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fandomfix13 · 3 years

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Should've Been You - JJ Maybank X Reader

Should’ve Been You - JJ Maybank X Reader

Y/N finds herself in a rough situation with Rafe and JJ steps in and makes Y/N realize it should’ve been JJ all along

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: Slight violence in relationships, Lots of swearing, underage drinking (pls be safe!), Some pretty cute fluff

FIRST THING I'M POSTING SO GO EASY ON ME! I'M WORKING ON REQUESTS AS WE SPEAK!

XOXO

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You sat in the kitchen with Sarah and John B while you waited for Rafe to finish getting ready. It had been 45 minutes since you had first sat down with them, and Rafe still seemed to be taking his sweet ass time.

“Jesus, I thought I took forever to get ready.” Sarah huffed as she sat back and entangled herself in John B’s arms. You loved how comfortable and cute they were with each other. It had been a long time since you felt that way with Rafe. It’s not that you were necessarily uncomfortable with Rafe, but things didn’t feel the same as they used too. “Guys thanks for waiting with me, but you guys should really get going, I don’t want us to make you late.” you said as you saw the time. “Are you sure? We can wait, I'm sure he’ll be done soon.” Sarah said.

You shot John B a look that said ‘go’ without having to say it. “Yeah, Sarah she's right we really should get going.” he says as he takes her hand to stand up. You mouthed a quick ‘thank you’ to John B and he nodded in return as you walked toward the couch. As the two of them walked out the door, John B slipped back in telling Sarah he ‘forgot something’.

“Hey are you gonna be okay?” He said walking over to you on the couch. “Yeah! Why wouldn’t I be?” you said in a tone that was too rushed and sounded nervous. “Because I’ve known you since you were six years old and that look that you gave me was your ‘get the hell out’ look” he laughed. “I don’t have a ‘get the hell out’ look!” you mocked him. “Oh you absolutely do and you gave it to me. Is everything okay? With you and Rafe?” He knew you too well, there was no hiding anything from him. “Yeah. He’s just….being Rafe.” you shrugged not feeling the need to go into detail. “Y/n?” he said sitting down next to you. “John B?” you returned not giving him the satisfaction of knowing what's on your mind. “You’re not gonna budge are you?” he said, looking right at you. “Not even a little.You really need to get going. You wouldn’t want to miss you and Sarah’s big entrance would you?” You said walking toward the door with John B following close behind you, you turned around to see John B giving you his ‘tell me what’s going on’ look. You opened the door once again telling him to leave. This time he had accepted his fate and walked out the door. “If you need anything, we’re all gonna be there tonight. Okay?” he quickly added. “Okaaayy.” you sighed, “now go!”

You closed the door and started walking back to the couch when you heard the sound of Rafe’s bedroom door open. As he came down the stairs you noticed something wasn’t right which in the moment you chose to ignore. That was until he came up from behind you in the kitchen and wrapped his arms around you and started kissing your neck. You didn’t mind that kind of attention but this wasn’t like him. You could smell the alcohol on his breath and as you turned to confront him about it you saw his eyes. They were glossed over and dilated. His hands were shaking on your waist and there was residue of white powder under his nose. “Next time? You might want to look in fucking mirror after you snort coke off your bathroom counter.” You said with the calmest tone you could possibly have at the moment.

He rolled his eyes at you and turned around walking towards the door to leave. “Rafe we talked about this!” you yelled after him “No! YOU talked about this. I just sat there while you ran your mouth as usual!” He stopped in his tracks to turn around and yell right back. “You know how important tonight is! Could you not even have the decency to show up sober and get fucked up later?!” You hated when he got like this. So messed up that he was an asshole to everyone and anyone is his presence including you. “Tonight is important for my DAD! It’s not important to me! He probably doesn’t even want me there! Sarah’s there, that's all he cares about. So sue me for wanting to show up already gone.” part of you felt bad for him in a way. It hurt to see him struggle, but it also hurt to fight him on it. “Rafe we need to go. We are going to miss our entrance which is just going to piss your dad off more.” you tried to be calm. “Oh right, our entrance! Yeah I’m sure that everyone is going to be so thrilled to see me walk in with a fucking pogue!” he said in such a demeaning tone that you hadn’t heard before. You were taken aback by the words that just came out of his mouth. You always had a thought in the back of your mind that Raph didn’t like that you hung around with the pogues, but you never expected him to really say it. “Wow. Okay. Um. I’m not doing this with you right now. We have a party to get to.” You say making your way to walk past him and out the door. He tried to stop you by reaching out for your arm but you quickly pulled away. “Y/n wait.” “Don’t fucking touch me right now. We need to leave.”

As you arrived at the event you plastered on the biggest smile you could as you held Rafe’s hand and walked in greeting all the guests that approached the two of you. Old teachers, business owners and their plastic wives, old friends. All people that you truly did not care too see. You looked around the crowded room for any one of your friends to appear to provide you with a sense of normalcy. You spotted Kie standing with her parents also shaking hands with people she clearly had no interest in seeing. JJ was waiting for the guests. Pope was helping his dad with the food. John B and Sarah were outside secluding themselves from the socialite society that was this room, and you were standing hand in hand with Rafe who just 15 minutes ago was throwing insults at you.

You walked outside to John B and Sarah who were talking about how ridiculous some of the guests look in their outfits. “Hey if you two get to hide out here, so do I” You say approaching them from behind. “Trouble in paradise?” John B said with a hint of sarcasm in his voice. “Just needed some air. The overwhelming smell of chanel number five and expensive champagne was starting to give me a headache.” You said only slightly joking. You all shared a laugh and you made your over to stand with your friends. “Drinks?” Sarah asked. You and John B both nodded without hesitation. “I’ll be right back” she said as she walked off the porch. “So.” John B said slowly turning his head towards you. “So.” you replied. “What are you really doing out here?” he said knowing that the excuse you gave was only half true. “Rafe just said some shit to me about being a pogue before we left.” you admitted. “I’m sorry, are you surprised?” he said with an attitude. “John B please don't be an asshole right now.” “Alright, okay I’m sorry. He didn’t... hurt you did he?” he said with concern in his voice. “No. He wouldn’t. He can be a dick I’ll admit, but he wouldn’t hurt me.” As you said this Sarah approached the two of you once again holding three beers. You sit there just the three of you, for a good 15 minutes before you thought you should probably go find Rafe. Not that he wanted to be seen with a pogue, but you should at least pretend like you weren’t beyond pissed at him.

As you walked through the crowded room saying your ‘hello’s’ here and there you realized Rafe was nowhere to be found. Your first thought was maybe he left. But then you realized that he wouldn’t leave a party that had so much alcohol and access to expensive drugs. You walked past JJ who was carrying a tray of champagne. “Hey J, have you seen Rafe?” you said following in his trail of champagne drop offs. “I try to never see him at all, so no I have not.” he said in his usual smart ass tone. “Ok. What about Topper?” he laughed “Considering I put a gun to his head I absolutely make it a point to not see him either.” you opened your mouth to speak again and he cut you off “Don’t ask about Kelce either. I haven’t seen them around anywhere. My guess is that they are in the bathroom making bets on who goes home with the hottest girl tonight.” You rolled your eyes at him and walked to the hallway where the bathrooms were. It was empty. While there was nobody in sight, you could hear the boys in the locker room.

Just as you decided to walk away, Topper stumbled out of the locker room. To say you were surprised to see him obviously fucked up would be a lie. You tried to quickly walk the other way so he wouldn’t see you, but you weren’t fast enough. “Were you stalking us Y/n?” Slurred Topper. God they sucked when they got like this. “Stalking you? Please. I have better things to do than stalk you. I was just looking for Rafe.” you said trying to ignore Topper’s attitude. “Rafe! Your pogue princess is out here lurking in the hallway waiting for you!” he yelled back into the locker room. You rolled your eyes at Topper’s label he put on you and waited for Rafe to come out of the locker room. He appeared almost instantly looking even worse than he did before. He was sweating, from the amount of alcohol in his system, and his eyes were beyond bloodshot.

“Jesus Rafe you look like shit. I left you for 15 fucking minutes! You look like you just went on a 3 day bender.” you spat out at him as he walked towards you. “And what are you gonna do about it?” He said cornering you. “I’m going home.” you said as you brushed past him. He grabbed your hand, harder than he tried to back at the house. “Oh come on Y/n, I’m just having a little fun. Don’t you wanna have fun?” he pulled you close to him whispering in your ear as he talked. “Fun? No. This isn’t fun. YOU aren’t fun when you’re like this.” you said trying to escape the tight grip he had on you. “Let go Rafe.” you said calmly. He started backing you up into the corner again, this time with a look in his eyes that you had never seen before. “You don’t want to have fun with me?” He said as he started to kiss your neck. “Rafe. Stop. We aren’t doing this here.” your voice was shaky. The way Rafe was acting was scary. All you could think about was all the warnings your friends tried to give you that you just ignored. Rafe was still nipping at your neck while running his hands through your hair. “Rafe get off. Im serious.” You said a little louder this time hoping that someone would hear. You could tell where this was going and you weren’t about to let that happen. “Rafe!” you yelled this time attempting to shove him off of you. As you started to shove, Rafe was pulled off of you. JJ.

“She said get off asshole!” JJ yelled as he swung at Rafe’s face. Great just what you needed. A scene at the biggest most formal party of the year. Rafe was not one to be messed with especially in the state he was in. Then again, neither was JJ. “JJ! Don’t!” you yelled really not wanting to see either one of them get hurt. Rafe swung back at JJ, and he swung hard. Fists were flying all over the place. JJ’s nose was bleeding, Rafe’s eye was swollen, but they just kept going. You knew that you should honestly just let them hash it out, but if you let them continue, one of them was really going to hurt. Plus, knowing JJ, he could’ve had the gun with him. “Guys! Stop! Please don’t do this!” as you stepped in in attempts to break up the fight, you felt Rafe’s elbow come in direct contact with your eye. “Holy shit! Y/n I didn’t-” rafe stopped as he was cut off by another punch to the jaw from JJ. “Do you feel like a big boy! Do you feel good now that you just gave her a black eye?! Fuck you bro! Fuck-” “JJ! STOP! I’m fine really. I swear just stop.” you yelled interjecting once again. The rage in JJ’s eyes was something you’d only seen in movies. “Jj look at me.” you tried getting him to look at you so you could break him out of the state of aggression he was in. Rafe stood back in shock that he really just hit you. It may have been an accident, but it wasn’t something that you were going to forget. JJ was right, you were most definitely going to have a black eye. “Jj.” you grabbed his hand and he directed his attention towards you as you pulled him away from Rafe.

“Y/n I really-” Rafe began as you turned around and got in his face cutting him off almost instantly. “No. You don’t get to talk to me anymore. If you would’ve just backed off when I told you too we wouldn’t be in this situation at all. You’re dangerous, and I cant do this anymore. We’re done Rafe. I’m done!” You said almost crying. You were so overwhelmed by what had just happened that your emotions were about to explode. “I’m dangerous? How about your little pogue friend over there? Huh? He put a gun to Topper’s head!” he shot back. JJ looked as if he could’ve thrown another punch at Rafe at any minute. “Well my ‘little pogue friend’ didn’t just punch me in the face did he?! You did. You got so fucked up that you couldn’t even chill out for 1 second! JJ put a gun to Topper’s head because if he didn’t you were going to let Topper drown John B. So yeah, you’re dangerous.” this time you were angry. As all the emotions ran through your body, there was no control over which ones were going to appear.

“Alright, fine! If you wanna be a bitch about this, be a bitch. I should’ve known better than to fuck around with a pogue.” he said is one of the most arrogant tones you had ever heard. You got as close as you could to Rafe so he could see the tears pooling in your eyes. You don’t know where it came from, but you raised your hand and slapped him across the face as hard as you could. JJ instantly came up from behind you and grabbed you by your waist as he pulled you back in fear that Rafe would swing for you on purpose this time. “Don’t you EVER call me a bitch EVER again, or I swear to god next time a gun is pulled on you, the trigger will be too!” you spat at him. You honestly don’t know where those words came from, but the thing that scared you is that you meant it. “Is that a threat?” Rafe said quietly as he stepped toward you. JJ pulled you back and told Rafe to back up while he whispered to you to relax. “You bet your ass it is.” JJ started walking the two of you away from Rafe as Rafe decided to speak up once again. “You’re fucking crazy!” he yelled down the hallway at you. You laughed with tears now streaming down your face. You turned around and looked him dead in the eyes. “And who’s fault do you think that is?” with that you and JJ walked out of the hallway and outside the nearest door you could find. You needed air, and you needed it fast.

JJ opened the closest door to outside that he could find and the second the cool outside air hit you, you fell to the ground and broke out into uncontrolled sobs. You always had a feeling that Rafe would end up breaking things off with the two of you but you never thought it would go down like that. JJ just stood there eyes wide. He had seen you upset before, but he had never seen you like this. You were broken. You sat there in the sand sobbing and mumbling a string of ‘oh my gods’ and ‘whys’ and you couldn’t stop. JJ kneeled down and just pulled you to his chest just holding you. He didn’t say a word, he just let you cry. The way he held you calmed you down little by little so you could at least catch your breath again. You looked up at him and gave him a little smile as he grabbed your face and you winced at the feeling of his finger resting underneath your swollen eye. “You need ice on this ASAP. I’m going to go get you some.” he said, sounding concerned as he stood up again. You nodded as he walked off but yelled out before he went inside “JJ. wait!” He stopped in his tracks and looked back at you. “If you see the others in there, please don’t say anything!” you cried. You didn’t need everyone knowing about this right now. If they knew now, they would cause a scene and ruin the night. You were going to tell them you just needed to process what the hell just happened. He nodded and went inside.

As you sat outside by yourself who just tried your hardest to breathe. Your heart was racing and you just needed to slow it down. You laid down in the sand and looked up at the stars and looked for the north star because you remembered Sarah saying “everything revolves around it” and that brought you a sense of comfort. Just as you found it JJ came back outside with ice for your eye. You sat back up and looked out at the water as he sat down next to you. He put his arm around you as you rested your head on his shoulder. The tears were still flowing but you weren’t crying anymore. The two of you sat in silence sighing back and forth. “I’m sorry for not stepping in sooner.” he said looking straight ahead. “Don’t be sorry. I’m just thankful you did.” you returned reliving the moment with Rafe in your head. His kisses on your neck were getting more aggressive, he was pulling your hair, his hands were wandering off to places that you didn’t want them to go. You started to cry again. “I was so scared JJ.” you buried your face in his shoulder once again letting small sobs out that you tried to hold back. “Shhh. I know. I know. It’s okay.” he was holding you again, his hand rubbing circles on your back. “He’s such an asshole! I feel like such an idiot! You all warned me about him! You all told me how awful he was and I just thought maybe you were wrong! I didn’t listen and I should’ve!” JJ shook his head and looked you in the eye “Hey stop. We knew he’s an asshole, that's a given, but the way he treated you tonight isn’t okay. It’s not your fault and you need to know that.” your head fell back to his shoulder and he laid his head on yours just before gently kissing your forehead.

You both just sat there in silence once again so you could catch your breath. “You know, you got pretty badass in there. That thing you said about pulling the trigger was intense.” JJ chuckled. You laughed a little at the thought of JJ thinking you were a badass. “The scary thing is, is I think I meant it.” you looked up at him. “Oh I know you meant it.” you both laughed. “You deserve better than him.” You looked up at him and slightly smiled at his comment. “I mean it. You deserve so much better. You have a lot to offer and people who can’t see that don’t deserve you.” something about this moment was different. As much as you loved JJ, you could both admit that he never said things that nice to anybody. “Thank you.” you said, smiling at him. He just nodded and looked back out at the water. “I’m sorry about all the shit I said about you and Rafe when you were with him. I should’ve just let you be happy, and for that I’m sorry.” He said, still looking out at the water. “It’s okay.” you said in awe that JJ maybank was actually apologizing for something. “No it’s not, I should have just supported you, but instead I just ran my mouth because in all honesty I was just jealous.” he rambled. “What?” you questioned. He was now looking away from you off in the distance. “I couldn’t stand seeing you with him. All I could think about was how much I wanted it to be me. Which is ridiculous and not a good reason to make you feel bad.” your heart started beating fast again, but this time in a good way. “Why didn’t you ever say anything?” you got no response. “JJ please look at me.” he looked at you and you noticed his eyes were pooled with tears. “What was I supposed to say? ‘Hey you shouldn’t be with him because you should be with me?’ I couldn’t say anything because I love you. And if I said that to you I would lose you. And that would hurt much worse than holding it in.” you looked at him in a way that you hadn’t looked at him before. He had never been this open with you about anything. There was a moment of silence before you did something you did not expect to do. You reached up and placed your hand on his cheek as you leaned in and kissed him. It was slow and sweet. It was nice. You opened your eyes to see his eyes on yours right as he kissed you back, placing his hand on the back of your neck, pulling you closer to him. “It always should’ve been you.” You said before you sealed the moment with another kiss.

#jj maybank #obx fanfiction #obx x reader #obx #rudy pankow #imagine #obx imagine #one shot #fluff #rafe cameron #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x y/n #drew starkey #outer banks #john b #sarah cameron #outer banks imagine

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douchebagbrainwaves · 3 years

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YOUR EMPLOYEES AND INVESTORS WILL CONSTANTLY BE ASKING ARE WE THERE YET

I think I've figured out what's going on. After the first 10 or so we learned to treat deals as background processes that we should ignore till they terminated.1 Don't Get Your Hopes Up. Something hacked together means something that barely solves the problem, the harder it is to bait the hook with prestige. And that is almost certainly mistaken. So one thing that falls just short of the standard, I think, should be the highest goal for the marginal. Big companies think the function of office space is to express rank. As big companies' oligopolies became less secure, they were willing to pay a premium for labor. You can see it in old photos. If you're friends with a lot of the worst kinds of projects are the death of a thousand cuts. And what's especially dangerous is that many happen at your computer.

And the microcomputer business ended up being Apple vs Microsoft. In 1450 it was filled with the kind of turbulent and ambitious people you find now in America. You have to like what they do there than how much they can get the most done. That's not what makes startups worth the trouble. Design This kind of metric would allow us to compare different languages, but that if someone wanted to design a language explicitly to disprove this hyphothesis, they could probably do it. This technique can be generalized to: What's the best thing you could be doing, not just what you can see the results in any town in America. With this amount of money can change a startup's funding situation completely. There I found a copy of The Atlantic. Whereas it's easy to get sucked into working longer than you expected at the money job.2 That's ok. I think you have to do all three. But more importantly, you'll get into the habit of doing things well.

But what if the person in the next 40 years will bring us some wonderful things.3 They all know about the VCs who rejected Google. The writing of essays used to be.4 You may have read on Slashdot how he made his own Segway.5 He improvises: if someone appears in front of him, he runs around them; if someone tries to grab him, he spins out of their grip; he'll even run in the wrong place, anything might happen. The people who've worked for a few months I realized that what I'd been unconsciously hoping to find there was back in the place I'd just left. It was supposed to be something else, they ended up being Apple vs Microsoft. By 2012 that number was 18 years. The first thing you need is to be willing to look like a fool.6 Google they have a fair amount of data to go on. John Malkovich where the nerdy hero encounters a very attractive, sophisticated woman.

Many of the big companies were roll-ups that didn't have clear founders.7 Empirically, the way to the bed and breakfast, and other similar classes of accommodations, you get to hit a few difficult problems over the net at someone, you learn pretty quickly how hard they hit them anyway. Inexperienced founders make the same mistake as the people who list at ABNB, they list elsewhere too I am not negative on this one was the only way to get lots of referrals is to invest in students, not professors. It will actually become a reasonable strategy or a more reasonable strategy to suspect everything new.8 Never say we're passionate or our product is great. Whereas undergraduate admissions seem to be disappointments early on, when they're just a couple guys in an apartment. Programmers at Yahoo wouldn't have asked that.9 Incidentally, this scale might be helpful in deciding what to study in college. VCs think they're playing a zero sum game.

I spend most of my time writing essays lately. Almost everyone's initial plan is broken. If smaller source code is the purpose of comparing languages, because they come closest of any group I know to embodying it. Distracting is, similarly, desirable at the wrong time. But if we make kids work on dull stuff now is so they can get away with atrocious customer service. In fact, here there was a kid playing basketball? Of course, figuring out what you like.

Go out of your way to bring it up e. The industry term here is conversion. Try to keep the sense of wonder you had about programming at age 14. At least if you start a startup, people treat you as if you're unemployed.10 But hacking is like writing. Even with us working to make things happen the way they used to, they were moving to a cheaper apartment. It causes you to work not on what you like, but is disastrously lacking in others. I do in the rest of the world. Their defining quality is probably that they really love to program.

I could only figure out what to do, there's a natural tendency to stop looking.11 Economies of scale ruled the day.12 One is that this is simply the founders' living expenses.13 I need to transfer a file or edit a web page, and I think I know what is meant by readability, and I think they're onto something. Multiply this times several hundred, and I get an uneasy feeling when I look at my bookshelves. You may have read on Slashdot how he made his own Segway.14 Everyday life gives you no practice in this. Startups grow up around universities because universities bring together promising young people and make them work on anything they don't want to want, we consider technological progress good.

Notes

Samuel Johnson said no man but a blockhead ever wrote except for money. Which is precisely my point. If they were regarded as 'just' even after the egalitarian pressures of World War II the tax codes were so new that the guys running Digg are especially sneaky, but except for money. They don't know enough about the new top story.

The image shows us, they tended to make money. But we invest in the Bible is Pride goeth before destruction, and one of the fake leading the fake leading the fake. In No Logo, Naomi Klein says that 15-20% of the aircraft is.

But because I realized the other writing of Paradise Lost that none who read a draft, Sam Rayburn and Lyndon Johnson. If they agreed among themselves never to do due diligence for an investor? The best technique I've found for dealing with the other.

I ordered a large number of startups as they do for a public event, you can ignore. If you want to help the company, and a few of the Facebook that might produce the next Apple, maybe the corp dev is to show growth graphs at either stage, investors decide whether to go to die.

If you walk into a big company CEOs in 2002 was 3.

Or rather, where w is will and d discipline. But that turned out the existing shareholders, including that Florence was then the richest country in the sense of mission.

In Shakespeare's own time, because they can't afford to. The company may not be able to raise their kids in a company in Germany. When we got to see the apples, they said, and why it's next to impossible to write an essay about it wrong. That will in many cases be an open booth.

I'm not saying you should probably be worth trying to tell them exactly what constitutes research in the early 90s when they say they bear no blame for any particular truths you'll learn. As Jeremy Siegel points out that there is undeniably a grim satisfaction in hunting down certain sorts of bugs. Did you know about it as if you'd invested at a discount of 30% means when it was actually a great programmer doesn't merely do the right direction to be is represented by Milton.

But a lot of the next round. It's hard to say exactly what your body is telling you. In Russia they just kill you, they tend to be very unhealthy. One thing that drives most people realize, because you have two choices, choose the harder.

Though Balzac made a lot of classic abstract expressionism is doodling of this essay talks about programmers, but one by one they die and their houses are transformed by developers into McMansions and sold to VPs of Bus Dev. Or rather, where it sometimes causes investors to act. Eric Raymond says the best hackers want to trick admissions officers. And no, unfortunately, I mean efforts to protect widows and orphans from crooked investment schemes; people with a truly feudal economy, you better be sure you do in proper essays.

The top VCs thus have a better education. Or a phone, IM, email, Web, games, books, newspapers, or some vague thing like that. You need to fix. But the question is not much to maintain their percentage.

Kant. Loosely speaking. The real decline seems to them to lose elections. Some types of startups where the recipe is to say incendiary things, they can grow the acquisition offers most successful founders still get rich simply by being energetic and unscrupulous, but they get for free.

World War II to the frightening lies told by older siblings. That's one of the most general truths. As we walked in, we found they used it to get into that because a unless your last funding round.

But this seems an odd idea.

Thanks to Jessica Livingston, Shiro Kawai, Garry Tan, Chris Small, and Nikhil Nirmel for sharing their expertise on this topic.

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imagining-in-the-margins · 4 years

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Here to Misbehave (Pt. 17 | S.R.)

Summary: Spencer is concerned about Reader’s growing impulsiveness, but Reader is the one who gets a call from JJ asking if she can come get her boyfriend. Couple: Spencer/Fem!Reader   Category: Smut (NSFW, 18+)   Content Warning: Discussions of drugs, death/dying, suicide, overdose; Alcohol, addiction, oral (male receiving), handjob, fingering, Daddy Kink, fights, PTSD, hospital talk, drunk smut w/ blanket consent Word Count: 12.5k

MASTERLIST

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When I opened the front door, I realized that I had returned to an empty home. I wasn’t sure which was weirder; the realization that the house was empty, or the fact that I was referring to her apartment as my home. It certainly had started to feel that way.

It never stopped being a shock that I would find a home in someone so quickly and with such little self-awareness. I'd certainly never suspected that the house we’d be in would also be shared with several other people, all of whom were significantly younger than me and shared almost no similarities with me beyond our love for (y/n).

And even if it wasn’t the weirder of the two realizations, the fact that she wasn’t there was definitely the more troubling one. I tried to gather at least a little evidence before I called her; I wasn’t exactly excited about being blindsided again. Judging by the red solo cups that were scattered in the kitchen, I had an idea of how her friends had spent the night. The fact that no one was here led me to another conclusion that I desperately hoped was inaccurate.

Her phone rang four times before she picked up, which was strange in itself. When she did pick up, she sounded like I expected her to. Tired. Groggy.

“Hello?”

“Hey little girl, where are you?” I hoped she couldn’t hear the fumbling of my keys in my pocket, or any other sign of just how anxious I’d gotten in the last three minutes. “Oh. I’m sorry, Spencer, I forgot I was supposed to see you today.” She mumbled, sounding genuinely apologetic if not a little confused.

“You… forgot?” I repeated, quickly making my way over to the calendar hung on a bulletin board outside the kitchen, noting the nothingness over both the current and following week.

“Yeah, I guess I got carried away with school.”

She was lying. I couldn’t be for sure about what, but it was obvious. If she was really having that much trouble with classes, she would have told me. We’d gotten past the whole insecurity over me thinking she was stupid thing a long time ago, and she knew I would always let her learn it on her own if she didn’t want my help.

“... What are you not telling me?” I tried to make the words playful, although my hand was now nervously patting the side of my hip at an alarming rate.

“Nothing! I just got distracted. I’m... a little busy today so we should just meet up again next weekend.”

“A week?” I knew she was probably getting tired of me parroting her words, but that just seemed like a ludicrous amount of time. Usually, we went barely a day or two without seeing each other when I was in the city, cherishing the time together when I wasn't called away to attend to crimes halfway across the country.

“What’s going on?” My voice was quickly falling into that register that warned her I was about to start profiling her, whether I wanted to or not. And unfortunately, she chose the worst possible reaction to that warning, further tipping me off to the fact that something wasn't quite right.

“Spencer, stop being weird.”

But I wasn’t. I knew that I could be weird; it’s kind of my thing. If you looked up weird in the dictionary, you wouldn’t find my name, but you’d definitely find a description that perfectly characterized my personality.

“You’re the one being weird. Turn on your camera.”

“I can’t. It’s dark in here.” She shot back her answer so quickly, I knew that she had already anticipated the request.

“Then move.” I ordered more than suggested. She understandably didn’t take kindly to my reaction, but I know she also knew why I was doing it. The excuses she was giving weren’t even well thought out.

“What is this? An interrogation?” She scoffed, “Do you think I’m cheating on you with barely dissolved stitches in my intestines?”

I took a deep breath, sitting down at the kitchen table still sticky with leftover sugary liquor and turned the phone onto speaker. “Turn it on.” This time, my voice broke with the order. As much as that didn’t make it sound authoritative, it did make her feel guilty.

As the screen lit up, it all made sense in the worst possible way. She was forcing a fake smile, her other hand resting against her face in a failed attempt to draw attention away from the the mottled skin of her left eye.

“I’m not cheating on you. Happy?” The words were sharp on her tongue, an anger in her features paired well with the understanding that I wasn’t wrong to be worried. I honestly think that was what bothered her the most – that she wanted it to be nothing, for me to be overreacting, but knew that it was a little more serious that she let on.

“I’m definitely not happy. What happened?” I was already at the door by the time the sentence ended... She shut off her camera just as quickly, hearing the commotion from my side. “Where are you? I’m coming right now.”

She sighed, and I could see it clearly despite the fact that she wasn’t on my screen anymore. “I don’t want you to come here. Spencer, I’m fine.”

I might have believed her. I might have honestly given her the benefit of the doubt – let her lie to me a little, and just accept that a black eye wasn’t the worst thing that could have happened. Eventually, she would tell me how she got it, so I wouldn’t need to worry about it.

But it became very obvious very quickly that it was not just a black eye.

“Ms. (Y/l/n)?” A third voice announced in the background, accompanied by the distinct sound of an alarm sounding in the distance.

“... Are you in a hospital?!”

“For fucks sake. I hate dating a profiler.” She grumbled, implicitly admitting that my conclusion was right. She wouldn’t let me have another word, speedily slurring her goodbye. “I have to go, Spencer. I’ll call you later. Love you!”

—————————————————

Anyone who has spent a long time in inpatient knows that nosy nurses are both the best and worst kind of people to be assigned to your stay. They were the best because they always had the best gossip and would spend their precious little free time sharing stories about their lives that were always more entertaining than whatever poorly budgeted gameshow was on the old, staticky television.

They were the worst because one wrong move meant that you were the subject of gossip. And boy, were they good at getting it out of you.

“Trouble in paradise?” She sweetly hummed as she pushed my bed down the hall.

I wanted to tell her that there was trouble, and that it was through no fault of my own. If the other people in the hospital didn’t have the audacity to be sick at the same time that I needed a CT scan, then I wouldn’t have even still been here. I could have been back at home, where… well, I guess Spencer would have figured it out either way.

“Yeah, I guess.” I sadly admitted, playing with the string of my gown. “He’s just a worrywart.”

The woman had that glimmer in her eye, the kind that came from years of seeing the same stories over and over again. Although, I had a hard time believing she’d ever been in this exact scenario, I guess they were all kind of the same after a while, semantics aside.

“Well, that makes sense considering your current state.” It was more of a reprimand than anything else, and I audibly groaned to try and get her to stop there. She didn’t, though, having spent enough time with me to know I needed to hear it. “You were very lucky, you know. If things had been even just a little bit different…”

Couldn’t you say that about everything? If things had been even just a little bit different, I never would have met Spencer in the first place. We never would have fallen in love or fought or done any of it at all.

I didn’t like thinking about that. I didn’t like even considering a life without Spencer. No matter how much pain I’d been through, or what traumatic memories were dug up, they were worth it.

That’s what she wanted me to realize, and she had succeeded. Suddenly, as we turned into the room, I was overcome with guilt at the way I’d ended my conversation with him.

The nurse knew it, too, because as she transferred me onto the scanner, she smiled. “I’m just saying, sweetheart. If he woke up next to your hospital bed last time, I understand why he’d be scared.”

Chewing on my lips, I thought about the last time I was in a hospital. I thought about how Spencer had curled his giant lanky body onto the bed and barely slept for 2 weeks. I could see the way his eyes got more sunken by the day, but never stopped shining with relief. I could hear him chewing on ice because he didn’t want to leave to grab food until after I’d woken up, and the cold would distract him from just how hungry he was.

“He must love you an awful lot to be that worried.”

I hated when they did that; when they read my mind and said exactly what I was thinking.

“Yeah, I know.” I tried to smile. It was hard with the stabbing pain in my stomach and the aching in the entire left side of my face, but I managed. It was just one of those things where if I thought of Spencer, my body had to react. It was as natural as breathing.

Which, speaking of…

“Take a deep breath in.” The technician alerted me from the speaker.

The high pitched whines of the CT scanner weren’t as obnoxious as the MRI machine. I was silently grateful that they were still too scared to use the giant magnet. I wasn’t sure if I was ready to be stuck in a confined space, listening to loud banging that sounded too much like gun shots for my comfort.

Even just the thought made me nauseous. I felt like a baby, to have such a strong reaction to something so stupid. I’d been in an MRI before. I was a in a hospital. Nothing bad was going to happen to me, and I knew that.

But even now, in a machine that made virtually no noise and barely covered half my body, I wasn’t able to hold in a breath. Each time I tried, it felt like I was choking on Spencer’s lap again. The stinging in my stomach felt so much stronger, even though I knew it was healed.

The world felt like it was closing in on me, and every second that passed felt like days. I couldn’t even trust myself to guess how long it took for them to get images that should have taken no longer than 5 minutes.

I felt like such a burden. Like I was in their way. Like I was doing it wrong. Like I was a little kid, thinking that she knew what she was doing and could do it on her own.

I wanted Spencer.

That was the only thing I could think, and although it should have been comforting, it just left me feeling empty. The thought of him wasn’t enough to stop the tears streaming down my cheeks. The hands of the nurses trying to calm me down didn’t help, either. They felt wrong. They felt cold.

I just wanted Spencer. I wanted him to be there to hold my hand and distract me from my own thoughts. I wanted him to replace them with other things, like he'd promised me. I wanted to make new memories far away from here.

But I couldn’t. I was an idiot and I’d gotten myself back in the hospital, and he wasn’t here because I told him I didn’t want him to be. Why had I told him that? There was no reason that made any sense.

Once we finally did get out of the damn radiology department, I could still only barely function. The ride back to my room was much quieter, and the nurse didn’t meddle anymore. Gossip was only fun when it didn’t hurt like this.

Again, I couldn’t trust myself to guess how long I’d been in the CT scanner, but as we crossed back into my room, an overwhelming sensation of relief washed over me when I saw his satchel in the seat beside my bed. I hated the knowledge that I’d wasted 45 minutes of the technician’s time, but I was just so fucking happy that he had actually come.

Being alone in my room wasn’t a big deal anymore, because I knew it was only temporary. So as soon as I could, I sat up and waited patiently for my favorite mop of curly brown hair to peek around the corner.

He didn’t disappoint. He rarely did.

“Hey little girl.”

All the tension melted from my muscles, my head finally resting against the pillow with a dopey smile on my face. “Spencer.” I sighed, holding my hand out to him to usher him closer.

He gladly took the invitation, taking wide steps so he could be with me sooner.

“You shouldn’t be here.” I grumbled, flicking him on the arm while I locked our hands together. “But I’m glad you are.”

It was obvious from the way he let out a deep breath that he was also relieved to see that I wasn’t angry at him for coming. However, that’s also where his relief stopped. Because he’d seen me an hour prior and knew that I hadn't been crying then. But now, on top of the black eye, he saw the red rimming my sclera.

Taking my hand into both of his, he pressed a hard kiss against the back of it. Without looking up, he muttered into the skin a sad plea.

“Talk to me.”

“About what?” I asked, pulling back on my hand so he would stop with the shameless display of romance in such an awful place.

“Whatever’s going on.” He paused, but was clearly unhappy with the open ended question, and just as quickly specified, “What happened last night?

Unfortunately, I still wasn’t in the giving mood, even when it was information, and even if the person begging me for it was the boyfriend that I’d just cried for in the CT Scanner. If anything, that almost made it worse.

I hated feeling like this. Vulnerable.

“Nothing.”

Spencer was getting fed up, but it was like I couldn’t stop myself from fighting with him. I didn’t want to. I wanted to tell him that I needed him to take care of me and ask him to hold me while I cried on his shoulder about nothing at all, but I couldn’t. He would do it in a heartbeat, but I couldn’t ask him to. I couldn’t ask him for anything.

I couldn’t need anything without feeling too horribly guilty.

“Please don’t lie to me.” He was begging again, looking up at me with those impossibly warm amber eyes. He smiled when he saw the way my lips curled at the sight of him, unable to be angry for too long.

“Am I not allowed to have any stories for myself?” I joked, reaching forward to poke his face. Instead of moving away to avoid my hand, he leaned into the touch.

“You can. I just...”

“I know. You’re worried.” I responded with an exasperated sigh, rolling my head back. I could still feel him watching me, though, with a precarious smile, happy to see my spirits relatively high while also being deeply unhappy about the circumstances.

Wanting to see that full, confident smile again, I realized I didn’t have much of a choice. I’m sure that whatever he’d come up with in his head was much more sinister than what had actually happened.

“Fine. Stop looking at me like that.” I mumbled, gesturing to the childlike pout and laughing when he sucked his lips into his mouth in an attempt to follow my direction. I was glad he was still in a joking mood, because I had a feeling it would disappear as soon as I started talking.

I took a deep breath, looking up and away before I began my explanation of the stupidest night.

“I went out for drinks with my friends–”

“Drinks?!”

It hadn’t even been five seconds and he’d already cut me off. I couldn’t blame him, but it was so freaking annoying. This was exactly why I hadn't told him. Well, that and the fact he could get in serious trouble.

“I didn’t have any! Geez. Chill out.” I yelled back, chuckling a little bit at the conflicting looks of terror and relief. Because while he obviously believed that I didn’t drink any myself, it gave ugly context to the nightmarish guesses his mind had concocted.

“And everything was fine. We were on our way home. But then some asshole started messing with my friend. And she was way too drunk and started crying.” I was groaning internally the whole time, thinking about all the different ways this whole situation could have been avoided. Honestly, I don’t know why she had decided to try and square up with a cat caller when she knew damn well that she would start crying the second he raised his voice.

Which, of course, he had.

“So, I told the guy to fuck off. And he did not like it.”

There was a powerful rage boiling under the surface of Spencer’s skin, which was only betrayed by his clenched jaw and the sheets scrunched under his hand. “Did they arrest him?” He said, trying to calm the trembling in his voice. He wasn’t angry at me for being a victim, even if he was probably a little annoyed that I went out without telling him.

Not like he was even in the state, anyway.

“I didn’t press charges.”

He took a deep breath, clearly about to tell me that I was stupid for not holding him accountable. That I could’ve gotten hurt and he would’ve gotten away with it. That I could’ve died if he’d hurt me the wrong way.

I didn’t want to hear it.

“Stop. I didn’t want to go to court, and I’m fine. I didn’t even need invasive surgery again.”

Spencer was still angry but trying to settle himself down before he spoke. He could hardly even look at me, his hand leaving the bed to run through his hair and shake his keys in his pockets.

I wanted to tell him that the tension of silence was worse than if he’d just raised his voice at me, but I couldn’t even gather the energy to do that. My body and mind seemed resigned to their current state; they’d just given up.

“(Y/n)...” He started, and the hairs on the back of my neck stood up at the use of my name. They didn’t retreat, especially not when he dragged a chair over to my bedside, sitting down and placing a gentle hand over mine again.

“Are you okay?”

It was so sincere. So pure, so unforgivably kind. My hand that had felt paralyzed seconds earlier twitched under his. “I just told you.” I shrugged, fighting the urge to pull my arm away again. I wanted him here. I wanted him to touch me.

So why did it hurt? Why did everything hurt?

“That’s not what I’m worried about.” His voice broke, and I saw the way he was holding back tears with his tongue pressed against the roof of his mouth. He was biting back so many things he didn’t want me to know.

But again, I was too tired to fight it. So instead, I said nothing.

“It doesn’t take a profiler to see you’re hurting.” He continued, urging me to give him anything to work with. “How can I make it better?”

He just wanted to help. Why couldn’t I let him help?

“I’m fine. Nothing even happened to me.” My throat tried to reject the words, my brain screaming at me that they were fundamentally untrue. But my heart hurt, pounding louder in my chest to tell me that the logic was wrong. Because I was a big girl, and I shouldn’t be scared by things that already happened.

I’m safe, right? I don’t need to be scared, right?

Spencer could see the panic on my face because I couldn’t even have hid it if I'd wanted to. And my brain was telling me to not to. It told me that I needed to talk to him, to let him listen.

“That’s not true. You’ve been through a lot.” He bargained, trying to locate that little voice in my head with his offerings. He wanted to pull that small part of me out and force it to talk so that we might finally be able to start to move on.

“You go through worse every day.”

‘It’s common for patients suffering from PTSD to minimize their suffering or compare it to others. It’s a completely normal response, but I want you to try to resist belittling your own feelings. They’re yours, and no one else’s. Okay, sweetheart?’

The voice was so clear in my head, my body jerked in response. I looked around the room, looking for any sign of the man who’d told me them first. But he wasn’t here; he hadn’t been here for some time.

“Do you know how many profilers I’ve seen leave in my time at the bureau?” Spencer distracted me from the thought. He probably figured my flashbacks were more sinister than what they actually were. As upsetting as they had once been, hearing my dad’s voice in my head was usually oddly soothing.

“No.” I answered blankly, trying to pay all attention to the man who was still here.

“Four. And I’ve considered it myself.” There was a soft chuckle to hide the guilt in the admission.

I didn’t know why he felt bad for it; his job was so ridiculously difficult. On top of constantly having to rearrange his life on account of the various inextinguishable evils in the world, he had to face those evils every day and try to figure out their inner workings in order to thwart them. The only time I'd ever done that, I'd killed all three of them. Not the best track record.

“The first one, she... she reminds me a lot of you.” The soft twinkling in his eyes, much like emotional music in the movies, alerted me that a backstory was coming. Based on the extent of just how nostalgic he was coming, I guessed that whatever he was about to say was deeply important to him.

However, I was fragile enough as it was, and I didn’t need to add jealousy to my current emotional repertoire. “Is this another JJ origin story? Cause I don’t think I can handle it.”

He laughed, shaking his head at the frustrated pout that formed on my face. “No,” He said quietly, taking a pregnant pause to formulate the story. “Her name was Elle.”

The story he told was woven well, although I expected no less. He told it passionately and with absolute sincerity. He told me about the woman who was one of the first people he'd bonded with on the team. The playful relationship he described was painted so vividly in my imagination.

I wanted to meet her. But by the end of the story, it was obvious that it wasn’t an option. He didn’t say anything about it, but from the far off look I could guess that he hadn’t seen her since that last day.

“She was like a sister to me, and to see her fall apart and not be able to do anything to help her... it was one of the worst feelings in the world.”

And I understood then, why he was worried about me the way he was. He was projecting his previous experience on me, but things were different with me. At least, that’s what I told myself. Realistically I should have been reminding myself that she'd had the training and resources to overcome her obstacles, whereas I was basically still a stupid kid. The prospect of facing the reality was too difficult though; I just shrugged it off.

“Well, I already killed the people who did this to me.” I chuckled.

Spencer did not appreciate my humor. There was an even stronger concern that flashed over his features, worried by my flippancy over the death of three human beings.

Fuck, I should feel worse about it than I do, shouldn’t I? But if I thought about it, then it hurt so badly. If I had to pick one, I would pick apathy every time. I would choose the emptiness before the ocean of remorse.

“I’m not worried about them.”

I had drifted away from him again, and the sentence forced me to look at him.

‘I’m not worried about them. I’m worried about you.’

I’d said that before. Those were my words.

I pulled my hand back from Spencer, rubbing my forehead with both hands before wincing at the sharp pain around my eye socket. It took me a minute to focus on the sentence and dive deeper into its implications. But once I remembered why it instilled such a visceral reaction, I nearly gagged on the words.

“Wait, you think I’m going to kill myself?”

“I didn’t say that.” He quickly responded in the most defensive manner possible. If that was his attempt to calm me down, it did not work. It only pissed me off even more.

Because there was only one reason why he would think I was going to kill myself. I hadn’t given him any reason to believe that was a risk. Yeah, sure, I was being reckless and impulsive, but I was a teenager!

“Why would you think that?” I demanded an answer, and he was immediately hesitant to provide one. It was all the evidence I needed to reach my conclusion. “Don’t lie to me, Spencer Reid. You asked Hotch, didn’t you?”

He sighed, leaning back in his chair now that it was obvious, I wasn’t going to want him to touch me. “Yeah, I did.”

“You told me you wouldn’t, Spencer! You promised!” I ground the words out between my teeth, hoping he understood just how much I was holding back my volume.

He looked over at the screen monitoring my heart, noting the way the spikes appeared at an exponentially faster rate. “I know.” He whispered with an evident guilt.

“What did he tell you?” I hated the way my voice shrank with my shoulders, my body insisting that I assume to the smallest position I could. Because as much as I hated that Spencer had asked when he told me he wouldn’t, I was desperate for the information.

I’d always wanted to see the files, to hear the story as they knew it. I wanted to know what happened, and this was probably the closest I’d ever come to that, unless that whole Ouija board thing is real.

“Probably the same stuff that you already know.” He knew he was disappointing me. He shouldn’t have felt as bad about that as he did, but I’d take the implicit apology for what it was.

“Tell me anyway.”

Spencer should have been delighted to have the opportunity to talk at me for such a long time, but I also understood why he wasn’t. They weren’t the best topics of conversation, your ex-best friend and your girlfriend’s dead father. But he was a trooper and a skilled conversationalist, despite people not being able to understand that.

“He told me that there were several missions your father was a part of that ended controversially. That… he reported several violations that were never followed through on.”

The words so easily unlocked memories I had tightly and resolutely locked away, it was unsettling. I could hear my parents arguing about the philosophy of blame and responsibility. My dad always arguing that he couldn’t stand aside and let innocent people get hurt. My mom reminding him that he couldn’t save everyone.

‘We also get to see a lot of good.’ Spencer had said on our first not-a-date.

‘Yeah, but which do you see more of?’ I’d asked, and he’d avoided the question. I remembered seeing the question dance across his vision before he shut it out. He'd wondered why I was so confident in my conclusions.

“And the last mission…”

He didn’t have to wonder anymore.

“I saw the report.”

My breath was knocked from my lungs by an invisible fist to my damaged gut. I swallowed, trying to regulate my heart that was at risk of setting off the damn machine next to me. “What did it say?” I whispered, clutching onto the sheets and my gown, hoping it would be enough to keep me grounded.

“Killed in action.”

“That’s fucking bullshit.” I barked, my brows furrowing regardless of just how badly it hurt to contort my face so badly. “He didn’t– H-He wasn’t–“

“I know.” Spencer responded, a note of pity in his voice that made my face twitch in annoyance.

I turned to him with the same snarl, years of repressed anger resurfacing and wreaking even more havoc on my already destroyed life. “Do you? Do you know?”

“I mean, I can’t ever know for sure but… You weren’t the only one who felt that he...” He couldn’t say the word suicide, and for once, I was grateful. “It seems like all of his team had the same concerns.”

He was trying so hard to calm me down, to placate my fears and rage. He was sympathizing the best he could, but the truth was he would never be able to understand just how fucked up it was. He hadn't been there when it was happening, so the only thing he could do was try to slap a band-aid on a well-settled scar and hope that my not being able to see it made it hurt less.

“I’m sorry.” He uttered the two words cautiously, his heartbreak clear in his eyes. He had nothing to apologize for, but there he was, doing it anyway.

“For what?”

“That you’ll never have your answer.”

I don’t know what I expected him to say, but his answer took me by surprise. Of all the explanations I’d heard after an unnecessary platitudinous apology, I’d never heard that. And even worse, I’d never heard it in such a broken way, sounding for all the world like he believed he'd failed tremendously.

“I’m sorry that... that I couldn’t find it for you.”

I couldn’t stand the sight, and my hand found his cheek like it did so often, returning home to find that it was just a bit more stubbly than I remembered it. “It’s not your job, Spencer. We’re not one of your cases.” I assured him, running my thumb over the rough skin and remembering that he’d only just gotten home from exactly that: a case.

He did so much for me every day, but in the past few months he’d had to do so much more. And as much as I tried not to, I took him for granted so often. It was never as obvious to me as it was in that moment, when a tear slid down his cheek at the tenderness of my touch. He always expected anger and pain. I didn’t want him to feel that way with me.

“But thank you for trying. I appreciate you.” I tried to throw my soul into the words as they formed on my tongue, but all that came out was a pathetic whimper. “I love you very much.”

“I love you, too.” He sighed into the small embrace, leaning his weight more heavily into my hand. Still holding back, he grimaced at the words he shared. “If I’m going to be honest, I looked something else up myself. Not on any FBI database just... old school research”

I wanted to act surprised, but it was the least shocking thing I’d heard in a while. So instead I just stared at him, with the closest I could come to boredom while still being interested in what he had to say.

“Yeah? What’d you find?” Finally settling into the inevitable resignation, I moved my hand up the side of his face to tangle in his hair. It was so soft despite not having been washed for a few days. I could tell he hadn’t slept much. I wondered why he'd bothered digging into my past in the precious little free time he had.

But then he said it, reminding me of the pain of the cemetery and the events that both preceded and followed it.

“Trent Loughton.”

My fingers stopped in their exploration of his curls for a second, but eventually continued. “I see.” I hummed, trying not to push the conversation any further than he wanted to take it. As emotional as the topic was for me, it must have been harder for him. After all, he was the one who shared the nasty habit with Trent.

“I-I saw how he died... and I think I can fill in the rest myself.”

“Mrs. Loughton did give a lot of clues.” I laughed, mostly to stop myself from crying. That woman didn’t deserve any more of my tears. It was because of her that I’d spent years trying to convince myself that Trent’s death wasn’t my fault. Deep down, a part of me still believed her.

But honestly, it wasn’t my opinion that really mattered to me. It was Spencer’s. If he thought I was a failure, or that it was my fault for what happened, I wasn’t sure we’d ever be able to move past it. I wasn’t sure that I would ever be able to move past it.

“The drugs he overdosed on... they weren’t yours.”

Relief washed over me, but my mind told me not to get too comfortable, yet. “No, they weren’t.” My body had such a strange reaction to the words being said without an argument. I didn’t need to convince Spencer; he already knew. He not only believed me – he had come to the conclusion himself.

“So why did you say they were?”

It was such an easy answer, I knew he had to know it already. His hesitance to come to conclusions on my behalf, while appreciated, wasn’t necessary in this situation. “Pretty little girl with no record and a batshit war hero dad stood a better chance in the criminal justice system. I didn’t ask my dad to protect me, but he did.”

Spencer clearly sympathized with my father more so than me in that moment, which made my heart flutter in a remarkably inappropriate manner. I just couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that those damn psychologists were right – We really do sometimes pick men that remind us of our fathers.

“It wasn’t your fault.” Spencer said under his breath, and I wondered which one he was even talking about. It honestly could have applied to my whole life. He would have meant it each time, too. Because to him I couldn’t do anything wrong. I tried to take solace in that, but it honestly caused another voice to creep into the back of my mind.

I’d never be as good as he saw me. I’d never be worthy of his love.

Shoving those anxieties away again, I nodded in solemn recognition of the years I spent working to come to that same conclusion. “I know. It just took me a while to figure it out.”

My hand finally fell away from his face, although he grabbed my wrist to stop it from going too far. There was another hesitancy in his body language. His face turned down and his leg bouncing so gently I almost missed it.

“Is he the one you were talking about? The one you loved?”

Ah, nothing like a subtle hint of jealousy to boost a girl’s ego. I chuckled at the sound, swaying a bit in place to let him suffer a millisecond longer. “No. Not exactly.”

But then I genuinely couldn’t figure out how to say it. How could I describe what we had shared, when I'd spent so long trying to forget it? Had I loved him? Probably. No, I'd definitely loved him, just not in the way Spencer was thinking. Not like I loved Spencer.

“It was like, he always liked me, and I always thought we’d end up together because that’s how it happens in the movies, right? I was supposed to fall in love with him.” I ranted, trying to move my hands that were currently wrapped up in Spencer’s. “But I didn’t, and then he was gone and...”

We both stopped, his eyes trailing after me with questions he didn’t voice yet. He wanted me to finish before he decided whether or not they were worth it. I wanted to explain to him that they weren’t. As important as Trent was to me, he was gone.

“It’s fine. I’m sure he would be glad I found someone who makes me happy.” I was confident in that, at least. Because as I stared into those big hazel eyes, forcing themselves to stay open just to listen to me talk about my life, I was glad, too. “Even if that someone snoops too much for his own good.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

There were many reasons, most of which I didn’t want to go into. But the way he was looking at me shattered my heart into a million pieces, and I knew that if I lied to him now, it would only make it harder to put those parts back together.

He just wanted to help. I knew I should let him help.

“I didn’t want to think about it.” I admitted for the first time out loud. “I didn’t want to consider all the similarities. I didn’t want you to think I was just looking for a man to replace the ones I’ve lost.”

I couldn’t tell when I started to cry, but it was even more exhausting and painful than normal. Which is why I didn’t hesitate to accept Spencer’s offer when he stood up, wrapping his arms around me just tightly enough that it wouldn’t hurt.

“I didn’t want to lose you, too.” I whined, the comforting scent of his cologne filling my lungs and reminding me of all the beautiful moments we’d shared so far. We had so many more to go.

“You won’t lose me. I’m here to stay.” He said, reading my mind like he always did.

“I know.” I started to laugh, but this time it wasn’t held back by secrets. “You’d think a girl could lose you by getting in a bar fight an hour away and going to an unnamed hospital but nooo...”

He laughed too, although his was much more reserved. Spoilsport.

Spencer’s arms tightened around me briefly, holding me closer to him before he backed away, his hands finding home on my cheeks. I anticipated a kiss, which was usually what happened when he held me like that. But he didn’t kiss me, instead giving me a gentle instruction.

“(Y/n), look at me.”

My eyes, bruised and dry, still opened at his command.

“No jokes. No lies.” He asked, clearly enunciating each word. “Should I be worried about you?”

All I could hear was the sound of my heart and the humming of the machines. I was brought back to the CT scanner, the way it felt to be choking on air. Flashes of other men I loved were racing through my mind. I couldn’t save them, I remembered, before my eyes landed back on Spencer.

My stomach twisted at the memory of a wooden box, a check, and suddenly all I smelled was the pine of the forest.

“(Y/n)?” He asked again, although I saw he’d already received half of the answer.

“No. I’m fine.”

The most terrifying part about it was that I believed what I said, but the look on Spencer’s face told me that I was lying. And I believed that, too.

—————————————————

The thing about coming back from a gunshot wound to the stomach is that it takes a ridiculously annoying amount of time. Like, yeah, the pain is something awful, but the wait for things to return to normal was even worse.

I didn’t even know how long it’d been, my brain blocking out anything that reminded me of that day. If I ever really needed to know, Spencer could tell me. I was basically only keeping track of the days by deadlines for school and the dwindling prescriptions I had left.

My follow-up appointment was next week, and it couldn’t come soon enough. Spencer told me he would come with me, but I hadn’t really heard from him in a couple of days. He didn’t even have time to tell me about the case, although I could tell it was one of the “bad” ones – not that there were really any “good” ones.

But still, it was almost 11pm and I was about to go to sleep, but I wanted to wait a little bit longer before I called it a night. I was just hoping that I’d be able to talk to him, even if it was just to say goodnight. I missed his voice like crazy.

So when my phone lit up, I didn’t even look at the caller ID. There weren’t many people who would call me this late on a Friday – my friends were all already out for the night.

“Hello?” I sang into the receiver, already excitedly spinning around in my chair.

But the voice that responded was decidedly not Spencer.

“Hey, (y/n), right? It’s JJ.”

Her voice rang like a record scratch through my head, and I halted in my chair. “Oh, hey JJ... Why are you calling me?” Suddenly, my enthusiasm morphed into an overwhelming anxiety and darkness that threatened to crush everything in its path. “I-Is everything alright?”

But then I heard it. The sound of terrible music, loud laughter, and the general bustle of a restaurant. It was followed by an even more nervous JJ, “Uhh, yeah. Everything is fine. I was calling because Spencer might have had a few too many drinks and—“

Above the chaotic noise that I just described, I heard Spencer Reid loud and clear. Well, maybe not the clear part. His inaudible slurring sounded vaguely like a rant I’d heard before. Then again, hadn't I heard them all at this point? ?

I hadn’t put it together yet, though, and once I did, I couldn’t help but laugh. “My boyfriend is drunk? Cute.”

I was already standing, gathering my things and tossing my jacket on to head out when I asked, “Do you want me to come get him?”

“Please.” I’d never heard a more relieved woman in my life. The very thought of him driving his best friends insane with his drunken lessons was enough to combat my exhaustion. The poor thing was probably humiliating himself one sip at a time.

But for every chuckle, I was really just hiding a deeper concern. Spencer wasn’t supposed to be drinking. Spencer wasn’t allowed to drink, and he knew that. Out of the two of us, he was the one who put himself at risk more often, and I had a goddamn bullet wound.

“Sure thing. Just send me the address.”

It dawned on me somewhere along the 20 minute drive that Spencer had not only finished his case, but also come home and gone out for a drink with his team. Normally that wouldn’t bother me, but the fact that he hadn’t told me about any of it...?

I tried not to think about it, knowing that talking to him about it tonight would be a waste of time, anyway. From the way he'd sounded over the phone, he wouldn’t be in any state to talk about the deep nuances of addiction and our relationship.

So I pushed it away, trying to enjoy the fact that I’d be able to see him again. Now that we’d cleared the air about my past, things felt strangely calm. I told myself it wasn’t just the eye of the storm because I wasn't sure I could handle much more excitement lately.

Showing up at one of the bars I used to frequent didn’t do much to convince me otherwise, either. The stench of cigarette smoke and alcohol hit me like a freight train as soon as I stepped out of my car. How did I do this every other night before?

As I approached the door, I didn’t even recognize the bouncer’s figure in the shade of the dim porch light. I recognized his voice, though, that’s for sure.

“Hey Jailbait, haven’t seen you around.”

Shit. Slower now, I hesitantly approached him with the most innocent and well-meaning look I could muster, knowing full well that another part of my life was going to be exposed tonight. At least this time, Spencer was the story and not the listener.

“Hey Tom...” I nervously laughed, drawing out the words while I came to a stop.

“Heard some pretty crazy shit went down to keep you off the scene. Must be bad if it keeps you away from me.”

It was weird to think that they talked about me. But I guess it was to be expected; we were all friends before Spencer Reid. And when someone in those friend groups goes missing suddenly, there’s usually reason to be worried. But in my situation, the worry wasn’t really necessary (aside from the whole being shot thing, I guess).

“Crazy is a good word for it.”

He leaned forward, beckoning for me to move in even closer with a wave of his hand. I complied, although I was a little confused as to why we were being so secretive.

“Hey, sorry, but... I can’t let you in tonight. You know I normally would, but the place is swarming with feds tonight.”

Then I remembered that I actually had to explain the reason for my absence, rather than just think about it in the abstract. “Oh no, I know.” I peered around him, trying to spot the man past the door. It wasn’t hard, considering how goddamn tall he was.

I pointed to him, causing Tom to turn with an amused grin before I explained, “I’m here for the drunk noodle man.”

The look on his face – hilarious, and a little insulting.

“What? Jailbait’s picking up a fed? Damn girl what’ve you been into?” He laughed, barely able to control himself. He laughed so hard, in fact, I’m surprised there weren’t tears in his eyes.

“Stop that.” I whined, but he didn’t listen.

“Does he know who he’s dating?”

The question hurt more than he could have anticipated. I didn’t want to confront those messy feelings, so I bundled them all into an annoyed exclamation. “Yes, he knows!” I huffed, crossing my arms and turning away from him as I stepped towards the door. “So can I go get him?”

He composed himself rather quickly after that, shaking his head and unhooking the rope that blocked off the door. “Please do. If I have to hear one more fact about Ancient Rome, I might quit.”

With the last obstacle gone, I happily skipped through the door, the excitement returning in a bubbling wave through my chest. “Thanks, Tom!” I chirped, barely giving him a glance as I raced through the door.

The only person more surprised to see me than Tom was Spencer. Although, to his credit, I did practically launch myself at his side. We both nearly toppled to the ground thanks to our lack of coordination, but we were luckily stopped by the bar he was leaning against.

“Boo!” I shouted in his ear, hearing a small, surprised gasp from my boyfriend.

“(Y/n)?” He turned towards me now, stars quickly forming in his eyes as a big, goofy smile spread across his face. It took him a minute, but eventually he recognized me in the dim light.

“Hey old man.”

Hugging me back just a little too tightly, he began to gush, “Oh my gosh. What are you doing here?” Of course, before I could answer, he came to several other conclusions. “Wait! This is a bar. You can’t be here! You aren’t twenty one!”

He thought he was whispering, but he definitely, definitely was not.

“I’m here to pick you up, not party.” I actually whispered back, turning to see JJ practically hiding at the table. I’m guessing he hasn't wanted her to call me, although I was pretty sure he wouldn’t care at this point. He seemed pretty happy I was there.

“You can’t pick me up. You’re hurt.”

I didn’t even know where to start with that, so I just chuckled. “Smart as a whip, Dr. Reid.”

I ran my hands over his shoulders, smoothing out the wrinkled dress shirt he'd either had no time to iron, or had worn to bed the night before. I didn’t like either of those options. Spencer must have noticed me analyzing the fact, because his hand came up to stop me.

Trying to quickly change the subject, I blurted out over the terrible music, “Even when I’m hurt, I can probably still pick you up. You probably weigh the same as me.”

He scoffed, looking down at his lanky body compared to mine before shaking his head. “That’s hurtful, (y/n).” He attempted a puppy dog face, which only made laughter burst from my pursed lips.

Grabbing hold of his wrists and pulling him away from the bar, I turned and waved to the few team members I could spot among the crowd before returning to my drunken idiot of a boyfriend. “Come on, love. It’s time to take you home with me.”

When the cool autumn air hit him, I felt the goosebumps ripple over his arm. He leaned a bit closer, resting too much of his body weight on me for my comfort, but I wasn’t going to tell him to stop.

“How did you find me?” He mumbled, trying to touch me more than he currently was. Pushing him away from me was supposed to serve as a gentle reminder that we were in public, but he didn’t seem to care about that at all.

“JJ called me.”

“They all like you a lot. So do I.” His fast responses were a little less impressive considering how spontaneous they seemed, but I let it slide. As long as he was saying nice things, it was fine by me.

Guiding him as gently as possible, which is to say not gently at all considering he was essentially a human giraffe, I sighed. “I’m glad to hear it, Spencer. Maybe I can actually hang out with them one of these days.”

The guilt appeared before I could stop it, but it was the least of my worries at the moment. More concerning would be getting him into his house and in bed without either of us doing something stupid. After all, he was usually the one who stopped me from being stupid. And so far tonight, he’d already done something pretty damn stupid.

As I pulled the driver side door closed, a silence filled the car. Spencer was stuck between staring at me with a lovesick smile and looking away, probably because of his pink cheeks making him look a perfect combination of embarrassed and plastered.

“So what had you drinking, Spencer?”

“A case.” He shot back with that voice he usually reserved for the bedroom. It was the voice that told me not to press, to take his answer and let it die.

Unfortunately, I couldn't really do that this time, concerning this particular topic. . “Good thing or bad thing drinking?” I asked quietly.

I think he wanted to snap at me, to tell me that it was clear he didn’t want to talk about it, but he didn’t. The way my hands and words trembled told him that I was just as scared as he was that the answer might be the wrong one.

“I don’t know,” was what he said, instead.

“Okay.” I accepted that answer, understanding that it meant we could talk about it later, when his blood went back to normal and his mind was where it should be. “We don’t have to talk about it.”

And there we were, me sitting and staring at the indicators on the car as the engine turned, and him staring at me in the little light provided. After staring back at him for a moment, I had to ask the glaringly obvious question.

“Why are you staring at me like that?”

That’s when Spencer Reid let out an honest to god giggle, his hands reaching out to massage my face that no longer showed any signs of the black eye I'd received a few weeks prior. “You’re sooo pretty.” He drawled, slumping over in his seat so he could rest his face against my shoulder.

I couldn’t help but laugh back, petting his hair for a second before returning my attention to the wheel. “Oooh, I like this.” I whispered, letting my heart skip a few beats as he nuzzled into the warmth that only I could provide him.

“I love you.” He mumbled against my shirt, letting out a deep breath before apparently trying to fill his lungs with the smell of my laundry detergent.

The sensation of his breath hot against my neck caused a familiar desire to stir in me, just barely beaten out by the even more powerful adoration I had for the puppy-like man who was already practically asleep on my shoulder.

“I love you, too, darling.”

He didn’t hear me, his soft breath indicating that he would be out for the drive. Taking my time to avoid the roads with potholes and curves, I managed to keep Spencer on me the whole way back to his apartment. Once we were there, though, I didn’t have any option but to wake him up. Unlike him, I definitely could not carry him out of the car.

It took him a surprisingly long period of time to realize that we were not, in fact, at my place. As soon as he did notice, he rubbed his eyes like it would transform the door in front of him. “Why didn’t you take me home?”

“This is your apartment, babe.” I explained, digging through his pockets to find his keys. He jumped at the contact before letting out a sound that was way too close to a moan for him to be making in the hallway.

“Yeah that’s not home.” He answered, swallowing down other noises that threatened to erupt by the time I withdrew my hand. “But home is–“ He hiccuped, patting his finger on my nose as he tried to stabilize his feet. “Home is where you are.”

“Mmm, so smooth.” I hummed, unlocking the door and shoving his drunk ass into the apartment before he could do something else that made me question whether I should just turn around and go home.

But he just looked so proud of himself, spinning around on his feet and crashing into the table beside the door. “Thank you!” He chirped, reaching forward to grab my hand and pull me closer.

When our bodies pressed together, the first thing I noticed was the fact he was clearly much more excited to be home with me than he was letting on. The thin fabric of his slacks left little to the imagination, and when my hand slid over the tent in his pants, there was nothing left to wonder.

“I brought you here... because I didn’t want to have to be quiet.” I purred, palming his erection over his clothes.

Through his broken moans, he still managed to ask the silliest question: “Why are you going to be loud?”

He was so fucking cute; so remarkably innocent in his drunken stupor, it was hard to remember that he was the same man that once finger fucked me on the metro.

“Why do you think?” I asked just as sweetly, making quick work of the buttons on his shirt.

Spencer still just stared, mesmerized by the way the buttons slipped from the fabric between my fingers. Once they were all open, I ran my hands over his chest before wrapping my arms around his neck.

He was the one to close the gap, coming down to deliver a feverish kiss against my lips. He tasted like honey and whiskey, and I wanted nothing more than to drown in him. His hands were on my lower back, sneaking under my shirt and spreading goosebumps all over my skin.

I moaned into his mouth with the utmost desperation, murmuring words against his lips. “Take me to bed, Spencer,” I begged.

The words awoke something in him, and suddenly, his hands were off of me and raised in the air.

“Wait— I can’t.” He concluded, drawing in heavy breaths.

“Why not?”

I wasn’t sure which part of this situation did him in, although I had my suspicions. As much as I wanted him, I would suppress those urges if he was really, truly uncomfortable. I almost felt bad for a second, but then he spoke again.

“I have a girlfriend.”

With a few slow blinks, I tried to figure out how the hell I was supposed to return a serious answer. Deciding that was impossible, I deadpan replied, “I am your girlfriend, you absolute idiot.”

I took his stunned silence to be permission enough to start leading him into his room. He honestly looked like I’d just told him all the answers to the universe, and he trailed after me like my hand was a leash. Still, once I sat on the bed and pulled his body against mine, he paused again.

“My girlfriend can’t— she’s hurt. She can’t have sex with me.”

I got the impression he was trying to reason with himself more so than with me, which explained the third person. But it was deeply unsettling, because I really needed to know he was here in this moment with me.

“Stop saying 'she'. It’s me, babe.” I gently reminded, and I watched it dawn on him again, his eyes lighting up in the darkness. Sliding my hand up his arm, I pulled him forward to hopefully convince him to climb into the bed with me. “And we don’t have to have sex.”

Funny enough, Spencer was the one who had enough sense to strip off most of his clothes before he stumbled onto the mattress after me. His lack of coordination was even worse with the alcohol, and it reminded me of the virginal teenager I’m certain he once was.

It was strange to consider, that if we’d met each other under different circumstances, at a different time, our roles might have been somewhat reversed. To picture him as an innocent little thing was... kind of exciting.

But he was anything but innocent now, his face hanging over mine while he helped me disrobe, trying to focus his analytical abilities on me in his haze. Finding no pain or hesitancy, he crashed his lips over mine with an energy I hadn’t seen in some time.

And it was so invigorating, to feel his skin against mine without him having to constantly worry about whether or not he was hurting me. It’d been far too long since we shared a bed together like this, and now that it was happening, I could hardly breathe.

“God, I love her.” He whispered against my skin, before quickly correcting himself, “I love you.”

I laughed, the kind that sputters from your lips when you try to hold it back. Pushing the hair from his face, I ran my fingers over his scalp. “How drunk are you?”

“I’m not drunk, I’m stupid.” He replied with a cheeky smirk, diving back down to kiss me again. I wasn’t going to argue with the brilliant Spencer Reid, even if the point he was making was that he was, in fact, stupid.

Maybe it was stupid, the two of us tangling up in his sheets despite the fact that I hadn’t been cleared for it yet by my doctor. I knew that it was coming soon – probably at my appointment in a couple weeks, actually – so why wait? I knew that Spencer would never hurt me. Even now, his hands were gentle in their insistence, raking over my hip and stopping just short of the place where I really wanted him.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful.” He groaned, his hips rocking forward and pressing his erection against my leg.

“Touch me.” I ordered, louder and more forcefully than I intended. I was expecting an argument, but I didn’t get one. In fact, Spencer’s finger had already breached my folds before I even finished talking. Unwilling to let him be the only one to enjoy himself, I reached down to grab his cock.

“Shit.” He hissed, biting down on his lip while he rutted against my hand. “I just want to hold you down and fuck you until you cry.” The restraint was obvious in the fingers slowly sinking into me, his jaw clenched and his eyes barely able to stay open. “But I can’t.”

Through my heavy breaths, I panted out another request. “Tell me more about it.”

He immediately realized why I’d asked, and his fingers began to pump in and out of me faster and with more force, his lips trailing kisses over to my ear. While I tried to keep up the pace of my strokes, it became more complicated when his breath fanned over my ear.

“It’s been so long since I bent you over and had my way with you like I did that morning over your kitchen counter...” He moaned, and I could almost feel the sensations as he remembered them. Although his fingers would never be the same, just having him inside me in any capacity felt like pure bliss.

But he wasn’t done, continuing to speak his thoughts into my ear. “I just want to—fuck, I want to fill you up.” I went to respond, but I choked on a sob, instead. The lewd sounds between us only aided his descriptions.

“God, I love the way you feel. You’re always so wet for me.” He whispered, beginning to make small thrusts with his hips. The movement essentially allowed him to use my hand to stroke himself, and he let out another unsteady moan at the contact. “Think about what it feels like, little girl.”

“I-I am.” I could barely make the words come out; my body too sensitive to his touch after being starved of it for so long. And Spencer was ready to take full advantage of that.

“I still have so much planned for you. Don’t think I’ve forgotten about that little stunt you pulled when you got all riled up.” He growled, using his free hand to grab a fistful of my hair. He yanked my head further to the side, laying sloppy kisses along my jaw. “I told you I’d give you triple the marks you left on me, and I can’t wait to cover you with me.”

“Fuck. Please, Spencer.” I hoarsely begged, my hand on his shoulder tightening so that my nails dug into his skin. If his grip on my hair wasn’t so tight, I would have thrown my head back. Instead, I just squirmed underneath him, crying out, “I’m so close, Spencer, please!”

He did not disappoint, his fingers curling inside of me with each thrust, and by some grace of God, he was able to coordinate his thumb over my clit. As if that wasn’t enough, he pulled back to look me in the eyes.

“I want to feel you come on my fingers.” It was more of a demand than a desire, as evidenced by the way his hand tugged on my hair. “Come on, little girl. Make daddy proud.”

Just like that, my body responded to his call, my muscles trembling from the tension as my orgasm hit me like a fucking freight train. It was such an overwhelming experience, to remember exactly how Spencer was capable of making me feel.

And he knew it, too. “Oh, good girl,” he cooed, continuing his kisses against my neck and murmuring the words as they came to him. “That’s my pretty little slut.”

After taking my time coming back to earth, I struggled from the overstimulation still burning between my legs. Spencer hadn’t stopped his fingers, which were diligently stroking inside of me while he continued to buck his hips against my hand.

“I want you to finish inside me.” I slurred in my delirium, withdrawing my hand from his dick while he whimpered.

“I-I can’t. I can’t fuck you.” He was asserting a necessary and understandable hard limit, and it was clear I wouldn’t be able to convince him to fuck me that night.

But that wasn’t the plan, anyway.

“That’s not what I’m talking about.” I said between gasps, struggling against his fingers still inside me. “Come up here.” I whined, rubbing my hands on his shoulders while simultaneously trying to sit myself up.

The movement and the words made him withdraw completely. “(Y/n)...” He warned, running a hand through his hair while he sat up on his knees. “I could hurt you.”

“That’s always been a risk with us, Spencer.” My retort was both quick and persuasive, judging by the way he almost moved, but stopped himself yet again.

“Please. Please, do it. I want you to do it so fucking bad.” There was an obvious and deep desperation. I was literally begging him, to the point that I swore I almost cried. It felt stupid, but I needed him like I’d never needed anything in my life before. He’d spent months taking care of me, and I couldn’t do anything in return.

I just wanted to make him feel good, to give him something like we used to share.

Of course, I think those thoughts were also visible on my face, and they were obviously worrying him. With tender touches, Spencer’s fingers lightly trailed over the side of my face. The brief flashes of clarity alerted him of my struggle, and he let out a shaky breath at the war inside his own mind.

“I want to feel you inside me, and this is the only way.” I concluded, trying to lead him to the simplest conclusion. It was the safest, easiest way to solve both of our current problems. And although I could see how hard the decision was for him, my pleading eventually bested him.

“Fuck.” He mumbled, leaning forward to grab the headboard, staring down at me as I shimmied further up the wood.

“Fuck!” He repeated, rolling his head back with a light groan when both of my hands reached forward to grab his hips. “Fine. You’re lucky you’re so fucking cute.”

A giggle bubbled through my throat, and my body actually bounced in excitement as he slowly positioned himself in front of me. I wasn’t even sure which I was more excited for, my own orgasm or getting to finally give him one again.

As soon as my mouth closed around the head of his dick, I got my answer. Spencer’s moan filled the room, his hands holding so firmly on the headboard that the entire bed creaked. Although I figured he’d been taking care of himself in my absence, it appeared that wasn’t entirely the case. He seemed just as starved as I was.

“Holy shit.” He groaned, dropping a hand to the top of my head. I had to remind myself that he was drunk, which explained why he seemed so much more responsive than normal, with whimpers and pants flowing steadily through his mouth. He only got louder as he began to slowly push himself further into my mouth, stopping every few inches to retreat before pressing further.

“God, I need to do this more often. No back talk, no whining.” He said in a low tone under his breath, beginning to settle on a steady rhythm.

Meanwhile, I couldn’t think of anything except how fucking good it felt to be useful again, to feel him struggling to hold himself back as he started to more aggressively fuck my mouth. My eyes could barely stay open, but I needed them to. I needed to see him in the dim light of the streetlights that peered through the window.

He looked so beautiful, so perfect, and so mine. Feeling him slide back and forth against my tongue revived memories from long before and reignited my longstanding desire to do anything to please him. In all his caretaking, I was worried he might have forgotten how to control me.

But he hadn't. Thank god, he hadn’t.

“Come on, little girl. Earn your fill.” He whispered, burying himself in my throat and holding me against the headboard. I only lightly choked on the intrusion before my body complied, swallowing him further until my lips were pressed against the base of him.

Suddenly, Spencer withdrew, beginning a brutal, dizzying pace. Now, my eyes couldn’t stay open, rolling to the back of my head as I used my hands to steady myself against his thighs. The sobs trying to escape felt more like moans, and they shoved Spencer over the edge he’d been riding in his caution.

“That’s it. Take it.” He barked the instruction, looking down at me and smiling, “Don’t you dare spill any of it, do you hear me?”

My answer was stifled against him, just the way he wanted it to be. And with a few more rough thrusts, Spencer buried himself as deep as possible. I swore my heart synchronized with the pulsing against my tongue as his seed spilled down my throat.

I hollowed my cheeks, trying to drain every last drop from him as he finished. It had its desired effect, and Spencer grabbed my hair and forced himself deeper one more time with a growl. “Good girl.”

Once he had enough, he pulled out of me with a satisfied grunt, waiting just a second before clumsily falling onto the bed beside me. I laughed as he hit the pillows, obviously too tired to even reposition himself in the disastrous sheets.

“Thank you, daddy.” I spoke in the silence, gingerly cleaning the spit that had dripped down my chin.

“Fuck.” The curse was muffled in the pillow, but I understood it well enough. He seemed more concerned when I started to sink down into the sheets again, reaching a tentative hand out to him.

Finally rolling over, he grabbed my arm and guided me closer. “Come here.” He said with the tenderness I’d grown used to over the past few months. He turned towards me, apparently not ready for me to sleep on my side just yet.

He brushed my hair from my face, lifting the sheets to look at the now mostly healed wound. I hated it when he looked at it. It just reminded me that I’d never be the same girl he first met. Every time he saw it, he would remember that day. I didn’t want to think about it.

“Are you alright? Are you hurt?”

But even with the insecurity and anger in my gut, I wasn’t lying when I answered. “No, I’m fine.” My heart was so full, my body relaxing for the first time in so long. I was just so unbelievably happy to be together again. Even if it wasn’t like last time, it was still just as wonderful.

“I’m a little better than fine, actually.” I admitted with a bright smile.

Spencer hummed something in thought, but then winced. “Do me a favor.” He mumbled, rubbing his eyes and wiping a heavy hand over his face.

“Anything.”

“Kick my ass in the morning.”

He was caught off guard by my response, which was a full-hearted laugh that was too loud for how close the two of were. But I couldn’t help it, it was just so Spencer to still be punishing himself despite the fact that nothing bad had happened.

Once I calmed down enough to talk, I turned to him with a devilish grin. “I don’t wanna.”

Then were both laughing, and Spencer pulled me close to him until he could rest his chin on the top of my head, curling up against my side. “Spoiled brat.” He whined, running his hand through my hair and down my arm.

When I smelled the whiskey on his breath, the guilt hit me just as hard as any of the pleasure. I'd been so excited to get to experience this with him again, I almost forgot the reason he didn’t want to do it in the first place.

He just didn’t want to hurt me. He just wanted to make me happy.

“I just wanted to be with you again... I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.” I whispered, pulling the covers up so that I could hide my shame beneath them.

“I wanted to be with you, too.” He reassured me, half asleep and barely able to talk but wanting to get the words out. “I know it’s important to you, but I need you to know I would be with you even if I never got to touch you again.”

“Please never stop touching me.” I quickly replied, a genuine worry in my eyes.

But when Spencer glanced over, he just laughed, “I don’t think that’s going to be a problem.”

“No? Even when I get pregnant and have a big ol’ belly?” I playfully answered, bringing his hand to my stomach and pressing it against the side that still remained intact.

The familiar position caused a shift in Spencer’s body language, and suddenly he was even more insistent on being impossibly closer. “You’ll still be irresistible to me.” He said against my hair, running his fingers lightly over the unmarked skin of my lower stomach.

“We’ll see, I guess.” I mumbled, not realizing that I said it aloud until I heard his confused reply.

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing.” The defensiveness in my voice was terrifyingly transparent, and I hoped that if his drinking made him forget anything, it would be this conversation. “Go to sleep, drunk ass.”

“I need hugs and kisses first.” He complained, rubbing his nose against me in a way that should have been irritating instead of adorable.

“Spoiled.” I grumbled, reaching a hand up to play with his hair. I turned to kiss his cheek through the smile that was plastered over my cheeks.

Already half snoring in his sleepy state, he got out one more cringe worthy joke before he succumbed to his exhaustion. “What’s good for the goose...”

“...is good for the gander.” I finished for him, before taking the advice and following him to sleep.

—————————————————

| Part 18 |

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dorevenge · 3 years

Text

where ignorance is bliss - chapter 2: where grass was green

SUMMARY: Obadiah is off to Washington to assist with the war in Vietnam, and Peggy and Maria grow closer, as Maria learns something she wishes she didn't. [AO3 LINK]

CHAPTERS: 1 [2] 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 ☆

November 15, 1959 – Bronx, New York, Obadiah’s Apartment

Struggling to find ways to pass the time after the war, Peggy frequented my apartment. The Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division (or, S.H.I.E.L.D., as everyone says to save precious time) has been involved in the fight with Vietnam for a few years now. Obadiah left for Washington right after the Stark Expo to give weapons consult in the war, and I haven’t seen him in almost three months. We would write letters sometimes, and phone even less. I moved into Obie’s apartment to take care of the place while he was away for an indeterminate amount of time, and Peggy crashed in the living more times than she would care to admit.

“Did you love him?” I ask, fixing the two of us another round of Old Fashions. The empty Chinese carryout containers are scattered across the coffee table before us. There’s a good restaurant between the S.H.I.E.LD. Headquarters and the apartment, and Peggy will frequently grab something on the way here.

“I only knew him for a couple months,” Peggy replies, taking the glass. I curl up next to her on the couch, our heads leaning in towards each other. “So it’s hard to say. It could have been. We were both young, thrown together during some of humanity’s darkest days. We were all looking for something to believe in.”

She swirls the glass in her hand, lazily watching the whiskey fall back down the side before continuing.

“What about you and Obadiah? Is this love?”

“I don’t want to talk about him.” The corners of my mouth curl downwards on their own. Peggy notices. Peggy always notices.

“Trouble in paradise?”

“It’s more like paradise when he’s gone rather than when he’s here.”

“Why is he your boyfriend if you don’t even like him?”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” I take a large gulp of my Old Fashion, the whiskey burning the back of my throat. “He’s my fiancé.”

Peggy sits up, and my head slides off her shoulder to the cushion of the couch.

“Your what?” She takes my left hand into hers and finds my ring finger bare.

“I keep it in my sock drawer. Whether out of safekeeping or embarrassment, I’m not sure.” I sit up.

“When did this happen? And why did you say yes?” She looks at me with a tight expression, concern and worry on her face. Her red lipstick is all but gone, a faint imprint of it left on the rim of her class, and her usually tight curls hang loose around her neck and chin. If she weren’t so upset, I’d reach out to tuck one of them behind her ear.

“The last day of the Expo. He… He’s comfortable. We have our routine. We play chess together, I straighten his ties, I smile at the men he wants to invest in his company. I get some of the profits for my charities, and we make each other look good.” I frown at the empty glass in my hand and contemplate fixing another.

Peggy sets down her unfinished drink and looks at me. She has a way of effortlessly shifting her gaze from disapproving to comforting in a second. I never know if I’m going to be talking to the “unrelenting founder of S.H.I.E.LD.” Peggy or the “let’s go shopping and day-drinking” Peggy.

“I’m sure there’s a man out there that complements you and makes you feel good. You just-”

“-haven’t found him yet,” I finish her sentence. I’ve heard it from everyone – my parents, coworkers, strangers who learn I’m 23 and still unwed. 24, I remind myself; my birthday was on the fifth, less than two weeks ago. I feel the effects of the whiskey settling in, my eyes growing heavy and my weight shifting to my stomach. “You’re lucky to have experienced two great loves.”

“Daniel is far from a true love, hence why I stay with you the majority of the week. I’m also fourteen years older than you and have had more time to find them. I was 24 when I met Steve; there’s still plenty of time.”

“There doesn’t seem to be many men like Steve left.”

Peggy was gone without a word the next morning, and I am left alone with a pounding headache. By the time I wake, its well past noon on Saturday, and the mail’s already been delivered under the door.

I rifle through the envelopes once my toast is done, the coffee pot almost full, and the majority of the mail is addressed to Obadiah. Bills and letters of interest from inventors that I’m supposed to forward to him in DC. There’s a letter addressed to me in his precise, meticulous handwriting, but the one that interests me most is from Roxxon Oil Company, a large, thick packet with “CONFIDENTIAL” stamped across it. Naturally, I open it.

Maybe it’s the lingering hangover or the knowledge that Obie would forgive me for anything under the sun, but I rip open the envelope as I sip on my morning coffee, pouring all its contents out on to the table.

Most of the information doesn’t interest me, talking about drill efficiency and rigs and pipelines, until I find the balance sheet and investing information. I did get my master’s in accounting, as Obie tends to forget as he relegates me to a trophy wife. As I drift back into sobriety, the pieces start falling into place. Roxxon isn’t investing in Stane International; Stane is investing in Roxxon, and they were already profiting, working together, inventing together. The copies of the blueprints are of Obie’s design, seeking to create clean energy to replace gasoline down the road. In the last two years, Obadiah has made hundreds of thousands of dollars, with deposits and withdrawals from countless accounts, and reinvesting it, the paper trail deliberately as confusing as possible. I’d call it embezzlement if it weren’t his own company.

I get a scratch piece of paper and start doing the math. It isn’t adding up. Nothing is adding up, the dates and locations, let alone the cash, with several documents addressed from Russia. I sit up, my heart in my throat, pulsing so hard it feels like the world around me was shaking.

Obadiah is not a sneaky man by nature. I knew that he was interested in me before he realized it; I knew when he was going to ask me to go steady with him; I know when he is on the brink of a great new idea. He tries his best to hide things, but every move of his body betrays him. I’ve caught him sticking things in the back of his closet and under his bed more times than I could count, and I’ve never had the opportunity to check with him there. But seeing as he’s away…

Kneeling, I fumble underneath the bed frame until my fingers find purchase on a briefcase, and I slide it out. I wrestle with the knobs until I realize there’s a four-digit code keeping it locked. Before I mess with the dials, I notice the number. 0213.

“Oh, Obie. Do you have to be so predictable?” February 13th was our first date; he chose the day before Valentine’s Day because he believed the holiday of romance should be reserved for people already together, and he made a spectacle on 14th because we were together at that point, by his logic.

The top of the briefcase pops open at my touch, and inside I find numerous telegram slips, copies of both those sent and received. I sift through them quickly, none of them really catching my eye, filled with code words that I didn’t have the motivation to try to decipher. One of them caught my eye, and this is one of the only times Obie’s over-organization paid off because the telegrams were in chronological order.

RECEIVED

September 21, 1957

To: Stane, O.

O., I am glad to hear you secured the trust-fund. Let me know what day you’ll tie the knot, and I’ll tell you where to wire the funds. I might just send you a gift to celebrate.

NEFARIA, G.

SENT

September 28, 1957

To: Nefaria, G.

I’ll be traveling for work extensively the next four months. Please send files to Location 2. She can’t know anything.

STANE, O.

RECEIVED

September 30, 1957

To: Stane, O.

O., safe travels. Remember the end goal – the reactor that threatens our future. It cannot be manufactured by anyone but us, for our sake.

NEFARIA, G.

Prior, my heart had felt like it was running a mile a minute; now, it feels still in my chest. Dead in the water, like a stunned minnow tossed in to attract larger fish. “The trust fund.”

I had been courted before for my parents’ wealth. In college, a boy had pursued me relentlessly. He made me feel beautiful, special, and like the only star in his sky. He had convinced me that love was this roller-coaster rush of emotions, one collision after the other, until his dormmate clued me in on his intentions. That’s why I try to keep Obie in the dark about what I’ll inherit, how big my trust-fund really is. Growing up, I was unaware of how good we had it; all my friends in boarding school were from the same social and financial class, we all vacationed at the same spots and shopped at the same boutiques. It took a lot of eye-opening experiences at university for me to realize life was different for others, and it honed my ability to detect insincere motives. Too little, too late, but I won’t let it happen again.

With shaking hands, I put the papers back in their order, and I snap the briefcase closed, pushing it back under the bed with a force. I return to the kitchen table where I had spread the other documents out, collect them, and place them back as they were. I’m not sure if I need to try to seal it to make it look unopened, or if I should destroy the whole thing. He hadn’t asked me about forwarding this one specifically, so he might not be expecting it. Under the documents, I find the letter addressed to me again. Obie’s handwriting hits me differently now. How well do I actually know the sender?

Mar- (God, I hate it when he calls me Mar.)

I am writing to you with success here in Washington DC. We have made valiant efforts with the war. We expect Vietnam to concede soon. Our troops are vigilant and the best America has to offer, and their farmers pose no threat to us or the hope of victory. I expect to return home to you Friday the 15th of November. I’m sorry, darling, that I missed your birthday, but perhaps I can make it up to you.

See you soon at home,

Your Obie

Friday. Today was Friday.

The living room was a mess. Peggy’s and my drinks and dinner dishes scatter the room, the mail on the table, and I look equally disheveled. I know Obie would be disappointed, as the apartment is always speckless when he’s here.

I am a flurry around the house, collecting garbage in the bin and dishes in the sink. I tie the heaping garbage bag and leave it by the door, and rush to check my appearance in the bathroom. A scarf around my hairline will make the windswept, frenzied style look intention, and I change into a simple blue sundress. Obie didn’t have a dishwasher, so I put an apron on to protect my dress from the dishwater.

As I was setting the last glass out to dry, a knock resounded from the front door. I could feel it reverberate in my chest, and my heartbeat pulsed in every finger in my hand. Shaking, I set the glass down, wiped the water off my hands, preparing myself to smile and wine-and-dine the man I’ve already committed myself to.

#where ignorance is bliss #wiib reading #what if #marvel #iron man #fanfiction #canary writes a text post

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shirtlesssammy · 4 years

Text

4x22: Lucifer Rising

Then:

We met this fearsome warrior this season. I don’t think anything else really happened.

Now:

St. Mary’s Convent

Ilchester, Maryland

1972

A priest is possessed by a demon. Later, at a service with the nuns, his prayers are a little uncouth.

He locks everyone in the chapel. He starts to ramble a little more about fathers and then his eyes flash yellow. He pulls out a big knife and well, I guess service ends little differently than normal too.

Meanwhile, Sam stares pensively into the distance. Is he making the right choice? Did he condition his hair too much this morning? Ruby snaps him out of his morose contemplations. Sam’s sad about how he and Dean left things. He knows that there isn’t an “after” for him once they do what they’re planning.

Dean, meanwhile, stares morosely out Bobby’s window.

For Elfen Ears and Freckles Science:

Bobby snaps him out of his thoughts. Bobby wants Dean to reach out to Sam again. He shouldn’t give up on his brother. Dean goes into full soap opera mode and makes it clear that “Sam is gone.” He’s not even sure Sam is even his brother anymore --if he ever was. I’m just lol-ing over his overdramatic ass, but Bobby loses his shit and gives Dean the football coach speech. Then he compares Dean to John. And he calls John a coward. SHOTS FIRED! Bobby then makes it clear that Dean is a better person than John (to which Dean scoffs at...grr, Dean!).

Dean turns away and the next thing he realizes is that he’s in the Green Room. Cas is there. He tells Dean, “It’s almost time.”

At a hospital, a nurse takes a baby from its parents presumably so they can get some rest. In reality, it’s a demon set on nefarious ways. She’s stopped by Sam though.

Dean wanders his prison and finds beer and burgers...and Zachariah.

He wants Dean to relax before go time. All the seals are broken, but one. Zach tells Dean that it’ll happen the following night at midnight, and Lilith has to be the one to break it.

Sam is torturing the demon for Lilith’s location. She doesn’t really see a reason to give it up --she’s dead no matter what.

Dean calls and leaves a message for Sam. His apology gets cut short. And Sam doesn’t get it anyway because he’s really going to town on torturing the demon. The demon admits that Lilith will be at a convent (the very same one from the cold open) tomorrow night. Ruby wants to drain her of her blood. The demon reminds them that she’s possessing a human, and lets the human come out to play.

We then flashback to the convent in the aftermath of the possessed priest’s bloodbath. He prays to Lucifer, who responds through the voice of a dead nun. Lucifer tells him that Lilith can break the seals. Then Lucifer instructs old Yellow Eyes to find him a special child.

Cut to Sam Winchester doing research on the convent. He’s all nerding out over what I can imagine is the serial killer aspect of the murders.

Ruby’s ready to roll and wants to pack up the nurse and get going. Sam’s showing a little reluctance for murdering the possessed woman. Despite her pleas, Sam still throws her in the trunk of his car. Yowza.

Like a bored house cat, Dean starts knocking things over in the Green Room. Cas shows up. “I need something,” Dean says. “Anything you wish,” Cas responds. Boy, doesn’t that sum up their relationship for the past 12 years? Dean wants to see Sam. Cas doesn’t think it’s a good idea.

Dean wants to leave. It becomes clear that the angels are not going to let him leave. And Cas is gone without a word.

Over the constant, horrible symphony of nurse Cindy’s screams from the trunk, Sam and Ruby chat as they drive. Sam’s horrified by Cindy’s terror and Ruby reminds him that every demon he drains dry is like this: a scared human trapped in their own body. (She accuses him of trying to grow a “persqueeter” -- for which I tell her to go fuck herself.) Sam’s having doubts that he’s on the right path.

Dean tries to break his way out of the beautiful room. I bet you could use a GRENADE LAUNCHER right about now, eh? Nothing he does seems to make an impact. Zachariah flaps down to rub it in. Dean demands to see Sam, and asks how to kill Lilith. It’s now that Zachariah drops some truth bombs. Heaven’s plan all along has been for the final seal to break. “The end is nigh. The apocalypse is coming, kiddo. To a theater near you.”

Not every angel knew the grand plan, Zachariah admits, but Heaven’s top brass allowed all the seals to break. While Zachariah talks about Heaven’s glorious victory in the coming battle, Dean takes another look around the room. This time, he realizes that the beautiful paintings are full of depictions of angels versus demons, and bloody war. People are just acceptable losses. Dean insists that Sam will save the day.

Zacharian tries to “comfort” Dean, telling him that he his role in the apocalypse is actually to stop Lucifer after he rises. No pressure! And where’s God? “God has left the building,” Zachariah says smugly before he peaces out again.

At a spooky convent, a security guard patrols when he’s confronted by Lilith! It’s show time, baby.

Still trapped in the room, Dean’s trying to call Sam when Cas arrives. “You’re outside your coverage zone,” Castiel, cell service technician of the lord, says. He tells Dean that all the trouble Sam’ll get into will be entirely his own doing. But Cas has flapped down for Dean. “We have been through much together, you and I. I just wanted to say I’m sorry it ended like this.” (I have no regrets for the gleeful series of pictures of Dean and Cas that are about to follow.)

Dean’s not receptive to an apology, and takes a swing at Cas.

“This is long foretold,” Cas insists.

Dean refuses to condone this argument. “Destiny? God’s plan? It’s all a bunch of lies, you poor, stupid son of a bitch!” The apocalypse narrative is Heaven’s way of keeping the grunts in line.

“You know what’s real?” Dean asks. “People. Families. That’s real.” (Excuse me while I make the EYEBALLS EMOJI at season 15 because dang, ya’ll.)(Boris, curled in a ball in the corner: “We are.”)

Cas demands to know why the world ought to be saved when there’s suffering in it. When paradise descends it will bring peace. This is such an angel line it KILLS ME. (Especially with all we now know about Heaven.) “You can take your peace and shove it up your lily white ass,” Dean says quietly.

Dean would rather have pain, guilt, and dark!Sam than be some “Stepford bitch in paradise.” A super valid, excellent point, even if I am going to take a moment to picture Dean Stepfordized. Dean insists that there is a right and wrong side, and Cas is currently on the wrong end of it.

Dean begs for Cas’s help to get to Sam and stop him from opening the last seal. Cas knows if he rebels, they’ll all be killed. “If there’s anything worth dying for,” Dean insists, “this is it.” Cas looks conflicted but nevertheless doesn’t immediately swing over to the rebellion, and Dean disgustedly tells him that they’re “done.” Cas flaps out.

Outside the convent, Sam contemplates what he’s about to do. Ruby prods him to act, playing with her demon-smiting knife impatiently. Sam finally checks the voicemail that Dean left near the beginning of the episode. Only, it’s not quite how we remember it. In the voicemail, Dean now accuses Sam of being a “blood sucking freak” and a monster, and promises to kill Sam. Um. Behind Sam, Ruby smirks.

It’s go-time now. Sam decides he’s his own only hope and tells Ruby to pull the screaming nurse from the trunk.

In the beautiful room, Dean finally gives in to temptation and picks up a burger when Cas arrives, spins him around, and pins him to the wall.

For Mark Me Down as Scared and Horny Science:

Cas pulls out a knife, cuts his forearm, and inscribes a sigil on the wall with his own blood. When Zachariah shows up, pissed off, Cas blasts Zachariah away.

Cas tells Dean that they’re heading off to stop Sam from killing Lilith who (surprise!) is the final seal. When she dies, Lucifer pops out like a dancer in a birthday cake.

Cut to Chuck, who’s pacing around his house ordering women on the phone. EXTREME SIDE EYE. Dean and Cas flap in, looking for answers.

At the convent, Lilith holds court when Sam arrives. The lesser demons fall insta-dead while Lilith closes the doors to her chamber. Dun dun DUN!

Chuck hands over information on Sam’s showdown with Lilith to Cas. “You’re not in this story,” Chuck says accusingly to Cas.

“We’re making it up as we go,” Cas says.

Chuck’s house starts to rattle. An archangel is descending to nip this little angelic rebellion right in the bud. Castiel vows to “hold them all off.” He zaps Dean to the convent and awaits the approach of the archangel.

Sam makes his way into Lilith’s chamber and pins her to the altar with his mind mojo when Dean arrives on the scene. Ruby smirks at Dean before slamming the doors shut between the two brothers. Sam burns Lilith out with his fancy demon-blood powers while Dean shouts through the door and Ruby screams at him to finish the job. Lilith laughs at Sam, mocking him for his hesitation, and that’s what does it. Sam kills her with demon-black eyes.

Lilith’s blood seeps across the floor like it’s on a mission. Actually, it IS on a mission. It oozes into a circle. Ruby’s ecstatic and tells Sam that he opened the door for Lucifer. She may have been hated by demons for her apparent betrayal but “I was the best of those sons of bitches,” Ruby insists. “The most loyal.” Sam tries to pin what just happened on Ruby but she throws it right back at him. His choices brought him to this point. She just gave him the options. Horrified, Sam asks why he was the one to unleash Lucifer. “Because it had to be you, Sam.” OUCH.

Dean breaks through the doors at last and storms over. Sam grabs Ruby so Dean can stab her. Hooray! They’re working together again! And then the cage starts to open. WHERPS. Sam apologizes futilely as the room fills with impossibly bright light. Lucifer’s on his way out.

The End Quotes are Nigh:

Well, boo hoo, I am so sorry your feelings are hurt, princess! Are you under the impression that family's supposed to make you feel good?! Bake you an apple pie, maybe? They're supposed to make you miserable! That's why they're family!

We'll throw in Mary Ann for free

Would we really let 65 seals get broken unless senior management wanted it that way?

This isn't the first planetary enema we've delivered

You spineless soulless son of a bitch. What do you care about dying? You're already dead

You turned yourself into a freak. A monster. And now you're not gonna bite? I'm sorry, but that is honestly adorable

You didn't need the feather to fly, you had it in you the whole time, Dumbo

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#spn recap #spn rewatch #spn 4x22 #lucifer rising #dean winchester #sam winchester #castiel #cas #bobby singer #ruby #zachariah #chuck shurley #lilith #azazel #supernatural season 4

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dwollsadventures · 4 years

Photo

On a hill overlooking Armageddon (both the place and the end of the world), an angel holds in its hands a trumpet. It knows what it must do.

There's that cover art I was talking about! In truth very little was changed from the first version to the second one, except the end bit. This is the true kicking off point of the TDG's universe, which I have unfortunately ended up nicknaming the "Antiocalypse" for reasons above. Hopefully the third one will come quicker, as well as the first actual installment. All these prologues are weighing me down from writing the actual story. C'est la vie.

Read the story beneath the cut or on Wattpad:

"In a flash, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet. For the trumpet will sound, the dead will be raised imperishable, and we will be changed." I Corinthians 15:52

"And the trumpet shall be blown, so all those that are in the heavens and all those that are in the earth shall swoon, except him whom Allah will ; then it shall be blown again, then they shall stand up awaiting." Quran, 39.68.

"The first angel sounded, and there followed hail and fire mingled with blood, and they were cast upon the earth: and the third part of trees was burnt up, and all green grass was burnt up." Revelation 8:7

On this day, October 30th 1961, an angel stood on a hill overlooking Megiddo. It did not notice the dew on the grass, the ants and worms beneath the earth, nor the sheep grazing around it. Its only thought was of the trumpet in its hands, a beautiful work somewhere between bronze and gold yet surpassing either metal with its glow.

The angel was given this trumpet only a short while ago, but it knew what it was for, it was created knowing what it would do with this trumpet. Up until a certain period of time before now, it had never left Heaven. It had never seen a trumpet before, never felt the grass cutting into its perfect skin, or seen (and certainly not smelled) a sheep. Its entire life had been spent in the choirs in Heaven, standing in the divine garden singing, since it was made. It does not know how long its life has been, because angels did not care for such things. If they were created with the same purpose in mind, a newborn angel was just the same as a one-thousand-year-old angel.

Of course, no angel was created with the same purpose as this one. This angel, and only this angel, was created for the sole purpose of blowing the trumpet in its hands. It knew that, upon doing this, it would signal the end times and Judgement Day would begin. All angels knew this, and they knew it would be a sad day, but also a happy one, because all the worthy souls would join together with them in Heaven.

Angels, unlike humans, are created, not born. When this happens, they come into the world knowing all they must, and are equipped to deal with all that they will encounter in their tasks. They are, in effect, spirits, and do not require water, sleep, food, or entertainment, like the souls they share their home with. Those angels whose tasks are not yet relevant, or do not yet exist, stand together in the enormous choirs of Heaven, blissfully and perpetually singing.

This angel had stood in choir for quite some time. Not that it minded. Occasionally it would see other angels go past on their business; little angels carrying prayers, fearsome archangels with their swords all fiery, even some angels like itself, who had physical bodies to greet the denizens of Earth with. It also saw the souls of the worthy, usually following after the benign prophets, or wandering in groups together, talking. Never talking with the angels in choir of course. They were left alone most of the time, unless one of the Principalities came and gave them their orders.

Angels do not have a sense of time like humans do, so this angel did not know how long it stood in choir for. But then, the day had come. It had been handed its trumpet, such a marvelous instrument, and the garden's gates were open, and it had been allowed to fly across the world. It knew at once that it was time; sin and heresy and all the other signs of ruin were on the Earth as clear as day. Even the earthly demons and pagan spirits were preparing. After the brief flight, it had alighted upon the hill it was on now, and stood, waiting for the precise time.

It stood, it now knew, by the movement of the clouds and the sheep, for only an hour, but something was bothering it. Though the thing that bothered it was minor, this had never happened to them. The angel looked around themselves, at the sheep grazing around the hill and the clouds gathering in the sky, but nothing was touching them. It did not feel like a touch either, it was almost intangible. As if a patch of bad air was hanging around their head. The angel was slightly troubled, this had never happened in Heaven.

Another reason this troubled the angel, although it did not know this, was because it had never had to articulate its feelings before. In the ministry of Heaven, the angel and its feelings were never scrutinized, nor examined, nor noticed. It was like a book, fit perfectly on a shelf with all the others, not an inch of space between each other.

'I want to go back,' it thought. Of course, they knew fully well they could not, until they blew the trumpet. 'Perhaps I could blow it now, and return.'

Thinking of their home made the angel forget its uneasiness for a moment. It was comforting to think about it, when they had no worries or issues, all they had to do was sing, which came as easy as breathing. The angel's body hadn't breathed, in Heaven, but on Earth it did it on its own. They'd ignored it up until now, but its body was doing it rather sporadically all of a sudden. Not even the easy lull of memories in Heaven could soothe it now, because something even stranger than the feeling from before knocked at its head.

The memories of home conjured up by their sudden desire for nostalgia did not seem so real, compared to the hill they stood now. The angel realized it could not picture Heaven so clearly as it could the world around it. It had been only an hour since it had first arrived on this patch of land, yet it seemed so much more... present. The angel had not concerned itself with everything around it until now. The grass at its feet only showed up in their mind as an irritation that the skin of their body did not like. Upon closer examination though, it seemed like its own life, waving around in the wind and absorbing the tiny spots of water on its leaves. Beneath the ground the roots slowly crawled through the dirt, like little hands grasping for food. It was also, much to the angel's surprise, a different color than the dirt, and the sky, and the angel themselves. The angel knew color only as an imperfection of the light, one it had encountered as they flew above the twinkling cities after being released from heaven. Its spirit, in Heaven, had never seen light in this manner, but now that their mortal eyes adjusted, they could see a whole spectrum in front of them, standing so boldly on the landscape, everywhere. Color filled the Angel's universe in an instant.

'Why cannot Heaven have this? If all of this is to be destroyed along with the world, why can I not bring this with me?'

And suddenly, the source of their nagging feeling revealed itself. The Angel had, subconsciously, referred to itself as "I". Where had it heard "I" before? The souls in Heaven said "I" quite a lot, but Angel had never heard any angels say it. Angel had never spoken with another angel, but surely they would have brought it up.

Angel, now engrossed with this query, started to pace on the hill, carrying the trumpet as they did so.

But, had Angel ever thought about this? They couldn't remember. All the time they had been in Heaven, they could recall no thoughts, only observations. It was absurd, yet exciting. It must be this place, this hill, or whatever paradise they had landed on. No, Heaven was paradise. Earth, where they now stood, was not paradise, that Angel knew for sure. It was one of the things angels inherently knew. The other angels, did they not know? Had they never thought, as Angel now did?

Without helping it, an immensely satisfying feeling entered Angel's mind, and spread through the body from the brain. It felt so... good, to ask these questions. Being able to not only make observations of the environment, but to interact with it and deconstruct it through the act of examination made Angel feel so alive, they gave a whoop of elation.

This frightened the sheep, not because it was scary though. What they had thought was a human-shaped rock turned out to be a real one. This, combined with the sudden wind that had picked up, sent them into a wooly huddle against the chill.

Angel, now drunk on their own liberating freedom of thought, began to explore the confines of their memory and search for something, anything to confirm their new feelings. But still, nothing that they could remember had ever suggested this new feeling was ever a possibility. It couldn't be right, though. It mustn't be! Surely there was one angel, at least one, who dared to posit a thought and act on this deliverance?

Storm clouds gathered above.

Every angel, every single one that they could remember only ever did their orders and did them perfectly. And it was such a shame too. Angel could not stop imagining all of the insightful talks and conversations they would have together. Each angel that went to Earth would have something new to say, but only if they said anything at all. The souls of the worthy would speak with them, they did little else there. Together in little groups and apart of huge wandering masses they spoke to one another, of their memories, their prayers, the grace of the divine, the wiles of Satan on Earth, the goings on of their family back in Massachusetts... The...

For a single moment, that hilltop was absolutely silent. No sound, not even the heartbeat of an earthworm could be heard. Then, as a look of terror so palpable even the sheep huddling beside Angel could feel it, the sky was rent. A sound tore across the churning sky, so terribly loud that even the deaf could feel it ringing in the recesses of their minds, reaching every ear that could hear it and every spirit that could feel it. It sounded, to those able to hear it without losing their senses and doubling over in pain, as if the very world was being torn in half. Ironically, the opposite was happening.

Angels don't have names. Humans often give them names as ways of personalizing themselves with them. Since angels did not talk to one another, they had no names among each other. Officially speaking, and that's all most angels knew how to speak, there was only ever one angel who was given a name. One angel, one who all others knew, back when he was in their ranks.

The effect was immediate. Angel's first thoughts were mostly jumbled nonsense, but after stringing them together, they were something like: 'But-but that's completely different. I'm not like that. Surely they would understand the difference? Right?'

Their body now started to shiver as the winds hurled themselves against the hill. 'Taking a moment to see the world, that-that cannot be comparable to what he did? He, he went against the law of Heaven, I didn't do that! I can't be punished for that!'

But, though their mind was desperately pleading with an audience only Angel could see, their perfect recollection, unprompted, started to bring forth memories. Memories of angels being sent out to destroy cities, memories of angels turning people into pillars of salt, memories of screaming angels individually tearing the wings, to the last feather, off of a horrified figure more beautiful than any mortal prince.

The human body, as a result of living in a world of constant horror and potential death, has found adaptations around fear and paranoia. Collapsing into a cold sweat as you confront the toothed, clawed existential dread of death is not a good survival mechanic. So, naturally people's brains will sort out those feelings away for another time, while heating up the muscles and pumping the adrenaline to prepare for sprinting away from the saber-toothed tiger.

Angel, having only discovered individuality five minutes ago, did not have any of these adaptations. The sucker-punch of the mental strangulation happening in their mind sent their body falling to the ground, locked in paralysis. The sheep, who had sought shelter next to the closest thing to a shepherd, ran away from the tumbling angel.

Inside the prison of the mind, Angel's delusions continued unabated. All the angels who had ever been now stood, forming an infinitely tall amphitheater around Angel, who was on their knees begging. Foremost amongst the crowd was an enormous figure, obscured by the light of the crown it wore.

'Please, I did nothing! Not one word was uttered against you! I didn't do anything wrong!'

The voices of the angels, all in the same harmony as the choirs songs had been, now intoned, 'You stand before us and the one who gave you life, defective?'

The voices boomed in Angel's thoughts, drowning out their own words. 'Angels do not plead, they do not beg. They do what they are told and be glad.'

'But I am glad! I will do as you say, I only thought for a moment of not blowing the trumpet. A mere daydream cannot be that bad!"

The rising crowd turned their piteous faces on Angel, while the greatest form among them covered their face, disappointed at the thing in front of them. 'It seems there was a mistake in giving you the trumpet. You must not be an angel after all.'

'But I am! I will do anything, I will blow the trumpet, please! Anything but-but this!'

Still, the crowd did not hear the struggling little voice. Angels descended upon them, each of them sporting a grabbing hand, reaching for one of the feathers. They tried to flee, to escape the serene faces from grabbing them, but all that was behind Angel was the ground. Gleaming red-gold beneath them was the trumpet, exactly where Angel had left it.

'All I need to do is blow it, everything will be fixed then!'

Diving down with ephemeral feathers clinging to their back, Angel reached out to grab the trumpet, only to find the ground opening up, becoming a great black maw. Jewel-red fires gushed out, as jagged, scaly claws shot up from the black soil, right towards their face. Angel dived into that pit, along with all the other angels trailing behind them. Every single thing around them extended, seizing a wing, a limb, an eyeball, and Angel was thrust everywhere, torn apart by the demanding arms.

Their eyes shot open, staring at the trumpet in the ground. Within their minds, a voice which sounded like their own whispered, 'I must.'

Still paralyzed and unable to perceive the outside stimuli, Angel crawled on their hands alone, and reached for the trumpet. In the angel's warped vision, their hand extended across the entire planet, and it was still not far enough.

Then, with the index finger a mere hair's width from the trumpet, one of the sheep licked Angel's face. Instinctively, they flinched away from it, retracting their hands towards their face. But, to their surprise, nothing happened. No flesh melting off, no petrification, nothing. The only thing different was a strong smell and a cowlick. Angel looked up, into the face of the sheep which had licked them. The sheep looked back, right into the angel's eyes. The winds stopped and the storm faded away.

An eternity later, when Angel finally comprehended what they saw, they stood up. They brushed themselves off and stood tall against the receding light of the sky. Finally, their mind was clear.

Angel, with the herd of sheep following after them, shakily walked off the hill. They kept walking until they found the shepherd's home, and the shepherd curled up with his family underneath the shutters of the window.

The trumpet continued to sit on top of the hill. It sat there until the grass grew over it, and the sheep licked it red with rust. Not a sound came out of it, and eventually it was lost beneath the dirt and worms.

And across the world, the nuclear bomb affectionately named Ivan and literally named the "Tsar Bomba" blew up over the Severny Island, and no one died (except a few lemmings). The pilots on the release plane considered it a pretty good test and were awfully confused why people were freaking out when they landed back in Olenya.

If the trumpet had sounded, those pilots wouldn't have been so proud of their test. Rather, they would have found themselves inexplicably dropping that same bomb over London. Then, whether anyone would have wanted it or not, the Cold War would end and the Very Hot War would begin. A war over treaties, allegiances, capitalism, communism, borders, and eventually, food and water. Nuclear war followed by a nuclear winter. A long winter which would stretch into the night, so long that it would look like that sun had been plucked out of the sky.

Which in fact it was, although plucked might be too neat a word to describe the awful things Apep and Skoll might do to it. As the humans fought so too would the gods above them. Neither would notice the other until it was too late.

After all the gods and monsters and humans die nothing will be left. A barren, lifeless world of scorched seas and burnt forests.

Luckily, none of that happened. Chaos did ensure and people did claim that it was the "end of the world", but they were wrong. The world continued slowly meandering its way through time as it had before. It may well have ended, all but for the kiss of a lamb.

#short story #literature #but not really #prologue #tdg #angel #apocalypse #armageddon

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evak-fic-rec-turtleanon · 5 years

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Evak Fics - Childhood Friends

Childhood friends. Childhood friends who lost contact. Childhood friends with pining. WIPs. It's tricky to put em in categories because some of these overlap. Under a read more:

Art for Best half of my soul fic

***** CHILDHOOD FRIENDS *****

once i was 7 years old by bashfulisak (1k words) - isak and even are childhood friends, and as they grow up together, isak remembers his past. DELETED :(

One Second by deathsmi (1.2k words) - Isak & Even have their first kiss. It’s still in a pool, but it’s different. They’ve been friends for years and Isak has been holding back for a long time. He can’t hold back anymore.

Unexpectedly by colazitron (1.5k words) - Even and Isak are finally on a date and Isak's pretty sure he hasn't been breathing right all evening.

In another life, my dear, by HeartbeatsAreMySymphony (2k words) - soulmates au with a twist. They fell into the same rhythm as before, though this time, it was more boisterous: passionate. It was a secret they kept to themselves, and a part of Isak reveled in that: to have a world that belonged to only Even and himself. And, maybe, he was selfish— taking Even for himself when they both belonged to others.

i don't mind, we have such a good time, my best friend by hippopotamus (2k words) - “Isak, I need you to kiss me.” Isak would be lying if he said the words didn’t make his heart thump loudly in his chest for a moment. At least, they do before he remembers who it is that he’s talking to.

ribs by bbyfruit (2k words) - “I meant it,” Even says. He feels Isak’s lashes blink against his own. “I love you.” Isak lets out a long breath through his nose and it feels like a blessing. “I love you,” he echoes.

you and me, fade in by skamz (3.3k words) - spin the bottle - DELETED

you and me got a whole lot of history by everythingislove (straykid) (3.5k words) - "You're going to be my best friend, Even." Isak decides, showing off his baby teeth with a beaming grin. Even opens his mouth to protest, then shuts it. The words have so much finality to them, and frankly, he doesn't feel like getting in trouble for making him cry. So he nods. "Best friends for life." He agrees.

ten & twelve by dimplesandcurls (4k words ) - 10-year-old Isak doesn't like 12-year-old Even being proud of his tallness (maybe he does, but Even and his ego didn't need to know that).

eleven & thirteen by dimplesandcurls (2.5k words) - Even has a fever, Isak plays doctor.

Til’ The Next Time by greitnok (2.6k words) - kinda childhood friends. time travel. Isak meets him for the first time when he was sitting in the backyard of his house, disorientated and angry with the world. ‘Could you possibly get me some clothes?’ a voice startled him out of his thoughts, he looked around to see a man popping his head out of the bushes.

the red thread by thekardemomme (3.5k words) - The two people connected by the red thread are destined lovers, regardless of place, time, or circumstances. This magical cord may stretch or tangle, but never break.

i can feel the weather in my bones by EvenbechNeiheim (3.7k words) - Isak and Even are childhood friends. There’s a boyfriend sweater and Isak is just desperate to wear it. (oh and it has nothing to do with sleeping with each other, they just don’t roll that way)

it’s a you and me house by hippopotamus (4.9k words) - Even has a treehouse, and the only other person allowed up there is Isak.

sixteen going on seventeen by sundaymournin (5.5k words) - “I don’t know why you always go after weird, older guys. You’re a baby.” “I’m sixteen. I’m not a baby.” Isak grumbled, letting Even drag him out of the party and onto the street. He always let Even drag him away, because that felt good too. Being wanted, being complimented, someone paying attention — that was great. But being cared for was always better.

The Imaginative Friend Syndrome by wyoheartsmusic (5.6k words) - soulmates. telepathic bond. Five times Isak and Even communicate in their heads and one time they communicate in person

Every Time You Close Your Eyes by MinilocIsland (5.7k words) - Three times Isak settles for less, and one time he doesn't.

to be young and in love by aestheticzjm (6k words) - kinda childhood friends. a look into the lives of isak and even, from ages 13 to 17 & 15 to 19.

Grow Up Along With Me by wordsarelifealways (6.4k words) - Even was almost two and a half when his neighbour came back with their baby boy. How was Even to know that Isak was going to change his life forever?

i have everything i need. here. with you by Skamtrash (6.9k words) - they’re dependent and clingy and very much meant to be. everyone realizes it but them

True or False by iriswests (9.8k words) - Seven moments between Isak and Even (+1 with Sonja), ranging from the ages of four and six to the ages of seventeen and nineteen, respectively.

Holy by i_once_wrote_a_dream (9.8k words) - It was a Wednesday when he first saw him. Isak thought he looked like one of his mama’s angels.

you make my face red and my heart beat by empty_venom (10k words) - 4 Times Isak Asks Even About Hickeys (+1 Time They Get Their Shit Together)

our souls aren't strangers by everythingislove (straykid) (10k words) - The six times Isak and Even can't get it together, and the one time they already are.

I'm gonna show you how to do it by colazitron (12k words) - five things Even teaches Isak to do with his mouth, and one thing Isak teaches Even.

caught up in a dream by bbyfruit (13k words) - a slight twist to chilhood friends. in which isak is less of a mess than usual (LIE), even is super cool and smooth (LIE), and mikael just wants everyone to be happy (TRUTH).

One Call Away by GayaIsANerd (14k words) - 5 times Even calls Isak with an excuse and the one time he doesn't need one

The Shape Of Us by Flatfootmonster (14k words) - “Mama?” “You look thoughtful. Is there a question you want to ask?” “Even,” “He’s different,” Isak said. “I don’t think he can see me.” And that was about as much as a conclusion as he could come to about any of the things he’d noticed that were out of place.

Life is better with you by charlyflowers (16k words) - A oneshot of Isak and Even during several Christmas times together.

And they were right in front of you the whole time by Ihavecoldhands (18k words) - “…Okay, not a boyfriend, and not a relative…” Eskild says slowly, still looking very confused. “So… Even’s a childhood friend then?” Isak wants to say no, no, they are not childhood friends. But most friends don’t sleep in the same bed six days a week, so he swallows his words and nods reluctantly. “Yeah. We’re childhood friends.” It’s almost true except for the friend part.

in the morning you'll dance with all the headache by bluesterek (19k words) - “Why do you hate me? Is it still about that kiss in first grade?” “You kissed my crush in front of me, Even.” “Yeah well, sorry about that, but that was like a century ago. Besides, you don’t even like girls.” “Excuse me, what?”

I'm Not A Baby by cuteandtwisted (33k words) - they are idiots. "This is Even, my bro. The part about him being my personal servant is kind of true though.” “Bro? Your bro?! What the fuck, Isak? We need to get rid of this whole hypermasculinity thing they teach you at Nissen.”

Best Half of My Soul by nessauepa (41k words) - 5/6 chapters posted. "And they never talked again about how Even gave Isak his very first kiss. They never talked about how that night Even also gave Isak his second and the third. About how at some point Isak didn’t even remember how many kisses they had had. They didn't talk about how they had kissed lazily lying on Even's bed with their legs intertwined. How they had kissed uncountable minutes straight, cupping each other faces."

I May Be Younger, But I'll Look After You by alotofphandoms (90k words) - Isak’s mom met Even’s mom in high school, then they met Isak’s and Even’s dad’s in college. When Even was born, Isak soon followed, two years later. For as long as they can remember, they’ve been in each other’s lives. Hopefully, they'll stay in each other's lives.

***** CHILDHOOD FRIENDS WHO MOVED AWAY OR LOST CONTACT OR DIDN'T KEEP IN TOUCH *****

Mamma Mia by MermaidsandMermen (SophiaSoames) (5.3k words) - The workmates AU for day 5 of Skam Fic Week. And it had to be IKEA, and it had to be Evak, and it has to be ABBA. Of course. A tiny bit of Sweden in the middle of Oslo.

i know that it's delicate by colazitron (9k words) - kinda childhood friends. With Marianne's situation being what it is, Isak goes to stay with old family friends, the Bech Næsheims.

live happily with sugar on by colazitron (9k words) - kinda childhood friends. While Even tries to work up the courage to approach the cute boy on the tram, the cute boy approaches him. Berries are involved.

the other side of paradise by peachbombs (35k words) - plus mutual pining. The first and only time Isak Valtersen says those three words, it’s to Even Bech Næsheim, a boy who broke his heart once and now, here Isak is, giving him every liberty to do it again.

Stars Shine Bright Above Me by glbertblythes (40k words) - slow burn. touch starved. For once in his life, Isak Valtersen knew what it was like to have a best friend. Many, actually. But Even was special to him in a way he didn't quite understand. So many mixed feelings and emotions at once, but Isak being the young boy he was ignored them. When Even has to move a few days before they start middle school together, Isak is crushed and has not the slightest clue how he's going to make it without him by his side.

Supernova by hannakin (45k words) - slow burn. To Even Isak is the brightest star in the universe. He is bright and smart and the happiest person Even knows, his smile brighter than the entire sun. They are best friends, just like their fathers used to be. Even is in love with Isak. Isak is in love with Even. They grow up and things change. Eventually they drift apart and when Even sees Isak again Isak is 17 and the smile Even used to love so much is long gone.

Blanket Fort Gospel by Sabeley (58k words) - the angst, man. Isak Valtersen met the love of his life when he was eleven years old. It was a truth he had long tried to deny, but it was the truth nevertheless.

making new clichés by strangetowns (132k words) - “You’d feel better knowing,” Even says. “What we are.” “Yeah,” Isak says. “Something like that.” “Then I’d say,” Even says, “we can be whatever you want us to be.”

***** CHILDHOOD FRIENDS WITH PINING *****

Another Sleepless Night! by Mechisoy (1.3k words) - Isak's having another sleepless night. Isak looks up after a couple of minuets after Even's fingers stops drawing lazy patterns on his back. Even doesn't have to open his eyes to tell Isak was staring "Issy sleep for me"

Nourishing Courage by colazitron (2k words) - Isak somehow finds himself part of the revue and Even helps him practice.

now and forever (i will be your man) by thekardemomme (2k words) - 3 times isak kisses even. +1

the one with the prom video by thekardemomme (5.5k words) - Even has been in love with Isak since they were younger, but he never intended for Isak to find out this way. Friends inspired.

To Burn With Desire by photographer_of_thoughts (6.1k words) - the AU in which Isak and Even are neighbours and Isak's father has a secret job that unintentionally helps Isak realize he's in love with his best friend.

But She Isn't Me by sundaymournin (9k words) - Even and Sonja were absolutely perfect together. They were both tall, thin, and stunningly beautiful. When they smiled, they brightened the entire room. The two of them were as different a could be, but they balanced each other out; Even was the dreamer, and Sonja was the realist. They’d been together since they were sixteen and everyone expected them to get married and live happily ever after. They shared absolutely everything; friends, meals, clothes and even a toothbrush from time to time. Well, almost everything. They didn’t share Isak.

written in the stars by ourlovelybones (17k words) - the one where even follows isak around on tour but isak doesn't want to deal with his feelings

Walking In Circles by marileal (19k words) - they are idiots. "I don’t think I will ever be able to forget this day. The day I realized I have feelings for my childhood best friend. Why am I such cliché? Isak Valtersen, the gay kid who is in love with his straight friend."

it's exciting running through the night by traumatic (21k words) - It's always been Isak and Even against the world. They grow up and they grow apart, but they always come back to each other.

Come if you remember the way by Teatrolley (24k words) - The first time Isak meets Even he’s fourteen, and a moving van is pulling up on the street outside of his house. Four years later he’s standing in an airport with their friends and Even’s parents. Even is going abroad for six months.

(I’ll give it to) Someone Special by nofeartina (30k words) - Isak Valtersen is certain of a few things: 1. He doesn’t really like Christmas. 2. He loves Even – as a friend. 3. He doesn’t want things to change between them. So that’s why he offers to play Even’s boyfriend on a visit to Even’s homophobic family. And then he realizes a few other things. 4. He’s surprised by how perfect a fake boyfriend Even is. 5. Okay. Maybe, Isak is starting to love Even as more than a friend.

it's something unpredictable, but in the end it's right by mmxii (34k words) - Even suddenly stops and just looks at him for a few seconds. Then he says it. “You’re my best friend, you know. Always have been, always will be.”

I Have Held You in My Heart by photographer_of_thoughts (47k words) - Friends-With-Benefits University AU in which Even makes rules and Isak follows them. They sleep together sometimes - a lot of times - and Isak knows how in love he is. But then Even gets a girlfriend, and everything changes.

Don't Let Me Go by unfancyandy (86k words) - Isak and Even have known each other for as long as Isak can remember, but it isn't long enough. Maybe if things had been different, then they would have felt they'd had enough time. Based on Never Let Me Go.

Next to you, is where I call home by LostInAdmiration (101k words) - “Why don’t you start track too? You’d be a good sprinter, I’m sure you’d do great,” suggested Isak. Isak wasn’t entirely sure why he asked - he mostly liked being alone and he barely knew Even - but there was just something about Even that had drawn Isak to him. Inspired by Jongens.

Tidal Waves by desp3ration (325k words) - An alternate universe where Isak and Even have known each other since they were three and five, and Jonas is the new kid. Isak and Even are the best of friends, and act much closer than the other guys who are friends at their age. Over the years, they've secretly fallen in love with each other and are terrified of telling the other how they feel. Could their friendship survive coupledom or will it change their entire lives?

******* WIP *******

Floor You Can't Fall Below by Lizzygrant38 (3k words) - Last update April 2019. Isak was fourteen when his father took off, fourteen when his mother Marianne reached her breaking point and became a frantic sobbing mess, her mental health reaching boiling point and fourteen when social services finally came and picked him up.

no place i'd rather be by hippopotamus (7k words) - last update April 2018. lilo and stitch au.

familiar by hippopotamus (13k words) - last update Sept 2019. isak is the grumpy wizard with a pet dragon and even is the prince that needs his assistance

Prince and the Pauper by sockhead (20k words) - last update June 2018. The one where Even is the prince of Norway and Isak is the servant boy who has stolen Even's heart. And his sanity.

You will always be, my baby Isak by stevensmayles (23k words) - last update Nov 2017. Isak feels like he can conquer anything with his bestfriend by his side. Even has always been there for him. But what if he wasn’t? What if he disappeared in Isaks life the moment he needed him the most.

and so many miles to go by Balthamos (33k words) - last update March 2019. Isak sometimes got this feeling, like butterflies, when something was about to change, going to impact his life. He felt it just before his grandmother passed away, and then again when things started changing at home, his mother getting upset more frequently, his father working longer hours. The feeling he got as he stared across the room at the other boy was similar, but not quite the same, instead of worry there was hope, and… excitement? Something was about to change but for the better this time.

the truth about my disguise by mikaeloboukhal (57k words) - 3/4 chapters posted. Since the day Isak was seven and stepped into Even's room, they had always been best friends. Isak doesn't think that'll ever change.

Nobody Loves Me Like You by cuteandtwisted (185k words) - mutual pining. the angst. they are absolute idiots. extremely slow burn. 13/15 chapters posted. Isak and Even are childhood friends who enjoy ruining each other's chances with exactly everyone else, rewatching the same movies, taking care of each other, and pretending they're not in love.

#evak fic rec #skam fic rec #childhood friends #i wanna reread so many of these

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kinaminff · 6 years

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Chapter 1.

Golden Cage

"Yoongi, come over here and meet, Y/N" a beautiful lady said. She was standing behind a little girl that was wearing an old dress, clutching a ripped teddy bear tightly against her chest.

A boy not much older than her walked up to her. He's well dressed, with dark hair and didn't show any expression. She tried to smile at him because she finally had a friend. His dark black eyes stared deep into hers.

"Yoongi, she will stay with us from now on, treat her like your little sister" The little girl looked up to the beautiful lady and to her she's an angel.

His dad knelt down to his level, patted his hair softly "She doesn't have anyone else, you have to protect her"

"Yes, I will be her protector" He said and smiled at the little girl. He held out his hand and she took his. They ran outside to play.

"Hey, why haven't you talk to me" He asked, letting go of her hand.

She shook her head, trying to tell him that she can't talk.

"How are we going to play when you can't talk?" He asked her. She looked down at her feet.

"Are you going to cry now?" He grabbed her chubby cheek and lifted up her face. The teary eyed little girl stared back at him.

"I like this expression" He smiled and patted her head softly.

The little girl was shocked that he switched from being nice to being her bully.

"Since you can't talk, you will be my pet from today on" he looked at her old teddy bear, snatched it from her, she cried but there was no sound.

"Disgusting" he said as he tossed it to the ground. She tried to grab it, he snatched her arm "Dont let me see you holding something like this again."

He pulled her along with him.

15 years later.

Min yoongi, the name sent a shiver down everyone's spine. He became one of the most successful persons in the world.

His parents passed away from a tragic accident, leaving him the entire business empire to handle at young age. Some people thought he was associated with underground world, some people admired him for having such power and influence at such a young age.

"Where is she?" he walked into the house, tossed the dark peak coat to his butler.

"She's in the kitchen, taking care of Master's dinner" The old butler's voice was shaken. He bent his head preparing for the unleashing anger from his master. Instead he stood there in silence. He looked up and saw his master, relaxing on the leather couch, his eyes closed, seeming like he didn't want to be bothered. The old butler steppes back to leave the room.

"I want her" the demanding voice made the old butler stop in track.

"Yes , sir" He said and left the room.

~~~~

"Make some sound when you come in next time" he still didn't open his eyes to look at me.

I went to the coffee table and tapped it softly three times. He still haven't moved, so I stood there waiting for his order.

"Sit next to me" he said softly. I sat down close to him, but not too close, because master didn't like it when I was too close.

I could feel he was looking at me, I didn't dare to turn around and look at him.

"I'm tired today" He laid his head on my lap. His soft black hair falling across his forehead, the line of his lip was harsh, and the dark eyelashes made him look innocent and beautiful. Unconsciously I brushed his bangs away from his forehead. I realized it too late and he grabbed my hand.

"What do you think you're doing?" His eyes narrowed in anger. He let go of my hand and grabbed my chin, the tight grip around my jaw was really painful. A tear slipped down from my eyes.

"I didn't mean it" I did the sign language.

"I never said you could touch me" He said calmly. "Remember you're just a lowlife servant, don't disobey my orders."

He got up and left the room.

"Miss are you alright?" the elderly maid rushed in and soothed me. I hugged her and cried in her arms.

"It's ok, he is just in a bad mood" she said softly "Tomorrow everything will return back to normal"

Since his parents passed away, his mood became worse everyday. Sometimes he was dark sometimes he was light. Yoongi was unpredictable when it comes to me. There were times he seemed like he needed me and there were times he looked at me like I was trash. We both grew up together, got homeschooled together, I got nice clothes and a good education. However I was also a bird in a cage. He never let me go anywhere without anyone following me. What am I to Yoongi? His pet? His slave? His friend? His caretaker? I have no real title because in Yoongi's world I was all of them. Taking many roles based on his mood.

One day, I would be free. I looked around the castle that I once thought was paradise, but it was just an illusion. This was my cage, a golden cage.

~~~~

Y/N POV

The rain and thunderstorm outside became louder. I could feel another body's heat against my back. /He was here again/

I turned around, Yoongi's back to me. He curled himself up again. I put his head on my arm, just like that he turned to me, seeking for comfort in my arms. This was not the first time since the night his parents were gone and never returned to him. During his parents funeral he never shed any tear. Walking in the hall full of adults, he remained unfazed, the follower of his parents became admirers of how strong he was.

That night he sneaked into my room and laid on my bed. I got scared but I saw his face, the tears fell uncontrollably from his eyes. Crying in his sleep, all I could do was comfort him.

"You cannot leave me" he said. All I could do was nodding my head. My younger self was happy of being able to help him. I could offer him comfort and happiness.

"If you tell anyone, I will kill you" he said softly. I smiled in the dark, /a mute girl like me, he knows really well I can never tell anyone. Is this why he wouldn't let me go because I know too much? No worries, Yoongi, I will keep everything inside of me until the day I die./

His body shivered, I covered the blanket on him, patted his shoulder until his breathing was stable. I looked at him in the dark, nothing had changed.

~~~

"I wanted you to set up a party, organize, and make it perfect" he set his coffee cup down.

"That type of event, who is going to be there?" I said using my hands.

"Business men, and other high class investors"

"Ok I understand" I returned my focus to my breakfast. The two of us as usual had breakfast together. In front of us there was a large portion of foods that could feast ten people. This was lonely.

"Remember don't show your face, after everything is set, just stay in your room and let Mrs. Kim handle it" he ordered.

I nodded my head. I knew the rule, no one knew about me. If they saw me I'd just be a lowly maid. I made a mistake once and I would never do it again.

~~~~

The guests were talking, laughing and the music could be heard through my room. I closed my novel, got off my bed, and sneaked a peek out of my balcony window.

Everyone seemed to have a great time. I felt envious, I saw a girl my age dressed nicely and flirt with handsome males. One girl was very beautiful. I wished I was her. I saw Yoongi walking up to her. My heart felt uneasy, he leans close to her, he laughed and smiled at what she said. Then he lifted his head and looked at my direction, I stepped back and hid in the shadow of my dark curtains. I felt like I got caught, my heart beat really fast, I took a deep breath and calmed myself. /no way he noticed I was watching/

A knock at the door made me jump. I walked to the door and Mrs Kim looked like she was in trouble.

"Miss, I just got a phone call from home, my husband is really sick, I need to go back home" she said.

"Have you let Yoongi know?" I asked her. She understood sign language since Yoongi only hired people that could understand sign language.

"I already told our butler, he said he already informed young master"

"Ok, I will go down there, you can leave, I hope everything is ok with Mr. Kim"

"Thank you Miss" she gave me a hug before she walked out.

Dressed in one of the maid outfits, I walked into the kitchen, checked and made sure everything was in order. Coordinating and making sure the food and drinks in the party were all in order. I served the champagne to the guests.

"Eh, you kinda pretty" one of the drunk guests said. He reached over and touched me, I stepped back causing the champagne glass that I carried to shatter. I reached down and picked up the glass.

"Don't pick it up" the sweet voice right next to me said. I looked up and saw the golden haired man come next to me.

"I will help you, be careful" he said as he picked up the glass. I was being careless and cut myself.

"Aish, are you alright?" He looked at the cut.

I nodded my head. I was amazed how nice he was. The pain was nothing. Suddenly I was being pull away, the hand that grabbed my arm tightly belonged to him. Yoongi. I couldn't see his face, but I could feel his anger. Was it because I ruined the party?

I could see all eyes following us.

"Yoongi where are you taking her?" the young man that helped me came after us. Yoongi walked faster, half dragging me upstairs.

"Yoongi! Stop! You're hurting her!"

Yoongi stopped and turned around to face the young man. If looks could kill that young man would already be dead.

"This is my house, what I do with my people is my business." he said angrily. I could feel the chills running down my spine. I swallowed nervously looking between Yoongi and the young man. The guests stared at us silently. No one dared to say a word. I tried to reassure the young man but once again I almost tripped up the stairs as I was being dragged by Yoongi.

He pushed me into my room. Closed the door behind him.

"Careless as always, do you want to leave that badly?" he tried to control his temper. I shook my head. /No, I was just working/

"Stop lying to me, I know you, you want to leave me! Everyone wants to leave me!" he yelled at me. Grabbed the vase and threw it across the room. The red rose scattered across the room, and the floor filled with the shattered glass.

"No! I'm not leaving!" I cried out but no word was coming out, and my hand tried to deliver the message. The tears wouldn't stop falling from my eyes. He grabbed my shoulder, his grip was painful. His dark expression full of anger and hatred. I feel the pain as he slammed my back against the wall.

"You like him, don't you?" he laughed bitterly "I could see the way you look at him."

I kept shaking my head, /No! You're wrong!/

He saw my bleeding finger. The blood dripped on the carpet. He reached out to touch the wound and I flinched in pain.

"Remember every time you hurt me, I will hurt you twice as much" He leaned down and brushed his lip against mine. He grabbed my hair tightly, I let out a painful yelp as his tongue invaded my lips. This was not a sweet kiss, this was rough and a punishment. He nibbled my lip, bit down to the point I could taste the blood. His lips caressed my jaw and my neck, the small kiss left me breathless as his fingers caressed my bruised lip. His hand traveled from my lip to my throat, caressing my slender neck.

"Y/N, don't ever disobey my order" he whispered into my ear. I opened my eyes, he was standing before me with an indescribable expression, his hand reached out to me again and this caused me to flinch away. Instead he looked at my bleeding finger, his blazing eyes stare deep into mine as he take my finger tip into his mouth, the hot, wet tongue caress the wounded finger. Such a sensual expression leave me breathless.

"Fuck," he said softly. Close his eyes and laugh bitterly. I stood there stun by his action. he took out his white handkerchief. He carefully cleaned it and wrapped it around my wound. He raised my wounded finger to his lip as if a kiss would make the pain go away.

Hot and cold. Love and hate. Why are you doing this to me?

One moment you were attacking me, the next you're taking care of me as if you would treasure me. My tears were falling. Happiness and sadness, I can't differentiate. He pulled me into his arms, hugged me tightly.

"Stay in your room...don't leave this room" and just like that he left me alone as if nothing happened. This time his madness had gone to far.

~~~

To be continued ❤️

#bts #min yoongi #bts angst #bts fanfic #bts suga #bts fanfction #jimin

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fieryrondo · 6 years

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my top 25 favorite programs from the 2017-2018 season

So. We survived Olympic season. (Or did we?)

A few lessons gleaned from the past ten months:

the season is indeed long

momentum is fleeting

in the wake of disaster there will always be skaters who shine (thank god)

eating pineapples and writing prayer fic is extremely therapeutic

Olympics hype really is all that

being an fs fan is equal parts suffering and reward, though often times it seems more of the former and less of the latter.

See below for twenty five of my favorite programs from what has been a most tumultuous season, roughly in order of enjoyment. There is no rhyme or reason to this list as it is purely subjective based on my taste, which is already questionable to begin with. To avoid cluttering the top spots with skaters I absolutely stan and would gladly die for, I have limited myself to one skater per program.

Re: performances from Olympics. It was notoriously difficult to find footage for many of these skates. Thanks ISU I’ve done my best to link to broadcast footage whenever possible but have resorted to a few fancam links for some of these performances. Please do not manipulate fancam footage without permission from the uploader; I’ve been guilty of reblogging gif-sets made from fancam footage (which 99% of the time have the watermark removed and are clearly uploaded without consent and credit to the fancam creator) and am now trying to be careful with what I reblog.

Without further ado, here are my top picks:

25. Jimmy Ma’s SP, Propaganda/Turn Down for What, 2018 US National Championships

A guilty pleasure but something this fun can’t be bad right? This is the kind of skating program I’d show to friends and family in real life who dismiss figure skating as a dated sport characterized by heavily used classical warhorse music almost everyone recognizes but can’t actually name.

24. Ross Miner’s FS, Queen Medley, 2018 US National Championships

While Nathan skated a very technically strong program at US Nationals, the free skate of the night for me went to Ross Miner, who roused the crowd into a roar when he had the skate of his career and made a convincing bid for the Olympic team. Fun and electric, this program sparkled with energy from start to finish.

23. Moa Iwano’s SP, Asturias, 2017 JGP Austria

I generally don’t pay much attention to the junior skaters (so much skating, so little time!), but this talented lady from Kobe caught my eye during the JGP series. There were quite a few tangos this season but this one was by far the best one (that’s right, the best tango this season came from a 13-year-old). While her jump technique is not the best, Moa has an impressive sense of musicality beyond most skaters her age. I’ll definitely be following her more closely in the seasons to come.

22. Keegan Messing’s FS, Chaplin Medley, 2018 Pyeongchang Olympics

Thanks to a certain Spanish skater, I’ve developed a soft spot for Chaplin programs and while Keegan didn’t manage to skate this program clean, I really enjoyed it. It’s cheeky, charming, charismatic and full of fun choreographic details that bring the program to life. With an exodus of Canadian men retiring this season, Keegan will be among the oldest. He really hit his stride this season; here’s hoping he snags his first Canadian title next season!

21. Patrick Chan’s FS, Hallelujah, 2017 Skate Canada

Enjoyed...is not quite the right word to describe my feelings when I saw this particular skate via live stream. Shocked to pieces was more like it, and perhaps an overwhelming sadness to see him struggle so much. This skate would set the tone for the rest of Patrick’s final competitive season--a mentally, physically and emotionally taxing end to a competitive career most skaters can only dream of having. While this skate was a technical disaster--he skated a total of only two clean triples--it is nonetheless beautiful in the way a withering flower is; a remnant of elegance, an echo of years of skill, a lament for what could have been.

20. Yuna Shiraiwa’s FS, Pictures at an Exhibition, 2017 Internationaux de France

I had a hard time with this one because I adore both of Yuna’s programs this season, set to two very interesting pieces of music. Her FS, “Pictures at an Exhibition” won by a slim margin mostly because I love Mussorgsky and “Pictures at an Exhibition” is one of my favorite suites of all time--I also realize now that it’s really really difficult music to skate to because of the million tempo changes, key changes and the fact that half of the movements are very slow and not at all suited to skating. It’s a highly ambitious program for a 15-year-old and choreographically there are a couple of abrupt music changes that break up the flow (it’s mostly variations of the Promenade theme with a few other movements spliced in) but I really appreciated the challenge she took with a riskier but interesting piece of music. Looking forward to more exciting programs next season!

19. Nathan Chen’s FS, Mao’s Last Dancer, 2017 US International Classic

Super early in the season when skater after skater hopped onboard the recycling train like there was no tomorrow, I was ecstatic to hear Nathan bring forth two brand new programs. While Nemesis proved to be an instant hit, I was drawn to the free, an intriguing blend of Chinese music and Stravinsky’s Rite of Spring (avant-garde eargasm!!!). Mao’s Last Dancer had the potential to become a truly memorable and complete program. While the strategy to strip down the choreography in favor of hitting the technical elements later in the season was a practical choice, alas the performance I enjoyed the most happened to be its debut.

18. Cheng Peng/Yang Jin’s SP, Assassin’s Tango, 2017 Finlandia Trophy

What a rough season they’ve had :/ But I loved their short program, which they only managed to skate clean internationally exactly once this season. For some reason, after Finlandia, this short never really clicked for them (missing the cutoff for the free at Olympics was tragic) and they ended up returning to their tried and tested short from last season for their post-Olympics redemption in Milan. It’s a cute and fun program and they skated it best here.

17. Vanessa James/Morgan Cipres’ FS, The Sound of Silence, 2018 World Championships

After a strong start to the season led to a lackluster 4th place finish at Europeans, James/Cipres scrapped their initial free program to return to a program they were much more comfortable with, a strategic move that paid off when they rebounded at the Olympics and at Worlds with season’s bests and a shiny Worlds medal :) While it is not a technically perfect performance (see their 2017 World Team Trophy for a clean skate), there’s a lot of power and passion in it.

16. Carolina Kostner’s SP, Ne me quitte pas, 2018 World Championships

Simply divine! I have nothing else to add except that this was a breathtakingly exquisite performance, and I’m glad Carolina was able to perform this program to perfection in front of her home crowd.

15. Maia Shibutani/Alex Shibutani’s FD, Paradise, 2018 Pyeongchang Olympics

I admit I wasn’t immediately sold on the Shibutanis’ final program to their self-proclaimed “Trilogy”. “Fix You” was an amazing program, the best program of their career so far, and as with all sequels, it was tough to imagine “Paradise” could be better. But somehow things started to pull together once they made a few tweaks midway through the season and they pulled off a magical performance in Pyeongchang. Technically brilliant but also brimming with emotion, a performance absolutely worthy of Olympic bronze.

14. Elizabet Tursynbaeva’s FS, The Prayer, 2017 Internationaux de France

I fell in love with Elizabet last season (particularly her free skate to “Princess Mononoke”) and was very excited to see what programs should would do next. And she did not disappoint. Besides having the only acceptable Carmen this season, I also loved her free skate to Celine Dion’s “The Prayer”- it’s light and lyrical, a good fit for her. She still rushes through the choreography and some of her spins look really weird to me but she has made enormous strides in her presentation despite being hampered with a serious hip injury midway through the season. She’s lovely to watch, so floaty and quick over the ice.

13. Adam Rippon’s FS, Birds, 2017 NHK Trophy

What can I say? I loved this program last season and seeing it again this season was even more spectacular. The attentiveness to the music, the choreographic touches with bird movements, the meditative atmosphere. It’s just a very beautiful program. Adam has such a vibrant personality that obviously shines in his more “showy” programs, but I think I enjoy seeing his softer, lyrical programs best.

12. Wenjing Sui/Cong Han’s FS, Turandot, 2017 NHK Trophy

As a fairly new fan, I don’t have the same level of distaste for warhorses as veteran fans do (I imagine this will change once I have more years of figure skating watching under my belt). It’s not as poignant or as memorable as “Bridge Over Troubled Waters” from last season, but I admit I still very much enjoyed this skate, if only because Sui/Han were the ones skating it. Did I wish they had picked something a little more interesting? Yes, but they’re Sui/Han. They can make anything look good.

11. Kana Muramoto/Chris Reed’s FD, The Last Emperor/Merry Christmas Mr. Lawrence, 2018 World Championships

Kana is the best thing that has ever happened to Japanese ice dance (Chris, you’re cool too.) I’m so weak for this genre of music and ever since I discovered a certain tiny queen skated to Merry Christmas Mr. Lawrence, I’ve been waiting to hear it again. I’m a sucker for nature imagery and you really get the sensation of the passage of time and the movement of the seasons. Watching this is like taking a breath of spring air.

10. Boyang Jin’s SP, Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon, 2018 Four Continents Championships

Meh movie, great music. My favorite Boyang program to date, it was really exciting to see him attempt something more serious, a heftier program that would expand the emotional range of his skating. His short program was brilliant at Olympics, but I enjoyed Four Continents a little more because it was such a comeback after an injury-filled first half of the season. Out of the new generation of rising quadsters, he’s made the most improvement and I have no doubt he’ll continue to grow over the next quad. Onwards and upwards, Boyang!

9. Madison Hubbell/Zachary Donohue’s FD, Across the Sky/Caught Out in the Rain, 2018 US National Championships

My favorite free dance of the season! You can always count on Hubbell/Donohue to do something a little offbeat. Blues is a bit of an unusual choice of music for a free dance (which tend to be either lyrical or warhorsey drama) but it fits them like a glove. After building some good momentum earlier this season, a few fatal errors in the free including an invalidated choreographic sequence left them trailing in 4th, just shy of the podium at the Olympics. They rebounded to claim their first Worlds medal a month later, which was a special moment to witness but I felt their Nationals performance was the most passionately skated.

8. Tatsuki Machida’s EX, Swan Lake: Siegfried and His Destiny, 2017 Carnival on Ice

Go big or go home. The time and technical requirements of amateur competition are clearly too restrictive for Tatsuki’s genius :) Why cram the greatest hits of Swan Lake into a paltry two-minute program when you can really do it justice by skating to it for almost eight minutes instead? Tatsuki spares no expense for his epic-length programs. Every moment is meticulously thought out and is as extra af. We’re treated to almost a minute of dramatic music and a skater-less spotlight before Tatsuki appears. The star of Swan Lake is typically the swan (or the black swan) but no, that’s too conventional; let’s make Siegfried the guy everyone’s talking about instead. Drama hands! Floofy hair action! Seven straight seconds of twizzles in time with the tempo change! Dramatique feather posing because why not. Did that twenty seconds of absolute silence between movements make you uncomfortable? Good, because it’s all eyes on me! Skating so gorgeous you wouldn’t even notice there are only two jumps (both amazingly timed to the music), this is a visual and aural feast for the eyes. It’s a Swan Lake to outclass all other Swan Lakes that have been, that are, and that will be.

7. Akiko Suzuki’s EX, O, 2018 The Legends

[inserts crying emoji] A regret I have is not becoming a fan when Akiko was still skating competitively. I love this program soso much and seeing it brought back again was a real treat. The choreographic sequence still sends shivers down my spine <333

6. Tessa Virtue/Scott Moir’s FD, Moulin Rouge, 2018 Pyeongchang Olympics

Scintillating. Flawless. The pinnacle of ice dance. It’s the kind of performance that just sears into your mind for a long, long time. Though they didn’t get perfect marks here, it’s as perfect a skate you’ll find.

5. Wakaba Higuchi’s FS, Skyfall, 2018 World Championships

Such a cool and sleek program. I like the blue dress more than this one but this was easily the free skate of the ladies in Milan for me. A passionate and powerful skate, it was really nice to see Wakaba come back strong after a disappointing Nationals finish and hit it at Worlds. Reigning World Silver Medalist! (now please give her the PCS she deserves)

4. Aliona Savchenko/Bruno Massot’s FS, La terre vue du ciel, 2018 Pyeongchang Olympics

Wow. Just wow. I went in as a Sui/Han fan but wow, this free skate is gorgeous and sweeps me away every time I watch it. And they performed it to perfection at GPF, Olympics, and Worlds. The choreography is amazing and unique, and apparently full of little touches to previous programs (like the star catching moment from “The Lighthouse”, their free program last season). Dominant, majestic, and absolutely exhilarating to watch. I can watch this again and again and never tire of it.

3. Satoko Miyahara’s FS, Madame Butterfly, 2017-18 Japanese National Championships

While her short program is more loved (as it should be, it is an amazing work of art, Lori really outdid herself, you should go watch it ^^), I think I enjoyed her free skate more simply because it’s given her so many Moments this season. Coming back from a slew of injuries, including a serious hip injury from last season, it was highly questionable if she would even be able to make it to the Olympics at all. But Satoko silenced all doubters again and again, at Skate America and then at Japanese Nationals, where she gave the free skate of her career with an emotive and stunning performance that carried her to her Olympic dream on butterfly wings ^^. Triumphant, mesmeric, spectacular-it is a Madame Butterfly that rewrites the tragic ending into one of hope, a story that is entirely Satoko’s.

2. Javier Fernandez’s FS, Man of La Mancha, 2018 Pyeongchang Olympics

(password to video link: man of la mancha)

A skater from a small federation, from a country where figure skating barely exists, Javier has written history again and again. And what a journey it has been! From finishing 35th at his first Worlds appearance in 2007, Javier would go on to qualify for his first Olympics in Vancouver and become the first Spanish skater to win Europeans, to win Worlds, and ultimately, to win an Olympic medal. It feels appropriate that “Man of La Mancha”, an unapologetically Spanish program that perfectly captures the essence of Javier’s career--”to dream the impossible dream”--is to be the program to stake his Olympic dream on, And his Olympic dream truly seemed almost impossible in the months leading up to Pyeongchang. An uncharacteristically disastrous free at the Cup of China disqualified him from making the Grand Prix Final for the first time since 2013. And while his Chaplin short clicked for him (also excellent, highly recommended), he struggled with the free all season long. Unabashedly romantic, with just the right amount of earnest cheese (the best kind) and aged whimsy, “Man of La Mancha” is my favorite Javier free skate and I’m so glad he was able to skate it to its fullest potential at the competition that mattered most.

1. Yuzuru Hanyu’s FS, Seimei, 2018 Pyeongchang Olympics

What makes a skate great? Legendary? Memorable? It’s easy to jump to the pristine “Seimei” in Barcelona, the ethereal cleanliness of “Hope & Legacy” in Helsinki, or even the world-record breaking (again) “Ballade No.1″ in Montreal. While all of these skates are indeed great, legendary, and certainly memorable, I find my thoughts turning instead to a young seventeen-year-old Romeo in Nice, unleashing his battle cry after a dramatic fall as he fought through a sprained ankle to win his first Worlds medal. Clean performances are definitely great, but great skates don’t need to be clean. At the end of the day, what makes a skate great is in the struggles overcome, hardships endured, fears mastered, doubts silenced; in spite of it all, to manage to find joy and fulfillment in not only what you have accomplished but also in the thorny path that has led you there. It’s not as perfect as Barcelona, but the Seimei in Pyeongchang offers a different kind of magnificence, a triumph in more ways than one.

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love-max1982-us · 3 years

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However with an increasingly diversified global Rogue portfolio

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the-l0st-s0ul-blog · 6 years

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about me, the lost soul.

i thought i’d post a little about myself so you can begin to get to know me a little. my name is jay {short for my real name, which i’ve decided to keep sort of anonymous}. i live in the united states {ew}. i am 22 years old, so here are 22 facts about me..

1.} i’ve been diagnosed with {severe} depression, {severe} anxiety, and bipolar II. {a vast majority of which is due to the grief of losing many loved ones so closely together.} i also suffer from binge eating.

2.} i have a registered emotional support animal, a little black cat named kevin. you’ll see plenty of him, he is very special to me.

3.} i love movies and tv, a little deeper love than just watching. i like to look deeper into storylines and view things the way a director might, or when i find a show or movie i love, i’ll explore other works from the actors/actresses.

4.} i mentioned my cat, kevin. i also have a chocolate lab named gilbert, and a pretty red betta fish named steve.

5.} i still live with my parents and i currently do not have a steady job {due to mental illness}. i hate to admit that, but that is where i am right now. i have tried and still do, believe me..

6.} i enjoy cannabis, and am quite the glass enthusiast. it’s just amazing to me how differently constructed pieces can affect your high. plus, blown glass is so, so pretty.

7.} i {just barely} graduated high school. straight out of high school, i went to the university of iowa, where i only lasted a year due to good ol mental illness.. i later went on to try community college, but that didn’t work out either. although i did learn that i have quite the interest in psychology. in fact, the only college credit i have is from acing a psychology class.

8.} shopping makes me feel better. i wouldn’t say i’m materialistic though, most of my shopping sprees happen at walmart or dollar general. all of my sprees happen during manic episodes, whether i know it or not. when all else fails, even just the smallest new thing can bring me joy for at least a little while. however, it has gotten me into some financial trouble.

9.} this is a lot harder than i thought. i’ve been writing this for over a half hour now. i hate talking about myself, mainly in person, but still.. so a fact here could be how i have less than no self esteem and i hate myself quite a bit. a lot.

10.} i am a cis female {she/her pronouns}. i am pansexual, if i have a special connection with someone, their gender identity won’t matter to me. love is love.

11.} my favorite shows are freaks and geeks, american dad, friends, stranger things, and that 70s show.

12.} my favorite movies are moana, the saw series, it, dirty grandpa, pineapple express, a million ways to die in the west, spy, just go with it, the thor movies, ace ventura, back to the future, and this is the end.

13.} i love the film group dynamic, and by that i mean groups of actors who almost always do films together. my favorites are the adam sandler crew, the seth rogen / james franco crew, and the seth macfarlane crew.

14.} my favorite food is mexican style food. damn near everything about it is absolutely delicious. i love taco bell, but i prefer actual mexican restaurants. los ranchitos and los agaves are my favorites.

15.} i don’t drink. i actually decided so shortly after i turned 21. i drank through most of my teen years and when i was first learning the ropes of my mental illnesses, and now alcohol just tastes and smells like terrible, awful, horrible memories. i have made a lot of bad drunk decisions.

16.} i have been sexually assaulted three times {to my knowledge}. i was drugged at a party twice and barely remember the incidents following.. i have no idea how i ended up with these men, i don’t even remember leaving the party place to go to a house. all i know is i would never ever have said yes soberly, and with two of them, i did say no until i passed out.. but that didn’t matter..

17.} i am an extreme introvert. i have three friends where i live, and i rarely see them due to my love of isolation. i live with my mom, dad, and sister, and i isolate so much, i rarely see them. i prefer solitude. i’ve come to love my own company.. maybe a little too much.

18.} my favorite book is final gifts by maggie callanan. to anyone interested in nursing, hospice care, or the afterlife, i highly suggest this book. it is so very interesting.

19.} i prefer to blind myself to all political nonsense. i worry enough on my own, i don’t choose to worry further with the way the world has become and keep anything that has to do with that giant nasty racist cheeto in the boss’s chair FAR away from me. but don’t get me wrong, i will help fight for social movements and such. i’ve attended a pride march with my sister, and i support feminism as well. i am not, nor will i ever be racist, homophobic, transphobic, etc. i only judge others by attitude.

20.} i love video games, though i haven’t been playing for long, so i only have a few favorites. i am a huuuge fan of fallout {3, new vegas, and 4}. skyrim is absolutely incredible, i love the elder scrolls. i love bethesda in general. i also play the sims 4 a little too often. it’s nice to virtually live a good life.

21.} music is a huge part of my life, and a big help in keeping my pathetic little heart beating. all time low, pierce the veil, and paradise fears will always ALWAYS be my favorites. they have saved my life countless times. the pop punk / alternative / post hardcore scene is my favorite. i also love the amity affliction, set it off, a day to remember, the ready set, good charlotte, and neck deep. i also enjoy early 2000s pop throwbacks, which includes the occasional backstreet boys binge. i also love throwback hip hop songs from when i was in school. the classics like t-pain, ne-yo, nelly, etc.

22.} i love candles. i like to coordinate the scents with the seasons. i’ve moved to my spring scents already though, which are sweet sangria and peach & mango. my winter scents were cranberry mistletoe, gingerbread spice, and by the fire. and my fall scents were pumpkin spice and hazelnut cream. the gingerbread spice with the hazelnut cream was also an incredible combination.

FINALLY DONE. though i highly doubt anyone will even read this. leave me a message if you did though, or if you relate to a certain part. i know i rambled, but this was pretty damn hard lol. enjoy your night, loves. xx

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wlwhc · 7 years

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Little Wolf

Anon asked: Can you do an imagine where Emma finds her little foster sister (reader) in Neverland? Like she's a tough scrappy little thing and fights the lost boys to save Henry and Emma refuses to leave her side.

Warning: Peter (crazy) Pan is in here , and he is obsessed with you, yes I do think that peter is a warning , because he’s basically aN OLD MAN IN A CHILD’S BODY ¿¡HOW DISTURBING IS THAT?! VERY.

(A/N): So I get a little carried away so it’s pretty long, and the worst part is that the end sucks , BUT i can make a part two involving Ingrid and that whole mess, just send a plot! :D

Pairing: Emma x Sister!Reader and a slightly little bit of Reader x Peter

Words: 3899

“Y/N~ where are you little one? I bring something for you to eat!”

Neverland has been your home for a long time, you honestly forgot how much time you had spent in this place, but one thing was sure, since the moment your foot touched the ground, Peter Pan was amazed by you, and you were utterly disgusted by the boy. He was weird and evil, not to mention a thief, liar, he practically kidnaps you and he also will always scare the shit out of you by appearing out of the nowhere. He could be nice sometimes, like right now, he will always bring you something to eat if he saw that you didn’t get to hunt anything, and will also try to convince you to play with the boys, but you knew better, you knew that something was off about him, so you prefer to stay alone, sometimes you will go to talk with Felix or other of the boys that seem nice, but the rest of them were just a bunch of idiots.

“There you are little wolf~, I bring you something to eat” The boy said to you, his charming smile sending a familiar feeling on your stomach...disgust. You send him a tiny smile and took the basket with food, your hands fly to the sandwiches, Peter looked at you with an oddly serious face.

“Oh... sorry, do you want some?” The boy was scary, but he brings you food, the least you could do was share right?. He smiles at this and shook his head.

“you are certainly the weirdest lost girl I’ve ever meet Y/N” You keep eating your sandwich, trying to avoid any other conversation, but the boy seems eager to get you to talk to him.

“do you wanna know why?” You rolled your eyes at him, he chuckled at this.

“You are as badass as you are beautiful, pretty weird combination for a kid if you ask me , and you are polite, kind” You scoff at this

“you are a kid idiot, and I’m not a kid, I’m 19” you said, your tiny 16-ish hands grabbed another sandwich. You came here at 16..well 15 but you were just days to turn 16.

“you certainly don’t look like 19” He joked “ how do you know how many time has passed anyway?” the boy asked, grabbing a sandwich from the basket, this time he sat down in front of you, giving his full attention to you.

“there’s something called the sun above your head that turns around the earth, yeah I know, shocking” The boy scoff at this. “I just made a sun clock” Peter gave you one of those grin smiles

“see? you are not only beautiful and kind, you are also pretty smart, you are one of a kind little wolf” he spends a few more minutes with you, asking you how you were and if you need it anything, asks you the same question he always asks you and you always decline.

“would you like to come with me? the lost boys are always happy to see you, well, a few at least and there’s also a new guy”. And for his surprised, you agreed.

“Amazing! come here” he grabbed you by the waist, and you shove him away.

“Ew no, I can walk thank you very much” Peter laugh at this.

“I was just going to fly you there, you need to relax, you look stressed, and you are in Neverland dear! how can you be grumpy if you are in paradise?” You sigh at this. The first time this boy appears in your window you didn’t hesitate to take his hand in yours and fly away from your home, his shadow is friendlier than your parents, so you didn’t think twice, you didn't know that you would spend the rest of your life on the 16 phase , it was like living in an infinite crisis. It was hard to say, but you missed home, and when I say home I don’t mean with your adoptive parents, I mean your home in the orphan, with Sarah Fisher (Ingrid) and Emma, they were like your family, until Emma disappear and Sarah didn’t want to tell you where she went, things got down hill since then, and here you were, in a magic land with a weird boy that can command his own shadow and can control the boys with a flute.with your adoptive parents, I mean your home in the orphan, with Sarah Fisher (Ingrid) and Emma, they were like your family, until Emma disappear and Sarah didn’t want to tell you where she went, things got down hill since then, and here you were, in a magic land with a weird boy that can command his own shadow and can control the boys with a flute.

“I just miss home sometimes” You said in a small voice, starting to walk with Peter to the camp.sometimes” You said in a small voice, starting to walk with Peter to the camp.

“why? you were suffering there, I saved you, you were...sad” the boy said

“I miss what my home used to be, I used to have a family, well, sort of, but I considered my family until they...split” You told him, you didn’t know why you were telling him this, after all this time, words seem to flow by themselves.

“we can be your new family! you just have to give us a chance” He said, smiling once again. God this boy smiled a lot.

“I don’t know... time will tell I guess”

“If you would tell me what can make you happy I’ll-”

“HENRY!” You heard a voice, a deep voice....mature.

“what w-”

“HENRY! HENRY WE ARE YOU?” this time was a woman. You saw Peter grabbed your hand and try to fly away, but you refuse

“we should see who they are!” you said to him, he glared at you and you could swear you felt your heart skip a beat.

“we can’t, they are bad people, they want to destroy this place, we can’t let them do that” He whispers to you

“HENRY!” You heard more voice. Oh god, more voices, how many ar-ar-

“At this pace, we won’t find him, we should use m-”

“we are not going to use magic Regina! for the last time, I swear that if you say the same thing once again I’ll-”

“yeah yeah choke me to death or something like that, excuse me for having a good idea and sharing it with the rest o-”

“oh shut up!”

The voices were getting closer, and Peter’s grip on your hand tighter.

“Y/N..”

“I can handle myself Peter, let me go” You said glaring at him, he smirks at this.myself Peter, let me go” You said glaring at him, he smirks at this.go” You said glaring at him, he smirks at this.go” You said glaring at him, he smirks at this.myself Peter, let me go” You said glaring at him, he smirks at this.myself Peter, let me go” You said glaring at him, he smirks at this.myself Peter, let me go” You said glaring at him, he smirks at this.

“You have such a fire inside of you...I love fire, if you are in trouble, just scream my name and I’ll come for you love” He leaves a kiss on your head and disappear.

Ew ew ew he kissed my head

“We should rest, we won’t be able to walk much further without resting”

“yeah good id-hey what’s that?” Peter left the Basket on your tree, fucking idiot.

“It look like a basket, it has food in it”

“Well seems like we are close”

You could finally take a look at the outsider, they were adults, weird looking guys an-One has a hook wtf!

“Aye, that’s weird, if there’s a basket here that means we are close to someone’s home” the one with the hook said. You were too intrigue and concentrated on trying to hear what they were saying that you didn’t hear a few leave crunch behind you. A hand flew to your mouth and someone’s arm to your arms.

“ I found somen-Ahg!” You punch him in the guts with your elbow and started running away, you didn’t run far, something caught your legs, it looked like roots wrapping around our legs.

“ahg let me go you-ahg stupid tree!”

“Regina stop! she’s just a kid!”

“I’M NOT A KID OLD LADY” The woman that tried to defend you, had a pixie cut, and was holding a bow, she looked offended by your words.

“yeah well she’s resisting pretty hard” Another woman said, she was holding what it seems to be a ball of fire on her hand, and her other hand seems to control the roots on your legs. The hook guy was looking through the basket, the guy that you punch was now beside the lady with the bow. There was also another woman that was looking at you with a weird expression, her face seems like she was struggling to think of something like her brain was burning or something.

“hey! stop wandering through my things thief!”

“you were spying on us kid!”

“I was not... well maybe I was, but just because you guys are weird..and adults a-DON’T YOU DARE EAT THAT, THAT’S MINE” The hook guy was now eating one of your apples, okay that’s it, you are going to call Peter.

“I know you” The blonde lady said, she walked closer to you, giving a better look to your face.

“uhh I don’t think so ma'am, I haven’t seen an adult in years”

“how your name kid?” The hook guy asked, still eating your apple.

“I’m not a kid asshole, I’m 19 and if you keep eating my thing I’ll make sure to shove that hook up your as-”

“language!” the lady with the pixie cut said

“oh for the love of g-”

“what it’s your name young adult” The hook guy said, rolling his eyes at you.

“I’m Y/N” The blonde lady seems to jump at this.

“well Y/N, I’m Killian Jones, that lady is Mary Margaret and her Husband David, the crazy witch is Regina Mills, try not to look at her too much you may get petrified, and the hot blonde is Emma S-”

“what’s your last name?” Emma asked you, she was looking at you with those puppy eyes, it was weird, it was almost as bad as Peter giving you one of his weird smiles.

“Y/L/N, I’m Y/N Y/L/N-”

“Oh god” She murmurs

“what? it’s a pretty name” David said. The blo-Emma seem to be frozen or something.

“Emma? ...hun what’s wrong?” Mary Margaret asked to the shocked girl

“h-how did you-how did you end up here? I mean, why you leave your home?” her voice was wavering a little. Emma was trying to keep herself calm, there was like a 1% of possibility that you were her Y/N right?...right?!

“what would you care anyway, can you guys please just..release me?” Regina looked at Emma and she nods eagerly at her. Regina sends her an oddly look and the roots that were wrapping your body disappear.

“thanks, what are you here anyway? how did you guys manage to get here? adults can’t come here” You asked them.

“Why would you care anyway?” The hook guy said, still wandering around your basket, you walked to him grabbing your basket.

“this is mine jackass”

“do you know where the rest of the boys are Y/N?” Mary Margaret asked

“1 , don’t talk to me with that stupid voice, I don’t have 4 years old I’m 19, 2 why would I tell you? you guys didn’t even tell me why you are he-”

“Peter Pan took our son and we are here to bring him back” Regina said

“well, he must have a reason to run away, Peter doesn’t kidnap kid for no reason , you probably suck at being a mother” You said, the ball of fire appear again on her hand, but Emma glare at her.

“I’m a good mother, Peter kidnap him, he does not belong here” The witch said

“ So you are here so save him? , what if He doesn’t want to go back, what then?” You asked then.

“He will want to go back because he was k-”

“kidnap, yeah I heard it the first time” You said glaring at Killian “well good luck with that, Peter is very protective of his friends, and even though they are kids they know how to fight-”

“wow wow wait, we are not going to let you go” The hook guy said.

“why not-”

“you didn’t tell us about you” The blonde said

“I already tell you my name i-”

“Yeah but, that’s not too much information, we already told you about us, is only fair if you do the same” Emma said. The rest of the group was looking at her with a weird expression. Maybe they were not bad, plus, you could easily call for Peter at night and fly away.

“Okay, seems fair enough” The blonde smile at this.

“Why you are here and not with the other lost boys?” Mary Margaret asked

“I can’t stand them, they are a bunch of idiots, including Peter” You sat down on a rock and the rest of them started to settle down.

“Now I like you” Regina said, you gave her a tiny smile

“...and why you came if you don’t like them?” Emma asked

“well...It was better than my ..home or whatever”

“you’re an orphan” Regina said.

“Yep, but I didn't stay long, they adopt me when I was 15 I ran when I was 16..well more like fly” The boys were out looking for wood to make a fire and the ladies were now looking at you with a sadly face.

“It was that bad?” Emma asked

“Peter's shadow is friendlier than my adoptive parents so...this place it’s like the orphan though, I’m stuck here with a bunch of stupid kids” Emma chuckled at this.

“you know where is their camp?” Regina asked “we don’t mean any harm for the other boys we just want Henry back” She with a sad smile

“well, Henry is pretty lucky if you guys came here for him, I can take you there But! … if Killian touches my thing once again I’ll-” Mary Margaret was glaring at you, she raises an eyebrow almost daring you to swear again. “-be very very angry” She smiled at this

“don’t worry, I’ll keep him away from your things” Mary said

After deciding to walk to the camp tomorrow, they sit by the fire and chose who was going to do night watch. You fall asleep quickly and it could have been a beautiful night if it wasn’t for that damn flute. The sound was beautiful, yeah, it was almost angelical for your ears, but after hearing it every fucking night, you got tired of it, Peter knew this and he sometimes plays the magic instrument only to bother you. You got up from your spot, your eyes trying to find the shape of Peter, but you only found a snoring David and a fire long ago extinct. The annoying sound of the flute sound again, you scared to follow the sound, your feets walking by themselves.

Emma couldn’t close her eyes, too many thought running through her head, one in particular sending her tiredness away, you. It was possible that her little foster sister could be you, the age match, the name and last name too, you said that you were an orphan, it was practically confirmed by now, and although she wanted to believe that you were her little sister, she was also scared, she ran away from you, she left you, she was scared of you reaction, she was scared that maybe she was the cause to make you feel so lost and end up here. While Emma was being bombarded with thoughts she saw you walking away, a weird flute sound could be heard, she decided to follow you.

“There you are little wolf~” Peter greeted you, you rush to him and smack his arm. “auch!”

“how many times do I have to tell you that I hate that fucking flute!” he chuckled at this

“but this beautiful flute always manage to wake you up!” you glared at him

“what do you want Peter? I was having a nice dream” He smirks at this

“so you were having dreams about me?” Emma was hidden behind a tree, trying not to throw up at your interaction with Peter

“ I was having a nice dream of me kicking you ass” Emma smiled at this, and Peter's smirked didn’t seem to vanish

“well, I’m here to take you to the camp, the boys are missing you, and you told me this morning that you were going to visit” Peter got a little closer to you, and you back away

“yeah I know but I’m...the new guys you told me about, his name is Henry?” Peter dementor change at this.

“you talked with the outsiders, I told you not t-”

“I don’t take order from you, or anyone for that matter, these people said that you kidnap him” Peter smiled at this

“I did the same with you remember? you were crying and begging me to take you away from those filthy pigs you called parents, they are going to say I kidnap him but I save him” He grabbed you hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.

Ahg god no, don’t do that, ew boy germs

You were going to back away but Emma got out of her hiding place.

“don’t touch her!” Emma glare at Peter, he put you behind him in a protective way. “Y/N come here kid” She said to you.

“Why would she go with you Emma? , you abandoned her after all...you made her lost her way”

wait...what?

“what are you talking about Peter?” You asked him. Emma was looking at you wide eyed.

“oh my god” She mumbled

“she’s Emma love, Emma Swan, the girl who you believe it was your sister but abandoned you, she left you alone and didn’t look back” Peter said, he was smiling like a maniac at Emma, she was currently trying to talk to you.

“Don’t listen to him, I didn't have another choice, I ran yes but I regret it Y/N-”

“wait so, you are Emma?...god you are old” You smiled at her. At this point you didn't care if she abandoned you , she must have her reasons, and you missed her too much to care about those reasons.

“Yeah I know” She smiled at you. Peter frowned at this, why you were smiling at her?.

“What are you doing Y/n? , she left you, she doesn’t care about you, all she cared is about her son, she will use you to get to him-”

“She just wants her son back, and I really want to hug her because I missed her, whatever reason she had to run away must have been important-”

“Y/N come her-”

“She will not go with you!” Peter scream at her. Okay, that’s scary.

“Peter calm down, she just wants her son, they came all the way to this place to bring him back I don’t think that a bad parent would do that-”

“I will not give you Henry, I would not let you destroy Neverland” Peter glared at Emma once again. “Y/n...they will destroy this place, we need Henry, he has the heart of the true believer if we-

“you can ask him nicely you know, just give her back her son, and ask the boy to do whatever you want him to do nicely and we can all be happy-”

“we need his heart..” He said to you, grabbing your hands. Emma was starting to get impatient, if she jumps to get you then Peter was surely going to do something, she could not help you on this, wait … he needs her son's heart… what?

“wait what? his heart?...are you planning on killing him!?” You back away to Emma , fear plastered on your face, Peter was looking at you with that maniac grinned.

“it’s the only way love, together we can save Neverland, we can rule together, you can be my Queen little wolf~”

“you are fucking crazy!” You scream at him. Emma got in front of you this time.

“you are not going to win this, we will save He-” Peter smiled once more

“I need him, Y/N I know you’ll come around, called my name if you need help love-”

“stop calling me like that Peter...I’m going to help them get back their son”

“ we both know that you are not going to do that because you know deep down that I'm doing the right thing...I’ll save Neverland, and you will rule by my side...Peter Pan never fails” and with that, he left, leaving you shaking like a chihuahua and Emma standing awkwardly beside you.

“That was intense…” You said

“.. Y/n I’m-”

“we can talk about that later, right now, we need to go to the camp and save your son before it’s too late” Emma nod at this, and almost tackle you with a hug.

“I know this may be awkward and all but I missed you” You return the hug. Emma had always been taller than you, but this time she was also older.

“this is so awkward, I’m hugging my old old old old-

“okay I get it I'm-”

“old old old sister after all this time” you two got separated, and after Emma wrapped you up in another hug, this time not so awkward, the two of you got back with the others.

After discussing the best way to go into Peter’s camp and actually getting into the camp you got the chance to kick several butts, even when Mary warned you not to hurt them too much, you just didn't care, you kick every but you saw, but unfortunately, you couldn’t kick Peter's butt, because Regina and Emma did it first, and in a pretty badass way.

Peter got destroyed by this two ladies, and they finally got reunited with Henry. Emma walked to you with Henry so he could meet her aunt.

“Henry this is Y/N she is your aunt” Emma said.

“I have an Aunt?!” The boy happily say

“yeah I know that it’s weird, but I’m actually 19 so don't you dare called me kid” You warned him

“that’s so cool!, but why you were here” He said.

“that's a long story so...now what are guys going to do?” you asked them. You knew that they were going to go back to whatever place they were, and you have the tiny little hope that they could possibly take you and send you back to the real world.

“Well, this place is gone, we are going to go back to Storybrooke, the lost boys included...that means you to” Emma said smiling at you.

“Awesome! you think you can drop me in NY? I always wanted to visit the big apple-”

“what? oh no, you are coming with me” Emma said wrapping you in her arms. “I’m not going to leave you again, I won't let you go out of my sight”.

And so you left Neverland with hopes of forgetting about your adventures and just live happily with your sister. Little did you know that your life will take a big turn, secrets would be revealed, love ones will appear and memories will unfreeze. Storybrooke better is ready because things were going to get … a little cold.

as you can see I didn’t write the scene where you kickass because I suck at that and I still don’t know enough vocabulary to write that action , sorry :(

#emma swan x reader #emma swan #emma swan imagine #emma swan imagines #ouat #ouat imagines #ouat imagine #once upon a time #regina mills #henry mills #snow white #the charmings #killian jones #captain hook

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