HATE bear from obsession but its a nickname of his actual name Baron and now I'm thinking about how cute it would be to call Baron, Bear 🥺 bc yeah HE IS A BEAR
I absolutely ADORE this song to the afterlife and back. It means a lot to me that this song is about cherishing platonic love and as someone who has always struggled to gauge a metric between romantic and platonic love (in that romance has never sat above the love for my friends/family) i just adore this song so much. It's the perfect way to put into words how much family and friends mean to me.
ANYWAY
Figure You Out, Awake, Half-Life, Egg, Tentpole Shangrila are ALL very close contenders
This was REALLY FOOKIN HARD TO CHOOSE. Because Decide has honestly so many bangers but so does The Crux but like Ring, BNBG, Flash Mountain, Roddy and Tentpole Shangrila are just such undeniable bangers.
HIS OTHER ALBUMS ARE TRULY SO CLOSE IN COMPARISON I CAN'T CHOOSE
- steve thinks you're shutting him out because you don't trust him; he doesn't realize you're spending every day trying to survive the place you call home
- cw: abusive home life, y/n mentions angst
the fight started because steve was tired.
not angry. not at first.
just tired because every time something was wrong, you disappeared behind a smile. every time life got hard, you insisted you were fine. every time steve reached for you, you met him halfway and then stopped.
he knew you loved him, that wasn't the problem. you loved him in a hundred quiet ways. you always remembered how he took his coffee. you kept extra band-aids in your purse because he somehow managed to cut himself doing the simplest things. you left notes in his jacket pockets. you called robin when you knew steve was struggling but wouldn't admit it.
you loved loudly through actions, just never through words.
and steve was exhausted trying to guess what was happening inside your head.
"just tell me what's wrong."
you looked away immediately. "nothing."
"there is always something."
"steve—"
"don't." his voice wasn't loud, which somehow made it worse.
you stared at him as he rubbed a hand over his face.
"i'm not asking for every thought you've ever had."
"then what are you asking for?"
"anything." the word came out broken. "i'm asking for anything."
guilt twisted in your stomach because there were things—so many things. the unpaid bills hidden in drawers. the holes punched into walls. the screaming matches. your dad. always your dad.
but if you started talking about it, it became real, and if it became real, you weren't sure you'd survive it.
"i just don't like talking about stuff."
steve laughed. once. humorless. "see, that's exactly what i'm talking about."
your chest tightened.
"i'm trying."
"no," his jaw clenched, and the words hit harder than they should have because part of you feared they were true.
steve looked frustrated and hurt. "you tell me enough to shut the conversation down."
you swallowed. "that's not fair."
"isn't it?"
silence.
the worst part was that you couldn't defend yourself because he wasn't entirely wrong.
steve looked away. when he spoke again, his voice was quieter, which somehow hurt more.
"i don't think you trust me."
your head snapped up. "that's not true."
"then why am i always the last person to know when something's wrong?"
"you're not."
"really?" he laughed again. "because that's what it feels like."
you opened your mouth, closed it, and opened it again. nothing came out, and steve saw it, saw you choosing silence again. something in his expression cracked.
"okay." your stomach dropped. the "okay" wasn't okay, and you knew it immediately.
"steve—"
"no." he stood up. "i'm done dragging information out of you."
"that's not what you're doing."
"isn't it?" his eyes were glassy now, hurt—so hurt.
"i love you." the words nearly broke you. "but i'm tired."
you stared at him.
"i'm tired of guessing," he swallowed, "when you're ready to actually let me in, come find me."
your heart started pounding.
"what does that mean?"
steve looked away, and that terrified you more than yelling ever would.
"it means i'm not doing this anymore."
"steve—"
"i'm serious," his voice cracked. "i can't keep being the only one trying. it's your turn."
and he left, leaving you standing there, wondering if you still had a boyfriend or if you had just watched your relationship end.
the next few days were hell. and not because of steve.
your sister leaving wasn’t supposed to happen like that.
you found out because her bedroom was empty. that was it—no conversation, no warning, no goodbye.
you came home from work and stood in her doorway, staring at the bare walls. the closet was empty, the dresser was gone, and the bed frame had been taken apart.
for a moment, you genuinely thought you had walked into the wrong room. then you noticed the note. just three words: "i'm sorry."
your knees nearly gave out.
you called her immediately, but it went straight to voicemail. again. voicemail. again. voicemail. on the fourth attempt, she finally answered. you didn’t even say hello.
“you left?” silence.
then, “i couldn't do it anymore.” your throat tightened. “you left.” guilt flooded her voice.
“i know.”
“you didn't tell me.”
“because if i told you, i would have stayed.” that somehow hurt worse.
you sank onto the floor, surrounded by the ghost of her room.
“you just left me here,” the words slipped out before you could stop them.
silence.
heavy silence.
then a shaky breath.
“i’m sorry.”
you closed your eyes because you knew she was. you understood exactly why she left. you just hated that she could and you couldn’t—at least not yet.
suddenly, it was just you and him now.
that night, your dad barely spoke. the next day was worse, and the day after that was even worse.
by friday, you felt like you were drowning.
you thought about calling steve a hundred times, but his words kept replaying in your mind: "it's your turn."
every time you picked up the phone, fear stopped you. what if it was too late? what if he didn't want to hear it anymore? what if he was done? so, you said nothing. again.
this turned out to be the worst possible choice.
the fight happened in the car.
rain hammered against the windshield as your dad gripped the steering wheel, already angry before either of you spoke.
you tried anyway. “why are you acting like this?” you asked.
nothing.
“dad.”
his jaw tightened, “drop it.”
“i’m just asking—”
“i said drop it.”
you looked out the window, then back at him.
“ever since she left—”
“get out.”
you blinked. “what?”
“get out.”
you stared, certain you had heard wrong. the rain pounded harder. “dad—”
“get. out.”
your stomach dropped. “we’re three miles from home.”
“then walk.”
“are you serious?” he slammed the brakes, and the car lurched.
“out.”
your eyes burned with anger and confusion as you climbed out. the door slammed behind you, and he drove away just like that, leaving you standing in the rain.
across town, dustin henderson happened to be looking out his bedroom window, partly out of boredom and partly because he liked spying on the neighborhood.
his eyes narrowed as he spotted a familiar car and a familiar argument. a familiar girl.
“what the hell?” he watched your dad speed away, watched you stand there alone, and watched you start walking, completely soaked.
dustin didn’t hesitate. he grabbed the phone and dialed immediately.
steve answered on the third ring. “what?”
“uh,” dustin looked back outside. “don’t freak out.”
“that’s literally the worst way to start a sentence.”
“i think something’s wrong with y/n.”
silence. immediate silence.
“what happened?”
dustin explained everything. with every second, steve became quieter until he finally asked, “where is she now?”
“walking.” another pause, then steve instructed, “stay inside.”
by the time you finally made it back, you were soaked to the bone. your shoes squelched with every step, your hair stuck to your face, and your hands were shaking from the cold and exhaustion. all you wanted was to get inside.
instead, you found your dad standing in the driveway, throwing a duffel bag into the back of his truck.
your stomach dropped. not again. not another fight. not today.
he spotted you immediately, and his expression darkened.
"finally."
you stopped walking, too tired to even defend yourself.
"dad—"
"where the hell have you been?"
you stared at him. seriously?
"you told me to get out."
"don't start."
you laughed, actually laughed, because the alternative was crying. "don't start?"
he slammed the truck door. "i've got enough problems without dealing with your attitude."
your chest tightened. "my attitude?"
"everything's always about you."
you physically recoiled, as if he had hit you, because nothing in your life had ever been about you. not once. not ever.
"she left because of you." the words slipped out, and the second they did, you wished they hadn’t. his face changed instantly, dangerously.
"what did you say?"
you swallowed. too late. way too late. "you heard me."
silence enveloped you, making your stomach knot. his voice dropped—quiet, which was always worse.
"after everything i've done for this family…"
you almost laughed again because what family? there wasn't one anymore. just him, and you, and a house that felt like a minefield.
"you're unbelievable." he shook his head. "just like your sister."
the words landed exactly where he wanted them to, and you felt them. he saw that and kept going. "both of you are selfish."
your eyes burned. "stop."
"both of you are ungrateful."
"stop."
"both of you—"
"i said stop!" the scream tore out of you, and suddenly, the entire street felt silent.
your dad stared. you stared.
neither of you noticed the bmw that had pulled up at the curb—not at first. your dad laughed, cold and mean.
"there she is."
your stomach dropped because you knew that laugh.
"all that crying and carrying on."
you looked away, humiliation crawling up your throat. "just leave me alone."
"that's your problem." he pointed at you. "always the victim."
you physically flinched, and that’s when you saw him—steve—standing beside his car, frozen, watching.
oh god.
your blood ran cold because he’d heard it, heard enough, seen enough.
your dad followed your gaze, noticed steve, scoffed, then grabbed his keys.
"whatever." he climbed into the truck, slammed the door, and drove away, leaving silence behind.
you couldn't breathe.
steve was still standing there, staring, not judging, not angry, which somehow made it worse.
you wanted him angry. anger was easier. anger you understood.
pity would kill you.
without a word, you turned and hurried toward the house.
"hey." you ignored him, your hand shaking as you unlocked the door.
"y/n."
the door opened, and you practically ran inside.
the last thing you wanted was for him to see—too late.
steve stepped in behind you and stopped, completely frozen. now he could see it—really see it.
the dent beside the hallway, the hole in the living room wall, the cracked picture frame, the patched drywall. the damage that suddenly explained everything. the things you’d spent years strategically hiding now all sitting out in the open.
steve looked around slowly. once, twice, three times.
his face got paler with every second.
"oh." the word barely came out.
you closed your eyes, humiliation flooding every inch of you.
"now you know. congratulations."
steve didn’t answer.
you laughed bitterly. "this is why i don't talk about it. this is why i don't invite people over. this is why—"
"hey."
the softness in his voice stopped you immediately.
you looked up and saw tears in his eyes—actual tears. steve shook his head slowly, as if he couldn’t process what he was seeing.
"did you think i was going to leave?"
your throat tightened because, yes, of course you did. why wouldn’t you?
steve stepped closer, carefully, like he was approaching something wounded.
"you seriously thought i was going to see this and leave?"
you couldn’t answer. his face broke completely, and suddenly he looked far more upset than you were. now he understood. not everything, but enough.
enough to realize that while he’d been angry about being shut out, you’d been surviving something alone.
the realization wrecked him.
"oh, sweetheart," the nickname shattered whatever composure you had left. you started crying immediately, and steve crossed the room before you could look away, pulling you into his arms. he held you so tightly it almost hurt. and for the first time since he walked away after that fight, neither of you let go.
SUMMARY → Jack Abbot just wants one more second with the wife that widowed him.
TAGS/WARNINGS → [this is the first x reader fic I have written in almost two years, so neutrality of the reader may be slightly inconsistent, apologies in advance] marriage, ANGST HEAVY, soft smut, hurt and comfort, worry, slow reader death, chronic illness, cancer, medical inaccuracies, appointments, jack abbot is disabled, widow!jack abbot, again apologies if any tags were missed I will update where necessary
AO3 LINK
Due to Tumblr block text restrictions, this fanfic is currently only available on AO3. Apologies in advance. I have a beta reader volunteering to try and cut down the block paragraphs to go under the limit (which is 1000), but I am currently 1.7k over the limit. It is open to guest readers without an account on AO3, so no sign up required.
Its the 2nd here in Aus!! (He's so cute in this gif wtf)
For sweet @keithvalentinex Djune Game hehe
Does Post Animal count as technically a first?? Lmaooo i absolutely reamed through their music when I first heard them back in 2017/18. But first DJO SONG?? Properly??? Back On You.
I was late to the Djo train unforch but he's been my #1 artist since I started listening to him ahaha
