s ogling anymore.

Jungkook didn’t bat an eyelash, though. His gaze only deepened, a sigh leaving his lips. “Say, how many calories do you consume daily?”

“Hah!?” You looked down at your stomach, feeling self-conscious all of a sudden. “What shit are you up to, bastard!? Do you think my stomach is big!?”

First of all, you didn’t think there was anything wrong with a big stomach, or a flat stomach, for that matter. However, something about Jungkook’s words hit your nerve.

A bastard like Jungkook wouldn’t say things out of the blue. Usually, it entailed trouble.

“No.” Jungkook shook his head, still looking pensive while staring at the middle part of your body. “I’m just curious.”

“Keep your curiosity to yourself, then. I don’t know. I don’t count my calorie intake. I have more important things to do than that.” You were in the middle of writing your thesis paper. Frankly, your time was constrained. All you did these days was attend classes, meet with your thesis adviser, and write your paper.

You couldn’t be bothered to sleep anymore. Now that Jungkook kept hinting something was wrong with your stomach, you couldn’t help but add an extra hour of jogging.

“Hey, sweetheart~” You bumped into Jungkook one morning. You lived on campus, but Jungkook would be moving out soon. He recently informed you he’d be taking some time off college. During this time, you had no idea that his decision to take some time off studying would be permanent. Jungkook wasn’t just taking a break—he was dropping out.

“Why are you out here so early? I thought you were taking a break this semester. No more 7am classes for you, eh?” You taunted. Seeing your best friend up so early in the morning was rare. Jungkook even called you crazy before for running around the university’s field at five in the morning.

“Jimin-hyung and I had breakfast. I’m on my way to your dorm, actually. I got you something to eat,” by something to eat, Jungkook meant different kinds of high-calorie food—courtesy of Jimin’s recommendations.

“Here,” Jungkook gave you the food he got. He sighed after, “How many minutes have you been exercising?”

Here he goes again. Your fist clenched when Jungkook glanced at your stomach. What the fuck was wrong with this bastard!?

“Jungkook-shit!” You snarled, ‘Jungkook-shit’ was your favorite insult--a variation of your usual ‘Jungkook-ssi.’ You confirmed your guess by checking the logo where Jungkook got your breakfast: Healthy option. “I’ll squeeze in another hour of running tomorrow, okay! You don’t have to be a bastard about it!”

Your face was red, your nose flaring.

“That’s not—”

“Whatever! I’m fucking leaving.”

Jungkook was too slow to catch up to an angry version of you, so he let it go and simply shrugged his shoulders.

Unfortunately, Jungkook was still an asshole about your weight the next time you two met. You were supposed to have lunch together but walked out when Jungkook commented about your clothes.

“You are wearing a cropped top.” Jungkook’s eyes shrunk, voice laced with disappointment.

“What’s wrong with it?”

“It shows your stomach. I—”

“You know what? Fuck you.” You couldn’t help but bare your teeth. You had been friends with Jungkook-shit for as long as you could remember. You loved him to death but wouldn’t take his dumbassery lying down. Comments about one’s body were never okay.

“I’m sick of you side-eyeing my stomach. I don’t think I wanna be friends with an ass like you anymore. Goodbye. I’m leaving!”

You left and never once showed your face to Jungkook again. Thinking about your fragile friendship hurt, so you drowned yourself in school stuff instead.

You rarely left your dorm, spending almost all your time writing your paper and ignoring Jungkook’s phone calls.

But Jungkook-shit was persistent; one evening, he came knocking on your dorm.

“Hey! Open the door! I need to see you!”

As much as you wanted to ignore him, you knew you couldn’t. Students were studying next door, so you opened the door with great reluctance.

“What—”

Jungkook crashed against your chest.

“—the fuck.” You almost lost your footing. Thankfully, you were able to grab the door frame to steady yourself. You snarled and wrapped your arms around Jungkook’s tiny waist.

“Bastard! Why are you here!? You reek of alcohol! Are you drunk!?”

Your jaw slackened; you weren’t sure if it was because you didn’t want to deal with a drunken bastard or if you were bitter since you couldn’t drink along with this drunken bastard.

You hadn’t had alcohol in a long time. Damn school.

“Hi, sweetheart~” Jungkook raised his head slightly, batting his eyelashes seductively at you.

You gulped thickly. Your grip on Jungkook’s waist tightened. “Don’t ‘hi sweetheart’ me. You’re drunk. You need to go home.”

“But!!!” Jungkook snickered. “I’m not drunk. I only had one glass of whiskey. Jimin-hyung insisted I drink. You know I can’t say no to him. He’s my favorite person.”

You ignored the stone crushing your heart. You brushed Jungkook’s fringe like you were brushing your hurt away. “Your face is sweaty. Did you run here?”

Because you weren’t heartless, you let Jungkook in and even helped him to your bed. You originally wanted your best friend to lie down first as you prepared some soup. However, Jungkook pulled you to bed with him.

“Oi, bastard! Let go!” You wrestled with him, but you couldn’t get away from his suffocating embrace.

Jungkook wrapped his legs around your body. He also buried his face in your neck.

“Stay here. I miss you. I miss you so much it hurts,” Jungkook let out a whiny sob. “Please stay for a while, alright? I just want to tell you how my day went.”

Jungkook had never been this clingy and vulnerable before. He was only like this when drunk. 

But he really wasn’t drunk, at least not with alcohol or drugs. It was on something else--something good--a spark of joy.

You couldn’t help but coo.

“Okay,” you betrayed yourself. “Fine. You can talk. Tell me why you’re like this. Did something happen?”

“Yes. Something happened.” Jungkook’s eyelashes fluttered. “Jimin-hyung and I drank to celebrate. We are starting a business to help people! Me and Jimin—”

Jungkook abruptly stopped talking. He looked deep in thought. After a few seconds, he shook his head and smiled, “I will make those kids proud.”

Your heart swelled with joy upon hearing that. Jungkook never talked about himself, rarely using the word ‘I’ to express his feelings, but today, he really proclaimed a promise using that pronoun.

For the first time, Jungkook looked alive.

“What kids are you talking about, Jungkook-shit?” You asked as softly as you could, hoping your best friend would spill more.

But Jungkook sometimes had selective hearing, not to mention he was a bit tipsy. He only heard the word ‘kid’ from you.

He giggled; his hand roamed your body. “Kids,” Jungkook’s tone was sultry. You could feel his hot breath on your neck.

“I want to have kids,” Jungkook announced as his hand made its way to cup under your clothes—he was caressing your stomach.

You inhaled sharply.

“I want you to carry my baby.” Jungkook’s lips puckered, “I want to put a baby in your tummy. Why hasn’t your stomach grown yet?”

Oh. You thought. Heat crawled up to your face as the sudden realization hit you like a ton of bricks:

Jungkook looking at your stomach...  Jungkook asking about your calorie intake...  Jungkook saw your flat stomach when you wore that cropped top...

What the fuck.

“I want to see your stomach grow like a balloon.” Jungkook stroked your tummy, his hand moving up to flick at your nipples. “These too. Wanna see them grow heavy with milk. Our baby and I can share—”

“Shut up!” you couldn’t take such lewd words from a shitty mackerel. He pushed Jungkook’s chest. “You...you don’t even like kids! You are just--!!”

You didn’t know what to say. You tried to ignore the warmth spreading to your belly down to your groin. Jungkook had always been good at dirty talking. You knew because it was mainly directed at you.

You and Jungkook were best friends who helped each other in many ways, including pleasuring each other’s bodies.

You had never done more than oral sex, though. You were easily flustered and oh so very easy to please. With a few touches here and there, coupled with dirty talk, you would be coming all over Jungkook’s mouth and hands.

“Why’re you pushing me away? Come, let me hug you.” Jungkook pulled you to his chest. “You want it, don’t you? Don’t you dare lie. I saw your face. You want to have my baby too.”

You shivered, your breathing labored. You didn’t consider yourself weak, but when it came to Jungkook? You couldn’t say the same thing.

“Admit it. You want me too. Wan  me to fill you up with my cum, yeah?”

Of fucking course you do. You swallowed hard, gripping your best friend’s shirt as you whispered, “I fucking do. But not now. I want you 100% sober, Kook. See if you can repeat those words tomorrow.”

Jungkook licked his lower lip and hummed, “Mn, I always want you.”

Present; 2023

Jungkook peeled his eyes open.

Everything hurt. It was hard to move. It didn’t help that all his eyes landed were white. It hurt his eyes.

Right. Before all this white was black—his world turned into darkness when Lee Sung drove that knife to his stomach.

Jungkook blinked. The words stomach triggered memories from the past, a memory that disguised itself into a long dream.

Before Jungkook woke up, he dreamed about you and his selfish desire for you to carry his child.

Jungkook’s shoulders slumped; an overwhelming sense of sorrow settled at the pit of his stomach. But he was startled to see a small child staring blankly at him.

He tilted his head to the side. Huh? Why was there a kid in his hospital room?

“Hey, kid,” Jungkook held back his flinch for the sake of his aching stomach wound. The boy gave Jungkook the creeps; his irises were pitch black, and he wouldn’t stop staring dumbly at him. 

“Where are your parents? Did your daddy accidentally lose you?” Dads are the worst.

Jungkook had to hold another flinch when the kid answered his question with a cutthroat gesture: his little fingers were slitting through his neck, causing Jungkook to furrow his brow. Seriously, what was wrong with this kid?

“What’s your name? How old are you?” Jungkook enquired. Could this kid have lost his way and accidentally entered his hospital room? And speaking of room, Jungkook felt his fingers turning colder.

Who in the right mind would confine him in a VIP room!? Didn’t the hospital check his identity first? Didn’t they know Jungkook couldn’t afford this kind of service!?

“Name Soobin, twee yess och.”

You know what else Jungkook couldn’t afford? Listening to Soobin talk.

“Did you say three?” Jungkook pressed his lips into a thin line as he crossed his arms, “Huh. You’re three, and you still talk gibberish?”

The boy seemed to recognize the taunt painting Jungkook’s voice. He folded his little arms across his chest, his lips protruding into a sulky pout: “Am not dumb.”

For some reason, Jungkook’s heart softened at the look of this kid. He was so adorable that Jungkook couldn’t help but let out a hearty laugh—even when it hurt his stomach. “You even know the word dumb, huh?”

The child couldn’t speak straight but could read one’s expression. When he saw the mirth in Jungkook’s eyes, he thought it was an invitation for him to flex the words he knew.

“Stupid.” The kid uttered. “Fuck.”

“Hey! You can pronounce those words perfectly. Attaboy~.” Jungkook’s eyes glistened in awe, making the kid happy. Soobin slightly tucked his chin and relished the praise of a stranger. However, the feeling of triumph didn’t last long, as Jungkook quickly realized his mistake.

“I mean...no! Bad boy. Don’t say those words. Your mom is going to be mad at you.”

Soobin was similar to Jungkook. He could twist his expression in a second, too. His twinkling eyes immediately went back to being impassive.

Jungkook’s lips partly opened in shock. He narrowed his eyes at the kid, “What? Don’t tell me your mom is dead, too?”

Soobin made that cutthroat gesture earlier. Jungkook just assumed it meant his father died. The kid probably didn’t know what that action symbolized. Soobin didn’t seem to like what Jungkook had said, though. He creased his forehead, ready to throw his fist at Jungkook when the door suddenly flew open.

Soobin’s attention switched to that. His eyes glowed, “Ma!” And then he scurried toward the newcomer.

Jungkook followed Soobin’s movement, his eyes glowing when he saw the person who opened the door.

Soobin’s ‘ma’ was--

“Soobin,” --you. You opened your arms wide, ready to catch the small boy in your arms. Soobin jumped right in, squeezing your shoulders into an embrace.

“Ma! Not dead!” Soobin rubbed his cheek against your cheek, causing your lips to pucker. Soobin was squeezing too hard.

“Soobin,” You chuckled awkwardly as goosebumps pricked at your skin. Someone was ogling at you. You had been accustomed to this feeling since you were subjected to it nine years ago.

You looked at Jungkook’s bed, breath taken away from your lungs upon seeing your ex-best friend awake.

“You’re awake.” You made your way to Jungkook’s bed. You were about to press the nurse call button when a cold hand grasped your wrist.

“Don’t call anyone. I’m fine.” Jungkook said with a nasal voice.

“Okay.” You conceded. You wanted to say many things but didn’t know where to start. Jungkook had already met Soobin while you weren’t around. You never meant for this to happen. The nurse said Jungkook was supposed to wake up sometime later, but he woke up earlier than expected.

It wasn’t a bad thing, no—not really. Your heart was actually calmer now that Jungkook had opened his eyes. Gone was the feeling of standing on a precipice with the fear of falling down. You had retreated to a safer distance now that Jungkook was awake.

“How are you feeling?” You licked your lower lip, “The nurse called me. She said you’ve been stabbed. What happened?”

Jungkook was bombarded with questions. He didn’t know what to say, but it’s not like he didn’t see this coming. It was his fault. He was the one who saved your number on his phone the night you met. He was weak then. He allowed himself to hope that fate would make a move even if he didn’t.

He was also the one who never changed his emergency contact, even after everything that transpired. You left, but Jungkook never moved on.

Jungkook cleared his throat, eyes darting on the kid in your arms. An uncomfortable feeling settled at the pit of his stomach.

“Is…” Jungkook swallowed, “Is he your kid?”

You avoided the other man’s gaze. You looked like you wanted to avoid the question, so you did that.

“I asked you a question first.”

You had this face that said, ‘You won’t get a response from me if you don’t tell me things first.’ Jungkook usually teased you until you relented, but he felt that was not the case anymore.

“And I already told you I’m fine.” Jungkook didn’t want to make a big deal out of the situation. It was already bad enough.

But you begged to differ.

“And I asked you what happened. You can’t get stabbed and just ignore it, Jungkook.”

The image of Lee Sung’s mocking grin made Jungkook shiver. He really didn’t want to think about that bastard today—or ever.

Jungkook gave a dismissive wave, “I’m fine, aren’t I? No point in dwelling in the past.”

“Then I guess you won’t know who this kid is to me.”

Jungkook’s head snapped to meet your fiery gaze.

“Fine.” He scoffed. “I did it to myself, alright? I’m the culprit. What are you gonna do about it?”

The idea was to tease you back until you stopped with your query. Jungkook had no intention of divulging the truth as it was too humiliating. Pride was the only thing he had in this lifetime.

But to Jungkook’s disappointment, his response only ignited your anger and curiosity. You snapped at him, “Oi, Jungkook. Are you kidding me?”

Something about your expression riled up Jungkook. Yes, that’s it. That’s the face I want to see. Show me you care, but don’t you dare come closer. I’m not letting you in.

“You and I both know I don’t joke about this thing.” Jungkook blinked at you innocently. “I’ve wanted to die for a long time.”

“Fuck you.” you spat. Soobin’s ears perked up. He raised his hands and repeated your words:

“Fuck you.”

“Soobin, cover your fucking ears!” You snapped, a fraction of your anger directed at the small child in your arms. Soobin was not a pushover, unlike Jungkook. He recognized the thunder in your voice. Soobin immediately covered his ears.

You directed your fury back to Jungkook again. Your eyes and tone were both sharp. “You haven’t changed after all these years, huh? You’re still nothing but a fucking coward.”

Jungkook’s eyes darkened, yet he didn’t speak. It prompted you to voice out your pain.

“You’re still a coward who can’t face his problems, only relying on suicide to ease your fucking pain. Guess what, Jungkook-shit. Trying to kill yourself doesn’t end the pain!” It only exemplifies it, passing the hurt to those left behind.

Jungkook’s breathing quickened. He looked at you with wide eyes; his thoughts earlier of not letting you in felt like a resounding slap now.

That’s not true. Jungkook screamed in his head. You didn’t understand him. No one did. 

Suddenly, it wasn’t about what Lee Sung did to him or his lies to shut you up. It moved around Jungkook’s suppressed feelings.

It was unfair, wasn’t it? Everyone thought suicide was the easy way out. But honestly, it was Jungkook’s last resort. He had tried everything before: sleep it off, think happy thoughts, and wait it out. Maybe fate wanted to test him, but why did it still hurt the same after many years? Why did the burden in his heart not lessen an ounce? In fact, it only weighed more.

People thought it was selfish of him to end his life because he wouldn’t be here to deal with the aftermath.

But what about before the aftermath? What about those difficult times when his heart hurt so much that he couldn’t breathe? When the voices in his head were so loud he couldn’t make them shut up?

Those left behind deal with the aftermath but not what happened before that.

People didn’t know because they were also busy dealing with their own pain.

Your eyes were red. You glared at Jungkook, “I hate you so much, shitty Jungkook. Jisoo-unnie was wrong. You’re not a good person. You’re an asshole. She shouldn’t have trusted you. She shouldn’t have made me promise to return here in Incheon to tell you all about Soobin.”

Your embrace of Soobin tightened. “Because you know what? You don’t deserve Soobin. You don’t deserve to be his father. Fuck you.”

This scene was eerily familiar to Jungkook. He watched as you turned your back on him, aiming for the exit with no intention of ever returning.

***

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A/N: Comments are highly appreciated! Please leave some :)

I've written multiple Jungkook fics, you might want to check that out!

[matan4il]

Update post:

Most of this will be about the unprecedented attack of the Islamist regime of Iran against Israel, but first I have to take a second to mourn a 14 year old boy, who was murdered in a Palestinian attack on Friday. At around 6 in the morning, teenager Binyamin Achimeir led his sheep herd out of the farm he lives in, but a few hours later, the sheep returned to the farm without him. At first, it was feared that he had some accident, or was dehydrated, and thousands of people voluntarily joined the search for him. On Saturday, at around noon, the IDF found his body, with signs of brutal violence on it. Based on the forensic evidence, he was murdered by several Palestinian terrorists, and he fought back. The army is still hunting down the murderers. May Binyamin's memory be a blessing.

Right, back to the Islamist regime of Iran's attack on Israel. I posted about it as soon as the news started being aired here, in case someone didn't know about it. The news broke past the normal time when people watch news on TV in Israel, I noticed it by chance right before I was about to turn in for the night. I'm physically okay, but I didn't get that much sleep, I had to wake up early to take care of some stuff, so I AM very tired, which is why I'm not going to do the usual thing I do, which is to look for English journalistic sources for everything, but I have no doubt even the stuff I won't look up can all be easily found online.

On a personal note, I can tell you that at 1:43 in the morning I heard the first explosion, but no sirens went off. A few more explosions followed, and only then did we hear the sirens. It was scary, for a moment we couldn't tell whether we're hearing explosions of missiles from neighboring areas, or whether something went wrong with the sirens, and we need to hurry into the bomb shelter. It seems like in Jerusalem specifically there was some issue with the sirens, I heard a reporter mention it. Also, the alert app didn't go off, even though it should have, at the latest when the sirens did.

This is what the Temple Mount looked like from an Iranian attack that could have easily destroyed the al-Aqsa mosque (it's not in the frame, but it's right next to where this was filmed):

Quick background: Iran is the biggest financier of anti-Israel terrorism for decades now, including funding Hamas, Hezbollah and the Houthis, all of which have been a part of a continuous attack on Israel since Oct 7 as Iran's proxies. Iran has sent its own military seniors to help and instruct those local terrorists, in places like Lebanon, Syria and Iraq. Israel has eliminated them whenever possible, this is not something new. On Apr 1, Israel carried out such a strike, in which it targeted 7 Iranian army seniors in Damascus, Syria's capital. Iran claimed Israel targeted the Iranian consulate in this city, but diplomatic buildings are all publicly listed. Iran has an embassy in Damascus (in a separate location) and no consulates. That's why the magnitude of Iran's response to this has taken Israel by surprise, because the Israeli strike wasn't that out of the ordinary. In fact, the US assassination of Iran's military commander, Qasem Soleimani, back in 2018, was a far graver blow for the Iranian regime, and yet it did not lead to an attack as massive as the one launched against Israel last night.

It is now known that some of the attack waves against Israel were intercepted by other countries, including The US, the UK, France and Jordan. It's been said that there's at least one more Arab country that helped in intercepting Iran's attack, but it can't be publicized. Many countries denounced Iran for attacking Israel.

We don't have numbers regarding the full size of the attack. Out of all the countries who participated in curtailing this attack, we know that the US has intercepted at least 70 suicide drones and 3 cruise missiles, while Israel has intercepted at least 185 suicide drones, 36 cruise missile and 110 ballistic missiles (that last one is the missile type that causes the most damage). Israel's interceptions are said to have been 99% successful, but like I said, no defence system is perfect. A small number of ballistic missiles did land inside Israel. One hit an Israeli air Force base in the south. There's over 30 people who got injured when rushing to the bomb shelter in the middle of the night (elderly people, including Holocaust survivors, have died from such injuries), and over 30 more ended up in hospital due to severe mental health reactions. On top of that, there's a 7 years old Muslim Bedouine girl who was injured by interceptors debris. A friend of her family that I heard being interviewed said the family wanted to go to the communal bomb shelter, but before they even had a chance to make it out of the house, the girl was hit by the debris piercing into their home, and she is suffering from severe head injuries. The hospital is currently fighting for her life.

The estimate of how much it cost Israel to defend its citizens from this one attack last night is 5 BILLION shekels (which is over 1.3 BILLION US dollars). That's for one night.

Israel will respond. According to one reporter I heard, that was decided as soon as it was clear how big the attack is, so this isn't about how much damage Iran caused, it's about how it crossed several red lines. This is the first time Iran itself attacked Israel itself, it's not an attack on an extension of Israel, nor was it done by using proxy terrorists. Israel has had terrorist organizations attacking it continuously since 2001, but this is the first attack from a fellow sovereign country since Iraq (led by tyrant Saddam Hussein) in 1991, so that in itself is crossing a red line. The size of the attack is also considered an escalation on Iran's part. In 2019, Iran launched a smaller scaled suicde drone attack on Saudi Arabia, and the latter's western allies refused to launch a counter attack, which led to these countries being seen as unreliable, and some Middle Eastern countries renewed their ties with Iran. That's why how it would seen in the Middle East if Israel doesn't react to an even bigger attack, and how it might drive more moderate countries to grow closer to Iran, is another consideration in why Israel must respond. Not to mention that launching such a mass attack basically caused a paralysis of the country once the first intel became known. For example, all educational activity (schools, universities, you name it) has been canceled, Israel's air space had to be closed, every single ambulance across the country had to be manned, and so on. That is not something any country can simply shrug off. Not to mention, Israel financially can't afford this reality to become normalized.

Not to mention, Israel tried to contain Hamas, PIJ and Hezbollah's rocket attacks for decades. What we got for it was the invasion and massacre on Oct 7. The lesson for most Israelis is that containing mass attacks on our population only leads to worse ones.

That said, there's also no desire here of getting dragged into a war on another front while we're still in the middle of one in Gaza and with Iran's proxies on several more fronts. So, Israel is looking for a balanced response, one that won't let this mass attack slide, but hopefully doesn't make matters much worse.

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

[hxney-lemcn]

This is Home — Osamu Dazai x gn! reader

summary: reader and Dazai's bond grows, feelings are revealed and Dazai shows a rare moment of vulnerability.

tw: mention of Dazai being suicidal, slight angst (mostly fluff), slight hurt/comfort

a/n: I hope I didn't write Dazai's character wrong. He's such a complicated character and I made him super lovesick so oops. Also this is super self indulgent (tbf I always write the reader in relation to how I would act).

wc: 3.3k

Master List

Your life outside of work wasn’t too exciting. After coming home from a stressful day of talking down a hostage situation or tracking down a criminal ability user, you were grateful for the peace you found at home. The Armed Detective Agency wasn’t what you expected to do as your career, but you weren’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Besides, after dealing with troubling situations all the time, laying down in bed and watching whatever managed to keep your attention was all the more gratifying. 

It was funny looking back, when you had been afraid of growing up lonely and bored. You got more than enough excitement at work, and you almost saw your colleagues as family. You truly loved them, they were everything (which was a bit sad but you digress), but you also enjoyed the tranquility of your home. The time you had to yourself was something you always appreciated. 

Today was one of those rare peaceful days. It was the weekend and you all were given a much needed day off. You had been letting your top coat dry, being careful as you scrolled through your phone, tv playing something in the background. Your pet cat laid peacefully on your feet, her cute little head snuggling into your legs. Days like these were your favorite. The weight of your job was lifted momentarily, soaking in as much of this relaxing feeling as possible. 

What you hadn’t fully expected (you can never underestimate what he’d do) was for Dazai to pop into your bedroom…at least he had the decency to knock on your bedroom door before entering. How did he get into your apartment? Lock picking. He totally lock picked your door. Much to his amusement, you hadn’t even batted an eye at his appearance. He hadn’t done this before, but from the way he acted around you in the office, this was bound to happen. Your only grief was that your cat had jumped away in apprehension of the ‘stranger’. 

Dazai let out a gasp, eyes starry as he noticed the nail care products that were on your bed stand, “You do your own nails? I always thought you got them professionally done.”

“Nah,” You shrugged. “You think I have the money or time for all that? I’ve been doing my own nails for as long as I can remember.”

“You’re so talented,” Dazai praised, jumping onto your bed next to you. Taking one of your hands in his own, he took in your work, even though it was just one color he was staring like it was the most fascinating artwork he’s ever seen.

“Want me to do yours?” You asked, unsure why he was so enraptured with your usual nails. You always tried to keep them nice. You could neglect any other aspect of your health, but you always tried to keep your nails looking good. You weren’t sure why, but maintaining them was relaxing, as well as a routine that calms you down. 

“Would you really,” Dazai gasps, now clasping your hand in his, an exciting grin dazzling his beautiful features. “You spoil me truly, Abelia.” That was something only Dazai called you. His fawning over women had slowly fizzled out, the pet name belladonna long forgotten. Instead, he had turned that attention towards you tenfold. If someone needed Dazai (mainly Kunikida), the first place they’d look was wherever you were. He would constantly drap himself over you, complimenting you and fawning over you. It was weird, you weren’t used to such attention, but you had started to look forward to the next time you’d see Dazai. You soaked up any and all attention he was willing to give you, while he had been doing the same. 

You looked up Abelia, unsure what that was. It was a plant, just like belladonna. But except being the name of deadly nightshade, it was a flowering plant, a part of the honeysuckle family. It was a unique, but heartwarming nickname that you had grown fond of quicker than you’d like to admit. It was hard for you to fully comprehend if Dazai actually was interested in you, or if this was his weird way of showing you affection. Although as mentioned earlier, he had stopped his flirting with women altogether, which made you wonder if he was okay (he’s just whipped for you). 

“You can pick out any color you want,” You motioned to the small rack of nail polish you owned. You had more than you needed, but that gave Dazai a wide variety. You watched him, the warmth in your eyes clear as he made a show of what color to pick.

“Ahh what do I choose?” He sighed, hands pointing to different colors. “There’s so much to choose from.” Suddenly, he perked up, picking up a color and quickly sliding up to you. A grin formed on your face as he waved the sparkly pink color in front of your face. 

“I’m warning you now, those sparkles are a pain to get off,” You warned, grabbing your nail file and cuticle cutters. “I had to scrape them off even after all the nail polish was already gone.”

“All the more reason,” Dazai smiled, watching as you fully turned towards him. Dazai didn’t hesitate when you held your hand out towards him, placing his in yours. Your touch always warmed him in a way he hadn’t felt before, the simplicity of your routines is what drew him in. That wasn’t to say you were boring, it’s just all he had known was chaos. If he wasn’t the center of chaos, he would create it. You were the complete opposite. You gave Dazai a taste of something he thought wasn’t meant for him, and he was slowly becoming dependent on you to show him more. A world that isn’t bloody and terrible, a world where he can be loved even with the terrible things that he’s done. A world where he’s with you. 

Dazai didn’t pay any attention to the tv, warm chocolate eyes watching your every movement. How you gently filed his nails into a nice looking oval shape (he couldn’t believe how better they looked just after the first step). How your eyes would dart to the tv every so often to keep up. How you made sure he wasn’t hurt when you clipped his cuticles, he was in slight awe at how you made it look so easy. Finally you put on the base coat. It had been thirty minutes and Dazai was already feeling a bit antsy. Sitting still wasn’t really his style even though he could be the laziest motherfucker alive. You were just so close, and he felt like it was a crime that he hasn’t held you close yet.

Even though Dazai knew his feelings for you ran deeper than they should, he hadn’t been able to tell you. Yes…he was kind of obvious, but he could tell that you would always interpret his affection as nothing but friendly. It was amusing and frustrating at the same time. He wanted to move past this stage, for you to be his, and him yours. Yet he was held back, knowing he didn’t deserve such kindness. How many people has he killed that wanted the same? How many people has he killed that had that warmth, only to extinguish it? 

At the end of the day, he still felt that hollow feeling. He didn’t really care about whomever he killed, they were just blank faces adding to a number. That alone made him feel guilty, because he knows you wouldn’t see it as such. You were so kind, kind enough to see a monster like him and care. He’s been shown the light time and time again within the ADA, and you only furthered that. At first it was hard for Dazai to understand the difference between the brutality of the Port Mafia and the ADA, but it slowly became clearer over time. You had been the nail in the coffin, showing him the true beauty of protecting someone. You had become a shoulder to cry on for many victims, almost crying with them sometimes, sharing their pain. He didn’t understand how you did it, but he’s trying to learn. 

That antsy feeling in Dazai slowly rose, the way you gently treated him as you continued to apply the polish to his nails only fueling the feeling further. That warm, fluttery feeling was getting worse and you were his outlet. Oh how he wanted to hug you, cuddle you, squeeze you tight to get those feelings out of his systems. What a predicament he put himself in. 

“Careful!” You gasped, holding his hands still with wide eyes. “I just put on the top coat, you gotta let it dry.”

“How long will that take?” Dazai whined, a pout forming on his pretty lips. 

“A while,” You replied, waving his hands to help them air dry a bit faster. “I don’t have an exact time, I mostly just wing it. When you can tap your nails without them sticking to each other is when they’re completely dry.”

“I don’t know how you do it,” He whined again, dramatically swaying as you continued to hold his hands still. “How am I supposed to live without you in my arms?”

“You survived 22 years,” You teased back, a sly grin on your face (Dazai thought he was going to die at the sight). “I’m sure you’ll live.”

“You’re so cold,” Dazai bemoaned, tilting his head back (but making sure his hands never left yours). You found yourself stuck holding Dazai’s hands until his nails fully dried. You had almost let go and he nearly ruined all your precious work. It was nearly dinner by the time his nails dried, and you found yourself making plans with him. 

“Take out or should I actually try to make something?” You pondered, looking into your fridge to see if the latter was even possible.

“Take out,” Dazai replied instantly. Glancing at him, you watched as he beckoned you towards your couch, arms stretched out like a child asking for a hug. Although this was the first time either of you had done anything like this before, it felt completely natural, almost like this was how it was always supposed to be. 

“Alright,” You shrugged, closing your fridge and approaching the man that took up your couch. “I’m kinda craving pizza, what about you?”

“Pizza is fine,” He mumbled, gently pulling you to lay on top of him. You felt yourself fluster slightly, unused to such an intimate hold. Yes Dazai would cling to you almost 24/7, but this was in the privacy of your home, and without the company of your friends that kept you grounded, it felt like the moment was more tender.

Taking out your phone to the best of your abilities, you kept making sure Dazai was okay with your decisions (he would eat dirt with you if you asked). After you confirmed everything, he had started playing with your hair, making almost completely melt into him (he had quickly found your weakness). Dazai watched with fondness as your eyes fluttered as he scratched gently at your scalp, it was so cute how you tried to act so nonchalantly (it worked greatly to his advantage that you were also touch starved). 

At that moment, it felt like your relationship with the suicidal detective had shifted. An understanding washing over the both of you. You had both been the others this entire time, you both were just too cowardly to speak it outloud. The warmth in your chest hurt so nicely, enjoying every second that Dazai’s nimble fingers twirled your hair around, never wanting him to stop. Unfortunately for you both, the pizza arrived quickly, causing you to pry yourself off Dazai as he tried to tangle you into him further.

“I have to get the pizza,” You grumbled, the more responsible of the two.

“Fine,” Dazai relented, allowing you to stand up properly. 

…

You couldn’t hide the lovesick grin on your face as Dazai showed everyone his nails the next work day. Atsushi complimented him, albeit hesitantly, asking when you did them. Dazai held the most shit eating grin when he mentioned you both hung out over the weekend, causing Atsushi to sweat. The look on Atsushi’s face as he looked at you read ‘my condolences’. 

If you thought Dazai was clingy before, he was basically a leech at this point. That day had changed him, and he found himself becoming more selfish. He wanted to call you his. He wanted to be yours so badly, the thought of you both sharing more domestic moments consumed him. 

Such a moment happened after work. Dazai was feeling particularly romantic, and who was he to deny you such affection? You deserved the world and he would give you no less. He brought you to a park, a thick blanket and a bag of food for you two to share (he sadly couldn’t find a picnic basket in time). Since your work day ended at five, the park wasn’t too full. Parents were starting to take their kids home and some people were having their evening jog. Dazai had brought you to a more quiet area, placing the blanket beneath a tree. 

You felt flattered at the amount of attention Dazai had put into this. The blanket was a nice thickness so it wasn’t super uncomfortable to sit on the ground, the foods were your favorites and Dazai currently held a chocolate covered strawberry up to your mouth.

“Say ahh~” He giggled, clearly amused with the situation. You opened your mouth hesitantly, feeling embarrassed at the situation. This wasn’t the first time someone’s fed you something, albeit it wasn’t often, this scenario was more intimate then anything you had experienced. 

“Is this a date?” You couldn’t help but ask after you swallowed the berry (it was delicious). Normally you’d shy away if the topic was brought up, but at the moment you couldn’t find it in yourself too. After that domestic day, the way Dazai treated you was warmer than normal, and it felt 100% genuine. He had desensitized you to the notion of dating him, and it seemed to work in your favor. 

“If you want it to be,” Dazai hummed, grin widening.

“I don’t mind,” You replied, picking up a sandwich. “As long as that’s also what you want.” 

His heart fluttered, an occurrence that had become normal in your presence. The fact that you wanted his full consent, even though he’s the one that planned it warmed him. You were so sweet he could feel his teeth rot. If anything, he should be asking you if you really wanted this. Even though you knew he was an ex-Port Mafia executive, he didn’t think you truly understood the sins he had committed. What he’s done without a second thought. The sadistic acts he did for fun. You had nearly cried over a song about a rat being killed, how would you react if you heard the details of his crimes?

You had sensed the change in Dazai’s demeanor. The shine in his eyes dulled, even if everything else hadn’t changed. He suddenly looked drained, the eye bags under his eyes were dark. At first you were worried that he didn’t want to date you, but that thought seemed silly. It then dawned on you that the charming, lovely Dazai might have been feeling inadequate. 

“Of course,” Dazai smiled, masking his feelings as quickly as they appeared. “I would be honored to be yours, Abelia.” He grabbed both of your hands, holding them up to his cheek as he swooned dramatically. A smile tugged at your lips as you noticed the polish on his nails, they had slightly chipped, but they were still nearly intact. 

Sliding one of your hands out of his grip, you caressed his cheek (a bold move on your part), “You know I care for you, right?” His dark eyes widened, a small blush rising over his cheekbones. Your thumb gently rubbed his cheek as he kept your other hand clutched in his own. 

“You shouldn’t,” Dazai muttered, letting you see a fraction of how he felt. He wasn’t sure why he admitted such a vulnerable thought so quickly. It was like the honesty in your eyes had compelled him to tell you the truth.

A frown tugged at your lips, unwavering adoration filling you, “Everyone deserves someone to care for them.”

The determination in your eyes, your kindness, it had all caused Dazai to turn into a gooey mess on the inside. You said such astounding things with such a strong truth. He knew you meant what said.

“Everyone?” Dazai repeated, raising an eyebrow, trying to lighten the atmosphere. 

You paused, thinking of some bad people from history that were definitely not worthy, but decided to stand strong (or your defense could easily be dismantled), “Everyone.” You noticed that the shine of despair still clouded in his eyes, his smile unwavering. That’s when you realized he truly didn’t think he deserved to be loved and cared for. Taking your other hand out of his grasp, you held his face in your hands, a seriousness taking over you.

“You may have done bad things, you may have hurt people, but you’ve changed,” You stated, staring deeply into his eyes in hope to get through to him. “And as long as you try to be good, to atone for what you’ve done, then you deserve a second chance. Osamu Dazai, you are not a bad person, and you deserve to be loved.”

The formidable Osamu Dazai, the carefree, lazy, unbreakable, cunning Dazai had cracked. And you, sweet, loving, caring, kind you had been the one who managed to break him. He had never expected to hear such kind words aimed towards him, he never had expected to show anyone his guilt he carried. He never expected to have someone like you in his life, who would love unconditionally. He thought people like that were fools who were oblivious to the horrors of the world, but you fought frontline and still smiled and loved ceaselessly. 

A bittersweet look fell onto your face, and when he felt your thumbs brush something wet away from his cheek, he realized he was crying. Something he had never done in front of someone else. He supposes it was a sign of how deeply he trusted you, when he thought you couldn’t get any kinder, you had shown him that some people simply didn’t have evil in them. Yes you could be selfish, no you weren’t perfect, he knew you were insecure and sometimes your kindness was due to you being a people pleaser. He had seen you become devastated at the thought of someone not liking you, how you’d do something for someone at your own expense because you want them to be happy. For someone who was extremely independent, you were still quite dependent on others' views on you, for someone so trusting, it was hard for you to fully trust someone.

“This was supposed to be a romantic date,” Dazai sighed, a small pout on his lips.

“I think this went quite well,” You replied. You smiled gently as you lifted a strawberry up to Dazai’s mouth. “Say ahh~”

Dazai couldn’t hold back his delighted giggles, happily chomping on the strawberry you offered him. He felt lighter than he ever had, who knew telling someone your problems could make you feel better, even if it's just slightly (get therapy man, it works). You had managed to endear yourself even more to the bandaged man (if that was even possible). If you wanted to get rid of him now good luck, he wasn’t letting you go anytime soon.

If only he could mutter those three words that rested at the tip of his tongue.

[hyperfixat]

found this game in my steam wishlist 😭 i remember putting it in there and i forgot abt it for so long but i got around to playing it and !!! Okay!

So naturally, as one does, i decided to write a fic where u fucking kill yourself Obvious CW for suicide and overdosing on painkillers

(okay there’s kinda an open ending) anyway 1.2k words. GO.

You had no intention of winning your bet. Sure you taunt and tease the reaper, even before knowing who (rather what) he is, but you don’t intend on taking his soul. You wouldn’t even know how to take a soul if push came to shove.

It’s been an idle plan in your mind for years now. Suicide, that is. So when someone contacts you asking for your soul, you assume whatever god was overseeing you had a sick sense of humor.

Honestly, you think this “Grim Reaper” guy is planning on making a snuff film out of you. When you make your first call you think, this doesn't look like the type of guy to make snuff films. Hey, maybe he’s some rich pervert, using his fortune to prey on random people by installing spyware and stalking them before getting his rocks off to their death.

This false impression of Grim comes to a harsh end when he literally takes a stroll inside of you. And does stuff. You’re not quite sure what the hell that was about, but, again, this guy is either death incarnate or way richer than you had initially given him credit for.

You wonder if your ideas are graffitied on your soul, mindscape, wherever it was Grim ventured. It, this cosmically far away concept of the depression you have become, has been a shadow over your life. Surely it stained itself into your very being.

If there was any indication of that you’d like to think Grim would have mentioned the blight bleeding into you. But he doesn’t. So you don’t ask.

All too soon your week is coming to a close. You can’t lie to yourself and say you haven’t been falling for Casper (he had indulged you in his real name), but you’ve been looking for an excuse to do this for years and you won’t let someone you’ve known for less than a week hold you back.

Really you’re doing him a favor.

Maybe you should have done this sooner.

You are meant to be dead. Was it supposed to be by your own hands all along? Were you truly too much a coward until this very day to finally do it?

It’s cruel to leave your pet behind, but you hope they have it in them to forgive you. Grim seemed to think they were cute, hopefully he’ll agree to take care of them. You draft up a message to send to him before you trudge to your medicine cabinet. The value pack of 500 painkillers stares back at you, taunting.

No time like the present. You grab the bottle and take it to your kitchen, pouring a big cup of soda. You want to go out drinking your favorite drink and water is for losers. Popping the child safety lock off you pour out a handful of pills. How many would you have to take to get the job done, you wonder.

Well, it’s not like anyone else needs them, so you go handful by handful and down as much of the container as you can, before your stomach starts to ache. It’s likely the ache is from how full you are, but it could be your system beginning to realize something is wrong with your body, so you slide into your desk chair and open up the chatroom.

Grim is online. He’ll probably rush to your place. Out of excitement? Duty? Fear? Pity? There are too many possible outcomes, but you want to make sure the message gets sent, so you paste it into your chat bar, watching the line flickering at the end, prompting you to either send or type more.

Now your stomach is really starting to roll. You lean over and grab your trash bucket, holding it to your chest. Only when your burps start to taste like stale medicine do you hit the enter bar, sending the message.

Grim

What.

Grim

No

Grim

Don’t do it.

Grim

I’m coming over now.

Grim

KYS

Hm. That last message forces a chuckle out of you. Does he know what that means? An open contradiction; unless he’s gullible enough to believe it means Keep Yourself Safe.

Yeah, he definitely thinks it means keep yourself safe.

A bit late for that, though.

You have enough cognition to stumble forward and lock your window. A mere glass panel won’t stave death away, but hopefully you’ll have passed by the time Casper breaks it or breaks in through other means. You fall back into your spinning chair, and the momentum slides you halfway to your bed. That’s far enough away where you have a clear view of your window.

With glazed over eyes and a heavy slouch you watch as Casper flies up as if propelled by a very steep zipline. His eyes are wide and alert as he attempts to lift your window, a harsh contrast to your own.

He’s saying something but the window and your brain muffles it, probably telling you to let him in. Tough luck is what you’d tell him if your mouth wasn’t salivating so much. Casper bangs on your window at a frantic and fearful pace. Your emotions are swiftly changing.

You want to console him, hold him and tell him it’s alright. You know this is what you deserve, what’s been coming for you. Though it’s not in your best interest, you think your body is past the point of saving, not without some serious medical know how, so you stumble on deer legs to pop the lock open on the window.

Casper wastes no time in flinging it up and open.

“What have you done?” He’s all over you in an instant. Hands in your hair; hands on your face, peering into your dazed eyes, hands over your chest, hands feeling your abdomen. Casper looks distraught.

“It’s okay.” You reassure him, though your words sound oddly gurgle-y. “You win, it’s okay.”

“I don’t want to win. I forfeit, please, what have you done, tell me, I can fix this.” Casper speaks fast as if the haste with which he delivers his words will somehow fix you. His hands settle on either side of your face. “Look into my eyes, everything is going to be alright. I’m not upset, I’m not mad, please look into my eyes.” His words are like a mantra, and the desperation in his tone makes you compelled to follow his instructions.

The tears in his red eyes refract the light like rubies. You can’t imagine anything more beautiful.

“Can you imagine a bridge for me?” Casper’s hands are shaking against your face, the tremors get worse when you shake your head ‘no.’

“It’s okay.” You repeat yourself. “I love you, okay?” In another situation, far less serious than this, Casper would make fun of your excessive use of the word, but he barely notices.

“That’s alright, that’s alright, just keep looking into my eyes, got it?” Yes, you want to do that, Casper has the prettiest eyes. You wouldn‘t mind them being the last thing you see. That would be a lovely final view, you think.

They are.

the endings i thought of are:

one; you fucking die

two; casper establishes a soul mind link and gives you part of himself to keep your tethered to your body for long enough that you heal and you don’t die

[wabatle]

synopsis: your husband shows you why you should get up this morning. warnings: mentions of depression, mentions of self-hatred, and mentions of suicidal thoughts if you squint. divider by @/saradika

“I don't feel like getting up this morning.” You softly told your husband.

Eren was taken aback. “What do you mean? You have to get up. I need you.”

“I'm sorry, baby.” You replied. “But I'm tired and I feel like there's no point in getting up. Like there's no reason to get out of bed.”

“…Oh.” Eren replied softly. “Okay, sure.” He quickly left the room.

You rolled onto your back, now staring at the ceiling. Why am I like this? You thought to yourself. I probably made him upset, and now he probably feels like he did something wrong to me…

You sighed. I hate myself. I hate that I'm like this.

You continued to think for a while, until the bedroom door opened again.

“Rise and shine, baby!” Eren said, pulling you out of bed.

“H–huh?”

“I made you breakfast. Get dressed and come eat!”

With that, Eren left the room. So… I guess he's okay? You thought, beginning to get ready. I wonder what he made.

When you came into the kitchen, there was a plate of pancakes on the table, specifically shaped into a heart.

You sighed, trying to push back the tears. “Thank you, baby.”

“Now, once you finish, get your shoes on.”

“Why?”

“Because I planned a fun day today to prove to you that it's worth it to get out of bed.”

You smiled softly, swallowing a bit of the pancake. “You're too good to me.”

“It's only because I love you. I hate to see you like that.” He picked up your empty plate and put it in the sink.

You put your shoes on.

“Ready?” He asked, offering his hand.

“Yeah.” You replied, taking his hand.

A few minutes later, you arrived at an aquarium.

“You said that you wanted to go to an aquarium a few days ago, right?” Eren smiled gently at you.

“U–uh, yeah…I'm surprised you remembered.”

He kept holding your hand as he pulled you inside, watching you look around in awe at the fish.

After the aquarium, he took you to a library, where you looked around for random books you felt like reading. While you were wandering around, Eren was looking for books on depression and how to help someone with it.

After that, you went to a cat café, where Eren bought you a beverage of your choice and you both played with the cats.

Next, he took you to an amusement park, where you two rode the scariest roller coasters together and quite possibly even got close to throwing up after.

Lastly, he took you to a park. Just a park with a playset and a set of swings.

He sat down on a swing and motioned for you to sit down next to him.

The night air was cold, yet you still felt oddly warm.

“How are you doing now, darling?” He asked you.

Your heart picked up a little. “I feel much better now, thank you.” You paused.

“Eren, thank you so, so much for today. It really helped. It made me so happy. I love you.”

Eren smiled. “I love you too, (name).”

Eren then picked up the pace on the swing, going as high as he could possibly go. “Try to keep up, (name)!”

Seeing this as a competition, you also tried to go as high as possible.

Once you both were tired, Eren pulled you into a hug.

“When I say I love you, I really mean it. Hearing you say that there was no point in getting out of bed— I couldn't take it. I wanted you to be able to see all the stuff you would miss out on if you didn't get out of bed.”

You smiled softly into his shoulder. “I think I realized something today.”

Eren pulled back to look at you. “Hm?”

“You're my reason to get out of bed.”

Eren couldn't help but smile. “Really?”

You nodded. “Yeah.”

He started laughing. “No way!” He spit out between laughs. “That's funny, ‘cause…”

“You're my reason to get out of bed too.”

[teacupcollector]

The Art of Misdirection - Part 2 (Task Force 141 x Reader)

Main Masterlist Modern Warfare II Masterlist

A/N: I wanted to go into how each character feels about Misdi so there is a POV swap. I don’t know if it will make sense but I hope it does! A/N: I made my own divider because I couldn’t find one. I hope it looks decent.

A/N: I also want to thank you for all the love and support! I didn’t expect the first part to take off the way it did. I hope you enjoy this part! A/N: Also I forgot who, but someone kind of guessed what happened which I found funny because it was like they read my mind lol.

Summary: Joining the 141 was a wild roller-coaster. Everyone had been apprehensive to you joining due to your age, but you are here to prove them wrong. Now as of this mission and maybe your last they are going to figure out what your nickname means.  

Johnny was insistent that we go down and look at the person we just shot. I decided that we wait a minute or so to see if there was any more movement before I allowed Gaz and I to go. I have no idea what compelled them to look, but I found myself being compelled as well. Johnny stayed above and kept an eye out for us just in case. If it weren’t for his injured leg I would be the one keeping watch since I am the better shot, but in any case I wouldn’t let Gaz go by himself in case there were more enemies out there. You can easily become overwhelmed with: A. The lack of cover. And B. The brightness of night vision. Not saying that night vision is bad. That is what helped us spot the movement of this rat in the first place, but if an enemy were to shine a light it could be blinding. 

“Why would there only be one person out here LT? It is odd.” I hear Gaz say. “Could be a scout...” I grunt back. “Yeah... Maybe... But wouldn’t it be best to have a duo or a trio of scouts? It’s suicide to be out here on your own. Especially with you here.” I hear Gaz chuckle. I stay quiet as we continue to approach. I suddenly feel my hands twitch in discomfort and my brow suddenly break into a sweat. As we approach the body... The body I shot down. We see an American flag velcroed on their chest. “No... No, no, no!” I hear Gaz exclaim as he immediately rushes to the only person this could possibly be.

I follow in step with him as we approach her. I feel my breath hitch as I see the dark pool of liquid through my night vision. Some coming from her head and some coming from other various injures. Gaz kneels down next to her head on her left side. Her head is currently turned to the side to the right, which is where the blood is coming from.  “Y-You fucking shot her! She’-” “Hush it Garrick! We need to be quiet... Sound travels fast here.” I say in a hurried and hushed tone as I kneel next to her on her other side. I lift her head to see if the bullet penetrated any part of her head. While doing this I place two fingers on the pulse point of her neck. Blood is still spewing from her head, but she is alive.

“She’s alive sergeant... But just barely. We ne-” “Yeah because you fucking shot her ya’ prat!” Gaz exclaims again but I give him a harsh tap on the head.  “Hush it or we’ll all be dead.” I say sternly before passing my rifle over to him.  “Hold it.” I say as I take her pack from underneath her legs, put the night vision goggles inside, and put it over my own to carry.

After that I gather her in my arms bridal style before picking her up. Her head falls black as she feels like dead weight in my arms. I slowly and gently as I can reposition her so her head is tucked safely in my chest. 

“We need to hurry back and call for a med evac. This mission will have to be put on pause for now.” I say as I begin a swift trek back to base camp. Gaz follows behind, my rifle in hand. I can feel his glare piercing the back of my head. I can’t say I blame him though. I am the one who said she was dead...

The sound of music was cascading and echoing through out the town, as well as through our earpiece. While we were talking to Misdi I was busy putting a tourniquet on Soaps leg. The ambush came to us as a surprise, but we were trying to handle it as best we can. Throughout all the chaos that was unfolding we were separated from Gaz. Now there is even more Chaos. Barbie Girl was playing non-stop in our ears as we hear the sound of a vehicle tearing ass down the street.

“Get ready!” I hear her scream over the music.

I see one of our get away vehicles tear through the road. It begins to take oncoming fire and it swerves before hitting a building. The music still plays from the car outside, but the radio went dead silent. “Corporal! Corporal! Do you copy?” I say into the radio, but all I get is static. I hear both Garrick and Mactavish both try there own radios. That is when I hear Soap say to me: “We have to get down there! We have t-” There is suddenly an explosion which causes the whole building to shake. “We need to get out of here.” I say sternly. “LT we ca-” “We can and we will! She is fucking dead Mactavish!” I say taking his arm and wrapping it around my neck and helping him up. 

Due to my height he is kind of elevated slightly. We start heading toward the back of the building and away from the commotion. “I can g-” I again interrupt the members of my squad. “She is fucking dead Gaz, and we need to get going before even more shit hits the fan!” I shout as I kick the back door open and drag Soap out of it. We start making our way Northward out of the city. 

“Meet us at the North face of the bell tower” I say to Gaz before continuing to drag Johnny, but he continues to squirm. “Johnny we need to get you out of here stop squirming!” I growl. “She could still be alive back there! She could have gotten away in time and we just left her!” The more Soap panics the more his accent thickens to the point I almost can’t understand him. “Soap she got shot and crashed the vehicle then it exploded, No way she got out of there.” I grunt. “You need to be quiet before we draw attention!” I hiss.

I know I sound harsh, but I need to think of the rest of my team. Soap is injured and I have no idea what Gaz would be doing or what his condition is. Misdi did this for us. I need to make sure we make it out alive, heal up, and maybe go back if there is a body. 

‘Jesus... I hope they are dead... for their sake...’

They were very bubbly. All bright eyed and bushy tailed. Ready to work and ready to prove themselves. The complete opposite of me. Completely different then all of us.  ‘Fuck... I am already thinking of obituaries.’

Meeting up with Gaz at that moment was hard. His face was twisted in sorrow. Now I am jogging as gently as I can back to camp with a half dead Misdi in my arms. Approaching the camp there is a small fire, a few tents with cots inside, and finally Soap is sitting on a cot next to the fire. We meet eyes and he immediately tries to stand up. “Holy sweet jesus fuck!” Soap exclaims. He begins to limp toward us in a hurry, but I rush past him and place Misdi on a cot. When I look down I can see where her head was placed on my chest there is a big blood pool there.  “Get me fucking sheers and Johnny get on comms and call for emergency med evac!” I spout.  Gaz hands me some sheers and I begin to cut off her shirt and a portion her pants leg were I see more bleeding. I make sure to keep my eyes on the injured shoulder. The shoulder is dislocated so I turn her on her side to see a bullet wound and not exit hole. “Fuck...” I decide to leave it where it is and move to assess her head. 

I take my flashlight from my belt and open her eyes and move the light back and forth.  “Her pupils are dilated. She might have a concussion or severe head trauma.” I say as I take my water canteen and remove my gloves.

I pour the water on my hands and get out a first aid kit before squirting the cheap hand sanitizer on my hands. I take some gauze and some wrapping and place  it against her head. “The bleed-” “Yeah it is because you fucking shot her!” Gaz spits. “The Fuck?!” He hears Soap shout before entering the tent. “You fucking shot her! What the fu-” “Jo-” “What the fuck is wrong with you!” “WE NEED TO FOCUS ON HER” Gaz cuts in as he finishes wrapping her head.  “She needs stitches, but the bleeding is to severe. She is bleeding out right now and you both are being utter twats!” Gaz says as he begins to roll her on your side. Both Gaz and Soap cringe  at how limp her left shoulder is. Soap immediately grabs another tourniquet to wrap around her leg that has the injury, though it isn’t to severe they need to look at the elephant in the room, which is her shoulder.

“Did you call for medical?” I ask and Soap begins to speak. “They won’t be here for another hour. They suggested that we take the cars, but I told them that she might be to fragile to move.” All of us sigh. “I don’t know if she has enough time... We are going to have to get the bullet out ourselves. That is the only way we can stitch her up and stop the bleeding...” I say as I roll her fully on her stomach. I slide her bra strap down her crooked shoulder to see the gun shot wound. I take out a flashlight and hand it to Gaz. “Hold it here so I can see.” I say. He does just that and I take out one of my clean knives and a pair of tweezers from the first-aid kit. I hear Soap say a small ‘Oh fuck’ before I begin to dig around as gently as I can in the wound. “It’s fragmented and it’s deep... Gaz it is important that you keep your eyes on it, so the flash light doesn’t move...” I can feel my voice beginning to shake.

‘I never wanted this to happen. This happened under my watch. I need to make sure she survives.’ I think to myself The first two fragments have been removed, my hands are now covered with her blood. I can stitch up anyone else. I can cut and slice down anyone on the field, but feeling her blood on my hands makes me uneasy. I am not suppose to feel this way. I need to be calm, collected, stoic, and precise. What I am doing could possibly quicken her death. I need to get through this. Fragment after fragment and I am finally done. Now we need to relocate her shoulder. “Grab a sheet from one of the cots” I say to Gaz as he sets the flashlight down. He looks as pale as a ghost.

He does just that as I gently roll Misdi on her back. After that I go over to my water canteen and pour it on my hands before wiping it on some cloth near by to get rid of the majority of the blood. Afterwards I take the sheet from Gaz and wrap it underneath her affected shoulder in her armpit. I pull both ends across her body. One underneath her and one over her chest.

“I don’t know if you have done this before Gaz, but I need you to slowly pull on the sheet so I can put her shoulder back into place.” I say as I take her arm by the wrist in my hand.

Gaz only nods before grabbing both ends of the sheet. “I will count to three and we gently pull. Got i’?” I say and Gaz nods. “1... 2... 3.”

Both Ghost and Gaz begin to pull and we suddenly hear a pop as it goes back into place. Suddenly there is a groan coming from Misdi. More groaning turns into panic screaming. She attempts to get up and tries to roll off the cot. “She’s Hypoxic! Hold her down!” Ghost commands as I hold her legs down. “No! No, no, no!” Her speech is slurred and her eyes are full of fear. “D-Don’t touch me! Let go!” “It’s us Lass! it’s okay!” I say and limp over and sits on the ground near the head of the cot. 

 I place a soothing palm on her cheek and turns her head to look at me. “ m'eudail (My dear) It’s me...” my voice turns soft  in an attempt to sooth her. I use my thumb caresses the apple of her cheek. “J-Johnny?” Tears were collecting in her eyes. “Mhm. I’m here. I am right here. Now you are bleeding okay? We need to stitch ya up. Can we do that?” I ask.

Her eyes are glazed over with tears and confusion, but she nods. “Can ya roll over for me Lass?” He asks as he gently rolls her on her side that has the uninjured shoulder. 

Her uninjured hand reaches for me and I take it in my hand. I press it against my cheek before moving my head down so her hand is in my hair. She begins to card her fingers through my hair. She has only does this a handful of times. I always found it funny because she thinks my nickname should be ‘Conditioner’ instead of ‘Soap’ because in her words not mine. “You have the softest hair that any women would want to grab.” She was immediately flustered after I wiggled my eyebrows suggestively. She tried to back track, and explain that she wasn’t trying to be inappropriate in fear that she would have to file SHARP paperwork. I chuckle at the memory and I wish I could go into more detail, but I just sigh as she scratches my scalp. She begins to whimper as Gaz begins to clean the wound and stitch it up. 

“That’s a good girl... You are doin’ such a good job...” I whisper to her as I reach my hand behind her head and massage her neck at the base of her skull. 

While doing this her eyes slide close and her breathing evens out. I continue to whisper praises and soothing words, but I turn my gaze to Ghost and I glare. After Gaz was done he wrapped her shoulder before moving toward her injured leg. The leg went quickly and she didn’t move. Then he moved to her head in which I moved out of the way. She was alarmingly still so I pressed my fingers to her pulse point under her thumb. Her pulse is weak and my heart seems to sink from my stomach to my ass. I am angered when I see Ghost exit the tent. I decide to follow so I stumble to my feet and follow after. I don’t care if he is my superior he is getting a piece of my mind.

[annwrites]

i already have ♰˳⸙;;

— pairing: shane walsh x fem!reader (gn! in this post, but fem! in other installments i have/will post(ed))

— type: part of a series

— summary: you & shane share your beliefs in a short conversation in a church

— tags: talking

— tw: suicidal ideation, religion

— word count: 930

— a/n: the views reader expresses towards going to church are my own. if you don't like it, don't read

You stare up at the crucifix before you, feeling devoid of anything.

No.

Not anything.

Hopelessness is the one thing you do feel.

One dead-end after another. That's the only thing you all do seem able to find.

The CDC and Jenner had had no answers. Not with his wife being gone.

The highway and Dale's RV blowing a radiator hose had left all of you stranded in the middle of nowhere.

And now you were here.

You'd all felt so hopeful to hear that bell ringing. You'd prayed to a God who clearly wasn't listening—if he ever had—for it to lead you toward something. To Sophia.

She'd never been here in the first place.

You glance to Carol and can practically feel the grief and desperation rolling off of her. You don't want to believe that Sophia is gone. Or worse: being out there alone in the woods...

If the wrong people—the wrong men—came across her... You don't want to think about how she'd never have a chance.

Death would be kinder.

So you stare at Him—crying tears of blood—and wonder how His father, who knows what it is to lose a child, could allow such a thing?

The wooden bench creaks as Shane sets down beside you. "Didn't know you were religious."

He says it softly, his tone anything but mocking, even if he himself doesn't believe. Doesn't understand how you can—if you indeed do, that is. But if you do—have some sort of faith, something to believe in—he'll just be glad if it finally turns out that you have something that may perhaps help to keep you going.

"I'm not."

The thought of the possibility of you taking comfort in something more, even if you can't see it, quickly disappears. He leans back, resting him arm behind you, all thoughts of encouraging you to take a Bible with you when you all leave now gone.

You're quiet for a moment, then, "Are you?"

He shrugs. "Not really. Never was my thing, I guess. Hard to believe when you're witness to the shit I was as a cop." He looks at you. "Were you ever?"

You shrug then as well. "My parents made me go to church when I was little. Like a lot of kids, especially in the south. I never liked it. The getting up early, and being forced into uncomfortable clothes, and the way my mom did my hair. I didn't like how the other kids were mean to me, or how I would sit on those uncomfortable wooden pews and stare up at a preacher yelling words and passages at me that I couldn't understand. I didn't like how judgmental so many in the congregation seemed to be, even toward each other. Once I was old enough to make the decision not to go anymore, I stopped attending. I didn't regret it."

You look at him and his head is now resting atop his fist as he simply looks at you. You're unsure of the soft look in his eyes.

"So what'd you start believin' in instead? If anythin'."

You glance down to your lap. "Nothing in particular, I guess. I just...I suppose I tried to just see the beauty in nature instead. In the plants and trees, insects and animals, fresh air and clear water. Occasionally even people." You look up to him. "The way I am now—who I am now—is nothing like the way I was before. I didn't need to look for a reason to live, because I didn't need one. Because I didn't want to die."

He uses his other hand that isn't propping his head up to reach out and take your right hand, holding it firmly—comfortingly—in his grip.

"What if that reason was another person?" He looks at you from under his lashes.

You look down to your hand that's in his, watching as his thumb rubs soothing circles on the back of yours. "I don't know how to make you realize you're wasting your time-"

He cuts you off, taking his other hand and lacing it between strands of your hair at the back of your head, gently massaging. "I don't know how to make you realize the only waste would be your life being cut so damn short."

You think back to the things he'd said to you that night in the RV—I refuse to just let you slip through my fingers—he made it sound like...like you were something he'd finally found after having looked for you for so long.

You can't keep doing this to him: insisting that you want to be left alone to die. You'd done it twice now. And while what happened on the highway had been an accident...had he not had his eye on you— not seen you pass out—you may've slipped away right there in the middle of the road. So, he had saved you a third time. And even now he was still trying to talk you into staying...alive.

Giving up was easy. The thought of trying to hold on? It feels near-impossible now. Like lifting a giant boulder and carrying it with you every step of the way.

"Do you believe we'll find her?"

He studies you for a moment. "I hope so."

"Do you believe we'll find...something, or somewhere worth living for?"

He leans toward you, gently pressing his forehead to yours, closing his eyes. "I already have," he says in a whisper, before pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

[stararch4ngelqueen]

Sooo idk if u take requests and this is super angst but it’s been in my mind. Kinda like ghosts and mirages can u write a fic where jay finds readers (his gf) notebook and sees that she’s suicidal? And how he stops her? If this is too much angst I get it. Mwah !

TW: Suicide/self harm/mentions of attempts. STRONG topics, this was difficult to write but if it brings comfort to someone in need, I hope so. Please be advised.

- -

Before Jason was killed, he had natural ideas of death, as did everyone else.

What did heaven look like? Was it a fluffy clouded paradise? Would people find eternal happiness sitting by crystallize rivers glimmering in the sun, feasting on ripe fruits like Adam and Eve had done before them?

Everyone’s ideals were different, Jason’s had always changed. However, he liked the idea of this heaven, enjoying the possibilities of seeing his old pets running to him once the time came.

Just like the torch passed from one Robin to the next, things unexpectedly change.

When Jason died, there was nothing.

No heaven, no hell, no happiness. Maybe God held his soul on standby because he knew he’d return to the living. He wasn’t happy about it for the longest time.

Luckily, a piece of heaven blessed itself in a person such as yourself. Your smile as bright as sunshine, your heart as sweet and pure as gold. He’s never met anyone so happy, so free spirited and optimistic.

He didn’t mean to read it. He really didn’t.

He watched you write in journals all the time, ripping out pages when it came to grocery lists or phone numbers to shove in your backpack before leaving the door. He was only looking for a shopping list you texted him to take a photo of, only to come across the tragedies you’ve dealt with and still carry.

His heart absolutely shattered when he reads the vivid darkness of your sorrows embodied within the pages of your private journal. A painful burn forming deep in his chest, right in his own heart.

What worried him the most was your latest entry, dated on a Monday in fresh ink. Monday. Yesterday.

When you came home in question as to why Jason never sent you that list, you didn’t expect him to be sitting in the living room. His head hung low, his hands clenched together in desperation.

He didn’t bother to say anything. He didn’t need to.

Your journal, your cursed, dark brown journal was sitting on the coffee table in front of him.

Your silence screams out to him, his head turning to acknowledge your presence. He stands slowly, watching you carelessly drop your backpack onto the floor, looking absolutely horrified at what’s to come.

“Jason,” you say, staying right where you were at the door. “Stop. Stop that.”

“Stop what?” He asks, staring at you with somber eyes.

“Stop that,” you instantly reply, feeling your heart beat much faster. “Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like that!” You exclaim, your breathing growing more frantic. “Like I’m ... like there’s something wrong with me! Cut it out! Stop it!”

“I’m not—!” Jason’s voice accidentally raised, forcing himself to hold his tongue, his hands balled tightly by his sides.

“There’s nothing wrong with you baby,” He begins to say, only met with your shaking head.

“No, y’know what? Don’t bother,” you reply, quickly reaching for your keys.

You weren’t going to take that kind of conversation from anyone else ever again. The same, horrid words you’ve heard from your parents, your siblings, your friends.

You’re sick. How could you do this? What’s wrong with you? You need to be locked up somewhere.

Bold, accusatory statements that hurt worse than any knife ever could.

“You read it. It wouldn’t be sitting there if you hadn’t! I’m not gonna stand here and listen to you tell me that I’m—“

“Just stop!” He rips the keys from your hands, taking you by surprise at how fast he reached you. He nearly traps you against the door, hands grasping firmly along your shoulders.

“There’s nothing, baby!” He states right to your face, making your eyes grow wide. “There’s nothing wrong with you, okay? Nothing. I won’t let you think there is, get that shit out of your head right now!”

“B-but,” you start to babble, thick tears heading in the borders of your eyes. “I- I just -“

“You’re not crazy,” he interrupts, cradling your face in his heavy, trembling hands. “You’re not sick. Theirs nothing wrong with you, y’hear me? Nothing! Not a damn thing!”

Jason exhales a pained laugh, his own eyes spewing with tears. “Take it from me, babygirl. I’ve already died once, I’ll die again if you think like this.”

Speechless stole your ability to think, your ability to breathe. Your throat constricts around an invisible ball of molten steel, making you choke on your tears.

“I know you don’t wanna go, Princess,” Jason’s voice grows softer, both his thumbs making work in wiping your tears. “I know you don’t. You’re just tired, baby. That’s all.”

Slowly, you find yourself nodding, watching him nod with you.

“I’m tired,” you admit, gasping heavily in your newly weakened vulnerability. “I’m so tired, Jason.”

He holds you close to his body, clutching you as if saving you from a devastating fall. He knows this pain all too well, and you’ve saved him from it.

“I know,” he exhales, keeping you from withering away in the safety of his arms. “I gotcha now, okay baby? M’not going anywhere, jus’ let it out. I’m a big guy, I can take it.”

His biggest regret was letting those entries fill up three quarters of the journal. How many more did you fill up before then? How much pain do you carry in your heart that you need to hide via forcefully brighter smiles?

He wasn’t going to let this go on much longer. He needed you to know that someone in this harsh world understood the exhaustion, and that it was okay.

He didn’t know if Heaven or Hell truly existed, or if it was all just some huge hole of dark nothingness. He didn’t want you finding out either, feeling he’d be torn at the idea of bringing you to a Lazarus pit, but relenting on the possible side effects you’d suffer for it.

You deserved nothing of what Jason experienced, the man himself now feeling hellbent to protect you from it.

There wasn’t going to be any attempt, because Jason would do everything in his damn power to make sure that never, ever fucking happens.

Medications were locked, except the essentials, which even he supervised. He’d order from your favorite restaurants for a short while, preventing any use of kitchen cutlery.

He’d dote, making sure you kept your hygiene maintained. He’d enjoy sitting beside you outside the tub while you bathed, reading to you to keep you company. Though on certain days, you’d find his eyes flicker from the paper towards your hands when you had to use a razor, which even he was iffy about, and hid once you were done.

He never said he didn’t trust you, but don’t really be surprised if your razor is replaced with hair removal cream for the first few weeks.

If you were comfortable enough to seek out therapy, he’d offer up numbers of therapists he’s visited and trusted, helping you keep up schedules. After each session, he’d surprise you with flowers and boba on a park walk, or drive outside of Gotham.

Progress would be made, but progress wouldn’t move forward without your weak moments.

You’d have your days where your motivation was as stubborn as Jason’s mentality, refusing to listen to the things he said, or not bothering to get dressed for your next scheduled session.

Depression is horrid, but he understood. He was the most patient man you knew, cradling your body close to his in the middle of the night, muffling your minutes of screaming sobs against his chest, gently prying your hands away from your forearms when you dig your nails in a little too deep.

He’d remain awake as long as he had to, cradling your hands in his until your agony mellowed out, lulling you back to sleep. He was being the person he wished he had by his side long before he met you, back when he was alone and had no one.

Jason looked forward to the days you’d smile again, genuine happiness being a fuel to those pleasant flames. It’s okay if it would take a long time, keep giving him your tears. He can handle it.

You were the greatest gift he’s ever gotten in this fucked up world, not even you were going to take it away from him.

- -

I don’t know what death is like, nor do I know of all beliefs everyone has of them, but I do know about suicidal thoughts/intentions and having experienced them, please know, as tired as you may be, it isn’t worth it. My inbox is open if you ever need it. Dosent matter if you’re a stranger, let’s not be ❤️

[pharawee]

Just some random thoughts on yesterday's Pit Babe 2 announcement because I keep seeing some theories floating around (really interesting theories, mind you!) on how Way and Tony could or couldn't still be alive and...

Apart from the fact that this is Thai drama and they don't really need a reason to still be alive beyond the fact that (much like Emperor Palpatine) somehow they've returned, the show itself has also given us plenty of possible canon reasons for what could have happened if we take the announcement trailer at face value:

That drug Babe's father used on Charlie could also have been used on Way.

Everyone was far too upset and distracted to check if Way was really dead. They didn't even administer first aid. For all we know Way could have felt like going for a walk five minutes after everyone left.

Fancy enigma powers (it's over for all of us if he ever learns to do mass-hypnosis).

Way has returned as Way the White.

As for Tony, he's rich and evil and eternally scheming so he totally could have planned for this. I could even see him using Kenta as part of his contigency plan - and playing dead is the perfect sleight of hand. If you want to get really dark, I don't think Kenta would have been in any position to refuse if Tony had roped him into at least somewhat taking the fall for him (granted, he did look surprised by whoever got them all out of prison but it could have been surprise at Tony actually returning for him). It would even add to that penultimate scene of him accepting his role as Tony's dog. One very satisfying stabbing indident doesn't really change the fact that, dead or alive, Tony will always have some degree of influence over him - especially if there's no one left to give him guidance (and Lord knows Dean and Winner can't even find their way out of a clown car).

Besides, neither Pete nor X-Hunter (seemingly) standing up for him (and that after they all gave him so much encouragement in season 1) and leaving him to rot in prison with Winner and Dean (I'm kind of taking that personally) actually somewhat confirms his skewed worldview of Tony being an inescapable reality.

And much like Kenta himself, I'm also still not over PeteKenta so I wonder how and if that will factor into everything - especially since with Way (presumably) still alive Pete again has the choice between two poor little meow-meows who are (un?)willingly trapped on the wrong side of things. Because he will try to save them both. It's just who he is (but yes, I'm also here for PeteWay so I don't mind either way; all I know is that the angst will be delicious).

I'm also just really excited for the baddie squad in general. We have Dean who's pragmatic and ambitious (and looking really good while doing his evil little thing), Winner who's making squeaky clown shoe noises wherever he goes (I know this and I love him) and Kenta who's tragically stuck with both of them. Those are some A+++ dynamics and I already love this team-up so much. I'd watch a whole series with just these three.

Then there's the possibility of the whole announcement trailer being one big sleight of hand and maybe KentaDeanWinner (don't mind if I do) aren't evil at all but more of a Suicide Squad kind of thing (again, would watch). They could be working for Pete (and the thought of Pete possibly having read Winner's mind and still deciding to hire him is incredibly funny to me).

Anyway, I want everyone to be still alive because imagine the shenanigans! The absolute high jinks! The angst! The possibilities are endless!!

[goblinontour]

Gaps Of Sunlight

where you don’t see him

part 1

warnings: angst, death (implied suicide), grief, flashbacks

word count: 3.8k

He could never forget that night. It was etched into his memory, like a scar that hadn’t healed right, always pulling at the edges of his thoughts, aching when he least expected it. It felt like the beginning of the end. Your end. 

You were sitting across from him on the couch, the same one where you’d spent so many nights curled up together. But tonight, the distance between you felt different. You were close enough to touch, but he could feel something pulling away, something slipping out of his grasp. He hated how aware of it he was, like the air between you had become too thick to breathe.

He watched you as you stared at the floor, your eyes tracing some invisible line in the carpet, avoiding his gaze. You were quiet. Too quiet. And even though you hadn’t said it yet, he knew. He could feel it in his bones, in the heaviness of the silence.

You were leaving.

The words hung between you, unspoken but so loud they drowned out everything else. He should’ve said something then, anything to stop it from happening. To pull you back. To remind you of the way things had been before whatever had come between you. But he couldn’t find the words. Instead, he just sat there, feeling the tension coil tighter, his mind screaming at him to reach out.

But he didn’t. He just watched you, watched as you pulled further away even while you stayed in the same room. He hated himself for that. The way he let the moment slip by. How could he have let you go like that without fighting for you?

You finally spoke, your voice quiet but sharp. “I don’t know how much longer I can do this.”

He flinched at the words, like you had just struck him. His throat tightened, and for a second, he couldn’t even breathe. But still, he didn’t say anything. The regret was already forming in his chest, the weight of it sinking deeper with every second of silence that passed. You were waiting for him to respond, waiting for him to give you something that would make you stay, but he just sat there, frozen in his own fear and confusion.

“Talk to me.” you said, your voice breaking a little as you finally looked at him. Your eyes were pleading, desperate for something he wasn’t giving you. “Please, just talk to me.”

He’d tried to talk to you so many times before, countless times when you had stood in front of him just like this, eyes wide, full of pain, pleading for something he never seemed able to give. He had tried. God, how he’d tried. But every time, the words had come out wrong. They’d twisted in the air between you, losing their meaning as soon as they left his mouth. No matter how much he explained, how much he opened up, it never felt like it was enough. You needed something more, something deeper, something he didn’t know how to give.

And now, standing there in that moment, he couldn’t find the words anymore. He had exhausted them all, worn out every way he knew how to say “I love you. I’m here. Please, just stay.” He had twisted and rearranged them so many times, trying to make them sound new, trying to say them in a way that might finally reach you. But none of them had worked, and now there were none left. He felt empty, drained of anything meaningful to offer, his voice caught somewhere deep in his chest, locked away with everything else that had gone unsaid.

What good would it do to talk again? What could he possibly say that would make a difference now? The silence between you felt like a chasm, wide and unforgiving, and he didn’t know how to bridge it. Not anymore. He was tired. Too tired to try and find the right words when they had always failed him before.

He should have. He knew it then, just as he knew it now. You were reaching out to him, giving him a chance to fix things, to pull you back from the edge. But he felt paralyzed, trapped in his own mind, unsure of what to say, how to fix what was already unravelling between you.

“I’m trying.” he finally managed, but the words sounded hollow even to him. They weren’t enough. They never had been.

“Are you?” You stood up then, pacing the room as if the movement might shake something loose, might force him to meet you where you were. “Because it doesn’t feel like it. It hasn’t felt like it….”

He swallowed hard, feeling his chest tighten. “I am.” he insisted, though the doubt in his voice was too clear. He wasn’t sure if he was trying to convince you or himself at this point.

You stopped pacing, turning to face him, your arms crossed over your chest. “I don’t know what to do anymore.” you admitted, and the rawness in your voice nearly undid him. “I don’t know how to reach you.”

And there it was. What you had been trying to say all along. You were losing him, and it terrified you. He could see it in your eyes, the way your lips trembled as you spoke. But instead of rushing to reassure you, instead of closing the distance between you and holding you, he stayed where he was, his mind spinning with everything he should be saying but wasn’t.

“I’m here.” he said weakly, the only thing he could come up with in the moment. 

You stared at him, your eyes searching his face for something that wasn’t there anymore. “No.” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “You’re not.”

The silence stretched between you, long and unbearable. He wanted to break it, to take back every moment he’d let slip by without telling you how much you meant to him. He wanted to beg you to stay, to promise you that things would get better. That he could be better. But the words stuck in his throat, and all he could do was sit there, watching as you slipped further out of reach.

You let out a shaky breath and turned away from him, walking toward the door. And that’s when panic set in, crashing over him in a way that made his chest feel like it was caving in. He stood up, taking a step toward you, finally breaking free of the paralysis that had held him back all night.

“Wait.” he called after you, his voice rough with emotion.

You paused, your hand on the doorknob, but you didn’t turn around. “What is there left to say?” you asked quietly.

Everything. There was so much left to say. So much he hadn’t told you. How much he loved you. How sorry he was. How terrified he was of losing you, even though you had been pushing him away for so long. But none of it came out. Instead, he just stood there, watching your back as you waited for something he couldn’t give.

After what felt like an eternity, you opened the door, stepping out into the night without another word. The door clicked shut behind you, and the sound of it echoed in the silence of the room.

And that was it. You were gone.

He sank back onto the couch, his hands trembling as he buried his face in them, the weight of the moment crashing down on him. He had let you leave. He had let the love of his life walk away, and he hadn’t even tried to stop you.

The regret had been instant, burning in his chest like acid. But it was too late.

Until it wasn’t. 

The next day, you came back.

He hadn’t expected it, not really. He had spent the night wide awake, staring at the ceiling, mind running through every moment, every word that had passed between you. The regret hung heavy, suffocating him, keeping him in this state of restless dread. He wasn’t sure if he would see you again, wasn’t sure if there was anything left to salvage.

But there you were. Standing in the doorway, looking at him with those eyes that were always too full of something. Something he could never quite grasp but always felt. 

“I’m sorry.” you whispered, your voice fragile and breaking, like it was costing you everything to say the words.

He knew.

You didn’t have to say it, but you did. Maybe you needed to, maybe you thought that apology was what would fix the cracks between you, the ones you both had spent months ignoring, pretending they weren’t there, widening with every unspoken word, with every misunderstanding. 

“I didn’t mean it.” you added, your voice trembling, your hands twisting together like you didn’t know where to put them.

“I know.” he said softly, his voice raw, his heart clenching at the sight of you. He did know. Somewhere deep inside, he had always known you didn’t mean to hurt him. It was never about that. 

You stepped closer, uncertain at first, and then suddenly you were in his arms. His arms came around you without thought, like they had been waiting for this moment, for you, since the second you walked out. He held you tight, tighter than he ever had before, like he could keep you from slipping through his fingers again if he just held on hard enough.

By the time the night fell, you ended up crying together.

He hadn’t meant to cry. He didn’t even know why he was crying at first. But once the tears started, they wouldn’t stop. It wasn’t like when he cried alone. This was different. There was something in you that broke open the dam inside him, that brought out the flood of emotions he didn’t even realise he had been bottling up. He wasn’t just crying for himself. He was crying for you, too. For the both of you. For everything that had gone unsaid, for the way you were both hurting and couldn’t seem to find a way out of it.

And you cried because…well, he didn’t know. He could never quite figure out why you were crying. You never told him. Maybe you didn’t even know yourself. But you cried into his chest, your body shaking with sobs, and all he could do was hold you, stroke your hair, and try to pretend like this was enough. Like his love was enough to heal whatever it was that was hurting you.

Maybe that’s why he hadn’t cried after you. After you were gone for good. Maybe he had cried so much with you, so often for you, that by the time you left this world, he was hollowed out, his tears dried up like some empty well. It sounded stupid, cliche even. Like something out of a song or a story. But it felt true. As impossible as it seemed, he felt like you had taken all his tears with you when you left.

He didn’t understand you. Not really. And maybe that was what had started to break him. Because he could see it, he could feel it every time he looked at you. The way you were hurting. There was this deep well of pain inside you that you never let him touch, never let him understand. 

He wanted to so badly. He wanted to crawl inside your mind, your heart, your soul, and understand every part of you, especially the parts you kept hidden. He wanted to know what haunted you, what kept you up at night, what made you flinch when he touched your hand too softly, what made you cry when you thought he wasn’t looking.

It hadn’t always been like that.

If he let himself remember, if he allowed the memories to come through without the weight of regret and loss clouding them, he’d realise how much more there had been. More light, more laughter. It wasn’t always tense, wasn’t always full of hurt. He wouldn’t have put himself through it for nothing. He loved you, for you, for everything you were. He loved how you could make him laugh when he thought he had forgotten how, how your laugh alone could pull one out of him even when he didn’t see it coming.

But now, thinking about the good times was dangerous. It was like looking at small gaps of sunlight through the cracks in the walls, those moments of brightness that felt too far away, too distant to reach. Remembering the good made him miss you more than anything.

He could still see you, so vividly, sitting cross-legged on the floor of your small living room. It was much smaller than his and so full of things, pointless, useless things that weren’t really pointless at all. Books stacked in piles on the floor because you never bothered to put them on a shelf, plants that were a little too wild because you said they had their own way of growing and who was he to tell them otherwise? Trinkets and little souvenirs that you’d collected from markets, from friends, from who knows where. 

At first, it had overwhelmed him. The clutter. It wasn’t how he lived. His place was neat, organised, everything in its place. But your place…it was chaotic, in the best way. It was alive. Every little thing had a story, a reason for being there, and he’d come to know them all by heart. That statue you found on a trip with your sister, the one you said was supposed to bring good luck, even though you never really believed in it. The old record player you rescued from a charity shop because “it still had some life in it”, even though half the time it would skip in the middle of a song.

He loved it there. 

It felt so you. And being there with you, in your space, surrounded by everything that made up your world, it felt like home in a way his place never had. He would have moved in with you in a heartbeat if you’d let him. He was ready for that, but he knew you weren’t, not yet. So, he didn’t push. He was willing to wait, to be patient, because being with you was enough.

“Do you think it’s haunted?” you asked, out of nowhere, breaking the quiet as you stretched out on the floor, your head resting on a pillow you’d pulled from the couch. He looked at you, confused, not sure where the question had come from.

“What, the apartment?” he asked, a half-smile already forming on his lips.

“Yeah.” you said, dead serious, though your eyes sparkled with that mischief he loved. “Sometimes I think there’s a ghost here. Like, maybe a little old lady who used to live here and just forgot to move on. She probably hates that I haven’t dusted in weeks.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “Well, if she’s here, she’s probably furious about that pile of laundry in the corner.”

You grinned, your smile widening as you looked over at the mountain of clothes you had promised to fold at least three times that week. “Nah, I think she’s cool with it. She’s probably sitting on it, judging me from her perch.”

He couldn’t help but laugh again, harder this time. The way you talked, the way your mind worked, it never failed to catch him off guard, in the best way. He loved that about you, how you could take something as mundane as laundry and turn it into some bizarre, hilarious scenario. 

You turned your head to look at him, propped up on the couch, watching you with that soft look in his eyes, the one he didn’t always realise he was wearing. “What?” you asked, still smiling. “What’s that look for?”

“Nothing.” he said, shaking his head. “You just…you make me laugh.”

“Oh, that’s my goal in life.” you teased, rolling over onto your stomach to face him. “If I can make Alex Turner laugh, then I can die happy.”

“I mean it.” he said, leaning forward a little, his smile softening. “I don’t laugh like that with anyone else. Just you.”

You paused then, your teasing smile fading into something warmer, something softer. You held his gaze, the two of you sharing a moment of quiet that stretched between you. 

“I’m glad.” you finally said, your voice quieter now. “I’m glad I can do that.”

He didn’t say anything, just smiled and reached out, gently brushing a piece of hair from your face. You closed your eyes at the touch, leaning into his hand just slightly. 

You sat up then, before it could get too sweet, crossing your legs under you, and looked around the room, a thoughtful look on your face. “What do you think? Should we get rid of the ghost? I feel like maybe she’s had enough of us by now.”

He laughed, leaning back against the couch, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Nah. I think she likes us. Besides, I’m pretty sure you’ve charmed her.”

You smiled, that wide, bright smile that always made his heart feel like it might burst. “Yeah, I think you’re right. She’s probably living vicariously through me.”

The two of you laughed together then, the sound filling the room, echoing off the walls that held so many of your shared memories. In that moment, everything was perfect. Easy, light, full of love. You were both so far from the darkness that would come later. So far from the tension and the hurt. It was just you and him, laughing about ghosts.

After the initial shock, after the numbness that froze him in place when he first heard the news, there was a hollow stretch of time where he couldn’t think at all. He couldn’t even let the words sink in because they didn’t feel real. They couldn’t be real. You’d killed yourself in that very room. The room where you had laughed together, where you had laughed about ghosts and joked about that little old lady who might be haunting the place.

But once the shock started to wear off, once the numbness cracked just enough to let his thoughts seep in, they didn’t make sense. None of it made sense. He couldn’t understand how he hadn’t seen it, how you had slipped so far from him without him noticing, without him being able to stop you. The disbelief twisted into something darker, something more painful, and suddenly, he found himself wondering if maybe you had meant it all along.

Had it been planned? Even back then? In those quiet moments when you seemed at peace, when you were laughing, were you just fooling him? Were you taking advantage of the fact that he was so in love with you, so wrapped up in you, that he couldn’t see what was really going on? Had you been hiding it from him the entire time, right under his nose, and he was just too stupid to notice?

It seemed impossible, but then again, how else could he explain it? He had felt it. Your pain, your darkness. But you had never let him understand it, never let him in. He knew you were hurting, but he had convinced himself that you would tell him if it got bad, that you trusted him enough to share the weight of it. He had been ready, so ready, or so he thought, to bear it for you if he had to. To be there for you, no matter what. But you hadn’t let him. You had kept it all locked up inside, and now…now… you were gone.

He wondered if you had been telling him all along. In your own way. In the only way you knew how. The ghost. Maybe that was just an extension of you. Maybe you were talking about yourself, about what you would become. 

It made him sick to think about it, but he couldn’t stop. The thoughts kept spiralling, twisting into knots he couldn’t unravel. Had you been trying to warn him, and he had been too blinded by his love for you to see it? Maybe the jokes about the ghost, the imaginary hauntings, had been your way of preparing him. Preparing him for what would come, for what you were planning all along. 

And now, he wondered if you were that lady. That ghost you used to laugh about. Were you haunting the place now, too? Did whoever lived there now talk about you, joke about the spirit of a woman who lingered in the shadows, waiting for the right moment to make herself known?

The thought made his chest tighten, his throat constricting with a pain so deep it felt like it might crush him. He imagined someone else living there, in your space, unaware of what had happened, of what you had gone through. Of what had happened to you. And maybe, just maybe, they’d talk about you. The way you used to talk about that ghost. 

Maybe they’d say “Do you think the place is haunted?” 

and they’d laugh, like you used to laugh, without any idea what had really happened in that room. Without knowing that it was your laughter that used to fill those walls. Without knowing that your pain still echoed there, silent and unseen, but always present.

He hated himself for thinking it. For wondering if you had been planning it from the start. For even entertaining the idea that you had been hiding this from him on purpose. But the questions wouldn’t stop. They circled around his mind, relentless, picking apart every memory, every moment the two of you had shared. Was there something he should have seen? Some sign, some clue that he had missed? 

He replayed that night over and over. It had seemed so innocent then, so sweet. But now…now it felt tainted. It felt like there had been something more behind your words, behind your smile, and he had been too blind to notice.

He couldn’t stop wondering if you were haunting him, even now. Not just the apartment, but him. Haunting his mind, his heart, making him question everything. Making him doubt every moment you’d shared, every piece of happiness he thought he’d given you. 

Had you really been happy with him? Or was he just another thing you’d been trying to escape? 

The guilt gnawed at him, unrelenting. He couldn’t help but feel like he had failed you. He had tried so hard to be what you needed, but it wasn’t enough. Nothing he did was ever enough. And now he was left with nothing but questions and a hollow space where you used to be.

a/n: idk. it’s just a bunch of words.

[morose-melodies]

worst mistake | yandere! tighnari x reader

summary: tighnari takes you out patrolling with him!

content warning: mentions of attempted suicide and reader gets injured

"stop with the frowning, (y/n)! you need to get out more," tighnari said as he strapped a backpack onto you.

for safety and so that you couldn't run away.

inside the backpack was a first aid kit, an extra pair of clothes for you, and weights. so if you tried to run away, you wouldn't make it far.

tighnari decided this was best for you even though he could sense you from quite some distance, he didn't want you to get away so quickly.

he tied the backpack on in such a way, that you couldn't untie it even if you wanted. "and this time, don't eat any mushrooms."

it made tighnari upset, thinking about all of the times you ate mushrooms just to get away from him, to die.

he was one mushroom away from putting a muzzle on you.

once the two of you were out and patrolling, you came across a few people who needed help and you helped them.

but other than that, nothing happened.

nothing happened until it started raining. the path was getting muddy and slippery, the rain was heavy and loud.

you knew tighnari had sensitive ears but all he could hear was rain, would you have a better chance at escaping?

the rain should wash your scent away, right?

nothing could possibly go wrong. your mind roamed off to the thought of running away as you walked aside from tighnari, his hand tightly gripping yours.

his grip tightening whenever thunderstruck. "I need you to stay near me, (y/n), or else you may get injured."

you silently scoffed but said nothing.

"ahh, the thunder is so loud," tighnari commented, before releasing your hand to rub his head, "my head hurts." He grumbled, stopping in the middle of the trail to rub his head.

You didn't waste this opportunity, you ran away as fast as you could, though the backpack weighed you down.

you push yourself down a muddy hill and that's when you heard tighnari behind you, grumbling, "awh, not now, (y/n)."

you tumbled down the hills, scraping your arm and legs in the process, but managed to get up since this was presumably your last chance to run.

your clothes were now dirty and covered in mud, tighnari couldn't possibly be able to find you now.

you ran as fast as you could, towards what seemed to be a cave.

once getting in, you paused, looking back, and noticed that you were leaving a footprint in the mud. that made things harder.

you walked further into the case, looking around, the sound of rain and your heavy breathing echoing throughout the cave.

you heard a shuffling sound, not so far behind you.

you ran forwards, not looking where you ever going, and slipped into a steep hole. you rolled and tumbled, your perception of the area around you blurry.

you hit the ground abruptly, you didn't move but remained still, unsure of if you could still more or if you had broken any bones.

you felt sore and had a pounding headache.

you felt defeated.

and you couldn't get up due to the heaviness of your backpack.

you lay there for what seemed like hours upon hours, the mud dried onto your clothes and skin. you stayed there long enough to watch the rain become a storm and then cleared up.

this is what you wanted, right?

you blinked, your eyes were dry, though you'd been crying ever since you'd fallen down the ditch.

your finger twitched, before digging into the soil by your side, feeling it as it went under your nails. surely something was broken, something inside of you hurt and it hurt badly.

you and tighnari went out early in the morning and it was now becoming late, the sun setting behind some mountains.

he was never going to find you... and that made you kind of disappointed.

a few minutes later (or at least what you thought were minutes) you heard shuffling somewhere above the ditch, shaky breathing, and hesitant movements.

"(y/n)... I need you." tighnari whimpered, bringing himself closer to the edge, before you could stop yourself, you whined, hoping it would get his attention.

"(y/n)? (y/n)!" He looked over the edge of the ditch and found you, his pears perking up immediately. "i felt like dying without you..." his happy face slowly turned into a scowl.

"shame on you!" He pointed a finger at you whilst bringing himself down into the ditch, "I can't believe you, (y/n)! after everything I told you, you still ended up in a ditch!?"

you somehow felt comforted by his worried bellows.

tighnari kneeled to your side, pinching your cheek with slight aggression as he said, "I guess you need more safety lessons then."

you relaxed and tighnari's eyes widened, "don't you dare! you have to stay up now, (y/n)," tighnari wrapped a hand under your head and one under your thighs, lifting you off the ground.

you didn't have to strength to keep your head up, you didn't have much strength to do anything but breathe, and even that hurt.

the walk home was filled with tighnari grumbling and mumbling about how disappointed he was, how scared he felt when he could find you.

"I was so afraid, (y/n). thought I'd never see you again."

when the two of you made it home, tighnari laid you down in your den, saying, "I wish you didn't run off... again."

he removed your clothes and began to clean your wounds, wincing whenever you'd hiss in pain, apologizing and continuing.

"i couldn't breathe without you, (y/n), I felt... sick without you." He whispered, his finger touching the wound on your cheek, watching as you wince upon contact, "I couldn't imagine a life without you."

what tighnari felt when he couldn't find you was pure panic, he couldn't breathe or think properly, he roamed around aimlessly for hours and hours.

his ears were limp and his tail didn't swish happily as it usually did. he couldn't stop thinking about how he felt, he couldn't stop thinking about the deprivation he felt when you were gone.

he cleaned the dirt from under your nails, kissing each one of your fingers after cleaning them off, "I wish this never happened, (y/n)."

he redressed you and helped you to bed, settling down beside you, his arm wrapped around you, his lips grazing your cheek as he said, "what would I do without you, (y/n)? what could I do without you."

he smiled at you sadly and his ears went limp, his fingers locking around the collar of your shirt, and whispered to you, in a pleading tone, "please, (y/n)... don't run away from me again. i don't think I'd be able to handle it."

[hectorthedoggo]

Mahiru decides it’s her turn to do the parenting of es (inno verdict au)

THIS IS SO BAD OH MY GOd but if you guys wanna read it i suppose food is food. i am going on hiatus after this one (if all goes well) (I do have ~1.8k of next fugue chapter done but... i don't like it...)

-

start of character study fic that i never finished

When Mahiru was young, she had once found a baby bird in her yard. It had fallen from the nest, and it seemingly had nowhere to go.

It begged, yelled, for anyone to help it. Mahiru had excitedly taken it in, cradling it as gently as possible, finding all sorts of books in the library on how to take care of a baby bird.

As she had grown closer to it, in taking care of it, watching it grow, a new sense of pride came in. And, a new feeling, she would come to know, as posessiveness.

She didn’t hang out with her friends, instead opting to watch it hop around in her little homemade nest.

Eventually, her parents caught on, and explained to her, with slight horror, that she had done something bad.

But, they never explained what about it was bad. They didn’t let her outside often, after that incident.

But, she never learned from the incident.

It always stuck in her head, as she pined through reading romance, of the idea of one true love, one to fawn over until they both died, a love that lasted through trials and tribulations.

As the world threw more and more issues and expectations at her, she decided to latch onto that idea. Just as she had found that bird in her backyard, she believed it was fate.

-

The next time she had met the bird from her childhood was with Ren. He was crying on the school rooftop, and Mahiru took one look at him.

She knew.

So, she softly introduced herself, asking him what was wrong.

The rest was history.

-

He was dead. He was dead. He was dead.

The one she thought would stay with her, forever, gone.

And it might’ve been just because of her.

Yapping yapping

Milgram used to be empty. There used to be nothing, a sense of doubt. The INNOCENT verdict changed everything.

She realized how true her love was. How perfect it was.

Post highlighting ideas

Okay guys so you have heard of overly-paternal Shidou. Now get ready for: overly-maternal Mahiru. (maybe in a fic). I just wanna explain my reasoning for believing in this so that it doesn’t seem sudden IF she gets like this.

Mahiru and Shidou are foils for a reason.

She’s in love with ‘love’, which can be interpreted as a lot. It could be interpreted as romantic, yes, but also platonic.

Yes, her guilty verdict didn’t do good, but imagine what an INNOCENT verdict would do. She would assume her idea of love is correct (it isn’t). (even with the guilty verdict, she kept kinda believing in love. *shivers*)

And, drawing from the bf was already suicidal mentality, that’s a sort of “i can fix him” mentality she took there. Like, finding an injured baby bird, and taking care of it to feel better about herself, despite accidentally ruining its future.

It doesn’t matter if it’s romantic in nature or not; she’s in love with the idea of taking care of sometihng.

That mentality would get WORSE. Because, I’m assuming she used love as a coping mechanism; which, would be expemplified in a stressful environment such as milgram.

I think they all need fixing, but guess who is ALONE. Guess who is young, pathetic, and not coping well with an environment they were forced into.

Guess who’s the equivilant of an injured baby bird. That’s right folks: Es Milgram.

I think it would start with minor things, like checking in with them.

And, they would want the comfort, they would crave it, but insist otherwise. She would figure out their craving, and OH GOOD LORD.

Someone’s not getting their complaints listened to (they don’t know better they don’t know true love_

She would fall deeper and deeper into her mentality of ‘they need my help, it’s so domestic’ ‘i’m useful this way’ ‘this is almost like my purpose’

I actually know someone who’s kinda like this (less intense ofc), but with dogs and children and says it’s kinda like this. So. i have some backing for this mentality.

She would enjoy taking care of them, too much. She would sing them to sleep, she would bring their meals, encourage them to rest, basically be an impromptu mother. (fluff except es is slowly watching their sense of agency and therefore get taken away from them)

But, she would also get a little exhausting to be around, to keep up with. They’re constantly getting their sense of authority undermined, but they’ve also become a little addicted to love

And that’s fitting perfectly into the gender roles she loves, too. She’s def vibing.

Eventually, it would get to be too much, and they would start locking their door unless they have a moment of weakness and open the door for her.

Which, would increase her relentless knocking. Mahiru’s known to be relentless in terms of her love (breakup ritual and shi)

I think eventually, they would give up, and simply let her in, asking her to leave them alone.

T2 she would get a guilty verdict because audience can’t deal with her.

And i think that would make her WORSE, like accidentally guilt-tripping them to why she got a guilty verdict; 

Es would have an emotional attachment to her (accident), and that would make things worse for them. Bc. guilty verdict

idk tho i’ll probably just gonna write some comfort scenes from this au. It would probably be called ‘nestling’ or smth like that :D es would get comfort but at what cost (sickfic cauesd by trying to stay away from Mahiru)

Adding on about traditional family roles; shidou could potentially also participate in this madness. He could end up being the mediator, like the “i agree but maybe leave this kid alone”

Meanwhile, this whole time, Es is trying to hold onto their sense of identity, they hate being ‘babied’. dumpsterfire

es just wants to be warden please stop adding them to the “new (unhealthy) family 💛🩶🩵” gc

#excuse to write a platonic yandere fic #because i really really wanna do that for like a period of 30 minutes then look back on it like tf why would i write thsi #would i be forgiven if i wrote a fic like that vote now on your phones # but would you guys gen wanna see this

Es weakly coughed, curling up on their bed, trying to ignore everything. Their eyes and nose leaaked, and they were utterly pathetic and fatigued.

There was a knock on their door. “Es? Es, can I come in? Sorry, you’re really worrying me…”

Please. Please, god, just leave me alone.

“Mahiru- please… go away…” Their voice was parched; they hadn’t wanted to go out and get water. Holing myself up seemed like the best solution, but…

“Es? Oh no, sweetie, you really don’t sound good. Are you sure you’re alright?”

Please leave me alone. “Go…”

The rapid knocking resumed. “Es, c’mon. Let me in… I’ll make you your favorite~!”

I’ve never had a favorite. I just needed the food.

Their head shot through with pain, and they let out a little whimper.

She gasped. “Oh no! You’re sick!” No shit, Sherlock. “C’mon, Es, you’re going to have to let me in… sickness can be very bad, if left alone like this! Y’know, just having someone with you can increase healing!”

I bet she read that in a magazine. She is right, though. I do need food, I do need to drink, I definitely need sleep.

I just… can’t. Not with her around. I was just trying to cut her off, to get her away from me. Why isn’t she going? It’s been 2 days, she’s literally slept outside of my room.

“Es?”

This feels like a horror movie. Please.

Another knock.

Something in them broke. I can’t take this anymore. I can’t die here, so I have to be dependent. Honestly, though…

They used the last bits of their strength to open the door, to let her in.

She looked like she had been crying, but immediately scooped their weak self up into her arms. I hate this. Please, let me go.

They didn’t have the voice to say that. It wasn’t as if she’d listen. She ran her hand through their hatless hair. “Wah! Es, I’ll just have to wash this. But I’ll have to feed you, first.”

Get away from me. I could’ve done that myself, it’s just… they shivered. I’m scared of her.

Hey, at least I understand her boyfriend a little more, a beaten up optimism pointed out. My opinion doesn’t matter. With that MV, I’m pretty sure she’s going to get guilty.

It doesn’t matter my opinion on the matter. It would be biased.

She kept cradling them, forgetting about their other basic needs, before they coughed. “Ah right! I’m so scatterbrained. Here, Es. I’ll lay you down, and bring the food to you. I’ll be right back with water, then I’m going to prepare the food!”

They didn’t know what to say. They didn’t know what to think.

She hummed, a stark contrast to the earlier desperation in her voice, as she moved them towards their bed, gently tucking them in.

“Alright, Es. I’ll be right back, don’t you worry!”

As soon as she left, they allowed themself some tears. I really don’t like this. This isn’t who I am. I can’t be doted on like this, I need to be working.

She won’t let me get a word in. I’m not sure what to think around her.

a/n: TOP FIVE ways to let a teen KNOW you LOVE them!!

Check in on them during their every waking hour

This is a sure sign that you love them. Really makes them feel seen!

(if they lock their door (totally by accident)) sleep outside their room for days on end :D

A great way to demonstrate care, and loyalty! Persistence is key!!

Make them lose their sense of identity

Don’t worry, they didn’t need it anyways! They don’t need to be warden!! That’s not important to you, and it shouldn’t continue.

Care for them when they get sick (totally not because they were trying to avoid interactions with you)

Teehee what are you talking about? It must be some outer source of stress!

It’s really fun when they’re dependent!! Cherish that!!

Don’t let them discourage you!

It only matters that you enjoy this love. They might be a little unreceptive, but they’ll warm up to you! It might just take a bit!

^ Make sure to repeat the first 4 steps to assure them you’re not leaving, no matter how hard they try!! They’re just misguided, dw!! :)

[lovesick-and-inadequate]

Freedom Spreads its Wings As He Clings

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Post ready please view with caution

Summary; The anemo archon doesn’t live up to his title as the god of freedom, and you must bare witness

TW; GN reader, yandere venti, loss of freedom, no use of y/n or any variation, attempted suicide? kinda, ideations of death

  How ironic is it - you think to yourself - that the Anemo Archon, the god of freedom had locked you away. He claimed that he did this for you, for your protection. He said that it was because he needed to keep you safe from the hilichurl camps, from the thieves. From things that would taint your purity and bloody the road you walk and the silks you wore. 

  Yet it felt like this place was more of a threat than anything else. The place long ridden of any enemy camps that used to be scattered across Stormterror’s Lair, the wildlife slowly reclaiming the land. And even still, the place felt empty. There was no adventurer willing to travel anywhere near the ruins of once a place of worship, no adventurer willing to come rescue you, not only from the dangers of the ruins, but the god they loved so dearly. 

  And Venti made it all the worse. He would cling to you, mumbling about how much he loves you, how he wants you to love him. He’d bring you to the top of the crumbling tower. The height used to terrify you, any wrong move could send you ragdolling down to the depths beneath, yet as your time there stretched from days to months, the thought seemed enticing. Yes, the archon had wings, but would he be fast enough to catch your body?

  The thought only registered as a possibility when he tugged you up there for the 19th time that week. As Venti sat down, shoving you down next to him, he wrapped himself around you, his body heat warming you from the nipping cold of the Mondstadt’s winter winds. 

  “Do you see that, my beloved?” He asks, referring to the glowing lights of the city of freedom. You simply nod, thinking out your actions carefully.

  You take a breath, pulling yourself away from the god as much as you could with his tight grip on you. “You love me, right?” You hum, looking into his bright, teal eyes. 

  His eyes widen, hands flying to hold your cheeks as he looks worriedly at you. “Of course I do, why would you even try to imply otherwise?” He asks, thumbs stroking your cheekbones. 

  Multiple reasons. You want to snap, but you hold yourself back. “No reason, but I’m curious, how far would you go to keep me safe?” Something dangerous flashes through your eyes yet Venti chooses to ignore it. 

  The smaller male smiles softly, pressing his forehead against yours, still looking into your eyes. “I would do absolutely anything for you, my love. Whether it be getting you a Glaze Lily or stealing the moon out of the sky.” He muses, kissing your lips. You begrudgingly return it, his soft lips had the same taste of alcohol they always held. 

  You’re the one to break the kiss, standing up as you smile at him. His eyes trace the outline of your figure, accentuated by the moon. 

  “Let’s see how true that is. Can you catch me if I fall?” You ask, falling towards him, giving him a chance for his reflexes to react. 

  He giggles at your antics, catching you with ease. “Of course I can! What kind of lover would I be if I couldn’t even stop you from scraping your knee?” He asks, looking at you. 

  “Good, good,” You stand up again, walking closer to the edge of the crumbling lair. “Then catch me.” You say, letting yourself go limp and fall backwards, a smile once again grazing your lips as you watch the realisation dawn on the Anemo Archon. His face falling from its normal smile as his form changes quickly, wings stretching behind him. 

  You fell, hair whipping in the air as you let yourself drop. You hear his screaming, calling out your name as he jumps after you, tears spilling from his eyes. His wings are tucked against his back, letting him fall more easily. 

  “Please! Grab my hand!” He begs, grasping at anything he could hold onto. Your arms, hair, legs. The wind stung his eyes yet he refused to blink, to look away from you. 

  The god above you screams your name, barely close enough to grab you. 

  How far from reaching the ground were you? How many times had your captor barely missed grabbing your hands? How long until you feel the ever fast approaching release of death? 

  Your thoughts come to a halt as you feel Barbatos' arms wrap around your torso before you feel yourself jerk upwards, looking at the Archon only to see his face buried in your chest, wings slowing your fall. 

  You knew that there would be tear stains in the gods' wake as you felt the dampening of your shirt. And as he carried you away from the tower, you looked to see you were mere metres from the ground. Mere metres from escaping this place. 

  Barbatos lowered the two of you to the ground, sitting between your legs with his face still buried in your chest as he audibly wept, clutching your shirt as he wailed and sniffled

  When he finally pulled away, he looked like a toddler crying about getting a toy taken away. That and a kicked puppy, looking betrayed as he stared up at you, still sniffing and tears still falling. 

  “Why would you do that?” He asked, looking into your eyes with his own glowing ones. “What if you got hurt? What if you died??” Barbatos' voice trembles as he speaks, still not reverting back to his mortal form. 

  “What if I did?” You inquire, looking at the trembling god in front of you. “What would you do if you couldn’t live up to your promise? If you let me die? Would you replace me as quickly as you took me, or would you mourn my death for the rest of time?” You didn't show any remorse, leaning in with a small smirk and a sadistic look in your eyes. 

  His eyes widened impossibly more as he stared at you, processing your words before letting out another sob. 

  “I would never replace you, you're the only one for me! You're my Archon, my reason to live! I wouldn't bear losing you, I would truly have no place in this work without you by my side.” He tackled you to the ground, straddling your torso. 

  His tears drip onto your face as he cries above you, his wings spread behind him. He was truly holy to behold, eyes red and puffy, his exposed skin flushed a light pink and the light emanating from his eyes and braids lighting his features beautifully.

  Yet as lovely a sight, you couldn't simply put aside the fact that the beautiful sight above you was the reason your life had been miserable. The reason you did what you did. 

  “Maybe you aren't meant to have a place in this world then.”

[theetherealbloom]

UNEVEN ODDS - CH. 8

Chapter Eight: Darkness Exists To Make Light Truly Count

Summary: The Reader is dragged into the Last of Us universe and has no choice but to watch the events unfold or will she be able to change what was already written?

Paring: Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Age-gap Romance, Violence, ANGST, LOTS OF ANGST IM SORRY AGAIN, Swearing, Suicide, FLUFF, PTSD, Depression, Anxiety, Crying, Suggestive content, the pandemic, character death, INFECTED, MY SCIENCE IS WONKY, probable plot holes, rusty writing, TLOU is dark please read at your own risk!

Word Count: 9.6k

A/N: Did I drag myself through hell and back writing this last chapter? YEP. Was I anxious writing this meaning that this would be the end of this series? YEAH. Did life get in the way and forcibly had to make me catch up with my schoolwork? UNFORTUNATELY YEP PLS– 

Song: Someone To Stay by Vancouver Sleep Clinic

Previous Chapter -> Epilogue | Series Masterlist

TLOU WORLD 2023

SILVER LAKE, COLORADO TO SALT LAKE CITY, UTAH – ONE WEEK LATER…

The bitterness of winter as time month moves on, you are greeted with the sweetness of spring. When did your life become a series of countdowns? Was it all just a grain of sand in an hourglass? One moment you were stumbling through the snow, away from Silver Lake. Next, you’re on the outskirts of Salt Lake City, Utah. Roughly 3,534 miles and you’re counting down the hours of today, vaguely knowing about what happens in Saint Mary's Hospital, the operation on Ellie, and the death of a surgeon triggering a chain reaction to stir violence with the former fireflies to kill Joel.

Each step into the city meant the possibility of losing them both to the future you seem to believe is set in stone, their stories already written and their fates chosen long before you had even stepped foot in the reality you couldn’t have possibly imagined existing. So you are standing and listening to him in that glistening emptiness, scavenging the remaining vehicles that contained any items to use. You hear your childhood sympathies banging against each other in a giant communal eardrum circle, trying to drown out melodies you can’t help but hum to. It feels like a part of your past follows you everywhere you go, a ghost you can’t shake, someone familiar but every time it places its hand in your hand, neither one of you could feel it.

Your weight is resting on the counter of the dilapidated kitchenette in an old RV, Joel tries to call your name, but you are now too deep into the thought that you don’t hear his rich and rough voice telling you about the broken guitar he found. Every part of you is somewhere else, a distant and dazed look in your eyes as you feel your vision blur. Joel approaches you cautiously, not wanting to startle you as he gently places his large palm on the side of your arm, rubbing it gently as he spoke softly, “Birdie… what’s wrong?” You blink up at him, your expression weepy and choked up, “Joel… there’s something you need to know.” He’s quick to ask, “What is it? What’s wrong, Darlin’?”

You feel your body melt at the nickname, but you gently place your hand on his, squeezing it as you said, “Joel… I know how all of this ends. I know how you die.” You watch as his shoulders rise, his breathing becomes still, and his expression was mixed with realization, curiosity, and despair. He swallows as he asks, “How… I thought you didn’t know everythin’?” You nodded, “Yes, I swear to you, there were parts I didn’t know or couldn’t remember. Everything except how all of this ends.” He frowns and grimaces, but never lets go of your hand, gruffly he says, “Tell me.” You move a little closer to his warmth, wanting to be close to him as you spoke, “Everything that will happen at Saint Mary's… the decisions and choices you make in the next few hours will be the cause of your death in the next few years or so. The Doctor you kill and um… You and Ellie… I don’t know if there’s a chance of a happy ending in this world or any way out of this besides going back to Jackson and convincing Ellie that she doesn’t have to go through with this or… fighting our way through the upcoming obstacles in our way.”

Joel shifts his weight from one leg to the other, bringing his eyes to yours, and at that moment you knew, the heat that radiates in his stare as he looks at you, every inch of skin comes alive as he drags his hand along your arm to your waist, sliding it and carefully securing you closer to him. Now, you are inches away from your lips to his, his nose touching the tip of your own with your foreheads pressed together, you breathe him in, close your eyes, and sigh in comfort. He cradles the side of your face and you lean into him, he gently asks, “What would you like me to do, Sweetheart?” You place your hand on top of his, leaving a soft kiss on his wrist and then replying, “I need you to stay alive. Ellie needs you… I need you to be here with us. Next, when the opportunity presents itself, please, I beg you, spare the surgeon.” He whispers his inquiry, “Why?” You sniff and feel your eyes well up, “Because his daughter will be the reason for your death. Look, I don’t care who else you decide to kill, just if you can… leave him alive.” 

He holds you closer as he shakily asks, “Why are you tellin’ me this now, Hon’?” You lick your lips nervously, placing your head on his shoulder as he fully embraces your figure, slowly speaking, “I… I’m scared, Joel. I’m honestly terrified of what’s going to happen next. I don’t want to lose you… I can’t lose you.” You shudder at the thought, the mere idea of it brings you to clutch him tighter, and he cradles your figure closer as he soothes you, “You won’t lose me. I’m persistent, remember?” You weakly laugh at that, and he wipes away the tears from your cheeks while saying, “Let’s go show Ellie what we found.” You open your mouth to speak but he has already read your mind, “We’ll figure it out and cross that bridge when we get there. Okay, Birdie?” He has changed all of your circuitry, the red and gold, writing all over your being. How he looks at you, his eyes say everything without a single word. You nod and whisper, “Okay.” He presses his lips to yours with passion and promises, “I’ll keep us safe, I swear.”

You step out and leave the abandoned RV, grabbing an old board game, and canned food. Joel yells out, “Ellie! Ellie.” Still, no response from the teenager sitting at the back of an old blue truck, and her mind seems to be somewhere else. “Ellie!” Joel yells a bit louder, which causes her to turn around to look at him, preoccupied, remote, distracted perhaps by the magnitude of what their arrival in Salt Lake City could mean.

“D’ya hear me?”Joel asks through the loud wind blowing through everyone’s hair, Ellie shakes her head, “No. What?” Ellie asks, and Joel excitedly shows Ellie that he found a can, “Well, we found this in there. Beefaroni. Chef Boyardee.” Calling back to their campfire meal, to which Ellie tries to sound enthusiastic, but ending up sounding flat, “Oh, cool.” Joel approaches Ellie, shaking the old cardboard box game, “And have you ever played this? Boggle? It’s a word game.” She politely and quietly shakes her head, seemingly uninterested but still trying to please Joel, she hands him back the box and he says, “Well if you wanna beat me at somethin’, it would be this.”

Ellie manages to nod her head, and you frown at her lackadaisical nature, noting that this isn’t like her at all. You walk to Joel’s side as he calmly spoke again, “Well, all right then. We’re gettin’ close. Hospital that way. May be the one we’re lookin’ for.” Ellie pushes herself off the back of the truck, the sound of dirt crunching beneath her boots as she replied, “Got it.” She grabs her pack while Joel shoves the canned food and board game into his backpack. Ellie approaches you both and Joel rolls his shoulder, showing her the rifle, “Take this for me?” Ellie grabs so he can throw the strap of the backpack across his shoulder, “Thanks.” He grabs the rifle once more, carrying it while Ellie nods in acknowledgment.

As the three of you walked along the ruined highway, Joel begins to talk, “They had a guitar in that RV. It was all smashed up but got me thinkin’ maybe I should find one. I haven’t played in forever. In fact, I was thinkin’ maybe I could teach you. I bet you’d be great at it.” Ellie merely hums and Joel asks her with a sort of hopeful tone, “Do you wanna learn how to play guitar?” There is no response from Ellie, your eyes shift from her to Joel, and you see him frown in concern, “Ellie?” She looks up, blinking at him as she hums in response, “Oh, yeah. That’d be great.”

Surprisingly, the entire walk into the city was quiet, there was no chatter from Ellie or Joel, no melody leaving your lips as you pass by abandoned cars. After what seemed like thirty minutes, Joel finally broke the silence once more, “Okay, so this is what I’m thinkin’...” Ellie already knew what he was talking about, “Cut through that building to get around that stuff, find the skyscraper, go up and look around.” You look at her impressed, while Joel says, “Actually, this time I was thinkin’ we blast our way through that rubble. I found some dynamite in that RV back there.” This catches Ellie off guard, “Really?” While you give him a suspicious look, “The fuck has gotten into you?”

Joel confirms he was joking around as he replied to you both, “No, so we’re gonna cut through that building, find a skyscraper, go up, and look around. But I had you both goin’, didn’t I?” You playfully rolled your eyes while Ellie nods once more. The group decides to cut through the building on the way to the hospital, and decide to climb an abandoned skyscraper to get a better vantage point and lay off the land. The red tarpaulins hanging over the scaffolding, “Look at this place,” Joel says as you all take a good look around your environment, “Talk about bad luck. Military drops bombs, not one of them hits the building you’re trying to demolish.” You peek through the rubble to see the sunlight streaming through, Joel cranes his neck to look up, “No way up.”

He approaches the fence gate inside the construction, the steel rattling loudly as he does, and walks through with you and Ellie trailing behind him. Joel spots a ladder peaking from above as you stand next to him, “I get Ellie up there, you can drop down that ladder down, maybe we go through that way. Come one I’ll give you a boost.” You both turn to look for her to find her looking through abandoned blueprints, you watch as Joel is more attentive to her as he asks, “You okay?” Ellie brings her head up to look at him, “Yeah, I’m fine.” Joel doesn’t buy it, “It’s just you seem extra quiet today, so.” Ellie feels the guilt bubble in her, “Oh… I’m sorry.” While you and Joel shake your heads, “No, it’s fine. Did you hear what I…” Ellie is quick to nod, “Yeah, boost. Got it.”

Joel steps on top of the wooden scaffolding, and Ellie grabs his outstretched hand, readying his stance while saying, “One, two, up.” You watch as Ellie pushes her body weight up while Joel asks, “Ya got it?” Ellie responds, “Yeah. Okay.” She’s just about to put down the ladder, however, the usually attentive Ellie is caught off guard by something and instead ends up just dropping the ladder and running off to look at something. Joel barked out, “God dammit, Ellie! Shit.” You also call for her, but there is no indication she hears you. You and Joel lift the ladder while he yells out to the teen, “You stay there!” To which Ellie yells back, “You gotta see this!” You climb the ladder first while Joel follows behind you, your voice echoes as you spoke, “Ellie? Where are you?”

“Up here!” Ellie says while you and Joel pursue her, perhaps worried at first that she’s in danger. Grumbling, Joel says her name but Ellie is quick to run, “Come on!” You and Joel wonder what the fuss is about, he calls her again, trying to get her to stop running so damn fast, “Ellie.” Again, she doesn’t relent, pushing faster to chase whatever caught her attention. Joel is breathing heavily as he mumbles, “Just wait. God damn it.”

After another flight of stairs, you pass by a ruined wall, as you sidestepped it, what you both find is Ellie, standing awestruck by the sight of a giraffe, peacefully munching on some leaves growing on the building. The feeling of enchantment rushes through your body, the familiarity of the scene that you had a glimpse of during your time back in your other universe. How important this meant to both of them.

Joel quietly approaches and stands next to Ellie, while you are to the left of her. Though time is ruthless, it showed you kindness despite the effects the Infected have wrought on the hope and innocence of the world in the end. But showing and by slowing down enough, a second chance to make amends. Ellie pointedly looks at Joel, “Don’t scare it.” To he replies, “I won’t.” He sets down his rifle, draws his weapons, and gives himself and Ellie a welcome reprieve from the darkness so that the balance may be restored. When the world welcomes you in, you’re closer to Heaven than you’ll ever know. They say this place has changed, but strip away all of the technology and you will see that you all are hunters, hunting for something that will make us okay.

Joel grabs a couple of leaves from the side of the tree and Ellie’s voice is in alarm as she asks, “What are you doing?” He reassures her, “It’s all right. Come here, hurry up. Come on.” Ellie walks towards him, a little closer to the giraffe, while you stand there nervously rubbing your arm. Joel spots your discomfort but quickly reassures you, “You too Hummin’ bird.” You exhaled deeply, trusting Joel and walking closer to the giraffe.

He passes leaves to you both, and there is a form of uncertainty between you and the giraffe, but eventually, you stretch out your hand and the giraffe approaches you, grazing on the leaves you have presented to the creature. When you were out of leaves, it then went to Ellie, happily munching on the leaves she had with her. There is something so precious about Ellie’s laugh. The whole is so much greater than the sum of these parts. You've heard the truth before, for in beauty there echoes a speck of our source. There's a voice inside your soul, that resonates through your skin and bone. Crooked mouth, quiet down, you let your fists come undone. The understanding that miscarried love will be reborn. There is hope in our eyes when we truly see each other.

Joel smiles lovingly at her joy, the honoring of every shadow, and gratitude for all that follows. Overwhelmed, wave after wave, you are more afraid to lose what you have found, even after all this evolving, it still feels unnatural, still pulls tight the muscles, and strains the arms and spine. Ellie’s laughs are melodious as she states, “So fucking cool.” There are no more leaves left for the giraffe to munch on, seemingly done, she begins to trot away. Ellie whines, “Aw, where is she going?” She begins to race after her, yelling out to her two guardians, “Come on, come on, come on, come on!”

As Joel was about to turn and call after her, you grab his wrist, causing him to look at you with concern, “What is it, Hon’?” Your heart melts at the nickname, you give him a soft smile as you took in a breath before speaking your heart out, “I have to tell you something.” He frowns in concern, “Now? Ellie might–” You cut him off while nodding, “Yes, now.” Joel leans a little closer, “What is it? Tell me what’s wrong.” You weakly laugh at his statement, knowing him too well to know that whatever is wrong he’d immediately want to fix it for you because that’s how he cares. 

A beat passes between you two, the sound of the wind rustling the leaves, the huffs of the giraffes from outside, and even a few birds chirping, seemed like everything was right where it should be. Joel opens his mouth, and at first, no sound comes out, but he gathers his courage and says, “Not that I wouldn’t say it first, ‘cause I would.” You smile at him knowing what he was implying, and you shake your head, “It’s no big deal,” You try to finish your statement but he cuts you off, his southern accent is more prominent as his voice goes lower, “I’ll tell you soon.” You hold the side of his face, as he looks at you while holding his breath ‘cause you both could, in a voice so soft and sweet, you say, “Until then, I love you.”

The darkness that hangs over him at first tries to reject it as his lips parts in astonishment and bewilderment. He would drag you through the muck while telling you that you belonged to a cleaner lifestyle. He thinks you'd be crushed underfoot by him, that you'd be able to see right through him, that he's just spewing hot air, that you'd be always racing after him as he chases after more svelte models, and that it would be a never-ending cycle. His mouth quivers and his beautiful southern accent is accentuated as he asks, “Are you sure? After everything I’ve done? After all the people I’ve killed?” 

You held your breath while you thought about it for a long, quiet moment. “I am willing to fit into any spaces you give me since I am aware of your sharp edges and have seen your beautiful curves. Bring on the muck if loving you takes becoming filthy,” you said. “And right now, I’m pretty in love with you, if that’s okay.”

He leans it to place his lips to yours, kissing you with such fiery passion you had only ever dreamed or seen in moves and read about in romance novels. His lips were warm and soft. They parted slightly, allowing my tongue to slip inside. Your bodies pressed together heatedly, breathing heavily as our lips pressed together. You could taste your shared breath, and feel the thud of your combined heartbeats. And just like that, he did not crave the language he always thought he needed. The warmth and softness of his lips, the taste and scent of his breath, and the subtle movements of both of your tongues. But even though he couldn't say it out loud, it was undeniable that both of their love for each other was palpable. It was in the way you laughed together, the way you touched each other's hands, and the way you looked at each other. Pulling away, to cup your face, and just like that a hand reached backward into a faraway dream and said, “Come on then, we better catch up to Ellie.”

Moving to the rooftop of the building, Joel pulls the door open and you see Ellie happily observing the herd of giraffes. The rusty door squeaks as it shuts behind you, looking over the towers of giraffes walking around the greenery that has taken over the ruined city. You walk over to Ellie’s side, making her the center between you and Joel. The weight of family and the pull of gravity. It seems like growing up didn't take long, you were a family pulled from the flood, you tore the floorboards up and let the river rush in, not wash away.

You recognize the parallel to the first time you stood on a rooftop with Ellie and Joel, looking over the view of a ruined city to find some absolute answer to a world that seemed so hopeless. Joel places his hands on the ledge of the rooftop, and he gruffly asks, “Is it everything ya hope for?” You look at Ellie, her lips forming a little smile, “It’s got its ups and downs, but you can’t deny that view.” It set your hearts ablaze, and every city was a gift, every skyline was like a kiss upon the lips. Joel looks at Ellie concerned mixed with uncertainty, “Look, I don’t know exactly where this hospital is…” The teen’s determination is unwavering as she swiftly said, “Yeah, we’ll find it.” 

He releases a shaky breath, he feels his parental nature returning, “Sure. It’s just… Maybe there’s nothin’ bad out there, but so far there’s always been somethin’ bad out there.” Ellie shrugs, “We’re still here, though.” Joel nods, “I know. I’m only saying there’s risk.” Ellie looks away but Joel shifts his weight to lean closer, insisting, feeling a presentiment of losing her, “We don’t have to do this. I want you to know that.” Ellie turns to look at him with furrowed brows and a frown, “What do you mean? What else are we supposed to do?” To which Joel responds, “Nothin’. We just go back to Tommy’s. We forget the whole damn thing.”

“After all we’ve been through? Everything I’ve done? It can’t be for nothing,” Ellie replies evenly. “I know you mean well. I know you want to protect me. You have. And when we’re done, we’ll go wherever you want. Tommy’s, sheep ranch, the moon. I’ll follow you anywhere you go. But there’s no halfway with this. We finish what we started.” She finishes giving her a touching speech with clear-eyed dignity. After a beat passes, Joel reluctantly nods in agreement. It becomes clearer now, if you listen just right, you can almost hear it. The symphony of secrecy, life, the search for love, but finding fear. We could hold our breath forever, or maybe for a while. The best will surely come, until then you’ll feel nothing at all.

You three proceed to cut through an abandoned emergency medical center left over from the outbreak. You see the ruins of triage tents outside, and a brief moment of déjà vu creeps over you, remembering the makeshift facilities and tents from your universe during the outbreak. Some vines overgrow the poles of the tents, there are rotting medical supplies and vehicles. Taking it all in, Ellie wonders, “Was it a FEDRA thing?” Joel shakes his head, “No. Army. They put these places up all around, the first few days after the outbreak. Emergency medical camps. Obviously didn’t last. They had me in one just like this.” Ellie quickly assumes he had his daughter with him, “With Sarah?” 

You look at him concerned and afraid that he would begin to lash out in anger as a defense, but he doesn’t. Instead, he shakes his head in disagreement, “No, she was gone already. So what was wrong with you?” Joel points to his scar, “It was for this.” Ellie nods in realization, “The guy who shot and missed. I figured that would’ve happened later.” There’s a shift in his voice that you catch, “No.” He slows his pace to a stop, “Second day.” You stop to look at him but Ellie continues to talk, “I’ve gotta hand it to the Army people and Birdie. They are way better at stitchin’ you up than I was.” 

“It was me.” This causes Ellie to freeze and turn around to see the rise and fall of her chest falter. Your eyes begin to gloss over and sting and the thoughts seep into her head with a terrifying blankness. It was nauseating. Joel baldly confesses, “It was me,” he says. “I was the guy who shot and missed.” He then moves to sit atop a concrete barrier, while you and Ellie also move to sit beside him, “There’s no story. Sarah died. And I couldn’t see the point anymore. Simple as that. And I wasn’t scared, either. I was ready. I couldn’t have been more ready. When I… When I went to pull the trigger, I flinched. Still don’t know why.” The raw admission, of him opening up himself to you and Ellie shows how far you three have come. A great tremor took over your body, a tightening of your throat and a short intake of breath, you try and will yourself to not cry. “Anyway, the reason I’m telling you all this is…” Ellie cuts him off, “I know why you’re telling the both of us this.”

He nods, “Yeah, I reckon you do.” And you hold his hand to stop his thumb from fidgeting with his pointer finger, unsure if you were comforting him or yourself. To remind yourself he’s still here. After a moment of silence and uncomfortable realization, Ellie says, “So time heals all wounds, I guess.” Joel ponders for a moment, before deciding to openly admit how much he truly cares for Ellie and you, “It wasn’t time that did it.” He unwaveringly, and lovingly looks at Ellie and you, squeezing your hand as he does. For Joel, everything you’ve been through, all the pain and death, it’s worth it because he has a daughter again and now you. It brings everything together for Joel. He’s succeeded here. He cares less about Ellie’s potential for a cure and more about not losing a person he loves again. He, is once again, whole.

Ellie quietly lets go of the breath she was holding, “Well, I’m glad that… that didn’t work out.” Joel nods in agreement, “Me, too.” He wipes away the tears with his other hand and then moves to wipe away the tears that you didn’t even realize had streamed down your face. The teen awkwardly shifts to move off the concrete barrier you three were sitting on, “We should probably get going.” Joel automatically agrees, “Yeah.”

There's something about sadness that leaves you wanting more. A sickness that breathes… from holding on to letting go, like the feeling of change is almost like dying. You know from time to time that hope seems but a foreign land. A distance that you cannot reach and a language you cannot speak. In his words, the movement of his eyes, the expressions on his face, the rush of your walking. And through all the things you'll find out and will hold on tighter to the surface of life. Like a moth to the flame, we become helpless to the beautiful ghost that true love sheds.

You continue your journey to the hospital, Joel hasn’t let go of your hand as you walk side by side with Ellie, he then asks aloud, “You know what I’m in the mood for?” Ellie quizically wonders, “What?” Joel smiles as he responds, “Shitty puns.” She laughs and you smile at her delight, rummaging her pack to find her pun book, flipping through the pages she finds one and says, “‘People are making apocalypse jokes like there’s no tomorrow.’” Joel clicks his tongue, making a face in mock offense, Ellie smiles, “Too soon?” Joel shakes his head and smiles, “No, it’s topical.” Ellie lets out a giggle, “Oh, I love this one! ‘Moon rocks taste better than Earth rocks. Why?” The man next to you scratches his forehead before shrugging, then Ellie answer, “‘Cause they’re meteor.’” You smile in amusement while Joel shakes his head, “Oh, that’s terrible.” Ellie throws back, “Fuck you. That was actually good.” He disagrees entirely, “That’s a zero out of ten.” You laugh, “Oh, we’re giving grades now?” His southern accent is prominent as he replied, “Damn right darlin’.” Ellie laughs, “All right, all right. ‘What did the green grape say to the purple grape? Breathe, you idiot.’” Joel rates, “That’s a three outta ten.” But Ellie tries to bargain, “Seven, minimum.” He shakes his head but tries to meet her in the middle, “I’ll give it a five. Five outta ten.”

In the moments that you feel that you three are closer than ever before, the world drops out from under your feet. The sharp sound of metal from something behind you causes you three to turn your heads in alarm, spotting the stun grenade, Joel moves to shield you and Ellie, bringing you three crashing to the ground. There is smoke that hazes your vision, and the ringing in your ears is sharp and painful, the world around you is a blur. You make the muffled sounds of Ellie yelling for you and Joel, tall figures with firearms taking her and you away from him. There is always something there, to take your hearts like thieves, there is always something there. A painful strike to the head and it all goes white, to close your eyes, to end this chase while unraveling the most essential thread.

ST. MARY’S HOSPITAL, SALT LAKE CITY — DAY

You slowly blink your eyes open, you hear the steady beat of your own heart with the help of the monitor near the side of your bed, and you feel the plush pillow beneath your head, you feel the cotton of a hospital sticking onto your skin while you are trying to get an understanding of where you are. Next, the smell of familiar antiseptic and bleach fills your nostrils, you first spot that you’re hooked into an IV drip, moving your head to the door frame, you feel your eyes widen and they dart across the room to see Marlene. 

You can’t bring yourself to move, as you observe Marlene studying you, finally she says, “You’re finally awake.” You blink once, then again, before swallowing your fears, “Where’s Joel?” Marlene pushes herself off of the wall and uncrosses her arms, “He’s in another room, unconscious but fine. Patrol didn’t know who you were.” Your breathing hitches, “Okay, where’s Ellie?” Marlene replies steadily, as if practiced, “She’s fine. She’s not hurt, mostly worried about you two though.” You narrowed your eyes in suspicion, “You’re going to operate on her.” Marlene sighs, defeatedly she nods, “Yes.” You lick your lips as a nervous tick, “You also know that I’m also immune.” The leader of the rebellion nods again, and you close your eyes to shake your head, “She’s just a kid. She’s everything to Joel… to me. Don’t do the operation on her, take me instead.” Marlene shakes her head in disagreement, “I can’t do that.” You tilt your head to the side, “Why not?”

She heavily sighs, “Your immunity is different from hers.” You scoff, “The cordyceps that she had since birth, grow in her brain, sending a chemical messenger to tell other cordyceps that she is cordyceps. You’re going to have to kill her just to get that damn vaccine. So, just take the plasma from me, it might contain the antibodies that you need to fight the virus.” Marlene places both of her hands on her waist “I can’t let you do that.” Exhausted you frustratingly growl, “Why? This has been the center of debate for years. The fuckin’ goddamn Trolley Problem! Plow into a group of people or turn and hit one person. Forcing you to choose to let other people die, but the solution was so simple.” Marlene takes the bait and asks, “And what is the answer?”

“Sacrificing yourself. And right now, Marlene, I have that choice. Either to let you kill an innocent girl, someone who didn’t ask to be brought into this fractured world to save what little we have left, or save her and all of humanity… with me, someone who never should have been here in the first place.” Marlene hums, “Well, you’re right about one thing… you aren’t from here.” You look at her confused and someone familiar steps into your room, the dark hair, black eyes, his stature lanky and tall, you shakingly exhale, “Adam. How are you even… What?” Another Firefly soldier comes in to retrieve Marlene, whispering that Joel is waking up. She walks away with the Firefly soldier and leaves you and Adam to talk.

He clears his throat, “I’ve been looking for you, and it's been weeks since your apartment burned down with you going missing. Do you remember anything that happened before the fire?” You shake your head, “I remember going to sleep after watching… yeah.” He nods, “You had brought home your research without any of the lab researchers or staff knowing. Your apartment burned down along with the research. I thought it was a little weird since… they didn’t find your body or any indication of you being abducted so I did a little bit of snooping around your desk, found the flash drive of your existing equations and theories before they took it away for evidence, had a hunch you were successful with your research and that you were out there somewhere.”

You manage to let out a chuckle, “Thanks for looking for me… I thought no one would notice if I was gone. It’s nice to have a friend.” He gives an awkward smile, “Did you have to bring yourself into this specific universe?” You rolled your eyes with humor, “It wasn’t intentional, I swear.” He gives you a knowing look but doesn’t tease you any further. Your mind begins to linger on the question you had since you woke up, “Why won’t Marlene just operate on me? It would be the best solution to avoid the upcoming massacre.”

Adam frowns and sighs, “When I first came here to look for you, Marlene had found me and then recruited me to join the Fireflies, but I had told her I wasn’t fit to fight and that I’m a scientist looking for a lost friend in their universe. You could imagine her skepticism but she eventually believed me,” You have a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach as he continued, “After we made it to Salt Lake City, I had said that if things were to change, if you were to sacrifice yourself, to take Ellie’s place, it would completely cause the boundary between two universes to erode, and collide, destroying one or both entirely.” You look up at the ceiling, the fluorescent lights hanging from above, “Let me guess, our universe is next to this one.” Adam nods, “I’m sorry. I tested the simulation before I got here… There are certain points that you can change but most of it stays the same.”

“Do you know how this ends?” You asked, he raises his eyebrows, “Which part?” You think to yourself before speaking again, “All of it.” He nods then loudly exhales, “Yes. It ends… in a selfish choice. A lie. But you already knew that why do you need to ask?” Unwaveringly, you stare him down, your voice stern and steady as you say, “Because I’m going to make my selfish choice too.” 

It was quiet for a moment, the epiphany kicking in and settling between you and your friend. Adam shifts his weight on the other leg before reaching into his pocket, showing you a small rectangular device, “I managed to figure out the wiring and transmission issue, as well as the power issue with crystalized radium, and stabilized it with other elements. So, I managed to create a portable version of the machine you had. We can go home.”

That is what you were looking for all this time, right? A way back home. Now it’s right here in your grasp, just in reach but you feel no joy. No overwhelming sense of comfort or excitement. Nothing. You swallowed and shake your head, “No.” Adam is taken aback by your answer, “What? But you… your life back home.” You shake your head disagreeing, “That was never my home. You and I both know that. I was already researching a way out of that place, somewhere far away, and now… I’m here, free, and loved.” He shakes his head, “You can’t change what was already written.” You give him a sad smile, “The future is always changing. And I’ll make sure of it.” Adam insists, “And if you can’t?”

You leave all logic aside as you breathlessly say, “Then… At least they don’t have to go through any of the next steps alone.” Adam sighs and waves the device, “What do you want me to do with this.” You raise your eyebrows, “Go home, Adam. Ali needs you there, and as for my research… burn it. All of it, destroy everything.” He disagrees with you, “What?! That’s your life’s work?” You blankly stare into his eyes,  “We aren’t ready for this kind of this discovery just yet. The world is moving so fast over there, if we don’t slow down, we’ll crash and burn.” He tries again to convince you to come home, to go back to the simple life you had before, “But…” You cut him off, “Remember what you told me? All disasters start with a scientist being ignored.” Defeatedly he tilts his head down, then nods agreeing, “Okay.”

You glance out the glass window of your room, there are Fireflies running down the hall, and from a distance the sound of loud pops and gunshots can be heard echoing, followed by yelling and thumping footsteps of Firefly soldiers. You turn back to look at Adam, “Listen to me, you need to leave right now. Burn all of my research. I want everything wiped out from the Cloud and every hard drive to be destroyed, all of it. But seriously, you need to go. Joel figured out what the hell was going on and will kill anyone who gets in his way. I don’t think he’s himself right now… so please just go… and take care of yourself and Ali for me?” Adam achingly smiles with tears in his eyes, “Goodbye and good luck.” With a push of a couple of buttons, followed by a flash of bright light, your only chance, a way back to your original universe was gone.

The sound of people screaming and dying was getting closer, the unmistakable sound of gunshots fill your ears and you feel a sense of dread creep through your bones. It is never safe enough to fall in love in this world. How easy it is to give the thing you want the most and punish you for it. But you’re smart enough to know, you can’t escape the truth of what you want. Every move we make will trigger another, and every small mistake will be a messenger. Your lives are weaving like a thread within each other, faithfully sharing in our joys and miseries and all that the world can give.

A firefly soldier tries to take cover in your room, essentially holding you hostage. You stay frozen in your bed as you observe Joel as he stalks over with an eerie calm expression, easily aiming at him, spraying him with bullets to take him down, and you don’t move as you watch him flick the switchblade open, the silver glimmering in his hand, brutally stabbing the soldier, he screams in agony before his eyes roll back, dead. He picks up the assault rifle from the corpse before standing and making his way to your bedside, a sharp contrast to what you had just seen, he leans in to kiss your forehead, “Hey, Sweetheart. They were tryin’ to take you away from me. Sorry I didn’t come sooner.” You take in the grime on his face, blood, and dust, lovingly gaze into his eyes and wrap your arms around his waist, “It’s okay. I knew you’d come lookin’ for me.” He breathes you in, and for a moment, he can ground himself with you hugging him tightly, close to him, but a dose of reality kicks in when he hears footsteps of oncoming Fireflies, he says to you, “Can you walk?” You nod, “The drugs that they gave me might kick in soon, but for now, yes.” He nods and helps you up while saying, “Let’s go get our baby girl.”

You feel the cold tiles of the hospital floor, wincing now and then over the debris and rocks, you accidentally step on. Joel shoots his way through, cold-heartedly executing anyone who dares and tries and gets in the way of Ellie. You know deep down he’s disassociated, disconnected from himself and the world around him. There is no sign of remorse in his eyes, only clear-cut focus and calmness you can’t quite place.

Eventually, you make it to pediatrics with Joel holding a handgun instead of the assault rifle. A sign points to where the surgery room is, as you walk through the hallway, you notice the different cartoon jungle animals painted on the walls, spotting another giraffe, the gentle giant that represented a holy moment of peace with Ellie. You press forward, slightly limping with the wounds on your feet as you two make it to the end of the hallway and into the operating room.

Joel quietly pushes the door open, spotting Ellie on the table, ready to be cut open and dissected. He then pushes the second door open to stand by the door, and calmly he says, “Unhook her.” The nurses gasp and the lead surgeon steps forward, “How did you get in here?” Joel doesn’t care to reply to his question, pointing his gun at him, “I said unhook her.” Before you knew what you were doing you loudly spoke, “Dr. Anderson. Listen to me, I know what you’re about to do next, the moment you fuckin’ pick up that scalpel blade, he will shoot you with no hesitation. He’s not himself right now. So, for your own daughter’s sake… don’t fucking move and let the nurses unhook Ellie.” He freezes, not expecting what you had just said, he looks between you two and Ellie, “We need to do this. It could work, we could have a vaccine. A chance to win.”

You shake your head, “Vaccines only work if there’s the proper distribution. A collective effort to try and solve this problem together. You have no resources to distribute it, even if you did it would take years to form collective immunity and then we’d have to figure out how to get rid of the infected. We have to share each other's work openly and efficiently. So that together we might achieve what we cannot achieve alone, collective immunity.”

Dr. Anderson takes in the information, the true meaning of your words but eventually settles on a decision, one that would have major implications in the future. He grabs the scalpel from the tray, and points it at you both, “I won’t let you take her.” There is no hesitation as Joel puts a bullet through his head, the loud gunshot causes both of the nurses to flinch and scream in horror. There is a flat tone in Joel’s voice as he says, “Unhook her.” The nurses have their arms up, shakingly cowering as his voice booms, “Move!” They do as they’re told, unhooking Ellie from the IV, blood drips down her arm, “Cover her arm.” Joel said and one of the nurses places a cotton patch on top of it. He then tells them to turn around, which all of them do with no question. As Joel carries Ellie out of the operating room, you quietly say, “I’m sorry. Tell Abby that I tried. But the moment she comes after him, I won’t hesitate to kill her.”

You leave and catch up with Joel who is carrying Ellie’s limp body in his arms, the elevator doors open, and you both step inside. You made mistakes and did a few things right. It will take what it will take, baby that's life, you cannot change what you do not own, everybody knows. But if you live deep and love strong you get pretty damn close. The elevator doors open to the basement of the hospital, and you both quickly spot a car ready to climb into to leave. As you quickly walk towards it, you begin to fade in and out, your energy spent and feeling the effects of the drugs they had given you prior.

“You can’t keep them safe forever.” Marlene walks out of the shadows with a gun pointed at you both, and you feel yourself slip further into darkness, you hazily hear the words from Marlene, “No matter how hard you try, no matter how many people you kill, she’s gonna grow up, Joel. And then you’ll die. She’ll leave. Then what? How long till she’s torn apart by Infected or murdered by raiders? Because she lives in a broken world that you could have saved.” Joel nods, “Maybe. But it isn’t for you to decide.” Marlene throws back at him, “Or you. So what would she decide? ‘Cause I think she’d wanna do what’s right because your girl over there was about to sacrifice herself to spare you both and save the world. And you know it. It’s not too late. Even now,” She tucks the gun away back into her holster, “Even after what you’ve done. We can still find a way.”

That’s when you couldn’t hold yourself up anymore, your eyes roll back to your head, you feel your knees give out and your body comes crashing down to the floor. In this sea of change, understanding is our shore, you disappear with no control. The current is strong, your arms are weak. But you are the branch within his reach, though you cannot catch your breath. Joel isn’t able to catch you in time, and it’s as if the world had slowed down to watch your lifeless body crumple and shut down right in front of him and he’s never felt so powerless. He gazes down at you and then at Ellie, considering the rebel leader’s points, then he brings his eyes to Marlene.

ON THE ROAD, TO JACKSON — DAY

With his closed fists, he will feel like he’s succeeded. Outside of the walls of Jackson is an awful place as far as he can tell. You were victims of a constant loss, you three were not the enemy. He is afraid that his plans will lose their place. Maybe you all could hold your breath forever, or maybe for a while, knowing that the best will surely come like sunshine streaming down or the falling of rain. 

Through your sleepy eyes, contagiously bright, as you stir awake, you are now in the front passenger seat of a truck you do not recognize, stretches of tall trees whiz past your periphery as you slowly crane your neck to look at Joel, who is gazing at you with relief and a little bit of remorse. Slowly, you see it in his eyes. The landscape of being are endlessly competing, back and forth for an answer to existence that you can understand. Perhaps you’re looking far too closely, you can't see all the evidence in its entirety. The air in your lungs and the complexity of both of your love for each other and Ellie. But love travels like a rumor here, losing form with every ear, just a skeleton of something more.

Ellie stirs and starts to wake up confused in the back seat, “What?” Joel is quick to reassure her and says, “It’s all right. You’re with us. Take it slow. The drugs are still wearin’ off.” Ellie mumbles, “I was with the Fireflies, and then… what drugs?” Joel swallows down his guilt before steadily saying, “They were runnin’ some test on you and some others. Turns out there’s a whole lot more like you. People that are immune. Dozens of ‘em. And the doctors, they couldn’t make any of it work. They’ve actually…” There’s a small pause, a wavier in his voice as the flashbacks come back to him in a blur, “They’ve stopped looking for a cure,” he lies, and Ellie then asks him suspiciously, “Where are my clothes?” He fabricates another lie, “Raiders attacked the hospital. Barely got ya both outta there. We’ll find you two some new clothes on the way.” Ellie senses the bullshit, “Were people hurt?” Joel clenches his jaw before deciding, “Yes.” To which she asks, “Is Marlene okay?” His eyes get misty again as he drives, he can’t bring himself to admit the truth to her or spew out more lies, so he settles on something true, “I’m takin’ us home.” She turns over so he can’t see her face in the rearview mirror. “I’m sorry,” he whispers.

You sit there stunned at Joel’s lies and see the strength of his resolve. You turn your head to look at him to find him gazing at you as if asking, begging through his whiskey-doe eyes, imploring you to not tell her the truth right now. You have to trust him, he knows where he’s going. The unbearable weight of a hidden question between exchanging looks, “Will you follow me, still?” You close your eyes for a moment, and Joel nearly falters, readying himself for the fallout, but instead, you take his right hand, with your own, squeezing it with reassurance. Some truths, over time, can learn to play nice and some truths are sharper than knives. No matter what category you fit into, truth's got its sight set on you. The light that we hold must be buried to bloom. And in spite of the uneven odds, beauty lifts from the earth. You’re the deal that everyone breaks when you’re without him. Only love proves to be the truth.

3 DAYS LATER…

THE OUTSKIRTS OF JACKSON — DAY

After a couple of stops, grabbing clothes and shoes from abandoned houses and stores. The car that he stole from the Fireflies had broken down, Ellie sat in the driver's seat as she traced her arms of the bitemark of the first Infected she ever faced. You were leaning on the other car door, right beside her, before quietly showing your arm the bite mark of the Infected a few weeks prior. She looks up at you in surprise, “You’re also… Immune?” You nod, explaining to her the possibility of now having the antibodies to fight the cordyceps infection along with the speculation of the radiation you had. She dwells on that information for a moment before asking, “Did the Fireflies try and test you too?” You look directly at her, “Yes. I’m not sure it worked though.” The lie that falls off your tongue tastes sour, but she doesn’t pick up on it, sensing that there was enough truth in what you said. Joel loudly shuts the hood of the car, “Well, she got us close enough.” He looks behind him before walking towards you and Ellie, “We gotta walk the rest of the way. Probably a five-hour hike but we can manage that. Remember?” Ellie smiles at the memory of the good times of the journey, “Yeah.” 

You hike through the woods, taking in the earthly smell of pine trees and dirt. The forest resets in hope, with every crunch beneath your feet, and the two people you hold most dear to your heart. Joel brings himself to talk about Sarah, “You know, Sarah and I used to hike like this all the time. I wouldn’t say it was her favorite thing. She wasn’t a fan of the mosquitos and such. But she was a big climber, or scampering. That’s probably the right word. That girl, she’d see a big rock, and just…” He makes a noise with his mouth indicating that she would bolt right through the trees to climb it, “She woulda liked you and Birdie. Not to say you and Sarah are the same. Definitely different kids.”

Ellie asks, “How so?” Joel glances at her and says, “Well, she was a lot more, I wanna say girly. And I’m not sayin’ you’re not girly.” She shakes her head, “I’m not.” Joel agrees, “Yeah, you’re not. So that. She was taller. She had a killer smile. Again, not sayin’ that you don’t. But you know why I’d think she’d like you?” Ellie indulges him, “Why?” The answer was so simple, quick, and witty, Joel says, “‘Cause you’re funny. I think you would’ve made her laugh. Anyway, I bet you would’ve liked her back.” The teen next to you agrees, “Yeah, bet I would’ve.”

Eventually, you make it to the edge of the mountain top, looking over the view of the community of Jackson, and it is absolutely breathtaking. The breeze causes your skin to form goosebumps, and feel the tickle of the wind behind your neck. Joel takes a breath and says, “There ya go. Not much further now.” He continues walking and you start to follow but notice Ellie standing back, she calls out to him, “Hey, wait.” He stops and turns to face her, she curses, “Fuck.” Then takes a few steps closer to him, “Back in Kansas City, you asked me about the first time I killed someone. When I got bit in the mall, I wasn’t on my own. My best friend was there and she got bit, too.” Her admission causes her to falter a little bit before she says, “We don’t know what to do, and she says, ‘We can just wait it out, be all poetic and just lose our mind together. And then she did. And I had to… Her name was Riley and she was the first to die. And then it was Tess. And then Sam.”

You and Joel shook your heads, “That’s not on you,” he said and she tries to argue, “I know…” He cuts her off, “Look, sometimes things don’t work out the way we hope. You can feel like you’ve come to an end and you don’t know what to do next. But if you just keep goin’ you find somethin’ new to fight for. And maybe that’s not what…” Abruptly, Ellie speaks up, “Swear to me. Swear to me that everything you said about the Fireflies is true.” Joel doesn’t hesitate as he lies, unblinking as he replies, “I swear.” ​​She doesn’t believe him. She knows he’s not telling the truth. But she nods, and says “Okay.”

You hold his hand in support, and then it's just too much, to know that the streets still run with blood. So he tries to push it down, but it comes back faster and harder, tides are changing on a dime. And he’s just trying to keep his head above the water. Surrender's just a word, till you try it out and see how hard it is to hurt with someone else around, you. He’s the worst he’s ever been afraid of almost everything. The skies are clear but storms are always coming. Your gift to him is just to be bracing for the winds he always summons. His home, his heart, thank God you are someone who loves him.

End Notes:

Holy shit this took WAY LONGER THAN EXPECTED THATS ON MEEEE IM SO SORRYYYYY!

ARE YOU OKAY?? GIRLIE YOU GOOD? THIS NEEDS EDITING LATER BUT I HOPE YOU ARE ALL WELL AND YOU ENJOYED THIS CHAPTER! DRINK WATER! BREATHE!

Its was an ACCIDENT! I established in Chapter 1 that it was all vague and a mystery woOOoo bcs uhhh I don’t think I was supposed to already give that question an answer in the beginning of the series cuz why the heck would u still read this T^T Alsoooo cause you did trYYYyyy to but couldn’t (I.e Tess, Sam and Henry, you voicing out your protests to Kathleen, etc.) And as if you had any other option but to go with Joel, Ellie, and Tess to survive yk the Infected :,))

CONGRATS U MADE IT AND OMG YOU LITERALLY HAD THE CHOICE TO GO BACK TO YOUR OLD UNIVERSE BUT YOU STAYEDDD FOR LOVEEEEE HEHEHEHEH

The Birdie had bits and pieces of what happens in the game, and sHE TRIED TO SAVE THE DAMN SURGEON, but obviously, homie got shot in the head :)) So now she has to figure out a way to stop Abby without having the whole story OR INFOOOOO YAYYYYY

Even though you tried to tell him not to kill Marlene or the Doctor, that it would be the cause of his death. But he still did anyway, a choice that was already made the moment you both were ripped away from him. He was disassociating :,) which I relate to Joel bb

OKAY I MIGHT WRITE AN EPILOGUE BUT LOWKEY LET ME TAKE A NAP CUZ I’VE BEEN WRITING FOR ALMOST TWO DAYS STRAIGHT WITH NO COFFEE O_O

Anyways… AHEM… I LOVE ALL OF YOU SOSOSOSOSOSOSOSO MUCH! LIKE YOU HAVE NO IDEA. I give you hugs and kisses, and cookies for being so incredibly patient and sticking with me for my first-ever multi-chapter fic. CRAZYYYY.

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