#HER RELATIONSHIP WITH HER FATHER? WHO. BY THE WAY. SAYS “take that depression!”???? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

egcdeath · 1 year

Text

the l word

pairing: joel miller x reader

summary: the five times you realized that you loved joel, and the first time one of you says it.

word count: 9.1k

warnings: canon divergent, no apocalypse, 5+1 fic, hurt/comfort, a certain someone gets punched, brief mention of postpartum depression & abandonment, really brief mention of physical abuse in 3, fluff, domestic fluff, angst with a happy ending, found family

author’s note: happy very early valentine’s day! this is part three of the soccer parents au, you can read spectator sport (p1) and clean sheet (p2) here!

this fic would not be possible if it were not for the help of @freakinfairykind, who sent me the idea for scene 3 and listened to my thought vomit whenever i hit a roadblock! you can thank them for the brilliance that is what occurs in that scene :)! enjoy!

part four / series masterlist

Zero

After Nathan, you were sure that you would never fall in love again. Love was supposed to be beautiful and soft—a random bouquet of flowers, having a whole conversation with just your eyes, sweet messages sent to you when you expected it least and needed it most, and foot massages after a long day. For you, love had been nothing of the sort—settling for mediocrity, spitting out venomous words during arguments, and biting back tears on forgotten anniversaries.

Love wasn’t kind or patient, or rainbows and flowers. Love was a storm cloud that followed you around when you were around him, pouring sadness and anger on you and striking you with lightning bolts of resentment.

Maybe some people just simply weren’t meant for love. Maybe you were one of them.

One

After years of trying to hold together a failing marriage and hide the myriad of painful feelings you were going through for the sake of your daughter, bottling up your feelings had become your preferred coping mechanism to everyday stressors.

For the most part, it worked for you. Sure, some days were harder than others, and the smallest confrontation or blip in the day would send you spiraling; but more often than not, you were able to compartmentalize whatever was bothering you and save it for a rainy day.

That was part of what worked so well about the relationship you had with Joel during the soccer season—you had the opportunity to unscrew the lid of the shaken bottle of your feelings just a little bit, taking some of the edge off by yelling about completely inconsequential things. But now, you don't have that outlet. And today was one of those days that you desperately needed it.

Nathan had come by to pick up Chloe just a bit ago, and it was very obvious that she hadn’t exactly wanted to spend her weekend with him. Some of her friends were going to the mall and having a sleepover, and because Nathan wasn’t particularly fond of their parents, he’d very openly told her no. She begged and pleaded to stay with you (mainly so she could go hang out with her friends), which of course broke your heart a little bit, but also led to a pretty dramatic outburst from your daughter to Nathan when he’d picked her up.

“You’re raising a spoiled little brat,” he hissed at you, pointing an accusatory finger once Chloe was in the car.

“At least I’m raising her. You only show up when it’s convenient for you,” you shot back. If Nathan wanted to stoop low, you could fall to his level. “Put your finger down. She’s watching us.”

“A little argument won’t hurt her,” he scoffed. “See? You’re proving my point: you spoil her too much.”

“Because years of watching her parents bicker wasn’t traumatic enough? Get in the fucking car, Nathan.”

He huffed, looking back at the car, then over at you. “Fine. But before I go, I’d appreciate it if you stopped talking poorly about me in front of her. Clearly she’s listening to you and acting out because of it.”

“Have you considered that you’re just a shit father and maybe that’s why she doesn’t like you?” you were already making your way back inside, feeling the avalanche of emotions beginning to stir inside of you, and a little frightened of what might come out next.

“You’re still such a bitch. Every day I praise every deity that’s out there that I left your sorry ass.”

You were viciously fighting the urge to get the last word in, knowing that whatever would come out next wouldn’t be good, and you certainly didn’t want Chloe seeing you like that. You left him with a sarcastic thumbs up, then slammed your front door, taking deep breaths to attempt to calm yourself down.

You crumbled down in front of the door, still maintaining slow and deep breaths. It was no big deal. Nathan just says stuff like that to stir the pot. You just needed to find something to take your mind off of everything. Your mind went to the scarf you’d been working on crocheting, something you could mindlessly do for a little while while you cooled off.

The scarf was going well. You were calmly crocheting the evening away when you checked your phone to find a few apologetic messages from your coworkers. Feeling confused, you went on to check your email, only to find that the promotion you’d spent the last few months of your life slaving away for had been given to someone else—someone who had worked half as hard as you, and even took credit for a few of your projects.

Your hands shook as you set down your phone and attempted to pick back up the crochet hook. You were fine, right? Sometimes these things just happen. Sometimes you sacrifice hours of your free time, hours of time you’ll never get back with your child, or significant other, hours you’ll never get back of sleep, hours of-

You cut your mind off, tossing aside the scarf and taking a deep breath. You were gonna be okay. This just meant you could take your foot off the gas going forward, since your work, effort, and time clearly was not being valued. Maybe you would just sit at your desk and play games, then slap your name on projects and presentations like Naomi. Maybe you’d just-

Your phone began to vibrate on your bed and your immediate reaction was to silence it, but upon checking the contact name, you became slightly more inclined to answer.

“Hey! I almost thought you weren’t gonna pick up,” the man on the other end chuckled.

“Is everything okay?” you asked, although you weren’t sure you’d be able to handle anything else today. With how your day was going, Joel was probably calling you to break up.

“Better than okay. We finished up early, and Sarah’s already at her friend’s. You in the mood for some company?”

No, not particularly. In fact, if Joel came over, you’d probably end up going off on him over something you don’t really mean, successfully putting an end to the best thing you’ve had in a while.

“Uh,” your voice cracked, and a rogue tear slipped down your face. You didn’t even know that you were on the brink of tears. “I’m sorry,” you uttered, digging the heels of your hands into your eyes.

“Sorry for what? You don’t have to feel bad for not wanting me over,” he said genuinely, not picking up on your emotional state over the phone.

“No, I do want you over,” you whimpered. “I just… I don’t want to lose you, too.”

“What? I promise you I’m not going anywhere. Well, I’m going home now, but I can also come to your place if you want me to.”

“Please,” you grit out.

“You okay?” he asked, finally catching on to the fact that something was very off with you.

“I don’t know,” you confessed.

“Do you want me to stay on the phone with you?”

“No.”

“You sure you want me to come over?”

“Yeah,” you sniffled, desperately trying to fend off your tears.

“Okay, sweetheart. I’ll see you soon, alright?”

“Bye,” you hung up, burrowing yourself under layers of blankets and curling up onto your side. Maybe this tidal wave of emotions would pass by the time Joel got to your place. You closed your eyes as you took deep, shaky breaths, wiping away stray tears every now and then as they fell. You could pull yourself together.

You kept telling yourself this as you dragged yourself out of bed to answer the door, but the moment you saw Joel with a box of chocolates and a bouquet of flowers, you completely lost it. He immediately tossed the items down and pulled you into a tight embrace, not exactly knowing what was wrong, but instinctually wanting to comfort you regardless.

You didn’t even really know what it was either. Sure, you were pissed that you’d lost the promotion, and even more upset that Nathan had called your daughter a name while insulting your parenting skills, but it was far more than that. It was every little thing from the past two months that had upset you in some capacity that you had decided to push as far down as possible.

You sobbed until your throat was raw and your eyes grew sore from crying so much. The whole time Joel wordlessly held you, rubbing soothing circles into your back and swaying you back and forth just the slightest bit. You almost felt like your tears would never stop, and the more you willed yourself to pull it together, the harder it was to do so.

Finally, you pulled away, head hanging with humiliation by the emotions abruptly pouring out of you. You truly felt like a live wire. You should’ve just told Joel not to come over.

“Want me to run you a bath?” he asked softly, tilting your chin up so he could look at you, and rubbing a thumb over your cheek. “Or is there anything I can do to make you feel better?”

“A bath is good,” you said quietly, averting your gaze. You almost felt like a toddler in the midst of a tantrum. The shame of being a grown woman who couldn’t even control her emotions was overwhelming, but Joel didn’t seem to mind much at all. He simply led you up to your bathroom and quietly filled the tub for you, checking it every now and then to make sure it wasn’t too hot. Once the tub was filled up, he helped you undress, then held your hand as you stepped into the tub.

“Would you like me to stay?” Joel asked as you settled into the tub.

“Not really,” you admitted.

“Okay. Just yell for me if you need anything. I’ll be downstairs.”

Somehow, the bath was everything you needed. It was just warm enough to relax your rather tense muscles, and just quiet enough to allow you to actually process your thoughts. You sat and soaked in the bath for a while, just inhaling the scent of lavender, and trying your best to let go of the feelings that you’d been holding onto for so long.

Eventually, you felt ready to talk about things, and called out Joel’s name, who after a moment, showed up in your bathroom and sat down on a towel next to the tub.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, reaching for your pruny hand.

“Better,” you answered as you laced your fingers with his.

“Well, I’m here when you feel ready to talk about it. And if you don’t feel ready to talk about it, that’s okay too.”

“Okay,” you said quietly. “I’m sorry,” you apologized, the apology being more of a force of habit.

“You don’t need to be sorry,” Joel assured, “we all feel our feelings sometimes,” he pushed away a bit of hair that had fallen into your face.

“I’m sorry you had to see me like this, I guess,” you continued. It had been a while since you’d shown any negative emotions in front of anyone, let alone a significant other. In fact, the last time you’d been sad in front of a significant other, you’d been laughed at and mocked. You’d been conditioned to see your own vulnerability as weakness, as a character flaw you needed to apologize for.

“Like what? Naked?” he teased, trying to at least make you smile when you’d clearly been feeling so down. “You know I don’t mind that at all. Seriously, though. There’s nothing wrong with being upset, and there’s nothing wrong with being upset in front of the people you care about.”

A tear slipped down your cheek. It had been so long since anyone had made you feel like you weren’t a burden for having a rough day. Joel gently brushed away your tears with his thumb, and kissed your forehead.

“Thank you,” you muttered, feeling all sorts of feelings, particularly one feeling you couldn’t quite describe that had been lying dormant for years of your life.

You eventually got out of the tub once the water had become too cold and you had become

somewhat of a human prune, and you found yourself curled up in bed with Joel, wearing a flannel that he’d left behind the last time he was over.

“Feeling any better?” he asked once again, gently rubbing your back as a trashy reality TV show played quietly in the background.

“Yeah,” you mumbled as you looked up at the ceiling, “it’s been a rough few months.”

“Months?” Joel asked, scooting closer to you. “What’s been happening?”

“Too much to get into,” you sighed. “I guess it just all came out now.”

Joel turned down the volume of the TV, and turned his body so that he could face you properly. “If you want to talk, we have the time. I may or may not have drank a coffee on my way over here, so I’ll be completely alert for the next few hours.”

He gently grabbed your hand and squeezed it, a little reminder that he was here for you.

“Today’s just been… bad. When Nathan picked Chloe up, she was upset so he called her a spoiled brat and said that it was my fault that she was one. Obviously I do a lot for her, and I know that I’m a good mom, but sometimes the way he talks about her scares me a little. I don’t want her to have self-esteem issues because her dad likes to name-call. I mean, she’s probably gonna have enough issues from our shitty relationship and messy divorce. That really upset me, but that definitely wasn’t the last straw or anything.”

Joel silently sat and listened, holding your hand and listening attentively.

“I lost the promotion, Joel. You know, the one I’ve been working absurd hours for? But it’s not just that, it’s just… there are months of emotions I haven’t had a chance to process. I guess it just all came out now after that.”

“I’m so sorry,” he said softly. “Nathan is an asshole. He shouldn’t be saying that kind of thing about his child just to make you feel bad. And your boss is stupid for not giving you that position when you’ve clearly earned it. Everything you’ve felt today is valid, but so is everything else that you’ve been holding in for the past… however long. It’s okay to feel your feelings in the moment instead of waiting for them to boil over.”

“I guess, it’s just… I don’t know. I’ve had to be strong for so long. I don’t know if I know how to not wait for my emotions to boil over.”

“Well, you don’t have to be so strong anymore. You’re not alone,” he assured you. “If you ever need me to watch Chloe because you need to go out to the middle of nowhere and scream, or just need someone to talk your feelings out with, I am more than happy to do so. Okay?”

“Okay,” you agreed, setting your head on Joel’s chest.

You were getting that weird, dormant feeling in you once again. There was an odd warmth in your chest and butterflies in your stomach, that felt strange and familiar, but most of all, exciting. You had no idea what was going on, or what that feeling was, but you did know that you didn’t want it to stop anytime soon.

And honestly, it didn’t seem like it would.

Two

Walking into Joel’s home to the sound of soft guitar chords made you feel a bit like you had woken up in a dream, or died and gone to heaven. It wasn’t often that you’d heard him play guitar. Sing? Sure! He loved to sing along to a song he liked on the radio, or do karaoke with you and the kids. But playing guitar was something that he seemed to like to keep to himself.

Joel had picked Chloe up from school, as you had an important work event that you’d anticipated going quite late, and as you’d predicted, it was nearly midnight by the time you got to Joel’s place. It was rare for you to see those two alone, without yours or Sarah’s presence, but you’d assumed the latter had gone to bed due to how late it was and the fact that they had school in the morning.

So hearing Joel play for your daughter felt… weird. But a good weird. Like he trusted her enough to be doing something that he often kept under wraps, even for you.

“I love this song!” you heard your daughter exclaim from the living room. You rounded a corner, not quite ready to appear yet, but curious enough to eavesdrop on the scene.

Joel chuckled at her reaction, “should we sing it together?”

“Maybe, I’m not very good, though.”

“I doubt that,” Joel said, continuing to play the introduction to the song on a loop.

“I… fine, I’ll sing.”

The two of them began to sing along to the song, and you could’ve sworn that your heart did an actual flip as you listened. There was something very sweet about the whole scene, of Joel playing a song your daughter loved, of him assuring her that she was good enough, and singing something together.

You should’ve felt bad for listening in on the scene, for invading on a moment that was clearly meant to be private, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to feel that way when your heart was so filled with… something that you couldn’t quite place.

The song came to a soft conclusion, and you figured there was no better time to finally step out from behind the wall than then.

“You guys sounded so good!” you stated as you entered the room.

“Oh hi,” Joel greeted a little awkwardly, looking down at his guitar as if he’d been caught red handed.

“Mom!” Chloe exclaimed, coming over to you and hugging you. “I missed you.”

“We were just killing time while we waited for you to get home. How was work?”

“Eh,” you shrugged, sitting down across from Joel as Chloe curled up next to you. “It was work.”

“Mom, did you know that Joel sings and plays guitar? He’s really good!”

“Really? I didn’t know that,” you acted surprised for your child, but looked mischievously at your partner. It wasn’t often that you had the chance to get Joel to play you something, and you refused to let the opportunity slip away from you. “Can you play me something?”

“He can!” Chloe accepted the offer before Joel could begin to protest. God, was this child your mini-you. “Go ahead, Joel.”

He looked to you as if he needed some sort of excuse to not do it, or encouragement to play (more likely than not, he was looking for an out), but you simply shrugged, far too enthused at the idea of him playing guitar for you.

Just as the man sighed and began to put his fingers to the string, Sarah came down the stairs and plopped herself right next to you.

“You guys are loud,” she stated, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.

“Sorry for waking you up,” you apologized. “You were just about to miss your dad’s concert!”

“Oh good,” Sarah giggled, getting all comfortable next to you as she pulled a blanket over her lap.

“I feel like this is a premeditated attack,” Joel held onto his guitar.

“It’s definitely not. We just want you to share your gift with the world!”

“Alright, fine. Only because I like you guys so much.”

The three of you cheered from the couch as Joel began to play again, the soft acoustic notes of a love song you’d heard a few times before. As Joel played and sang, he looked straight at you, and you couldn’t help but feel like the lyrics were coming straight from his heart to you.

That warm, fuzzy feeling in your chest that you’d become more and more familiar with over the course of your relationship began to reappear as you sat there, the moment a snapshot of the perfect domestic bliss that had become your home life. As you sat with your two favorite children in the world, and your favorite man, you realized that you’d never felt more content in your life.

Three

When you agreed to come to a bar with Joel, you hadn’t expected it to be a quaint little hole-in-the-wall with great live music.

The atmosphere was lively, the drinks were dangerously sweet, and best of all, it was cute watching Joel in his element. Part of you wondered if he ever saw himself up on the stage, playing for a little audience. Although, he was so bashful and shy playing in front of you and the girls that you wondered if he would like it at all.

You finished off your first drink rather quickly, but you were feeling up for another, and prepared to head back to the bar. “Do you want another drink?” you asked Joel over the loud music.

“I’m alright. Thank you, though,” he kissed your cheek, then looked back up at the stage, directing all of his focus there once more.

You made your way back to the bar, where you ordered another fruity drink for yourself and patiently waited for it to be made, humming along to the cover being sung on stage.

Being able to find out more about what Joel liked to spend his time doing was (unsurprisingly) quite nice. While he was vulnerable with his emotions, he was often a little more closed off when it came to sharing his hobbies and interests. You wondered how many of these live shows and open mics he was familiar with, how many local artists he was friends with. Would he ever feel comfortable enough around you to share those things with you? Well, you certainly hoped so.

You looked around with a small smile on your face at the thought of learning more about your partner’s interests. Had he ever been the one up on stage? Maybe before Sarah was born and he was launched straight into the time consuming world of fatherhood. Although, he surely would’ve shared that with you by now.

You were drawn out of thought when eyes landed on a head of hair that looked a little too familiar for your liking.

No.

There was no way.

This bar was definitely not his scene. In fact, if you’d suggested this bar, he would’ve laughed in your face and called you a hipster, before dragging you out to some stuffy restaurant where he’d complain about the portion size of both his meal and the bill.

Your mind was just playing a mean trick on you. You’d had a somewhat stressful week, and sometimes drinking made you the slightest bit paranoid. Besides, it was just someone’s hair. Literally anyone could have that hair color, or hair cut, and although the world was small, it wasn’t that small.

Just as you began to fall headfirst into your nerves, the bartender handed you your drink, and you walked back to Joel, head still in the clouds.

You couldn’t shake that off feeling, even as Joel danced around with you and stole a sip of your drink, both actions bringing a smile to your face, but not quite quelling the growing discomfort in your stomach.

You just needed to go clear your mind and freshen up. At least, that’s what you told yourself before telling Joel to keep your drink safe and power walking to the bathroom.

You stood at the sink, splashing your face with water as cold as the faucets would go. Nathan was not here. You needed to just relax, and enjoy the fun date that Joel had planned. You couldn’t keep letting this man ruin your experiences, even when he wasn’t present.

“You okay, hun?” a voice asked you while your head was bowed over the sink. When you looked up, your eyes nearly popped out of your head, as if you were some ridiculous cartoon character.

Well. Your brain must’ve really been fucking with you today. Or the Universe just really hated you.

Claire, Nathan’s new girlfriend, was asking you if you were alright in the bathroom of a bar that your new boyfriend had suggested.

You were completely unsure of whether she knew who you were or not, although she seemed tipsy enough not to care.

“Oh, I’m fine,” you smiled awkwardly at her. “But, uh, my mascara’s a little smudged. Any chance you have a makeup wipe?”

“Yeah!” she said, digging into her purse to check for the item.

You’d never met Claire before, but as far as first impressions went, this one wasn’t too bad. She offered you the wipe, then stood next to you as you dabbed at your under eye.

“You meet anyone fun tonight?” she asked, beginning to touch up her own makeup.

“No, I’m actually here with my partner. He really likes the music,” you said casually, dabbing at the same spot so you could at least attempt to maintain your composure in an otherwise dramatically ironic and tense situation.

“Oh no. Was he the one making you cry?”

“Cry? No! I was sweating. We were dancing,” suddenly, a slightly perverse question crossed your mind. “Does your partner make you cry a lot?”

“How do you even know I have one?” she giggled, sounding less accusatory and more confused.

“I don’t I just-“

“No, not really,” she shrugged as she reapplied her lip liner. “He mostly just buys me shit and spoils me. What would I have to cry about? He’s a really good guy.”

Oh, you remembered that phase. Well, phases. The time after he’d slapped you during an argument immediately came to mind. Nathan could probably teach a seminar on love bombing, then making you feel guilty for having any negative feelings because of all the money he’d spent on you.

“That’s good,” you nodded, tossing the used wipe in the trash and making your way to the door. “Thanks for checking in on me and helping me. Have a good night.”

“Hey, do I know you from somewhere?” she asked as your hand hit the door.

“No,” you replied promptly, maybe slamming the door behind you a little too hard.

This was a lot to process, and a lot to take in. Despite having a fun time with Joel, you really just wanted to go home. Finding your way back out to him, you silently accepted back your drink and stood besides him stiffly.

“You okay?” he asked, gently grabbing your arm.

“Fine, just… just.. I have an upset stomach,” you explained. You were never a good liar, the concern in Joel’s eyes told you that you hadn’t suddenly become one.

“I’m sorry, sweetie,” he said, rubbing your forearm gently. “Let’s go home, okay?”

You certainly didn’t protest as he began to lead you out of the bar, and you let out a sigh of relief at being able to leave before running into anyone else you knew.

Although, life was never that simple, was it?

As you approached the door, a familiar voice called out your name, sending a chill up your spine. Joel’s head whipped around from where it was coming from, and scowled when he saw who the voice belonged to. Ignoring him, the two of you continued your departure, a newfound urgency in both of your steps.

Once you were outside, you felt yourself puff out a sigh of relief. You’d managed to get out of the bar with only a brief conversation with Claire, and no direct interaction with Nathan. Now, if you could only get home, curl up with Joel on the couch, and tell him the absurd story of how you’d bumped into your ex’s new girlfriend in the bathroom.

But the universe clearly wasn’t letting you off the hook just yet.

“Hey!” Nathan called as he stepped out of the bar, Claire trailing just a few paces behind him. “You’re such a fuckin’ bitch. Can’t even say hi to the father of your child.”

You were almost alarmed by the speed in which Joel marched over to your ex and reprimanded him. Not even wasting a moment, Joel shoved him back—a warning of sorts, with your knowledge that he was certainly holding himself back.

“Leave her the fuck alone,” he barked. It was like no tone you’d ever heard him use before, not when he was upset with anyone, and not even when he was yelling at a referee for a bad call.

“And who the fuck are you?” your ex shot back.

“Does it really matter?” Joel pressed, not backing down despite the slightly shorter man getting in his face. “You’re not gonna go around trying to degrade women.”

“Oh yeah? You gonna stop me, Mr. Nice guy?” Nathan pushed Joel, but your partner barely budged.

“You fuckin’ cuck,” Nathan muttered. “Why do you even care about this whore?”

Nathan took a second to think about it, glancing between the two of you before a light seemed to go off in his little brain.

“Oh, I know. You’re that guy from the soccer games. You two together now?" His condescension was almost jarring to hear, and part of you worried about what your clearly inebriated ex might say or do next. “I see you’re still the community cumrag,” he directed at you.

You hardly had a moment to process what was just said before Joel was swinging, clearly seeing red as he threw a hefty right hook at your ex, leaving a nasty crunching sound as he fell to the ground.

“Don’t talk about her, or any other fucking woman like that ever again,” he squatted down to his level, and grabbed both of his cheeks. “Leave her the fuck alone, you understand me? Or next time you’re gonna wish it was just your nose.”

Nathan cradled his bloody nose and whimpered and Joel walked back to you, the fury on his face melting into something apologetic as you looked at him with wide eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he began, cautiously approaching you as if he was something to be afraid of. “I shouldn’t have done that. I overstepped-“

“Joel. Don’t apologize. Do you know how much that asshole deserved it? You did everyone a favor tonight, but especially me.”

You had never had someone defend you so literally before. Sure, your friends had argued with Nathan a few times on your behalf, but punching Nathan in the face had truly raised your expectations for anyone who claimed to be doing anything to help you. You don’t think you’d have felt this alive or cherished in years.

“Now let’s get you home and ice those knuckles.”

Four

You were usually a big fan of rainy days. The sound of rain pattering against the window or on the roof of your car, and the smell of petrichor on the pavement were sensations you wished you could experience all the time. But today, you weren’t quite so pleased to see the rain.

You’d taken the day off to spend it with Joel, who had specifically asked for you to take some time off to be with him. You couldn’t blame him, as you’d been slightly neglecting him after things picked up once again at work. You’d had a whole outdoorsy day planned, with a morning hike, a visit to a conservatory, and a picnic at one of your favorite local parks. Unfortunately, none of those activities could be done comfortably in the pouring rain.

Instead, you opted to come back to your place after you dropped your kids off at school, and have a domestic little day-in.

After putting some homemade cinnamon rolls into the oven, the two of you found yourselves on your couch, comfortably sitting together and reading your own books while the smell of warm cinnamon filled your house.

Occasionally, you glanced out your window, the scene of rain granting you a sense of serenity. At one point, you noticed Joel’s gaze out the window as well, and you couldn’t help but comment on it.

“Don’t you just love the rain?” you asked, setting your book down on your coffee table. It was more of an excuse to break the silence than an actual comment, but you said it regardless.

“It’s nice,” he agreed, his tone oddly somber for a comment on the rain.

“You okay, big guy?” you asked before moving closer to Joel.

“I’m alright,” he smiled, but it didn’t quite meet his eyes. There wasn’t any real concrete evidence that something was off, but something inside you told you that something definitely was off.

“You sure?” you asked, squeezing his bicep.

“Yeah, it’s just,” he paused, looking down at his book as if he was about to go right back to reading instead of telling you the issue. After a moment of hesitation, he spoke once more, “it’s the anniversary of Diane leaving.”

Oh. So that’s why he’d asked to be with you today.

You’d never heard Joel say her name before. Sure, you’d seen her name written under a polaroid or two, but you’d never heard Joel reference her ever. Now that you thought about it, you didn’t really know what their deal was. Amicable exes? Divorcees? Was Joel a widower? You felt awful that you’d gone this far into a relationship and still didn’t know anything about his last significant one.

“I’m sorry,” you said quietly, not completely sure how to react. You mainly wanted to get a gauge on Joel’s reaction–just how upset was he? Did he want to talk about it? Or just get the importance of the day out in the open?

“It’s just… Today feels like that day in a lot of ways.”

You nodded slowly, still not exactly sure of how to approach the situation. You thought back to all of the times he’d been there to support you when you were having a rough day, and ended up asking aloud, “is there anything I can do to make you feel better?”

“Maybe just listening, if that’s okay. It helps to talk about it,” he paused. “The rolls smell done. I’ll go get them,” with that, he was off to the kitchen, barely giving you time to react, or even protest his departure.

He clearly wanted to talk, but just wasn’t completely ready to do so at that moment. You could listen. You could be the best damn listener on the planet if that was what Joel needed from you. No matter what he revealed to you today, you were determined to make Joel feel comfortable, and know that whatever he was going through, he wasn’t alone—just as he’d shown you in the past.

By the time he came back to the living room, Joel offered you a plate with an iced cinnamon roll and acted like everything was normal. He sat back down next to you, stole a bite from your plate, then buried his nose right back into his novel.

You respected his right to process his emotions in any way he saw fit. All you could do was be a good partner, and offer whatever he needed from you to feel better, like he’d done for you so many times before.

While you were fine with spending your day cuddled up on the sofa and reading, you were also aware that there were a good amount of house chores that were calling your name. Upon mentioning these tasks, Joel insisted on helping out, which was how you two landed in the laundry room, laughing at something stupid that had happened to you this week.

While you loaded light clothes into your washer, Joel suddenly caught you off guard with a question that was a far cry from the banter you’d just been having only moments before.

“Is it… are you okay with me talking about it?”

By it you could only assume he meant the giant elephant of a woman in the room.

“Of course,” you turned to him, offering sympathetic eyes.

“She left just a few months after Sarah was born,” Joel busied himself by pouring out laundry detergent and fabric softeners. “I just woke up one morning to an empty bed and a note in the kitchen saying she was leaving, she wasn’t coming back, and not to look for her.”

You were taken aback by the cruelty of such an abrupt ending, especially with such a young infant. You couldn’t imagine being put in those circumstances so unexpectedly.

Joel casually poured the respective liquids into their proper places in the machine, then turned it on. “It was a day just like this. The nursery had a nice, big window that we put a rocking chair in front of. Sarah liked looking at the stars when she was younger, it always helped to calm her down. I remember holding her in that chair and bawling my eyes out while she cried too, and with all the rain against the window… it felt like the Earth was crying right along with us.”

You weren’t sure what to say or how to react, but it seemed like Joel was prepared to move right on, quickly changing the subject as he led you out of the laundry room.

Baking cinnamon rolls had left a lot of dishes in the sink, but luckily for you, you had an extra set of hands to help you out. Joel was on rinsing duty, and you were on loading.

You quickly found your rhythm, as you often did with partnered tasks. You worked quietly while loading the dishes, letting the music from your speaker fill up the silence, but it was obvious Joel was lost in thought.

Eventually, he quietly began to speak again, “I kept trying to make sense of her leaving. I knew that postpartum depression hit her really hard, and that she was barely sleeping at night because of how often Sarah was crying. Sarah was a really sensitive, fussy baby. She’d told me how she’d felt a few times, and I always kinda thought things would just pass. Every new parent hits that roadbump where they just can’t see themselves doing this thing forever, right? Then, she just left. I thought maybe she just needed a few days away, and that she’d be back. But days went by, then weeks, then it had been a month, and it was still just Sarah and I.”

“Did she ever come back around?” you asked, setting down the last dish into the sink, then closing the machine.

“Never heard from her again.”

You closed the distance between you and the man, wrapping him in as tight of a hug that you could manage.

“I’m so sorry,” you muttered into his shirt as he melted into your embrace. “I can’t even imagine how painful and stressful that was.”

As a mother, you couldn’t imagine abandoning your child; the tiny human being you spent nine months carrying, and would spend a lifetime loving. But as a human, you understood the stress of being the parent of a newborn. Waking up every few hours because your baby is crying and you’ve tried everything to get her to stop but she just… won’t. Paired with postpartum depression, which you were no stranger to, you could understand the circumstances that led Diane to feeling like she had no other option but to leave. But that didn’t, in any way, make it the right thing to do.

As you held Joel, a sound you hadn’t ever heard from him escaped his lips, wracking his body. A guttural cry that had clearly been trapped deep inside of him for the longest time had suddenly escaped as he recalled an event that had clearly changed his life.

You stood in the kitchen holding him for what felt like forever, when he finally pulled away, wiping his face a little bit.

“Thank you,” was all that he managed to get out.

You laid next to him in bed after a rather emotionally loaded session of lovemaking, trying to catch your breath as the two of you recovered from the underlying emotional and physical aftermath of your fornication. As Joel spooned you, a question lingered on your mind.

“Do you still love her?” you asked, keeping your eyes forward on the wall. You wanted to say you were sure he had moved on, but these types of situations were rather nuanced. There were just some bonds that regardless of time or circumstances, people continued to hold on to.

“No,” he answered clearly. “I don’t hate her, either. I guess I just understand her. But that doesn’t make what she put me or Sarah through any better.”

You slipped your hand down to where his were currently laying on your stomach, and you set one on top of his.

“I’m not jealous, I’m just curious. Do you ever miss her?”

“I used to,” he sighed, the close breath blowing some hairs on your neck. “I don’t anymore.”

Eventually, your laundry was dry, meaning you two needed to get out of bed and get to folding.

“She has a new family, now,” he said out of the blue, as he folded up a pair of your pajama pants. “Husband, kids, dog, the full nine yards. Tommy found her Facebook a few years ago, but I still haven’t looked. I don’t really know why.”

You didn’t really know why either, but you knew exactly the feeling he was experiencing. Seeing your ex who you’d invested so much into and had a child with move on with someone was a particularly gut wrenching feeling. You could only imagine how much worse it was in Joel’s scenario, where Diane had abandoned him and their child, yet had a child and built another family elsewhere.

“Does Sarah know?” you asked, putting a blouse onto a hanger.

“Bits and pieces. She kinda just accepted that her mom’s not in the picture, but doesn’t know why she left or anything about her mom’s new family,” Joel finished up with his basket, then began to help you with yours. “Maybe when she’s older. Old enough to understand that it isn’t her fault and that these things just… happen sometimes.”

“I guess,” you frowned as you grabbed your last article of clothing and hung it up. “It shouldn’t have happened, though. Neither of you deserved to be abandoned.”

“It was gonna happen one way or another,” Joel shrugged, putting your baskets away. “Our relationship had been on the rocks even before Diane became pregnant. If it wasn’t then, it would be later. I’m just glad it happened early enough that Sarah doesn’t remember. You in the mood for a coffee?”

His words gave you a bit of whiplash, but you accepted the offer of a warm drink regardless.

You sat at your table, stirring your drink as Joel sat down across from you.

“Good, right?” he asked. “I think I’ve officially nailed the way you like your coffee.”

“It’s pretty good,” you admitted, taking a sip from a mug that Chloe had decorated in her school’s art class.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Good. It is one,” you hummed.

It was clear that his mood was slightly improving the more that he talked about his experience. You wondered just how much of this information he’d shared with anyone else before you, as he told the story as if he were confessing something for the first time ever.

“I’ve never told anyone this much about it,” he confessed. “I’m glad that of all the people I could’ve told, it ended up being you.”

“Joel, I,” the words popped into your head, but died on your tongue. “I care about you so much. I know this can’t be easy to talk about, so thank you for sharing this with me,” you squeezed his hands across the table.

“Thank you for being so supportive. I also care about you a lot. So much that it scares me. Especially knowing that you could lose everything in a literal night,” he admitted.

“Oh Joel,” you said softly. “I’m also scared. I’m always so scared that I’ll lose you and Sarah and this little blended family we’ve made. But if that’s the price I pay for… caring about you so much, I’m okay with being afraid.”

Joel looked at you like he had something to say, but instead sat there quietly for a moment, processing your words. “Do you want to watch an episode of The Bachelorette?”

“Is that even a question? C’mon,” you stood up.

The two of you cuddled up on the couch once again, this time with a much lighter feeling in the room, partially due to what Joel had confessed to you, and partially due to the absolutely ridiculous content playing on your television.

“I’m sad that I had to go through what I had to go through, but I’m glad that it led me to you,” Joel said out of the blue, resting his forehead against yours.

You were glad that he found you too.

Five

It wasn’t every day that the forces of the universe seemed to be on your side, but for some reason, today was one of those days.

When you’d been called into your boss’ office that morning, a pit formed in your stomach. You’d figured that the day you were going to be laid off was coming, especially following the whole promotion fiasco. As you walked into her office, you fully intended to be walking out without a job.

Except, that wasn’t what happened. You had been promoted, and promoted into a position even higher than the one you’d previously been gunning after.

Once you found out, you had to fight the urge to skip out of your boss’s office, singing and dancing with joy. Instead, you fought that urge by closing the door to your office, and calling Joel.

“Hey honey, what’s up?” he answered casually.

“Joel, they promoted me! And it’s an even better position than what I was trying to get before!” you squealed.

Joel cheered from over the phone, making you somehow smile even harder. “Congratulations! I’m so proud of you. I can’t think of anyone who deserves this more than you.”

“Oh my god, stop it,” you giggled, putting your hands up to your warm cheeks.

“No, I’m serious,” Joel countered. “I know a lot of hard workers, and none of them work as hard as you. You’ve sacrificed so much to get here and it’s finally paid off.”

“Thank you, Joel,” you had more to say, but you decided to keep it to yourself. Mainly, how did you get so lucky to end up with a man like him?

“Are you busy tonight?” he asked.

“I’m just dropping Chloe off at my mom’s, then I should be free for the evening. Why?”

“Why don’t you come over to my place so we can celebrate? You picked the right time to get a promotion. Sarah’s going to her uncle’s for the weekend.”

“Sounds good to me,” you hummed. “I’ll text you when I’m heading over.”

“Alright. Again, congratulations! So proud.”

You hung up and attempted to get back to work, but you were far too excited to focus for too long. You somehow made it to the end of the work day and to Joel’s house without spontaneously combusting from joy.

When you walked in, you were immediately met with the smells of one of your favorite candles, mixed with the mouthwatering scent of fragrant coming from the kitchen.

“Joel, I’m home!” you announced, making your way to the kitchen only to find it very dressed up. The lights were dimmed, a crisp white table cloth rested on the table, and a gorgeous arrangement of flowers sat in a vase in the middle of the table, right next to a rather nice looking bottle of champagne.

Joel was finishing up plating something spectacular as you came in. “Please, have a seat,” he directed. You didn’t need to be told twice.

With the arrangement of the table, you almost felt like you were sitting at a fancy little restaurant, but better, knowing all the effort Joel had put into making the table look this way. He brought over two plates, set one over at his seat and one in front of you, before leaning down and kissing you gently.

“Congratulations. I am so, so, so proud of you,” he said after finally pulling away, reaching for the bottle of champagne on the table.

“If anyone in the world deserves good things,” he turned away from you so that he could safely pop the bottle. “It’s you. I’m glad you’re finally getting the recognition that you deserve.”

With the bottle opened, he poured you out a glass, then poured himself some. You lifted up your glass and Joel mirrored you.

“Cheers,” you said with a grin, tapping your glasses together, then taking a sip. Once you finished drinking, Joel leaned in for one more kiss before he situated himself back into his chair.

“I think you deserve a promotion from best boyfriend in the world to best boyfriend in the universe,” you softly laughed, looking down at your plate.

“Do I? I think anyone would celebrate the person they…” he paused for just a split second, and you probably wouldn’t have noticed it if you weren’t paying such close attention. “The person they’re sharing their life with if they made a big accomplishment like this.”

“Honey, you’d be very surprised. I can think of at least one person who would view this promotion as a bad thing.”

“Well, don’t think about them right now. This is an amazing thing, and we’re celebrating you today. Not an insecure man with a Napoleon complex and a small penis.”

You laughed out loud, nearly choking on a bubbly sip of champagne.

“You’re right,” you picked up your fork and knife, reading to dig into the amazing looking meal in front of you. “Thank you for this, Joel. You always make me feel so appreciated and cherished. You’re truly one of a kind.”

He shook his head bashfully at the compliment, eating right along with you. It was almost cute how he never seemed to accept compliments, but certainly deserved them more than basically any other person that you knew.

“You always show me how much you care about me. It’s only fair that I do the same.”

“You’re so romantic,” you sighed. “How can I guarantee that I can keep you around forever?”

“Just keep being you, I guess. That’s all I’ve really ever wanted.”

How did you get so lucky? How did you manage to hit the jackpot on men with Joel, almost let it slip through your fingers not once, but twice, and still managed to end up with one of your favorite people in the world?

However it ended up happening, you certainly weren’t mad at it, and as you sat together, you hoped for things never to change.

Plus One

Given that you practically lived at each other’s homes now, you often spent your mornings together getting ready to take on the day. It was cute how you both had your own little routines and were able to coexist in a tiny little space.

Today, you stood in Joel’s bathroom, washing your face as the mirror across from you began to become progressively more foggy from the heat of Joel’s shower.

“My hair is gonna be so frizzy,” you muttered to yourself as you rubbed moisturizer into your skin.

“Hey, you’re the one who wanted to come in here with me,” Joel shot back from the shower, turning the water off.

“Whatever,” you grumbled, getting back to work on your face as Joel dried himself off and wrapped a towel around his waist.

“You’re so cute when you’re grumpy in the morning,” he commented as he approached you, standing next to you at the sink.

“I am not grumpy,” you argued, then paused once Joel gave you a very disbelieving expression. “Fine. I can get a little irritable in the morning. Especially when someone’s boiling hot showers make my hair get all frizzy.”

“I wonder who that someone is?” Joel looked around the room in faux confusion.

“Ugh, shut up. You are such a dad,” you fought back laughter, but you couldn’t really help the smile that appeared on your lips.

“Shutting up,” Joel acknowledged, grabbing his razor and some shaving cream to touch up some of his facial hair. You began to brush your teeth, focusing on yourself in the mirror to make sure that you were making your dentist proud.

Your eyes eventually migrated and were meeting Joel’s in the mirror. You flashed him a big, foamy grin, and he immediately broke into hysterics, setting the razor down so he didn’t cut himself while laughing so hard.

“Really?” he asked between laughs. “While I’m shaving?”

“Sorry,” you shrugged with a self-satisfied smirk.

“You are such a dork,” Joel sighed as he calmed himself down, leaning against the counter as he began to work on shaving his face once more. “Ugh, I love you,” the words seemed to come out of his mouth involuntarily, if the horrified look on his face told you anything.

It seemed like the whole house stopped after Joel said it, the dripping from the showerhead ceasing, the faint buzz of the air conditioner nowhere to be found, and the noises of your children downstairs coming to a halt.

You were shocked at the admission, and Joel seemed to be shocked that he’d said anything.

Now that he’d mentioned it, you really did love Joel. You loved how he supported you, and how he treated your daughter like she was his own. You loved that he wasn’t afraid to fight for what he believed in, especially when that included socking your ex in the face. You loved his ability to be vulnerable with you, and the way that he seemed to always know what to say at the right time. You loved knowing that no matter how shitty of a day you’d had, Joel would always be there, ready to order your favorite foods and spoon you while decompressing with the worst, most trashy reality TV you could find.

You’d spent all this time thinking that you’d never experience romantic love again, that romantic love was tumultuous and exhausting, when you’d been in love with Joel the whole time.

You were one of those people who were meant to love and be loved. Joel had proven that much to you.

“I love you too,” you confessed, toothpaste still obstructing your mouth.

Maybe love wasn't so bad after all.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fluff #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us #joel miller imagine #pedro pascal x reader #soccer parents au

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theyanderespecialist · 2 months

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Base Yandere Lucifer Morningstar Headcanons: He Will Move Heaven and Hell

[Hello, My Sexy Muffins! I am back with another chapter! This one, the base headcanons, and traits of Yandere Lucifer Morningstar from Hazbin Hotel! So wish me luck, anyway I hope you enjoy this!]

(Disclaimer: Lucifer Morningstar From Hazbin Hotel is not yandere in canon! This is just for fun and NOT to be taken seriously at all! Simping for fictional characters and yanderes is fine! Just do not be illegal or gross about it (You know who you are). Also, remember to separate fiction from reality and headcanon from canon! Yanderes are not ideal partners to have in real life.)

-Base Yandere Headcanons With Lucifer Morningstar From Hazbin Hotel-

.Lucifer has focused it looks like his last seven-ish years on not being a very active king of hell.

.Focusing on building his ducks and burying his depression.

.He does not have a LOT of people he sees on a day-to-day basis.

.Except for you, the person who is on his staff. It is your job to make sure that the king is taken care of.

.So you were more or less a babysitter and assistant to the king of hell.

.He was fond of you, okay that was a lie, he is right down smitten and obsessed with you.

.You are his ray of sunshine in the darkness of hell and he adores you.

.You have been with him for the last several years since his wife had gone missing.

.He had a strained relationship with his daughter and often talks to you about her.

.Telling you all the times he had with her. He just wants you to be part of his and his daughter's life.

.He of course still loves Lilith, but he has a love for you, where he NEEDS You.

.He often makes you ducks, he has given you so many duck-related things as gifts.

.He loves to spoil you, and a lot of time, it is something that is shaped like a duck or is duck themed, or is covered in ducks.

.He also loves to make your caramel apples as a treat.

.He will give you the best, because what is better than pure angelic power, especially from the man who so happens to love you the MOST?

.He does not want to share you and gets extremely guarded and protective of you when he deems a rival is around to threaten his claim to you.

.He is a lovable dork, and with his yandere side, this makes him also a TOTAL Puppy dog yandere.

.The slightest biggest love and affection and or attention that you show him he just gobbles up. He is very much "MY DARLING WANTS TO BE WITH ME!!!!! TAKE THAT DEPRESSION"

.He is also very much a physical touch kind fo romance, as Viv has confirmed.

.He loves to show his affection to you, with physical touch.

.Kissing up your arm, holding you in his arms, anything and everything. Even as things as simple as a graze of the hand.

.He loves to sing for you, writing romantic songs.

.But man oh man, can he be petty when it comes to rivals.

.Such as if Alastor were to say you and him were close.

.Who the fuck did that sinner think he was!

.He will have a constant dislike for anyone who tries to say they are something with you.

.He deals with rivals in two main ways. The first way, Being super fucking petty fr fr.

.Or by legit summoning hellfire which can burn them away and actually kill them.

.He does not play around when he gets to the point.

And if the person does hurt you, he will use the hell fire on that soul to kill them.

.He will show no mercy.

.You are the apple of his eye, his sweet love, a reason for him to stay in hell even if he was allowed back to heaven he would never go back because he adores you.

.He was once a dreamer, but he had lost those dreams until he found you, you gave him hope and the ability to dream again.

.To strive to be a better father, a better husband, and a better king.

.He would share you with Lilith 1000 percent. BUT ONLY LILITH

.He also will try and introduce you to Charlie as you will one day be her future step-parent.

.He is very nervous about this that is for sure.

.When he does confess to you he is beyond nervous and awkward.

.Because he is worried if it will go right or not.

.If you accept his feelings he takes you in his arms and flies into the air spinning around and kissing you.

.If you turn him down he feels his heart shatter, but he will ask if you are two are still good, but he is not giving up.

.He will try his best to "Mend" things and then slowly court you, so the next time he confesses to you, you say yes.

.He does this until he gets a yes.

.He is determined, and also a very protective yandere as well.

.He will face heaven to keep you by his side, so if somehow you got redeemed he would storm heaven and bring you back.

.He is not losing you, you belong to him and will be his future spouse, future co-parent, and future co-ruler.

.He will move heaven and hell for you, that is a fact!

[YASSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS another chapter is done! I hope you all enjoyed this and stay sexy, all of my sexy muffins!]

#yandere #yandere lucifer #yandere lucifer morningstar #yandere hazbin hotel #yandere headcanons #headcanon #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel lucifer morningstar #lucifer hazbin hotel #lucifer #lucifer morningstar #lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader #reader #gender neutral #gender neutral reader

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ultralightpoe · 2 months

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Anti-hero - Roy Kent

Authors Note : Based off a request I got {Could you do a Jamie or Roy fic with a girl who feels self conscious as their date to a gala or something? Lots of fluff and comfort! If you don’t want to write it, no worries 💜} A quick reminder that you are all beautiful and truly wonderful. You all deserve the world, and I hope you all find your own Roy Kent. -Ultralightpoe

Word Count: 3,997

Warnings: self doubt. curse words

Requests: OPEN

Main Master list - - Midnights Event List

(Thank you for the gif @50shadesofpemberlypost )

x Enjoy x

I have this thing where I get older but just never wiser

Midnights become my afternoons

When my depression works the graveyard shift

All of the people I've ghosted stand there in the room

It had been an issue for years, one that was directly caused by your mother.

It’s not that she was a villain, and it wasn’t like she knew she was doing it anyways, it was always something that just managed to slip out of her mouth in passing moments . A quick ‘that shows your back fat’ there and a ‘are you sure you like that color? It washes you out baby’. Always said with that tone that made you rethink every decision in life.

She did it out of love.

But the comments she made built up, that and the pressure of school and social media building up. It all took a toll on you. You found your life mixed with new issues. Anxiety, self-doubt, depression, and you became a new person.

It was like a shadow version of you, one that tracked how much she ate and thought about how loud she laughed and how much was too much talking. Every single move you made was tracked and overthought.

But then Roy came into the picture.

At first you did what you usually did, you tried to speak low and not draw too much attention. Tracking how much you laughed and how much you ate. It was fine because your friend group never really realized it, they didn’t know a thing was out of place. But Roy, who had been brought by his sister, was quick to call it out.

“Fucking stop that.” He muttered when you tried to fix your skirt, using his hand to slap yours away. “You look fucking perfect. Take a breath, yeah?”

“I just…. I’m debating the color, everyone else wore pastels and I hadn’t realized that it would be that type of party.” You admit, body hot with embarrassment as a group of girls pass you at the party. But that was the least of your worries, you had eaten too much cake and had tripped on the stairs in front of your friends. Could everyone see your makeup on your neck? Were they laughing at you-

“Do you overthink everything?” Roy blurts, catching your elbow to pull you back gently as a waiter with a heavy tray passes by. “Because I’ll tell you right now that you’re the prettiest fucking woman at this party.”

“You can’t say that at someone’s birthday party.” You laugh, stepping closer to him without realizing. “That’s one of the biggest rules. It’s like saying someone is prettier than Aphrodite. Next thing you know that person will be cursed to marry your father because the goddess hates you.”

“I’m sorry?”

“It’s…. Greek mythology. I’m not going to marry my dad. It… okay. I’ve ruined this so I am just going to-” You move away quicker than he can follow and you think that it was over. But you had not known just how determined Roy Kent was.

Soon enough he was taking you out, one date became 4 which led to a relationship. 10 months in and you were the happiest you had ever been. He saw you, in every outfit and every mood and every way, and he loved you just as you were.

But there was something you didn’t expect, the amount of attention that would come with dating a professional football player. It was a whole new demon in itself.

I should not be left to my own devices

They come with prices and vices

I end up in crisis (tale as old as time)

I wake up screaming from dreaming

One day I'll watch as you're leaving

'Cause you got tired of my scheming

(For the last time)

Lunches with your mother were the worst, and yet you loved her more than anything. Today she chose an extremely fancy restaurant dressed in a Valentino outfit and her makeup to perfection as she cut her salad up with her fork and knife.

“Oh this is dreadful.” She sighs, shaking her head. “There is barely any chicken in here. This is insane. Do you see chicken?”

“There is chicken.” Roy shrugs, narrowing his eyes a bit. Lunches with them were always such a weird dynamic considering they were exact opposites. Your mother looked for drama, she thrived off of arguing. Roy chose brutal honesty, he worked best on shutting arguments down before they could even start. “It’s right there.”

“Oh, baby that is a terrible color on you.” She huffs, sitting the plate back down and turning her glare on you as her hand raises to call the server over. “It washes you out. What have I told you about-”

“She looks fucking stunning today.” Roy scoffs, blinking slowly.

“It’s fine.” You whisper to him, trying to defuse the situation.

“No, it’s not.”

“Now I read somewhere that there is a big fundraiser gala coming up, it was in the paper. I assume you both will be attending.” Your mother begins, smiling when the server starts heading over. “You should let me dress you darling. I know how you get anxious about that all and I want to make sure you look your best.”

“She’ll look bloody fantastic in anything-”

“Oh you finally decided to serve your table.” Your mother interrupts him, talking to the server and completely disregarding your boyfriend.

He takes a moment to lean over to you, catching your eyes. “I’m about to stab my fork into my fucking eye.”

“I know.” You smile, leaning in closer to kiss his cheek which makes him growl a bit at the pda but you see the smile he fights off anyways. “We’ll be gone soon.”

“You look great and the dress you pick will be fantastic. Don’t listen to her.” He gruffs out.

“Have you seen those posts of you two? They were commenting on your age difference and I just want you to know that I do not think you are too immature for him. Truthfully honey I am proud, I never thought you’d make it with someone so accomplished. I mean it’s not like you had many prospects.” She laughs as the server sends Roy a wide eyed look while taking her plate away leaving the table once more.

“That’s it.” Roy snaps, slamming his silverware down on the table and pointing his finger at her. “You watch how you speak to her. She’s perfect. And she will be a bombshell at the gala.”

Your mothers face flushes, blinking at him slowly as Roy goes back to his meal like nothing happened while you fight off a smile, your foot rubbing his calf under the table in a silent thank you before you try to pull it back only for his legs to slam shut keeping your foot held there.

He sends you a sharp look, but the corner of his mouth curves up and you know that was his way of showing his love so you take it, smiling right back at him.

It's me, hi, I'm the problem, it's me

At tea time, everybody agrees

I'll stare directly at the sun but never in the mirror

It must be exhausting always rooting for the anti-hero

The dress you chose for the gala was perfect, you were excited to wear it and truthfully you were excited about the whole thing. This would be the first event you had ever attended with the Richmond team in the public eye, and you wanted to make a good impression.

But your mothers words from the years rang through your head constantly as you waited for their practice to end, leaning against the wall in the hallway as you thought about everything.

“Oh! Hello.” A angelic voice rings out, pulling your attention to Rebecca Welton coming down the hallway, making you stand up quickly.

“Ms. Welton! Hi, hello, hey…. I’m saying hi in too many ways.” You blush, moving to shake her hand. “It’s great to see you again.”

“I was just about to say the same thing. Are you waiting for the boys?”

“I am, yeah. My car is in the shop so I need a ride.”

“Oh lovely, will I be seeing you at the gala? I have been planning it for weeks, my ex husband used to plan it. The wanker.”

“I’ll be there. I just hope I dress well enough.” You laugh slightly, but her eyebrow raises and you panic slightly. Did everyone on this team just see right through all your shit?

“You’ll look perfect. I wish I still had a figure like yours.”

“ANGEL!” Someone calls out before you are lifted into the arms of Danny Rojas, kissing the side of your face as he swings you around.

“Alright. Set her down, will ya?” Roy snaps, coming around the corner and rubbing his knee as Danny sets you down quickly, kissing your cheek one more time before heading away. You lean forward and rub Roy’s knee right where you know he feels the most pain.

“Is it hurting a lot?” You mumble, as he pulls your hand away. “Sorry, did I hurt you?”

“No, I just don’t want to moan in the middle of this hallway. Let’s go home?” Before you can even answer he is grabbing your bag and moving to take you to the car.

Sometimes I feel like everybody is a sexy baby

And I'm a monster on the hill

Too big to hang out, slowly lurching toward your favorite city

Pierced through the heart, but never killed

Roy was in a shit mood the day of the gala, slamming cupboard after cupboard. You knew he was irritated about having to dress up and see the reporters that used to write about him all the time, and you knew in moments like this it was best to let him work through it. But sometimes you just couldn’t stay away.

Shuffling closer, in his shirt, you wrap your arms around his center and shove your face into his back. He huffs out as he keeps swiping the sponge against the counter, but he doesn’t push you away so you take a chance and kiss between his shoulder blades. “It’s going to be okay. What they say about you doesn’t matter.”

He sighs out, letting go of the sponge before turning around in your arms and wrapping his own around you, placing a kiss on your forehead.

“You were young and they were assholes for that…. So fuck them.”

“Fuck them.” He repeats.

“You’re going to walk by them in your fine ass suit with your fine ass body-”

“Please don’t objectify me.” He mumbles, but a smile is already on his lips as he leans down to kiss you deeply before pulling back. “And I will have the brightest fucking gem with me tonight.”

“Oh, c’mon.” You blush, trying to pull back but his arms are tight around you.

“I think we need to fuck.” He huffs kisses at your face again.

“Don’t be so crass!” You laugh, trying to escape him and shuffling you both to the bedroom right as your phone rings. “It’s my mother.”

“No. Don’t answer.”

“I have to, or she’s gonna be mad.” You answer back, watching his face turn dead serious as he looks at you. His hands come up to rub at your jaw.

“You listen to me you little rat.” He mumbles, you fighting back a laugh at the nickname. “Don’t listen to a word she says, because you are beautiful.”

“I won’t. I promise.” You promise, kissing his lips deeply and losing yourself to the kiss for a moment before he pulls back and shuffles to continue cleaning the counter. You swipe your thumb across the screen and mumble out a “Hello mother.”

“Oh you’re there! I thought you were about to ignore my call.” She snaps through the phone.

Did you hear my covert narcissism I disguise as altruism

Like some kind of congressman? (Tale as old as time)

I wake up screaming from dreaming

One day I'll watch as you're leaving

And life will lose all its meaning

(For the last time)

You broke your promise, and you let your mother get the best of you.

Her words from earlier bounce around your mind as you get ready. You debate whether or not your hair looked healthy as you spray hairspray across it. Did it look greasy? Untamed? Could they see your split ends?

Was your nail polish the wrong color? Was there a patch of hair on your legs that you missed? Did the dress color wash you out? Did you look too heavy? Was it too late to cancel?

“You look…. “ Roy blinks, coming up behind you to help zip the dress. “Fuck.”

“Is that good?” You ask, biting at your lip as he leans to kiss the nape of your neck.

“Good? You look bloody amazing.” He snaps, kissing your neck one more time before standing straight. “Now let’s go make money.”

“What are we fundraising for? I never looked into it?”

“I have no fucking clue.”

“Right.” You laugh, turning with your hand in his as he kisses your knuckles softly. “Then let’s go make money for whatever needs money.”

“Make a fortune.”

It's me, hi, I'm the problem, it's me (I'm the problem, it's me)

At tea time, everybody agrees

I'll stare directly at the sun but never in the mirror

It must be exhausting always rooting for the anti-hero

Your lip was worn down from the amount you had been biting it.

Walking up to the gala you saw a red carpet with dozens of flashing cameras and begin to panic as you get closer, your hand tightening in Roys as he stands straighter. You would not be able to handle the cameras and see your picture all over the internet. What would people say? They would trash you, oh how bad would it be?

But Roy, ever the perfect man, simply held your hand tight and walked across the red carpet with a confidence that made your skin hot. He muttered to each that called his name, his voice deep and uncaring. “No. No. Fuck you. Fuck off. Fuck no.”

A smile blooming across your face as you let him lead you into the building where everyone is walking about with drinks in their hand.

“I’m going to go get us drinks. Your usual?” He asks, waiting for your nod before heading in the direction of the bar leaving you standing there to take a look around.

You took your chance to look around at everyone around you, smiling at anyone you make eye contact with. The anxieties began rising, as every gorgeous female passed you in their perfect dresses. Was your dress cheap looking? Did you look pathetic?

You were caught up in your thoughts as Jamie approached with his date, a model that introduces herself with a hug that makes you sniff caramel, leaving you with a crater in your chest as you look at her perfection. Jamie talks about the gala, looking around at everyone as a flash makes you blink, all three of you turning to the person that just took your picture.

“The actual fuck?” Jamie scoffs, staring at him. “We were having a conversation, ye?”

“Sorry.” The man nods, moving to walk off and bumping into Nate with another apology. “Didn’t see you.”

“Hi Nate.” You smile, trying to seem calm when he walks up. “You look great.”

“Thank you! Mr. Lasso actually bought me this suit.”

“Who?” You blink, trying to see who he had been talking about. It wasn’t meant to be a snappy or snide comment, you had yet to be introduced to the new coach and the name didn’t ring a bell at first. But the second you saw the man with the mustache owning the crowd not far off you knew who Nate was talking about.

But when you turn back to Nate you see a glare set on his features, his cheeks a little red as he blatantly looks away from you. “You look great, Jamie. You as well Keeley.”

Then he walks off, bumping into you harshly as he passes which makes the blonde look at you with wide eyes as Jamie excuses himself for another drink.

“Oh, that was extremely rude of me. I shouldn’t have asked about the coach- that was-”

“What are you talking about?” She blinks, looking extremely confused. “You didn’t do anything wrong?”

“Here you are.” Roy grunts, handing you the chilled glass. “Keeley.”

“Hello Roy.” She smiles before Jamie whistles to pull her over.

“Did he just call her like she was a dog?” You ask Roy as she walks over, and he shrugs.

“He’s a wanker. Always has been and always will be.” Roy grunts out, rolling his eyes. “He doesn’t ever pass the ball. And he is a massive tool. You should hear some of the things he says to-” He begins to explain as you try to smooth out your dress before his hand shoots out to stop you. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Your answer was too quick, his eyes narrow and he catches it.

“What happened?”

“I just…. I think I upset Nate because I asked to Lasso was and I didn’t mean to and everyone here looks amazing. But I’m fine. Everything is fine.”

“Did that little fuck say something?”

“No. It’s fine Roy. Everything is fine.” You smile, leaning forward to kiss his lips which he allows before moving back and holding his hand knowing he doesn’t like pda. “Let’s go find our seats?”

I have this dream my daughter in-law kills me for the money

She thinks I left them in the will

The family gathers 'round and reads it and then someone screams out

"She's laughing up at us from hell"

“Hello Roy, you handsome devil you.” A southern voice rings out, walking up to where you and Roy were seated together. “And what pairs so well with a handsome devil? An angel.”

“The devil is technically… well historically the devil is an angel.” You blush, immediately feeling stupid as the fun fact slips from your lips. “Well, I mean- I’m sorry that was stupid.”

“Stupid? Absolutely not. I feel ashamed that I didn’t know it.” He laughs, leaning to shake your hand. “My name is Ted, all my friends call me Ted which means you must.”

“It’s wonderful to meet you. Roy was telling me about all the new techniques at your practices.” You smile, making your boyfriend shake his head.

“I said nothing good.” Roy huffs.

“He said everything good.” You smile which makes Ted smile back.

“You both look fantastic. Have a drink on me, since it’s an open bar.” Ted jokes, moving to walk away as Roy places his hand on your lower back.

“Why the fuck would you tell him that I said good things?” He huffs and your stomach drops.

“I’m sorry. It was just teasing and you do always say great things about him so-”

“Take it easy. You are fine.” He shakes his head. “Are you okay?”

You hadn’t noticed but your fists had clenched and your nails were digging into your skin, his own fingers were quick to make you release the hold and rub his thumb over the crescent marks left on your skin before bringing your hand up to kiss your palm.

“I thought you hated pda.” You whisper, leaning so your foreheads were pressed together as he pretended to roll his eyes.

“Fuck it. I have a gorgeous date and I deserve to kiss her in public.”

“Are you sure? It’s a big move for you.”

“Have you seen yourself? Prettier than the goddess aphrodite.” He smiles and your eyes widen.

“How. Dare. You! What have you done? I’m going to have to marry my dad now. Roy, how could you have done this to me?” You laugh, shaking your head. “I also cannot believe you remember that from almost a year ago.”

“Of course I remember.” He blinks. “That was the first conversation I had with the love of my life. Who would forget that?”

“Oh knock it off.” You mumble, shaking your head.

“Knock it off? Knock what off?” He snaps. “Do you realize how fucking lucky I was that day? The day you looked at me? My life was made. The second best day of my life.”

“Second?”

“Second. My niece’s birth is the first.”

“I’m fucking honored.” You laugh, smiling from ear to ear.

“Did you just cuss?”

“I did. I’m sorry. My mother would kill me.” You blush.

“Can I be honest with you for a second?”

“When are you not?”

“Fuck your mother.” He blurts, which makes your eyes widen. “I hate her. I think she is miserable and you are far fucking prettier than aphrodite and you don’t have to worry about the goddess making you marry your dad because I will be marrying you. No goddess or god could keep me from you.”

“Oh yeah?”

“You’re stuck with me. And I need you to stop being to fucking mean to yourself. You hear me?” He asks seriously. “Because that’s the love of my life you are talking about.”

“I can try.”

“Good. Now lets get another round and wait this fucking gala out. Then lets go get actual food because I know you skipped lunch.”

“Sounds like a plan.” You smile before a flash blinds you once more, making you both whirl to the man with the camera.

“You fucker-” Roy begins to stand as he dashes off.

It's me, hi, I'm the problem, it's me

It's me, hi, everybody agrees, everybody agrees

You both end up at a late night potato stand, sitting on one of their benches as you both laugh at the memory of the auction that had taken place.

“A fucking grandma bid on me. You know how embarrassing that was?”

“Hey! I bid on you too!” You laugh, body shaking from laughing so hard. “And Keeley!”

“Keeley was pissing that little wanker off.” He huffs, rubbing your thigh gently as you keep his blazer wrapped around you. “Thank you for coming with me tonight.”

“Thank you for bringing me. I am sorry I upset Nate-”

“Stop saying sorry. You have nothing to be sorry for.” He mumbles, leaning to dig his spoon into your baked potato and take a big mouthful of it. “Fuck. That is good.”

“You say that about anything I get! You always do this!” You laugh, pretending to pull the potato away.

“You always choose better!”

It's me, hi (hi), I'm the problem, it's me (I'm the problem, it's me)

At tea (tea) time (time), everybody agrees (everybody agrees)

I'll stare directly at the sun but never in the mirror

It must be exhausting always rooting for the anti-hero

“Fuck!” You wake up to the sound of Roy yelling from the kitchen, rushing to wrap yourself in the sheet left on the bed from last night as your feet pad across the floor to find where he is at.

You find him sitting on the couch with a cup of coffee, glaring at his laptop, until he sees you coming out of the bedroom in just a sheet.

“Fuck.” Unlike his last curse this one is said with a lusty tone, setting the coffee down as you come closer to the couch and move to sit by him.

“What’s got you so mad, handsome?”

“They posted a picture of me and they said I’m retired. What fucks.”

“Is it a bad idea? To be retired?” You ask, moving to straddle him before he can pull an attitude. “You would have more time with me. More time to hang out and cuddle and sleep and…. You can finish the rest.”

“.....Fuck.”

#roy kent #roy kent imagine #roy kent angst #roy kent fluff #roy kent smut #roy kent x reader #roy kent fic #roy kent fanfiction #ted lasso imagine #ted lasso apple tv #ted lasso angst #ted lasso smut #ted lasso x reader #ted lasso fic #ted lasso spoilers #ted lasso fluff #roy kent ted lasso

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tkwrites · 29 days

Text

I'll Be Proud For You - Quinn Hughes x ofc

Photo from Pinterest via Bauer Hockey

Title: I’ll Be Proud For You - Quinn Hughes x ofc

Author: Tory / @tkwrites

Relationship: Quinn Hughes x Sarah Roberts (OFC)

Summary: When an opportunity for Quinn to meet her uncle arrives, Sarah jumps at the chance, and they attend a St. Patrick's Day party at her uncle's house on Salt Spring Island. On the ferry ride back home, Sarah finally explains why she had to be close to family after her mothers death, necessitating her move to Vancouver.

Warnings: Mentions of depression, grief, and meeting new family. Talks of suicidal thoughts and suicidal ideation. No attempts or methods are described or discussed.

Word Count: 5,600

Comments: I’ve been working on this fic for a long time. In many ways, it's extremely self-indulgent. I loved writing the banter between Sarah and her uncle Travis, and it was very healing for me to write about Sarah’s experiences after her mothers death.

Sarah’s experiences are very similar to the experiences I had after losing my father. My dad died three years ago in September, and I have not experienced any kind of suicidal ideation for over a year and a half. While I was in the thick of it, it felt like I was always going to be stuck in that darkness. The other side of that chasm is so beautiful and so worth the work it took to get here.

I was very lucky that I already had a therapist who could refer me to a specialist and friends and family who cared very deeply about me and my mental well-being. Seeing a psychiatrist to get on medication was one of the best decisions I ever made.

If you are having or have thoughts like these in the future, please, please talk to a friend and a professional to get help. The world is such a better place with you in it. xx

I’ll Be Proud For You

A Quinn & Sarah Snapshot

Sarah grabbed Quinn's wrist as he walked toward the kitchen. “Do you have plans for St. Patrick's Day?”

“I think Garly's having a party. Why?”

“My uncle Travis always hosts a dinner party since we’re Irish, and I wondered if you wanted to come with me.”

“Sure.”

A smile took over her whole face, and he was instantly glad he agreed.

Internally, though, his heart was racing. Her uncle was the closest family she had nearby. When she first moved to the city, she'd lived with him for a year. She still went to his house at least two Sundays a month. Quinn knew they were close.

At least he had three days to mentally prepare.

“It’s a bit of a drive - they live on Saltspring, so we have to take the ferry.”

“Just means I get to spend more time with you,” he said with a shrug. “Plus, I like it over there.”

Her smile got bigger, and he swore his knees got a little weak. God, what wouldn’t he do for that smile?

“Is there anything I should do to prepare?” he asked, sitting next to her.

“Just wear something green. And don't wear anything that says 'Kiss me, I'm Irish' unless you actually want to be kissed.”

“Wouldn't mind being kissed by you,” he said with a wink.

Laughing, she leaned over and obliged.

He instantly wished they weren't at the dining room table so he could lay her out and kiss her like he meant it.

A few minutes later, the nagging feeling of neglecting her studying won out, and Sarah pulled away. “I'm sorry,” she said, pulling her bottom lip into her mouth, “I really need to finish this. Give me thirty minutes?”

“Then you're mine for the night?”

She nodded.

“Okay.” He kissed her forehead and wandered to the kitchen to make dinner.

As she left school for the aquarium the next day, Sarah called her uncle Travis.

“Hey, Sar, how are you doing?”

“Good. How are you, Trav?”

“Great. Samson started crawling on Tuesday.”

“What? No.”

“Yep.”

“I refuse to believe he’s crawling already.”

“I know. It’s the worst. What’s up?”

“I just wanted to let you know I'm bringing someone with me on Sunday.”

“One of your roommates?”

“No, someone I'm seeing.”

He actually seemed to choke on whatever he was drinking and coughed a few times before asking, “I'm sorry, what?”

“We've been going out for a while, and I want him to meet everyone.”

“How long is a while?”

“Two and a half months.”

“And you were going to tell us when?”

“I was waiting to see how serious it would be.”

“And it's serious?”

“I think it’s headed that way. I want to see what you think of him.”

“What's his name?”

“Quinn.”

“How did you meet?”

“At the aquarium,” she said, “he asked me out to lunch, and we've been dating ever since.”

“He lives in the city?”

“Yeah.”

“Is there anything I should know about him?”

“Just that I really like him. Please promise you won't embarrass me.”

“No can do. That's what uncles are for, but I can promise I won't pull out your baby pictures.”

“You don't even have my baby pictures.”

“Precisely. Otherwise, I probably would.”

Rolling her eyes, she asked what she could bring to dinner. After deciding she would bring the soda bread and butter, they hung up, and she sent the plan to Quinn.

Great. When should I pick you up?

I'm driving, so I'll come get you.

You have a car?

Technically, it's my uncles, but I haven't driven in forever, so I’m calling transportation on this one.

He laughed. Tocc canceled practice tomorrow so we can leave whenever.

I'll pick you up at 1 then?

What time is dinner?

5, but the drive over is 2 and a half hours, and I like to be there a little early to help out.

“Why does your uncle keep a car here?” Quinn asked as he buckled his seatbelt.

“I have parking included with my apartment, so it just made sense. I drop it off at the Ferry terminal once or twice a month for Trev when he has to come to the mainland for work.”

“I didn’t know that. Let me know next time and I’ll give you a ride home.”

She shot a grateful smile at him before looking back to the road.

It was a strange thing for Quinn to be a passenger. He was usually the one driving, and rarely got the chance to watch her for such a long period of time uninterrupted.

He was taken with her. With the constellation of freckles on her cheeks and the button of her nose, and the round swell of her bottom lip. He wondered if anyone would notice if they just made out on the ferry ride over. She didn’t have tinted windows. Probably not the best idea.

She was wearing the same green dress she’d worn when Brady came to town. It still looked beautiful and soft, and he still couldn’t stop the fantasies of stripping it off her from clouding his mind.

“How was your morning?”

“Fine.” he scrubbed his hands over his face, “It’s nice to have a day off.”

“I bet,” she said, reaching over to entwine her fingers with his.

They held hands until they hit traffic and she had to get back to the gear shift.

He’d never driven a manual transmission, and he was impressed by her seamless shifting, despite the fact that she was a bit of a terrifying driver. He found himself reaching for the door handle more than once as she weaved in and out of traffic and went a little too fast for his liking.

“How was your day?” he asked to distract himself.

“Good. I did some reading and finished up some assignments I’d put off from earlier in the week.”

“I didn’t know you were capable of putting things off,” he teased.

She snorted and threw him a sarcastic look.

“You’re so organized, I didn’t think you could.”

Quinn had seen her planner once. It was the size of a college notebook with a column for every day of the week. Each of her classes was assigned a different color, and every day was an organized riot: hours blocked for class, work, assignments, tests, and readings to be completed. He didn’t know how she got it all done. He was exhausted just reading it. Then, he’d smiled when he realized he was there. She had all his games and their plans and dates written in sparkly blue ink.

“I still miss things. Sunday is my catchup day,” she explained. “Usually, I sleep in and do my homework on the ferry over and back, but I wanted to have it done early so I could spend the time with you.”

“It would have been okay,” he said.

The smile she gave him made his heart patter against his lungs. That, along with a stop so sudden, the seatbelt engaged to snap him back, made it a little hard to breathe.

“Thank you, but I would rather spend this time with you.”

His heart warmed at the gesture, and her willingness to give up her one morning to sleep in to spend time with him.

Once on the ferry, they stayed in the car and talked instead of going up on deck. He told her about practice and trying to push aside his nerves about making the playoffs, “Everyone keeps talking about it like it’s a guarantee.”

“Well, you are second in the league.”

“Yeah, but so much could change. I don’t want to get my hopes up, and the media asks about it practically every day. I’m getting so tired of telling them, ‘that’s what we’re aiming for, and we have a group that can get there.’” He threw his voice into a self-depricating, exaggerated version of itself.

Despite her attempt to stifle it down, a giggle spilled out of her mouth. “I think they’re probably asking because it’s going to happen.”

“We don’t know that. Demmer’s out, and we haven’t been doing great…” he trailed off.

“You’re still first in the Pacific by almost 10 points, Quinn. Can’t you celebrate that for a minute?”

He sighed, “it’s just… so much can change in a month, and I don’t want to be the guy who talks about how good it will be to play in the playoffs only to have his team not make it. I’d be a laughing stock on the internet for the rest of time and a lesson to all other captains to not jinx it.”

“I’d never considered it that way.”

He made a noise of ascent in his throat.

“You can celebrate it with me, though, right?” she asked, lacing their fingers together.

Quinn wanted to agree, he really did, but the superstitious part of his mind went to war against it. The result was a kind of half-hearted grimace.

Laughter burst from her. “Fine, fine. You don’t have to talk about it. I’ll just be proud for you,” she said, bringing his hand to her mouth so she could kiss his knuckles.

His stomach did a jerking little jig, and a real smile spread over his face.

Eventually, their conversation turned to her uncle.

“Trav is a sound engineer, and he toured with Brooks & Dunn for a long time. He moved to Vancouver because he said it’s the most beautiful city he’s been to.”

“I would agree with that,” Quinn said.

“Now he stays at home with their kids. Trevor is a copyright lawyer.”

“Oh, your uncle’s gay,” he said with a spark of understanding.

“Is that a problem?” Sarah asked, raising her brows.

“No, of course not. I was just confused. You mentioned Trav and Trev, and I wasn’t sure if I was hearing his name wrong or what.”

When they pulled off the ferry, Sarah turned onto a small two lane road, running away from town. It didn’t look like anything was out here except forest and pebble beaches.

Sarah had an incredible inherent sense of direction - the kind he had to rely on his phone GPS for - so he knew they weren’t lost, but he couldn’t see anything that looked remotely like civilization.

When they turned onto a small driveway tucked right into the woods, drove up a hill, and pulled in front of a home that looked more like a cabin than a house, Quinn wasn’t too shocked.

“What a view,” he said as they got out of the car.

Despite the drizzly weather, the horizon was still stunning. The gray blue water of the Salish Sea seemed to melt into the rolling, gray clouds, making them indistinguishable except where pine covered islands rose out of the water, vibrantly green against all the neutral colors. The city skyline cut a dark, jagged edge across the water. If the commute wasn’t so long, he would live out here, too.

“I know, right?” she said, picking up a tote bag and taking his hand to lead him up to the front door.

“Hey Trav,” she said, embracing him as soon as the door was opened. “Trav, this is Quinn. Quinn, this is my uncle Travis,” she introduced when they broke apart

Other than the fact that he had her same bright blue eyes, her uncle didn’t look anything like he’d expected. Quinn had braced himself to meet a middle-aged man who was around his dads age. Instead, Travis looked no more than ten years older than Sarah. The oldest looking thing about him was his gray hair, which was casually swept back in that effortless way Quinn’s hair could never quite manage. He wore jeans and a green band t-shirt without socks or shoes. His toenails and fingernails were painted various shades of green.

“It's nice to meet you, sir,” Quinn said as they shook hands. If he wasn’t so used to seeing it, he would have missed the way Travis’s eyes widened slightly in recognition.

“Just call me Travis,” he said with a snort, trying to cover his shock. “No one has ever called me, sir in my life. Come on in.”

Trying to catch her eye as they passed, Travis wondered how, when he’d asked if there was anything he should know about this guy she was bringing, Sarah didn’t think the fact that he was Quinn Hughes was something he ought to know. She didn’t notice, and he dropped it before Quinn did.

“Beara!” a little girl yelled as she ran toward them. “Beara! Beara!” She had curly pigtails, each tied with a green bow that flopped as she ran.

“Sawyer!” Sarah caught her before they collided, picking her up and swinging her around. “I missed you,” she said, pulling the little girl against her chest.

Putting her hands on Sarah’s cheeks, she said, “missed you more.”

When she noticed Quinn, she turned her face away from him and put her thumb in her mouth, suddenly shy.

“Sawyer, this is my friend, Quinn,” she said, turning so they could make eye contact.

“Hi, Sawyer,” he said. “I like your ribbons.”

She smiled around her thumb at him. She had those same bright blue eyes, though they were slightly wider than Travis or Sarah’s.

“What do you say to that?” her father coached gently.

“Thank you.” she didn’t take her thumb out of her mouth when she said it, so it was a little garbled, but he got the idea.

Sarah set her down, and she ran back to the kitchen, squealing when Travis chased her down the hallway.

“Beara?” Quinn asked, humor in his eyes as she took his hand, following after them.

“My whole life, my nickname has been Sar Bear. When she was younger, Sawyer had a hard time saying her S’s, so she started calling me Beara instead of Sarah, and it just kind of stuck.”

He snorted, “oh god, the guys are going to have a heyday with that.”

“With what?”

“You know how they call me Huggy Bear sometimes?”

She nodded.

“Huggy Bear and Sar Bear?” He snorted, “I mean, come on.”

The house, while rustic on the outside, was homey on the inside. Neutral gray walls and a modern, light kitchen. It seemed the whole back half of the house was made of glass, giving a perfect view into the misty forest. It was beautiful, but Quinn wasn’t sure he’d want to be here at night to see what came out of those woods.

Sarah was laughing as she entered the kitchen, hand in hand with Quinn. The shock of Quinn Hughes being in his house, of Quinn Hughes dating his niece, who had always been more of a little sister to him, still had him reeling.

Even through that startling revelation, Travis wasn’t sure if he’d ever seen her so relaxed and happy since her parents died. The protective part of him held himself back from reading too much into it. The last thing Sarah needed in her life was more heartache.

“Quinn, this is my uncle Trevor.”

“It’s nice to meet you. I’d shake your hand, but I’m a little busy,” he said, gesturing to the meat he was fishing out of a marinade. “I hope you like beef stew.”

“Sounds great.”

“And this,” Sarah picked a pudgy little boy up from his high chair, “is Samson.”

Quinn held a hand out to the little boy, who wrapped his tiny fingers around one of Quinn’s as he smiled and babbled. Samson looked more like Trevor. He had dark curly hair, dark eyes, and smooth olive skin. Quinn wondered if each of them had fathered an embryo for a surrogate.

“Can I get you a beer?” Travis asked.

“Sure.”

“We only have Guinness today.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything else. It’s the Irish way, right?”

Laughing, he handed the can off to Quinn before turning to Sarah. “Hey, can you help me find the barley?”

He knew he was being obvious as he pulled her into the pantry, but he hoped this was a little less obvious than pulling her back into the living room would be. At least he had an excuse for her help this way.

As he shut the door behind them, he heard Quinn ask, “is there anything I can help with?”

Travis clicked the light on. They were standing nearly chest to chest in the tiny room, baby Samson squished between them. He didn’t seem to mind as he continued to babble, reaching out for the brightly colored packages.

“You didn’t tell me you were dating Quinn Hughes!” he hissed.

“You know who he is?”

“Everyone in this entire province knows who Quinn Hughes is, Sarah.”

“I didn’t when we met.”

“That doesn’t surprise me.”

“Why not?” If she didn’t have a baby in her arms, she would have folded them over her chest.

“You’re too busy learning stuff to pay attention to things like that. He was all over the news for three weeks when they put him in as Captain this fall. Plus, you only care about football.”

“I do not. Well, not anymore, at least,” she said, catching Samson’s hand before he could pull a box of pasta off the shelf. “Anyway, why does it matter that he’s Quinn Hughes?”

“He’s - I mean,” Travis blew a harsh breath out of his nose. “When you said you met at the aquarium, I thought he was some guy who works there, not the captain of the fucking Vancouver Canucks!”

“He's just a guy, Trav. He just happens to play hockey for a living.”

His mouth opened and closed as he seemed to realize he couldn't argue against that point. “He’s a pro athlete, Sarah.”

“So?”

“So, they’re gone all the time, and the money fucks with their heads and pretty soon they’re all cheating on their partners.”

One of her eyebrows arched up, “do you only watch reality TV, or do you sometimes deviate to Lifetime?”

Despite himself, he laughed. “I just mean,” he paused, glancing down at his green fingernails. Sawyer had insisted on painting them and pulled out every shade of green polish in the house, determined to use them all. “I don’t want you to get hurt. He treats you well?”

“Yes. Very well. I wouldn’t keep dating him or bring him to meet you if he didn’t. He's actually the best guy I've ever dated,” she added.

Travis's eyebrows shot into his gray hairline.

“Just spend some time with him. You'll see. He’s really thoughtful and nice.”

“Okay, but I’m having a talk with him by the end of the night.”

“No.”

“Listen, I just need to make sure he’s good enough for you.”

“Don’t you think that’s something I can decide for myself?”

“I’m just going to have a chat with him, man to man. You’re the one that wanted to know what I think of him,” he said. “It's happening whether you like it or not. I'm just letting you know.”

She rolled her eyes. “Fine, but don’t embarrass me. And none of that asking for permission bullshit. I'm not a possession.”

“Dont insult me,” Travis chided, smiling, loving seeing pieces of his oldest sister in Sarah. He was glad Becky had instilled those same, strong feminist values in her children. “Of course he doesn't need permission. I just care about you.”

“Thanks, Trav,” she said, touched.

He pulled her into a hug, smooshing Samson between them more. He let out a tiny grunt.

“Here, take your baby,” she said, handing him off and grabbing a box of cookies as an alibi as she left.

If Quinn thought anything was suspicious, he didn't let on, continuing to chop the lettuce Trevor had set him to preparing.

“Teddy Graham?” Sarah asked, offering the box as she stood next to him at the long island.

“Sure.”

“Hey Sar, we were thinking about coming into the city for your birthday. I have to be in that day for a few meetings, so Trav was going to bring the kids on the ferry. Do you think that would work? We thought we could take you to dinner.” Trevor said, looking up from braising the beef.

“Yeah, I would like that,” she said with a big smile.

As he walked back into the kitchen, Travis caught Quinn’s wide-eyed expression.

“When’s your birthday?” he asked, tipping the lettuce into a bowl.

“On April third.”

He gulped. It was a gesture Travis immediately recognized as a man grappling for a purchase with new information.

Quinn pulled out his phone and quietly breathed, “we’re in Arizona that day.”

“I know,” Sarah said with a smile that tried but didn’t totally succeed in covering her disappointment.

Something about it made Travis’ hackles rise. Quinn wasn't actively hurting her, but his lifestyle was.

Quinn saved her birthday in her contact card and put his phone back in his pocket. “I guess we’ll celebrate when I get back.”

“That would be nice,” she said with a smile that was genuine this time.

Travis got her a can of Guiness, and she wrinkled her nose. “Can I have whiskey?”

“You hate whiskey.”

“I’d rather it than this tar,” she said, pushing the can back to him. “At least whiskey can be mixed into something palatable.”

“Here here,” Trevor said, laughing.

Travis mimed pulling a knife out of his chest. “You’ve insulted our ancestors, Sarah.”

“Listen, the Irish invented a lot of really great things: boycotts, modern chemistry, the stethoscope, the submarine,” she said, counting them off on her fingers.

Quinn gave her a surprised look.

“I did a presentation on Irish inventions in high school,” she explained, flipping her hands, “the point is, is that their alcohol is not one of them.”

Travis laughed, taking the can for himself. “You want a ginger highball then?”

She beamed, “I think you know the answer to that.”

“What is that?” Quinn asked.

“It’s whiskey and ginger ale. It’s delicious.”

Before other guests arrived, Travis asked Quinn if he'd like to see the vintage shelby Mustang he was restoring.

Quinn agreed and gulped when Trevor asked if Sarah could help him find Sawyer. This was one of those talks. He shoved his hands in his pockets and followed her uncle out to the garage.

“Listen,” Travis said after they admired the beautiful white car, “Sarah isn't my daughter, but she means a hell of a lot to me, and I want to make sure she’s not going to get hurt. She’s gone through enough heartache already.”

Taking a moment to gather his thoughts, Quinn licked his lips before responding, “the last thing I want is to cause her more pain. I know she’s been through too much. I don’t know that I can guarantee she’ll never get hurt, but I can say that I would never hurt her intentionally.”

“Do you think your job will get in the way?”

“The travel definitely takes a toll. But I really like Sarah, and I think we have a lot of potential.” Times like these, he was glad for all of his media training. Not that this was anything like a press conference, but they did get him used to thinking fast and answering hard questions.

“She’s not really a model NHL girlfriend.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Quinn demanded, barely keeping a glare off of his features.

“Just that most of your lot date models that don’t have normal jobs and aren’t in school,” Travis said, fighting to keep a smile off of his face. That defensiveness answered a lot of his questions.

“Yeah, I suppose that’s true,” he agreed, biting down the urge to correct him. Most of his teammates were married to their high school or college sweethearts. “I like that Sarah has her own stuff and that she’s so independent. Before I met her, I dated a girl like you described, and I was always a little worried about what she was doing while I was on the road. I don't ever get that with Sarah.”

“What do you do on the road?”

“Mostly, I sleep or hang out with the guys. We don't have as much free time as people think.”

Travis was still looking at him appraisingly over the hood of the car. Had he not been exposed to Sarah’s blue, blue eyes, he would have found her uncles stare incredibly intimidating.

“Look, Sir - Travis,” he corrected quickly, “I really -” he stopped himself, not wanting to say that to her uncle first. “I really like Sarah, and we really get along. I know it’s not an ideal thing for me to be on the road during the season, but it seems to be working well so far. I want to be with her, and if she’ll let me, I’d like to be in her life for a long time. I just want to make her happy.”

Travis nodded. “What’s your favorite thing about her?” It was a question his mother-in-law asked him when he met her. It wasn’t until this moment that he realized what a telling question it was.

“She treats me like a normal person,” Quinn admitted. Even though he knew it made him sound conceited, it was his favorite thing about her. She’d never treated him like anything else than a normal guy. “And she’s interesting and easy to talk to and really respectful to people around her.”

“Okay,” Travis said, nodding, glad to see Quinn saw the same things he did. “Okay.” His face split into the natural smile he’d given Sarah when he first opened the door. “I can see why she likes you.”

Despite his attempt to stay cool and collected, Quinn felt a blush splash onto his cheeks as relief relaxed his shoulders.

“I'm not going to say I'll kill you if you hurt her, but just know she has me and Trevor in her corner.”

Quinn smiled, “I get it. I would want to hurt anyone who hurt her, too.”

The dinner party was small - no more than 10 people, and only one of them, their friend’s teenage son, Jace, gawked when he walked in to see Quinn in the kitchen. Quinn took it in stride and talked shop with Jace for a while before dinner was served and he took his seat next to Sarah, who had been watching him with a secret, proud kind of smile on her lips.

Halfway through the night, Travis looked over at them to find Quinn watching her as she talked with someone, with this quiet, infatuated look on his face. A few more of his fears were put to rest.

As he stood at the kitchen sink with his niece, drying the pots and pans she was washing by hand, he leaned closer to her, “I can see what you see in him,” he said, conspiratorially.

“See,” she said, nudging her shoulder into his as she handed him a knife, “I told you.”

“How did you manage going to school from here for a year?” Quinn asked as they pulled onto the ferry for the ride home.

“When I lived with them, they lived in the city. They needed to move into a bigger house when Samson was born. By that time, Trevor was working from home most of the time, and I was okay to live with roommates. So, I moved into the apartment I'm in now, and they moved onto the island.”

He waited until the car was parked before asking, “what do you mean you were okay to live with roommates?”

She pulled in a heavy breath. It was bound to come out eventually. May as well tell him while they had a solid hour and a half boat ride to talk about it.

“After my mom died, I really struggled.”

“Wouldn’t anyone?” Quinn asked.

Sarah pushed the seat back to give her enough room to turn and face him. Her right knee pressed up against the center console. She needed to be looking at him when she said this.

“I mean… I really,” she paused, trying to find the right words. “I remember I flew back to Hawaii a week after the funeral, thinking it was going to be so nice to get back into my routine, but I had this massive gulf in front of me and a literal ocean between me and my family. My roommates were kind of party animals, and they had no idea how to support me, and I had broken up with Kaleo, my boyfriend, before I left because he didn't want anything to do with her funeral or my grief. It felt like no matter where I was, I was just so…alone.”

It felt like someone was reaching down Quinn's throat and wringing his heart.

“I called my sister one day - I think I woke her up, which was really shitty because she had a six month old who was teething.” She laughed a little, but there was too much sadness in it for it to be convincing.

“Anyway, I called her crying because I…I started having these really intense thoughts about killing myself.”

A steep breath stuck in his lungs. He wasn’t totally sure what he thought she would say, but he hadn’t expected that.

“She flew out to be with me, and I moved home two days later. Just packed everything up and left. I didn’t even tell my boss - I was still on FMLA for the funeral, and she had to call me when I didn't show up to work the next Monday.”

“Did you ever…” he trailed off, not wanting to say it out loud.

“Attempt?”

He nodded, and Sarah shook her head, “no, but the thought of it was really terrifying. Like, I saw for the first time how someone could get into that headspace where they might take their own life. I just remember ruminating on those thoughts and thinking, ‘I don’t wanna die.’” She pressed the heel of her hand under her eye to catch some of the tears that slipped.

“How did you get out of it?” Perhaps she was just really good at hiding it, but she didn’t seem that depressed in all the time he’d known her.

“I stayed with my sister for the next nine months. I got on some meds and started seeing a therapist and a psychiatrist, and we talked through what was bringing those thoughts up.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’d already gone through the grief process with my dad, so I knew how awful it was. I never expected to have to go through another big death while I was still single. I thought by the time my mom died, I would have a consistent partner in my life - maybe even a family - and I just kept thinking, ‘I don’t want to do this again.’”

Quinn wanted to go back in time and make it better. Somehow make sure they met before she was in the city so he could be there for her when it all happened.

“Anyway, my psychiatrist told me our brains are basically just big problem solvers. You give it a problem, it wants to fix it. So when I kept telling myself, ‘I don’t want to do this again,’ my brain was just coming up with the swiftest solution for me to not have to do it again. When I changed the way I was thinking about it and started giving myself some more grace, those thoughts lessened a lot.”

God, she was even stronger than he thought.

“Even with all that stuff, I still really wanted to go to grad school, and my therapist and my psychiatrist agreed that it was best for me to have a goal to work toward, even if it meant moving away from home. I was really scared that if I moved out totally on my own, those feelings would come up again, and no one would be around for me to talk to about them, and I might hurt myself. But I couldn't study the ocean in Nevada. My brother actually suggested UBC and living with Travis. I called him to see what he thought. I hadn't even applied, but I didn't want to if I didn't have a plan for when I got in. I pitched that I could be a nanny of sorts when I wasn't in school. They told me they’d love to have me stay with them. I applied and by some miracle was accepted on the first try, and the rest is history,” she said, shrugging.

“Do you…” he paused, not totally sure how best to ask this. “Do you still think about it?”

She shook her head, “not much anymore. Every once in a while, it comes back when a big grief marker comes up, or I get really, really stressed or anxious, but the thoughts are always really fleeting.”

Even though it meant the console was pressing into his stomach, and she was pitched back slightly, Quinn leaned over to gather her against him. “I can’t believe how strong you are.”

“It’s not like I had any other choice.”

“Clearly you did,” he said, reluctantly settling back into his seat.

“I didn’t,” she said, voice quiet but firm. “There was no way I was going to put my family through another death, and like I said, I didn’t want to die. I wanted to not be in pain anymore, and those are very different things.”

“I just think you should be proud of yourself, that’s all.”

“I mean, I am proud that I got out of it, and proud that I know how to ask for what I need now, but being strong in the face of death is just something you have to do. There’s no way out but through.”

“Fine,” he said, repeating her action from earlier and bringing her knuckles to his lips, “I’ll be proud for you.”

Want more Quinn & Sarah? Check out the Snapshots Masterlist

To read all my fics, check out my Fanfiction Masterlist

#quinn & sarah snapshots #quinn hughes #quinn hughes fic #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes fanfiction #quinn hughes x oc #qh43 #quinn hughes fan fic #q hughes #nhl fanfiction #nhl imagine #hockey fic #hockey romance #tw sui ideation #tw sui talk #tw grief #grief #cw sui ideation #sui ideation

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ystrike1 · 5 months

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Muse on Fame - By Soojin (9/10)

I'd say this one is pretty controversial. The yandere is a real snake, who doesn't value himself. He does awful things to give his muse a successful acting career. It all happens behind closed doors, where she can't see what he's doing. If you don't like him after *that* plot twist I don't blame you, but he is devoted. She would never be able to succeed without him. It's the harsh truth.

Myeong is a maid. She was a promising actress at the age of twenty, but now she's almost thirty. Most of her old friends got famous, so it hurts every day. She was basically the only actress in her tight group that failed. Her ex is famous. Her "friend" (rival) is famous. Her boyfriend still works as a director, and it's putting a real strain on their relationship.

Hyeonjae is not a bad boyfriend. He didn’t break up with Myeong when her acting career fizzled out. He's not perfect though. He still expects her to support his dream....while she works as a maid cleaning toilets. The optics are pretty bad, but their relationship is presented very realistically. Hyeonjae isn't a successful director yet, and Myeong dedicated her youth to acting. So, she can't get an office job. On top of that her family refuses to help her. They never approved of her career choice, and after it failed she became the black sheep of the family. Her father expects her to give up and get married, while she still has her gorgeous looks.

Myeong kind of lives life in a daze. Her looks don't stand out very much anymore. She walks everywhere. She can't afford salon care to polish her looks for auditions that don't come anyway, and her mental health is going down. Her friend and rival, Yena, is extremely successful.

Trigger warning Yena used her body to get where she is, and she used her investor boyfriends to kick Myeong out of the industry.

This is not revealed until later.

Yena is also completely obsessed with Myeong. How obsessed? Well, Hyeonjae gets his big film debut. His big break. His only chance. Yena swoops in to take the main character role. Then she starts showing up at Hyeonjae's apartment. Hyeonjae and Myeong live together. It's cruel. She has to watch Hyeonjae and Yena talk about their amazing movie together constantly. Hyeonjae lets Yena do whatever she wants, because he's afraid. He will lose his chance at fame if Yena abandons the project. Yena THINKS she's in love with Hyeonjae, but she just wants what Myeong has. Myeong is the typical talented, rich, gorgeous girl. She ran away from her wealthy family because of her love for acting and Hyeonjae.....but she was born blessed. Yena hates and envies that more than anything, which is why she quietly ruined Myeong's reputation a decade ago.

《Male sexual assault is a serious issue》

Yena absolutely 100% is a predator that uses her power to coerce Hyeonjae into a relationship. If Yena was not a famous actress he wouldn't even associate with her, because he finds her creepy.

But.

She does kiss him.

Myeong sees, and she breaks up with an inconsolable and broken Hyeonjae. Their lifestyles just no longer match. Hyeonjae is surrounded by famous actresses, and Myeong is a depressed housemaid who didn’t make it. Staying with him would destroy her, so she leaves.

She leaves to get revenge, and the career she has always wanted. Gorgeous women like Myeong have plenty of admirers. A famous photographer named Enmil ended his own life. Photos of her were found in his house. She didn’t know Enmil, but the dead man saw her as his most precious muse. His mansion contained a secret vault room full of pictures of her.

Myeong lies.

It's not creepy.

Enmil wasn't a stalker.

She consented.

They were friends.

She lies to get interviews, and some small TV roles. She claws her way back to fame, far away from her pathetic life as a maid in Hyeonjae's small apartment.

Her manager, Eun, helps her do this. He has complete faith in her. He knows she's more special than anyone else. He will make her famous. He wants to see her face everywhere. He wants her to use him. He'll be her driver. Her lover. Her bank account. Her slave. He will do absolutely everything in his power to get her into the top of the vicious acting industry.

Enmil was his friend.

No, he isn't secretly Eunmil in disguise.

His yandere reveal is so much messier.

He has a tattoo of her name on his neck. Eun was depressed, just like Enmil. He tried to end his own life, but a miracle happened. The ceiling cracked. The chandelier that was about to take his life fell. Pictures of a beautiful woman rained down upon him. When he saw her happy face he felt too insignificant to die. He decided to serve the woman who radiated happiness that day.

He doesn't care if she's sad and alone now.

He will make her happy.

Myeong begins to shine, because she is incredibly talented. She struggles with the past. With the years she lost because of Yena. When she finds out about Yena's obsession it almost breaks her. Yena is too strong. Too famous. She has too many wealthy donors.....but then she channels that agony into an amazing performance.

She gets a role where Hyeonjae is the director. She uses that pain too, and she embraces becoming a broken woman for the camera.

Even Yena can't stop her.

Myeong left her cushy life as a rich girl behind, because of her love for acting. Her resolve is unstoppable now that Hyeonjae isn't holding her back.

Eun loves to watch her.

He becomes her lover to comfort her. To be her rock. To push her forward. To reassure her. He tells her to use him. He doesn't value himself. He is only alive because of her. He is an empty shell. He barely shows emotion. His looks get him attention too, but he's not like Myeong. He doesn't want fame. He wants to watch his only muse. His family has cash too, but he was even more depressed than Myeong. Depressed enough to end it all.

He will do anything for her.

He's kinda sorta in a relationship with his boss. The woman who originally hired Myeong when she broke into the acting scene again. I think you can see where this is going. Eun used this poor woman to kickstart Myeong's acting career. She seems emotionally attached to him, and it seems like they've been "together" for a long time.

That's what it takes to get a twenty nine year old washed up actress back into the business.

Myeong is not innocent, but she's not a demon like Yena or Eun. She's afraid of Yena, and after she finds out the whole truth she might lash out at Eun. She's a talented actress, but she's sheltered. That's her biggest character flaw. Talent isn't enough. Yena had to sell her body. Eun had to seduce a talent executive. That's how brutal the industry is.

I don't know if Myeong will survive.

#yandere #male yandere #yandere male #yandere boy #recommendations #recs #rec #recommended #webtoon #Muse on Fame

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suguruplsr · 5 months

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NMW

This is got dark and I accidentally, very lowkey made readers back story similar to someone who kinda experiences it later in the manga. Not saying who just for spoilers sake so um yea <3

Dark content!

,, gn!reader x suguru during the time of his defect, angst w/ no comfort , their relationship was rocky , reader is/becomes a drug addict + overdosing + underage usage , signs of heavy depression + dissociation + self-hatred (inner turmoil from trauma) + suicidal , implied reader did try to commit by jumping/falling but did not die , mentions of child abuse and trauma + seeing death at a young age , reader in the end, ultimately is messed up.

Please let me know if I missed anything !

Divider @/benkeibear

[NEW MAGIC WAND] Tyler, The Creator - [0:01 - 3:14]

Death.

Something you could say you long for.

But something that excites you to no end.

A way of ending a life forced upon you, seeing horrors since the mere age of nine.

It began the day your one and only older sister killed herself in front of you with the same cursed tool you carry. Unable to continue barring the harsh family treatment and training— filled with such love that you hate. All to become a fit and strong sorcerer.

Can’t stain the oh so great family name with weak sorcerers right?

That day, you almost burned down and destroyed your clan, yet instead, ran away like the coward you were. Found by yaga, your now teacher, who's been able to teach and take care of you in a safe environment.

Life’s great, you thought. You’re a grade 1 sorcerer, you had the best friends, a great boyfriend, and the best parental figure you know.

Everything was perfect, after all you went through.

So why… Why did that feeling of impending doom swirl in your heart during the hot summer air last year? When did everything become a hassle? When did you find yourself reaching out to fall into that darkness of the night, the stale-like taste of pills you threw into your mouth impatiently was annoying. The headache in your head wasn’t going away. Maybe you’ll tell Shoko to let you grab five next time.

Just for good measure..

And maybe to keep experiencing the silent and pure bliss you feel after a few minutes of standing on the roof, high off your mind. But you always gain some sense, deciding to not be reckless and jump off.

Perhaps that’s just an excuse so you won’t hurt Suguru again.

But would he care? Would he really?

All you know is that you do. You care tremendously. Hugging him every time he comes back at night, tired and weak after back-to-back missions. At first, he’d say something along the lines of, “your hugs make me feel better no matter what”, followed by your giggles and his kisses.

But now, it’s as if it’s another obstacle for him, forcing a small smile, even though he won’t look at you, just wrapping his arms around your shoulder for a split second and heading towards his dresser to grab some clean clothes before he heads to the showers.

Usually, he’ll stay in the morning, already having seen the alert on his phone about his ride to the mission sight, and only wanting to cuddle with you until times up. Now, he’s just gone. The side of your bed as empty and cold as your love life.

Sometimes, when you get ready, you find yourself looking in the mirror and hating the image of someone who can’t even take care of her lover.

It reminds you of the times you’d hear your sister’s ramblings at night. Cursing herself for being mediocre and stupid. Sayings that your mother installed into her through beatings and yells while your father forced her to fight again

But you can’t help it, your whole life, no matter how perfect it was, you could never do anything right. You were always second, second, second, second.

Second.

The words you remind yourself when you see Suguru flash that smile that he hasn’t worn in what feels like years. But it’s not towards you, only to Satoru. Always, for him. Maybe hanging out with his best friend gives him some light to that world of his you know absolutely nothing about. But, it’s no one else, only Satoru, only him.

His best friend.

You should be happy, happy that you can see the one you love shine even just a bit. But god.

You feel dead.

Like a withering rose that has chased for that sunlight, only to lose in the end.

Second.

That’s all you’ll ever be.

So why try? It’s not like your efforts have done anything even remotely useful.

Mediocre.

That’s what you are. So just say fuck it.

[spd interlude] Travis Scott - [0:01 - 3:11]

Your tired form walt’s into the infirmary, hair unkempt and eyes red from loss of sleep. You don’t even think you can use your voice anymore, throat aching after screaming into that damned mirror.

But you can’t see yourself anymore.

You can’t see that fucking mistake of a child your parents made.

Not with how the glass shattered all at once, shards impairing you and leaving cuts all over you.

But maybe you needed that bit of pain, a wake up call that screaming into a mirror does nothing.

You search through the cabinets before finding the yellow bottle that holds your happiness nowadays.

“You and I both know you don’t need that many.” Shoko’s stern tone rings through the white room, hand held out as you silently drop the seven? Maybe ten, tablets into her hand. And she scoffs, disappointed, probably.

You can’t care, not right now. You need it.

Something to forget or you swear you’ll—

At least she turned away, a big mistake on her part.

“And what happened to you? You look like shit. No offense. How about—“

You disappeared like a ghost, taking two other bottles of happiness with you.

It makes Shoko sigh, running a hand through her hair as she thinks about the explanation she’ll have to give to their teacher.

Five. Another five. Three this time? You just keep throwing them in your mouth like you’re catching them.

You can’t see. Body swaying and leaning on the railing. You’re grateful that you know how to use “reverse curse technique”, or else you’d be dead by now.

Maybe you’d like that.

You’d like to dissipate from this world quietly so no one can notice how much of a failure you are.

It’s stupid, all for a boy. How could you let yourself fall this low.

But maybe you were meant for this, never having won anything in life. Winning his heart was probably a joke the world gave you.

But it’s his fault too, right? In a way? A question you ponder over millions of times. You just can’t bring yourself to admit that.

You tilt your head back. That fresh air feels so nice, like it’s pushing you to glide with the wind.

And you allow it, the breeze is so nice, like a pocket around you as you fall, protecting you so you can finally forget.

‘Splat!’

You don’t find yourself living anymore, walking around like a lifeless machine, sleep, work, smoke, drink, pop, sleep. And then repeat. But sometimes you forget to eat, you just need the salty taste of those tablets in your mouth before you lose your mind.

You don’t see Suguru anymore.

You think you two broke up one day.

You weren’t listening, you weren’t there. You couldn’t.

Because of that name.

That man.

It makes you find yourself on that roof again.

You don’t like it, you don’t like those reminders. So you stay in the comfort of your mind, admiring the life around you as you simply exist.

Your eyes seem cold, dead and staring into a distance Suguru can’t seem to gauge. As if you don’t care about the written statement of his actions that were presented to you earlier that day.

“I love you.” You don’t respond with one of your own, simply humming in acknowledgment, and lighting the cigarette he gave you. His hand reaches out to you, there’s warmth, but it seems as if there’s none in how you look at him.

You’re not here, he thinks.

“Please, let me make up for how I treated you before.” And you purse your lips. It’s pitiful really, him saying such a tiny sentence that has no meaning to you. But the desperation in his eyes makes your heart beat in satisfaction.

You’re finally wanted. But you can’t give in too much. Who knows, he might pull away.

And you’ll be falling again.

“Do whatever. I don’t care.”

[goosebumps] Travis Scott (feat. Kendrick Lamar) - [0:01 - 4:03]

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aha-chuu · 1 year

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Kaveh Backstory Summary

Taken from the character stories recently leaked on project ambr.

Childhood:

When Kaveh was young, he was the only child of his parents, who were both accomplished scholars. Kaveh encouraged his father to take part in the inter-darshan championships - the same ones we see in the 3.6 trailer. His father ends up doing well and Kaveh is so so proud, tells his father to compete further.

He loses the championship by just a hair. Somehow, this leads to him going into the desert... Where he goes missing. Some time later, his body is recovered and he's announced officially dead.

From that point forward, Kaveh's home becomes a cold, lonely place full of sadness. He believes that if he hadn't encouraged his father, he never would have died. Kaveh desperately holds onto this idea that, so long as he never inflicts pain on anyone, he'll somehow rediscover the warmth of his childhood.

Akademiya:

Kaveh joins the Akademiya as part of Ksharewar darshan, the same as his mother. His mother, who has been depressed since his father died and unable to create art, receives a job offer from Fontaine. While Kaveh says it's fine and she should go, he's in fact consumed by loneliness.

He's an excellent student, the best from his darshan in many years. Alhaitham enters the Akademiya two years his junior, and makes a less positive name for himself - while they are very different and do butt heads, Kaveh gets to know him out of curiosity. He meets Alhaitham right as his mother leaves him to live alone for the first time in his life, and they become close.

Kaveh considers him his best friend, at the time.

Together, alongside several other students, Kaveh and Alhaitham embark on a group project. But they are geniuses and the other members of their group struggle to keep up, dropping out one by one. Alhaitham sees no issue; he and Kaveh can complete the project alone, they should not slow down to artificially uplift the others.

Kaveh, meanwhile, is too kind hearted. He stretches himself thin in order to take up everyone else's workload on top of his own, slowing down and burning out.

Alhaitham tells him not to, that it's not good for him or for the project. Kaveh says he's heartless, that he should be more willing to help others. It becomes heated, then, Alhaitham pointing out that Kaveh needs to stop feeling guilty for everyone else's problems - that he's only so focused on other people because he can't bear to look inward at himself. His altruism is not a symptom of selflessness but of overwhelming guilt.

It's the first time someone has read him so perfectly. Kaveh finds himself exposed, upset and angry in front of the person he considered his closest friend. The reality Alhaitham described is one that he cannot face. So Kaveh strikes back, tells Alhaitham that he should have never befriended him - that he regrets their entire relationship.

They part ways immediately afterwards. Their joint research is never completed, but the research space is offered to them both. Kaveh writes it off, unwilling to stay in contact with Alhaitham. In addition, Alhaitham removes his name from the thesis and Kaveh tears up his copy - only to put it back together some time later.

Career:

Over time, Sumeru becomes more and more radical. The arts are seen as completely useless, senseless decoration. Kaveh's vision of design is the combination of aesthetics and practicality, but all the jobs he receives ask for a completely rational approach. He's stunted, realising that he can't realise his dream like this. Kaveh can't help but become more and more depressed over the state of Sumeru.

Then, like a shining light, he's offered the perfect commission: a huge mansion with near complete creative control over the design. It's Dori's commission and she is mostly uninterested in the process - simply asking that it be beautiful, extravagant and secluded in location. Kaveh convinces Dori to go out of her way for the mountainside view, and she finally agrees.

Disaster strikes halfway through construction. A withering zone overcomes the building site, destroying the materials and leaving the progress completely impossible to recover. Dori is incensed - if Kaveh hadn't persuaded her to change the building site, it would never have happened. She wants him off the project.

Kaveh sits on the ruins of the mansion overnight, considering. He's desperate to finish the project - certain it will sate the desire for fulfillment he's had for so long now. But Dori has lost so much money and she's so displeased with him, all he can do to get back on her side is to recompense her for all the materials so that she no longer sees the whole thing as one huge financial loss. Kaveh has savings, but not nearly enough... His mother's house is under his name though, and that would get him up to 70% of the cost.

The next day, Kaveh sells off all his assets and gives everything to Dori. She allows him back onto the project, unpaid. Kaveh makes further additions that are over budget, and by the time the palace is completed he's heavily in debt and homeless.

He feels fulfilled by the project's completion at first, but quickly falls into despair at his life circumstances.

The circumstances:

Kaveh turns to alcohol to drown his sorrows, camping out at Lambad's tavern day and night. When his old associates visit, Kaveh pretends that he's just in between jobs, on break. Out of sympathy, Lambad gives him free drinks and keeps his table reserved. For two weeks, he stays in the tavern in this way, paying Lambad's kindness back by redesigning the booths for him. He's completely penniless, and so he can do nothing else.

Then, by chance, Alhaitham visits the tavern for a drink, finding Kaveh. He immediately sees he's in a bad way, and Kaveh can't help but unload all of his troubles onto the man he once considered his best friend.

At this, Alhaitham asks a difficult question: "how has realising your ideals gone for you?". It asks Kaveh to face the reality of his life again, harsh and cold, but it comes from a genuine place that tells Kaveh to engage in some self reflection.

By happenstance, Kaveh moves into Alhaitham's home. Believing that Alhaitham would never perform a good deed unconditionally, he is plagued once again by his guilty conscience. Despite this, "the most unshakable part of one's past is a friend that will never change". Alhaitham is Kaveh's stability, it seems, and for the first time in years, "home" no longer translates to loneliness for Kaveh.

#kaveh #genshin impact #Genshin impact leaks #character stories summary #Alhaitham #al haitham #kavetham #alhaiveh #I'm ready to do an analysis on why they're mirrored and Alhaitham is all about self-reflection #(because he struggles to understand others)#and Kaveh is obsesssed with everyone else #(because he struggles to understand himself)#also Alhaitham's line about them both lacking familial connections... and the #thing in windblume about how academics create families #and how Kaveh talks about how important family is to him in his voicelines #found family that's all I'll say

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flying-ham · 6 months

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one of the greatest tragedies of the hunger games series is Mrs. Everdeen. She both begins and ends the series dealing with tremendous loss, and instead of holding on tighter to those that remain, she allows herself to succumb to the pain and loneliness of her own mind.

At the beginning of thg, katniss describes the depression her mother sunk into after the death of her father. She says that, "my mother was locked in some dark world of sadness, but at the time, all I knew was that I had lost not only a father, but a mother as well," (thg). Katniss struggles to reconcile the mother she currently has with the one she remembers from the age of 11. She cannot ever fully trust this woman again as, "I can see is the woman who sat by, blank and unreachable, while her children turned to skin and bones. I try to forgive her for my father’s sake. But to be honest, I’m not the forgiving type," (thg). Because Mrs. Everdeen could not cope with the loss of her husband, she very nearly lost her two daughters as well. Thus, Katniss and her mother's relationship became permanently altered, only really beginning to improve by catching fire and mockingjay.

Even as Katniss and her mother's relationship blossoms and improves, she still does not feel that she can fully share with and rely on her mother. In Mockingjay, Katniss tries to protect Prim and her mother, saying "It's automatic. Shutting Prim and my mother out of things to shield them," but quickly realizes even Prim can no longer fully rely on Mrs. Everdeen when she tells her, "'You could tell me, you know. I'm good at keeping secrets. Even from Mother,'" (mj). Even prim, sweet innocent prim who cries when Katniss cries, cannot fully rely on her own mother anymore.

By the end of Mockingjay, it is revealed that Mrs. Everdeen has left Haymitch to take care of Katniss back in District 12. Katniss quickly understands what this means as Haymitch explains, "'She's helping to start up a hospital in District Four. She wants you to call as soon as we get in.' My finger traces the graceful swoop of the letters. 'You know why she can't come back.' Yes, I know why. Because between my father and Prim and the ashes, the place is too painful to bear. But apparently not for me," (mj). Katniss acknowledges her mother's trauma, but also understands the hypocrisy of it, as Mrs. Everdeen ultimately lost two daughters in the bombing instead of one. She could not cope with the loss of prim, and so she gave up on Katniss as well, the same way she nearly lost the girls after Mr. Everdeen died.

#if they had had the proper resources and means #mrs everdeen could have been a wonderful mother #katniss has such fond memories of her childhood even living in such difficult conditions #but ultimately Katniss and her mother can never truly be a family again :(#the hunger games #catching fire #mockingjay #katniss everdeen #mrs. everdeen #thg

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hadesisqueer · 1 year

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Honestly I thought we'd left the “Tai was neglectful” discourse back years ago.

Because yeah, he was. I get him: he was left by his first wife and her second one disappeared and never came back, and that he suddenly saw himself a single father of two, still having to work to support them while he was still grieving, and the only person who could help him probably had to keep his distance most of the time because he was afraid his bad luck would affect them. And I understand that he was incredibly depressed, and that he loves his daughters more than anyone in this world and that eventually he came back from it (we see him spending time with his daughters and reading stories to them in canon content), and Yang did say in volume 5 that her father was always busy with school, so I also assume that the guy worked a lot and that he always made sure Yang and Ruby had their basic necessities covered. But he did neglect Ruby and Yang emotionally for a while, and that did affect Yang. That's it. He's not a bad person, he just wasn't the best father for a while.

It's sort of like Willow. She was a caring mother for her children when their kids were little; Weiss really implied it. And seeing she is able to summon Grimm, I assume she could fight and that she even could have been the one who taught Winter how to do so (and Winter's original outfit seemed to be based off hers in portrait, so I assume they were close). But then Weiss' tenth birthday happened, and everything came crashing down. She became very depressed, and started drinking to numb that pain, becoming an alcoholic. I do feel bad for Willow; I know that she really does love all her children, and that in volume 8 she took a turn, stopped drinking and started repairing her relationship with at least two of her children. I know she's trying to be better now, but that doesn't change the fact that she was neglectful towards her kids as well. She didn't only allow Jacques to still abuse her those years, she also allowed her kids to be abused because she was usually to drunk or depressed to do anything. We saw that the closest thing to a proper mother figure Weiss had growing up was Winter herself, who was only fifteen when her mother shut down and had to take on that role. We've all also seen how Winter turned out, emotionally repressed trying to distance herself as much as she can from her entire family as possible, not just Jacques. And we saw Whitley; how lonely he felt because his sisters got to leave and he's stuck with their abusive father and their alcoholic mother, that he was so young when his mother shut down that he probably doesn't even remember when she was a loving mom, and how he at first could barely even stand being in the same room with Willow or her talking to him because he resented her.

They both made mistakes and that has shaped their kids being the way they are, not only because their mom left or died or because their father is abusive. That doesn't mean I hate them, of course. I love both Willow and Tai, I don't think they're bad people, I want to see their families heal and I wanna see them spend time with their kids, and most of all, I know that they'd give their lives if that meant seeing their kids safe because despite everything, I don't doubt that Tai loves Yang and Ruby and that Willow loves Whitley, Weiss and Winter as well, more than anything in the world. That's all.

#rwby #schnee family #xiao long rose family #yang xiao long #weiss schnee #ruby rose #winter schnee #whitley schnee #schneeblings #taiyang xiao long #willow schnee

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whovianderson · 7 months

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Sex Education season 4 thoughts

The good

Aimee’s journey. As I’ve discussed online no end, I have complex PTSD. While I was never sexually assaulted like Aimee was, her avoidant trauma responses were very relatable to me. To see her taking the power back this season, especially when the burned the jeans she was assaulted in and did the photoshoot with them, made me feel a bit less alone as I try and heal. I cried my eyes out, so much so that I had to take a break from watching to collect myself!

“Even when I’m doing something I love… it feels like I’m still wearing them, like it never goes away”

Cal’s story as a non-binary person is very different to mine (and for the record, that doesn’t make either of us any less valid, because there is no singular way to be non-binary). Nonetheless, hearing someone I love as much as I do Gillian Anderson affirm our shared gender nonconformity meant the world. I’m sick of facing transphobia from society, but especially from people that I once considered idols. So knowing that Gillian embraced a role where her character supports trans youth healed something within me. It’s not the first time she’s showed up for our community though - she always makes a point to include non-binary people, for example in her Dear Gillian announcement video. I don’t mean to undermine the real hero of the story here: Dua Saleh, the actor who played Cal - it’s just that I had already formed such a deep connection with Gillian, so it hit me doubly hard from her.

The funeral scene. Just… the funeral scene. I really lost it when Mr Hendricks played With Or Without You on the piano and everyone else joined in.

Other people have spoken about this better, so I won’t get into it as much, but by god, the representation. One example that really struck me was the sex scene between Abbi and Roman at the end, where she said “I love being inside you”. It wasn’t a big deal, their transness was completely normalised.

This might be an unpopular opinion, but I loved the Motis ending! Maeve made the right choice going back to America, and long distance relationships are really hard when you have no plans to reunite, so I get why they called it off. Also, relationships at that age don’t usually last, as much as I hate to say it, and yet via Maeve’s letter, the show managed to honour that they can still shape one’s life and be really important.

The bad

If it wasn’t clear, I’m a Jean Milburn stan first and a human second. Unfortunately, I was disappointed in how they handled her storyline this season. Firstly, I’m tired of every single female character on television having an arc that culminates in motherhood. Not knowing who the father was felt like bad writing for Jean specifically, like very out of character, because she’s a sex therapist, so she’s all about safe sex and communication around those things. By no means am I suggesting that they should’ve kept Jakob as a character (if you don’t already know, his actor sexually assaulted hundreds of women which, by the way, was public knowledge before he was ever cast), but they could’ve come up with a better workaround. Maybe I’m biased because Jean is a comfort character of mine, but I wasn’t very pleased with the fact that they didn’t allow her to be happy for a single second this season either! That being said, I do think it’s important that we don’t gloss over the postpartum depression representation here, which could mean so much to so many. I wish they’d brought Maureen in to help Jean though, because their relationship was so special and yet we didn’t see them interact onscreen once this season.

I haven’t heard anyone else mention this, but I was disappointed with how they handled sapphic relationships this season. Not only were Ola and Lily erased entirely, but the writers fucked up the storyline for the only established sapphic couple remaining (Roz and Sofia Marchetti). Like, why was the Big Plot Twist™️ that there was, in fact, a man intimately involved with their family? Our lives don’t have to revolve around men, you know? The show didn’t explicitly acknowledge the fact that genetics to not make a family in my opinion either, because Roz and Sofia’s conversation with Jackson was just about how his biological father was missing out on raising him.

The… mixed? Idk!

I deserve to be sent to horny jail for this, but Jean breastfeeding initially drove me insane. I quickly changed my tune though, because breasts are not inherently sexual and breastfeeding shouldn’t be sexualised, so it makes me feel a bit icky to see people thirsting over that.

I’m not sure how I felt about the development of Adam and Michael’s relationship. On one hand, I thought it was beautiful to see them both grow and reconnect. On the other hand, I was slightly concerned that it was veering into “you have to forgive your abuser” territory. I don’t have parental trauma, so I don’t have the authority to comment, but I’d be interested to hear other people’s perspectives.

I really appreciate how they tried to explore toxic relationships with the introduction of Beau as Viv’s love interest. However, I don’t feel that it was given the weight it deserved, because there was so much else going on.

In summary

I’m not disappointed with how this season turned out overall. Although it definitely wasn’t perfect, I thoroughly enjoyed watching it, and it made me very happy. I do recommend checking trigger warnings before watching it though, because it is a lot darker than previous seasons.

I’d missed this show and these characters more than I’d realised, and I can’t believe I’ll never see them again. It was really hard to say goodbye!

#yes I binged all of season 4 in one day but I was too lazy to post about it until now. love that for me #miscellaneous thoughts:#gillian anderson is a phenomenal actor jsyk #this season is confirmation that ncuti is gonna be an amazing doctor #I may be becoming a hannah waddingham stan what of it #also this is personal so feel free to skip #but I’m so so proud of myself #because this season would have been too triggering for me to watch not long ago #but I’m ✨healing✨ now #sex ed season 4 #sex ed s4 #sex education season 4 #sex education s4 #sex ed spoilers #sex education spoilers #sex education netflix #sex ed netflix

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black-rose-blue-lodge · 1 year

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The Importance of Donna in Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me

Okay, so a lot of people like to ship Donna Hayward and Laura Palmer from Twin Peaks, and there is good reason for that. Throughout the original run, Donna is haunted by her complex feelings for Laura. She loved her, she envied her, she wanted to be her. She misses her. Donna gets close to James, Maddy and Harold in part because they all give her the feeling of being close to Laura. In Fire Walk With Me, we are shown just how close they were.

Donna is very important in Fire Walk With Me. I believe that none of this requires you to ship the characters, although I also find it compelling evidence for a romantic reading of the film. Basically, even if you think the characters have only platonic feelings for each other, this is a summary of why Donna matters.

Near the end of the film, Laura tells James “You don’t know me. There are things about me… Even Donna doesn’t know me.” Of all the people who apparently don’t know Laura, Donna knows her the most. She is given the most importance. While Laura’s relationships with James and Bobby are shown to be ineffectual and largely irrelevant to the story of the end of her life, Donna is front and centre. Their friendship, their love for each other, is the emotional core of the film.

Our first insight into Laura’s psyche comes when she confides her depression and existential dread in Donna with the lines: “the angels wouldn’t help you… because they’ve all gone away.” In this scene, she is much more candid, willing to expose this part of herself. She essentially believes that she is doomed, that no one will be there to save her. (And, on a surface level, she is correct: even Mike, the “one man… Bob is afraid of” according to Laura’s secret diary, does not save her from death.)

When Laura begins to realize BOB’s true identity, she turns to Donna. Donna grounds her in reality. Laura seems to walk “between two worlds” in the film, constantly teetering on the brink of life and death. Donna is perhaps her greatest remaining connection to this world. And, difficult as that responsibility may be, Donna gladly accepts it.

Donna is depicted in Fire Walk With Me as a shy and conservative girl, contrasting strongly with Laura, who is openly ‘dangerous’ and promiscuous. Donna daydreams about having “lasting love… true love” but doesn’t even have a boyfriend. She takes all her cues from Laura. When she tries to become more adventurous, she does it to be like Laura, to understand Laura. This is shown after the Pink Room sequence, where Donna asks tearfully “Why do you do it?” She desperately wants to know, to stand there with Laura between two worlds and comfort her, but she can’t. She can never understand.

In The Missing Pieces, after Laura’s breakdown at Donna’s house, Donna whispers something to her father, who then reads a (clearly fake) “secret message for Laura”.

We don’t know what Donna whispered to Doc Hayward, but she must have asked him to say something about the angels returning, because she was the only one present when Laura said that the angels wouldn’t help her. The camera reinforces this, lingering on Donna as her father “reads” the message. It is a message from Donna.

Laura leaves after this, clearly affected. The way it cuts to Donna during the line “the one that is meant to help you” suggest that Donna believes that she can help Laura. If no other angels are there, Donna will be the angel who helps Laura out of the darkness.

Now, BOB’s stated motivation in the film is to “taste through [Laura’s] mouth”, turning her into the next ‘vehicle” for his evil. In the series (2x9), Laura’s diary reveals that she died because it was “the only way to keep Bob away from [her], the only way to tear him out from inside.” She wrote, “I know he wants me, I can feel his fire. But if I die he can’t hurt me anymore.” She died to avoid a fate worse than death.

In Fire Walk With Me, the focus shifts, and it’s not just about Laura. In the film, Laura dies so that BOB can’t use her to hurt the people around her. It is strongly implied that the fate of Twin Peaks itself hangs in the balance. (This is arguably why the scenes of everyday town life in The Missing Pieces were included to begin with; they offer glimpses of what Laura dies to protect.)

If BOB possesses Laura, his fire will spread. The Log Lady warns her “the tender boughs of innocence burn first… and then all goodness is in jeopardy.” This is right before Laura goes into the Roadhouse, where Donna follows her, beginning the dangerous game of “chicken” that they play, where Laura keeps trying to scare Donna away, and Donna keeps trying to show Laura that she isn’t scared. This sequence is the last straw for Laura. When she sees Donna slipping into darkness in the Pink Room, she gets a firsthand glimpse of “the tender boughs of innocence” beginning to burn.

Laura’s influence, despite all her intentions, has started to corrupt Donna. It’s one thing for Laura to be taken advantage of by these men. In her opinion, she can handle it, and she is doomed anyway. But not Donna. In the screenplay, this is even more explicit during the Pink Room scene.

Donna represents everything at stake if BOB wins. For Laura, Donna is the incarnation of “innocence” and “all goodness”. In that way, she is indeed like an angel, and Laura doesn’t want to bring about her fall from grace.

This is the heart of the film. The essence of Laura’s sacrifice. She dies for Donna.

As much as I, like many others, ship Donna with Laura, Laura could never be with Donna, not in this universe. Though I believe Laura has feelings for her, she would not act on them, because she views Donna as someone fundamentally good, and herself as someone fundamentally bad. This is encapsulated in the line “I love you, Donna… But I don’t want you to be like me.” In the original series, a passage from Laura’s diary reads: “I love Donna very much, but sometimes I worry that she wouldn’t be around me at all if she knew what my insides were like.” Now Donna has seen Laura’s dark side, the things she does, and still she loves her, still she wants to be there for her.

So Laura returns the favour. She becomes the guardian angel of Twin Peaks, ignoring Cooper’s dream-warning and putting on the ring. She hopes that the evil will die with her. Of course, it doesn’t, because Laura was never the source of that evil to begin with. BOB’s power lies in his ability to be indistinguishable from human evil. As Albert remarks, “Maybe that’s all BOB is. The evil that men do.” BOB was never just Laura’s dark side. Laura ended up as just another victim, with a letter under her fingernail, like Teresa Banks before her and Maddy Ferguson after her.

Regardless, Laura’s death means something. She dies on her own terms, in defiance of beings far beyond her comprehension. Her choice to die is an act of love, born of the sincere belief that the world will be a better place without her.

At the very end of Fire Walk With Me, in the enigmatic purgatory of the Red Room, Laura sees a vision of an angel.

Earlier, Ronette Pulaski saw an angel while in the train car, but that angel actually did help her. Ronette escaped. Laura’s angel is different. It isn’t there to help her. Laura is beyond help now. No, it is the mere fact of seeing this angel that gives Laura comfort. The angel is pure, radiant, seemingly unaffected by the darkness that surrounds it.

The actress who plays Laura’s angel, Lorna MacMillan, has dark, curly hair, and from a distance, is somewhat reminiscent of Donna. (Similarly, Ronette's angel is blonde, possibly to remind us of Laura.) Now, it would have been far too obvious for Moira Kelly to play Laura's angel, and that isn’t really the point. The angel represents the goodness that endures. It represents the same thing as Donna. The innocence that Laura died to protect. In the end, Laura’s only comfort is knowing that, though her death did not bring an end to darkness, it did allow for the continued survival of light. The light flickers on Laura's face in this scene, just like in the Pink Room. There, she was watching Donna flirt with the darkness. Here, she is looking at the angel Donna promised would return.

The track that plays during this scene is “The Voice of Love”. Laura was not ultimately corrupted. Like that angel, she is now a lonely light in a world of darkness. The darkness did not win. Generations of trauma and evil could not make her give in. So why does the angel look like Donna? Because Donna was the best thing about Laura. As much as Donna tries to emulate Laura, both while she is alive and after her death, Laura saves herself, and the world, by emulating Donna. Donna’s selflessness, compassion and bravery are qualities that Laura already has, but she can’t see them in herself. That is why she sees the angel as something outside of herself. I believe the angel is Laura. Of course, Laura could never see herself as an angel.

But she could very easily see Donna as one.

#twin peaks #fire walk with me #laura palmer #laura is the one #donna hayward #the angels will return #meta #sheryl lee #moira kelly #lara flynn boyle #david lynch #the voice of love

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impala1967dwinchester · 2 months

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Sam Winchester: Fate

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Fem!Reader

Pov: Reader/Sam

Warnings: Monsters as usual (Dijnn), depression, pregnancy, fighting

Summary: With Y/n on the run, Sam's depression can't help but get the best of him while the fate of his relationship and child hangs in the balance.

WC- 2.677k

A/n- @firefly-graphics for dividers, This is a part 2 of something I wrote nearly a year ago. "Sam Winchester: Running Away" I

Main Master List // Sam W. Master List

It's weird hiding from the Winchester boys. Weirdly, people are so much nicer to me now. The summer sun in Texas is hot on my back as I walk out of the grocery store. I tried my best to settle down and got a small job at a travel agency. I'm renting a small apartment from an old lady who helped me when I first got off the bus in Bay City.

In the past few months, my body has changed in many ways. I have a larger belly and more cravings than I've ever experienced. I talk to my belly almost every night after I calm down from work. I tell them stories about Sam and Dean. I tell them how their father is a hero, how he's saved the world, and how he has taken my heart with his bright, kind smile.

Like clockwork, every night, there's a message from Sam asking me if I'm doing alright, or begging me if I can just respond. It breaks my heart, but no matter what, I can't bring myself to type back a message. It didn't take long after I walked out of the bunker to know that I was walking away from the person that I love and that my home was disappearing into the background of the Kansas sunset.

Yet I couldn't bear to walk back into the bunker; somewhere in my twisted mind, it told me I had to go. I had to leave it all behind because I wasn't worth it. I wasn't worth the stress, the worry, or anything I might bring down on the Winchester boys.

I thought I had gotten away from it all—the grueling monsters, the death at every corner. I guess I was wrong because one second, I was shopping in a local baby store, and the next, I was somewhere completely different. Some places had air that felt lighter, and some places had my hopes and dreams feel like reality.

There's a warm hand wrapping around my middle. "Good morning, sweetheart." It's a voice I know, a voice I haven't heard in such a long time. One that makes my heart soothe from the racing it's currently doing in my chest. Then, I realize we aren't in the bunker but in a rather nice-looking bedroom. The sound of smaller feet pounding on the ground brings me to look at the doorway. "Anna must be up," Sam says in a whisper, his soft words brushing against my ear and giving me a round of shivers.

Anna comes busting into the bedroom, uncaring to knock on the bedroom door. You think you care but don't after you look at her. Hair as dark as Sams but eyes like yours. A gigantic smile on her chubby cheeks. "MOmmY!" She shouts as she climbs up the bed to get onto your body. You can see Sam out of the corner of your eye. It's a smile you only ever see reserved for you, and you don't know how you managed to be back in his arms and a kid you share together. You're lost in how you got from the store alone pregnant to here in his arms, in bed together with your family.

The feeling stays with you as the day starts, and you watch Sam shift from sweats and a white t-shirt to a pair of shorts and a hawwin shirt. "Aren't you gonna get dressed, baby?" He asks as he catches you staring at him from the bed still. "I… Where are we going?" You ask him, unsure still by the normality of this odd life. "Don't tell me you forgot about the barbecue that Dean invited us to?" He says, a knit-in his brow. You lick your lips and try to think, but there's nothing there, just white clouds that fog your thoughts.

"It's alright if you forgot, babe, just get dressed. It's warm out, so wear that pretty little sun dress you bought a few weeks ago." Sam says as he comes over, planting a kiss on your forehead. "I'm going to get Anna ready, I love you." You stare at the door for a few moments longer, waiting until he's left, and you can hear Sam and Anna talking down the hall. You get up feeling the carpet under your feet and the warmth that radiates through the window.

You do get dressed in the sun dress Sam mentioned. It still had the price tag on it, so you assumed it was the one he was talking about. It fits you perfectly, curved around your hips with ease, and giving everyone who might look at you a perfect display of your breasts. You find a nice pair of sandals and make your way towards the echos of voices.

"There she is," Sam says, happiness and warmth seeping from the kitchen. Anna turns around whipping her head in your direction, she too is dressed in a sundress pinks and purples mixed together with her hair up in braids. "You look good, Mommy," Anna says as she comes over, hugging your leg. You breathe it all in, getting deeper and deeper into it. You aren't sure still unsure how you managed to get here, but you can't say you're mad about it.

The ride to Deans is off, but everything is off for you. Sam can sense it; one hand from the wheel comes to the rest of your exposed knee. "You doin' alright, honey?" he asks, worry laced in his words. You shake your head, giving him more to worry about, but you don't know. All you can think of is the tiny giggles coming from the back seat.

Anna is watching something on a tablet, and her smile glows from whatever she's watching. "Come on, honey. You can talk to me about anything," Sam says, trying to trigger the conversation to continue. "I know, Sam. I'm just trying to be in the moment." You say, and that's the reality of it. Because this moment and the one this morning had been everything you were dreaming about.

"Dean, I just know something is wrong!" I say to my brother as I continue to stare at my phone. The text messages aren't even being read anymore. At least when Y/n was reading them, I knew she was safe; I knew that she was doing alright. I can hear the sigh of frustration fall from my lips as I put the phone back down the library table. "Sam, we can't do anything if she doesn't want us to," Dean says, trying to support both of us.

I lift my head, staring angrily at my brother. "I don't give a shit anymore. I don't care why she ran away. I don't care at all. I just want her back in my life. Now I'm pretty sure Charlie can figure out where she is." I huff out. With a grunt and shake of his head, he's got his phone beside his ear, calling our good friend Charlie.

I can hear the slight argument between Dean and Charlie as I sit, waiting for a quick answer. "I know, but can you just help us. Y/n hasn't been reading." Dean says, looking over at me. "She hasn't been looking at Sam's messages. Can you just give us a location so we can restart this?" Dean finishes. There's mumbling on the other side of the phone, but then I see Dean hidden. "Okay, text that to me, Charlie. Thank you," he says and then drops the phone from his cheek.

ASnxeity has set in when we get to where Y/n has been staying for the past few months. Her car is there, but the door to her apartment is cracked open; my blood runs cold, and just like that, I'm set on finding her. Dean tries to calm me and reminds me that not everything is terrible. She might just be doing something, like taking out the trash.

I glare at him and bring my gun from my hip to sweep through her apartment. Baby books and a few baby clothes are in the living room. Her bedroom is perfect as if she had never made it home. "Is she just taking out the trash now, Dean?" I snark at him, "I was trying to help. So… we have to work this like a case now?" Dean questions, I nod, and just like that, I'm searching for Y/n all over again.

Dean is wearing a Hawaiian shirt, and the kids run all over the house. His wife easily kisses his cheek, and he holds her close to his side. "Uncle De!" Anna screams, and Dean smiles broader and brighter than you've ever seen him. "Hey, kiddo," Dean says warmly as he picks her up and puts her on his hip. "You guys made it." Dean's wife says, and she comes over to give you a hug.

"What about us, baby girl?" a stranger asks. When I turn, I'm struck by the Winchesters' parents—happy, healthy, and very much alive. "Hey, Dad," Sam says happily, hugging his father and wrapping his mother tightly. You watch as the day goes on with absolute ease. Dean talks about adding a new portion to the Winchester auto shop; John lights up with joy at the idea of more business and growth for the business he's known since he was a young adult.

Sam holds you close to his chest as you two dance in the yard, the sky turning purple and orange. You rest your head on his chest and let the movement of your feet guide you into contentment. "You know I love you, right?" Sam asks you as his large hands hold your waist and back. You hum, but you are not willing to open your closed eyes. "And you know you are everything I've ever wanted, right? No matter what happens between the two of us, I'll always want you." Sam says you can feel the tears brimming in your lashes.

"I know Sam." Your voice cracks and gives away the way tears are threatening to fall. "I love you too." As you lift onto your tiptoes in the cool grass, you mutter back and press a needy kiss to his lips. You two are sadly interrupted by John. "Anna is sleeping; if you wanna, you guys can come to pick her up tomorrow." John offers, and Sam pulls me closer. "Thanks, Dad." He tells his dad, then turns to me, "Let's go home." You nod and take his hand in yours.

"What did I fucking tell you!?" I knew she was in trouble; I knew something was wrong. To be the cherry on top, she's pregnant, and she's been taken for whatever fucking reason. "It's just a dinner. We've dealt with enough of them to know the deal," Dean says. I slam the trunk of the baby shut, my molars grinding as I look at the depleted cave that's currently holding my girl and baby prisoner in a fake world.

Of her own imagination.

The silver blade drips all over the ground as I enter the cave. The dark walls hold secrets and horror that I hope and wish Y/n would never experience. It's all a blank somewhere between entering the cave and getting to Y/n. The only thing I feel is the splatter of blood onto my face and my eyes searching for that beautiful face.

She doesn't look like she's been there for too long, but her arms hang above her head, her belly prodding out. I'm stuck standing still over the djinn. Dripping its own blood back onto the dead man, Dean is quick to get over to Y/n, pulling the attachments out of her arm and pulling her down gently.

"Sam, get your ass over here. We… we are gonna have to take her to the hospital." Dean says, and somewhere in my frozen mind, my legs move to get a closer look at her. Her cheeks are a little sunken, but her face is still full of color. I know why Dean said we would have to take her to the hospital.

It's not too long before the large white building in Texas appears in the Impala's view. "I'm going to stop by the emergency doors to help your girl and that baby get some help. I nod and wait for the red letters to appear. A nurse is already waiting for us, and she takes a view of Y/n. "What happened?" the nurse asks, and for a moment, I think of telling the truth, but something else comes out. Something like, "She went for a walk a few hours ago, and then I didn't hear anything back from her." I say, my voice wanting to crack. The nurse nods, and I follow them for as long as possible.

Y/n is stuck in the cold hospital room for way too long. Fluids and IV being run into her system, the baby had been pretty much okay. Besides needing extra fluids, everything was fine, according to the doctors. They allowed me to stay in the room with her. The ICU has too many beeping machines, and there's constantly a team over Y/n making sure her and the baby's vitals are alright.

"Sam," A small voice calls out. "Y/n," I say, alerting half of the ICU floor that she's awake. She smiles slightly and then looks around her surroundings. "Where… why am I here, Sam?" She asks me. The happiness that was once there filters out and hits the bottom of my stomach. "You… Dean and I took care of what caught you," I answer her. "What caught me?" The heart machine starts to pick up speed. "Calm down, baby, please. I need you to breathe slowly and out before I tell you." I say to Y/n. She takes a few breaths and then squeezes my hand, wanting me to continue.

"You were caught by a djinn," I say, swallowing hard. It took Dean and me about three days to find you and another two beforehand to figure out something was wrong." There's silence from Y/n, and then she looks up at me with tears. "What about our baby?" she asks. I nod. The baby is fine; I did all sorts of tests to ensure everything was good," I tell her.

The silence continues until Y/n brings her attention up from her belly. "I saw a few things." "Did you?" I ask, wondering if she's going to explain. "I saw us, Dean, and your parents. I saw a life I so desperately wanted with you but thought I wasn't allowed to have with you because of our life." She says with a heavy sadness in her voice. "I thought I had to leave to take that burden away from you and Dean. I thought…" She hiccups, and tears roll down her cheeks.

"Baby, you will never be a burden to me, nor will our kid. I want nothing more than for you to come home so I can keep both of you safe and protected. I worried about you every single minute of every single day. It was hard to know that you thought you would be better off elsewhere." I say to her, wrapping her tightly in a much-needed hug.

"How'd you know where I was?" She asks when I release her from the hug. "I had Dean call Charlie," I say without a single ounce of regret. She giggles a little, "It wasn't funny; I'm pretty sure the next time we see the girl, she's gonna slap me across my face." Dean says, making us both look up at him.

"Thank you." Y/n says, "Of course, you're family, after all." Dean says from his spot in the doorway. When can I go home?" She asks, "Let me go get the nurse, and we will figure it out, baby." I say, letting go of her hand before pressing a kiss on her temple and running out to get a nurse.

Completed on: 03/15/24

Posted on: 03/15/24

#supernatural #supernatural x reader #supernatural fic #supernatualfluff #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural imagine #sam winchester headcanon #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester #sam winchester x you #sam winchester x y/n #fluff #angst/fluff #pregnancy

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kneelingshadowsalome · 1 year

Text

Man-Sized 5/9 Rebound Effect

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!OC

Tags: Explicit content, +18 audiences only. Smut, romantic angst, fluff. An unapologetic LOVE STORY. Sexual tension, mutual pining, banter, flirting, developing relationship, strangers to lovers. Simon Riley has a dark past (partly inspired by Modern Warfare 2: Ghost comics).

CW/TW: References to PTSD, depression, past torture and abuse in later chapters.

Summary: A uni student who pole dances at a strip club to pay her rent encounters a mysterious giant of a soldier seemingly incapable of falling in love.

He left after that.

And what was more, he left without saying goodbye, he just sneaked out in the morning and left her with a bunch of money on the table. At some level, it made her feel like a prostitute, even when she knew that was not what Simon had meant.

She didn’t harass him for leaving like a thief in the night because the man had obviously freaked out. It would do no good at this point to try and have a therapy session about it. But what she did comment on was the money roll he had left her with.

She wasn't bitter, only bereft. She had thought Simon would stay at least a few nights if he was on leave. Truth be told, she had thought he'd stay for a week like he used to when he came to watch her at the club. But he was running away from guilt, not her; protecting her by pulling back the potential threat that was him. As soon as she realized he only did what a soldier would do, all confusion left her. It was admirable, but she feared it also meant that the silk gloves were back on.

You forgot something on the table.

A gift. Don't take it the wrong way.

If you say so.

Thank you.

Anytime.

The gratitude came mainly from remembering her manners. But it got under her skin, so much so that she felt like there was more to this than just Simon wanting to help her out or play the provider.

In a furious decision of not submitting to the role of someone who just waited for their man to come home from work or war, she tried to concentrate on her studies. But the next time she visited the library, she walked straight to the psychology shelf and loaned books about PTSD and war-related trauma.

She read about the major symptoms of torture victims, the PTSD treatment for combat veterans, she read how to screen for impulse and control issues. Whatever had happened during Simon's career as a soldier had left more than just scars. Combined with a traumatic childhood, it was a marvel he was doing as well as he was. If she were to continue down this path with him, she would have to take it slow.

Slow and steady would win the race. Creating an atmosphere of safety would win the poker game. Again, she could hear the alarm bells ringing but did nothing about it.

Simon had left but wasn’t wholly unavailable this time. He wasn’t working in the field and had more time for her. He even called, and not just once, but nearly every night. For the first few times, it was only a brief session, just an exchange of how are you’s and how’s it been’s. It was a change and a welcome change at that. The calls soon turned into hour-long marathons.

He shared more details about his life in the base of the unnamed military organization he was working for and revealed that he was the commanding officer of his team. The person she had taken for a shady ladies man and a simple soldier turned out to be a warm-hearted, level-headed leader who was fiercely protective of his subordinates.

The way he and his team found humour, even in the most grim situations, was hilarious, and she spent most of the calls laughing with tears in her eyes. Simon seemed especially vexed with a certain Scottish teammate who was the exact opposite of him: extroverted, silly, and cheerful. So lovably childish that it was clear that Simon was more like a father figure than a superior officer to this man. And it was also clear that he wasn’t actually vexed at all: he loved this particular person, who was codenamed after being good at "cleaning", more than anyone.

"What do they call you? Skeletor?"

"Very funny."

"Why is your alias a secret but Soap’s isn’t?"

He finally told her, and another door into his soul opened. It was labeled with one simple word.

"Ghost."

And of course it would be something memorable and ominous.

"What’s the story behind that one?"

There was a short silence on the other end.

"I was buried alive once but came back."

At her end, the silence was much longer, much more palpable. It sounded like a stupid joke, but she knew better. The men she had previously dated were definitely not in the same league as Simon.

This was fucking crazy. She tried to sound casual as she made a quip about another horrible trauma this man had suffered.

"So you’re the Kill Bill Bride instead of 007."

"I used the jawbone of the dead man I was buried with to get out."

Jesus Christ on a motherfucking surfboard.

"Oh, or a MacGyver."

There was a husky laugh at that, but she was fucking horrified.

That stuff followed her even to her dreams. In them, he was the undertaker, and she had to get out of a coffin by using a skull he gave her. Another test… not assigned by Simon, but by Ghost and those eyes that wanted her dead.

In other dreams, she was there with him in the field, invisible to everyone but him, helping him find a way through bombarded buildings like Ariadne escorting Theseus in a labyrinth. She liked those dreams more because in them, Simon needed her and not the other way around.

He seemed hellbent on his protocol of not updating her on where he was, what he was doing, and when they would be able to see each other again. She kept her apartment always tidy in case he would stop by, she put on makeup, even when she went to grab something from the store. Her eyes roamed the campus in search of a tall man dressed in black, and the smell of cigarette smoke made her stomach pinch with excitement. If Simon was even half as into her as she was into him, he would have serious trouble concentrating on his work.

She was tired of being the one always waiting for him. In that department, slow and steady started to feel like an absolute torment. Appearing calm and collected, playing hard to get had worked for a while, but what would happen if she went all in and made him want and wait? What if there was a hidden jackpot in being a tease?

She sent him photos in various states of nudity, cuteness and temptation: when she was chilling on her bed, or about to walk on the stage, once even when she was at school — always with the enticing words Wish you were here or Thinking of you. It was raunchier than the first time, highly uncharacteristic of her, and so much fun that she didn't even have to fake a smile in those photos. It was a pure attempt to seduce him.

And it worked: after only a few days of sending such pictures, Simon came back. As always, there was no warning, unless the radio silence after the fourth photo could be considered a warning that a storm was coming.

She was at the club, and her gaze had turned inwards when Simon had walked into her life. She didn’t choose a guy from the audience anymore. She only danced for herself and him, wherever he was.

She noticed him only in the middle of her show and started smiling, something she never did while on the pole, at least not here. The second she saw him in that familiar setting with a scotch in front of him and those eyes burning, the whole world shifted. Had he taken a day or two off just to come here and make her pay for her little come-hithering? The rest of the dance was energetic and wild, and that beaming smile gave her a roar of applause she had never experienced before. The whistles followed her even to the bar as she went straight to his table and all but radiated delight.

"I've forgotten how bloody good you are on that thing," he said with a thicker voice than usual.

"Nice to see you too, honey."

He looked at her with a full-blown smirk then and was, all in all, completely different from the guarded stranger she had first met at this very same place.

"I've been promoted to honey?"

"Don't take this new position lightly."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

He downed that scotch, and she went to get her things, and when they walked to her apartment, he took her in a gentlemanly arm-in-arm escort. It felt good, the kind of possessive that said he was committed, that they were in a relationship. An established couple.

But as soon as the front door of her home was closed, the gentleman turned into a ravenous mercenary who pinned her against the wall, much in the same way he had done nearly three months ago. The shared kiss was starved and desperate, and she had no trouble whatsoever getting wet for him anymore.

"You're the most infuriating man I have ever met, did you know that?"

They were both panting at that point, and she was feeling high and wild, especially when Simon seemed suddenly more serious than ever.

"I'll take that as another promotion."

"Of course you will," she whispered out of breath as he devoured her neck and pressed her even more fervently against the wall of her hallway. Her heart was racing, and she had never, ever had a feeling that a man could merely lift her skirt and pull her panties aside and slip inside with no effort. Right now, she did, and right now, she would go mad if he wouldn’t do it.

"Ya missed me?"

"Every day."

The whispers were like long-held secrets finally uttered out into the open air. The lights were off, the city was sleeping, her ghost was here, and she wasn’t afraid at all. She was ready for everything, to conquer the whole world with him.

"How about you?"

"I'll show you just how much," he answered and suddenly detached from her, then grabbed her by the shoulder to spin her around and pin her against the wall again. It was a rough treatment that briefly reminded her of The Incident… But she was so drunk on him that even that didn’t spoil this moment that only felt good and right.

"This too much for you?" A slight trepidation in his voice told her that they were both walking on the brink of something new, but his cautiousness only made her feel more sure about letting him do whatever he wanted before they set the world aflame together. The silk gloves and normal dudes could go to hell; she wanted bare, calloused skin and a revenant, she yearned for the shared suffering that was only a kin to passion.

"No."

That steel of muscle kept her in place as the other hand went under her skirt. The garment was loose enough again and made the plundering far too easy. And of course he commented on it.

"I like the skirts you wear."

The arm from her back disappeared, only to descend down her back and grab hold of the lifted clothing. There was a soft rustle and a poignant click, and then her underwear was stretched away from her skin.

"They're convenient."

She didn’t feel the blade as it cut the fabric, but she could feel the sudden snap as the soft material yielded under a sharp edge. The rest of the ruined clothing was torn down from between her legs, and he didn’t even put the knife away, didn’t fold it with another precise flick and tuck it back to wherever it had been hidden.

He drove it to the wall. Next to her face, not close, but close enough for her to draw a panicked gasp. It wasn’t a classic stiletto or a pocket knife; it was sturdy and tactical, something she would never even have guessed was foldable. The silk gloves were nowhere to be seen, and she was overjoyed about it.

"You know what's infuriating?" The next thing she heard was a zipper opening as he got himself out of his jeans, then pressed his whole body against her.

"Watchin' all those fucking blokes drool after you in that joint."

It was that kinky talk again, but something told her there was more than a few months worth of frustration here too, gushing out like a flash flood. The thickness was guided to her opening in an almost blunderous manner, but he wasn't a brute. He only seemed to be in a hurry to get inside her and chuckled when he found her completely ready for him.

"Makes me wanna shoot everyone." And then he did push inside, with one measured but steady thrust, letting out a shaky sigh as he did it. She was watching the blade jutting out from the wall and didn’t give a single fuck what her landlord would say about the dent left on his property. Her ghost slid in and out of her, finally content. Tender, but thoroughly passionate, like he had missed her far more than mere words could express. He didn’t need his hands to keep her steady anymore; his chest did all that, but a hand found its way to her hair and pulled gently, lovingly, as he nuzzled close to whisper in her ear.

"Would ya like that?"

She tightened around him — she didn’t know whether it was his voice or his words that made her so unhinged. But another huff of silent laughter hit her at the response she gave him without uttering a single word.

"Yeah… That's wha' I thought."

His other hand reached for her thigh, slid down under the knee, and lifted, granting him better access to hit even deeper, and she finally moaned. She could almost hear the good girl talk, even when it never came. He didn’t have time for that, for there were more important matters at hand.

The longing of entire months came undone, and the knife on the wall was evidence enough that Simon was very much dedicated. Somehow that ferocious gesture was a vow, a whole pledge from the man who didn’t fuck anyone else after all. And if that didn’t make her wet, then nothing would.

"Dripping all over me here…" He stated the obvious as he continued the pillage she surrendered to — gladly and with an orgasm that came almost without a warning as the mercenary drove deep and grunted his desperation on her skin. She had to bolt her lips tight to not whisper something stupid that would only ruin the moment that was her first experience of a quickie, first experience of a fierce, intense rutting perfectly capable of having a godly amount of affection in it.

She broke against that wall and knew that she was lost: lost in Simon, in Ghost, or whoever he was. From this day forward, he would be forever inside her. Even if and when he pulled out, she would never get him out again.

Simon was a full package, and she had to accept all of it rather than try and fix him. If he would leave her only with his ghost, she would be forever bound in that frozen state of the engraving, the woman who dropped everything for the sake of sulking and only remembered beauty and meaning from a distant past. It was better to take the risk and die one way or another with this man.

"Simon," she sighed, whispered, because she was afraid that the three words that must not be said would come out if she wasn't careful. His hand found hers and entwined their fingers together, a surprisingly gentle lapse in the middle of a rough fuck.

"You're the one who's infuriating," he grunted. It was his way of telling her that he was nearing the point of loving too, and her only answer was another broken sigh as she came down from the overwhelming realization and the stunning, sinful orgasm that felt more like a love confession.

She was being pressed into pieces between that hard wall and an even harder chest, spread open for his taking, but it only felt safe to be trapped there like this. She was crying inwards by the time he came inside her while having all the earmarks of emotional turmoil as well. The controlled, rigid manners were gone, and he didn’t pull out for a good long time, only panted together with her against that wall that she paid rent for, which had a knife on it, a knife he had probably used to end human lives. How could the same man kill someone one day and bring someone back to life the next?

The desperate clutch that had curled both their hands into a fist loosened its hold, and the chest that had heaved her up pulled away just enough for her to catch some air. He pulled out reluctantly, and the seed gushed forth, making a magnificent mess. A gentle hand ran down her back, another released her leg just to slide up her hip like she was the most precious work of art a bloodied man like him had ever looted. She reached a hand behind his neck to tell him that she was his if he wanted her.

"Love," she whispered the most important one of those three words, and he lowered his head to rest on her shoulder. His was a heavy weight to carry, but she didn’t feel like she was Atlas holding the world. This burden was something she shouldered with joy.

---

The next morning was laced with drowsy tenderness and lazy lovemaking, and she couldn’t hold the question in any longer.

"Simon… are we in a situationship or a relationship?"

"You tell me."

She turned in the loose hold of his arms and admired how comfortable he looked under the mundane, flower-patterned linens. Simon still couldn’t be described as someone joyous or carefree, but he did appear calmer than ever. She liked to think that at least some of it was her influence.

"I like you. I like this."

"Yeah... You're okay, I guess," he muttered with a sleepy smile. She laughed and got up with the intention of making some coffee. And tea.

He soon followed in her trail, and the mood in her apartment was heavenly. He sat on her couch with nothing but his boxers and t-shirt on, the sunlight got in, and the coffee machine made cozy sounds and filled the air with the smell she loved. Simon didn’t even go outside for a smoke: it looked like he was in no hurry at all to get anywhere from that little piece of furniture.

She knew that love was a drug. Would Simon find it amusing if she told him he was the only drug she was on? If she confessed that she was an addict who never wanted to go to rehab...

"Why do you wanna be with me of all people?"

She had already asked the question once before, but today, she was feeling unusually confident. Some of his cockiness was contagious, and something had shifted last night, some fragile power, and she felt wild and optimistic again.

"You're a hot school girl."

"Simon…"

"You remind me of… I dunno. Something from back home."

Again, she didn't quite know what to make of him. Did he mean that he liked the girl from next door look? Was she a nice holiday from his exciting, death-defying work, a small slice of wholesome dullness? It wouldn’t bother her if she was. But something in that remark screeched in her head like nails on a blackboard.

"Something from back home? Is that supposed to be a compliment?"

The sunlight didn’t only fill the room with light; it exposed dust and long-forgotten clutter.

"Tell me about your childhood in Manchester."

"No thanks."

Her confidence this morning was more than enough to move whole mountains and seas. She wanted to know, even if it would hurt to know. If this was supposed to last, she needed to know.

"Was your father a beater?"

"Yeah, and a serial cheater."

He didn’t run away; he didn’t escape this conversation in any way. She had braced herself for resistance, but she was met with none, which caused her to mentally tumble all over the place that was Simon’s past.

And suddenly, she didn't like where this was going. Even if she was the one who had dragged them on this path.

"Only with paid women, though," Simon continued without any filter on.

Hold on…

That didn't sound right.

"Could you please tell me what I remind you of from back home.”

He finally stirred, a torturer who realized he was the one being questioned.

"Sarah…"

"I remind you of a hooker and you're trying to save me?"

"That's not… No."

She saw in his eyes that it was a blatant yes. At least for some part. The jealousy, the offering of money… All made perfect sense now. She felt like a project, not a love interest. She was a nut to be cracked, even if he did it gently and with a tenderness that left her writhing with pleasure. The need to set some things straight suddenly chose to override everything else.

"I’m a dancer, not a sex worker. And just for the record, I've had like three men before you. Plus the relative who abused me when I was… almost of age."

She never said "as a child" because that sounded too fucked up. She had been 16, so it wasn't the same as 6. It fucking wasn't.

She immediately got an excellent reminder of why she didn't share this stuff with people; because that pity stare was even worse than the fact that shit like that had happened. It reduced her back to a helpless victim.

"I don't want your money," she declared.

"Got it."

She turned, feeling guilty and idiotic for having ruined the most beautiful morning they could ever have had. The coffee was ready, but she felt like throwing up. She put the kettle on — would he want milk and sugar with his tea? Perhaps another slice of trauma dump served with it?

Whatever happened to slow and steady, to creating that calm atmosphere…

She hadn’t meant to share that. It simply flew out of her mouth. Not because she wanted pity, but because she wanted him to know that in some way, there were things that needed to be saved, ruins that needed to be haunted by different ghosts…

And hadn't he been her project as well?

She wanted more than this, more than tests and strategies and projects. Raw, naked flesh was what she wanted, not a treatment plan. He had disarmed her last night, and apparently, it was time for the final surrender. She waited for the bullet of mercy, but it never came.

She heard him rise and walk behind her, then felt Simon place his hands on her shoulders. He was here amidst her ruins, and her eyes stung, even after all these years.

"Are we gonna have a pity party?" She squeezed the ear of her favourite Don’t make me use my art historian voice mug. She wondered why the hell she had voiced anything at all.

"No."

"I don't want your money."

"You already said that."

The hands wouldn’t draw away, they stayed and felt soothing. At least as comforting as her snug little home and the familiar smell of coffee in the morning. The nausea had left her shaky, but he held her, just with his hands, making it known that he was here and wouldn’t leave her with her shattered self.

"I only want you," she finally said to the coffee machine and the empty mug and waited for a second or two to see if that warmth would leave her.

It didn't. If anything, the sun seemed to shine on whole new parts of her.

"You have me."

She felt bold enough to finally turn, and he immediately closed her into a hug and pressed her against his chest.

He breathed more life into her, day by day. All the goodness in the world returned, the water reached a boiling point in the kettle, and an exceptionally loud magpie made a racket outside.

"Ok," she whispered and let herself soften against his warmth.

Simon wasn’t a phantom or a cold, emotionless soldier. He was a man and very much alive. There was coffee and tea, and even if they strangled each other occasionally with ghosts that weren’t invited, it wasn’t enough to choke the mass of beautiful things that came from having found something as pure as this.

"You have me too," she announced in his shirt.

"I was hoping you would say that."

#ghost x oc #simon riley x oc #ghost smut #simon riley smut #ghost fanfiction #simon riley fanfic #mw2 smut #cod smut #simon ghost riley x female oc #ghost x female oc #simon riley x female oc

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tearskillstardust · 5 months

Text

🎐 WINTER FLOWERS AND AUTUMN LEAVES; k. kazuha

— summary; kazuha has very little in his life to hold on to, and when love leaves his grasp, he doesn't know what to do anymore. [povs switch frequently] modern au!

— !! tw: themes of— death, suicide, depression, implied sex, co-dependency, toxic relationship. !! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. — female reader. angst and emotional content. long read under the cut.

It was midnight.

When I was born, that is.

Of course I couldn't remember it, and I bet mother lied that she could just so she didn't look like an entirely awful parent. She recited the fact it was the most beautiful day of her life because she overheard women in crowded markets say that to their little five-year-old sons, but little five-year-old me still thought I was special. Apparently, I was a handful, and nothing had changed since.

I soon realized she mixed this beautiful day up with the day my father left her, which was only a week before. They'd argued: bottles smashed, tremors, pleading, front door slammed. She shut doors with special caution for eighteen years after that, nudging them slowly as they creaked one, two, three times into the doorframe whilst gently twisting the doorknob into place as if she were waiting for someone to knock again, letting them know she'd kept the door open for so long but would still let them slip through.

I never found out what they argued about. Me, probably. The smartest thing mother ever did was never tell me.

When I was six, seven, eight, nine, and ten, I'd gotten used to taking care of my mother, tipping water down her throat, carefully, both hands, the way I should've been practising on a doll. I used to go out and spend hours in parks with kids who didn't care about me just to come home to find her scattered on the living room floor. I didn't understand. Was I meant to? Mummy, why are you sleeping on the floor? Why were you sick? It smells of vomit in here, wake up—

I didn't go out very much after that.

But school and friends peeled me away from it. It was both terrifying and refreshing. The only thing was that nobody's parents were like mine—theirs were together. Proud. But I couldn't tell if they were happy. A slice of me well-kept in the ragged pocket in my chest hoped they weren't. It was selfish of me and I knew it but each time I watched someone's parents give their child a gentle smile or pat on the back, I felt like crying my ribs sore.

'Someday, Kazuha, someday,' you often rubbed my back soothingly when it happened.

Someday, I would echo silently, and like someone descending into anesthesia, I began to count backwards.

4 months ago.

'Why do you like winters?', Kazuha had questioned you once, a few months ago, playing around with a leaf in his hand. You couldn't help but look up from your book, only to find him resting against the tree, pondering something deeply.

You stared at him for a bit, at his serene beauty that seemed to be enhanced by the sun's dying rays as they shone over him, before going right back to your book. You shrugged, 'No deep reasons, I just like daffodils I guess.'

'And why do you like daffodils?'

You huffed, irritated but affectionate in the gesture, nonetheless. It was a certain difficulty about Kazuha that made him all the more endearing— but his own habit of over-romanticizing everything never quite appealed to you, nor could you understand where it came from.

For someone who had constantly been pressurized to be the best, you had no time for poetry and art— and he was born a poet. You were thankful for his existence and his acceptance for you, but the poet inside of him could never really be accepted entirely.

You looked up finally once you were done with your page. 'Why does it matter, Kazuha?', you said, never looking directly at him as you picked a lone flower on the ground. He stared on, curious.

'Everything withers when winter passes and returns with spring. Beauty blooms in summer and dies in Autumn. Your or my own preferences don't matter, nature remains undeterred.'

'Isn't their comfort in romanticizing life, though? Finding love and loss in our twilight existence.'

'So you just want to feel loved by giving adjective to natural things?'

He laughed at the simplification. 'No, but to be more direct, since you would like that, I merely like having natural memoirs to associate people and places with, so I tag them with adjectives. Much easier for a wanderer to keep, isn't it?'

You sighed quietly before smiling softly at him. 'You're at it again? Not everyone leaves, Kazuha. Some people come in our lives to stay,'

He smiled at your words, though the smile never quite reached his eyes.

3 weeks ago.

I had always loved stargazing. There was something about staring at the stars that shape our unfortunately funny lives and still deeming them worthy of our praise. Making them the base of our adoration.

I had invited Kazuha here, and though we had talked a lot initially, which ultimately led to kissing and to confession and to this— his head on my lap as I rested against the slide of the children's park, watching with him as the night zoomed by, suddenly every possibility of the future crossed my mind and I couldn't help the curious cat inside of me.

'Why would you want to be with me?', I asked, staring down at him.

Don't get it wrong— he is the love of my life. The most beautiful person I have ever known, ephemeral inside out. Perhaps that's the problem. He is like a songbird, and I am a hunter. Horses don't befriend the grass, but I fall deeper in love nonetheless.

Sometimes I scare myself— Will I ever be able to save myself from the depths I am venturing to? Will he reach his hand out? Will I be able to see him from the depths? Will it be too—

'I love you, that's why.'

What a lie.

'Huh?' I hadn't meant to say it out loud, but it would be for the best of both of us.

'You wouldn't think of suicide and then not think of me if you really did, Kazuha.'

He had nothing to say, he quietly stared on. More startled with the knowledge of my awareness than looking for an answer.

But I could not blame him, I had nothing to say either.

I pressed my lips against his in that moment, not realizing I had been crying until he wiped the tears with his thumb. He kissed with a passion, pouring himself out, as though saying all the words through this kiss then he would ever have time to before he left. He always kissed deeply— but right now he did it as though he was desperate to tell me his tale of love.

But I had stopped believing him after a point, and my own support remained these small physical exchanges that we would have; away from the world, under the stars, hoping they would have some pity on us. On me.

'Do you really love me, Kazuha?', I asked when he pulled away, our breaths mingling in an intimate dance of fire and ice. His touch lingered a bit too long on my exposed neck, and I knew part of what was coming.

He remained quiet when I wanted him to answer, before pushing me down on the grass, continuing the kiss. I was the songbird perhaps.

Curiosity killed the cat.

1 day ago.

She wasn't the same after that.

After we slept together, that is.

I had not wanted to hurt her, but only yesterday as I thought over everything once again, I realized how selfish I was. How filthy. Her purity had always been a source of utmost awe for me, as I stared at her skin, free of sin. But it had been foolishness on my side— I should've known my hands would burn against her skin. I should've steered away, but then she stepped in the lion's den like a willing sacrifice.

My mother had said it to me once— it's easier to solve conflicts between lovers if you sleep with them, albeit half drunk.

She was wrong about it.

She was so wrong about many things.

But like a desperate man drowning in dark waters, I clawed at whatever I could take and she, the love of my life, gave me whatever she could before the waters reached waist-deep and I pushed her away.

When we shared a bed, she was the last to sleep. I wasn't a mind reader but I was nearly certain I knew her every reason for muffling her wails in her blanket. I wanted to get up and say something. But when I went to Germany, Greece, then Italy, I needed her to feel nothing but relief. The euphuism had been funny, but she saw right through it.

The moon tutted at me, the sun nearly ready to rise over her, trees leaning over in private chatter, whistling together, chiming their little criticisms as the sinners—suicide and homicide—stared at each other.

I had always dreamed of how today would be ever since I had made up my mind. Dying was never easy, no matter how badly you desired peace. Instincts could never be stopped. Drowning, cutting, burning, suffocating— I tried everything in the same order, then backwards, then all at once. But even my self-loathing was not strong enough to betray my instincts.

She found me once— laying in a pool of my own blood. I had never seen her crying before, she'd been desperate, desperate to do anything, to scream, to cry, to shout but the night was a trap on us that doused her voice and she was left with all but one person to rely on— herself, as she carried me to the hospital.

If the Hindus were right, I was worthy of being a Hemlock in my next life. Cursed to eternal damnation by the gods— a life devoid of love, adoration or beauty. Only the winter for company and solace.

Such thoughts did not scare me.

She did not cry tonight, only packed her bags and left.

7 hours ago.

I folded over into her like a secret billet-doux. I was unbelievably small next to her, my words just as frail as I was. She wanted us to break up. I knew she did, I just wanted to be happy in my last breaths by playing a game of pretense.

'Can you hold me until I'm completely gone?'

Her brows furrowed, eyes devoid of their usual kindness. 'Kazuha.'

She said my name without anything attached to it, like those three syllables meant everything between ardour and despair.

'I know you hate me,' I reassured her, 'I only want to pretend I'm not alone for a moment.'

I began to cry. Am I that insignificant, God? Am I easy to kill?

But to my surprise, she let my head grate against her chest, soft fingers knotting through her jumper, crying, screaming, let it all out, I want to see you hurting darling, let everything go while I take it from you, our final reconciliation, my love.

But then she let go of me and death held me, tightly, like she was suffocating me, like this was the first and last time she'd ever hold anyone, like murder was primal and she wouldn't shy away from its beckoning voice, like a siren, a mother, a ghost, with the blade to my neck, her final judgement on her tongue—

Let go of me, my love, for this is where I die.

Now.

Autumn. His favourite.

I always had one complaint with Kazuha— he was bad with goodbyes. For someone so poetic, it was a bit ironic even, but I hated how he simply left, walked away as though that was all there was to it. He never turned and smiled, waving back gently with a promise of return, however fake might it be.

Anybody would say he looked peaceful. He's poetry in a face. His lids unfold over his eyes like broken shutters, and it looks like a sigh has prised his mouth open. If you stare hard enough, it looks like he's breathing.

He didn't die like that. Death had to pull the shutters down. She had to draw his mouth shut, but the wind seized it again. She had to scrub the tears and saliva from her skin. Otherwise, it looked like a struggle. It wasn't. He'd given in and told me not to interfere.

As I stared at his coffin, his resting place, I couldn't help but feel repulsed at the muddy brown. It takes place in a church, like most things do. According to Kazuha, his mother is God-fearing, although I don't think he meant it in the conventional sense. Rose just dreads what God will do to her for all her sins, not that she ever made an attempt to repent. The woman is a filthy hypocrite like all cowards are. In turn, her son was taken from her.

Quel dommage.

Surprisingly, I didn't find tears to cry. I came for the same reason as everybody else—curiosity, guilt; not love though. Very few attended because everyone liked Kazuha. It was like he was a discarded newsprint, not a person.

I had cried all I could, wanted to, weeks ago. I knew what was coming— so did he. Neither of us cried when we accepted our fates because we had read it under the stars we made love under for so long. There wasn't guilt in him as he sinned, which made him so corrupt— and there wasn't regret in me as I turned away, which made me, oh, so pure.

I felt violated.

I don't mention it when I visit his grave, though. I hadn't come to hate him, he was wrong about that I'm afraid. I had come to see him for who he was— pure as a fire but feeding on impure things, and I prayed for hours, hands folded, knees scraping against cold, harsh marble as I cried, as I waited, only for the smallest of whispers to infiltrate my mind—

God is dead.

Should I have followed?

there we go! idk if this is exactly what anon was expecting but when i was writing fluff, i suddenly wanted to add angst and it turned into this. thank you very much for your request though! as a treat, i'll also publish some cute kazuha stuff later lmao.

#genshin impact #genshin #genshin headcanons #genshin imagines #genshin x reader #kazuha kaedehara #kazuha #kaedehara kazuha #kazuha x reader #kazuha smut #genshin angst #genshin x you #genshin fluff #genshin impact x reader #minors dni #anon <3

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