#but i hate it because i know its gone and its in the past and i'm never going to feel that way again
Text
The Kumquat (The Surprise, Part 4)
Emily Prentiss x fem!reader
Warnings: pregnancy times, established relationship, fluff on fluff on fluff, some references to past sexual trauma (nothing graphic), a Pap smear (aka the WORST medical exam and I will stand by that)
Word Count: 1.4k
Summary: It's Emily's first non-local case since finding out you were pregnant, and you're both struggling. Especially because it means she'll have to miss you first prenatal appointment–and the first sound of your baby's heartbeat. Maybe there's still a way to share the moment, though...
Week 10: The Kumquat
Your heart beat wildly as you pulled into the parking lot of the OBGYN’s office. You wiped your sweaty palms on your jeans and checked your phone. Nothing. You groaned and rubbed your forehead.
You had a hard time with doctors, particularly with gynecologists–a stubborn remnant of past trauma. Emily knew that. Emily knew it was your first appointment and that you’d be scared. She’d wanted to come along; she would have asked all the questions you'd forget.
But duty called. It always did. You’d gotten lucky over the last month since finding out you were pregnant. The BAU hadn’t caught any huge cases and, even the cases they did catch had been local enough that Emily still made it home to you most nights. But, of course, your luck had run out.
You were angry with Emily for leaving, but you knew that was unreasonable. This is what you’d signed up for. Her job was important to her. It was important to you. The fact that she was so passionate about and dedicated to her team and the work they did was one of the things you loved most about her. You were always sad to see her leave and, yes, sometimes frustrated when she had to miss things you’d planned together, but at the end of the day, you knew she loved you, and that was all that mattered.
But this time. This time you were struggling. You tried not to take it out on Emily too much; it wasn’t her fault that your hormones were going wild. You were more everything than usual. More angry at her for leaving, more sad while she was gone, more terrified of going to the doctor.
You glared at your message-less phone for a few minutes before taking a deep breath and texting Emily.
Headed into the OBGYN🤞 I wish you were here. Be safe love 💗
You waited a few minutes with no response, taking a deep breath to swallow your rage. For all you knew, she could be in a bulletproof vest trying to talk down a murderer right now. She loves you, you reminded yourself. If she could be here, she would.
In the office, you were assaulted with the smell of rubbing alcohol and Lysol. You filled out what felt like a full novella of personal and family medical history. When they finally called you back, you felt like a science experiment–poked and prodded and measured. When the doctor pulled out the stirrups, you flinched.
“Is that necessary?” you asked.
She nodded at you. “Sorry. It’s just been long enough since your last Pap smear that I’d rather be safe than sorry.”
You hated it. Hated the whole process, you always did. It was painful and invasive and it made you remember things you’d really rather not remember. Emily usually went with you, to let you squeeze her hand and to whisper that it was okay, you were safe.
You clenched and felt tears prick at your eyes as the cold metal forced its way into you. Hands gripping at the paper covering the seat, you tried your very best to imagine Emily’s voice, her face, the smell of her hair. And you tried not to feel too furious that she wasn’t there. It’s not her fault, you repeated like a mantra.
They took some blood, they asked about running tests to screen for the baby’s health.
“Yes,” you said. “Run all of them.”
“The good news,” the doctor continued, “about these tests is that you also get to find out the gender earlier if that’s something you want.”
You knew you’d need to talk to Emily about it, but part of you didn’t want to know. Emily stubbornly calling the baby he, so sure was she that it was a boy, and you calling the baby she out of pure spite, had become an endearing part of your pregnancy to you. You might just rather be surprised.
“Now for the fun part!” the doctor said, clapping her hands together. “Would you like to try and find the heartbeat?”
Your stomach fluttered with excitement. “Really!? Isn’t it too early?”
“Sometimes we can hear it early with Doppler.”
You nodded vigorously, lifting up your shirt. It was the only time in your life you’d voluntarily had a doctor examine you.
She pressed the device to your lower belly, searching for sound. You waited rapt, barely breathing, so scared were you that you’d miss it.
But then: a whooshing sound and a quick, urgent, pattering heartbeat. Your baby’s heartbeat. You grinned wide.
“That’s her?” you asked, giddy.
The doctor nodded.
You felt like crying, from pure joy, but also because you wished Emily was here. She would be so sad, so sad, to have missed this. But maybe you could bring the heartbeat to her.
You took out your phone. “Can I record this?” you asked. “I want to send it to my wife.”
“Of course,” the doctor said.
You pressed the record button on your Voice Memos, and recorded a good thirty seconds of the baby’s heartbeat, knowing that Emily would listen to it again and again and again.
When you finally left the office, proud of yourself, you hopped in the car and checked your phone. Still nothing. You sent off another text to Emily.
Must be a hard day. ❤️Here’s something to cheer you up! 👶🏻🫀I miss you. Call when you can.
Later that night, as you lay in bed reading, your phone started buzzing. You smiled wide. Emily.
“Good evening, Agent Prentiss,” you joked.
“The heartbeat!” she squealed, so loud you had to hold the phone away from your ear.
You grinned and gushed. “Isn’t it the most beautiful heartbeat you’ve ever heard!?”
“Yes! After yours, of course.”
“Wow, you’re laying it on thick.”
“I’ve got a lot to make up for.” Emily sounded genuinely sad. “Honey, I’m so sorry I wasn’t there.”
“It’s okay,” you said, most of your anger dissipating the moment the words I’m sorry left her mouth.
“It’s not okay. I should’ve been there. You hate going to the doctor, and it’s our baby. It’ll get easier after we tell my team. Then I can take a step back.”
“It’s really okay, Em.”
She sighed, and you could tell there was nothing you could say that would alleviate her guilt. She’d carry it with her until she was home again, until she could scoop you up and hold you and take care of you the way she wanted to.
“Was everything okay? With you and Little Kumquat?”
“Kumquat looks good. Healthy as a horse. I–” You thought about the Pap smear, the taste of metal seeping into your mouth. “I’m okay, too.”
“You’re lying.” Emily’s voice shifted, now deep and concerned. “Y/N, what happened?”
“I’m not lying!” Sometimes you really hated being married to a profiler.
Emily grew more panicked. “Is something wrong? Honey, do I need to come home?”
“No! Em, it’s just…” You sighed, picking at your fingernails. “They had to do a Pap smear.”
The line was quiet for a moment before Emily spoke, her voice thick with emotion. “Oh, honey. Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” you answered, shaky, afraid if you tried to say more you might start crying.
“Y/N, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there. I know how hard those are for you.”
You stayed quiet, willing yourself not to cry. Emily felt guilty enough; you crying would make it ten times worse.
“Listen, I’m at a hotel tonight, okay? I’ll have my phone by me all night. I know sometimes you get nightmares after, so just call me if you wake up, okay?”
“Emily, you don’t have to do that,” you said softly. “You need sleep.”
“I won’t sleep one wink if I’m worried about you all night, so promise me you’ll call.”
“Okay. I promise.”
“Thank you. Ugh, Rossi’s waving me over. I gotta go, but I love you so much, and I miss you every second, and I can’t wait to get home to you.”
“I love you, too.”
You slept with your phone on the pillow next to you that night, and it wasn’t the same as having Emily there, especially when you woke up gasping in a cold sweat. But her voice lulling you back to sleep was pretty close, and you were so, so glad to have her–even from far away.
#emily prentiss#emily prentiss x reader#emily prentiss x fem!reader#emily prentiss drabble#emily prentiss fluff#emily prentiss fanfic#criminal minds#criminal minds fanfic
106 notes
·
View notes
Text
(Part of this post with older brother danyal al ghul)
...Okay, look. Sam knows she's staring. She knows very well that she is staring. And that if she doesn't stop staring it's gonna draw her unwanted attention, and that will only have to make her explain why she's staring. Which she doesn't want to do.
She's trying not to stare, which she thinks she should get brownie points for. She tries to look away, to find a spot on the wall to stare lifelessly at, maybe she can burn holes into some of these annoying socialites' heads. But eventually her eyes drift, and suddenly she's back to staring again.
Can you blame her though? Damian Wayne looks like a very close mini-me of her fucking best friend. Seriously, it's like looking into a mirror to the past. If that mirror to the past had green eyes rather than blue and a distinctive lack of a facial scar.
The first time she sees him when her parents drag her over to Bruce Wayne to butter up to him she has to do a doubletake. Then a triple take. Then a quadruple take, just for good measure that she was seeing what she was actually seeing. She was sure she looked like one of those stress toys that when squeezed had their eyes pop out comically like a Saturday morning cartoon, that's what she certainly felt like anyways.
Look, Danny's come a decent way from being that scowl-y, jerkish little ten year old she first met when he arrived like the wind to Amity Park five years ago (even if he was still occasionally scowl-y and jerkish), but one thing that's stayed the same is how reserved he is about his home life prior to being taken in by the Fentons.
He doesn't talk about it much, and Sam's come to know that he's very good at changing the subject when it gets brought up. Even after being friends for nearly four years, the only thing she and Tuck know for certain is that he has a little brother that he refers to as 'starlight', whom he cares a lot about but left on really bad terms with. And that he's never met his father, but wants to and knows who he is.
He's never told her or Tucker who he was though, and glancing at Bruce Wayne, Sam is realizing why. She can begrudgingly acknowledge all the good he's done for Gotham, but... well, if Danny told her that Bruce Wayne was his dad, she wouldn't have believed him at all.
But she's starting to see the resemblance, as subtle as it is.
And she sees the resemblance to Damian Wayne, her eyes dropping back down to him as he wears a very Danny-like scowl on his face, arms crossed behind his back as his eyes swept around the ballroom. He was five years younger than Danny, and god it was so, so weird.
His eyes turned on to her, and they locked gazes for a moment.
Involuntarily, Sam makes a startled noise and looks away. Fingers tap against her purse, black and purple and unfortunately a clutch that only held her phone and her wallet in it. She would have kept a knife on her, but her parents put their foot down and there was a security detail at the door. Only in Gotham.
Silently, she was hoping that the little Danny-me didn't say anything. Or at least, he hadn't noticed her staring. Which was a tall order if she ever heard one -- and unfortunately, her silent prayers went unanswered as her mother's eyes dropped down onto her.
"Did you say something, Samantha?" She asks in a sickeningly sweet voice, a sound that makes Sam's skin crawl. Her dad and Bruce Wayne's attention also turns onto her, and she glowers at her mom from the corner of her eye.
"I didn't say anything." Sam says, barely keeping her tone polite as she turned her head away. Her mother clucks her tongue, disapproving, but from her peripherals doesn't pester her more
Bruce Wayne, the bastard, takes that time to turn to Sam and grace her with his dime-a-dozen billboard smiles. "I've been talking with your parents this whole time, Miss Manson, you must be terribly bored. How is your schooling going?"
Sam eyes him up and down. On one hand, she immediately wants to be snarky. It's none of his business what her school life is like, she doesn't care for his fucking small talk.
On the other hand, this was Danny's whole father. Someone who she knows that Danny has wanted to meet for, what she's assuming, his whole life. He's never brought it up much, but she remembers that very quiet, solemn conversation she and Tucker had with him where he admits to having never met his dad. But god does he want to.
And... wait. Sam's eyes narrow, and she meets Bruce Wayne's eyes. Does this man even know Danny exists? She drops her gaze down to Damian, who was staring at her suspiciously, and then back up to Bruce, and she alternates between them.
Why was Damian living with Bruce, but not Danny? Why hasn't Bruce done anything to reach out to him - what was going on with Danny's biological family that Danny had to be separated from them, but not Damian? Danny's always been kinda mysterious, but now things weren't adding up.
Was Danny given up? Does Bruce just not want Danny, but wanted Damian? Why the fuck does Bruce Wayne know about Damian but not her best friend -- or does he know and just not care? He's fought for custody for his adoptive kids before, does he just not want to fight for his other biological son? Does he think Danny's not worth it?
She's never cared much about the Wayne family before, other than to hear about the advancements on WE's eco-friendly tech, but Sam thinks she's gonna have to look into why Damian Wayne was living with the Waynes.
Slowly, with a protective anger beginning to burn in her gut and crawl up her throat, a scowl slowly curls at the corner of her lip as she redirects her glare from her mother onto Bruce. "It's going fine," She says curtly, jutting her chin out defiantly. "Me and my friend Danny started a petition to fix the leaky faucets in the girls and boys' bathrooms in order to conserve more water for the rest of the city."
She eyes his face, waiting to see if anything like recognition flashes through it. And- and nothing. Sam breathes in slowly through her nose, trying to quell the red that's blurring the edge of her vision -- does he just, not know where Danny is?
Her parents however, make vaguely displeased expressions. "Our Samantha is... quite passionate about her pet projects." Her dad says, laughing low and nervously, "she's very vocal about silly things like that."
"Her friend Daniel is perhaps even worse than she is sometimes." Her mother adds on, fanning her face with her perfectly manicured hands with a sigh. "I swear, he's the one that keeps dragging her into these things."
Sam's anger turns on its head, and she whirls on her heel like a fire-breathing dragon. "It's Danyal." It rolls out like instinct. Danny's told them both that he hates the Americanized pronunciation of his name, but in a rare moment of restraint, puts up with it for reasons unknown to her. "And Danny doesn't make me do anything, it was my idea."
The name, Danyal, seems to ring some kind of bell in Brucie Wayne's head, because she sees him and Damian quietly perk up like two cats pricking up their ears. Her eyes flick onto him immediately, something dangerous rearing its head. So Bruce Wayne knows about Danny. And he's not reaching out to him. Is he? She's not sure.
She does know that she's gonna rip his throat out if she finds out that he's known about Danny this entire time and has been ignoring him while favoring his little brother. She'll hunt down Aragon herself and steal his dragon-shifting amulet and wreck house on Bruce Wayne if that's the case. Batman and his league of vigilantes be damned. Her parents don't notice her slowly turning head towards Bruce.
But Bruce does, and she makes direct eye contact with him. His smile doesn't falter, he just tilts his head like a curious puppy and looks at Sam's parents. She hopes Bruce can read minds, she hopes he can hear her threatening him.
"Danyal?" He asks, and Sam doesn't know if she hates the fact that he said it correctly or not. She just continues burning holes into him and hoping he might spontaneously combust.
Her mother waves her hand dismissively, tilting her nose up poshly into the air. "Our dear Samantha's little... foster friend from school," she says, not even bothering to hide her disdain, "a creepy little boy with the most garish scar on his face. He's a rude little thing, not good for polite company."
Scratch that, Sam mentally alternates between ripping into her parents and Bruce. She whirls on them. "Do not talk about Danny that way." She all but snarls, and they all but ignore her.
(She's tearing up the upholstery when she gets home. She's going to paint over the fine china. She's going to do something to make them pay for this.)
"Oh yes, he was taken in by that freaky Fenton family a few years ago." Her dad continues in lieu of her mom, and they both shake their heads disapprovingly. "It's just what our city needs, another menace."
"Danny is not a menace." Sam continues, raising her voice while her hands shake with rage. Her parents finally look at her, but she can already tell that they're going to scold her for raising her voice. She bulldozes over them and jabs her black-painted finger at them. "He's got a bigger heart than the both of you combined."
"Samantha, please." her mom says, exasperated. They both give her disapproving looks, Sam thinks about grabbing champagne off the tray of a nearby waiter and throwing it in their faces. "You defend that boy far too much. What do you actually know about him and his family?"
Sam sets her jaw, puffing herself up like a dragon protecting its hoard. She steps into her mom's space. "I know that he loves the stars; you can ask him anything about astronomy and he could give you an entire lecture on the formation, class types, and various gasses that stars are made up of. He can tell you how the Earth was formed, he can tell you about the visible light spectrum and about light curves, and a whole ton of other stuff that I don't really understand. But Danny loves talking about it."
Her face twists and scowls, "I know he cares a ton about the environment and about fixing light pollution, and preserving the forests and natural habitats of animals." She nearly jabs her finger into her mom's chest, "I know he loves dogs, and that there's one he feeds every day on the way to school that he calls Cujo, its a St. Bernard puppy and Danny carries him around whenever he sees him after school, and is in the middle of training him."
It's not a total lie, but it's not the whole truth either. Cujo doesn't need food, but Danny gives him it anyways. "I know he likes spicy food and loves movies but specifically only sci-fi and horror, and he hates most martial arts movies. His favorite superhero is the Martian Manhunter, but Batman comes in at a close second." For reasons to her that were pretty unknown, but it didn't matter.
"I know he loves wordplay and making puns, which I would have never expected from him when we first met, but it's so unbelievably Danny-like that I can't imagine him not making puns." And she smiles a little to herself, she remembers the first time Danny intentionally made a pun once and it got startled laughs out of both her and Tucker.
Her smile suddenly falters, and she swallows. Her lips purse up, wobbling, and she very quickly glances over to Damian Wayne, of whom is watching her with a vaguely bewildered expression alongside Bruce.
She turns her eyes back onto her parents. "And I know that he worries a lot, even if he has a shit way of showing it. I know he had a little brother that he hasn't seen since he was adopted by the Fentons, and he doesn't talk about him often but when he does he he calls him 'starlight'." From the corner of her eye, she sees Damian jerk.
"So- so, so what if he's not 'good for polite company'." Sam's voice, embarrassingly, cracks down the middle. But she's so angry over Danny's behalf that she doesn't really care. "Or that he can be mean, and critical, and stubborn. He's learning, and he's becoming kinder by the day. That's more than I can say about you."
(She remembers when Danny finally admitted to her and Tucker being his 'closest friends'. It was sometime before the portal incident, and it felt like a milestone because beforehand he only really referred to them as his companions or allies.)
(At the time, he'd looked unsure of himself. Skittish like a stray in the back of an alleyway, almost shy in his own way. It had come out stilted, slow, like an infant taking its first steps, and it would have been endearing if it hadn't been heartbreaking.)
Her parents rear back like she'd struck them, and her mother holds a hand against her chest in aghast. Sam doesn't care, she blinks the sting out of her eyes. "Samantha." Her mother starts.
Sam cuts her off, "I don't care what you have to say, you-- you pricks." she snaps, around her, there are gasps. Belatedly, she realizes she's grown an audience, but again she doesn't care. "Danny might be an asshole, but he cares. And I'd rather be around someone whose mean but cares, than someone whose nice but doesn't."
With that, she whirls on her foot and turns on Bruce Wayne, who has been silent the entire time with a surprised expression on his face. He starts to shake out of it when Sam turns to him, but she doesn't give him the chance to speak. "Enjoy your party." She snarls, and then stalks away.
#dpxdc#dp x dc#dp x dc crossover#danny fenton is not the ghost king#dpxdc crossover#dpdc#danyal al ghul au#older brother danny#sam is one protective gal. this scene went differently in my head. way differently. but alas. i am not complaining.#sam: if bruce wayne abandoned my best friend i'm gonna physically transform myself into a dragon and incinerate him. how dare he.#bruce and damian got to watch in real time as a random girl who knows danny suddenly realizes he's related to them. which is comical to me#because she suddenly goes from being disinterested but weirded out by damian. to suddenly looking at bruce like she's gonna kill him#which is very funny to me bc from their pov at first its like this random girl just speedran hating bruce. and then her parents bring up he#friend danny and then she calls him danyal. and suddenly its starting to click into place like 'oh fuck wait we may just have a lead on --#-- finding danyal and his whereabouts.' especially after sam's mom mentions the scar on his face. like wow. what a crazy ten minutes.#not seen but def happened: sam gets her phone out to go text danny in the corner. she's not gonna bring up the bruce thing yet. she needs#a pick me up. related note: danny and tucker know she's gone to some gala thing with her parents but not to a wayne gala. if danny had know#he may have told her that he was related to damian wayne. just to prepare her for that. not so sure on the writing in this one folks#but i also dont wanna go through and edit anything its like half past one in the morning and i also dont wanna wait until morning to post#when i can just do it now. and get instant serotonin. i thought of this scene in various ways. like sam calling damian 'danny' out of shock#and then quickly correcting herself. and then excusing herself very quickly. or her mentioning that damian resembles her friend danny a lot#so she was just thrown off by him. because i def think that could happen if sam has no reason to think that she needs to hide danny from th#waynes. i also thought about her parents mentioning that damian resembles danny a little bit. only for one of them to go 'oh no no couldn't#- be. how insulting to damian since the daniel they know has this horrid scar on his face.' and then go from there. either way i thought#a scene like this would be fun. get to also kinda explore how danny looks like from his friends' povs. of which he is#'our lovable jerk who is an ex-cult member and whom we will maim someone over.'#not a scene that was added but i wanted to: sam mentioning in parenthesis that she and tucker think danny was part of a cult prior to the#fentons. and that sometimes danny will say something alarming and sam and tucker will stare at him until he frowns and goes#“that... isn't normal. is it?” and tucker will clap his shoulder and cheerfully go “no buddy. no it isn't” bc i think the idea is funny.#sam is so focused on the idea that bruce abandoned/ignored/was unaware of danny's existence that she momentarily forgot that bruce may have
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
arasawa 'but are they You Know' can be so funny check this out. literally any scenario involving ichiban being nosy
#snap chats#in the funniest and most ironic way i can say it its like when someones kids really wants their parent to be happy for once#yk what i mean there's like two ways a kid meeting a stepparent can go Abject Horror and Joy#i dont have to say who the first one is. i will though masato wants to scream Why Is Everyone But Me Happy#no listen if you've been reading the essays being posted here the past week i don think ichiban hates jo#and on TOP of that i think ichi thinks jo would be happy if he and arakawa could have One Nice Night and ergo he wont be so MEAN#just no worrying about the clan ichi and everyone else has it covered you can totally rely on them <- no you cant#its like when your parents go on vacation and you comedically wreck the house by accident while theyre gone#but then you SOMEHOW get it all fixed up right before they get home. cat in the hat kind of bullshit#i just think they should have their brooklyn 99 moment. you know the one#'RESPECTFULLY captain you and the boss need alone time'#jo doesnt even get what hes trying to say until he looks at mitsu who looks about ready to jump out the window yk#like 'aniki PLEAAASE shut the fuck up you're gonna get us hit'#and its BECAUSE they arent together Like That that its especially like Put A Cork In It You're Insane#in the alternate timeline/scenario where jo Does like arakawa like that i think ichi should be annoying about it too#listen if arakawa is the only thing that prevents them from maiming each other then it'll be fine#ichiban please be the worst wingman imaginable while jo tells you to leave him alone#hes going to bottle his emotions and store it in his chest and it'll just sit and ferment there until he dies#like are we seeing the potential here. its awful i cant open any new canvases or word docs EW#maybe if i finished my fuckin SHIT..
8 notes
·
View notes
Text
not me crying because i truly, whole-heartedly believe that i'll never experience the kind of happiness and utter joy that i felt as i stood around and watched my flatmates get high at midnight, sitting on a bench in a park and laughing amongst themselves at their stupid stoned jokes. humans are adorable. i want to hug them.
#i genuinely spent the last 10 minutes crying about this#and i just met these people yesterday#i love and hate this#i love it because i hadn't felt that kind of happy EVER and it just felt so surreal#but i hate it because i know its gone and its in the past and i'm never going to feel that way again#it'll only ever exist in my memory#i hope they know that i love them. even though i just met them last night lmao
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
...
#personal#so like ive been thinking about why i have this strange uncaring feeling about family during this vacation#i hate spending time with them i find them annoying and just not enjoyable to be around extended family is like having a customer talk to m#and bc of that i am the most insufferable person to be around. i dont have it in me to care about looking happy or being my best#i just exist i am here i am here with you and thats all it is to me. if i had a choice i would not be here.#they get mad with the way i am they dont like my indifference about everything we do but i am just LIKE that im honest about my feelings#it shows on my face and my voice. but i would never say anything bad outloud. so why does my body language matter anyways#i still think they should be happy im physically with them even if my heart is not so it should be enough...#i dont know when i stopped being happy around them#i think ive been this way for so long that i just have no room to really grow too much#and my friends and partners have a side of me that will never be shown to my family.#i feel two faced. but its not a bad thing#i wouldnt abandon them i respect what theyve done for me#but that doesnt erase the past.#... i understand it more. we have to live with our demons and the ghosts thay haunt us#but learning to not hold on to the hate and dread. not letting it kill you#thats. the hardest. part. because it comes back and it goes and its back and its gone#mmm#sometimes i do wish i could forget.#i would maybe be nicer.
3 notes
·
View notes
Text
man ch 98 is gonna definitely be an emotional rollercoaster
#gonna talk about sui in the tags btw so dont look if thats a sensitive topic#but i dont think its too clear what exactly tanjirou would have done had nezuko actually died at any point in the journey#one of his two main goals was to cure her with the other being defeating muzan but#this chapter + the one dream chapter in rehab arc + mugen train (just all of it)#makes it so clear how much more importance he placed the first one over the second is#with him literally trying to and even successfully killing himself once nezuko was gone#its a bit different in this chapter because at this point he is so traumatized by his nightmares that he thinks nezuko burning in the sun#was just another nightmare or a test that he needed to pass through the act of seppuku#but its a strong established aspect that he can and will give up if the last person that represented his innocent past disappears#the person that stops him from fatally hurting himself is said person which could be seen as both a good and a very concerning thing#bc hey we still have our main protagonist#but the fact that he relies so heavily on the wellbeing of someone else to inform his own is just not a healthy way to#deal with that shit + the other person will begin to feel the pressure of this and not know how to deal with the discomfort#this is something he does realize by the end of ch 100 (ideally) but instead of detaching himself from nezuko and focusing#on himself he just flies to the complete opposite end of the spectrum and hates himself even more#and forces himself not to rely on anybody even if they see that hes struggling and offer help#like buddy#throwing yourself into training to the point of passing out is just another form of self harm#yelling at zenitsu for wanting you to eat food is not it#arguing with giyuu who wants you to sleep for more than 4 fucking hours is not it#refusing to talk to nezuko or even see her is not it#and like#i love how this complete 180 in his philosophy is informed through him learning about the prophecy in ch 100#even if kagaya didnt mean to influence tanjirou that way the end result was that tanjirou still believes#he is the one whos supposed to save everyone through killing muzan#that hes yoriichi's successor and he think he has to take on this burden alone#he cant afford to rely on others#he cant afford to be weak and vulnerable#and thats where he rapidly starts tumbling towards his low point#kny plot rewrite
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
all i ever wanna do is sleep but my body wont even let me have at least a normal amount
#the bin#i havent had almost any energy in so goddamn long. its hard for me to even do my daydreaming because i just dont hqve the energy to stand up#i hate feeling so exhausted all the time. its so much worse since i also feel so depressed always too#nothing makes me feel better :( i spend every second feeling like garbage.#i hate that nobody has ever taken me seriously when i talk about how bad it feels. they dont understand how absolutely horrible it is to#just not have any friends whatsoever. they dont believe it feels that bad.#im trying so hard to feel better but i cant. i havent fekt this incapable of happiness for such a prolonged time ever#im trying to draw stuff to make myself happy but it isnt working at all. i think my room being cluttered is part 9f the problem but even if#i were to fix it i doubt it woule help much if at all. i feel like i reached the point where ive spent too long not have any social#connection or anything like that and my brain just cant do it anymore. tine spent with my sister was ALWAYS awkward and uncomfortable#and there was a lot of issues but it was still something. that something is gone and now i talk to nobody at all#this kinda happened to me several years ago when she left for a few months and i didnt talk to thevrest of my family much#im glad im done with our relationship. at this point i cant even pretend to be friendly when i see her. she just keeps doing shitty stuff#even within the past month. everytime i see her i find out about more shitty stuff. i hate her so much. the sound of her voice makes me#wanna rip my hair out. i never wanna ever speak to her again. i have to. and i will. but god. if s#i dont know what ill do to meet people once im moved but i hope i can figure it out quickly. i cant do THIS anymore. i will literally die
1 note
·
View note
Text
once again thinking about my post-trimax legato somehow miraculously survives despite everything au and vashgato agenda aka The Worlds Most Miserable Roadtrip
#one of these days ill get back to it#its the fucking. anger and hatred and loathing from legato @ vash#because legato and vashs entire dynamic is fucking#legato has lain down on the tracks. and he doesnt want to be saved. he needs vash to be the train that runs him over.#and then he lives. somehow. he missed his chance to die.#he had no reason to live. his one reason to carry on was for a cause he fully intended to die for and then he couldnt even do that#mirrored by vash. who also went into that confrontation with knives fully intending to not make it out#and now the world is saved! knives failed and now hes gone. and thats a whole fucking thing to unpack for everyone#the fucking anger. the grief. the whole fuckin mess of contradictory emotions that happens as a result of abuse from a family member w vash#fucking Everything wrt legato. the devastation of knowing knives is gone + he failed + legato lived + *vash* lived#the slowwwwwww realization over a long long period of time that legato worshipped the ground knives walked on#but knives only ever regarded legato with like. the same way someone might an ant. a bug. maybe a dog.#legato who only ever wanted to be Seen by knives#and knives who never particularly cared for legato beyond his usefulness#legato who begins following vash because its probably what knives would want + there is truly nothing else on this planet for him.#he has no other reason to live#and vash allowing him out of some sense of pity / resignation + being able to see that theres Nothing left for legato#+ probo some sense of obligation too. of heres another person his brother fucked up. which means hes vash’s responsibility to fix#all the while legato resents vash for living when knives isnt here. resents him for failing to kill him.#resents him for being the only other thing that knives actually cared about + who rejected knives when all legato ever wanted#was knives’ attention#and vash who frankly resents legato too. resents the fact that. of all the people who managed to survive. it was legato and not ww#resents all the shit that legato put him through. all the people he killed all the suffering he inflicted#the two of them looking at each other and the fucking. recognition of the self thru the other#and seeing all the shit they hate about themselves in the other#theres also again the shared grief of them both losing someone incredibly important to them both but who was also responsible for some#abuse to Both of them. unpacking it. working through it. moving forward.#learning How to move forward as a Whole when theyre both two deeply traumatized deeply suicidal fucks who no longer have the singular goals#thatve been their sole reason for existing for the past. many. years. and having to find new reasons to keep living#but most of all. i think they should make out sloppy in the desert thank you goodnight
0 notes
Text
i feel like at work there's an unspoken rule somehow that everyone KNOWS im transgender but nobody will say or ask if i'm transgender or what i want to be called. most people say when i DO reveal that i am is because they dont want to say the wrong thing (i dont mind at all unless someone's being malicious).
i think the OTHER part of people who know but dont ask is because they know but dont want to be cornered into ACTUALLY respecting me. because if its ambiguously known then they can she/her/girl/woman/lady me all they want. but if i say im a man and make what i want known THEN they'll get in trouble if they decide they want to #girl me.
#the people who itch about wanting to know the most are the most blatant at being an asshole about it tho#most of the time the people who wanna call me a girl will do it very flagrantly in an attempt to prod at me about it#BUUUT thats in the past now here. since i got back mfers who used to be jerks about it have ignored me entirely. which i love#i dont really even know why. maybe there was some sorta talk about it while i was gone#its funny tho. whenever i tell people im transgender they literally just go ''? yeah i know that already''#but its a coinflip on if they thought i was a dmab or dfab apparently. which is crazy to me.#SOME people call me she and her and girl the most BECAUSE they think im a trans woman and are trying to be respectful#i will even tell people ''nope you are confused. i am a transgender man. ahem 'born a girl became a man''' and its like they dont understan#i think IN PART its due to 'evidently some sort of transgender' 'being named after my dad'#'my chosen name at work being ambiguous as well' and lastly 'being intersex' that all sort of throws people off#ITS SO FUNNY THO because the people who are most hateful about it know EXACTLY what i am. they get it. and they hate it#the people who are nicest about it are like ''wow modern medicine is amazing .. hashtag girl''
1 note
·
View note
Text
Haven't heard from family in days. I feel like it's time to accept they're gone. I know in my heart Palestine will, one day, be free, but it wasn't supposed to be like this.
We feared another Nakba, and it happened. 700,000 pushed out of their homes in 1948 to 1 million being forced to leave their homes in 2023.
We thought it couldn't get worse or more deadly than the Israeli invasion in 2014, and it happened. We lost 2,251 people in 50 days then. Now we're past 2,300 in one week.
What I heard most from my grandmother the first days it's that "this time is different". And I feel like a rock is crushing my heart in pieces because i've been hoping that speaking out, teaching people about the historical oppresion of Palestine would help but it's not helping. Nothing is changing.
I feel like I'm screaming into a void. There's some sympathy from people online, until I see content documenting Palestinian oppresion being flagged as 'hate speech' or check the comments of any updates on Gaza and it's: "blame it on hamas", "tell them to give up hamas", "the hamas asked for it". They're not even among civilians!!!!!
My heart feels full seeing the manifestations in favor of Palestine, then I see police forces breaking protests apart and remember that the people that can actually save Gaza don't care.
If there's nothing left to do but to watch the extermination of my people, then I'm going to beg for anyone reading this to please don't forget. Please.
Israel is hiding behind Judaism to commit genocide against Gaza. Netanyahu supported the Hamas militant group to prevent the establishment of the Palestine State, and now he's using them to justify his agenda of ethnic cleansing. He abandoned Israelis and left them to die because he cares more about seeing Gazans dead!
Every single person and institution supporting and financing Israel is complicit. I hope the deaths of every Palestinian haunts you for the rest of your lives and that you never find an ounce of forgiveness, for you do not deserve it.
Just as in the Iraq War, the US government is financing and cheering for the slaughter of millions of innocent Arab lives. The media is complicit by engaging in biased propaganda and other nuclear powers, such as the UK and Germany, are complicit too. You are fascists and war criminals and every drop of Palestinian blood is in your hands. I hope every single day, for the rest of your lives, you look in the mirror and see nothing but the blood you've helped spill.
This serves as yet another proof that not a single Western in a position of power, be it in the media or in government, sees Arabs as humans beings.
For decades, the US has comitted terrorism and crimes against humanity in the Middle East and has NEVER been held accountable. Over one million in Iraq; over 150,000 in Afghanistan; and now they'll turn Gaza into a graveyard. Punishing selected soldiers over the years does not erase the fact that the American military and its government validates their crimes during execution and are never punished for it.
Please never forget: Joe Biden is a genocidal terrorist, Rishi Sunak is a genocidal terrorist, the American Democrat Party and UK's Labour Party are led by genocidal terrorists, the European Union is led by genocidal terrorists, fuckass Walt Disney Company is led by genocidal terrorists; every celebrity that called for Palestinian death or stood by silently while ignoring our suffering is a genocidal terrorist.
May Allah protect the people in Palestine and grant the martyrs the highest level of Jannah. Wallah what keeps me here is knowing that the Akhirah is theirs. May Almighty Allah grant us imaan and Taqwa as high as the people of Gaza. Ameen.
13K notes
·
View notes
Text
.
#ignore this i will be ranting in the tags :)#for like the past year or so i have been really struggling with pms stuff and only once have i gone onto the pill to try and stave it off#needless to say that went utterly shit and for about a month i was a sad hormonal mess properly barely able to get out of bed stuff#and i've been told to try a new one now#which is fucking scary because i didn't like who i was when i was on the last one and i know it changes my mood#on top of all that it was right when my exams were so i was really fucking scared#i tried to talk about this with my mum but she fucking sucked at emotional support so that was great#and now i'm on it and its not made me sad so much as affected me in weird ways#worst part is that since i'm in it rn i can't properly tell whats different about me#i dont like it#i hate being on drugs that change my mood#i don't feel like myself#i know somethign has changed and dont like it i dont i want it to stop#but i cant ebcause once your on the fucking pill you only stop at the end of the month#and my mum would be fucking dissapointed as shit in me for stopping#how the fuck do i tell her "hey yknow how you have been trying to look for a sollution to my crap pms stuff?#yeah well i want you to fuckingg stop trying to get me on different drugs that fuck with my hormones i don't fucking like those#turns out i am massively freaked out when i can't tell if i am not acting like myself due to stress or due to mystery fucking drug#oen time i fucking tried to talk to her all she said was “this worked one me and uh actually i was way worse than you so take them”#fucking wonderful#bloody so glad it worked for you do you not understand how bleedin terrifying this is to me?#i would rather have unpredictable periods where i am a proper dick while on them than not know who i am anymore#but fuck it all she doesn't seem to fucking get that#worst thing abotu this is its making me wonder how i would react to adhd meds that i've been trying to get for years#i have been aware that some people don't like themselves on them#but god fuck it i just want some of my brain to function well#please#christ sorry obviously this is public and you can read what you want#but uh if your reading this dont worry i just find it helps to write and post it
0 notes
Text
“my baby” you murmur softly against his skin. hands cradling both side of his face gently. “my sweet, sweet baby”
toji hates to admit how that makes his heart tremble with pure love, and how the simple act is the sole reason for the crimson color risen within his cheeks,
“that, i am” he mutters with a small smile playing on his lips, tugging you close by the waist. “you love me?”
a small gasp escapes your lips, as if you’re offended by that question. “i can’t believe you have to ask! of course i do” another kiss presses against his temple and down to his cheek bone,
he suppresses a cute giggle from it, not wanting to be embarrassed if you ever caught him letting out such sound. it’s quite fascinating how you are the only person who has a way to make him feeling flustered. as if you’re looking at a teenage boy who finally scored a date with his first high school crush,
“just making sure” toji finds comfort against your naked chest, feeling himself melt under your touch while your fingers toy with his raven haired. he frowns and lets out a boyish groan when you pull away,
“noo, noo” he whines, taking your hand before plopping it back down on top of his hair. “don’t stop. keep playing it”
a confused yet amused frown make its way towards your face, a small giggle heaves out of your mouth,
“look at you. my big boy” the nickname just sends shivers down his spine, causing his grip around your waist to tighten. he loves it when you call him that. “touchy today aren’t you?”
he responds with a hum, letting his eyes close for a while as you continue to play with his loose strands of hair. he’s so comfortable like this. being with you is his favorite place. no large house nor king sized bed could ever compare if there’s no you in it.
he’s dreamed of this for far too long. when his wife was taken away from him years ago, he didn’t think that he could find a solace in someone else’s arm anymore. he had given up on love and pour his frustrations out in a very toxic way. drowning himself in alcohol and getting into fights was his way of coping.
then you came a long,
with your pretty smile, pretty aura, pretty hair, pretty voice… pretty everything. knocked the wind out of the man, he couldn’t even form the right words when you stood in front of him.
‘s-shit—wh-what were you saying?’ he laughed nervously when he realized he was staring at you for far too long,
it was an adorable sight. you really did have some sort of power to make men weak in their knees
his heart bloomed when he heard you giggle, ‘i said… did you come here with someone?’
‘oh! n-no! not at all’ he scratched the back of his neck while looking down on his drink, ‘all alone’
‘oh—well then’ you took a seat beside him at the bar, his eyes didn’t move an inch from you. ‘guess we can be alone together’
“my sweet big boy—wouldn’t even dreamed about leaving you”
and that’s enough to make him feel at ease. to let go of the fears he had been holding back. to let go of the past that had corrupted him in more ways than one. to finally say goodbye to his long gone wife and say thank you to you instead for being here. for being so patient. for being so stubborn despite the times he had pushed you away. for not backing down because he knew how much he needed you, he just didn’t have the guts to tell you.
what’s that saying about the song you had shown him? if life is a movie, then you’re the best part?
yeah. that’s the one. but he knows deep down that you’re better than a movie.
because after all these years, toji fushiguro had finally found you peace,
and may lord helps anyone to those who will try to take you away from him,
maybe toji will remove fushiguro from his last name and take yours instead in the near future
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
General Adam Headcanons
SFW
100% dresses like Adam Sandler under the robe
Pronounces bruh like “brah” unironically
Has a high body count, but not as high as you’d expect
He has abandonment issues cause of Lilith and Eve
He’d never admit it but losing both Lilith and Eve to Lucifer really fucked him up
Lilith left him for Lucifer, and Eve cheated on him with Lucifer
Due to knowing the pain of being cheated on, he will never cheat despite the fuckboy persona
Man can actually settle down with the right person
Wears his mask all the fucking time, he only takes it off to sleep
He thinks it makes him look badass and his favorite feature is the horns
He’s tall as fuck (6’5) but he’s kind of thin, so he wears a big ass robe to make up for it
You can only tell by his arms
He likes to appear big
His favorite thing about himself is his dick (surprise)
Listens to heavy metal
Can’t cook for shit
Needs therapy but will never accept therapy
Doesn’t realize how misogynistic he is and if you tried to tell him he would get defensive
“What, I fucking love women, they’re hot.”
Says “nuh uh”
Cried in front of Lute once– they never talk about it
Shockingly, he doesn’t have any STD’s and he’s very proud of that
Sees Lute as a best friend but he’d never let her know she means that much to him
Has a colorful vocabulary of cuss words and unique nicknames, ie “Danger Tits”
Is really good at coming up with unique insults too
Never get into banter with him, he will hurt your feelings
Sleeps like a rock but moves a lot in his sleep
Seriously, he’ll hit every position in one night
His band is actually really popular in Heaven, and he’s renowned for being the best guitarist
Of course, that only strokes his ego
Ego bigger than his dick, for real
But if you can get past his ego, he can be fun to be around
Touch starved
Cares for very few people, but he would die for the people he does care about
NSFW
Absolutely has a size kink
He’s tall and he loves to be able to look down at his partner
It makes him feel powerful, but he also finds it cute
Has tried every sex position possible but his favorite is missionary
Rarely does he do missionary however because he only likes it with someone he cares about
Phenomal at giving head
He has a long tongue and he knows his way around a vagina
Actually has a big dick, he’s not kidding
Like no wonder he walks around like he’s a god
Also has a virginity kink and it’s definately related to his abandonment issues but he’ll never address that
Whenever he has sex, he always goes for a round 2 in the shower
Actually hates being called things like “daddy” and “master”
While he has some kinks, he’s actually not a very kinky guy
But he’s down to try anything
Has been pegged, doesn’t prefer it
His third and final kink is a breeding kink
He has no idea why but its imperative that he finishes inside his partner
Messy, loves being feral in the bedroom
The kind of guy who’s gone right after a hookup
But if he has a partner, he insists on cuddling after sex
Perfers tits over ass
Will bury his face in his partner’s while they cuddle
One time he came from looking at himself in a mirror during a hookup
Eye contact goes crazy with a partner
Needs to see partner’s every reaction and expression
Also needs control the whole time
Will never sub again, he hated it
#hazbin adam#adam x reader#hazbin alastor#hazbin angel dust#hazbin charlie#hazbin husk#hazbin vaggie#hazbin vox#hazbin hotel#hazbin lute#x reader#headcanons#hazbin lucifer#hazbin sir pentious#hazbin niffty
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
Chains | Husk x SisOverlord!Reader / Yandere!Alastor x Reader |
Summary: Its been years since you saw your brother...
Warnings: Alastor its a warning himself | Yandere!Alastor | Overlord!Reader | Canon Violence | Grammar Mistakes |
No one expected the doors of the Hotel to burst Open that afternoon. Vaggie was the first to react, being ready to fight whever decided to attack that day (it was becoming something normal).
Charlie on her part was jumping towards the stranger, ready to shake hands and introduce herself.
"Hello! Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel, im Charlie, whats your na-" Before Charlie could finish two voices sounded in the back.
"(Y/N)?"
"(Y/N) MY DEAR!!"
Husk and Alastor voices echoed in the looby, the only response their got were a set of flashing sharp poker cards being directed at the radio Demon and Husk.
"ITS HAS BEEN 12 YEARS AND THATS ALL YOU GONNA SAY?" You screamed at both men.
Husk looked away, shame over his cat face. Long time ago you two used to rule. The brother and sister duo, the ones who could destroy everyone. That was till Husk destroyed himself, giving his soul to the radio Demon. Leaving you behind.
Alastor was amused by your anger. He knew you hated him, he was the one who took your brothers soul after all. And he never felt remorse because of it, he was almost happy he did it. It was the only way he got to see you, ever if you only showed him hate.
He would take whatever from you.
"Wait...are you Husk's gilfriend?" Charlie still not catching up asked, getting the most bizarre look from you.
"Hell no, im his sister" You responded making the princess blush and apologie too much. "Its fine, I know he does not talk a lot about me"
Charlie could hear the sadness in your voice. She took a moment to see you, and now she saw how similar Husk and you were. Cat face a pair of wings, the colors were different and so were your eyes, but there was something that just connected you two.
"This is (Y/N), The Casino Demon, you bet against her and you lose your Soul" Alastor explained appearing besides you. "She and Husk used to rule together"
"Yeah, well thats in the past now" You responded to Alastor both of you killing each other with your eyes.
The tension was broken by Husk, "why are you here?"
"Im here because you are here and because I want to redeem myself" You responded with your head high, not looking at the obvious smirk from Alastor or the questioning look from Husk.
Charlie quickly took your hand, guiding you towards a desk to check you in, she ramble about the hotel, the guests and things they did in here.
You kind of feel bad for her, you could see her passion but the only reason you were in here was because of Husk. Ever since Alastor took his soul it ended being a game of finding him. Alastor would make Husk's soul appear and since you two were connected as brother and sister you would fly there only to find him gone and a smirking Radio Demon.
But this time, his soul had been in one place for a long time. So you decided to use this chance to be by your brothers side.
~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~
Later that same night you went to the bar, Husk tried to ignore you, cleaning glasses but ended facing you. No one dared to speak first, silent tears fell from your eyes, slowly your hands reached his, his fluffy hair welcoming you.
"I have missed you so much" You said smiling at him. Husk felt his heart break, he knew how Alastor played with you using him. He had tried many times to make you hate him, but you never did. You also never fought Alastor knowing he would use Husk to get you.
"Lets have a drink for the old days"
~☆~☆~☆~☆~
After many drinks you went back to your room. So many years apart...Husk and you had so much to catch on.
"You know you cant have him back"
The radio Demon appear behind you, you ignored him not wanting to fall for his games.
"Not without a deal at least"
"And what would that deal be?" You asked not looking back at the Demon.
In a flash he got closer to you, not touching you but you could feel his breath down your neck.
"Your soul for his, be mine for the eternity and free him" Hell, you could feel the psycho smile and listen the radio laughts.
"Goodnight Alastor"
You left him alone outside your room. Alastor smiled to himself, hands behind his back he started to walk to his own room.
"Just a bit more" he whispered his body turning to his full Demon form.
"Just a bit more to be mine"
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
i can't talk to you when i'm like this
steve harrington x fem!reader
word count: [2.1K]
warnings: warnings: no use of y/n, established relationship, reader has a history of shitty ex's, steve accidentally makes reader cry, a lot of angst regarding past relationships (feelings wise), steve's shitty childhood & terrible dad (brief), fluff at the end (yes because i am a softie)
summary: steve never raises his voice at you, but the first time he does, you can’t find it in yourself to tell him what's really bothering you when you’re seconds away from breaking down.
You hate how the tears coming springing to your eyes the second Steve raises his voice a little too loudly beneath his already apparent annoyance.
Your brain blanks out the second it bellows against the walls and comes hurtling down to your eardrums. It feels like glass shattering in a million different ways, cutting you open and killing you with a thousand cuts.
He’s frozen in front of you, blinking with a look of oblivion on his face because he’s waiting. His arms still held wide open after he asked a question: one that was posed with a tone too sharp for your liking.
“Why are you making it such a big deal?”
His usually sweet and gentle tone was long gone, or at least that’s how you heard it. Instead, it dribbled with irritation and resentment meshed all in one. The kind that sounded like he was fed up and wanted nothing to do with you anymore.
He was just trying to do a sweet thing by picking you both up some coffee and yet here you were starting an argument — you always had to ruin a good thing.
Your teeth dig into your gums, trying to find any way to hold off on the waterworks that you know are about to pour any second now. Cloudy orbs shoot down to your bare feet, trembling against the floorboards while you excuse yourself from the kitchen.
“I’m g-going to the bathroom.”
Your voice is delicate yet not the kind that Steve knows like the back of his hand — the one where you keep it so quiet like an oath when you whisper you love him when you think he’s asleep and no one else is around to hear it.
This time the oath is broken, cracked, just like your voice, torn at the seams between fear and panic. Its edges are frayed and tattered, and its tenderness that is usually formed out of affection is long gone as it cuts through your chest and causes your back to heave as you walk away.
He knows he messed up.
It’s stupid. You shouldn’t be so worked up over the barista leaving her number on Steve’s cup. But you are. You’re worked the hell up and you want him to understand why it is such a big deal to you.
It’s upsetting because you shouldn’t be this wound up and insecure. You know Steve would never even dare to dial the numbers left on the cup, let alone remember the name she left on there. He’s head over heels in love with you the same way you are with him — yet you just don’t get it.
You don’t get the way this makes your insides turn and the thoughts to start whirlwind in your head. At first you were just upset about the number, maybe even just mildly irked — but then the second Steve’s voice came to you like that… that’s when you entirely forgot how to even tell him how you felt.
Now you just felt stupid for making it such a big deal and turning it into this.
“Breathe….” you murmur to yourself jaw trembling as you try not to tense.
The tears finally roll when your back collides with the bathroom door and your shaky fingers lock it shut. Your heart feels like it’s on fire, one that consumes your entire being and engulfs you in the bluest blue instead of the blazing red.
The only thing keeping you from collapsing is the door that’s holding up your weight and it’s not long after that the person you love yet are avoiding is on the other side making it more difficult for you to attempt to make it seem like it’s not a big deal.
“B-baby… I’m so sorry.”
The apology comes in an instant, and you could almost feel his breath hitting your neck from behind the wood. You know it’s genuine…Steve has never ever made you cry. You feel now like you’ve taken everything out of proportion — you should’ve just giggled and said ‘oh that’s cute! too bad you’re my boyfriend!’
All of the things you wished you would have said play in your mind like punishment for the way you’ve acted. How you know you’ve turned the tables on him and made him look like the bad guy when he was far from that.
He was just shocked to come home and hand you your favorite drink only to be asked about the barista he barely gave his attention to. Your accusing voice after he did something nice wasn’t something he was expecting.
Your throat tightened, eyes squeezing shut as you tried to cover it up and make it seem like you weren’t upset. You shuffled from the door, towards the sink, turning it on yet making no move to put your hands under the water.
“I’m fine! I—I just had to wash my face!” You lie, trying to cover your tracks as if Steve doesn’t already know it.
There’s been times when things have upset you, not things that Steve has done, but things that life throws at you and most of the times you hate how wound up you get. Without failure, you sneak away, just wanting a moment by yourself to cry without anyone feeling bad for you or asking questions because they’ll never get it. They don’t understand that the littlest things can trigger something inside of you to completely shut down from the rest of the world.
No one gets it… but Steve does.
“Baby,” His voice is stronger this time, yet tender, “please, can I come in? I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean…”
Your fingers finally come in contact with the frigid water, dabbing the droplets over your eyes attempting to get them to settle instead of looking like you were just crying. There’s a sniffle that comes from you as you clear your airways and a pathetic smile that you press onto your face to try to hide how you’re really feeling.
The water shuts off and you’re opening the door, cutting his apology off altogether.
“I’m fine, Steve!”
Your voice isn’t swaying even with the volume it carries and neither with the faint laugh you give him when you meet face to face. Your lashes still bear the droplets of salt and your cheeks tinted red with the path they’ve traveled down.
He can feel the pain in your voice and see the wobble of your chin as you hold back everything inside. He hates that you feel like you have to mask how you’re really feeling when, in actuality, you should be furious at him for what he did.
“Baby,”
Sadness joins his concern, and he doesn’t bother to hide it — he’s not sure he can when his eyes leak the same emotion, “Baby, you’re not fine…I know you’re not fine.”
You scoff, rolling your eyes unconvincingly. “I literally am, babe… it’s cool. Everything is fine.”
He knows that now you’re trying to reassure yourself rather than him. Trying to play it off and make it seem like everything was okay. Like he’s just supposed to accept it and let you hold everything inside like torture when that’s far from what he wants.
Your attempts to brush past him are futile when his hands come out to hold your shoulders, his fingertips kneading your tense skin. He can feel the blood rushing from under your clothes and it’s not the kind of warmth you usually carry — you are blistering and if he looks hard enough, he can see the way your chest is trying to level itself out as you hold back.
It takes everything in you to not draw your eyes away from his because you don’t want him to know that you’re still feeling it. Feeling stupid and at the same time nothing at all because you don’t know what to feel anymore. There’s a whirlwind of emotions and none of them you can put a finger on because you’re just lost.
You just don’t want him to think you’re crazy… like you reacting to him raising his voice like that was something that would daunt him away.
One of his hands stops its movement on your skin, raising up to your cheek and cradling you gently. There’s a crease between his brows and his eyes seep with regret and guilt. His lips part and the words that leave them come in whispers and fragility — croaks and cracks guiding them.
“Everything isn’t fine… I acted like an idiot and raised my voice at you. I’m sorry baby, I—I never meant to do that on purpose. It just came out, but that isn’t an excuse.” He shakes his head at himself disappointingly because he knows better.
Steve was far from perfect in his own eyes, but he knew better because all his life if there was one person he didn’t want to be like, it was his dad. The dad that used to scream at his mother, and scream at him, and scream at the world when everything went wrong, and didn’t know how to talk if it wasn’t screaming.
He’d never forgive himself if he made you feel that way or even became a smidge of what his father was. But it wasn’t him who he was blaming for this — this was all Steve himself, and he knew that. Accountability needed to be taken from himself because the only person he was hurting was you and it was going to be okay.
Not in the heat of the moment, not ever.
You hadn’t even noticed you had tugged your bottom lip between your teeth, the faint taste of iron trickling onto your tongue when you realized you were biting down on the skin too hard trying to stop yourself from crying.
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry baby, please just—just tell me how to make it better.” His voice pleads and reasons, wanting to make it right with you anyway he could.
You close your eyes, letting the tears fall as you feel his thumbs wipe them away. He’s done this times before, wiping away your tears that had spewed from another’s doing. Never did he ever think he would be the cause.
“I-it’s nothing… it’s stupid, I’m stupid and dramatic.” You swallow thickly, sniffling and twisting your fingers in your hand to fight off the lingering feelings.
He shakes his head. The obvious look of disapproval for your words covers his face because this was far from your fault. Sure, he was bewildered about the whole incident, considering he didn’t even know the number was left there until you brought it up, but for him to not know how to convey his frustration better was the real issue at hand.
Not the accusation, not the stupid number, not the oblivious girl who left her number: it was him, Steve’s idiotic actions that got you both here.
“Stop, don’t talk to yourself like that.” He insists, staring deeply into your eyes, searching for a reason why you were blaming yourself,
Your jaw shakes roughly before a sob rips through your mouth. Tightening your eyes to try to get the tears to stop, yet they don’t cease no matter how hard you try. Frustration builds inside of you because you should be over it by now. The fact that he apologized and was here trying to comfort you should be enough.
But something inside of you won’t let it die. The silence is filled with the memory of his voice shouting at you and the face that he stared back with.
“I—I don’t want you to think there’s something wrong with me.” You croak, covering your face and turning away from him to save you the embarrassment.
But he strays to where you are, sticking beside you with a comforting hand resting on your back, “Sweetheart, nothing is—”
You sob one more, this time with a grunt that is direct to yourself. Stomping your foot against the cold tiles, your hands come down to grip the edges of the counter tightly. Your reflection in the mirror is only half of what you feel, and when Steve steps behind you, all you can see is guilt, but at the same time patience knowing he’s ready when you are.
You try your very best to at least keep your sobs at bay just enough for you to speak through them and for him to understand.
“You’re not gonna wanna be with me anymore knowing I can’t—I can’t talk to you when I’m like this! I don’t know why, but I can’t… it makes me feel stupid, like I’m crying over something so tiny and now I’ve totally forgotten why we were even arguing in the first place.”
He clicks his tongue, shaking his head and reaching in front of you to bring your hair back and away from your face. His eyes keep yours in the mirror, watching at you with such a gentleness that even now doesn’t falter.
“We weren’t arguing. I was just dumb and raised my voice when you were asking me about it.”
You move your sights from his to the bottom of the sink, shaking your head, “No, b-but I shouldn’t have reacted like that and made you look like the bad guy when yo—”
Your voice is traveling faster than you can think, spewing out words so hastily like you have to make him understand that it’s not his fault, but yours. It takes your breath away, hiccuping and coughing between a sob that leaves your mouth and bobbles in your chest.
Steve’s instantaneously rubbing your back, shushing you and trying to get you to calm down knowing you going on and on like this wouldn’t do you any good. He understands that you feel a lot of things very deeply and sometimes it isn’t an easy task to get them all out at once: he knows it and he’ll spend forever with you until you got it all out.
“Hey, hey, baby, c’mon… breathe,” He coos, his palm never stilling on your back feeling the deep breaths in and out, watching the tears fall down your cheeks and drip onto the counter.
It’s a kind of scene he hates to see, the one he wishes he could take from you and shoulder instead because watching you in such a state breaks his heart more than he could imagine. And this time it stings a little more knowing that he not only cannot shoulder your pain, but was the one creating it this time.
“Talk to me, please. What’s going on? Why’re so you upset at yourself and not at me?” He begs, trying to get a glimpse of what you’re feeling so he knows where the root is.
“B-because… I made it such a b-big deal.” You hiccup.
When you swipe angrily at your eyes with a ferociousness, that’s enough to make Steve step in and take it from here now that he knows where you’re coming from. A warm hand comes down onto your shoulder, pulling at you just enough for you to face him completely, weakly hanging your head low not knowing if you were strong enough to see him just yet.
“You didn’t make anything a big deal. I promise, we’re okay.” He whispers quietly, cupping your face in his hands, and bringing you face to face, “You’re not stupid and I could never think that you were. You’re human honey. It’s normal for you to be upset by things.”
“B-but I…I don’t want you to think you did something wrong—“
He stops you with a shake of his head. “But I did. I did something so wrong. I yelled when I shouldn’t have, and I made you feel like shit.”
Steve desperately needs you to know it. That this was his fault and no one else’s. That him making you feel like crap was the worst thing he could have ever done, but he was willing to man up to it and try to make things better, and at the same time he would understand if you wanted nothing to do with him after this.
Still, even after his words, you’re somehow even angrier at yourself, mind blaring at you for being such a dramatic person for making him go out of this way with all of this. That this was surely your fault and yours only, and if you didn’t take it off his plate, it was just something he would use against you one day to realize that he didn’t want to be with you anymore.
It’s what they all did — held it over your head and made you feel like you were wrong for feeling how you felt, so instead it was best not to feel anything at all. To hide it away and hope that being noncombative meant that everything was going to be okay and it wouldn’t give them a reason to run.
“I-it’s my fault—” You pinch your eyes, gulping back a cry as you shake your head in his hands.
His brows pull together, eyes squinting at you, not completely understanding why you’re doing this.
“Hey, stop, it’s not your fault. Don’t do that. Don’t take the fall for me,” Steve assures you with a sternness to his soft voice, continuing to wipe the seeping tears.
Somehow you can’t let it go, “But—”
“But nothing.” He starts, his voice composed yet unyielding in his tone.
He can’t stand it, clutching your face a little firmer, hoping that you would peek your eyes open to see him because he desperately needs you to. The second you do, your face twists again with heartache, praying that he would just let you go and walk out already, because by now, he probably thinks you’re insane — there’s no way he’s not thinking it.
His lips part, trying to find the right words to say, needing the perfect ones to get through you because he hates how you won’t let him take the fall, the one he so rightfully deserves to come crashing down on. You are everything to him and in some ways the feelings that you feel hit him right in the heart, and right now is no different, but there’s a wall between you both and his only goal is to knock it down completely.
“I—I don’t know why you feel like you have to protect me, but I promise you don’t.” He whispers, watching as you try to calm yourself, little sniffles going in and out and broken cries leaving your mouth.
His thumbs rub back and forth across your cheeks, soothing your withering skin. Slowly but surely your cries die little by little, eyes fixed on his, trusting that he means everything that he says, because Steve isn’t like the others — something that you should’ve known judging from his character alone.
“If I do something that makes you upset or sad, you should be able to voice that, not keep it in. I don’t ever want you to feel like you can’t tell me when I’ve done something wrong. I—I want you to feel safe and okay around me, enough to know that my love for you isn’t gonna change, just because you bring something up. You have every right to be upset, and angry, and disappointed, everything.”
He says it like he means it and you know it’s because he does. He lets every word hang from the stars as if he put them up there, and points them out just for you to know that they are there and true, because that’s all he ever wanted. For you to know that every word he speaks comes from his heart, and no matter how many times he needs to repeat it, he’ll do it over and over again, just so you know it’s real and until you believe them and know he won’t ever break them.
“Don’t ever blame yourself for me, please? I-I don’t want you to do that to yourself because I’m here and…and every time I fuck up or make a mistake, I swear I’m gonna own up to it and try to fix it. But I’m not gonna let you take the blame, okay?”
Being with Steve for so long still feels so new, especially when you know he isn’t like the rest of the boys from your past. He’s patient and kind with a big heap of understanding. Like everyone else in the world, he’s guilty of his own poor moments, but he’ll be damned if he takes that out on you or makes you feel like it’s your responsibility.
“I’m so sorry, baby.” He murmurs, letting his hands fall away from your face, letting you decide what the next move is.
The tears that escape are more so in between the remains of the sadness being washed away with tears of love and gratitude. Your arms wrap around his torso, pulling yourself into him and burying your face into his chest where the tears soak through his chest. Without a second thought, his arms envelop you, rocking you both back and forth as he presses kisses on the top of your head.
It mends your heart not merely because he’s just sorry, but because you didn’t get plenty of sorries before. Left only with sweeping things under the rug and pretending like nothing ever happened — it never solved anything and never gave you much.
But Steve gives you everything and so much more.
A big chunk of you feels like you don’t deserve him because he seriously is the best person with an even better soul wrapped up into one and yet he chooses you — every day. He sees you through all the good and the bad and never makes you feel like you’re alone even when you could be a distance away when you’re right beside him.
When you talk too much, say too little, or sometimes say nothing at all — he’s there giving you a listening ear and comforting shoulder to lean on whoever you need it. And on the days when you can’t talk to him when you’re like this… he’ll wait until you’re ready and show you that he’s always going to be there every step of the way.
He’s everything you could have asked for and more.
You pull your face away from hiding, resting your chin up on his chest as you stared up at him.
“I’m sorry too. I—I shouldn’t have been so indifferent earlier and just told you what I was feeling from the get-go.” You sniffled, rubbing your hands over his back, smiling faintly when he nodded understandingly.
He knows that sometimes he might not quite get it, might not see things in the same light as you, but he would never try to dismiss your feelings. He would sit beside you through the storms and sunshines, knowing that he was learning more about himself and you with you in his life.
That because of you, the younger version of himself got to heal his deepest wounds and open himself up to a love he only through he could dream up. You were here making him a better version of himself, all while he was doing the same for you. Showing you that the scars and fears of your past didn’t have to live in the next person you met — that you could let it go and open yourself up to the love you deserved.
His love.
“I forgive you only if you forgive me,” Steve grinned, swiping away at the dampness on your cheeks.
You grinned, nodding up at him. “Of course, I forgive you.”
“I love you so much… nothings ever gonna change that.” He hummed, cupping your face, taking you all in for the person he loved so dearly.
You closed your eyes blissfully before a kiss was placed on your lips.
“I know, I love you too.”
💌 reblogs, tags, comments, + likes are greatly appreciated! leave a comment and let me know if want to be added to my taglist!! 💌
a/n: hi all, I hoped you like this little one-shot/imagine... i had this one sitting in my wips for awhile and it was nearly finished but I didn't have the inspiration to finish it until now. I don't usually write angst bcs i am a fluff girl, but this concept just came to me bcs like a lot of people when someone raises their voice at me...i just freeze and i don't know what to make of it and i just start crying. i think steve would be super apologetic and i wanted to write this bcs i needed some stevie!comfort so yeah... i hope you all enjoyed!!!
taglist: @translatemunson @kennedy-brooke @manda-panda-monium @tvserie-s-world @givemeth @steveharringtonswife @astolenkiss @loving-and-dreaming @awkotaco24 @engenelxver @elfiaaaa @pbs-theundeadmaggot @johnricharddeacy @gaysludge @keerysfolklore @micheledawn1975 @ihatepeanutss @bakugouswh0r3
#munsonsreputation#steve harrington fluff#steve harrington angst#steve harrington imagine#steve harrington fic#steve harrington one shot#steve harrington fanfiction#steve harrington drabble#steve harrington stranger things#steve harrington x y/n#steve harrington comfort#steve harrington#steve harrington x you#steve harrington x y/n fluff#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington x fem!reader#stranger things#stranger things imagine#steve stranger things#steve x y/n#steve x reader#stranger things imagines#stranger things x reader
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
modern au, exes to lovers, transfem stevie harrington
Stevie Harrington is not having a good day.
By all accounts, she should be. Robin woke her right on time by pressing a perfectly made brown sugar shaken espresso into her hand. Nancy and Chrissy got to the venue earlier than expected. The hair and makeup people were on schedule. Their boozy charcuterie brunch during their prep time was perfectly served, the mimosas delicious and the food fresh and light enough to put on her nervous stomach.
Everything’s gone off without a hitch. She looks gorgeous. She’s got her something old, her something new, her something borrowed, and even her something blue. Her hair’s done in a soft blowout, framing her face but out of the way, ready for the combs of her veil to slip into. Her makeup is elegant, not too showy and not too dramatic, neutral and warm and sweet. And her dress. It’s what she always dreamed of, clingy and silky with a dramatic leg slit and a long train, off the shoulders, perfectly white. She’s staring at herself in the mirror knowing that in forty-five minutes, she’s going to hold the world’s most beautiful wedding bouquet and walk down the most perfectly decorated aisle in the quaintest, sweetest church she could find, and she’ll stand across from her fiancé and take his hands and say “I do” and all of her dreams will come true.
So she should be having a good day.
Because it’s her wedding day, and Stevie Harrington is about to become Stefania Hagan.
Maybe that brunch wasn’t so perfect after all, because she thinks she’s about to puke.
“I can’t do this,” she says, but her voice is so soft it’s barely a whisper and the girls don’t even glance at her. “I can’t do this,” she repeats, and Robin - bless her, her favorite person in the world, her soulmate, her other half, her maid of honor - glances up.
“What’s that, Evie?” she asks, and the others look over at her, and Stevie stands there beneath their gazes and knows if she just says it again, says I can’t do this, don’t make me marry him, get me out of here, all three of them would drag her to an exit and get her the fuck out.
They don’t even like Tommy. Robin actively hates him, actually, and that should have been enough for Stevie to never look at him twice.
But it wasn’t. It wasn’t enough.
She thinks back to a few days ago, drunk in a bar with a white sash wrapped around her torso, a tiara on her head, and mascara running down her face as she desperately sobbed on Robin’s shoulder during her bachelorette party. That little meltdown wasn’t enough. And she thinks back further, to when Tommy proposed - in public, at a fucking baseball game, on the goddamn jumbotron. Dread had settled in her chest at the sight of the ring (huge, gaudy, she hated it on sight) even as she pasted on a smile and said yes. That hadn’t been enough.
But somehow standing here done up head to toe, about to walk down the aisle in her absolute dream wedding - that’s enough. Because everything about today is right. Everything’s in place. Everything’s gorgeous and going to plan and she should be so, so happy - but it’s the wrong man waiting for her at the end of all of it.
She can’t do this.
She looks up and meets Robin’s eyes and forces a smile. “I said I need to get my veil,” she lies, and she slips into her shoes (red bottoms, a gift from Tommy’s mother, perfectly white and pointed and it’s her dream day, how can she be throwing this away?) and walks into the other room where her garment bag is hanging, and her veil is there with its delicate detail and it’s scalloped edges and it’s all so fucking perfect she’s going to scream, she wants to rip it to pieces and she wants to tear this dress off and she wants to sob, she doesn’t want to do this, she doesn’t want to get married - not to him. Not to Tommy.
She could ask for help. Robin would have her out of here in five minutes flat, Nancy would craft an excuse to tell everyone, and Chrissy would cause a distraction. But even that’s too long of a wait. Even that’s too much attention, too much suspicion. She needs to move faster than that. She needs out now.
She quickens her pace as she crosses the room, dress dragging along the carpet, and she snags her phone where it’s sitting on the end table next to an overstuffed love seat, and in three long strides she’s out the door and in the hall and the church has been busy and packed all day but somehow, miraculously, there’s no one here.
No one sees Stevie as she gathers up the fabric of her dress in her hands and starts to walk towards the exit. No one sees as her walk speeds to a jog, and then a run, and then she slams out of a side door and she’s on the sidewalk and she’s sprinting, her heels are going to get scuffed by the pavement but she can’t care, she’s running as fast as she can and dodging people on the sidewalk as they turn and gawk at her and she cannot give them a thought, cannot focus on them even a little bit because she has to get away, escape is the only thought on her mind as she gasps for air, her dress is so heavy and it’s not made for running that’s for goddamn sure, and the last few years with Tommy flash through her mind - every time he’s undermined her or given her a backhanded compliment or policed her, told her she wasn’t feminine enough, told her she wasn’t trying hard enough to pass, told her to just keep it all to herself so no one would know she wasn’t cis, wouldn’t embarrass him by making a scene, all the times that come together to a glaringly obvious conclusion that he doesn’t really love her and she kind of hates him a little actually, and obviously she can’t fucking marry him and–
There.
A beat-up four-door with an Uber sticker in the window.
That’ll do, she thinks, and she changes course, shoulder-checking a man and not apologizing for it as she makes a beeline for the car. She pops off an acrylic wrenching the door open and tossing herself into the backseat, and she yells “DRIVE!” at the top of her lungs and somehow, through some miracle, they listen, swerving into traffic with a loud curse and a myriad of honking horns and a quaint, sweet little church growing smaller and smaller in the rearview mirror.
She’s gasping for breath, chest heaving, staring out the back window like she’s waiting for someone to follow her - and maybe she is, maybe Tommy is hot on her trail, or maybe Robin is coming to kill her for not including her in her mad dash to freedom and instead jumping in a stranger’s car going God knows where.
“So uh,” a voice says, and she whips around, staring wide-eyed at the brown eyes fixed on her in the mirror, and no, no fucking way– “where to, ma’am?”
“Um,” she says, and her voice is shaky, cracking a little, she brushes her hair out of her face and stares and– wait.
There’s a beat. The driver’s eyes widen. Recognition flashes over his face at the same time it registers for Stevie.
“Stevie?” Eddie Munson, her ex-boyfriend of several years, the man she hasn’t spoken to since that fateful night they went their separate ways, is staring at her in shock, not even looking at the road, and the only thing she can think is how he’s just as averse to road safety now as he’d been way back when.
“Eddie,” she croaks out.
Too many emotions are overwhelming her at once and it feels like the biggest cliché in the world, but honestly, Stevie feels like she’s entitled to some dramatics. It’s her goddamn wedding day, after all.
Her failed wedding day.
Where she just left her fiancé at the altar.
“Oh god,” she manages. Her lower lip wobbles. Her vision blurs.
“Stevie,” Eddie says again, like a warning, and that’s enough to push her over.
She bursts into tears in his backseat.
“Hey hey hey!” he says like she’s a fucking spooked horse or something, which only makes her cry more, ugly sobs that shake her shoulders and drip tear drops onto her dress. “Stevie, honey–”
“Do NOT call me honey right now!” she manages, and he raises a hand in surrender before flipping on a turn signal and finding a parking lot to pull over in.
“Okay, okay! No comforting pet names, you got it,” he agrees, and he shuts the car off, turning in his seat to look at her, concern painted all over his face and that’s just really not fair, she thinks, that he still looks so earnest and sweet and fucking worried about her.
“Are you hurt?” he asks, urgent and serious, and she shakes her head quickly.
“No! No, I’m - I’m fine, really,” she insists and he proves that he is a gentleman after all, because he doesn’t call her out on the blatant lie.
“Okay,” he says, level, his hand hovering in the space between them like he wants to touch her. “What do you need?” he asks, and she wipes at her face with her hands, swallowing down yet another sob.
“Get me out of here,” she pleads, and he searches her face for - something, she doesn’t know what, because she’s sure all she’s showing him is how much of a fucking mess she is, but he must find whatever he’s looking for.
He gives her a sharp nod. “Anywhere in particular, sweetheart?” he asks, turning to start the car again. She doesn’t call him out on the pet name this time.
“Anywhere but here,” she says, and he puts the car in reverse, pulling back onto the road.
“You got it,” he says, and some of that old charm must kick in - he winks at her in the rearview. She resolutely ignores the spike of emotion it gives her.
Then she takes a deep, shuddery breath, and opens the group chat to break the news to her wedding party.
part 2
#steddie#steddie fic#trans steve harrington#transfeminine steve harrington#stevie harrington#runaway bride stevie#my fic#apologies in advance but i don't do tag lists <3
1K notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
adrianavs9
Adriana v
remuslup1n
arianne ☏
shooksxxx
shooks from Tokyo
webbygraphic001
WebbyGraphic001
fdw444
F.