1d1195 · 5 months ago
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Ding - Round 7
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Read Ding here | ~4.6k words
Warnings: punching, fighting, fixing my cliff hanger from the previous part.
From me: This is the last part, but I tried to keep the ending open a bit so I could come back if you want 💕 thanks for reading this one. Hope you liked it!
Summary: Harry isn't the only one fighting the night of the biggest match of his career.
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Three minutes.
Each round was three minutes.
She thought over the last few months of watching Harry train had engraved a three-minute timer into her internal clock. Like her mind was able to simultaneously count out 180 seconds and continue working on whatever project she was tasked with at the time.
The crowd was so loud—just several feet behind a door. She thought about her phone. The one she left with Niall so it wouldn’t get lost while she tried to get towels, food, and use the restroom. Alongside Harry’s phone. Part of her believed even if she could have used it, Niall wouldn’t have heard it anyway. She straightened her back, standing taller and preparing herself. She pulled against his grip on her arm. Her heart was pounding but she felt it in her bones.
She could do this. She had to do this.
She heard Harry’s voice teaching her all the self-defense moves she had practiced for months in the back of her head. She thought about the classes, the training in her living room.
The goal isn’t to win. S’not a boxing match. Want t’minimize you getting hurt. Your only goal is t’get away safely. If y’get away, you’re gonna come find me, Cupcake. M’not gonna let anything happen t’you.
“What’s your problem?” She snapped.
“You told other girls about me?”
“No, I warned them.” He narrowed his eyes as he stared at her.
“You’re a bitch.” She tried to keep the nerves from getting to her.
She could run out the back door and try her best to get to the front again. Harry would understand. It would be better than being the sitting duck she was now. There was the whole no phone thing but at least the security guard would recognize her. He would keep an eye on her. No way he’d be willing to face the wrath of Harry for not doing so.
She pulled on her arm again trying to loosen his grip. She thought about the shower she took after their date. If it could really be called a date. Despite everything happening in the moment she had the intense desire to look up the definition of date because that could nothave been a date. A date had to have some sort of mutual feeling of companionship or amicable emotion. The way his body felt on hers made her skin crawl.
She didn’t want it then and she didn’t want it now.
“Let go,” she ordered.
“You’re—”
“I said let go,” she pulled hard, dragging both of them further back into the room but closer to the backdoor.
“Stop—”
“Let go, or you’ll regret it.”
He chuckled; it sounded sarcastic. Disbelief evident in his tone—even his short laughter. “What are you going to do?” He taunted. Honestly, part of her wanted to know the same thing. What was his plan? Attack her alone in the back of this place? It was obvious. Niall would come looking for her sooner or later. Someone would come back here because they needed towels. It was a matter of when not if. All she needed to do was hold him off.
Fortunately, she had been given all the lessons on how to do just that.
“Let go,” she repeated, feeling stronger than that awful night and more so than she had in the months since. “Harry—”
“Your boyfriend is busy.”
With a deep breath, she realized she had lost count of the seconds. Was the round over? She didn’t know. But she knew Harry was safe. Harry would never fuck around with consent. He said so himself. Harry was going to rip Jack’s arm off. Hell, Harry would rip his own arm off if she asked him to.
She narrowed her eyes at him. Clenched her jaw and yanked on her wrist in his hand again. “If you don’t let go, he’s going to see. Then you’ll wish you never touched me,” she vowed.
He smiled darkly. “He’s not going to see,” he promised.
Despite how much stronger she felt than the day she met him, she was still scared. Her stomach twisted; nausea ensued. There was a genuine fear growing inside her that felt very similar to how it felt right before she thought was going to throw up. The feeling rose to her throat, and it took all her control to swallow it back down. She inhaled deeply through her nose and brought all the steps and moves Harry had taught her in the self-defense classes to the forefront of her mind.
Jack was bigger, stronger, and way more terrifying than she was.
But she was determinedto get away.
“Let. Go.” She ground her teeth together tugging on her arm that she knew was going to bruise.
“Just—”
“I’m going to scream,” she could see the irritation on his face as she continued to interrupt him.
“Don’t you dare you stupid, little—”
She was glad her dominant hand was free and used it smashed her palm into his nose so hard she felt a crunch and was immediately met with a stream of blood. It poured immediately on her hand, and she should have been more grossed out but before she could think about it for long, she bolted back for the main room.
He groaned loudly but chased after her. He reached her at the door, grabbed her arm, and flung her back to the ground. She yelped as her body landed with a thud. Her head hit the ground making her wince involuntarily. She could hear people cheering. No one would hear her if she screamed. He knew that.
Harry wouldn’t get to her.
The mere thought terrified her.
She kicked. Making minimal contact with some part of him but did leave him incapacitated for just a moment—a moment she needed. He cursed lowly under his breath. Her mind was working at the same slow pace she crawled and clawed at the ground, blood dripping on her shirt from his nose as he stood over her clutching his groin. Harry told her the most vulnerable position she could be was defending herself on her back. She was mortified. Her adrenaline screamed through her veins.
The announcer was calling something about Harry and the match. There’s a ding, ding, ding signaling the end of the round or the beginning of the next. She didn’t know anymore. All she knew was she wanted to be in there. She wanted Harry to see her. She was certain he would stop in the middle of a round for her.
“You broke my nose,” He snarled.
It took every ounce of her self-restraint to keep her mouth from saying good with a smug smile. Her heart was in her throat. Clawing uselessly at the floor knowing she wasn’t going to get anywhere at that rate. She kicked again, trying to remember the training and the moves Harry made her practice in her apartment. Her instinct was taking over and arguably making it worse for her just as Harry had warned.
The air suddenly felt so thin. It was difficult for her to keep breathing steady—scared and anxious out of her mind. She could see little black dots in her vision with anxiety taking over. The roar of the crowd made everything she needed to do impossible to focus on.
But the little voice in her head had a nearly melodic British accent now. Slow, steady. Encouraging.
It screamed at her to get up and keep going.
She slammed her foot into his leg, just at his knee, knocking him off balance. He landed just as hard as she did. She knew he was going to get up quick, so she needed to be quicker. She leapt from the floor and burst through the double doors. She sprinted toward the ring. He was hot on her heels she could feel it, but she didn’t stop—couldn’t stop. Not when security shouted at her and not when the attention of people watching finally got them yelling for her.
She told Harry earlier that day she wasn’t lucky. But at that moment she was. Perhaps the luckiest person ever. She felt it in her bones, and she planned to thank every divine spirit in the universe when she reflected on it later. There was the briefest moment in every round right after the bell rang where there was the slightest down pitch in volume as the cheering stopped and people waited to see who would make the first move in the ring.
That moment happened the second she was close enough for her voice to carry the final distance to Harry. “Harry!” Her voice was cracked and broken but she knewhe heard it just because of the volume of her shriek. She believed everyone in the arena heard it.
She wasn’t quiet about it; just like Harry (and Louis) taught her. Her voice was so loud even the referee looked over and watched as the man chasing her grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked her back to the floor. Her head hit hard against the hardwood. Stars reappeared in her vision, and she wondered if this was what a concussion felt like. For a moment she was stunned. Forgot that she was supposed to be fighting for her safety. Defending herself. The seconds ticked by so slowly, she wondered if she was going to pass out. There was a deafening quiet, muffled shouting; like a scene in a movie where the hero is aware of her surroundings but can’t quite get a grasp on it.
It was weird it was happening to her in real time, and she blinked rapidly trying to get her vision to focus and her hearing to return. But she was able to register in her confused mind that she was in the main arena. Because even if Harry didn’t hear her, she knew that everyone saw him take her down to the floor.
That was the goal. To get away and find a crowd.
She did it.
“You stupid, fucking bit—” the sound came roaring back so loudly it felt like he was shouting right in her ear. But he was standing above her again still dripping blood on her clothing. His face was in her vision for half a second. But that was all he got. Half a second. It wasn’t an exaggeration. Her heart was flying so fast, so she knewhis smug expression was hardly in her scattered vision for a mere fraction of a second. Not even one whole beat thudded against her ribcage and then he was gone.
Once more someone was standing over her, but unlike moments before, she felt so utterly safe.
Harry was there. Like some Greek god scorned. She almost felt bad for Jack. Because the thought of being on the receiving end of the look she could only imagine Harry was giving made her shiver. Half-naked, his black shorts, his black gloves hung at his hips, and she could tell his hands were balled into tight fists inside his gloves. She could see the rise and fall of his shoulders even at her angle. The heaving breaths he was taking.
Briefly, he turned his neck, to look at her over his shoulder. His eyes were furious and wild. There was a cut on his eyebrow again—probably the same one that kept reopening without the proper time to heal. She could see the redness on his ribcage starting where she knew he’d be bruised like a peach in the morning. His jaw was sharp, teeth gnashed together, lip curled in a terrifying snarl.
He turned back to him, on the ground, holding his face with blood still pouring from his nose. “You goddamn piece of fucking shit,” he growled.
The adrenaline in her veins stopped working overtime. With Harry standing over her, his feet shoulder width apart straddled on either side of her legs she felt herself relax. He was ready to fight—of course he was. He was in the ring only moments ago. His stance was itching to punch someone. He had that look in his eye that he had in the first round. But now it could have been the fifth or six round that she had interrupted. She didn’t know because she wasn’t there to see and lost track of counting the seconds. “What did you do to her?” He snarled.
Reason began to return to her mind. Harry was going to kill him—which would really put a damper on their night if he went to jail or something. “Harry,” her voice broke hoping that maybe he’d just let it go. She was safe now.
But she also knew it was well past the point of return for her boyfriend. Someone hurt her. He saw it.
Harry wouldn’t take it lightly. Couldn’t. He promised her dad. He promised her.
“Harry,” Louis hissed sensing the same thing that she did.
“Oh shit,” Niall hurried to her. “Are you alright, Cupcake?” he cooed gently and tugged her from beneath the arms and out from under Harry’s threatening stance. Niall held her the way she wanted Harry to hold her. His hands were on her cheeks, assessing her quickly, searching for a signal that she was okay. “Is this you?” He asked, looking at the blood all over her shirt as he searched for the injury that caused it.
Harry was still heaving, waiting for his opportunity. Her voice was dead in her throat trying to answer Niall but the only word that would leave her mouth was Harry’s name. It made him even angrier; terrified and hurt that she was possibly hurt. So hurt she couldn’t respond to Niall’s question—a question that Harry wanted her to answer just as badly.
“She broke my fucking nose,” he growled, eyes intent on her even though he nearly had to peer around Harry to look at her.
The whole arena froze.
She couldn’t see Harry’s face any longer, but she could sense a pleased smile was on his lips. Niall glanced away from checking her over as the smile passed over his lips as well. Hiding how happy he was that the blood was not hers. Louis, despite how pissed he was at Harry, couldn’t help the little smile that graced his face, either; proud that she used his lessons to help herself.
She swore everyone in that arena was smiling.
Harry turned back to her in Niall’s arms and winked at her. “That’s my girl,” he said proudly.
In spite of how scared she was, how sad she was, how much her head hurt… nothing but pride filled her body in that moment.
Then Harry lunged for him.
*
It took Niall, Louis, and Harry’s opponent from the ring to pull him away from pummeling him beyond recognition. Niall had nearly dropped her after he lunged. Grabbing his arms before he could do more damage than two punches. Louis suffered at least one punch to the face himself which she was sure was going to be returned in kind during Harry’s next training session. It would probably do Louis wonders to just punch Harry once and for all.
But naturally, it was her that stopped him. Her head ached and she wanted to lie down but she stood anyway. As Harry fought tooth and nail to be released from the hold of his friends and opponent, she stepped in front of him catching his murderous gaze. “Harry please,” she pleaded her eyes watery with all kinds of emotions coursing through her. She was wobbly on her feet, and she felt a little nauseous fearing her head injury was worse than she thought without all the adrenaline flowing through her. She put a hand on her head and winced in pain while trying to keep herself from swaying in front of him.
There were police and security guards and all kinds of shouting. But Harry finally saw her, his breath was shallow, his opponent from the ring was standing in front of him as well; a gloved hand pressed to his chest while Niall and Louis held each arm forcing him back. But it was her voice, her tear-filled eyes, that made him stop. His breathing started to slow. He swallowed hard, glaring at the opponent he wanted more than the one that was in the ring only a few moments earlier.
He gave Louis and Niall a shove. “M’alright,” he snapped and pushed his opponent out of the way. Within two seconds she was in his arms. Feet floating off the ground and he swore he never heard the crowd cheer for him the way they did then.
Harry didn’t even revel in it. He loved boxing. It was cathartic for him. Competitively, he was good at it. But he wanted nothing more than to not be in that arena and never come back. Her body was warm against his skin. He was cool with sweat. “Let’s go, Cupcake,” he murmured in her ear and started back for the locker room.
*
Harry was disqualified from his match. A single “1” in his loss column that upset her more than it did him. He was icing her hand and arm where his fingerprints left bruises. He kept rubbing her shoulders, her temples, and any of her muscles that ached in her back without the hormones that dulled her senses during her own fight. The intensity of it all, all that adrenaline subsided and made her body crash. All her muscles ached with the notion something happened.
And she stopped it.
Harry, despite everything, could not stop smiling as if she had boxed her own match and won. “I’m so proud of you, Cupcake,” he murmured and kissed the back of her achy head. It was sore from where it hit the floor (twice—once harder than the other). Louis deduced she did have a concussion; so, Harry was doting on her as if his life depended on it. Now that they were home in his apartment, he was much calmer—surprisingly. Granted, inside his home was safe. She imagined anywhere in public he was going to turn into a bit of a crazy person when it came to her safety. Honestly, she couldn’t wait to see him in action. She didn’t want him to act insane, but the worry was nice in his own way. (Plus, she was pretty certain she could get him to relax with the promise of kisses.) “When you’re able to, I want to know everything.”
“I don’t like punching,” she told him wrinkling her nose even though he couldn’t see her. He chuckled.
“I know, kitten.” He shifted her in his lap so she was propped against the armrest of his sofa, her legs strewn across his thighs. Now he could see her face. His smile was lazy, adorable, boyish once more. Hard to believe someone so cute could be terrifying when needed.
“I broke his nose,” she reminded him quietly.
“I know, Cupcake,” he answered tiredly. His own body was sore, his mind exhausted. She could see him practically snoring while talking his eyes turning to slits as he tilled his head against the back of the couch. One arm draped over the front of her body protectively. His other hand pulled at her hair gently as possible, massaging her scalp where he knew that horrible, moronic man yanked it hardest when she was running from him. “M’so proud of you,” he murmured.
Her cheeks turned pink under his praise, but she remained silent for a moment. “I’m sorry you were disqualified,” her frown was deep.
“Kitten,” he tutted opening his eyes at the same time, a renewed sense of energy had him looking at her with such disapproval. He leaned forward and kissed her softly on the cheek. “Nothing’s important as you,” he promised, a frown touching his lips.
“But you were undefeated, it bothers me.”
“I know,” he closed his eyes again—maybe the smallest part of him feeling bad for himself. “But it doesn’t bother me, Cupcake. I’d rather lose m’undefeated record for this than ever let something happen t’you. Rather have a losing record. Far as m’concerned, m’still undefeated. Honestly, y’should see the other guy,” he smirked ruefully. She watched his gentle breathing, felt the soft pull of her hair on the back of her head, and she bit the inside of her cheek.
“I wish I could’ve—”
“Uh-uh, Cupcake,” he interrupted, his voice quietly on the edge of sleep. His mind reeled with the thoughts from the locker room.
Harry paced, still angry beyond belief. He settled her on the bench that he usually sat on after a fight. His doctor and Louis looked her over. “She hit her head hard on the ground,” Louis murmured looming over the doctor’s shoulder as he examined her eyes. Harry punched the locker nearby creating a dent the size of his glove. She flinched at the sound as he paced. The doctor didn’t move.
“Twice,” she offered weakly.
Twice? He growled low in his throat. Niall was right beside him in case he tried to make a break for it and find him again. Niall planned on tripping Harry worst case scenario to keep him from leaving.
“Twice?” Louis repeated curiously. “Shit, babe,” he frowned. Harry punched the locker two more times, making her flinch again. “Harry, she’s already scared out of her mind,” he snapped angrily. Harry was still pacing. Niall paced alongside him, trying to keep him calm. Her eyes locked on Harry as he paced, and the doctor looked her over. She felt like she was blinking a thousand times per second. But she couldn’t tear her gaze away from Harry.
“Do you have any other injuries?” The doctor asked. She shook her head.
“Just my head.”
“You’re sure? This is a lot of blood.”
Harry growled again. She glanced at him nervously again. “S’not mine,” she whispered reassuringly.
The doctor smirked, patted her knee as he nodded. “Good girl. Harry, you taught her well,” he assured. “Ice. Harry, I am to presume you’ll be her bedside nurse? Concussion protocol, wake her tonight, every couple hours, and pain meds. Call me if there’s an issue.”
Harry was still fuming. “Can y’drive her car t’my place?” He asked Niall. He nodded solemnly, afraid of angering him further. “Get these off me,” he held out his hands feeling frustrated that Niall didn’t move faster to get them off. He wanted to cradle her face and massage her achy muscles. He wanted to kiss her pain away and hold her until he felt she was better. She was only vaguely aware of his frustration. Louis was tending to her while Niall cut the tape off his wrists, nipping his skin with the scissors because Harry refused to sit still.
“Here you are, love,” Louis was gentle, cupped the side of her head as he sat in front of her and placed an ice pack on the back of her achy skull. She blinked unsurely, eyeing Louis suspiciously.
“Do you hate me?” She asked, tears filled her vision without her realization, and she heard Harry snort.
“Jesus Christ, Cupcake,” she could hear the way his eyes rolled. Niall snorted.
Louis chuckled, shook his head. “Not at all, babe, why?”
“He lost because of me.”
“He could lose a thousand times because of you,” he assured her. “Your safety is most important.”
She took a deep breath and sighed. “He’s late because of me too.”
“He was late before you came along,” he promised. “Also, I like those Oreo brownies you make more than him,” he winked.
Harry smiled as she did. He could see her adding it to her mental list of goodies she would need to make.
“Harry, baby?” She whispered. Pulled him from his thoughts—fortunately so. He didn’t want to think about how much her head hurt.
“What, Cupcake?”
“I love you.” He smiled up at the ceiling, eyes still closed. Like it was new to him to hear her say it and it was just his dream telling him she loved him.
Right as he inhaled to say it back, his phone rang beside him. One eye peeled open and then the other as he looked at the number. “’Lo?” He asked, pressing the speaker button.
“Hey, Harry?” The voice at the other end asked. She didn’t recognize it.
“Speaking...”
“Is your girl okay?” He asked.
Harry looked at the phone curiously, he glanced at her and then back at the phone. “Yeah. She’s fine. Broke his nose.”
“Good girl,” his voice was quiet, but there was an air of pride in it as well. She blushed at the compliment, remaining silent while she listened in.
“Yeah... Listen... s’been a long night. Can y’tell me what y’want? Was it t’gloat?”
Her lips parted, realizing the man at the other end that earned the coveted one in Harry Styles’ loss column. Because of her. (Although she knew Harry would tell her it wasn’t her fault if she said that out loud.) “Right, sure. Sorry. Listen... M’glad she’s alright. Sorry it happened. But... anyone with a brain and two eyeballs knew that wasn’t a fair loss. Anyone would have stopped in the middle of our match. Hell, I almost stopped for her,” Harry waited for the point of saying all this. He squeezed her shoulder and brushed his lips across her cheek. “So... I want a rematch.”
Harry straightened, his hand falling limp behind her back. “A rematch?”
It was quiet. “I want to win the right way.”
Harry smiled; excitement danced in his eyes. Gently, he squeezed her knee. “Y’mean lose the right way,” he taunted.
He chuckled on the other end of the line. “We’ll see, I guess. Yeah?”
Harry hung up. He turned to her, kissed her on the forehead, and smiled. “What do y’say? Y’still want t’be m’good luck charm, Cupcake?” He pulled her into his lap and buried his face into her neck. Like he belonged there.
“You still think I’m a good luck charm? After today? Hell, since the day I met you? I’ve been nothing but a headache. Clay is dented because of me. You had to teach me how to defend myself. I’m whiny and injured and—”
Harry didn’t seem to register anything she said at all. “M’the luckiest man alive t’have you, Cupcake. Will y’be m’good luck charm, still?”
She stopped listing her faults. It didn’t seem worth her time. “Of course, Harry,” she smiled.
“Y’think I can go the distance?” He asked.
Honestly, the thought of Harry getting punched for twelve full rounds still scared her. It was a lot for her to watch him do five or even three. “Maybe not all twelve,” she hedged with a giggle. “Want you in one piece at the end, baby,” she reminded him.
“Ye of little faith,” he frowned, grumbling. She giggled and Harry couldn’t help but smile at her. His lips quirked into a shy grin, and he pressed his face back into the crook of her neck. “Well, one round?” He asked. She swore she heard the bell in his voice as he asked. The start of a new fight, a new set.
“No,” she shook her head, pressed her lips to his hair just next to his ear. The only space she could reach while he was tucked in her neck. “I’ll go the distance with you,” she assured him.
Maybe the concussion was playing tricks on her. But she swore she heard a bell as he smiled against her skin.
Ding.
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bisexualfemalemess · 1 year ago
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“Rina copied pw/rini scenes”
I’ve seen this and “Gina is like the new nini.” all over my TikTok fyp from rinis and pws and it’s simply put not true. There are parallels yes, there are some with madlyn and rina too, doesn’t mean they copied but there are huge and important differences.
Gina is canonically ambitious, her mom wants her to have a successful career. Gina canonically has always wanted to make her mark. It’s not ‘copying’ nini because she’s finally found a chance to do so. It’s not copying nini that she finally got gabriella because Gina parallels gabriella more, they’ve both moved a lot in their lives and were outsides to east high. The most important difference is that gina actually made a compromise to stay. She wanted to stay in salt lake but she also wanted to become a movie star so she found a way to be with ricky, stay in salt lake and still get this incredible opportunity. Nini didn’t make a compromise.
Rina canonically parallels Troyella with the outsider to east-high and outsider to theatre trope, except rina doesn’t need couples therapy in 15 years but you grt the jist. Ricky was extremely giddy and in love with gina for the entirety of season 4 he spent around her. Ricky was so supportive of her when she took over the role of bailey, hr decorated her trailer and recited her confession back to her when he saw that she was nervous, I don’t think he ever wrote a duet with with nini for which he provided the music and she the lyrics, and then told her that he wants to hear everything she has to say or that he never forgot a thing she said. Neither pw nor rini ever had a puppy date or secret dating trope that lasted half the season. They didn’t get a rain kiss and GINA SIGNED UP FOR THE MUSICAL BECAUSE OF RICKY. He ‘had a vibe’ and she ‘had an instinct’. Even in the final two episodes, rina get backstage and onstage kisses which neither rini nor pw got. He literally practiced his “i love you” speech to gina because he wanted it to be perfect, he didn’t for nini. One very important difference and parallel is the potential moving away, Ricky was so supportive once he found out FROM GINA’S MOTHER NONETHELESS and she wanted to tell him from the beginning once they went to meet up in the dressing room. (quinn had to ruin that.) And other that nini, who had already come back when ricky told her to stay and still made a fuzz about it, Gina wanted ricky to ask her to stay and stayed without ricky asking her. Gina never told ej that he “made her feel seen, and known, and understood.” while crying hysterically before she’s about to leave him. Another very obvious and important parallel is the i love you song and once again that was handled a million times better, Ricky was saying “i love you” first. It was not a hail mary or trying to fix what’s already broken like it was when he sang itikyk for nini where he wasn’t actually able to speak out the words. Every single line in that song was how ricky felt and how rina felt about each other. Ricky was actually able to say i love you and not even that but that he was also in love with Gina and that they’re love was forever.
Stay mad that your ship sunk but don’t make-up stuff to feel better and stop saying that sofia wylie only became the main character because olivia left. Just say you don’t want black girl representation and move on. Ricky and gina are gonna adopt a bunch of puppies and get married in 10 years no matter how many times y’all say that they copied your ships scenes and that it only happened because liv left because “their love feels a lot like high school and forever after that.”
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bloodbankzz · 5 months ago
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i just dropped the invisible kingdom: reimagining chronic illness at 83% read because i am fucking furious with it. within the first few chapters i immediately had a bad feeling about her penchant for pseudoscience and i shouldve trusted my fucking intuition. instead i foolishly thought she would tie it all into how desperate populations can fall into the hands of grifters under the uncaring gaze of a "healthcare" system under capitalism and in the usa especially by the end, and FOOLISHLY, FOOLISHLY, FOOLISHLY recommended it TO AN ABLED PERSON to help understand the mental toll it all took even in the most ideal of circumstances. just to fucking watch this woman pile on dubious science after dubious science while she jet sets AROUND THE FUCKING WORLD spending what would easily be hundreds of thousands of fucking dollars AND NEVER EVEN BEING FIRED FROM HER JOB DUE TO DISABILITY? she just keeps her fucking dream princeton fuckin writer job the whole time. interviewing quacks because she was scammed, and she was scammed a lot. and im sorry to her for that. but not really because fucking ozone blood whatever and flying to england for fecal transplant and supplements and supplements and supplements and obvious orthorexia were clearly very within her budget. can you imagine a world where you rack up thousands and thousands and thousands in credit card debt and it just ends up not fucking mattering? oh my god i could be mad for so long at how much this rich woman got to see top doctors (without insurance!) and experiemental procedures and this and that and that and that with EXTREMELY sketchy conclusions because ~ shes a poet at heart ~ (?????????) AND THEN PUBLISH IT LIKE SHE SPEAKS FOR ANY OF US? reimagining chronic illness?????? for who????? no i can QUITE easily imagine that rich people do indeed have the ability to buy their way into health no matter what stupid path that leads them through. that happens all the time! remember the son blood infusion guy? god. im so fucking angry and its all of this but i really was gonna fucking put up with it and just add caveats but do you know what she fucking does?
after months of antibiotics, her lyme disease is seemingly cured. great for her. she reflects on how freaking awesome it is to have a body that works again! my body was broken and now its fixed and i can have a baby. im human again.
now this whole time, as someone who has been sick my whole life and will never have the money or life she has, i had been listening, and feeling seen by her emotional plight (if extremely skeptical of her... favored... choices?) but the whole time i will not lie to you i was simmering with this now exploding anger due to a deep envy. i am envious of a lot of people though, specifically because of my disabilities. so i was swallowing it. she got to make it to adulthood before she was dying. she got to establish and keep her career of choice. she could see any practioners she wished. i was so painfully jealous, but again, i was still recommending it on the basis of "this is how bad it is for the luckiest one of us." the betrayal i felt, when this book that kept SAYING it was about finding the ability to live in uncertainty brought on by mysterious illnesses, which i put up with through so many fucking red flags, ended with her literally fucking fine? pretty much fucking cured of the big thing causing her problems? AND IT TURNED OUT? THIS WHOLE THING? WAS ABOUT HOW MUCH IT SUCKS TO EXPERIENCE CHRONIC DISEASE FOR SOME YEARS AND HOW GREAT IT IS WHEN YOU DONT ANYMORE AND YOU GET EVERYTHING YOU WANT?
she gets to feel human again. thats so fantastic for you. do you know what that makes me?
this would not be a big deal in a memoir about one womans decade(?i think) long struggle to get better and happy ending. neither would the glaring lack of real social justice & meaningful critique of a system aside from how it sucks for her specifically with a tiny bit of lip service for the rest of us with MASSIVE, GLARING BLINDSPOT OF PRIVILEGE unescapable in everything she fucking says and does. however. i would not have read that book. i picked up a book called Reimagining Chronic Illness. and i expected it to be about reimagining chronic illness. perhaps, starting from an empathetic touchstone of personal struggle.
0/5 all i wish is that i had trusted my fucking gut or that this book wouldve had the decency to show me what it was SEVEN FUCKING HOURS AGO. i can tell why an ableist society showered it with praise.
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stagemanagerssaygo · 4 years ago
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Heaven and Hell: or my experience being a person of color in Disney’s Hyperion Theater
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by Cooper Howell
Heaven and Hell: or my experience being a person of color in Disney's Hyperion Theater. #holdingtheateraccountable Im just gonna go ahead and be straight up. This is pretty scary to share. HEAVEN: Once upon a time Liesl Tommy cast me as Prince Hans in Frozen: Live at the Hyperion. And I was gooped. GOOPED. There was nothing in my prior history that gave any indication this was possible. Up until then every role I played had to do with my race. Every. Single. One. And even ones where it didn’t (Shakespeare or classical pieces mostly) I was always made aware that the novelty of me being a poc in that role that gave me the part. So much did I not expect to get this part that when I got the callback I rolled my eyes and didn’t take the actual callback seriously. I mean, there was a zero percent chance that Disney would ever let me play a Prince, especially when the dude in the movie is a ginger. But then I got it. And immediately everything I thought was possible about my career changed. My whole life I’ve never inwardly felt black. I’ve never inwardly felt white. I’ve always felt like I was Cooper, you know, on the inside. But whether it was every single white human in Utah reminding me that I was “the whitest person they ever knew/saw” (which DIDNT mean how white my skin was. It was how white I ACTED) or Mr. Johnson, my 7th grade drama teacher, telling me that he “wanted to put Velcro on the ceiling to see if I’d stick” or Mr. Smith, my high school drama teacher, saying “finally we can do black shows” as soon as I entered high school and then not casting me in roles because of the "optics" of it, or even my best friend in high school Tanner Harmon who called me "blackie", I was always reminded that I was an other. So imagine getting paid good money to put on that $10,000 costume and waltzing out to 4000 people a day to play a really amazing part. A fantastic, evil, complicated, person who sings a killer duet and then grabs the show by the throat with a vicious about-face monologue... and not once was my race ever mentioned cuz it didnt matter. What was being prized was Cooper, my talent, not my skin color that I never asked for. Heaven. Liesl MADE SURE, almost overly sure, that the poc’s in the cast felt equal. The kingdom of Arendelle, after all, is a make believe place. It can be whatever. From having Disney executives come and tell us that they were happy to have us there, to side conversations with John Lasseter, we were made to feel overly welcome playing the parts we were playing. She encouraged us to dive deeper into the script of a cartoon that I didnt really think much of until I was in it. We were encouraged to ask why. We felt seen as talent and not commodities. There were, of course, detractors. Gosh, I remember people at a party of cast members from "Mickey and the Magical Map" another show at Disneyland which features a princess and the frog number and many of those casts mates angrily claiming that “if that black girl Tiana Okoye can play Elsa than I should be able to play Princess Tiana” and then looking at me to confirm that was okay to say, not realizing that a) she’s one of my best friends, b) that I’m in the show with her also playing a role that wasn't created to be a poc, c) how racist that sounded, and d) why there's a difference there and why that wouldn't make sense. On Liesls final night I came up to her and said “I don’t know why you did it but thank you so much for casting ME in this part” to which she replied “you mean why would I cast a handsome, talented person in this role?” And I stuttered something like “well, I mean, I’m black. You know...” to which she tilted her head to her side and said “no. I don’t know why. Tell me why that matters.” And I had no answer. Seeing that I had no answer she smiled. That was the answer. There was no reason. On the spot my outlook about myself changed. Windows into what I thought was possible for me opened. -------------------------------------- HELL: And then Liesl went back to NYC and she was replaced by a man named Roger Castellano as show director. Rogers task, he told us on the first day, was to "change the show". We were not told what needed to be changed or even why, but that changes were on the horizon. You've got to understand: to a full cast of actors who had just spent more than three months dissecting a 60 page Disney script with a Tony nominated director like it was Shakespeare, we were initially emotionally/mentally/spiritually resistant to changes. But then it became clear that the spirit of collaboration was over, and the show changes were to be given without the same care, consideration, and thematic explanation of why they were being made. Everyones initial reaction was to push back, but when people who questioned their notes or their changes started getting days removed their schedule or being replaced entirely by a new actor, the Hyperion theater became a place where no one was allowed to speak out. Injustices were happening left and right and no one felt they could do anything for fear of losing their livelihood. And that's when the Frozen: Live at the Hyperion became a living hell. In my first note session with Roger he pulled me into a room with Domonique Paton, my best friend and incredible costar who played princess Anna in the show I was in. She just so happens to also be black. Almost all of Prince Hans’s scenes in the show are with her character and so most of my notes would be primarily based on those interactions with her. Earlier in the day I performed with a different (white) actress but it was the show with Domonique that I had a note session about. Imagine my surprise and dismay when, with how Liesl set up the show experience, we were told this: “WHEN THE TWO OF YOU PERFORM THE SHOW TOGETHER ITS TOO… URBAN.” Urban. What else could that have meant, do you think? He could have said maybe “too contemporary” emphasizing that we were maybe too modern in our speech patterns or movements. We weren’t. He could have said “too lax” or “too loose” meaning that maybe we were being unprofessional and goofy up there because we’re really good friends. We were not. The best me and Ms. Paton could think of was a 8 count moment of improv dance that me and Domonique decided to use as a synchronized moment of unity. It happened to fall on the line “our mental synchronization can have but one explanation” and thought, with the freedom that Christopher (the original choreographer) had given us, was appropriate, especially considering everyone behind us was doing the robot. As in the 80s robot. But he didnt clarify. He just said “WHEN THE TWO OF YOU PERFORM THE SHOW TOGETHER IT’S TOO… URBAN” And when asked what he meant he smiled with a little shrug and said "you can figure that out. You're smart." And thats how I became Black Hans and Domonique became Black Anna. My every moment onstage afterwards became about the optics of being a poc in that show. It was if I was suddenly made aware that I was LUCKY enough to be there and under any normal circumstances, or this new directors circumstances, me getting this part would have never happened. But the message was clear. It was especially clear when me and Domonique Paton shows together durastically decreased and made even more clear when the vast majority of the new hires were not people of color. But no one said anything. And made even MORE clear when, over the next few weeks, both Domonique and I got COPIOUS notes, ten times that of our coworkers that played the same parts. It was almost a game. In fact we did turn it into a game, seeing who would get the least amount of notes from him in a day. Our costars would even joke about it onstage with us, during the ballroom scene, and jokingly whisper "The shows been up 15 minutes. How many do you think you got today?" But no one said anything. And the notes were about all kinds of things. How we held our hand. If our inflections went up or down on a word. Which side of a couch we leaned on… which was fine! When you're an actor, thats the gig... until we started comparing our notes with the actors that played our same parts and none of them, NONE, would get the same notes. Our notes would be outrageously longer, the note sessions sometimes lasting 10/15 minutes. Others would get the “Oh hey, try doing this or that next time, okay bye” walk-by notes. Sometimes I would sneak into the audience and watch as some of the other Han's, some of whom changed lines, changed entire intentions of scenes, some of whom adding in all types of vocalizations and cackles and dance moves and what have you, and would receive ZERO notes. But I was watching them to see what was wrong with me. What was my performance missing? What am I actually doing to feel this singled out. And then I realized that the thing that was wrong with me was that I was a different color than the 5 other white Hans's they cast. And then I started getting notes about my penis. Most of the time these “penis sessions”, as I called them, were given in private rooms without another stage manager present. It was incredibly unpleasant and unprofessional. In fairness, those Prince Hans pants are TIGHT! And yes, Mr. Howell is indeed a party in the front and a party in the back, but so were a lot of those fellas. And thats where I put my foot down. If Disney was going to provide me with a costume it is not my responsibility to fix their problem, especially when other of my (white) costars had been given a dance belt for the same thing. But they never got penis notes. Private session notes about what their penis looked like in that show. Over and over again I was told to fix it, to not make it (my dick) so apparent, and that “if my daughter were younger I wouldn’t want her to come to a show you were performing at" all the more insulting considering his daughter, a cast member in the show, was a friend of mine and the loveliest person. He started demanding that I buy a dance belt. It was “my fault”, “my responsibility” …and thats where I took my stand. And then it really became hell. Penis sessions were now done out in the open. Once, he screamed at me, in the green room in front of all of my costars during lunch, about how incredible unprofessional I was, about how he was tired of seeing my dick, and that if I didnt go buy myself one I didnt deserve to be there anymore. Followed by a huge litany of notes. That doesnt compare to some of what Domonique went through and I invite her to share them if she’s willing. During this time I went to every stage manager in the building and told them about being singling out and about my penis. They all told me to write a complaint report and it would go to some place called "HR". Which I did. Numerously. More months passed. Nothing from "HR". Multiple cast members who witnessed my note sessions encouraged me to go to the HR themselves. I didnt honestly know what an HR was. As soon as it was explained to me by my allies even what an HR was I went to the head of HR at Disneyland herself and waited outside of her door. I asked her if she got any of my HR reports and she told me that she had received no HR reports from the Hyperion. Ever. And then asked me to fill out a HR form. As we went over it, she asked me some questions, and then set up a second meeting. On the second meeting she said that in order for my report to be given credence I would need witnesses to give their testimony. The witnesses, in fact the very people that told me to go to HR in the first place, said no. They didnt want to lose their jobs. In retrospect that might be the thing that hurt the most but, whatever... anyway, I was told "“well… without testimonies we’ll do an investigation and we’ll call you when we’ve completed it.” I never received a phone call. With absolutely zero protection from the stage managers from both the sexual harassment or my obvious racial targeting I (and others) were experiencing, not to mention that HR reports were doing nothing, aka not being forwarded, I thought about quitting. And when a white stage manager made a show mistake and laughed it off to the cast by saying an entirely offensive lynching joke, I quit. I didnt matter to Disney. How I felt and what I was being put through didnt matter. I was a commodity. My departure was unceremonious. Bizarre. 100% un-magical. I hung up my costume one last time and it was given to a new Hans, one who looked very much like me oddly, and stepped out of the theater. The park was playing “every wish your heart desires will come to you” and I remember laughing at how dead that song felt. The director has since moved on but still works as a musical theater director in Southern California. This one time 4 years ago I got to feel something other than my color for the first and only time in my professional career. It lasted from about March 2016 to July 2016 and never again since. I will never forget in those early days looking at all the beautiful princesses I got to woo and thinking “wow. I’m a prince right now.” Im sure that sounds stupid. But it didn't feel stupid. And a Disney prince! Yeah, a shitty prince kinda... I mean, he's a sociopath... BUT still a Prince! Especially special was being able to look in Dominique’s eyes and I could see the same glimmer of “can you believe we get to do this right now” reflected back. We never knew it was in the cards for us. My race always has and will always be part of my career equation and a determining factor of its projection. It will always be a determining factor in how im treated, by creatives, by people, by the those in authority over me, including the government and the police. #wasitmyskin
Copied in its entirety here from Cooper Howell’s public Facebook post: https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=10163696376095054&set=a.10151302685610054&type=3&theater
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saturnsummer · 3 years ago
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flutter and kicks
notes: from lay's @/__ryubeom tweet + a pregnant solhwi anon ask. in headcanon form since it's more spontaneous! 
hello tumblr fam! i know, it’s been long... but ficfest and all has kept me kinda busy. a little different this time! a headcanon after a long time, since it’s more fun and easy on the eyes!
extra notes: drumstick reference to hospital playlist episode 4! a little reference to @scripturiends twitter au “dynasty” at the end. have fun! as usual, grammar mistakes by me!
attorney sol and prosecutor joon hwi have been married for a couple years, now well into their early thirties.
sol and joon hwi always take walks in the parks and wondered what it would be like if they had their own.
sol was initially hesitant, with her experience of broken families and having no dad figure. what makes her think her child could grow up in a loving family, if she didn't have one she could be a role model or look up to?
but joon hwi had it worse, having been an orphan from young, and raised by his uncle, his cousins, aunts and relatives ostracising him. yet, he still believed in the happy family he always wanted with sol.
he dreamt of kissing his kids good morning, sending them to school before going to work and sending his wife to work. on nights, they would work on their kid's homework together in fun ways and tuck them in bed after bedtime stories. they would spend the weekends at parks, meeting with seungjae's kid, and the children of their friends.
sol came round eventually, seeing how joon hwi never stopped believing. this time, it was different. joon hwi is not her father, nor is he her step father. he is han joon hwi, the man that saved her lives multiple times. han joon hwi, the man that stood by her when lee man ho was her biggest threat to her family. han joon hwi, the man who loves her, despite being a klutz in school.
he is han joon hwi, the man that loves her for every imperfection and perfection she has.
sol and joon hwi start trying for a baby, which is especially timely when kang sol's mom asks when is she gonna have a grandchild to hold and byeol pipes up saying she would love to have a brother as opposed to sister. (15 years with sisters have made her wonder what it would be to have a little baby boy in the house instead.)
a few weeks after their first time trying passes and sol has been feeling more tired. she's been busy with case after case at kang and park, so she doesn't think much.
only when she misses her period, she freezes. as stressed as she was, even in law school, she has never missed her period or was late. with shaky breaths, she wonders at the slightest chance of having a little life grow in her, as her hand unconsciously travels to her stomach.
sol is excited, but nervous at the thought that maybe nine to ten months later, she would have a child she can call her own in her arms.
over the weekend, sol raised this to joon hwi. joon hwi stops everything and even though he is beyond excited, he stays calm looking at how nervous sol is. together, they go out to get two pregnancy tests, where sol takes it.
the ten minutes of waiting were a complete torture for sol, as she paces back and forth.
"sol, stop pacing. you're going to burn a hole in our floor."
"joon! what- what if it really happens? i'm not ready! how are we ready? you just started your career in the prosecutor office, and i'm buried under cases! i can barely take care of my mom and byeol and myself, what about the child? oh no, what if i'm a bad mom?"
"honey, sit down. look, we'll get through this together okay? no one is ever ready for their first kid. remember seungjae-hyung? he freaked out the day juyeon-noona went into labour and he's a doctor! it's okay, just calm down, alright? do you want warm water?"
when the timer rings, they look at both the tests, showing the double lines indicating a positive test.
sol was pregnant. sol was going to be a mother. joon hwi was going to be a father. their family was starting.
shaking, sol finally let her emotions hit as her tears fall. she was so caught up worrying about herself, life, her work, family; she hadn't had time to process her own feelings on her own. she wanted the feeling of joy of holding her child. she wanted to know what it was like to share a mother's bond with a child.
joon hwi, looking at his wife, only hugged her as she teared up in happiness. his dream of having a family is finally coming. even better, his best friend, his biggest cheerleader, was next to him.
"what are you crying about? you should be happy!"
"j-joon h-hwi ah... we're going to be parents.."
but their journey was far from over. they booked an appointment with juyeon and made juyeon stay quiet about this. seeing the ultrasound and hearing the heartbeats of their unborn child was enough to move sol to another round of sobs and joon hwi held his wife's hand while the tears ran down his face. together, they smiled, knowing that a life was born and growing.
all could have been hidden, but seungjae walked in that moment, asking if his wife wanted to join for lunch. sol and joon hwi were prepared to lie, but having a printed ultrasound scan in their hands, and the fact that they were in juyeon's clinic, a OB-GYN clinic, confirmed suspicions.
"juyeonnie, do you want to go for— joon...hwi?"
"oppa..."
"ah, congratulations sol. congratulations joon hwi." seungjae only smiled looking at the best people he knew become parents. he recognised the pride in joonhwi's eyes, the same eyes he had when juyeon told him they were expecting.
the new parents smiled at their brotherly figure as they wished them a good lunch.
but out from the corner, yeseul spotted joonhwi and sol as she walked into the clinic and she locked eyes with sol. sol slams the door shut and drags joon hwi back and groans, letting a defeated whine.
"sol-ah, what's wrong?"
"yeseul is here! she's probably here for a regular check up, the one she told me about last month!"
and with that, their phones started beeping with countless notifications.
yeseul could put two and two together, especially when it wasn't just sol, but joon hwi in the clinic as well. she texted her boyfriend, bokgi, who spat out his soup when he was eating with yebeom, who sent a string of messages to the group chat.
when sol opens the door again, yeseul only gives a sheepish smile.
"yeseul ah..." sol sighs and joon hwi only smiles, too happy to hide this secret.
"sorry unnie, i can't miss the moment. congrats unnie, oppa! hello, seungjae-oppa, juyeon-unnie!"
"thank you, yeseul. we'll see you next week, as usual?"
behind them, seungjae grumpily argues with his wife.
"why are my ex-classmates seeing you more than i do? i literally work, like, five blocks down at the police station! they live all over seoul!"
"honey, let me see yeseul first, okay? then let's go get lunch. i heard they are serving drumsticks in the canteen today.”
-----
pregnancy wasn't easy for sol. she insisted on working, despite attorney park's orders to take on lesser cases in court. sol couldn't find it in her heart to reject her clients.
yeseul, working closer to sol, would lunch with her to make sure she eats for the sake of her baby. joon hwi did his best to join, despite sol's arguments to not bother and that she can care for herself.
her morning sickness was bad, and she would wake up giddy and nauseous. many times, joon hwi wanted to call jiho to ask him to cover him, but sol would not let him do it. she'll pull herself together and go to work, and promise to take work lightly.
on days she couldn't get out of bed and she was too tired, her mother would come over and cook her nutritious soups, stock their fridge with vitamins and supplements and tonics for sol.
sol's cravings were also odd. she was never one to like sweets, but she found herself craving sugary cakes, cookies and pastries. joon hwi made it a point to stock their cabinets with cookies and buy a cake whenever he could for his wife.
joon hwi was honestly the best husband anyone could ask for. he helped to tidy the house, clean the house while sol was resting. he made soups and tucked sol in bed on her down days.
sol felt bad that she was being cared for and doing nothing in return, but joon hwi would always remind her that she was already doing the most important job, which is to literally grow their kid inside her.
many nights before bed, they would sit together and their hands would rest on her stomach, as they whisper sweet things to their to-be child.
when sol first felt the kick of her child with joon, they smiled so wide, all exhaustion from reports and arguments in their offices were gone. all that mattered was their child responding.
yeseul was beyond excited, as she helped sol with getting furniture and clothes. the study group came together to help them set up a new cot in their small apartment, as the ladies sat while looking at the men, fixing a cot with much difficulty.
aunty yeseul was the first to buy a stuffed bunny for her unborn child, and sol b, even though she was usually cold, offered to babysit in the future.
eventually, attorney park made sol work at home instead of going to the office. she argued that professor kim eunsook was able to teach while pregnant, but attorney park only said "yang jonghoon's orders" and it was enough to shut her up from any complaints.
of course, professor yang. the only person attorney park really is afraid of and listens to.
when they found out that sol was having a boy, joon hwi was lost in thoughts, wondering if he will grow to be like himself. but sol only placed a hand over his and gave a comforting smile.
"remember what you said at the beginning? whatever it is, he will be of the next generation. from him, it will be different."
they then would discuss how they wanted joon hwi's dimples, sol's twinkling eyes and cheekbones and joon hwi's charming smile.
closer to the due date, jiho stepped in to cover for joon hwi as he started to work half days, afraid of leaving his wife at home. sol, now heavily pregnant, really only commuted to the bed from the bathroom and then to the table, where she would spend most of her time reading or doing something relaxing.
yeseul made sol put her on speed dial with sol b, just in case, and so they would be the first to know too.
the morning came when sol woke up to a wet bed and shook joon hwi awake when the contractions kicked in. joon hwi snapped out, grabbed their hospital bag and guided sol to the car where both of them spent the next day in the hospital as sol went through nine hours of labour pains, and another two hours pushing her baby boy.
joon hwi never left once, standing by her side and holding her hand as she pushed her baby out, wiping away the sweat from her face.
when the time came for him to be held in his mother's arms, sol only smiled, knowing that as tough as the past ten months of working, no caffeine and staying up late nights was, it was all worth it for the little life in her arms.
as his son's hand grabbed onto joon hwi's finger, joon hwi made a promise to love this child unconditionally, to guide him in the right direction and bring him up well. sol was right. from him onwards, it will be different.
welcome to the world, seungjun.
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lovenhlboys · 4 years ago
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From a Distance (E.Pettersson X Reader)
Chapter 2
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Masterlist
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A/n: Hi!! Here’s chapter 2!!! This chapter is from Elias’s POV, the rest of the chapters will be a combo of the two (and probably one or part of one) will be from Brock’s POV eventually😁 these first two chapters are more just setting up everything. please let me know what you think! All feedback is appreciated!!!!
Warnings: A LOT of cursing (sorry...sorta), Petey not listening, might be a little cheesy (I’m not sorry), an attempt at Swedish (pls let me know if It’s wrong), I think that’s it, lmk if I missed one
Paring: Elias Pettersson X Fem!Reader
Genere: enemies-ish —>friends —> lovers
Legend: on chapter 1
Word Count: 1.8k (this is the shortest one)
Summary: Yeah so, Elias has a “teenage-reminiscent” crush on the one girl he was terrified to like, so he makes a plan to just be her friend, it doesn’t go to well, so he makes a new one.
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PRESENT
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Petty had a crush on Y/N. Y/N Boeser, the one fucking girl he can't have. His best friend's little sister.
When he met her at the mid-point of his rookie year, he'd already heard a lot about her. Brock had told him so many stories and he learned so much about the infamous Y/N, and the more he learned, the more he really liked her. Then there were the other stories Brock told him, the ones that included guys. One he recalls quite clearly.
November, 2018
They were sitting on Brock’s couch, watching One Tree Hill,
“Petey, have I ever told you about Chad?” Brock started.
“No, why?”
“Chad was my best friend in middle school, all the way up to my senior year. Then he wanted to date Y/N.”
“What do you mean ‘up to’ your senior year?” His attention was taken away from the show completely at the mention of her name.
“Well, I told him I didn’t want him to go out with her, but that it was her choice, not mine. So he asked her out, and they dated for like 3 months. Then he broke her heart.”
“What did you do?” Elias was curious.
“Oh, I broke his face”
Elias was shocked, he’d never known Brock to be anything but a (slightly obnoxious) ray of sunshine. “...oh, uh... so what happened to Chad after that?”
“I stopped being friends with him, and so did the rest of my group of friends. Normally I’m not like that, but he messed with Y/N/N.”
“Yeah, I get that. My brother’s girlfriend is basically like my sister and if anyone hurt her, I don’t know what I would do.”
“Yeah so anyways-“
Elias zoned out as Brock kept talking, just thinking about what would happen if he asked Y/N out. He decided then that no matter how perfect and incredible she was, it wasn’t worth his friendship and career with his best friend. He’d just be her friend if anything. And who knows, maybe he’d never even meet her in person.
_______
Now, as he’s walking to the break room Brock asked him to meet him in, he's remembering tjrs how ignorant that plan was. Because once he met her, it was a lot more challenging than he could’ve imagined. The second he met her in person, that plan was incinerated as a possibility.
Dice and ice (February)  2019:
Elias showed up 20 minutes early, he is so nervous. This is his first dice and ice and from what people told him, he knows this isn’t his kind of event. He’s not social, he’s an awkward Swedish hockey player. Not to mention the amount of extra attention he’s sure to get tonight. Brock had told him how much attention he received when he was the star rookie, and that made Elias even more anxious. Thanks, Brock. 
He paced near the front waiting for Brock to get there, imagining all of the ways he could humiliate himself in front of everyone. He was in between “eating too much fancy food and throwing up” and “getting so nervous he forgets how to speak English” for being the worst.
Just as he started to get nauseous from remembering the rookies have to do a performance every year, he found himself unable to breathe. This wasn’t because of the inevitable doom tonight was bound to bring though. He saw the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen on the arm of his best friend. Her dress, her hair, her makeup, her legs, everything he could see was just beautiful.
“Petey!” Brock shouted. 
Elias couldn’t speak still but he made eye contact with Brock. 
“Woah bud, you doin’ ok?” He said with a concerned look.
A choked, “Uh…” was the only thing that came out. Though, he felt that was a sufficient answer to Brock’s question. Elias’s eyes made their way back to the girl now standing behind Brock, since Brock took it upon himself to grab Elias’s face and get very close. He inspected Elias, seeing if maybe he was sick or had a concussion. 
Brock must have been satisfied with what he saw since he took a step back, letting go of Elias’s face. That’s when he noticed his best friend looking at his “date” for the night. 
“Petey, this is Y/N/N, Y/N/N Petey,” Brock said, gesturing to the two of you. 
“Y/N/N?” He asked, suddenly able to speak again. He was looking at Brock with scrunched eyebrows. ‘Is it actually her?’ was all her could think.
“Yeah, Y/N/N, you know, my sister that I’ve told you about at least 20 times?”
Elias nodded and looked back at her.
She waved a little, “Hi, it’s Elias right?” she asked.
“Hmm? Uh, yeah, that’s right.” if he wasn’t sweating before, he definitely was now. “It’s Y/N?”
She nodded “yeah but you can call me Y/N/N, most people do.”
He likes her first name though, he thinks it’s such a perfect name, so he decided to just call her Y/N.
All three of them stood there awkwardly for a moment. Though to Elias, it felt like it could’ve been a few hours. He was completely mesmerized and terrified by you.
Brock cleared his throat, pulling Elias back to the world, “so, let’s head inside?”
“Yeah sounds good,” Elias walked in and held the door open for her and Brock.
Walking in right behind them was Jacob, he put his hand on Elias’s shoulder.
“mår du bra? du ser sjuk ut. (are you okay? You look sick.),” he asked.
“Jag kommer att bli bra (I will be fine),” he responded with an unconvincing grin.
As the night went on, Elias couldn’t seem to relax; he kept making sure his tie was straight and he couldn’t stop fixing his hair. For a while, he had to take pictures with the fans and families, with Brock...obviously.
“You just need to relax, Petey,” he had said this about 5 times already.
“I know, I just don’t want to embarrass myself, I’m not very social. I hate these events.”
Brock chuckled, “I swear, the more I learn about you, the more and more I think you and my sister are the same person. The only reason why she’s here is cause I bought her a new fancy dress and cause she’s gonna try and kiss some ass and get a job with management.”
“Wait, so she’s moving here?”
“Oh yeah, I asked her to. Depending on if she gets the job, of course, which she’s sure to get with her resume.”
“Oh, cool.”
“Hey, I’m gonna go find her, you need to relax, just breathe,” Brock said as he stood up to walk away, “And stop imagining the worst things that could happen,” knowing his best friend all too well.
Elias walked over and sat with Bo and Holly, just trying to get through this night without having a panic attack.
The rest of the night went fine, no vomiting or forgetting English, but he couldn’t stop thinking about her. Because of his luck, that’s when he saw Y/N, and he couldn't look away. She was standing in the corner, looking insanely nervous. Before he could think about it, he was walking over to her. 
“You doing ok?” he asked.
“That obvious?”
He looked down at his shoes, “Hey, at least you don't look sick like I did apparently.”
That made her laugh, one of the happiest sounds he’d ever heard. “Yeah, you didn’t look too happy to be here.”
“Well, these events aren’t really my thing. I heard they aren’t yours either?” he finally looked in her eyes, which was not a smart decision.
“God, no, absolutely not. I hate these things, I don’t get why I need to dress like this and kiss up to people to get a job that I’m already very qualified for.” She took a pause, “even though I do love this dress...”
There was a little silence as Elias wasn’t sure what to say, he decided on, “If it helps, you look very pretty, and I like that dress too.” 
She blushed, “thank you, you don’t look too bad yourself, Elias”
The way she said his name sent chills up his spine, Brock introduced him as Petey, but not once had she called him that. She only called him Elias, and it sounded perfect coming from her mouth. The thing about her was, the more he looked at her, the more beautiful she became in his eyes. The way she laughed, the way she stood with her legs crossed, the way she constantly crossed her arms. To most she probably seems unwelcoming cold, and closed off but to Elias, he saw someone just like himself and-
Oh shit, what is he doing?
He’s literally doing the exact opposite of what he said he was going to, he needs to get away from her. He needs a drink is what he really needs.
That’s when Brock walked over, “hey! There are the two most unfun people in this place!”
“Jackass,” she quipped.
“I’m gonna go talk to Marky,” Elias said, trying to make his escape.
“Fine then, leave me to avoid socializing alone, I guess” she called at him sarcastically.
He nervously laughed and turned around, quickly making his way to the patio that he knew was empty.
Once he got outside he took a deep breath. “Fuck,” he sighed.  He stood there thinking of what he needed to do. He couldn’t end up like ‘Chad,’ he had to stop whatever this is that’s happening to him when he saw her. He’s never felt like this, he’s never even had a girlfriend for Christ’s sake. How the hell did he feel like this for a girl he doesn’t really know? He wished he’d never met her; when he’d never met her in real life, he could imagine she looked weird, or maybe she was really rude (not that he thought anyone related to Brock could be rude). However, that could not have been farther from the truth. She was amazing, and so incredibly beautiful, but not in the conventional way like most of the WAGs here tonight, most of them fit the “hot model, super social, 50,000 picture taking” stereotype that Elias personally didn’t find all that appealing. Shes the perfect height for him, perfect size for him, her hair color and length was even perfect, and that was the problem. She was everything he didn’t want her to be, and more. Her personality was exactly what he wished his future wife’s personality would be: sweet with a little bit of sass, would rather stay inside, doesn’t take shit from people, while still a bit awkward, witty humored, sports loving, lazy Sunday having, and just goddamn perfect. The first word that came to mind when thinking of Y/N, was just that: Perfect.
So he knew what he had to do, he couldn’t be her friend. One small conversation proved that tonight. He had to avoid her as best he could, and do the things he didn’t want to do to her: be cold, shut her out, not talk to her alone. It was going to be incredibly difficult, but he valued Brock's friendship too much.
----------------
PRESENT
----------------
As he looks back, it was the best decision. It was definitely torturous to him, but he had to. Especially after literally every one of his closest teammates was basically like a big brother to her, or a best friend, or a “cuddle buddy” whatever that meant. He can’t even imagine what would happen now. JT, Bo, Brock, Troy, Thatcher, Marky, even Quinn would have his head if he tried anything. And God if he wasn’t terrified of the rage in JT’s eyes when anyone messed with Y/N, it wasn’t human and no one can convince Elias otherwise...seriously fucking terrifying.
-----------------------------------
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creativeashproductions · 4 years ago
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What If...? IV // Alive!Luke Patterson
Summary: 1997 and 1998 are big years for Luke Patterson and his fiancée with their engagement and wedding planning. If you thought wedding planning and the wedding itself was the big things well, you’d be wrong. I mean this is the couple that almost ended with a car accident. Join the year long adventure.
Warnings: Swearing, pregnancy, minor angst, sweet groom!Luke, and fluff
Words: 3.3k
Requested: By @beautifulblogsblog. There is one more part after this. 🥺😭
A/N: It’s finally here! The Patterson-Y/L/N wedding makes its appearance here and a little cameo of a future character. The next part is the last part in the miniseries as well. Enjoy.
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Hollywood 1997
An entire year had flown by from the day of your engagement to Luke filled with frustration, elation and greatness. Sunset Curve toured around California, leaving the Y/L/N-Patterson women to plan the wedding. Nineteen years old now in the modestly sized apartment, Luke sat beside you in the bathroom.
Two nervous teenagers a mere month away from their wedding day they cuddled each other eyes pinned at the floor. Apprehensive of the stick that held power to change everything in their lives. For the last week, you hadn’t felt very well with being tired and nausea laying you out in bed.
“It’s been long enough.” Luke murmured reaching for the test, “No matter what. I love you.”
Kissing his cheek, the two of you slumped at the negative with surprising emotion. The negative greatly disappointed you.
“I’m sorry,” Luke mumbled to his fiancée equally torn up because while the timing wasn’t perfect, he had pictured what life would be like.
A tiny baby growing in his fiancée womb, growing into bump made flutters in his belly. Of love, he already felt for your future unborn children and snuggling his kids. Introducing them to his loved ones and bonding over music. Teaching his son or daughter how to play the guitar.
He’d love to see his parents cradle a new addition to the family freshly born with the tiny knit hat Emily couldn’t resist making. Sharing a celebratory beer with his father and wisdom for the coming years. To learn the parental reason of why they had been against his career choice.
“I really wanted it to be positive.” You admitted playing with your fingers disappointed at being wrong about your body. Luke smiled as your words as he grabbed your hand in his calloused grip.
“Do you…do you want to try for a baby?” Luke trailed off flushing at how beautiful you would look growing his child. The bathroom was quiet as you thought the idea over, “With the tour just finishing the band will be writing music and recording. I could be here for the whole pregnancy and birth.”
“If we get pregnant in the next month. But we’re also getting married in a few months.” You sighed leaning to rest about his bare arm staring at the pregnancy test.
“If it happens then it happens.” Luke spoke, “If you want, we can try.”
Raising your eyes to meet Luke’s you hesitantly nodded at his words as it settled that is there ever a perfect time to get pregnant? So many people struggle with conception like your parents did with you; your mother’s labour was so complicated that you’d never have siblings.
“Okay.” Luke breathed, standing up to scoop you into his arms, “Best get on with it.”
The laughter filled the simple bedroom as Luke crawled over your body to hover with a matching smile. There was no one else in the world that could get his heart fluttering and focus on something other than music. It was terrific, and he couldn’t be mad about.
“So, Rockstar…are you gonna help?” You whispered tugging on the chain of his necklace to drag his face closer. Closing the distance, Luke’s lips brushed yours before time stopped in a collision of senses.
The callouses of his fingers trailing a fire under the flowing shirt chosen for the lunch date earlier. The warmth of his hands nowhere close enough to match the heat your body burnt with. The taste of the cherry chapstick he shamelessly stole from you, but it was the heady scent of Luke that got you.
 Luke heavily breathed as he pulled back with a hazy gaze with the green almost overtaken by the black pupils. No hesitation as your lips sucked on his neck, bringing a gravelly moan from the man over you, a sound that caused your lower half to clench. Legs unable to fully close as his fingers drew symbols on your inner thigh.
Symbols that spelt out his full name. Now that was really hot.
A gasp pulled from your throat you arched as a hand came up to cup your breast in his hand; Luke could argue all he wanted, but he was boob man when it came to you.
Thoughts disappearing the ecstasy with the love of your life overtook your senses.
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July 1998
The white dress was a little snugger than the previous month, but you had a good reason for it. A tiny little blob had taken up residence in your womb with a sickness that lasts all day from day one until the start of trimester two. Getting pregnant had to be easy with Luke from the number of times.
Didn’t matter where you were when Luke tugged you away. The small bathroom in the studio? Three times.
Luke’s couch? Yeah, Alex refuses to sit there now.
At this point, you had been everywhere, trying for a baby was incredibly fun, but the hormones sucked. Luke’s deft fingers creating the chords of a song? Bobby banned you from rehearsals, and you had an emergency bag of clothes as well.
“You look gorgeous.” Nancy Y/L/N told her daughter with tears glittering in her eyes as she took in the sight of her daughter. The wedding dress the bridesmaids, mother’s and Alex had hunted for; the boy had tagged along as he was like a brother. Reggie, Bobby and Luke had spent the day with Mitch and Lance.
A sob broke from the lips of Lance; his baby girl no longer needed him with her soon to be husband. There was no one in the world he trusted more with his daughter than Luke Patterson. The boy never placed the band ahead of his fiancée, and it was quickly noticed how much Luke adored the Y/L/N girl.
“Dad.” You spoke, rushing to hug the man in your arms, “Stop crying. You’ll make me cry.”
Lance was able to hold his tears until the music started and the doors opened to the venue that Luke’s parents married in. Luke stood at the altar with Bobby, Alex, and Reggie. On the opposite side stood your best friend, a childhood friend and your close cousin.
“You look beautiful,” Dad told you slowly making their way to the man cupping his hands over his face. Overtaken by your beauty and the glow, Luke thanked Lance.
“Baby, you look like an Angel,” Luke whispered, squeezing your hands tightly in his as the ceremony began.
“It’s rare that one can find their soulmate, the other half of themselves on such a large plant. Luke and Y/N orbited each other as young children and fell in love in a perfect place. For those of you who don’t know, these two met as a concert. The first step to falling in love. Music is important to this couple.” The officiant spoke, “Luke’s mother told me once that music tethered their souls together, they truly met at a concert, and every important moment had a song.”
Luke’s eyes watered meeting the brown of his mother’s love-filled eyes holding hands with her husband. Luke had no clue how much his mother came to accept, and he felt the relationship fully fix itself as it settled that his Mom had personally made the ceremony better.
 “These two souls came together and became one. Luke and Y/N’s love is rare and beautiful. Today these two had decided to make their own vows.” The officiant finished, “Luke if you could start.”
“There has always music in my heart and soul since childhood. I adored listening and begging my parents for new music. My parents, one year, gave me a guitar as a gift, and it started a deep passion in my soul. I made a band with my best friends, and the band brought me to a person that would become more important. Y/N, I had had a crush on you for a long time before you first spoke to me. I had hit Reggie in the calf with my father’s car, and you made a joke about my height. It wouldn’t be until years later than I somehow convinced you to take a chance.” Luke squeezed your hands, “I love music because it brought me to you.”
“Luke. I am absolutely positive that I have loved you for more than this lifetime as my love is so vast and deep. I believe we have been destined since the dawn of time to find each other together by music. I can’t compete with your vows because you have a way with words with the songwriting you’ve done. You’ve been there through the hard times and best times holding my hand ready to catch me if I fell. I can’t wait to spend the rest of our lives catching each other when we need it.”
“May the rings be presented?” The officiant asked with a smile as your best friend and Alex gave the rings.
“With this ring, I thee wed,” Luke whispered as he slid the band to rest against your engagement ring. You repeated the words as you slid the band on his finger as well.
“I now pronounce you as man and wife. Mr. Patterson, you may kiss your wife.” The officiant spoke, sending the room into applause.
You and Luke ran down the aisle still holding hands with the biggest smiles of your entire life to the limo that would deliver you to the reception. Luke couldn’t help himself as he pressed kisses all over. This was a glorious day for the musician, his career was going really well, and he married the most beautiful girl.
“God, I love you.” Luke murmured to the girl in the white dress. Leaning closer for another kiss, Luke froze.
Digging into his ankle was a heavy object. Your nervous eyes glittered under the dimmed lighting in the limo. Never-ending eye contact Luke lifted a moderately heavy wooden chalkboard. Written on the sign was: ‘Unofficial flower girl or ring bearer’.
“Are you serious?” Luke asked gobsmacked at the news that heightened the greatness of his wedding day. Eyes flickering to meet yours he watched as your hand unzipped a hidden pocket on your dress.
Flat on your hand was a pregnancy test similar to the one you took months back. The only difference being this one had two lines.
“AS serious as a heart attack. There will be a baby Patterson in six months.” The laugh was joyful as your lips parted.
Luke wasted absolutely no time in setting his hand on the slight bump the dress had covered, “This is why you mentioned your dress being snugger?”
“Mhm.” You replied, stroking the softness of his cheekbone in pure love with him and the life you carried, “We’re in for a wild ride Patterson.”
“Bring it on.” Luke finished kissing your cheek as the limo came to a stop in front of a large venue. The duo you ran inside where your wedding guests threw paper airplanes that Reggie had suggested.
Each airplane had a personal note from your friends and family along that would be gathered into a binder. Reggie had found out that rice wasn’t good for birds and while the reception was inside, he couldn’t do it. So, he brought the idea of paper airplanes; in class, the boys would throw airplanes at each other. It was a nod to their adolescence.
“I present to you, Mr. and Mrs. Patterson,” Alex announced into the microphone set on the stage with Sunset Curve’s instruments. It didn’t surprise anyone that the band would play at the wedding.
On the stage, a beautiful Hispanic woman played a soft piano ballad, if you could recall that maybe the bartender from the Orpheum. Her name was on the tip of your tongue as Luke twirled you into his arms with a big grin.
“Mrs. Patterson.” You hummed tugging him to the head table with where your wedding party would join as well. The second Luke helped you sit he knelt down to reach the box covertly placed.
Your eyebrows came together as he opened it, revealing two matching pairs of personalized vans; following the wedding theme one pair was white and another black. On the right shoe, it had ‘just married’ with the wedding date while the left shoe had a picture from your engagement pictures. Of course, Luke made them have Mr. and Mrs. above the image as well.
“How?” You breathed as Luke gently removed your heels to replace them with a thin pair of no-show socks. Over the socks went the white vans that gave your feet a break from the four-inch heels.
“We’re supposed to party now.” Luke beamed squeezing your hands in his only bending to kiss the back of each. His hazel eyes had shifted to a rich green as he stared up at yours with such a tender look, you could feel the heat building in your cheeks.
As your wedding party took their seats, Luke had already changed his shoes and pushed the box back under the table. His left hand refused to leave your right one as you both took in the magical room that had once only been a concept on paper.
“This is amazing.” You breathed leaning into Luke’s arm, sending a smile to the table near the front with both your parents, “Also thank you for the shoe surprise.”
 “I am so happy they got done on time.” Luke sighed slouching in his seat, waving at the photographer you had hired.
If you can recall correctly, Luke had met him at a band photoshoot, and he was the assistant to the head photographer. You believe his name was Ray and incredibly talented and under-appreciated by his former boss.
“Did you let the photographer know we have an open bar?” You leaned over to your new husband with a flutter in your belly at his new title. The question turned the corners of Luke’s mouth for the first time that day.
“I find it unfair that we have an open bar and we can’t drink anything.” Luke snorted nudging Reggie in his side.
“Oh, I think we both know you’ll sneak some for the guys and you.” You chuckled leaning back in the chair. One hand resting on your stomach to caress the material with your thumb, unaware, “I’ll stick to the sparkling juice.”
Luke’s one eyebrow raised at the sudden change in your drink choice as in the past you wouldn’t turn down your favourite. His eyes shifted down to your hand with raised eyebrows.
“Wait…are you…?” Luke drawled out slowly in your ear taken aback when your head in a surreptitious manner. His jaw unhinged mind opened as he took in the tiny bump; in the years together, he was very acquainted with your body.
“We are. How cliché are we?” You laughed as Luke lunged to press a kiss to the supple skin lightly painted with foundation.
Your makeup was natural and straightforward to last longer for photos and make it through the dances for later. It was also Luke’s favourite look.
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Dinner, the dances and speeches had sped by ending with both the bouquet toss and the garter toss. The guests mingled with the newlyweds as some danced, Emily had managed to drag Luke back on the floor.
“I’m proud of you, Luke.” Emily smiled up at her son, “And you said those dance lessons were a waste of time.”
A light pink flush took over the nineteen-year old’s full cheeks reminiscing the lessons he had taken with his mother. He had been eleven or twelve at the time when his father pulled a muscle at the worst time. The coupons nearly expiration Emily took Luke to the lessons that initially had been for date night.
“I think it helped with singing-“Luke instinctively cut himself off as he had done years before when music was a no go subject, “Sorry you don-“
“Luke, I can never explain how sorry I am about what happened. I was wrong to push you into a box you didn’t fit. Music is a part of you, and I understand now.” Emily squeezed the bicep of the guitarist, “Besides you’ll understand where we were coming from in a couple months.”
Luke’s jaw dropped at her announcement, “What.”
“Luke, I am a mother. I know the signs such as your wife turning down the wine.” Emily admitted stepping back from the boy that had so suddenly become a man before her very eyes.
No longer was he the chubby-cheeked boy running naked from his bath after splattering spaghetti sauce on himself. He had outgrown his interest in soccer and baseball with his little friends. He had matured into a man that lived up to Emily’s teachings. Luke, in her eyes, was now a man of honour, integrity, kindness and stood up for himself.
Emily and Mitch Patterson had done a fantastic job raising their son, but now they could step back. They would get to watch Luke find his way as a husband and a father.
“Hey, man,” Reggie spoke as Luke walked off the dance floor finding you among family congratulating the couple.
“Hey, Reg.” Luke beamed tugging the bassist into his arms for a tight hug. As the two boys leaned back, they looked over at their friend.
Alex discarded the pink suit jacket at the table in favour of leaning against the wall talking with the bartender. A smile blossomed on the two men’s faces as they took in that Alex was utterly relaxed in the conversation.
“They were hardcore flirting.” Reggie piped up, referencing the male bartender, “His name is Billy, I think.”
The bartender had shoulder-length dark hair pulled back in a bun with glittering brown eyes drowning in the shy blonde. He wore a dark shirt opened a few buttons with white detailing on it. A white necklace as well, but it was the lovesick smile Luke loved; Alex deserved happiness the most in Sunset Curve.
“He’s totally a skater.” Reggie spoke, “It’s a love story. He’s a skater boy, and he’d like to do ballet.”
“That would be a sick song. He was a punk, she did ballet.” Luke hummed to a melody created on the spot, “Not really our sound.”
“Someone will figure out a way to use it.” Reggie waved off, and he was right. A singer would use the exact lyric in her song ‘Sk8er Boi’ in 2002 when Sunset Curve would bump into her.
Slowly the boys of Sunset Curve found their way to the stage to perform a few songs directed towards you. At your urging, you had demanded they give a live performance of Unsaid Emily for your now mother-in-law. As they sang, you wrapped an arm, Emily, as she cried.
“This is his best work.” You mumbled to the older woman cupping her wet cheek leaning into the touch of her husband’s touch.
As soon as the song was over, Emily yanked her son into her arms both parties of the hug emotionally moved. It seemed the performance had shifted something in their relationship for the better. Luke didn’t need to explain as he pulled you into his side once more.
 “Alex isn’t the only one that found someone.” You whispered, finding Alex and the bartender on break dancing on the edge of the dance floor. At your husband’s puzzlement, your finger pointed in the direction of the stage.
In a conversation photographer, Ray captivated the lead singer of the band you had hired when Sunset Curve didn’t play. Even Reggie seemed to have the attention of your twin showgirl cousins from Las Vegas.
“Love attracts love.” Luke simply spoke, wrapping his built arms around his wife, thinking back on the changes that had happened.
Luke hitting Reggie’s leg with the car at thirteen, finding each other at the concert a few years later, the accident that threatened the relationship. Proposing twice and finally marrying over a year later on the same day you confessed the pregnancy. So much had happened in such a fraction of time.
“I love you.” Luke murmured at the shell of your ear watching his friends have the time of their lives on a beautiful day in the summer of 1998.
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Above are the example of the shoes that Luke got.
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justalitlecreacher · 4 years ago
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Anakin Skywalker Deserved Better
Ive made this post before but it was really rough and i meant to edit it later and its later now but its been so long that i don’t feel like finding the og post so here we are. If it’s not obvious i care more than a normal amount about Anakin Skywalker.
Tl;Dr: I firmly believe that there are so many points in the prequel series, the clone wars, and even the comics that some level of intervention could have steered Anakin away from falling in Revenge of the Sith.
The Phantom Menace 
This is our first encounter with Anakin, and it does a decent job at introducing us to him. This movie sets up his tragic backstory™️ and gives us a good look at his personality; Anakin appears selfless and eager to help complete strangers in return for nothin when he first brings Qui-Gon and crew to his home to give them shelter, and then risks his life in the podrace to help them afford the part they need to fix their ship. Aside from introducing and developing Anakin not much else happens until Qui-Gon brings Anakin before the Jedi Council where they decide he is too old and there is already too much anger in him to be trained as a Jedi. Qui-Gon disagress, but we move on to Naboo where 9-year old Anakin blows up a very large ship all; by himslef w/ autopilot ( they grow up so fast), Qui-Gon dies, and we get our first look at Palpatine being creepy in hindsight, “And you, young Skywalker, we will watch your career with great interest.” not all that weird out of context but uncomfy when you remember who Palpatine is.
Before we move on i actually want to flashback to Anakin’s first encounter with the Jedi Council. For a group of people who constantly take in and raise children, the Jedi seem to do a poor job interacting with them. A kind of infuriating thing about this scene is that the Jedi seem to shame Anakin for being afraid (no matter how much Anakin himself denies that fear). This scene does a really good job at setting up how the Jedi consistently fail to take into account that Anakin is fundamentally incapable of being a “normal” Jedi. Anakin has had a fundamentally different childhood than any other Jedi and absolutely needed more help and support than the average Padawan from the very beginning. Granted it is possible that the Jedi tried to get him the help and support he needed, but if they did we can infer they failed from Dooku’s line in Revenge of the Sith, “I sense great fear in you, Skywalker. You have hate, you have anger, but you don’t use them.”
Obi-Wan And Anakin Comic
The Obi-Wan and Anakin comics take place sometime between The Phantom Menace and Attack of the Clones. The story focuses on Anakin and Obi-Wan investigating a distress signal on a planet that has been destroyed by war. The comic also flashes back to reveal that Anakin is thinking of leaving the Jedi Order after Palpatine shows him the dark side of Coruscant, and tells him that neither the Jedi nor the Senate will be able to do anything about it. We get more creepy (not just in hindsight this time) moments out of Palpatine here. The first one is when he uses his position as Chancellor to gain access to Anakin under the guise of “helping” him.  “Why young Skywalker is a Jedi, is he not? The Jedi are under the Senate’s jurisdiction. And as I am the Chancellor of the Senate...”. Palpatine proceeds to take Anakin to a club of some kind where they see a corrupt senator gambling; Palpatine also mentions how “Lives are bought and sold here everyday” he then makes a show of apologizing for bringing it up considering Anakin’s past.Without context this would seem harmless enough, but with the context of Palpatine’s true identity it is more likely a ploy to subelty remind Anakin of how the Jedi and Senate are unable or unwilling to intervene on Tatooine or the rest of the Outer Rim. Palpatine reminding Anakin of the Senate and Jedi’s inability to help everyone seems to be a running theme in their meeting as the series continues. 
Aside from Palpatine being a creep; we see that Anakin is still just as willing and eager to help as he was in The Phantom Menace. His skills in mechanics result in him being briefly kidnapped so that he can fix weapons that will help one side to win the war that has destroyed the planet. Seriously Anakin is just so ernest in these comics that i shed tears because i know how his story ends. 
One character that Obi-Wan and Anakin team up with to reach the distress signal first mistakes Anakin for Obi-Wan’s son, and then tells Obi-Wan, “He [Anakin] doesn’t think so. Kid idolizes you. You can see it” when Obi-Wan admits that he’s not sure he is the best suited to teach Anakin, and fears he has failed him in some way. As the story progresses, it is revealed in a flashback that after Anakin told Obi-Wan he wanted to leave the Order, Yoda sent the two of them on the mission they are currently on to give Anakin a chance to reconsider his decision, and Obi-Wan tells Yoda that if Anakin returned from the mission still wanting to leave the Order, Obi-Wan would leave with him to continue his training and keep his promise to Qui-Gon. 
Attack of the Clones
Back to the movies. Attack of the Clones reunites Obi-Wan and Anakin with Padmé Amidala when they are assigned to protect her from an assassin. One of ( if not the) most important elements to this movie are Anakin’s dreams/visions of his mother. Towards the beginning of the movie Anakin doesn’t explicitly say what the dreams are about, but it can be assumed that the dreams are unpleasant as he says, “I don't sleep well anymore.” in response to Obi-Wan commenting on him looking tired; going on to claim that he cannot sleep because of his dreams. Anakin later admits to Padmé that he worries about his mother. This is one of the key moments in Anakin’s life that set him up to fall in Revenge of the Sith. There is no reason i can think of that Anakin should not have been allowed to check on his mother if he was having dreams about her that prevented him from sleeping properly and made him worry for her safety. As Anakin says, “Compassion, which I would define as unconditional love, is central to a Jedi's life, so you might say we're encouraged to love.”. If compassion truly is central to a Jedi’s life, then surely they could at the very least send one of their 10,000 Jedi to check on Anakin’s mother if he could not? Is it compassion to deny someone the help they need? I find it hard to believe that Anakin would not have told Obi-Wan that he was worried about his mother going off of how close they appear to be in the previous comic. Especially after Anakin responds to Obi-Wan joking about Anakin being the death of him one day with, “Don't say that Master... You're the closest thing I have to a father... I love you. I don't want to cause you pain.” 
Anakin and Padmé arrive too late to save Shmi, and she dies in Anakin’s arms. This is a crucial moment leading up to Anakin’s fall as it shows Anakin that his dreams have a very real potential of coming true and likely results in him blaming himself at least partially for not insisting on checking on his mother or getting there sooner or doing anything different that may have allowed her to survive; it’s also the first time we see Anakin really lose control. There have been instances of him lashing out in anger before (turning a pair of padawans’ lightsabers against them when he hears them making fun of him behind his back), but nothing like what happens in the wake of Shmi’s death. Anakin wipes out the entire village of Tusken Raiders; children included. And while Anakin does express genuine remorse for his actions, he never faces consequences for them. It’s not even clear if anyone but Padmé ever finds out; Yoda claims to feel Anakin’s pain in the wake of his mother’s death, but does not appear to see Anakin’s actions, and is not shown to discuss what happened on Tatooine with Anakin at all.
Some light googling on my part revealed that in the novelization of Attack of the Clone, while Anakin did tell Obi-Wan about his mother’s death it was Padmé who told Obi-Wan how she had died, but Obi-Wan is unaware of what happened afterwards. “Anakin had told him of Shmi’s death; that was why he and Padmé had gone to Tatooine, he said. Obi-Wan had talked to Padmé later, and she had explained that Shmi had been kidnapped and killed by Tusken Raiders. Neither of them had been willing to go into much detail, and from what Obi-Wan knew of the Tusken Raiders, he didn’t blame them. It was no wonder Anakin seemed shaken, if his mother had been tortured and killed. One day, perhaps, Anakin would be willing to tell him the whole story.” Obi-Wan appears to know that there is more to the story than he has been told, but it content to wait until Anakin is ready to talk about it. I wonder if they ever had that conversation.
Anakin’s inability to save his mother even after the warnings he receives in his dreams likely leads to his desperation to save Padmé form the danger he believes her to be in later in Revenge of the Sith. He has been shown once before that his dreams can easily come true, and he is desperate to prevent this dream from coming true no matter what the cost may be. 
The Clone Wars
This is gonna be a long one; it’s gonna have to cover the most relevant episodes of The Clone Wars and oh boy that’s not a small amount. Im gonna try to go chronologically but bear with me (if you actually read this far you know what you got yourself into)
Assassin s3ep7
In this episode Ahsoka begins having visions of Padmé being assassinated similarly to how Anakin dreamed of his mother’s and later Padmé’s deaths. The difference with Ahsoka is that she is able to prevent the visions from becoming reality.  What i want to focus on in this episode is the reaction Ahsoka gets when she tells Yoda about her dreams. Yoda explains to her that her dream may be telling her something and provides her with the means to act on her visions to prevent them from becoming true.
When Anakin approaches Yoda about his dreams in Revenge of the Sith, Yoda simply tells him that death is natural and he must train himself to let go of everything he fears to lose. We could chalk this up to just a writing inconsistency, but i dont think i will. I would instead like to wonder why Yoda treats Ahsoka’s visions like they are something that can be changed but then treats Anakin’s like they are set in stone. Anakin has already proven himself capable of having true visions, and is more force sensitive than any other living Jedi. It makes no sense to dismiss Anakin’s feelings like this. All this to say looking into and helping Anakin to examine his dreams instead of telling him to let go when he has proven over and over to be incapable of doing so would likely have been significantly more helpful in the long run.
The Mortis Arc S3 Ep15-17
Honestly i dont have a lot to say on this arc aside how much psychic damage it dealt to see Anakin briefly turn to the dark side because he was so desperate o avoid the future The Son had shown him ( really hope everyone had the common sense not to bring that up to Anakin after the fact though).
 The Deception Arc S4 Ep15+18
In this arc Obi-Wan fakes his death in order to go undercover as the bounty hunter Rako Hardeen and uncover a plot to kidnap the Chancellor. This wouldn’t be a problem if they had brought Anakin in on the plan; instead they use Anakin’s reaction to Obi-Wan’s “death” to better sell the illusion. Obi-Wan even says, “Keeping Anakin on the outside was critical. Everyone knows how close we are. It was his reaction that sold the sniper. I'm sure of it.” Obi-Wan and the Council are fully aware of how much Obi-Wan means to Anakin, yet they all decide to use those feelings to their own advantage with little regard for the consequences.
On top of betraying Anakin’s trust; this move leads Anakin to doubt the Jedi Council and wonder what else they may be keeping from him if they  were willing to let him believe that Obi-Wan was dead as long as it suited their interests. “How many other lies have I been told by the Council? And how do you know that you even have the whole truth?”. 
I just cannot imagine why they thought they even had to use Obi-Wan for this plan. In the Obi-Wan and Anakin comic, Obi-Wan claims that there are 10,000 Jedi; surely there is someone less connected or with less attention on them who would be more suited to go undercover without the element of faking their death. Or if faking their death was necessary, surely they could have picked a Jedi who was not closely attached to arguably the most emotionally unstable Jedi in the Order. Anyone else would have been better. I don’t doubt that Anakin was telling the truth when he said, “If it was up to me I would kill you right here! But lucky for you, the man you murdered would rather see you rot in jail.”.
The Deception Arc just really grinds my gears because it really is almost like the Council wants Anakin to fall. There really is no excuse for how they use his bond with Obi-Wan against him for their own gain. The Council and Obi-Wan know full well how much Anakin loves Obi-Wan (see Anakin referring to Obi-Wan as the closest thing he has to a father in Attack of the Clones), and chose to use this vulnerability against Anakin in the worst way possible. 
This arc really sets Anakin to later doubt Obi-Wan and the Council in Revenge of the Sith, and make it easier for Palpatine to convince Anakin that no Jedi would understand him and that they would likely kick him out of the order and not help him. ( heck he even has a recent memory of the Jedi expelling a 14 year old from the Order for the sake of not looking bad in the eyes of the Senate. “I understand your sentiment, Obi-Wan, but if the Council does as you suggest, it could be seen as an act of opposition to the Senate. I'm afraid we have little choice.” i might go more in depth on this one later but this doesn’t feel like the right place as this is a post about Anakin and i don’t want to make and Ahsoka centric arc all about him).  
That wraps up the Clone Wars! Finally!
Revenge of the Sith
Ok big finale. Revenge of the Sith; so close to being my favorite Star Wars movie, but it almost made me cry in the library so its my second favorite (Attack of the Clones is my favorite). 
I’ve already touched on the dreams Anakin has of Padmé’s death in the Clone Wars segment, but it bears repeating and i have more to touch on. Im not 100% if im misremembering or not but i cannot recall Anakin ever explicitly telling Palpatine about his dreams, but Palpatine knows that Anakin fears for Padmé’s life anyway. It’s possible that Anakin just told him off screen but a fic i read recently ( It’s called give me one more night by Spongyllama on AO3 and it is so worth the read) introduced me to the theory that it had been Palpatine sending Anakin the dreams to begin with.
This theory has a good amount of legs to stand on honestly. As mentioned previously, Anakin never tells Palpatine about his dreams, but Palpatine still knows exactly what to tell Anakin to best manipulate him. Furthermore; Anakin’s dreams very likely would never have come true if Anakin hadn’t fallen; Padmé reportedly dies of heartbreak, something that could not have happened had Anakin not fallen. All signs point to Palpatine being behind the dreams (and we know that Anakin and Palpatine are close by the time Attack of the Clones occurs so it’s not out of question that Anakin may have told Palpatine about the dreams about his mother, giving Palpatine the idea to use those dreams against him later)
Conclusion
Honestly the biggest thing i think the Jedi could have improved on was just trying to understand Anakin better. The average age for entering the order is 2 to 3 compared to Anakin’s 9. Anakin entered the order years after any other Jedi, and because of that was able to remember his mother and had formed attachments (or attachment but i digress) before he had even reached the order. It should have been obvious from the start that if Anakin were to ever become a successful Jedi he would need significantly more help than the usual padawan.
We frequently see Anakin scolded for forming attachments or being too emotional (see Clone Wars s1e6-7 where R2-D2 goes missing and Anakin suggests taking a squad out to look for him “Anakin, it's only a droid. You know attachment is not acceptable for a Jedi.”(Obi-Wan) “Train yourself to let go of everything you fear to lose.”(Yoda). etc etc)  But, to the best of my knowledge, we never really see anyone showing Anakin how to let go. Anakin lacks the tools he needs to properly deal with his emotions, so the best he can do is shove them down and pretend they don’t exist because to him that’s what a proper Jedi does. No one has ever told him otherwise. The explosion was inevitable.
Anakin Skywalker was a traumatized child who was most likely never taken to therapy or told how to deal with/ healthily show his emotions in any way other than to ignore them or push them aside on top of being manipulated by Sith Lord from a young age. With all these factors is it really a surprise that Palpatine was able to turn him?
ok im done; see yall next time ig
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one-chicago-fanfiction · 3 years ago
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Gabby and Antonio: This Instinct to Run
Word Count: 2k
Summary: This story is set many years prior to the beginnings of all One Chicago shows. When Antonio tells Gabby he's having top surgery at last, the two of them share a difficult, interesting conversation.
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Antonio Dawson was nervous. He was waiting for his sister in their usual spot—a diner on the corner, just a few blocks away from the house they grew up in. It had, for a while, been their after school place, mostly in the years where Gabby was too young to be home alone, and Antonio’s school bus took longer to get him home than her’s did. They were older now, and Antonio was nursing a coffee, slouched down in the seat, one knee up at his chest, the other leg stretched out before him. He probably didn’t look nervous, but his heart was slamming hard in his chest, and a sickly sort of adrenaline coursing through him.
They hadn’t seen a lot of each other lately, and it was starting to take a toll as far as Antonio was concerned. Gabby was taking classes, training as an EMT. Antonio’s heart, meanwhile, still pulled him towards the same two things it always had. One of those things was the Chicago police department, a dream he’d harboured for almost as long as he could remember. When he thought about how long it was taking him to get started in his career there, he ached as if he’d already lost something. There was a desperation there, thrumming under his skin, a voice telling him soon, soon…
But first, there was something else he needed to do, something even more important. This thing, this one last thing on his to do list before he could start the rest of his life? Antonio Dawson had never wanted anything more.
Gabby walked into the diner, and met his eye with a smile and a nod. She ordered herself a drink and slid onto one of the seats opposite him, pausing only to kiss his cheek before she pulled off her coat and sat down. Antonio sat a little straighter. There was so much of their mother in Gabby, and the smile he gave his loving, strong willed, incredible sister was small, nervous. Something flashed through her eyes, something like suspicion. She’d seen, right away, the thing he’d been trying to hide.
“Good to see you, sis,” he said. Gabby hummed, dismissing his attempt at pleasantries.
“What’s going on with you?” She asked, nodding thanks to the waiter who placed her coffee on the table between them. She took a long sip.
“What’re you talking about?” Antonio asked. “I’m all good.”
“Sure,” said Gabby, wiping foam from her top lip. “That’s why you’re all weird and—sweaty—right now.”
“I’m not...” Antonio started, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. “I’m not sweaty.”
“And I’m not stupid,” Gabby said. “This isn’t no casual catch up. I wanna know what’s going on.” As kindly as she said it, her unblinking gaze was a challenge, and one of the common themes of their childhood had been Gabby’s challenges, Antonio succumbing to them every time.
“Okay,” he said. “Fine. I have news. I was gonna build up to telling you this, you know? I was actually gonna ask how things are going with you.”
“You can ask me that after,” she said, then another swig of her coffee. Antonio could smell the sweetness of it from here. Pumpkin spice maybe. Damn October. A pang of envy struck him. He should have thought of that himself. He cleared his throat, pulled himself back to what mattered.
“Sure,” he said, a quick glance around the diner before he went on, talking a little quieter now. “Okay. I, uh…I got the money together for my top surgery. It’s finally gonna happen.”
“Woah,” Gabby said, eyes wide, pushing her coffee aside as she leaned in a little closer. “Woah, Antonio. That’s—amazing. Are you, uh—I mean—do you have a date yet?”
“Two months from now,” he said, unable to stave off his idiot grin, even with his heart pounding so hard. He wondered if he looked as unhinged as he was worried he did.
“That’s soon,” Gabby said.
“Not soon enough,” Antonio said. “Trust me.”
“So,” said Gabby, and paused. It unsettled him that she was taking her time, choosing her words so carefully. It was something he was getting slowly used to, the way his sister would hold herself back sometimes, like his coming out had undone some of the comfort between them, like she couldn’t just let herself be, in case she said something that stung him, as if he wasn’t able to come back from that. Like she didn’t completely know him anymore.
“So?” He prompted.
“So,” she said, “you’re ready, then? I mean…for all of…for everything?”
“All of it,” Antonio said. “I’m ready for all of it.” Gabby smiled.
“Then I’m happy for you.”
“Look,” said Antonio. “I know some of this has been weird for you, but I—“
“Hey, no,” said Gabby. “It’s not that, I just—“
“Would you let me finish?” He said, a fond smile on his face. Gabby yielded with a nod of deference, slouching in her seat now, the mirror image of her brother across the table.
“I just wanted to say I appreciate your support,” he said. “I mean…I also kinda wish you’d stop treating me like some fragile bird.” Gabby made a face.
“Fragile bird?”
“Honestly?” Antonio started. “Never thought I’d say this, but I kinda miss you messing with me all the time. Lately you’ve been treating me like I can’t handle that stuff. Is it, uh…Is it that you’re…”
“That I’m what?” She asked, watching him so intensely now that he had to take a breath just to steady himself.
“Okay,” he said. “Sometimes I’m scared that…I mean, sometimes it feels like, maybe, you don’t know how to talk to me anymore.”
“Antonio,” she said, and his mind jumped back to the first time he’d told her the name he’d chosen, the first time she repeated it back to him, setting it in stone for the both of them. “It’s not that. It’s just…okay, yeah, this is all new to me. I’m kinda learning as we go here. And I love you no matter what, and I want you to be happy. I’m not mom and dad. I’m not gonna try to push you back in the closet just so I can tell myself we’re a normal family. You’re my brother, and I know now—that’s who you’ve always been. It’s just...I guess I’m still getting used to the fact that I was wrong for so long.”
“Okay,” Antonio said, holding himself back from apologising, quiet and desperately proud for not saying it right there at the table. He’d apologised to their parents, to the couple of so called friends who didn’t get it, to the girlfriend who’d broken up with him, pretty much on the spot. At the first hint of her sadness, Antonio had made his apologies and left. But time had passed now, and his truth wasn’t something to apologise for anymore. He knew that now. Or, at least, there were moments when he knew it, and moments when he tried to.
Nobody deserved those apologies from him, and nobody else was going to get them. Not even Gabby.
“Just be patient with me,” Gabby said. “I really am trying.”
Antonio bristled a little, but forced a smile despite it. They’d always been close, always been the ‘Dawson Girls’ growing up, and Antonio had hated that term even before he truly understood why. He wondered if, despite knowing he was only one person, had only ever been one person, if Gabby was mourning him anyway, even as he sat opposite her.
“If you miss having a sister,” said Antonio, “just know you never really had one at all. Just the idea of it, that’s all.” Gabby made a face.
“Well, okay,” she started. “I get that, but for a long time there, that idea was my reality. It’s gonna take me longer than—“
“It’s been over a year,” Antonio said. He hadn’t expected this when they’d arranged to meet, this anger in him, the hot liquid shock of it coiling under his skin. Another living thing inside of him.
His transition was not a graveyard. He wasn’t burying his old self, wasn’t killing off some girl, someone’s daughter, someone’s sister. They hadn’t talked about it, but Gabby had mourned a little at every landmark of his transition. She’d celebrated with him of course, but he could sense the sadness in her too, quiet and hidden away. The day he came out to her, the day he started testosterone, the first day she noticed a drop in his voice. The binder he wore today was safe, and it fit him correctly, and now that he was on T it helped him pass in public, but it still felt like a prison.
Summer had passed, sticky and hot, and all the while Antonio had contended with the harsh fabric against his skin, his chest pressed impossibly flat against him, a miracle and a curse all at once. Working out was almost impossible, breathing too deeply ached, and the sight of other men effortless in tank tops, or shirtless in public—it stung him just to see it. He’d lost count of the summer days he’d spent whiled away inside, just so he didn’t have to bind in that heat, just so he didn’t have to come face to face with the things he needed to survive, and didn’t yet have.
His sister watched him from across the table, folded her arms across her chest. There was Dawson anger in her as well, and the barest hint of disappointment that only made Antonio want to get up and leave. He’d perfected that too—this instinct to run.
“Do you really think I’m like that?” Gabby asked. “You really think I’m not happy for you, just because I miss thinking I had a sister? Sometimes I do miss thinking that, but I have a brother now, and I wouldn’t change you for anything. All that stuff mom and dad think matters? It doesn’t. This does. We do.”
Antonio blinked. “Yeah,” he said. “That’s...that’s what I mean. I guess...I guess I just don’t like feeling like I’m something you have to settle for.” Gabby’s gaze hardened on him then. She was fierce, and wild—they both were, in a way, but Gabby was sharper at her edges, and stronger at her heart. Antonio swallowed hard.
“You are not a consolation prize, Antonio,” she said, and for a long moment afterwards, neither of them said anything. They just sat there, the Dawson siblings, eyes fixed on each other, just watching, waiting for one of them to break.
In the end, as was always the way among them, it was Antonio.
“Long story short,” he said, “I called you here to ask you something.”
“Sure,” said Gabby, reaching for her coffee once more, the tension going out of her, the air a little cooler and easier to breathe between them. Antonio felt his heartbeat calm a little too. He fixed his eyes on the table in front of him.
“Can I, uh…Can I stay with you for a while? After surgery I mean.” He glanced up to find Gabby smiling at him, watched as she reached across the table and punched him on the arm, as if they were kids again. “Ow.”
“Damn right you’re staying with me,” she said. “Someone’s gotta keep an eye on you.”
“There’s no one better,” he said, rubbing his arm. Gabby laughed.
“No one better to order me around,” she said, “than my big brother.”
“Will you listen to me, though?” He asked.
“Nah,” said Gabby, and clinked her cup against his before downing the rest of her coffee. “Cheers.”
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bravo-four-seal-team · 4 years ago
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An Email with a side of regret.
Summary : 3 months after Ashley spoke to Amelia, thats how long its been, 3 months in captivity, by mid august her and two others from her unit were save, while recovering in medical, she takes Amelia’s advice - she finally reaches out to her brother
Co-written/proof read: @disasterfandoms
Tags: 
@rebelwrites @chibsytelford @jayhalsteadfan-2417 @pinkrockstar19
@softi92 @itsonautopilot @velvetcardiganbucky @mrsmarvelous1995 @supervalcsi @thegirlwhoisalwayswriting  @galaxysanduniversesinmymind
She’s laid up on a gurney, injuries healing, fluids being given, blood is drawn after she was knocked out. Now she was awake, they had 24 hours of observation to get the go-ahead to fly out to the San Diego base to receive further treatment at the base hospital there, then go under the psychological profiling, and then a physical evaluation before being allowed to continue their jobs. 
3 months ago, Gunnery Sergeant Cole, Staff Sergeant Sawyer, and Sergeant Clarkes were taken into captivity after the rest of their unit were killed in an ambush. 3 months of hell on Earth, trying to find ways to get out, or get a message to someone, when another Unit found them and get them back to base.
Which is how they all ended up in the middle of the medical wing. Cole and Clarkes had contacted their family, while Ashley was toying with the idea of reaching out to her brother. 3 months put a lot of things into perspective for her.
 “Fuck, Amelia was right” she grumbled, opening the computer in front of her, and began typing, her mind was all over the place, but one thing she knew she needed to do was to apologize for her actions and anything she did to cause pain. 
At least if she reached out she could say she did, she didn’t expect a response, but she had played her conversation with Amelia over and over in her mind, forcing herself to survive to get home, promising herself to try and fix things. 
“What are you doing over there Sawyer?” Cole asked 
“Writing.”
“To who?”
“My brother” she responded, never looking away from a screen, continuing to type away at the incoming disaster. She could hear shuffling towards her. 
“No mention of family in your file,” Cole said, looking at her, watching as her hands moved across the keyboard, hearing a thump, they watched as their medic walked into a wall and burst into giggles. 
“Yeah well, there wasn't any point in mentioning him Gunny” Ashley responded, “Remember how I said I joined because a family member was hurt?”, stopping to look up at her superior. 
Cole nodded. “Yeah, what are you gonna tell me a tragic backstory?” he asked, laughing at the thought.
“Brother was blown up in 2005, maybe 6 can’t remember, but I was 16. Left the hospital and found out what I needed and joined 2008, he’s Navy, Navy SEALs to be exact” she muttered, resuming her typing. 
“Ah, so the baddest of badasses. Gotcha” Cole smirked, as she shook her head. “Maybe you’ll take me up on that offer of drinks and dinner.” 
“No. You’ve been trying for what? 8-9 years to get me to go out with you, not happening, I don’t date. Focus on the job and that's it.” Ashley said, hitting send 
“You need a life outside of work, and you realize it's about 5 am over there?” Cole frowned
“Well, I doubt he will read it anyway.” 
Ashley, settled down, sleeping for a few hours. She was woken up by a nurse to check her wounds, she read over what she sent. “WHY DID NOBODY STOP ME,” she shouted.
 Cole laughed “You were pretty determined.” 
“I started it off with ‘Sorry to disappoint but I'm very much alive Mark!’” Ashley said gesturing to the screen 
“I mean, humor.” 
She didn’t see the message saying that her email had been opened. 
The email:
Subject: Surprise Bitch I lived. (plz open this)
Hey T. or do I start this with Dear Trent Sawyer or Petty Officer Sawyer?
Sorry to disappoint, I'm very much ALIVE. I can hear you now ‘That's not something to joke about Ashley’, yeah I know, just makes it easier. You probably don’t want me calling you T. so I won’t. I'm currently out in Baghdad, with another month of deployment left, then off to another base stateside. Not much going on out here, got me thinking about something someone said, over the past few months, and it ate away at me. I hate when people are right. Amelia was right, that I should have done this ages ago.
(As I am writing this, I just watched Craig walk into a wall, he’s on some good pain meds, our medic is high as a kite. Giggling like a child now.)
Let me begin with, I’m sorry for what I did in 2012, it was a stupid fight, I shouldn’t have said the things I did, I am sorry, I regret it, have done everyday, always expecting a call from Mom saying I was to attend your funeral, that thought terrifies me (Always had, especially after your injury).
I’m not expecting you to respond. Pretend this never came in for all I care, but I need you to know this.
Look the things I said to you Trent was uncalled for, there were times earlier on that I wanted to contact you, but I knew I’d either end up with your wife snapping at me for reaching out or radio silence from you, then mom told me you guys split and I didn’t reach out because, well, I thought I’d just make the wound worse, no point in doing that, don't go pouring salt into an open wound right?
(Can you believe my damn Gunny is still tryna get me to go out on a date with him? I made it clear for the past 8-9 years the answer is No. I’m thinking about punching him.)
Guess I don’t need to worry about you as much anymore if you got people, always say that family doesn’t end in blood, those who help you will be there for you. I caused you a shitload of hassle growing up, then with the fight. Sorry about that. Don’t think I’ll ever stop being sorry about that. Sorry about any hurt I caused, it wasn’t fair on you at all.  
God this is a mess, ha, I’m sorry, you're reading this mess. I didn’t plan this properly, and it’s probably super early for you as well, sorry… I was on base about May time? In Virginia, saw you, avoided you, didn’t want to cause any fights. I mean, Bravo is a tight unit; one word from Hayes, or your CO and it’d be my career on the line for even picking a fight or posing as a threat to a member of your weird little family there (Please get your CO some time off, he looks like he's about to have a nervous breakdown). It was easier to keep in the shadows.
You look like you're doing well, like you got the people in your life that care and worry for you, so that was good to well see and hear, which means I don’t gotta keep an eye out for trouble you get into. Looks like you're dating again as well, she seems nice (Let her know she was right, honestly, I am not happy about her being right.). You seem super happy which is good to see. 
Perhaps we could meet up when I’m back in about 2 months, I got to do a month in San Diego before going back home to Virginia. (For context for why I’ll be out in San Diego, the unit was ambushed, 3 months ago, there were 3 of us to survive, we got found yesterday, which puts life into perspective. Got psych evals and physical evals to do after healing. I fought, they don’t like fighters, man, they hate ‘em.) 
We could grab a drink and catch up, or uh… just check on each other once a month. I’m not looking for you to want to, you know, repair our messed up as hell relationship or reconnect. I know that ship sailed a year after we never contacted each other, again my fault. I'm sorry about it, sorry about all the pain caused. 
Who the hell am I kidding? I’ll send this and never get a response, you can’t fix something that is so broken. Remember what dad would tell us, “if it's unrepairable leave it”, that's what I did to our relationship. I miss having my brother in my life, miss being able to talk to you. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me one day. 
Just look after yourself Trent, don’t let anyone take your happiness away, fight always to get back to your family, to mom, your friends, your girlfriend. Fight always to get back to them. 
Don’t ever give up ok? You fight to get back no matter what. (You don’t break that promise you made me: to fight to come back to your family)
Look after yourself Big Bro. 
Ashley. 
(I’m gonna punch my Gunny now.)
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elsanna-shenanigans · 3 years ago
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April Contest Submission #3: Prism of White
Words: ca. 5,200 Setting: Modern AU Lemon: No CW: none
Light filtered through the window casting the room in a golden glow. Papers lay crumpled and torn on the coffee table and the floor beneath. Anna tossed her sketchbook on the table and threw her pencil next to it. Weeks passed and she still didn’t have another good idea for her next art piece. Her hands grasped a pillow on the couch beside her. Her freckled face buried in the soft cushion, a muffled groan joining the white-noise of the television in the background.
Art had been a passion of hers ever since her stubby toddler fingers first grasped that pack of cheap crayons. Her parents laid scrap paper out in front of her at the kitchen table. The adults left the room shortly after thinking little Anna would be occupied for a little more than five minutes.  Overjoyed with all the colors in the box, now strewn over the table some rolling to the floor, little Anna picked up the green and began to scribble in swirls and loops like any child does. Her mother came back ten minutes later to check on her and grab a cup of afternoon coffee. A gasp tore from her throat and her blue eyes widened at the site. The walls had been little Anna’s first canvas.
She laughed at the memory, the sound muffled by the pillow still pressed against her face. The scolding she received after that event lost to the feeling of joy at the colors swirling around her. Back then art had been carefree and fun. Now the blank pages in her sketchbook mocked her with that textured whiteness.
Twenty-one years of sketching, painting, throwing color on canvas’ of varying degrees, making a life out of it. A dream come true. One that would have been impossible if not from the support of her friends and family. One person in particular. Elsa.
Little Elsa could light up Anna’s world by merely stepping into the room. She used to be so very timid and quiet, often opting to hide in the corner with a book than engage with the other kids her age. Anna managed to pull her into their little games anyway.
As the two grew older their interests diverged slightly. They both found joy in the arts, joining in theater at school for fun, playing and listening to music (although their tastes differed vastly at times), and studying the history behind all forms of art. A bond formed and kept them close even when one started painting and sketching while the other used words to color with.
A writer’s search history and an artist’s eye left plenty for friends to laugh and grow concerned about.
Anna lifted her head from the pillow feeling someone fiddle with her twin braids. She smiled already knowing who it was behind her.
“What are you so distressed about?” Elsa hummed out sweetly. Her  eyes swept over the paper littered around and the discarded sketchbook. “Can’t think of a good idea?”
Anna groaned again and buried her head back in the pillow. Her reply came muffled and she knew Elsa wouldn’t be able to understand a word of it. This problem she had wasn’t that much of a big deal. Anna knew that. Every artist had periods where they couldn’t draw. An artblock as she so affectionately called it. But this felt different. She had ideas. The vision of what she wanted to draw sat crystal clear in her mind’s eye, but when she picked up the pencil each stroke on the page felt weighted. She knew what she wanted to put on the paper. She hated each stroke she made and the finished result. Weeks of this and the stress of not creating made her head spin. The ride she had been on had stopped with her sitting upside down unable to do anything.
The couch dipped beside her as Elsa sat down. Pale hands pulled the pillow Anna was secretly hoping would suffocate her until freckled cheeks and a pouty lip were visible. Anna whined and reached out for the cushion. Elsa held it out of reach ignoring the dark spot where Anna drooled on it.
“Ah-Ah,” Elsa wagged her finger. Anna’s shoulder slumped forward in despair. “You can get the pillow back and resume your little, um , whatever you were doing after you tell me what’s wrong.”
Sea-green eyes lowered to the open sketchbook, a frown settled on her lips. “I - I hate everything I make and it’s driving me crazy.”
Elsa set the pillow aside and shuffled closer to Anna. She gave her knee a reassuring squeeze and gently asked, “Is it one of your artblocks?”
Anna shook her head, braids swaying. “No, this is different. I know what I want to draw, I have the motivation to draw, but I can’t seem to like what I make. I hate the finished result, even if it looks how I wanted.” Her eyes glistened with frustrated tears, “It’s been like this for weeks and I’m going insane trying to fix it.”
Elsa cupped her cheek, running her thumb soothingly over the skin. Anna nuzzled into her palm, eyes fluttering shut at the coolness of her skin. “Anna,” she opened her eyes to see an amused smirk dancing on pink lips, a glint of humor dancing in blue eyes, “is this your first burnout?”
Her whole body stilled at the question. Burnout had been something she knew her artist friends over the internet talked about. How it could hit someone suddenly or slowly creep on through the years. The former could usually be seen coming and dealt with by short breaks, but the latter often crippled careers as it snuck in through the cracks undetected and infected everything slowly like a poison. Anna gasped lightly at the realization.
The ride she had been on for the majority of her adult life (granted it had only been 3 years since she graduated high school) was fast paced and constantly moving. She did not stop or get off, only urging it to move faster and faster. The need to create and improve outweighed any thought or concern the stress her body and mind were put under. She ignored all the signs, the warnings people told her to look for and now the stress had crushed her.
“What am I gonna do?” Her voice came out broken and unsure. Burnout was a completely foreign field for her. There was no map for her, no field guide to help her navigate through this problem. People mention taking breaks and stepping away from art for awhile to recharge, but that seemed impossible. How could Anna stop creating, when all she wanted to do was create?
“Is this new project for a client?” Elsa noticed the distress on Anna’s face and dropped her hand down from her cheek to grasp shaking ones.
“No, it’s one I plan to sell, or have prints made for my shop.”
Elsa nodded, “Okay. And do you have any client work lined up for the month?”
Anna answered in the negative. She had started a new system for her works where certain months she decided not to take on any client work. It was an attempt not to be too overwhelmed working on custom pieces that allowed her the freedom to work on her own as well. The system worked fairly well until this burnout happened. At least it happened now instead of when she had to work on pieces for clients.
“Okay, okay we can definitely work with this,” she breathed out a plan already forming in her mind. She knew Anna wouldn’t take a break willingly, that wasn’t her style. She would draw and paint until her hands fell off and even then she’d learn to use her feet instead. Nothing would stop her, not even the end of the world. The complete opposite of Elsa who procrastinated her own projects till motivation was high or the deadline approached. She often wondered how they never drove each other crazy doing things so differently. Instead of finding a reason she just blamed it on love. It was better not to question it anyway.
“Anna,” she turned and faced the younger woman determinedly, prepared for protestation, “do you trust me?”
Anna cocked an eyebrow and smirked. “Of course I do, silly. It’s part of why I married you.”
Elsa smiled and held her tongue to keep from commenting. That experience would be one she would never forget. She at her wife, eyes bright and said,
“Then you’ll understand what I’m about to do.”
Anna’s gut twisted in apprehension. She trusted Elsa with her life, but the twinkle in pale blue eyes told her not all of this would be a pleasant experience.
—-
“Anna, what color is the sky?”
From her position in the passenger seat of the car Anna scowled, her eyes screwed shut in a desperate attempt to fall back asleep. Elsa refused to let her in on the plan the day before, only telling her to pack a days worth of clothes and food and then promptly took all her art supplies and locked them inside a large chest. She never quite figured out why they had a large empty chest lying around and when she asked Elsa the older girl shrugged saying something about secrets.
“What.” Anna grumbled confused at the question and irritated at being woken up at three in the morning and rushed out of the house.
Elsa glanced at her from the driver’s seat. “What color is the sky?” She turned her attention back to the road, very much awake and relaxed. The half empty cup of coffee sitting in the cup holder helped.
“What kind of question is that? The sky is blue!” Anna twisted over and leaned her head on the window, arms folded across her chest.  Elsa still had yet to tell her where they were going and only mentioned a three hour car ride. That left plenty of time for her to catch up on sleep if her wife would let her.
“No, not - “ Elsa laughed at herself, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I meant what color is the sky right now?”
Anna cracked one eye open and grimaced at the passing street light that blinded her. “Black,” she stated matter-of-factly. Elsa hummed a smile on her face. She let Anna sleep the rest of the way, picking up and sipping her coffee. The low songs of the radio filling the silence in a quiet peace. She didn’t care for the station, but it was one of Anna’s favorites. The little things would make the difference on this trip.
Barely any time had passed, that’s what it felt like to Anna anyway, before a hand on her shoulder gently shook her awake. “What is it now,” she sighed tiredly and shuffled further into the car door. When she agreed to whatever Elsa had planned, losing sleep hadn’t even crossed her mind. She knew she was being unfair to her wife. Elsa only wanted to help. The stress of her burnout had taken its toll without consent and Anna wanted nothing more than to curl up in a corner and sulk. Sleep was the closest she could get right now, but the woman driving had other plans.
“What color is the sky now,” she asked eagerly. Her pale hand fell away and gripped the steering wheel again.
Anna squinted at the light outside. The night had faded to be greeted by the light of the sun just peeking over the horizon. Reds and oranges bled into pale blue as the orb of yellow and white ascended slowly. Any other day the she might have appreciated seeing the sunrise, she might have stared at the way the light shone and glistened along Elsa’s skin, bathing her in rays of gold. But it only annoyed her at having the same question asked in place of sleep. Still she answered,
“Red.”
Her eyes closed again with the plan to catch more sleep. Elsa didn’t bother her after that. She sipped her fresh cup of coffee, having stopped for gas before the sunrise. Anna grumbled under her breath adjusting to get comfortable in her seat again. Pink lips turned up at the corner in amusement. Anna may be grumpy beyond belief this morning and she knew it was her doing. The outcome of this trip will be worth it. Elsa knew it, could feel it in her bones. She could only hope Anna didn’t throw her in the lake as payback when they got there.
Elsa smirked watching, pulling out a pair of sunglasses and slipping them on. The day was only beginning. The coffee singed her tongue as she took another sip.
If Anna did throw her in the lake, she made sure to have plenty of jokes ready.
Gravel crunched under the tires as the car pulled off the main road. The road itself wasn’t too bad in terms of a drive. Anna woke up quietly glancing around at the trees and greenery around them. She said nothing to tell Elsa she was awake and continued to stare out the window. The sight felt familiar, she knew this place but couldn’t quite care enough to place it. Sleep still clouded mind and even if it was Wednesday she liked to sleep in late and stay up late instead. This whole early to bed and early to rise business wasn’t for her.
A light chuckle from her left told Anna all she needed to know. “There’s hot chocolate for you since you’re not the biggest fan of coffee.” Elsa never took her eyes off the road and merely motioned to the cup holder between them.
“Thanks.” Anna took the cup nearly dropping it. No protective sleeve saved her from burning fingers, not even the paper cup itself. “Geez, why’s it so hot!” She glared at her sister.
“Didn’t know how long you were going to stay asleep so I asked them to make it extra hot.”
“Extra hot,” Anna guffawed, “This cup feels like it came straight out of Orodruin itself! You could have got me a protective sleeve for it or something!”
“I didn’t know how long you were going to sleep!” Anna folded her arms at Elsa’s response, “Besides, you always get annoyed at the sleeves opting to burn your fingers anyway.”
“Yes, but the cups are never that hot!”
Elsa only smiled.
The car slowed and stopped with a slight jolt. Anna hadn’t touched her drink again still waiting for it to cool down from Mount Doom level temperatures. She figured out why this place had seemed so familiar. Her parents used to take her camping out here toward the end of summer, always running around the lake and sometimes taking a ferry over to the small island.
“I grabbed us a backcountry permit if you wanted to stay away from the normal campsites.” Elsa held up the piece of paper before tucking it into her jacket pocket. Anna hummed her agreement and stretched in her seat.
“I’m gonna find the bathroom then we can hike to wherever.” She ducked out of the car, breathing in the fresh air. A warm feeling of nostalgia washed over her at the familiar sight. She hadn’t come back to this park in years. Anna walked across the parking lot toward the public restroom. Coming back to the lake hadn’t even crossed her mind. It’s almost sad really. To forget about a place she once loved so deeply, have it take up a corner of her mind as a memory she kept but never thought about.
She turned the faucet off and shook stray water drops from her hands, wiping the remaining wetness on her jeans. Anna never trusted the automatic air dryers.
When she arrived back to the car, Anna bit back a bark of laughter. Elsa had strapped each and every pack and bag to herself and looked overloaded, but all too eager like a puppy. She smiled broadly at Anna and handed her the much cooler cup, “Come on, let’s go! I know of the perfect spot!”
Anna took the cup, her shoulders shaking as she held in her laughter.
“Wait, Elsa. Let me carry some things.” Elsa paused mid-step and tilted her head. All the coffee had gone to her brain in the most adorable way. “How did you even manage to hold all the bags, even mine?” Anna pointedly looked at the deep green duffle bag with a bright orange patch on the side.
“I played a lot of tetris as a kid.” She shrugged but gave Anna two of the bags anyway.
Anna adjusted the strap of a bag on her shoulder. “Alright, now show me this perfect spot.”
The blonde grinned and grabbed Anna’s hand practically dragging her along toward the trail and into the bush. Anna could only keep up and pray her hot chocolate didn’t spill.
—-
Anna had to admit the spot Elsa had picked was perfect. A little spot hidden behind dense shrubbery. Well off the path and if someone did make it this far the thorn bushes were certainly a discouragement. She knew she’d be picking the sharp thorns out of her clothes for a while and if it weren’t for the view and the feeling of peace she’d make Elsa do it without a second thought. Anna’s had her second thought and is still intent on making Elsa do the work.
“Nice view, right?” Elsa wiped the dirt off her hands stepping over to Anna. She had finished setting up the tent and decided to see what was keeping her wife. The view itself looked over the entirety of the lake and the mountains surrounding it.  The trees swayed in the breeze.
“It’s beautiful.” Anna tucked a piece of hair back into place. Elsa stepped up beside her. They stared at the scene in silence. A sense of peace forming around them. Anna closed her eyes listening to the birds singing in the trees and the wind rustling the branches. The smell of the air and the sun on her skin eased the tension in her shoulders she didn’t realize had been there. Anna felt free like she could step off the overlook and just fly. Elsa smiled at the content look on her face.
“Anna,” the red-head hummed and turned to face her, “what color is the sky?”
The question had her sighing exasperatedly. How many times would she ask that damned question. It didn’t make sense. She had answered it twice already. Inhaling deeply, Anna decided not to let this ruin the moment. She looked up at the sky, fluffy clouds dotting the expansive space.
“Blue. It’s blue.”
Elsa made no comment. Anna would have yelled at her but the pure love in pale blue eyes killed the thought before it formed. She found herself smiling back and shaking her head lightly. “You’re lucky I love you so much.”
Elsa chuckled, “I know. Now come on, let’s go exploring a bit.”
Anna followed eagerly. Exploring she could do.
—-
Night life in the forest seemed impossibly loud compared to the day. Anna didn’t mind much. She found the noise comforting in a way. All the little life coming out with the safety of darkness. Comfortable now that the sun has gone and they can hide in the shadows of the night. She could understand it. The night offered a sort of peace the day could not. She loved the sun, loved the hustle and bustle of day life, but the night hit differently. She closed her eyes, a soft smile on her lips. The day’s activities replayed in her mind’s eye.
After running around, revisiting old trails and memories and making some new ones, the two women sat around a little fire. Anna made Elsa pick out all the thorns and burrs while she roasted marshmallows. While Elsa didn’t agree with s’mores before dinner she let it slide this once.
They relaxed after that, Anna rigged a stick with fishing gear and went fishing. She didn’t catch anything. She came back soaking wet and Elsa only raised a brow. She changed into some dry clothes and sat by the fire to get warm. Elsa turned from her book then, a cheeky grin on her face and said,
“You know I love it when you -” Anna smacked her before she should finish.
Now they lay peacefully staring up at the stars.
“Anna,” Elsa started in the quiet. Anna hummed in acknowledgment before her mind jump started back to nearly every quiet moment previously,
“You better not ask me what color the sky is or I swear to god you will find yourself at the bottom of the lake!”
The crickets chirped.
“What hue doth the heavens above appears to thine viewing orbs?”
Anna laughed. She laughed loud and hard. She knew Elsa would find a way to rephrase the question the second she threatened her, but she never expected her to phrase it like that. She rolled onto her side and clutched her stomach from the force of her laughter. “I-I can’t -” she wheezed, tears pricking the corners of her eyes, “I can’t breath.”
“You should have let me ask the question normal then.” The cheekiness in her voice had Anna swatting blindly behind her. Her hand connected with nothing but air.
“Fine, this is the last time I’m answering that stupid question,” Anna finally said after she stopped laughing and caught her breath. She rolled back to look at the sky and exhaled deeply a smile on her face, “Black, the sky is black.”
“Wrong.”
Anna propped herself up on her elbow. Wrong. The first response back to her answers and it was to tell her, Anna, that she answered wrong.
“What, how can I be wrong? Are you seeing the same sky I’m seeing?” Anna grit her teeth ready to fully argue her point.
“No, no calm down, feisty pants. Right now you could argue it’s black, or a very deep blue.”
“Then how am I wrong?!”
Elsa kept her gaze on the sky. “I asked you three four times today what color the sky was. Only two of the answers were the same. Can you explain that?” “The sky changes colors, you numpty.”
“So what color is the sky then if it changes?”
Anna didn’t have an answer to that. Elsa turned to face her, the moonlight making her blue eyes glow in the night.
“What color do you say the sky is then,” Anna asked, moving closer to Elsa. The night breeze had a bit of a chill, but she didn’t feel like getting a jacket. Her arm brushed against her wife’s.
“If you asked me what color the sky is, anytime of day or night, I’d tell you it’s white. I know it’s crazy, but think about it. In general people say the sky is blue, but it’s not always blue. You said it yourself, the sky changes colors, so why is it blue then?” She raised a hand and traced along various constellations as she spoke. “Is it because that’s the color we see it as mostly. Blue during the day? The history behind it is actually fascinating, but I won’t go into that. But the sky can be any color depending on when you look. Black, dark blue, orange and red, yellow and pink, purple and light blue, even green. The sky isn’t just one color or one shade. It’s all of them all the time, we just only see what the light shows us. That’s why I say it’s white. White reflects all colors, the sky cycles through the colors based on a bunch of scientific stuff that I’m a bit too tired to get into. I didn’t really prepare to get into that bit anyway.” she laughed at herself.
Anna lay in silence. She never really thought about it like that.
“But why white, why not black?”
Elsa sucked in a small breath before answering, “Black is the absence of colors. If the sky was black that’s all we’d see. A black hole sucking the colors away and leaving nothing behind but darkness. That’s why it’s white and not black.”
“Geez, that took a depressing turn.”
Elsa hummed and entwined her fingers with Anna’s. “Think of it as a prism. The sun shines through and casts the colors fresh and new through the day.”
“A blank canvas.” Anna found herself mumbling aloud. A blank canvas to be painted each day in the same ways that vastly differed if you looked hard enough. The subtle hues shifting day to day, the contrast of reds and oranges against purples and blues. All of it spinning endlessly in a cycle, a prism of color splattered across a canvas of white that never is seen as white.
The two remained watching the stars for a bit longer. The little dots of color splattered across the dark sky. Almost a reverse of my freckles. Anna mused to herself. The crisp air raised goosebumps on her arms.
Anna went to sleep that night, snuggled in her wife’s arms, feeling so refreshed and full of love she thought it might overflow. And it did. Her emotions flowed over in little drops that ran down her cheeks and she whispered over and over how much she loved Elsa. In turn with each ‘I love you’ a kiss was placed on her head, her cheek, her lips, and her body squeezed a bit tighter.
The white sky, painted with the color of night, left them to rest peacefully. The moon watching over them.
The trunk slammed shut and all the bags and trash were loaded in. Not nearly as neatly as before but as long as it wasn’t falling out Anna didn’t care. She awoke buzzing with renewed energy ready and eager to get back to work. Her burnout long forgotten. The three hour car ride didn’t seem so long even though Anna sat wide awake the entire trip. Elsa would probably need a day to recover from the amount of talking Anna did in that small time. Maybe a new book and quiet day in a coffee shop or a day spent curled up in her bed with nothing but mindless games to entertain herself with. Anna made a note to thank Elsa for forcing her out for a day, whatever she wanted.
Anna went to work the moment she stepped through the doorway. Pencil marks flew across the page in hurried fashion almost as if the vision would fade before she could get it down. Supplies were strewn out over the kitchen table and counter tops as Anna fell into what Elsa called ‘The detonation zone’. It was a mess, but also the time and place where Anna seemed to get the most work done.
Guess I’m not cooking. Elsa thought and picked up the phone. She was kinda in the mood for pizza anyway.
Pale blue eyes watched from where she leaned against the wall as the blur of auburn worked in a frenzy. Her movements were both hurried and agonizingly slow to preserve the details in a way only Anna managed to do. A mesmerizing sight she could watch for hours if not for the delivery man ringing her doorbell.
She made sure Anna knew of the food sitting in the living room.
“Okay, thank you!” Came the reply from the kitchen. Elsa chuckled and shook her head taking her own slice or two of pizza. She disappeared into their shared room for the rest of the evening. The one day trip seemed to have worked in Anna’s favor. Elsa made the mental note to schedule more day trips once in a while.
Time ticked by and Anna didn’t even notice. The pizza had gone cold and the sunlight faded away. The brush in her hand was set in the water cup for the last time.
“There.” Anna sat back finished. She smiled at the creation in front of her leaving it to dry as her stomach made known it’s need for food. The clock read late into the night, or early into the morning, depending on how you look at it. Maybe setting an alarm for food and breaks would be a good idea in the future. She decided it’d be worth a shot if only to save her from a stiff back at the end of the day.
Her paint stained hands grabbed a cold slice of pizza and promptly inhaled it followed by three more. The kitchen sat in a disastrous mess and the urge to put off cleaning up until the morning hit hard. Anna considered cleaning up the worst part about doing art. Elsa would likely clean up for her in the morning since she always woke up first. Anna knew that and decided not to let that happen. As much as Elsa said she didn’t mind and that’s what she signed up for by marrying her, Anna wouldn’t have it. Not after what she’d done for her the past day, or really since they first-started dating.
Anna turned the faucet on, warm water cleaning her stained hands, and she began the cleanup.
It wasn’t until around four in the morning that she finally headed to bed. The bedroom door creaked softly. Elsa snored softly, curled on her side snuggling a pillow. The sight made Anna fall in love with her all over again. Anna would never get tired of seeing her wife in such a peaceful and vulnerable state. Gently, she climbed into bed beside her.
“I love you.” she whispered and kissed Elsa’s cheek. Elsa let go of the pillow at the contact and fully snuggled against her wife. Anna wrapped her arms around her and kissed her softly again.
“I love you so much.”
Elsa woke to gentle rays of sun dancing across her face. Untangling herself from Anna she stepped outside of the room. She paused halfway closing the door and looked on fondly at the sleeping mess of her wife.
The kitchen was spotless, save for the canvas resting on the table. Even the sink was clean, supplies neatly drying on the rack where they were supposed to be. A smile graced her lips.
The coffee pot sputtered to life as it began brewing. It was only nine o’clock and Anna likely wouldn’t be up for another few hours. Being your own bosses had their perks. The brown liquid steamed as she poured it into a plain ceramic mug. The rich scent very much welcome this morning.
Anna would always scold her for drinking too much coffee. The thought brought another smile to her face. She really loved Anna and all that came with her.
Coffee in hand Elsa approached the canvas on the kitchen table. She made sure to stay for enough back that if something drastic happened her coffee would not stain the creation. She rounded the table and the sight made her pause. The colors and detail splattered across it showed just how much that camping trip had meant to her.
“Oh Anna,” her eyes lined with overflowing emotions as she took in the painting. “You’re still full of surprises.”
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wolfinshipclothing · 5 years ago
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Oh ok, this is happening.
Take a look at that boy. He is so BROKEN.
After the shattering and healing of Jasper, Steven is now dealing with a sense of lost, fear of his own powers AND with a terrible guilt too. Because finally, and despite his efforts to do the opposite, he has actually hurt someone. Sure, he fixed Jasper, but the damage is done.
So of course he goes to the Diamonds, whom he thinks might be able to help him. Turns out they have been doing a lot of helping these days in their own ways, but none of them can help Steven.
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“You can be big if you want to, you can be small if you want to, but if you are gonna be upset no matter what, then this problem isn’t physical. Its emotional. Go see Blue.”
Yellow, of course, is right. Steven getting big was never the problem, its the fact that he does so out of control and when he is upset or something triggers his trauma.
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“I found happiness. If that’s not something you think YOU deserve, then i suspect this might be an issue of self-worth. I suggest you go to White.”
Blue is closer to the stove. Sure, Steven might find stuff that could make him temporarily happy (Blue’s clouds, hanging with his dad, Connie), but if he don’t adress the biggest issue, he will always feel bad, no matter what.
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“Oh Steven. So many would DREAM of having your powers, and it only worries you […] Half a diamond, half a creature of the Earth. In all the Universe, there is no one else who can know what you are going throught. So maybe its time you talk to yourself.”
Wow. Ok, first of all, kudos to White. This is the same gem that a few years ago was convinced she was the biggest thing since white bread (HA!), and that she knew all the answers; but now she is admitting that the only person who can knows what Steven is going through is himself.
Second of all, SHE IS RIGHT. Out of all of the Diamonds, she is the last one i thought would be right, but she is. Steven is unique. And he is getting increasingly alone, putting a wall between himself and the people that love him. So, White suggest he talks to himself.
Big mistake.
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The first thing that happens is that Steven sees himself as a Diamond. And he hates it. But is interesting cause, if White can see through other peoples eyes when she is possessing them, then the opposite is also true. Steven can see through both his and White’s eyes.
Case in point, when he lost his temper....
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“She cant hurt me, i am controlling her. So, why am i so affraid?”
There. We see Steven, looking at himself through White eyes. Because he is not afraid of White (or not entirely), he is afraid of Himself; afraid of how much Diamond there is inside himself. How much he is like Yellow, Blue, White, and PINK.
Now, lets look at this mess.
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Boy, you can’t tell me Steven wasn’t dissociating in here. But i don’t think his intention was to “shatter” White.
Remember, there is no White here. This is Steven, controlling himself, AND White, but something strange happens and he, kind of, splits. There is giant Steven on one hand; he is not Pink Steven, nor Chad Steven, nor Diamond Eyes Steven. He is Steven, period.
And then there is PINK!WHITE.
So, to me, it feels like Steven’s mind is merging/confusing/associating what he feels about White with what he feels about himself, hence the Pink!White.
Which makes me believe that Steven was not trying to hurt White (At least not directly). In fact, the episode never even pretends he tried to. Take a look:
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These are Giant!Steven hands. But these are not Real!Steven’s hands, these are White’s hands. Holding the air.
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And these are Pink!White hands. Holding the pillar.
You see? White was never in danger cause she was holding nothing. Steven was dissociating, talking with himself in a sort of fever dream scenario. Not only that, he reversed the situation
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He used White’s body control powers to move his real body, to force himself to do what he wanted but didn’t dare to.
Destroy his Diamond self, here incarnated in White’s form. He wasn’t trying to assault her; he was trying to hurt himself, the Diamond part of him.
Steven literally forced himself to hit his head against a wall!
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BRUTAL.
And when everything is said and done, he runs away, but Spinel stops him. And he thinks “hey, she is better know right? She can help me!”
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But no… Because, 1-Spinel doesn't take anything seriously, and 2-THE PERSON THAT HELPED SPINEL WAS STEVEN HIMSELF!
So he runs and grows until he is as big (if not bigger than Pink), and then he warps away to…
Where?
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Yeah, thats the question.
WHERE in the universe could Steven Universe go?
You know, i think White nailed it when she said that nobody knew what he was going through but him. All these episodes, all of Steven Universe Future has been about Steven trying to be at peace with himself. To discover who he is.
So far he has tried:
-Getting a long-life career (saving the universe/little homeschool)
-Getting a hobby (gardening)
-Hanging with his friends (Lars, Saddie, Peridot)
-Getting married (Connie)
-And connecting with his family (Greg and his human side/the Diamonds, his gem side).
You know, all the things that people do to fill their lives. Nothing worked. He rejected the idea of being Human (that boat sailed long ago), and the idea of being a Diamond is horrifying to him. He is in a void now, when he is NO ONE.
The ending of the episode was pretty clear in that matter.
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The Diamonds calling out for Steven, saying they are his family, mimicking the way Garnet said it at the start of the episode.
But now that Steven has cut ties with all his family and friends, now that he has no-one to support him, no other identity to attach himself to… Where will he go?
And i think thats how Future is gonna be resolved. Steven will have to face both sides of himself.
He is not just human. He is not just a Gem.
He is BOTH. He is Steven Universe.
Once he had made peace with that, he might actually find out WHO that is.
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haikyuu-appreciation-club · 4 years ago
Text
Pancakes for Dinner
{Down in the Dumps}
————
chapter one | chapter two
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series masterlist
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Bokuto let out a frustrated sigh as his head hit his home room desk, hair slouching as he pouted into the cold surface. Once again he had found himself staring face to face with a less than satisfactory grade scribbled at the top of his assignment.
Bokuto had never really been the best when it came to academic knowledge. School never held his interest long enough for him to retain the information he was there to learn and assignments were too time consuming and frustrating to gain any of his attention.
That’s not to say he didn’t try his best. He knew his education was important and he was aware of what he needed to do to succeed. His only issue is, it felt impossible for him to do so. Which is why each and every bad mark dragged him further and further into the irritation he had with his own mind. It had already been a month into the new school year and his grades were looking the exact same as they did every previous year of highschool. He wished nothing more then to be able to get a good grade on an assignment this semester, but with how things were going now, those chances were slim.
The tune of the ‘end of the day’ bell brought Bokuto out of his thoughts as the sound of rusting papers and tapping of shoes filled his ears.
As he lifted his head and let his eyes readjust to the lighting change, his gaze fell apon a yellow slip of paper placed at the top of his desk. He reached for it, brows furrowing in curiosity as his eyes scanned the material,
Bokuto Kotaro:
Please make your way to the principal’s office after class for a meeting about your recent academic performance. Thank you for your cooperation.
- Principal M.
This had sounded all too familiar to him. Bokuto couldn’t keep track of the amount of times he had been called by some form of authority to receive a degrading lecture about everything he had been doing wrong. As someone who thrived off reassurance and praise, he always left those talks a little broken-hearted, wondering why he couldn’t get things right when it came to school.
His thoughts raced as scenerios of how the dreaded conversation could go flowed in and out of his mind. It wasn’t until he recognized the peculiar silence of the room that he peered up to the clock and noticed the time. Quickly shoving his belongings into his bag, he raced off towards to faculty office.
•·················•·················•
“Ah? Mr. Bokuto, correct?”
Bokuto nodded, fiddling with his fingers as his eyes trailed about the trinkets scattered around the room.
The principal payed no mind to bokuto’s wandering eyes as he sat down and pulled out two file folders, sliding one to Bokuto as he opened up the one that remained in his grasp. Bokuto unwound his finges and reached for the contents passed to him, mimicking the principals actions as he opened it himself.
Inside held a few sheets of paper, all a mess of lines and columns, letters and numbers that jumped out at him straight away. As he looked closer, he recognized the chaos on the pages to be letter grades and percentages as well as personal information and notes from teachers these past few year,
“Now, it has been brought to my attention that your grades recently have been far from where your teachers and i would like to see them at. I’ve called you in not to scold you, but to make you aware of what could happen if these marks don’t improve.”
Bokuto shifted uncomfortably at those words. He’d heard this lecture plenty of time throughout the years but for some reason, this conversation felt different. The atmosphere in the air noticeably shifted from past interactions about this topic.
The principal let out a loud sigh, bringing Bokuto’s attention straight back to him. He gave the boy a small smile before leaning back in his seat and folding his arms,
“Listen, i’m just going to be straightforward with you son. If you don’t get these grades under control by the end of the semester, not only will this affect your future academic path but also your volleyball career. Meaning if i don’t see passing grades by this winter, you’re going to be kicked off the volleyball team and your chances of going professional will go with it.”
Bokuto’s eyes widened as he processed what he had just been told. Volleyball was his passion, something he loved with all his heart. Could it really be taken away just like that?
He felt his eyes begin to water at the thought of losing the sport and the team he loved,
“I-I can get my grades up, i promise! I just don’t really know how...”
His principal stared at him with wide eyes, not expecting a quivering lip to be his first reaction to the breaking news,
“Not to worry, not to worry! There’s someone named y/n l/n in class 3-3 that has offered to tutor you. I have set up a meeting for the two of you to meet tomorrow morning. For now, just head to practice and give this note to your coach.”
Bokuto visibly relaxed with hearing those words, allowing the sullen look on his face to disperse. He took the note from the principals hand, quickly standing up and bowing before exiting the suffocating atmosphere of the dusty room.
•·················•·················•
As soon as bokuto burst through the gym door, all eyes were on him.
The boys were all sitting on the floor stretching so he didn’t miss much but everyone was still confused as to why their captain had gone missing. Komi was the first to call out to the boy,
“Bokuto, where’ve you been? You almost missed warmups.”
Bokuto walked over to his teammates and slumped down in the empty area of their makeshift circle,
“The principal called me down about my grades.”
The team watched him pull his legs into a butterfly position as his gaze fell onto his sneakers.
Most of them didn’t know why Bokuto seemed so upset about the situation. It was a known fact amongst everyone in that building that he wasn’t the most academically advanced and usually a few jabs to his bad grades didn’t affect him much. Onaga tilted his head before he spoke,
“Well, what did he say about them?”
Bokuto looked at the team with sad eyes, hair falling as his lip began to quiver once more. Everyone began to feel panick rise in them, gazes simultaneously falling onto Akaashi in a pleading manner. Akaashi glared at the rest of the group before clearing his throat, causing bokuto to peer up at him,
“Bokuto-san, what’s the matter?”
Bokuto’s eyes widened as he quickly manuvered across the stretching circle, stopping at his best friend and furiously shaking his shoulders,
“Akaashi, they’re gonna kick me off the team if i keep getting bad grades!”
Akaashi sighed as he removed Bokuto’s hands from his body,
“Did you ask if there was anything to do to bring your grades up?”
Bokuto avoided his friend’s gaze and he thought of the conversation prior to his arrival,
“Well this girl from Konoha’s class offered to tutor me, but still, i’m doomed!”
Konoha, formerly uninterested in Bokuto’s current outburst, stopped what he was doing and focused his attention on the duo,
“A girl from my class? What’s her name?”
A confused expression flashed across Bokuto’s face and he racked his brain for information once more,
“Uhm, y/n i think?”
Konoha’s eyebrows raised in consideration as he hummed, sporting a small grin,
“Oh her? You’ll be fine then.”
Sarukui spoke up at Konoha’s sudden input,
“You know her Konoha?”
Konoha’s attention was now fixed on the whole group, who eyed him in newfound curiosity,
“Well not really, i just know she’s top of my class. I mean we’ve talked a few times and she seems really nice, pretty too, so i’m assuming her and Bokuto would get along.”
Komi spoke up once more as he slapped Bokuto on the back,
“See Bokuto? You’re in good hands! No need to worry, now let’s warm up so you can hit some awesome spikes today!”
Bokuto’s smile returned to his face as he nodded eagerly and continued stretching. The rest of a team relaxed as well, knowing that they had saved their ace from a mood swing once again.
Even so, Bokuto still seemed a little off this practice. The former pitiful look in his eyes had been replaced by a curious one. His movements had no intentions behind them today, muscles moving from memory. There had only been once thing he was completely focused on, anticipation causing just one question to continue coursing through his mind;
Who is y/n l/n?
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taglist: @goopy465 @al3x1ss @whosaskinguniverse @kenmas-grease @tsum-tsxmus @ray-ofmoonlight @simpparty @marvel-ing-at-it-all @ineedsomefoodpls @owlnymph @alittlebitofrain
send in an ask or a message to be added to the taglist :)
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32 notes · View notes
langdxn · 5 years ago
Note
Oof wife, I miss you help me with the thought of Xavier + breeding kink…Delicious 😈
EEESH I’ve waited SO LONG to do this, thank you wifey! Hope you’re well! 🖤🖤🖤 (gif by @langdvn)
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A new feeling washed over Xavier at campfire truth or dare. A fresh pang of unease bolted through his body, an almost out-of-body experience as he watched himself unravel beside the dying embers of the fire.
“Come on babe, you asked for truth so answer it,” Montana goaded you, eagerly twirling her bleach blonde hair in her fingers. “Do you, or do you not, wanna have Xavier’s babies?”
Your hand fired up to cover your mouth in a pathetic bid to disguise your nervous laughter. Ray slapped his thighs and leaned in close, an exhilarated smile beaming back at you as he waited for your response. Chet’s smug grin burned into your other cheek, but there was no sign of the bleached actor in question.
That most important of conversations between a serious couple never happened for you and Xavier. Despite three blissfully happy years together, you’d never once thought he was the kind of guy that wanted to settle down — a free spirit, an aspiring actor that didn’t need tying down to a certain state or home when he needed to be halfway across America on set for weeks on end. You’d always wanted kids one day but you were fairly certain you couldn’t convince Xavier of the same.
“Well yeah, sure,” you trailed off helplessly, eyes darting at the floor and idly kicking the bark around your sneakers. “Maybe one day, yeah. When we’re both ready.”
“I fucking knew it!” Ray cheered wildly, punching the air enthusiastically. “Xav, you hear that? You’re gonna be a daddy!”
“Shut up, Ray.” Ever the peacemaker, Brooke jabbed him in the ribs, received with an exaggerated ouch and a frantic rub of his side. “Xavier, don’t listen to him.”
“Nah nah, do listen to him,” Chet piped up, instinctively flexing his muscles as usual. “When are you guys gonna start making babies already?”
The actor leaned forward from his position in the shadows, his face slowly bathed in the amber glow of the fire. As his features came into focus, Xavier looked concerned. Scared. Conflicted. Your answer had clearly shaken him up, leaving him fiddling nervously with the cuffs on his lavender jacket.
“Yeah, yeah I heard,” he sighed, almost wishing the words wouldn’t tumble from his lips as he stubbed out the last of his joint. “Listen, I’m gonna call it an early night guys. It’s been fun but I’m totally wiped.”
Boos and hisses echoed around the campfire as he bolted to his feet, brushing down his white pants and walking wearily in the direction of the boys cabin. Eyes shot over to you, your friends grinning manically as if they expected you to follow him.
“Babe, he’s going to burn all his condoms now he doesn’t need them anymore,” Montana jibed loudly as the rest of the group erupted into gossip and laughter before she grabbed hold of your arm and leaned in to whisper to you. “Go to him, he needs you.”
“But he— he looks mad,” you panicked, brows furrowed.
“Trust me, please, he needs to make sense out of all that,” the blonde pulled on your sleeve and gestured you toward him. “He’s a bonehead, you need to spell it out for him.”
“I hope you’re right, ‘Tana,” you sighed, hesitantly grabbing your jacket and speeding to follow him.
“Xavier, wait!” You called out as he raced ahead of you, feet barely touching the ground until he swung the cabin door open and bundled in. Cursing yourself as your legs couldn’t carry you fast enough, you tumbled through the door to find the cabin empty. Gaze firing across the room and finding nobody in any bunks, only the pale moonlight flooding through the windows to light the interior. “Xav, are you okay?”
The cabin door creaked closed behind you, spinning you on your heels to find Xavier stepping slowly toward you.
“Listen, I know that was a bit crazy but I didn’t mean right now—“
As his sneakers bumped against yours, his hands gently wandered your body and his head dipped into the crook of your neck.
“Truth or dare, baby girl?” Xavier whispered, fluttering butterfly kisses into your sensitive skin as he stripped you slowly, softly, sensually, your clothes pooling at your feet.
“Uh, truth?” You replied hesitantly, unsure of where he was going with his line of questioning, taking his lead and shedding his clothing in return.
Once he unhooked your bra, your last remaining attire, Xavier cupped your face in both hands and smiled at you warmly, his piercing blue eyes staring straight into your soul.
“Will you have a baby with me?”
Your breath caught in your throat as you both stood together in the middle of the messy, dimly-lit boys cabin, completely stripped.
“Are... are you sure?” You stammered frantically as he stepped you back until you bumped into a blunt wooden desk behind you. “You know they were just joking out there, right?”
“Answer the question, honey,” Xavier pressed firmly, holding his lips a tantalising inch from yours while carefully hitching you up onto the desk, wrapping your bare legs around his waist.
“Well yeah, yeah, of course I do, but you’ve got your career—“
“Screw my career,” he husked, one hand journeying to his hardening length and lining himself up with your entrance. “Sly Stallone was 30 when he did Rocky, I’ve got plenty of time to make it. Just say the words, baby girl.”
Your eyes locked, gazing at each other like the first time you met. All the moments of love, lust and companionship between you, they all boiled down to this one moment.
“Okay, I’ll be clear,” you wrapped your arms around his neck and dug your heels into the back of his thighs, drawing him close until the tip of his cock, dripping impatient beads of precum, edged through your folds. “Xavier Plympton, breed me.”
“That’s my girl,” he purred, capturing your lips in a heated kiss mingling both of your tense moans as he rocked his hips forward and buried his length inside you.
“So…” you stumbled through broken gasps as he slowly bottomed out inside you, rolling your hips toward him to keep up with his glacial pace. “How long have you kept this quiet?”
“A couple years,” he hummed almost matter-of-factly as he groaned watching his cock pouring into your cunt.
“Years?!” Your eyes nearly popped out of their sockets, a quirked eyebrow aimed straight for the man currently revelling in the feeling of your walls wrapped tightly around him after years of using condoms.
“Sorry, I just didn’t know how to bring it up,” he punctuated every word with a curl of his hips, sending your eyes darting to the ceiling as he grazed your sensitive spot.
“It’s easy really, Plympton, just rip off the rubber and tell me you’re gonna fuck a baby into me.”
“Well,” he grasped your hips firmly, fingertips delving into your soft skin as he growled hungrily. “I’m gonna fuck a baby into you.”
Xavier ramped up the pace of his determined thrusts with the words rolling off his tongue, increasing to a frantic pace as he slipped through your swollen folds. Your back arched eagerly into him, digging crescents into his back so fervently you were sure you’d drawn blood in the heat of the moment.
“What—what are we gonna tell the others?”
“That I’ve got super sperm and I knocked you up on the first try?” His childlike grin stretched further across his lips as his tip crashed into your walls, leaving a burning throb in your core signalling your own climax was near. “If I get you pregnant now, you’ll be showing by the time we leave here after the summer.”
“You want to show me off to the rest of the counsellors?” You rolled your hips into him as he pounded you relentlessly into the wooden desk.
“Who wouldn’t, baby? You’re smokin’ hot even when you’re not carrying my child...” Xavier trailed off as he fixed a flat expectant palm on your abdomen, sending a bolt of heat to your cheeks. “Just imagine how radiant you’ll look when you’re pregnant. I’m sorry babe, I’ll never be able to stop holding your bump.”
“As long as you won’t stop fucking me when I’m huge,” you pleaded softly as your walls constricted around him.
“I can’t believe you’d suggest that—fuck, I’m close… lie back for me, baby,” he quickly gestured you down to the desk as he grabbed a sweatshirt from his bunk and tucked it beneath your hips, his thrusts stuttering frantically. “Let’s knock you up, babe.”
“Kiss me while you impregnate me, Xav.”
You pulled him down to you, using your last snap of energy before the pressure inside your core unleashed a tidal wave of arousal over his length as he pulsed within your folds. The cabin echoed with your blissful moans into each other’s mouths and the obscene slick of his thrusts as Xavier released in tandem with you.
Winding down his rolling hips, Xavier watched your folds to make sure he’d filled you properly. Bottoming out one last time, he sighed contentedly and met your loving gaze.
“Our parents are gonna kill us when we get home,” you bit your bottom lip before Xavier planted a haunting kiss on them.
“Then let’s never go home.”
278 notes · View notes
snowyseba · 5 years ago
Text
Miles Away
Summary: A Rockstar!Steve AU. Steve Rogers was known to most people as the lead guitarist for the Howling Commandos, but to you, he was also your boyfriend, or at least you thought he was. Lately, though, you weren’t so sure. He was barely around anymore and seemed to want nothing to do with you. Wrapped up in his own emotions, Steve won’t even hear you out, choosing to ignore you rather than confront his own failings. An unexpected phone call during the Howling Commando’s tour brings everything crashing down around him. How is he supposed to fix this mess?
Word Count: 6.2k
Warnings: angst, swearing, Steve is kind asshole, pregnancy & injury during pregnancy, fluff
Posted 12/18/19
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Well fuck. The little plus sign on the stick in front of you changed everything. You and Steve had been together for just over three years now, living together for two of those years, but you’d never really talked about kids. It wasn’t that you didn’t want them eventually, but the subject just never came up, especially with his career taking off rapidly. Hell, you’d never really talked about your future. If you did talk about the future, it was always about his plans and his band, The Howling Commandos. You didn’t regret dating a musician; you had known what you were signing up for when you started the relationship. Hell, the fact that he was a guitarist was part of the appeal in the first place.
Lately, though, things weren’t great. Steve was busy, which was nothing new given his crazy schedule, but there seemed to be less and less time for you. Despite living together, it felt like you saw him less than ever. Most mornings, he was still sleeping when you left for work, not bothering to get up or say goodbye, and he’d stumble home well after you had fallen asleep each night. You might have been living together, but your lives had never felt more separate. He used to make time for you, or at least text you to let you know that he was running late. Not anymore, though. You were lucky if you got a few messages a day.
Maybe that’s why you started clinging to him. The more distant he got, the harder you tried. And the harder you tried, the more you seemed to drive him away. You felt like you were annoying him, but you shouldn’t have to beg for even the smallest bit of attention, not to mention affection, from your own partner. The more he pushed you away, the harder you held on.
Something was broken between the two of you, but you couldn’t fix it if he wouldn’t talk to you, and lately, that seemed like the last thing he wanted to do. You were running out of time. Steve was leaving for tour tomorrow, and you still hadn’t found a time to tell him you’re pregnant. You had been trying for a week now, but every time you tried to talk to him, he’d make some excuse about running late for a meeting, or having to go meet the guys to rehearse. Tonight was your last chance, and then he’d be gone for three months. You’d be showing by the time he got back. Sooner or later, the truth would come out. 
So there you were, perched on the ledge of the bathtub, staring down at the positive pregnancy test, wondering just how the hell you were going to tell Steve. You’d wait up for him, you decided, no matter how late he was. The positive test was just confirmation; you had suspected that you were pregnant for a while now but had been too scared to buy a test. It would have been easier if you could have told Steve your suspicions, but your main form of communication lately was texts. This deserved an in-person discussion.
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Four hours later, it was just past midnight. You were exhausted, but you were determined to stay awake. Thankfully, you didn’t have to wait much longer; Steve returned minutes later. The second you heard the door open, you felt the familiar pit in your stomach. Dread. That was the only word you could think of. 
“Oh, uh, hey babe...I didn’t think you’d be up.” 
“Well, I’m up,” you tried to sound playful, but you barely managed to conceal how shaky your voice was. “I was actually hoping to talk to you.” 
“Not now, babe.” Steve shook his head, waving dismissively. “I’m tired and tour starts tomorrow. We can talk in the morning.” 
You sighed in frustration, shaking your head. “No. We’re talking right now. I’ve been waiting for you all night. I barely see you anymore. I’ve been trying to talk to you for weeks. This is really important, Steve.” 
“Jesus, Y/N. I’m fuckin’ exhausted can you just drop it? I said we’ll talk tomorrow. Fuck, I don’t know what’s gotten into you lately.”
“Well,” you huffed, still keeping your hand on his wrist, certain that he’d walk away the second you let go. “I’ve been trying to explain what’s gotten into me but you won’t even give me the chance! Fuck, Steve, I’m just asking for some goddamn time. We don’t talk. Hell, we don’t even see each other awake anymore!” 
Steve tugged his arm away from you at that. “You know what, fuck you, Y/N. I’m gonna crash with Bucky for the night. I’ll see you after tour. I can’t do this right now.” 
“Steve! Don’t walk away from me! I’m trying to tell you something really important!” 
He retreated up the stairs and all you could do was stare after him in stunned silence, a shaky hand pressed against your stomach as you slowly sank to the ground, body shaking with silent tears. Fuck. What were you supposed to do now? You couldn’t just blurt out that you’re pregnant. Who knows how Steve would have taken that.
Steve didn’t even give you a second glance as he stalked through the front door, weekender bag overstuffed with clothes slung over his shoulder. He paused at the door, turning, looking at you silently for a few moments. His brow furrowed and his fists were clenched. He opened his mouth, then closed it again. “I...look, we’ll talk after tour, babe. But...I need a break. I can’t do this clingy shit. That’s not what I signed up for. I don’t know what’s up with you, but maybe some time apart will be good for us. I think that maybe we shouldn’t talk until I get back, though. Whatever it is you needed to tell me, it can wait until I get back.” 
Ouch. Okay. “Fine,” you struggled to keep your voice calm, failing to prevent it from shaking and giving your emotions away. 
And then he was gone without so much as a goodbye. Maybe you should have argued with him. Maybe you should have told him you’re pregnant despite his insistence that the news could wait, but you were tired. Tired of being the one who cared more, tired of being the person trying to fix everything when it was clear that Steve didn’t care. Steve had made up his mind, and it seemed like he was going to give you no choice but to accept it. 
There was a huge part of you that wanted to fall apart completely, to close the curtains and curl up in bed for days, but you couldn’t do that. You had another life to think about now, and you had to try to take care of yourself. From now on, you’d focus your energy on your baby. Your baby. That brought a smile to your face despite everything, your hand still gently cradling your stomach. From the moment you found out, you knew you were going to keep this baby. No matter what happened with Steve, you’d always have your baby. You’d give them all the love in the world. With or without Steve, you were going to make sure that this baby had the best life possible.
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Ten Weeks Along. 
Today was your first ultrasound appointment. The doctor said you were measuring a bit bigger than expected given the date of conception, so she had ordered an ultrasound to confirm your due date. You had desperately tried to get ahold of Steve, leaving him several texts and a voicemail, but so far there was no word from him. You were still conflicted about telling him that he was going to be a father over the phone, but you could have really used his support. All of this was so new and unfamiliar. 
Nat, a longtime friend of Steve’s who you’d quickly come to consider one of your closest friends, offered to come and was meeting you at the clinic. Nat was over the moon and eagerly agreed to go with you. You were glad that you wouldn’t be alone, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that it should be Steve by your side, sharing in the incredible experience of seeing the little life you had created for the first time. The Howling Commandos’ tour had barely begun, but he was already missing so much. In the short amount of time that Steve had been gone, you noticed a small bump was forming. To most people, it would probably just look like you’d overindulged at your last meal, but you knew better. Still, you were surprised. You figured that you were fairly early in your pregnancy, so why were you starting to show already? Then again, that was why you were here.
Next to you, Nat was practically bouncing in her seat as the doctor applied the gel to your bump, and she was the first one to spot the second baby, your second baby. 
“Oh!” Nat squealed, gripping your hand tightly in her own, pointing at the screen. “Is that...are those...two?”
As it would turn out, the reason for your measurements was that you were currently carrying not one but two babies inside you. Lo and behold, there were two little blips on the screen. Baby A and Baby B. 
“You’ve got a good eye!” your OB/GYN grinned. “See that, momma? Looks like you’re going to have your hands full.” 
You didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Being called ‘momma’ and seeing your babies growing safely within you was incredible, but there was something, someone missing. Fuck. Now you really had to tell Steve. One baby, you might be able to handle on your own, but after hearing all the potential complications and concerns that came with having two babies, you weren’t so sure that you could do this on your own. 
Nat fixed you with a knowing gaze before glancing up at the other woman. “Could you give us a moment?”
She nodded, stepping around the examination table and excusing herself. “I’ll be right out here when you’re ready.” 
As soon as the door closed, the dam burst and you couldn’t help the sob that left your lips as you pressed a hand against your stomach. 
“Oh honey, c’mere” Nat wrapped her arms around you in an instant, rubbing gentle circles over your back as she held you. It was the most intimacy you had felt since Steve left, and it made you cry all the harder. “Do you want to tell me what’s going on? Not that I’m not thrilled to be here, but...shouldn’t Steve...I mean, wouldn’t he want to be here for this?” 
You pulled back from her, avoiding her gaze as you whispered dejectedly. “I wouldn’t know,” you paused. “He doesn’t know.” 
“Y/N?” Nat’s voice was even, but you could tell she was trying hard to keep it that way. “What do you mean he doesn’t know?” 
And so you told her. You told Nat everything - how distant Steve had been, how he had told you that he wanted space, how he was ignoring you texts and calls, how he had walked out on you that night without so much as a second glance. By the end of your story, Nat was fuming. She had stopped rubbing soothing circles over your back, now just gripping you tightly against her. Coming to sit on the exam table in front of you, she took your hands in her own, squeezing reassuringly. “Okay. Here’s what we’re going to do. We’re going to go back home, and we’re going to call him. I’m going to be with you, and we’re not going to give up until he actually picks up. This is too important for him to ignore.”
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“You have reached Steve Rogers. I can’t come to the phone right now. Leave a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.” 
That was the tenth time in a row you were sent straight to voicemail after a single ring. This was just getting childish. Steve was now actively ignoring you. He wouldn’t even give you the chance to try to have a conversation with him. You didn’t want to tell him about something this important via text, but he really wasn’t giving you much of a choice at this point. 
“What an asshole,” Nat’s voice did little to mask her resentment towards Steve. “Has it been like this the whole time?”
You nodded, trying not to fixate on the pitying look Nat gave you.”Haven’t heard from him since he left. He said he wanted a break. Fuck, Nat, I told him I had something important to tell him and he...he just told me it could wait. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do here.” 
Panic was rapidly bubbling deep in the pit of your stomach. Tears pricked at your eyes, quickly spilling over, your breath catching in your throat as you paced the length of your living room, wringing your hands. “What if he doesn’t want me anymore? What if he doesn’t want us? What am I supposed to do, Nat? I don’t know if I can do this by myself. I can’t have two babies on my own. This wasn’t supposed to happen this way. This isn’t how any of this was supposed to happen.”
“Y/N, you’ve gotta breathe. Can you do that for me? Take a deep breath, you’re starting to hyperventilate.”
Although you registered her words, you couldn’t stop. Thoughts were racing, and it felt like your heart was about to jump out of your chest. What on earth were you supposed to do now? You weren’t sure if you were prepared to face the very possible reality of doing this without Steve. You were too wrapped up in your thoughts to even notice that you were about to walk right into the coffee table. 
Nat shrieked your name, and you looked up at her in a panic, but it was too late, your foot caught on the leg of the table, and you went tumbling forward. Nat sprung into action, propelling herself towards you in a frantic attempt to catch you, but she was too late. You had already fallen.
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Steve snuck away from the rest of the band to tune his guitar. As much as he loved his bandmates, he needed some space after traveling in such close quarters and spending most of time each day with them, some time to clear his head. The way he had left things with you didn’t sit well with him, but he just couldn’t bring himself to pick up the phone. If he could just keep himself busy, maybe he wouldn’t have to think about it. 
“Steve! Fuck, man, I’ve been lookin’ everywhere for you!” Bucky’s voice reverberated through the empty arena. It wouldn’t be that way for too much longer, though. Only a little while left before that night’s show, and it was sold out. Soon, the fans would start filing in, the anticipation building until that magical moment when Steve and the band stepped out onto the stage. Those were the moments he lived for, when the worries and stresses of life washed away and he was able to truly live in the moment, sharing what he loved with these people who had made time in their lives just to hear him perform. Sometimes he couldn’t believe how lucky he was. 
Still, Bucky sounded worried, so Steve set his guitar down on its stand and turned to his friend. “What’s up?” 
Out of every possible imagined scenario, Steve never expected the words that next left Bucky’s mouth. “I’m so sorry, Steve, you’ve gotta go. Now. Y/N had a fall. They’re worried it could have hurt the babies. You’ve gotta go. They won’t tell Nat anything since she’s not family. Get your ass to the hospital, man, and you can explain why you kept your unborn children a secret from your best friend later.” 
He stared at Bucky for a few seconds, trying to process the information he had just been told. Babies? Fuck. Holy fuck. You were pregnant, with more than one baby, and you had fallen. You were being taken to the hospital. He stared at Bucky, uncomprehending, but suddenly finding extremely difficult to swallow, his chest constricting tightly as the realization set in, rapidly followed by guilt, then sheer panic.
Steve had messed up. More than messed up. He was pretty sure he might have just ruined the best thing that had ever happened to him, something he didn’t even know about because of his own pride and stupid inability to talk about his emotions. If he got to you and those babies...Bucky hadn’t said how many, but why would he? He had obviously assumed Steve had already known. Was it twins? triplets?? Oh god... if those babies were gone, if you were hurt, he wasn’t sure he’d ever forgive himself. He wouldn’t blame you if you never forgave him either. He had been such an asshole to you. All he could do now was hope that it wasn’t too late to fix all the damage he had done. 
It was like a flip switched and before he even realized what he was doing, he had grabbed his phone booked a ticket for the next flight home. It would be tight, but if he left now, he’d make it on time to catch the flight. Meanwhile, Bucky called a cab, ushering Steve into the back seat as soon as it arrived, telling him to call as soon as he had news.
Once en route to the airport, Steve’s thoughts drifted to the night he left. He muttered vague responses to the driver’s small talk, but all his thoughts were centered around you. Something hadn’t felt right when he left you, he knew that, and yet he did so anyway. Even when you had said you had something important to tell him that night. When you had begged him to let her you out. All of a sudden, it was like everything fell into place. Of course. You were pregnant. That’s what you had been trying to tell him. That was the crucial news, and he had just walked out on you like you meant nothing to him. Worse, he told you not to contact him. He ignored your texts and calls. Oh god. He felt sick to his stomach at the thought.
Steve knew he had to fix this. He had no idea how, but he was going to try, and trying started with getting himself on that flight. Tour could wait. His family was in danger.
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By the time Steve reached the hospital, he felt like he had run a marathon. His chest was tight, and breathing was getting harder and harder. He was exhausted, and yet on high alert. All he knew was that he needed to get to you. He was out of the Uber before it had even come to a full stop, mumbling a thank-you to the driver. Quickly shutting the door, he strode straight to the front desk, desperate to find out what room you were in. He needed to get to you as soon as he could. He only hoped it wasn’t already too late. 
Thankfully, a sympathetic nurse took pity on him, “Follow me,” she’d offered with a kind smile. “She’s in room 103, at the end of the hall on your right. She’s asleep and under observation, but she’s stable so you can wait until she wakes up.” 
Now here he stood, at the door to your hospital room as if some invisible forcefield were keeping him out, watching the slow rise and fall of your chest. The pallid white walls emphasizing the sterile and cold environment did nothing to make him feel better. He wanted nothing more than to fall at his feet by your side, begging you to forgive him, but his feet were rooted to the spot. Did he even deserve that? He had abandoned you completely when you needed him the most. He hadn’t even given you the chance to tell him about the babies, his babies. At that moment, he was pretty sure he was the world’s biggest asshole and he was going to spend the rest of this pregnancy, if not the rest of his life, making up for it. 
Taking a shaky breath, he approached your bed, carefully sitting in the adjacent chair so as not to wake you. You looked exhausted, even asleep, and he felt his heart constrict with shame and guilt. His fingertips brushed over your hair gently, whether to reassure you or himself he wasn’t sure. 
Steve remained silent for a while, listening to your breathing, his eyes fixed on the slight swell of your stomach that definitely hadn’t been there when he left for tour, the swell that currently housed his babies. You could have easily fallen on your stomach when you tripped. The thought ignited a spark of guilt deep within him that soon felt like it was consuming him completely. He swallowed thickly, shaking his head and looking away for the first time since arriving. If he had been there, he could have caught you. He could have been there if he had known. Maybe he could have even prevented this. Things were going to have to change, moving forward.
Finally, he found the courage to speak. He took your hand in his, giving it a hesitant squeeze. “Hey, princess. I don’t know if you can hear me or not but I’m so sorry. I was an asshole. I was so beyond out of line, and I should never have left you the way I did. I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I’ve been a horrible dad so far, but I promise I’ll do better.”
Your eyes fluttered slightly, but he wasn’t entirely sure that he wasn’t imagining it. “Y/N?” Instinctively, his grip on your hand tightened as he waited with bated breath, searching for any sign that you had heard him. 
He was almost about to give up hope, turning his attention to your belly and the babies within, when he heard you utter a small, groggy “Stevie?” 
A sharp inhale left the man beside you as his eyes suddenly flicked from your belly to your face, searching for confirmation that he wasn’t making this up. When he saw your eyes open, looking at him with an albeit confused expression of love and gratefulness that he wasn’t entirely sure he deserved, he could barely stop himself from crying. “Oh, sweetheart...I’m so sorry, I -”
There was a knock at the door, interrupting Steve and alerting you to the doctor’s presence. “Ah, Mr. Rogers, it’s a good thing you’re here. Do you have a moment to discuss your results?” 
“Of course,” Steve answered automatically, his grip on your hand tightening. His hand was clammy, his brow furrowed with concern. 
“Now, the good news is, your results looking within the normal levels for a twin pregnancy, but you did fell, which can cause some problems. You haven’t had any contractions, and there’s no sign of blood or amniotic fluid loss. Everything is looking okay so far, but I’d still like to do an ultrasound just to make sure. You’ll need to make sure she’s taking it easy. Dad,” she looked at Steve, who’s somber expression suddenly brightened as the name sunk in, “you’ll want to make sure she’s resting enough. Make sure you’re staying hydrated and eating enough as well. Let’s make sure we try to avoid any future falls as well. Now, let’s take a peek at these babies.” 
The moment Steve saw the two little blobs on the screen, when he heard the rapid thump thump thump of the twins’ hearts, it was like his whole world shifted. Suddenly, all he wanted was to stay here with you and his family. This was where he truly belonged, and he was an idiot for jeopardizing it in the first place.
How was he supposed to just go back out on tour, spend weeks and months on end away from you, all while knowing that you were at home, alone, carrying his babies? He didn’t want to miss another minute. The Howling Commandos would be okay without him for the rest of this tour. They could get a temporary replacement guitarist for him. He was okay with stepping out of the limelight for a while. Being able to be here for you and experience this together was better than all the applause in the world. The beating of his babies’ hearts was more captivating than any music he had ever heard. 
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After the doctor left, cautioning you again to make sure not to overdo it, you and Steve sat together in silence. He was still gripping your hand in his, his eyes glossy. Even though it wasn’t your first ultrasound, you still couldn’t help but tear up when you saw your little ones. Although Steve had stayed silent, fixated on the screen, you didn’t mind. If anything, you were moved by how he was completely captivated by the two little lives inside you, and you didn’t miss the way his hand tightened around yours when their heartbeats filled the silence.
“Y/N...” he raises your hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to your knuckles, “fuck, baby, I’m so sorry. I know sorry doesn’t cover it, but I swear, I’m gonna make this up to you. When Bucky told me you were in the hospital, that our babies were in danger, shit, I was terrified. I had everything I ever wanted and I was too much of an asshole to even let you tell me.”
As much as you wanted to forgive him, to comfort him, now that you were over the shock of him actually being here, part of you was still apprehensive. “You walked out on me, Steve. You walked out without even looking back. How am I supposed to trust you? You’ll be on tour for months after this. Honestly, I don’t know that I can handle the stress, and you heard what the doctor said. What, are you going to fly home for every appointment? You’d have to leave right afterward, and I don’t know if I can manage that. What about all the time in between? I miss you enough as it is, and having you here playing house for a couple hours every few weeks...that’s not what I imagined for us.”
Once you started talking, it was like all your fears were coming out at once. Everything that you had bottled up inside since the night Steve left was being unleashed upon him. “What if you miss the first kick? What if I go into labor while you’re still on tour? What if you can’t get home in time?” Your breath was coming in short gasps now, your chest tight as tears stung your eyes. 
“Hey, hey, baby please take a deep breath for me, okay? Can you do that for me, sweetheart? We’ll talk about everything, I promise, but first I need you to calm down - doctor’s orders, right?” He moved to sit on the edge of your bed, facing you. His hands cupped your cheeks, his eyes locked on yours. 
You tried to focus on his face, the feeling of his rough calloused fingers, a physical sign of his dedication to his craft, against your cheeks. How could you ask him to give up his dream? You needed him, but you knew just how important the Howling Commandos’ music was to their fans. Some of them saved up for months just to afford tickets to a show. And you also knew just how important music was to Steve. Still, you did as he asked, and tried to steady your breathing. 
“That’s my girl.” The corners of his lips twitched up in the slightest smile. His hands dropped from your face to hold your own. “Now, let me start by saying that I was so incredibly wrong to leave like I did. I should have let you finish what you were saying. I missed out on finding out about the best damn thing that’s ever happened to me. It was unforgivable, and you have every right to hate me for it, but --”
You cut him off before he could continue. “Why did you do it? What did I do to deserve that? If I was being too clingy, you could have talked to me about it, Steve. But you didn’t. You just shut me out.” 
“Y/N,” he pleaded. “You didn’t deserve it. Any of it. Look, honestly...I didn’t want to leave. I wanted to skip the tour and just stay with you. I miss you when I’m gone. I hate the time differences, the missed calls, sporadic texts. I hate that I don’t get to go to sleep and wake up with you by my side. I didn’t want to give that up. But then I thought about everything I have, and how so many people dream of being where I am, and I felt guilty that I wanted to give it all up. Don’t get me wrong, I love what I do and I don’t want to stop, but sometimes I just...wish I could have a normal life. I worried that I’d be letting everyone down if I asked for a break...so I pushed you away.” 
His bright blue eyes were glassy, his deep voice taking on a gravelly, unsteady edge. “And then when Buck came running out on to stage, telling me you were being taken to the hospital, that you fell and they’re worried about the babies...doll, I...” he shook his head, clenched fist pressed against his mouth. He squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head. Without thinking, you reached out to squeeze his shoulder, tracing soothing patterns over his arm. Once he had collected himself, he began speaking again. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt more afraid, sick, or loathed myself more. I almost lost everything, Y/N.”
“But you didn’t lose everything, Stevie. We’re all okay.” 
“I could have, though.” He shook his head, looking down at his feet. He was struggling with what to say next. “I’m not taking any more chances. I’m not taking any of this for granted. I’m going to talk to the guys and work something out. I’m going to be here every step of the way, okay? If you’ll have me, that is.” 
You’re silent for a few moments. You’re still not entirely sure you can trust him, but you’ll never know unless you try. “All I’ve ever wanted you, Stevie, only you.” 
“Hmm, only me? That might be a bit of a problem, sweetheart considering it’s going to be the four of us in a few more months.” 
“The four of us? Are you really sure you’ll be around.” 
If he was offended by your question, he didn’t show it. Instead, he pressed a kiss to your forehead, pulling your body against his. “I can’t change the past but I can promise that I’m going to spend the future making up for it and showing you just how much I want this.” 
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Thirty-Six Weeks Along
The universe was trying to kill him, Steve decided, as he accelerated out of the studio’s parking lot, merging onto the highway shortly after. You weren’t due for at least another week. The midwife had cleared you, and both of you had assured Steve that it would be fine to head into LA for the day to do an interview with the band. Tour was over, and the Howling Commandos were working on their next album, allowing Steve plenty of time to be there for you and your growing family for at least the next year. 
But of course, the universe had other plans for him. Halfway through the interview, the band’s assistant was making frantic motions from the side of the set. When Steve finally caught on, his heart sunk. Before he even realized what he was doing, he had stood and was quickly making his way over to her. All he processed were the words ‘Y/N,’ and ‘in labor,’ and he was out the door, taking the stairs two at a time rather than waiting around for the elevator. He’d be damned if he was going to miss this. 
Every minute that ticked by as he was stuck in LA traffic was excruciating. All he could think about is that yet again, he wasn’t there when you needed him. Rationally, he knew you wouldn’t be angry; you had been the one to push him to go to the interview in the first place, despite his protestations, but his residual guilt over his behavior made him feel as though he was letting you down by not being there with you right now. Steve had felt anxious all day, and the last thing he had wanted that morning was to leave your side, but he tried to quell his anxiety as you blamed it on the first-time dad-to-be jitters. He should have listened to his gut. If he had, he would have been there for you. 
Steve did make it, though, and he was right by your side as you delivered two healthy babies, a boy, born at 11:42 PM, and a girl who arrived only 16 minutes after her brother. The moment he held his son, and then his daughter in his arms, he broke down into tears. He had managed to keep calm throughout your labor and their birth, focusing on supporting and encouraging you, but when he felt the weight of the babies, felt their impossibly soft skin against their own, watched the steady rise and fall of their chests, it suddenly hit him that this was real. 
The next few hours were spent cuddled on the bed, the two of you marveling over your twins, both of you still trying to register that they were really here. Steve noticed your attempts to stifle your yawns, the way you struggled to keep your eyes open. 
“Get some sleep, sweetheart.” Steve murmured, kissing your forehead as he scooped your daughter from your arms, moving her to rest by her brother in the crib by your bedside. “You’ve had a long day.” 
You would have protested, but a yawn beat you to it, and Steve fixed you with a stern look. “Okay, okay.” 
“That’s my girl. Don’t worry, momma, I’ll keep an eye on them while you sleep,” Steve brushed your hair back, looking at you in pure adoration. 
“Mmm, thanks daddy,” you replied cheekily, smiling up at him. You were beyond tired, but not too tired that you were going to give up the opportunity to tease him. He just rolled his eyes at you, shaking his head in pretend exasperation. “What? You are a daddy now.” 
“Yeah...yeah, I am. And I can’t tell you how grateful I am that you gave me this chance,” his gaze focused back on the twins. 
“We’ve been over this, Stevie,” you replied sternly. “You’ve more than proved that you’re sorry. It’s okay to move on, to forgive yourself for what happened. I have.”  
His back was still turned to you as he wiped a few tears from his eyes. It was something he had struggled with ever since that day at the hospital, and you weren’t sure if he was ever fully going to allow himself to stop feeling guilty over it.
“You keep saying that but--” 
“No buts, Stevie, unless its your butt that we’re talking about, okay?” That earned you a chuckle, and he turned to face you again. 
“Alright. Alright,” he pressed a kiss to your forehead, his hand tracing your cheekbone. “But only if you agree to get some sleep.” 
“I guess I can live with that,” you agreed. 
“That’s my girl,” he pressed another kiss to your forehead, then turned his attention to the crib and its brand new occupants.
Confident that they were going to be well looked after by their father, you finally gave in and let sleep take you. You’d only end up getting a couple hours of rest before the twins woke you, demanding to be fed. You’d take whatever rest you could. 
Once he was sure you were asleep, Steve’s attention returned to his children. He took a moment to send photos of the sleeping newborns to his bandmates. They were fast asleep only moments after you. As much as Steve wanted to hold them, he was afraid of waking them up, so he settled for sitting between you and the babies, keeping watch over his family as he allowed himself to wonder how the hell he got so lucky. Bucky, naturally, responded almost immediately, congratulating Steve and asking when he could see his niece and nephew. He’d respond to that later, Steve decided. He wanted a little more time to exist in the haze, completely overwhelmed with exhaustion, fear, and so very much in love with his new family.
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barkadasesh · 3 years ago
Text
"SOMEONE WHO BELIEVES IN YOU"
Jack and Jill were good childhood friends. Their path crosses at the wide woody and wild forests for the very first time. They became friends since then - they treat each other as a family, not by blood but through souls. They had a lot of ups and downs and memories to cherished together yet after some few struggling years, both completed their studies and went apart and take their own paths.
Jack, once called the good boy, achieved his dream profession. It is one of the most diverse and versatile field at engineering - mechanical engineering. And hell yeah! It was really a once in a lifetime career where he designs power-producing machines as well as power using machines. He became one of the most famous mechanical engineers in New York and it provides him strong annual salaries. Despite of being at the highest peak of success, he just continuously frittered away his life and his fortunes taking up an immoral habit of practices such as alcoholic beverages, cigarettes, drugs and he is also a well-known womanizer committing sexual immorality.
At the other side of the globe, jill worked so hard to be able to put forth effort toward a certain goal. And that is to own a vast hectare good for a farm not just for herself but also for the whole community. The planet needs nutritious and affordable food and that requires thoughtful and intelligent people to grow it – and that’s her! She believes that this world needs someone like her. In the fullness of the time, she set specific goals and standards so she can work out her farm. And in just a month of dedicating lingering, it is sufficiently good, enjoyable and successful to repay her effort, trouble and expenses.
Early in the morning, Jack was awake by a loud snooze from his high-pitched alarm clock telling it is already 7 o’clock in the morning. “Argh! Yeah, I know I know!” He scornfully covered his annoyed face by his malleable squared pillow. “Aish! Could you please give me another five more minutes?” He exclaimed resentfully. He slightly crumpled his eyes while yawning stretching his arms wide open before he turned off his blatant clock. He went back lethargically like he is pulling of his king-sized bed. He lie down once again on his crib but as soon as reach the climax of his fantastic dream, a very rambunctious bang from his door makes him stood and jumped out of his cradle. “Now what?” he said ostensible. “Son! I think you should stand on end now.” It is his dad who summons him on the other side of his bedroom’s entryway. “Come on dad, can you please knock?” he responded annoyingly while scratching his head. “Come on son! It is already 7 o’clock early in the morning. Are you just going to take a load off and fucked up the rest of your day today?” “Yeah, whatever dad!” He no longer waited his dad to counter his immature reply then he shut down the door then started fixing his self for another sunrise-to-sunset working day.
Same time of that busy day, Jill woke up early before daybreak to get ready to grind for another productive day at his hustling farm. She ascertained that she will be doing good today in managing all the works in the land for its maximum fertility. So that, when the crop ripen, they can orderly harvest it by hand, combine or mechanical pickers. “Today is the day to lead and guide ‘em in caring the crops!” She exclaimed. “Good morning Miss J!” greeted by Juan, a young maintenance and repair boy who is responsible for upkeeping the farm. “I did tighten the loose fences.” he reported. He is sharp as tack in many kinds of labor that’s why Jill trusted him so much. “Wow! Job well done, Juan!” she complimented. “Day by day, you’re doing better. Keep it up, kiddo!” She smiled at him then proceed at inset.
“WHAT’S THE MATTER WITH YOU JACK?! YOU’RE NOT GIVIN’ A DAMN TO YOUR WORK ANYMORE!” YOU ARE NOT LIKE THAT BEFORE. YOU WERE ONCE THE MOST SENSIBLE AND WELL ARTISAN BEFORE!” shouted by Jack’s officer-in-charge directly to his frowning face with a sharp glare towards his boss. So obvious that he is suffocated by the scenario. “I apologize but I think you cannot feasible this project anymore. You are fired.” “You can’t do this to me freaking old man.” He rebuttals. “Yeah we can. Why not?” giving him a smirk before walking away from Jack. “Let us see if you will survive that fuckin’ stupid project without me and my power.” he mumbled as he left the company. After he got fired, he recured from life-threatening vices. And that’s how he spent his life. Days, weeks and months had passed and his life is becoming worst until he loathed his continual nonsense practice and decided to have an out of town to take a break to a place with a peaceful ambiance. He immediately packed his things up and started driving.
“How I wish I could be that young good child again.” he bleakly chuckled as he lay down on his bed at vacation house. “Oh well, gonna spend these weeks with a chill.” he sighed and head to nearby coffee shop. “1 Caffè Americano, please. Thank you!” then he handed they payment. “Kindly wait for a moment at this table, sir. Thank you!” and the polite barista guided him to his table. As he sat down while scrolling through his smartphone, he suddenly heard a gleeful voice from the counter. “Good morning, Miss J. I’ve been waiting for my fair-haired customer today!” “HAHAHA, still a facetious young boy. Please give me a Blonde Vanilla Latte.” she replied with an over the moon. “Aye! Aye, Miss!”. Unexpectedly, Jack was surprised to hear the voice, he known it very well. He peeked at the lady waiting at the counter and he is more wonder-stricken to saw who it was. “Jill?!” he exclaimed aloud. “Jack? Its been years! Hey how you doing pal?” giving an expressions of pleasure as she saw and walk towards the directions of Jack. “Oh well hi. You look gorgeous right now. You are no longer that crybaby girl just like the old days.” he responds with an unbelief tone. “Uhm, I am already a mechanical engineer. Didn’t you hear some news and articles about me? I am one of the most popular identity at New York.” he continued. “Ooooh! Cool! Well, here I am. I already owned and managed a farm in this town. Wanna come and take some visit? Guess you’re on a vacay?” said by Jill with a convincing tone. “Farm? What an inferior profession. But, sure! Lemme see your farm.” stating it with full of indignity.
Jack offered a ride on their way to the farm. “So, tell me, what are you doing in a place such as this, your majesty?” he asked while looking directly at the uneven surface of the road. “Oh well, I found my purpose here. I enjoyed here. That’s why I stayed here for good.” respond by Jill without even looking at Jack. “Purpose, eh. What a concept?” “Yeah! Purpose. The reason or feeling of being determined to do or achieve something. If you dig deeper, through that purpose I am capable to make others happy. Spending time as much as possible with them to make this world a better place.” Jill explained with full of hope. “Corny! What we have here in this world is nothing but an unfair system and toxic people around us. You had to trust no one. Because in the end of the day, you only have yourself.” Jack looked at Jill like he knows what’s right. “In the end of the day, it is you who will believe in yourself, in what you have, and in what you can do. Because no one was truly concern about you. It’s you, all by yourself. If I were you, you should take my advice. I’ve been there.” he continued. “Well, I cannot blame you with that. You had a good point anyway. Now tell me, what are you doing in a place like this Mr. Engineer?” A moment of silence enwrapped inside the car between the two. “I’m having a break.” he started. “A break? From what?” inquisition of Jill while sipping on her coffee. “I am on my downfall as of this moment.” obviously averting the dialogue. “Come on, spill it. I can lend an ear, just like the old days back then.” Jack too a deep breath then started to tell the whole story. “It was really a fantasy when I achieved my dream profession, which is to be a mechanical engineer. All my life, I worked hard for it. I spend my whole life for it. Yet, the worst part of here was when I started to lose from track. I used to take vices such as alcoholic beverages, multiple boxes of cigarettes and drugs. I also used to be involved in multiple times of wrong relationship full of immorality. I became a womanizer and a heartbreaker. I no longer find my purpose. It seems that I am living my own selfish ways. Little by little, my life was ruined. And now, I don’t have any idea on how will I started again from the very beginning, on how will I fix everything. And yeah, that’s how my life went.” He narrated hopelessly. “I see. I guess that was really a sad ending. But, you know what, despite of what had happened to you, there’s still hope. I guess you just need to take some time to evaluate yourself and to check something out from those painful experiences. And yeah, you’re right when you told me that at the end of the day, you only have yourself. My tip, take this opportunity to heal, my dear friend. You have to help and lift yourself up. And don’t you worry. I am still here to believe in you. I know you can do that and become the better version of yourself. You just have to be patient and work it out.” Jill recommended believing that she can convinced Jack. “Yeah, I guess so. I’ll try.” “Don’t try, do it.” And again, silence engulf inside the car between them.
Days and weeks had roll down, and Jack follow all the tips and advises of Jill. He started to evaluate his self. Separating right things that gives value to his life and surrendering negative habits that deteriorating his life. He also cut off his connections to those ladies that leads him to sin. Jill helps her to brings out the best in him, finding his purpose and creates a better vision. Then, it started his life to change from nothing to something, from zero to hero, from better to best.
"You know what, dear, sometimes, we don't need to have a luxurious life and luxurious things just to make ourselves happy. I had realized that sometimes, what we really need is someone who will believes in us and respects us. And, thank you for being one, Jill. Because of you, I found my purpose and I had a changed life better than my life before. I know God allowed us to meet again intentionally so that I'll be no longer slave to sin. You are just not a friend, but a family who truly cares. I owe you so much. How can I pay you for this?" Jack asked Jill." Pay it forward, Jack. Just pay it forward. Do to others what I have done to you." and Jill gave her sweetest smile. Few months later after their encounter, Jack went home." Good morning dad! I miss you!" he hugs his dad so tight that seems to be the first time." Dad, I just want to ask for forgiveness for what I have done before. I promise to be better this time. I love you dad!" Then, Mr. Johnson hugged him back, "I am so happy you're back again, son. You're forgiven." After that day, his relationship with his dad was restored and Jack was now back right on track. He spent his life doing the right things, multiplying his self to others. And that's how he made his own legacy.
(Short Story by Claire Montero)
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