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thedreamlessnights · 6 months

Note

Hi! I’ve got a request for Astarion and Dark Urge Tav. Like they got together through act 1 and 2 and confessed their feelings for each other, but when they go to see Gortash become Arch Duke Tav realizes that she used to be lovers with Gortash before her memory was wiped. Queue angst and hurt/comfort and fluff and hhhhh Gortash loses plssss

I absolutely loved this concept and had so much fun writing it! Dark Urge's route changed me as a person, and I honestly feel like it's a perfect match for Astarion. Thank you so much for sending this in, and I hope you enjoy!

Aching (Astarion x F!Reader - Dark Urge)

Warnings: Major spoilers for Act III of Baldur's Gate - particularly for the Dark Urge playthrough. Mentions of blood, killing, death, and suicidal ideation. Dark Urge being Dark Urge. Hurt/comfort, self-loathing, angst with a happy ending.

Word Count: 4.6k

Like so many other things, the sight of Lord Enver Gortash tugs at a painful spot in your skull.

You’ve come to differentiate them: the gaping, aching tug of your lost memories and the sharp, swift yank of the tadpole. Somehow, his presence pulls at both of them in equal measure. There’s something on the edge of your tongue, but it won’t be said. A memory behind your eyes, but it won’t be seen.

One thing is clear enough - you know this man. For better or worse, the two of you have met before.

Karlach clears her throat behind you, and you return to yourself: not lost in the dark void of your memories, not consumed by the itch for blood. Wyrm’s Crossing.

Gods, you’d nearly forgotten. You’re in the middle of a throne room, surrounded by dozens of people, here for the coronation. Wyll’s father stands in the center of the room, all but a meat puppet under the Absolute’s control.

The Absolute, which Gortash is a part of.

The soon-to-be Archduke sees you, and something shifts in his gaze. His expression softens. Given all the trouble you’ve been causing for him, that expression comes as a shock - but what he says next is jarring to your core.

“Dearest patriars, but a moment,” he requests. “I must greet a most important guest.” He strolls toward you, arms spread wide as he steps forward, and smiles. “Crawling back from her bloody disgrace - it’s my favorite assassin! Gods, you’re a sight for sore eyes.”

And suddenly, you are two pieces of a whole. One longs to step forward, knowing him, wanting him. The other longs for nothing more than to jolt away from him - from the misery you know he’s been causing. Not only to you, or even Karlach, but to your home; Baldur’s Gate.

“Hang on,” Karlach says. “What? You know each other?”

As if you could have possibly known that. As if you’d been willfully keeping it from her. As if your amnesia is a silent betrayal.

“We have important matters to address,” Gortash says dismissively. “My reunion with Karlach can wait.”

Gods, it’s all too much. You’re trying to think, but your mind is swimming in front of your eyes. Your skull throbs. Your heart thuds unevenly in your chest. Something in you is fundamentally disrupted.

“Don’t talk to me,” you manage to spit out. “Talk to her.”

After all, she deserves it. Ten years in Avernus, a flaming engine in her chest, a slow, painful oncoming death that none of you can prevent - or at least, not while she’s refusing to go back to the hells. She deserves a talk with the man who betrayed her. More than anything.

But Gortash won’t be swayed so easily, it seems. “No offense to my old friend,” he says, not even bothering to look at Karlach, “but it’s you I have been dying to see. After all, you abandoned us some time ago, leaving a rather uncomfortable hole in our plans.”

Fond. His expression is unmistakably fond.

You don’t know what plans he’s talking about, though. What to say to him? Should you treat him like a friend, exploit his familiarity down to the hilt for the sake of the information you might obtain? Should you be honest and find out more of your lost self? Do you even want to?

As it turns out, it doesn’t matter what you’re planning to say. Gortash sees your face, and that’s enough. “Oh, I’d forgotten,” he remarks, “your memories are quite lost, aren’t they? Orin told me she’d made a fool of you.”

Orin. A picture flashes in front of your mind. Warm blood, oozing from a gash in your head, streaming down into your eyes. A sharp, fierce tug of betrayal that digs into your chest, sours in your mouth like milk.

Then, another image. A recent memory: Orin. A gruesome suit of skin. A bloodthirsty tongue. The Netherstone in hand.

But Gortash is still talking.

“To think you and Karlach traveled together all this time, and she hadn’t the faintest you were one of my nearest and dearest,” he’s saying.

Karlach tenses, and you suddenly feel sick. Your hands go slick with sweat, and you can feel, not see but feel, the others silently fuming behind you.

All of this is adding up to one big, horrific picture. A conclusion you despise but can’t deny. Something affectionate in your chest. The admiration in his gaze. The way he’d greeted you. Nearest and dearest.

Lovers. You and Gortash were lovers.

The walk back to camp is the most painful of your life - that you can recall, at least. You’d rather be feral again, tied up like an animal on your bedroll, attempting to bite Astarion.

Part of you wishes you’d decimated Gortash the moment you’d laid eyes on him. If you had, all of this could have been avoided. The swirling guilt in your stomach for something you don’t even remember. The sting of reproof from nearly every single one of your companions. The betrayal in their eyes.

You’d done this. All of it. The Absolute, the march on the city, the tadpole now squirming around in your brain. You and Gortash had planned this out, and now you’ve fallen victim to it.

It seems like a disconnected idea, a person you can’t imagine being. The further you go on, the less you recognize your old self. The more you despise it.

Gale had certainly chewed you out. Karlach isn’t talking to you. Gods, even Shadowheart is angry. Shadowheart, who should know more than anyone else what this is like.

Astarion, at least, doesn’t seem as upset as the others. He’s liked his tadpole for the most part. Is some odd part of him grateful for your role in this? For the power it’s given him? You can’t tell.

You should be able to tell, shouldn’t you?

When the silence becomes unbearable, you grab a bottle of Berduskan Dark as a peace offering and join him at his tent, crawling through the entrance and sprawling yourself over his various pillows. “Do you hate me tonight, too?” you ask lightly.

He raises a brow and rolls one of his shoulders, feigning annoyance. “Oh, I don’t know,” he says, his tone teasing and casual. “It’s not often I find out the woman I’m with is behind a horrible, malicious scheme to control an elder brain.”

Your words of penance fall flat even before they’ve touched your tongue, so you pour him a glass of wine in response.

He smiles. “Trying to win me over, darling?” he asks, tilting his head. “You’ve caused quite the commotion around camp, you know. Gale is positively furious.”

That sensation of guilt comes again, but this time, it’s overpowering. It makes you want to crumple in on yourself, to erase the horrid, evil parts of you that are left like bloodstains on a white shirt; things that won’t be scrubbed away, present and never-escapable.

“I didn’t know,” you start, firmly but barely kept together. “I swear, I had no idea-”

“Relax, dearest,” Astarion says. “As you know, me and the tadpole are the best of friends. No need to explain.” He pauses. “Although,” he says, suddenly becoming very interested in inspecting the brim of his glass, “you and Gortash seemed to be old friends, too.”

You know what he’s asking you, and you don’t have it in yourself to lie to him. Instead, you slowly nod, pouring yourself a glass of the wine, too. Gods, do you need it.

“We were lovers, I think,” you finally answer. “I can’t remember anything about it, but… the way he talked to me. It seemed like we were more than friends.”

He pulls a face. “Well. I certainly hope he won’t be serving as my competition. You can do so much better.”

You stare at him: the sudden tension in his shoulders, the pasted-on, confident smile that plays on his lips, the dark glint to his gaze.

“You’re jealous.”

He scoffs. “Jealous?” he exclaims, laughing a little. “Of course I’m not jealous. Honestly - it’s hilarious. A Bhaalspawn and Bane’s chosen. In another life, I would have been rooting for the two of you.”

But there’s a crease between his brows, and he won’t quite look at you. You reach out for his hand, and his expression softens. He playfully rolls his eyes, but he takes your hand all the same. “And what is our vicious little mastermind thinking about?” he asks, leaning toward you.

“I’m thinking,” you say, “that Lord Gortash could never compare to you.”

“Oh?” he asks, moving in a little further. He loves preening for compliments, and you love treating him to them. “Do go on, dearest.”

You trail your thumb over his knuckles. “Well, he’s clearly nowhere near as handsome as you are.”

Astarion tilts his head. “Of course he isn’t. The man couldn’t hope to compare with a… world-endingly handsome vampire.” He squeezes your hand, lifting a brow. “Anything else?”

You can’t help smiling now. “His taste in clothing is awful. Didn’t you see his boots?” you ask. “Tacky.”

He scowls. “I did. Horrendous, honestly. And at his coronation, no less,” he remarks, tutting. “Well. I’m glad to see your standards have improved, darling.”

“As am I.” You take a sip of your wine, swirling it in your hand, enjoying the feel of Astarion’s grasp in the other.

With him, you can almost forget the worst parts of yourself. The others, as much as you love them, only make your crimes seem so much worse. There’s a constant forgiveness sought with each conversation, a debt you can never repay that lingers underneath the way they see you. But not with him.

He mirrors you. He sees you. What you really are, not what you were, not the echo of your old life. All your past grievances, well… those don’t matter to him. Everything you’ve done, he considers himself worse.

Part of you thinks - if the two of you actually make it through, that is - that bit by bit, you may actually heal. Maybe, you’ll actually have a life with him beyond the tadpoles, and beyond Baldur’s Gate. Maybe, the two of you will build something far beyond those who once controlled you.

And then the night comes.

You leave Astarion in his tent to trance, telling him you mean to sleep even though you have no intention of doing so. You never rest well, but it’s aggravated, lately. The Urge is always at its worst during the night. The shadows reflect your darkest self back at you, and your fingers itch for blood. Your mind becomes a haze of gore. Your teeth fix on a tender part of your cheek and press down until you taste iron.

You’d like to say that this part of you is a clean split from the other - that it’s easy to tell where the Urge ends and you begin - but it’s not. Your thoughts so often drift. You’d been the one feeling that sickening sense of satiation when Alfira lay dead at your feet, her blood drying on your skin. And it’s you who feels a strange tug toward Gortash - some lingering yearning that won’t be scrubbed away.

And you try. Gods, do you try. You take a rag and sit at the river and rub until your skin is raw, trying to get the metaphorical blood off your hands, trying to cleanse yourself of the want that pulls at your chest when Gortash slips into your thoughts.

But it doesn’t work. It doesn’t work at all.

The way you want Astarion feels different. It’s grounded. Natural. Being around him feels as easy as breathing. Gortash, though: there’s something so very strong there, something ripened with time and obsessive, almost. Something that wants him no matter what you tell yourself.

You want to win this. You want to look at the faces around camp and tell them that their faith in you is not misplaced; that you are capable of what they want you to be. You’re more than the monster in your thoughts. When you’d resisted killing Isobel and Astarion despite your butler’s commands, you’d thought there was a chance for that to happen - for you to become something outside of your murderous tendencies.

Now, you’re not so sure.

Your role in the creation of the Absolute has changed things. This feels… unforgivable. Not that Alfira’s death wasn’t already unforgivable, not that you haven’t already sinned enough, but… it’s tallying up to a truly heinous amount of perversion that you can’t fathom anyone here tolerating, much less accepting. Astarion, maybe, but he deserves better than this.

You’ve already tremendously ruined things, and on top of that, you find out you were responsible for turning all of the people you care about into thralls?

It’s enough to shake you to your core. Enough to sow doubt in your mind, spreading like a slow poison through the veins of your thoughts, slowly choking them away, slowly consuming you.

You really might lose.

Gods, are you strong enough to win the long-fought battle against yourself? Do you have it in you to completely turn away from your past? You won’t give in without a fight, of course, but what chance do you have against Bhaal when he’s in your very mind, rooting himself into every inch of you?

In the days, you have hope, but in the nights, when you’re alone, you feel certain you’re doomed. That perhaps, this side of you will take over, and you’ll be absolutely helpless to stop it.

The true question is this: when the darkness takes over, will you still exist; forever trapped in the body you once had control over? Or will Bhaal’s presence ravage you, body and soul, and leave nothing of the thing you once were?

You really can’t decide which is worse.

You’re used to your hands shaking, by now. Your fingers have often trembled around the hilt of your blade, itching to drive your knife deep into sweet, bleeding flesh.

This is different.

It’s fear that takes your body, not the Urge. Fear that compels you, not Bhaal. Are you afraid to lose to Orin, or afraid of what you might become?

Astarion stands behind you, observant but tense. The two of you have come so far now that it almost seems foolish to think of losing. He’d defeated Cazador. He’d resisted the Ascension. If he’d found it in himself to turn away from his darkness, can’t you?

Yet, some part of you still thinks you might disappoint him. Some part of you still fears the monster that lies within yourself.

Astarion rests a hand on your shoulder, knowing you all too well. “You can do this,” he says, lightly squeezing. “I know you can.”

And the sheer, beautiful belief in his eyes - belief in you - is enough to have a little hope again. Not much, but some. You can do this.

You step into the center of the circle, hands around your blade, and you believe.

It all goes by in a blur.

Orin is a viper, tightening her strokes around you, striking fast and hard. Her movements are rapid and graceful, her dance lithe and experienced. Even in her slayer form, there’s a deadly beauty to her actions. Every slash, every wound she inflicts on your skin, is a vicious reminder that she’s nothing but practiced in this regard.

Perhaps she’s forgotten, but you are, too. And, this time, your pride doesn’t blind you to the threat she poses.

Your body moves instinctively; for once, you let the Urge guide you freely. You leap out of the way of her claws, dig your blade into her side. When the scent of blood hits the air, you rejoice. When you feel pain, you bask in it.

Flashes of your past echo in front of your eyes - being in the pod, blood gushing into your eyes. You remember the agony of her betrayal, the fear as you’d smashed your skull into the glass again and again and again. Anything to escape what she’d done.

It’s despair that takes over you, not fear. It’s your fury that deals the final blow, not the Urge. And when Orin finally falls, your blade in her ribs up to the hilt, you feel no relief, no satiation.

Only grief. Nothing but grief.

You don’t know what you mourn for - your old self? The life she’d robbed you of? No - no, you despise your past. You despise who you were. So what tugs at your chest this tenderly? What force brings you to your knees?

For just a moment, you almost forget about Bhaal.

Of course, he won’t be forgotten - not here, not in his own domain. Not when you’re his creation. Sceleritas Fel is in front of you, applauding your victory, calling you the Chosen One.

“He is near,” he says. “He comes for you.”

Fear flutters through your chest. Bhaal’s Chosen. It tempts you, even now. The Urge has slithered into the very heart of you, kept somewhere in your ribs, so dark and alluring that you can barely breathe.

It salivates at the sight of the blade slicing through your butler’s chest, sways at the sight of his blood. His body rises, limp and lifeless, and it’s all you can do to stare, still breathless from the fight, still silently devastated, as more blades cut through the skin one by one - impaling him until his blood seeps onto the stone below; dark, crimson liquid shining over the cold floor.

And in his reflection, you find Bhaal.

He is everything you’ve felt in the Urge and more - the sweet whispers of death in your ear. He’s the honeyed tone that compels you to serve him, compels you to bring forth destruction in his name. In chaos, he triumphs, and in blood, he revels.

This is a gift. An offering to you, his Chosen.

You could accept. You could stop fighting against your destiny, against this thing you were born to become. You could do what he asks, and wreak beautiful havoc on this world. You’re exhausted. Every muscle in your body aches - not from Orin, but from this never-ending fight against yourself.

How strong you could become, remedied of these burdens. How well you would please your father. It would be so easy. All you’d have to do is accept…

And then you see Astarion.

His face is paler than usual, a tension in his shoulders, a quiet exhaustion in his eyes. You see him now, as he is, and you see him as he was in the ritual chamber: the temptation of power right beneath his grasp, begging to be taken. He’d sacrificed so much. The light of the sun on his face. The relief of hunger. The burial of his shame. All of these, he’d refused, but he’s finally free. He wants that for you, and you want it, too.

No matter the cost.

So you refuse. You look Bhaal in the eye and refuse his gift, knowing what it will mean for you. And when he threatens your life, you refuse again. No matter the cost, you think. Death is freedom in its own way.

The sudden agony that wracks through your body is unlike any you’ve ever known. It boils through your blood, singes body and soul, brings down you to your knees with the very force of it. Your chest seems to cave in on itself, expelling your inheritance to Bhaal with every beat of your heart.

Even when he lifts a hand and raises you into the air, you feel crushed - suffocated. Your teeth grind against each other, your skull throbs in agonzing waves, blood flows steadily over your tongue. Your heart slows, your essence fades. Sharp, blinding pain overtakes your vision until all that’s left of you is the shallow, scraping breath in your lungs.

All at once, everything fades, and you’re left in darkness.

And in the darkness, there is finally peace.

Being revived feels like a cruelty. Death is sweet and calm and simple. Emptiness. Oblivion. It is silent, and you are grateful.

Until you’re not.

You’re not, because you’re no longer dead. Something rips you from your painless sense of stillness - throws you back into the misery of life. You fight against it, but it’s pointless; you have no say in this, and it will take you where it desires.

You find yourself in flesh again, find the familiar sensation of your tender skin. You find yourself before Withers, bruised and broken, but reborn.

He’s a sight for sore eyes, but there’s something else that lies in your chest. A silence that hasn’t been there since… since before you’d woken up on the nautiloid, confused and alone, not a memory to be found aside from meaningless scraps and a face you didn’t recognize.

The Urge is gone. All that’s left is you.

It feels empty.

This should feel heroic, this return of yours that leaves you panting with the throes of death, covered in blood and on your knees. You’re back, you’re alive, and gods, you’re glad to see your friends and your lover, but it’s empty.

You deserved to die, didn’t you? It was your horrible knowledge, the one you kept tucked away even from Astarion. That never-ending guilt. After your crimes, after all the horrid things you’ve done with these hands, this body, before you’d lost your memory - you’d most certainly deserved to be put down.

You don’t dare look at Astarion, but you look at Withers. Surely, he must know what you are. Surely, he must know what you’ve done.

“I deserve to die,” you tell him, your voice shaking as much as your body. “For all the evil I have done.”

Withers stares at you, his expression unchanged. “The sole way to atone for thine actions is to do better, in a new dawn,” he says - and gods, he smiles. He’s proud of you, you realize. Proud of your resistance. “That dawn has come,” he announces.

And if he will not be swayed, you suppose you won’t, either. You’re alive, whether you like it or not. Whatever pieces are left of you and the life you might live, you’ll put them together. You’ve done it before, and you’ll do it again.

The important thing is that you’re finally free.

“Bhaal tried to extinguish thee,” Wither observes, “but his wrath is imprecise. He only succeeded in killing the part of thee he knew. The Urge that drove thee to terrible acts. The spark of brutality that made thee his. But there is a new part of you that hath grown during thy travels. That part, Bhaal could not extinguish. And so, instead of destroying thee, he hath made thee anew.”

“You get to start over,” Astarion says. He gazes at you, a mixture of leftover fear and relief and care. “To be the person you want to be. Not what someone else made you to be.”

And gods - even in the worst of yourself, you know that he sees you - wants you, all the same. If you’re at his side, you’re sure you can do anything.

“Greet the bloodless dawn, child of none,” Withers says, and for once in the shabby remembrance of your life, the guilt that haunts you finally sweeps away.

Gortash knows you’re coming, you think. After your stint at the Iron Throne and the foundry that now lies in ash, he must. Your memories are mostly lost to the aether, but you do know this - he’s no fool.

Still, when you see him again, there’s that strange, leftover twinge of your past. It’s dead now; whatever warmth there was in his presence has become ice. Your old self has died along with your Urge, rotted away like your need for blood. After all, the part of you he cared for was maniacal. Brutal. Not as bad as Orin, perhaps, but deranged. It sickens you to know he cared for someone like that, when you’ve despised yourself so.

It sickens you even more to know that he knows no guilt for his actions. How much have you suffered over your own deeds? How often have you awoken in sweat, drenched from head to toe with the fleeting remnant of your past deeds tainting your mind?

And here he is, smug and so sure - of himself, of this path, of Bane. And he knows no regret, or guilt, he makes no apologies. A part of you may have once loved him, but no more. Whatever he’d once seen in you, it no longer remains.

You wonder if he can tell. After all you’ve done to him, after the havoc you’ve wreaked on his plan, does he realize that the person he cared for no longer exists? He seems not to. Not until Karlach launches at him and you draw your blade, willing to kill when it’s necessary but not craving an ounce of blood more.

The fight is long and brutal, but it’s familiar. You have your friends at your side, people you trust even more than yourself. It flies by in a blur, only ending when Karlach’s axe sinks into Gortash’s gut and he crumples to his knees, letting out a final rush of air before he goes still.

Like so many other events, this should feel triumphant, but it doesn’t. Like so many other things, this isn’t fair. Gortash is gone, yes, nothing more than a body on a floor, but there’s no celebration, no relief.

Karlach has gotten her revenge, but she will never get her life back. She will never regain what he took from her.

You have the Netherstones, yes. But gods - that doesn’t stop the sickening feeling deep inside.

You head home with nothing but grief and an aching body, your hand held tight in Astarion’s, and you finally allow yourself to fully mourn the life you’d lived - the things you’d done, and the people who no longer live because of you.

With Gortash finally gone, the air of the camp changes. You’re so close to your goal, but there’s an underlying tension that fills the air. It has you making your way to Astarion, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and nuzzling into his neck.

He holds you close, his thumb trailing over the nape of your neck, and the action slackens the tension out of your muscles.

“So,” he starts, “how are you feeling, now that your old lover is gone?”

You huff, shaking your head. The action brushes your nose with his skin, and you can smell him all over you. The warmth of brandy, the sharpness of rosemary. “I don’t remember any of it,” you say, words soft. “I… don’t really feel anything.”

You recall his numbness after Cazador. Dame Aylin’s emptiness after smiting down Larroakan. Karlach’s grief after killing Gortash. Even after your fight with Orin, there hadn’t really been relief. Just… a sense of loss.

He gently takes your face in his hands.

You’re scared, really. You’re so close to succeeding, so close to getting the tadpole out of your mind, and yet, you’re terrified out of your wits. What the hells are you supposed to do, now that failing holds the most weight?

“Do you really think we’ll win this?” you ask him. Your fear slips into your voice and breaks it, and you wince.

“Of course I do,” he says. “I don’t know about you, darling, but I have no intention of dying again.” He presses his lips to your forehead, the gentle touch soothing away your fear. “We’ll get through this. Trust me.”

And, despite the fear, the pain, the loss - despite every curve that life continually throws at you, every defeat you muster through, you know he’s right.

You’ll get through this; just like you always do.

#astarion x reader #astarion #astarion x you #astarion ancunin #astarion x dark urge #baldurs gate 3 x reader #mywriting

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mrsharrington83 · 3 months

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Code Blue

Summary; The aftermath leaves Y/N second guessing everything in her life. Losing friends and witnessing her boyfriend of two years getting closer to his ex is enough to push her over the edge. Will they be able to pull themselves out of this hole that’s darker than the Upside Down itself? (For the sake of this fic, what happened at the end of the last episode of season 4 hasn’t yet happened)

Warnings; usual Stranger Things, things. Swearing, blood, injury, alcohol consumption, mentions of death and suicidal thoughts. If any of this is triggering, please don’t read.

A/N; I haven’t written anything in so long! It’s a long fic! 6.5K words, my longest on here yet. I apologise if this is bad, I’ve just been in a writing mood so thought I’d let out a lot of angst and fluff (we love it) I am a British writer (England) so sorry if things don’t make sense to you! Thank you for stopping by, hopefully my writing streak stays strong. Requests are always open. Love to all xoxo

The aftermath of the supposed earthquake had everyone second guessing. Some people left, other people were packing to leave. Having known what really went down, you sat in silence staring into your vanity mirror as everyone else you knew went to help the community at Hawkins High.

You just couldn’t stomach it. Cuts and grazes over your skin, tiredness evident in your eyes, your hair still clumped with dirt from the Upside Down, dried blood. You hadn’t even showered yet. You didn’t know how to process anything that had happened over the past 72 hours. You were accustomed to this kind of thing having it been a big part of your life for the past few years, the most recent battle however, took the biscuit.

Small Polaroid pictures littered around the back wall of your desk. Smiles, memories, better times. Max and Dustin when she stole his cap. They were in mid laugh so it was blurred a bit, but a happy memory that was stuck in time. That same Max was now in hospital, fractured bones, blind, unresponsive. Not laughing and joking with her friends, not happy, not anything. Doctors didn’t know if she’d ever wake. She was such a selfless soul, way beyond her years, but still so young. Too young. You all were.

Pictures of the group, you and your boyfriend Steve. A picture of you and Eddie during a D&D game. His hair all over the place, tongue sticking out, you laughing, Dustin in the background pulling a stupid face.

Memories.

Eddie.

Your best friend.

Gone.

Just like that.

He didn’t run this time, and fuck. You really wished he did.

The tick of your small clock dragged you away from the pictures, the light ticking mocking you, “shut up! Shut the fuck up!” you screamed from deep in your lungs, a howl so painful from your chest, putting what was left of your strength and upset from the past few weeks into knocking the blasted thing to the floor, hearing the glass and mechanics hit the floor in one swoop. It was a gift from Eddie one Christmas as you were pretty much always late. Bittersweet.

Guilt built in your stomach as you stood up fast, pushing your stool back with your legs, failing to the floor, cupping the bits of broken glass as sobs wracked your body, not realising your hands were clenched around the shards, the all too familiar claret running through the lines in your palm and down your fingers, dripping into a pool on the wooden flooring of the bedroom.

Your breathing hitched as you remembered Eddie die in your arms, the way blood trickled from his mouth. The look of pure terror on his face. He knew he was dying, but he kept it together till the very end for the sake of you and Dustin. His best friends, the people that were there for him no matter what everyone else was saying. You didn’t want to believe it. Dustin’s screams and sobs as the light left his eyes. You saw them gloss over. The way you both shook him, screamed into his ear, telling him not to leave you both behind. Your hands covered in blood. His blood.

Dropping the bits of glass on the floor, you pushed your feet and newly cut hands against the floor, the small slitters of glass that were still on your palm slicing deeper into your flesh until your back met the wall, your hands and body shaking, the tightness in your chest getting worse and you struggled to fill your lungs with air. You felt like you were about to pass out.

The past 72 hours had been, by far, the worst time of your life. You’d witnessed what you thought was your boyfriend of two years get closer to his ex, eyes can be deceiving, but there was something in his own eyes that glimmered whenever he spoke to Nancy, deep down you always wondered what Steve saw in you. Maybe you were just a knock off version of Nancy. Someone to keep him grounded in all of this. A warm body to forget all the wrongdoing in the world. Someone he knew cared about him. Perhaps more than he cared for you. You didn’t know that of course, it was just what your mind was telling you.

Your best friend had died for a town that hated him, Max, the girl who had adopted you as a cooler older sister after Billie died was lying in a hospital bed with the looming same fate, Vecna was still out there somewhere and you were sure there was even more danger on the horizon.

Even after everything that happened, your mum hadn’t bothered coming home. She was always away with her new man for weeks on end. She had called up one night before the phone lines cut out to make sure the house was still standing after witnessing the news, but other than that all you got was, ‘with everything that’s happened in Hawkins, I’m going to stay with carl for another few weeks, maybe more. Be careful out there.’”

You’d never felt more alone. You didn’t blame your friends or Steve. They wanted to help out, of course they did. You did too, but you were in no way the right frame of mind to be seeing people crying for their loved ones, talking to people that had lost others whilst you were reeling from losing your own.

You pulled yourself off the floor with great difficulty. It felt like you had a ton of bricks weighed down on you. Metaphorically speaking, you did. Though it wasn’t bricks, it was the weight of hurt and anger, of death piling up one by one. “Get yourself together Y/N. get your fucking self together.” Rummaging through your dresser, careful not to get blood on everything, you pulled out some comfortable lounge clothes that were bigger in size, purposely avoiding one of Steve’s t-shirts as you dragged yourself to the bathroom.

Putting down the toilet seat, you placed your clothes and rinsed your hands under the cold tap. Water on open cuts made you wince, but at least you felt something other than emotional pain. Watching your fresh blood mix with water and into the sink like a mini whirlpool was almost mesmerising. Picking out the last few shards of glass making the water redder with each bit. You were lucky water was still running. There were some parts of Hawkins that had no water.

Turning the dial on the shower you undressed. Peeling your clothes from your skin. Clothes you wouldn’t bother to wash. They would go straight in the bin. You had enough awful reminders on that night, you didn’t need more. Stepping into the shower, careful not to slip, you submerged yourself in warm, running water and closed your eyes, feeling old blood, mud and debris leave your tired body.

Steve had come home early, with both of your parents almost always being away you basically lived with each other. When your mum was away, he’d stay with you and if his parents were away, you’d stay with him. He had his own keys to your place, and you had your own to his.

Steve kicked his shoes off in the hallway, tiredness in his bones. The house was silent apart from the sound of water from the shower, you were at least out of bed. When Steve left this morning you were curled up in a ball with covers over your head, blocking out the world. He leant down and burrowed his head in your blankets kissing the top of your head, saying how much he loved you and that he’d be back as soon as he’d helped out in Hawkins High, with a running car it was easier for him to pick up robin and bundle Dustin, Will and Mike in the back of along with all the supplies, it was a squeeze, but not a long drive and with everything that had happened, the kids didn’t mind being on top of each other, breathing, alive. In truth, Steve didn’t want to get out of bed either. His temples ached, his bones felt heavy and the wounds he had were still throbbing, not letting him forget about the events.

He sighed and flopped onto the sofa, leaning his head back hoping to get the knots out of the muscles in his neck, tension. He didn’t want to disturb you in the shower, even though all he wanted to do was bury his face in your hair, your skin, breathe in the only place he felt safe, the only thing that made sense to him. Seeing everyone at Hawkins High, the missing persons post filled with faces he knew, faces he didn’t, the heartbreak of all of Hawkins. All he wanted was you, but instead he just sat there.

You pressed your head against the cool tiles in the bathroom as you turned off the shower, the familiar car engine shutting off in the drive, you knew Steve was back, yet you didn’t think you could see him face to face yet. You breathed out heavily and stepped out of the shower pulling a towel from the back of the door, wrapping it around yourself and another for your hair. Red staining the white cotton as you’d opened old wounds as well as your still bleeding palms that stung. You bent down to get the first aid kit from under the sink as you got to work on your wounds. You at least looked cleaner, your split lip and eyebrow not looking as bad now you’d washed, half of these injuries you didn’t even know when you’d got them, from fighting demobats to being thrown across the floor by Eddie when you tried to help, bruises from being pulled away from your friend as his lifeless body lay motionless, wounds from yourself from hitting the wall in desperation. You looked how you felt. Completely broken. You wrapped bandages around your hands and left it at that. Drying off and throwing oversized clothes on, you reached for the door handle, your hand visibly shaking.

Going back into your room you sighed at the mess. Somewhat thankful that Steve had stayed downstairs. Glass and blood everywhere. You grabbed a dustpan and a brush from a small closet next to the bathroom as well as the small towel you used for your hair, sweeping up the small shards of glass and discarding them in a small bin next to your bed. Wiping the claret up with the small towel and putting that in the bin too. You sat on the end of your bed once again staring at the pictures behind your vanity desk.

“Y/N?” Steve called up the stairs noting that the shower had been turned off for a while, worry lacing his voice. You could hear it.

“Yeah, I’m coming down.” You stood up and dragged yourself to the top of the landing. You could just throw yourself down the stairs and hope for the best. Hope you’d have an ounce of peace from your racing mind, but you couldn’t do that. You couldn’t bring yourself to take yourself over that edge, to make the people that cared about you lose another. You’d all lost too much. Begrudgingly you walked down the stairs, the illuminating light from the sun almost blinding you, you’d been living in darkness for the past few days, being in the Upside Down and then closing all the curtains upstairs as soon as you’d got back home. You’d almost forgotten how bright daylight could be.

Steve was waiting in the kitchen for you, his eyes visibly glowing when you walked into the room, as though you lit up the small space when you stepped in. A smile tugged on your lips that suddenly dropped when you remembered he was looking at Nancy exactly the same not too long ago. The same nagging thoughts you had earlier pulling you back. Knock off version of Nancy. Now that Johnathan was back, of course he came running back to you. Steve looked down to your hands and frowned, he didn’t remember you hurting your hands so much they needed bandaging,

“Sweetheart? What happened?” Steve was by your side in an instant his hands gently over yours as he inspects the bandages,

“I dropped some glass, not a big deal. Just got a little cut up in the process of cleaning it up.” You lied through your teeth, you couldn’t be bothered to talk about Eddie again and how you’d broken the last gift he would ever give to you out of anger. Steve continued to look at your hands, careful not to disturb the bandages around them,

“Do you want me to have a look? I can bandage these a bit better for you, make sure there’s no glass and...” you cut him off with a, ‘I’m fine.’ And pulled your hands away from his warmth, Steve looked a little deflated, but understood. All of you had patched each other up countless times that it was almost routine now, you’d learnt how to stitch wounds, what ointments and antiseptics to use, you basically had a mini pharmacy under your sink for things that people would never believe.

“Honestly, I’m fine Steve.” You forced a smile and went round the Kitchen Island feeling his eyes burning through you. Your house wasn’t the biggest, it was snug. The kitchen was weirdly one of the bigger rooms and probably the nicest, it was one of the only rooms your mum put any effort into before she started gallivanting around the globe. It was bright with several flowers littering the windowsills, yellow lace curtains to match some of the décor. How the flowers hadn’t died yet, you didn’t know. You never watered them.

You and the rest of the group had spent ample time in this kitchen cooking cookies and brownies for movie night, Max and Lucas always managing to burn popcorn, Steve rushing to open windows and flail a tea towel at the fire alarm to stop it beeping whilst Robin was toppling over laughing at Dustin with brownie mix all over his mouth, You’d also spent ample time in here with the older lot of the group, your mum had quite the alcohol stash. Probably enough to open a bar downtown. From several different bottles of vodka, gin, whiskey to wine, beer, cider and god knows what other potent liquid that did the job, which is exactly what you were heading for now.

Steve was slumped against one of the dining chairs as he watched you move around the island, he knew exactly what cabinet you were riffling through, “Ahhh, there it is.” You picked out an unopened bottle of vodka and put it on the side as you went through a different cupboard to pick out a decent glass.

“Do you really think that’s a good idea?” Steve sighed as he watched your every move, “I know things aren’t great at the minute, but we really need to pull together.” You opened the vodka and poured a small glass, turning around and leaning against the counter with your ankles crossed, the glass of vodka in your hand. You shrugged and took a gulp, the burning from the alcohol igniting your insides.

“Look, sweetheart, please.” Steve ran a hand through his hair, the lack of product evident, no one ever saw Steve walking around with no product in his hair, probably because without it, it was so fluffy and never sat in the right place according to him, “this isn’t the answer, that isn’t going to help. It’s not going to bring...”

“Shut up!” you screeched, smashing the glass back onto the counter, thankfully not breaking it, “you think I don’t know that, Steve? For goodness sake! How stupid do you think I am?!” Steve is taken aback, he’s over stepped a line and he knows it, “I know it’s not going to bring Eddie back it’s not going to stop what’s going on here,” you look around the room, “it’s not going to stop Max from being in hospital, it’s not going to stop those poor kids dreaming about what happened over and over again, how fucked they’re going to be in years’ time if they even make it that far, from losing countless people and battling these things over and over again, but maybe, just maybe it will stop my racing thoughts, the hurt, the anger, the resentment I have for this stupid fucking town for five goddamn minutes, okay?! everything is falling apart at the seams, we’ve all lost so much, I even thought you were getting cosy with Nancy again!” you bite your tongue getting caught up in the rift, Steve looked towards you bewildered. You turn back to the vodka bottle, filling your glass halfway, drinking it down like water and filling it up again, “I’m not asking you to understand Steve, I’m not even asking you to deal with this, you know where the fucking door is.”

Steve stood up from the table and walked over to you slowly, turning you to face him, moving the hair that had fallen so effortlessly over your features, “I love you Y/N, whatever you thought you saw between me and Nancy was not that. I’m happy for her and Johnathan, really. I’m so glad were now with the right people, the people who ground us and make this stupid crazy life worth living, you’re my muse. I would never do that to you, sweetheart. Not ever,” moving his hands over your covered arms, to your hands, holding them gently in his, “I’m not going anywhere Y/N, just please, I don’t want to lose you too. I can’t.”

You looked Steve dead in the eyes, his glassed over, tears threatening to fall. The beautiful honey eyes you’d got lost in time and time again, “Maybe you already have.” His hands let go of yours as he visibly slumped, and took a step back, you might as well have been holding a gun, a bullet to his chest with the way he was looking at you. Turning your back to him, your own tears threatening to fall, you grabbed the bottle again unscrewing the cap, pouring yourself another glass.

“What do you mean?” Steve is silent again, his presence still behind you, feelings of uncertainty heavy in the air, “Y/N, look at me please...” the defeat in his voice made you feel awful, this was your boyfriend of two years, the person that had stayed by your side that whole time, through everything. The good times and the bad, the way you both laughed, the random dates he took you on, sometimes even after work, some of which ended up being group outings as one of the kids had seen you both and then got on the walkie talkies as quickly as possible, they ended up calling that ‘code blue’ as the first time it happened Steve was in his Scoops Ahoy uniform, the movie nights, the late night talks, walks, your safety net, the countless jokes that weren’t even funny. Helping him with his hair, the days he was sick and you’d take care of him, and the days he would do exactly the same back for you. He never faltered, he was always brave, always stayed strong for you, for everyone, but here he was, seconds away from breaking down. A painful ache in his voice that cut you in half, the same ache breaking the last pieces of your heart that were still intact, you wiped your tears away with the back of your sweater, turning around to see Steve once more, pain drowning his features,

“I’m sorry, Steve. I can’t do this anymore.” he sucked in a shaky breath as a sob broke from his lips. Pain. Pain that you had caused. You finished your glass of vodka, keeping your back to Steve, you couldn’t watch him break, you couldn’t see the sadness and heartache on his face. As if he hadn’t been through enough recently,

“Y/N, please,” his voice was low, strained, as though he was bleeding out on the spot behind you, “don’t do this, we can get through this, we can get through anything, please just don’t...” you turned round to Steve his eyes visibly blood shot probably from tiredness and the tears that were free flowing down his cheeks,

“I’m sorry Steve.” You walked past him, a slight sway to your walk from too much alcohol in a short space of time on an empty stomach as you tackled the stairs, all you wanted to do was sleep, before you even got half way up the stairs you heard the front door close causing you to stop on the spot, your own sobs now tearing way through your body, this pain was tearing you apart, so much loss, but you had caused this last one.

You found yourself sitting on the end of your bed looking at the pictures behind your desk once again, would you ever feel that kind of happiness again or was this the new norm? A burning hole in the middle of your chest that was once whole and pushed together in the shape of the people you loved. All of those memories seemed like a lifetime ago, how time and life could be fleeting, oh how you took it all for granted.

***

Two weeks had passed.

Two long weeks.

Probably the longest two weeks of your life.

In those two weeks you’d had almost everyone knock on your door, mainly Robin and Dustin, “Y/N, open this door right now or I promise you I’ll put a brick through your window and climb in there myself.” Dustin shouted as he looked through the small glass patterns on the front door for signs of movement, “I’m not joking Y/N.” Dustin looked around your drive and picked up half a brick, “ten seconds, Y/N!” finally he saw movement and put the brick down on the grass, you opened the door and huffed,

“Dustin, every day for two weeks, ae you not bored yet?” He pushed you aside gently and kicked his shoes off before throwing himself onto the sofa and turning on the small TV as if he lived there, “and how can I be of assistance today?” you stood in the doorway of the living room, you no longer had the bandages on your hands, the cuts on your hands were hardly visible now, your other physical injuries were also doing much better, some might not even scar, not that you cared about a bit of scarring,

“You look like shit,” Dustin looked back at you and scoffed, he wasn’t wrong, you’d been wearing the same kind of clothes for two weeks, anything you could get your hands on. Mix matched sweats and sweaters, sometimes Steve’s t-shirts, on a very rare occasion you treated yourself by wearing a pair of jeans. Your usual full of life hair was lifeless and scraggly from the lack of brushing, your eyes blood shot from lack of sleep, red lips from gnawing at them constantly,

“Well, love you too, Dustin,” you rolled your eyes and went to the kitchen fetching juice and cookies on a tray, “so what is it today?” Dustin cleared his throat and made his way into the kitchen, taking a few cookies off the tray as he took a seat around the table drinking juice you’d bought specially for him,

“It’s Steve,” your breathing hitched as you looked to the floor, biting at your already raw lips, you pulled a second chair out and sat opposite Dustin, taking your own cookie and nibbling at it. You hadn’t eaten well for two weeks now,

“What about him?” you took a swig of your own juice and sit looking towards your younger friend,

“Don’t give me that, Y/N. I know you still care, Robin tells me things, y’know, and you’re not someone that doesn’t care about people,” Dustin shook his head, “this act is bullshit, Y/N. Steve is over there wondering what he did wrong, what he can do to help you, he’s broken, Y/N and none of us can get through to him, ne needs you and you need him and we need you both. We need our kick ass non babysitters back. We need to stick together. We can’t all break otherwise what do we have?” you bit the inside of your cheek letting Dustin talk, you had been unfair, everything in this world was so wrong and you were breaking the only good thing in it,

“I’m scared, Dusty,” you looked to him and he nodded, not wasting time to eat more cookies, all the kids loved your cookies,

“We all are, Y/N. you know this isn’t over right?” you looked down knowingly and started to play with the patterned table cover, “Steve needs you, I need you, we all need you. You know Eddie wouldn’t want this right?” you breathed deeply at the mention of his name, “you’re the bravest person he knew, he told me, and do you know what else?” you looked up from the table, “he loved you and Steve together, he saw how happy he made you and that’s what he wanted for you. He wanted you to be happy.” You sighed, breath shaky as a tear fell from your lashes onto the tablecloth you were playing with moments before,

“Well he got one thing wrong, he was the bravest.” Dustin put his hand over yours and gave it a light squeeze,

“Please just come and see Steve? Everyone is round there trying to cheer him up and he looks just as shit as you, if not more. If you don’t come with me, the others are going to try one by one, I’m the nicer one.” He stood up from the table, hopeful,

“Dustin I can’t,” disappointment clouded his eyes, “I can’t go over there empty handed, help me make some cookies?” the usual toothy grin from Dustin was back, one you hadn’t seen for a such a long time, one that made your heart swell. You loved those kids so much and you’d do anything to protect them, you felt bad for wallowing in in your own self-pity when everyone you cared about was going through the exact same thing as you. You’d nearly lost the one thing that made sense and you were going to try and not let that slip any further. You and Dustin got to work on the cookies, not failing to get flour all over the surface and yourselves. Once the cookies were in the oven and cooking, you looked over to Dustin, “Keep an eye on the cookies for me? I’m going to try and sort this out a bit,” you pointed to your mop of a hair as he grinned and nodded, picking up his walkie as you left the room,

“Guys, it’s Dustin, over.” He waited for the usual static of the walkie patiently as he pressed more buttons hoping to hear from the others,

“Hearing you loud and clear, Dustin, what’s the status, over.” Mike was on the other end, uncertainty in his voice, but hugged by hope, Will, El and even Lucas in the background hugging over the other walkie talkie hoping for a shred of good news. Max was still in hospital, though in good hands. There was hope that she’d still wake up, she was strong and a fighter. Lucas sat by her bedside every chance he got, but he too needed fresh air sometimes, to see his friends. Being cooped up waiting for someone to wake up wouldn’t do anyone any good if it was constant. Same four walls day in, day out. It took some time for him to realise that however.

“Guys, we have ourselves a code blue. Over.” Dustin chimed excitedly as the rest of the youngsters screamed in joy, they were out of ear shot from Steve and Robin, all around the pool as it was such a lovely day in Hawkins, warm with a light breeze hitting the trees and pool every now and then causing small ripples, birds still chirping. Even amidst all the uncertainty and heartache, life could be beautiful.

You looked into the mirror having put a little bit of makeup on, an extreme rarity for you with everything that had gone on the past few years, you’d finally put a brush through your washed hair and changed into something more you, high waisted jeans, a black t-shirt and a light denim jacket you could take off if you wanted, you felt the warmth through the bathroom window as you looked at yourself in the mirror once more, “presentable.” You could smell cookies downstairs signalling Dustin had kept to his word and kept an eye on then, not letting them burn. You hurried down the stairs with a skip to your step and twirled to Dustin who was standing in the hall with a cookie jar in hand, ready to pack them once they’d cooled a little,

“There’s the Y/N I know! Yes!” Dustin fist bumped the air with his free hand wishing the cookies would cool down faster. You gathered your shoes and a small bag to put your keys and anything else you needed in,

“what if he doesn’t want to see me?,” you stopped in your tracks, looking at Dustin unsure, “what if I’ve hurt him too much and he never wants to see me again?” you play with the hem of your denim jacket, backtracking, wondering if this was a good idea after all,

“you’re the only person he wants to see, Y/N. we just invite ourselves in and he’s too nice to tell us to get out,” you shake your head,

“You know that isn’t true, he loves you guys as much as I do, even if he’s in the worst mood possible, he’d always rather have you guys around, you know that,” Dustin nodded, putting the cooler cookies into the jar sealing them tightly, “did you bike over here?” you questioned as Dustin shook his head,

“I didn’t,” he grinned and dug his hand in his back pocket, pulling Steve’s car keys out and waving them in your face, “he doesn’t know, obviously,” Dustin shrugged as you shook your head and put your head in your hand laughing in disbelief, a real laugh, something you forgot you could do,

“Dustin! You could have caused an accident!” you tried to sound serious over your laughing that just wouldn’t stop,

“well, you don’t see many cars on the road these days after what happened, maybe people are too scared,” he shrugged once more, “not me, now. Let’s gooooo!” Dustin ran for the front door, cookies in hand, and his small backpack you didn’t realise he had draped over a shoulder,

“Ahhh. Not so fast, keys!” you extended your hand to Dustin, Steve absolutely loved that car, sometimes you wondered if he loved that car more than you and okay, Dustin got there safely, but now he was in your care he wouldn’t be driving that thing,

“Spoil sport,” he ginned as he handed you the keys stepping out into the outside. You took a deep breath. The smell of the outside you hadn’t seen in weeks. The light breeze through your hair the sun tingling against your skin, butterflies and birds, nature. Things you hasn’t stopped to look at for such a long time, “earth to Y/N,” you shook your head and walked towards the car, opening it for you both.

You hadn’t driven in forever, was it something you could forget? Fastening your seatbelt, making sure Dustin did the same, starting the car and opening the windows, you pulled the sun visor down, a small Polaroid falling onto your lap. You turned it around to see a picture of you and Steve, your heart beating against your chest as you ran your finger over the photo. It was the first one you took together, before you were even official. Halloween 1984. That stupid party, the night Steve and Nancy broke up. You found Steve crying on the back step, you spent the rest of the night trying to cheer him up. One too many beers, weed and a stupid camera, “he kept it...” Dustin looked up at you as you put the photo in the dashboard opposite Dustin,

“Of course he did, he keeps everything,” you didn’t know that, you didn’t say anything further as you pulled off the drive, it wasn’t a long drive. It was actually an easy enough walk, you didn’t live far from Steve. The nights he would randomly turn up at your house and throw pebbles at the window even though no one else was in the house, small memories making you smile.

The drive was quiet, Dustin looking out the window the whole way there, your heart still hammering against your chest, would people be happy to see you, would they hate you, would things be the same, what the fuck were you going to say to Steve? Pulling onto his drive, things got too real, you heard laughter from the other younger people of the group outside as you locked up the car, Dustin rushing to the back gate with cookies, though before he could you were tackled by El, Mike, Will and Lucas, “Y/N OH MY GOD YOU’RE HERE!” mike exclaimed as you laughed with the kids, some of them sopping wet from the pool, of course they still loved you, “we all missed you so much, it’s so good to see you” you ruffled everyone’s hair, something you always used to do when they were younger, something you still hadn’t stopped, tears in your eyes, you smiled, for once they weren’t sad tears,

“I’ve missed you all so much, I’m sorry I haven’t been around, I’m sorry I haven’t been stronger for you all.” They all hugged you tighter, understanding, when did they all grow up?

“we all understand,” Lucas looks at you empathetically, “Max would want us all together, so would Eddie,” you hugged them all just that little bit tighter as they lead you into the back gate, not much had changed in Steve’s back yard except the grass was unkempt, the pool still clean somehow, “we will let you talk to Steve now,” you took a deep breath and looked towards the back sliding doors Robin leaning against them smiling as she ran out to hug you,

“Oh praise the heavens you’re here, I cannot deal with him in there for one minute longer,” you looked towards robin apologetically and she shook her head, “none of that, Y/N. Go see him, bring our Steve back, yeah?” she smiled and sat next to the kids, stealing one of the cookies you made.

You made your way into the house, the house that had so many different memories, you kicked your shoes off and put them where you always do before poking your head into the living room, Steve’s back was towards you as he was staring at the TV something you guessed he’d been doing for the past couple weeks, a lot like you really. His hair was too dishevelled and free of product, but oh fuck did he look like home. “If you’re there to try get me outside in the pool again, Robin I swear to fuck I will change the locks on this house.” He signed defeated and tuned round, his pupils dilating, shock on his face, the evident bags under his eyes from lack of sleep, “Y/N?” he scrambled off the sofa as fast as he could, scared you were a figment of his imagination, “is... is it really you? You’re here...” he stood opposite, reaching out to you,

“Steve...” tears welled in your eyes, “I am so, so sorry, I never wanted to hurt you, I didn’t want what I said, I was so lost in my own mind,” he pulled you into a bone crushing hug, “please forgive me, I’m so sorry,” you pulled away to look at him, tears in his own eyes as he brushed your free falling ones away with his thumb, “I love you so much, I was so scared of losing you too that I fucked up and lost you anyway,” he pulled you back into him, the smell of cedar, bergamot and a slight hint of cigarette smoke, home.

“You didn’t lose me, sweetheart. I love you, more than anything,” he pulled you into him, lips crashing together, cola Popsicle and a small hint of your home cooked cookies that Dustin must have been bringing to him secretly. Everyone loved your cookies. He pulled away and smashed his lips against yours again over and over, the taste of salt now from both of your tears, small lazy kisses planted all over your mouth as he pulled away, your lips slightly swollen, his honey eyes full of life once more, he was never going to let you go. He pulled you flush with his body, your head resting against his chest, as he ran his fingers through your hair, “you’re my home, Y/N. Wherever you are. That’s home to me. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be, okay?” you kissed him again, your cherry chapstick smearing over both of your mouths,

“you’re my home too, Mr. Steve ‘the hair’ Harrington,” you looked up to him, a smile on your face, no longer crying as you knocked your hip with his. The emptiness in your heart glazing over a little, the pieces of your broken heart slowly reconnecting, the feeling of life, love, family.

“Have you seen my hair right now?” he ran a hair though it, washed, but lifeless. “Give me a minute, yeah? Put a movie on.” He kissed you softly before sprinting out of the room. You sat on the sofa you’d sat on countless times as you went through old rentals that would probably never be returned as the video store was one of the places to be destroyed, you placed a VHS in the TV as Steve bounded down the stairs, his hair no longer lifeless and messy, but perfect. Your smile so big your jaw could dislocate, “better? The hair is back,” he grinned and jumped over you on the sofa, “Return of the Jedi? One of my favourites.” He pulled your legs over his lap, both of you draped over the sofa like nothing had changed, his hands caressing your knee, smiles not leaving either of your faces.

“GUYS, CODE BLUEEEE.” Dustin shouted from behind the sofa as everyone else bundled in, “and look at that, Farrah Fawcett spray,” Dustin grinned,

“That’s top secret, dude!” Steve shook his head, a genuine laugh falling from his mouth as everyone pulled blankets and cushions around themselves, your cookies in hand. A good old fashioned movie night, things were going to be okay, you looked over to Steve, his eyes glistening as he squeezed your leg. The people you chose as family, Robin in the corner of the room beaming for the both of you. Both of her best friends back together, where they belong. There was a long road ahead for all of you, but at least you’d always face these things together. You were all so much stronger together. A team. A family.

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anthurak · 1 month

Text

So I’ve been thinking more about one of the more subtle but striking questions brought up by Ruby’s tree vision:

Namely; to where or rather to who were Raven and Summer portaling to? After all, it’s been established that Raven’s semblance, Kindred Link, allows her to create portals specifically to people she has established a certain bond and connection with.

And this is particularly interesting, because of the people we thus far know have Raven’s ‘Link’, only ONE was otherwise not present in the flashback; Qrow.

And wouldn’t you know it; Qrow also happens to be one of the people we can definitively say DOESN’T know what happened to Summer, going off his talk with Ruby in Volume 7 where he mentions having no idea where Summer went or what she was doing on her mysterious last mission.

Now, as I’m sure some people will bring up, it IS possible that Qrow was actually present and is simply keeping quiet about it to Ruby. However, personally I seriously doubt that. As I simply don’t see the writers cheapening such a personal and important scene between Ruby and Qrow by later revealing that Qrow was actually outright lying to Ruby at the time.

So that seemingly leaves us with seemingly only one other option: That Summer and Raven portaled to someone else.

As to who that someone might be? Well personally, I think it would have to be someone we likely haven’t met yet. I know some people have suggested it could have been Ozpin, but frankly I don’t buy that one bit. Whatever happened to Summer is clearly meant to have MASSIVE implications, impact and general status-quo shattering revelations, all things it would make much more sense that Oz has NO idea to. Not to mention it’s kind of hard to imagine Raven forming a link, clearly a very close connection, with someone she seems to have always distrusted like Ozpin. Meaning that we’re left with a character that we simply haven’t be introduced to yet.

However, after giving it some more thought, I think there may be a THIRD option:

Raven and Summer DIDN’T actually portal to a person.

Remember just how we learned the mechanics of Raven’s semblance?

It was via Yang explaining it, via information she was told by TAI.

Here’s the thing though; Tai certainly knew how Raven’s semblance worked back when they were a team with Summer and Qrow. But it’s also been a LONG time since then. And wouldn’t you know it, these last couple volumes have ALSO introduced us to the concept of SEMBLANCE EVOLUTION.

So what if in the near-twenty-odd years since leaving her team, Raven’s semblance ALSO ‘evolved’? To the point where she can form her ‘Links’ with more than JUST people?

Perhaps now Raven can form a link with objects that have particular significance to her? Or, and this one I find the most compelling, LOCATIONS that are particularly important to her?

It’s funny that we’ve never actually known for sure where or to who Raven has been portalling to all the times we’ve seen her. Sure, in hindsight I think we’ve all been assuming it was Vernal in Volumes 2, 3, and 4, and to Taiyang at the end of Volume 5. But the funny thing is, we DON’T actually hear the characteristic sound of Raven’s portal opening in the V5 post-credits scene with Tai, only the flapping of wings. Implying that Raven may not have actually portalled to Tai directly…

Meaning that throughout the show, perhaps Raven wasn’t actually portalling to Vernal, but rather to the camp, the home which now has great significance and meaning to her. And at the end of Volume 5, she portalled not to Tai, but rather to the home she once had on Patch. Or, for the REAL spicy alternative, to Summer’s grave.

So what if at the start of their world-most-homoerotic-suicide-mission together, Raven and Summer portalled not to a person, but rather to a LOCATION that Raven was able to set up a link to?

(shoutout to @mikey-polo420 for the ask that got me thinking about this :D)

#rwby #rwby theory #rwby analysis #Raven Branwen #Summer Rose #rwby semblances #semblance evolution

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callsign-mayhem · 1 year

Text

to the moon and back

Pairing: Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x Mitchell!Reader Word Count: 5.2k

You are the daughter of Pete ‘Maverick’ Mitchell and the lifelong best friend of Bradley Bradshaw. Nothing has ever been able to get in between the two of you, not even the feelings you’ve been harbouring for him for as long as you can remember. But when you both get called to Top Gun for what seems to be a suicide mission, you realise that life is too short to keep your love for him a secret.

Y/CS - your call sign

Use of Y/N but no description of reader

You couldn’t remember the last time you laid eyes on Bradley Bradshaw, and if you’d known you would be this affected by the mere sight of him then you would have better prepared yourself. He was in his rightful place behind the piano at The Hard Deck, performing ‘Great Balls of Fire’ with all his usual enthusiasm, and then some. His infectious personality had every person in the bar gravitating towards him, belting out the lyrics along with him as though their lives depended on it. You had to draw from every reserve of strength you had so as not to march right up to him and kiss him senseless. You’d missed him so much.

Being deployed had been difficult for you and had felt like exactly the wrong thing at the time, but eventually you realised that it was what you needed. If you’d stayed, it would have only been a matter of time until you spilt your guts to Bradley about the feelings you’d been harbouring for him since you were teenagers.

The song was almost over and so was your time for composing yourself. It was ridiculously warm in the packed bar, so taking a deep breath was no good. You resigned yourself to a few shots of something strong - liquid courage if you will - and headed to the bar to speak to Penny.

‘Y/N!’ she exclaimed, ‘what are you doing here?’ ‘I have no idea,’ you told her, ‘an assignment of some sort. I find out more tomorrow,’ you gestured to Bradley and a few of your other friends from the academy, ‘and apparently I’m not the only one they called. I don’t know whether I should be worried or relieved.’ ‘Your dad was just in here. He know you’re back?’ ‘Yeah, I haven’t seen him yet though,’ you gestured to the bottle of Jack behind her, ‘can I get one of those, please? Or three?’ Penny reached for the bottle and a shot glass. ‘Not wasting any time, huh?’ You glanced behind you to where Phoenix was patting Bradley on the back and getting everyone to cheer for him, ‘It’s been a while since I’ve seen these guys.’ ‘You mean it’s been a while since you saw Rooster,’ she smiled knowingly. You downed your shot and slammed the tiny glass back down. Penny refilled it immediately, ‘That too,’ you admitted with a wince. ‘You already know what I’m going to say.’ ‘Yes, and you already know why I can’t tell him.’

You downed your second shot and just as you were about to do your third, someone covered your eyes with their hand. You knew who it was without having to hear him speak or look at his face because you’d know him deaf and blind. Hell, you’d know him in death.

The familiar rumble of his voice in your ear set your entire nervous system alight: ‘Guess who.’ ‘Hmm,’ you pretended to think, ‘I don’t know. Hangman?’ Rooster scoffed, ‘I haven’t seen you in two years and the first thing you do is insult me? Glad to know some things never change, Y/CS.’

You spun around and looped your arms around his neck, pressing your face into the side of his. He lifted you off the floor and spun you around with all the grace of a bull in a china shop, laughing like a little kid. It felt like no time at all had passed.

‘And you’re still shooting whiskey like it’s water,’ he noted, setting you down gently, ‘so you definitely haven’t changed.’

You drank him in hungrily, trying to act like you weren’t totally out of control on the inside. In one of his dad’s old Hawaiian shirts with his aviators perched on the tip of his nose, he wasn’t exactly a brand new man. Something about him was different, though, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. Even as the two of you had gotten older, you’d always seen him as the goofy kid in the cowboy hat that could make you laugh on the darkest days. Throughout high school and your time at the academy, he’d been the person you confided in about everything, and the only secret you’d ever kept from him was your ever-growing feelings for him. But now, after just over two years apart, he felt more like a stranger than ever before. Nothing had changed, but everything had changed, and you were struggling to figure out how that could be.

‘You want a beer?’ you asked. ‘Sure, but no more shots for you. We gotta be up early and I know if you carry on drinking like that you won’t get out of bed.’ ‘When you’re right, you’re right.’

You got Rooster a beer and a JD and coke for yourself before heading over to the rest of the group. There were a few people whose reputations preceded them but you’d never met in real life, and then there was Phoenix, one of your closest friends from the academy. When she saw you she practically jumped on you and Rooster had to take your drink from your hand so it didn’t spill everywhere.

‘Y/CS!’ ‘Hey,’ you giggled, ‘Phoenix, it’s great to see you too but I can’t breathe.’ ‘Sorry, sorry,’ she relented, ‘how’ve you been? I haven’t seen you since your deployment. When did you get back?’ ‘Couple of months ago,’ you told her, ‘I’ve been in South Carolina.’ ‘You’ve been back months?’ Rooster cut in, ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ ‘You know how it is, Roo,’ you said, ‘you get deployed, come home and your whole life is upside down for a while. By the time you’ve settled back in, weeks have gone by and you still haven’t had a chance to see anyone.’

He nodded, but his hurt was apparent. Hangman sidled up next to you and you’d never been more relieved by his incredibly annoying presence. He wrapped an arm around your shoulder, hugging you tight. He was a massive ass, but you’d somehow ended up friends while being stationed together a few years ago. A lot of his bravado was an act, and when he let his guard down he was actually a great person to talk to.

‘Y/N Mitchell,’ he said, ‘Long time no see.’ ‘Can’t say I’m mad about that.’ His usual shit-eating grin was plastered across his face, ‘You and I both know that’s a lie.’ ‘Whatever helps you sleep at night, Seresin.’

Everyone makes small talk for a while and those who have never met before are introduced. You pull a barstool over and sit next to Bob, Phoenix’s new back-seater. She’s the first one to point out the elephant in the room.

‘So anybody know what this ‘special detachment’s’ all about?’ ‘A mission’s a mission,’ Hangman replies, ‘They don’t confront me. What I wanna know is who’s team leader. And which’a ya’ll have what it takes to follow me?’ Hangman winks at Rooster, needling him, ‘Hangman, the only place you’ll ever lead anyone is an early grave.’ Hangman looks up from his next shot and walks over to Rooster until they’re standing face to face. ‘Anyone follows you is just gonna… run outta fuel. But then that’s you all over, ain’t it, Rooster? Snug on your perch, waitin’ for juuuuust the right moment. That never comes.’ Rooster tenses visibly and you grab his arm, ‘Hey, you wanna get another drink? Feel like we’ve got some catching up to do.’

You leave the rest of the group to their game and grab a couple more drinks before heading outside. The Bronco is parked out front looking prettier than ever, paintwork glinting in the late-evening sunlight. If you had a dollar for the amount of late-night drives you and Bradley had taken in that thing, you’d be a billionaire.

You intended to sit at one of the tables outside The Hard Deck, but Rooster had other ideas. You ignored the swarm of butterflies in your stomach when he took your hand and led you down towards the beach and reminded yourself that you had no reason to be nervous; he was your best friend, he didn’t know about your feelings and nothing had changed.

‘I still can’t believe you’ve been back months and you didn’t tell me.’ You cringed, ‘I’m sorry, Bradley. I should’ve called, I know.’ ‘Mav know you’re back?’ Yeah, he’s here too.’

Your father was a touchy conversation subject and you tried to avoid talking about him as much as possible. Once you’d eventually realised that there was no way of convincing Rooster that everything he’d done had come from a place of love and concern, you’d given up trying to keep the peace. It was difficult, letting him fester in his own anger, but it wasn’t your fight. However, you’d be lying if you said you weren’t still holding out hope that things would go back to the way they used to be someday.

‘How’ve you been, anyway?’ you asked, swiftly changing the subject, ‘What’s new in your life?’ ‘The usual. Getting called down here is the most exciting thing that’s happened to me in months.’ You laughed, ‘That can’t be true. What happened to the girl you were dating?’ ‘Molly? Jesus Christ, that was over as quickly as it started. I stopped seeing her not long after you left,’ he sipped his beer, ‘what about you? Meet your future husband while you were away?’ ‘Nope,’ you sighed, ‘starting to think I’m destined to be alone forever.’ ‘What about Hangman?’ Rooster asked, Jake’s callsign sounding like ashes in his mouth.

To call your brief fling with Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin a mistake would have been putting it lightly. You’d been stationed together in Alabama for a little while and he was the only familiar person there so, naturally, you’d gravitated towards him and him to you. After getting to know each other better, one thing had led to another and you’d ended up sleeping together after one too many JD and cokes. That one night had led to another and another until you were pretty much dating, although neither of you had ever mentioned putting any kind of label on whatever it was the two of you had going on. Rooster had been up in arms when he found out, yelling at you down the phone that Jake was a complete and total asshole and that you deserved so much better, leading to the worst - and only - fight you’d ever had.

While getting involved with Jake was definitely a mistake and you didn’t plan on walking down that particular path ever again, you still stood by what you said in his defence: you have to get to know him in order to understand him.

‘You already know that’s over.’

Rooster looked at you and you had to remind yourself to breathe. You’d never wanted to kiss him more in your entire life.

‘I’ve got no idea why we’re here,’ he said, ‘but I’m glad you’re with me, Y/N.’ ‘Me too, Bradley. Me too.’

The special detachment, as it turned out, was a suicide mission. There was no other way of putting it. Your dad was immensely proud of you and your accomplishments and had never once doubted your abilities as a pilot, but he wasn’t happy that you were on this particular mission. He wasn’t happy that Rooster was on it either. After your first day of training, you went to dinner with your old man so you could catch up and talk about what you’d be in for over the course of the next couple of weeks. You hadn’t realised just how much you’d missed him until you were sitting in front of him, but part of you wished it was under different circumstances.

‘Surely me being part of the team you’re training goes against some kind of rule,’ you said around a mouthful of steak. ‘The stakes are so high, I think mostly every rule has already gone out the window.’ ‘I haven’t been this scared since I climbed in a cockpit for the first time,’ you admitted, ‘but I’ve also never wanted to be on a mission more.’ Your dad smiled, but there was fear in his eyes, ‘I don’t like that look, Y/N.’ ‘It’s the only one I got, Dad, and I got it from you.’ ‘Yeah, that’s what I’m worried about.’

White hot rage blinded you like a fire poker between your eyes. The minute Rooster walked through the doors you were racing up to him. Jake had to grab both of your arms and pull you off him to prevent you from swinging at him.

‘What the fuck was that Bradshaw?!’ you roared, ‘You got a fucking death wish?!’

He ran a hand through his hair, face flushed from the heat and the adrenaline coursing through his veins. You weren’t just angry at him for endangering his life, or your dad’s, for that matter, you were angry because you understood why he’d done it. And you knew that if you were in his shoes and you were up there with something to prove, you’d have done the exact same thing.

‘Can we not do this here?’

You shrugged Jake off and straightened out your flight suit, leading Bradley out of the room. He followed you outside into the blazing heat of the San Diego sun where you preceded to turn around and punch him so hard in the shoulder that he took a step back.

‘Jesus, Y/N,’ he huffed, ‘was that really necessary?’ ‘I don’t know, was nearly killing yourself and my dad really necessary?’ ‘I had it under control!’ You laughed humourlessly, ‘Yeah, it looked like it.’ ‘I’m not gonna have this fight with you,’ he said matter-of-factly, ‘I’m sorry for scaring you, but you have to understand-’ ‘I do understand!’ you screamed, ‘But just because I understand, doesn’t mean I can’t be pissed as hell!’

He pulled you flush against his chest and you softened immediately, unable to resist the comfort and security that came with one of Bradley’s bear hugs. If you had it your way, you’d stay in his arms like this for the rest of time.

‘You really need to have it out with Mav,’ you mumbled into his flight suit, ‘this is getting beyond ridiculous - it’s dangerous.’ He kissed the top of your head, ‘I know.’

You had to admit, dog fight football was a stroke of genius on your dad’s part. It was the perfect way to relieve any tensions between the team and also take everyone’s minds off the upcoming mission. Jake and Bradley - the two team captains - tossed a coin to decide who would pick first, and Jake ended up picking you. You suspected he did it just to get underneath Bradley’s skin, and judging by the set of his jaw as you marched over to Jake, his plan worked.

You also had Payback on your team, and between the two of you, you were carrying the whole game. You didn’t like to toot your own horn but… toot toot.

‘Come on Bradshaw!’ you yelled, smirking devilishly, ‘You really gonna let me kick your ass so spectacularly in front of everyone?!’ ‘You’ve got Payback! It ain’t fair!’ ‘Oh, so you don’t think we could win without him?!’

He was holding one of the balls and was preoccupied with insulting you, so when you ran at him at full force and snatched it right out of his hands, he was too stunned to try and stop you. Hangman and Payback both cheered, but as soon as Bradley refocused he was on your heels, and he had the advantage of extremely long legs.

Just before you could score, he came up behind you and wrapped both of his arms around your middle, lifting you off the ground and throwing you over his shoulder. You were so startled you dropped the ball and unluckily for you, Coyote was right there to pick it up and score another point for their team.

‘Put me down you cheat!’

Rooster was laughing so hard you could feel him shaking with it as he ran. He didn’t stop running until he reached the water and it was up to his waist, and then he dropped you in. It was freezing but actually quite a relief after running around in the sun all afternoon. You came up for air coughing and sputtering to find him doubled over with laughter, and you took the opportunity to drag him back down with you, pushing his head down further under the water. You knew you wouldn’t be able to overpower him long and before you could even comprehend what was happening he had a tight grip on both of your thighs, yanking you back under.

If not for the fact that it all happened so quickly, you would have spent more time revelling in the feeling of his big hands wrapped around the tops of your thighs. Your whole body broke out in goosebumps, and you knew it wasn’t from the chill of the water. When you both resurfaced you were smiling like fools and laughing like two lovesick teenagers, and you never wanted the moment to end.

‘Hey!’ Hangman called out, ‘Are you two still playing or what? I’ve got a game to win!’ With an eye roll, you yelled back: ‘Yeah we’re still playing, you couldn’t win without me anyway!’

Somehow, Rooster’s sunglasses had remained on his face throughout the entire fiasco, and you reached out and gently slid them off. He blinked against the sunlight and watched in awe as you put them on.

‘Did I say you could wear those?’ he asked. ‘Did I ask your permission?’

The two of you made your way back towards the rest of the squad, and it looked like your team was back in the lead. A sly remark about Rooster’s sabotage failing was on the tip of your tongue, but then he put his hand on your waist and pulled you into his side, ruffling the top of your head affectionately. The skin-on-skin contact was enough to drive you insane, and your words died on your lips.

‘Keep them,’ he murmured, ‘they look better on you anyway.’

When the mission got moved up, any calmness you felt dissipated like water on the hot asphalt of a runway. Your dad was now team leader and you had mixed feelings about it. You’d spent your whole life fearing for him, but knowing he was going on this mission really took the cake. And then there was the small issue of you being his kid, which would undoubtedly cloud his judgement when it came to selecting the rest of his team. For one, the chances of him even wanting you on the mission were slim to none, but then there was the worry that if he chose you, it would be seen as favouritism.

The final day of training was over and you’d been told to go and get some rest before tomorrow, and despite your exhaustion, you knew that if you were to lay down in your bunk now sleep wouldn’t come. It was one of those rare moments where the sky over Fightertown was empty and as a result, an eerie quiet had settled over the base. You were still in full flight gear - minus your helmet - sitting on the ground in the shade provided by the wing of your F/A-18. Before settling in for the night you still had to find time to shower, get something to eat and see your dad, but you were paralysed.

You dreaded to think how long you would’ve sat there if Rooster hadn’t suddenly materialised. He sat down opposite, stretching his long legs out so they were on either side of you.

‘What are you still doing out here?’ he asked gently, ‘You feeling okay?’

You were fiddling with your dog tags, a nervous tic you’d picked up in the academy, and Rooster never failed to notice. Looking into your eyes earnestly, he took both of your hands in his.

‘Talk to me, Y/CS.’ You sighed deeply, ‘I’ve never been this nervous about a mission before. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.’ ‘This is the highest-stakes mission either of us has ever gone on in our careers. I would be worrying if you weren’t nervous.’ ‘Yeah, but you know me, Roo. I don’t do nerves.’ ‘You think I’m not shitting my pants at the thought of having to fly tomorrow?’ You laughed despite the lump in the base of your throat, ‘You hide it better than me, then.’ ‘You can’t keep anything off your face, Y/N. I always know what you’re feeling.’ ‘You do?’

Your heart dropped at the thought of him being able to read you so well, but in hindsight, you should have known. You’d literally been destined to be best friends since before you were born, since your dads stayed up late one night talking about their futures, wondering if they’d have kids and how well they’d get along. As far as you knew, he’d never kept anything from you, and you’d only ever kept one thing from him. You lived your life at the same pace, shared the same moral compass and wanted all the same things. You finished each other’s sentences and could have secret conversations through facial expressions, without even having to speak. If he called, you answered. If he needed you, you ran to him, and vice versa.

You didn’t need him to confirm your worst fear: he knew you were in love with him. There was no doubt in your mind and you were a fool not to have seen it sooner.

As though he’d read your mind and sensed the worsening of your anxiety, he changed the subject.

‘What do you say we go and grab a bite to eat?’ ‘Like a last supper?’ Bradley laughed, ‘You can be really morbid sometimes, you know that?’

‘It’s been an honour flying with you,’ your dad said, ‘each one of you represents the best of the best. This is a very specific mission. My choice is a reflection of that, and nothing more.’ ‘Choose your two Foxtrot teams.’ Cyclone told him.

You fought the urge to vomit down your flight suit.

‘Phoenix and Bob. Y/CS and Payback.’

You didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

‘And your wingman.’

The tension in the air was palpable. A bead of sweat rolled down the back of your neck.

‘Rooster.’

You could feel Bradley’s eyes on you, but judging by the unpleasant feeling that had overcome you, turning around to face him wouldn’t be a smart idea. For one, he more than likely looked just as nauseous as you and seeing him like that would only cause your anxiety to skyrocket. Secondly, he was the one person you could be completely vulnerable in front of and since it was already taking every ounce of your strength not to cry, it was probably best not to engage.

For the next hour, the seconds passed you by like cars on a highway. You listened to Warlock explain the mission for the final time, but his words went in one ear and came out the other. You stayed at Payback’s side up until it was time to go, but just as you were heading out to the flight deck, your dad pulled you aside for the conversation you’d been anticipating since he said your name.

His expression was, as ever, unreadable and you decided that it was probably a good thing that you didn’t know exactly what he was feeling in that moment. If Maverick was nervous, then you really had something to worry about.

He pulled you close and squeezed you tight, and you let out a single, strangled sob.

‘I know you can do this.’ ‘Me too,’ you were clinging onto him for dear life, ‘but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t terrified.’ ‘If I didn’t believe in you completely, I wouldn’t have chosen you.’ ‘I know, Dad.’ ‘I love you, Y/N.’ ‘I love you too. I’ll see you when we get back.’

He kissed the top of your head before letting you go and you headed out to the flight deck together. Payback was already waiting for you, but it seemed as though there was one more conversation to be had. Maverick patted Rooster on the back as he passed, throwing one final glance back at the two of you. All you could do was remind yourself over and over again that you’d be seeing him later and that you’d be going for steaks at your favourite diner back in San Diego before you knew it.

You could tell Rooster didn’t know what to say but it didn’t matter. You already knew, because you were thinking all the same things.

‘When we get home, I have some things I wanna talk to you about.’

He reached out to touch your cheek and you leaned into his hand, almost nuzzling his palm with the side of your face. Hugging him, you decided, would be too final. It would feel like a goodbye, and this wasn’t a goodbye, it was simply ‘see you later.’

‘There are some things I want to talk to you about as well,’ you smiled sheepishly, ‘but if you can read me as well as you say, you already know that.’ ‘Yeah, I know.’ ‘Fly safe, Roo.’ ‘Give ‘em hell, Y/CS.’

It wasn’t humanely possible to count how many times you’d flown. It was as natural as breathing oxygen, almost a second thought at this point. Getting into the cockpit of a fighter plane felt more like coming home than walking through the front door of the house you grew up in with your dad.

But nothing could have prepared you for that mission.

And nothing could have prepared you for the immense feeling of sheer panic and terror when your dad was hit. It was as though the bottom of your plane had dropped out and you were in freefall. If that wasn’t horrific enough, Rooster had gone after him. This paired with the chaos of the dogfight was traumatising enough that you’d forgotten how to breathe and what you were supposed to be doing. You had absolutely no idea how Payback managed to talk you down from going after both of them, but he did, as well as calming you down enough so you could fly back to the aircraft carrier.

You weren’t in the habit of being overly emotional in front of anyone who wasn’t Bradley or your father, but when you climbed out of the cockpit and Phoenix was already waiting for you, arms open, you collapsed onto her and broke down. You’d been completely inconsolable up until you got word of Rooster’s signal in an unidentified F-14.

Surprisingly, the relief came after cursing yourself for ever believing that your father could be bested by anyone. At this point, you were almost entirely sure that he was immortal. And as for Bradley, he was much stronger than everyone else realised. He gave Maverick a run for his money, and that was saying something. Phoenix was the only reason you hadn’t collapsed onto the ground when you realised they were okay and coming home, with the help of Hangman, of course. In the back of your mind, you were wondering how long it was going to take to hear the end of it from Jake.

And there you were on the flight deck with Phoenix’s arm around your shoulder and Payback’s around your waist, watching your dad and your best friend make the rockiest landing you’d ever seen. It felt as though all your internal organs were in your throat as you watched the net get thrown out, ready to catch the incoming aircraft and stop it from going overboard. The sound was near-deafening but you hardly noticed with the rushing blood in your ears. As soon as that plane stopped moving, you tore away from Phoenix and Payback and made a beeline towards the F-14, safety concerns be damned.

Your dad climbed out first, somehow steady on his feet despite what he’d just been through. But that was Mav all over, wasn’t it? He didn’t so much as wobble until you threw yourself at him.

‘Dad!’ you shrieked, ‘Are you okay? Are you hurt?’

He held you with the strength of someone who had a newfound value for their own life. He cradled the back of your head with one hand and stroked your hair like he used to when you were small.

‘I’m okay, are you okay?’ ‘You’re seriously asking me that?’ He laughed breathlessly, ‘I’m okay now.’ You squeezed him tighter than ever before, ‘I love you, Dad. I love you so much.’ ‘I love you too,’ he replied, releasing you reluctantly, ‘and I want you to know how proud I am of you for pulling that off.’ ‘It’s in my blood.’ He put his hands on either side of your face and leaned in to kiss your forehead, ‘I think you should go and speak to Rooster,’ he whispered, ‘we’ll talk more afterwards, okay?’

At the mention of Rooster, all the wind was knocked out of you. All you could do was nod at your father before he headed over to the rest of the squad, leaving you alone in front of the battered F-14. Rooster had jumped out right after your dad, but he’d given the two of you some space. You locked eyes like they do in the movies, but this wasn’t a movie. The world didn’t tilt on its axis or stop turning altogether; it was more like the two of you were the only ones in it that actually mattered. Everyone around you might as well have been frozen in time.

He was taking long strides towards you, but he couldn’t get to you quick enough so you ran to meet him halfway, not stopping until your face was mere millimetres away from his. He was filthy, covered in blood, and sweat and God only knew what else, but you were blinded by the light behind his eyes. You’d always been totally mesmerised by him, but this was something else entirely. It was suddenly very apparent to you that you would do anything this man asked of you, follow him down to the eye of any storm, love him until you took your final breath.

‘Y/N-’ ‘Don’t say anything,’ you interjected, ‘I already know what you’re gonna say, and I don’t wanna waste any more time.’

And before he could utter another word, you pressed your lips to his. The kiss started out soft but then he ran his fingers through your hair and somehow managed to pull your face even closer, deepening the kiss. He ran his tongue along your lips and you parted them for him, finally tasting him the way you’d wanted to for as long as you could remember. Your veins were thrumming with so much electricity you thought your head might explode. When you eventually parted, the space between you was too much for you to bear (you never wanted there to be any space between you and Bradley ever again) so you looped your arms around his neck just like you always did when you hugged him. His face was full of so much adoration, anyone would think you’d hung the bloody moon in the sky.

‘Do you know how long I’ve wanted to do that?’ he asked. ‘If it’s anywhere near as long as me, we’re going to be kicking ourselves.’ He kissed the tip of your nose and you damn-near melted, ‘I don’t want to go another day without kissing you like that.’ ‘Neither do I.’

You’d forgotten that the rest of your squad was standing a few feet away, waiting to celebrate with you. When you turned around, they were all cheering for you and Rooster and you could just about make out Phoenix’s ‘finally’ over the sound of Payback’s hoots. You knew you had to go over there and that there would be plenty of time to be alone when you got back to San Diego, but you couldn’t wait until then to tell Bradley how you felt about him. If he hadn’t already guessed.

You had to stand on tip toes to reach his ear, where you whispered: ‘I love you, Bradley Bradshaw. To the moon and back again.’ You felt him shiver beneath your touch. ‘I love you too, Y/N.’

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mysterious-moonstruck-musings · 6 months

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Destiny & Deliverance: Chapter 27

Destiny & Deliverance Masterlist ||| Main Masterlist Dieter Bravo X OFC

Series Summary: Natalia Cohen is experiencing major life changes, beginning with leaving an emotionally abusive husband. She is learning how to navigate life on her own while dealing with high functioning anxiety, depression, and mild PTSD. Everything is looking up for her. She is a highly respected consultant for a major LA firm, has her best friend, Lauren, by her side, and is on her path to healing. Everything changes when she meets a handsome and broken stranger on a work trip. He turns out to be a well-known actor, with a heart-breaking past. They quickly develop a connection that will forever alter their lives.

Warnings: Themes dealing with mental health, emotional trauma, alcohol use, and discussions about suicide. There will be fluff, tears, spicy language, and smut. This will be a slow burn type of story. Read at your own risk.

Chapter Warnings: Discussions about intimate partner violence, suicidal ideation, mental health struggles, drug abuse, and alcohol abuse.

Chapter Quote: "I got to snuggle some baby goats."

It took everything in me to hold back the sob that threatened to escape the instant I heard Dieter’s voice. I momentarily placed my hand over my mouth to hold it in and compose myself. I let out a shaky breath as I tried to find my voice.

“Dieter?”

I could hear his stuttered breathing on the other end of the line. He sounded like he was battling with his emotions too.

He cleared his throat, “Yeah… it’s me.”

I sighed loudly into the phone as the tears started to slide down my face. I felt like my brain had completely shut down on me, unsure of what to say but also feeling the urge to say everything all at once. It was so overwhelming but also awkward since we had not talked in so long. There were still so many things up in the air between us.

“How’ve you been?” He asked, sounding unsure of himself. I felt like he didn’t know what to say either.

I sniffed loudly as I wiped at my face, “Umm, I’ve been ok. How are you feeling?”

“I’m feeling good. Normal, I think…then again…I’m not sure I really know what normal is,” we both laughed nervously.

“I’m feeling better than I have in a long time. I can confidently say that at least,” he added.

I smiled. It was nice to know that he was feeling better. It helped dampen some of the worry I had been feeling.

“How are things going, otherwise?”

“Well, I got to snuggle some baby goats during group therapy this morning. I kinda want one now.” He sounded unabashed about this revelation.

“Of course you do,” I said in response, shaking my head and chuckling at the thought.

“I gotta new roommate two weeks ago…Gordon is his name. He’s an interesting guy…he uhhh…” he stifled a laugh before continuing. “He said he came here because the wall outlets were talking to him. Like, full conversations. They finally stopped after he got his meds sorted out. Made me feel a little better about my issues.”

I was a little dumbfounded, “Ummm, I’m not sure if I should laugh about that or not…” Dieter snickered, “He jokes about it now, so I think it’s ok.”

It felt good to hear him laughing again. I had missed that sound more than I realized. I really missed his voice in general. He sounded different. Better, lighter almost. It was a sound I wanted to commit to memory.

“Umm…so Gabby said you didn’t take that job offer?” His nervousness had returned with that question.

“No, I turned it down.” I started rubbing at my shoulder with my free hand as I moved to sit down at the kitchen table.

“Why? It sounded like an amazing opportunity”

I sighed, now rubbing at the crease between my brows, “It was, but it’s not where I wanted to be or what I wanted to do. I would’ve had to give up too much and I don’t feel like I’m in the right headspace to do that.”

“I hope it wasn’t because of me…”

“No. I mean, I guess I can’t say no. You’re part of it…but my life is here. I can’t leave Lauren or even Gabby and Alex at this point. We’ve all gotten so close. And like I said, I’m not in the right headspace for that. I would’ve been spending a lotta time alone and I don’t wanna do that right now. It just wasn’t where I felt like I should be. I didn’t feel any kind of excitement over it at all, so I turned it down”

I suddenly felt vulnerable revealing that to him, questioning if I should have. I didn’t want him to worry about me when he needed to be focusing on himself.

“Are you sure you’re doing ok?” He asked quietly.

“Yeah, I’m fine. You don’t have to worry about me, I promise. I’m just…I-” I huffed, shaking my head. I wasn’t sure if it was ok to finish that thought. I didn’t want to make any assumptions about how he was feeling or make an ass of myself.

I heard him chuckle quietly over my flustered response, “I miss you too.”

I was instantly calmed by his words, my anxiety about where we stood easing some. I let out a shy laugh at his declaration, tears still running down my face as I sniffled out, “You do?”

“Of course, I do, so fucking much… I - I’m sorry I haven't called you. I wanted to make sure I had a clear head when I did, and then I didn’t really know what to say after everything that happened.”

I heard him inhale sharply before he spoke up again, there was a tapping noise, like he was drumming his fingers against something.

“Listen, I’ve only got a few minutes left before they cut me off for today, but the reason I called…”

He paused, clearing his throat nervously, “Umm, so I wanted to see if you would be willing to come here and do a session with my psychiatrist and me…”

“Of course, when?”

“Whenever you can. Just uhh, call my case worker and she’ll get it scheduled.”

I could hear him shuffle around before he started cursing under his breath.

“Well, I was gonna give you the number but now I can’t find it...Gabby should have it.”

I couldn’t help but to snigger at him. He was still a little bit of a hot mess, which I loved about him.

He followed up with an exasperated “sorry” about not being able to find the number before he let out a quiet laugh at himself. It felt like part of it was his nervousness too.

“I’ll text her to get it as soon as we hang up and I’ll call immediately.”

I could hear him sigh in relief before a beeping noise broke into our conversation with an automated message giving a one minute warning.

“I’ll be there tomorrow if they’ll let me…or at least as soon as they’ll let me,” I said in a rush. Suddenly feeling the pressure of our limited time. I still felt like I had so many things to say to him.

“I would like that. I…I really can’t wait to see you…”

His words trailed off, shaking slightly as he was hit with another wave of emotions.

“I can’t wait to see you either,” I replied with a quivering voice.

After a moment of silence, there was a clicking sound as the line disconnected. I held the phone against my forehead, trying to get my breathing back to normal. Once I was able to focus my thoughts, I sent a quick text to Gabby to let her know that Dieter had called and that I needed the number for his case worker. I half expected her to call me, but thankfully she didn’t. She replied back quickly with the number and that she was happy he finally reached out. She followed that message up with another asking me if I was ok and if I needed to talk about it. I appreciated her offer, but I was good for now and let her know as much. Once I finished texting with Gabby, I dialed the number for the case worker, suddenly feeling nervousness forming in the pit of my stomach.

“Sanctuary Hills, this is Sharon,” the polite, yet comforting voice answered.

“Hi Sharon, this is Natalia Cohen…” She cut in before I could continue.

“Oh, Talia, hi. I’ve been expecting your call. Dieter told me he was going to be calling you.”

I let out a nervous laugh, slightly taken aback by the familiarity in which she said my name. It made me wonder how much he had talked about me.

“I assume you’re calling about an appointment for a family session?”

I didn’t know why, but it stirred something in me when she called it a family session. Technically, I wasn’t his family, but they were treating me as if I were. I could feel the tears prickling at my eyes again as I exhaled out a breathy “yes” in response.

“That’s wonderful news, I know he’ll be overjoyed to see you.” I could hear the smile in her voice

“I can’t wait to see him either,” I replied, still trying to keep the emotions out of my words.

“Alright, let me have a look at the schedule. Dr. Rosenberg did ask that you be prepared to be available for at least a week for additional sessions, if possible.”

“Additional sessions?” I was confused. I couldn’t recall if the same thing had been asked of Gabby, which caused my anxiety to flare.

“Don’t worry, it’s perfectly normal for that to happen. It’s mostly educational sessions for family members if they’re willing to participate.”

“Oh, ok. That doesn’t sound so bad.” I laughed nervously.

“When would you like to come in?” she asked with a calming tone.

“As soon as you can get me in is preferable.” I started tapping on the table as I waited for options, listening to the clicking of a keyboard on her end.

“How about 10 AM the day after tomorrow?”

“I’ll take it,” I said a little too eagerly. The anticipation of seeing Dieter again was starting to get to me.

“I have it scheduled. In case you do end up staying for additional sessions, we have apartments on site for patient families. So, you won’t have to worry about lodging. We don’t want you stressing about that while you’re here.”

“Oh, that’s…nice. Thanks for letting me know.”

“When you arrive for your session, come in the north entrance with the blue awning and they'll get you checked in. It’s a different entrance than where you would have come in before.”

I thanked her and our conversation ended soon after that. Afterwards, I sat staring out the kitchen window, feeling the anxiousness settle into my gut. Not knowing what to expect was always the worst for me. It was like that call had started a countdown, to what, I wasn’t sure. I could only hope the end result would be something positive.

The morning of our session, I had a ridiculously early flight so that I could be there in time. I decided to keep things simple with minimal makeup, a messy bun, sunglasses, sneakers, skinny jeans, and one of Dieter’s button up dress shirts with the sleeves rolled up. I had raided his closet while I was at his house cleaning up. It was something small, but being wrapped in his scent or wearing something that belonged to him brought me some comfort during my time without him. His clothing quickly became a staple in my casual attire.

I was so anxious about seeing Dieter again that the flight didn’t faze me like it normally would have. Though it was an hour and a half, it seemed much quicker as the minutes continued to count down and the distance between us shortened. I could feel myself getting more worked up the closer I got. By the time I acquired the rental car and was on the road to the facility, my chest was heavy. Breathing was getting harder with each mile that passed.

When I pulled into the parking lot, I could feel my heart pounding in my ears. I sat gripping the steering wheel tightly in both hands and taking deep breaths. I wasn’t even sure why I was so nervous, it’s not like I knew what Dieter was planning to talk to me about. However, deep down I had a fear, though most likely irrational, that he was going to realize he didn’t really want to be with me after this. I wasn’t sure if I could handle that a second time if it were to happen. Without permission, the tears started to streak down my cheeks, and I felt like I was going to be sick.

After a few more deep breaths, I slammed my fist down on the stop of the steering wheel out of frustration, “Fucking hell, get it together Talia.”

My head dropped back onto the headrest as I squeezed my eyes shut, still taking deep controlled breaths. After several minutes passed, I let out a slow exhale before opening my eyes. Feeling more relaxed, I did a quick check in the mirror to make sure I didn’t look like a complete mess before exiting the vehicle to go inside.

I was starting to have an out of body feeling as I went through the check in process. I couldn’t really remember walking to the building or anything the lady behind the desk had just said to me as I sat down in the lobby to wait. After a few minutes, one of the receptionists called my name and led me through a secure door down a long hallway. We passed several offices that had glass inserts in the doors with shades. Most of the shades were pulled closed, however, I noticed one was open. As I approached, I glanced inside and was met with a familiar figure sitting in a high backed desk chair in the middle of the room with his head leaned back and eyes closed as he spun back and forth, his legs bouncing ever so often. He was sitting on the opposite side of a desk from a woman who was possibly in her fifties, with graying hair and a kind face. Though, she did have a slightly overwhelmed look about her as her eyes met mine through the glass.

I stopped briefly, watching him wave his hands animatedly as he talked incessantly, never raising his head or opening his eyes. I felt a small smirk sneak across my face. He was nervous too. I could tell. My eyes flicked back to the woman, who was watching me watch him with a soft smile on her face.

My attention was pulled away by the receptionist, who was now at my side waiting for me to continue following her.

“He’s been driving us all crazy this morning. I think poor Sharon is getting the worst of it. He’s beyond excited that you’re here today.”

I chuckled at the thought before continuing down the hallway. I was led into a spacious office. It was modern and white with floor to ceiling windows on one side with nothing in sight but nature. All the furnishings were earth tones of brown and deep reds and oranges. I noticed there were a lot of plants filling the space, which added a homey feeling, in a strange sort of way. It also struck me how there were different seating areas on either side of the room. One had a small couch and cushy chair positioned in front of it, while the other had four cushy chairs sitting closely together in a circle. Each of the seats were adorned with soft looking pillows in various shades matching the space. There was a traditional desk setup in the center of the room with two chairs placed in front of it. Each area felt carefully designed to meet specific needs.

Moments after entering the room, I was greeted by Dr. Rosenberg who first shook my hand, then pulled me in for a loose hug.

“Talia, it’s nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard so much about you the last couple of months.”

It took me by surprise, though I felt like it shouldn’t have. There was a certain familiarity and kindness that everyone seemed to have toward me. Everyone had been very warm and welcoming thus far. It was comforting to know this was the type of environment that Dieter had been in.

I gave her a tight lipped smile as she led me over to sit in one of the four chairs in a circle. To my surprise, the chair spun slightly as I sat in it. Dr. Rosenberg turned hers to face me directly, so I did the same with mine. I had managed to stay composed thus far, but my nervousness was starting to show as I reached up and rubbed at my shoulder. The psychiatrist was silent for a moment as she watched my movements. I stopped, sat up straight and placed both hands on top of my crossed legs to keep from fidgeting.

I’m not sure why, but I felt the need to appear like I had my shit together. I took a minute to study her as she gave me a soft smile while she continued to get settled, grabbing a notepad, file folder, pen, and glasses from the small table next to her seat. She was probably in her early fifties, maybe late forties. Her long blonde hair was pulled back into a low ponytail, and she was dressed in business casual attire. I could tell she wanted to appear professional, but not uninviting. She was also definitely looking at my body language very closely, which was making me feel antsy. My therapist used to do that, and I hated it. I mentally smacked myself over my thoughts. I was already putting up walls and we hadn’t even started talking yet.

“Well, it’s been an exciting morning around here. Dieter is definitely happy you’re here. He was asked to leave his group session this morning because he couldn't focus. He’s been bugging poor Sharon ever since.” She laughed and smiled affectionately at her words.

She was trying to get me to relax. I knew that I looked too tense. I let out a breathy laugh as I sat back further in the seat, trying to appear less uptight, but I didn't think it was working. She gave me a sympathetic look suddenly, “You’re nervous to see him.”

It wasn’t a question. Looking down at my hands, I chuckled to myself briefly before clearing my throat to speak, “Yeah, I guess I am. I just…don’t know what to expect.”

“That’s a perfectly normal feeling. It’s not unusual for family members to worry if their loved one is going to be different after treatment. Is that some of what you’re feeling?”

Her question took me by surprise, “Ummm, maybe. Sort of...maybe not so much about him being different…more about him feeling differently.”

She nodded, “I understand. I can’t say that he won’t be different. His personality may present differently, more calm, less emotional or moody. He will feel differently in that he won’t be cycling from one extreme to the other, emotionally. As far as how he feels ABOUT things, that isn’t going to change just because he’s stabilized. Does that make sense?”

I gave a tight nod, “Yeah, it does.” It didn’t do anything to ease my anxiety though because I still didn’t know how he really felt about us. She eyed me for a second before continuing.

“So, I’ll fill you in on my plan for today. First, you and I are going to chat about Dieter’s diagnosis. Once we’re done, I’m going to bring him in for the session. After that, you and I will have a follow-up meeting to discuss the path forward. Does that sound ok to you?”

“Yeah, that’s fine.” I started to chew on my bottom lip while she flipped through the file in her hand.

“Great. Just so you’re aware, Dieter signed release forms for you to have access to his medical and treatment information. Nothing is off the table, so if you have questions, ask. He made it clear to me that he wants you to know everything and wants you involved as much as you want to be.”

I paused briefly, shocked by that information. I exhaled the breath I didn’t realize I was holding, “Ok...I wasn’t expecting that.”

She smiled before continuing, “Alright, let’s get to it then?” She raised her brows at me, asking permission to proceed. I motioned with my hand to continue.

“So, he’s been formally diagnosed with mixed episode Bipolar I Disorder (BD). In simple terms, bipolar disorder is when someone experiences extreme behavioral or mood changes. The extreme highs are called manic episodes, and lows are episodes of depression. Most people with BD go through highs and lows over an extended period of time. Someone with mixed episodes, like Dieter has, tend to experience both highs and lows simultaneously or in a rapid sequence with no recovery time.”

She paused, giving me a minute to digest her words. I couldn’t say I was surprised by the diagnosis, it actually made a lot of his behavior make sense. When I didn’t speak up, she continued.

“I think what happened with Dieter…he was put on a lot of medication. Antidepressants in particular can be very tricky for someone with BD. It can cause an increased risk of mood destabilization when the antidepressants are not taken with a mood stabilizer. He was on pretty much everything but a mood stabilizer. You add that in with not sleeping, not eating, drinking, anxiety, and episode triggers…it’s a recipe for disaster. Sometimes being improperly medicated like that can trigger suicidal ideation and even psychosis. Honestly, he was fighting a losing battle.”

I leaned forward in my seat, placing my elbows on my knees while I rubbed at my face. I felt anger bubbling in my chest.

“Why didn’t his therapists or doctors catch what was happening?”

“One reason…lack of experience. BD is also incredibly hard to diagnose because it shares symptoms with so many other more common disorders like anxiety, depression, PTSD, and ADHD, which is what he was being treated for. That’s not to say he doesn’t have those things as well, but if he does, we need to take a different treatment approach.”

I sighed, shaking my head in disbelief. “Wow, that actually kind of blows my mind.”

“I know… and I’m surprised that no one thought to look into it, given his family history. It can be hereditary, and BD does have a high suicide rate. Given what happened with his mother, it should’ve been considered. Also, the fact that he experienced trauma in dealing with that incident...trauma often causes the onset of symptoms.”

I sighed heavily as the tears started to pool in my eyes, “This actually…kind of pisses me off that he had to go through all of this needlessly. He fucking hated taking that stuff because of the way it made him feel.”

“That brings me to my next topic...It's been hard to get a baseline with him. I feel like a lot of the things he was experiencing were side effects from all the medications he was on. I can’t really rely on his history before he started the medication because he was using recreational and prescription drugs and drinking heavily to self medicate, which could have been making things worse for him during that time as well.” She paused briefly to gauge my reaction, “I assume you knew about his past substance abuse issues?”

“Yeah, he’s mentioned it…What does all that mean?”

“Well, it’s hard to know exactly what his actual symptoms are right now. So, to start, I’m doing the bare minimum. I’ve started him out on a low dose mood stabilizer called divalproex sodium. It’s actually…an anticonvulsant that’s normally used to treat seizures rather than a typical mood stabilizer like lithium.”

I drew my brows down together in confusion, “Why a seizure medication?”

“That medication increases the amount of a chemical called gamma-aminobutyric acid in the brain. It works to block certain transmissions across the nerves in the brain and creates sort of an overall calming effect. That particular medication often works best for patients that have mixed or rapid cycling episodes. Lithium typically doesn’t get the job done in those instances. He seems to be doing well on it so far. We’ll give it a few more months to make sure everything else is out of his system and reevaluate.”

“So, he went from taking half the pharmacy…to one thing?”

“He did. He seems pretty set on limiting the medications as much as possible. He’s been spending a lot of his time doing cognitive behavioral therapy, interpersonal and social rhythm therapy, and psychoeducation to help him manage his symptoms and learn about triggers and that sort of thing. He’s been very invested in it, and it seems to be helping.”

I sighed, starting to feel overwhelmed, “I don’t know what all of that is. I mean, I know cognitive behavioral therapy but…” I shook my head in confusion.

“No worries, if you decide to continue with the family education sessions you’ll learn about that stuff. I know it’s a lot to take in...”

“Yeah, it is, but I’m happy that he’s hopefully on the right track now.” I took a couple of deep breaths to try and relax some as I continued to process things.

“One last thing before I bring Dieter in...I know you two were no longer together before his hospitalization and you haven’t really had a chance to work things out. His preference is to stay with you when he leaves treatment. I do want to be able to manage his expectations if that isn’t going to be the case. I don’t want you to feel like you have to allow that if you aren’t ready to take all this on. I want you to know that you can say no.”

I was taken aback at her directness, but also appreciated it. I actually felt like I was warming up to her some and feeling more comfortable with opening up to her. I didn’t hesitate with my response, if anything, I said it with conviction, looking directly into her eyes as I spoke.

“There’s no question in my mind about him coming home with me so long as he wants to. I’ve known from the start that he was struggling with his mental health, and I promised to support him through it. A new diagnosis doesn’t change anything for me. I’m all in for this.”

Dr. Rosenberg gave me a warm smile, clearly satisfied with my response. “Now I see why he says you can be a force to be reckoned with.”

My eyebrows shot up at her words as she again took me by surprise, “Dieter said that?” I chuckled at the thought as I leaned back in my seat, surprised that was the wording he chose.

“He’s said a lot of things about you, all positive, of course.” She laughed quietly to herself as she set her glasses on the table. As she stood, she announced she was going to go get him for our joint sessions.

After Dr. Rosenberg disappeared out the door, I could feel my anxiety returning. My chest was starting to tighten again as my heart beat a mile a minute. Instinctively, my right hand moved to rub at my shoulder. Was he going to be upset about how easily I gave up on us? I didn’t know how he couldn’t be. It didn’t sound like he was planning to end things for good even though that thought kept crossing my mind. It was clearly my pessimism and self-doubt seeping in. The thought of being completely open and vulnerable in this setting was making things worse too. I wasn’t a fan of having an audience, but I needed to get over that and not build up my walls right now. I propped my arm on the rest of the chair and started to rub at my forehead as my leg began to bounce. I couldn’t make myself stop the fidgeting no matter how hard I tried.

After several minutes passed, Dr. Rosenberg returned with Dieter following behind her. His head was down, clenching and unclenching his hands as he walked. As he approached me, he finally looked my way through his lashes. He gave me a small smile that widened as his eyes dropped down to my shirt, obviously noticing I was wearing one of his. I gave him a shy smile in return. He sat down in the chair directly in front of me as Dr. Rosenberg returned to her earlier spot.

It was clear he was nervous by the way he couldn’t keep his hands still and how the heel of his croc kept bouncing off the tiled floor. He would only occasionally glance in my direction as we waited for Dr. Rosenberg to get settled again. I took the opportunity to study his appearance. He looked so much better compared to the last time I had seen him. His light gray t-shirt was no longer loose looking around his fit torso. His pale skin had been replaced with a golden tan. His hair was longer and as wild as ever, framing his scruffy and patchy beard. His chocolate brown eyes looked clearer than I had ever seen them and were filled with nervousness and anticipation.

Once Dr. Rosenberg was ready to start, she filled Dieter in on what she had discussed with me about his diagnosis. She then encouraged him to take the lead going forward and discuss the things he wanted to speak with me about. He rubbed his hands together nervously, briefly chewing on his bottom lip before he met my gaze to speak.

“So, you’re…ok with that diagnosis?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. I wasn’t sure what he meant and gave him a confused look. “Like, it doesn’t freak you out or anything? I know it’s a lot to deal with.”

“Dieter, the diagnosis doesn’t change anything. You’re still you. Why would it bother me?”

“I dunno, I’m just afraid that at some point you’re gonna realize how big of a mess I am and run away from it all,” he said sheepishly.

I chuckled, leaning forward in the seat with a teasing smile, “I realized how big of a mess you were a long time ago.” He scratched at his chin as a smirk formed on his lips.

“Besides, I’m pretty sure I’ve already seen the worst of it and I’m still here. My feelings for you haven’t changed. You don’t have to worry about that from me.”

His eyes turned glassy at my words as he pinched his brows together, looking downward at his hands in his lap.

“I don’t deserve you, not after the way I treated you…the things I said. I was such an asshole to you.”

I bit at my bottom lip, shaking my head before speaking, “None of that matters to me. I know you weren’t completely yourself when you said those things.”

“No, I wasn’t but I still knew what I was doing and saying. I apparently tend to self-sabotage things. Some of the things I said, using your past against you, I knew it would hurt you. I wanted the words to hurt so you would let me go. I knew you wouldn’t otherwise.”

“Why though? I don’t understand why you felt the need to end things to begin with. Why was I a burden to you?”

His eyes widened at my question, brows shooting upward as he shook his head from side to side, “No, no you weren’t the burden…I was. I’m sorry I made you think that. I know the night I called, I wasn’t making a lot of sense. I…I hadn’t slept in days, and I was such a fucking mess.”

He licked his bottom lip and chewed at it for a second before continuing, “I could see how you were having to completely change everything about your life to accommodate me and my work just for us to be together. I knew it was eventually gonna be a problem and cause you stress because it was affecting your job. I didn’t wanna ruin your life that way. You shouldn’t have to cater your life to mine, it’s not fair. I love you too much to do that to you.”

“Dieter, it wasn’t always gonna be like that. It just happened to be shitty circumstances caused by the remote location. If we hadn't been in the middle of nowhere, I could’ve worked without issue. We just weren’t prepared for the challenges that came up. This is a learning experience for both of us. We’ll know better for next time so I can plan accordingly…and it wasn’t like you weren’t making changes to meet me halfway.”

He couldn’t argue with that. He sighed as he leaned back in his seat, nodding in agreement.

“I know that now, I wasn’t exactly thinking clearly…obviously. It all made sense at the time.” He rolled his eyes, frustrated with his behavior. He took a deep breath before continuing.

“It was more than that though, I knew I was spiraling out of control. I could fucking feel it happening and didn’t know how to make it stop. I didn’t wanna tell you what was going on because I didn’t want you to worry. I knew you would drop everything and fly back to Canada to be with me.”

“You’re damn right I would’ve… and I should’ve done that anyway.” I could feel my emotions catching up to me, my eyes filling with tears as I looked down away from him.

“I fucking knew it…in my gut that something was wrong, and I did nothing. If I had just done it…came up there anyway, this probably would’ve gone differently. I could’ve helped you through it, but no…I was a fucking coward. I gave up because I was selfish and wanted to protect myself. I didn’t even try because I was too afraid that I would end up in a dark place again if you didn’t want me to be there with you.”

The tears were streaking down my cheeks by this point. I couldn’t hold them back anymore. I had so much anger for myself that it was making me feel sick. Dieter stood from his seat, closing the few feet between us, then got down on his knees on the floor in front of me. He moved to grab my hands in my lap, but hesitated. I reached up and grabbed his in response.

“I’m sorry I put you in the position to even have to think that. It should’ve never happened. I should’ve been communicating everything with you instead of pushing you away. This whole fucking mess is my fault…I wanted to reach out so many times after that… to try and fix it, but you seemed like you were doing ok so I didn’t want to upset you again.”

The tears were streaming down his face now as he took a minute to try and compose himself.

“I thought I could move on and just deal with things the way I used to…by numbing the pain. That’s when I started drinking heavily again. Then I saw you at the restaurant, and you looked so fucking amazing…and I was such a dick. I was so angry with myself for that. I couldn’t stop thinking about how I had everything and fucked it up. My behavior after that night was reckless. There are days I can’t even remember because I was drinking so much. I just wanted to not think about it anymore.”

He pulled his hands away, looking down at the floor before wiping at his face. When he raised his head again, the pain in his eyes nearly made my heart stop. I reached out to cup his cheek, but he leaned away, seeming to need space.

“The night that video of you was posted online…several people sent it to me. I didn’t watch it at first because I didn’t think it would mean anything…but when I finally did…”

He put his hand over his mouth, letting out a quiet sob, before continuing.

“I could see how bad you were hurting…how bad I hurt you. What I did to you…I hated myself for it because you didn’t deserve that. It also reminded me of what I was missing out on because of how beautiful you sounded and looked…and that fucking song.”

He paused for a minute, shaking his head. He sniffled and wiped at his face again before continuing.

“I stayed up all night, watching it on a loop on the tv. I almost called you then, but stopped myself. I drank until I had nothing left instead. Then, when I ran into you the next morning, I could see how fucking broken you were. The way you looked at me…it fucking crushed me. I bought more alcohol and went back to the house. I don’t really remember much after that.”

He shook his head for a moment, pausing to take a few deep breaths, wiping at his face again.

“I don’t even remember calling you…and…even after everything I did, you still came to me. You could’ve easily told me to fuck off and I would’ve deserved it, but you didn’t. I know I wouldn’t be here right now if you hadn’t. You saved my life…I feel like you’ve been doing that ever since New York. When I say you’re my light in the darkness, I fucking mean it.”

I started sobbing into my hands. I couldn’t hold it back anymore. I felt his fingers wrap around my wrist, pulling my hands around his neck as he moved to hug me. We sat there in an embrace for some time before I started mumbling into his shoulder.

“I was so afraid you were gonna hate me for giving up on you so easily. I’m sorry I didn’t try harder. Just know that it had nothing to do with you…I clearly still need to work on my own shit.”

He hugged me a little tighter as he buried his fingers in the back of my hair, “That thought never crossed my mind. Don’t even worry about it anymore.”

He finally pulled back, wiping the tears away from my cheeks with his thumbs as he did so. We gave each other tight smiles as we locked eyes. He turned away, toward Dr. Rosenberg, who I had completely forgotten was in the room, and asked for some tissues. She picked up the box from her small table and handed it to him as he stood. He handed me several and took some for himself before handing the box back to her. She motioned for him to have a seat. As she turned to set the box back on the table, I noticed she was looking a little glassy eyed too.

We all sat in silence as her eyes shifted between us. Dieter and I glanced at each other, confusion on our faces as we looked back toward her. She chuckled before she spoke.

“I’m not even sure why I’m here. This is literally the first family session ever where I didn’t have to intervene or lead a conversation. You two don’t seem to have any problems communicating, so I’m not sure how you ended up where you were.”

We both smiled widely at her, surprised and appreciative of her honesty. Dieter spoke up with a chuckle.

“I think between my fucked up brain and the distance…it didn’t do us any favors. We’re always at our best when we’re physically together, I think. Everything goes to hell when we aren’t. Clearly that is something I need to work on.”

Dr. Rosenberg nodded in agreement, “Well, I hate to separate you two again, but we are running short on time, and I want to have a chat with Talia about the plans going forward. Dieter, I’m pretty sure you have another group session coming up so you better head that way. You think you can focus enough for this one?”

She raised an eyebrow in his direction as he laughed and nodded. He stood, quickly shuffling over to lean down and give me a hug before exiting the room.

Dr. Rosenberg wasted no time getting back to business, “Talia, part of his treatment is making sure he has the support he needs when he gets home. That’s why we offer support to caretakers as well, because technically, you will be his caretaker as the only other person in the household with him.”

I knitted my brows together, confused about where this conversation was going.

“I’m not going to pretend that I don’t know you have a traumatic history because Dieter has mentioned a few things. I don’t know the details, and I get the sense he doesn’t know it all either. I feel like whatever happened with your ex-husband is still affecting you. Is the dark place you mentioned something that you would be willing to talk to me about? Anything you tell me about yourself is confidential, just so you know.”

I sighed heavily as I ran both hands over my face, “So you picked up on that, huh?” I laughed nervously under her gaze.

“You’re right, I haven’t told him everything. I keep telling myself I’ve moved past it, but after the last few months, I’ve realized that I just locked it away and pretended it didn’t exist. I tend to do that with a lot of things.” She gave me an encouraging smile, clearly picking up on my hesitation as I paused to gather my thoughts.

“So, the last few years of my marriage, I started drinking heavily after finding no way out of the hell I was living in. The constant mental and psychological abuse was wearing me down, especially after I realized what was happening. When I tried to talk to Justin about a divorce, he would just tell me there was no way out because he wasn’t ready to give me up.” I paused briefly… focusing on something outside through the window. “I uhh, came home early from work one day and found him with another woman that he worked with. He of course said it was my fault, because I wasn’t giving him what he needed in the marriage. I knew what he was doing…and I was determined not to let it go because I felt I had a legitimate reason to end things at that point. I TOLD him I was leaving. I was done asking. When I started packing a bag, he hit me. The first time ever. I mean, he had shoved me around some, but never hit me across the face like that. He told me there was no leaving… that he would just find me and bring me home. Said no one would believe me or help because all of OUR friends knew how I was.”

“Talia, what did saying that out loud just now make you feel?”

My eyes drifted over to meet hers, “I don’t really feel anything.”

She arched a brow, “That’s because you're dissociating. I want you to focus on me as you speak and feel what you’re saying.”

Fuck. She wasn’t going to let me cheat my way through this like my therapist did. I pinched my brows together as my eyes teared up again. I had to face this. I closed my eyes briefly, exhaling slowly. When I opened them and met her gaze, she nodded for me to continue.

“He wasn’t wrong. I didn’t really have anyone to turn to. He made sure of that. He left after our argument, said he was going out with the guys. I doubt that’s where he went though. As soon as he left, I started drinking. I remember…feeling lost and pretty fucking hopeless after that. I couldn’t believe he hit me, and I was scared it would happen again. I never saw myself as someone who lets their husband abuse them…I felt disgusted over it. I must have drank a lot…because I can’t remember the rest of that night. I - I woke up in the hospital with alcohol poisoning. I guess when he came home, he found me passed out in my own vomit.”

I started tapping on the arm of the chair as the tightness in my chest returned. The tears trickled out again.

“When Justin finally came to see me, I told him that I was done. If he didn’t let me go, I was gonna find a way out…one way or another and I would make sure everyone knew it was his fault. Given that I had just put myself in the hospital, he took me at my word and agreed on a divorce. I guess he was afraid of what I would do.”

“What did you mean by that?”

I gave a half smile, “I honestly don’t know. I wonder that myself…what I was capable of. If I could’ve done anything.”

“What happened after you both agreed to the divorce?”

“Well, when I was still in the hospital, I reached out to one of my best friends that I grew up with, Lauren. We had kept in touch, even though I actively worked to put up a wall between us so she wouldn’t know what was really going on in my life because I was so embarrassed over it. She didn’t hesitate…she was at the hospital within the hour, and I told her everything. I stayed with her for a few weeks until I got my life sorted out. I don’t think I would have been able to do it without her. Of course, Justin continued to torment me by dragging out the divorce for over a year. It got pretty nasty.”

“What effects do you feel like that experience had on you?” She asked quietly.

“Experience.” I chuckled. “I didn’t realize twelve years of hell could be considered an experience.”

She gave me a sympathetic look before I continued, “I mean, I lost myself. I didn’t know who I was. I was who he wanted me to be. After I left him, he was still in my head with everything I did. What I was wearing, how I fixed my hair and makeup, things I said. I couldn’t do some of the simplest things without hearing his voice telling me I was doing something wrong and having a fucking panic attack over it. I couldn’t make decisions…and yes, I would still drink to numb my feelings and calm myself down. Only this time, I knew exactly how much I could drink without taking it too far.”

“Are those things still an issue for you now?”

I shook my head, “No, I mean, I did all the cognitive behavioral therapy and the sessions. I eventually got to a point where the negative thoughts stopped. I think Dieter had a lot to do with that…he kind of helped me see myself in a different light…but I do still have anxiety sometimes and I think I’ve reverted back to ignoring my feelings… compartmentalizing everything and pretending it’s not there. Throwing myself into work and staying busy to keep my mind occupied. I’ve been doing that instead of drinking the feelings away.”

Dr. Rosenberg leaned forward, placing her elbow on her knee with a pensive look on her face.

“Talia…would you be willing to stay for the next three weeks to work through some of this with me? It would be outpatient treatment…a couple hours a day. You can stay in one of our apartments.”

I sucked in a quick breath. I certainly wasn’t expecting this, but at the same time, I almost felt relieved. My gut told me I needed it and I knew I couldn’t go on the way I had been because I was eventually going to self-destruct if I didn’t take better care of myself. I knew I couldn’t fully be there for Dieter if I was still battling with myself. I sat staring at my hands as I thought through the offer. I could still work remotely, so that wouldn’t be an issue. I raised my head to meet her eyes, “Will Dieter know what I’m doing?”

“Only if you want him to.”

“I don’t want to saddle him with my shit right now…I don’t wanna mess him up.”

“Honestly, I think he’s stable at this point. I think he could handle whatever you wanted to share with him. If you wanted, we could even do some more joint sessions, or he can just be there for support if you want him to be. It’s all up to you really.”

“What would you do?” I asked, letting out a stuttered breath with my question. She took a minute to consider her response, biting on the inside of her cheek as she did so.

“I don’t think it would be bad if you shared everything with him. The more open you are with one another, the better. Communication is going to be a huge factor in keeping your relationship healthy and happy. At least if he knows what’s going on he can support you, just like you support him. Also, if he needs help processing through things, we can help him with that while he’s here…but again, it’s your decision.”

“Yeah, I mean he knows most of it anyway…Alright, I’ll do it. I’ll stay and I want him involved.”

She gave me a bright smile, “I’m actually really happy to hear that. I think this will allow you to build a solid foundation going forward. I’m excited for your future together. I can tell that you both care deeply for each other and I really want your time here to be successful.”

I gave her thanks for the opportunity she was giving me. I’ve known for a while that I had things that I needed to work on but didn't really know where to start. The fact that Dieter seemed so at ease with her and was doing so well gave me some comfort and the courage to jump in head first.

The next three weeks were a whirlwind of educational sessions to help me learn about bipolar disorder; the triggers, coping strategies, and lifestyle changes to minimize stress. I even had an opportunity to learn more about Dieter’s medication and possible interactions and side effects so I would be able to spot them. He had asked that I be involved with his Interpersonal and Social Rhythm therapy, which was designed to help him build a daily routine of healthy habits to manage his moods. Given his job, sometimes a routine was almost impossible for him to keep, but we learned strategies to deal with that when confronted with it. It was all very helpful for the both of us.

I had my sessions too of course. He sometimes set in on them if we were doing something particularly hard that day. His presence helped keep me grounded and got me through a lot. He was taking time to learn about ways to help me cope better and we worked together on effective communication skills.

Dr. Rosenberg recommended that I start keeping a journal to help me work through my emotions. I was iffy about it at first, but Dieter was also doing it and he loved it. He was very encouraging about it. It was something that I had come to enjoy doing after a few days. We had even taken to having a shared journal between us to better communicate our feelings, which Dr. Rosenberg loved the idea of and encouraged.

Even though Dieter and I weren’t able to spend a whole lot of time together during those three weeks, I could always feel his presence and support. It’s what kept me going through it all. I don’t think I would have had the strength to do it without him. By the time my last day of treatment came around, he was given the all clear for discharge. It was both nerve wracking and exciting to know that we would be going home…together.

A/N: How excited are we that these two are finally back together? How badly did this chapter hit the feels? Did you cry? If you did, hopefully this will be the last time...unless you are a happy crier. There may be happy tears later. 😉 How are we feeling about Dieter's diagnosis? Does it change how you view some of his past behavior? What about that revelation from Talia? I mean, are we really surprised though; the girl has had a complicated relationship with alcohol throughout the whole story. How do you think things are going to go when they get back home? Do you think they will pick up where they left off or have some growing pains? We will find out in the next chapter. 😁 I am 100% failing at life and did not get the Deconstructing Dieter Bravo post done. I need to do a little fact checking and didn't have the brain power for it. However, once I get that ready, it will be posted HERE. The topic for Deconstructing Dieter Bravo Part 3 will be his diagnosis. I will tag all the usuals in the posts once it is ready. Hopefully you will find it to be educational. 💜 👉 I do want to share some details on upcoming projects that will be released for the holidays. I am participating in the @pedrostories Secret Santa event. I have received my gift prompt, and you may be excited to know that you will be getting a Dieter Bravo one shot from me by Christmas. I already have some ideas swirling around for it and it's not related to any current fics. It should be fun. Be sure to follow the #pedrostoriesgift23 hashtag to check out all the awesome work that will be included for the event. If you would like to be tagged on this one shot, let me know in the comments. 💜 As usual, I have included the chapter mood board below in case you missed it.😘

Next Chapter

Tag List: @rhoorl @bitchwitch1981 @readingiskeepingmegoing @runningmom94 @for-a-longlongtime @hisandsnakes @chaoticfestninja @survivingandenduring @partyofone3413 @wannab-urs @cakipy-blog @titlee78 @poodlebae @guelyury @missladym1981 @maried01 @alokaerza @samiamproductions @misstokyo7love @themonadiaries-blog @madnessofadaydreamer @darkheartgatita @avastrasposts @weho2kcmo @harriedandharassed @tkchaos @girlofchaos @yghuibt @musings-of-a-rose @annieispunk @sarcasm-theotherwhitemeat @pedrostories

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#dieter bravo #dieter bravo x ofc #dieter bravo fic #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal fanfiction #Pedro Pascal Fanfic #dieter bravo fluff #dieter bravo fanfiction #the bubble #the bubble fanfiction #Destiny & Deliverance Series #friends of juice collective

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seekingidlewild · 2 years

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So I’ve been seeing a lot of fun takes about Ayan’s mom being his wingman, and I love them. I love her, and I love that the fandom loves her. But watching those scenes again from her perspective puts a completely different spin on her interest in Ayan’s love life. Because we’ve known for a while that she’s worried about Ayan, but it’s only been in the last two episodes that we’ve gotten a more comprehensive idea of what she’s dealing with as a parent.

This episode finally made it clear just how big a role Uncle Dika played in Ayan’s life. Despite the fact that Ayan’s dad has been out of the picture since Ayan was very young, Ayan still grew up in what was essentially a two-parent household because that household included Dika. So Dika wasn’t just an uncle to Ayan. He was his father figure. He didn’t just spend time with Ayan periodically. He was part of his daily life. And Ayan’s mom wasn’t really a single parent. She had help raising him.

So when Dika died, Ayan lost both an uncle and a father, and Ayan’s mom lost both a brother and a co-parent. Ayan has been living more or less alone due to his mom’s work commitments, and she’s been trying to parent him through telephone calls and video chats. In addition to the stress that would naturally arise from that situation, Ayan’s mom has been living with the knowledge that her brother died of suicide after a long battle with mental illness, and that her son is now battling a similar mental illness. On top of that, her son has also been fighting a lonely battle to discover why his uncle died, uprooting himself from his school and any former social connections in the process. As far as she knows, he is spending every day in the same environment that drove her brother to suicide, with no friends or sympathetic teachers to act as a support system.

It’s no wonder that she’s scared of losing him, too.

And then she comes home from work one day and finds Ayan asleep in bed with an unknown schoolmate sleeping beside him, and they’re holding hands. And then they come down for dinner and it’s so obvious that there’s a strong sense of familiarity and trust between them. And then over dinner, Ayan keeps looking at his schoolmate with so much love in his eyes and generally acting so happy.

Can you imagine her relief? Of course she asked some pointed questions. Of course she teased them and enjoyed Akk’s flustered reaction. Of course she wanted to drive Akk home so she could get to know him a little better and share a few of her fears with him. I bet Akk could have her eating out of the palm of his hand in no time. Not because he’s handsome and she thinks he and Ayan would make a cute couple, but because he makes her son palpably, radiantly happy, and she probably hasn’t seen that much happiness in Ayan’s eyes since Dika’s passing. In Akk, she probably sees an anchor that can keep Ayan grounded in the present instead of lost in the past. Meeting him probably means a lot more to her than Akk can grasp.

#the eclipse #the eclipse series #the eclipse meta #akkayan #akkaye #thai drama #bl drama

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xaharadesert · 6 months

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10 of my Favourite Horror (Adjacent) Movies and Why You Should Watch Them

(Not in any particular order or subgenre. TW are super vague, spoiler-free, and from my memory, but I would recommend looking up more specific ones before watching any of these if you are easily triggered. Not all triggers are listed because these are horror movies, so stuff like death and murder is to be expected.)

Let me know if y’all want a part 2, because I’ve got about 7 more! (It could have been one post if Tumblr didn’t limit my images to 10)

1. Parasite

A struggling lower class family slowly integrates itself into the household of a rich family without their knowledge.

Most of you have already seen this one, or been told to watch it. I am no different: this movie is popular for a very good reason. Divided into 3 clear acts, starting with comedy, and making its way through drama into horror. Also, great commentary on classism, very psychological at times and makes you wonder who you should really be rooting for.

Scary: 2/10

Gore: 3/10

Disturbing: 5/10

Psychological: 6/10

Actual genre: Dark comedy thriller

2. The House That Jack Built

Serial killer Jack recounts some of his most influential murders.

A bit infamous and controversial for being very messed up, but still really good. Highly psychological, with a lot of narration and use of metaphor. Especially fun if you have any knowledge of Dante’s Inferno. Definitely not one to watch if you want a protagonist to root for.

Scary: 3/10

Gore: 6/10

Disturbing: 10/10

Psychological: 8/10

Actual Genre: psychological horror art

TW: sexism, corpse mutilation

3. Creep (1&2)

A man is hired to help film messages from a dying man to his son.

I’m usually not a fan of found-footage, but there’s something special about Creep. On top of that, this is one of the few movies where I can confidently say I like the sequel more, which is shocking because the first one was amazing. Very funny and off-beat, with a sense of foreboding underlying the whole thing.

Scary: 3/10

Gore: 1/10

Disturbing: 3/10

Psychological: 4/10

Actual genre: found footage psychological horror

4. Mother!

A woman and her poet husband live quietly in a secluded house away from society.

Very metaphorical and highly feminist; definitely not a movie that everyone appreciates, but if you enjoy analysis or just being really weirded out then this is a good for you. Starts slow and snowballs toward the horrific climax.

Scary: 3/10

Gore: 7/10

Disturbing: 7/10

Psychological: 8/10

Actual genre: psychological horror

TW: cannibalism

5. Perfect Blue

Mima is a young pop star looking to join the acting industry.

Brutally realistic to the point where I had to stop watching and take a walk at one point. Very much “female rage” and a protagonist that will live in your head rent free for the next 6 years (or maybe that’s just me). Very triggering in a lot of ways, but worth it if you’re not sensitive to the topics it covers.

Scary: 5/10

Gore: 4/10 (animated)

Disturbing: 8/10

Psychological: 10/10

Actual genre: psychological thriller

TW: depersonalization/derealization, nudity, stalking, rape scene (she is acting in a tv show but it is still the most uncomfortable scene of the movie), inaccurate portrayal of DID

6. Midsommar

A couple and their friends go on a vacation to their friend’s remote hometown for a Midsommar festival.

Probably the best-known out of this list, and again for a good reason. 90% of the film takes place in broad daylight, and the visuals are absolutely gorgeous. Once again will bring up the question of who is in the right and who is in the wrong (I have the answer to this question and I will fight you in dms if you’d like).

Scary: 3/10

Gore: 8/10

Disturbing: 8/10

Psychological: 7/10

Actual genre: folk horror

TW: long and graphic sex scene, nudity, close up and graphic gore, cult stuff, suicide

7. The Call

A woman moves back to her childhood home and receives a call from the woman who lived there 30 years prior.

I got really into modern Asian horror films a few months ago and this is one of my favourites. The dynamic between the protagonist and antagonist is one of my favourites, and finishing this movie felt like finishing a 3 season TV show because of how well paced it was. Really hoping there will be a sequel with the same concept, even if it is not likely.

Scary: 6/10

Gore: 3/10

Disturbing: 6/10

Psychological: 6/10

Actual genre: psychological thriller

TW: abuse

8. Incantation

A cursed woman takes back custody of her young daughter and does everything she can to keep away the effects of her curse.

This one was popular on TikTok for a while, and for good reason. Another found footage in a more traditional sense, and a bit confusing at times, but overall a really solid scary story. Very cool effects as well.

Scary: 6/10

Gore: 4/10

Disturbing: 6/10

Psychological: 5/10

Actual genre: supernatural horror

TW: derealization

9. Pearl

A farm girl dreams about leaving home and living as a show girl.

Mia Goth is a national treasure, but we all knew that already. I watched this one before X (the actual first movie) because I didn’t know they were connected, but I much preferred this one. The Wizard of Oz vibes combined with Pearl’s unsettling behaviour made is a really creep film to watch.

Scary: 4/10

Gore: 4/10

Disturbing: 6/10

Psychological: 5/10

Actual genre: horror

TW: porn

10. The Platform

A man is stuck in a prison where a platform of food is lowered through the layers of cells for inmates to eat as they please.

I’m a sucker for psychological movies that take place in a very limited space. If you’ve ever played and enjoyed the game Presentable Liberty then I’m gonna go ahead and say you’ll like this too. Not every question is answered, but the film is more about the human condition than the prison they inhabit, so it’s not too much of a problem.

Scary: 2/10

Gore: 9/10

Disturbing: 8/10

Psychological: 9/10

Actual genre: social science fiction horror

TW: cannibalism, suicide

#parasite #the house that Jack built #creep #mother!#perfect blue #midsommar #the call #incantation #Pearl #the platform #horror movies #horror movie recommendations #psychological horror

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lilacsandlillies · 2 months

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I’ve been seeing posts about how Jason’s death is the only one that really matters, and while I do agree for the most part, I feel like there are two exceptions: Cass(Specifically her first one) and Steph.

Now Cass’ isn’t as well known and a lot easier to explain so I’ll start with her. Basically, while Cass’ death doesn’t have the same overarching impact or effect of Jason’s, it does have a very big impact on her character and her arc. Before dying, Cass is very obviously suicidal and actively seeks death for the entire beginning of her Batgirl run. Her death fundamentally changes her outlook on life and is very important moment in her relationship with Shiva*

Steph’s death’s importance is much harder to explain, because I feel like it has both meta and narrative purpose, both being in the misogyny central to the way people seek her. In a meta sense, Stephanie’s death was the ultimate showing of the writers misogyny towards her. They wanted her to die then be forgotten by the fans. The only reason she was brought back was because fans were upset. She was literally fridged, and I don’t feel comfortable letting DC or anyone else forget that.

From a narrative standpoint, Stephanie’s death does have actual narrative consequences for her and Cass. It might not have the large overarching importance of Jason’s death, but it’s nowhere near as inconsequential as the other bat family deaths. Cass is plagued by the guilt of her death for a long time. Her death and overcoming what happened to her is important to the beginning of Steph’s batgirl run.

Steph’s death also has a lot of significance from a thematic standpoint. Her death and the events surrounding it is actually what sets up utrh, and having a Robin die right before Jason’s return has a lot of (unused) thematic and narrative potential.

*I also want to note that while the importance of Jason’s death is that everyone knew about it and everyone was changed by it, the importance of Cass’ is that it only effected her and pretty much only Cass and Shiva knew her. Jason’s death had thematic implications where Cass’ was only meant to have personal implications. Basically, they served different purposes for the narrative.

#jason todd #stephanie brown #cassandra cain #dc #dc meta

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babydin · 1 year

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Her

Joel remembers when he was the guy who shot and missed. - Joel Miller x f!reader - 18+, minors DNI! - Grief, depression, death, child loss, trauma, suicidal thoughts, suicide attempt - 1242 words - Comments/likes appreciated. Requests are open! - A/N: A recounting of the events after Sarah's death and Joel's suicide attempt from Joel's POV. Written in first person. You are 'her'.

People act like they know what you’re going through, they think they know how it feels because they have known grief, but the difference in losing your grandma and losing your child is mighty. To be a parent without a child is fucking harrowing.

They think I don’t hear them. The ‘what’s his problem?’ followed by the ‘he just lost his daughter’ and the sorrowful grumbles that follow. I don’t want pity, I want Sarah. I want to close my eyes at night and not be reminded of the pain in her eyes as she looked up at me so desperately, begging me to do something and I did nothing. I did nothing. Tommy told me she was gone and I wailed and screamed so fucking loud that I hoped she’d hear me on her way to heaven and turn around and come back to me. People ask me how I’m doing with so much fucking pity it makes me sick, and I lie through my teeth and tell them I’m fine because I don’t have the energy to tell some motherfucker I barely know ‘I set a place for her at the table yesterday and when I realized she ain’t sittin’ at it I wanted to put my head in the oven’, ‘I haven’t been doing so well’, ‘My babygirl died in my arms how do you think I’m fucking doing?’ People act like they know what you’re going through, they think they know how it feels because they have known grief, but the difference in losing your grandma and losing your child is mighty. To be a parent without a child is fucking harrowing. And there is nothing more kick-you-in-the-nuts offensive than thinkin’ you know what’s best for someone. I wish I could say some days are better than others but they’re all bad days. I didn’t mean to snap at her, but she sure as shit means to snap back when she says “I lost her too, Joel”. I wake up every morning and the weight of another day is heavy on my chest and I ask whatever powers keep this rock spinning, why it was Sarah’s time and not mine, whatever situation we’re in these days seems to be getting worse and I wonder why I’m even fighting. What exactly is it that’s keeping me alive? She tries her best with me, I know she does and I can see how much I hurt her. I try and be tough but some days it’s too fucking much. She finds me sitting in bathtubs of water that I allowed to go cold because I cried out all my energy and can’t pull myself out of it, she holds me through my bad dreams, she makes up bullshit about how Sarah will always be with me, or she’s got her Mama takin’ care of her now.

I listen, and nod, and try and force a smile like what she’s saying is balm but every breath I take burns in my lungs because my heart is fucking shattered. One day I wake up and the pain cuts through me like a knife. I’m aware of every single bone, and every single muscle in my body because there is an enormous weight crushing every inch of me. I eat breakfast and I consider putting rocks in my pockets and walking out into the ocean, but I don’t want to suffer. I’ve suffered enough, my pain has gone on long enough, if I’m going to die I want it to be quick. I don’t remember if I woke up with a specific goal of ending my life but by 11am I had no intention of living until dinner. I decided I was going to do it in the bathtub; thinking about the clean up maybe? Blood, I’d learned, was a fucking persistent stain. Suddenly the pain went away and I loaded a single bullet into my pistol and I didn’t feel a drop of fear. I was ready. A comforting hug, a hot coffee on a cold day, a cold tea on a hot day; Lady Death would’ve been very much welcomed. I thought about her bullshit, her bullshit about Sarah being with her Mama now and wondered if I was on my way to them too. My heart was poundin’ as I put that barrel to my temple but I wasn’t scared, I was so ready. I cocked it and took my last breath and I don’t know why. Then came her voice as I squeezed the trigger, “JOEL!” They say right before you die your life flashes before your eyes. And I always thought it was a fucking cliche but hearing that shrill, squawk of my name, it really did. I remember the day I got married, I remember the day Sarah was born, when she took her first steps, the first time she spit up in my mouth, I remember the day I had to tell her that her mother died and how it was just us for so long. Then I remember her, and how she had only wanted Sarah to like her, how she had loved her like she was her own but never wanted to erase her mother’s memory, how she had cried with me when I had to tell her what happened to her, how she finished her eulogy because I couldn’t, all those nights she’d cried with me, been there for me, force fed me, made me drink water instead of booze. It was her. She was the thing keeping me alive, against my will it felt like sometimes, but she needed me just as much as I needed her. The realization makes me flinch, she screams and pain still sears through my head and I can’t help but wonder if I’ve done it. She races to my side and climbs into the empty tub with me, there’s a pain and a fear in her eye that forces an apology out of me almost instantly as she pulls my head off the tiled wall and applies pressure to the part of my head that hurts the most. I can see her lips moving but I don’t hear a thing she’s saying because there’s a ringing in my ears so loud. It takes her pushing me into her chest to realize there’s blood dripping down the side of my face and the ringing subsides just enough for me to hear her beg me not to leave her. All I can do is whisper apologies, the pain has subsided and I don’t feel a thing, my fingers cling to her; I silently beg for her help, I hope that somewhere through her wailing she can hear my heart beating like a frightened steer, she pleads with me again not to go anywhere and I can’t find the words to ask her the same but I hope she hears it somehow.

I must’ve blacked out for a hot minute because I opened my eyes and she’s putting bactine on my head. The feeling comes back. Whoever invented bactine can go all the way to hell. I apologize again and she tells me it’s okay but in such a way that I know it’s not okay at all but she puts steri-strips on the gash in my head and for a second I might actually believe that eventually it will be because this is where she’s always been. Holding me through my nightmares and being my guiding light on the other side. My reason for waking up in the morning, for fighting, for living to see the other side of whatever shit show is going on with the world right now. It’s her.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal one shot #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x reader #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller angst #( joel miller: babydin )

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gryfflepuffinthetardis · 6 months

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Sweet Jane Part One — Campbell Bain x Reader

Summary: Y/n was admitted to Saint Jude's hospital in Glasglow soon after her eighteenth birthday when she developed a case of psychogenic/traumatic mutism; there she meets a talkative, optimistic, idealistic, hyperactive nineteen-year-old boy with Manic depression who dreams of becoming a DJ, follow them through their story and learn what happened to Y/n.

Series Warnings: Past Toxic Relationship, Manipulative Ex, Mentions of Past Rape, Mental Health, Discrimination against the Mentally Ill/Neroudivergent, Traumatized Reader, Abusive Parents, Mentions of deceased family members, Stalking, Suicide, Reader doesn't handle men touching her well, Mentions of Sex, Bad Caretakers, Implied Non-Scottish Reader, Implied Short Reader, Campbell Bain's Dad is Terrible

Chapter Warnings: Reader refuses to speak; Loving Campbell Bain, Traumatized Reader, Selectively Mute Reader, PTSD Reader, Psychogenic Mute Reader, Traumatic Mute Reader, Manic Depressant Campbell Bain, Bipolar Campbell Bain, Schizophrenic Furgus, OCD Rosalie, Reader Developed Selective Mutism as a Coping Mechanism, Reader may have an intense type of anxiety caused by trauma, Reader is implied to not be Scottish or at least from Scotland (I am American but just add where you're from), Reader is implied to be shorter than the six-foot Campbell Bain

“You are a mystery to me, yet so familiar. Like a song I’ve never heard before, and a tune I’ve known my entire life.”

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Y/N hadn't spoken a word since she was eighteen and long before that something had changed. Her parents finally decided enough was enough and sent her to Saint Jude's hospital in Glasgow.

Campbell had literally crashed into the new girl during his excitement at hearing that the Saint Jude's radio station would be reopened.

The girl screamed as he collided with her and she started screaming and kicking due to his body weight on her.

"Sorry. Sorry. Sorry." He said, hurriedly, getting off of her and holding a hand out to help her up but she just stared at him, terrified, "I'm sorry. Uh..." He realized he didn't recognize her, as far as he knew he was the youngest patient at Saint Jude's and this girl was around his age. This was exciting! "Are you new? I'm Campbell Bain, I'll be the bane of your life until one of us is discharged." He chortled at his own joke before he realized she was still of the floor, "Oh, let me help you up." He crouched down and took her hand, helped her up.

She stared at him with a confused look on her face but she didn't pull her hand away yet more out of shock than anything. Campbell offered her a smile before she ripped her hand out of his grip and ran off, leaving Campbell very confused.

He asked the nurses about the girl but none would give him proper answers, until he got to Stuart the orderlie, who should've been a patient instead but... you know, life.

"She's a looney." He said, blankly.

"Ai, yes. Yes. Yes. I know that much but what's her name? What's her deal?" Campbell prodded.

"Y/N." Was all he said.

A few days later, Eddie McKenna arrived to be the DJ for Saint Jude's, with assumption that he'd be able to tell the difference between the staff and the patients.

He had an interaction with Stuart and assumed he was a patient but found out that he was a nursing assistant. Well, that couldn't be good.

Then he met Campbell, who seemed perfectly friendly and nice before realizing he was a patient himself.

Campbell and Y/N were on better terms, now that she had stopped bolting on the other direction when he tried to talk to her. And they listened to Eddie's show as Y/N read Narnia.

Soon after the show, Eddie heard Campbell playing and singing, Summertime Blues on his guitar which was only slightly out of tune, which Eddie had played on his show. He saw Y/N correcting Campbell's finger placement on the guitar as he whined that it hurt his hand.

Campbell enthusiastically praised Eddie and explained on his poor timing and the patient’s dependence of television.

Y/N caught sight of something moving outside the window and she threw a guitar pick at Campbell, making him pout in her direction before seeing her pointing and they ran to window as he said, “Hang on, you’re not boring me or that, but I’ve just seen a friend of mine flying past the window.”

Y/N and Campbell leaned out the window to see the hospital’s Schizophrenic who despite the schtick his disorder stereotyped him as he was just the most gentle soul you’d ever meet, if a little eccentric, grappling down the side of the building.

“Fergus! What’re you doing!?” Campbell shouted after him as Eddie joined them, “you’re gonna hurt yourself!”

“Shall I get a nurse?” Eddie asked and Y/N shook her head.

“Fergus! You’re gonna miss your cocoa, you know!”

“I know.” Fergus told him.

“Can Y/N and I have it, then?” He asked.

“Help yourselves.” He told them.

“He’s escaping.” Eddie said, surprised how calm both of them were being so calm about this

“He’ll be knocking on the door in an hour or so. He always does.” Campbell reassured Eddie, “annoys the hell out of the staff but makes this one smile.” He nodded at Y/N as she sat on Campbell’s bed with his guitar, the look of fascination in Campbell's eyes was not lost on Eddie.

Campbell returned to his enthusiastic and impulsive idea-planning, the first being to bring up a story when a student nurse accidently gave everyone in the ward a laxative, making Eddie and Y/N look at him oddly and the only problem he saw with it was where he’d get that many laxatives.

“What about a request show?” He asked Eddie.

“I already thought of that. I haven’t enough records.” Eddie shot down that idea… well, he’s never disagreed with Campbell Bain before.

“So?”

“So? When folk request something, they usually like to be able to play it.”

“We just make them keep requesting until they hit something we actually have.” Campbell said, “‘if you can guess a record that we actually have in our library, then we will play it for you with a special dedication’.” He did a playful punch in the air, “who could resist?”

“It’ll never work.”

Y/N who had been playing with Campbell’s guitar, then played a jingly tune.

“You’re right, Y/N!” He declared, enthusiastically with an enthusiastic pointed finger at her and then he ran his hand through his light auburn-brown floppy hair, “We’ll need some jingles.” Y/N looked up when Campbell sang a jingle, “Hospital radio, Saint Juuuuude’s.” He smiled at Eddie, “that sort of thing.”

“You need singers to record jingles.”

Campbell picked up his guitar from Y/N and sat next to her, “and what exactly is sitting here before you?”

“A lunatic!” Eddie declared, making Y/N softly giggle.

“Aye, a singing lunatic!” Campbell agreed, enthusiastically. “We could record them in the station, aye?”

“Aye…” Eddie submitted.

“Brilliant!” Campbell exclaimed, going back to Eddie, “Now give me the key.” He held out his hand.

“What key?” Eddie asked.

“To the station.” Campbell said and ran to the door, looking out, “look, I’ve gotta start. Writing the jingles, rehearsing the singers, cataloging the albums.”

Eddie looked at Y/N as she looked back down and realized he hadn’t gotten her name, having been distracted Campbell’s… Campbell-ness and Fergus escaping. “Uh, ma’am… what’s your name again?” Eddie asked, making Y/N look up from a piece of paper she was now writing on, she gave him with a blank deadpan look at being called “ma’am”. She was only eighteen.

“That’s Y/N.” Campbell said.

“What’s your favorite album?” Nothing. She just looked at him, “can you sing?” She blinked twice and he turned back to Campbell, “what’s wrong with her?”

“Oh, she doesn’t speak. She hasn’t said a word since she got here.” Campbell said, “and there’s nothing wrong with her, she’s just looney like me!”

Eddie walked closer to him and asked as gently as he could, “Campbell, how exactly are you here?”

Campbell paused in which he faltered, knowing how his own father felt about his disorder before smiling, “Can you not guess? I’m manic.” Y/N looked up and smiled at him, making his eyes dart to her and a more genuine smile appeared on his lips before he reassured Eddie, “but don’t worry. The drugs I take make me completely stable. Except for headaches, of course.” He blinked in pain as he focused back on the painful headaches and he squeezed his eyes shut before blindly grabbing onto Eddie’s shirt who could sense a scene coming up as could Y/N who looked up to be amused by Campbell, “I get these headaches. I just comes over me and I cannae…” He flopped on his bed, next to Y/N and shouted out in pain, “ah, the bells! The bells!”

Y/N reached over and went to place her hand on Campbell’s back before stopping, hesitating to do so, not sure if they were close enough or if she wanted to admit that they were close enough and then suddenly Campbell’s mood shifted back to near manic and he shot himself up to look at Eddie, making Y/N pull her hand away, blinking briefly in surprise, “And I want my own show, by the way.”

“What?” Eddie asked.

“Well, after all this work, I think it’s only fair, don’t you?” He questioned.

“Campbell, I cannae just give you your own show.” Eddie protested, “you need training on the equipment.”

“So? Train me!” Campbell pleaded, eagerly. “I’ll take Friday nights.”

“Will that not clash with Brookside?” Eddie questioned.

Y/N looked at the window where they had gone to to shout after Fergus.

—

The next day, Campbell and Eddie were in the common room with Eddie standing shyly while Campbell did the opposite and shouted through a party megaphone while Y/N sat with Fergus, writing down something for him to read. “Ladies and gentlemen, I have an important announcement to make!” He spotted Fergus and Y/N and narrowed his eyes, “Fergus, stop flirting with Y/N.”

Y/N rolled her eyes and went to the couch rather bored now and put her headphones on.

Campbell and Eddie had announced the request show, while admitting that they had limited records. Eddie went to talk to Nana while Campbell stared at Y/N, feeling nervous to approach her since he worried she hated him with how scared she got when he interacted with her.

Then Fergus clapped him on the back, making him stumble and look at him, unamused before approaching the silent H/C-haired girl.

"Hey, Y/N," Campbell said, kindly, walking up to the silent girl but she didn't seem to hear him as she was listening to her Walkman. He tapped her shoulder, making her jump and stare at him with wide eyes just as she had when they first met. He gestured to her headphones, silently asking if he could take them off and she slowly nodded and he gently slid them off and could vaguely hear Damn, I Wish I Was Your Lover by Sophie B. Hawkins.

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"Hey, we're doing a request show. You have any requests?"

She looked at him for a good while before getting up and leaving. Campbell frowned and his spirits were diminished before leaning forward and face planting his face into the couch cushion, groaning.

—

Campbell showed Eddie the radio station now cleaned and useable thanks to him, Y/N, and Rosalie and as he left Eddie questioned Campbell about Nana and Campbell answered in his own hyperactive way before Eddie questioned him about his obvious crush on Y/N.

“The silent girl, uh… M/Y/N.” (Mispronunciation of Your Name)

“Y/N.” Campbell corrected, automatically in a slightly defensive tone.

“Is she your girlfriend?”

Campbell’s cheeks burned as they reddened and his heartrate quickened, “No. No. No. She’s new actually. Been here about a week. She… she’s a mystery.” He gave out a dreamy smile, “One I’d like to solve but…” He shrugged like, what can you do? —

Campbell was snoring when he was awoken by a friendly smack in the head. He woke up, groaning with confusion before turning on his light, illuminating Y/N who smile sweetly at him as she held something behind her back.

"Jesus, Y/N." He groaned, "what you do that for?" She just looked at him and he nodded, remembering who je was talking to, "right. Uh, what is it?"

Y/N brought a custom record sleeve out from behind her back and he slowly began to realize what she was trying tell him.

"Oh, you want me to play one of these songs during the show tomorrow, er… today?" He asked.

She nodded and sat on the edge of his bed, making him kick around spazzily and awkwardly before sitting up, trying to make room for her as his heart pounded and he looked down at her, feeling her body heat up against his but forced himself not to think about that as it was a bit of a creepy thought to have at two in the morning as she showed him the songs on the back of the vinyl which was also handmade, she pointed at the first song: a cover of The Velvet Underground's Sweet Jane by Cowboy Junkies.

"Is that your favorite song?" He asked and she nodded. "Wait, these are all from different bands, how'd you get this?"

She pointed to herself, "you made it?" He gathered, "Who made the record?" She pointed to herself again and he just smiled at her impressed and enamored by her. "You are one mystery, Y/N L/N. You may be my favorite mystery.”

She smiled, telling him that she liked the idea of being a mystery to him and kissed his cheek, near the corner of his lip, nearly making him melt with a loud dreamy sigh before running off. He looked after he with a starstruck look of awe on his face before flopping back on his pillow, groaning.

—

The next day, Y/N shared a smile with Fergus before listening in on the radio to the show, standing and watching Campbell through the window.

“Good evening! This is Ready Eddie.” Eddie introduced, “and on my left is my right-hand man…”

“Campbell Bain.” Campbell introduced, not seeing Y/N watching him and the smile on her lips.

“And you’re listening to the first ever Ready Eddie Radio Request Road Show.” He gave Campbell a thumbs up and the nineteen-year-old pushed a button, making a jingle play.

“Ready Eddie’s road show. Ready, Eddie, go.”

“That’s right. This is the premiere. This is the first. And you can tell everyone that you were there. You heard it! You saw it!” Campbell said, enthusiastically before joking, “And they’ll tell you, it’s all part of your illness.”

Y/N giggled at his antics before realizing this and she zipped her leather jacket up over her shirt with the sarcastic quote on it.

“We’re playing requests from Ward Eleven this evening. This one is for Francine. I hope you’re listening, Francine.”

Campbell then teased, “I hope anyone’s listening.” He then saw Y/N watching him and let out an audible smile that melted his insides.

“Is anybody listening?” Eddie asked, “Is anybody out there?”

Then Help! By the Beatles started to play and soon the patients came out and Campbell ran out of the station to dance with some patients before more came out, including Fergus. He gave Y/N a smile and thumbs up as he flashed the part of the television he had removed.

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Campbell ran back to Eddie and pulled his earphone off so he could talk to him, “the television’s broken, Eddie! There is a God!”

Eddie nodded in the direction of Y/N and Campbell’s face lit up and he ran to Y/N and taking her hands, trying to ease her into dancing. She shook her head before starting to shuffle awkwardly to the music before Campbell took her hands and pulled her against him so she danced with him to the beat of the music. She then giggled up against him and he smiled, triumphally.

He was about to comment on how beautiful her laugh when there was a BANG! And the music stopped, making them all exclaim in disappointment before Campbell and Y/N ran back to the station to see what was wrong.

“What’s wrong?”

“The mixing desk.” Eddie said, trying to fix it with his limited knowledge.

“Do something!” Campbell exclaimed.

“What can I do? I can’t even turn on the bathroom light without shocking myself.” Eddie remarked.

“Well, check the plug. Maybe it’s the fuse.” Campbell suggested as Y/N looked up at Fergus and gestured for him to come.

“It’s not the fuse.” Eddie sighed.

Campbell ran his hand through his floppy hair, “I cannae believe this. I’ve just had the world’s shortest career as a disk jockey.”

Fergus took out a screwdriver and headed inside to help and started to unscrew the screws of the mixing desk.

“Fergus, what are you doing?” Campbell asked.

“I’ll just have a look.” Fergus reassure him.

“No, don’t!” Eddie shouted, “don’t have a look there.”

Y/N helped Fergus lift the plate of the mixing desk as Eddie continued to try and stop Fergus and Y/N, “Fergus, Y/N, I’m asking you. Please, leave it alone”

“He’s gonna blow it up.” A patient said.

“He’s not!” Campbell protested.

“I think I know what the problem is.” Fergus told Eddie.

“He’s blowing it up.” Another patient said and the others started to chant Fergus’ name.

“Fergus, don’t, okay!? Just leave it alone. It’s all we’ve got.” Eddie pleaded and Y/N smacked Eddie’s shoulder when Stuart literally pushed her out of the way, making her squeak and stumble before Campbell caught her and glared at Stuart.

“Oi, watch where you’re going!” He shouted.

Stuart aggressively grabbed Fergus holding him in a near chokehold and Y/N tried to go forth to help but Campbell held her back, knowing she’d just be pushed away again, if not sedated.

“He’s not causing trouble, is he?” He asked Eddie and Y/N shook her head, frantically at Eddie.

“No, he’s just helping me, get the mixing desk going again.” Eddie muttered.

“Him? He couldn’t get his brain going again.” Stuart spat and Y/N scoffed, implying that she felt that better described Stuart than Fergus.

“Leave it, Stuart.” Isabella, the more kind nurse said, “it’s all over.”

Stuart let Fergus go and sulked out of the room, clearly upset that he didn’t get to hurt someone as Y/N gave him the middle finger.

Fergus closed the plate of the mixing desk and Y/N flipped the switch, making the light come back on.

“You two are geniuses.” Campbell gasped.

Y/N shook her head and pointed at Fergus like, no, he’s the genius.

“YOU’RE GENIUSES!” Campbell shouted and he slammed the door shut and got back to the microphone, “Sorry about the technical problems, folks. We’re now back on the air and we hope to keep it that way. Our next request is for Y/N and dedicated to her by me.” He chortled as he looked at her and clicked his tongue as he winked.

The cover of Sweet Jane played, making Y/N smile as Eddie looked at Fergus, giving him an apologetic and thankful smile as Fergus perpetually scowled before his lips curved into a gentle smile.

Later, Y/N helped Campbell clean up the hallways before they bumped into each other.

“Uh… so how did you know how to help Fergus?” He asked.

She took out her wad of paper and wrote: Learned. Taught.

He nodded, taking what he could get, “I always knew you were smart.” He said, honestly and he hesitated before leaning towards her to kiss her cheek like she had done the night, she shifted, conflicted as she could see the pure gentless in Campbell's personality, in his actions, in his eyes, and she could feel it in his cheek kiss. He had hesitated, not wanting to overstep boundaries and he was still nervous about his decision but before she could react Eddie ran out of the room, making them break apart and move out of the way before he rammed into them.

*This is a series from my Wattpad, so I'm moving in to Tumblr and Archive of my Own. There is an entire subplot later on of stalking and the cause of the reader's muteness or mutism (which ever is the correct term). Am I the only one who feels like Campbell Bain might also have ADHD or is it just because of his Bipolar/Manic Depression. I'm usually good at this but I'm having a hard time differentiating the two or maybe it's just David Tennant.

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imtryingbuck · 7 months

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Happy at last

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Summary: The team lose their friend (I’m bad at summaries sorry)

Word count: 751

Warnings: fluffy (my attempt at it anyway), mention of suicide. there’s a bit in the fic that is most definitely wrong by law but just go with it okay? Okay. the last chapter

A/N: I’m really sorry this is short. This weekend hasn’t been the greatest so…anyways sorry if it’s shit but I genuinely don’t have the energy to do anymore. I do hope you enjoy it though and thank you to everyone who’s commented, liked and reblogged each chapter it truly means the world🤍

Masterlist Series Masterlist

It’s been three years since Y/n and Bucky left hand in hand for Wakanda. The first nine months they were there was pretty hectic.

Shuri got her prepped and ready for the deprogramming, which didn’t take as long as Bucky’s. When she was clear of her trigger words that Bucky had read out, just like she read his all them years ago.

Steve let Bucky know that the President had been arrested for his role at Hydra, just after he was arrested he committed suicide. His name was still tarnished and the whole world knew what he had done.

Y/n made sure that his mistress, the mother of his unborn child, Alisha Grey and Baby Grey’s bodies were found and given a proper burial, right next to where her grave lays.

The new President gave Y/n a full pardon and gave her the Presidential Medal of Freedom medal. Stating on national television that Y/n L/n was never a traitor but a hero. A hero that had been saving people’s lives since she was 16 years old and that’s what she should be always known and remembered for. A hero.

The bosses and agents of SHIELD were all fired for what they did to her. Some were even arrested and sent to prison.

The warden of the Raft was arrested and sent to prison for endangering life that he was in charge of and for abuse and neglect, as well as profiting from assaults. He got 20 years.

Hydra had finally been shut down completely, all agents arrested and charged to with life imprisonment.

Y/n and Bucky’s relationship started. After she was given the all clear Bucky didn’t waste a single millisecond to kiss her. Kissing her like his life depended upon it right in front of T’Challa, Shuri, Nakia and Okoye - who all cheered and clapped.

When the time came for them to go back to their other home, Bucky tried to convince her to stay-

“Doll we have a life here, we’re safe”

“But… then that means we’ll have a normal life”

“And?”

“I-I don’t know how to live a life that’s normal Buck, all my life I’ve been trained to fight from one fight to the next…”

“I know, and my love you’re not alone. I’m right here with you. We’ll do it together I promise living a normal life scares me too but we can continue to be happy here”

She hesitated, what he was saying was true and she knew that. Though she did have to admit she took to farming rather quickly, naming all their goats after members of the team and the bull they had after Fury. She also did enjoy helping out on the markets, bouncing from stall to stall. Loved helping the children with schoolwork and keeping them busy by playing with them when their parents were busy or tired. She especially loved the day she delivered a beautiful baby girl - bless Bucky’s heart he had to hear about it every day for nearly two weeks, in full detail.

She loved the feeling of being free. Free from the pain and suffering she either saw or went through. Free from one order to the next. Free to finally be herself.

But even if she did love that feeling she was terrified off it, what she had told Bucky wasn’t wrong, all of her life the only thing she knew what to do was to fight and to survive.

Wakanda was her home from the minute she stepped foot in the country many years ago, and with Bucky by her side she knew everything was okay, right?

“Okay…”

“Okay?”

“Okay we can stay” Bucky picked her up and spun her around until he lost his footing making them fall to the ground, it didn’t stop him from placing kisses upon kisses to her face.

The team understood when Bucky and Y/n told them that they was retiring, nor was they surprised by the two’s relationship.

One by one the team followed suit and retired too, all being welcomed openly by King T’Challa and the people of Wakanda.

Each and everyone of them had found happiness.

It’s now the 9th of March 2026, time currently is 11:54pm, their whole family is waiting outside the couples home wincing at hearing Y/n’s screams.

The clock strikes 12:01 and all is heard is the cries of a baby.

Bucky runs out a few minutes later with tears streaming down his face.

“It’s a boy!”

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yougavemeyourheartyouknow · 6 months

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Love me or hate me, both are in my favor (Miguel O’Hara x Fem! Reader [HS Academic rivals AU])

Hiiiiii! Sorry for the long wait, I wrote most of this chapter while rewatching to all the boys I’ve loved before because reader is sooooo Laura Jean coded. Not proofread, enjoy!

(E/C)- Eye color, (L/N)- Last name.

Mentions of suicide, mentions of poison, mentions of stabbing, (Romeo and Juliet spoilers???), Cursing.

Word count: 1.6k

Series Masterlist Series playlist

Chapter 4: I never dreamed that I'd meet somebody like you,

—

Monday, your first day back to classes since your little incident, and although you wanted to be excited for it, it was hard. Sure, the ability to leave your small cramped dorm room was nice, being able to feel the crisp November air breeze through you once more rather than the shitty AC system in your dorm was a nice change of pace from the past few days, but your injury made the whole thing annoying.

Having to awkwardly place your crutches next to your desk and praying to God they didn’t fall in the middle of class (they did about a fourth of the time), pretending like you didn’t feel the stares of your other classmates when you go from one class to another, or acting like you don’t see them turn to their friends and whisper about you. It also gave almost every guy within a 20 foot radius a “knight in shining armor syndrome”, so if it looked like you were even so much as struggling to grab a pencil from your bag, you’d have to deal with a bunch of senior boys racing each other in order to be the first to help you. Lucky you have most of your classes with MJ, being your actual knight in shining armor, shooing them away from you like they were a pack of stay dogs, but when she wasn’t around you they stuck to you like flies in honey. You and MJ weren’t the only ones annoyed by theses guys.

Currently, you’re sitting in your Advanced placement literature class. Your teacher droning on about your next and last assignment before your class would move onto the next unit which was the Victorian era of literature, usually you would be excited about starting a new class unit but your usual energy had been thoroughly drained out of you due to all the extra attention you weren’t used to. Sure you were one of the “well-known” and “prettier” girls on campus but you never had the amount of attention that you'd been receiving throughout the day on you before.

“As for your final assignment, I will be having you all pair with someone at random and you will all have to perform a scene from one of the two plays we read in class, also from random.” Your teacher finishes with a smile, not even faltering in the slightest when the collective groans erupted throughout the classroom. Ms.Covey was really playing into the stereotypical English/Drama teacher troop with this assignment. She let out a small chuckle before continuing, “You’re all so dramatic, don’t worry I won’t grade on acting skills, more so on your efforts that you put into the performance. You don’t have to be an amazing actor, but I do want you all to try.” She finishes as she bends gown to grab two small pastel coffee mugs, and places them onto her desk. Calling your classmates by random to go pick a paper from the pink mug (the ones with the scenes), before picking out from the green one (the one with names).

After the third or fourth name that wasn’t yours was called you began to zone out, your eyes looking up and the ceiling as you began to count the little holes on the tiles as you propped your elbow on top of your closed hardcover notebook, your cheek resting on your opened palm, subconsciously chewing on your bottom lip, tasting your strawberry lip gloss when you wipe away the residue from your teeth with your tongue. You let out a quiet sigh as you lost count after passing 40, you were about to start over when your ears perked up after hearing an oh-so familiar name was called up.

“Mr.O’Hara, come up and pick your scene please.” Although the way the words were phrased, the command came out more as a question. Curiously, your (E/C) eyes made there was to look over to the left, watching as the male begrudgingly got up from his seat, the chair making a small scraping noise as he cursed quietly under his breath in spanish. He could feel your eyes on him, despite the rest of the classroom watching him as well, he always knew when you were watching him, maybe it was because he’s grown almost a sixth sense that was dedicated to just you, he’s convinced himself that he could always find your eyes in a crowd, the idea almost drives him mad. Why does God have to curse him with your presence?

His large tan hand went into the pink mug and pulled out a price of paper that was a bit thicker feeling then the rest, most likely being one with a bit of a longer description, before handing it over to Ms.Covey, his bored stoic eyes purposely avoiding yours. Although this would usually be normal for you both, it felt a bit odd, since after your last interaction with one another. Your teacher let out a surprised hum when she opened the small strip of paper.

“This is an interesting one… Your scene is going to be Act 5, Scene 3 from Romeo and Juliet.” She mumbled the first part to herself before saying the latter half louder, so he as well as the rest of the class could hear. You couldn’t help the smile that began to creep on your face, you didn’t even need to open your copy of the book to know exactly which scene that was. That scene was the one where Romeo visits Juliet with the impression she’s dead and is so distraught and filled with grief, that he takes his own life by drinking poison, before she wakes up and follows his lead and takes hers by stabbing herself with a dragger. The scene was heart wrenching, and beautiful and tragic and Miguel is totally gonna butcher it. The thought of Miguel having to act out that scene was absolutely hilarious! You can’t wait till class ends, you’re gonna tease the ever living sh- “Miss (L/N)! You will be his partner.”

Your smile instantly dropped, Shit. No, no, no, nooooo. Your hand instantly shot up, you didn’t even have to glance over to Miguel to know his face held the same look of slight panic when he turned to face your teacher.

“Ms. Covey-“ You and Miguel both began in unison, you not even waiting for her to at least call your name, but she quickly shuts down any type of protest you or he could spit out. Her hand coming out in front of her in a stop motion as her expression shifts to one of mild annoyance.

“Ah- Don’t start. I don’t want to hear it!” Her brows scrunch closer together as she sends you both a pointed glare before continuing, “No switching, don’t even ask. Besides, this will be a good excuse for the both of you to bond, maybe you’ll learn to at least get along enough to not bicker at the time.” You lowered your hand back down onto your desk, an exasperated sigh leaving your lips.

This is gonna be a long assignment.

—

Your chewed on the inside of your check as you put your book down and reach for your phone again, only to see that another 15 minutes have passed. You let out a groan and shut your book with a small slam, startling yourself a bit as you began to put away your supplies back into your book bag, before slinging it over your shoulders and grabbing your crutches to make your way back to your dorm.

“What a fucking asshole… I don’t wanna do this assignment with him either, but the least he could do was text me while I was still in my dorm… he knows it’s hard for me to walk still…” You ranted to yourself quietly as you carefully made your way down the ramp of your favorite school library. You and Miguel had (begrudgingly) agreed to meet up at 5:30pm at the library to go over the assignment, read over the lines and whatnot. That was the plan at least, but after an hour and a half of waiting without so much as an update text you had decided to throw in the towel. You couldn’t wait for the next time you see him so you could rip him a new one. Now you had to walk limp? from the library back to your dorm by yourself, that was all the way across campus. Not only that but the fall weather was not being forgiving as the temperature began to steadily decline, your fleece lined tights underneath your school uniform and your bomber jacket doing very little to keep you warm, the bleak darkness of nightfall already covering Nueva York thanks to daylight savings.

You were only halfway back when you had to stop for a break, hazardly dropping your stuff on the other side of the bench you were resting on. Miguel totally owes you one. You closed your eyes, letting out a small huff as you placed your gloved hands coming over and rub your face, disregarding your tears of frustration and blaming them as your body’s reaction to the skin-numbing coldness.

“Need a lift?” Asked a voice asked from… above you? You pulled your hands down and cranked your neck up to look directly above you, your lips twitching upwards slightly. “Well- a swing.” He added, making you let out a small giggle, already going to gather your stuff.

“Nice to see you again, Spider-Man.”

—

Taglist: @famouscattale @oharasfilipinawife @mxltifxnd0m @loser-alert @homewreckingwreck @dumb-gemini12 @cowboylikeevie @thedevax @codenameredkrystalmatrix

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o hara fanfic #miguel o'hara #spiderman 2099 x reader #astv miguel #astv spiderman 2099 #miguel o’hara au #miguel spiderverse #love me or hate me fanfic #academic rivals au #spiderman 2099 fanfic #spiderman 2099 #atsv miguel #miguel x reader

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been-around-seen-things · 8 months

Text

CW: discussion of suicide

I’ve been mulling over a number of thoughts after eps 1-3 about Ed’s storyline, and I want to get them down before the new episodes come out, so here goes.

I’ve seen so many folks hard hit by Ed’s suicidality, needing to mind their mental health before rewatching, and—yeah. Folks who know me as a fic writer and who have read A Bug to Remember can glean some idea of where this topic has touched me. My own lowest time was literally two decades ago, so for me it’s not so much about that.

I just keep thinking about the okayness Ed performs in ep 2, which obviously isn’t entirely convincing, but nevertheless covers up that he’s already made his decision.

Which makes me think about someone I mentored and who died by suicide in 2019. Her name was Katie. I’m going to speak her name here because talking about her and thinking about her keeps her present for me.

Katie was deeply complicated, but, well, so is Ed, obviously. Ep 2 reminded me so vividly of her performance of okayness. She was professionally successful, organized, seemed to have it all together. I know others who also loved her have had the very natural “I should have known” reaction, but I don’t necessarily feel that way. For people like me whom she saw as mentors, she very deliberately hid the cracks, the pain, the suffering. Looking back on it now, I can see how our closeness was more about how much she made me feel comfortable sharing myself, while she remained pretty thoroughly walled off.

All of this makes me think about all the lies, the terrible lies our brains tell us. I talked in sort of a jumbled way on Twitter about the stories Ed tells and tries to tell about himself. The stories we tell and believe about ourselves are so fundamental to our very existence, and Ed has so much trouble believing any positive story about himself.

We first see him trapped in the narrative of Blackbeard, in which he is a “ghost.” He imagines himself as Stede Bonnet, but that’s a violent story with an intended murderous end. Jeff the Accountant is a story that’s fun at first, but the fallout just ends up hitting him where he’s most sensitive, his deepest feelings of unworthiness.

The most believable story for him is the Kraken. Clearly he wants something else, but it feels like literally the only option.

He tries to imagine himself as Jeff the Innkeeper, but he can’t keep from being a dick to himself long enough to even fully imagine how that story could play out.

His only positive stories, of course, are with Stede: first, playfully imagining himself as a chef, someone who can do anything. That one ends happily, albeit only temporarily—the brief dream of being co-captains. And then the possibility of running off to China together—but that’s an option that means Ed leaving his whole identity behind. It’s a running away, not an integration of the stories he carries. And then losing the possibility of that story—well, we know what happens.

And so. Here we are. Ed is alive, and he needs a new story that doesn’t cause himself and everyone else around him so much suffering. Ngl I had a real hard time on my first watch with how much pain there was all around. But that’s because, as always, this show is emotionally truthful even as the events are sometimes preposterous. I’m excited to see what other story possibilities are there for Ed. What he can find himself able to believe.

#back to my brain being 99% pirates at all times #ofmd #our flag means death #ofmd meta #edward teach #blackbeard

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ilytcoys · 1 month

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!!! This is a WIP and not at all finished and isn't edited yet, just a rough idea !!!

TW: mention of suicide.

Prologue:

I look down on the street below from the roof of the building. Today my best friend killed herself and to celebrate her, i decided to crash a rich persons party. We use to do it when we were teenagers. Young and free.

A group of teenagers smoking on the corner. Two girls, walking, arms linked close together. Cars lined the street. I like watching people. We use create stories for them.

The group of teenagers, four of them, just ran away from their foster home. I looked back at them and saw two of them bickering. The oldest boy suggested that they went to the poorer side of town, whilst the other boy said they should leave the city. New York city, where dreams are made. Fuck that.

The girls at the end of the street now, giggling after one of them accidentally tripped slightly. Best friends, from two completely different worlds meet.

I smile and think of my best friend. Lottie. She was beautiful and perfect but looks weren’t everything. I’d known her all my life, I knew she was struggling mentally. I knew. I knew. I knew and I couldn’t help her. I couldn’t help. I failed her.

Tears pricked my eyes and I felt a presence next to me. I quickly wipe my eyes and turn my head. My eyes widen slightly. A tall, dark haired, polished man stood next to me. Probably the most gorgeous man I’d seen in a long time.

“It’s a beautiful Night,” he said softly, his voice was milky and smooth like butter. “Don’t you think?”

It took me a second to speak. “Uh- yes. Yeah. I’m just watching the people.”

He looks me up and down. I swallow nervously, scared I’ve been caught.

“People watching?” He questions.

“Yes, I like to make up silly stories about them.” I smile shyly. “It’s just a Little Game i like to play.”

“Sounds fun.” He licks his lips. “What’s your name?”

“It’s Faye.”

“Asher Dixon.” He turns to me and hold out his hand for me to shake. I take it hesitantly.

As soon as I make contact he pulls me in close. I press up against his chest and I gasp in surprise.

He moved close to my ear, his lips brushing me, and whispered. “Faye. Lovely to meet you, darling, but your time at this party come to an end, I’m assuming you know where the exit is.”

I nod slowly and he releases me. He smiles as if nothing happened and walked away.

I wanted to stay so badly, just to spite him, but I didn’t. After Asher walked away to another group of people, I quickly walked out known his eyes were most definitely burning into my back.

Once down on the street, I look up to see if he was still watching me. Our eyes met and he walked out of eyes sight. The entire way back to my apartment my heart was beating out of my chest.

I needed that.

I needed that adrenaline.

-----

Thank you for reading, please tell me if you like it (or dont) in the comments.

-ilytcoys

#literature #my writing #creative writing #i love you #life quotes #quotes #words #poem #poetry #writeblr #romantic #romance books #writing

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atinylittlepain · 11 months

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June - Part Four

Joel Miller x f!oc

series masterlist

warnings | 18+ dark themes surrounding suicidal ideation and attempt, smut, angst, but also a whole lot of love to be had

..........................................

Rising over the tide

Oh, hold me tight

I'm scared I might fall

Just like the water below

You don't get to know

If your love has all

It's gonna take

"Hearts Aglow" by Weyes Blood

...........................................

“Do you not want me in your room any more?”

“What? No. Why’d you ask that?” A jut of her chin to the sealant in his hands, her eyes glancing at the window behind him.

“Oh. No, June. Just wanted to fix this before it gets any colder out.”

“Hmm.” Chin resting in her palm, her knees tucked up for her elbows to prop on, feet curled over the edge of the mattress.

“They’re gonna let me take patrol shifts again.” He stills in his work. She’s just tucked a grenade into his palms, he knows it. And he knows she’s waiting to see if there will be an explosion.

“Okay. Do you think that’s a good idea?” Wrong, wrong, wrong. She scoffs.

“Do you?”

“Can I be frank?”

“Please.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why?”

“I just don’t.”

“Well what would you have me do?”

“I don’t know. Anything else.”

“Hmm.” He’s learned that sound can mean a lot of things. But it’s clear to him exactly what it conveys in this instance. I’ve already made up my mind, and I don’t like the way you’ve made up yours. He continues to work, smoothing out the sealant, scraping up, down, up, down. His ears prick to her sigh, the mattress creaking as she stands, the dull thud of socked feet slipping out of the room. His shoulders wilt in her absence. He hadn’t given her the answer she wanted. But he wasn’t about to change his mind either.

It hits him all at once, choking up his lungs with the image of her holding a–

The mouth of it pressed to her–

Her finger curled around the–

But she wouldn’t. Right? That’s in the past. All passed, passed, passed.

She’s going to stay. With him, with him, with him.

…

If he stares at it long enough, maybe it will open. Like an eye, dropped in a perpetual wink, shut, shut, shut. Teasing him, taunting him with its stillness. If he paces, back, forth, back, forth, maybe she will come home sooner, slip through the gate before the next time he blinks. He blinks. Nothing.

It’s been like this all day. Restless, waiting from the moment she left. He fixed the wobbly porch step, sanded down the rough catch in the railings upstairs, and resealed every other window in the goddamn house. Bad luck, that it’s his day off, nothing to do but wait. Watching the clock until it’d be at least a little acceptable to go hover around the gate.

Three steps to the left, kicking the toe of his boot into the dirt before turning, three steps to the right, repeat, repeat, repeat. He only lets himself glance back over to the gate after four whole rotations. Still nothing. Repeat, repeat, repeat.

He hears it before he sees it. The groan of metal churning into motion, opening for a small stream of people to slip inside. The squeeze in his chest tightens, tightens, tightens, until he sees her, one of the last ones to come in. Safe, clean, calm. And then Ellie trails in behind her, unexpected. He hadn’t known that both halves of his heart were out there today, sick with the realization now that it’s tucked back into his chest. And they’re talking. They’re talking and Ellie’s smiling and so is she and he’s not sure if he likes that and he’s not sure why he’s not sure. And then Ellie’s eyes catch on him over her shoulder and June’s head whips around too. Both still smiling like they know something he doesn’t. She turns back around, a hand on Ellie’s arm, clear in its care, and Ellie nods, another glance Joel’s way before she’s off in the other direction.

It’s still strapped around her chest. Thick leather band, and steel on her back. His hands itch to rip it off her and throw it over the gate, to get it as far away from her as possible. Instead, he clenches his fists at his sides, knuckles popping white.

“You alright?”

“I’m fine. It was quiet out there.”

“Let’s go home.” He doesn’t take her hand, out of fear he might hold it too tight, too hard.

“Ellie is a good kid.”

“Uh-huh.”

“You did good with her.” He stops chopping, knife suspended in the flesh of a potato.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”

“No, that’s– I can’t take credit for her like that.”

“That’s not the way she sees it.” She doesn’t look at him, eyes focused on the pan sizzling softly on the stove. But he knows she’s being careful with what she says, rolling her bottom lip between her teeth.

“You and her talked today?”

“We walked the same route.”

“I see.”

“I invited her to dinner.” “You what?” “Dinner on Friday. She’s going to come over.” What had been simmering as sour unease now fizzes and pops into something closer to anger. Still not sure why, all he knows is that his feet are moving and she’s saying his name like a question and he’s already slipping out the front door and down the porch step he fixed that morning. Space, he needs space, distance, to steady this ugly feeling in his throat before it catches and spills over her.

The bar. Let him get swallowed up by sound and people and a few glasses of something strong. And looking into the amber dregs in his glass, he realizes that what felt like anger had actually been the sharp clench of fear. Fear that he won’t be able to stand it, having his heart hinged back together. It’s been easier, keeping a piece for her, and a piece for the kid. Distant, separate, compartments he can step in and out of.

He’s willing to try. Frankenstein’s creation, let their hands stitch muscle back together, fine threads that will sting with their snap. For them, he’s willing to try.

But he’s already too late. Always too late. The house is dark, yawning, when he returns a few hours later. And she’s gone. Gone, gone, gone. His mind spins with it, blood rushing in his ears, an aching throb in his throat.

It’s cold out. Always gets so cold, so quick in the fall and she shouldn’t be out there but she is and it’s his fault, his fault, his fault. The laces of his boots are untied, biting at his ankles and he doesn’t care because he needs to find her now.

Before she gets a–

And slips out of the–

And he’ll never get to–

He walks the path she used to take before, trailing the rim of the wall, a hand perpetually clenched over his chest to still the persistent flares of pain. And he probably looks mad, stumbling around in the dark, eyes wide and sweeping.

She’s hunched, legs splayed out in front of her in the crisping grass, shoulders slumped in on themselves. Unblinking, staring straight ahead at the wall. He says her name like a sigh.

Space, he needs to give her space so she doesn’t flinch, doesn’t flee, sitting down with a few paces breathing in between them. He’d give anything for her to look at him right now.

“I wanted to do something for you.” He’s not sure he heard her right, ducking his head down, trying to catch her eyes that she still refuses to give to him.

“Something good, for you. That’s all. I didn’t mean for this.” Her teeth are chattering, words a dull mumble. He’s never going to forgive himself for the way she’s shivering.

Everything in him slackens when she lets him take her hand, stretched out in the space between them. A broken bird with its own stilted heartbeat, the way he cradles her palm in his.

“Let’s go home, June.” Mercifully, she listens, untangling her hand from his to wordlessly stand. And she’s not wearing a coat, and that’s not right, and he needs to fix it, fix it, fix it, already shrugging his off to swallow her up in what warmth he can provide.

She’s quiet, careful, her eyes caught on her hands in her lap. He can see her out of the corner of his eye from where he’s kneeling in front of the bathtub trying to make the water just right, right, right. His coat is still hanging off of her shoulders. She’s still shivering and he wonders how long she had been out there, working it over in his mind until it hurts.

“Can I?” Hands outstretched, she willingly steps into them, letting him peel away each layer of clothing, revealing skin taut in a close shake. He keeps her hand in his as she steps over the lip of the tub, sinking slowly with a sigh until her shoulders slip under. The shiver starts to smooth.

“I didn’t mean to, Joel.”

“No, you didn’t. I’m the one who fucked up.”

“You’re mad.”

“Not at you.” Never at you. Words he tries to press into the arch of her knee breaking just above the water, his palm slipping down the slope of her shin and back up, his shirt-sleeve soaked with how sorry he is.

“I am sorry.”

“You don’t have to be.”

“I just wanted you to have something good.”

“I know, June. It is good. I wasn’t thinking right.” I’m sorry, so, so, so sorry. He can’t get the words out of his throat, settling for a low hum as she slips deeper down, water flickering against her chin.

“Warming up?”

“Hmm.” Her eyes have fluttered shut, skin going sticky with the heat. And all he can do is rest his chin on the lip of the tub, slumped down against the side, his hand settled on her shin, constant and calming.

“So dinner?” One eye, then the other, cracking open.

“Only if you’re okay with it.”

“I am, I am. Thank you, June.”

…

Wings, bright and beating all along his ribs. Something nervous, something good. Both at the same time. It’s getting darker earlier and earlier, the kitchen washed orange and yellow to keep out the purpling night. And they’re both here, both here, sitting at the table with him, eating something warm and rich and talking easy. He didn’t even have to try. It was simple.

“She’s alright, old man.”

“Yeah, she is.” On the porch, hands shoved deep into pockets. A tentative goodnight.

“How’s Dina?” “She’s good.”

“Good.”

“I’ll bring her next time, if that’s okay.” Next time, next time, next time.

“Of course, kid. I’d like that.”

“Cool.”

“You taking care of yourself?”

“I am. Are you?”

“I am.”

“That’s good, old man. I’ll see you later?”

“Yeah, kid. Goodnight.” A quick little thing, her hands still tucked in her coat, hooking her elbow around his back for a halfway embrace. He tries not to smile too much at it.

It buoys him, light, light, light. Ease, her calves draped over his lap while she reads at the other end of the couch. Thicker socks, finally.

“Thank you, June.” Faded pages lower, wide eyes and parted lips revealed.

“Ellie likes you.”

“Hmm.”

“She doesn’t like most people.”

“I like her too. She’s a no-bullshit type.” Nothing but fondness, a flower that roots down deep and unfurls up his throat at her words.

“Yeah, she is.”

“She gets it from you.”

“Yeah, she does.” Fingers curl, a tug, only a little greedy, the tendons in her ankle jumping beneath his palm. Slow slippage in the way she slinks over to him, settling down over his thighs, the spine of her book cracked and warped from the way she left it. A wolfish curve to the smile he kisses her with, sharp, seeking, an edge that she’s happy to meet, to run the tip of her tongue along, a flicker of pleasure.

He has half a mind to reach back, fumble with the faded curtain, shutter the window tight. Just them, just this. The close tangle of muscle, threads unfurling to welcome in heat. Hands that snap and seek under fabric. Always so cold, cold, cold, her fingers making his stomach tense where they slip beneath the band of his jeans. And she’s a sight, slipping down from his lap to kneel between his legs and he’s not going to survive this. The swell of her cheek pressed against his thigh, her smile crumpled to the side and her hand on him suddenly so warm he can feel it rising up his neck.

She’s not precious about it, purposeful in the pleasure she pulls from him, a shuddering drag when she takes him into her mouth. Her palms splay, nails digging down into the heat of his thighs and all he can do is sigh at the feeling skittering beneath his skin. His, his, his. His woman and her wide, wild eyes, blown out so dark, flickering beneath the wings of her lashes. His woman and the snarl she softens just for him, the quick pink of her tongue hiding the sharp silver of her teeth.

“Come here.” Please, please, please. In the way his hands hook under her arms, insistent, the both of them turning snappy about it, sharp sighs when she finally settles around him, her spine snaring with the stretch. And they move like they always do, arms wrapped close and tight, snaking and seeking skin until they’re both bare, pressed in each other’s heat.

“Let me see, June.” Murmured into her temple, coaxing her face out from the crook of his neck just in time to see the pull of her brow, the way her lips part around a cry of his name. His, his, his. Fluttering down around him, her arms a gentle cage around his shoulders. They break into a million pieces for each other, again and again and again.

And what’s left is the press and pull of his chest against hers, the way her lips rest against the pulse of life beneath his jaw. Right there.

Beating, beating, beating.

...............................................

taglist (folks who asked and a few folks who i just thought would like to be, lmk if you want added or dropped) : @thetriumphantpanda @suzmagine @casa-boiardi @hollywoodcaligirl @kelp-dreaming @beskarandblasters @swiftispunk @tieronecrush @wannab-urs @jksprincess10 @darkroastjoel

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #tlou #joel miller angst #joel miller fluff #the last of us #tlou fanfiction #joel miller story #joel miller series #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #joel miller fics #joel miller au #joel miller imagine

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