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derekscorner · 1 year ago

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Fated Rantings: Unaware of Loss, Nor aware of Gain.

I had intended for this to be the initial post on my Fate Unlimited Blade Works thoughts but that post was quickly taken over by the mindset of Shirou Emiya and his battle with Archer.

I will likely find issues with that post in the future due to not fitting in every impression I had or because I was annoyed with wording. It was very difficult to put into words due to the way Shirou & Archer argue in circles due to their self-admitted hypocritical nature.

But now that it is out of my system lets talk about the other fun things Unlimited Blade Works (which I'll call UBW here on) did with it's story.

If you're curious about part one: https://derekscorner.tumblr.com/post/740386958269890560/fated-rantings-bone-of-the-sword#notes

Let's gooooooo-

Leading Lady

Even though she is the lead for this adaption I covered her little in the first post despite her and Shirou's budding romance.

Given my Saber obsession some will likely expect me to hate her but I don't truth be told. I love how Shirou helps Saber in the Fate route but I'm not a man who is a shipper. (I actually think very ill of it)

Anyone watching a Fate anime should go in expecting differences anyway since Shirou's focus is a different girl per route and adaption.

And Rin Tohsaka is a rather likable character. She's more bratty or "tsundere" here but I expected that. To be honest her being so chill in Fate 06 was a surprise due to her reputation for this behavior.

She's by no means overly exaggerated compared to the trope nor is she mean. She's actually a rather kind hearted girl.

Now this may be conjecture on my part but I think her even bothering with school shows a bit of that kind nature. Hell, I was surprised when Shirou mentioned it because I didn't even question her student life. Shirou's right, She has no reason to go.

She's a mage, heiress to a very old family, she doesn't truly need to be there. As of writing this I have yet to watch Heaven's Feel and there may be dialogue I forgot from UBW (I'm trying to remember and put to word a lot here) but I suspect she goes to school to keep watch over Sakura.

I know more than UBW explains due to lore videos and watching Fate/Zero but the series does showcase this.

She's unsure how to approach Sakura, she even seeks justification by asking Shirou a hypothetical about a family sending a daughter away through adoption, and she often goes to the archery club to watch Sakura.

There's a lot there that I expect Heaven's Feel to show me but within the frame of UBW I see that as her primary reason to bother with school.

I mean, there may also be some aspects of loneliness or her crush on Shirou at play as well but it's interesting that she'd choose to bother.

That's just one example as well. She's constantly making excuses to keep Shirou alive and around in every route. Some would chalk that up to her own feelings but she does that early on specifically because Sakura likes Shirou.

Usually her outbursts are due to shyness or embarrassment. She's, quite frankly, a bad liar. When Shirou does something stupid the disgust is very visible on her face. When she's talking too or even about Kirei the disgust is aubible.

I almost forget that she has a bitchy or cold school image half the time. Hell, after typing this I wonder how she even pulled that off...then again maybe she just believes she's pulled it off.

She never interacts with people and once Shirou is pulled into her circle there's a constant and visible confusion at how she's acting by her peers.

Her dynamic with Shirou is also fun to watch progress. She gets annoyed at him often but opens up as time goes on. Her headstrong personality never falters but I did like seeing her acting more normal. Not as a mage but as a kid.

When it starts she's constantly annoyed at Shirou but that's only until she learns that he was raised as a person. She assumed he was a mage but Kiritsugu didn't make him one. She still gets annoyed sure but she's more willing to explain when she knows he's going in blind.

She even makes an efforts to know or help him by the end of season one like with that date episode. They're both dorky kids about it but it is sweet to see although I do wish the story put a bit more focus on her learning that he was the only survivor of the Fuyuki fire.

Perhaps what I liked most was that despite her feelings she always made sure to tell him the facts of a situation. The flaws in his worldview or the idiocy of an idea. That bluntness is born out of concern as well but it's also just logical, sensible.

Her goal once the war was over was trying to convince him that his life has worth. The epilogue episode shows this and I found it a genuinely kind-heated thing to focus on.

Especially when she and the viewer both know that Shirou's likely doomed to be Archer anyway.

Overall she takes no shit from anyone, can be a little petty, and at times I wonder if she herself is too kind to be a mage. I can now see why she's so popular, she could probably carry a Fate story all on her own if I'm being honest.

I would love a Fate story where she managed to summon Saber and Shirou doesn't exist. She's a proud individual but she has heart. There's even Fate material you could make a story like her dismantling the Greater Grail years after the 5th war. (yes that's a thing)

I know the El Melloi novels or manga have her appearing doing mage things too.

...to be honest I don't know what else to say. This is a good character, I'd like to see more.

Edit: I just wanted to add that I love that she actually kicked Casters ass in a literal sense. She just jumped her and started to karate her, it was hilarious.

Other things

Rin and Shirou aside, Fate UBW had several other things that stood out to me. I'm not sure there's enough there to work into paragraphs like above or with the previous post but I do want to mention them.

Such as Iilya. I expected to see more of her in UBW but such limitations are natural when adapting a visual novel with multiple routes I guess. That or they assume you’re using Zero as context for UBW.

The grail going out of its way to ruin Iilya’s childhood is kinda fucked up as well. I can't tell if that's Angra Minu being spiteful toward Kiritsugu or if it just enjoys breaking a child's mind.

I also appreciated the Berserker fight early in season one. It was great to see a more even fight between him and Saber. His job of berserker is so on point it hurts.

He once murdered his family due a Hera induced madness and now he's protecting a traumatized child in a similar madness. I infer his drive to protect her to that legend.

I also must give Fate props for continuing to make great use of making a tragic mythology story even more tragic.

The gender swaps and "coomer" bait art the series is known for is one thing but Fate also just does a great job at using the legends of a spirit to make them more tragic.

Caster in particular was a great sub villain I thought. I got annoyed when she stole Saber but knowing her legend as I do and seeing her backstory also makes her pitable.

She's visibly not okay with being called a witch and seems to have terrible luck with men. Even when it's outside her control the world will summon her to a waste of a man for a master.

Her and her masters sub plot was sad but I found that love genuine. He had trouble seeing himself as human but I think his dedication to her was very worthy of a humanity he can't see.

Caster also never betrayed her master once. She did thinks hoping to appease him but she never lied and neither did he reprimand her for anything. Even if he didn't know why he was perfectly willing to help her with anything.

They're both damaged people but he's the type of man Medea deserved in life. I even went to look up clips of them from Carnival Phantasm after I finished UBW.

Then there was Lancer. This man, THIS MAN, deserves a break. I did not expect UBW to make me like him as much as I did given how little he actually shows up.

I know he's doomed to fail in any adaption of Fate/Stay Night due to Kirei's actions but I'd still like to see him get a decent partner in one story.

I didn't mention it back then but I found his reaction to Kirei and Gilgamesh's scheme in Fate 06 moral. Cu Chulainn has a morality that shows itself in UBW as well when he decides to save Rin just because he likes her and Shirou.

He's like an uncle. He finds them hilarious when forming an alliance which is a comedy trio that I still did not know I needed till I saw it.

I also liked him killing Kirei in this story. The bastard deserved worse, some may wonder why he died so easily, but keep in mind that Lancers spear is cursed.

Even if Kirei's heart stopped in Fate/Zero it wont change the fact that having your heart pierced by Gae Bulg is to be cursed by it.

I also liked seeing him use runes. People forget that he was trained in rune magic while alive.

Then there's Gilgamesh

Right off the bat I'll state that I like him as a villain in UBW more than I did in the Fate Route. His obsession with Saber is...well I'm not sure how to put it into words.

Hollow I guess? I dunno.

It may be that I just find myself agreeing with his goal in UBW. His distaste for the modern era, the direction humanity has taken. It's hard to not feel an apathy or boredom with our modern world.

For Gilgamesh this annoyance is amplified. It's not stated in UBW but he is the reason the Age of Gods ended sooner than later. He has clairvoyance and while alive he saw a future of humanity moving past their planet to the stars.

With that in mind and spite against the gods he severed that link. If you play FGO and reach Babylonia, Uruk, you see how he ran his kingdom too.

When he goes on about superfluous or people knowing value in themselves he means it. This does not make him or his actions ok but I do get it.

He made a bet and humanity has let him down.

Original vs Fake

Then there's the other big highlight of UBW, his battle with Shirou.

This battle is interesting for a variety of reasons due to how Shirou's existence contrasts to his own.

In his fight with Archer they had this somewhat poetic undertone of the two meshing. Archer, devoid a master, is losing mana and weakening.

In contrast, Shirou is learning Archer's muscle memory and past as their blades clash. He's getting better as they battle. Of course, Archer could end it at any point but he doesn't because he feels like he'll lose in another way if he doesn't kick his own ass in a fair fight.

It's humorous, it shows stubbornness in both but also acts like a metaphor of the past and future syncing up. It shows they're the same person despite how much they hate each other.

While the battle with Gilgamesh is a stomp as you would expect it to be. Gilgamesh is a real hero, the oldest hero we have on written record. Shirou is the fake wishing to be a hero.

Shirou does not deny this either. Gilgamesh calls him a fake as an insult but Shirou claims it. In this battle, its Shirou speaking the truth and that angers Gilgamesh.

Gilgamesh can't stand the fact that someone who imitates could be a threat to him. Of course, many will argue that Shirou isn't but I am not about to dive into the Gilgamesh power scaling debates. I'm too old for that DBZ banter.

In truth, Gilgamesh loses this battle solely because of his arrogance. Had Gilgamesh recognized this Shirou for the threat he was and used Ea to atomize him he would have won. But he didn't, he could not accept that he'd need Ea to win when even Heracles fell to his treasury of weapons.

I'll even agree with Shirou here. He does make a good argument that Gilgamesh is a fake in his own way. He's a king, and while Shirou is wrong about him not being a warrior, it is true that Gilgamesh never mastered one weapon.

His treasury is his weapon. The originals, the stuff noble phantasms would later be based on. He's proud of that collection so seeing Shirou's imitations is highly offensive to the king because he knows that could be a problem deep down.

Against most spirits Gilgamesh will ruin them easily, by his own admission Shirou's unlimited blade works would falter quickly against any true hero who's mastered a single weapon, but in a highly specific circumstance these two abilities cancel out.

It's akin to rock paper scissors or even pokemon typing...perhaps a better example is the devil fruit weaknesses in One Piece.

Unlimited Blade Works is a hard counter to the Gate of Babylon. So long as Shirou has the mana he can copy and negate the weapons Gilgamesh throws at him.

The very notion of this, the very fact that a fake can be as good as the original, is no doubt the most insulting truth Gilgamesh can't deny.

Heck, you could even argue Gilgamesh would've won had he donned his armor or used his chains but that's moot as well. The point his his arrogance lost him this battle.

The Gates of Babylon may not be his only weapon but that's what he relied on because he hated that Unlimited Blade Works could match it.

Seiba & Archer

The final thing that stuck out to me, at least one worthy of extensive words, is Saber's reaction to Archer's reveal.

You’d expect Shirou to argue but he simply listens. Instead it is Saber who talks here. Or perhaps the better word is she ‘inquired’ his beliefs.

While watching her do so I began to find it more like she’s trying to defend her own ideals by proxy in this scene.

The Fate Route works because she and shirou have that commonalty in idealism. Yet she also shares the regret Archer does for their mistakes in life.

UBW isnt the Fate route so she hasnt been set free from that mindset...at least not yet. Its clear she sees value in Shirou’s nature, perhaps due to that common self sacrificial nature but they never sit down and go into detail. Their friendship is close but it doesn't grow into the love that saves them both in Fate.

More interesting in this scene is that she cant find a good way to counter him, he even points out the similarity to her life to silence her protests when she tries. It's not a shouting match but it's clear she can't counter...and it makes sense why.

She can’t refute Archer's words because some part of her believes it. Whether she's right or wrong for doing so is obviously debatable but that may be a post on it's own...I'll have to think on that it.

I will say that I was happy to see Archers confrontation with Shirou helped her in some unseen way.

It may not be as focused on in UBW but I would’ve been sad if she left this route still tormented.

Conclusion

At the end of the day Unlimited Blade Works is a damn good show. I will admit I didn't feel as sucked into it as I was with Fate 2006 or Fate/Zero but I do see why it's the favorite for many.

I do wish the Fate Route would get another animation after watching this. I think my draw to Fate/Stay Night specifically is Saber herself and I feel most attached to a story that focuses on her.

I do like other Fate stories not related to FSN but that's that and this is this. I hope we one day get that Fate route remake.

Next time I tackle Heaven's Feel.

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For my other experiences with Fate go here: https://derekscorner.tumblr.com/tagged/fated-rantings

#fate series #fate ubw #fate unlimited blade works #fated rantings

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thakillingmoon · 3 months ago

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Long post under the cut

Kinda wild that a conscious rapper's fans are so anti-intellectual. You bring up the fact Kendrick calls out Drake for being a deadbeat and being weird towards women, but collabs with Carti, who is also a deadbeat dad and has a history of violence towards women. Then his dickriders come out of nowhere with "Well he said he's a hypocrite already" or "He said he's not your savior" or even "You're probably just a salty Drake fan".

Bro, him saying he's a hypocrite doesn't make the hypocrisy better. That's like saying someone's alcoholism isn't a real issue just cuz they're self-aware about it. The problem doesn't go away when someone acknowledges it, it's something that's gotta be worked on and that's ok.

Now the savior comment pisses me off. I don't think anyone criticizing him is looking for some perfect savior. I sure as hell ain't. I'm just looking for a lil consistency from the guy who made "Not Like Us" and "Watch the Party Die". Great songs, but the message is watered down a bit when you collabing with weirdos imo.

I love Kendrick down, but this stan culture bullshit has gotta go. Criticizing an artist you admire shouldn't mean you hate them. If anyone is treating Kendrick Lamar as a savior, it's his stans putting him up on this untouchable pedestal. It's really reminding me of when Drake was at his peak, when his fans would dog on you for even minor critiques. It's so childish.

Also obligatory Fuck Drake

Yk I'm probably swatting at a wasps nest here cuz ik how much this site loves Kendrick but god his fanbase is giving Drake stan vibes these days

#i could bring up dr. dre and kodak black too but ion wanna make this post longer than it is #tl;dr his fans need to chill and it's ok to criticize your faves #jormmy.txt

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jannwrites · 3 years ago

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tv show ask meme : GUILLERMO DEL TORO’S CABINET OF CURIOSITIES (2022). (1/2)

a selection of lines from the horror anthology cabinet of curiosities. modified slightly for rp purposes.

LOT 36.

for some reason, they leave it all behind.

it’s bad luck for them, but good luck for you.

sometimes we roll up the door praying for a big score only to find a pile of shit on the other side.

may he rest in peace up there, down there, or wherever he may be.

you've gotta give me some room.

before we get to that, i wanna show you something.

remember, i'm the one tipped you off.

i'm sorry for your troubles, but they're not mine.

i said, i hope you rot in hell!

don't be a hypocrite like everyone else.

how the fսck do you bring that into every conversation?

i'll take all the losses. but now it's my turn.

you're not the only one that feels fսckеd.

don't be hostile with your big, weird eyes, and your bloody head.

i hate to disabuse you on your relative notion of good and evil, but this man knew and did evil on a scale almost absolute.

something tells me you traffic in the wrong, feisty side yourself there.

now we'll find out why he came here every day.

follow my precise instructions, please.

if anything not from the natural world is found on the other side of this threshold, i have one piece of advice for you. do not make eye contact with it, do not speak with it.

it will be greedy for it, hungry. do you understand.

see, it took her face as a way in.

GRAVEYARD RATS.

i am the steward of this garden of remembrance from which you've so brazenly thieved.

nothing to say for yourself?

are you aware that the very foundations of society are built on the respectful interment of the dead?

we stopped being apes when we dug our first graves.

as you can see, i'm at my wits' end.

i told you never to come here.

i need to know if you've got anything promising.

you don't understand, this is a matter of life or death.

how many times have i assisted you in the past?

i pray you don't one day count yourself among them.

forgive me, but he seems almost alive.

long is the way and hard, that out of hell leads up to light.

he'll only be in the ground for a few hours before I reach him.

such a touching epitaph will remain with him forever.

that's how you're gonna beat them.

i will commit my heart to you and only you!

THE AUTOPSY.

you're gonna kill us! are you fսcking crazy?

why don’t you tell me what’s going on?

what am i gonna find?

i think i'm cursed.

the innocent get punished and everything is just dust.

from the bottom of my heart, you're not that special.

who are you to claim special qualities of sin from the rest of us?

well, open it! what are you waiting for?

this wasn't animal work. it was knife work.

you got me confused with some other body.

you either had too much or not enough, my friend.

i'll take you if you want to go as soon as we get through with this mess.

you've made your peace with this thing, then?

we're all on the same conveyor belt, [name]. some of us fall off a bit sooner than the rest, but...we're all heading for the same destination.

i'm having crazy thoughts with this thing.

are you sure you're up to this?

i apologize for the indignity, my friend. if it's any comfort, i'm right behind you.

forgive me, friend. my curiosity necessitates opening you up.

death was your escape.

we must not be understood.

put down the knife.

oh, fret not. you will understand what devours you.

come, let me rid you of it. i will love you.

you're going to use your puppet there to pluck you out.

i know what i can and cannot cut.

you are truly self-deluded.

you're nothing but a thief and murderer. a parasite. you're pathetic.

your arrogance makes you stupid.

[name] knew you'd be blind and deaf once you were out of him, you sadistic bastard.

you are in your new home, but you won't be occupying it for long.

THE OUTSIDE.

did you see anyone?

what if someone's in the house?

get some sleep, hon, okay?

she's on xanax 24/7 now.

oh, hey. i didn't know you were still here.

i thought you hated those women.

oh, what do you mean, "someone like you"?

i mean, we already know what everybody wants.

he's not gonna hurt ya.

sorry i ruined everything.

well, you're sensitive.

it's just me. i have a bad face. a stupid, ugly, bad face.

you're talking to me. i can give you the brand-new you, and that's not all. i can give you peace of mind.

you have a lot of healing to do, [name].

there's nothin' wrong with you. nothin' at all.

everybody likes you. everybody wants to talk to you.

come closer. closer. come, let me see your progress.

does it hurt when they exclude you? when they stare at you? when they point and laugh and whisper?

you want to know what it feels like to be pretty?

it's already growing, right there, under your skin.

i'll come down, but please don't say anything, because i already know what you're gonna say.

why can't you just be excited for me, huh?

you don’t need to be fixed.

you gotta put your worries down sometimes.

then why do i want to take off all of my skin and throw it in the garbage?

#rp meme #rp ask meme #rp sentence meme #rp starters #rp sentene starters #rp sentence prompts #* mine.#i'm gonna have to make a part 2 i didn't think abt how long this would get with only 4 eps #meme: tv.

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batnsons · 2 years ago

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okay, catching up on Ted Lasso season 3, I’m midway through 3x5 rn. Thoughts on the season so far (spoilers and LOTS of thoughts under the cut!

Sassy's right, Ted is indeed a mess and I love him so so much and I want to give him all the hugs. (I'm also mad at her for the way she handled that but I'm not surprised, we've known she's like that from day one.) I wish this man would realize that it’s okay to be hurt by things, that he’s allowed to be upset when people hurt him, and he’s allowed to defend himself. But I also greatly appreciate that he’s always trying to take the high road. Him telling Michelle he was upset with her was soooo important and I’m so so proud. We had the beginnings of another panic attack, early on, after he found out and then it was cut off by Zava, but I wish we'd gotten more of a follow up on that. Cause there had to have been some aftermath to that. Also, I've been on the Ted is Jamie's Dad wagon since almost day one and this season is giving me SO MUCH. I hope we get to see so much more of them.

JAMIE!! My sweet Angel Boy. He’s emulating Ted so much this season and it kills me. It’s so so precious. He’s growing so much, and he’s trying so hard, and he’s just!! He’s doing so good! I do wish they would address his trauma responses, though. He’s clearly still having them and I wish they would talk about it. I’m not a fan of the way they’ve had Roy be so aggressive to him without any repercussions, when Jamie is clearly reacting with trauma responses. I’m not sure if that’s a writing point or if Phil is just doing that himself but I would really like to see it addressed. (@altschmerzes and I have talked about this a lot, they’ve got their own posts on the subject too that I really enjoy.) I am, however, delighted at the way Roy has taken Jamie under his wing. He’s been the only one to notice so far that Jamie is upset about Zava (and for good reason!) And I love that.

SPEAKING OF ZAVA. I DESPISE THIS MAN. First off, he’s just WEIRD. But second, he’s a nightmare!! And Jamie’s the only one who sees it! His speech about Zava being a diva and unpleasant was really delightful. (“And I weren’t being’ Ironic, I were neon’ hypocritical”. Have I mentioned I adore Jamie?? HES BECOME SELF AWARE!) Anyway. He’s got manipulative abilities not quite up to Rupert’s standards but, they’re still pretty bad.

And now on the topic of Rupert: this fucking PRICK. He’s manipulating the hell outta Nate and it’s making me mad. He’s gaslighting him, and essentially “love bombing” him every time Nate seems to be showing remorse or regret. And it’s so interesting because you know this is exactly what he must have done to Rebecca, and is probably now doing to Bex (although she seems like she’s well aware of his tendencies and is hitting back in her own way. Those digs about him being old?? Yeah. I hope we get to see Bex and Rebecca bonding later, I want to see Rebecca helping Bex out.) He’s an absolutely brilliant manipulator and I realllly hope we see him get what’s coming to him. And I love that Nate is showing distaste for his “activities” with the assistant.

And now for Nate. I went into this season absolutely hating him (not as much as much as Rupert, but close), and now? Now I just feel bad for him. And I love that we still see bits of the old Nate coming through. He really is just being absolutely played and manipulated and his ego and pride are the only things in his way now. He’s too proud to let himself admit that he’s been wrong, especially in front of Rupert. He’s in too deep and he’s floundering and he’s only got Ted as a lifeline but he’s very nearly burned that in his lust for power and prestige. But he so desperately wants it, you can see it. I really do hope we get a redemption arc, honestly. Never thought I’d say that. But we are now seeing the crest of that wave, so to speak, where we saw Jamie at the beginning of the series. And Jamie was able to claw his way out, so shouldn’t Nate now be able to as well?? It’s really really interesting, the way we’ve seen their stories parallel each other. What we’ve seen from Nate here is what we didn’t see with Jamie: the rise of the ego and pride as a survival mechanism. So here’s hoping we get to see Nate being pulled from that riptide just like Jamie is. But he’s gotta make the decision to reach for that lifeline himself. I really hope he does.

As for everything else: I feel like Rebecca is floundering, trying to cling desperately to this idea that she has to be more successful than Rupert in order to prove to him she doesn’t need him. But she’s missing the reality that the only person she needs to prove anything to is herself. I’m so interested to see where the rest of her growth takes her. Trent I’m delighted to see more of, I love that he’s hanging around the club now. He’s so fun and a lovely outside perspective for them all. Colin has got one hell of an interesting storyline happening on the sidelines, and I’m so so curious to see where this goes. I love that Trent was given the same missing piece of information that we were given as an audience, it makes for a really interesting audience stand-in, seeing him react to the things Colin says and does knowing what we all know now as well. Makes for some really interesting storytelling. I’m a little, not sad per se but… bummed? at how little Sam content we’ve gotten so far but I think that’s remedied later so I’m not too worried about it right now. Beard and Ted are delightful as always, I’m always so thrilled by their comfortable relationship, they’re like two sides of the same coin that function so so well together. Platonic soulmates, honestly. And then there’s Michelle. I’m so mad at her. But I’m even more mad at the therapist. I’m sorry, that man’s license should be taken away. And I’m glad they straight up had someone say it was unethical out loud but I really hope they bring it up more. Because it’s so so wrong and so unethical it’s unbelievable. Michelle is less at fault for this than the therapist, for sure, but I’m still mad at her for all of it. And I’m so glad Ted told her he was upset. Because regardless of who she’s dating, Ted absolutely should’ve been consulted before she introduced a new partner to their son. Like, that shit’s not okay. At all. Add in that he was their couple’s therapist?? (Which brings into question all sorts of other things, mind you.) Nah that’s messed up and I’m so angry about it.

Tldr: so far I’m ultimately very happy with this season, the character arcs are hurting me and also giving me so much joy. Rupert is a prick as always, and Ted and Jamie are my boys.

#rey rambles #ted lasso spoilers #tl meta #ted lasso meta #tls3 #ted lasso #jamie tartt #nathan shelley #colin hughes #rebecca welton #roy kent #rey's endless list of favorite characters

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riality-check · 3 years ago

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I posted 6,403 times in 2022

103 posts created (2%)

6,300 posts reblogged (98%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@bundibird

@patisserieblu

@runningwolfpup

@hotcocoaharrington

I tagged 893 of my posts in 2022

#asked and answered - 53 posts

#eddie munson - 50 posts

#steve harrington - 48 posts

#moon knight - 45 posts

#stranger things - 43 posts

#steddie - 38 posts

#ria writes - 37 posts

#in the tags - 37 posts

#moon knight spoilers - 27 posts

#ria recommends - 26 posts

Longest Tag: 125 characters

#sorry for yelling but i'm feeling a little bit (a fucking lot) bruised by the bullshit of the traumatic tragic ending shit rn

My Top Posts in 2022:

The first time Eddie needs an ambulance, he’s just trying to make his brain quiet.

It’s so loud, all the time, and between his memories and vivid nightmares of the Upside Down, he misses silence more than anything. Music isn’t enough to drown it out, no matter how much he cranks up his stereo or his amp. People work fine. As long as he’s talking to or listening to someone, it’s fine. The whole party has been a big help. Dustin, Wayne, and especially Steve help the most.

But they’re not always there. They grow up, move away, and have their own lives. And even though Steve is his boyfriend, and they live together, it’s unrealistic to always expect him to be there, too.

He’s got his own shit going on. He doesn’t need Eddie’s on top of that. Eddie ignores the fact that he will always help Steve.

So, because music doesn’t work and people aren’t there, alcohol is a wonderful thing.

Eddie usually tracks his drinks. He does. But it’s the anniversary of the whole shitshow, and the nightmares are worse and he had a fucking flashback this morning because of the lights. He hasn’t had those for months.

He just needs some goddamn quiet.

He remembers throwing up on the kitchen floor, too sick to make it to the bathroom.

And then he wakes up in a hospital bed, feeling like death reheated.

(He knows, intimately, what that feels like.)

Steve is crying beside him, and Eddie just thinks back to his ten year old self, the little stringbean kid who had to make the call and tried to clean up the vomit before the EMTs got there, and he swears to himself, Never again.

The second time Eddie needs an ambulance, he just got carried away.

It’s too easy, with the clubs he plays in. It’s too easy to lose track of the drinks audience members offer him. It’s even easier to do a line because what the hell, it’s just one.

It’s easy because he and Steve have been fighting. A lot. Steve started drinking more than usual, and Eddie’s been trying to get him to stop. Steve says he’s hypocritical, that Eddie didn’t take rehab seriously because he still keeps beer in the house.

He didn’t think he needed to quit completely; he just needed to get it under control.

He’s aware of the fact that he’s been out of control all night. He’s crossed to hell and back, but he takes another shot.

Steve stayed home because he was sick. Eddie stumbles inside and can’t even close the front door before he’s on the ground.

He hates that he knows what charcoal tastes like now.

The third time Eddie needs an ambulance, he’s scared shitless.

Steve keeps talking about family. About having kids. Eddie looks at the chip on the kitchen counter and can’t help but think, How old would the kid be before I had to explain that to them?

Every answer he comes up with is too young.

Eddie is scared shitless because he knows, he knows that he’ll be just like his parents. He knows that he’ll end up a deadbeat, a drag on both Steve and that kid, and he won’t do that to them.

He thinks about being six years old and being left alone for days at a time. After the first time, he always made sure the cereal was in a spot where he could reach it.

He thinks about being eight years old and cooking for his parents, not the other way around. He had to use a step stool to reach the stove.

He thinks about being ten years old and calling the ambulance because his mama was on the ground again, and this time his pa was out, too.

Eddie will not do that to this kid, and he won’t do it to Steve.

He thinks about an article he read a few months ago. Some new study came out, saying that addiction is genetic.

Figures that’s the part of them I carry with me, he thinks right before his mind slips into nothing.

He wakes up in the hospital again. He’s starting to wish he wouldn’t wake up at all.

The fourth time Eddie needs an ambulance is the first time he’s alone.

See the full post

1,036 notes - Posted October 24, 2022

i have once again been inspired by a tweet! have fun with this, and i’m only half sorry for continually putting steve through angst.

Since the "earthquake," Wayne has gotten a little suspicious of knocks on the door. Eddie doesn't knock since he's got a key. Anyone else who wants to make a visit comes with one of them. Knocks are unexpected, and since his boy got called a satanist and a murderer, Wayne ain't too keen on unexpected visitors.

There's a knock on the door.

Wayne doesn't look out the window before he opens it. He just gets up, makes sure his shotgun is nearby, and cracks the door open.

What the hell is Steve Harrington doing in the trailer park? he thinks.

It's night out and the porch lightbulb goes in and out, but Wayne sees Steve's messy hair and his split lip. He cracks the door open a little more and sees that he's got a black eye, too.

Shit.

"Is, um, is Eddie home?" Steve asks.

No hello, sir or excuse me or anything of the sort. Not that Wayne really cares for pleasantries, but he would have expected them from Dick Harrington's son.

He decides to throw his expectations out the window. "No, he's at band practice. He'll be back in an hour or so."

Steve just stares for a minute. "It's Wednesday, isn't it?"

"Yep."

He closes his eyes and sighs. "I thought it was Tuesday. Sorry to bother you."

He turns to leave, and that's when Wayne spots the bag on his shoulder.

He thinks about how Eddie showed up years ago with a backpack and a jacket and greasy hair. He thinks about how Harrington is here with a backpack and bruises and a tired look in his eyes.

"Come in," he says.

Steve stops in his tracks. "What?"

"Come in," Wayne repeats. "You can wait here for him."

"It's fine-"

"Where else are you gonna go?" Wayne remembers asking a much younger Eddie the same question when he first showed up. Now, just like then, he doesn't think the answer is home.

Steve pauses. Opens his mouth. Closes it again. Says, "Joyce Byers's."

"That's across town. I don't think you should be driving in this state."

Steve considers it for a moment before he walks in.

Wayne's already taken in a kid. He figures he might as well grab another one while he's at it.

Part 2!!

1,261 notes - Posted November 11, 2022

Steve didn’t think he could fall more in love with Eddie. Hell, there were so many days where his heart felt too big for his chest, when he thought love would crack his body open and spill out for the world to see.

It’s such a good feeling.

He should stop being surprised by Eddie after all these years, but Steve can’t really help it. He’s still falling in love with him.

He isn’t even in the same room as him. He’s in the living room, grinning like an idiot and listening to Eddie sing to their daughter.

It’s not even a good song. It’s fucking Old McDonald because their kid is a year old and starting to learn real words. Time fucking flies when you’re a parent, Steve has discovered. He remembers the day they got her like it was yesterday.

“Old McDonald had a farm,” Eddie sings, then he waits.

“Yayayayo,” Cora babbles back.

Steve smiles so hard, he feels like his face is gonna split open.

“And on his farm, he had a...”

“Dut.”

“Duck,” Eddie says, and Steve can hear the smile in his voice. “Eieio.”

Steve listens as Eddie sings the song, listens to Cora babble along. Listens to her mimic the drawl that comes out whenever Eddie sings to her.

“Yayayayo,” Cora finishes the song, then demands, “gen.”

“No can do, sugarplum,” Eddie says, drawl still there. Steve tries not to melt in the middle of the hall. “It’s bedtime.”

“Gen,” Cora says. Steve can see her little pout perfectly in his head.

Eddie sighs. “You gotta learn when to quit.”

“No,” Cora says. It’s her favorite word.

Steve, still sitting on the couch, muffles his laugh.

“You get that from your dad,” Eddie says, and then he starts the song up again.

Steve listens to Eddie, listens to the way he talks and sings only when he’s at home with them. It’s sweet like sugar - which is what Eddie calls Steve when he’s feeling particularly sweet.

Steve knows where it all comes from. Eddie told him how it, the way his mom and dad talked, comes out when he’s singing to Cora. How he lets it stick around for a while, breaking the habit of trying to sound like he was born and raised in Hawkins. Even if Steve sometimes makes fun of the way he’ll say “supper” instead of “dinner” or puts an extra syllable before words, he loves it.

He stays in the living room as long as he can, listening to Eddie sing soft and sweet. He savors the moment like sugar on his tongue.

“She’s down,” Eddie whispers, coming into the living room. “There’s gotta be an easier way to do that.”

Steve smiles at the way Eddie hasn’t fixed his voice yet. “Maybe she likes hearing you sing.”

“Like you do?” Eddie teases.

“Like I do,” Steve confirms.

Eddie kisses him, soft and sweet just like his singing. When they break apart, he whispers, “Bed, darlin’?”

“Sounds good to me if you come with.”

“Always will,” Eddie says.

Yeah. Steve likes this Eddie, too. The soft and sweet one only he gets to hear.

1,691 notes - Posted November 30, 2022

inspired by this tweet, and here’s part 1 if you haven’t seen it yet!

Sure enough, Eddie lets the door slam against the wall an hour later. "Wayne, I'm home!"

"Hi, kid," Wayne says, much calmer.

Steve doesn't say anything. Just sits on the couch and waits, his eyes boring a hole into the floor.

"I finally got the solo down for the song I was telling you about." Eddie lets his bag drop on to the table with a loud thud. Wayne doesn't miss how Steve jolts. "So once we sort out the bassline, we'll be-"

Eddie turns around and sees Steve on the couch.

"-fine," Eddie finishes, letting his hands fall to his sides. "Steve, how long have you been here?"

"An hour."

"Oh." Eddie looks at Wayne, confusion plain on his face.

Wayne raises his eyebrows. Talk to him. He wanted you, not me.

Eddie nods. "What do you need?"

Steve looks up for the first time. Wayne fought the kid to get him cleaned up, so the split lip looks better. Couldn't do much about the black eye, though.

Wayne watches the color drain out of Eddie's face.

"Shit, Stevie-"

Wayne shoots Eddie a look, a mix of Careful and Stevie?

Eddie glances back at him. I know and later.

He slows down and sits next to Steve, keeping his hands on his lap. "Did they-"

"I go back for the rest of it in the morning," Steve says blankly, like he's reciting something.

"Okay," Eddie says. He looks back at Wayne.

What do I do?

Wayne glances at Eddie's hands, then at Steve. What do you think?

Eddie puts an arm around Steve and lets him bury his head into his shoulder.

Wayne looks between the two of them. What's the deal?

Eddie stares back. I think you know.

Wayne has to agree. He thinks he knows a few things between the way Steve is so comfortable in Eddie's arms and the way Steve hasn't mentioned going home once tonight.

A glance between Eddie and Steve's black eye. How long have you known?

Eddie won't meet Wayne's eyes. Wayne knows what that means.

Too long.

They'll talk about it in the morning. They'll talk about all of it in the morning.

But for now? Wayne just has to be here for both of these boys. Both of his boys, now, it seems.

1,950 notes - Posted November 11, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

This is not how Wayne was expecting to come home from work.

He had expected, as usual, that Eddie would be asleep, and he’d be free to watch the 5:00 AM news. He’d have a bowl of cereal for dinner (or was it breakfast at that point?), and then he’d be out like a light while Eddie did whatever it was he did before noon. Usually, that was sleep.

The exact opposite of what Wayne was expecting is happening right now.

He didn’t even get his keys out of his pocket before Eddie whips the door open. He looks a mess: hair tied back loosely, pajamas off kilter, panic mixed with exhaustion on his face.

“Oh, thank Christ,” he croaks. “Wayne, I need your help. I have no idea what to do.”

Wayne can count on one hand the number of times he’s seen Eddie panic like this. He shoulders past him into the trailer and is greeted with the sight of Steve Harrington standing in the middle of his living room.

“What on God’s green earth,” he murmurs. He blinks, then blinks again, but Harrington is still there, in pajamas, the tire iron Eddie still keeps under his bed in his hands. He’s breathing real heavy, and he stares out the window, stock-still.

“The hell happened?” Wayne asks, keeping his voice low.

“I don’t know,” Eddie whispers desperately. “I don’t know what happened, but he got up and grabbed the iron and just stood here-”

“How long?”

“Ten minutes, maybe.”

Wayne doesn’t like where this is going. “Has he responded to you at all?”

“No-”

Shit.

“-but I can try again?”

Wayne eyes the white-knuckled grip Harrington has on the tire iron. He’s ready to swing, and Wayne knows he’ll swing hard if given the chance.

No way he’s risking Eddie. No way he’s risking Harrington. Wayne doesn’t know him well, only met him a few times in passing, but he knows he’d never forgive himself if he hurt Eddie.

“No. Don’t try again.”

“I’m not leaving him.”

“Didn’t ask you to. All I’m saying is don’t go near.”

Eddie is very good at following instructions to the letter and to the letter only, much to Wayne’s fond annoyance. So, he doesn’t go near.

Instead, he says, voice strangely soft, “Stevie, sweetheart.”

Harrington doesn’t respond, but he turns a little in the direction of Eddie’s voice. Wayne takes that as a good sign, even if he can see the tension on his face now.

“Will you come back to sleep? Please?” Wayne hates hearing Eddie’s voice crack the way it is right now.

Harrington faces them a little better, and Wayne sees what he was expecting.

He’s staring through them, not at them. Wherever Harrington is, it sure ain’t here.

“I don’t know how much that’s gonna help, Eddie. He’s having-”

“I know he’s having a flashback, Wayne!” Eddie snaps. “I’m not stupid. It’s usually just not this bad, and I don’t know how to fix it.”

“Alright,” Wayne says because snapping back won’t help anyone. That and because he’s trying to process the fact that Eddie has had to deal with this before. “Let me try.”

He takes a few steps toward Harrington, keeping his hands up and his movements slow.

See the full post

9,020 notes - Posted October 26, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #yeah i gotta get better at tagging lmao

6 notes · View notes

anika-ann · 5 years ago

Text

Attached: Words We Don’t Mean

(...and Those We Do)

Type: series, modern-college-professor Steve AU… aka the wrong attachment AU ;)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader Word count: 7950 👀

Summary: Your parents decide to visit for Thanksgiving, which alone is a trial.

The fact that they haven’t met Steve yet and they have no clue who he is… yeah, you better brace yourself for a storm.

A/N: Attached: Words We Don’t Mean (and Those We Do) is a one-shot to the Attached series. Technically, you can read it as a standalone.

A/N: In the Stockings fic, I mentioned that no one in their household talked about (last) Thanksgiving. Here’s why. Also: I named the parents Paul and Jane, it’s enough of a mess to work around with nameless reader; if that offends you, sorry, feel free to move on from this fic.

Warnings: angst, parents-daughter fight, mention of sexual relationhips and of using one’s body to earn money (negative view), mild flashback, emotional H/C, swearing, sprinkles of fluff and Disney

Story masterlist

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

“Sweetheart, please, sit down for just a second,” Steve requested gently; however, there was no mistaking the drop of amusement in his voice.

You hummed in acknowledgement of his words and continued scrubbing the bathtub clean.

Everything had to be perfect. Had to be. You bought the tinniest of the giant turkeys yesterday – just so you wouldn’t have to eat leftovers for a month –, ingredients for the stuffing, potatoes and cranberry sauce. Your mum had promised to stop by somewhere to get four slices of a pumpkin pie. But cooking was on your list later today; first you needed to make sure that the apartment would shine with cleanness.

Not that you considered yourself a neat freak, thank you very much… maybe occasionally. And Steve? Yeah, he was more of a neat freak than you were and now he was telling you to rest and take it easy? Uh-huh, nope.

Nope, because… your parents -- gosh, your parents.

“Honey-“

Your head snapped to him as he bounced off of the doorframe, soft steps leading him right to you.

“Did you just call me honey?” you asked incredulously.

Not that you didn’t like it, it was just-- you were Steve’s sweetheart, his babygirl, his good girl… now honey? That was new and frankly, it might have freaked you out a bit.

Also, your heart skipped a frantic beat upon looking at him.

Damn, you forgot again about what he had done yesterday and it always startled you to see him like that. Too unusual – not bad-looking by any means, just… unusual.

Steve chuckled as he crouched to you, dropping a kiss to the top of your head and cupping your mildly sweaty cheek. He grimaced a bit at your surprised tone.

“Not a fan?”

“I mean, yeah, sure, hun, it’s just that… it’s a bit ominous, the change.”

One corner of his lips rose at your choice of a petname. “That’s because you’re freaking out and I need you to calm down a bit, sweetheart.”

Your eyebrows shot up and you scoffed, rather offended. Mostly because he was right – but also because he was being a damn hypocrite.

“Oh, am I? Me? Did I spend about an hour in front of the mirror yesterday, trying and almost failing to solve the dilemma whether I should or shouldn’t shave off my beard?”

Steve’s face turned entirely sour at your snarky remark.

“Don’t be mean, it’s a valid concern to-- I don’t want them to hate me,” he murmured and dropped his gaze in shame along with his hand, seemingly shrinking into himself, his insecurity returning.

You sighed and mentally cursed yourself for bringing it up again.

You dropped the brush to the tub with a thud and lost one of your gloves, wiping the ew feeling onto your old sweats before you tried to smoothen the worried wrinkle between his eyebrows.

“They’re gonna love you, Steve,” you assured him again, letting you fingers travel over his clean-shaved jaw, lightly pulling at his cheek to make him smile again. “I miss the beard, not gonna lie, but you do have an extremely sweet boy-next-door look now, you are my handsome, funny, smart as hell guy, who’s somehow all grown up and has life stuff figured out and you’re making me happy. You’re the epitome of the guy a girl wants to bring home to meet her parents.”

Despite slightly panting from exertion, you took care to sound as convincing as possible, pushing away your own worries for a bit.

Steve was your perfect guy, perfection incarnated; you weren’t worried about him not making an impression… except for the fact that Steve did have a few years on you and worked at the uni and—well.

Yet, you couldn’t but dread the moment your parents realized that you were everything but perfect since they let you loose on the world. You had never been the daughter to show off like the epitome of everything good and wholesome, but you always tried your best to please them…. Now though? Darting your professor? Even if he wasn’t exactly your professor?

Yeah, you didn’t think that a spotless apartment could make up for that, but it helped to ease your anxiety when you kept lying to yourself that it just might.

Steve grasped your palm in his, planting a tiny kiss there – a gesture to warm your heart, always – his lips once again curled up a fraction as his gaze met yours, his mesmerizing blues kind and hopeful.

“You really think so?”

“Of course.”

And with the way he was looking at you – you finally figured it out. Just a fleeting thought and an answer to an unspoken question you had been failing to grasp at since yesterday; it escaped your lips before you could stop yourself.

“Gosh, you look like a Disney prince!”

Steve’s eyes went comically wide, laughter erupting from his throat and he pulled you to him in one swift motion, falling on his ass with you in his arms in the process and nearly getting crushed by you. Clearly, he did not care one bit as he shook with laughter, kissing your nose, your cheeks and finally your lips despite your protests that you were gross.

“That’s golden! Oh babygirl, you’re the-”

“Tell me I’m Cinderella, I dare you,” you grumbled, but Steve just shook his head and kissed you breathless, fingers of one hand curled around your nape to guide you closer, to breathe you in, while his other hand stayed wrapped around your waist.

You tried your best not to touch him with your gloved hand, having it ridiculously stretched out to nowhere in order not to spot his clothes, but your free hand clutched at his t-shirt with enthusiasm.

His lips left yours only when the world started spinning and your mind turned blank besides the thought of Steve’s mouth being on yours and how much you loved it when he stole all the breath from your lungs – and how much you always missed him when he withdrew.

You stared at him, dumbstruck, as he watched you like you were the eighth wonder of the world, your messy self in baggy clothes, your heart growing three times its size, your insides positively tingly from the heated make-out session.

Steve was smiling again too at last, brushing your nose with his and planting one last soft kiss on your lips.

“Okay, babygirl, now hand over the brush.”

You had to blink several times, your oh so lazy brain taking its time to realize what he said. Huh? Also, did he just said it as if he was asking you were a robber holding a hostage on gunpoint and he was asking you to lay down your weapon?

The thought made you internally snort.

“Why?” you demanded, suspicious.

“Because I’m taking over.”

You instantly shook your head. “No-“

“Yes. I promise I’ll make sure it’s spotless-“

Okay, yeah, that was one of our arguments against him doing the clean-up. However, there was one more. “But you still have papers to grade and lessons to prepare!”

“And you want to cook too and then we’ll have to clean up the kitchen. And you’ll want to take a shower and and and. Papers can wait. Gimme the brush.”

“You make it sound like it’s a weapon of mass destruction… or I am,” you muttered, but you kissed his cheek – such a strange feeling, you truly missed the sensation of his beard scraping your lips – and climbed out of his lap with a meek and cautious thank you. He cackled at your antics, but quickly fished out a new pair of gloves from the bathroom drawer and started working.

You swallowed your smart remark about him being the Cinderella now. Mostly because his gesture was one of the sweetest things and really – seeing Steve scrubbing the bathtub might not be the sexiest thing in the world… but it kinda was.

It pulled at your heartstrings as you imagined that this might be how it would always be; you and Steve, settling together, taking care of the household, then cuddling on the couch—the domesticity you hadn’t always been sure you craved.

Now you were certain of it; but to get to that, you had to survive your parents’ visit first.

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

You had somewhat stayed in touch with your parents, mostly with your mum; you two had been calling on a so-so regular basis, sometimes with video, and both her and your father were obviously aware that you had a boyfriend (gee, that sounded kinda trivial, a boyfriend). In fact, Steve played a huge role in them deciding to purchase their plane tickets… besides wanting to see New York City… and you.

The thing was… you had managed to keep Steve’s identity secret so far; you never used a videocall when he was around, so your mum only had heard his voice, sweet and polite in the most Steve fashion possible, you sort-of danced around his age and his job. Yeah, you found it strange as well that you kept it up so long, a divine intervention even; or maybe your mum simply had a good idea of your dirty secret all along and purposely didn’t probe.

Now, with your parents in the apartment, your dad’s eyes more on Steve than on you (your mum’s eyes wandered too, you noticed, but she had enough decency to show you she missed you first), you felt dread fill every cell in your body. Your heart was pounding in your chest with too much ferocity, your temples pulsing, your palms uncharacteristically sweaty and if it wasn’t for Steve’s warm hand on your lower back, its weight oh so comforting, you might spontaneously combust because of your nerves.

You were suddenly entirely grateful that Steve had shaved off his beard, was giving less of a an incredibly hot (and still very young, thank you very much) professor vibe and looked--- well, kinda like he could be your classmate.

But of course, of course the subject came up. Inevitably, after the small talk about your parents’ flight, about how their job was going and if they picked up a new hobby (…or heard some gossip), you and Steve became the centre of attention.

First, things went smoothly enough; you talked a bit about school, about Penny and some of your classmates and professors, about your part-time job. Steve had been subtly drawing small comforting circles on your thigh whenever he wasn’t eating and he in fact succeeded in lowering your heartbeat so much that you might appear even calm.

And then it oh so predictably went to shit.

Because apparently, your materialistic father had to ask Steve what he was studying and what his plan for his future career was.

“I actually finished my studies,” Steve admitted in an admirably dispassionate manner.

Meanwhile, your own heart started racing again, sending you to the verge of a cardiac arrest; your father’s eyes narrowed slightly, but a hint of a smile played in the corners of his lips in effort to remain polite… for now.

“Oh? Was that recently?”

You deflected that question by bringing up the pie and snatching Steve with you to bring it to the table since you two were the hosts.

The question forgotten, your mum – god bless her, she had caught up enough to know you did not want to discuss Steve’s age, even if it wasn’t that bad – asked about Steve’s field of study.

“History, minoring in pedagogics.”

“Oh? So you are a history teacher?” your dad chimed in and you swallowed as Steve confirmed that claim, walking straight into a death trap. You had seen it coming, you had, but you still winced when your father’s icy tone cut the almost festive atmosphere. “And it wouldn’t be that you’re more of a university professor, would it?”

His hand balled into a fist on the table, your mother’s lightly covering it as she whispered his name; the gesture of comfort, a silent plea for him to stay calm, didn’t quite work.

Steve, to his benefit, looked only a bit sheepish, meeting your dad’s eye with bravery worth of the Disney prince you had called him earlier that day. Also, with the same honesty… why hadn’t you agreed on lying to them again?

“It would, sir.”

“Oh. I don’t suppose then that it is a coincidence that you two met in school?” your dad continued and you sighed, your breathing progressively turning into a more and more of a difficult task with the anticipation of a storm.

“It is not, sir,” Steve replied calmly and you honestly didn’t know whether you should kiss him or punch him, unsure if his attitude made your father madder or not. “However-“

Your father’s gaze snapped to you, sharp and enraged; you felt yourself sink into your chair involuntarily, your mind travelling years back to the moments when he wasn’t pleased with you at all, yelled and sputtered words tasting of venom.

“Do you have any explanation for this inappropriate joke?” you father hissed, not caring he interrupted whatever Steve was about to say to your defence.

Your chest grew heavy, edges of your vision blurring subtly; your eyes burned and suddenly, you weren’t only remembering. You were reliving a memory, feeling like your child-self, like your teenage-self, being scolded for every imperfection; and there had been generous amount of those as you had been growing up.

Steve’s hand somehow slid under the table again, squeezing yours, a gentle wave of attempted comfort washing over you.

But it took one glance at him and you understood that silent support was not the only goal of his when he sought your touch.

His jaw was set tight, his grip a little too strong; he was trying to maintain composure, while not at all impressed with the tone your father was speaking with you.

Yet, Steve’s gesture did provide you with something you hadn’t had whenever you faced your father before; strength and true support, the essential reminder that you had done nothing wrong.

“Dad, this is not a joke,” you said, your voice shaking only slightly as you squeezed Steve’s hand back, “Steve and I are dating. Yes, he is teaching at the same college I study, but-“

A fist hit the table, causing the remaining tableware clank with the force behind the blow and you winced in fright, all muscles tensing in an instant.

“There is no ‘but’ applicable in this case!” your father spitted out, the anger in his voice making your guts twist, the sting in your eyes intensifying. “We help you to pay for school so you could study, not sleep around!”

Several things happened at once; your mother admonished your father, a level-headed whisper of his name. Your voice, too quiet as always when your father reprimanded you, tried to protest, to defend yourself. And Steve’s patience ran out, his outrage at your father’s demeanour showing.

“Paul-“

“That’s not what’s-“

“Don’t talk to her like that!“

“You keep your mouth shut now,” you father snapped at Steve, pointing a finger at him accusingly before turning his rage towards you again, the deep disappointment in his eyes somehow more hurtful than the anger. “Is it that bad with your grades that you have to—to--- Jesus Christ.“

The world stopped for several frantic beats of your heart, everything else in standstill. Multiple sharp breaths were drawn in, but you didn’t think either of them was yours.

Your father’s unfinished sentence echoed in your ears as if from a terrible distance and just like that—just like that, you were thrown several months back to the days before your graduation.

Rogers’ whore

Bet she’ll get the highest score

The icy feeling that froze your bones and crystalized the blood in your veins made for a stark contrast to the few hot tears you were distantly aware of that were running down your cheeks.

Many had thought of you that you were a set of holes to fill for the professor in exchange for passing an exam or two, which was disgusting, deeply insulting and obviously wrong. But those people didn’t know you- they weren’t your blood.

Your own father was now seconds from calling you a whore. The dinner turned into a stone in your stomach as the verbal punch knocked all air from your lungs.

“Paul!” you heard a swift reproach, quickly followed by Steve’s voice, dangerously low in a threat. “I’m sorry, what did you just imply about her?”

“You zip it-“

“Paul!”

It felt like a fucking elephant stomped on your chest, the spiral of pity and despair, mocking voices swirling wildly, tossing you around with a quickening speed as the circles got smaller and smaller, as if you were circling down the drain, your breaths coming shorter and shorter too-

And yet your father still continued, ignorant to all warnings and your inner turmoil.

“That’s over, my dear. I refuse to support such disgusting thing. And you, I don’t see how it’s possible that you still have your job-“

“DAD!” a loud cry cut off the monologue and it took you a moment to realize that it was you who just snapped and yelled, despite the unmistakable addressing.

Your father stared at you in mute shock as you dared to interrupt him; and frankly, with the world spinning, your stomach twisted and your chest constricted with anxiety, you were shocked by your actions too.

It was the fact that he doubted Steve’s position at the uni, flashed through your mind, the way he insulted the man you loved and who deserved all the good things. Or maybe it was his fucking attitude towards Steve and you in general and you just finally reached your limit. You weren’t sure; but shit, this ended now.

The silence that fell on the room granted you a few moments to breathe and calm your frantic mind.

“He is not using me like some f-“ -fuckdoll- “-fling or whatever. And he’s not even my professor, he’s-“

“Like it matters!” you father snapped from his trance, spitting the words, a vein on his temple visibly popping up as he rose to his feet swiftly, nearly sending the chair flying to the ground.

You stared up at him, the coil of despair and rage in your gut burning hot as he literally looked down on you.

You hadn’t been ready for this. You hadn’t been ready for your father to despise you for being in a relationship with a great man, to judge you so harshly without being able to listen for a damn second.

“It DOES. But even if he was-“ you tried to explain again, losing patience and the ground under your feet too as Steve’s hand started practically crushing the bones of yours.

You could physically feel Steve trying to hold back and slowly succumb to his not so nice emotions no doubt swirling in him just like in you.

“How can you not see that’s he’s only looking to get his---” your father gestured wildly towards Steve and rather low and you could hear Steve’s teeth grinding at the implication. Your blood reached the boiling point. How dared he to- “-that he’s only seeking a physical thing-“

“That’s not what this is. I love your daughter-“ Steve emphasized, expression fiery, voice surprisingly measured for a man who you believed was one moment from punching your father.

“Sure you do, son, until something with long legs and tall heels walks by-“

Steve’s chair scrapped against the floor and you quickly laid a palm over his chest to stop him from jumping to his feet and succumb to his righteous anger.

“Steve-“ you whispered soothingly, seeing the light tremble to his hands, tendons dancing under his shirt with the effort to hold back.

“Paul, that’s enough,” your mother interjected, grabbing her husband’s wrist to keep him back as well.

“I do love your daughter, I respect her and I fully intend-“

Steve closed his eyes as he inhaled shakily to compose himself. In the very back of your mind, you spared a single thought to what he was going to say before he shook his head and looked your father dead in the eye again.

“-I am serious about her and I want to and will be with her as long as she’ll have me.”

You had two full seconds to sink into the gentle sentiment behind his words, to cherish how much he did respect your choices and strangely, how he still doubted he could be enough for you, before your father scoffed dismissively.

“Well, I hope you are serious, because if she comes crawling back in few weeks, the door and the account will be closed.” He shot you one disdainful look that made your heart stop before twisting his arm from your mother’s hold and stepping away from the table. “We’re leaving.”

Your eyes slipped shut, a fresh wave of hot tears painting your cheeks, all strength leaving your body, darkness enveloping your mind.

He was cutting you off. He was going to disown you no doubt; that much of a disappointment you were to him.

Your own father hated you.

Dull ringing filled your ears, muffling your mother’s low voice.

“I’m so sorry for his behaviour.” She sounded truly regretful, her voice quivering a bit, you thought. “I’ll talk to him about what he said. Thank you for the dinner, baby. It was nice to meet you, Steve, truly.”

“You too, ma’am,” Steve responded firmly, his voice the only solid thing in the room. “I’ll—I’ll walk you out.”

“That’s not necessary, Steve. But thank you. I’ll call you, sweetheart.”

A low whisper about a promise fell from her lips next as she brushed your shoulder, but you couldn’t hope to understand what she was saying, the buzz of blood in your ears growing louder.

And then you knew she was gone along with your father. You knew because a warm hand touched yours, another gently wiping way the endless waterfall of your tears and then you were pulled to your feet and practically dragged to the couch in Steve’s protective embrace.

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You wouldn’t be able to tell how long you were drenching Steve’s shirt in tears, sobbing into his chest as he held you firmly and yet tenderly, whispering sweet nothings, words of comfort empty and yet so meaningful.

You couldn’t tell how long it took for the tremble subdue, for the sobs to turn into sniffles and then die out entirely.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’m so so sorry,” Steve whispered to your hair, caressing your scalp, your back the next, dropping a kiss to the top of your head.

“I know,” you creaked back, gripping the fabric of his shirt for one last time before you gathered your breath and courage to face him; you had to. You might be a mess, but it was vital that he heard you say this: “It’s not your fault.”

You withdrew slightly, meeting his eyes, so big and regretful, a bit watery as if he was the one crying. The corners of his lips, apparently having been turned down the whole time, twitched, his whole face twisting in a grimace; little sad, little defiant, but he didn’t protest even though you were certain that he wanted to.

Perhaps it was a testimony of how well you two fit, how your thoughts worked on the same wavelengths; you understood what he must have been thinking. If you were dating literally anybody else, this wouldn’t have happened.

So you had to assure him that you didn’t blame him; even if he did so himself. You didn’t have the energy to be angry with him for such thing. Mostly because that in a way, there was a tiny bit of truth in him thinking so.

“Don’t do that to yourself. I chose you. Yes, this relationship is on both of us… but we knew the risks and went for it anyway. And—it’s worth it, it’s just… fuck, this is so fucked up. I’m in such a mess now,” you whispered, your voice breaking as fresh tears burned in your eyes.

Steve’s fingers were quick to dry your cheeks, gently stroking, a soft smile tugging at his lips.

“We are, babygirl. We’re in this together. What’s mine is yours,” Steve said, determined. You couldn’t find yourself sharing his optimism, but his eyes locked onto yours, serious as his words. “We’ll figure it out. Find ways of saving more. Hell, if it comes to that, I’ll try to find a job that pays better-”

Your palms landed on his chest, pushing away, putting some distance between you; his hand dropped from your face.

Say WHAT?

“Absolutely not!” you protested instantly, sobering from your despair and letting indignation take over, ignoring entirely the voice in your head sweetly nudging you with the idea of what Steve was willing to give up for you. “I’ll drop off college before I let you give up being a professor, Steve-- you are made-“

“Not an option, sweetheart,” he shot back instantly, expression turning strict. “You leaving college is off the table.”

Mentally, you threw your hands up in the air, growing confused and frustrated by the minute.

“Why? How is that different from you finding a new job, giving up something you worked for so hard?”

“The difference is,” Steve raised his voice slightly, speaking slowly as if he wanted you to remember every word, “-that the chances are that I could come back at some point, that I might only lose a few years. You dropping off, on the other hand, would affect your whole future.”

The same exasperation you felt burned in his eyes now and you gulped, realization hitting you that… yeah, okay, that was a good point. But you hated it anyway.

“…okay, that’s a fair point. But I rather work three jobs and didn’t sleep at all than seeing you leave the university.”

“And work yourself to the ground? I don’t think so, babygirl,” Steve shook his head, just a smidge of patronizing which stung more than you would expect.

Obviously, he was presenting you with more of a feasible option, but you had a feeling that the primal instinct to be the provider played a role in his attitude too – and at any given moment besides this one you would like that; you were completely fine with him wanting to ensure you were secured, taking the larger portion of the burden on his shoulders.

Except now it reminded you of your father in the worst possible way despite knowing that the sentiment was nothing but sweet, no malice in his intentions. It chased tears into your eyes.

Steve’s expression instantly melted, panic flashing in his eyes as he must have figured out that this was not the right thing to say… or not the right way.

His hands were quick to frame you face, tender but unwavering, forcing you to look him straight in the eye.

“Hey, hey, no. It’s just… we’ll work it out, somehow, okay? We can even move out and share an apartment with someone else if we need to. Though you’re forgetting I used to pay this rent and bills on my own.”

Your lower lip quivered, your heart fluttering in fondness for this incredible man, your chest constricted at the idea of taking anything away from him, even if it was comfort. God, the distance he was willing to walk…

“You were living on school cafeteria food and ramen,” you mumbled, corners of your lips twitching upwards for the shortest moment.

Steve’s smile, on the other hand, was almost blinding, tight-lipped but honest, thumbs sweeping at the tears that appeared yet again.

“See, another possibility to save money. Don’t cry, my pretty girl…” he pleaded lowly, kissing your nose before shaking his head lightly. “Or cry if you need to. I’m here, sweetheart, okay? Whatever you need.”

Shit, your heart couldn’t hope to contain this amount of love-

How could anyone ever doubt Steve was the right man for you? The best man? The most wonderful loving human being? How did your father think he was just looking for a mindless fuck?

“I love you,” you whispered hoarsely, smiling through your tears. “Fuck my father. He can’t bully me into being his perfect daughter by cutting me off, can’t make me behave. There’s nothing wrong with me loving you.”

“Or me loving you.”

There was no questioning his honesty; it was written all over his features, his irises bright with emotion. And yet, you worried your teeth over your lower lip, insecurity, your old friend, crawling into your head.

“You do, really? Even with my asshole of a dad?”

You didn’t mean it. Entirely. Though momentarily, your dad was being an asshole, not for the first time.

“Yeah, sweetheart. You’re my everything,” Steve promised, releasing your face in order to tuck messy loose strands of your hair behind your ears.

“That’s the sweetest thing to say, but you can’t exactly sell me to put food to your mouth-“ Oh. Even though… maybe that would be an option? “Well, technically-“

All the gentle warmth radiating from Steve’s expression turned ice cold, smile dropping so fast it startled you.

“Don’t you even-“

“Hey, why not, I mean how much do you think-“

“Stop that right now!” Steve’s voice cut you off, razor sharp voice as if cutting into your skin.

You flinched at the mental blow on instinct, air stuck in your throat, muscles in your back straightening enough to inflict a sharp pounding in your head.

Steve closed his eyes, inhaling and exhaling painstakingly slow, as if he got punched in his gut too. His fists on your sides clenched and unclenched, Adam’s apple bobbing. When he looked at you again, it was obvious he realized he had scared you – and that he regretted not keeping his anger in check.

“I’m sorry, babygirl, I didn’t mean for it to come out this harsh.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, focusing on nothing but your breathing and keeping yourself from sobbing again as you were reminded of your father’s yelling. With each long second, you could see Steve’s face twisting and his body sinking into the couch in shame.

Well. As much as you hated him snapping at you, you had to give it to him – it sobered you up. Frankly, you didn’t blame him for being so harsh.

But you were also aware that Steve was a painfully kind and gentle soul and he never wanted to be rough with you… well, except under certain very consensual special circumstances.

“I know,” you forced an unconvincing smile, laying your palm on his cheek, affection Steve was quick to lean into with a sigh – probably both relieved and content. “I’m sorry for talking stupid.”

He covered your hand with his, carefully manipulating it so he could brush his lips over your palm.

“You’re not, not really. Our heads are a mess, rightfully so. I know people still do that, some purely by choice, but—I don’t want that for you, ever. That’s the same level on a will-never-happen scale like you not continuing your masters. Not an option for me. You’re my girl and if someone’s gonna change their habits, it’s gonna be me first.”

The surge of affection at his words filled your stomach with butterflies, wrapping around you like the softest and warmest comforter.

Great, now you wanted to cry for a whole different reason.

“I don’t deserve you,” spilled from your lips before you could think twice. Steve’s sweet smile made its return.

“Other way around, babygirl. Other way around…. Now how does a bath and a bed sound?”

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Steve hadn’t planned on you and him having a bath when making the suggestion. He found a bath-bomb even and few candles so the light wouldn’t have to be on and hurt your previously teary eyes.

But then you looked at him with wide eyes, pleading and so vulnerable, a single look so heartfelt that it would make the devil’s black heart break and the angels weep – and he was done for, sinking into the bath with you even if the bathtub was not meant for more than one person, especially when one of them was of Steve’s built.

He couldn’t tell you no. Less so after the shitstorm the dinner had turned into.

Yes, Steve’s own emotions were running high, anger, disappointment and self-hatred he knew he couldn’t confess to, certainly not at the moment, but you. You were the priority here because he had a feeling that no matter how overwhelmed he felt, he had nothing on you.

The ceramics of the tub was hard against his back and against his knees at the side, but you fit into his arms and between his legs so perfectly and contentedly that he wouldn’t dare to complain. Head in the crook of his neck, your back to his chest, you melted into him, eyes closed, fingers absently and yet affectionately running over his forearms above water, sometimes along his calves.

You didn’t talk much, mostly repeating that it wasn’t his fault, that you loved him – something he found himself echoing every time – and it slipped through your lips too that while you would never change the fact that you picked him… you were sorry for being a disappointment to your father.

At that, something in Steve’s chest cracked and he swore to himself – that he would never ever be the cause of you feeling like a disappointment. And why would he – you were his perfect girl, his best girl. As much as he regretted that he indirectly did have a hand in making you feel like this now, he wouldn’t change who you were to each other and who you were had he had the chance. Never.

What he could do was to hold you tighter after your admission and whisper more sweet nonsense that made perfect sense to him to your ear.

By the time the water got cold, you were practically asleep, completely groggy, pliant. Somehow, you both climbed from the tub without sustaining any injury. He might have been holding you upright a bit as you both brushed your teeth and pulled on a pyjama.

You fell asleep almost instantly, face hidden in Steve’s chest, few stray tears dampening his sleepshirt as you mumbled one more love confession into the fabric.

“I love you, Steve... I’m sorry… you have to put up with such bullshit…” Your words slurred but Steve didn’t need to hear them to understand what you were saying.

He dropped a kiss to the top of your head, pulling you closer to his side, ignoring the sting of guilt in his gut.

“I love you too, sweetheart,” he whispered, earning a hum that might have been a sign of contentment… or you being entirely drained. “Let’s go to sleep now. Clearer head in the morning.”

Another hum and then nothing but your deep slow breathing, the last remnants of tension leaving your body.

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Steve didn’t think he would follow you to the dreamland anytime soon, too agitated, thoughts swirling wildly in his head, but he caught himself snapping back to consciousness at some point, unsure when he fell asleep – and what woke him up.

An intrusive buzzing on your nightstand provided him with the answer, your phone lit up.

Steve spared you one glance as you stirred only to nuzzle deeper into his frame, sighing.

As carefully as he could so he wouldn’t wake you, he stretched over you and checked who was calling.

Blood crystalized in his veins, heart sent into frenzy as he read a simple short word.

Mom.

He squeezed the side button, silencing the vibration as he pondered what to do; and yet, even as his heart jumped to his throat – as if he was a teenager about to face his girlfriend’s parents after he took her virginity – he had already made a decision, accepting the call as you sank into the cushions without him as a pillow.

He slipped from the room as silently and quickly as possible, announcing himself before you mother could say something not meant for his ears.

“Oh. Hello, Steve,” your mother greeted him, clearly surprised – but much to Steve’s relief, not angry.

He could do this, he could talk to your mother even with the lump in his throat; could have been much worse. Could have been your father and Steve wasn’t so sure if he would manage him. For one, he would hate to be reminded, once again, of what the numerous hate letters had told him about being a total perv; for two, Steve feared he might exchange words with your father that couldn’t have been taken back and would seal the damage done to the relationship with your parents .

“I’m sorry, ma’am. She fell asleep and—I can wake her, of course, but-“ He stumbled over his words and was immensely grateful when your mother saved him from his misery; more se when she said what she did.

“-but she had a rough night. We all did. I’m okay to talk to you, Steve.”

“Alright… how can I help, ma’am?”

“Tell me how bad she is, Steve? She stopped crying before she falling asleep?” the woman on the other side asked softly, causing Steve’s heart to squeeze in a painful memory of his own kind mother, God bless her soul.

And perhaps it was that very memory that encouraged him to speak openly, the genuine worry of a mother who cared deeply for her child, her heart full of love.

How such woman could end up with such an asshole and stay with him was beyond Steve’s understanding, but he certainly wasn’t in position to judge the choices of the women in your family – after all, he was your choice and there was a long line of people who looked at the two with disdain.

“For a while,” Steve admitted with a sigh, his gaze automatically flickering towards the bedroom. “She’s—she feels like she disappointed you in a way, she’s scared of the what’s next, but she’s angry too, because she doesn’t think she did anything wrong by being with me.”

And Steve thought the same… to a point. Didn’t matter that sometimes he would find himself in a dark place where he simply awaited the moment you’d change your mind and left him; for someone your age, with better looks, someone smarted, someone funnier, someone who didn’t have to shave off his beard just so your parents made it through the front door without yelling.

Such gloomy images always left him more desperate than he was comfortable admitting and with searing jealousy in his gut.

He needed you. Yes, he’d survive if you left – but he was certain that you’d take his heart with him, leaving him unable to fall in love ever again… or to feel whole, for that matter.

“She wouldn’t leave you to get her financial support back, Steve,” sounded gently on the other end of the line and Steve’s heart skipped a beat in alarm, brief wonder if he had said any of his latest thoughts out loud.

He supposed he didn’t – your mother was just too intuitive, just like his used to be. He gulped against his dry throat, suddenly guilty for – in a way – forcing you to leave them.

“…I suppose not… I’m sorry if-- it was never my intention to steal your daughter from you, but I’m- I’m not gonna pretend I mind that she would rather be with me than had her money.”

“This is not your doing, Steve, don’t you think I don’t know that,” she continued, a subtle smile in her voice, Steve thought. “And it’s good that she’s willing to make this choice. We wouldn’t want the bride to get cold feet, after all.”

Steve’s heart stopped altogether, he was sure of it. Colour him mortified.

How the hell—but- she couldn’t--- he hadn’t proposed yet and he- what?

His stomach twisted in a tight knot. He couldn’t but ask, voice barely above whisper.

“…how did you know?”

“You stopped yourself mid-sentence, Steve. And as cliché as it sounds, you had fire in your eyes, defending my daughter. It is clear to me that you are serious about her, that you love her, and from the little I heard about you, you are the kind of man who would put a ring on it to seal the deal.”

You mother was definitely smiling now and Steve found himself doing the same, even if the lift of his lips turned sour.

“I would have asked for parents’ blessings, but…”

“I give it,” she was quick to assure him and Steve’s breath hitched, his chest puffing with pride, filling with endless relief and joy. Your mother approved of him. Even knowing who he was, how old he was, how—she was willing to give him her blessing! “You seem like a good man, Steve.”

Steve was both embarrassed and ridiculously proud when he realized he was blinking against tears gathering in his eyes, enormous weight falling from his shoulders.

“That, uhm—that means a lot, truly,” he choked out, swiftly clearing his throat, the embarrassment definitely winning now. He had to get it together before he gave out how weak he could be in front of your mother… she had given her blessing; she could easily take it back.

“I like you, Steve. You’re a good blend of an old-fashioned and modern man. Don’t mess it up and keep my daughter happy.”

“I will try my best, ma’am,” he declared in an instant, meaning every word.

A sigh sounded from the speaker. “That’s all I ask for… now the less happy reason to call. I talked to Paul, but he… I’m sorry, Steve, as for now, he still isn’t fond of you.” That didn’t surprise Steve, but it hurt nonetheless. Then again, he was grateful that your mother tried to put in a good word for him; that meant a lot too. “He only agreed to pay for three more months.”

Steve’s free hand balled into fist, the other clutching the phone considerably tighter as hot surge of anger flooded his veins.

Three more payments. As if the relationship with your family was a damn job contract and this was the notice period.

Steve was sure he was going to be sick.

“Thank you. That’s… we appreciate it,” he managed to grit through his teeth, trying his damnest to remember that he wasn’t mad at the sweet woman – only at her husband.

“You really are a good man, Steve. You’re good for her. I’m glad she found you.”

Steve would once again be entirely joyful at being at least your mother’s favour, but he heard you call out his name from the bedroom, low, hoarse and utterly confused and all he could focus on was the idea of you, red-rimmed eyes and messy hair and still adorable, looking for him in the dark room with a pout to your lips.

“Steve?” your mother called out unsurely and Steve snapped from his reverie.

“Sorry, uhm, she’s awake-- do you want me to hand you over or-“ he blurted out swiftly, hoping the answer would be no as he couldn’t wait to crawl back to bed with you.

“No, just tell her I called. I believe you two have things to talk about. Take care of my daughter, Steve. I’ll be in touch.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Jane, Steve,” she offered kindly just as Steve heard the soft patting on your fluffy socks on the floor.

“Yes, Jane,” he corrected himself then, unable to contain the satisfaction as he tested the name on his tongue. “Thank you, really. Goodnight.”

He ended the call as you emerged from the bedroom, squinting to the low light, your eyes instantly finding him – he automatically smiled for you, unsubtly splaying his arms wide. You didn’t hesitate, aiming straight into his embrace even if it was at snail pace.

It was funny and strange and wonderful how Steve still loved simply holding you, his heart calmer the moment he found you melting into his frame. Christ, he loved you… and clearly, your mother noticed; he was so obvious, that-

“You were gone,” you muttered into his chest discontentedly, nuzzling into him and Steve automatically cradled you to him tighter.

“Sorry, sweetheart. How are you feeling?”

“Like shit,” you admitted bluntly, propping your chin on his torso to look up at him, eyes growing wide and surprisingly soft with emotion. “More so because I was talking stupid and crying into your shirt instead of comforting you after my dad accused you of the things that--- those things that aren’t right.”

Steve felt the painful nudge to his consciousness, because he knew there always would be some truth to ‘those’ words; but you were here to dilute the pain and make it all better. Your care for his well-being served like a shield for the sticks and stones for now at least, when you were the priority. You had it worse at the moment, no matter what his former colleague had accused him of in those hate letters – and now your father.

“Hey, no. Don’t worry about me now.”

You gazed into his eyes, pushing on your tiptoes to peck his lips and the small gesture of affection was like a balm to his soul, much like your words.

“But I do. Always. I love you, Steve… I’m sorry we can’t catch a break… but we’ll… somehow, we’ll push through, right?” you whispered, hopeful and wistfully determined and Steve could only nod, feeling the corners of his lips rising.

“Absolutely, sweetheart. You’re my girl.”

“And you’re my guy. My prince charming,” you hummed, cradling his unusually smooth cheek, irises full of wonder, the sensation was as foreign to you as it was to him. But it was your babble that made him chuckle, the nickname that seemed to catch on; you were too cute for words. “Guess I am Cinderella after all and somehow you accidentally fell in love with me.”

“Damn right I did,” he confirmed, brushing your forehead with his lips before tugging you back to the bedroom. “Not all that glitters is gold.”

“True. Though you might have some glitter from the bathbomb on you.”

“Cheeky girl.”

He didn’t bother pretending to be offended or grumpy; he was simply too happy to see some of your snarky teasing side making its return, that was always a good sign.

“I try… but really, are you okay?”

Steve didn’t respond at first, climbing to the bed, manoeuvring you to his arms where you belonged and fit so naturally. Only when the lights were out and you were both comfortable, he replied, truthfully.

“I will be. I have you. Plus, your mum seems to be okay with me.”

More than okay, apparently.

Steve’s heart fluttered with a bit of nerves as his mind wandered to the ring he kept in the very room you fell asleep every night.

“As she should,” you hummed, sounding very pleased. “She has a nose for good people. And you’re the best.”

“After you at least.”

“Best man, then,” you argued playfully and Steve was perfectly content to have you think that. It would play in his favour when he would finally find the courage to sink to one knee in front of you.

“Well, I’m certainly a lucky one… I have the best woman.”

“Uh-huh. Sure you do. Love you,” you whispered, kissing his chest over the fabric of his sleepshirt and sighing blissfully. “Goodnight, Steve.”

“Goodnight, sweetheart. I love you too.”

If you only knew how much…

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S.R.masterlist

Attached masterlist

Stockings (next in timeline)

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Wink wink. I once again stretched this quite a bit, but hopefully you reached this very end without skipping something ;)

Thank you for reading and extra thanks if you happen to like, reblog and/or comment. Stay safe and happy!

(Also, to American friends: I hope you'll have better Thanksgiving than this ;) )

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ssajj · 5 years ago

Text

Alright

You forget to take care of yourself while battling through medical school. Spencer tries to help. 1.6k, f!reader

Warnings: mentions of poor self care, very vague description of fainting.

A/N: literally wrote this in an hour, so I hope it's okay lol

"You're still up?" Spencer asks, opening the door to your shared apartment.

You rise onto your feet, ignoring the black dots that spot your vision. "I thought you weren't getting back for another hour or two," you say, wrapping your arms around him and laying your head on his chest.

He presses a kiss to the top of your head. "JJ got done with the sheriff earlier than she thought. How come you're still up?"

"Homework," you groan.

You're in your second year of medical school, and if you're being honest, it's kicking your ass. Most of your studying is done when your boyfriend is at work. He used to try and help, although you put an end to that. He was just so smart, so quick to memorize the material you've been agonizing over, that sometimes it'd send you into a tailspin. You never wanted to tell him that, though. Not when he was being such a wonderful boyfriend. Lately, he's been worrying too much and usually tries to pull you away from your textbooks and notes. It's terribly hypocritical of him. You're both a lot better at taking care of each other than yourselves.

"It's three in the morning, bub," he chides gently. "Let's go to bed."

Violently, you shake your head. "I have an exam soon!"

"The brain stops working correctly once someone is overtired."

"I know."

"And you're overtired."

You sigh. "I know."

Before you can protest more, he bends a little and sweeps an arm under your knees, using his other arm to wrap around your upper body. You squeal, your arms going around his neck. "When did you get so buff?!"

He laughs, shifting you around so you're settled more comfortably. "I told you, Morgan and JJ keep making me work out with them."

"Remind me to thank them," you say, getting another laugh out of him. It's cliche, you know, but his laugh is your favorite sound in the world.

It doesn't take him long to carry you to the bedroom. Gently, he deposits you on the bed, kissing you again on the forehead. "I'm going to go clean up your books and then come back, okay? Get ready for bed."

You're asleep before he's even out of the room. When he comes back, he pulls the blankets over your body, changes into pajamas, and crawls in after you, pulling your body against him.

When you wake up, it's to the fire alarm going off.

"Everything is fine!" Spencer yells from the kitchen. You blink a few times, adjusting to whatever the hell is happening. Even in your sleepy state, everything does not seem fine.

You get out of bed, putting on your slippers before making your way into the kitchen. There, you can see Spencer batting at a cloud of smoke coming from the stove top. "Spence, what's happening?"

"I burned the eggs," he says, sounding so genuinely upset about it that it confuses you. "I was trying to make you eggs."

You help him clean up the eggs, wincing at just how burnt they are. It's hard to say how Spencer even managed to do that, but you don't mock him for it. He's been worrying about you, so you know he was just trying to make you feel better.

"Come back to bed with me?" You ask, one of his hands in yours.

He's terrible at saying no to you, so he doesn't try. Instead, he follows you, curling against you once you're in bed. Frankly, he's just glad that you want to sleep. "I love you."

"Love you more."

"Impossible."

The next day, he's called away again. You're a little surprised. As chaotic as his schedule is, you usually get him for a few days after a case.

"Take care of yourself, okay?" You tell him, kissing him softly.

He nods. "You too. Please."

"You seem distracted, kid. What's going on?" Morgan asks, sitting next to Spencer on the jet. Even during their debriefing, he only seemed half aware of his surroundings. Morgan didn't understand his brain, not in the intimate way you did, but he had a good idea of how easy it was for Spencer to get lost in his thoughts.

"Hm?" Spencer hums, looking up at Morgan. "Oh. Just thinking about Y/N."

Morgan snorts. "Shocker."

"I'm serious!" Spencer protests. "She's so stressed out about medical school. I'm worried about her not taking care of herself when I'm gone. She just puts an unhealthy amount of pressure on her shoulders."

"That reminds me of someone I know."

Spencer looks confused for a second before catching a look at Morgan's raised eyebrow. "Shut up. I just- I don't know how to help her. I'm gone too often to encourage her to rest, or to put down the textbooks, or tell her that I think she's amazing when I see her doubting her ability."

"She'll be okay," Morgan reassures. "And you'll be able to check in with her once the case is over. For now, though, we need that big brain of yours focused on the case. Okay?"

"Okay."

Back at the apartment, you've spread all of your study materials on the floor, having given up on keeping it contained on the coffee table. Your back is aching and you've been on the verge of tears all day. Focusing is difficult, especially since all you want is for your boyfriend to hold you and make everything better.

But that isn't how you operate, so you take a deep breath and get back to work. By two in the morning, your body feels heavy and your mind feels full. You also forgot to respond to Spencer's nightly text, which just makes a wave of guilt crash into you. It's too late to text him now, so you set a reminder in your phone to text him when you wake up.

This time, Spencer is gone for a week and a half. Four times, you forget to say goodnight to him. Twice, you're so distracted that you don't answer your phone when it rings. Your entire life has become your textbooks, especially after you bomb a pop quiz on Wednesday. That sends you into a downward spiral, one you aren't recovered from by the time your boyfriend comes back.

"How was the case?" You ask him, ignoring the way your mind feels fuzzy. It's probably been too long since you got a proper night's sleep.

He's peering at you. "It was okay. What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Y/N," he sighs, kneeling in front of you where you're sitting on the couch. He's holding your hands. "Please take a break. When's the last time you've been outside?"

You frown. "You hate going outside."

"I prefer to be indoors, but I understand and respect the benefits of spending time outdoors." He pulls you to your feet. Somehow, you don't stumble. "Come on. Let's go walk around the block."

He grabs your shoes for you, and you have to sit down again to put them on. Once you're outside, you do have to admit that the fresh air feels amazing on your face.

"You're really quiet today," you say as you walk.

He nods. "I'm worried about you and I'm not sure how to help."

"You don't need to-"

"Y/N," he interrupts you. "You...you help me all the time. I don't even think you realize how much you help me. You always listen to me when I go off on a topic you probably aren't even interested. And you come up with excellent questions and responses. I feel more comfortable with physical touch than I ever have, because you're always so gentle and kind and respectful of my boundaries. You make me feel good about myself. When something is wrong, all I can think about is how I know seeing you will make me feel better. My mom adores you. But I know you're struggling and I can't-" he cuts himself off, taking a deep breath. "I want to help you the way you help me."

And in a fantastic bit of timing, your vision goes black as you fall to the ground.

You wake up in a hospital bed. "Spencer?"

He startles, rising from where he was slumped over in a chair. "How are you feeling? I need to call a nurse. But. How are you feeling?"

"Tired," you mumble. "What happened?"

"You fainted. The doctors said you were overly exhausted and suffering from mild dehydration." Spencer's tense all over, his hands flexing at his sides.

Ah, shit. You fucked up.

After that, you try harder. You let Spencer help you. When he's gone, he sends you reminders on when to start and stop studying, when to go to sleep, and reminders to drink water. They're all things you already know, but someone checking in on you helps you actually follow through, helping you hold yourself responsible. When he's with you, he peppers you with kisses when he knows you need to relax, picking you up and carrying you around the apartment to make you laugh. Since he has a habit of burning food and you hate cooking, you two get a lot of takeout.

"Hey," you say one day, closing your textbooks and going over to him. "You know how much I love you, right?"

He smiles and buries his face in your hair. "Yeah. And you know I love you too."

Spencer can't fix everything for you, nor can he fix the hell that's med school. But he helps. Knowing he's always here for you helps.

Being loved helps.

#spencer reid fic #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid reader insert #Spencer reid fic #criminal minds fic #criminal minds reader insert #dorothywrites #this might be me projecting but shhhhh

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sixofpomegranates · 4 years ago

Text

Rain in California - Act 1 - Fame

🥀Mini Series “Rain in California” Act 1 - Part 3 - Fame🥀

✨My Main Masterlist✨ | 18+ | AO3 | Wattpad

🥀Soundtrack🥀 | ✨Aestethic Trailer✨ | 🥀Masterlist🥀 | Words: 6.4k

🥀click here for the previous chapter🥀

TW: ANGST (LIKE REALLY), mention of loss/death/addiction/sobriety/murder/abortion/miscarriage, suicidal thoughts/tendencies, depression, addiction, substance abuse, drugs, alcohol, ABUSIVE RELATIONSHIP, mentions of OD, PTSD, Self-Harm/Cutting, religious trauma, past physical/psychological abuse on child/teen, abusive parents, teen pregnancy, murder, injustice, withdrawal symptoms,

Songs in this Chapter:

Heartbeat - Don Johnson

Seven hours and a Gastric Suction later, [y/n] felt like hell.

Her throat hurt and the medication they´d given her didn’t work. Now she laid in her hospital room, in her uncomfortable bed and was mostly angry at herself. [y/n] didn’t know why she had acted so stupid…well, probably because she had been high as hell. Not feeling able to control herself, when taken more than usual.

She didn’t want to be so erratic, but when she was high, it just all seemed so easy. Saying the things she thought, doing things she normally would never even dare thinking of, not being hurt by others...On drugs she felt free. Herself.

Although she didn’t even know who she was anymore.

When Spencer was holding her in the bathroom?

That was the first time somebody had said something to her about her addictions, except for ‘Are you sure that’s a good idea?’, ’It´s not that bad.’, ‘We´re here once you´re ready.’ and ’She´s just having a rough time.’.

It was the first time somebody really seemed to see through her and literally forced her to look at herself in the mirror. To care for her enough to show her tough love. Leroy, Hank and Tom had tried it, but given up on her, sure they supported and cared for her still, but for them she was already too far gone. And they were probably right about it.

But the dog? He still had wanted to help her, even after she tried being her ugliest.

She had gone too far, still remembering his face, the terror in it, when she cut her wrist, when she had taken all her pills at once. [y/n] had wanted to hurt him like that, her mind, her stupid junkie mind, had her convinced, that doing it would be a great way to get back at him.

Because she felt hurt, being rejected by him.

Most likely she had scarred him for life. And now he hadn’t come in, since she was allowed to have visitors, and probably would never come back.

She has successfully driven away the only one that had still cared enough.

Now, mostly sober, she felt like a monster, aware that she was a wreck beyond repair.

Of course she had, in the beginning, thought about stopping. But the drugs were the smaller evil to her, since they calmed her mind and made her forget the pain. She would stay alone forever, unworthy other people´s love, her mind should at least be allowed to be numb.

*****

“I came as fast as I could. What happened?”, Philip handed Spencer a duffle bag, filled with [y/n]´s clothing. He had asked him to bring it, since Spencer didn’t know how long she would stay.

“They pumped her stomach and had to stitch the wound on her wrist.”, he stated, making the short manager´s eyes go wide.

“Are you insane? What if they hurt her vocal cords?”, the tall one tried to remain calm, but had to really force himself to not hit Philip.

Why was that a priority?

“I didn’t wanna let her die. She could´ve OD´d. What would you have done?”, Spencer asked slightly aggravated.

“Carry her to the bathroom and force her to throw up, until nothing´s in her stomach anymore. Then I usually take her to bed and give her water every hour and feed her soup until she´s better.”, the manager explained and Spencer felt like that had to be a joke.

“That has happened before?”, he asked baffled and Philip nodded. “Yeah, a couple of times, but she always either took something or cut herself. Never both at the same time. Where you two fighting again?”, he asked reproachful and Spencer felt the guilt sink into his heart. “See, agent Prentiss? This is why I said, [y/n] didn’t need a bodyguard.”

“I´m sorry, but I don’t think that this is the result of having a bodyguard. It´s much more one to them not getting along and [y/n] being highly addicted to a couple of substances.”, Emily stepped in for Spencer.

The manager just ignored the her obvious insinuation of the rockstars declining mental help, before going into [y/n]´s room. The agents then just looked at each other before going in too.

*****

This was the first time Spencer saw [y/n], since they got here. He hadn’t been able to bring himself to be alone with her before. She was laying in her bed, bandage on her left wrist, looking directly at him when he came in. They had taken of her make-up, making Spencer realize, that she was prettier without it. Her jet black, dark hair in a ponytail. To him she looked calmer and softer like this. The real girl behind the façade. Philip was already all over her.

“[y/n], you look awful.”, he said, shaking up the pillow as she got up a little, to sit.

“Feel like it too.”, her voice sounded a little raspy.

“Poor girl. How is your voice? Do you need anything?” “Fine. My throat´s just a little sore. Can you check me out of here? The faster, the better. That way I can go home without the media knowing.”, Spencer and Emily shared a look.

“The paparazzies showed up an hour ago.”, Emily stated, making [y/n] nod.

She leaned further back in her pillow and looked at Spencer, like she wanted to say something.

“C-Can you still check me out, Philly?”, Philip nodded.

“Of course. I´ll be back asap and then we´ll take you home so you can pack.”, he walked outside and [y/n] looked at Emily.

“Can – I don’t know – you maybe go with him?”, she asked her friendly.

The dark haired woman shared a look with Spencer, who nodded at her. Signaling, that he was okay being alone with the singer again. Emily then nodded and walked after Philip, closing the door on her way out. For a second Spencer thought about leaving the room too. To, no longer, have this black-haired demon take hits against his sanity, but then her voice cut into the silence of the room.

“I´m sorry.”, she said and Spencer wondered, if she was being honest.

“For almost killing yourself?”, he asked her sarcastically and she shook her head.

“For how I treated you.”

“I´ve been through worse. You´d need to be trying way harder, if you want me to break.”, he answered her cold and she began looking at her hands.

“I´m sorry, I tried pressuring you, to take drugs.”, Spencer shrugged at that. “You were high. If I didn’t relapse after the love of my life was killed or when I was put wrongfully into prison, I won´t relapse because a pretty girl is offering me drugs.” “Doesn’t make it better or okay. I saw the token in your room, when I was looking for my pills. I knew and still did it. You must really hate me.”, [y/n]´s voice sounded like she was about to cry.

“I don’t hate you.”, he said gently, sitting down on her bed. [y/n] let out a self-degrading laugh and looked at him, tears filling her eyes. “No, it´s okay. I deserve it.”, she looked over to her IV drip bag, filled with clear liquid, and hit it slightly. “That stuff makes me sentimental.”, she tried saying jokingly, but sounded just sad.

Spencer looked at her for a while, thinking about what he could say. He hadn’t thought she would apologize for how she acted and he had meant what he had told her. He didn’t hate her. Yes, she was emotionally draining to be around, it wasn’t all bad though.

Spencer remembered Philip and how he had talked about the two sides of people.

“That´s no medication, [y/n].”, she looked at him confused. “You lost a lot of water so…Yeah. What you´re feeling is the drugs wearing off.”, he cooed, holding himself back with the rambling. “Nice. That´s what every junkie loves to hear.”, both chuckled a little. “Hey, I give you ten thousand dollar, if you get me some pills, my head hurts like hell.”, she said it in a joking manner, making Spencer chuckle and shake his head.

“No chance. I´m not bribable.”

“Makes you one of few in Hollywood.”, the sound of rain made [y/n] look to the window. “Can you open it?”, he nodded and got up. “Thanks. I love the sound of rain. People always portrait it to be so sad when it rains, but I think it´s nice…cleansing.”

He opened the window and sat next to her bed on the chair. They listened to the sound of raindrops hitting the streets for a while, when he decided to take the shot and ask [y/n], what had been on his mind for the last hours.

“Why are you doing it?”, she looked at Spencer, making a questioning noise. “Cutting yourself, taking drugs.”

“The pain makes you feel alive and the drugs help you hide the side effects of being it.”, Spencer chuckled a little.

“So melodramatic.”

High, she would have probably devoured him, but now she only smirked and rolled her eyes. By now a certain realness tried finding its way in both their voices.

“What was your reason for taking them then?”, she asked, leaning in his direction.

Spencer thought a second, honesty was earned and he wanted her to be honest with him. So he gave her a trust bonus, reviling a bit of his darkness.

“I wasn’t giving the chance of choosing to take them. I was kidnapped and my tormentor, at least one of his personalities, thought he would help me handling the pain.”

He could´ve sworn to see empathy in her eyes, but instead of showing it or whispering words of condolences, like so many others would do in this situation, she just smiled.

“And there I was, thinking you´re just a hypocrite.”, he shrugged. “Well…I am one.” “How?”, [y/n] asked, a little frown appearing on her forehead. “Because you were right. I think you are attractive and maybe my motive wasn’t all just about protecting you at the concert.”, he could feel himself blush.

“I´m sorry for acting out, after…you know.”

“It´s okay. Would you feel better, knowing that I really hated making the decision, to not sleep with you?”, she nodded.

“A little.” “Good. Cause it was. But it was the right thing to do.”, she smiled a little and began focusing on her hands again.

“You see, I get it now and I´m glad, at least one of us, has made a right decision tonight but…I don’t know how I´ll be to you, when I´m high again.”, her concerned voice made him take her hand. Being afraid of your own mind, no longer being able to control it, was something he was very familiar with. “Then don’t be. We could get you into rehab.”

[y/n] chuckled and took his hand with both of hers, caressing it with her thumbs. She seemed to be thinking. Making Spencer believe she may be taking his offer. But the longer she thought, the more obvious it became, that she was losing to something dark inside her head.

“Would be a waste of time.”, she whispered, her playfulness gone, as if reality just slapped her into the face.

“But if you continue like this, you´ll be dead soon.”, [y/n] gave him a gentle smile.

“You always say that, like I don’t plan on dying with twenty-seven.”

For a second he tried reading her, hoping she was joking, having made those suicidal jokes a little to often in the last days. When he didn’t like the answer, he prepared himself to hear it from her.

“Do you?”, she nodded. “I´m going to join ‘Club 27’ and then drift into oblivion. My songs and everything I did, only becoming an relic from the past.”

The way she said it, made it sound like she had already made peace with that decision. It frightened Spencer, making him think of how to make her re-think it.

“What about your friends?”

“There´s only the band…and I started pushing them away from me, a long time ago. I saw how it will end for me and decided not to have it hurt them, like it hurt me, when I found my mom.”, he shook his head. He refused to accept this as an answer.

“And what about yourself? You can’t just feel like dying is the only option.” “It´s not. But it´s the most relieving one.”

The calmness in her voice and body language showed him so much. What had driven her into that state? A state were death was seen as a relieve, because everything else hurt too much. Depression. She showed signs of it. Many people with addicted use it to cope with their mental problems. What had happened to her? His mind traveled back to the day before, to the only moments when she had let her façade slip.

To the silver bullet that would kill her.

“What happened to your baby?”, he asked her stern and she looked at him defeated.

“Oh, I see…I´ve been profiled. What do you think happened?”

“You lost it.”, she nodded, but he continued, carefully watching her body language. He wanted answers, but would stop when she would get too uncomfortable. “Probably because of your abusive father.”, she nodded again, seeming a little numb to his words. “Was he religious?”, the black-haired girl chuckled and answered him a little sarcastic.

“Depends on how religious you´d call a reverend. Why?”

“Religious trauma or trying to shock people. Your music, I mean.”

For a second [y/n] let go of his hand, making him rest in her lap. Spencer refused to pull it away, if she would start talking, he wanted her to know that he was still there. He had, by now, enough pieces of the puzzle, showing him a dark picture of her past. A reason, why she tried to be high so often.

Reality was a sharp knife and its cuts couldn’t hurt so bad, when you numb yourself.

“My father was always hitting my mom, but when she then took off, there was only me and him. He forced me into the mold of the perfect, religious daughter and when I wasn’t as obedient as he would´ve liked, he´d make me read the bible for hours and beat me senseless.”, she started gesturing to her stomach and chest area. “Of course only hitting me in places, nobody would see the bruises. When I was fifteen, I got caught trying to smoke for the first time, by a teacher. As they notified my father, he locked me into the dark broom closet for a week. Out of spite, I then started smoking regularly and met a boy through it, Daniel.”

Spencer watched [y/n]´s face light up for a second. She looked like JJ or Rossi, when they were talking about Will and Krystall. Like he probably did, when he was thinking about Maeve.

“He went to the same school as I and his abusive parents were addicts, like my mom had been. We kinda bonded over that and would sneak out at night, spending hours together, talking about the stupidest things. Thinking we were so deep and intellectual. He, at one point, started stealing his parents weed, so we could get high together. Made getting beaten easier. The time with Daniel was the first and last time I ever felt those butterflies. You know? This childish feeling of love?”

She smiled at him as he nodded, remembering those butterflies too, but then the smile darkened and she took Spencer’s hand again. As if to try and hold onto him, shielding herself from the dark memories creeping up.

“I got pregnant with sixteen. A shame. I managed to hide it for a few weeks and Daniel and I came up with the childish idea of running away together. We thought, we could just get jobs somewhere else, buy a home and become a family…Like foolish kids.”, her self-degrading laugh broke Spencer’s heart, as she tried swallowing her tears.

“And it didn’t work.”, he whispered and she only laughed, voice dripping in sarcasm. “Of course it didn’t. A woman from church had overheard us talking and the rumor of me being pregnant was already out there, since I threw up so often at school. So she thought she would help me, if she told my father.”, Spencer squeezed her hand a little. “You wanna know what he did?”, he shook his head.

“What?”

“He waited for us to meet at night. As I crawled out of the window, he stormed outside with his shotgun and confronted us. After I admitted to being pregnant he hit me, making Daniel step between us and start fighting with my dad to protect me and the baby…and my dad- he-…he then just shot him. In-…In cold blood, just pulled the fucking trigger.”, [y/n] voice was filled with disbelieve. Like she still wasn’t able to believe what she had seen.

“My father then grabbed me by the hair and tried getting me to go back into the house. I, obviously shocked about him just shooting my boyfriend, refused to and so he started beating and kicking me, till I stopped fighting back…Needless to say, I lost the baby after that.”

As a few tear ran down her face, she let go of Spencer´s hand and wiped them away. Letting a cynical laugh follow.

“That’s not even the best part of the story. Nothing happened.”, Spencer looked at her frowning.

“What do you mean with ‘Noting happened’. He shoot a teenager. Weren’t there any repercussions?”, she shook her head.

“No. Because he told the police, that he came outside to me screaming, because Daniel was beating me. Angry at me, for being pregnant. He stated that he just did what he had to do, to protect me.”, he shook his head in disbelieve.

“Weren’t you questioned? Didn’t you tell them what really happened?”

“I would try telling, but nobody believed it. Because the reverend, a pillar of our community, would never do such thing. They thought I was just lashing out and framing my father, because I was high and angry at him for shooting my boyfriend...Daniel´s parents didn’t even care, too high to get what had happened. After that, I wasn’t allowed to go to school anymore, in fact, I wasn’t allowed to do anything anymore. My father taught me at home and every Sunday I was allowed to go to church and pray to have my sins being forgiven.”

Spencer nodded at the amount of information she had just given him.

He felt bad for her, started to understand her, started to hate her father and the cruel injustice she, Daniel and the baby had suffered.

Why had they only once, tried to get her into therapy?

The amount of suffered trauma had to end in a situation like this, left untreated.

It was eating her alive, suffocating her, and everybody who saw it, just slapped the ‘She´s gonna be okay’-Band-Aid on this gashing wound, moving on with their own life´s, while she was losing the battle inside her head. He got up and sat on the bed next to her, she scooted a little, giving him some room to lean back too. As he lifted an arm, [y/n] rested her head on his chest.

“Then how did you get…viral…?”, he looked at him and the confused spoken word, smiling.

“You know about that?”

“Luke.”, he answered and she nodded. “I wasn’t allowed to have a phone, but I was allowed to use our computer once a week for an hour. I would record myself singing and playing guitar on our shitty webcam and started uploading it, not thinking anybody would ever see it. With eighteen I got in contact with this guy, he said he was in the midst of establishing his own record label and he would love to pay my flight to LA, taking me under contract. I accepted and just ran as fast as I could, before my father could get me.”

[y/n] again laughed cynical. Seemingly a coping mechanism of hers, to play down the pain and severity of things and situations.

“When I arrived, he then offered me to stay with him, if I´d be…you know…nice to him. He earned a shit ton of money with my music, while I got nothing…But everything was better than going back home again.”, she sat up a little, so she could look at Spencer, again with that sparkle in her eyes.

“At one point, when I didn’t want to have sex with him anymore, I had to work at a pizza restaurant to afford rent. There I met Leroy, Tom and Hank at the Open-Mic-Night. I told them a little about what was going on and Hank sued that guys ass. He didn’t want anything in return…just happy to help me. If you think Hank is scary now, you would have shit yourself, seeing him in court!”

Both chuckled. Spencer could, thankfully, only imagine how terrifying the fifty year old biker could get.

“After winning the case I asked them if they were interested in becoming a band and we made some demo tracks with the money I had gotten. The label took us under contract and introduced us to Philip, who became our manager.”

“But you weren’t into anything but marijuana. How did we end up here?”, she sighed.

“The label has a lot of expectations surrounding me. One of them was for me, to go out and be publicly seen with their other artists, for the image. They were taking a lot of stuff and I always said no, sticking to weed. But somewhere along the line, I wanted to know how it felt. If my mom was right, for choosing it above me. And I think I get it now. Everything I told you before? My dad, my baby, Daniel? They´re gone. I´m able to standup for myself and not letting me being pushed into something I don’t want, like when that creep wanted me to whore myself out to him, just so I´d have a roof over my head. Life is just easier that way and thankfully shorter too.”, Spencer pulled her closer.

“I like you like that.”, he almost whispered. “Depressed?”, [y/n] snickered and he chuckled, shaking his head. “Real.”

“Only fair. I´ve been a real bitch to you, the whole time.”, he shook his head again. “Not that bad.”, she hit his chest gently, while giggling. “Oh, please. I can handle it. Come on.”, he sighed playfully, admitting the truth. “Okay, yeah. You´ve been a bitch.”

They laid there for a while, [y/n] seemingly thinking, before she talked again.

“You´re gonna pass on babysitting duty for me now, I guess?”, she asked hesitant, making him chuckle.

“Nope. I´m gonna stay.”, [y/n] sat up and looked at him, like he had completely lost his mind.

“Why in the world, are you doing that to yourself?”, Spencer shrugged. “Savior complex.” “I´m not worth it.”, he shrugged again. “I know. But the sober girl inside you is. You know? The one that knows my name, speaks French with me while playing Mozart and puts a blanket over me when I fall asleep while reading.”

Then she asked him something that hit too close to home. Revealing a reality he liked to ignore.

“You can’t save everybody. You´re aware of that, right?”, he nodded as she laid back into bed, her head resting against his chest again. “But I can try.”, Spencer whispered against her ear.

“Would you mind just watching TV with me? Withdrawal headache´s a bitch.”

Spencer grabbed the remote and turned the TV on. After many attempts of finding something interesting, [y/n] stopped him from switching the channels. They had come across an 80´s music special. Something with the name ‘Heartbeat’ by Don Johnson had just started playing. Although [y/n] didn’t move a lot, Spencer could tell she was excited. Moving her lips along the lyrics.

“I don't care what you say

You can give it away

Your money don't mean much to me.

I've been out on my own

Gonna got it alone now

'Cause that's the way it's got to be.

Ev'rybody tells me how I can beat the odds for now.

Well I've been standing by the fire

But I just can't feel the heat.”

“That’s a great song.”, Spencer shrugged, again not feeling too much connection to the music. But it did sound nice. At his shrugging she hit him a little and put on a badly played face of disbelieve and shock. “Show some respect for the classics!”, he laughed at her words. “Respect for the classics? You called Beethoven a deaf bitch.”, now [y/n] shrugged. “Touché.”, she giggled, laying her hand on her head as if to ease the pain.

“Looking at me

It's easy to see

You think you know just how I feel.

If you do to me wrong and it won't take me long

Before my restless heart will heal.

I'm looking for a love

Love like mine”

“That was good music back then.”, she whispered against his chest. “Heart break, real emotions…love that stuff.”

“Why don’t you play more of it then?”, Spencer asked, Luke in his mind telling him about their music just no longer trying to hit the feelings. [y/n] giggled a little. “I´m guessing…Luke told you?”, he nodded and she let out a sigh. “Remember when I told you about the label having expectations? Every song I make has to go through them first, before being released. At one point, I had nine songs, completely done and they only greenlit one of them. Told me the others ‘weren´t my style’, ‘not exactly my genre’ or ‘wouldn’t speak to my audience enough’. So I just stopped looking for the deeper emotions. Still love the music I make, but the feeling´s dead. My lyrics helped me coping at the beginning, but the restrictions the label set me, ended that.” “Why don’t you just write those songs again? It doesn’t matter if anybody hears them.”, he suggested to her chuckling in response.

“They tell me it's so hard to find

But I can feel it in the rhythm of the heartbeat in the street.

Heartbeat - I'm looking for a heartbeat”

“If a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound, mon amour?”, Spencer looked at her for a second, flustered by the realness she let him see.

“Yes. For me it would.”, he told her, making her giggled. “I probably lost my ability for stronger emotions anyway. But thanks, Spencer.”

His heart skipped a beat as she said his name.

“Heartbeat - I'm looking for a heartbeat

Beating like mine.”

As the door opened Spencer quickly jumped up, Emily looking at him with a lifted eyebrow.

“Uhmm…Hello?”, she asked, more meant as a ‘What´s going on?’. Philip walked in right after her, not having seen the both of them more or less cuddling in the hospital bed.

“Oh no, it´s raining again.”, he sighed as he closed the window and stepped aside for the nurse, who took out the IV from [y/n]´s arm. “Okay. I got you released from hospital, [y/n]. I have the papers and ta-da.”, he handed her a white little paper bag. “Your pain medication and antibiotics for the arm.”

“Thanks.”, she answered and passed it over to Spencer. “Ca-Can you…so I take them correctly?”, he looked at her confused.

“You sure?”, she nodded and Spencer smiled at her. Baby steps. “Of course.”

“I thought Dr. Reid would stop his bodyguard duty, now that you´re going to stay with me?”, [y/n] shrugged.

“I- I don’t know.” “You know, I can protect you too.”, Philip insured her. “Yeah…but I would feel safer with my guard dog around.”, she looked at the tall man. “Only if you´d be okay with that, Spencer.”

“More than okay.”, Spencer smiled at her, making her smile back.

“O-Okay, that´s fine. That´s gonna be fine. Dr. Reid can sleep in my office. Now get dressed, so we can pack your stuff at home.”

Philip handed [y/n] her black duffle bag, Spencer had put on the floor next to her bed. She opened it and pulling out some jeans and a black sweater. When she tried to get up she was a shaky on her legs, but managed to go to the bathroom. Spencer stayed close to her, being able to catch her in case she´d fall. When she closed the door behind her, he looked at Philip and Emily.

“How many paparazzies are out there?”, he asked and Emily held her breath, shortly thinking.

“Too many. Just checked before coming in. You guys better think of a plan, if you don’t want [y/n] to be seen by them and become five o'clock news.”, both men nodded and then looked at each other.

“Okay…so, Philip? Where do you park?”, Spencer asked. “Outside, visitors.”, he nodded and looked to his friend.

“Me too. Emily, you?”

“Car park.”, she answered and Spencer handed her his key.

“Okay. We trade. I take [y/n] home in Emily´s SUV. Emily takes [y/n]´s car and you, Philip, you just drive to the mansion. Maybe we can make them think she´s still in medical care, that way.”, all of them nodded to each other, not really knowing what more there was to tell. Not knowing if the plan would even work.

*****

When [y/n] looked in the mirror, in the tiny bathroom of her hospital room, after washing her face, she felt okay. Horrible, but okay.

Feeling kind of stupid, having given Spencer her medication. It had felt right. But she didn’t know why. Did she want to make him happy? Well, he certainly was. But honestly? Nobody just stops being addicted for one person. Having your addiction tendencies being bound and under control solely for another person than yourself probably never works in the long term.

She knew she would have to stop for herself and that just wasn’t worth it.

She just wasn’t worth it.

Spencer would leave again, he was just another person in her life that would vanish, never to be heard from again. Her life would move on, just like it did now and that was it. It was okay like that. There wasn’t much to be expected anymore and she had made her peace with it. Having lost the will to try years ago.

Somehow she had decided however, to enjoy the few moments she would still have with this man. A man she barely knew, but yet, felt so interest in. A man that either lived his best boomer life or just simply lived in a cave without Wi-Fi, giving his lack of knowledge by simple words like iconic and viral.

Maybe it was his lack of interest in her Rockstar persona, that intrigued her. She had heard him and Philip outside of her room. Spencer had not given a single fuck, that her voice could´ve been ruined by having her stomach pumped, as long as she didn’t die. That was nice. Being more than an expensive voice. Being counted as a human.

She wanted to know more about him, had given him her silver bullet, as a sign of trust. Now she wanted his or however much he was willing to give. Being high would ruin it, being high would maybe have her forget something. [y/n] knew she would still need to take the bare minimum of her drugs, so the withdrawal wouldn’t kill her, but for now she would like to be semi-clean. The headache and the freezing being acceptable.

She had put on her fresh clothes, liking that they didn’t smell like cigarettes, wondering why she even smoked, when everything just started to reek and ruin the nice smell of her lavender perfume. Was it still out of spite, because her father didn’t like it?

Maybe she would quit…on the other hand…maybe just reduce them a little. For now, she didn’t have any, anyways. She would probably need some chewing gum.

When she walked out of the bathroom Spencer smiled at her, stepping closer and his hands cupping her face.

“Hey. You okay? You´re a little pale.”, she quickly nodded, her heart beating as fast as it always did shortly before a concert.

“Yeah, just not wearing any makeup, so…”, he shook his head, thumb stroking her cheek.

“Uh-uh. You weren’t pale like that before. You feeling sick?”, actually yes, she did.

“A little.”

“We´re gonna get you something to eat later and then you should take a nap. Philip is going to drive in his car and we´ll meet him at your house. Emily already left.”, [y/n] nodded, quickly stepping away from Spencer. She hadn’t even noticed Philip still being there, while he smiled at them.

“I´m gonna leave now and you guys just go to the garage and wait a few minutes. When something happens you call me, okay [y/n]?”, she nodded, Spencer taking her duffle bag as Philip hugged her and then left.

She and Spencer went to the car park, her having the hood from her sweater pulled into her face, hoping nobody would recognize her. The last thing she wanted was a media scandal, so shortly after the her teen-pregnancy was brought to light. People talking about the ‘out of control’-Rockstar almost dying due to an overdose. Not that they were completely wrong, but still. She hated when strangers acted like they knew her, only because they read one of those crappy articles.

When they got into the car Spencer turned on the seat heating, without saying a word, only smiling at her. Why was he so nice? Was it his savior complex or did he just have a great personality?

Driving to her mansion in silence, they were met with an array of paparazzies in front of it. Spencer parked across the street. [y/n] quickly fixed her hair, should they notice her and start making photos.

“Tinted windows, they don’t see you.”, he told her, making her relax.

For a second she thought about how much she hated this. The flashes of the cameras pointed into her face, only inches away from it. Asking her inappropriate question, because fame cancelled out the right of privacy. They were always waiting for her to do something, to be put on a blast for.

Maybe she could just, a little longer, be a no one. Like she seemed to be, alone with Spencer.

With Philip, she never had even five minutes to herself. Yes he was nice, but he was so in-your-face sometimes. Smothering her with care.

“Spencer?” “Hm?”, he turned to her. “Would it be okay, to just go undercover?”, Spencer raised his eyebrows. “Undercover?”, her cheeks flushed a little.

“Yeah…get a hotel room and some junk food maybe…” “What about Philip?”

“I´ll text him…I- I´d just like to be alone.”, he nodded at her words, already starting the car again. “Oh, sure. I get that.” “Alone with you.”, was that sentence too bold? “I know. Already thought so.”, he put a hand on her thigh, gently squeezing it. She smiled at this gentle gesture. “Any hotel okay?”, he asked her, as she laid her hands on his, wanting to make sure it stayed there. “Sure. But you´ll need to get the room. I tend to attract attention.” “Really?”, he asked in a playful voice, as he pulled into the main street. “Yeah, apparently I look like this one singer from a rock band.”, she answered, giggling, even though it killed her head. “Huh, weird. Wouldn’t have noticed.”, he almost whispered, seeming to have noticed it.

“Maybe we should get me some nicotine patches too.”, she smiled, making him look at her surprised.

“Stopped smoking?” “Yeah, thought I´d try it. Maybe you can smell my perfume better like that. Lavender.”, Spencer chuckled. “Sexy. Kissing a smoker only seems good in the movies.” “You know movies?”, she said, playfully mocking him. “Russian and black-and-white ones.”

“You´re a little nerd, huh?

“Hope that’s not a deal breaker?”, she looked at his little worried, almost insecure look.

Yes, the junkie who just ruined his night, by having a mental breakdown, would think a nice, smart guy that liked watching ‘Dr. Who’ was a dealbreaker.

“It´s actually kinda cute.”, he let out an adorable giggle and for a second she could feel her heart skip a beat.

*****

Spencer had gotten them a hotel room in a small hotel with individual, private entrances. Definitely not as classy as [y/n] was used to, but private enough, not to be seen. Before, he had bought her nicotine patches and gum and they had gotten some pizzas.

Now her arm was plasters with some of the patches and they sat on the bed, eating pizza and watching ‘10 things I hate about you’, making him see just how quirky [y/n] could be. Singing along to every song, telling him how much she loved watching it, secretly at a friend’s home, as a teen; giggling like crazy when something funny happened and gushing over things she thought to be romantic. Spencer had given her her medication and the withdrawal, at least in the moment, seemed to be manageable.

After the movie she had insisted on him picking something, making him extremely nervous. He didn’t think that any of his picks would have her enjoy the next two hours, but she didn’t let him say no. So he put in an old black and white movie called ‘La Dolce Vita’, about a week in the life of a philandering tabloid journalist living in Rome. He laid down in bed and signaled [y/n] to come closer. She had quickly cuddled up beside him, seemingly touch starved by the way she held him close. A very familiar feeling for Spencer.

After he had begun stroking her hair, she had fallen asleep faster, then he had fallen for her.

Seeming to like every side of her, every part, no matter how damaged or ugly. Spencer had pulled the sleeping girl a little closer, gently kissing the top of her head and smiling to himself. What he had smelled two days ago, had been lavender. He drifted of as well, only waking up half an hour later, when the credits woke him.

Turning the TV off, before laying close to [y/n] again, now spooning up behind her, face buried in the crook of her neck, arms wrapped tightly around her.

To be continued...

Give me your feedback [also anonymous!]

Taglist (lmk if you want to be added/removed)

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #dr spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #reader insert #spencer x reader #spencer reid reader insert #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer x fem!reader #spencer x you #spencer reid x you #reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds x y/n #spencer x y/n #rainincaliforniaff

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aphrodite-would-be-proud · 4 years ago

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NICE abt the whole turning head with your cute skirt. Love that it made you feel powerful, good for you b 😉😌😌

You’d also make Reiner turn his head but out of respect, he just look away to cough, his cheeks and ears a very noticeable shade of red. If he was talking to someone, they’d tease the shit out of him porco. He’d try to get enother look but you catch his gaze. Maybe you give him a lil wink and now you just live rent free in his mind 🤭

The only wanted male attention i ever didn't hate, probably bc no one of them yelled anything and it only lasted 5 seconds before both of us passed each other. And i felt comfortable being seen at that time.

Now- this is definitely accurate for time-skip Reiner, when he matured a bit and is actually self aware yet can't help his old habits.

Anon we would ALL, make Reiner turn his head let's be honest.

Tw:suggestive I think it'd go something like this

You know that shirtless scene in the hospital with Porco by his bedside? Yeah. Tis the one.

Maybe you're a cute nurse with a short white dress perfectly stopping above your thighs, coming to check on the sick and offer water or give medicines, your legs crossing as your skirt slightly lifts whenever you sit down.

maybe you were a beautiful thing, holding a bouquet of flowers for your dear sick friend at the hospital, your flowey skirt swaying with every move of your hips with the hem rising up whenever you bent down to talk to your friend on the bed.

Or maybe it was a tight pencil skirt, hugging your legs so deliciously with it's colour catching the eye as if your legs by themselves couldn't get the job done alone, came as a medical student in training with your notes under your arm while you slowly stroll observing every patient as the doctor next to you instructe you on their symptoms.

It doesn't matter honestly because Reiner will lose his breathe the second the flash of your skirt catches the corner of his eyes, not yet looking as it register it his brain that what he saw wasn't his brain playing tricks on him.

Porco’s talking slowly blurs out in the background as he focuses on the sound of your shoes against the floor tiles, heels? Flats? He couldn't exactly tell since he barely spared them a glance before staring at what's above them.

He definitely blanked for a second as he took you in, like really took you in with all your curves and shape, a slowing heat making it's way up his neck reaching the corner of his cheeks and ears, eyes half lidded and glazed over like his mind is in complete entrance.

And then you walked, he bit the inside of his cheek as he watched your thighs move with every step, thinking about how his big hand would feel gripping them- will it bruise easily oh god- the closer they came into view the tighter he gripped the sheets below him- wait...closer? Were you walking towards him oh god you were-

"Are you having a stroke?" Came Porco’s voice with a harsh tug to his arm as a third attempt to catch the other's attention. "Fucking hell what are you even looking at-"

When Porco turned his head, the first thing that met him was your waist as you stood in front of them with a quirk to your eyebrows, arms crossed.

Yeah...i don't think he'll l be able to tease Reiner without being a hypocrite, at least right away.

#talking🕯#Reiner🕯

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paradife-loft · 5 years ago

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...I think I just figured out one of the main points of the inclusion of Lang Qianqiu in TGCF.

Because on my first read, especially as we got later into the story, I ended up kind of... confused? about why he wasn’t ever really showing up much again, after he played such an important role in an arc and set of revelations in book 1. Ultimately, I felt essentially like, “well why was his story and the Guoshi Fangxin deal given so much time if it’s never super followed up on, then?”. But as I’m poking through this reread...

The (abbreviated) dialogue in book 1, after Xie Lian refuses to fight him and uses Ruoye trickery to get out of the duel Lang Qianqiu wants:

Lang Qianqiu closed his mouth for a moment but then blurted, “Was it because your seventeenth was a trial, that you had to turn my seventeenth into a trial too?” [...] “IF THAT WAS YOUR INTENTION THEN I WON’T LET YOU HAVE YOUR WAY!!” [...] “If you want me to fill my heart with hatred like you, I surely won’t! If you’re going to force me to abandon myself, I refuse! I will never!—NO MATTER WHAT YOU DO TO ME, I WILL NEVER BECOME LIKE YOU!!”

It was a declaration so heroic Xie Lian was becoming dazed just listening to it. It took a moment before he came to, and “pfft”-ed, bursting into laughter.

Lang Qianqiu’s face was covered with fiery tears, his blood boiling with passion; he was at the height of his zealous cries, but all that was deflated by Xie Lian’s laugh, and he became angrily bewildered.

Xie Lian on the other hand was clapping as he laughed, his laughter growing by the minute, and he cried, “GOOD!”

Xie Lian couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed this heartily or for what, and it took him some time before ceasing. He rubbed his eyes and nodded, “Good. Remember what you said today. That you will never become like me.”

This is, of course, pretty hypocritical and un-self-aware for a man whose revenge on the perpetrators of the banquet massacre involved gruesome bodily torture of the kind you could only inflict on an immortal being, but I digress slightly.

Xie Lian’s life has been inexorably shaped by the efforts of a man whose kingdom was destroyed, to engineer circumstances to make Xie Lian despair and hate the world to the point of committing atrocities in the same way he himself did. and of course at this point, Xie Lian isn’t aware of the full extent of that context, but he is aware of the general dynamic of “someone trying to teach you the lesson of becoming just as heartless as they are”.

Lang Qianqiu then, is another mirror: his dynamic with Xie Lian is a call-forward to what we learn later about the Crown Prince of Wuyong. Both Lang Qianqiu and Xie Lian assert their determination to never become like the person who has put them through the same hell they experienced first - but Xie Lian, unlike the Crown Prince of Wuyong, is pleased that his once-protege rejects the hatred and nihilism he assumes Xie Lian wants him to learn.

Wuyong wants to recapitulate his trauma onto another individual who reminds him too dearly of his naive younger self - but while Lang Qianqiu assumes that’s Xie Lian’s motive as the guoshi Fangxin, Xie Lian in fact supports the exact opposite, and would rather his own name and deeds be looked poorly upon than cause further harm to another. (Wuyong’s actions, of course, suggest a need to be vindicated in all the horror he’s sunk into by dragging another down with him, instead.)

(I still feel like... the arc would be a bit tighter if Lang Qianqiu got more development during later parts of the book? but my opinion of that may change when I get there in this reread as well, who knows.)

#rambling #hua cheng's ghostly down with cis bus #meta #me: writes meta explicitly about things you understand on a second read with the context of things happening in later books #me: but I can't clearly refer to this character by their most commonly-used name because that would be a spoiler????!!!??!!?#(I mean it's also kind of.... an emphasis thing in terms of like - what name evokes what central defining parts of your life)#(and 'crown prince of wuyong' I think centers... a lot of who the dude is in relation to XL here motivation-wise in the XL-LQQ parallel)#Xie Lian #Liang Qianqiu #Crown Prince of Wuyong #(but also like. yeah. I do not want to spoil people by virtue of my tags)

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ariyadaivaris · 4 years ago

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- christ i hate smug mma dudes more than anything on this earth. you're a man doing mma what do you have to be excited about? washing out of ufc and having to resort to a dying professional wrestling company? the systematic oppression of women? the paul brothers? i'm putting nails in your shoes

- the rare and coveted tshirt ariya. phwew he's really uh. he's very. twirls hair. he's kinda

- ariya using a rose metaphor for himself teehee i love being very smart and always right about everything

- "i guess you don't think tony can do it on his own aye" is soooooo so so far from anything that has ever happened between tony and ariya that it's LAUGHABLE. ariya deserves to laugh in his face. cringe and fail broadway-musical-rock-of-ages-male-lead-understudy looking little man. no i'm gonna argue with the kayfabe enemy actually the WHOLE THING up to this point has been ariya trying to prove himself and the subtle tension of tony becoming champion where ariya never has, the only the ONLY time ariya has ever not believed in tony is when he had a full on spiral breakdown towards the beginning of the year when they were questioning splitting them up again for some fucking reason and then it got retconned because DUHHHHHH why would you ever split tony and ariya up just for fun or a giggle when they;ve got the most complex relationship on 205 if you re*you walk away knowing all of this already because you have heard this every week for the last three years but you can still hear me talking in the distance, talking and talking though no one is there...*

- obsessed with this promo actually...ariya's mannerisms are so good he's SO...FUN. i LOVE watching him. he is so self-assured and so charming and there is so obviously so much frustration buried like, an INCH deep beneath all of it. it takes grey pushing him ONCE for him to lose his verve. im SO interested in this

- the thread here is, of course, "you think tony can't do it on his own?" which, as i've stated, is so far from true or what ariya thinks that it's comic. when ariya spits, "of COURSE tony nese can do it on his own", there are a lot of factors at play. when he concedes that maybe instead of going out there, he WILL stay backstage, there's a lot going on there!!! there IS!!! *voice of an unwell person* there IS a lot going on - tony doesn't need to prove he can do it on his own, because he already has. ariya's storyline...like i mentioned, he had a weird moment at the beginning of the year, when it seemed like maybe he and tony were going to be split up. that was very much a moment of "okay the writing might change so it's time to set something up" of course but i think it's interesting to think about as a character impulse. ariya is working to prove he can do things on his own. this has BEEN his thing. he and tony are a team again, but ariya's tried to win with other teams and he's tried to win alone, and though he's successful more often than 205 would have you believe, he's still very shaky. tony has been allowed to work outside of the orbit of other people, and ariya hasn't gotten that chance as much. and, besides that, tony doesn't CARE about it in the same way ariya does. tony...when he gets intense, it's about interpersonal stuff. drew, buddy, cedric, akira, swerve. tony competes with people! ariya competes with himself. does that make sense. i know what i mean. its fine ariya...is on edge. he likes tony and he likes working with tony, but he hasn't been a competitor like tony is. tony's been very accomodating, stepping back or supporting ariya's feuds and allowing him to do What He Needs To Do, which means ariya can try to work alone without going completely rogue and sabotaging shit. when he tried to cut himself off from tony, it was...well it was retconned. but. that's what he's done before and this time it didn't work because ONE it's just tony and ariya, there's no exacerbating force, and TWO, tony and ariya are, after all, friends. tony wants to be friends with ariya and it is hard work to be friends with ariya but he will do it. so they work it out. and ariya is left feeling very very weird about it, and very very aware of how much he kind of depends on tony, when tony doesn't depend on him, at all. ariya tries to protect tony and gas him up and keep an eye on him to make up for All That He's Done Before and to feel like this friendship is two-sided (which it is, of course, friendship is more than a strategic advantage but that's how ariya's always approached it and it's a hard habit to break), but he doesn't have the wins to back up the feeling of being Worth It as a friend. it's...i feel like i just sound out of my gourd saying all of this lol and i am. but when ariya bitterly says, "of course tony nese can do it on his own." it's not just the anger at grey being a dickhead towards tony. it's also ariya being painfully aware that tony can do it without ariya's help. there's a threat in that statement, that question that doesn't need to be asked. there's an irony to it. its...think about it this way: if tony was talking to grey about watching ariya's match, grey wouldn't snark about if tony thought ariya could do it. you know?

- that doesnt make sense. whatever <3 im free

- wow love seeing kushida defending the title. imagine if that happened.....on.......205 live

- ariya literally getting successfully talked out of watching tony's match because he wants to show he believes in tony :( i'm hurt...i'm so hurt. so fucked up and twisted. by GREY too, ariya has kind of a BIT with grey huh. him cheating to pin ariya and then going noooo cheating is wrong against all other opponents. the way grey is super hypocritical and shitty to him and then to no one else. ariya almost respecting him for what ariya understands as Someone Who Gets It and then revealing oh no i just really don't like you and want to piss you off. this one dude who keeps targetting ariya specifically in all the ways that most drive ariya into a frenzy and he managed to hit him where it hurts the most enough to drive him into hiding. oughhhh aughhhh - everyone on 205 being a hater for no reason and seeing ariya trying to deal with his Issues(TM): hm. i can make him worse

- SUNFLOWER JACKET!!!!!!!! SUNFLOWER JIRO. PRECIOUS AND BELOVED. KING AMONG ALL CRUISERWEIGHTS. I DONT KNOW WHO ARIYA IS

- the exaggerated "BOO!""YAY!" cheers for jiro. who am i to say he doesn't deserve them. he DOES. we LOVE jiro. jiro is allowed to homewreck gold standard if he wants to i'll pretend not to see

- UNBREAKABLE!! AUGHHH HE'S SO COOL AND FUN AND HIS MIND IS SIMPLY BEAUTIFUL. jiro has such a fucking bonkers sense of like...dragging a move out. that man can MAKE a sequence! he gets the upper hand and he holds onto it for ages and the entire time its never dull. always with the momentum! always with the visualization of everything around him and how to make it into a show. i just simply think that jiro kuroshio

- HE'S DYINGGGGGGG NOOOOOOOO JIRO. TONY NESE YOU'RE A DEAD MAN. he looks great at this angle though love you weirdo. oh NO your jacket is NOT cool enough to pull this off fkshsdskd - jiro injecting some MUCH needed humor back into 205 thank you so much

- tony's stupid joth uniform next to jiro's sunflower pattern is SO good. fuckin goth v prep diagram dynamic. creamsicle blogging moments

- OH I LOVE A GOOD PIN. we LOVE a good pin don't we. that kick to tony on the apron ROCKS

- clearly you don't own an air fryer...

- OH HIS FORM IS FUCKING UNREAL. WHAT THE HELL!!!!!!!!!! JIRO KUROSHIO BABEY

- i REALLY like this match. this is 205 to me

- IS THAT A 205 CHANT??? IS THAT A 205 CHANT I HEAR??? OH????? WORM????? ITS BEEN LIFETIMES....................

- ooohohohoohohHOOO tony's recovery from the moonsault. that was. dare i say. Epic

- JIROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

- jiro treating mister nese like a little football. sorry anthony. perhaps you should just be cooler <3

- THAT WAS SO FUN......what a meaty episode this week. harkens back to 205 of old.............i love it. im loving this energy. jiro kuroshio you are going to save 205 i believe it

#205 lb #meta tag #long post -#sorry

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haileyyanneupton · 5 years ago

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close my eyes

CHICAGO P.D | JAY HALSTEAD X HAILEY UPTON

WARNINGS: MENTION OF SEXUAL ASSAULT, MENTION OF BLOOD

She had known for a while that he was her world. The way he looked at her made her stomach do backflips, every time his hands brushed up against her she would feel the tingling linger for what felt like forever. She would catch herself thinking about him all the time — after working herself into the independent and self-assured person she was, the fact that he was consuming her every thought was infuriating.

It had been a hard few days for Hailey. The intelligence unit had been working on a case involving a family who had been the subject of a robbery-turned-homicide where only one person survived — the seven year old daughter. Hailey had been the first one on the scene along with Vanessa after the two of them had offered to work patrol one night, the two women being the ones to discover the massacred mother and children. The mother had been raped and the surviving daughter sexually assaulted, leaving the intelligence unit to take on the case right after the crime scene was cleared.

"There was nothing we could have done, Hailey," Vanessa reminded the blonde haired woman gently after finding her standing over the sink in the locker room later that day. "They were gone before we even got there."

"There's a little girl who's all alone now. What's going to happen to her? She's only going to be thrown into the system and forgotten about — you of all people should know that."

"I do know that, but it still doesn't make it any more your fault."

"Maybe not. But I'm still the one who had to break the news to her today."

Vanessa frowned at the woman as she rubbed circles on her back comforting before giving Hailey some time alone, not knowing that Jay had been inadvertently eavesdropping from the other side of the lockers. As he came out and around, making his presence known, he watched as Hailey stared sadly into the basin as droplets of water fell from the forever leaky faucet.

She had always been there for him when he was going through a hard time. From flashbacks from his time in Afghanistan to when his father had passed away, his partner Hailey Upton could always be counted on for support. Hailey wasn’t one to show her emotions — Jay knew that — so seeing her standing here the way she was, so stressed and upset. . . it broke his heart. In more ways than she would ever know.

“Hey,” Jay’s voice was soft as he called out to his partner lightly. “You okay?”

Hailey flinched in surprise, though the motion was so slight that only she had noticed it. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m good.”

Jay seemed unconvinced, but the man didn’t want to push it. Hailey already seemed fragile enough to him since this case had started — it seemed that it had well and truly shaken her to the core.

“Well, you. . . you know if you. . . if you need anything. . .”

“I know.” Hailey forced a smile towards her partner as she ran her hands through her hair, turning to face him. “Thanks, Jay.”

As Hailey went to walk out of the locker room, Jay placed a hand on her shoulder in passing causing her heart to pound inside of her chest. At a time where it was crucial that she was on her a-game, a time where she needed to concentrate on solving the case, all she could think about was Jay and how much she was in love with him. How much she didn’t want to be in love with him, yet how much she loved being in love with him — the word love was floating around far too much in the woman’s mind. Never had she ever felt so vulnerable around another person, but with Jay — it was like her walls were melting down like hot wax and she wasn’t even aware of it.

In the end, the seven year old that Hailey and Vanessa had found at the house ended up having an aunt back in Indiana came and picked her up. Despite the fact that she knew now that the little girl had luckily avoided the system, despite the fact that they had put the guy who did this behind bars, Hailey still found herself feeling uneasy. She knew it was partly because of her feelings for Jay looming over her — after all, that one had been sticking around since before the case started — but the other part was something that left her hands shaky. You see some bad cases on the job — particularly in intelligence — but this one had hit her like a freight train and then dragged her heart along for the ride. The other part of what was leaving Hailey feeling unsteady was what she had seen that day with Vanessa. And while Vanessa could process it by talking to people about it, (Hailey knew that ‘people’ really meant Kevin though, and all of the nights she had come home after midnight after ‘talking’ really meant something else) Hailey wasn’t one to do that. She hadn’t ever been one to do that. In a way, it made her feel like a hypocrite — a quality she hated about herself.

Hailey was sitting at home alone one night later that week, part of her missing Vanessa as she went to go and ‘talk’ to ‘people’ for the third night in a row, when a knock sounded at the door. It had caught her off guard to say the least, the noise echoing through to her bones as she instinctively felt for the gun holstered on her hip, resting a hand atop of it just in case. It was always just in case with Hailey.

Keep a bottle of hand sanitiser in your locker just in case you need to clean your hands in a pinch. Keep an extra box of tampons in your purse just in case you, or someone else needs one. Keep a pocket knife in your shoe in case you need to cut something open. Keep your gun on you just in case someone attacks you. Keep your guard up just in case someone tries to stab you in the back. Keep other people out in case you hurt them.

Just in case.

The last one always seemed to do more damage to her than to others, but Hailey could live with that. She had lived a solitary life for so long, pushing away everybody — particularly the men — in her life for so long that whenever she considered letting someone in, alarm bells started ringing and her brain flashed red.

When she didn’t answer right away, the person at the door knocked once more, this time with a bit more force as Hailey snapped out of her trance and cautiously headed to the source of the noise. Standing up on her tip-toes to look through the peephole, the face of her partner staring back at her bought her anxiety down for a moment, before it peaked at an all time high once more. This was the first time since she had realised her feelings for the man that he had been to her house. Her house. Alone.

“Well, are you going to let me in, or am I going to have to get hypothermia first?”

A small chuckle escaped Hailey’s lips as she unlocked the deadbolt on the door and opened it up just wide enough for the man to come inside, a dusting of snow from the cold Chicago winter covering his dark hair. As the door closed once again with a distinct click, Hailey took notice of the bag in Jay’s hand and glanced between him and said bag with an eyebrow cocked.

“I bought drinks, but we’ll talk about that later. For right now, I want to know if you seriously were going to see how long you could make me stand out there before my heart stopped and I froze to death. Because if you were, well. . . that’s not very nice.”

Hailey rolled her eyes at Jay playfully. “Yes, I took a while getting to the door because the world just revolves around you. I couldn’t possibly be doing something that didn’t involve waiting for you, Jay Halstead.”

“I knew it,” Jay grinned toothily. “Anyway — I bought us some beers. Figured you wouldn’t mind the company considering Vanessa has vanished into thin air again.”

“She’s with Kevin.”

“She told you that?”

“Oh, hell no. I just know.”

Jay shook his head with a smile. “Of course you do.”

Hailey ran her hands through her hair before resting her hands on her waist comfortably, glancing up at Jay for only a moment before her gaze fell back down to her feet. Deep down, she knew why he had come. She hadn’t hidden the effect this case had had on her as well has she’d hoped, but she still wanted to ask.

“Why. . . Why are you here, Jay?”

Her attempt at making her question sound less harsh than it was failed miserably as his expression changed slightly, the sparkle in his eyes dimming as he stared at her with a hurt expression.

“I was worried about you,” he answered as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “I guess I wanted to check in on you.”

“Thanks, but I don’t need a babysitter.”

The sparkle dimmed some more. “I know you don’t, Hailey. I never said you did. Sometimes it’s nice to have company when you’re going through something — you’re the one who taught me that, remember?”

Hailey didn’t answer, instead shifting her weight awkwardly as she favoured her other leg and bought her hand up to her opposite arm, rubbing it absentmindedly.

“I’m okay, Jay. You can go home, enjoy your night. We just closed a case, you shouldn’t have to listen to me.”

“Are you kidding?” Jay moved closer to Hailey, their shoulder’s nearly touching. “Hailey, I’d listen to you talk about anything any day of the week. I just — I want to know you’re not forcing yourself to deal with this by yourself.”

“I don’t know what to tell you, Jay. I don’t know what to say. I’m figuring some stuff out.”

“How about a beer and a friend while you do?”

He was trying so hard. She could see that. Hesitantly, Hailey obliged to the man’s request as she nodded her head lightly, the sparkle re-igniting in his eyes. As Hailey and Jay both went further into the woman’s house, heading into the kitchen, they both took seats beside each other at the kitchen island as Jay pulled out the beer he had bought. It wasn’t overly cold but thankfully wasn’t room temperature either — it was just right for Hailey, who had always run cold already, especially in the winter.

Dropping the bottle cap on the island, the circular object making a metallic sound as it spun for a second or two before settling, Hailey bought the bottle to her lips and took a swing. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see her partner struggling to open up his own bottle which provided great amusement to the woman as she simply watched him try and fail. Finally he ended up sliding the bottle over to her with a pout, huffing when Hailey managed to open it on the first try without hassle.

“Show off,” Jay whined as she slid the bottle back over to him.

Hailey smirked at the man. “Grow some muscles then. Or are the ones you have just for show?”

“Don’t insult my muscles!”

Hailey cracked a smile as she and Jay shared in a laugh, each of them taking another swig of their respective beer bottles before Jay cleared his throat to begin to speak.

“Do . . . Do you . . . I mean you don’t have to but. . . do you wanna talk about it?”

Hailey recused back into her shell. “About what, Jay?”

“What’s bothering you. This case. Anything.”

A small yet still shaky sigh escaped her lips as she debated taking the man up on his offer. She wanted to get it out of her system — she needed to — but it was like she was repeatedly hitting some kind of brick wall every single time she tried. Start slow, she thought. Build up to it.

Slowly, she turned her head to face her partner but still refused to meet his gaze which held nothing but concern — though she didn’t know that. Jay just wanted her to be okay. He knew what it was like.

“What do you see when you close your eyes?” Hailey started, biting down on her lip nervously. “Because at the moment, all I can see is those kids dead on the floor. The bruises on that seven year old’s thighs. Blood. God, there. . . there was so much blood, Jay.”

Hailey bought a hand up to her mouth as she fought like hell to keep her tears at bay, Jay taking notice of the whites of her eyes slowly but surely turning red like they always did when she was about to cry. Jay had seen it only a few times before, but nonetheless — it was unmistakeable.

Jay placed a hand on Hailey’s hand, lacing his fingers in with hers as he gave it a quick squeeze for comfort. “It’ll be okay, Hails. It’s not your fault.”

“I thought once there was somebody who wasn’t me to blame, it would be easier. But it’s not.”

“I know.”

Hailey took another sip of her beer as she turned her head away, the tears that had been collecting having no other place to go but down her cheeks. Once the tears fell it was as if the floodgates opened, a hiccuping sob taking her off guard. As if it were an automatic response, Jay stood up and wrapped his arms around Hailey from behind as she sunk into him.

She couldn’t help but think about how safe she felt with Jay. How perfectly their bodies melted together as if they were made for each other.

As his arm rested across her chest, holding her close to him, he couldn’t help but think about how much he never wanted to stop holding her. Because when she was close to him, he felt full and complete — when she wasn’t, the emptiness stabbed his heart like a knife over and over and over again.

“I’m sorry,” Hailey muttered out between her strained, quiet cries. “I’m sorry, Jay.”

“Hailey, don’t be sorry.” His voice was soft and tender as his chin naturally found its place on her shoulder, the chair she was sitting on giving her a height advantage she wouldn’t normally have. “I’m here as long as you want me to be, alright?”

Hailey nodded lightly in response. She knew she wasn’t thinking straight, she knew she was probably going to regret what she was about to do. In fact, she probably should have called ahead to Platt to have her transfer papers drawn up. But before she could talk herself out of it, Hailey hastily wiped her tears from her face before peeling Jay off of her and turning to the man with an anxious expression.

“Jay,” she began, her heart pounding so hard she could feel it pulsing throughout her entire body. “I need to tell you something.”

His eyebrows formed a V shape as he tilted his head ever so slightly. “Yeah?”

“Please just promise me that you won’t hate me even though you probably have every right to and —“

“Hailey, just tell me. I couldn’t ever hate you.”

She gripped onto the kitchen island beside her, feeling weak as the words spilled out of her.

“I think — I think I love you, Jay. And I know you don’t feel the same, and I know that this probably changes everything between us, but I can’t pretend it’s not there anymore. Not when you’re hugging me the way you were and making me fall more in love with you with every second. You don’t even realise you’re doing it!”

Jay met Hailey’s eyes for a moment before looking away.

“I never got to answer your question about what I see when I close my eyes.”

Hailey grimaced at the man’s statement, her eyes filling with tears and her heart preparing to shatter. He was changing the subject — he didn’t feel the same way. He was avoiding what she had said completely, pretending the words hadn't left her mouth.

“Really, Jay? If you’re going to —“

“Hailey, stop,” Jay placed a hand on her shoulder as she shrugged it off. “Do you want to know what I see when I close my eyes?”

Jay was met with silence as Hailey stared at a fixed spot on the wall.

“It’s you, Hailey. It’s been you since the first time I ever saw you."

hi so this is my first published oc oneshot, i hope you all like it! i write a lot and have since i was little but i get really nervous sharing my writing with people uhhhhhh.... if you do like it and want me to publish some more please let me know because i’d be really happy to post more!!!

READ PART TWO HERE

#one chicago #chicago pd #hailey upton #jay halstead

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sunflowerhae · 5 years ago

Text

I’m not in love 🎆🌌

Collegeboy!haechan x female!reader

->A.

⚠️Warnings *PLEASE READ!⚠️

->this story contains heavy themes including drug abuse, alcohol, drug overdose, blood, self hate, character death, and a funeral. There is also strong language used by both major characters. Please continue with these in mind.

⚠️I will put an astric (*) when shit starts getting real.

“So what, do you not love me anymore?”

If it wasn’t the deep blue and dark red lighting illuminating the hallway full of drunk teenagers and one second love stories that made y/n feel claustrophobic, it was the fact that she was currently questioning the past two and a half years of her love life with Haechan, the guilty looking boy in front of her.

This party was supposed to be good for them.

It was supposed to be a chance to temporarily escape the struggles of their everyday lives as juniors in college, and give them an opportunity to actually see each other longer than an hour or two - something that was rare for them, what with y/n’s intense school and work schedule, and Haechans priorities in his fraternity, Nu Cappa Ti, and as the tailback of the schools football team.

Y/n and Haechan met the first week of college. Haechan was rushing for NCT, and y/n’s roommate just so happened to be fucking NCT’s president. When Haechan got a cut from being punched by a guy with a ring in front of a crowd of drunk college students, y/n was there to happily clean the beautiful boy’s - that had caught her eye from across the room, not even one hour before - face. From then on, y/n let herself fall for this boy that she knew was destined to break her heart, and haechan let himself become dependent on this beautiful girl that he knew would hurt him eventually.

But, for the past two and a half years, things had been going pretty okay. I mean, as okay as it can go for two twenty year olds in love, but no time to show it. That’s why this party was supposed to be a thing good for them.

And for a while, it was.

Until the clock hit 12am, and Haechan downed his fifth shot, while y/n sat in the corner of the room, looking pissed and feeling too sober for this shit.

She didn’t understand. She looked hot, the vibe was hot, and Haechan was looking fine, like always. She didn’t understand why he wasn’t talking to her. She didn’t usually go to these parties. She had had a problem with drinking and drugs when she was in high school, and had tried to steer clear of them since coming to college. She thought Haechan understood. And he did. Y/n told him about her past when they first started dating. Haechan never pressured her to join him at the mandatory parties his frat hosted that he had to attend, once every other week or so. He never forced her to drink with him and his friends during his birthdays, or any holidays. He loved her, and he genuinely wanted the best for her.

And that’s not saying that y/n didn’t sometimes engage in a shot or two, or that she didn’t sometimes do a line of coke when she had done particularly bad on a chem test. She didn’t see anything wrong with testing the waters of relapsing, as long as she didn’t go overboard.

As long as she didn’t overdose.

But this party was feeling pretty fucking dry to her, as she watched Haechan slam another empty shot glass on the table tennis top. She saw the eyes that the other girls at the party gave him, and she didn’t miss the smirks and eyefucks he gave them back. Yeah, y/n was feeling pretty upset.

And for once, she wanted Haechan to know.

The only logical thing she could think to do was storm over to him, grab his arm, and drag him away from his dumb friends and their dumb faces and the dumb whores at this dumb party that she stupidly attended because her dumb boyfriend asked her too, and she - like a dumbass - loved him, and would therefore walk off a bridge if he asked her to.

Haechan really wanted to forget that y/n was there.

He loved her, and he was aware that he was the one that asked her to come. But she could feel pretty suffocating when she sat in the corner, with crossed arms while glaring at anyone who caught her eye. Haechan wanted to have fun with her, but y/n didn’t want to be at the party - she wanted to be in her boyfriends arms while binge watching the HBO show “Euphoria” that everyone raved about. That was her version of fun.

However, neither of them would describe fun as yelling at each other in a darkly lit hallway of a smelly frat house at 1 am. One was too drunk, one was too sober; both were extremely pissed. Haechan would have said anything to get away from her at that moment, and y/n would have said anything to get him to stay.

“Look y/n, I think we might need a break.” In retrospect, Haechan was right. They did need a break from each other. Time to re-evaluate their relationship; their needs. But unfortunately for everyone, y/n had very easily replaced the emptiness in her heart from drugs and alcohol with her love for Haechan; and addiction is unhealthy- no matter what it is you’re addicted to.

“Why do we need a break? Why, do you not want to be around me?”

“Maybe not! I don’t know, y/n!”

“Well fuck you! I’m your fucking girlfriend-“

“-fuck you too! You’re fucking obsessed with me-“

“-I’m not obsessed with you, I just love you! I just want to be with you! Hang out with you, not this drunk half assed excuse of a man-“

“-oh what? And you’re such a woman? It’s not my fault you replaced drugs with me, y/n! That’s not my fucking fault-“

“-oh that’s rich coming from you! You’re fucking drunk right now, haechan! You’re a fucking hypocrite-“

“-I don’t want to be with you-“

“-what?” The silence between the two felt so suffocating and intense and loud, y/n couldn’t help but wonder if everyone else in the room was choking like her. The music was loud, and everyone around her was in their own worlds, but y/n and Haechan were dead silent, and that felt suffocating.

“You don’t wanna- you don’t wanna be with me?”

Haechan looked down at the ground, and scratched his neck. “Fuck, I don’t know y/n. I don’t know-“

“So what, do you not love me anymore?”

Haechan didn’t say anything.

The blue lights suddenly reminded y/n of a time in her life when she would wake up feeling like she was being choked every morning. and she wondered if she had just died, and this was her own, personal hell as the choking feeling comes back up into her chest. She could feel herself walk away from him, into the kitchen, where she immediately turned on the sink and splashed cold water in her face. She could see Haechan shake his head and walk away from their spot in the hallway, and she could hear a boy who she had Environmental science with ask her if she’s okay. She could see herself ask him to hand her the fireball bottle on his right, she could see herself drink the whole thing, then do some coke, then take some pills she didn’t even know the name of. She could see herself walk through the party with hazed eyes and focused gaze on the colored walls that seemed to be moving. She could hear her friends asking her where she had been in her ear, she could feel her feet moving around the living room, dancing with her friends to the music she’s never heard before. And when she paid just enough attention and sat just still enough on the couch with the almost empty liquor bottle cold against her thigh, she could feel her heart turning into liquid itself, and falling into her acidic stomach; never to be seen again. She looked around the room, trying to find the eyes of someone - anyone - who could comfort her; hold her. But all she got for comfort and affection were the hot tears that rolled down her face and the inability to stop her chin from wobbling as she broke down on the couch of a frat house at 3am, while the purple and red lights warped her vision to picture a happy life for herself, with Haechan, that she could see dripping down the drain.

Having just enough consciousness to know she had to find her boyfriend, she used the bottle to push herself off the couch, where she then threw the bottle back down and started shuffling around the still crowded party.

She eventually did find Haechan. He was sitting in the corner of a different room, surrounded by a couple of his frat brothers, a couple other friends of his, and a couple girls that were ready to step in and take your place in Haechan’s life at the drop of a hat - or better yet, at the drop of you. He was laughing at something Renjun - a good friend of yours, as well as Haechans - said, when you shuffled up to him and put your hands on his thighs, almost falling in the process.

“Haechan, haechan, I need help. I don’t feel good.” You looked like a crazy lady. You were looking at Haechan with wide eyes, and were repeatingly smacking his thighs with every word.

Haechan was more drunk that he was earlier, and he had had a bit of Jaemin’s coke at this point. He didn’t think you were being that serious, and he figured you were being helpless for no other reason other than you didn’t know what else to do to get him back. Also, he couldn’t help but let the poison from his frat brothers mouths - directed at you - earlier get to him.

“Get off.” Haechan took your hands off his thighs and threw them by your side. Everyone who was sitting around Haechan and his friends were looking on in interest, and as you looked around, you saw that only Renjun looked worried for you in the least bit.

“Haechan, please my stomach feels really fucked up and my head-“

“Just go to my room and clean yourself up. God you’re a fucking embarrassment, y/n.” Haechan hadn’t even looked at you yet, except for when you surprised and slightly scared him earlier when you walked up. He just rolled his eyes, and started whispering in the girl sitting to his lefts ear, something funny, seeing as she giggled and started giving you slide glances. You didn’t have to ask to know that you were the punch-line.

You gave Haechan one more look of surprise, and stumbled away from the group of 20 year olds with shaky hands and bugged eyes.

(*) Something Haechan thinks about a lot, later in life, is this moment, as he finally looks up and sees your back as you stumbled out of the room and to the stairs. He thinks about what he would have said to you, if he knew it was the last time he would ever talk to you. He had eventually come to the conclusion that he would take your warm hands in his, and just hug you. Just to feel your hot breathe on his neck, and your hands in his, one last time. He would have said he loved you, just to hear you say it back once more. He would apologize for the careless words before, and he would give you all the comfort you deserved, and then some.

Sometimes, on the random nights where he isn’t having a nightmare about you, he dreams of this moment. He dreams that he got up, ran to your figure already halfway up the stairs, and pulled you into his arms. He would run his hands down your hair, and drag you to the closest bathroom, where he would shove his fingers down your throat until you threw up into the toilet all the toxins in your system. He would be crying, and mumbling, “please survive this, please survive this, please survive this...” until you were no longer throwing up. He would dial 911, and force you to down a bunch of water bottles, before you were taken to the hospital, and saved. But everytime, before he got the chance to kiss you again, he’d wake up, and he’d be alone in the dark, like always.

You had stumbled up to Haechan’s room, and slammed the door closed with all the power you had in you, not forgetting to lock the door behind you.

You’re body felt like it was on fire. It felt like the acid in your stomach had expanded, and was spreading to every part of your skin, and burning you from the inside-out. You wanted to throw up, run to the bathroom, and faint all at once. You were trying your hardest - and failing - to cool yourself down by fanning you face with your hands. You looked into Haechans mirror on his dresser, and saw that you were not only sweating like a spy being interrogated, but your face was extremely red, and your makeup was running down your face. You pulled your hair into a makeshift ponytail, and ripped your shirt off as fast as you could.

You were surprised nobody could hear your moaning and whimpering from out in the hallway. You felt like screaming, felt like calling for help, but you couldn’t open your mouth without a groan coming out. You put your hands above your head and looked for something - anything - to focus your attention on. Your eyes locked on a photo of you and haechan that was taped to the corner of his mirror. It was taken over the summer before your sophomore year of college - although you remember it like it was yesterday. Haechan and your’s close friend group had a tradition of going up to Santa Cruz on the last week of summer, and staying at a friends beach house for a couple days. The photo was taken on the first night. You were all sitting on the beach at night; the bonfire you all wrapped around lit your faces. Haechan had only had one drink, and you opted for a coke. You were both extremely happy, as shown in the photo by both of yours large smiles. You remember that around an hour before the photo had been taken, you had given yourself to Haechan for the first time. You had been dating him for almost a year at this point, and you both felt like it was time. In the photo, haechan had his arm wrapped around you, and you had your head on his right shoulder. Your eyes were bright red due to the cameras shitty quality. Haechan had complained at the time about why Jaemin felt the need to bring not one, not two, not even four, but FIVE disposable cameras; but when the time came to look through the printed pictures, Haechan had a smile on his face and stole every single one with your face in it, par like four or five due to Jaemin’s yelling at him.

“We need y/n to be represented!”

“She can be represented by being here, though!”

“Haechan, she might not be here, ya know. You can’t tell the future.”

“Shut up. I’m going to marry her one day.”

You had never had a bigger smile on your face then that moment. Sure, Haechan had told you before that he wanted to marry you one day. But hearing him so willingly say to your friends that he was; that was big.

Now, you couldn’t help but fear that that would never happen.

You tore the photo off the wall, and started staring at it with tears running down your face. You were sobbing at this point. Sobbing so bad that you thought snot started coming out of your nose, yet when you went to wipe it and return your hand to the side of the photo, the blood trail on your hand let you know that it was indeed not snot.

“Shit shit shit,” you whimpered out.

You knew the signs of an overdose. You had to go to rehab when you were 17, and it was pretty fucking traumatizing. The worst part was when they filed you all into another white brick room with shitty lighting and flies buzzing around the tv, and taught you all the tell tale signs of an OD. You had nightmares after that for weeks. It was the only thing that got into your head enough to make you want to be sober. Just so that you wouldn’t have to experience that.

Looks like that plan was flawed.

You wanted Haechan. You needed him. You needed to get to him and tell him you needed a hospital. Yet, when your legs went to take a step towards the door, you finally felt it. You could feel your brain just, die. You fell to the floor - almost like fainting - and started convulsing. The last thing you felt was foom pooling out of your mouth, and the last thing you saw was the photo of you and Haechan, that day at the beach. Haechan’s wide smile brought you to a blissful sleep with open eyes.

(Please take a second to collect yourself before you continue reading. Thank you.)

Haechan was getting really fucking bored of this party. He had stopped drinking once you walked away, and that had been maybe three hours ago, so he was feeling way more sober. The sun was glaring at the mountains now, and peaking through on the town below. Upon looking at the time on his almost dead phone with a deep sigh, he saw it was nearing 6am.

Haechan regretted what he said to you. He hadn’t seen you since you walked away, and he didn’t know if you had left, or fallen asleep on his bed. He hoped it was the latter, that way he could cuddle up to you and silently beg your forgiveness for his drunken and harsh words. He finally started walking up the stairs after saying goodnight - or, good morning - to his friends; Renjun’s final words to him actually kind of scaring him.

“Dude, y/n didn’t look so good.”

“Eh, I’m sure she was fine. Probably tripping or something.” Haechan shrugged off Renjuns fear as he took another swig from his water bottle.

“Nah, man. She looked, like, really fucked up.”

When Haechan got to his door, he turned the knob, only to find that it was locked. Figuring you were asleep, he gave a couple hard knocks, so that it could jolt you awake. “Y/n, baby. Open the door. I wanna go to bed.”

You didn’t answer.

Haechan knocked a couple more times. “Y/nnnnn, wake up!”

You didn’t answer. It was quiet. Eerily quiet, actually. You were a light sleeper, and you couldn’t have been drunk, right?

Haechans knocks were a little louder, and a little faster. “Y/n!”

Haechan kept knocking for what felt like forever. He was slightly panicking at this point.

What was wrong?

“Y/n, this isn’t funny. Open the fucking door!” He was full on pounding now.

“Fuck this.” He mumbled, before turning around and walking through the party, which had significantly less people, but still quite a lot. Finally, he set his eyes on who he was looking for.

“Johnny!” He sternly called, while walking up to the drunken giant.

“Yyyahhhh?” Johnny laughed. He was surrounded by Doyoung, Taeyong, and Jaehyun, who were all older members of the frat; Taeyong being the president.

“Y/n locked herself in my room, and she’s not answering. Can you help me break down the door?” Johnny always saw y/n as his little sister. Haechan was the youngest member of the frat with a steady girlfriend, making y/n the youngest of the girls intertwined with the boys. Johnny, being the oldest member, always took a kind of protective role over her. He himself had a younger sister, and she was just a bit younger than y/n; therefore he had a small soft spot for her. At the sound of y/n possibly being in trouble, Johnny sobered up quite a bit, and gave Haechan a curt nod, before following him upstairs; the rest of the boys who were aware of the situation following him.

At the sight of the white door, Haechan’s stomach dropped like a rollercoaster dip.

What if y/n really was in trouble?

Johnny took a place on the right side of the door, while Haechan took the left. While he wasn’t the strongest out of the current men there, he wanted to be the first one in the door.

“Okay, after three. Ready? 1, 2, 3!”

Both bodies slammed into the door. It didn’t budge.

“One more.

3”

“Fuck! Y/n?”

“Baby! Baby can you hear me? FUCK! SOMEONE CALL 911!

Baby! Hey! DON’T YOU FUCKING DIE ON ME!” Haechan tried shoving his hands down your throat, he tried to give you CPR, - which he didn’t even know - but nothing worked. You had foam laying out of your open mouth, and your eyes were wide open, with your hands laying outward. Haechan caught site of the picture in your hand, and moved it out of the way, before grabbing your hand and bring it up to kiss it.

“Please. Please survive this.” He sobbed, while placing his forehead on your chest.

“Time of Death, 3:46am.” The words echoed in Haechans ears like a gunshot. He couldn’t help but hate himself. If he had actually taken her concerned words seriously, would she be alive right now? She was dead long before he got there, around two and a half hours, to be specific.

The words still echoed in his head while he stood in a bright graveyard in your hometown on a sunny spring day, your favorite season. The black suit he wore made him feel hot, but it didn’t matter to him. The huge bouquet of roses in his hands were heavy, but he didn’t care. Nothing mattered. Not when he couldn’t stop staring at your parents broken frames. Not when your older brother and sisters couldn’t stop crying and holding their loved ones, having just lost their baby sister. Not when Johnny couldn’t keep the tears in his eyes as he grabbed Taeyongs hand. Not when the weight of Renjun’s hand on his shoulder felt heavier than any bouquet Haechan would ever carry. Not when Haechan felt like the air in his lungs left, and wouldn’t return again. Not when he refused to cry until he was alone, because if he did, he wouldn’t know if he could stop.

Not when he felt like he just lost his soulmate.

He silently placed the roses next to your grave when the ceremony was done. He didn’t want to say much. He knew he’d be back here soon, anyway. He finally snapped out of his daze when he felt a soft hand being placed on his shoulder, and turned to come face to face with the lady that raised you.

“She loved you so much. She talked about you all the time. I was always worried about her when she left for college, but then she started talking about this boy she met who changed how she thought of the world, and then I met you, and I knew she was in safe hands. Thank you, Donghyuck. For giving my daughter a reason to live.” Your mom brought her handkerchief back up to her eyes, and wiped more tears that refused to stop falling. Your father, who was standing behind your mom, stepped forward and hugged Haechan, while mumbling in his ear “don’t be a stranger, please,” before grabbing his wife’s hand and walking towards the car. Haechan wanted to take their words to heart, really. But he couldn’t get the thoughts out of his head. When he had focused his attention on your moms tears, did you cry? When he couldn’t stop looking at your parents holding hands as they walked away, he would never be able to hold your hand again. When he was your father place a kiss to his moms forehead before opening her door for her, you died alone.

Haechan turned to hear his name being called by Taeil, a graduated member of NCT who drove him to the funeral, and shuffled to the car with his head down.

When they got back to the dorm, Haechan did what he had been doing for the past two weeks since your passing. He kept his eyes on the floor as he walked to his room, not being able to look at the door without going back to the last moment of blissful ignorance he had; yet he looked up when he went into his room, not being able to look at the last spot he saw you in. He flopped onto his bed with a sigh, and picked up the picture of himself and you on the beach, it being the last thing you consciously touched. He plugged in his AirPods, and put on the playlist you had made for him a year ago, that you added to whenever you wanted, like he did with yours. The intro for “Exist for Love” by AURORA came in, and Haechan finally let himself cry for the first time that day. He turned over, and inhaled the scent of your pillow on his bed. Haechan didn’t want to live this life anymore. He didn’t know what life he wanted, but this wasn’t it. He couldn’t stop thinking about it as he heard the door creak open. He knew who it was without having to look up. Wordlessly, Renjun, Jaemin, and Jeno all climbed in to the bed. There was literally no room for the four boys to comfortably lay down, but they liked it like that. It meant they had to hold and hug each other, which made the pain numb just a bit.

Haechan took a deep breath. He didn’t want to exist, but he would. He would continue to exist, because you didn’t get to.

Fin.

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