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imagines--galore · 2 months

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||The Thread of Fate|| Part Eleven

Summary: Soulmate AU. They say the Thread of Fate connects you to your one true love. It may tangle. It may stretch. But it will never break. Wrapped around your little finger it tightens when it feels your soulmate is close and loosens when they are far. And becomes visible with the colors of your soulmate’s Nation when you finally fall in love with them.

Pairing: Zuko x OroraOC (ATLA)

Rating || Genres || Warnings: T+ Romance. Adventure.

Previous Chapters - Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight, Part Nine, Part Ten,

A/N: Omg I had such a HUGE influx of readers for this story, and I am grateful to each and every one of you for reading my story! I hope you guys enjoy this chapter and all the others I will be writing in the future.

Working at the tea shop was Orora's first time at a job. She was just as green to it as Zuko was. However, she did not voice her disgust at the notion every few seconds. She was eager to learn, and ready to earn her living. As much as she appreciated the money Iroh had given her, she wanted to contribute to their financial situation as well.

The first day had been busy. There had been the different types of teas she had to learn to brew, other then the ones she already knew thanks to her Master. Then there were dishes to wash almost constantly. Not a lot of customers had come in that day, Pao having closed the shop early to allow his new employees to get to know their work place, so it hadn't been as tiring as she had thought it would be.

What Orora found she liked to do, was wash the dishes. She got to play with water and bubbles, and it helped calm her. Strange, she knew, but after so many days of being on the run, doing something as simple as washing dishes was oddly calming. Not to mention the job allowed her mind to roam and ponder over things she had not allowed herself to for quite some time now.

As she set aside one of the more expensive looking cups, the young waterbender sighed softly through her nose.

So far the truce she had offered Zuko seemed to be working. Though it had only been a few hours since it had been put into effect. And they'd only managed to snap at each other twice. True after the second time Iroh had seen the wisdom in separating them by giving them jobs to do at different ends of the shop. Zuko worked the front, taking orders and such, while Orora washed the dishes in the back.

Picking up a plate and dunking it in the soapy water, Orora continued to let her thoughts wander and ask the questions she wished she could say out loud.

Such as why were Zuko and Iroh fugitives of the Fire Nation? They were royalty, surely the Fire Lord would want his brother and son back. And did Zuko's sister truly want to kill her own Uncle? That thought sent a shiver down her spine. But what about their mother? Didn't she have a say in all of this? Was she treated just like Orora's mother was treated?

She had so many questions, and more, and all she wanted to do was march right up to Zuko and demand that he answer them.

But something held her back.

Maybe because she was a polite person who didn't go about poking her nose in other people's business.

Or perhaps, more likely, she had no desire to cause Zuko any pain by talking about his past. It was surely a sore subject, from the bits and pieces of information she had collected over the months. Besides, he already had his hands full trying to adjust to living in Ba Sing Se. Orora just wished he would figure himself out faster so she could ask all her questions.

Oh, she could ask Iroh if she wanted to, and her would probably answer, but for some insane reason, she wanted the answers to come from Zuko himself.

Spirit help her but she felt it was the right thing since it was his story.

Memories of every encounter she had ever had with the young prince rose unbidden, yet not unwelcome in her mind, as she started to play with the water not having any more dishes to wash.

It was strange, how someone she had not even known a few months ago was now at the very center of her life. He wasn't all that she thought about, really this was the first time she was allowing herself to think of him to such an extent. Usually she had other things to think about. Such as surviving, learning from her Master, perfecting her water bending techniques, inventing new ways to incorporate ice into her fighting, improving on her combat skills, restocking her medicinal herbs, making sure she didn't loose touch with her healing side, because as much as she liked to put her waterbending skills to use by fighting, she knew healing was a major part of who she was.

All those thoughts were pushed to the back of her mind, as she focused on a pair of golden eyes that seemed to watch her wherever she went, watching her every step. At first she had thought, it was perhaps because he didn't trust her. But slowly, that mistrust in his eyes had faded. Now, when she would catch him looking at her, he would look away.

Then again, who was she to complain. She looked at him and had been caught looking at him by him on multiple occasion.

Her fingers continued to twirl, her gaze listless as she created pretty patterns in the water.

She thought of the night when they had first met, officially at least. When he had tried to rob her. She could still recall every detail with a clarity that surprised even her.

She contemplated on their little sparring session and the conversation after it, how she had encouraged him to find something to live for, to fight for.

She recalled how shocked she had been when she realized his true identity. A prince. An honest to goodness prince. One who couldn't stand her, and who she couldn't stand either.

At least, she thought that was the case.

Her mind conjured the moment where she had first touched his scar. How vulnerable he had looked, and yet he had trusted her enough to not push her away. The way he had protected her when they were at the Oasis. The conversation they had shared while bathing. That one brought a fierce blush to her cheeks. And despite her best effort to move on to the next one, she found the blush only intensifying as she remembered the moment they had shared on the mountain.

Where they had acknowledged that they were soulmates. Where he had gripped her wrist, so desperately and yet so soft. Where she had wandered how his lips would feel against her own. And she was sure he had been thinking the same.

After all, hadn't he leaned forward slightly before the elements of nature had tread on their moment?

So lost in her thoughts, that she didn't even sense as someone else entered her work area and stood next to her. Watching her.

"Uncle says its time to go now."

The voice jolted her out of her thoughts, scaring her so much that she jumped where she stood. Her bending reacted out of instinct, mirroring her startled emotion as her hand shot a splash of water on the figure standing next to her.

"Spirits! You startled me!" She panted, resting a hand above her heart. Zuko glowered at her in return, water dripping from his hair and onto his shoulders. The girl winced, pursing her lips to hide a smile, though it still escaped. She couldn't help it, he just looked utterly ridiculous.

At his warning growl, she couldn't help but giggle. A strange sound since it hardly ever came from her. "Sorry, here." Quickly bending the water, she threw it back into the sink and gave him an apologetic smile. His glare did not let up.

"We're done here for the day. Lets go." He grumbled, before making for the door. She rolled her eyes. Clearly he wasn't too pleased with her little reaction. As he stomped off, she called after him, removing her apron as she went. "I said I was sorry!"

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Their new home was a small apartment, just big enough for the three of them. As soon as they returned, Orora quickly settled in the middle of the room, wanting to get in an hour of meditation before bed. She crossed her legs, closed her eyes, folded her hands in her lap and evened out her breathing.

Which left Iroh to brew some more tea for them, and for Zuko to lay on the sofa, hands tucked behind his head as he stared up at the ceiling, his mind going over the day's event.

A job. For once in his life, he was actually working for a living. The notion had seemed strange at first, not to mention he had felt that it was beneath him, but what Orora had said was true. They did need jobs if they were to survive in this city.

Reluctantly, his gaze flickered to the water tribe girl as she sat meditating peacefully, oblivious to the effect she had had on him.

Him. Prince of the Fire Nation. Being effected by the words of a commoner.

Or rather, he was being effected by the words of a girl who was his soulmate.

Letting out a silent groan, his hand came up to press the back of his hand against his eyes, as if to physically stop him from staring too long at her. It was starting to get pathetic, just how much he would want her opinion on things.

He wouldn't go so far as to say he wanted her to approve of him, but it was pleasant to have someone else beside his Uncle give him a little wisdom. He spoke of life in riddles and words that were heavy with emotion.

Orora?

She would give it straight to his face. No regard of his feelings, his stand on whatever topic it was. She would just come out and say it.

And he appreciated her for that.

True he never always liked what she said, but sometimes they were the exact words he needed to hear.

Like the talk they had had after their impromptu battle near that lake. He still hadn't found something to live for, or to fight for, but at least he knew that he was looking for something.

Not to mention the fact that he would be ever grateful to her for saving Uncle's life. He would never say it outright, but in that moment he had been so so scared and she had stepped up and healed Iroh. Even after getting to know who they were and the lies she had been led to believe for so long.

And how she had probably saved him that stormy night on the mountain. A moment of weakness on his part, letting his emotions get the best of him, but she'd been there. She'd been where he needed her to be, and had not held back when telling him off for being so reckless.

He had to stop his thoughts there, not wanting to dwell too much on what would've happened if that moment in the rain had gone on any longer.

And then there was the truce. To live together somewhat harmoniously.

Lifting his hand, he looked at her again, watching her face. She looked so calm in that moment, as opposed to the plethora of emotions that always played about her features. Zuko found he was beginning to think of it as a game. A game where he would try to guess what she would feel next, and whether it would effect him in some way.

So far, almost every emotion she felt was directed at him, and though he would never ever admit it out loud, he kind of liked having her attention be on him rather then anything else.

Huffing to himself, as if disgusted with his own thoughts, he rose to his feet, moving to the pantry to see what he could have for dinner.

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"Orora, my dear." Glancing up from where she had been counting the money of the customer who had just paid, the young waterbender gave Iroh a nod. "Yes Master?"

"We seem to have run out of Jasmine. I have asked Pao and he says to take some money from the till and buy some Jasmine tea from the shop just down the street."

Taking the money, Orora quickly nodded, before rushing to the back of the shop where Zuko was on dish washing duty. Seeing her taking off her apron, he frowned. "Where're you going?"

Straightening her clothes, the girl replied. "Ran out of Jasmine, just going to buy some." She had barely made it to the door when Zuko called out. "Wait, I'm supposed to go with you when you go out into the city."

Orora glanced over her shoulder, rolling her eyes slightly. "Relax Your Highness. Its only a five minute walk, nothing is going to happen to me." She opened the door, moving to step outside, but then she paused.

"Although, it is sweet of you to worry about me." She glanced over at him, a smile on her lips as she caught sight of the obvious flush on his cheeks as he looked at anything but her. "I'll be back soon." She said as a way of promise, before she was out of the tea shop.

It was a five minute walk, and once the goods were secured, the girl began to make her way back to the shop, her heart still warm at the prospect of Zuko actually worrying about her.

Her happy thoughts, however, were interrupted rather rudely when a hard hand grabbed her shoulder, yanking her into a dark alley, covering her mouth with a rough hand.

The instant she felt the unfamiliar hands, she began to struggle and push with all her strength, trying to get away.

"Stop moving!" A voice hissed, a very familiar voice.

Her eyes focused in the dark, and she was able to make out the face of the boy they had met on the way to Ba Sing Se.

The Freedom Fighter, Jet.

Her pale blue eyes narrowed, and a look akin to a cold anger burned in the gaze she fixed him with. "Look I just want to talk, that's all." He said, still not letting up from where he had his hand on her mouth.

She continued to glare at him, even after he had removed his hand, though his other kept an almost painful grip on her wrist. "I'm trying to help you. You're a waterbender, there's no way you would be with those firebenders of your own free will, so they must be keeping you prisoner somehow."

He knows, a voice hissed in her mind, prompting her heart to beat faster in her chest, and an ugly feeling of fear to coil in her stomach. But she didn't let it show.

Instead, she remained the epitome of disgust and anger. "What in the world are you talking about?"

There seemed to be an almost manic look in his eyes, accompanied by impatience, as he dropped her hand, and grabbed her shoulders. "You don't have to lie for them. I'm trying to help you. I just need evidence and then we can end those two firebenders."

End?! Spirits! He wanted to kill Iroh and Zuko.

Shrugging out of his grasp, Orora stepped away, fingers pulling the cork of her water satchel in case she needed to defend herself. "You're out of your mind." She growled at him. Despite the terror she felt at hearing his statement, her instinct to protect her two companions was far potent, which was the reason she was even able to face the boy with murder in his eyes.

"Just admit the truth! They're firebenders! And they deserve to die." He was starting to get frustrated with her. "I don't care what you say, I will find some way to expose them, and when I do, I'll have the pleasure of executing them."

Hearing those words, hearing the tone in his voice, the sheer hatred and anger in his eyes. Something in her snapped.

With a fierce cry she threw her arm out, the movement elegant yet deadly, given that Jet found himself staring at the very sharp ends of multiple icicles that she pointed in his direction.

"This is your first and last warning." She hissed, her voice full of warning. "If you come near them, if you so much as harm a single hair on their head, I will personally see to it that you pay for it." She fixed him with a cold stare. "In blood."

So saying, she turned her back to him, leaving him trapped behind her icicles. They would melt soon enough, though the words Jet called after her as she walked away, echoed in her ears all the way back to the tea shop.

"You would threaten someone who's on your side. You're willing to protect the enemy?! You're a traitor to your own people. A disgrace! You're just like them! A killer!"

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As soon as she reached the back door of the tea shop, Orora leaned up against the wooden door. Her heart was beating so fast, she was afraid it would somehow burst out of her chest. A stinging sensation behind her eyes told her she was close to tears. Lifting a trembling hand, she pressed it to face, willing herself to calm down.

She had to warn Zuko and Iroh, make sure they were on guard. She couldn't let anything happen to them. They were her friends. She cared about them. Both of them.

Somehow, she managed to calm herself down, slightly, and entered the shop. It had taken her a good fifteen minute to calm down. Grabbing her apron, she tied it behind her in a haphazard manner before rushing out to the front of the shop.

There was Iroh, pouring tea for a customer, with Zuko picking up cups left behind by a previous customer. She all but stumbled forward, catching Zuko's hand, prompting him to look at her, confused and slightly alarmed at her obvious panicked state.

"Orora? Wha-"

But she didn't let him finish. "He knows." She whispered, aware of the other customers around her. "Jet knows." The words were spoken so softly that no one else could ever hear them, and yet Zuko did. Loud and clear.

However, before either of them could talk further on what she had revealed, the door of the shop slammed open and Jet himself walked in. A strangled gasp left her lips, as she caught sight of that murderous look in his eyes once more.

"I'm tired of waiting!" He pointed an accusing finger at both Iroh and Zuko. "These two men are firebenders! And that girl is helping them. She's a traitor!"

Immediately, Zuko pushed Orora behind him, gripping one of her hands to make sure she stayed there. Uncle and nephew exchanged a look which seemed to mirror what the other was thinking.

Play dumb.

"I know they're firebenders, I saw the old man heating his tea!" Jet continued, advancing towards the trio with his hooked swords out of their sheaths. "He works in a tea shop." A nearby customer stated in a rather confused voice, but Jet wasn't having it. "He's a firebender! I'm telling you!"

The same customer stood. "Drop your swords, boy. Nice and easy." Jet ignored him, his gaze never leaving Zuko's as he began to advance towards him and Orora. "You'll have to defend yourself. Then everyone will know. Go ahead, show them what you can do." His gaze flickered to Orora who, previous fear forgotten to be replaced by a burning anger, glared back at him. "Or would you rather have your girlfriend get hurt defending you."

She felt his grip on her hand tighten to an almost painful level. "Zuko, no! He's goading you!" She whispered, even as the previous customer moved to step forward, ready to unsheathe his sword. Zuko simply glanced at her. Her heart dropped to her stomach. She knew exactly what he was about to do.

And sure enough he stepped forward and grabbed the swords the customer had been about to withdraw. "You want a show?" He growled. "I'll give you a show!'

He pulled a table in front of him with his foot and kicked it at Jet, who was quick to slice the table with his swords and jumped over it. As he landed, he swung both hook swords at the Fire Nation prince, who deflected the attack and jumped backward onto another table. Which was again sliced in half by Jet, with a mighty swing of one sword through the middle of the table.

Somehow Zuko managed to balance on one half of the table, on one foot! Jet was unrelenting as he continued his frenzied attack by cutting the legs off the table. Zuko was quick on his feet as he jumped up. As he landed, he swung both broadswords at Jet's feet, but he somersaulted away and landed in a crouching position before charging forward. Zuko swung both of his swords at Jet.

Both weapons clashed as both fighters tried to best the other, glaring at each other as they did.

"Enough!"

Orora's scream cut through the air as she used her waterbending to push the two fighters apart. She moved to stand in front of Zuko, multiple ice knives nestled between her fingers as she stared down Jet. "We are not your enemies! Stop acting like a complete lunatic!" Zuko growled behind her. "Orora, stay out of this!" Jet's grip on his swords only tightened. "I will not listen to anyone who betrays their own people to help firebenders."

He took a running start, prompting Orora to drop in her stance to defend herself, however her plan of action went out the window when Zuko pushed her to the side. So forcefully that she fell to the ground with a loud thud.

Jet threw his leg out, catching Zuko in the chest and watching as he went flying through the air, smashing through the doors of the tea shop and out into the street. As the rest of the patrons rushed out to see what would happen next, Iroh quickly helped Orora to stand up.

"Are you alright my dear?" He asked, checking her over for injuries. She gave a quick nod, before stumbling to the door of the shop, Iroh following behind.

Outside the battle continued to rage between the two teenagers.

"Please, son, you're confused! You don't know what you're doing!" Even he was getting worried that Zuko would snap and use his firebending. Orora began to pray silently to the Moon Spirit, hoping her pleas would be heard and that Zuko wouldn't get hurt or reveal his true identity. The people would surely kill Zuko and Iroh, if they knew who they really were.

"Bet you wish he'd help you out with a little fire blast right now." As Jet swung at Zuko's feet, Zuko stabbed one of his broadswords through the hilt of his sword, pinning it to the ground. Jet looked annoyed at loosing his weapon, before focusing back on Zuko. "You're the one who needs help." Zuko responded. Leaving the sword embedded in the floor, they shifted to combating with a single sword each. Jet turned in a circle, trying to swipe at Zuko once again, but Zuko quickly advanced and swung his sword at Jet.

The Freedom Fighter quickly bent backward to avoid the blade, though it did manage to cut the straw sticking out of his mouth in half. Regaining his balance, Jet jumped backward onto the edge of a well. "You see that‌?!" He called out to the gathered crowd. "The Fire Nation is trying to silence me. It'll never happen." He attacked once more, hooking his sword to the top of the well and sending a flying kick towards Zuko.

Zuko growled as he dodged the kick and swung his sword at Jet once again. He moved to the side, and suddenly they were back-to-back, trying to land a hit, but neither could get past the other's defense.

Just then two newcomers entered the crowd. And from their uniforms, they looked to be of an official status. "Drop your weapons." One of them commanded. The two fighters stepped away and faced each other. Though Zuko lowered his sword, Jet pointed his weapon at Zuko, Iroh and Orora.

"Arrest them! They're firebenders!" Iroh stepped forward, throwing his arms out. "This poor boy is confused. We're just simple refugees." Pao, wanting to defend his employees joined in as he pointed to Jet. "This young man wrecked my tea shop, and assaulted my employees!" The customer from whom Zuko had borrowed the swords stepped forward. "It's true, sir. We saw the whole thing. This crazy kid attacked the finest tea maker in the city." Iroh blushed at the compliment. "Oh, ho, ho. That's very sweet."

Knowing it would be like adding wood to the fire, Orora stepped forward. "And he attacked me and threatened to hurt my Master and his nephew." She walked towards the two men, hand exposed to the wrist where he had grabbed her earlier. Sure enough the bruise from his grip was already beginning to change the color of her skin. The sight of it had Zuko nearly swinging his sword once again, but Iroh placed a hand on his shoulder to stop him.

It would seem the two had heard enough. As Jet continued his tirade of firebenders and Fire Nation, he was escorted to a cart where he was put in the metal cell and taken away.

Orora watched him go, unaware of the crowd as it dispersed around them.

"Orora?" At Iroh's voice, she turned around, still a little spooked with what had just happened. Or rather what could've happened. "Why don't you and Li go home. I'll help Pao clean up and meet you there."

As if she had no control over her actions, Orora took off her apron and handed it to Iroh, who gave her a sympathetic smile. "Do see that my nephew wasn't too hurt from the kick, my dear." The concern was evident in his gaze, as was the guilt in her own as she glanced at Zuko who was returning the sword to it's rightful owner.

Giving him a small nod, she waited for Zuko to walk past her, before following after him towards their shared home.

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maximwtf · 6 months

Note

readder takes a bullet for izzy. need this fic asap. omfg. did u want finale yet???

Izzy x Reader

words: 1700

google docs pages: 3

warnings: ! S2E8 Spoilers (Kinda?) ! Gunshot wound, mentions of smoking and drinking, blood, death

opening: Ricky turns to fire his pistol and run, but you saw it coming and push Izzy out of the way.

AN// Reader can be any gender! I can’t even lie, my angst loving heart was highkey excited for this one XD Thank you for the request, I love writing stuff like this !! This shall also heal my soul after watching ep8, I’m still a mess from it waaa

“I’ll wait for you”

The long ferns dragged along the freshly stolen British navy coat as you made your way towards the shore with the rest of the crew. Your palm was around the handle of your sword, still convinced that this was a clear suicide mission. There seemed to be absolutely no chance for the whole crew to make it alive all the way to the ship and to make an escape. The Republic of Pirates was swarming with British soldiers, every corner being watched and checked actively. Though, you weren’t going to try and stay here either. You’d rather die as a pirate than get captured and be hung by the British.

Izzy marched a little ahead of you with Ricky. You weren’t sure why he had been put in charge of the man, but there was no use in asking for him to hand over the job to you. He was still the first mate, and as loyal as he was he continued on with his duties. You weren’t scared for his sake, he was most certainly a more skilled fighter and a sailor than you were. But there was always the what if, at the back of your mind. As far as you knew, the whole area was surrounded by British soldiers. Each and every time you’d peeked to take a fast look, at least three men stood near with their guns. So the odds of one of them spotting the group and shooting weren’t nonexistent.

Blackbeard and Izzy had a long history together, but so did you and him. From what you’d talked with Izzy, you’d joined the crew only a short time after him. The man wasn’t even the first mate just yet, which was one of the reasons why you’d dared to start chatting with him in the first place. By God, you wouldn’t have started hitting up someone in a much higher position in the crew just after joining. But there had started your decades long, complicated relationship. He’d always been a little snappish, and that had only amplified once he was given the position as first mate. But every time you’d been with him at the sidelines where he usually spent his time, he was just slightly different. He was the same man, but like there was less of a wall he had to keep up. So because he was seemingly comfortable with you around, you sometimes spent time with him. Share cigarettes, watched him carve figures out of small pieces of wood, whatever he was doing. Sometimes there were no words, just silent companionship. At times the air felt tense, and at some point that wasn’t just an itch you had sometimes. There was real tension, but neither of you addressed it. All the way up until you’d sat down to drink a bottle or two of rum with him. There were not many memories of said night, just one of the tension breaking kiss you’d shared with him. And of course the morning after, and the days that followed. The silence that suggested the both of you being at loss of what to do next.

Your eyes focused on the soldiers in front of you, listening to Ricky speak to them as he’d been told to before. So far the plan was going as intended, but that wouldn’t last for much longer. The prince swung around, alerted the soldiers that the group he was with were pirates and pulled out his pistol. Your eyes widened and without more than a second to think you pushed the man next to you. There wasn’t time to check if he'd landed okay, since that hadn’t been a part of your plan, only to get him out of the bullet’s way. You heard the thud as he fell over, and soon after followed one of the most agonizing pain you could have imagined. The bullet must have hit you instead. There was no time to properly locate where it had hit, but you didn’t have to just yet. As long as you could somewhat walk, that was enough, since after you’d made it to the ship you could take a look at the damage.

The rest of the unit had heard the gunshot and were hurrying to the scene. You reached out and offered a hand for Izzy, the other hand holding the spot you could see blood seeping through. He took a hold of your hand, noticing that something was clearly wrong. You could see his mouth open slightly, but before he was able to question you, you let go of his hand and pushed him forward by his back. “Fuck off, go!” You growled, eyes scanning the area for the easiest way out.

The walk to the shore was a blur. You could tell you were stumbling, even the smallest of rocks getting in your way. Izzy was walking in front of you, but you could tell he was stalling more than a person running for their life would. “Did I not tell you to go?” You snarled a little at the stinging pain, now more obvious that it was coming from somewhere deep near your side. You wished he would have just followed the others, gotten away faster. But this brand new version of him wouldn’t do that to you, to anyone from the crew for that matter. You’d been proud of him through his change, but this was not the time for him to care about you. “Come on, I’m not leaving you here.” He paused enough to get you closer to him, and hoisted you up a little by your arm. “Fuck you.” You cursed, trying to walk a little faster now that he was helping you.

The boat ride felt like forever, and as each of the waves hit the boat the stings of pain just felt worse and worse. You felt light headed and even without noticing you leaned on Izzy just a little more for support. He stiffened up, but kept you in place so you wouldn’t accidentally lean over the edge. You could have sworn you felt his thumb repetitively go over your forearm, as if to keep some sense in the moment .

Izzy got out of the boats first, and with the help of the others he got your form on the main deck. The first mate tore off his coat, laying it flat on the wooden deck before leaning your head over his lap. You could feel cold sweat creep onto your forehead and back, breaths shallow and quick. It was only now setting in what had happened, but you tried to bite back the feelings of panic. You felt Izzy tap your cheek, making your eyes land on his face. Some dirt had stuck to his face from the fall he’d taken because of you, you thought to yourself. “Come on, stay awake.” Izzy said, his voice a little shaken, but the same old commanding tone somewhere in there. “Oh, you’ll be fine, you carouser.” A groan left your throat, making you close your eyes for a moment. You didn’t feel like opening them after, but you did. You did when Izzy’s hand made contact with your cheek again.

Before this you’d thought of the crew members watching. You’d noticed they were around Izzy, some of them hurrying to get anything to help. Though, you knew this was the day you’d feed the fish. Izzy’s expression looked tight. Like he wanted to cry, but tried not to for your sake. He was hunched over your form as his eyes watered. “Aye, now. Don’t hang the jib. You’ll be fine.” You tried to reassure him. He’d changed so much, gotten to see how much the crew actually cared about him. He’d be just fine even if you weren’t there with him to stand at the sidelines. Only if he could see that as well. “You don’t do this now, ye fucking hear me?” He said, brows furrowed. You looked at him, his eyes. He looked oddly blurry, your head was spinning from the lost blood. Though, you didn’t mention it to him. “I’m not going anywhere.” You grit your teeth, finding breathing a lot harder than it had been before. You wanted to go, if that meant the struggle would finally end. “But even if I did, I’d be leaving you with the…best possible people.”

Your gaze stayed on Izzy, trying to follow his lips in case you missed something he said. But he was silent, like he was holding back something. The first mate swallowed uncomfortably, leaning over carefully, just to hide his words from anyone else. “You need to tell me if you-” He started, but that was enough. A faint smile appeared on your face. “Of course I fucking love you.” You said, for his sake silently, but you didn’t find it in you to speak any louder anymore. Izzy froze for a moment, some tension leaving his shoulders as he nodded. It was subtle, but as long as you’d known him you’d learned to find even the most minimalistic emotions from his face. His jaw trembled, but his mouth opened and he silently replied; “I love you.” Which was enough for you, more than so. But at that moment, you hoped those words would have been said earlier. Then maybe, just maybe everything could have been different. “I’ll wait for you.” You said, the struggle starting to feel better, like it was coming to an end. Izzy’s face blurred into a soft darkness, which slowly became the only thing still holding you.

AN// Requests for Izzy are open, I love writing for him ahhh >:(

#izzy hands x reader #izzy hands #israel hands #ofmd #our flag means death #ofmd x reader #our flag means death x reader #x reader #fanfic #izzy hands beloved #yar har I love pirates

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americaswritings · 1 year

Text

Chocolates

Warnings: period talk

Summary: You're on your period and Neil offers you a little comfort when he sees you're having a bad day.

Words: 2.2k

Pairing: Neil Melendez x Doctor!reader

A/N: It's ridiculous how much time I wasted searching for a gif and still ending up unsatisfied. But for some reason when I search for gifs on tumblr for my writing I just get reaction memes these days. It's so annoying! Anyway, this was requested. I hope you like it and it's the way you imagined :) I really want to write more again, because it felt so good to just sit down and start typing, but life is so busy at the moment and both my physical and mental health aren't so great too! Hopefully it will all get better soon :)

You should have known it would be ‘one of those days’ when you walked into work with a belly ache, but you didn’t think much of it, hoping if you just ignored it the pain would eventually go away.

Only it didn’t. Instead it got worse, spreading into your lower back and making it hard to keep standing. All you wanted to do was sit or lie down and not move anymore, perhaps even curl over until the pain faded.

But you were on shift, the ER was buzzing and the hospital was understaffed. Sighing you grabbed the next patient’s file, scanning it quickly as you made your way over to where he was seated. Too late you realized someone was crossing your way and you bumped right into them, startling at the unexpected contact.

“Sorry!” You took a step back and glanced up at the man dressed in the blue scrubs, relieved but also a little nervous to find it was Neil Melendez. The two of you got along well, so well that it made you hope he would eventually ask you out.

But he hadn’t yet and you didn’t have the heart to do it yourself, fearing the humiliation of a rejection since you would have to keep working together.

Neil teased you and he flirted with you, but that didn’t have to mean anything. He was naturally charming. Still you hoped for the moment to come, your heart always losing its steady rhythm for a second when you laid eyes on him.

“It’s nothing.” He smiled at you and you tried to reciprocate it, but a sharp pain in your belly made your face twist in pain instead. “Well, I should get going”, you said once the pain had ebbed a little, but you didn’t make it far as Neil held you back by your elbow.

“You okay?” His brows were knitted and he watched you with a frown, his eyes darting over your face before he locked eyes with you again. You drew in a breath, tensing a little at the proximity and trying to ignore your galloping heart.

“Yeah, I’m fine”, you brushed it off, this time managing a smile. You saw Neil slightly narrow his eyes at you, but before he could say anything else you offered him a nod and hurried away.

You had never looked so much forward to your break, the imagination of finally sitting down and eating a meal keeping you going for the rest of the morning. But just as you handed over your last patient’s file, planning to head to the cafeteria, a voice called you back.

It was Dr. Lim. She was marching over to you and you could tell from her face she wanted something from you.

Not now.

“What is it?”, you asked, once she came to stand beside you, not hiding your frustration. The other doctor looked at you surprised, before holding an iPad out to you. “The imaging and report from Mr. Wellington’s CT just came in.”

You let your eyes flicker over it, not finding anything worth this fuss. “And?”, you asked, sounding as impatient as you felt to get held back. “That’s what I thought too”, Audrey continued unbothered, “but then I found this.” She used her fingers to zoom in on it.

“See this shadow?”

You squinted your eyes. “Could be anything.” “Right, but it looks like a small tumour. I already ran a biopsy. The results should be in soon.”

You glanced up at her, waiting for her to come to the point. When she didn’t say more you sighed. “So? Why are you showing me this?”

“Okay-“, Audrey snapped the iPad’ case shut, handing it over to the nurse’s desk, “Someone’s in a mood today!”

You winced under her glare, regretting how harsh you had sounded. It wasn’t her fault you were having a bad day and she didn’t deserve your attitude. “Sorry.”

You closed your eyes and took a deep inhale, trying to push away your annoyance. You really didn’t want to argue with Audrey today. Especially not over something stupid like this.

“It’s just-” You opened your eyes again, gesturing at the busy ER. “-My back is killing me and I have the worst cramps and I just want to lay down and suffer in silence.”

You let out a chuckle at your dramatic words and the way they came out as if they had been at the tip of your tongue only waiting to slip out, which probably wasn’t far from the truth, and Audrey offered you a sympathetic smile. “That time of the month?”

You nodded, surprised that you didn’t feel embarrassed to talk about it with her. Audrey always seemed so strong and unbothered and you couldn’t imagine her whining over a stupid period. But she seemed to know exactly what you were talking about.

“The mood swings are the worst for me. You might know I’m not the most patient person out there-”, you grinned, thinking of the many incidents she had proven what a short temper she coud have, “but during that time? You really don’t want to pick a fight with me then!”

You laughed. It was just too easy to imagine. “I bet Melendez and Andrews have made that mistake.” Audrey’s face lit up. “Oh, trust me they have!” She shook her head, smiling. “And they learn from it.”

“As they should”, you nodded, “at least they don’t have to attempt 12-hour shifts while it feels like their insides get twisted inside-out.”

Audrey laid her hand on your lower arm, squeezing lightly. “Ibuprofen’s your best friend. And if you ever need to take a break and lay down just tell me.”

You felt a lump forming in your throat and you had to will back your tears. Damn hormones! “Thank you.” You hoped she could hear how sincere you were, the thought of having an escape providing you with relief strong enough to give you a little energy back.

“We women have to stick together.” Audrey squeezed your arm again, before retreating and you looked after her for a moment, grateful to have a friend in her.

When you had finally made it to the cafeteria, your pager had gone off right as it had been your turn to order. “You can’t be serious”, you muttered as you pulled it out and read it. “Hey, are you going to order or what?”, you heard someone ask behind you, but without another word you took off, praying you would make it to your patient in time.

Luckily you had. But afterwards you had been pulled right into another case and before you knew it, it had grown dark outside and your stomach was growling at you.

The cafeteria was long closed and so you got a chocolate bar from the vending machine, promising yourself to get real food once you were off the clock.

The ER had quietened down as it often did at the end of your shift and since you had never taken your break you allowed yourself a moment to take a breath in the resident’s lounge.

Although you weren’t a resident anymore you still liked to come here. Perhaps it was the closeness to Neil’s office or the quiet it provided at the end of the day when the residents had all gone home. There was no one who could tell you off as you curled up on the sofa.

The chocolate tasted heavily in your mouth and you devoured it until the last crumb. “You look like you just fell in love.”

“Huh?” You glanced up, to find Neil at the door, casually entering the room and coming to stand in front of you.

He gestured towards the wrapper you had placed on the table. “The chocolate.”

Oh. You let out a chuckle as you realized you had stared at it longingly while you had contemplated whether it was reasonable to get up and get another one or if it wasn’t worth the effort it would take to search for a vending machine.

“That was probably the best chocolate I’ve ever had”, you declared and Neil chuckled. “Your standards are very low then.” You tried to look offended but failed. “Don’t speak ill of the vending machines. They are real life savers. And it’s been a tough day.”

You said it lightly, but you saw Neil’s jaw twitch at the last part. “What happened?”

He walked over to where you were sitting and you shuffled to the side to make space for him. He leaned against the armrest, his body angled towards yours. “Nothing I-”

But suddenly tears were clouding your eyes as all the emotions you had bottled up threatened to spill over. “Damn it!” You wiped at your eyes before the tears could spill, feeling your cheeks heat up in embarrassment.

You didn’t need to look at Neil’s face to see the worry on it.

“Sorry”, you let out an embarrassed chuckle and Neil smiled at you softly. “I’m usually not this emotional. It’s been a long day that’s all.”

“You have had longer ones and didn’t bat an eye.” It wasn’t an accusation, only genuine confusion on Neil’s part and your heart swelled at the hidden compliment and how much he cared to understand you.

“Yeah”, you muttered, closing your eyes as another cramp hit you. When you opened them again you hoped your face hadn’t betrayed you and given away your discomfort, but the disadvantage at working so closely together was that Neil could read you by now.

Before he could make any wild guesses, you decided to just tell him the truth.

You didn’t have to be embarrassed about it, shouldn’t feel that way, yet it was easier said than done. You didn’t want him to think you couldn’t take the hardships of the job, that you were weak or dramatic. But even as you thought it you knew Neil would never think that of you.

Or anyone.

He wasn’t like that, wasn’t intimidated by strong willed women or the reality of what it was like to be one.

Taking a long inhale and an even longer exhale you looked up at him. “I got my period this morning and I’ve been in pain all day.” Now that you had gotten the words out you suddenly had the urge to let it all out.

“And my back is like- so bad. But the cramps are the worst. And I snapped at Audrey. And then again at Glassman. And I almost bawled my eyes out when my patient made it out of surgery and his wife came to see him. And this-”, you gestured at yourself, “is the first break I have gotten all day and I don’t think I’m ever gonna stand up again.”

You stared at Neil in shock for a moment as you realized what had just happened, but then you let out a laugh. “Wow and that just came out like one long sentence!”

Neil chuckled in amusement. “That seems like a really crappy day”, he agreed and you nodded in relief that he seemed to take it serious. “Right? I mean, there are worse things, obviously, but still-” You clutched your belly again, letting out a hiss of pain.

When you looked back up Neil had shifted closer to you, his frown back in place. “Why didn’t you call in sick?”

“Really?” You shook your head, amused and a little frustrated. “I can’t just call in sick every month.”

“It’s this bad every month?”

You nodded. “Most of the time, yeah. Sometimes it’s better, other’s it’s worse. But that’s just how it is.”

Neil face twisted, clearly displeased with what you had said or the situation, perhaps both. “It shouldn’t be like that”, he said then and you looked at him for a moment, taking in his sincerity. “I mean, yeah”, you agreed after a moment. “What, you want to change the whole system now?”

Neil’s mouth curled up in the hint of a smile. “Not tonight, no. I have better plans.”

Your face fell a little as you felt a hint of disappointment at his words. Maybe he was just hanging out with friends or visiting his sister you tried to reason. But the thought of him having plans with another woman gnawed at you.

“Really? What could be better than that?”, you asked teasingly and he tipped his head towards you. “Someone needs to show you what real chocolate tastes like.”

Oh. Your hope arose so strongly you almost forgot to breathe for a moment. “And my sofa is even more comfortable than this one.” He patted the couch you were seated on, not breaking eye contact once.

You still looked at him in shock, unable to form words as you processed his. “You’re baiting me with chocolate?”, you asked once the shock had faded a little, cautious not to put too much weight into his words and Neil grinned. “I do give great massages too. I cook. And I have a big movie collection to distract you from, you know, the pain and all that.”

You smiled widely at him. “Now that wins me over”, you stated, although the thought of spending time alone with Neil was already enough. But it didn’t make his promises less appealing. And it made you feel warm inside to know how much he cared and that he had put so much thought into what he could do to make you feel better.

“Great.” He stood up. “So it’s a date?” For the first time he sounded nervous and it made your heart flutter to know it was because of you. That this, whatever it was between you, mattered to him too.

“It’s a date.”

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darlingillustrations · 2 months

Text

I feel like I should be panicking more. My rent is due in one week, my landlord isn't friendly, and I have no one to ask for help. And yet? I have an eerie sense of calm about it.

I know the calm that happens when you are not actually calm but panicking and your body is helping you survive. This isn't that kind of fake calm. I am sleeping at night. I'm not snaping at my kids. I am *at peace.*

(Read more for musings about the economy, my spiritual mindset in the midst of it all, and some Mary Oliver poetry.)

Five years ago? I would be panicking and staying up late working long hours and burning myself out. But now? These days I'm working full days, then stepping back and cooking meals or working on projects for my kids. It feels more stable this time. I feel like I've matured.

I got a report in my email yesterday which showed that retail sales in January plunged 0.8% from December, far worse than the consensus forecast for a decline of just 0.2%, and the largest monthly loss since March 2023. On the one hand, it made me feel better that it's not just me. On the other hand, it sucks that lots of other people are struggling, as well.

Still, I make the time to meditate every morning. Still, I pull out my poetry books and take my life advice from Mary Oliver. In the poem One or Two Things she wrote:

One or two things are all you need to travel over the blue pond, over the deep roughage of trees and through the stiff flowers of lightning--some deep memory of pleasure, some cutting knowledge of pain.

You don't need to have all the answers. You just need to put one step in front of the other.

Last year when I launched my wholesale business, I drummed up over 1000 leads. I'd pick a city and use google maps or yelp to search for gift shops, stationary stores, coffee shops... anywhere that I thought might want my work... and I took the time to write a personal note to each and every one of these businesses. This month I decided to check back in with them again, and so many of the businesses are now closed or their email addresses no longer work.

Having exhausted these leads, I sat at my computer yesterday with the knowledge that I needed to wait on people to get back to me, that the wholesale leads were out of my hands. And that I still did not have money to pay my landlord. Not once did I fear I would join the list of closed businesses. I did not despair.

Instead, I turned to my first joy. I went back to the sales history on my website and found my very first customers from back in 2016 when I launched my web shop. I emailed them, each of those first customers, sending personal emails. I did not ask them to buy anything. That wasn't what I needed. I asked how they were, what they have been up to, where their lives have taken them.

I was searching for that deep memory of pleasure, that cutting knowledge of pain. One or two things is all we need, after all.

And I got one email back.

This woman was the first person to ever buy an art print in my online shop--a honeybee boy painting--and it is still hanging in her stepson's room, nearly 8 years later. She shared pictures of her new baby, and I shared the pictures with my kids. This woman had sent me many emails over the years, asking for life advice or encouraging me on a hard day. She shared that she didn't realize her emails had made such an impact on me.

Funny how none of us truly sees how impactful we are to those around us. Funny how life keeps going on, whether we worry about it or not.

In One or Two Things, Mary Oliver also wrote:

For years and years I struggled just to love my life. And then the butterfly rose, weightless, in the wind. "Don't love your life too much," it said, and vanished into the world.

I want my character to be defined not by what I do when things are easy but by how I carry myself when things are hard. And I do believe things happen for a reason. Maybe the line between delusion and faith is very thin, but the universe has shown me time and again that it's had my back. I've been in worse scrapes and still came out ok.

If you've read this far and you want to help me get through the next week, you can buy something from my shop or support me on Patreon.

And if you've read this far but you are in a similar boat, don't fret. We will find our way through the fires. one. step. at. a. time.

#mary oliver #capitalism #queer artist #support queer artists #patreon artist #darling illustrations #erin speaks

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dyaz-stories · 2 years

Text

wreck my plans || Eddie Munson x Reader

word count: 1.8k

warnings & tags: mentions of violence, implied bullying, hurt/comfort, unresolved tension, angst, pre season 4 so no big spoilers.

also available on ao3.

a/n: the idea for this one-shot is based on the same premise as @m0chaminx‘s Beat Up, which i recommend you read! like about 80% of the fandom I haven’t stopped thinking about Eddie since the show dropped, so here’s a little something about him. the reader in this is kind of an OC i have in mind for the show, so i might write more with her in the future, depending on whether inspiration hits ^-^ i would love to hear from you, so feel free to let me know your thoughts!

Ever since the year had started, you had gotten used to waiting for Eddie in the library. Not because you were dating, as some of the many assholes of this school liked to joke about — you didn’t know if they were making fun of him or of you, in that case — but because you had been… tutoring him. If you could call what you were doing tutoring.

Eddie was a quick thinker. If anything, it seemed his mind was running a little too fast, in every direction and things that he found uninteresting just got lost in that complicated maze.

Unfortunately, that included pretty much everything school-related. That meant that you could go over something with him one week and he’d understand it so easily that you wondered how he could have failed the past two previous years, and then he’d come back the next and it was all gone. Sometimes, it almost made you want to question your sanity.

Others, like right now and, in fact, every week for at least fifteen minutes before he deigned showing up, you asked yourself why you were even doing this. Sure, it was a favor your dad had asked of you, because he worked with Eddie’s uncle, but it still felt like such a waste of time, in such moments.

This week, though, it turned out that Eddie had a good reason for being late.

You heard him approaching the small corner of the library where the two of you worked (hid) and looked up, reviewing the snippy comments you’d come up with while waiting, but the words died on your lips as soon as you saw him.

“Holy shit, Eddie,” was what made it instead, a horrified whisper.

He gasped in fake horror.

“What kind of language is that, princess?”

You ignored the nickname. He’d been using it for a while and you knew that while he wasn’t doing it to be a dick, it also wasn’t a compliment coming from him. Instead, you got up and walked around the table to get a better look at him. The black eye was the first thing you’d noticed, of course, but the split lip looked like it had to be painful at well, and, based on the way he was holding himself, slightly hunched, you suspected there was more than you couldn’t see.

He cleared his throat, averting his eyes when you got close, and you thought you saw him blushing a little, but it was hard to tell what with— everything else going on with his face.

“Ah, come on, it’s nothing, let’s just—”

“It’s not nothing,” you protested. There was empathetic pain in your voice. “How did that happen?”

He sighed dramatically and let himself fall onto a chair, putting some more distance between the two of you. Despite his antics, he seemed to still refuse to meet your eyes.

“It’s that damn marching band. They cornered me and they used their instruments to beat me up. They’re really creative when it comes to using their trumpets.”

He glanced at you long enough to see you raising an eyebrow at him, and rolled his eyes in response.

“Come on, you’re meant to be the smart one. Who’d you think did that?”

The question stung more than you’d like to admit, because he was right. It took a special kind of confidence to do something like that. It took being certain that you were untouchable and that nothing would happen to you, and knowing that no one would even care enough to give you a hard time, because who gave a fuck about what happened to Eddie Munson, freak-in-chief at Hawkins High?

Last year, you would have put your money on Billy Hargrove without any hesitation. Billy liked getting into fights, and he was awful, but at least, and you couldn’t believe you were finding him redeeming qualities now, he was fair. He fought his own battles.

As far as you were aware, the new asshole in chief, the captain of the basketball team, liked to have two of his friends holding the people he didn’t like before he hit them.

Most people didn’t cross him, of course. They didn’t have much of a reason to, because Jason didn’t try to get on people’s nerves the way Billy did. When they did, though, like Eddie seemed to be unable not to do? When they did, it got ugly.

“I probably have something in my bag that could help,” you mumbled, quickly walking back to your spot.

You knew you did. The last few years had turned you into a very careful person. Sure, it was unlikely to run into a Demo-dog these days, but you never knew.

It had taken you by surprise once. You had been coming to tell Mrs Henderson that you hadn’t found her cat. You had been the first person she’d asked after Dustin. Being their neighbor, you had sometimes been tasked with watching over Mews during holidays, and she had hoped he’d run over to you. That had, unfortunately, not been the case.

You were walking over when the weird little abomination had started running to you with its face wide open. Fortunately, you and Dustin had managed to fend it off.

That had been your introduction to the strange things that were happening all around Hawkins. Then, of course, there had been the whole— Starcourt— thing, and you’d decided that it would be better if you always had things to help with injuries, particularly since Steve Harrington seemed prone to getting beaten up.

“Dang, were you getting ready for a fight?” Eddie asked, sounding both surprised and impressed, as you pulled out gauze and disinfectant.

“No, it’s just, uh— You know Max Mayfield? She skateboards and she, uh, falls. Often.”

Of course, Max hadn’t used her skateboard in months, maybe longer, but you doubted Eddie would know that.

“Sinclair’s ex, right?”

“Right,” you answered, “you know Lucas?”

While speaking, you grabbed a chair and pulled it so you could sit facing him.

“Yeah, he’s in Hellfire. Why do you know the freshmen?”

“I’m Dustin’s neighbor,” you shrugged. “I see them around all the time. Now come here, would you?”

“I don’t know, I feel like this might sting…”

You glared at him, and he shot you a crooked grin in response. Messing with you. You should have known.

“Come on, Eddie,” you said quietly. “I can’t leave you like that.”

His expression changed, looking almost sheepish, before he leaned forward a little.

You’d noticed this before. Eddie was all snark and dramatics and exaggeration, never letting anything else come through, defenses always up. But as you worked with him, you realized that they always crumpled when faced with genuine kindness. He was clearly delighted whenever you responded with the same tone as him, knowing he’d managed to get you, but when you refused to participate in his game? That was when you managed to catch a glimpse of a side of him you didn’t think he ever showed to people.

You kind of liked that.

Gently, you dabbed disinfectant on the cut, one hand softly holding his chin up. He flinched at the contact at first — not of the disinfectant, but of your touch, before he allowed it, though not without his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he swallowed. His eyebrow twitched, but he didn’t express any discomfort, and it made you want to chuckle, comparing his stoic reaction to Steve’s protests, but you held it back. Explaining how you knew — and were friends with — Steve Harrington would be a lot more complicated than for Dustin and Lucas.

This time, though, it seemed you were the one who couldn’t meet Eddie’s eyes. His bore into yours, with the same intensity he gave to everything in his life, and you had to glance away after a few seconds, feeling your heart hammering in your chest. What were you doing? It was far too late to get a high school crush! You’d be leaving for college soon, you couldn’t— you couldn’t start something now!

“I think you’re good,” you said, voice squeakier than you’d intended.

“Uh, actually, while we’re at it…”

He raised a hand, and you saw his bloody knuckles. Which meant he’d probably landed a good punch on someone.

“I should see the other guy, right?”

“The other wall,” he admitted with a grimace. “I missed the guy.”

Finally, this got a chuckle out of you.

“That might be for the best,” you said, carefully disinfecting the wound. “That guy sounds like the kind of person who’d be a pain if you injured him visibly.”

“And the kind of person whose parents would probably drag me to court,” Eddie added cheerfully, though bitterness pierces under the forced intonation.

“And allll of Hawkins High would fall over themselves to testify in his favor,” you said, grabbing the gauze and starting to wrap it around his hand. His fingers brushed against your palm, calloused from playing guitar, and it sent a strange sensation through you, one you tried not to dwell on too much, but that shot straight to your heart.

“You wouldn’t,” he said, voice low enough that you had to wonder if he actually said it or if you’re hearing things.

“I’m sorry this happened to you, Eddie,” you whispered instead of answering. “You didn’t deserve this.”

His fingers closed around your hand, and you finally found the courage to glance up. His hand was warm, but that was nothing compared to what you saw in his eyes. Your breath hitched in your throat. Close. He was close, and looking at you like you were the only thing that mattered.

His eyes fell to your lips.

And then he threw himself back on the chair, giving you a big smile, mask back into place so fast it almost gave you whiplash.

“I mean, I kinda did, if I’m being honest. I provoked him all day, and we know that poor kid doesn’t know how to handle difficult emotions, right?”

You rolled your eyes, but you were already grinning, unable to help yourself.

“That’s ridiculous.”

“I agree, he definitely needs therapy,” Eddie nodded virulently. “In the meantime, may I remind you that I’m on the verge of failing maths?”

“May I remind you that that’s progress and that you were failing maths two months ago?”

“Exactly, can’t let me fall behind, chop chop!”

Again, you rolled your eyes, but you grabbed your books and leaned over, starting to explain, still half bickering with him. You said nothing about the tension earlier, didn’t dare to, didn’t want to risk tearing down his walls if he wasn’t ready to let them down in front of you.

Under the table, though, you softly squeezed his hand, which hadn’t let go of yours.

And he squeezed back.

#stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfiction #stranger things fanfiction #my writing

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sybilhallward · 10 months

Note

if you have chronic pain you're disabled

Hi anon. You sent this ask in March, after I'd written in the tags of a post that I didn't know if I was allowed to call myself disabled because of my fibromyalgia. I remember this vividly, because I've been thinking about it ever since. My biggest struggle with fibro has always been allowing myself to recognize I have specific needs and justifications for some of my "deficiencies", and this was no different: how could I call myself disabled when there's people who are missing limbs or cannot move? I must just be lazy and entitled! Thing is, despite having full control over a technically perfectly functioning body, I don't have the same options as abled people in my day to day life: my neck moves, but 80% of the time it hurts; my legs work, but if I stand up still for more than an hour I need to sit for the next three and nothing really helps my muscles relax; I can live my life fairly normally, but for a couple of days every month I need to take 2-3 naps because I cannot otherwise keep my eyes open; my hands work, but they start hurting so easily that I've never been able to actually build up their strength. This, specifically, has impacted my life pretty drastically: I've stopped playing the violin partly because at first I couldn't stretch my pinky in the correct position on the fingerboard, and then even holding the instrument up became painful. I've stopped playing tennis because my wrist screamed with every impact. My biggest joy in life has always been writing, but for the last few years I've barely done it... there's a variety of reasons, but chief amongst them is the fact that nowadays I can only hold a pen for about 20 minutes before my hand gets enveloped in white-hot flame, and using a computer took most of writing's magic away, for me. These last few days I've realised I might never again play an instrument unless I allow myself to be extremely patient with my limits, and that singing is really the only way i can painlessly make music. These thoughts are sort of breaking me at the moment. Of course, I don't want to feel and present myself only as a victim for my whole life, but the first step in taking control of my life and trying is realizing I won't have as easy a time as able-bodied people: when I got my diagnosis I had been avoiding all sports except swimming for years, because I thought I was just bad and whiny when trying anything else. After realizing I had a real problem, though, I started doing pilates to slowly build up my strength and now I can do things I thought I could never do! I can walk long distances, carry some weights, play table tennis and table soccer with friends at parties... My life is so much better now that I recognize and accomodate for my limitations! So... yeah. I am disabled. Less than some individuals in this world, but also much more than some other. And that's not bad. Thank you, anon. Happy disability pride month!

#vane blogging #chronic pain #chronic illness #fibromyalgia #chronic fatigue #spoonie #disability pride month #disability month #disability #disability pride

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nothoughtsjustluxiem · 8 months

Note

Hello. I'm sorry if this is sudden but I was wondering if you took story requests and if you do, could you make a platonic Dan heng IL story with the reader being the child of his previous incarnation and with the reader still being quite young and Jing Yuan is the one to tell Dan Heng about them even though he's only met them a couple and doesn't know them personally, but Jing Yuan felt like Dan Heng had the right to know about the reader especially after the reader had an encounter with Blade. (If this is too much or if you don't do requests that's completely understandable and I wish you a good day/afternoon and or night😊)

Hello!! I don't really do requests anymore, but a little practice in writing doesn't hurt anybody so sure!! (Also I noticed I got around 2 more asks very similar to this one so maybe it was a glitch or intention it's fine tho!!)

Dan Heng with the child of Dan Feng (Platonic)

Let's think about you being a confused and lost child, loosing your memories so you don't really remember your parents or where you came from. You just suddenly woke up and with the guidance of the general Jing Yuan. He explained he knew your family and they left you under his guidance. He's been your support since, you're about the same height as Bailu but much younger, you're around 12 years old? Maybe 13? You can't really remember your age but that doesn't matter much right now.

You being with Jing Yuan all the time you get to meet interesting people, first it was a man named Blade who kept looking at you for some reason before Jing Yuan ordered the guards to take him away.

Another were a group of adventurers, they called themselves the Astral Express. A young woman named march 7th who loved to play with you while the two older men named Mr. Yang and Caelus spoke with Jing Yuan.

The last person you encountered was a man who seemed to give familiarity to you, you never met this man but the way he looks at you while you're tending to Jign Yuan you can't seem to look away.

"The general is in a stable condition, I would advise you all to let him have his rest. Y/n will be keeping an eye on him while I treat all of your wounds please follow me"

The group leaves you alone to Jing Yuan except for one, it's the strange man who won't stop staring

"Are you in need of something Mister?" You look at him with confusion before he shakes his head, apologises and closes the door

"Hello Y/n" he watches you stare at the the door before you turn back to him with an irritated expression

"Hello General, you seem to be in a good mood. I'd prefer if you don't recklessly lose your life again please" Jing Yuan has gotten used to your scolding and only finds it comical

"Oh you wound me my dear y/n. After taking you under my wing, you treat me like this. You don't even call me father" he fakes a tear, "Okay old man" you responded which seems to have hit him harder than Phantylia. (You know those anime clips of a character getting stabbed with an arrow that says airhead or something? Yeah he got hit like that but it says Old man instead)

"Anyway how are you doing? Do you need any pain medication, any areas where I need to look at?" Jing Yuan made sure to ease your worries before you had other questions.

"That man..with the long black hair and blue horns, do you know him? He seems oddly familiar but I don't remembermeeting him.." you asks Jing Yuan while grabbing the freshly brewed tea. What you did not know was that Jing Yuan looked at you from behind with a saddened look "He's an old friend of mine, well his previous incarnation..your father" and it sunk in

Old memories seemed to have flooded your memories and before you could drop the tray of tea Jing Yuan has stood up and caught it before you could hurt yourself

"My father???" Jing Yuan looks up to find Dan Heng staring at the two

"Dan Heng meet Y/n, Dan Feng's child" the two of you were staring at each other "I was planning to tell you both this at another time, but the phantylia battle has taken a toll on me, how about you get to know each other" Jing Yuan pushes you towards the tall man, he looks at you curiously and you feel a thump below you

*Jung Yuan laughs* "You must have grown your horns and tail the moment you saw your father"

"I'm not their father" / "Jing Yuan not now" he continued to laugh at the both of you.

Not sure how to end this, uhm thanks for reading.

#jing yuan fluff #dan heng fluff #honkai dan heng #honkai jing yuan #hsr #honkai star rail #hsr dan heng il #hsr x reader #dan heng il x reader #dan heng x reader #honkai star rail x reader

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schrodingerspsycho · 4 months

Text

Maybe This Time - Part 1

Pairing - Van Palmer x Band Kid!Reader

Warnings - drug use (weed), blink-182

Word Count - 7.6k

Summary - Van falls for a band kid. What will it take for them to realize that you’ve fallen for them too?

Author’s Note - Merry Christmas everyone!🎄🎁🎅☃️❄️ (and happy holidays to everyone who celebrates other things!) I’m so glad I got this done in time, it ended up being a lot longer than I expected. Lots of fluff. No crash AU. They/them pronouns used for Van and reader, both are referred to as girls. And I can’t bear to write Tai and Van in the same story and not have them be together because they’re soulmates, so Taissa just doesn’t exist in this one. I also created a whole marching show for this and it was the most difficult scene I’ve ever written so please show this some love🙏

Help Palestine by clicking this link!🇵🇸

On the very first day of school, Van noticed you. You were in their English class and you were cute, far cuter than they remembered. But you were quiet and you sat in the row in front of them, so they never really got the chance to talk to you. Sure, they were loud and outgoing with their friends and their team, but they were much more reserved with people they didn’t know. Especially a girl that they liked.

It was easy enough to keep you off their mind for most of the semester. It wasn’t an all-consuming crush or anything, just a reason for them to love a class they’d never been very good at. That was until the few weeks after fall break when soccer practice overlapped with marching band rehearsal.

Coach Martinez always likened the distant sounds of the band to a stand-in for the crowd cheering and claimed it was good to practice ignoring outside distractions. It bothered some of the other girls, but Van always liked listening to them while the team had the ball on the other side of the field during scrimmages. Then one day as they were heading toward the locker rooms after practice, they heard a laugh from the direction of the band room. It was loud and melodic, and when they saw you smiling with your friends, their heart skipped a beat. Screw soccer; they already won nationals last year. Their new goal was to be the one who made you laugh like that.

“What are you looking at?” Natalie asked, coming up behind them. Van didn’t even realize they’d stopped walking.

“That girl’s in my English class,” they answered, pointing. “I didn’t know they were in the band.”

“Oh yeah, Y/N. They play the trombone, I think.”

“Wait, you know them?” Van asked, sounding a little too excited. Thankfully, Nat pretended not to notice.

“Yeah, they’re friends with Kevyn. I’ve smoked weed with them a few times. They’re cool but kinda nerdy. Kinda like you.” Nat gave them a knowing smirk, and Van turned away to hide their blush. “C’mon, let’s go. Jackie’ll have a conniption if we’re late for the post-practice meeting.”

Van nodded and followed her into the locker room, but they barely heard a word of Jackie’s speech. They couldn’t stop thinking about you. And as much as they hated having crushes, the butterflies in their stomach weren’t as painful as they’d been in the past. Maybe with you, things could actually go their way this time. You knowing Nat certainly seemed like a good sign. It was like Lottie said, Van decided. There’s no such thing as false hope.

Van Palmer sat one row behind and two seats to the left of you in English class. You’d been going to the same school for four years now, but this was the first class you’d had together. You couldn’t help but hope that you’d be able to get to know them better, but the way your heart pounded every time you walked into the room made it impossible to even say hi to them. You’d had a huge crush on them ever since last year when you and Kevyn went to see his friend Natalie play in the state championship game. That’s when the beautiful redheaded goalie caught your eye, and you’d been dreaming about them ever since.

Luckily, you didn’t have to talk to them on your own. After three months of less-than-stellar class discussions, your teacher decided to let you pair off into groups to talk about the latest reading assignment. You took a deep breath as your classmates shuffled around you, but before you could even get up from your chair, Van was standing beside you.

“Hey, Y/N, do you want to work together?” they asked, wringing their hands nervously.

“Yeah, sure,” you nodded. They returned your smile and slid into the chair next to you, its usual occupant now giggling with his friends in the back row. “So, what did you think of Frankenstein?”

“It was the scariest book about parenting I’ve ever read,” they quipped. You snorted, and their eyes shone as a proud grin spread across their face.

“That’s one way to describe it,” you smiled. “So who do you think was the villain, Frankenstein or his monster?”

“Oh, Victor was the villain, no question,” they declared. “To create life only to abandon it when you know its existence is cursed? C’mon, he’s literally the definition of a mad scientist.”

“Yeah, but the monster did some pretty fucked up things too. I mean, he killed a kid.”

“And that was horrible, obviously. But I think the real question is whether his circumstances made him evil or if the darkness was inside him all along. And then if it was inside him the whole time, then isn’t it really Victor’s fault for creating him in the first place?”

“That’s a really good way of looking at it,” you said, and they glanced down at the floor. “I hadn’t thought of it like that.”

Van shrugged. “I really liked this book. I don’t know, something about it just clicked with me.”

“Well, then you can speak for both of us when Ms. Fite comes over because I’ve got nothing,” you chuckled.

They smirked. “Yeah, alright. I think I can do that.”

Despite the rest of the conversation flowing naturally with you trading jokes as you discussed the book, you didn’t talk to Van much after that. But they did smile and wave at you every day when you walked into class, so you considered that a win. And you noticed that they were speaking up more in class discussions, which you knew had to be a coincidence. But they were really smart, and it brought a smile to your face every time you heard them speak. You were starting to feel like Frankenstein’s monster, with your perfect girl just out of reach, unable to make them yours.

“Hey, does anyone want to go to the movies with me Friday night?” Natalie asked as the team got changed after practice a week later. “I’ve been wanting to see Bound.”

“Ooh, I’ve been wanting to see that too!” Lottie exclaimed, getting up to stand at Nat’s side.

“Jackie? Shauna? What about you? I heard you talking about it a few practices ago.”

“I wish we could, but Shauna and I are gonna go see Jeff play in the football game,” Jackie smiled, winking at Shauna.

“But the football team sucks,” Mari said with a look of disgust.

“Yeah, but it’s kinda fun to watch them play like shit,” Shauna smirked.

“It’s very fun to watch them play like shit. And us national champs get in free!” Jackie grinned.

“Can I come to the movies?” Misty asked eagerly, bouncing over from the equipment closet. Lottie scoffed, but Nat turned around slowly and looked her up and down.

“Sure,” she said, and it was clear Misty was trying hard to contain her excitement. She was practically vibrating. “Meet us by the field after school.”

“Okay! I can’t wait!” Misty beamed, skipping away. Lottie raised an eyebrow at Nat.

“Oh, fuck off,” she defended, smirking. “She’s awkward, but she’s harmless.”

“Yeah, be nice to her. She’s a great manager,” Laura Lee chimed in, and Jackie gave her an approving nod.

Lottie, Shauna, and Mari rolled their eyes, and Van chuckled. They were too preoccupied with thoughts of you to join in on the teasing like they usually did, but they’d been listening to every word.

“What about you, Palmer?” Nat asked, walking up to them as she grabbed her bag. “You wanna come see Bound with us? It seems like your kinda movie.”

“It is. That’s why I saw it opening weekend,” Van replied. Nat nodded.

“Alright, suit yourself,” she said, slamming her locker door shut. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“See ya,” Van smiled as Nat followed Lottie out of the locker room. Then when the conversation died down, they walked over to where Jackie and Shauna were giggling together, their hands stuffed into their back pockets. “Hey, can I come with you guys to the game on Friday?”

“The football game?” Jackie asked in disbelief. “Since when does Van Palmer have any interest in football?”

“I don’t. I just wanna get out of the house,” they shrugged, glancing at the floor. It was believable enough. None of their teammates knew any of the details, but they knew their mom was a bitch. “I mean, if we get in free, then it seems like a pretty good way to pass the time.”

“Sure,” Shauna smiled. “I can give you a ride, too.”

“Thanks.”

“Great!” Jackie exclaimed, reaching out and squeezing Van’s hand. “This is going to be so fun!”

Van nodded in agreement and turned back to their locker. It would be fun, but not for the reason Jackie thought. They just had to make sure they didn’t find out that they only wanted to watch you march.

By the time Friday rolled around, Van still hadn’t worked up the courage to talk to you again. You did smile and wave back at them every time you walked into class though, so they considered that a win. But Van could never be satisfied with small victories. They were a national soccer champion, after all. They hoped that stepping into your world would give them something to talk to you about. Then maybe they’d be closer to winning the prize they were really after.

Van didn’t have to wait long before Shauna pulled up, with Jackie calling out to them excitedly from the passenger side. They greeted them with a smile as they climbed into the backseat, and Jackie turned to look at them as Shauna sped away.

“So, are you excited for the game?”

“Excited to see our team get their asses handed to them, more like,” Shauna said. Van laughed.

“Well, now I am.”

“Oh, you’re gonna love it. They’re awful,” Jackie sneered. Before Van could respond, Shauna reached out and switched the tape to Nevermind. Jackie whipped around to glare at her playfully. “Hey!”

“Sorry, were you listening to that?”

“Yeah, I was, actually.”

“Well, too bad. Van likes Nirvana, and so do I. You’re outvoted.”

Jackie scoffed, pretending to be offended, and Shauna grinned. “You didn’t even ask Van. Maybe they should get to choose the music.”

“No, I like listening to you two bicker like an old married couple,” Van deadpanned, which sent all three girls into a fit of laughter.

“See, this is why we really go to the football games,” Shauna said, glancing at Van in the rearview mirror. Jackie nodded.

“Oh, for sure. It’s never about the boys.”

Van chuckled and turned to stare out the window. If only they knew, they thought to themself with a smile. If only they knew.

They arrived at the game just as the band was marching around the track. And although it took more effort than they would like to admit, Van managed not to look for you as they followed Jackie and Shauna into the bleachers. They would have plenty of time to admire you when you performed at halftime. That was when the band played, wasn’t it?

“Why are those seats empty?” Van asked, pointing to the section next to them. They were in the student section, which was far less populated than it was for their games, right next to the stairs and a few rows from the top.

“That’s where the band sits,” Jackie explained. Van’s eyes widened. They sat down and started bouncing their leg, trying not to picture you sitting just a few feet away from them. Luckily, they were distracted when the band began to take the field. Oh, right, there was a pregame.

“So why did you really want to come to the game?” Jackie asked, leaning forward to peer at Van.

“What?”

“Oh, come on. We all know you’ve never wanted to see a football game before. There’s gotta be a reason,” Jackie smirked, and Van stared at the ground. “Do you like one of the guys on the football team?”

Van made a face.

“Leave them alone, Jackie,” Shauna said. She was sitting between them, and Van was suddenly very grateful for the small buffer she provided.

“I’m just asking! You don’t have to tell us who it is, Van. But I can tell there’s someone you were hoping to see.”

“I don’t like any of the football players,” Van said, repulsion evident on their face. But before any of them could say anything else, the band began to play the fight song. Van turned to watch, smiling unconsciously when they spotted you in the front row.

“Oh my god, wait! Do you like one of the guys in the band?” Jackie exclaimed. Van felt their face heating up. “No way, you totally do! What instrument does he play?”

“I don’t like any guys,” Van defended weakly.

“Oh, come on! Your face is as red as your hair, I know you’re lying. Just tell us about him! We can keep a secret!”

“Jackie, just drop it,” Shauna growled. “They don’t have to tell you anything.”

“Jeez, we’re just talking about boys,” Jackie said. Van shifted uncomfortably, and Shauna gave them an apologetic glance. “Y’know, if you tell me who it is, I might be able to give you some advice on how to woo him. I mean, this is so exciting! You’ve never liked a guy before!”

Van scoffed.

“I don’t think they want to talk about boys,” Shauna said pointedly, but Van missed her inflection and Jackie’s response. The band had begun filing into the stands and they sat up to watch, their eyes never leaving you. Their heart beat faster the closer you got until you finally found your seat, right next to the stairs and one row in front of Van. You started when you locked eyes, a shy grin spreading across your face, and Van beamed and waved at you. You waved back before turning to hear what your director was saying, and Van let out a shaky sigh.

“Holy shit! You like that girl, don’t you?” Jackie practically yelled in surprise.

“Shut up!” Van hissed, whipping around to glare at her. “What the fuck, Jackie?”

“I’m sorry,” she said sheepishly, much quieter this time. “I just didn’t know you were a lesbian.”

Van put their head in their hands and groaned.

“We won’t tell anyone,” Shauna said softly, patting Van’s back. “Right, Jackie?”

“Of course not! And we totally support you. I-I was just surprised- which now that I think about it, I probably shouldn’t be. It actually makes a lot of sense.”

“Seriously?”

“No, it’s fine,” Van sighed, giving Shauna a grateful glance. “I don’t really care about people knowing. I mean, don’t tell anyone, please, but it’s fine if you guys know. I just… don’t want Y/N to know that I like them.”

“Why not?” Jackie asked, her voice genuine. “If you like them, then you should ask them out.”

“I can’t just ask them out, I barely know them.”

“You did come to a football game just to see them play in the band,” Shauna remarked. “And they smiled at you. That seems pretty friendly to me.”

“They’re cute,” Jackie grinned. “Do you wanna tell us about them?”

“Well, they’re in my English class, and we did an assignment together last week. They’re really funny, and sweet, and… beautiful- god, I don’t know! This is stupid!”

“It’s not stupid,” Jackie chuckled.

“You’ve never talked about a crush before, have you?” Shauna asked warmly. Van shook their head.

“Before today, the only person who knew I was a lesbian was Nat, and that’s not really her thing,” they sighed. “And it’s not like I’ve ever done anything about a crush before anyway. It’s different for me! Before I can even ask if they might like me, I have to figure out if they like girls! And spoiler alert, most of the time, they don’t.”

“But you don’t know that. You just need to talk to them and ask. I mean, what’s the worst that could happen?”

“No offense, Jackie, but I don’t think you know the first thing about homophobia.”

“You’re right, I don’t,” Jackie admitted. “But I do know about flirting. And Y/N has been staring at you for, like, five minutes.”

Van’s eyes widened as they fought the urge to turn around. “What? Really?”

“Totally. They’re trying to be subtle, but they’re not very good at it.”

Van grinned in spite of themself. “What do I do?”

“Smile back at them!” Jackie encouraged. “You’ve gotta let them know you’re interested.”

“Okay,” Van nodded, trying to swallow their nerves. They turned around slowly to find that you were indeed staring at them. They gave a little wave when they met your eyes, and you nearly missed when your director called your instruments up. “Oh, shit! I distracted them!” Van groaned. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

“It’s fine! They’re still playing, aren’t they?” Jackie said, louder now over the sound of Eye of the Tiger. If they weren’t so embarrassed, Van would’ve marveled at how great you sounded.

“And their ears turned red,” Shauna whispered, leaning over and pointing. “You should at least talk to them as a friend. Y’know, get to know them. That’s probably the best way to find out if they like girls.”

“Okay, maybe you’re right,” Van conceded.

Jackie clapped her hands excitedly. “Yay! And you have to tell us how it goes, okay? I want to know all the details about you and your soon-to-be-girlfriend!”

“Fine,” Van smiled, rolling their eyes. “But neither one of you is allowed to talk during halftime. That’s when they perform.”

“Yeah, okay,” Shauna smirked while Jackie buried her head in her shoulder to hide her laughter. “We’ll be quiet.”

Van knew for a fact that Shauna and Jackie had never been quiet in their lives, but they just shook their head and kept their mouth shut. Luckily, the conversation shifted to other topics, and Van started to feel relaxed. And when the buzzer finally rang at the end of the first half, all their nerves had been replaced by eager anticipation.

Well, most of their nerves.

“And now, please welcome to the field your 1996 Wiskayok High School Marching Yellowjackets!” the announcer boomed. Someone slapped Van’s shoulder. They didn’t see if it was Jackie or Shauna, but they didn’t really care. All of their attention was focused on you. “This year’s performance is a tribute to the greatest spy in movie history. Please enjoy Bond, James Bond.”

“No way,” Van breathed as the first note rang out through the stadium. You were playing the 007 theme. It sounded exactly like it did in the movies! And Van should know, they’d seen all seventeen of them.

But just when they thought they couldn’t be more impressed, they noticed what formation the band was marching into. They had started out in lines like they were for the parade, but as they went along, parts of the band would break off and play in place, the squares forming five dots across the field. Just like the beginning of the gun barrel sequence.

“Holy shit,” Van whispered, scooting up to the edge of their seat. And if Jackie and Shauna were laughing at them, they didn’t notice. They watched with rapt attention as the band played, the sound filling the entire stadium. Then everyone began marching again, all moving in different directions at different gaits. How anyone could remember where to go was completely beyond Van as they gazed in wonder at the picture you were creating. The dot in the middle of the field had morphed into a circle, and everyone else formed eight curved lines spiraling away from it. Now they were the gun barrel! And when you all moved in sync across the field to move the gun barrel to the left, Van considered their mind officially blown. Then the drums made a sound like a gunshot, and they all began to trickle down to the front of the field, starting from the top. Just like the blood, they folded together until they were in one big row on the sideline. And when you played the final note, Van leapt to their feet and cheered.

“Oh my god, you’re so whipped,” Jackie laughed.

“Shut up,” Van said, still smiling. “I mean, come on! Tell me that wasn’t the coolest thing you’ve ever seen!”

“It was cool,” Shauna agreed. “But Jackie’s right. You’re totally whipped.”

“Alright, well, fuck both of you,” Van retorted, sitting back down as the announcer’s voice filled the stadium once more.

“The Wiskayok Marching Yellowjackets will now perform their second movement, “Nobody Does It Better” from the 1977 film The Spy Who Loved Me, featuring trombone soloist Y/N L/N!”

“Oh, shit, that’s them!” Van cried. The band all ran to stand in an arc, but you stayed on the sideline, front and center. Van fought the urge to leap to their feet again.

“Looks like your girl’s a rock star,” Jackie smirked.

“Hell yeah they are,” Van grinned. “I have great taste.”

The band started playing, and Van could hear Carly Simon’s voice in their head. It was incredible how the music could be played on a completely different set of instruments and still sound the same. And when you began to play your solo, the notes ringing out clear and beautiful through the microphone, Van couldn’t help but quietly sing along.

“But like heaven above me

The spy who loved me

Is keeping all my secrets safe tonight”

“In 1973, “Live and Let Die” earned the Bond series its first music-related Oscar nomination for best original song, performed by Paul McCartney and Wings,” the announcer explained when the second song ended. “And now, the Marching Yellowjackets will close out their performance with their version of this chart-topping hit, arranged by our very own Director Frank Jones!”

“Wait, “arranged”? What does that mean?” Jackie asked. Van wouldn’t have been able to answer; they were clueless about music too. But they didn’t hear her, because once again, they were too busy watching you. You had run back to stand with the other trombone players in the arc, and they could tell you were smiling even from the stands.

Once again your performance sounded exactly like it did in the movie. Even Jackie and Shauna were singing along this time. And before Van even realized “Live and Let Die” had ended, the band was playing the 007 theme and moving again. And when you played the final note, you formed the 007 logo in the center of the field. They leapt to their feet again, cheering even louder than before, and they only sat down when the band started making their way back to the stands.

“Woo! Way to go, band!” Jackie shouted once you were in earshot. “You guys were great!”

“What are you doing?” Van hissed.

“I’m just showing my appreciation for our music department,” Jackie shrugged coyly while Shauna snickered. “Do something, they’re looking at you!”

Van blushed and turned to find you smiling at them. They grinned back and flashed you a thumbs-up, which you returned with a chuckle.

“Aren’t you glad I’m here to be your wingwoman?” Jackie smirked.

“Yes,” Van sighed reluctantly, rolling their eyes. “But I will set you on fire if you do anything like that again. That was mortifying.”

“Oh, bite me,” she said sarcastically, a smug grin on her face. “Without me, I bet you wouldn’t even be able to say hi to them.”

“Well, maybe I like pining from the shadows.”

“Again, you came to the football game just to watch them march. That’s not very ‘from the shadows’ of you.”

“Shut up, Shauna,” Van laughed, nudging her.

The football team lost sixty-five to three, apparently their worst game all season. But Van couldn’t care less. They were on cloud nine for the whole second half, the world seeming to stop every time you turned around and grinned at them. They were barely able to pay attention to Jackie and Shauna’s playful bickering as they left the stadium.

“Van, look, there they are!” Jackie exclaimed, pointing subtly to where you were walking through the parking lot with your friends.

“You should go talk to them,” Shauna encouraged with a warm smile.

“No, I… I can’t do that,” Van stuttered, all their nerves returning at once. “They’re busy, I don’t want to bother them.”

“C’mon, they’re not doing anything!” Jackie said exasperatedly. “Just say hi, it’s not that hard! Go on, go!” She pushed Van toward you, but they just stood there, trying and failing to not stare at you.

“I just don’t wanna mess this up,” Van murmured.

“You’re not gonna mess it up,” Shauna said gently. “Just talk to them as a friend, remember? You got this.”

Van stepped forward hesitantly, biting their lip. Then a gust of wind knocked a feather out of your plume and blew it into Van’s left cheek. “Yeah, I can’t do this,” they gasped, turning back quickly.

“Yes, you can! There’s nothing to be afraid of,” Shauna said, but Van just hugged their chest tightly and shook their head.

“Look, either do it or don’t, but can you make a decision, please? It’s freezing out here,” Jackie complained. Shauna gave her a side-eye.

“It’s okay, Van. You’ll get another chance on Monday, right?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I guess,” they sighed. You were moving farther and farther away, but their anxiety kept them rooted to the spot. So much for their usual cocksure attitude; they couldn’t even say hi to a girl they liked.

They climbed into Shauna’s car and pressed their forehead against the window, watching you walk up to the band door and feeling sorry for themself. Then you made eye contact with them, your beautiful smile shining on your face. Van waved, but you disappeared into the band room like they weren’t there at all. I knew it. They never like girls, Van thought bitterly, putting their head in their hands. Or maybe they just don’t like me.

“They just waved at me again!” you exclaimed once the door had shut behind you.

“Oh my god, when?” Your two best friends ran up to you, grinning eagerly.

“Just now! They were leaving in their friend’s car, I just saw them!”

“Did you wave back?”

“No, I… I freaked out. I froze.”

“Oh, come on!” Lauren cried.

“You’ve been flirting with them the whole game, how could you drop the ball now?” Liv slapped you in the arm playfully.

“I didn’t mean to!” you groaned. “Trust me, no one’s more disappointed in me than I am.”

“I don’t know, I’m pretty invested in your love life,” Liv quipped.

“Do you really think Van likes me?”

“Of course they like you!” Lauren smiled. “You saw how they were looking at you, right?”

“Yeah…”

“Then you’ve gotta talk to them!” Liv insisted. “On Monday, in class. It’s the perfect time to make your move!”

“My move? What’s my move? I don’t have moves!”

“Just talk to them,” Lauren said. “The moves will come to you in the moment. All you gotta do is be yourself.”

“Yeah, Van would have to be a real idiot if they didn’t want you,” Liv chimed in. You smiled.

“Thanks, guys. I’ll try to talk to them on Monday.”

“Don’t try, just do it!” Liv smirked.

“We believe in you!” Lauren grinned. You rolled your eyes. It was a lot easier for them to say. They weren’t the ones who risked getting rejected by the most beautiful girl in school.

Despite your friends’ encouragement, neither one of you made an effort to talk to each other on Monday. Van still smiled and waved at you, and you returned the gesture like always, but that was as far as you had the guts to take it. Van tried not to let it sour their mood at practice that afternoon.

“Hey, how was Bound?” they asked when Nat and Lottie walked in.

“It was great,” Lottie answered. “It was what happened afterward that was a nightmare.”

“What do you mean?”

“Misty! She went fucking berserk on this old lady, it was crazy!”

“Some housewife was saying some homophobic shit after the movie,” Nat explained.

“And now, Misty’s banned from the theater,” Lottie huffed before walking away. Van raised an eyebrow at Nat.

“She was possessed!” she grinned with an adoring look in her eyes. “I was wrong, man. She’s definitely not harmless.”

Van scoffed. “Maybe I should’ve gone with you after all.”

“Naw, I bet you had fun at the football game,” Nat smirked, nudging them. Van looked away as she leaned in. “Did you enjoy the band’s performance?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, yeah? Then I’m sure you have no idea why Jackie and Shauna keep glancing over here either, do you?”

Van groaned.

“Did you tell them or did they find out?” Nat asked softly.

“They found out.”

“And are you good?”

Van smiled at her. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m good.”

“Good,” Nat nodded. Then she winked. “You should totally ask Y/N out, by the way.”

“Fuck you,” Van chuckled.

“It’s not me you should be fucking,” Nat teased. Van gaped at her as she scurried away, laughing. Van just shook their head and got changed for practice, avoiding Jackie and Shauna’s piercing gaze. If anything could get you off their mind, it was soccer.

It worked for a while. It was their best practice so far this season; they didn’t let a single ball get past them. But the respite was short-lived. Their thoughts of you returned the moment Coach Martinez blew the whistle at the end of practice, and so did their sour mood. And it only grew as the week went on and the idea of talking to you became more and more impossible. Luckily, Nat noticed Van’s pain and offered them the perfect solution.

“Hey,” Van greeted as they approached the spot behind the dumpsters where Nat had instructed them to meet. “Thanks again for hooking me up.”

“No problem,” Nat smiled. “Happy to help.”

Van nodded, ignoring Nat’s uncharacteristic cheeriness, and handed over the small wad of cash. Nat pocketed the money, and after glancing around to make sure no one was looking, handed Van a small bag of weed.

“I think you’re really gonna like this stuff,” she said with a wink.

“Thanks,” Van smiled, eyeing the weed hungrily. Then they heard footsteps behind them and they snapped their head up to stare fearfully at Nat.

“Don’t worry, it’s cool,” Nat said. And before Van could react, someone else had walked into their little hiding spot.

“Sorry I’m late,” a familiar voice said. “My trig teacher was being a bitch again and held us after the bell.”

“No problem,” Nat grinned. “I was just finishing up another sale. Have you, uh, met my teammate?”

“No, I don’t think I- Van.”

Van had finally turned around, and they were now face to face with their worst nightmare. Or their dream come true, depending on what happens next. “Hey, Y/N.”

“So you have met,” Nat said, breaking the silence after a few moments. “I figured, I’ve got two people buying from the same batch, why not do it at the same time?” She gave Van a knowing grin, and Van fought the urge to throttle her.

“Uh, yeah, that’s uh… smart,” you said. Then you handed her the money and she gave you a bag just like Van’s. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Nat replied. “Now, I’ve gotta run, but it would be better if you two could wait a minute before you leave. Y’know, make this look less like a drug deal.”

“Yeah, sure. We can do that,” you nodded, avoiding Van’s eyes. “Thanks again.”

“See ya around, Y/N. Van, you’ll have to tell me how you like it at practice next week.”

Van watched her go, and then they were left alone with you. The only sound was the pounding of their heart, and they prayed you couldn’t hear it.

“So, uh… how have you been?” you asked nervously.

“Good. You?”

“Good.”

“I saw you at the football game last week. Your show was really great.”

“Thanks,” you smiled. “I’m glad you got to see it.”

“It was so cool how you did the gun barrel sequence. And your solo sounded amazing!” Van gushed. “It was just like the movies! If I’d known that marching band was so cool, I would’ve gone to a football game a lot sooner.”

You blushed, and Van’s anxiety skyrocketed. They hadn’t meant to say that. Now they’d really messed up.

“I’m glad you liked it,” you breathed.

“I, uh, I have to go,” Van announced, clearing their throat loudly. “I have to catch the bus.”

“But the school buses have already left.”

“No, the city bus,” Van explained. “The nearest stop is a mile away, so I need to start walking.” They turned and left the spot behind the dumpsters, but you stopped them before they could get any farther.

“I could give you a ride,” you called. Van turned back around slowly. “If you want.”

“Are you sure?”

“Totally. I mean, I’ve got a car and nowhere to be. It’s not a limo or anything, but it’s better than the city bus.”

Now Van was the one who was blushing. “Yeah, that sounds great,” they grinned shyly.

“Perfect,” you beamed, pulling your key out of your pocket. “Right this way, m’lady.”

Van giggled and followed your lead. Maybe they really did have a chance this time.

“You can throw your backpack in the backseat,” you said as you climbed into the car. “And you can pick some music, my tapes are in the glovebox.”

Van nodded, placing their backpack at their feet and opening the glovebox. They were expecting to find two or three tapes, maybe four, but you had nearly a dozen stacked in there. “Woah!” they exclaimed, glancing between you and the tapes. “How do you have so many tapes? Are you, like, rich or something?”

“No, I’m not rich,” you chuckled. “My aunt owns the record store downtown. I get a discount on all the music I want, and they gave me a bunch of their old tapes from the seventies. David Bowie, Queen, the Ramones, stuff like that.”

“No way, I love Queen and Bowie!” Van cried.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah! I went as the Aladdin Sane album cover for Halloween a few years ago!”

“You did? That’s awesome!”

“Well, I already have the red hair,” Van joked. You laughed. “I love that record store, it’s so cool that your aunt owns it.”

“We’ll have to go there together sometime. I bet I can get you a discount too.”

“Yeah, that would be fun,” Van said softly, turning back to look through the tapes. They slid David Bowie’s Let’s Dance into the tape deck as you pulled out of the parking lot. You began tapping out the rhythm of “Modern Love” on your steering wheel, and Van joined you on air guitar. When the chorus came on you belted it out, both of you singing off-key. Everything felt so natural that Van almost forgot about being anxious.

“Do you usually buy from Nat?” you asked them.

“Yeah. I don’t smoke a lot of weed, but when I do I get it from her. I think everyone on the team does, it’s just easier. What about you?”

“I usually buy from Kevyn, actually. But he sent me to Nat this time. I guess he doesn’t have anything to sell right now or something.”

“Huh. Yeah, something like that,” Van muttered.

“Do you ever smoke with your teammates?”

“Sometimes I’ll smoke with Nat and Lottie, but most of the time I smoke alone. I usually have to smoke it right after I buy it since I can’t keep it at my house.”

“Can’t let your parents find it, huh? My folks are the same way. Couple’a hardasses,” you smirked.

“No, my mom will steal it and smoke it herself,” Van said humorlessly.

“Oh.” You sat in silence for a moment, not quite comfortable but not as awkward as before. “Do you have to be home by a certain time?”

“No,” Van shook their head. “Why?”

“Well, if you don’t want to go home yet, I was thinking we could head to the park a few blocks over. Maybe this time we don’t have to smoke alone.”

“Yeah, I’d really like that,” Van beamed. You returned their eager expression and changed course, turning the music up. Van couldn’t believe their luck.

“Why don’t you guys play at our soccer games?” Van asked while you were rolling your joints.

“We can’t march on the soccer field. We need the yard lines to figure out where we’re going,” you explained. “But we play at basketball games, and we don’t march at those. Y’know, I’m actually not sure.”

“I wish you did play at our games,” Van mused. “That would be so cool.”

“Yeah, it would be fun. I guess I’ll just have to go to them on my own. I can get some of the other trombones to come too. We’ll sing for you.”

Van chuckled. “I bet we’d be undefeated again this year if you did that.”

“Naw, you don’t need our help with that. I saw you playing at states last year. I don’t know anything about soccer, and even I could tell that you guys are amazing.”

“You saw us play at states?”

“Uh, yeah,” you said quietly after a beat, nearly dropping your joint as you tried to light it. “Oh, hey, the album ended.”

“Yeah, it did.”

“Here, let me play you something,” you said, reaching past them for the glovebox. “My cousin visited us from California last summer, and he introduced me to this awesome new band down there. They’re called blink-182.” You pulled out a tape that said Cheshire Cat and put it in and a punk rock guitar riff filled the car. “I think you’ll like them. They don’t take anything seriously.”

“Rude,” Van scoffed, taking a hit and blowing the smoke out the window. “I’m taking that as a compliment.”

You continued talking and laughing together as you got high, the weed and conversation relaxing you both. And by the time you got to the end of your joints, you were discussing one of your many shared interests; Star Trek.

“Riker’s actually the reason I started playing trombone,” you said proudly. “The best instrument for the best character.”

“You think Riker’s the best character?” Van repeated, trying to hide their disappointment. “Most girls have a crush on Picard.”

“What? No, I don’t have a crush on Riker,” you insisted, shaking your head. “He’s my favorite character for sure, but I don’t have a crush on him.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, he’s definitely not the character I have a crush on,” you breathed.

“Then who do you have a crush on?” Van asked quietly, unconsciously leaning in. You mirrored them.

“Doctor Crusher,” you answered. “I love how caring she is. And she has such a cute smile… beautiful red hair…”

“You… you like girls?”

You froze. “Um, yeah, I, uh… I do.” You shifted uncomfortably. “You don’t have, like, a problem with that or anything-”

“No, I don’t,” Van said quickly. “I like girls too.”

“You do?” you whispered, leaning in again.

“Yeah, I do.”

And then Van closed the gap. Your lips were chapped, and the smell of weed was almost suffocating, but they never wanted this moment to end. They chased after you clumsily and you cupped their left cheek, deepening the kiss. Then, just when they started thinking the kiss could lead to something more, they caught one of the lyrics in the song.

“I’m so sorry, what is this song about?” Van asked incredulously. You cringed.

“It’s, uh… it’s about a woman who accidentally sleeps with her estranged father.”

“Yeah, okay, that’s what I thought,” they said before bursting into a fit of laughter. You let out a nervous chuckle.

“It’s one of their joke songs,” you explained as you turned off the music. “If I’d known we were going to be doing this I would’ve picked a different album.”

“No, no, it’s hilarious. Now I’m never going to forget our first kiss.”

“First?” You raised an eyebrow. Van just shrugged and smiled at you, their face flushing a beautiful shade of pink. “Wow,” you breathed, and Van saw the desire they’d been feeling reflected in your eyes.

“Yeah, would you, uh… wanna go out with me sometime?” they asked after a moment of comfortable silence.

“Shouldn’t I be the one asking you that? Y’know, since I’m the one with the car?” you smirked. They grinned sheepishly. “Yeah, I’d love to.”

“Perfect,” Van said before pouncing on you again. You gripped their hips as they leaned over the gear shift, quickly regaining control and kissing them passionately. Van melted at your touch. “Hey, we’re pretty good at this,” they quipped, maneuvering to sit in your lap.

“Hell yeah we are,” you grinned.

By the time you took Van home, it was already getting dark. And over the next few days, the piece of paper with Van’s messily scrawled phone number got more use than your trombone. You agreed that the best kind of first date was dinner and a movie, and you decided to go and see Wes Craven’s new horror movie Scream. Its opening night lined up with your last day of school before winter break, and you both had a major crush on Drew Barrymore, so it was the perfect fit.

When the day came, you were both nervous wrecks in English class. And not because of your final; although you both probably should’ve studied harder for it. But this was it. Before you’d just been talking, and kissing when you got the chance. But a real date. That made it official. You would be girlfriends.

After deliberating for longer than you would like to admit, you pulled on your favorite button-up shirt and your trusty leather jacket. Then you checked your appearance in the mirror one last time and headed to Van’s house, your heart racing the whole way. You arrived a few minutes early and waited anxiously out front. Van had asked you not to go to the door, but you were starting to feel like you were in the wrong place.

“Hey, Y/N!” Van called excitedly, opening the passenger door and pulling you from your thoughts.

“Hey, Van,” you smiled. They were wearing a denim jacket over one of their rugby shirts. It wasn’t terribly different from what they normally wore, but it was Van. You’d never seen anything more beautiful. “You ready to go?”

Van nodded eagerly. “I’ve been looking forward to this all week.”

You leaned over and placed a quick kiss on their lips. “Me too.”

“Then let’s go already,” they laughed. You drove away and they slid Queen’s Greatest Hits album into the tape deck. You both sang along at the top of your lungs until you reached the cheap Italian place by the theater.

As much as you wanted to hold hands as you walked in, you knew you had to pretend like this wasn’t a date. Neither one of you wanted it to get out that you were lesbians. Too much trouble could come from that. But thankfully the server sat you at the corner table, so you were able to enjoy some modicum of privacy. Still, being together in public was a lot more nerve-wracking than stealing kisses in the janitor’s closet between classes.

“What are you going to get?” you asked as you looked over the menu.

“Spaghetti and meatballs. Easily the best type of pasta,” Van smirked.

“My thoughts exactly.”

“Maybe we should share. That way we can do the thing from Lady and the Tramp.”

You laughed, loud and melodic, and Van beamed. “And which one am I?”

“The tramp, obviously. Have you ever seen a more sophisticated lady than myself?” Van said with an exaggerated posh accent. You laughed again.

“If you want me to be a tramp for you, just say so,” you whispered. Van giggled.

“Only if you’re the one paying.”

“I was already planning to,” you smiled.

“You’re too good to me,” they grinned, blushing. You winked.

It was the best meal you’d had in months, and Van would’ve said the same. And the food was good, sure. But it was the company that put this meal above the rest. Being with Van made you happier than you could’ve imagined, and it was only the first date! You were already looking forward to all the memories you knew you would make together. And they would never tell you, but Van was doing the same.

Wes Craven’s Scream was the perfect end to the night. The perfect mix of horror, comedy, mystery, and more movie references than Van makes in a day. Neither one of you was scared of Ghostface, of course, but you held hands anyway. On the way home you forwent the music in favor of discussing the queer undertones of Billy and Stu’s relationship and arguing over who was hotter; Sidney or Gale. And when you dropped Van off you sealed the night with a kiss, a soft, lingering kiss that promised many more to come.

“I’m really glad we did this,” you sighed dreamily as they left the car.

“Yeah, I can’t wait for our next date. Girlfriend.”

You grinned and waved goodbye, already missing them. You were thinking about calling them before they even reached the house. Maybe things are finally starting to look up, you thought as you drove away. Maybe this time we’ll get to be happy.

#van palmer x reader #van palmer #yellowjackets #yellowjackets fanfic #fanfic #maybe this time

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berat-yalaz · 1 month

Text

I MISSED YOU A LITTLE MORE TODAY:

I do not expect everybody to read this. If it's an issue, please just scroll on. It will be dealt with vaguely enough in follow up paragraphs and threads that the main points will be clear without it. This para, and the one that follows, are a bit depressing and deal with some very triggering topics that not everyone will want to read. That's completely okay and I understand if you scroll past. And whilst I know this is role play and it's supposed to be an escape where people don't have to deal with this shit, writing about it is important to me. But I do so fully understanding it's not for everyone's consumption. So please do what's best for you. I never intended to become this attached to Berat, but I also never intended him to be such a reflection of myself. The combination of depression and addiction that I put into his biography is devastating and life ruining and a difficult hurdle to overcome, and the reason it's the most personal and painful one I've ever written is because I understand how that feels. I also understand how the pain of loss compounds it day after day, and makes dealing with both almost impossible. I don't want to not write about this, because the struggle is so fundamental to his character that avoiding it would feel like a cop out. Not everything has a happy end. Not everybody makes it out the other side, because life isn't always as kind as it should be. That said, I want to make clear before the para, because the end is both vague and obviously foreshadowed: his upcoming death is not intentional on his part. The heroin is laced with fentanyl and he has no idea. But in a way, that seemed an even more fitting end than making it a purposeful choice. Still, proceed with caution for these two please. Next one will be from Ayaz later. Thank you. Date: March 16th, 2024. Warnings: Implied future drug use, severe depression, thoughts bordering on un-aliving oneself, precursor to overdose, precursor to character death. I tried to keep it vague, but it hints at a bad time.

How little would she think of him now?

It wouldn’t be unwarranted, of course, after all he’d done. After the pain he’d caused those he would so vehemently say meant the world to him.

Didn’t mean the idea hadn’t hurt, though.

“I missed you a little more today.”

It’d been a consistent routine; for those words, that admission, to be the last to leave him before he sought sleep. Survived one more day without her. This time, though, as Berat ventured further into the rundown and disorganised mess of a flat, he picked up the photograph of the woman in question from its home on the mantelpiece. Even the most beautiful smile in the world, the kindest eyes looking right back at him, couldn’t stop the hurt today. Neither were a match for the gnawing in his chest, and the guilt buried so deep in his gut he couldn’t even remember the last time he’d eaten…

It’d been three weeks since Kerem had found out about him and Nevra.

Three weeks since he’d dared leave his home.

Three weeks since even Nazli had stopped trying.

And he deserved that, you know. He deserved to lose the only person who’d stuck by him through his darkest moments, because eventually, everyone had to run out of chances. Berat didn’t know whether it was the personal betrayal of Kerem that’d pushed her over the edge, or the fact he’d chosen the woman who’d been indirectly responsible for his downfall in the first place—a Rutherford sympathiser, to twist the knife—but she’d drawn a line, and he’d heard it loud and clear.

This time, he wasn’t worth the struggle.

And that was okay. And Berat didn’t blame her. And maybe it would have saved them all a whole lot of pain if she’d just made that same realisation a few years earlier.

The man flipped the pristine wooden frame he now held in his hands, carefully turning the clasps at the back so he could remove the photograph held within. Berat wasn’t sure he’d ever been bold enough to do so since he’d put it there; so scared of damaging one of the few tangible reminders he had left that he could only ever want to observe from a distance. Maybe that was a lesson he should’ve carried through into life, too. To not risk irreparably marring precious and beautiful things he’d never fucking deserved in the first place.

He was holding it, then. A piece of paper in his hands all he had left.

And he was glad today that she was gone so she didn’t have to see him like this.

They all told him they wanted him to be happy, but he’d never asked it to find him the way it had. Life was cruel like that, he supposed. With one hand it gave, and the other, it took away so much. So why didn’t happiness ever seem to be an ultimatum for anybody else? Berat had never sought out Nevra expecting to love her the way he did, and he’d sure never done so with the intention of hurting his best friend. But for a man whose life had been so devoid of meaning and good and anything worth trying to be a better fucking person for, how could he not want for it?

You won’t let yourself be happy. And for a long time, that was because he didn’t feel he deserved to feel happiness in a life without Ceren.

But now he wanted for that relief with the only person who’d made him feel worthy since, and the brutal reality was that it meant walking all over somebody else’s in the process.

Did Kerem have the same dilemma when he’d found Emine?

Ayda, when she’d left him?

The slow, year-long retreat he’d made from them hadn’t been an accident, and surely they must have realised that by now. It hadn’t been because he didn’t care, or because he was so scared one of them would pick up on the signs that they’d catch him in a lie. It wasn’t self-preservation, it wasn’t self-pity, and it wasn’t a choice to move on. It was because he couldn’t fucking stand himself anymore. The mere sight of what looked back at him in the mirror fucking repulsed him. So why should they have been forced to endure him, too?

Even his mother felt the sting of distance. Because where his conscience apparently lacked so far as Kerem was concerned, he couldn’t put her through the pain of witnessing her son descend into yet another downward spiral.

The woman had suffered his poor choices for long enough.

Berat removed his phone from his pocket. Replaced it, slowly and carefully so as not to damage the edges or risk a fold, with the photograph of Ceren.

Oh, she deserved so much better than where they were going.

But he didn’t want to do it without her.

Didn’t want to do any of this without her, really.

He finally glanced down at his phone. The lock screen was littered with messages from people he was too ashamed to respond to; friends, family, people who’d been waiting for him to fuck up again. Because they all were. Even the ones who’d never admit it aloud because they liked him just enough to pretend they had faith he could do better. Kerem was one of them. Whilst he might’ve loved his friend, Berat could always see it in his eyes; gaze somewhere between disappointed and pitying. But none of them had expected something like this.

But neither had he, and that seemed to be lost on them.

One name stood out from all the others, and for a brief moment, he smiled. He smiled in spite of all that’d happened, in spite of his nausea, in spite of the exhaustion, in spite of feeling so trapped that he still couldn’t see a light at the end of the tunnel he’d forced himself into.

Nevra.

Wondering where he was, no doubt.

‘I love you.’

And that message he carefully typed out with unsteady hands wasn’t a warning sign in itself when he told her as much every chance he got. Told her with the sincerity and gratitude of a man who’d never thought he’d say the words again and mean them like this.

Because Berat did love her.

Hadn’t meant to. Hadn’t wanted to. Couldn’t help it, though.

A part of him had known from the start that there was never going to be a happy ending for them. Never going to be a ‘them’ for the long haul at all and he’d tried to make her understand that before they got too deep. His reluctance to deal with their situation, to be open about what was happening, to speak with Kerem so they didn’t have to keep living a lie had been frustrating for a woman who deserved better. Certainly, deserved more than he could ever give. But his aversion to confronting his choices had less to do with cowardice and more to do with fear of losing the one person in his life who made breathing a little easier.

Fear of losing this beautiful and unexpected thing he didn’t deserve, but was too selfish to give up.

Yet now, he realised none of it mattered. He was going to lose it all, regardless.

Maybe that was okay, though. Maybe he’d just deal with it like he always did.

Maybe he’d just fucking suffocate under the weight.

Maybe he’d die.

Berat reached into a glass dish to grab a handful of fifties. The Turk could hardly be ashamed of stooping so low as to pawn a sentimental watch after all he’d done. It was too small a guilt to scratch the surface. A small mercy, he supposed.

He put out extra food for the dogs. Extra water, too.

Left the television on so they’d at least have the illusion of company until his mum showed up to take them for breakfast in the morning.

Berat didn’t know when he’d make it back, but he was hoping it’d be a while.

Long enough to take the edge off. Long enough to stop feeling.

“I’ll be there soon,” he reminded her out loud as his hand slipped in to feel for the photograph in his pocket.

If only someone would just let him.

#self para #tw drugs #tw depression

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