#again if I got something wrong or superficially please tell me

[greypetrel]

Ok because I'm falling down the Aisling x Fenris hole with you - could I ask for affection meme #29 - Meeting eyes across a distance and knowing what the other is thinking?

You are all enabler!

(and I want to thank you. x°D Really I was so anxious at posting that fic, I’m so glad it got some appreciation)

(reminding you all that this is much an AU, don’t worry, we’re staying in Cullen territory in Canon. … She has a kink for Templars and bisexual disasters tho. You can mock her.)

Also it’s coming in more parts! Because why suffering twice when we can all suffer more.

Soundtrack!

And Part 1 if you missed it

If I Make it to the Morning

( Meeting eyes across a distance and knowing what the other is thinking )

*Between Hasmal and the Tevinter border, 9:41, Firstfall.*

At first, the voices and tales of the Herald of Andraste didn’t caught Fenris’ attention. He just shrugged them off, not paying attention to the latest imposed saint and saviour there to solve everyone’s problems. He had spent his time in Kirkwall with the Hawkes, not enough to have him stay, but enough to learn that one person was but one person, and couldn’t be held responsible to solve the World.

He learnt about the Conclave, learnt that the Herald was an elf, and a Dalish one. But after a fleeting thought, wondering if he crossed their eyes at the Arlathven, all that time ago, he took his sword and was on the road again, after the next slavers.

He had no interest in joining the Inquisition, and if Varric needed him, he knew how to find him and contact him. It was none of his business, after all, three years with a clan and two days at an Arlathven didn’t make him a Dalish.

There were weird groups of mages, lately, crossing the border in the middle of the night and with no cages. It was clear, tho, that they weren’t exactly up to much good. The first group that Fenris ambushed didn’t look that assuming. He admittedly just saw Tevinters acting suspicious, followed them and attacked when it was clear that they were up to no good, interrogating their chief.

Venatori, he called their group. At the service of the Ancient One to restore Tevinter’s glory. Add the usual slurs and empty threats, Fenris just ended him and got on with his work, gathering documents and the informations he could. He didn’t fully understand what was going on, there definitely were some pieces of the puzzle he missed -first and foremost who this Ancient One was-, but the mentions to Red Lyrium were enough for him to catch on that Venatori meant, too, kill on sight. He sent word to Varric as soon as he got back to Hasmal and his informators, attached the document he found, and got on with his life.

*Close to the Tevinter border, 9:42, Wintermarch.*

It passed a month before another attack to another group of Venatori almost ended in disaster. He thought he had counted them all, tracking them down as they crossed the border and made their way out of the beaten path, hiding the way hahren Oshyn taught him, minding his steps not to make noise, blend in the environment. It was useful for spying as well, observing the enemy without being seen, and he was grateful for the effort the Lavellans put up with him. Except, this time he miscalculated.

He didn’t see that there was a second group, bigger, further back on the path, that descended on him as he was almost finishing the first. He cursed, thought back on his strategy. They were too many, and he was getting tired: his chance was falling back -dodge a fireball, parry another, jump back when there’s the crack of lightning, plant your sword in the ground and your hands away, shut your eyes and close your ears, the way she told him to- and retreating back in the trees, hoping he still remembered Oshyn’s teaching enough to lose them in the woods.

And then, an arrow struck a soldier. Another felled the next. Barriers were casted as a contingent of soldiers and scouts came out all around him, telling him brashly to just move.

They sported Inquisition insignia, a flaming black eye in white field, cut in half by a sword. He stared, not understanding what they did so far north. Far beyond the reaching of the Chantry. If they crossed the border and entered in arms in the Imperium, it would have caused a diplomatic disaster, and for what he knew, the Inquisition wasn’t so politically sound to withstand offending Tevinter, Herald of Andraste or not.

When the battle was over, he approached what looked like the Officer in command, and asked. They were kind, and treated him as equal. Mistook him for a Dalish, but it wasn’t the first time it happened, and he often took it as covering, not bothering to correct the mistake of seeing a tattooed elf and going for Dalish.

“We’re here on the Inquisitor’s personal orders, hunting slavers and Venatori. You shouldn’t engage neither on your own, particularly the Venatori: they’re dangerous and the prisoners are taken for experiments.”

“So close to Tevinter?”

“Yes, it’s a conjunct operation. The Inquisitor’s Tevinter advisor has contact in Minrathous. Magister Tilani joined forces with us for this operation.”

He frowned. A Tevinter advisor in contact with a Magister? He heard of Tilani, she wasn’t high on his list of targets, but still… Maybe he should have paid more attention to the Inquisition, after all, if its hand reached so far north and its leader had… Such sympathies. Weird.

“Can you tell me more about the Inquisitor? With a Tevinter advisor?”

The scout laughed, shaking her head. He followed her around, helping how he could in searching bodies and retrieving documents, orders and everything useful.

“Forgive me the laughter… You’re not the first to have doubts. The Lady Inquisitor was the Herald of Andraste, and much like her patroness, she doesn’t look at provenience, if the intentions are good. Whoever wants to help defeating Corypheus has a place.”

A Dalish elf with sympathies for Tevinter. It could… No. No, it couldn’t be. She was one of many, and she wanted to stay in the clan. He shooed that thought from his head and made another question.

“Who’s this Corypheus?”

“The Ancient One, yes, the one that the Venatori follows.”

“So, a Magister.”

“So they say. Some rumours say he’s darkspawn too, tho… But he was the one who opened the Rifts and the sky, and destroyed Haven, Lady Lavellan tho closed the Breach and dueled him in Haven… She’s the best bet against him.”

“… Lavellan, you said?”

“Yes, didn’t you know her name? I thought the Dalish knew. Do you know her?”

“… she’s a mage.”

“Yes, but-”

He thanked the Scout, a little too brashly for politeness, and was out of the clearing before she could ask him who he was exactly. And thinking back, really, how many weird elves could he think of that would have welcomed a Tevinter noble as advisor? How many elves were so prone in getting caught always in the weirdest shit so gloriously?

He needed to get South.

*Exalted Plains, 9:42, Guardian.*

It took him way longer than he would have liked to reach her.

He had considered tracking the Lavellan, just to ask… Anything, really. Because the idea of facing the Keeper and the whole clan, after almost 8 years since he left without even a goodbye was still more appealing than facing her, after leaving with yes, a goodbye, and also a conversation that left her in pieces and took the light away from her eyes.

But he owed it to her, at least. He owed it to come personally, not go looking for voices and rumours from people who knew her, not write and ask Varric how she was faring and if he believed she needed help.

He hadn’t been thinking straight, but he felt his heart in his throat and a sense of dread. He had to go and check. Even if it meant having her tell him in his face that he went way past her stupidly wide boundaries and she hated him. Just a quick detour. Check if she was fine. Offer his sword if she needed it. He owed it to her. She has just saved his life. Yet again. He was free, now, and he was done running.

But, by the time he reached Skyhold, not difficult to find once he crossed to Ferelden and found forward camps and bases flying the flaming eye all around the Storm Coast and Crestwood, drinking anecdotes and informations he could find and hear, she wasn’t there.

It was, honestly, impressive to see what she had accomplished: the tall, imposing fortress bustling with life and activities, the camp in the valley. Oh, he knew she was highly intelligent, and would have been a good leader, once her time would have come… He never expected this. As he never expected to find back from Kirkwall Knight-Captain Rutherford – now Commander, and underlining heavily how he was no more Knight-Captain- to burst his cover of “Former Lavellan member”.

It took him too many explanations to let him, Sister Nightingale and Lady Montilyet to agree and tell him where the Inquisitor was. Varric barged in, fighting guards, to vouch for him, and yet fell surprised when Leliana asked him if it was true that he knew the Inquisitor. He couldn’t answer, because he never told him which clan he knew, never told them all more than “I hid three years among the Dalish”, when Merrill noticed some idiosyncrasies he picked up and she instantly recognised. Luckily, Cullen didn’t forget he was in the Gallows too, fighting against Meredith, and it was him, in the end, who convinced his colleagues. It calmed him to see she had people around that were protective of her. The actual her, not the Inquisitor mask.

He tagged along in the next supply caravan, headed to the Exalted Plains. It wasn’t a long trip, at least.

He was welcomed by destruction. Trenches in shambles, a countryside on fire, soldiers from both parties of the civil war gathering to burn corpses, Inquisition forces working hard to keep everyone supplied, the roads safe from bandits, clean up what they could.

They pointed him North, saying the Inquisitor hadn’t been back from a couple of days. That was busy, as the Inquisition’s forces repaired the bridge to Citadelle du Courbeau, helping a Dalish Clan that was camped in Halin’Sulahn. She was bound, tho, to be at Fort Revasan in three days time, to cross the river and go check the situation in the Citadelle. Voices ran of more zombies and demons.

He sighed, not surprised that they kept having such a bad timing amongst the civil war and her fulfilling her duties to the People. As the great First that she was. He headed north, leaving the beaten path, spotting traces he didn’t really like and felt familiar from the last three, aimless years.

He climbed to the top of a low hill, facing down to a flatter strip of land where a tall, dilapidated elven building still stood and he saw it: a small camp, lit by a couple of fires and tents with the Tevinter snakes painted on top. Very unwise, to make themselves so visible and recognisable. Particularly because they were so few, all but five people, two of whom lying asleep.

He unsheathed his greatsword and slowly walked down, laying low and hiding behind fallen rocks. The position wasn’t the best, just a turn of a head and he’d be spotted. Nonetheless, he trudged on hiding until he couldn’t anymore. He was spotted and then he ran. He faded through a tent, stabbing down to the sleeping mage there, right in the middle of his chest. One less.

He faded again through a fireball, charging one of the mages, the one that alarmed the others. It wasn’t difficult, he just had to pay attention and care for his surroundings, ducking and dodging and taking his time. He had energies to spare, the long journey left him eager of getting back to work. One Venatori less, throat sliced neatly.

The third had him retreat, casting a rain of icicles he had to jump back to dodge. Not a problem, he could circle him, maybe drag the assassin they had with them in the fire, or over one of the ice mines that were casted -as if he didn’t know what they were, the idiot didn’t even put some effort in making them inconspicuous to the warrior elf glowing blue with lyrium. Amateurs.

A snap of wood behind him signalled one of the rogues, he girated around, swinging his sword –

Swiiish.

The assassin screamed in pain, as an arrow struck him right in his eye. He heard a feminine laughter, very nasal, from behind him, but didn’t stop to look, slicing through the soft belly of the assassin and leaving her on the ground to die, turning again to parry another fireball thrown at him with the flat of his weapon.

“See? I got the bull’s eye, Bull! Got it? Ah ah!”

The same voice of the laughter cheered, followed by a booming one, a laughter hidden behind every syllable, from right on his left.

“Great job, Sera-baas! Move, broomstick!”

The ground trembled, as a Qunari run after him and sliced the mage he was aiming at as if it was butter. The mage jumped behind, wounded badly but apparently not down, more resistant than one would think, or with a better armour hidden in flowy robes. The Qunari yelled. “Crap!” as he jumped back, too close to fully avoid the fire that was thrown at him. He hissed, swinging his axe to get distance, ignoring the pain and the burn. Fenris didn’t lose time, jumping right at him, zig-zaging to avoid being targeted too easily. He killed that mage by stabbing him in his chest, deep, but it left him open to the last warrior, his sword stuck in the leather brigandine the mage was clad in.

“Boss!”

He heard the Qunari yell again, as he struggled -damn Tevinter clothes with their too many straps- to free his sword and himself.

He felt it, then.

The air crackling in static all around, buzzing with energy and the distinct smell of ozone. Noise of hoofs, a horse neighing. And then-

It thundered, loud and strong. It had been eight years, but Fenris’ body, apparently, remembered, closing his eyes and letting go of the hilt, staying impossibly still where he was as the air filled with light and thunder, the woosh of flames adding up and warming the air on his face was new, and then everything quieted again. He opened his eyes and the last Vint was lying on the ground, unconscious and burnt from the lightning that just hit him, twitching jerkily as the electricity ran through his nerves, his clothes on fire in more than one part, hair completely burnt down.

They were younger, in a carefree day, years ago. It was spring, the air was full of the smell of fresh grass and flowers. He was sitting against a tree with a book she had lent him to exercise, as she slowly padded her way in the underbush, staff held tight in her hand and steps overly measured, toes checking the ground for twigs before placing her weight on it. She wasn’t a hunter: she may be not so bad when she asked him to teach her to wield a sword, but… The tongue out of her lips, the overly concentrated expression betrayed her uneasiness, long hair splaying all around, leaves stuck in the locks. She launched a rock in the undergrowth, quickly falling into position and calling on her mana as three rabbits ran away, scared. He closed his eyes and averted his eyes, not moving one bit as she told him, as thunder fell from the sky, precise as an arrow, and shocked one of the running rodents dead. She turned with a big smile on her face, expression lit up by more than the speckles of the sun that filtered through the canopy, proud of herself and looking at him for recognition.

“What for?” He had asked, barely containing a smile. He was there from a couple of years, they were unlikely friends, and he found it was difficult to stay grumpy and angry when Aisling was looking at you with that level of enthusiasm.

“Dinner, silly!” She laughed.

She wasn’t catching dinner anymore, but the precision, dead-set and carefully gained through a lot of methodical exercise, was still unmistakably hers. And yet, she wasn’t laughing anymore. She wasn’t alight with enthusiasm, and her hair weren’t long and with leaves or flowers decorating them.

She sat on a pinto horse, staff in her hand, looking straight at him with a hard expression on her face he didn’t think she even had in her. Her hair was shorter, brushing her shoulders and left loose, parted on top of her head so some stray locks covered her brow and her Vallaslin. Which was weird per se. She was very proud of her tattoos, always had been, and most often she braided her hair back to show them. Her face had lost the last roundness of childhood, her mouth had a harsh turn to it. She still wore leg wraps even with clothes and a leather cloak that were unmistakably human in cuts and materials, toes free on the stirrups.

Their eyes met, they kept looking for a long time. He notice briefly the other elf on the saddle with her, an archer taller than her that was glaring suspiciously at him, the second Mage in flowy white robes and moustaches that Fenris remembered from another life, or the Qunari of before asking questions he didn’t hear.

There she was. Aisling Lavellan, looking at him in the eyes.

Eight years had passed, but it was just like it was yesterday that they spoke for the last time. There was something he couldn’t recognise, but he still believe he knew, roughly, how to read her. He had spent a lot of time learning it, after all, and put his effort into it. With suspect at first, because she was a mage and she was eager, striving to get better, curiosity later, because she was careful and loved what she was doing, and a youthly, foolish and thought unrequited first love, lastly. They were both older, now… But she was still her, and he was still him.

He stepped forward, not breaking eye contact, until the archer rose her bow, the Altus got his staff in position and he had the Qunari’s axe at his throat, forcing him to held his chin high.

“Bull.” She just said, assertive. Her Keeper’s tone.

“Are you sure, Boss? We don’t know-”

“I knew him.”

He didn’t lose how she clicked her tongue on her palate, making the horse move without any other movement, stopping him in front of the Tevinter. Protectively.

She didn’t have to ask him, he didn’t have to answer, they still communicated silently as well as the day he left, after all. There was old hurt, distrust, and incomprehension. And yet, something steely in her eyes, that was maybe not her, but the Lady Inquisitor. He contracted his eyebrows, knowing she was reading him as well.

She lowered her eyes, nodded.

And then he spoke, for the others more than for her.

“I came to offer my sword to the Inquisitor.”

And then, someone punched him, hard, right on his right cheekbone. He fell to the ground, hissing in pain and scrambling to the side, to face-

A very angry, seething with rage, Radha Lavellan. Sharper to the corners, hair considerably shorter, daggers sheathed and hands still clenched in punches. If looks could kill, he would be dead and buried right there and then.

“Radha.” Aisling called, a note of tiredness in her voice.

The Rogue stepped back, without saying a word, still casting angry glances at him. 

“Who is our new guest, darling?” A soft, low voice came, still from behind the horse.

“A person we once knew. He won’t hurt anyone, let him come.”

There was that, at least.

*Skyhold, 9:42, Spring and Summer.*

She wasn’t angry with him. She didn’t seem so. But, she wasn’t the bubbly, friendly person of before.

She accepted him in the Inquisition, leaving to Leliana and Cullen to decide how better to take advantage of his abilities after he explained that he had spent the last 4 years after Kirkwall to hunt slavers down, on his own.

He didn’t expect to find both Raina and Garrett Hawke there, greeting him with Varric as one would an old friend. Even if he was the one of their rag-tag group that fought alongside them for the shortest time. But, they at least were welcoming.

Aisling avoided him, polite when they needed to interact, with a coldness she never had, not getting closer. He tried to speak to her, but she wasn’t reachable anymore. She didn’t want his apologies, she told him that he could be free, she didn’t need his help and didn’t want for him to stay if he didn’t want to, or if he just felt like it was his duty. He professed his wish to… Make amend, somehow. She just refused him, saying there was no need, nothing to amend for. Things happened.

He disagreed, and he stayed. Not that she seemed to mind much in good or bad.

But, she assigned him to missions, never ordering but always asking, mindful even after all that time of not making him feel trapped or forced. Radha slowly stopped looking at him as she would have stabbed him in his back, if it wasn’t for Aisling. It was something.

They danced around the other, gravitating, as they had done when the Lavellan brought him in. He knew she was observing him, he could see her looking at him from time to time. He was doing the same, both looking and not approaching. Space was what they had, space was familiar and a good compromise, as Fenris did his best to show her he was there, and he was not running, not leaving her to face a weird darskpawn-Magister alone. He could do that for her, and it wasn’t all that unpleasant.

The company was good, he got along with the Chargers -he knew the Iron Bull was familiar, after he named Seheron he knew. They never spoke about it, but they both knew. Varric… Was Varric, a knack for making you feel welcomed everywhere. He called her Lucky. It was, indeed, still Aisling Lavellan, the weirdo who thought people were good. She collected quite the rag-tag group, still making friends first and foremost with the most unlikely people around. Magisters and Altus -those were hard to accept, he stuck around as she and Dorian experimented, as Alexius joined them sometimes. He stuck around, a dagger at the ready, refusing to leave when she asked him, once, and even after she told him that Dorian had her utmost trust. Little by little, at least, he saw she was right, that the Altus really seemed to care, and the old Magister had no more bite to him. The Spirit, Cole, was the second on his list of curiosities that unsettled him: because of course she would have made friend with a Spirit in human form that read minds. And then Sera, whomever she was -he quite liked her, tho-. A Ben-Hassrath agent, and a good one, that acted like a mother cat and corrected her form with her spirit-blade. The ex Knight-Captain of Kirkwall lent her books, and they laughed together -he didn’t know Cullen was able to laugh. Apostates and Templars and Orlesian nobles charmed by her. She made it work, and he was admired.

Admired, and sad, because he knew her when she was young, and she never was that demure, and calm. Maybe it was just him and Radha that could see it, but he saw it: she was keeping her distances, keeping always three steps away from all her inner circle, save from Dorian.

She smiled more with him, as they spoke Tevene between them and experimented on magic. On that, she was still brilliant, as much as he was, and he had to admit, as much as she didn’t trust the man, they worked well together, filling each other gaps and spurring each other on. She has always been talented and elegant, thinking outside the box and, at the same time, controlled. But with him?

They made rain on the Keep. A real, true rain that filled the reserves of drinking water and saved people a long and hard trip to fetch it. And, as they travelled across Thedas, helped people as well.

As the months passed, as they found a comfortable rhythm around each other, they crossed eyes again, from time to time. Aisling started speaking to him again, unsurely and tentatively. She never touched anything much personal, always kept her distance. But, she asked about how he was. Asked him for his opinion on matters that weren’t work. Suggested him a book she thought he may like. He made a detour from the kitchen, when he passed and saw they had just taken out of the oven a tray of lemon cookies, and brought them straight to her in the library as a thank you, because he remembered she liked lemon sweets best.

One day, she told him she read about Danarius in the Tale of the Champion. That she was happy for him. And for once, her smile was sincere. As many, many times before, she tugged back the small, shy smile she had just for him. He smiled back, for old time’s sake. He hoped she saw that, in spite of everything, he was proud of her. And he regretted every single day he didn’t get back after Danarius found him and he put an end on the story, winning his freedom.

There was distance, still, a huge, gaping hole of eight year of absence, with not a word. They could work around it, falling into the most innocent of their old habits -like, he would sit in the library, reading, as Dorian taught her maths and to put magic in theory and they bickered, ten miles per hours in a mix of Tevene and Common following some weird line of thought.

He wanted more, he regretted many things. But if that was all that there could be, all that she had left to give him, he would have taken it. Work. Fixing problems together, on different sides of the same room. Exchanging glances and knowing, still, what the other was thinking. Avoiding to speak about the regret, the longing, that at least he started to feel again, after some months. That was left for sideway glances. She could concentrate on finding another person. One that wouldn’t have left.

*Adamant Fortress, 9:42, Kingsway.*

She didn’t want him in his party. It was predictable. She invented an excuse, but he really didn’t need one. He followed Raina, as he had done in Kirkwall, up the battlements.

They fought, they crossed path with Aisling, in her Keeper armour, making thunder rain from above in that way she and Dorian had to weave spells together, drawing together from the Fade to enhance each other’s power. She had Dorian and Solas with her, with the addition of the Iron Bull. As the Battlements were freed, she stopped them to assess the situation and instruct them further.

“We need to get to the inner courtyard and stop Erimond. We’ll head there, Raina and Stroud with us.” She instructed them, turning to him, Radha, Sera, Garrett and Varric. “You stay here, keep the battlements free for our soldiers, cover them as they climb. Garrett, you know what to do to call me if another Rift opens up here. Ok?”

No, it wasn’t ok. He frowned at her, and for the first time since he arrived, he spoke up to her.

“Let me come with you.”

He told her, looking at her in the eyes. He didn’t need to say why or explain, he knew she knew. He had experience with Magisters. He had known Erimond. He was the best suited, had personal grudge against the man and the category. She knew. She steeled her gaze, tho, furrowing and not budging. A challenge.

“No.”

She stepped back: Fenris didn’t realise he had stepped so close to her.

He sighed, nodding, understanding it was not a matter of ability. It was clear as day on her face.

She didn’t trust him at his side, after all.

He let her go, did what she asked. He wondered if she knew his heart went with her nevertheless.

---

When the dragon came flying, tho, he said fuck it to the plan.

“Broody!”

He heard Varric shouting behind him, as he left his flank open – but he saw Radha running his way, and he trusted that the elf would have covered for the dwarf. She was good and protective, the person you’d want covering your back. And yet, she had no experience with Magisters either, and he did. And Aisling was against a crazy Magister -he saw him, buzzing with power- on his pet Archdemon, and his feet took flight. He ignored Radha yelling at him to stop.

He opened his way, one demon after the other, heart in his throat, as the dragon destroyed old walls with his tails, his roars almost covering the thunder that rained on the Keep.

He turned and ran, ignored his lungs begging for air, muscles twitching.

A flash of green, and the Archdemon in front of him retreated, hissing in pain. Whatever the Anchor was on her hand, it was, apparently useful. Except that it made the dragon even angrier. He jumped, stabbed the reptile’s hind leg deep in the muscle. The dragon kicked, and he was too tired to duck in time. He rolled, coming to a stop against a wall, cursing how the sword was tossed in another direction.

He was about to run after his weapon, when the dragon stomped, hard, making the bridge they were standing on tremble. A loud crack, and the stones began to fall.

As the dragon flew away, Fenris was left with a choice. His weapon, on the right. Aisling, on the left, running on falling debris. She was quick on her feet, but not enough. It wasn’t really a choice.

He didn’t think and jump after her, grabbing her tight and rolling them around, not caring for much else than giving her a chance more. He heard her cursing, arm circling his chest and holding tight, instinctively.

Another flash of green, brighter than any of her lightnings. Brighter than her smile right after he kissed her back. He didn’t think it was even possible.

---

She brought them in the Fade and she got them out.

She had to leave Stroud there. Fenris offered to stay, because that’s what he could do. It wasn’t enough, not after reading on her gravestone, in the realm of the demon, that her deepest fear was Abandonment. He knew he hurt her, deeply. He had hoped he hadn’t fully break her. And then, seeing it written, a full certainty…

She refused, her quiet, mistrusting distances instantly ablaze with anger. She yelled at him not to say anything of the sort to her ever, ever again. He never saw her angry before. Once, she would have cried. Now, she didn’t. She said to Stroud to get out, she would have stayed. She couldn’t ask him to do something she wasn’t ready to do.

In the end, the last one to get out from the Fade Rift was, indeed, Aisling, stumbling on her feet and almost losing balance. Fenris didn’t know if the Warden pushed her or managed to convince her. What he did know was that in her eyes, as she rose up and crossed his eyes, looked for him, and especially him, there was anger. Hate. The same hate he felt and told her about, that night at the Arlathven. Hate masking desperation.

It wasn’t him who did this to her. But he understood.

He nodded to her, gravely.

She turned against Erimond and extended her fingers, casting lightning without her staff. Hit the Magister right on the mouth of his stomach, snaking in the tightening nets of his barrier right before he closed it. The man fell on his back, three meters away, unconscious, body twitching.

The battle was over.

And yet, it was not.

---

He found her again early in the morning, as the battlefield was cleared and soldiers moved to the infirmary. Radha thanked him for helping her sister, which was as much as a peace offering he would have gotten from her.

He found Aisling outside the infirmary, bent on herself, hands stained green, trembling like a leaf even if the sun was quickly fending the chill of the night away.

His heart broke.

“You can go, if you need to. I’ll remember you, tho. I remember everyone that leaves.”

She told him, bent on her thighs, hugging her legs with her face hidden between both knees. She was trembling like a leaf, as the night slowly left place to the dawn, vulnerable as ever and still naked under what had been his sheets, the sinewy lines of her Vallaslin he had traced with kisses and caresses few hours prior in full view, hair still tousled from their activities spraying all around.

He had no words to give her, except that it was too much for him to bear. The memories, the intimacy… No. He had been stupid, he hadn’t been as scared in his own life as he was in that moment, terror crippling him. It was too much. He couldn’t stay. He told her all the wrong words, with anger she didn’t deserve and that wasn’t even directed at her. Not really.

She hadn’t cried, she hadn’t said a word more, or even looked at him.

He had been stupid, he had been a coward, and he had gone.

She wasn’t crying, she was still clothed and her hair still neatly plaited behind her head from the battle. And yet, as stoney and sure-footed she had proved to be as the Inquisitor in the last six months, she was crumbling on herself, façade cracking, closed in a protective bubble, hugging her thighs.

Fenris shouldn’t be the one to do that. He knew she didn’t trust him anymore and she had all the reasons. But, he had come full circle now, and as many flaws as he had… He liked to think he could learn.

He knew she hated to crumble before others. She knew she spoke her affection in touches. Or at least, with others. She never touched him without his consent ever since he told her he didn’t like it, and she hadn’t even asked him why. Just accepted the thing, acted accordingly.

This time, he wasn’t a coward, and he didn’t turn his back at her. Instead, he got closer, slipped his hands under her knees and held her back as he hauled her up, holding her close. She started to wiggle immediately, trying to push him away. Hissing and pushing and making the hair crackle with static. It was like holding a wild cat, but he didn’t let go, knowing perfectly she wouldn’t have hurt him. He brought her to a small passage between two buildings, narrow and hidden and left free of rubble, miraculously. They would have been alone there.

He let her go, letting her scrumble away on the ground, heaving and panting. She looked around her, eyes spirited, full of panic, ending up on his. He nodded, knowing what she was thinking, and turned his back, sitting close but not looking at her, shielding from the outside. After a minute, she started to cry, breath ragged, sobbing out like a wounded animal.

He knew her, tho, and knew that… Maybe…

He turned to look at her, legs crossed below her, arms hugging her and swinging back and forth as she cried, breathing heavily through her mouth, still trembling.

She hadn’t moved back, tho, hadn’t sought more distance. So, he tentatively turned back to her and moved closer. Closer. She let him approach. She let him circle her shoulder with both his arms and drag her on his lap, close to his chest, holding her as she cried. She smelled of ash, and of elfroot. She always smelled of elfroot.

“G-go now if you don’t mean to stay. Please, I- I could’t take it one more time.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” He told her, squeezing her tighter. “I should have got back years ago. I’m here, now.”

He didn’t move, waiting for her to stop crying. She didn’t, slowly and tentatively shifting her head to slip in the crook of his neck. She didn’t seem to care much if he still had his armour on, and clutched to the border of his breastplate with a hand, holding close.

“Why did you get back?”

“What do you mean?”

“I… You were right. You were right all along.” She sobbed. “About magic. About… About me. I left a person in the- I- I wanted to make Erimond suffer. Slowly. I still do. I… I did blood magic.”

It made her cry more, and he didn’t lie. It was a stab.

“What happened?”

“Vyrina. Two months after you left. The baby… The baby was with his feet down. She would have died, they both would... I- I moved him. It was…”

He had found it weird that she didn’t heal with magic anymore in these months, and all that praising the 1000 qualities of Elfroot. She never did it before, she was learning Spirit Healing, and the Keeper said she was good at it. With those reasons, tho, he really couldn’t say much. It was her and she still didn’t have one bad bones in her body. She wasn’t possessed, that much was clear.

“I was wrong. About magic. It wasn’t about you, it never was… I was a fool, and I was scared. I thought it better if you hated me, I deserved no less. I projected things you didn’t deserve. I didn’t mean you. I never meant you. When you fell, this night, I…”

“I am a killer.”

“Aren’t we all.” He snorted, mirthlessly.

“Then, why…” She sobbed, folding again onto herself, voice pitching. “… Why did you leave, Fenris?”

He sighed, heavily. Six months it took her to ask. He owed her an answer. Particularly because she still, somehow, cared.

“… I thought about the answer a thousand times.”. He started, tentatively. He felt her moving, but it was his turn to just… hold her a little closer, placing a hand on her head. His gauntlet caught on her hair, he untangled it as delicately as he could. But she got the message that he didn’t want her to look, and stayed where she was. “The pain, the memories it brought up… It was too much. I was a coward. And I hurt you, more deeply than you would admit.”

She sniffed, shifted a little to get more comfortable against his armour. He settled them better as she took her time to reply. She had stopped trembling, at least, as well as sobbing. He turned his head to look at her, and what was left of the messy braid she tied her hair before the battle, locks spreading all over.

“Why returning now? After all these years?”

“Honestly?”

“Honestly.”

“I was hoping you could forgive me. And to tell you…” He swallowed. “… And to tell you that if you could, and you somehow felt as before, that if I have to be a future nothing could be worse than the thought of living it without you.”

It was as close as he could trudge. She stopped, perfectly still. It was out, he was on the clear.

“Why are you telling me this, now?”

“Because I thought you would have died, and I couldn’t bear the thought of you not knowing. You still have battles to fight. You need to know that it wasn’t your fault.”

“I understand.”

She was back to cold mode. He slumped, fear rising back again, as well as regret. Gone was the giggling, gone were the embarrassment. She didn’t move from where she was, tho, hot breath fanning over his neck. He didn’t want her to go, ever, but… He felt her move, and let her slip away. He knew better.

“Thank you. For coming back. And for jumping after me. But…”

“It is too late.”

It wasn’t a question. He knew her. He didn’t need to even look at her to guess. She closed her fingers, slowly, over his, squeezing.

“I am sorry, Fen. But…” She was, tone of voice sweet, under hurt, old pain resurfacing. “… I don’t know. I think… I think it is.”

She kept her hand on his, not letting go. He moved and held her hand back, not saying anything else. He understood. He had stayed away so long convincing himself that she hated him and didn’t want to see him. He didn’t expect her to swallow everything or forget. They stayed there, silently mourning what was lost to bad timing, and trauma clashing badly together.

“I’d… I’d be glad if you stayed. If you want to. I… I am glad to have you around, even if…”

“You don’t trust me.”

She sighed, deeply, shaking her head in denial.

“I trust you with my life, Fen. I wouldn’t want to have anyone beside me in battle but you, Radha and Dorian, Bull and Sera.”

That much was true, she didn’t hesitate.

“I can’t trust you with my heart, tho.”

She moved forward, tentatively as she already did, but less nervous. She asked him to look at her, when she was close enough.

“One for the road?” She asked, smiling. She was crying.

“One for the road.” He smiled back, nodding.

She pecked a last kiss on his lips, no teeth this time. It was bittersweet, and she tasted like salt and ashes, and some lingering elfroot from the last healing potion she dranked. She dragged it on, and then interrupted it, moving back and letting go of his hand.

“Thank you.”

She said. It encompassed everything. Fond memories they had, young people learning to find common ground, growing together, him learning about peace and quiet, she peeking her nose in a bigger, wider world. A bigger, wider world that suited her and she was shaping.

“No. Thank you, weirdo.”

It could have been.

But, the timing was wrong.

[dalamjisung]

A muted shade of green ✧ Chapter 2: He's not yours to keep

genre: more angst than fluff, but I swear fluff is coming up next!

word count: 5562

pairing: reader x spencer reid

description: you are trying to make sense of all this mess, but it's time to learn that, sometimes, things are just messy and chaotic and you have to learn to look for the silver linings.

a muted shade of green masterlist

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author's note: I am absolutely over the moon with the response I've gotten on this series and I'm really thankful for all the love and support <3 if you want to join the taglist for this series, please let me know in the comments!

You don’t usually dream. 

Well, actually, if you tell Spencer that, he will say that you’re wrong– you do dream, you just don’t remember it. It’s common, not really recalling the scenes your brain conjure, Spencer would say; it can be due to a series of factors including high levels of stress and poor sleep. He would then tell you to stay home for a day, read a good book, and drink one of his fancy teas Penelope got for him a long time ago. 

But the thing is, Spencer can’t really tell you any of it. 

Not when you seem to be avoiding him even inside his own home. 

It starts after you wake up still in his armchair, feeling exhausted and disgustingly sticky, you finally have a couple of moments to yourself. Spencer is still sleeping, and you’re actually surprised to see him stretched out on the couch– his tie is throw on his coffee table, the purple colour suddenly too bright in the dim apartment, but otherwise, still wearing the same clothes he had on yesterday. You don’t understand why he didn’t change into pyjamas, but then again, you don’t understand much of anything right now. 

So you go through the facts. 

One by one, you list them in your mind– and little by little it dawns on you just how bad this really is. It’s hard, conceptualising that this is reality; that you really do have a psychopath targeting you. It’s the kind of thing that you only saw in those TV shows you loved to binge on late night, the kind of thing you read on the newspaper, happening to other people, but never really you. Except, it is happening to you, and you are not sure what to do next. Do you just sit and wait for her to make a move? Do you continue to live your life normally? How? How are you supposed to ignore the fact that a, as Agent Hotchner had described her, ‘prolific serial killer’ might know who are?

“Oh my god,” You whisper to yourself, head falling in your hands. The watch on your wrist, an old, analogue thing your mom had given you before you left New York, is pointing to a time you would never have been awake before. 5:23 in the morning. The sun is not even up yet and you have hours before you have to open the store, but then again, you have to clean the mess that was left behind due to your rushed departure from it. You wince, disgusted at the thought of having to clean old vomit from the floor, and disgusted with the bitter taste it left behind. Right now, you are a shell of a human being and you need to get yourself back together. 

You follow a familiar routine of recovery. It’s something you’ve done before and something you will surely have to do again, and it all starts with a simple list. 

Firstly, you need to get up. You need to stretch your legs, throw them to the side, and stand. You need to walk, remind your self that you can still make your own path even if it’s only to the bathroom down the hall. 

Then, you need to brush your teeth. The bitter taste stuck to your mouth makes you wince with memories that you want to bury. 

Showering would be your third step, but this is not your home. This is not your space, and these are not your things. 

A pettier side of you, one that is bothered and angry and irritated in a superficial level, wants to march back out to the living room, as loudly as you can, and shake Spencer away. You want to wake him up at the crack of dawn and make him share your torment, because in some level, even if you try to push against it, you blame him. Deep inside, you know that there is a big difference between the two– between blaming him and it being his fault. One is purposeful, conscious; it’s a decision you take and lay on his head. If you blame him, you commit yourself to hate him. The latter, however, is a fact. It’s irrefutable and immutable as the fact that you need air to live. It is his fault, but it was not his goal. 

“He didn’t mean it, but it’s still his fault,” You whisper to yourself, pushing yourself off the sink to try and figure out his shower. It is his house, that’s a fact. But you also deserve a nice, warm shower, and that is another fact. He pushed you to come stay with him, so you need to also push yourself to feel comfortable in this space that feels so foreign to your senses. “He didn’t mean it, but it’s still his fault.”

The words become your mantra. He didn’t mean it, but it’s still his fault. Somewhere in you, you know you have what it takes to forgive, but you just don’t have what it’s needed to forget. By repeating those words, you allow your brain to slowly process this situation as what it is– something that happened because of him, but not by him. As much as you want someone to blame, someone to scream at, Spencer Reid just isn’t that person. 

It takes you a moment to realise you don’t really have a towel or any of your products here, and using Spencer’s shampoo just feels… odd. Like an invasion of his space almost. “Oh thank god for you, Spencer,” You sighed, happy to see the pairing of shampoo and conditioner sitting perfectly on the corner. His hair had been one of the first things you noticed about him, all chestnut and shaggy and longish, but you are aware that not every man knows the basic of self-care. There is something about the way his smell takes over the bathroom, floating with the evaporation of the warm water hitting your skin, makes you smile. You feel closer to Spencer than you’ve ever been, and that is when your sense of danger hits. Your heart starts speeding, and your breathing is suddenly really shallow, and you’re trying to come out of the shower, to breathe in cold air, but all you get is humid mist and you can’t breathe, you can’t breathe at all, you can’t–

“Spencer!” You gasp, eyes wide in desperation once your legs feel like they might just give out. Scrambling to hold yourself up, your hands knock over some things in the counter, making more noise on top of the running shower. “SPENCER!” 

“What? What? What– oh my god,” The door slams against the wall and back, almost hitting him on the side when he crouched down next to your naked, curled up body. It’s quite unnatural for you to witness, him jumping into action so fast, like he is trained to make these decisions in a split second. But then you remember that he actually is trained to make these quick choices– like grabbing the towel before anything else, covering you without a single quip about your nakedness; like sitting you up and putting your back against the wall; like turning off the shower and sitting back down right next to you, breathing deeply and loudly. It’s unconscious, how you let your breathing fall in line with his, and it takes a moment to realise he’s doing this on purpose. “Y/N, are you okay?” 

“No,” You whisper, shaking from either the cold or the nerves or both. There are goosebumps all over your legs, the towel not covering you much from the top of your thighs down. “Spencer, I’m not okay. I’m… Until yesterday, you were just the adorable guy who shared my love for books. Y-You’d come into the store smiling and we’d talk and talk and– and now I have a serial killer possibly tracking me. How am I supposed to be okay? I’m so scared… oh god, I’m so scared, Spencer…” The one thing you are proud, amidst your utter embarrassment, is that you are not crying anymore. You still sound a bit rough, throat tired and hurting, and there is no energy left in you and he can hear that, you know he can, because when your voice echoes in the silent bathroom, kicking from wall to wall, you hear it too– the exhaustion and the numbness and the emptiness left behind. 

“I-I’m still that guy,” He stutters, head falling down in shame but voice still twinged with something resembling hope. “I love books. I love talking to you about books, I love going to your store first thing in the morning. I’m still this guy, I just… I just happen to work for the FBI.”

“Yeah, but I… I think that after having my life turned upside down because of a serial killer who has a crush on you, I’m just not that same girl.”

That is the last time you talk to him that day.

—————————————

Actually, that was the last time you talked to him that entire week. 

After he dropped you at the store that day and you were forced to face the embarrassing remnants of your lowest moment in life, moping old vomit from the floor, that feeling of turmoil in your chest died down. It settled. And it hardened. 

He tried making conversation on the walk back to his, but you’re clearly not up for it, so his voice slowed down, getting lower and lower, until it stopped altogether. This time, you shower before bed and make a beeline to the armchair again, letting Spencer’s begs and pleas for you to sleep on the bed fall in deft ears.

For five days, you two don’t talk. 

It’s a dance of chaos, how you step around each other at the apartment, and seeing him biting his words back or catching a glimpse of the bags under his eyes makes you feel guilty; of course it does. But you know that you can’t help him right now. Even if you were to forgive him, to force your mercy onto the situation, it wouldn’t be genuine. It would give him a false sense of relief while you’d forever be uncomfortable next to him, and you don’t want that. You don’t want to feel on edge next to Spencer, you don’t want to feel nauseous and scared when you’re with him. You want to talk about books and coffee and favourite places to order take out from. Instead, all you get to do is talk about her.

It would be a lie to say you don’t feel slightly jealous with the way that his mind seems to be so wrapped around Cat Adams. The imposed talking ban is hard on you both, that much you know, but the more Spencer let it happen, the more he let it stretch out and continue, the more you feel like maybe he doesn’t care that much. Maybe what is hard for him is the awkward tension trapped in his own apartment, rather than the pain of seeing each other so close yet not being able to laugh like you used to. And you know– you know how ridiculous your thought are, how childish you’re acting, but you can’t really blame yourself for being so on edge lately, not when your emotions are so zip and zapping through your body like thunder and lightening. 

There are exceptions, though. In this case three exceptions, three moments in a day in which he brakes the ban, and you, for once, allow yourself some weakness. 

“Good morning,” Is moment one. He says that every day, when he blinks himself awake on the couch. Ever since you’ve been there, a total of six days now, Spencer has slept on the couch, right next to the armchair you’ve claimed as your own. For these, you meet his eyes and nod, as if saying same to you.

Breakfast is quiet. He makes coffee and you make eggs, because despite you being there under forced circumstances, you are not going to be ungrateful and so you pay him back by getting groceries and cooking most meals. Which leads you to exception number two– the moment when he drops you at the bookstore.

You two walk there at 8 and he’s gone by 8:07, giving you enough time to mumble a “Be safe,” and give him his lunch for the day. He tried telling you that you didn’t have to cook for him, but you don’t really listen. As pathetic as it seems, this is the one way you’ve found to keep what you two had before, alive. 

The third exception is the one that truly breaks your heart, again and again. It’s when he gets home, and he looks exhausted, and his hands fidget with the files he holds close to his chest. You are the first thing he looks for, and you almost melt at the way his shoulders visibly relax when he spots you– always ready for bed, always in the armchair. He stopped trying to come get you at the bookstore at night once you’ve agreed to let the officers walk you home. The spare key he added to your keychain should hold a bigger meaning than it does, though it feels like it does hold a bigger weight. A means to an end, you tell yourself every time you unlock his front door. This is just a means to an end. “Thank you,” he will then say, before he even moves to the kitchen to see whatever it was on the plate you had made and set in the microwave for him. “And good night.” By then, you’re already semi-asleep and you don’t really say anything. 

You never thought you would miss these forbidden exceptions when they’re gone. 

You know that travel is a big part of Spencer’s job, but with all that is going on, you never really considered the fact that he might need to leave for a few days. At least not until he calls you, right before you lock the store. The irregularity of it all has you scrambling to pick it up. “Spencer?” You barely whisper, voice cracking in half as little by little, you freeze up. The sensation is like ice running through your veins, burning it’s way to your heart until it makes it stop. “Spencer? Are you okay?”

“I’m okay,” He quickly answers, voice rushed in a way that makes you relax. He always talks fast and you find it incredibly endearing, even during these times apart. “I’m okay, it’s okay. I’m calling because we got a case.”

“Uh, okay?”

“Y/N, that means they need us in Ohio. Today.” He seems almost hesitant to tell you he needs to leave the state. 

And you are as hesitant to accept it. “Oh,” You mumble, suddenly needing to making sure the officer assigned to you is still outside and ready to go. “Okay. Do… Do you need clothes or something?” 

Spencer’s chuckle almost makes it all okay. Almost. “No, thank you. I just– I want you to be comfortable, okay? Feel free to sleep in my bed and do anything you want to do, I don’t mind! Feel at home! Just… be comfortable.” 

For a second you nod, forgetting he can’t see you right now. “Okay. Thank you.” 

“And Y/N?”

“Yeah?” You started biting your nails when you were twelve and middle school was kicking your ass. To this day, right now, you still bite them when you’re nervous. 

“It’s good hearing your voice.” 

Going home and knowing he won’t be there is not as comforting as you thought it could be. The two of you are not speaking and the constant walking on egg shells does get tiring, so you try to rationalise this as something that is just not that bad. Maybe Spencer going on his mysterious trips is not that bad anymore. Before, your curiosity was your downfall– you worried he had gotten sick or worse. However, you don’t think knowing the truth is much better. The nature of his job is incredibly dangerous, and you don’t even know much about it. Now, you still worry, that much hasn’t changed. What has changed, though, is that getting sick would be considered lucky. Right now, you worried about the ‘or worse’. 

Your mom’s voice fills the empty space for a while. She texted you a couple of days ago and you just now got around to calling. “Sweetheart, how do we switch to video again? I want to see your face.” Alarm bells sound off in your mind and you immediately shut down the idea. “Sorry mom, I can’t right now. I’ll video call you tomorrow, okay? I’m cooking dinner right now.” Her worry is that of a mother, comforting like a blanket and familiar like a home. It is not, though, the worry you want. 

For obvious reasons, you don’t tell her what’s going on, much rather preferring to tell her about the mundane things that keep you going. “And I sold out of the book!” You say, a short-lived excitement running through you. “It’s quite exciting, mom– since I opened the shop I have never sold out of anything! This is a first!”

“That’s amazing, sweetie!” She says, and you can’t help but wonder how Spencer would’ve reacted to the news if he was there. It’s only then that you realise you’re halfway through making him a plate for when he comes home, except he won’t be back until the case is complete and you gulp, too aware of the common noises you hear around you. 

This is when you realise how much you miss you Spencer. And how much, even if unconsciously, he makes you feel comfortable and safe. You thought it was the apartment, but now, by yourself, laying on the armchair yet again, you feel vulnerable and exposed. Footsteps can be heard from time to time, neighbours getting home or leaving for the night, and every time, without a fault, you hold your breath and wait. Maybe the door will open and she will be there, or maybe it will be another delivery. God, it could be anything– a letter, flowers, another box. Knowing that Cat Adams had such easy access to Spencer’s apartment is enough to get you up and running to his room. 

Green. The walls are green, muted and cozy, and you smile even when your eyes sting with tears. There is a hole in your heart right now and it’s Spencer shaped. “God,” You groan, rubbing your tears clean so aggressively that it hurts. “When did things get so fucked up?” 

There’s no real answer to that, and you if you think any longer about this, your brain might just implode. For now, all you need is to sleep, but that won’t happen for a while; not with the way your heart speeds up at every crackle coming from his old, metal heather. Still, the chill air of Autumn seeps in through the walls, and you shiver. I want you to be comfortable, Spencer had said before leaving, and you might be crossing some boundaries right now, but you need him close to feel comfortable. You might not be able to get him, but the next best thing you have right now is one of his sweaters, and you have no qualms about opening his wardrobe and grabbing the first thing you find. Ironically enough, it’s an FBI Academy hoodie, though you can’t really imagine Spencer and all his formal glory in a hoodie. You put it on, nonetheless, shutting the door with your foot and just as you turn around, your eyes catch sight of something. Something big, and beige, and bone chilling. 

The box. 

In the heat of the moment, you simply thought he had throw it away. Hell, it would’ve made sense to throw it away! What the fuck was that box doing there…? With a shaky breath, you open the wardrobe door again, hoping, praying, that you were actually hallucinating and that what you saw was nothing but a shoe box or a bag. “God, please, be a bag, be a bag…” Safe to say, your words are in vain. “Fuck, Spencer, what is wrong with you?”

You’re shaking when you pull the box out of its hiding place, breathing shallow and fast. Reason escapes you as you quickly open it, not worried about how it was or even about putting it back in place; if it was up to you, this box would’ve been gone a long time ago. Clearly, it had not been up to you. “Oh my god, I’m going to be sick.” 

Expectations are a tricky thing to deal with. When it comes to your life, you never expected anything big. You know your limitation better than anyone and the largest you’ve dreamt before was the store. You didn’t expect an FBI agent. You didn’t expect a serial killer. And you certainly didn’t expect a box full of sex toys. “What the…” You don’t want to touch them, not with your bare hands, but it looks like there are tens of toys in there, varying in shapes and sizes and colours. It makes you wonder… last he told you, her games are psychological and manipulative. From what you are seeing, though, this is incredibly physical. This is about touch and intimacy and… fuck. This is about connection. You don’t have to be a profiler to know that, not when you are so secretive about your own toys, hidden in the back of your besides drawer away from unwanted eyes. It’s a private thing, and only people you trusted, people you let into your life, knew about them. 

Before you know what you’re doing, you rush to find your phone. It’s somewhere in the house, and you need to find it, you need to call him. “Pick up,” You whisper when you finally find it in the living room, under your favourite blanket on the chair. Even your fingers are shaking, vision a bit blurred from the adrenaline rushing through you– you feel like you’re in danger, and you don’t know what to do. “Spence, pick up, pick up, please pick up–“

“Hello?” You almost cry when you hear his raspy voice on the other side. It doesn’t make you feel any better to think that you might just have woken him up.

“Spencer,” You whine, embarrass with how needy you sound. The nice officer that brought you home is standing outside the door, and you could’ve gone to him– could’ve opened the door, asked him to stay inside, talk to him a little. Or you could’ve called Penelope. She had given you her number with promises that more often then not, she stayed behind to work from the BAU office. There is no place safer than my office, she had promised you, but how do you tell her that the problem is not your environment, it’s not where you are or what you’re doing… how do you tell her that the problem is you? She might not understand it so you don’t even dare try to explain it. You don’t dare to give her and the team this part of yourself too and you shut your mouth with a firm hand over your lips. 

Memories of a life you left behind flash behind your eyes, and you whimper, hugging your knees to your chest while you hear him desperately calling for you. As far as you can, you kick that godforsaken box away from you. “Y/N?! Y/N, say something, please! Are you okay? Y/N!”

“I’m here,” You whisper, pushing your hair away from your face. “I’m here.’ 

“What’s going on?” 

“Spencer, I–” A moment of regret and hesitation makes you pause. What can he even do all the way from Ohio? “I want to go home.” 

You’re not his priority. 

You’ll never be his priority. 

There is no point to this.

“…did something happen?” This is the Spencer you know– voice soft and guarded– and for a second it feels like you two are getting to know each other all over again. “Did officer Kaper make you uncomfortable? I’ll ask for a change of guard, I’ll–“

“N-No,” You cut him off with a shaky exhale. Your head falls on your free hand, finger tangled with your messy hair, and you tug on it. Sharply, the tingly pain on your scalp grounds you for a second, brings you back to this situation you created. “No, Spence, no no no, I just want to go home, I need to go home, I–“ 

“Y/N, breathe,” He coaches you as gently as he can, voice stable and strong, everything you seem to be lacking. “You’re going to set yourself off in a panic again if you don’t breathe. You’re safe in my apartment, okay? I know it’s not the same as being home, I know, but you’re safe there!”

“You’re not here, Spence!” 

There is a moment of silence for both of you. “You’re not here and you didn’t throw that fucking box away,” You whisper, keeping the moment something in between just the two of you. It’s enough that you are falling apart like this in front of Spencer, you don’t need officer Kaper bursting in the door to witness this too.

“You found the box,” He sighs. This is the first time you notice just how tired he sounds.

“I found the box,” You confirm, sniffling in a stubborn attempt to not start crying all over again. 

“It’s evidence. I can’t throw it away, Y/N.”

“Why is it here?”

“I’ve been working on the case on my free time and it just made sense to keep it at home…” 

“Spence, I want to go home. I don’t feel safe,” You admit, shaking your head. “I don’t feel safe here when you’re not here, Spence, I want to go home.” 

“I thought you hated me.”

“Spencer…” He has a point, though, and you know it. This is the first time you two speak in days, the first time you experience this type of comfort again, but it’s still not enough. He’s still not here, next to you, watching over you. He’s still not with you. “Spencer, I’m sorry.” 

“Silly girl, why are you apologising?” He asks, chuckling on the other side and you can picture him– you can see him shaking his head, hair falling around his pretty face like a perfect picture frame when his eyes, pure honey with specks of green, search for yours. Yeah… you can imagine it to perfection, almost like you are the one with eidetic memory. “This is all my fault. And I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you, Y/N and I’m trying to protect you, so I need you to stay there, okay? I need you to stay in my apartment, please.” 

You don’t know what to tell him. Your eyes wander around the room, looking at all the details he left behind without even noticing. There is a copy of Dostoevsky on the bed side table. I hate Russian literature, you remember telling him once. He was in the shop, bringing you coffee, when you caught a glimpse of a book you certainly didn’t sell him. And I’m appalled you’ve been buying books somewhere else. The way he laughed then, like his biggest problem in the world was explaining to you that this had been a gift from a friend and that he would never betray your trust like this. What do you hate so much about it?, he had asked, leaning over the counter and into you, eager to debate this topic he loved so much. I hate that it’s all about suffering. Even the moments of realisation and self-improvement, they are all through suffering and misery. And of course he had a retort to that, fingers twitching with his enthusiasm. But it’s contextual, you see! Those were written in time of civil unrest and political chaos, and it makes sense to have characters and plot lines that revolve around suffering when that is all you know from the world around you. To this day, your answer paralyses you. I’m a believer in silver linings and happy endings. And not because I’m naive or ignorant, but because the world around me has made me believe that there must be something better out there. Isn’t that nicer?

“Y/N, please tell me you’ll stay there, I need you to stay there.” 

His words almost escape you, but you catch them in the very last minute. It gives you a glimpse into a side of him he has yet to show you, and it absolutely shatters your heart in bits. I need you to stay there, he had said. Not you need to stay there, but I need you to stay there. Suddenly, you realise that this– all of this, the relocation, the involvement of the FBI, the dropping off and picking up– is not just for you. 

“I’ll stay here,” Whispering with him like this helps. “I’ll stay. I’m sorry I woke you up.” 

“Don’t be. I’m happy you called.” 

“I’ll let you go back to sleep, but Spence?” 

“Yeah?”

“Be safe. I need you back here.”

“I’ll be home in no time.” 

For a second, you trust him. You trust everything will be okay, that you can make everything okay until he gets back, and then you’ll pass the responsibility onto him. For a second, you trust him, but you also trust yourself. 

Everything will be okay. 

Everything will be okay. 

Everything will be okay. 

You fall asleep like this; wearing his hoodie and hugging your phone, nose buried on his pillow in hopes to dream of him. The sun wakes you up, and there are birds chirping at your window. Despite the heaviness you feel in you and dooming headache you know will settle soon, the romantic in you believes that today will be a good day. That today will be an okay day.

“Miss Y/L/N? It’s officer Kaper.” 

The knock doesn’t scare you anymore. On days one through three it had you jumping on air, heart about to stop from how fast it was beating. Days four and five were easier, less scary and more anxious, waiting for the punctual 9AM knock. From day six onwards, it was a welcome start to your day, knowing that someone is looking after you. 

You check the fisheye like Spencer told you to, and then you open the door only when you recognise the face on the other side. “Good morning, Officer,” You smile, nodding at him a bit stiffly. The two of you had been formally introduced by JJ, but it didn’t make this any less awkward for you. “Would you like some coffee?” 

“Sure,” He nods, smiling as he comes inside with his usual stack of mail. Everyday, without fail, someone picks up your mail and brings it to Officer Kaper. “Here’s your mail for the day, ma’am.” 

“How was the night shift?” It’s almost like a scripted conversation, these back and forth questions you throw at each other, and you’re finding that you hate this. You hate the stiff conversations and the self-imposed bans. But this is day two, and in just more two days, Spencer would be home. And you would talk to him, just like you used to before, just like you did over the phone. Nothing will change; you’re not going home any time soon and Cat Adams isn’t going to just magically disappear. It’s time to accept it and learn how to live with it, as hard as that sounds. 

Sifting through your mail has to be your favourite part of the day. It’s normal, slightly boring, and a peek into the routine you used to have and love. No one ever sends you letters, so it’s just bills. “Water, electricity, marketing, marketing,” The coffee is brewing in the background and Officer Kaper is telling you about his daughter. She’s a tiny girl, just two and very, very shy, but apparently, she loves stories. “I might have a book for her,” You get distracted from the letters for a second, smiling at the kind officer. “I’ll bring it to you later tonight!” 

When you look back again, it’s the one on top. 

The envelope is white, like any other letter, and it has no thing in the back but your name and address scribbled in red, a big heart right next to it. “Uh, Officer, this is… this is weird.” You’ve been instructed to let someone know if you received anything unlabelled or unexpected. This letter is certainly unexpected. “It has no return address.” 

“May I open it?” He asks and you nod. He opens it with a knife, pulling a small piece of paper inside. “Okay, it seems like a normal letter. There is no signature of any kind.”

“What does it say?” You’re nervous now, walking around Officer Kaper to read over his shoulder. “Oh my god.” 

“Does this mean anything to you?” 

Nodding, you’re dialling Spencer’s number already. “It means I’m fucked.” 

On the table, laid a message you’d never forget.

He’s not yours to keep. 

---------------------------------------

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[bonefall]

Any thoughts on Nettlepaw? The apprentice who helps Mapleshade out and tells her Frecklewish saw/knew her kits drowned? He's a complete nothing later but he sits in my head as the one clan cat willing to show compassion to a mother who just lost her children, and I wonder how he felt when she went on to murder his clan mates. Because the obvious way, he feels bad and hates her. But I could also see the opposite, where he sees it a hypocritical of Oakstar to cry for murder after his son's drowning, then be horrified his daughter was injured/killed by a mother whose children died because of him. Idk, I like that he's one of only two people to reach out to help Mapleshade and I think he deserves some more attention

I have a really strong headcanon that Nettlepaw is actually the brother of Flowerpaw, the apprentice who died trying to save Birchface from the river. I really like the idea that the simple reason he helped Mapleshade in that moment was because he was so very tired of hearing about innocent people dying.

So... who cares if Ravenwing is going to be upset I lost some herbs, or my mentor might make me pick ticks off the elders? I can't do this anymore. Please, let there just be a small moment of kindness. Even if it doesn't last.

In BB, Nettlepaw is the son of Beetail, the deputy. He also happens to be the half-brother of Birchface and Frecklewish.

Beetail's first mate was Shinecloud, who is the sister of BB!Oakstar. She fell from a tree, and Oakstar helped raise his nespring with Beetail in her absence.

Eventually, Beetail fell in love with Dawnfeather, and Flower and Nettle came along. The two were close with their older half-siblings, it was a happy blended family.

So when Flowerpaw and Birchface died in the same night, it was a devastating blow. Nettlepaw took it better than Frecklewish did, though.

He's got Dawnfeather, alive and well at the moment. Frecklewish lost her brother, the one who remembered their mother.

So Nettlepaw doesn't really know how to help, even though he wants to. Superficially it looks like the same kind of grief, but it's very different underneath.

When Mapleshade's kittens came around, everything looked so much brighter. It was like Frecklewish was her old self again.

I don't see Nettlebreeze as being a very abstract thinker. He's not particularly poetic or eloquent, he's very straightforward and honest in how he assesses the world. The code is the code... but it's very sad that Mapleshade is all alone and the children are dead. It's not right.

Something feels wrong that the kittens lived thinking he was their half-uncle, and died thinking he hated them now. That the answer to so much death was even more death. And, sadly, it's not about to get any better.

Sad character, basically. He yearns for kindness in a cruel world, just before a rampage that will take his last sibling from him, and with the Crusades looming on the horizon.

[the-fluff-piece]

Sanji - loving his s/o with self esteem issues

this is part of the request for a headcanon from @zephyrian-journ it turned into a whole story, whoops i hope it's okay!

Sanji x fem!reader who has problems with her body, I can only write from my perspective so keep that in mind!

Mention of stress response, insecurity with one's own body, mention of restricting

Here are my Masterlists

My Masterlist - Short and Multichapter stories

Headcanon Masterlist

Sanji expresses his love through food and service, he is just like that. So when you stop eating his creations and request only the plainest, low caloric options he is starting to feel really anxious. When you refuse to be touched and hide your body from the world he starts to panic. When you become absent minded and cautious, when you retreat and keep to yourself - he has a full breakdown.

He waits until you are alone and approaches you with an uncomfortable expression.

"So, what's wrong?" He asks, avoiding your gaze.

"What do you mean?" You ask back.

"You're kind of distant lately and...did I do something wrong?" The gaze of his blue eyes is locked on his shoes, his graceful fingers are fumbling nervously, he looks like a boy that has done something seriously wrong.

"No, not at all" you try to look into his eyes, but he turns away.

"I understand." He runs away. When you catch his arm and he turns around, tears are already flowing from his face. "I understand, I am not good enough for you anymore, I won't bother you anymore with my presence" the end of his sentence is hardly understandable, since he is sobbing loudly now, sinking to his knees. "You don't love me anymore, I am not good enough" he cries as he dramatically hugs your knees.

"Shh, don't cry babe, I love you more than anything, you know that" you tell him as you soothingly stroke his hair and kiss the tears away. "Why would you think that I don't love you anymore? You're the best thing that ever happened to me" you tell him as he looks up at you with puppy eyes, pressing his cheek against your chest.

"You're not eating my cakes anymore, you don't let me touch you, we're not bathing together anymore...it's like you don't want to be with me anymoooooooooooooore" the last word transitions into a long, whiny sob and he cries like a waterfall again.

"It's got nothing to do with you!" You explain to him. "You're perfect, you know that. It's me."

He blinks tears out of his eyes and looks at you. "THAN WHYYYYYYY" he helplessly gestures with his hands as he's crying out his question.

"...I gained weight. I don't fit into my jeans anymore. I just...I feel like a whale. I don't feel comfortable right now. I didn't want you to notice until I lost it again. Which doesn't seem to be working. And I was never thin to begin with..." your voice breaks as you struggle to express all you are feeling. "I just didn't want to disappoint you." Now you have tears in your eyes, avoiding his puzzled look.

"What?" He gets up and holds your shoulders. "How would you disappoint me?" He tries to catch your gaze but you are avoiding him.

"You like pretty women. I don't even know what you see in me, and now it's gotten worse. I just didn't want you to notice"

It is harder to say than you thought and now you're sobbing. Suddenly you're pressed against his chest, the soft fabric of Sanjis suit is catching your tears.

"I was so stupid and superficial I even manage to hurt you now with it! I'm so sorry! I didn't know what I even could expect from a relationship. I just know that you are unique and perfect and that I feel as safe with you as never before. I like your body because it is yours, and I want to see it grow old together with mine." he lifts your chin up and looks into your eyes. He looks dead serious now, despite his reddened and puffy eyes.

"Please forgive me!" He pleads. "I don't want you to feel unwanted! What can I do?"

"I don't know..." you say.

He nods, tears and snot running down his face.

"I'll find a way!" He promises.

For the next days, he's serious and quiet. Every time you talk, he tells you how much he loves you, but things between you seem tense. He also seems to do a lot more stuff for Nami than usual - carrying stuff for her, bringing her more treats, constantly asking what he could do. All in all, a strange situation. Tension builds and you are even more insecure about him than before, painfully aware that he was into Nami way before you two met.

So when you see them vanish in Nami's room, you cannot help but get a bad feeling. When they don't come out for quite a while, you decide to have a look. Nothing unusual to just knock and see what they're up to.

You knock - no answer. You try the handle, it's open. You enter and see them standing in the room, heads together. It's hard to see exactly what's happening there, but Sanji immediately jumps up, looking guilty.

"Y/n! What are you doing here? You weren't supposed to see this!" He shouts angrily. He has never used this kind of tone with you. After the last days, it's enough. You turn on your heel and try to get away before anyone is seeing you cry.

You're already halfway across the ship when you hear him behind you: "wait, It's not what it looks like!"

He quickly catches up and blocks your way.

"It wasn't supposed to go like this, don't cry" he says, but you're already crying.

"Leave me alone" you tell him.

"No, I'll never leave alone again" he says, his voice suddenly quiet and soft. Through the veil of your tears, you see him go down on one knee.

"I'll never leave you, because I want you to become my wife!" He's shouting, for everyone to hear, as he holds up a golden ring encrusted with diamonds.

"I got this ring from Nami's treasure, I hope you like it. If not I'll get another one!" He looks at you, awaiting your answer.

This was the last thing you expected. The two of you never talked about marriage.

"What?" You ask, overwhelmed by everything.

"I want to share everything with you for the rest of my life. I want to grow old with you! I want to become better for you all the time. I want you to become my family, because I love you so much! I told you I will find a way to show you how much you mean to me. This is it. Please marry me!"

For a painful second, you hesitate and his lower lip already begins to tremble. You hold out your hand and let him slip the ring on your finger. He kisses your hand and holds it against his cheek. You can feel a tear running down his face.

"You make me so happy" he cries. "Let's be a family!"

______________________________

Soooo....this one took me *checks date* forever, I am so sorry! I will be working through my drafts and requests as I have a bit more time now! Hope you liked it :D

[cositapreciosa]

Serve, love & protect

Bodyguard!Gilbert 'Gilly' Lopez x reader, the usual for the show, 1584 words

a/n : bodyguard au cause we love them tropes

Tagging my Gilly people @narcolini @drabbles-mc <3

‘’ You lied to me. ‘’

‘’ I did. ‘’

‘’ Are you even dating me or is this all a big joke too? ‘’

He sighs, and suddenly the big SUV feels too small for the both of them. The cracked glass across the windshield makes it hard to see, the busted window in the back letting the wind whistle between his ears.

‘’ I… ‘’

His tongue rolls in his mouth, he doesn’t know what to say. On one side, he shouldn’t tell you, admit that he likes you, not when your dad had been clear about that in the contract. All means necessary, don’t fall in love. On the other, how couldn’t he, when you had been so kind, so charming since the beginning, why wouldn’t he want to date you?

‘’ Don’t. ‘’ You answer back, sinking into your seat. ‘’ I don’t want to know. ‘’

He had done lots of business with your dad before, a strong man with piercing eyes, sharp suits. That is where the offer came from, between gun trades and small talk. Got a babysitting job for you, Gilly, easy work, easy cash. More like a bodyguard job, a dumbass bodyguard job with actual danger, guns and wounds. Your dad had told him you wouldn’t be easily convinced, that to ensure your safety he would have to be less traditional, less leather and handgun, more friend, even closer if needed. And he did, even if he knew it wasn’t part of the plan, letting you run your fingers through his beard, sharing the same side of the bed, he just couldn’t say no.

‘’ Listen, baby, I- ‘’

‘’ Don’t- oh my god, Gilly what the fuck is wrong with you?! ‘’

Your hands are tight, gripping the door handle as he takes a sharp left. You turn to face him.

‘’ Stop it, it’s over! Don’t ‘baby’ me, don’t… ‘’ you gesticulate around, hands flying, ‘’ Just stop. ‘’

You raise your palms to your eyes, pressing, muttering things he can’t understand. He can sense your distress, he knows you now, better than anyone, more than your father would like him to probably. It has been months since you two had been together now, good months, the best ones for him this year. It was an easy job at first too, simply because you never were a primary target, just one that they would try to hit if deals went wrong. Being the child of a gun lord usually came with a fair share of barrels pointing back, and, from what he had seen from you when bullets eventually started flying, staying low and away from the windows, this whole routine was old news to you.

‘’ Please don’t be mad, I can explain. ‘’ He tries again.

You scoff, and he watches as you squint your eyes at him. It makes him feel small in his seat.

‘’ I don’t think you can, Gilly. Save your breath. ‘’

The car is colder now that the sun has gone down and he watches the wind wrap around your hair, lets the breeze bring goosebumps to his arms. He knows the two of you are too exposed, in this beat-up car, bullet holes on each side. It pains him that he knows the only place you will truly be safe is at your dad’s house, and he has to bring you there, not the club, not his house, not anywhere else. Drop you off, collect his hazard pay and leave. Leave you and hope you will answer his texts, even if he something tells him you probably won't.

He takes a left turn, fast, into a poorly lit backstreet, almost propelling you against your window side. The breaks get pressed just as fast, and you have to brace yourself with your hands on the dash.

‘’ Have you gone mad?! Did they hit you on the head or something?! ‘’

Gilly turns off the car and pivotes to you, bringing his arm up to wrap the back of your seat, caging you in.

‘’ I can explain. ‘’ Let me, please.

He is observing you, the frown between your brows, the anger in your eyes, the dried blood on the side of your face. It is superficial, really, barely a scratch, but he has to hold himself back from reaching out, move your chin to the side so he can get a better look. He breathes your name as the overhead lights dim out, leaving the two of you in the dark, pleading. He can smell your perfume, hear the shakiness in your breath.

‘’ Okay, whatever. ‘’

You cross your arms around your chest. Even in the darkness, he knows you are watching him, waiting.

‘’ I like you, I do. ‘’ He starts, ‘’ I wasn’t supposed to, though, we just needed to be friends, you know? So I could make sure you were safe. ‘’ But I failed.

‘’ My dad hired you. ‘’

‘’ He did. ‘’

Your shadow moves, moving to the side to lay your head on the headrest. Your voice is soft, going through the motions, exhausted. You must be tired, the rest of the adrenaline dripping out of you in waves.

‘’ Do you work for him, selling the guns and stuff? ‘’

‘’ More like with him, I’m in a motorcycle club. ‘’

We buy them, he could have said, sell some back if they ever come across a nice shipment from god knows where, but he doesn’t. You are smart, you get it.

‘’ You’re used to getting shot a lot. ‘’ It is not a question, more like a fact, piecing the information together.

‘’ You could say that. ‘’

He holds his free hand out, and you take it, his warm fingers taking in your cold ones. He can tell you have softened up, put down the axe.

‘’ You really like me? ‘’

‘’ I do, very much. ‘’

You squeeze his hand, gently, even though he can’t see, he knows you are pursing your lips, biting the inside of your cheek. You move gently, twisting between your seat and the cup holder, leaning down and pressing your cheek on his shoulder. He can feel your body relax into his.

‘’ Can we go home now? I want a hot shower. ‘’

‘’ I know you do, baby, we’ll be there soon. ‘’

He lets you nuzzle into in shirt, caressing your hair with his free hand. He starts the car, driving back up to the main street. He doesn’t have the guts to tell you you are going home alone tonight, that there is no way in hell your dad will let you sleep somewhere else.

To his surprise, you don’t put much of a fight when you notice the gates around your dad’s house, or when he says your name into the intercom so you can be let in, but you are a smart one, of course, you picked it up. The nuances, the conflict inside of him, how he couldn’t get out of the car at first, couldn’t let go of your arm when people started pouring out the house. I’m good, Gilly, you whispered to him, thank you. And so he listens, he lets go, picks up his cash and leaves.

.

A week passes, a long one, of mindless thinking, passing time, putting cars on the lift and then bringing them down. He hears about you at Templo one morning, barely a sentence, something about your dad catching the guys, how business between him and the Mayans has been booming since then. Thanks, Gilly. Good job, man. The military training finally paying off, uh? He nods and smiles, but he doesn’t ask about you. He tries to play it low, make it seem like he is not taking the biggest hit of his life.

When he gets home that afternoon, something is different, maybe it is the way the grass is bent where it usually isn’t, how the doormat is slightly crooked, but it is you sitting at the diner table that makes him stop in his tracks.

His hand is still on the gun at the back of his waist, his other tight on the door handle when you wave at him, a small smile on your lips. Your hair is slightly shorter, different, and you are wearing too many layers for the California heat. You speak first.

‘’ Hey, baby… ‘’

Gilly lets go of the handle at his back and closes the door behind him. Baby. Baby. You stand up before he can talk back, nervously taking a few steps towards him.

‘’ We were on lockdown, I couldn’t call, I couldn’t leave. ‘’ Your fingers are pulling at threads on your jeans pocket. ‘’ I’m sorry, Gilly. ‘’

He melts, there is nothing else he can do. His arms find their way naturally around you, one hand on your head, pushing your cheek against his chest. He knows you can feel his heart beating in your ear, hear the relief that comes out of him with a sigh. There is no hesitation when you hug back, warm fingers griping at his cut.

‘’ I will never lie again, I swear. ‘’

You laugh, and it makes him squeeze tighter.

‘’ It’s alright, only for good reasons from now on, okay? ‘’

Okay, he will. Protecting you will be a full-time job now, maybe not the small contract he thought he was going into, something different, something warm and meaningful—soft, loved.

The most pleasant job in the world.

[cloudcountry]

I wanted to ask why you hated Idia so much back then and the reason you adore him?

im gonna start telling people to pay me whenever they ask why i hate(d) idia because ive got this question easily 20 different times and frankly i'm losing money by not accepting payment

im not writing all that again i'm so tired of explaining it over and over ughhhh its not your fault min its just i seem to be a skipping record with how often i've had to repeat the same thing over and over and over for a YEAR and people just KEEP ASKING like ok you want to know about my relationship with idia shroud PAY UP!!!!!

anyways...i havent written about the things i adore about him yet so...

first first first!! the thing that made me gasp the softest gasp i have ever gasped in my life when i first saw it...his pink hair. its a bit superficial i guess but now that i like idia i think he's stunning. he's so hauntingly beautiful, especially when he's just a little bit flustered and the tips of his hair turn pink. what i would do to see his whole head turn pink PLEASE.

i also think his smile is so silly, even though it's usually accompanied by his smug ass voice "should'a leveled up more!" SHUT UP!!!!! i love his sharp teeth theyre so goofy nd silly but in a cute way. honestly i think his scowl is cute too, idk maybe i just like his lips but watching them twist up in annoyance when he rolls his eyes is attractive to me dont ask i dont know either. does that say something about me? maybe. i'm content with not knowing.

onto less superficial things...i just finished reading book six yesterday and it struck me how idia's heart is genuinely so beautiful. he loves so gently and fully, but with devotion that would destroy the world if he let it loose. being loved and treasured by idia is a privilege, because once he lets you in he would do anything for you (just dont fuck it up or i will beat you up im being so serious LEAVE HIM ALONE)

the extent to which he cares for ortho is so beautiful and so heartbreaking. "leave it to your big bro" im dead. everything he does is for ortho to have a safe and fulfilling life and honestly...it kind of seems like idia is trying to pay ortho back in a sense? like you died (because of me), now i will spend the rest of my life mourning you as punishment. he wants to give him the best life possible and thats just so ourgourgouhgohou,,,, his grieving is so complex and yet its so simple. heartbreaking i tell you.

on a lighter note, he's very passionate about the things he's into as well. one thing about figuring our how to like idia was turning my reaction to his condescending jabs from "oh he's such a know it all bitch what the hell people are literally just indulging in his interests what is wrong with him?" TO "oh he's just excited and getting an adrenaline rush, it's going to his head. he's happy. :)" and that was absolutely growth on my part because. ok AUBURN LORE TIME but i used to have a friend who was very condescending and a HUGE know it all (irl IRL IRL) and i think they definitely impacted how i saw idia because i saw bits of them in him. and since they hurt me so much i projected my experiences with them onto idia, so the first time i met him in game i wrote him off immediately and hated him after i saw what he said to others and how he acted.

but one of the many problems with that approach was that i missed the gentler sides of him. the way he goes back to school for ortho. the way he powers through the masquerade social for ortho. his idea of yuu being "valuable emotional support." his love of cats, regardless of how bad he scared grim. his love of star rogue and the way he made the sequel actually happen, albiet unintentionally. i spent so much time resenting him because "of course he's just another one of those." that i didn't stop to notice anything about him except for those bad moments. and of course, i'm not ignoring them now, i just see them differently. i see him differently.

of course i love that he's relatable, and that he's smart, and i love how when he's comfortable he loses his filter and becomes idia shroud instead of just being Scared of them, but i think that's just. social anxiety. and yk what ive said this before but even when i hated him i would NOT stand for anyone coming for his anxiety. like yeah i hate idia shroud but BITCH GET AWAY FROM HIM. YOU DONT KNOW WHAT ANXIETY IS LIKE!!! put me in nrc right now idia shroud needs someone who will yell at people for him and thats going to be ME. i dont care who you are you say shit you are earning my IRE. trey clover got yelled at. no one is safe.

can i just say i love how you said "reason" like there's only one JDSJSDJSD LMAO IDK IT WAS JUST FUNNY TO ME when i love someone i have multiple reasons and i love every part of them, even the bad annoying icky parts (in fact, if you can't love their bad parts too is it even love...? i dont know, we all have different definitions anyway. some might think tolerating their bad parts is love too and we'd both be right.) theres no one reason i just think he's lovely inside and out now. he's an angel, basically.

[todayispeia]

can u do enemies to lovers?? please! xavier with a virgin reader who doesn't know what she's doing but he comforts her and shows her what to do😫

⋆⑅˚₊ UNEXPECTED GAME [requested]

xavier thorpe x virgin!reader

words: 1.6k

genre: enemies to lovers, first time, blöwjob, (f) receiving, fücking reader’s mouth

a/n: sorry if i took long for this to make. i really tried my best here anon, i hope you like it! (⁠ʃ⁠ƪ⁠＾⁠3⁠＾⁠）

nevermore was supposed to be your safe place to be. it was magical, beauteous, everything you can describe for was there. your parents have decided that you should be at nevermore, and it was absolutely great.

not until the tortured artist, a.k.a xavier thorpe was there. a total messed was about to start.

you two had been throwing rage of fire each other. or should i say, throwing arguements every single classes. well, its because of him acting like a jerk and a pain in your ass. bullying your habits, teasing you in class, and always acting he’s the best. that’s why you have been playing games with him until now, throwing pranks at him, ruining his sketches in his notebook, its almost everything he do, you always have a great avenge for it. seeing him get angry was a pleasure of yours. but now, ms thornhill got angry to both of you for distracting the whole class. that’s why you’re now at the detention with him. “great job y/n, now i will be fucked up if they found out what i’m doing in nevermore” he said, rolling his eyes. “well thats good to know, because you deserved it! acting like as if i did something wrong with you!” you shouted, crossing your arms while looking at him. “oh so its my fucking fault now? you throw pranks to me over one in a million times!” he said, looking at you in disbelief. “and for once, you never did even a tiny bit of kindness. seriously none” he said, in an annoyingly tone. you were furious at what he said, he was the one who did it first. not you. “you did it first! and why would i act kind to you when you as yourself aren’t even one?” you said, he is now in a thin-ice on your patience. the feeling you had for him was like a volcano about to erupt in any minute. “this is a waste of time, im leaving” he sigh, walking out to the room. you walked out too, and you go back to your dorm. “let me guess, xavier again?” yoko sarcastically asked. “good guess” you said, laying to your bed. “you know, how about you two apologize each other? a word sorry isn’t hard to spit” — “like that would be easy” you sigh and closed your eyes to sleep for a minute. ignoring what yoko said.

a sudden noise cut your sleep after. it was a knock. “coming!” you said, getting up to open the door. it was enid, “hello, y/n and yoko! i have superficial to tell you two!” she said with an excitement. “come in” yoko said, tapping her bed to signal enid to come over. “thanks!” she said and went to yoko’s bed. you closed the door and went to them. “so, i was thinking that it’s almost my birthday and you two are invited later at 8 pm!” you and yoko looked each other for a moment, “we’ll go then” yoko replied, “i’ll go too” you smiled at enid. “aww, really? this is perfect! i should invite ajax too. good bye!” she said and went out to him. “i just hope that xavier wont show up on enid’s birthday” you said, looking annoyed. “im quite sure he wont” yoko said, trying to cheer you up. “i hope so, yoko” — “we should choose something to wear now. pretty sure enid wont allow a dark horror dress” yoko suggested, and you two went to find something to wear for later.

“y/n? are you ready to go?” yoko asked, waiting for you outside. “yeah, i am” you said, going out now at your dorm. enid came over to you both to picked you up, “your dresses are totally beautiful!” enid said, looking very excited. you three went out to her dorm, only to find out xavier was there. “this isn’t what i expected” you whispered at yoko, “guess you need to ride it out or enid will be disappointed” yoko whispered back. you and yoko went inside. “hey, enid” ajax said to her. “yes ajax?” she smiled at him, “since we all are bored at this moment, why not play

something fun?” he suggested, “and what kind of game are you thinking about?” you said, you were kinda off because of xavier being there. xavier was looking up and down at you, and you looked away. “how about seven minutes of heaven?” he suggested, “ooh, i like that one” enid exclaimed with excitement, you just hesitantly nodded and so do xavier and yoko. all of you had a scratch paper and write their names and fold it to the jar. one of you pick the fold papers to reveal who would gonna be your partner for the seven minutes. “fuck, its xavier” you whispered to yourself. you were conscious about it, because of you being a virgin. you didn’t have an experience in sexual intercourse. and xavier is your fucking enemy, there’s no way he would also agree in this stupid game, right? “alright, y/n you first, who did you got?” enid asked, you looked around to everyone, hesitate to answer her question. “hey! come on, just say it!” — “i-its xavier” you said. oh this is fucked up. so fucked up. “alright then, go to the room now” ajax said, looking at xavier. xavier get up and so are you, both of you went to the room.

“are we just gonna waste time here or what?” xavier said, looking around the room. “i-its just that...” you try to explain. “im all ears, y/n” he said, leaning towards you. “its—” before you could ever said it well, tears fall on your face. xavier looked worry at you and hugged you tightly. “are you okay? we can stopped this game if you’re uncomfortable” he said while wiping your tears with his thumb. his comfort was sensation, you felt like you two aren’t enemies at all. “its just that, i-im a virgin. and i have no experience with it” you finally spit it out to him. he was full of shock, suddenly, his mood change quick. a smirk appear in his face. “don’t worry y/n, i can show it to you how it works” he said, grabbing your waist. “really?” you said, you went red seeing his eyes were darken, mixing with his lust. “yeah, all you need to do... is kneel” he muttered, pushing you down to face his pants. you gulp at the feeling that this is happening, having a first ever sexual intimate with someone. you can already see the bulge on his pants. he pull down his pants and boxer to reveal his cock, it was already hard this whole time. “w-what am i gonna do?” you gulp, it was quite long, not so long, but average, and it was thick either. your core was heating up because of it. “grab it, then suck it” he said, you carefully do what’s he said, grabbing his cock and sucking him in and out. he moaned because of the pleasure you made for him. “f-fuck, you’re doing great y/n, n-now, you can lick it and suck it at the time” you do what he said and licks every parts of it. he continued to moan and curse everytime you do it, enduring his self to fuck your mouth. “that’s so good y/n, c-can you move a little faster?” he requested, you suck it in and out with a fast pace for him. “i-im close y/n, you can just use your hands to pump in and out or use your mouth” you were to focus on sucking him off, without a minute, he comes at your mouth, you were surprised of how it almost full your mouth with his. “you did great” he praises. “you can swallow it if you want, or maybe not” he said looking at you concerned. you decided to just swallow it all and wipe the others on your mouth. “xavier, i think i-im ready” you said, getting up to look at him. “are you sure? i dont to rush things with you” he said with a concerned voice. “yes, i am. just fuck me or do things with my body, i-i dont care about it now we dont have much time” you said, with that, xavier kissed you and turned you around. you were facing the table while xavier took off your clothes and his too. “are you ready? just tell me if you want to stop” he asked, “im read—” before you could even finish, he pushed his cock inside of your pussy, causing you to moan loudly in the room. there wasn’t much enough time to adjust, so he fastens his pace, “f-fuck, your pussy is tight. squeezing my cock so hard” he muttered, the skin of the two of you were clapping and making loud noise. “i-im close, xavier” you said, your eyes went black like you were about to collapse because of how he thrust inside you. “im close too” and with that, xavier took off his cock inside, both of you come in the exact time. feeling exhausted, xavier wanted to say something. “i must confess, that even if we both argue in everything, you’re always in my mind, and i really like you. i cant help but to stare at you and draw you every night. and sorry for being rough right now” he said while looking a little embarrassed at you. “i-its fine” you said. he helped you with your clothes and went back to the others. and you knew after that day, your legs wont be able to walk.

[that-ari-blogger]

What Do I Want?

Wicked has a thing with dreams.

The land of Oz is a land of fantasy. I mean this in the sense that it isn't exactly non-fiction, but its also a place where dreams come true. This is a place and a story in which if you wish really hard, good things can happen.

But Oz was never what it seemed, and where the original The Wonderful Wizard Of Oz used smoke and mirrors for a big reveal towards the end of the story. Wicked leans much further into deceit and scheming to lean into its theming, and that is set up in The Wizard And I.

Let me explain.

SPOILERS AHEAD

A key part of storytelling is making the lead character empathetic or understandable. It isn't essential (Watch Deathnote for a good counter example), but it is a strategy for getting the audience invested. In musicals, where most important plot beats are sung, this often takes the form of an "I want" song that establishes quickly and efficiently the goals of the protagonist. Think Part Of Your World from The Little Mermaid for an example.

The Wizard and I is Elphaba's "I want" song, and that honestly made this post rather difficult to write. Because I don't think that's an unobvious take and I wanted to do something out of the ordinary. But I think Elphaba's song is fascinating because of how it subverts the premise.

Wicked is a satire, and the key to writing good satire is to understand the core text and tropes and to take them both in a wildly different direction. Most notably, Elphaba is on the verge of getting what she wants. This isn't an "I wish I could", it's a "this is what I'm going to get", and because this is a story about dreams colliding with reality, which sets up that theme rather neatly.

The plot of Wicked centres around the falling apart of Elphaba, and the breaking down of her ambitions. But it is a story about hope throughout, and I think it is important to set up how relentlessly hopeful she is.

Although, Elphaba's hopefulness is in direct contrast with the rest of her demeanour. Once again, the theme of deception is on display, this time through her false face. She has to please everyone, especially her father, so she puts on an incredibly restrained and abrasive personality. But what she wants truly is to be "unlimited".

Don't get me wrong, Elphaba is abrasive, and that's not a flaw, she's just not that social. What I'm saying is that there is a difference between being awkward and actively pushing people away. Elphaba does the latter to disguise from her true self.

"Unlimited

My future is unlimited."

I have extremely limited musical knowledge here, so bear with me. There is a key change here, to sell the importance of this line, because it keeps coming up. I will point it out when it comes to it. But the change from A Flat Major (should I use the flat symbol here? I have no idea) to G Flat Major emphasises that this is the point of the song. If I've got those keys wrong, please tell me.

Everything else is superficial. When boiled down to it's barest principles, Elphaba wants to be free. To be free from prejudice and expectation, and she spends the rest of the show achieving this. She defies gravity, free from the laws that keep her down; she defies death and lives her own happy ending; and she defies the wizard to pursue her own path.

I watched Wicked live in Sydney, and I am using the official video from that show of this song as images. What is interesting there is how Sheridan Adams, who played Elphaba in that show, chose to act out that character.

She became slowly more expressive throughout the course of the song, starting very closed in and spotlit against a background that couldn't help but contrast with her appearance. But she got more relaxed and more open with the audience as she sang, realising she was finally getting what she wanted.

And as she sang, the world changed, with the sky going from the sunrise of the opportunity to the bright day of a new world, to a green tint to match Elphaba, letting her still stand out. But now she isn't a sore thumb, she belongs in the world and is free to do whatever she wants. As she gets freer, the world becomes hers to explore.

It's also notable that as Elphaba imagines more, and as she continues to hope, the set opens up. No longer is she boxed in by the school, now the world is her oyster.

But that isn't the only recurring theme set up by this song.

These notes form a motif that comes back in Dancing Through Life. Specifically, from Galinda, when she is falling in love with Fiyero after decieving Boq into dancing with Nessarose, and again when she and Nessa retrospect about those relationships. The flourishes are different, but the core pattern is the same.

"Help me meet the wizard"

"We deserve each other."

Neither of those two relationships work out, by the way, because everyone involved was deceived in some way. They all thought the relationships would work out in different, contradicting ways.

I'm not going to go into too much detail on that song here, as this is a post about The Wizard and I, but it's interesting that a motif with themes of deception, false beliefs and and misguided aspirations, gets used for Elphaba's most achievable goal. She wants to meet the wizard, why is that misguided?

Well, because the wizard isn't what he says he is. He cannot do any of the things Elphaba hopes he can be. The plot twist of the original story becomes central to this one in a much more psychological way. Elphaba has pinned all of her hopes on something, and the music is telling you from the start that this isn't going to work out.

The song also tells you through the lyrics.

"If you work as you should

You'll be making good"

First up, conditional acceptance. Not what Elphaba is after, but she's at such a low point in terms of belonging that this is enough to sway her. This is a fault that she gets over. She doesn't want the bare minimum; she wants what everyone else has. To be unlimited.

There's also the fact that the opening of the musical, No One Mourns the Wicked, went out of its way to break down the concepts of good and evil in this world. The story reenforces this with Wonderful later, but here it comes up and Elphaba accepts it uncritically.

But whose definition of "good" is Morrible using here. Good for whom?

So, here is where my reading of the story as a whole comes in. I will elaborate further when we get to it later on in the musical. But, in my opinion, this is a fundamentally queer coded story.

Elphaba is born different, outside of the norm of her society. All she wants is to be unlimited, for people to not see her and have their minds filled with prejudice.

I brought up Part Of Your World earlier, because the queer theming there is all but explicit, but The Wizard and I has this coding in spades. Obviously, being green is something that others her, and something she wants "cured", only to find that people like her for it, or like her for other reasons and the greenness is just who she is. She can't and shouldn't change it.

But, an angry mob is an angry mob, and people are small minded. People see something they don't understand and cast it as a villain for their own narratives.

Alternatively, she gets told that she can be accepted despite being green, if she contributes to society in the way that the leadership wants her to. Her personhood is contingent on her usefulness, rather than being assumed like everyone else.

Let's, talk about me for a second. I am a queer individual. I am neither heterosexual nor cisgender, and I can definitely empathise with Elphaba here. I have felt that same antipathy towards me for something I could not control, and I have wished that I could be "normal". I have definitely been given that "contribute to society" ultimatum.

But as I have matured, I have learned to respect myself enough to understand that these are parts of who I am, and that I am deserving of respect and dignity just as much as anyone else.

All people are deserving respect, queer or otherwise, and those that take issue with that are the problem, not us. I hope that one day, all of us can feel free to be who we are.

One day, we will be "unlimited".

Final Thoughts

The Wizard and I is my second favourite song in the musical, and I will reveal my favourite later on. But its fascinating how much setup this song does for the worldbuilding of Oz.

The audience gets told just how powerful everyone thinks the wizard is, and even if you know the plot twist, you empathise with Elphaba after the betrayal because you have seen how much of her heart gets put into this.

This is part two of a series on Wicked, with part three coming next week, centring around What Is This Feeling and continuing with the queer analysis of this very queer musical. So, stick around if that interests you.

Previous - Next

[mioyeo]

Watch your back : chapter 5

Once you don’t value what you have someone else learns how to take care of what used to be yours

Synopsis : 8 men supposed to give her all the love they promised end up leaving her behind without a valid reason

Pairing : girlfriend Reader x PolyAteez !

Warnings : this chapter contains mentions of, arguing with Yunho , slut shaming , lots of crying , blood , being shoved , Rin provoking reader , assault , miscarriage , panic attacks , bruises, mutism , superficial sympathy , fake tears , flashbacks etc Please reminding me if I forgot something

Superficial sympathy: is a false, insincere display of emotion such as a hypocrite crying fake tears of grief

Tag list : @legbouk , @scarfac3 , @m4rsluv , @hcyaa , @jackinmyarea , @layzfeelit , @loverlele , @mulletjoonsupremacy , @veneziamadness , @belle643 , @gugggu6gvai , @atinytinaa , @voidcupidz , @atinyreads , @baguette-atiny , @parkthothwa8 , @hwadump ,

This series is going to be posted together with the Psychiatric series, which means one chapter after another

Word count : 3,6k

She ran down the hall in a hurry after realizing at home that she was late to school by forty minutes because her alarm didn't ring neither did everyone else care to wake her up , it was a mystery since she always woke up before anyone else

" Excuse me for being late I overslept "

She panted trying to stay calm as she apologized for being late as the teacher just signaled for her to go and sit down on her assigned seat

Y/n went and sat down as everyone looked at her confused to why she was sitting on that place

"You don't sit there someone else sits there "

A classmate said looking at her

" What do you mean I don't sit here ? "

" Yunho requested for someone else to sit beside him , so you sit at that table alone "

She looked at Yunho before sitting down at the far back , she didn't know why he would request for someone else to sit there ,they were on good terms actually so what happened?

" Ok , there will be a project coming up so I want you guys to pick your partners "

Everyone went around the class to ask for someone to team up , Y/n stood up and went towards her boyfriend that was currently taking notes silently

" Yunho ? Do you want to work together ? I mean it would be a lot easier since we liv- "

" No thank you I already have a partner "

He continued to take notes ignoring her presence making her frown

" Is everything alright ? You'd usually say yes "

" Can you please go back to your seat ? I can't concentrate with you here "

She looked at him confused with his sudden behavior  and sat back on her place without a partner since everyone already had one

" Y/n don't you have a partner ? "

" N-No sir , but could I perhaps do it alone ?"

The teacher sighed before nodding his head

The girl sat back down with a frown pulling out her head phones and putting them on as she stared at her blank desk

What happened for him to behave this way ?

—-

"Make sure to finish the project till next week, and don't forget about the school trip to Paris "

Their teacher said before the bell rang signaling everyone that it was lunch time

Y/n ran up to Yunho , she really wanted to know why he was acting that way towards her

" Yunho , what is going on with you?"

She held his arm as everyone else went out leaving them alone inside the class room

" I have lunch let go "

" Yunho no , why are you mad at me ? Did I do something wrong ? can you also please tell me why nobody woke me up today knowing that I would probably be late ? "

He brushed her hand off him and rolled his eyes as he approached her

" Your not a kindergartener that needs their parents to wake them up , you have a phone to put on your reminder not anyone else "

" But you could've just woke me up this one time it's not that hard "

She held him again but got pushed off

" You must be really deaf when I just told that you can put on a reminder so that doesn't happen "

" But I did put a reminder on! "

The girl frowned extremely confused with his statement that didn't really make sense to her

" Did I do something to you ? why are you guys all mad at me , did I hurt you ? "

Y/n looked at him with her doe eyes , the same look she always did when she was extremely overwhelmed and didn't know what to do

" You piss me off really , why can't you be like Rin ? She's sweet and knows when to not bother us at all , why are you the opposite? "

" Why do you keep comparing me to her ? And I don't want to be somewhat I'm not "

She fiddled with her sweater as tears started building up

" Your just being a nuisance honestly lately, sometimes I think if what Seonghwa said is true , your er just being a big headache "

"Stop with the excuses ! Do you guys actually love me at all ? Did you guys just get another girlfriend because I didn't satisfy you a enough tell me because I can't just watch you guys disrespect me while I do everything to make you guys happy despite being pushed away all the time and  be compared to her ! "

She pushed him back as he looked at her with widened eyes, she had never pushed him

" Am I some joke to you ? "

" Don't push me , your going to regret it "

He hissed at her as she wiped her tears

" I'll push you because I'm tired of this behavior your acting out towards me ! "

She pushed him back making him back against the table, so he shoved her also

" Listen ! You are the one going out with other guys while you have us ! , you barely even spent time with me these past months do you know how I felt ? Do you even love me ?! "

He yelled at her

" So it's about that ? , why would you hurt me by saying other things than the truth! he's just a friend of mine I am literally dating you "

She shed tears again approaching him

" Your the one at fault ! your hanging to much around him , who knows you don't go around already spreading your legs for him ! "

Yunho was extremely mad his chest was rising up and down in a uncontrollable way not even realizing his choice of words towards his lover

" You think I'm that low of a person? Is that what you guys think about me ?! "

She chuckled sniffing 

" I really thought you'd at least change the most , but yet your still the same asshole  "

" N-No that's not what I meant "

Y/n took her stuff and went out the classroom, she couldn't even stay longer at school so she called herself sick and went home

Why where they always against her for no valid reasons ? , it's just something she couldn't understand

Is this called love ? Or was it torture at this point , the love is still there but the pain is sometimes  bigger

__

The house was quiet the only thing heard were the kitchen tolls , she was currently baking something to lift up her mood that died down after the argument she had with Yunho

He had spammed her phone with multiple messages and voicemails making her ignore her phone since she needed some time alone

She knew he was sorry but preferred him to come to her when she was ready to talk

The time was passing quickly as she looked out the window, the way the tree leaves danced with the wind made her feel at ease

One of the reasons she adored spending time in the kitchen , it was calm and her safe place other than her room

It had a nice view to the outside world , the sweet park were people enjoyed sitting to read their books as the kids played around

She wished to be like that one day , able to enjoy sitting at the park carefree with a cup of tea in her hand just like these parents that sat at the park

It brought a smile to her face as she heard the kids scream in joy , she envied them for not having to care about anything else

The timer dinged making her hurry and take out the red cake setting it on the counter to cool off as she prepared the icing

" I don't have any sugar "

She sighed and cleaned her hands on her apron before going out to ask her neighbor

" Hello ? Who's there ? "

" It's me Y/n "

She played with her ring nervously as the door opened revealing the middle aged woman smiling as she opened her arms for a hug

" If it's not my sweet girl I missed "

Y/n smiled feeling the motherly love through the hug making her bury her face onto the woman's shoulder for comfort

" I haven't seen you for weeks now , you must have been so busy with school my poor girl "

Her hair was caressed softly making her shed tears

" I've missed your hugs Miss Cha , I'm sorry if I didn't visit you like I usually do "

" Don't worry studies come first darling , so what does my pretty girl need ? "

Miss Cha pulled back and wiped away her tears smiling

" I-I wanted to ask for some sugar "

" Are you baking again? "

The girl nodded chuckling as her neighbor went into her kitchen to lend her some sugar

" I hope this is enough, make sure to spare me a slice from that cake of yours "

Both smiled before Y/n bowed thanking her

" I will for sure bring some of the cake to you "

" If you need anything I'm just one knock away and you know that right ? "

Y/n nodded with a smile and made her way back home after bidding goodbye

She couldn't stop her tears from falling as she got back inside

The way she craved for the comfort of someone and the way they acknowledged her made her cry from relief

Her phone started ringing and the caller ID showed “Yuyu💕”

She cleaned off her tears and cleared her throat  ignoring  the call before continuing what she was doing in the kitchen

But to her surprise the door opened revealing a blonde Rin entering with her two friends but stopped on their tracks as they made eye contact with Y/n

" I didn't know you were home "

" I didn't feel well at school so I just called in sick and went home "

Both looked at each other awkwardly

" Is this her ? the one that cried over shoes ?"

The shorter girl beside Rin chuckled in disbelief nudging her other friend

" Well what do we have here "

The girl approached Y/n and slid her finger across the icing on the cake and brought it closer to her mouth tasting it

" Woah tastes so good , girls come and have a taste of my besties cake "

The other two girls rushed over and dug into the cake with the spoons on the table

" She really knows how to bake "

" Are you gonna eat this ? "

One of the girls spoke mouth full of soggy cake eyeing Y/n that stared at them in disbelief

" Look she's even crying from joy since we like the cake , don't worry the cake is good "

The girl teased making the other two laugh as Y/n she'd tears of frustration and anger

" I'm so tired of you ! "

She screamed slamming Rin's face harshly onto the cake making the blonde scream in pain

" Are you crazy ?! "

" She's bleeding from her nose! "

Y/n breathed harshly as tears fell, it was the first time in her life she ever put her hands on someone

" Your so done for this you fucking bitch "

Rin wiped her face angrily holding her nose and signaled for the girls to grab Y/n

" Your gonna regret touching me , girls do what you have to do "

" Don't touch me ! "

She screamed curling into a ball as the two girls started kicking and punching her violently

" You should've thought twice before touching her you piece of shit "

A harsh kick was send right towards her stomach making her wince in pain for air

" Your so petty it was just cake  "

The other girl kicked her face as if it was a soccer ball , Y/n's eye twitched from the pain of how hard they kicked her

" Do you fucking know how much my parents payed for me to get this perfect nose ! You wouldn't even be able to afford it! "

Rin scoffed as she watched her friends beat the poor girl to the point she weakly tried to reach for a way to get out their assault

" Wait until I tell the boys about this you fucking slut "

" She only thinks about herself what a fucking bitch , why are they even dating her "

Y/n felt blood leaving her mouth and her face burning for the skin that tore up on her cheek making Rin laugh and squat down to her

" I can't believe this fucker peed herself "

The two girls eyed Y/n's jeans as they watched more liquid spread around her private area

" A grown up girl pissing herself ? Iseul film this it's so funny hurry ! "

The taller girl from them all started recording as she kicked Y/n's face one more time busting her lip

" Wh-hat did I-I-I e-ver do t-to you "

She cried out as her voice was raspy from all the begging and screaming looking up with her left eye swollen shut

" Just looking at you makes me ill and the way they'll always prefer me over you is amusing "

" Mhm Yeon-ngja I-I don't think it's pee "

Iseul spoke concerned as the liquid continued to spread

" What do you mean it's not pee ? "

“ It’s not pee fuck ! ”

The girl approached Y/n's pants and slightly touched it screaming after she saw crimson colored liquid cover her fingers

" She's bleeding ! guys w-what do we do "

" Relax guys she's probably on her period "

Rin laughed it off but Iseul panicked more

" This is not period blood Rin ! This is heavy blood and it's reddish brown! Rin she had a fucking miscarriage! ”

" H-How do you know she had a miscarriage? "

" Because my mom works at the hospital and told me about a patient ! "

Iseul teared up and pulled out her phone to call for help

" Iseul ! If you call them your gonna get locke-"

" And what if I get locked up in prison you both will go with me you took part in this ! "

She yelled at everyone as she ran a hand through her hair in frustration waiting for the ambulance to pick up

" Wait what if we tell them that we came to hang out and saw the door open and her like this in the kitchen? "

Yeongja stuttered trying to calm both down as Y/n whimpered in pain

" I think we should do this "

" She wouldn't dare tell anyone, she can get charged for assault because of my nose "

Iseul checked the girls pulse to make sure she was alive because she looked nothing like herself , bruises on her face , eye swollen shut and a busted lip not to forget the purple blue bruises that started to form

" It's on the second floor, yes number 369 "

Everyone looked worried for themselves other than the girl that tried to breath properly

" They are on their way he-"

Y/n's phone started ringing uncontrollably

" Who is it ? "

Rin checked the phone on the counter and cursed seeing San's number calling her so she just ignored it not answering

" You should probably clean your nose to look decent or they're going to question you "

Rin nodded and went to her room to fix herself before coming back

" I think we went overboard "

" Girls relax I have it under control "

The door rang and she went to open immediately taking a minute to fake her cry

" Pleas-se this way hurry "

She sniffed leading the paramedics to the kitchen that hurried towards the direction taking in quick action

" What happened? "

" Me and my two friends came home to work on a project and we found the door open and than we went inside hearing whimpers , and than saw her laying there "

Rin teared up as they carried Y/n out on a stretcher hurrying to their ambulance

"I heard you guys may suspect the girl having a miscarriage ? Do you know how far she was ? "

" W-We didn't know she was pregnant "

Yeongja said wiping her face

" I ask for someone or all three to follow us quickly to the hospital as her witnesses "

Everyone went out closing the door and going inside the ambulance towards the hospital

The girls kept giving each other discreet looks as they grew anxious

Iseul therefore was sweating bullets from the amount of guilty that filled her mind and chest

"Don't worry girls everything is going to be ok "

Was it really?

__

Machines beeped as she laid there peacefully breathing with the help of the mechanical ventilator

The two other girls had already gone home leaving Rin all to herself in a room with Y/n

" You wouldn't have ended this way if you didn't touch me now see what you’ve done"

She sighed looking at the other girl scoffing

The door opened revealing the boys that rushed as fast as possible towards the hospital after being informed

" What happened to her "

San was the first to rush towards her bed panicking as the others waited for an explanation from their other girlfriend

" She w-was assaulted at home "

" What do you mean she was assaulted "

Seonghwa raised his voice that got shaky with tears threatening to fall

" Yeongja , me and Iseul found her bleeding in the kitchen all beaten up "

Rin fake cried as Yeosang hugged her for  comfort

" Bleeding ? Did they stab her or something? "

It got silent suddenly as the room grew uncomfortable

" Rin speak up , did they stab her ? "

The girl shook her head gulping as she had all eyes on her

" Than why was she bleeding ?! "

Hongjoong grew mad at the lack off response

" Nobody stabbed her s-she "

More tears fell but this time from minimal regret she felt

" Rin just say it nobody is holding you at a gun point, your worrying us "

The girl looked back towards the bed where San caressed Y/n's bruised face with tears

" Y/n h-had a miscarriage "

" What do you mean miscarriage ?! "

This time Yeosang spoke eyes widening

" They said she was four weeks almost at her fifth pregnancy week "

Everyone looked towards Y/n with tears

" Sh-he was pregnant and didn't tell us ? "

" Calm down Jongho , we'll hear from her when she wakes up to tell us "

"One of us was the dad and lost their first child how am I supposed to stay calm ? "

He teared up approaching his girlfriend that slept peacefully

" I'll find that bastard that did this and fucking kill them for this "

Wooyoung bawled his fist with angry tears making Rin gulp

" I-I even fought today with her and she didn't answer my calls it probably already happened by then so she wasn't able to p-pick up "

Yunho teared up hysterically as Mingi embraced him crying as well

" G-Guys she's waking up "

Seonghwa immediately went towards Y/n upon  hearing San's words

" Baby , what happened to you ? "

He caressed her face but the girl started shaking her head in denial after looking to the side as tears buildup in her eyes

" Why is she shaking ? "

Everyone looked concerned as she kept shaking her head lips wobbling as she opened her mouth but no words came out

" Get t-the doctor Hongjoong "

She fought off Seonghwa's hands as he tried to keep her calm

Loud whimpering where heard as she cried clutching her stomach and kicking her feet

" Baby it's ok I'm here and so are the others "

Seonghwa teared up seeing his lover in a unpleasant situation unable to calm her down

" I think she's having a panic attack "

Mingi came forward and held her softly as she continued kicking and squealing instead of screams leaving her mouth

" Please step aside and let the nurse take care of this situation don't worry "

The nurses helped her calm down by injecting her with tranquilizers

" Is she going to be ok ? "

Yunho looked concerned with his nose running and puffy eyes

" She must have been in a shock moment where the body reacts after remembering something that caused them distress "

" She also couldn't talk she kept squealing and humming but nothing came out "

" When someone is experiencing traumatic stress and their body goes into fight or freeze mode, blood is diverted away from the parts of the brain responsible for language and speech production , and consequently their capacity to formulate language and to initiate speech is reduced , so she's basically mute now I don't know how long it will last b-"

" She will stay that way forever ?! "

San yelled in disbelief with tears streaming down his eyes

" No that's not the case , it's probably temporary depending on how big the process is of her recovery so please don't stress her out "

Everyone looked at her falling back into slumber with fresh tears streaming down

" Are you her boyfriend or ? "

The doctor looked at San who was stroking her face crying

" We all eight are h-her boyfriends "

" My condolences to you guys , stay strong "

The medical staff bowed to them and left

" I can't believe thi-is "

Hongjoong broke down as Wooyoung hugged him  while  tears also left his eyes

All of them had tears in their eyes, not only because one of them possibly lost their first child but also because someone they loved laid on a hospital bed unable to do anything

" I think some of us should go home and freshen up than come back "

" I-I'll stay here with her "

Yunho said tearing up but Mingi held him

" Yunho your in no condition to stay , Seonghwa will stay with her now let's go "

They kissed her cheek one last time leaving Seonghwa alone with Y/n who sat beside her bed caressing her hand

" I'm sorry I couldn't protect you "

He shed tears lowering his head , it hurt him the most seeing her this way since he couldn't do anything else other than remain by her side for now and make sure she was doing well

[modrew71extra]

Right, never thought I had to make one of these callouts in my entire time of using social media, but unfortunately due to the seriousness of the subject matter at hand, I have to get this out here to prevent more people being mislead.

Now for a lot of people who follow artist Tumblr might be aware of this one thread circulating in regards to people using Glaze & Nightshade in response to the recent updates made to Tumblr's data services. With the posting in question, @ reachartwork discouraging use of it and presenting an argument for it.

Now unlike most other people, I can tell how off their argument is as it lacked the nuance of how these programs worked and talked about it in a way that came off more enthusiastic, despite their claims of having sympathies people trying to protect themselves.

It's only until I took one little look at their blog and knew what was up, and their later behaviour proved my suspicions.

Now to get this right off the bat, I do apologise for whatever misgendering I exhibited as I didn't notice that about them, nor am I justifying this callout to harass them.

So please don't

Rather, it's to be weary of this user, and how you really shouldn't be sleeping on these programs.

Now as the original featured, it went out in presenting their argument as followed:

As you can notice in the thread, it's providing very little evidence of their findings of its supposed workings without proper sources, while trying to show ways to work around it (again, enthusiastically mind you).

And yet as you notice, they didn't bother providing an alternative way to combat this scalping situation everyone is in, especially with how replies have been of users expressing their grievances over this.

You'll think that maybe you should have added something to help others or worded themselves in a more sympathetic manner?

But that's when I checked into their profile and knew what seems to be up,

They're into this tech.

I knew this was clear propaganda, why would somebody who is invested into generative tech try and discourage methods in protecting others of data scalping?

Like I'm sorry but you can't be somebody who claims to be sympathetic about the whole power imbalance this whole field is causing, yet enthusiastically be into this tech. Those mixture of ideologies just do not match.

There's no such thing as "ethical AI use" for this tech.

Now upon knowing many were falling prey to this nonsense, I had to step in and present my own counter arguments and why they are so wrong. Both programs Q&A (along with demonstrations of it acting as written) thay explains the inner workings of it as thoroughly as possible:

https://nightshade.cs.uchicago.edu/whatis.html

(Paper is in QA)

https://people.cs.uchicago.edu/~ravenben/publications/pdf/glaze-usenix23.pdf

https://twitter.com/zer0int1/status/1749574897179742353

Now comes the part when things get more heated

After I posted my retort, this is the response I got:

A) Again, while I didn't intend disrespect for their gender, "AI-bro" has literally become a catch-all for us who are against the very people who are engaged in this field

B) Since when in my original argument that I did try to villainize the entirety of programmers in general? My wording was superficially against those in that field of ML tech who are for this tech.

C) Trying to spin my own findings with proper context and immaturely handwave it by boiling it down as me going "nuh uh" is making you look childish, the info I provided literally explains the very points they argued.

D) Reason I blocked them straight away is because I knew a lot of these pro-AI tend to be very combative when it comes to criticism, I felt it in my gut that they were going to do so first. And later on other factors of their character proved my point.

Like I'm sorry, you really think me not having a degree of X matter is somehow making me a worst person and that I shouldn't be allowed to voice criticism of something?

Just because somebody is in the field of something, doesn't automatically mean they have the best interests to heart.

And here's my confirmation that like a lot of these AI enthusiasts, they're very sensitive & combative.

Now not too long, I decided to try to reblog my argument on another reblog of the artist @ Kang-Bang as they have a bigger artist presence, while they fortunately did realize what the OP they were quickly blocked upon reblogging my own post:

But it wasn't that confirmed that behaviour.

I found out through a conversation I had with somebody on the server of artist-rights advocate Zakugu Mignon, that this individual had a similar encounter with this user a year ago on Twitter (I'm Hollow btw);

And here's the conversation this person had that led to this similar experience:

https://twitter.com/Acfusi/status/1691261322988527617

Notice a familiar pattern of behaviour?

The unfortunate pattern behaviour that these pro-AI types are once again present.

It's always trying to justify the usage of this succeeding.

Now look, I'm not against the idea of the physical unabled being given the ability to produce creations of their own with the help technology means nor do I think that Artificial Intelligence is inherently bad.

But this generative tech is just doing it all the wrong way.

It's by all intentions & purposes, displace hard working people as cheaply and quickly as they can.

It has unfortunately happened to certain working sectors such as journalism, advertisement and translations as we speak.

Now on the topic of whether or not you use Glaze or Nightshade.

Please don't drop it

Now yes it's not a panchea for the societal problems we're currently facing.

But you shouldn't just leave whatever you post online out in the open without any forms of protection is not the wisest route to take.

As the Q&A already shown, it at least offers some way to ensure a means of sabotage data scalping.

There are still many other creatives and general users utilizing these programs for good reason, and WHY they're desperate for a means of protection.

https://www.tumblr.com/astraskylark/741393628982886400?source=share

https://www.tumblr.com/leahfrog/743484550954598400/theres-also-nightshade-if-you-havent-heard?source=share

https://www.tumblr.com/thetreetopinn/738157011350470656/ill-say-what-ive-said-in-the-past-ai-art-can-be?source=share

https://www.tumblr.com/in-ravenlight/743565614387494913?source=share

https://www.tumblr.com/luimnigh/743036171813273600/what-is-this-about-the-tumblr-staff-wanting-to?source=share

https://www.tumblr.com/taikova/738369881482919936?source=share

Yes, I understand there's some skepticism going around and we're all frightfully confused about what to do in these uncertain times.

But please.

Don't skim out on a solution to offer some forms of protection.

Having a little protection is better than having none.

[blaqcats-fics]

(He's) Just a Phase — Part 2

MASTERLIST

Word Count: 3.3K

March 1989

'I can't do this anymore!'

Steve flinched at the loudness in Eddie's voice. He looked at him, taking in the frown lines on his face and how his eyes nearly glowed in anger.

He had expected this. He had been waiting for the ball to drop eventually. There had been signs over the past month that he had picked up. It was small things that Steve was sure Eddie didn't notice he was doing.

First, it was just something small. It could have always been superficial to Eddie, but to Steve, it had always been something bigger, something more. It was a habit that Eddie had always had, and Steve wasn't sure Eddie knew he had done it.

Steve worked nights most of the time, meaning his schedule was the opposite of Eddie's. It had been hard, but they had made it work. They made sure they received the same days off so that they could spend time with each other. On the long days, Eddie would leave the hall light on when he went to bed before Steve got home.

It again wasn't much, but it was something.

When Steve came home, and the light wasn't on, Steve felt his chest tighten. Something was wrong. He did something wrong. Of course, against his better judgment and not openly communicating with Eddie, Steve kept his mouth closed and moved on.

The next tell was more significant. It gave an indication that Eddie knew what he was doing. It wasn't as superficial because they made sure of it together.

Eddie scheduled his band practice on their day off -- the day they used for date night. But, in true Steve fashion, he kept his mouth shut. So it didn't matter if Steve laid in bed all day, crying to Robin, trying to figure out what he did.

The other things fell into place after that, like ducks in a row, until he ended up facing Eddie's frustration.

'I'm sorry,' Steve mumbled.

Eddie gritted his teeth. 'And what are you sorry for, Steve? Please enlighten me!'

Steve wasn't sure. 'I, uh,' he licked his lips, gaze flickering to anywhere but Eddie's face.

'You don't know!' Eddie snapped.

Steve pursed his lips shut. 'No,' he said.

'That's the problem. You're so absorbed in your own head to not even notice what you're doing!' Eddie laughed. It was a bitter sound, and Steve felt a spear stab through his heart.

'I'm not,' Steve argued weakly. 'I thought we were fine.'

'You thought wrong,' Eddie exclaimed. 'I'm miserable, Steve. I'm tired. I'm tired of waiting for you to get your head out of your ass and realize that world isn't going to eat you alive.'

'What is this about?' Steve asked, his voice rising. He needed clarification. He needed things spelled out for him. He was terrible at reading between the lines, even if he knew he should be better at it.

'It's about you not wanting to be seen with me,' Eddie snapped. 'Or you don't want anyone to know about us. You either tell people were friends or that were fucking roommates. Dustin doesn't even know we're together!'

Steve flinched. 'That's not true,' he said. 'You know I love you-'

'You don't show it very well,' Eddie cut him off.

'Don't give me that!' Steve said, frowning. 'I didn't have my whole life to figure out I was bisexual! I'm sorry that I'm not ready to come out!'

'What do you have to lose, Steve?' Eddie hissed. 'You don't have anyone who would look at you differently! Your parents couldn't give a fuck about you, and everyone else would love you no matter what! What's so fucking scary, Steve? Why is it so hard to let people close to us know?'

Steve swallowed, tears stinging his eyes. Hurt flooded his system. It was a low blow on Eddie's part, mentioning his parents. It wasn't like Eddie was wrong. His parents didn't care about him. They especially didn't care about Steve after discovering all the 'scandalous' things that Steve was involved with. 'I just, um. I'm not ready, Eddie. I don't know what else you want me to say.'

Eddie laughed, 'Fuck, I don't know. That you'll try? That you'll tell at least Dustin! It's like you are ashamed to be with me!'

He was silent.

Eddie wasn't far from the truth.

Steve was ashamed but never of Eddie. There wasn't a fiber in Steve's bones that could ever be ashamed of Eddie. Steve was only ashamed of himself. He didn't know why he was, but every time Steve looked in the mirror, he felt disgusted with himself. He felt as if God would strike him down at any given moment for just enjoying kissing a man.

Nothing had to do with Eddie. Everything just had to do with Steve.

'Not everything has to deal with you, Eddie,' Steve said, voice tense. 'Nothing I've done about hiding my sexuality has to deal with you. I'm not ready. I don't know when I'll ever be ready!'

Eddie stared at Steve, expression unchanging. 'I'm not going to wait anymore.'

Steve felt his stomach drop. 'What does that mean?'

'It means what it means. I'm not going to sit here unhappy. I can't keep waiting for you to be ready,' Eddie said.

'Are you breaking up with me?' Steve asked, his voice shaking.

'I guess I am,' Eddie said.

'But,' Steve began, stumbling over the singular word.

Eddie shook his head. 'It's done. We're done.'

Steve bit his lip and nodded. He looked down at his lap, unmoving. What would he do, promise to try to get him to stay? He wanted to beg him to stay, but Steve knew he shouldn't. Not when any promises he made wouldn't be kept.

'Fucking hell, you have nothing to say, do you?' Eddie shook his head. 'I'm leaving. I'll be back this weekend to get my shit.'

Steve could only watch him walk out of the door.

He didn't move from the spot and wasn't sure how long he had sat there, staring blankly at the don't, trying to understand what had happened.

This wasn't like Nancy.

It was worse.

Because before, Steve had felt something — rage, disappointment, sadness. Right now, at this moment, felt hollow, as if a part of him had been removed.

It was when Eddie was actually gone that Steve called Robin. She moved to Dallas after graduation, and Steve only saw her two weeks out of the year. But, she had stayed Steve’s rock, and Steve in return her’s.

The dial tone echoed in his ear as he leaned against the doorway, staring into his bedroom. Besides the trillion tiny holes left over by the thumbtacks holding Eddie’s countless posters, the walls were empty. The bed had only two pillows, both plaid and ugly, a reminder that Eddie had been the one to hoard an enormous amount of pillows — a reminder that Steve’s favorite pillow had belonged to Eddie.

‘Buckley speaking,’ Robin’s voice filled the silence.

Steve’s lips twitched. ‘Hey, Birdie,’ he greeted.

‘Dingus!’ she cheered. ‘I was wondering when you were going to call.’

Steve pursed his lips, 'Yeah, sorry. It's been a rough week.'

‘Eddie picking up shifts again?’ she asked.

‘Uh, um,’ Steve rubbed his lips together, fighting the tears and tightness in his chest. ‘No,’ he managed to gasp out.

Robin was silent momentarily before her soft voice echoed on the receiver. ‘Stevie, what’s wrong?’

Steve found himself unwinding at the seams at the simple question, a loud, ugly sob choking out of him. ‘He’s gone, Robin. He left!’ he cried, the words rushed out and barely audible.

‘What? What do you mean he left?’ Robin exclaimed loudly in the line.

'We broke up,' Steve cried, his chest heaving as he cried harder. 'I fucked up, Robbie. It's all my fault he's gone!'

'Steve, honey, I need you to try and breathe for me. Focus on something and take a few deep breaths for me. I can't understand you writing now,' Robin instructed on the phone.

He did as she said. He focused on the black alarm clock on his bedside table, staring at the red glowing numbers. He took a deep breath, hiccupping as he breathed out. He did that for a few minutes.

'Better?' Robin asked.

'Mhm,' Steve vocalized. 'Sorry.'

'Babe, don't apologize,' she said. 'Now what happened?'

Steve closed his eyes, gripping the phone cord and using the wire to ground him. 'Eddie and I broke up a few days ago, maybe almost a week ago. Well, he broke up with me,' he mumbled, voice shaky.

'I thought you were good; you guys were happy,' Robin said.

Steve laughed, his voice bitter, 'Yeah, me too. Apparently not.'

'Do you know if he told you why?'

'I fucked up,' Steve said simply, thinking over the words that Eddie told him just a week ago. 'I didn't want to tell anyone we're together because I'm not ready. I've been pulling away, I guess. I don't know. He's upset that I don't want the relationship because I don't want people to know.'

Robin was quiet, 'Do, or well, did you want people to know?'

'Of course, I do, Birdie,' he said, choking on her nickname. 'I would scream that I love him from the top of a mountain for the whole world to hear, but I just-'

'You aren't ready yet,' Robin said.

'I'm not ready.'

Robin let out a soft sigh. ‘Do you need me to fly to Indianapolis?’ she asked.

Steve immediately shot her down, 'You have classes and work, Birdie. I can deal with this on my own. There's not like there's much to deal with.'

'We both know how you can get when you get lost in your head,' Robin said. 'And I'm going to be honest, I understand where Eddie's coming from. I know it's hard to hide something important from those who matter, but it's not fair to you, either. You can't rush someone to just come out. He should know that it's a terrifying feeling.'

Steve hummed. ‘I guess so,’ he mumbled. ‘I wish I could go back in time and be ready or click a fast-forward button.’

'We'll you can't,' Robin said. 'Don't overthink too much, Stevie. You two broke up, and you never know; in a month, you might end up back together.'

Steve pursed his lips. This wasn't the first time he and Eddie fought. It was different. They would take a few hours away from each other and then talk about it before the night ended. The worst fight ended with Eddie staying the night at Gareth's, but he came home, and they had sorted it out.

Eddie was gone this time. There wasn't a trace of him left in the apartment.

‘Do you think he would have stayed if I had told Dustin?’ Steve asked.

‘Maybe,’ Robin said. ‘But how long would that satisfy Eddie until he wanted more people to know?’

Steve sighed, moving to rub the wetness from his under his eyes. 'I don't know,' he whispered. 'Maybe this isn't bad,' Steve mumbled.

'What's that mean?'

'Maybe I need to work on myself. I'm not like you or Eddie. I haven't gone out much. I haven't really learned anything,' he said. He picked at the end of the Corroded Coffin shirt that he still has. It was worn and full of holes. Eddie had made it two years ago when they had moved to Indianapolis in celebration of getting a gig at a local bar. 'I haven't been open to learning new things. Maybe I should just focus on myself,' he whispered. 'Maybe I hadn't been ready for a relationship with Eddie, and I just jumped into it.'

'I think figuring yourself out would be a good thing,' Robin said. 'And don't doubt rushing into your relationship. You and Eddie would love each other, even if a chapter of your relationship ended.'

'So poetic,' Steve joked weakly.

'I'm minoring in English. I need to be,' Robin jabbed back. 'But seriously, Steve, don't do anything you're uncomfortable with. It'll be better if you find a new routine and get used to being alone. Then start broadening your horizons.'

Steve hummed, 'That'll be a start.'

'Maybe get a pet!' Robin suggested. 'You like animals.'

'To an extent,' Steve sighed.

'Oh, maybe you could call Owens,' Robin said, voice brightening. 'You still have his card, don't you?'

Steve glanced at the drawer by the fridge, 'Yeah, of course, I do. So why would I need to call Owens?'

'To, well, I don't know, actually do what he suggested you did a few years ago,' Robin said as if Steve knew what she was talking about.

'What the hell are you talking about?' Steve asked. 'You know I have the memory of a goldfish.'

'Ugh,' Robin groaned. 'You're helpless,' she said. 'Owens suggested that you start seeing a therapist for your PTSD, which I'm assuming you never did.'

Steve shook his head, 'No. Eddie did, though.'

'Either way, he also suggested you get a service animal. They help, you know. They can clock you when you're on the edge of having an attack. Or you can get one for your migraines. Do they have service dogs for migraines? You should be able to ask Owens. You still have them frequently, right? What do you think about your eyesight? Are you still having trouble seeing it? Or it's the strain you put on your eyes that causes migraines. You may need glasses, Dingus,' Robin rambled.

Steve rolled his eyes, 'You're rambling again, Birdie.'

'Sorry,' she said automatically. 'So?'

'So, what?'

'Dear Christ,' Robin scoffed. 'Are you going to talk to Owens or not?'

Steve frowned, 'I probably should.'

'So call him. Start fixing yourself because a knight and shining armor can't help you,' she said. 'Eddie couldn't help you. I can't help you. You have to do this on your own,' she added. 'Of course, you can like to talk to be, but you have to hold yourself accountable and all that jazz.'

'Fine,' he sighed. 'I'll call Owens.'

'Good!' Robin said. 'My sweet child,' she faked sniffing over the phone, 'growing up into a responsible young man.'

'Dear lord,' Steve laughed. 'Alright, Mom. I have to go. I have work in an hour and apparently have to call Owens.'

'Steve,' Robin said, voice serious.

'Yeah?'

'I love you,' she said. 'You'll get through this.'

'Love you too,' he said softly. 'Thanks.'

'Anytime, Dingus.'

'Do you think you would have ever come if your previous partner had never broken up?' Doctor Newman asked gaze focused on Steve as her pen was settled against the clipboard, prepared to write at a moment's notice.

Steve eyed the pen warily, feeling uncomfortable. Therapy was part of what Owens offered him to help treat his PTSD. While Steve didn't want to sit and be interrogated, he was doing this for himself (and Robin; he didn't want to disappoint her).

'Probably not,' Steve said, honesty laced in his voice.

He doubted it would have ever been a thought on his mind if he and Eddie were still together. Steve would have internalized everything like he had always done. Knowing that thought, Steve knew he wouldn't have a chance to change from who he was or the shell of who he thought he was.

'Why do you think you wouldn't have?' the woman asked.

Steve moved his gaze to the clock, staring at the second hand, watching as it made its way around, counting down the seconds of the minute. 'I wouldn't have realized that there was a problem. I probably would have just done what I did before, internalize everything.'

'I see. Did you need to internalize your feelings because you might have thought they made you less of a person?'

He tensed and shifted uncomfortably. 'Maybe. I don't know. I don't think my feelings are all that important. Like, I, uh, I don't know, I just think there's no need to make a big deal of them.'

Doctor Newman glanced down at her clipboard, writing something down. 'Hm.' She looked up at Steve, tapping her pen gently against the board. 'Well, you're feelings are important, and it's always okay to prioritize your feelings, even if you think that makes you selfish. Being selfish is alright, especially when your mental health will thank you. Sometimes we all need a break, and sometimes we all need to just sit somewhere and feel.'

Steve nodded, taking in her words. 'I get that, I do, but I grew up in a house where feelings were something you put on the back burner. Then with the event from '83 to '86, feelings seemed irrelevant when people around me were hurting worse, who deserved and needed the attention or care.'

'So, despite the trauma that had fallen on you, you believed it to be small compared to those around you?'

'I mean, yeah?' Steve said, confused. 'The kids were going through so much. They needed someone to lean on, to be cool and collected. They needed someone safe. That was me. It had to be me. The adults and the others were all trying to sort through their own issues, and mine seemed so small in comparison.'

'But they weren't,' Doctor Newman said. 'All your problems? They are just as important as everyone else's. You can't compare your trauma to someone else's because everyone experiences trauma differently.' She picked a vanilla folder off the table, opened it, and flipped through a few pages. 'Doctor Owens sent me your file,' she said. 'And I have to say that you have gone through a good bit of trauma, specifically with Starcourt.'

Steve licked his lips, mentally wincing at the thought of Starcourt. 'I guess.'

'While the Upside Down -- that's what you called it, correct?' Doctor Newman asked.

He nodded, 'The kids called it that. Something about a rat on a rope or something.'

She nodded, 'Alright. So while the Upside Down and the Russians greatly affected you, I think your trauma might have started earlier. Would you be comfortable telling me about your relationship with your parents?'

Steve glanced at the clock, frowning that not more than ten minutes had passed. He coughed, adjusting in his seat. 'There's not much to say,' he said. 'They weren't around a lot.'

'That's a big vague,' she wrote on her clipboard again. 'What were they like when you were a child, before they started becoming less of a fixture in your life? What were they like when they were home? What about now? What's your relationship like now?'

Steve lifted his hand to his mouth, nibbling on the nail of his thumb. His parents weren't something he wanted to talk about.

'This is a safe space,' Doctor Newman said. 'If you aren't ready to talk about your parents, we don't have to. Not until you're ready.'

'And if I'm not ready?'

'Then you aren't,' she said. 'We have all the time in the world, but I think some of your complications stem from your parents, and I can't help you without you opening up about your childhood. So, we'll return here each week until you're ready to face it.'

‘You make it sound easy,’ he laughed.

‘It’s not,’ Doctor Newman corrected. ‘Sharing something personal, especially when it's difficult to talk about, is far from easy. We don't know each other well, and I assume that even if you were more familiar with me, you still wouldn't find it easy to share your experience with me, and that is okay.’

Steve swallowed thickly. He didn't say anything for a moment, struggling to find the words. He licked his lips, glancing back up at the clock, then to his hands, then to Doctor Newman.

‘Uh, my parents,’ he started, before pausing, face pinching together.

‘Take your time,’ Doctor Newman said.

Steve took a deep breath, slouching deep into the chair. ‘Well, I think it started back in ‘76, after I turned 10,’ he began.

NOTE: Thank you guys for reading! I wasn't planning on doing a flash-back chapter, but I might throw them in between present chapters just to give context to what led up to Steve doing what he's doing. Also, if you've noticed, the break-up isn't a super bad one (in the context of why they could have broken up.) I wasn't going to have cheating or anything, but rather something that could be fixed, because I want a happy ending for my boys. Of course, it's worse in Steve's eyes because he just blames himself for stuff. IDK, I thought of doing something worse, but I felt that might be too much.

Also, if you aren't fond of reading fics on Tumblr and prefer the Ao3 formatting, the link to the fic is HERE. Tumblr sees all updates first, and there's a 1-4 hour delay of transfer posting to Ao3. I go through and edit everything. Tumblr is like the RAW/Uncut version, so to speak.

Remember that if you want to be added to the tag list to leave a comment below or send me a DM!

TAGLIST: @swimmingbirdrunningrock x @cinnamon-mushroomabomination x @phirex22 x @kylobith x @screaming-alone x @poopypantsbennett x @ledleaf x @rhyswritesreadsandcries

[madaboutmunson]

The Drive-In Part 18

Part 1 | Part 17 | Part 19 | Links to all Parts | AO3 Link

Taglist: @2btheanswertothequestion @cr0w-culture @panicatthediaz @rhyswritesreadsandcries @weirdspaceowl @duraffinity @thegeekcompanion @stereoteleversion @hagbaby420

"So, he thinks that you and I were..." Steve clears his throat.

"Oh my god, don't make it any grosser than it already is, Steve", Robin replies snappily, grimacing.

Steve puts his hands up in submission and paces around the empty store.

"Eddie Munson, Steve? Really?" In disbelief, Robin puts her hands in her hair, leaning to rest her elbows on the counter.

Steve spins on his heel and points at Robin, "Ok, now that is way outta line! I didn't look up at the stars and say, please, oh please, let me develop feelings for a man, but not just any man, a loud, tattooed, long-haired nerd."

Robins turns and stares at Steve, "Say that last bit again..." She says slowly.

Steve furrows his brow in confusion, "Loud, tattooed, long-haired nerd?"

Robin smiles, "No, Steve before that."

"Oh my god, why can't you ever just listen to me the first time?!!! I said I didn't look up at the stars and say, please let me develop feelings for a man." Steve says, shrugging.

Robin points at him, "That bit, yes!"

Steve looks at her face, his face contorted in even more confusion as he throws his hands in the air, "Can you please stop talking in mysteries, Robin. I am still very much in hangover recovery, ok?"

"Riddles!" Robin says, exasperated.

"What about riddles?!" Steve yells.

"It's not talk in...you know what, never mind. The point being you said feelings!" Robin clears up.

It hits Steve like a Mac truck. Feelings. Not an instant superficial attraction. Not based on sex. Not even a shared interest. But it felt true. As unlikely as it would seem, Steve had feelings for him. And now Steve knew it. He had to fix this.

Robin is quietly finishing off the last banana pancake watching Steve, "You know, if nothing else, we've learned something new about him. He makes great pancakes!"

"How can you think about pancakes right now? I'm having a life crisis, and you're being impressed by him stirring a pancake mix and chopping up a banana?"

"Pancake mix has never lived in your house the entire time I've known you, Steve. I checked a few weeks ago when you were drunk and whining about missing pancakes. Remember we went to the diner the next day and ate a bunch?" Robin is coaxing Steve to think about something. He can tell by the way she's staring, smiling and making that circular motion with her hands like she's winding yarn around them.

"Then how...but...if...why?" The channel from Steve's brain to his mouth is wide open with no quality control, "Ok, ok. So let's say after I nearly scared him to death, I had a panic attack that he helped me out of, and then whilst I was showering, he made me banana pancakes from scratch. So let's say that's what happened. Couldn't that just be a friend thing to do?" Steve counts the events on his fingers, holding them up to Robin to help answer the question.

Steve wants a clear answer, he knows the only way to get the truth is to ask Eddie, but he can't just sidle up to him and be like Hey, I just found out I might like a guy... you...do you like me too? Check Yes or No. If No, please don't tell anyone else or beat me up.

Then the feeling of Robin's arms around him snap Steve out of his thoughts, "You didn't mention you had a panic attack, Steve! Are you ok? What happened?"

"I was worried Eddie was in danger, and I charged in there with my bat, and nothing was wrong. Then the room got all hot, I thought I was gonna die, and he helped me round," Steve recalls as images of Eddie intensely looking into his eyes whilst their fingers were interwoven flood his mind, and his pulse quickens, but this time he understands it.

"He makes me nervous... the kind I've been waiting for, Robin...the Nancy kind", Steve mumbles, still deep in thought, holding onto Robin's arms.

Robin looks up at him seriously, "Steve, are you sure this isn't like a-a um when people develop crushes on people that save them from like a fire or something?"

Steve's brain is really trying hard to remember. He knows that before yesterday he definitely hadn't thought or felt anything about Eddie other than he was a little weird. Then he finds it in the car when Eddie's arms had found their way around him.

"Can it go the other way? So you like someone because you rescued them?' Steve asks carefully.

"I mean, maybe like a saviour complex, but that might be more seeking out people to save than what you are specifically asking", Robin replies.

"Ok then!" Steve says finally, excitedly putting his arms on Robin's upper arms and leaning back so he can see her face, "So I don't know if this means I like guys or girls or both, but I know...I one hundred per cent know, right now, I like this guy!" Steve steps out of Robin's arms and recommences his pacing, "We also know he was a little pissed when he thought you and I were up to something, right? So maybe he's a little jealous? Buuuuut we know that's not about you because when he thought it was someone else, he thought it was funny, right? So that means...well, maybe...."

Steve rushes to the counter, asking, "Which tapes are his tapes, Robin?"

Robin stares at Steve, her hands to her mouth, and her eyes welling up a little, "Steve..." She says gently

"Rob, I understand, I really do, and we'll totally cry about this later over some pizza and ice cream and one of your weird movies with no explosions or music, but right now, I need you off the bench and on this court with me, ok? So what tapes did Eddie choose today?" Steve says, looking at the counter, clapping his hands at Robin.

"The ones with the kisses candy on!" Robin says hurriedly, wiping her eyes and rushing to the counter.

Steve holds the little stack in his hands, shuts his eyes, and faces the ceiling for a moment. If this was real. If he was gonna pursue this crazy idea, that could potentially ruin everything, but at the same time felt like it could be everything. He needed a sign. A loud one. So loud Steve wouldn't miss it. A sign so loud Steve would risk it all.

Steve holds the tapes in his hands and looks at the first one, Scarface. Not the sign Steve was looking for, but at least he liked Al Pacino. Eddie had some sort of taste. Then Steve shifts to the second one, stares at it for a moment, holds it above his head with both hands, eyes wide at Robin, and laughs like a maniac.

"What's so exciting about Saturday Night Fever?" Robin asks, puzzled.

Steve is in a predicament right now. Eddie had threatened to tell everyone about Saturday Night Steve, but it wouldn't be a threat if he told Robin. It was basically a promise, and she would tease him about it forever.

"So he asked me what music I like, and honestly, I wasn't sure, but I remembered making a mix tape for Jackie, and I liked a song from this movie", Steve prods at the tape case.

"So now...I need....what do I need to fix this..." Steve paces, clicking his fingers deep in thought.

"You need to let him know you aren't doing anything with me for a start. Then I dunno, can a guy be woo-ed?" Robin asks curiously.

"Of course, we can. We aren't monsters, Rob! Jesus! Ok, so here's the plan. First, I can call from here...say you left your tapes or something...then I can say something about how he left and that there is nothing between you and me, but I was hiding under the counter because I remembered something embarrassing from last night?"

"That could work, yeah that could work," Robin says excitedly, "And then...and then you leave him roses outside his window, spray painted black ones because it's Eddie...or a skull filled with candy...or a guitar pick with your initials on it?"

"Ok...no... absolutely not. It needs to be loud enough for Eddie but not loud to anyone else, ok? Something he likes, but something I can do...Theresa!" Steve shouts, at last, launches himself over the counter and starts tapping at the keyboard.

"I thought Jennifer was the disco girl?" Robin says, confused.

"Jackie. Theresa," Steve says, eyes fixed on the monitor, still tapping at the keyboard.

"Huh?"

"Jackie liked Disco, Jennifer liked ballet. Geez, Robin, it's almost like you don't listen to a word I say. Theresa."

"So, who is Theresa?"

"The hippy. Theresa!"

"The hippy?"

"Yes. Robin. Focus. Please. Theresa" Still tapping the keyboard.

"I thought you were gonna call Eddie? And also when did you learn to use the computer? You haven't even had your first shift yet?" Robin stalks around the counter and sighs, "Steve, you can't just randomly press keys and hope for the best! Move over. Wow!"

"Ok...well...maybe I need to learn how to use it, but the keys weren't random. I've seen you say someone's name hit these keys, and boom, details. Maybe it doesn't know my voice yet?"

Robin turns to him, completely dazed, "I am amazed by your intellect daily, Steve. God help us all if you and Eddie become a thing. What with your smarts and his safety awareness, Hawkins will be in for a treat."

"Robin!! Hawkins can't know!" Steve says in alarm.

"Oh my god...you know what... never mind, dingus."

"Here you go. Theresa's details, but you didn't get it from here, ok?"

"Yep, yep," Steve says, scribbling down the details and vaulting the counter again, "Got it, thanks!".

"Steve, please be careful ok? He could really mess things up for you."

"Robin Annabelle Buckley. Trust me on this one. This is my area of expertise. I am not successful at keeping the girls, but when Steve Harrington goes for it, he always lands the date, and I will not have my stats messed up by some little nerd, ok? So if I wasn't 100% on this, I wouldn't even be trying."

"I will get this date, Robin. You'll see. He ain't gonna know what hit him! King Steve is back, baby!"

Steve shouts back as he runs through the door to his car.

[argentangelhelps]

MAISIE PETERS STARTERS

starter prompts from maisie peters’ discography

“i still haven’t got my driver’s license” “and i am sorry to make it about myself again but you signed up for this“ “you signed up for this” “please don’t give up on me yet” “i know i’ll get better, i’m just not better yet.” “i only drink to get drunk.” “nothing like i thought would happen happened” “it didn't work like i thought it would” "i resent you just a little if i'm honest” “you swore you would do better this time” “if i'm being frank, i want a "sorry" but i'll settle for a handshake” “not friends, no, we're somewhere in between” “'cause you're awful and i miss you and i killed you in my dream last night, even then you didn't care” “i should be the one you’re dancing with” “i was gonna act surprised even though i knew you wanted me” “maybe if i'd reined it in you wouldn't wanna kiss somebody else” “you don't owe me anything”
“i'm just gonna walk home by myself” “you look right through me every time you walk by” “‘cause if you don’t want me then you’re not the one” “guess i misunderstood, i thought you liked me too” “she could tell i was so obsessed with you” “hope i don’t wake my dad up” “well, tell me where i went wrong” “and you only kissed me once, nothing changed at all” “i could see a bloodbath coming” “everyone else can have him but i won’t” “loving you’s not fair” “you kept me as your favorite secret” “it’s funny how everybody but me knows” “you’re losing your mind” “you wanna talk? not ideal.” “i feel like you feel nothing, that’s fine.” “baby, who has two phones?” “you don't want me at all, but you don't want me to fall for anyone” “i heard you had a lot of therapy when you were seventeen for your anger issues” “if i had a pound/dollar for every hole punched in a wall i’d be a rich girl/boy” “it got progressively harder to miss you” “you're a serial cheater” “when i told you you were funny i lied” “i can tell that you've never been hugged” “if i was the last girl on earth, you'd still be weighing up your options” “you're obsessed with your father” “red flag and a half” “you're kinda sociopathic” “i wasn't broken till you tried to fix me” “i was yours until you let me down” “you said this is something that we both need” “you left me hollow” “are you happy now?” “we never struggled for a conversation till you couldn't find the words to say” “now you’re somebody else with somebody you swore was not your type” “i just miss my friend” “how do you think i’m dealing?” “i'll burn this house, i mean it” “well, what does that make me then?” “i'm your villain” “whole town's gonna hear how you messed me up” “oh, i'm out my mind and i said some shit, but i miss you more than i meant any of it” “he’s fit, go for it.” “if you want to take her out, you're gonna have to ask me first” “she's in brooklyn with me” “you gave it all and i gave it up” “you were always on my mind” “i've got no right to miss you” “easiеr to tell myself we'd mess it up instead, so i left” “but i still wish things were different, don't you?” “'cause i get not evеryone sees you the way that i'd like” “you pulled a lot of shit” “thought i'd be a cool girl, but turns out i'm livid” “all or nothing, you chose nothing” “you are one tough act to follow” “you forgot how to miss me” “i hope i’m one tough act to follow” “now everything is through, it's you i wanna call though” “it was all out my hands when you pulled the trigger” “i kissed your friends 'cause your friends said you kissed her” “you were my no sleep, cried for weeks, favourite ex” “i was good to you” “did i just not do it for you, superficially?” “i can’t help thinking she’s got a better body” “has she got a better body than mine?” “were you sorry like you weren't at the time?” “the worst way to love somebody is to watch them love somebody else and it work out” “when you're twisting up all her sheets, do you suffer?” “was i just an idea you liked?” “was i just an idea you liked? a convenient use of time with obedient blue eyes” “i thought it would be us for life” “will you tell me just one more lie?” “didn't say it in those words, but i know how your tone works” “i'm hurting but i'm certain it's still true” “i'm the best thing that almost happened to you” “one day, you're gonna wake up and, oh shit, you lost the brеakup” “i'm thе greatest love that you wasted” "oh shit, i won the breakup" “just assumed i was your favourite” “what do you do when the good guys change their mind?” “'cause i used to think that if i tried my best, i'd always win” “now you're asking for a pardon 'cause i'm a good time pound for pound” “i was good, just wasn't good enough” “i never said i was perfect just thought i was perfect for you” “did you meet my brother?" “will we ever get together?” "how can i know you're for sure? it's only been a summer" “nothing more frightenin’ than a woman scorned” “baby, if you thought that i was trouble, then you're gonna hate what's comin' next” “i don't think you knew just what you'd done” “i'll fuck your life up as a blonde” “i'm gonna make your friends say, "man, you messed that up”” “you'll rue the day you did me wrong” "oh, goddamn, not another rockstar" “they got a lot of unexamined father-son baggage” “aren't i lucky 'cause he could have chosen any girl to fuck with?”

[the-fluff-piece]

OMGG CONGRATS ON YOUR 200 FOLLOWERS, I LOVE YOU TOO 🥺😭💖

so... I have a really low self-esteem and my mind always makes me think I'm unworthy or don't deserve a lot of things I have in life

that being said, could I request prompt 1- sweet/ cozy with Ace? Pretty please? (the thought of him putting his hat on our heads makes me feel so warm inside 🥺 can you maybe include this, please?)

again, congratulations on your milestone, I love you & your writing and i'll be here to accompany you on this journey 🥰💖

Hello my dearest, you're the best 🥺 I am so happy that you're still here, you're so precious (I'm not crying, you're crying 😭)

So I hope you like this story, I tried to make it positive and uplifting

This is part of my follower milestone event

Here's

Love sick

You've been with the whitebeard pirates for quite some time now and your secret crush for Ace is growing constantly- until something needs to be done!

This is pure sfw heartwarming superfluff about Ace being super supportive and taking care of a super anxious and shy gender neutral reader

At this point, it was an open secret everyone knew about, except Ace. Every time you saw him you froze, everytime you tried to talk to him your voice gave out, everyone with half a brain cell could see that you loved him, except Ace. There is still a debate what that makes him intellectually.

You've come to a point when your crush turned from delicious butterflies in your stomach to a painful hum of constant anxiety in your head. The idea that he would never see you, never return your feelings and probably end up with a much better girl was so excruciating to you, it was making it hard to sleep or eat. Or concentrate. It became so bad that one day, you found yourself being pushed into Marco's office because you fell asleep at your post. You where sitting there miserably while he did some superficial examinations and asking question about your symptoms.

"Have you lost your appetite?" He asked.

"Not really" you lied. He didn't need to know that.

"I'm gonna add denial to your symptoms because just from looking at you I can tell you lost weight."

"Uhm...ok" you conceded. Maybe, you still felt too fat though.

"You know Ace is a nice guy" Marco stated matter of factly.

You got dizzy from the sudden rise in blood pressure this name caused.

"I know that!" You squeaked.

"Than why are you acting like telling him how you feel is dangerous? Even if he didn't return your feelings, he'd be super chill about it." Marco said with his usual calm expression, while you were almost fainting from embarrassment. "Yeah, everyone knows, don't panic." Sitting down at his desk he added "that's my counsel to improve your health: talk to Ace. Tell him how you feel. Get drunk if it helps you." He turned around, telling you that this appointment was over.

With a head as red as a a tomato and swaying a bit from all the heart racing you got out of Marco's office and had to sit down for a second.

"Hey Y/n!" A familiar voice greeted you. Sick to your stomach, you turned around, saying "goodbye" to Ace before you realized you took the wrong greeting again. You told him good night in the morning and once you even wished him happy birthday at lunch.

As usual, Ace laughed loudly, throwing his head back. Just seeing his freckles in the sunlight was heartbreaking.

"Your so funny" he chuckled and paused, looking from you to Marco's office.

"Are you sick? You look a bit feverish!" He noted, coming nearer and looking you straight in the face, studying you. You were torn between looking away because you were looking like a complete mess and staring at his handsome face. Your eyes decided to look both ways at the same time, giving you a headache. You closed your eyes and prayed that Ace would just leave so you wouldn't embarrass yourself even more.

He didn't leave. Instead, you felt a warm hand on your forehead and his voice near your face "your temperature is a bit high. Did you see Marco?" Ace asked with concern.

"See him just I did" you mumbled(grammatically wrong) and risked a peek at Ace, who looked really worried.

To your horror, he sat down next to you.

"Man, being sick sucks! Just let me know if I can do anything for you." He said, looking at you as you tried to vanish. He shouldn't see how absolutely messy and horrible you looked.

"Nothing" you managed to say.

"Y/n, you always play so tough but it's okay to ask for help. We are a crew after all!" His excitement whenever he talked about the whitebeard pirates was so cute, you had to smile, wishing you could talk to him the same way.

"You know what? Here's something to remind you that you're never alone here!" He said with the broadest, most adorable smile that almost made you melt - and put his hat on your head. It was a bit too wide and slid over your eyes and you quickly adjusted it. It smelled like leather and campfire - Ace's scent.

"Damn!" Ace whistled. "Looks better on you than on me. I guess it's your hat now."

He was so nice, even if it was lie to make you feel better.

"That's not true" you said and had to laugh a bit.

"You know it's a shame we never get to talk to each other like this, you're always so busy! How about you just lie down and rest and I bring you dinner and keep you company later."

"Wha- wha-?" You stutter.

"You heard me, I'll bring you some soup later!" He said as he left, waving.

"You promise me you'll rest!" He added.

Your knees were butter and you just stayed put, trying to catch your breath.

"Wow, just like that you have a date?" Marco commented, having witnessed the whole strange exchange.

"No!" You snapped.

"I thought you wanted this...?" He asked.

"Yes! I mean no, I mean this isn't a date!" With once again solid knees you got up and turned to get back to your post.

"Where do you think you're going?" Marco asked, a brow raised.

"Back to work." You answered.

"I don't think so. Your commanding officer just ordered you to rest in your bed and wait for him." He said with a "checkmate" expression on his face.

You would never disobey a direct order, so you went back to your room, clutching Ace's hat to your chest and prayed he would just forget his promise.

He didn't.

After waiting anxiously for a few hours, you heard him come. You were already so attuned to his steps and looks that you could always detect his presence.

He didn't bother knocking, he just shouted: "Soup coming!" And already opened the door with his foot.

"Hot and healthy! And tasty of course!" He announced with a wide grin, holding a tablet with soup, some bread and a spoon in one hand like an expert waiter. He looked at you - and frowned. You were sure he just noticed what a wreck you were. Instead he said: "you're not wearing comfy pajamas! Don't you know anything about being sick?" He sounded like it was common knowledge.

"I am not feeling that bad..." you explained.

"Marco told me you were feeling really bad! So it must be true." He stated. You felt the panic rise in your throat - what else did Marco tell him?

Your anxiety levels rose once again when he sat down next to you on your bed and put the tablet on your nightstand, you've never been that near to him. Unconsciously, you clutched his hat to your chest like a shield.

"Hats go on your head, silly!" He said playfully and put it back on your head.

"And now open up" he ordered as he lifted a full spoon in front of your face while holding his other hand underneath it to catch any drops.

"I can eat by myself!" You told him a bit more sharply than intended and immediately regretted it. Ace laughed.

"They told me that you have spunk! But orders are orders" he said with a sinister expression. Marco taught him that, too, you bet. But he was right, orders were orders and you opened your mouth. Ace was surprisingly careful.

"You know, you can take a break from time time" he began in a casual tone while feeding you. You barely tasted the soup, being cared for by Ace was taking up all your available attention. He continued talking calmly:

"I see how hard you work each day, that you're always thinking ahead, keeping an eye on things. All I want to say is: being a pirate also means to have fun once in a while. You're pushing yourself so hard, and I bet you're struggling, too. You need to enjoy yourself once in a while. Or let others help you." His concern was so sweet and genuine, it almost made you cry.

"You know you deserve it." He ended and looked at you. "And I'm glad you let me help you. I know sometimes, that's hard. In that regard, you remind me of someone. He also puts others first when they need help, an he does absolutely everything to help everyone, even people that hurt him. And like him, you're very strong" he said and seemed to remember someone dear to him.

"You feeling better now?" He asked, suddenly back in the moment.

You nod.

"Great! Marco said when you've had some soup I should give you this" he said cheerfully and produced a small flask from his satchel.

"It's medicine." He held out the small, unmarked bottle. You opened it and immediately smelled your favourite booze. That dog! You hesitated and looked at the flask.

"He said it's crucial."

"I bet" your voice was so dry you were surprised you didn't spew dust. There was an evil plot against you led by Marco. If you were in a position to do so you would pay it back to him.

"Less scowling more drinking" Ace said, ripping you from your thoughts of dark conspiracies against your love life (or absence thereof). It was just a small flask, you drank it in a few sips, already feeling it going to your head. Maybe you were indeed sick.

Ace sat at your side and was smiling widely, watching you like he expected a present. Remembering Marco's words, this was probably a message that it was time to confess. You were a little afraid that he would take matters into his own hands if you didn't tell Ace here and now.

Everything inside of you was fighting against it. He wouldn't like you back. This would hurt. Everyone would laugh at you for weeks. You tried thinking about it like a band aid, it needed to be ripped off swiftly to avoid long stretched pain. It was also the most dignified way to make it public.

"Thank you for taking care of me, but I am not sick. I just..." your voice is being a coward again, but you press on while Ace is waiting patiently. "I was just really stressed and nervous today because I.." your throat was dry and it felt like your heart was besting sk hard that it was shaking your whole body.

"I love you" you whisper. And add "I'm sorry".

Ace didn't flinch or look surprised.

"I know" he whispered back. "Don't ever be sorry for your feelings. And don't be afraid. You know it pays to be brave sometimes." His low voice was hard to understand over the beating of your heart. You felt his hot breath on your hear as he moved closer and planted a soft kiss on your hair. His hand moved to stroke the side of your face with his fingers.

"I love you, too. And I am proud that you told me first." He said softly while his fingers moved underneath your chin to lift your head up.

"I'm just afraid I'm not a great kisser." He said, chuckling.

"Me neither" you answer.

Still, just feeling his lips on yours for the first time was the greatest thing ever.

________

[shamrock313]

Evan and Nat (Aug 3rd)

This reading is for entertainment purposes only. Please take everything you read with a grain of salt. Enjoy!

Please note that the cards change all the time. Sometimes we get good and other times we get a mix. I had an anon ask me if I think these two are becoming serious and I think it is.

I would like to mention that I got some oracle cards and they will be added to this reading. So, I will have them down as OC in the reading.

Nat POV: 8 of Wands (rev), Wheel of Fortune, Devil, and 10 of Swords = There's misunderstanding and confusion. She shouldn't push this relationship. Needs to be patient. Relationship is changing / navigating the change within the relationship. This could be about them moving in together or taking the next step into their relationship. Making adjustments. Codependency. She's addicted to Evan. They have chemistry, but there are dark undercurrents to this relationship.

Breakup, sadness, grief, infidelity. Once again, she's trying to make this relationship work. She doesn't want to leave. Picture her holding onto the door as someone tries to pull her out.

OC: Pros: Connection, interested, moving in. Cons: Using you, Boundaries, Pretending, Hookup. OC #2: Spy and Gold Digger. I think with spy it means she's either observing how the fans are checking on her or she knows we're watching which I mean come on who isn't? Gold Digger could mean what we think it means or this is helping her grow in her career or he's helping her financially.

Evan POV: 10 of Wands (rev), 9 of Cups (rev), and Ace of Cups (rev) = Failure to share burdens. Partner wants to be an emotional support to him. Doesn't want to hurt or tell her his worries. Holding in pain causes him to become emotionally distant. Superficial relationship. Looks great on paper, she checks the boxes but something is missing. Lack of deeper connection? Only putting himself in the relationship to avoid working on himself. Sadness, separation, vulnerability, insecurity in love. Afraid to open up.

OC: Pros: Dreamy, Lovestruck, Swipe Right, I'm Ready. Cons: Ghosted and Immature. OC #2 Caution and Gambling. I think with gambling this is talking about addiction issues and financial issues so again he might be helping her or this could imply something else. Caution of course is a warning.

Overall Dynamic: 2 of Swords, Moon (rev), 5 of Cups, Magician (rev), and King of Swords (rev) = Choosing between love, work, and family. Trying to resolve issues. Someone doesn't want to address issues (most likely Evan) and it's piling up. Uncertainty about relationship. Avoiding the red flags. Deception, fear, and paranoia in love. Keep hearing "I don't wanna start over" (this is Evan). A man who is emotionally immature. Manipulation?

2oS along with 5oC indicates disappointment, inner conflicts toward someone. Someone is torn between two choices and they are grieving about it. In their mind they have to choose one or the other. 5 of Cups is also about being nostalgic. Not looking at what is around them. Avoiding it.

SLOW DOWN

Someone is refusing to accept the truth or being blindfolded by choice. Again, this is them trying to avoid the issues that are there. Both partners need to start being HONEST and open up to each other's about one's feelings towards the other. Miscommunication. Beating around the bush. A relationship that is not as it seems to public, unbalance, physical attraction, and lack of emotional support.

OC: Moving in (I think we can confirm that they are living together. This has come out too many times. If I'm wrong, I accept that but it keeps coming up). Honeymoon aka the Honeymoon phase is either still active or over and they're starting to see each other as who they really are. Chances of traveling to a wedding together? Probably not a wedding maybe it's another event or vacation. Someone is traveling soon. Open your heart.

[opuestocomplementario]

Prapai’ character and the oversight

After EP9, we got to see more about Pai’ character and also more about Sky's past. The acting was phenomenal, from both Peat and Fort. Especially the little eye contact and the touches between them. It felt really well delivered. But, what caught my attention the most was how different Prapai approached Sky in the EP8 and how he does it now. 

In EP8, Prai put his arm around Sky when he first saw him. He covered him up and was directing him into the place where Pai wanted to talk with Sky. He was in control of the entire situation: mentally, physical and also powerful. He was allowed there, while Sky was an intruder. The whole punching the wall besides Sky felt more weird than expected because It wasn’t really necessary considering the body language of Sky: Pai didn’t need to show strength physically to intimidate him, so I want to believe this was super random. Also because Sky already gave him the “take what you want”, so he was already willingly and inferior to him. 

The sex scene in EP8 shows something to. When Sky is laying down, Pai goes and says something along the lines of “the night just begun” or something, and Sky looks at him sad. I don’t know how Fort can switch so quickly. He looks super confident in one moment and sassy and then looks completely surprised by the actions of Sky. Even in the dark we can see Sky’s actions surprised Pai: he wasn’t expecting that look. 

After this night, Pai develops some kind of attraction to Sky that goes beyond physical. And this is something I want to talk about. In EP9, Pai also says to Sky that he likes him even in normal clothes with puffy eyes and messy hair. And while I think the outfit Sky wore in the race was beautiful and really pretty, it wasn’t flashy, or a night gal; he was also wearing something normal, nothing out of ordinary, and still caught Pai’s eyes. Like I don’t want to say that Pai is not a superficial asshole, because he obviously is. But a lot of his behaviour with Sky is telling me he doesn’t just find him pretty, but also interesting and something makes him worried. 

Rain and Payu also had this thing, where one of them didn’t know why he was trying so hard to get the attention of the other and didn’t know if like him or not. Rain was having mixed feelings toward Payu and it took him a while to admit that he did like him more in a romantic and physical setting. Pai is having this too. He likes Sky physically, but there’s something there that bugs him to know him more. 

Pai is not just a mean and evil person. He is not after Sky because he likes to bother him and make his life insufferable. Pai doesn’t know what happened to Sky. He doesn’t know exactly what happened to him. He is starting to realise some things he said and do trigger something in him but he is still very naive in what exactly does that to Sky. 

The siblings and Payu know that this chase of Pai with Sky is not something to be worried about in the sense that Pai is going to hurt the other. They don’t get in his way, because they know, initially, this is all an innocent game of a man who feels his emotions too strong. Payu is a character that knows the wrongs and the goods of his friend and when Rain said to him that Pai is after Sky he doesn’t worry like Rain because he knows him. I feel like this conception of Pai being an asshole is more about the talking of people around him than himself. Like, we just know Pai is a playboy, and he is flirty, but we haven’t had any situation where he is an asshole with his conquests or he is mean to them. 

I feel like Sky also understands that the chase of Pai is a game, or a waste of time, mainly because he doesn’t want to get hurt again. Which is also shown in his breakdown about Pai texting him. The thing about the texting that stood out to me was the type of texting Pai was sending. Lines along the “please eat”, “how is the reunion going”, “how are you”. They are genuine questions about Sky as a person and what he does. He wants to get him know better and wants to let Sky know that he can have an interesting from him that is not sexual. I think it is overwhelming to Sky because he wants to stop feeling anything, and Pai is not helping. Sky wants to go to school, eat, sleep, read and repeat. I think it is more the fact that many insecure people have when they have someone wanting to talk to them and wanting to get to know them better. Is also overwhelming when someone is “courting” you after a whole year of not having anything romantically or sexually. You don’t know what to do. 

I talked before about the scene in EP8 where Pai wants to start over with Sky. Even if the circumstances of their meeting was awful (asking for sex to let the other go), if they were in other setting, I will still believe Pai would want Sky. 

Okay, back to the start. Body language. So, in EP8, Pai's body language with Sky was all about covering him up and touching every part of him that he wanted. In EP9, while he tries to grab him and Sky let him, he also realises how Sky reacts to them (him touching his face in the street, him touching Sky leg in the table and my favourite: when Sky was eating you can see Pai hands close to the plate and to Sky hands, but Sky avert him and we see Pai face fall of disappoint). When Sky got sick, Pai instead of doing what he wanted like hugging or touching, he asked what Sky wanted, because he knew the type of reaction the guy was having when he initiated without noticing. 

While I do understand the approach of Pai is overwhelming and can be annoying, are we forgetting this was also Rain's strategy to win Payu? He went to the garage 30 DAYS IN A ROW, trying to see Payu, and just because we knew Payu like him doesn't forget the overwhelming factor. 

Anyway, I feel like Pai is one of those characters where they need to prove themselves constantly because of their reputation and they need to work to fight this said reputation in order to win someone. But I also feel like everything that we talk about in these first episodes would not do the entire story justice. Like, I don’t like to talk about the things while they are in the process of making because I feel like I am going to definitely underestimate the result and I would build my expectations and that’s not fair. 

Idk, watching something on air and talking about it is so weird. I want the whole picture nowwwww.